Session 25 Recap & Experience Points Awards

Having explored the buried crystal tower from top to bottom, the Wildcats turned their efforts to unlocking the mystery of Sekana’s unfinished painting.  It would not take long.  Several of the company had already taken to examining Girbondol’s electrum-encased ornaments more closely.  But there weren’t sure what they were looking for until they asked Sekana what prevented her from completing the work.  “It’s like I said before,” the elven hostess bluntly declared, “I can’t paint without my bespoke brush.”

Within moments, the company spotted an electrum paintbrush dangling high on a branch.  Greyndalf retrieved the brush with his mage hand, and the cleric Gambol then dispelled its enchantment.  “Dog’s bollocks!” exclaimed the coarse lady when the brush was returned to her intact.  “Am gobbed, really.”

Minutes later, the Wildcats accompanied Sekana to her studio. “Now that you’ve returned my brush I suppose my lord hasn’t the bottle to stop me,” she declared.  “Let’s have a go.”

Sekana dabbed her brush into the first paint jar, then a second, and mixed the hues upon her palate.  No sooner had she taken the first probing brush stroke than a jarring rumble rolled up from below—and with her second stroke, a mean groan and grind.  The Wildcats felt a rising sensation as the elf continued, and within moments would fall to the floor as the room trembled and quaked.  But none of this would slow the artist, even as the easel toppled—for the painting hovered before Sekana, and her hand danced across the canvas adroitly as if the room were perfectly still.  When she at last finished, the grand landscape showed a swift river cutting through lush valley behind the rooftops of a modest village, all under the shadows of black-tipped mountaintops far in the hazy distance.

The shaking and grinding had stopped then too—but this was not all.  Sekana threw the Wildcats one final glance, and in an instant her painting expanded, and divided, and moved to fill the earth-clogged window.  Warm beams of sunlight spilled forth, then a gentle breeze. Now there was no painting—just a clear, open window overlooking that same lush river valley.  And now there was no Sekana; where she was stood were only only twigs bound with twine, and a dripping mound of snow flecked an olive-tan from brittle old paintbrush drowning in the melt.  A small bird perched momentarily on the sill.  It looked at the company, then flew away.  

The Wildcats marched back down to the courtyard of the risen crystal tower, cranked open the front gate, and emerged into daylight once again. They were instantly greeted by a boy of maybe twelve years who stood watching from the treeline.  This was Bom Zumero, son of the town jeweler in Admark, out hunting rabbits.  

Bom readily accepted the company’s invitation to lead them into Admark.  The hike took thirty minutes along an old, overgrown path through low trees and high grasses.  On the way, Bom urged the party to visit Caelen Bard’s—supposedly the place for “adventurey” type people (as he perceived the company to be).

This was agreed to, and the Wildcats soon found themselves sharing pints around the fireside in a mostly-empty tavern.  The barkeeper was friendly enough, but mostly the group found themselves conversing with his primary customer—an elderly warrior by the name of Kelidore Tertan.  “Admark was a glorious trading post once,” the warrior lamented.  “Four days on the Central Road from Balvin Port.  All the caravans stopped here.  The West House was grand! The Old Lordhouse was a bustle!” Or so he had been told, at least. Kelidor readily admitted that Admark’s glory days had log preceded even him.  Yet he seemed convinced the town’s old grandeur would instantly return “if only the Balvin Guard would drive the Central Road through Admark once again!”

News travels fast in a small village, of course, and so Kelidore already knew the crystal tower had risen.  “You should claim it,” he suggested.  “Or surely someone else will.”  Kelidore didn’t hesitate to suggest who that someone else might be. Apparently a local hero by the name Exta Belocious had passed away a few years ago, leaving his manner to be acquired by the cutthroat merchant Juxon Leddle.  He’d since brought along his truculent sibling, Dicant, and now the two had some kind of minor gang they were heading up.  

Guarding a tower and taking on the local Admrak riff-raff was hardly within the Wildcats’ plans, however.  So they suggested Kelidore see to the matter.  But there was little chance of that bargain ever taking shape. Kelidore was drunk, and pleaded old age, and was hardly the man to stand up to the Leddle Brothers anyway.  But Admark was not the Wildcats’ town.  They made no promises, and moved on from Caelen Bard’s.

With the ranger Unagi’s quiver precariously light, the company proceeded next to the local fletcher—an eccentric elven woman by the name Maerrave Ondol.  The Wildcats little noticed her Quilderran name at first.  But once in the shop, the arrowmaker’s stunned look betrayed her origins as much as her words.  “It’s you,” she cried.  “We thought the river monster had taken you.”

