Session 30 Recap & Experience Points Awards

A festive spirit had washed over the town of Admark, as news of the despised Leddle gang’s departure spread and confidence in its permanence grew with each passing hour.  By nightfall the belief had taken hold in the taverns, and there commenced a festival like none the town had ever seen.  But the epicenter was the travelers’ bar, Caelen Bard’s, where the Wildcats appeared at the invitation of self-styled town elder Kelidore Tertan.  Between the hard-drinking old warrior and the like-minded barkeep, the Wildcats enjoyed an evening of uncommon inebritation and merriment—well, except for Gambol, that is—long-earned after many nights of nearly constant travail.  

But there was still business to be done.  For as great a victory as their triumph over the Leddles may have been in the eyes of Admark villagers, the event had not much troubled the Wildcats.  Indeed several in the company looked upon the Leddles as a mere nuisance standing in the way of their long-delayed objective, finding Kyzagone Rakke at the old Wan Temple ruin.  This they had promised Osinella Tiamala of the Quilderran elves many weeks ago, and it was a promise they did not intend to break.

Even so, Tertan had little to share.  “Four times I’ve seen it,” he said of the Wan Temple ruin, through words knocked unsteady by spirits.  “Twice as a youth.  Foolish. Once from the Eastern Mount.  Then last as a young man.”

Tertan’s voice grew dismal.  “Three friends and I followed the river upstream.  All the way until it first came into view.  We weren’t there one minute when it happened.  Great beast, rose from the water, scared the daylights from us, it did.  We made our way back south, quick as lightning.  All of us—except ol’ Grodny.”

The grizzled warrior downed a firm swig of whiskey and finished his tale. “Must have tripped on a branch or a rock.  Or something.  I heard the scream; I turned my head and saw the giant claw around him.  Scaly.  Black-green, like a reptile’s claw.  There wasn’t anything we could do against…that.  Just run.  Just run.”

Tertan's tragic recollection concluded, he resumed his ebullience, calling quickly for another round of shots to himself and the Wildcats.  Business, it seemed, would have to wait.

So it was the company rose late the following day, prodded at last by the sprightly movements of their pious companion.  The quarters had been free, but the wilderness beckoned and the cleric was eager to answer its call.    Clanging metal on metal, soon all of his companions had arisen, and the company passed slowly across the Great High Common to find the old ranger Ceshtyrn Ogdurn in his network of tree homes north of the village.

These human tree homes lacked the beauty, grace, or magnitude of the Quilderran version the Wildcats had previously visited.  Yet they were sturdy, comfortable, and more than adequate for the handful of nuclear families the company spied hard at work up in the branches.  “Those down in the village below call us ‘treefolk,’ they do,” Ceshtyr told the party. “As if living among the trees makes one an elf or a goblin.  But here we are, and here we shall stay.  We hold no contempt for those who live upon dirt.  But that is not our way.”

Though looking roughly the same age as his terrestrial counterpart Kelidore Tertan, Ceshtyr moved gracefully over the steps and ladders and nooks and branches of the treehomes, and seemed to battle the with the limitations of age as aggressively as Tertan had surrendered to them.  Soon the Wildcats sat around his rustic chamber, and listened to him tell it.  “We are all hunters here in the trees, even the children.  Nature provides all that we need, provided we not take too much. A delicate balance the forest is. The river is.”

This was a balance the cleric knew all too well, and for which he shared the old ranger’s deep respect.  Yet only some moments allowed one to passively observe its majesty; other times called for action, and Ceshtyr’s guests had action on their minds.  “We seek the lost temple,” fellow woodsman Unagi announced.  “Will you guide us?”

“Hoy,” the treefolk elder replied.  “And what business might you have at the Wan ruin?”

Before any Wildcat could answer, Ceshtyr gave his own.  “Hopefully more than mere thrill-seeking,” he declared, his voice betraying the faintest clue of reckoning.  “There are many dangers there.  I know.  Perhaps I was once a thrillseeker myself.”

Ceshtyr rose and stepped slowly to the window.  “I would still accompany you,” he stated, “were it not for my responsibilities here.”  A minute hand motion called the company’s attention to several of Ceshtyr‘s fellow treefolk toiling among the leaves.  “Nevertheless, I can take you as far as the Eastern Mount.  From there you can see what lies before you.  Difficult to imagine the forest has grown too much thicker in the fifteen years since I last stood atop it.”  Within minutes, he was ready to go.

On Ceshtyr’s advice, the company broke east to ford the Voo River at the wide and shallow spot popular with the local fishermen, then hiked west along its north bank.  They found the terrain agreeable enough—rocky soils grown over with tall grasses and just enough trees.  But there were dangers aplenty.  “We must keep to the riverbank,” Cestyr warned.  “To the north lies the Oscuro Madera.”

Perhaps the dangers of the Oscuro Madera may have been greater. But even the north bank proved perilous indeed.  For after several hours of hiking, the company crested a rise to meet a band of monstrous figures walking toward the company at maybe fifty yards distance. Trogs mostly, with three ogre-orc halfbreeds and the first true giant any of the Wildcats had ever encountered. “Uven!” the giant shouted, pointing toward the company with one abundant forearm while the other clutched a giant club, whittled roughly from a massive tree branch.  

