Session 26 Recap & Experience Points Awards

The wizard Greyndalf returned to the House of Opposition in search of mystical inks, with which he planned to scribe spells procured in Gibrodol’s library into his own book.  He was in luck.  The temple was well-stocked, and Gorldreth, the dark acolyte of Morto, more than happy to assist.  Properly equipped, he returned to the crystal tower south of Admark to begin the painstaking transcription. 

*  *  *  *  *

Meanwhile, others of the Wildcats had errands of their own.  Leaving the elven mage behind, they set off along the orchard path for Admark.  But there would be others along that path today—others of questionable intent.

Several had warned that the Leddle gang would covet the crystal tower.  How they might try to acquire it remained uncertain, however, until now.  A small detachment of their representatives met these Wildcats on the road to Admark, and attempted a crude form of extortion.  “What do you want for the crystal tower,” their lieutenant queried, with his men trying their best to intimidate the rag-tag adventuring company.  “My employers are able to top any bid you may have received.”

“We’ve been offered five thousand gold pieces,” the sorcerer Onog matter-of-factly replied.  “If you can top that, we’ll talk.”

The Leddle commander seemed not to like the price.  He paused, and sized up the company he faced.  “Five thousand is a lot of gold,” the commanded offered.  “But perhaps we should talk about this further.”

“Your place,” the sorcerer snapped.  “An hour after sunset.”

“You will come to the Old Lordhouse?” the commander verified, seemingly taken aback.  “We had assumed you would not.”

“Is there a reason we shouldn’t?”

“No,” the Leddle man confirmed.  “We will see you tonight.”

 *  *  *  *  *

On reaching Admark, the company returned to the Oribale Smithy.  The artisans there had done a masterful job of embedding the gnome Schlemeel’s leather armor with metal studs.  Across the front, the pattern of the studs spelled “Wildcats” in gnomish runes: 

Delighted, the company tipped the blacksmiths generously for the work, and promised to return should future blacksmithing needs arise. 

The ranger Unagi then led the company to the northeast corner of the village, where rows of fishermen’s huts dotted river bank behind a bustling square scattered with merchants and fishmongers.  Here a woman cleaned and scaled the day’s catch, there a man sold panfish by the skein.  The ranger had come in search of a rod, however, and thus stopped only at an unmarked gear shop to purchase a 7-foot fishing pole and a pair of nets. 

It was on the way to the shop, as the party worked its way through the crowded fishermen’s quarter, that the ranger felt a clumsy hand tugging at his coinpurse.  Instead of the ranger’s coins being snatched, it was the ranger who snatched the thief.  Clutching him by a frail wrist, Unagi demanded an explanation.

The thief was a human boy of seventeen years, but he spoke without a hint of shame—only regret at his uneptitude.  “I haven’t eaten in four days,” he answered, leaving it at that.

“Well, why didn’t you just say so?” the ranger scolded.

“Perhaps I should have.”

The pick-pocket gave the name Magrif Dissc, and said he’d come west from Balvin.  The story didn’t quite add up.  But the company had its own needs, and sudden use for this unexpected captive.

“We’ll pay you a handsome wage to perform a brief service for us,” Onog proclaimed.  “Just a little scouting, nothing too difficult.  You’ll eat for a week, and afford a room at the inn.”

“What kind of scouting?” asked the thief, skepticism ringing in his words.

“Do you know the old lordhouse in town?”

“I’ve seen it.”

“Well, go take a closer look.  Exits.  Traps.  Guards.  That kind of stuff.”

“You gonna rob the place?”

“No,” the half-orc insisted.  “Just need to be prepared.  We’ll meet you on the steps of the Q’in temple at dusk.  Give us your report then, and you will be well-rewarded.”

The thief agreed to the mission, and was set free to perform it.  He disappeared into the crowd, with the Wildcats wondering if they’d ever see him again. 

*  *  *  *  *

When their shopping trip concluded, the company returned to the tower south of town.  There, Greyndalf concluded his spell transcription and received an update on the day’s developments from his comrades.  As dusk approached, the entire group set off again—headed north to the House of Opposition.

Again, however, the company was unable to reach the village without incident.  This time, a pack of ghouls skulking through the trees came upon the company.  One among them was a ghast—an especially dreadful ghoul variant marked by its foul, poisonous odor.  The ghouls charged the party and closed quickly to a melee distance, and a desperate battle ensued.  The rogue Schlemeel caught several within the arc of his burning hands spell, while Onog blasted several others with a pair of minute meteors.  Yet the company’s fighters struggled to hit their marks, and soon Onog would fall to the ground, paralyzed, as a ghoul’s fearsome claw tore into him.  Only the cleric Gambol’s lesser restoration spell would prevent a second warrior, the Wildcats’ stout dwarf Jowdain, from a similar fate as another ghoul’s claws ripped through his armor as well. 

After the ghouls’ dangerous initial onslaught, however, the company soon wrested the upper hand.  Schlemeel struck from the shadows and brought down one foe with a masterfully-executed backstab.  Jowdain slashed another with his nighty axe, Blackhandle, severely wounding and slowing the undead monstrosity for the duration of the battle.  And three party members would combine to knock out the ghast with determined blows in short succession.  With the ghouls now badly outnumbered, the company hacked the remaining enemies to bits as the Gambol restored their wounds through a prayer of healing. 

Momentarily, Onog’s numbness receded and the party continued to the House of Opposition, where they expected the pickpocket Magrif Dissc to appear with intel on the Leddle gang’s stronghold.  Instead, only the same Leddle gang captain would appear, flanked by the same four thuggish types as had accompanied him before. 

