Hey look, some jerk is writing an Adventure Log.
Ok, so the session began with the general cleanup from the arena battle. Tempest met his parents and coldly ignored their attempts to hug and make up for years of slavery. The nation of Fedir hailed us as heroes, which is sort of a bad thing given their penchant for randomly killing anyone they see. We were quite quickly returned to the Hub.
Lazing around the Hub for two weeks proved fairly boring, but then Zane (the Master of Roads) contacted us. Apparently word of our great deeds of killing whoever we are told to had reached Tharduul, which is good I suppose. A dwarf whose name I can’t remember told us a tale of woe from the failed dwarven settlement of the Ironfell clan (I think) named the Karak Load or something similar. Promising each of us 1,000 gold to find this place, as well as apparently the rights of salvage for anything we find there, he gave us a loose map showing landmarks leading toward the ancient outpost.
So of course we head out, being ‘escorted’ through Tharduul and out into the wastes. “Iron-sharp” brambles and whatnot were all about, reinforcing the bleakness and uselessness of the area. Surviving in the desert is a challenge to anyone’s skills, so we started a skill challenge.
Our resident backwater hick dwarf has all the requisite skills, and basically can’t fail perception checks, so the mid-forties rolls kept us fine and dandy for a while. On perhaps the second or third day traveling, however, a black-cloaked man approached and demanded to know what were were doing, named Mag Something-or-Other. Black-cloaked men are rarely good signs for adventurers, so Baern expressed in the most diplomatic way possible that we were seeking a forgotten dwarven outpost, and that “his wastes” were not his at all, since the dwarven claim on the land plainly preceded any human claim by centuries. For all his polite diplomacy, Baern was challenged to single combat. There’s been a lot of that going around lately.
Finding the idea of fighting one-on-one a bit stupid, Baern mentioned that there were five of us and one of this other guy, meaning that we could easily just kill him outright. Still, after a bit of talking, Baern agreed to a non-lethal duel. The fight largely consisted of a Spiritual Weapon of Baern’s smacking Maglite the Ranger around, while Baern healed himself and shrugged off damage. Shortly enough, Mag was unconscious and bound.
Seeing his new situation, Mag became more helpful, and agreed to be a guide for the party if he was released. This added even more skill to our skill challenge taker, which made us immune to challenges. Mag decided to take us to
Shady Sands Dunesend or something like that, a craphole human desert settlement.
Another day or two of travel saw us meeting up with some apparently crazed dwarves and their pet hellhound. Despite repeated attempts by Baern to get them to lay down their arms and join their kin, they kept fighting and were killed fairly quickly. There were some issues regarding a minotaur and a chasm, but thankfully no one in the party died, despite constant screams of “Medic!”. An inordinate number of natural fours were rolled, however. Kemil found some Boots of Tabby Cats or something, I don’t know. +Jumping, +Landing.
Ok, so after that, we traveled a bit longer and popped into Dunesend. Hearing a cry of pain, we headed into town and saw a bloody, armed gnoll standing over a dead human. Also there was a huge lightning-based lizard monster there, a Behir. Also satyrs, and they were frankly pretty damn far from the Grecian forests that they should be found in.
So we did the typical adventurer thing and killed the big monster. Uh, in two hits. Kemil did something like 47 damage, got devoured a moment, and then did another mid-forties hit to drop the sucker. GG, Behir. The gnoll warden and satyr rakes caused more problems, however. Ovias was promptly flanked and had something like half a dozen critical hits on him in about two rounds. The Ineffable Light of Moradin helped keep him alive, however. Kemil, having rushed in to fight the Behir, found himself similarly flanked, but with less critical damage. Still, he managed to keep alive long enough for the somewhat leadfooted cleric to get over there and heal a bit. An engaging combat all around in fact. The satyrs mostly fled, which is unfortunate. When dime-a-dozen monsters flee, it’s generally the DM’s way of explaining why an entire army starts breathing down our necks in a day or two.
At this point, session over.
Tune in next time for “The Intricacies of Dwarven Property Law”, or “How to Smash Face with a Hammer”