Sessions 32 Recap & Experience Points Awards

Weary legs had carried the Wildcats several hundred feet up the Eastern Mount, their path largely of natural rises and the piled steps of natural tectonics.  But there was no question the hands of men had made the staircase before them now—twenty feet of precise, even steps to the pinnacle of this unusual butte, from where a view of the ruined Wan Temple complex was promised. 

Before making their ascent, however, the keen eyes of the company’s elven mage fell upon a rectangular depression in the flat stone wall.  A compartment or container of some kind filled a niche here.  The Wildcats probed and prodded with tools and blades, but could not free it—and finally deduced through means of a detect magic spell that some enchantment held the object in its place.  With no solutions forthcoming, the Wildcats turned at last to their treefolk guide, the Ceshtyr Ogdurn, who’d led them to the Eastern Mount but had grown increasingly useless as the company’s ascent proceeded.  “I know this not,” the venerable ranger admitted with a shrug, though he’d claimed to have passed by here multiple times in his youth.  “Surely it was better hidden in years past.”

Unable to access the curious nook, there was nothing to do but proceed up the steps.  Thereupon the final rise deposited the company onto a wide gravel path that cut through a thick forest of short, prickly pines and to the base of an old stone watchtower.  The top of that tower lay on its side, at the far end of a pond at tower’s eastern edge.  How this had happened was anyone’s guess, and without a question the ranger offered no insights on the subject.  Instead the Wildcats proceeded directly to the intact tower base, where they found the high winds whipping through arrow slits and the dangling remains of thick wooden battle doors.

Moving into the tower base, the Wildcats found an old broken floor covered with rubbish and debris.  But the ceiling remained intact, with a circular portal beckoning to the higher vantage point.  The ladder that had once climbed through that portal was long gone, however, and soon the company’s attention was called to happenings across the choppy waters beside them.

Furious mountain winds pushed the crystal waters of that pond roughly to the west, where it crashed in waves against jagged rocks and tower debris before being yanked violently back by gravity in pass after pass.  But what truly caught the adventurers’ attention were lights.  Above, blurry purple ghosts hovered in midair over the waters; below, a firm yellow luminescence filled the waters beside the upper tower ruin across the pond.  There was no time to ponder their next move, as the apparition suddenly flew at frenzied speed toward and through and around the company. 

Within moments, more of the phantoms appeared, seemingly from nowhere—as the Wildcats tried desperately to fend them off with weapon swats and magical attacks.  To their surprise, the company found these spectral beings uncommonly frail—dissipating into nothing upon even the slightest strike.  With this realization, Greyndalf released a handful of old bones into the air—allowing the flurrying phantoms to break themselves upon the tiny pieces.

In the meanwhile, the rogue Schlemeel made his way—with the help of a free action spell from the cleric Gambol—through the frigid waters.  Pushing on a chunk of flotsam, the gnome drew close enough to see the source of that submerged glow: a foot-long radiant key, bearing a carved dragon’s head and only partly melded into the soggy detritus below.  Diving under, the gnome chipped and scraped to free the key as his companions held the endless phantoms at bay.  It was then that the true threat emerged.

The large shard of what Schlemeel had thought was tower debris had not been.  An illusion had covered it, the same as the phantoms had been.  A powerful serpentine creature, over 30’ long with scales of mustard yellow, suddenly sprang from the pond.  The terrified voice the woodfolk hardly registered as the beast exhaled a torrent of scalding steam into the midst of the company.  But Ceshtyr Ogdurn had uttered the creature’s name: The Qasipoa.

The intensity of the steam attack sent the party members scurrying for cover inside the tower base.  From there, the Wildcats fought a pitched battle with the Qasipoa as the rogue Schlemeel pried the free the submerged key and raced toward the access steps.  But his twin hopes—that the key would unlock the mysterious magical niche the party had found by the access stairs, and that the contents of that niche might somehow relieve the mortal peril they now faced from the Qasipoa—were dashed as the effort proved fruitless. 

Even as the company’s focused attacks withered the Qasipoa, their fortunes grew darker.  The beast struck viciously with its razor-like claws, slapped with its powerful tail, and crushed with its frightful teeth—all as it mustered itself for another blast of steam breath.  When finally that time came, the Qasipoa leapt from the water and onto the roof of the ruined tower base.  The foe poked its fearsome head through the aperture and unleashed another violent torrent, then collapsed much of the ancient tower ruin with a thunderous stomp. 