They approached to within fifty paces of the temple steps, before their commander spoke.  “Looking for someone?” he asked, drawing ever nearer.  With that, he reached into a burlap sack and pulled from it a severed head, then flung it toward the Widlcats with an underhand lob.  It rolled to a stop at the company’s feet, and then the party instantly recognized it belonged to Magrif Dissc.  “You dare send spies,” the Leddle spokesman pressed.  “You see how we deal with spies.”

“He was just a boy,” Unagi angrily replied.  “Anyway he was no spy.”

“Oh, he wasn’t” the commander mocked.  “Well, “I don’t think there will be any bidding on your tower now.” 

Before the commander could turn to leave, Unagi—furious at Dissc’s cold-blooded murder—produced a vial of acid from his belt and threw the caustic liquid into the commander’s face.  The commander screamed in agony as the acid burned into his pores; he brushed the acid away with his hands and shirt sleeves, but the disfiguration was extreme and the scarring would be permanent.  Enraged, the commander drew his blade and charged straight for the ranger.

His men followed.  But being fifty paces off, they could not reach the scene before Gambol blocked their way with spike growth.  Moments later, the cleric would conjure massive plant vines to grab one of the approaching thugs and drag him through the spikes, and then a second.  Onog blasted the other two thugs with Snollic’s snowball swarm, while their commander stabbed futilely at Unagi.  The party’s warriors ended the battle mercifully, striking the crazed commander hard across the skull with the flat of the blade.  He fell unconscious, and his one remaining subordinate surrendered—while three of their mates lay dead in the dirt just yards from the temple steps. 

It was then that Mata Bolina emerged from the temple.  “What is the meaning of this!?” the Q’in priest exclaimed, angered at the sight of bloodshed on his doorstep. 

“These men attacked us!” the thug prisoner shouted.  “Threw acid in my commander’s face.”

“After…” said the mage Greyndalf, speaking for the party.  “Threw acid after what?”

“They killed this boy,” Unagi clarified, when the prisoner made no effort to answer.  The ranger pointed to Dissc’s severed head, making sure the priest took notice.  “Killed him in cold blood.”

“Was a spy!” the Leddle prisoner argued.  “He was killed for spying.  You sent him!”

“We sent him to look for traps,” Greyndal calmly retorted, his words directed to the priest.  “Just traps.  Anyway, this had to be done.  These man would have taken the tower.”

“It’s forfeit already!” the prisoner taunted.  “For your spying, now for your killing.”  But his words only seemed to dispel the Q’in priest’s doubts.

“So it had to be done,” Mata Bolina confirmed to the mage.  “An unpleasant task, but a necessary one.  What are your intentions with these men?”

The mage explained that the Wildcats intended to interrogate the unconscious commander, and would take him back to the crystal tower to see it done.  The other man they had no use for.  

“I will see after him,” Mata Bolina offered.  “The temple has accommodations for prisoners.  But I cannot allow you to take this other man.  The gods find no sin in unavoidable bloodshed, yet that which is unnecessary cannot be forgiven.”

“Then I assure you he will be given a chance to live,” the mage declared.

The promise satisfied the Q’in priest.  As the Wildcats saw about improvising a travois for their captive, Mata Vuvu led his own prisoner into the temple, and presumably down into its dark dungeons of its own. 

Adventure Notes

Spell Transcription.  As the wizard Greyndalf demonstrates in this session, a wizard may transcribe new spells found on scrolls, in spellbooks, etc. into his or her own spellbook.  The transcription, however, must be performed under “laboratory” conditions—and thus is generally not possible during wilderness or dungeon explorations (hence, attempts to transcribe a spell under adverse conditions will carry a significant chance of failure, which will vary depending on the degree of adversity).  The fine inks necessary for transcription are available in most villages and towns at a cost or ~50gp per spell level, but must be used shortly after acquisition.

Ghast.  The Wildcats had previously encountered common ghouls in the Horl mud cave, as well as the variant “Maze Ghouls” in the Doom Ramps of the Betrayed.  The company met yet another variant in this session: the “ghast.”  The ghast resembles the common ghoul in vitality (32-40 hit points) and possesses the same, fearsome paralyzing strike.  But the ghast attacks with greater skill (+3 bonus to hit) and emits a poisonous stench (affected creatures suffer disadvantage on all attack rolls and ability checks).  The ghast also resists certain spells and spell effects—and can spread that resistance to allied ghouls.

Experience Points & Inspiration

            Combat/Encounters

The company defeated five ghouls, one ghast, four “Leddle thugs” and one “Leddle commander” in battle this session.  These victories total 5,100 experience points, for an even 850 XP per character. 

                  Interactions/Role-Playing/Quest progress

In another role-playing heavy session, the company accumulated 150 XP for successfully managing their initial interaction with the Leddle gang, 250 XP for their extremely successful handling of Magrif Dissc’s attempted theft, and another 150 XP for successfully managing the conversation with Mata Bolina after killing three men on his doorstep.  These awards total 550 XP, so we will go ahead and round that up to 600 XP—making an even 100 XP per character.

            Inspiration

The adventure gods aren’t much on antiquated clichés, like “the clothes make the man.”  But then a reckless gnome dons a custom suit of studded leather with “Wildcats” spelled across the front in armored plating, and they have to reconsider.  And while they’re thinking about it, maybe some beast-loving ranger who’s named after a fish and carries a pet bird comes by and splashes a cup of acid in their faces.  Strange times, man.

Final Session 25 totals:

• Jowdain acquitted himself well in not battle, garnering 950 XP.
• Gambol pleased his deity and is rewarded with 950 XP.
• Greyndalf remained a cunning and resourceful (and still reasonably naked) adversary, earning 950 XP.
• Schlemeel still don’t give a f*k, but he picked up 950 XP and one point of inspiration.
• Onog played it cold as ice, and acquired 950 XP.
• Unagi looked fresh as ever and gained 950 XP and a point of inspiration.