“Few secrets in this forest are long concealed from the Quilderran,” the Osinella Tiamala had said.  “Those who travel with the eyes of the Quilderran see sharply indeed.”  There hadn’t been much evidence of this until now. But Maerrave had other intelligence to impart.  “Kyzagone Rakke’s power grows deep,” she warned, explaining that many bands of the fearsome Lono-Knollen raiders have come under his influence.  “Ettins have been seen.  Hill giants.”  Rakke himself was said to have invented his own spell.  “A conjured weapon that hangs in the air,” Maerrave described.  “It swats at his enemies as if wielded by the air itself.”

“The river approach cannot be taken,” the elven fletcher made clear.  “Some beast there guards it—the same as we feared had taken your company.  Praise be to the Deva that you emerged from that crystal tower.  But an overland route is necessary.”  Maerrave estimated the march at four hours from something called the Eastern Mount. “Pine goblins man the west gate. We have not reached the east but expect the same.”

The next stop was to a local blacksmith on Kelidore’s recommendation.  The Oribale Smithy was a bustling place, where Unagi easily replaced his lost short sword, the wizard Greyndalf pored over a massive selection of martial knives. There was no metal armor to be had in this town, however, so the disappointed Wildcats settled for a deal to embed studs in a plain suit of leather.

Perhaps the most interesting tradesman proved to be Alden Mirvak, whose inventory featured a number of exotic weapons and armors of the far west. Mirvak told the Wildcats about his strategy of meeting trade caravans on the Central Road, though that didn’t quite seem to fully explain it.  No matter, as the mage Greyndalf took keen interest an armored yellow longcoat on prominent display in the middle of the shop.  “’The coat of a thousand nails,’ they call that,” Mirvak proclaimed. “Also known as ‘brigandine.’  It won’t be here long, I reckon.  Dicant Leddle at the Old Lordhouse has had his eye on it.  But you’re here now.”

Mirvak’s price was steep: 125 pieces of gold, and Greyndalf didn’t want to pay it.  But the company had an ace up their sleeve.  Producing a bottle of the aged elven wine from the crystal tower’s cellar, the mage achieved the trader’s rapt attention directly.  There was no question of its quality, and on mention that an entire cask of the product might be available had Mirvak’s entrepreneurial gears whirling at high speed.  “I’ll take the brigandine now,” Greyndalf declared.  “And I’ll leave the wine as collateral.”

Instantly calculating that the single bottle might conceivably exceed the price of the armor anyway, Mirvak readily acquiesced, along with a promise to work his connections on moving a hogshead of A+ elven vino.  “Return here in one week,” the trader directed.  “Until then, be safe in your journeys.”

The company ended its shopping spree in the Zumero Gemmery, Bom’s father’s shop.  There, much of the company swapped minor rocks with Pebin Zumero for liquid coin, while others browsed for advanced magical components—modest diamonds for the sorcerer Onog, a pair of solid platinum rings for the cleric Gambol. The nervous jeweler made the sales, and was happy to see the party off in the direction of Admark’s temples.

First was a stop at the Temple of Cygnival, a modest construction bearing a poorly kept shrine around a struggling tree.  The company found the site vacant save for the useless Elder Vostros—an aloof man who urged the company to deliver the “bones of a tree defiler” so that he could produce an “omen.”  Gambol collected three vials of holy water from the Elder and the group swiftly moved along.

An artificially dark-complected teenager met the company as the Wildcats strode into the House of Opposition.  “Goldreth,” she called herself, a devotee of Morto (god of death and destruction, opposed to Zoe, the goddess of life and creation, in the Q’in pantheon).  They had come to ask after the origins of Greyndalf’s curse and its possible cure, questions far beyond the young acolyte.  So she brought the company to the Mata, a venerable human ceric she introduced as Bolina. 

Mata Bolina was cordial enough.  Suspicious at first, and his counsel that Greyndalf travel all the way to Q’in for insights on the curse showed a certain reluctance to devote the temple’s effort and resources to the needs of this strange elven newcomer.  But conversation thawed his concern, and this was no ordinary day—for these very travelers had raised the legendary Buried Tower of Admark from its centuries-long grave.  

The Mata’s interests nonetheless tilted to the local and prosaic. “The Leddle Brothers will not long ignore an empty tower of crystal,” the cleric posited.  “Perhaps you would occupy the tower while I send word of your affliction to Q’in?”

