Monday, January 30, 2017

Out of the Earth - Princes of the Apocaverse - Session Eleven

With the monastery secured for the moment;
The heroes settled in, the captives to speak;
Snatched from road and farm chaos to foment;
They all told similar tales of coming to mines bleak.

Marle spoke to Bruldenthar, the dwarven sage;
And learned of his tale ambushed in the hills;
To be ferried by pirates paid with books as a wage;
Men on vultures then swooped in to add to the thrills.

Of the three delegates he spoke in great concern;
Rhundorth and Teresiel taken deep below;
And Deseyna of Waterdeep taken by bandits stern;
Into the air after striking the monks a blow.

Fennle then asked about the body of a fallen hero;
Carried by the ambushed caravan;
Bruldenthar reported the cults attempts coming to zero;
When offering the corpse to the lich was their plan.

With a long suffering sigh the monk turned to Elivia;
To act as her mediator in dealing with Renwick;
Of the past successes of the cleric of Mystra;
The monk felt more confident than her own tick.

The lich remained in his typical state of annoyance;
But did deliver the corpse’s body quite easily;
Carried upon an arcane disc for conveyance;
And delivered to the heroes most reasonably.

A twitch of something not quite right;
Tickled Fennle’s thoughts with the lich’s actions;
There seemed to be no malicious flight;
But not all was being kept clear in the transactions.

They spent the night at the monastery again;
Lohn besotted with strange night images;
Of adventures underground realm abandoned and thin;
Alongside a sorcerer of draconic heritages.

Upon awakening the locksmith’s eyes had changed;
To a pure white bleached by generations untold;
A change about which the party words exchanged;
But they left it aside for the moment to unfold.

Some among the refugees were armed;
With the gear of the monastery that they had found;
And travel began to head for Beliard;
Through the road about the hills wrapped round.

The first day passed with little trouble;
But the morning of the second came with a quake;
Driving beasts from the ground in double;
Ankhegs startled into hostility by the earth’s shake.

A barrage of brilliant light lashed through the air;
As Fennle pulled aside of the group’s camp;
Striking her target three times and taking a fare;
In terms of ichor to make the ground damp.

Angus maneuvered out to the side;
Away from the rest of the group but held his blade;
Awaiting for now, his time to bide;
And leaving the maddened creatures to act as they bade.

Two lines of acid spit across the scene;
Angus avoided both strikes;
But Marle was coated twice in burning stream;
The tiefling facing pain in two spikes.

Elivia called upon her goddess’s wrath;
Striking one of the beasts hard with holy fire;
Leaving its carapace cracked and leaving a path;
To guide in further attacks upon the foes dire.

Marle swept up and considered her pain;
To reach for Nailsplitter or to sing a song;
Her hand finally reached for the yarting plain;
Before strumming a chord like a powerful gong.

Both creatures were blasted upon their backs;
The one battered by light and fire sacred;
Twitched and shuffled as its body cracks;
Against the power of rock it was most assuredly dead.

Lohn then made use of his new gloves;
Nocking an arrow to his bow string;
Which vanished before descending from above;
Appearing out of the invisible hand to give its sting.

Angus continued to look on and hold ready;
But Talindra stomped forward finished with this;
Kicking and shoving the great beast in manner steady;
“Git!” she snapped at the dangerous pest.

The ankkheg skeedadled away from the half-elven farmer;
Now geared in armor and wielding fey power;
It dived into the nearest soft earth and burrowed deeper;
Away from its hastily chosen enemy to go lower.

Rain crashed down over the course of the next day;
Making the going for the group slow and tiring;
Still the band held resolute and neither faltered nor lay;
But pressed on the road in the midst of the pouring.

They camped again in the nearest place dry;
Before passing over the Stone Bridge high;
And again dreams came to Lohn as he lie;
Of teaching a sorceress the tricks of arcane eye.

The locksmith awoke feeling his clothes a bit tight;
But little else to worry about as they started again;
The bridge passed without problem in the light;
And they came to Beliard and spoke to Neshor Fleurdin.

The proprietor of the Watchful Knight was aghast;
To hear their tale and quickly moved to take in the lot;
Though Bruldenthar chose to travel to Summit Hill Fast;
Alongside the band heading south with mule’s trot.

They passed along the Dessarin Road;
And saw circling ravens and vultures;
A sight of which the dwarf then told;
As the site where his travel ruptures.

A quick investigation took them some hours;
Following tracks and examining cairns;
It confirmed the dwarf’s tale about enemy powers;
And the clash of cult and Mirabar’s arms.

Elivia quickly ascertained that there seemed no curse;
And the dead were simply dead and no worse;
But felt it odd that the soldiers were left above the Earth;
Counter to the cult’s common belief to bring all to soil berth.

At last they traveled the remainder of the way;
To come to Summit Hill a knight’s stay;
To deliver a hero’s body to where it may lay;
And bring word of foes that sought to waylay.

Marle took it into her mind;
To purchase a longsword with her shares;
And practiced a bit to unwind;
But finding her skill with it somewhat bare.

Elivia spent some time to pray and receive;
From Mystra a secret most useful to know;
Of life and death and Kelemvor’s reprieve;
And other powers to keep life’s burning glow.

Fennle sparred with Marle and the knights;
Growing swifter and stronger with her strikes;
A trait to take into the coming fights;
The claws of cats and the speed of shrikes.

Talindra spent her time in quite contemplation;
And calling upon a companion of nature fey;
A tall and majestic stag come in her meditation;
To carry her to and fro, in peace and in fray.

Lohn and Angus applied their roguish tricks;
Learning how best to avoid injury;
With cunning rolls and dodging sticks;
Of motions uncanny and much hurry.

Marle deepened her song restful;
But buried her troubles in a bottle of wine;
Delving deeper into bardic magic’s pull;
And trying to keep others thinking she’s fine.

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