(Jan 8, Jan 26)
Part One; Jan 8 2017
Talthus and Volg hear about the goblin attack near the West Gate, but then the communication amulets begin to fail, relaying only static. Because the amulets came from Nerrak himself, Talthus removes his and advises the other guardsmen to not use theirs. They want to aid their fellow party members.
Treasurer Charlton offers the use of the Duke’s teleportation circle, located just behind the throne. It takes the two straight to the stables, where Talthus’s steed Ellefson awaits them. Hoisting the dwarf up behind him, they ride with great speed toward the West Gate.
Following her hunch, Moira decides to search for the servant girl Tilda down in the South Ward near the docks. She inquires about her at a nearby seedy tavern, lays down some intimidating banter with some ruffians, and eventually finds the girl.
Tilda is cowering in the corner of a hovel, packing her few possessions in a sachel along with a heavy purse of coin, but isn’t surprised to see the tiefling. It doesn’t take much to get the girl to admit her part in the grim theater that had played out.
“I feel terrible. The good wizard Neff was always so friendly and helpful at court, I never suspected him of anything nefarious. He said this would just be a joke, a funny trick to play on stuffy old Ocho.” The tears begin to fall, “All I did was swap out a scroll from his shelf with another Neff gave me.” She looks down at the coin purse. “He gave me two hundred gold coins for it. I had never held so much money in my life. It was supposed to be a harmless joke.”
“You’re a fool, girl.” Moira chastised, disgusted. “Run. Take your cursed money and never return.”
Volg does not enjoy the ride, but it goes quickly. They find their companions and half a dozen city guard still engaging what’s left of the goblin attackers. Gnarl is cutting through goblins and orcs in a dual-wielding flurry. Alena is the first to greet the bard and cleric, informing them of Sir Gallen’s unceremonious retreat over her shoulder as she takes aim and fells the last orc archer. Talthus and Volg step up, and Alena too joins the melee, wielding the Auratine Blade.
The rest of the fight goes fairly smooth. Dog even does his part; after helping clear Gnarl of some oppressors, he darts over to flank with Alena, allowing her to take advantage of her sneak attack ability. The last bugbear falls to the mighty Auratine Blade in a holy golden burst of flame. The party is able to trade tales of woe in earnest. Moira was not far behind, and joins them now.
After some deliberation, although Nerrak and Sir Gallen both warrant their attention, the party decides to pursue this goblin shaman. For if he had three, he probably has the rest of the other missing children still captive as well, and if so, time is of the essence. They ride after him into the Black Forrest.
The Black Forrest is not inviting. The terrain is difficult for the horses, and all around the party gets the sense of being watched. The huge trees and dark canopied places radiate an aura of quiet menace and eerie ancientness. Volg mutters that it feels like the land suffers from “elf sickness”; when questioned about what that means, he shrugs and offers that “It feels old and sad and, well, strange. You know, like an elf.” Talthus snickers.
Alena sticks to the trail left by the fleeing monsters, and eventually finds a grove that has an oddly false quality. The path ahead is clearly illusory; she ties off a rope to a nearby tree and ventures through to make sure it is safe. She returns, and the party pierces the veil to find the cloaked area hid a series of deadly pit traps lined with wooden spikes.
Inside one of the traps they find the corpse of a beast much like an incredibly large puma, but with two large tentacles protruding from its back. The creature has already been flayed and left to rot in the sun. Not far off, pathetic mewling sounds can be heard. Hiding in the underbrush is a smaller version of the creature, perhaps one of its cubs. Alena cautiously comforts it, and with some cajoling, takes it with her. Dog snorts and puts the rest of the party between he and it in protest.
They continue on until twilight, coming again to a patch of woods with an illusory quality. This time, beyond the magical camouflage, they find a small hut surrounded by ghostly green torchlight. Mustering their courage, and prepared for a fight, the party approaches the door.
The voice of a crone bids them enter. Inside, they see the unsettling accoutrements of a woods witch; strange creatures in hanging cages made of twigs, arrays of frothing potions brewing on cluttered tables, skulls and bones woven into furniture, slithering forms lurking in shadows just out of sight. A hearth burns low, and an elderly woman sits in a chair made of brambles.
She asks what the party wants. They say they are following a goblin shaman, and she seems to know exactly of whom they speak. She smirks, and says she will help them find him, if their hansom bard will “woo her like a maiden.” Talthus steps up to the task, and begins dancing with the crone. She gets a little frisky, but he keeps it classy, and does a pretty good job of hiding his nausea.
While Talthus entertains the crone, another woman, a beautiful young elf, appears to the party. It seems as if this is the real resident of the hut, and Talthus is dancing with an illusion.
I am Bethsilia. While your friend is occupied, I ask the rest of you a riddle. What is broken as soon as it is no longer held?
The party mutters among themselves, until Moira says “Trust.”