For the Wildcats, this would not do.  But little further negotiation was required to accomplish an arrangemet agreeable to all.  Mata Bolina would research Greyndalf’s curse himself, and in the meantime send to Q’in for missionaries to occupy the crystal tower.  The Wildcats would stand guard there only until the Q’in forces arrived—a minimal imposition given the company’s need for lodging regardless.

With that, the Wildcats legged the thirty-minute stroll back to the crystal tower.  Its walls were breached in several high places, but she remained sturdy and still breathtaking in the setting sun.  Passing through its doors the company found the tower as empty as they’d left it.  Well, almost as empty—for butterflies and small birds had by now fluttered in, as nature dipped a toe into the long-lost courtyard.  For this night, the crystal tower was claimed.

Adventure Notes

Brigandine.  True metal armors are rare in the Central Range, being generally available only in the largest cities, at a dear price, and requiring weeks of customization.  Slightly more common are various forms of brigandine—coats, robes, or other garments stitched through with armor plating.  Variously known by such terms as “coat of a thousand nails,” “jack of plates,” “kuyak,” or—in the far west—“dingjia,” brigandine (classified as medium armor) affords AC 14, preserves the wearer’s dexterity modifier (max 3), and does not impose a stealth disadvantage.  Brigandine weighs 15 lbs.

Gibrondol’s Encasement. This spell, accidentally omitted from the Session 24 recap, was found in a book in Gibrondol’s library:

Gibrondol’s Encasement  

2^nd–Level Conjuration

Casting Time: 1 action

Range: 20 feet

Components V, S, M (electrum coin)

Duration: permanent

            The caster flips an electrum coin into the air, points at a handheld object, and before the coin lands must shout the old elven word “Tob-al!” [encase!]. The item is encased in electrum, though if the object being encased is being worn or grasped by an unwilling target, then its owner may make a DEX save against the caster’s DC level to avoid the encasement.  Magic items offer a bonus to such saving throw, the size of the bonus varying based on the power of the item.  The encasement is permanent, unless deactivated by the caster or undone by dispel magicor other appropriate countermeasure.  

            The effects of encasement will vary depending on the nature of the object, improving some items (e.g., a wooden staff encased in electrum may become heavier and sturdier), while rendering others virtually useless (e.g., an encased garment becomes virtually impossible to wear).  

            Encasement has no effect on a living being or on any object too large to be held by a person the same size (or smaller) than the caster.

Experience Points & Inspiration 

            Combat/Encounters

The party did not face any combat or hostile enemy situations in this session.  

              Interactions/Role-Playing/Quest progress

The company finally solved the mystery of Sekana’s painting, retrieving her bespoke brush from the tree in the dome (something something about cats chewing on packing peanuts), dispelling the encasementthat had made it useless, and inviting the elf to complete her work.  The completion of the painting broke the curse that had buried the tower, as well as the magic that animated the simulacrumversion of Sekana.  While some secrets persist, the company is awarded 15,000 XP for completing this significant chapter in the campaign.

Additionally, the company is awarded 250 XP for reaching the town of Admark. 

The company also met and interacted successfully with several key NPCs in this session:

• The party is awarded 75 XP for its moderately successful interactions with Kelidor;
• The party is awarded 125 XP for its successful interaction with Maerrave Ondol;
• The party is awarded 200 XP for its highly successful interaction with Alden Mirvak;
• The party is awarded 200 XP for its highly successful interaction with Mata Bolina;
• The party is awarded 75 XP for its moderately successful interaction with Pebin Zumero; 
• The party is awarded 25 XP each for meeting and conversing with Bom Zumero, Goldreth, and Elder Vostros.

These awards total 15,750 XP, which divides into six equal shares of 2,625 XP.

         Inspiration

This was always going to be a comparatively tame session, with only a town adventure in the offering upon completion of the crystal tower painting riddle.  So the adventure gods are stingy this week.  Yet high adventure beckons, with reports of ettins and hill giants serving the warlord Kyzagone Rakke.  Perhaps a chance at karmic compensation yet looms. 

Final Session 25 totals:

• Jowdain acquitted himself well in not battle, garnering 2,625 XP.
• Gambol pleased his deity and is rewarded with 2,625 XP and a point of inspiration.
• Greyndalf remained a cunning and resourceful (and still reasonably naked) adversary, earning 2,625 XP.
• Schlemeel still don’t give a f*k, but he picked up 2,625 XP.
• Onog played it cold as ice, and acquired 2,625 XP.
• Unagi looked fresh as ever and gained 2,625 XP.