The Wildcats had survived, however—if only barely.  And now the fearsome Qasipoa, having done its worst, had left itself vulnerable to the company’s relentless counterattack.  The cleric Gambol stood at the fore, slamming at the beast with his warclub as his companions launched arrows and magical strikes.  This was a final assault their foe, being in an exposed position and quite literally out of steam, could not long withstand.  At last the final blow came, and the fearsome Qasipoa fell silent, motionless amid the blasted tower ruins.

Sadly, the Qasipoa’s life was not the only one lost that day.  For amid the steaming, smoking rubble of the company also found its guide—badly battered and broken under a slab of aged stone.  “So the Qasipoa is real,” the ranger coughed out, half laughing and half choking on the blood flowing apace out his throat.  “Was real.”  Even his old eyes caught the cleric Gambol readying his healing magic, but the guide ceased the spell with a chop.  “No,” he instructed.  “It’s my time.  But if the Qasipoa was real, then perhaps the rhyme is too?”

Breathless and now bewildered, the adventurers looked up, and to each other, at the mention of this “rhyme.”  But Ogdurn held just enough life remaining to give most of it:

Qasipoa fools the fooler, Qasipoa tricks the slick

What’s below will have no finder

None can solve the….

His breath failing him for the final time, Ogdurn could not complete the rhyme.  Wounded and worn, the Wildcats now looked upon their guide’s lifeless body as the mountain winds still howled fiercely across their faces.  But there was no Qasipoa.  And the gnome Schlemeel clutched a vibrant, glowing key.

Adventure Notes

Qasipoa.  Perhaps a unique monster, the legendary Qasipoa resembled a small eastern dragon and attacked with a fearsome breath weapon and a series of deadly melee tactics.  The Qasipoa also used a series of bizarre illusions that helped it gain favorable conditions for its attack and also caused the party to waste spells and resources.  Once the combat started, the company struggled to pierce its yellow scales (AC 18), and the massive creature weathered an extensive amount of damage (~195 HP) before it finally fell.  Should others like this one exist, the Wildcats hope never to cross paths with them.

Dragon Key.  The glowing yellow key Schlemeel pried from the rubble beneath the Eastern Mount pond is nearly twelve inches long and bears the a head of a fearsome dragon, along with the letter “S.”  The illumination from the key is comparable to that which a quality adventuring lantern might emit.

Experience Points & Inspiration

            Combat/Encounters

The company defeated the mighty Qasipoa in this session, and the battle occurred in the Qasipoa’s lair—where it enjoyed certain advantages based on the terrain and conditions.  Therefore, the experience value of this encounter is enhanced, and the company is awarded 22,500 XP for this accomplishment.  Although Ceshtyr Ogdurn was present for this battle, he did not materially contribute to the victory and thus the company will not be required to devote a share of the experience points to Ogdurn (who is now deceased anyway).   This results in an award of 3,750 XP per character.

                  Interactions/Role-Playing/Quest progress

In session 32, the company reached the pinnacle of the Eastern Mount, defeated the Qasipoa, and secured the dragon key.  For these accomplishments, the company is awarded an additional 1,350 XP.  This amounts to an additional 225 XP per character.

            Inspiration

The adventure gods were especially impressed with two moments from this session, one of impromptu brilliance and a second of outstanding role-playing.  Specifically, the elven mage Greyndalf’s simple act of tossing bone chips aloft defeated the fluttering phantoms; had he not done so, the company could well have exhausted additional spells and resources against the (ultimately harmless) illusions, which may have cost them dearly in the ensuing battle against the Qasipoa.  The second event occurred in the midst of that tense battle, when the cleric Gambol stood his ground against the deadly, steam-breathing beast within the crumbling tower ruin and engaged the foe with his melee club.  This act of fidelity to the character even at great peril to his well-being embodied the high ideals of role-playing to which we all aspire, with liberty and justice for all. 

Final Session 32 totals:

• Jowdain acquitted himself well in not battle, garnering 3,975 XP.
• Gambol pleased his deity and is rewarded with 3,975 XP and a point of inspiration.
• Greyndalf remained a cunning and resourceful (and still reasonably naked) adversary, earning 3,975 XP and one point of inspiration.
• Schlemeel still don’t give a f*k, but he picked up 3,975 XP.
• Onog played it cold as ice, and acquired 3,975 XP.
• Unagi looked fresh as ever and gained 3,975 XP.