Bethsilia smiles, and says “Indeed. And so I will aid you in finding the cur you seek. His name is Mistyfikator, and he has maligned this forest for long enough. He resides on The Black Isle, which is ensorcelled to only be found by those who have already been there. I can supply you with a means to cheat this enchantment, but only if one of you accepts a geas from me to slay the fiend and return what he has taken from me. If you promise to do this as well, I can give you further aid. I am an oracle adept at augury, and specialize in natural curative concoctions of all kinds.”
Now the specter of the old hag fades away, and Talthus feels foolish. Joining in on the conversation. Bethsilia notices his wand of magic missiles, and asks how the party came about it. Talthus is honest, and speaks of Slymenstra. Bethsilia laments that she was once a sister in The Arts, but her cruelty and pettiness drove her to abandon the loftier goals of her craft and take up mercenary ways with folk of dubious character. She is saddened that Slymenstra was slain, but is unsurprised, and muses perhaps things ended just as well; “She chose that path.”
Talthus, still sour from being duped, trades jibes with the woods witch, who he now no longer has any reason to trust. He doesn’t think they need her help at all. She rebuffs him, calling into question his intellect and his capacity, at one point addressing him as a human. When he retorts that he is not, she says “well you might as well be.” At that he says some vulgar words and leaves the hut, waiting outside, done with her. It wasn’t being called human that pissed him off, it was the entire idea that being called human was in her eyes an insult in and of itself.
Alena accepts the geas. Bethsilia then explains that Mistyfikator tricked her long ago, and now is in possession of a fetish fashioned in her likeness, with which he siphons her power and binds her to never directly harm him. Alena refers to it questioningly as a “voodoo doll,” and Bethsilia nods. “Kill him, and bring the doll back to me, and the geas will be fulfilled.”
In exchange, Bethsilia gives the party a magic compass. It consists of a wooden bowl of water with a silver needle wrapped in Bethsilia’s golden hair. “It will lead you to the piece of me that was stolen, thwarting the obfuscating power of the Black Isle. Also, take this,” she gives a flask to Alena, “Feed it to your coeurl companion. It will alleviate it of its murderous tendencies for now. It may need a second dose once it feels the urges of adulthood.”
Before leaving, Volg inquires more about their foe. He learns that Mistyfikator is a fey creature, not a goblin. He has been extensively using the Lethe Lotus Ritual and various magics to tap into The Dreaming, a fey demirealm of chaotic power, and has become obsessed with the idea that in a past life he would have been next in line to become lord over all the Black Forrest, if it were not for the migration of elves from the East. Once he was an innocent prankster, a fey of riddles and gaming and amusement, but has since become dark and twisted by pride and maliciousness. He now curries favor with the dispossessed goblinoid tribes that wander the woods, and sews wickedness whenever he can. He has mastered the Art of Illusion, to the extent that he finds Evocations and Necromancy beyond his purview. He also favors Enchantments and Transmutations. As a fey he abhors cold iron, and cannot stand its touch.
In a quiet moment, while Volg is doing his research, Bethsilia lets slip a piece of her own past. She was once a fair and naïve elf maiden, but was tricked into relinquishing a piece of her elven soul to Mistyfikator for a chance to love a mortal human. That is how he came to possess her fetish; it was willing given through deceit. At the same time, Talthus sees the older version of Bethsilia gazing longingly out the window at him, perhaps sorry for her ruse, and then it vanishes.
“I mean no harm in using a geas on your friend, but as long as that wretch is allowed to live and holds my soul hostage, I am trapped here behind these wards in my sanctum to avoid his machinations, and cannot raise a hand against him. Now I age and wither like a mortal, occasionally suffering twinges of that fey’s own madness. That is the price I daily pay. Please, see that Alena fulfills her end of the bargain, for both our sakes. End this.” That is when Volg realizes that the old hag Talthus had danced with was the real Bethsilia, and the fair elf maiden the rest of the party has been dealing with was the real illusion.
Compass in hand, the party sets out to find The Black Isle.
Part Two (As recounted by Moira); Jan 26 2017
Alena was given a wooden bowl with a silver needle wrapped in Bethsilia’s hair leading us to her “fetish,” which is sapping her power (and making her age as a mortal human).
We ignored some orc tracks headed perpendicular to our goal. We followed the compass needle for hours; the sun was high and on our right when we started, but eventually started to set on our right, and never quite crossed overhead. Alena figured out we were making a big circle, so we made a sharp right and headed toward the center.
There was a thick eerie mist when we approached. Barely visible beyond it was a clearing and a lake. In the middle of the lake was an island with a very craggy rock and barren black trees. Smoke issued in columns from the other shore. The huge sleek black rock the island takes its name from was of an irregular slant, with a low slope on the east and an extreme precipice on the west, as if it had fallen from the sky at an angle and lodged itself into the bed of the lake; it radiated an otherworldly aura, as if it did not belong in this realm. When we approached the shore, we see a hobgoblin and an ogre by a felled tree.