The giant raised a small boulder over his shoulders and flung it into the dwarf Jowdain as the rest of the brutes charged the Wildcats. The battle was on.  

Noting the giant’s fearsome power, Gambol invoked a plant growthspell and Greyndalf called forth and ice stormto slow their enemies’ advance, as Unagi sniped trogs with a prolonged series of withering bow shots. 

At distance, the company’s spells and missile weapons only slightly outstripped the destructive power of the giant’s boulders—and the prospect of difficult hand-to-hand combat loomed as the trogs and ogrillions drew closer. But soon the Wildcats took firm control of the battle, when the sorcerer Onog conjured an iron crown to sit upon the giant’s head and take command over the being’s will.  This was crown of madness, a powerful enchantment the sorcerer had previously attempted but without success—but which now made the giant a pawn in Onog’s personal chess game. Turning from the company, the giant bashed two of his companions into broken husks, then wasted its efforts in attempting to destroy a phantasmal weapon Gambol had summoned to the fray.

With his entourage crushed and the solitary giant left to face the company alone, there was, alas, no escape.  A flurry of fire and electricity and a chromatic orbblasted the foe until there was nothing left but its smoldering remains—and a mildly enchanted great sword one of the ogrillions had come to own.  

“Hill giants were never known for their brilliance,” Ceshtyr concluded, surveying the rapid annihilated Lono-Knollen band.  “But that crown spell was something.  Well done.”

Adventure Notes

• Hill Giant. The company encountered an actual giant in this session.  Standing over 15’ tall and hurling boulders as weapons, this was a dangerous enemy (STR 21, ~ 105 hit points).  But the reputation of the hill giant is that of an overgrown ogre—clumsy (AC 13) and aggressive, devoid of tactics, and easily confused.  This proved to be the case as the fearsome giant wasted precious moments in battle swatting uselessly at Gambol’s mystic hammer. 
• Ceshtyr Ogdurn and the Treefolk.  The Treefolk who live north of Admark seemed a serious and determined lot.  The Wildcats ironically found them much more down-to-earth than the typical Admark denizen and their leader—the aged ranger Cestyr Ogdurn—a humble, yet confident man. 
• The Eastern Mount.  Both Kelidor Tertan and Ceshtyr Ogdurn report having visited “The Eastern Mount,” supposedly a high butte to the west of Admark from which the Wan Temple ruin is visible.  
• The Osucro Madera.  Many unknown dangers reportedly lurk in a thick forest north of Admark called “Oscuro Madera.” Luckily the Wildcats haven’t come across any reason to travel there. Yet.
• Admark Cultists.  Rumors in the Admark taverns hold that some strange cult has occupied the ruins of an old palace at the southwest edge of town. Its members aren’t known to be dangerous or to have committed any crimes, but many in town have their suspicions.    
  

Experience Points & Inspiration 

            Combat/Encounters

The company faced six trogs, three ogrillions, and one hill giant in a wandering encounter this session, with one of the ogrillions (the group’s leader) carrying an enchanted greatsword (that he never got to use). The party is awarded 4,450 XP for defeating these enemies.

                  Interactions/Role-Playing/Quest progress

The company is awarded 125 XP for obtaining some additional intel from Kelidore Tertan, including the existence of the Eastern Mount and possible dangers lurking near the Wan Temple ruin.  The party is awarded another 250 XP for successfully meeting with Cestyr Ogdurn and recruiting him as a guide.  

            Inspiration

The adventure gods were of two minds on this session.  For some, its most entertaining moment was the alarming sight of the gnome Schlemeel plunging toward Earth from a distance six times his height.  He’d run out onto a makeshift tightrope lashed between two pines, this to avoid a trog who’d chased the gnome up one of the trees—only to have the trog laughingly sever the rope.  Yet the rogue’s luck held, with Schlemeel sustaining the D&D equivalent of a papercut from the (meticulously-scrutinized) 20-foot drop.  

Others in the pantheon of adventure considered Onog’s redemption the top moment.  Not only was the half-orc’s oft-punished faith in the crown of madnessincantation finally rewarded, but in this case the spell turned the tide of a dangerous encounter.  The battle had begun with a massive boulder strike on the party’s stoutest warrior, and the giant found similar rocks in abundant supply.  It’s a difficult decision—but sometimes the best thing about being an adventure god is not having to decide.

Final Session 30 totals:

• Jowdain acquitted himself well in not battle, garnering 805 XP.
• Gambol pleased his deity and is rewarded with 805 XP.
• Greyndalf remained a cunning and resourceful (and still reasonably naked) adversary, earning 805 XP.
• Schlemeel still don’t give a f*k, but he picked up 805 XP and a point of inspiration.
• Onog played it cold as ice, and acquired 805 XP and one point of inspiration.
• Unagi looked fresh as ever and gained 805 XP.