The hobgoblin we recognize as Yellow Farts, former member of the Cowboys from Hell gang we dispatched back in Scarsburg. Apparently, he has traded his rapier for a fancy spiked chain as of joining this new gang. We do battle against the two; Moira strays behind some trees but close behind. Volg blasts off a prepped spell (some kind of spear made from holy light) and charges the ogre. Moira casts mage armor and pushes closer while still unseen. Volg is deep in the clash as Talthus sings a song of battle. Moira calls upon stone call to damage both enemies and uses a Hero Point to save Volg from damage; the earthy energies of the spell resonate with his dwarven nature and heals Volg 2 hp instead. Alena skewers Yellow Farts with an arrow and Talthus finishes with a swift crossbow bolt.
Volg smashes the ogre’s head like a melon with his masterwork hammer in a feat of dwarven glory.
Moira leaves the shadows to join Dog and Alena. Yelllow Farts drinks a potion, backing off as his comrade lays dead in a pile of gore, and says he will negotiate. Alena forces a trade for all of his goods including his magical spiked chain, a bracer with a springsheath knife, and his mundane chainmail shirt. She gives him a loincloth to wear as he flees.
He also drops 413 gold pieces, a bag of caltrops, and a very mysterious key. As Yellow Farts runs away naked into the forest, Volg, with a kiss, sends a celestial dire rat after him (DM ensures further stories will ensue).
Talthus uses his oil of wood shaping to turn the fallen tree into a canoe. We make it to the other side of The Black Isle thanks to Volg making us look like a very convincing floating log.
On the island we find a crypt entrance upon a cliff side that is the lair of Mistyfikator. There are no guards in sight. There is a camp below of bugbears, orcs, and goblins, so we climb the side of the cliff farthest from them under cover of darkness. Sneaking into the crypt, we find a mini treasure trove of mundane gear.
I fill up my quiver and Volg grabs some light hammers and a bandolier.
Volg provides light with an everburning torch. Alena is cleverly checking for traps as we move. Gnarl stays behind in this foyer to guard the entrance and keep tabs on the gear. Moira calls out to Gnarl to organize the items so that those of the greatest value are together.
We make our way into the dungeon. There is a room lit with many vases. There are four crypts and a barred portcullis. Alena detects a trip wire at the threshold and red flags it. Moira runs up to the wire while Volg and Talthus hop over it, as an apparition appears.
It begs us to turn back, saying we are disturbing their eternal rest. Volg and Talthus however can sense that these apparitions are a ruse, and as we ignore and disbelieve them, they fade away. Volg also notices that there are animated skeletons rattling around inside the nearby sarcophagi, and destroys them with positive divine energy. We use Yellow Farts’s key to unlock the portcullis.
Alena does not notice a gelatinous cube, and is engulfed, paralyzed and takes damage. Moira uses burning hands on the cube and Volg charges forward with a smack of his hammer. Volg is smacked right back by the gelatinous cube. Moira blasts again with burning hands as Talthus adds a volley of magic missiles. Volg finally splatters the cube with a glorious blow and drags Alena from the puddle as she gasps awake.
Volg channels positive energy, restoring some party health.
Moira grabs 3 vials of gelatinous cube goop before it completely discorporates.
The group traverses through, encountering 2 orcs and 2 bugbears. The two orcs both land masterful blows upon Talthus. The party jumps into action, and Talthus responds by casting hideous laughter on the bugbear.
Alena shoots her longbow. Moira draws and loads her crossbow as the bugbear takes a wild swing at Talthus, missing. Volg lands on the bugbear with his warhammer. Alena follows up with another clean shot. Talthus drives his rapier into the bugbear’s neck with an expertly placed thrust. Moira runs up to an orc and swipes him with her claws.
Talthus takes a blow from one of the orcs. Volg rushes forth and smashes that orc in the face, rendering the foe unconscious. The dwarf exclaims, “I hate these guys; I have to purify my hammer after this.”
As the remaining bugbear is about to recover from the hideous laughter, choking off the last titters, Alena takes the Auratine Blade and swings it at the beast man. She misses.
Talthus stumbles back after his injury, almost dead, but restores himself with a cure light wounds.
The orc swings his sword at Moira, but misses, lodging it within the nearby stone wall. She rakes his face with her two deadly claws, ripping it apart, leaving him for dead.
Volg charges the bugbear on the ground and flattens the beast as he has done so well before.
Volg removes 4 daggers from the bugbear corpse, and passes them to Moira for her bandolier. The dwarf priest then goes running off to another room with Talthus.
Talthus uses the key again to open a locked portcullis to reveal a room with arcane fonts brimming with glowing green fluid.
Volg determines that the fonts are endowed with transmutation magic. There is only enough to drink from the provided decanters, but it appears that they are fed from a larger source below. When Talthus and Volg drink from the fonts, they regain some health and enough mental energy to recall a recently cast spell.
Alena and Moira watch from the hall as unseen assailants start shooting bolts at Volg and Talthus from tiny murder holes concealed within the sarcophagi in their room.
[PART 3 to be Continued]
