The Big BBQ At The Moat House

 As soon as we found that big jug of oil, I knew we would be using it to BBQ some of Larenth's Pets.  I immediately began praying to Dwarven Gods to protect us from the flame's secondary effects.  There are many legends of adventurers burning themselves up in attempting these feats.  

I did not hesitate about making camp.  I fear Larenth already escaped.  Sending out his men recklessly to fight us while he rides off for the Temple.  However, there may still be something useful down in the basement?  I doubt it is all traps to reduce our numbers.  The Temple is obviously now active and will be the location of the final showdown.  Just as it was in the past so it will be in our time.  

I wonder at the identity of the other who rode off from the Tower.  The Witch got away but who was the 2nd rider?  The Toy Makers Guild still seeks payment. 

Dixon the Dwarf 

Episode 2 / Session 37 – Beneath the Moathouse: Into the Shadows of Evil

Coldeven 3, 576 CY

Frigid temperatures under a mostly clear sky.
14°F to 34°F.
Light SW breeze (4-7 MPH).
Sunset: 6:12 p.m.

As dusk falls, an icy chill grips the Moathouse. Shadows deepen, and Dixon methodically hides the bodies of the fallen mercenaries, their forms sliding into the frozen pond outside the gate. In the quiet courtyard, the party steels themselves, feeling Lareth’s sinister presence lingering nearby. Every silent moment heightens the urgency—they know he could still be somewhere within these cursed walls, waiting for his chance to slip away.

Determined to leave no stone unturned, the party fans out to search the grounds. Zert and Spugnior guide the animals into the courtyard, securing them from the biting winds. TerryOr ventures into the southwest tower, only to be ambushed by a huge wolf spider that drops from the ceiling, sinking its venomous fangs into his arm. Stumbling, he draws his mace and fights through the fog of poison, smashing the creature. Among scattered coins, he finds a mysterious ivory box marked with Dwarvish runes. Dixon takes it, reads the inscription, and chuckles darkly to himself before pocketing it.

Dog opens the double doors to the Moathouse's Great Hall. Decay and ruin greet them, as dirt and leaves blanket the floor, while banners hang in tatters, and heavy cobwebs drape the beams like ghastly chandeliers. The group presses through the hall to a side chamber where they find bedrolls—a sign that the mercenaries have used this place as a hideout. The silence is eerie, heightening their sense of Lareth’s presence below.

The party gathers at the stairway leading down to the dungeon level. Dog takes the lead, but as they descend, two green slimes drop from above, smothering him in an acidic onslaught that eats through his armor. TerryOr, quick-thinking, pours a potion of cure disease on the creatures, dissolving them, though Dog’s armor is beyond saving. Undeterred, he dons the chainmail from one of the mercenaries, and they press forward.

At the base of the stairs, the group enters a large, disheveled chamber that once served as an armory. Broken barrels and rusted weapons litter the floor—a grim reminder of battles long past. As Oleg and Dixon tinker with a locked chest, Irving investigates a pile of rubble. Suddenly, a horde of zombies bursts forth, lunging toward him. Their foul stench fills the air as their bony arms reach out, ripping at his armor. Irving raises his shield, shouting, “In the name of St. Cuthbert, be gone!” But in the chaos, his sword slips from his grasp, clattering out of reach. The undead close in, unrelenting, and Irving’s shield buckles as they press him back.

Seeing Irving overwhelmed, TerryOr thrusts his holy symbol forward, calling out, “By St. Cuthbert’s wrath, I command you to retreat!” He manages to repel a single zombie, but the others surge forward. Just as the cleric falters, Zert drags him back as Spugnior shouts, “Burn them all!” With a quick strike of flint, he lights a jug of oil and hurls it down the stairs. Flames consume the undead, filling the room with dark, oily smoke.

When the smoke clears, Dixon retrieves a brilliant pearl from the smoldering remains of the chest, holding it up like a beacon amidst the darkness. The glint of treasure is a rare moment of triumph. The group's breaths are ragged, their strength nearly spent as they gather near the entrance.

TerryOr wipes sweat from his brow, the oppressive air thick with lingering malevolence. “We need to regroup if we’re going to face Lareth,” he urges, urgency in his tone.

Irving, still shaken, raises his voice in determination. “In the name of St. Cuthbert, we must find a place to rest and recover our strength.”

As they scan the room for a defensible spot, the shadows seem to watch, the very walls whispering of the dark forces that dwell within. The sense of impending danger looms, urging them to act quickly. With their spells dwindling and the specter of Lareth still lurking in the depths, they begin their search for sanctuary within the cold, decaying halls of the moathouse.

Treasure:
38sp
71 cp
Ivory box with Dwarven Runes
Pearl worth 500gp

Monsters:
2 Green slime
12 zombies

Experience:

446XP

From Dog

Episode 2 / Session 36 – Assault on the moathouse

Coldeven 3, 576 CY: The Assault on the Moathouse

Description: Freezing
Temperature: 14.5°F to 34.1°F
Wind: Light breeze (SW)(4-7 MPH | 3-6 KN)
Precipitation: None
Clouds: A few clouds

The morning sun peeked over the snow-draped rooftops of Hommlet as the adventurers prepared for their assault. The village lay blanketed in white after a heavy overnight snowfall, and the air was sharp and biting. Inside the chapel of St. Cuthbert, the priests served a hearty breakfast, filling the group with much-needed warmth and resolve.

Their goal was set: reach the Moathouse by midday and capture the sinister Lareth the Beautiful. But before departing, each adventurer took care of their final errands. Meanwhile, Slash the Bard paid a visit to Jaroo Ashstaff, the village druid, in search of some smoking herb to soothe the burdens of their journey. Jaroo, in his generosity, not only provided the bard with a supply but also gifted him a pair of enchanted blueberries, their healing magic potent enough to turn the tide of battle.

Dog, the ranger, headed to the trader's outpost to restock supplies. Irving the Reluctant, curious as ever, wandered into the Church of St. Cuthbert’s library. Among the ancient tomes, he discovered The Book of Common Sense, a sacred text he hoped would offer guidance in the days to come.

Oleg, the half-elf, ventured to the Inn of the Welcome Wench to gather information. There, Ostler Gundigoot regaled two newcomers, Kobart and Turuko, with tales of the Moathouse. Whispers of haunting voices and flickering lights had piqued the adventurers' curiosity. Oleg bought them a round of drinks, and soon the pair offered their services to join in any future quests. Oleg, cautious, promised to confer with "the boss."

Upon returning to the group, Oleg relayed their offer. TerryOr suggested a meeting at the Church of St. Cuthbert to discuss terms, but when Kobart and Turuko arrived, their hesitation was palpable. They refused to step inside, wary of the holy grounds. Their reluctance raised suspicions among the adventurers, particularly TerryOr, who wondered what they were hiding.

Unfazed, the group set out without them. By early afternoon, they were on the road to the Moathouse, leading two laden mules and riding three horses—Oleg and Slash mounted together, with Irving on his warhorse. Dog took the lead, scouting the snowy trail ahead. As they approached the Moathouse in the fading light, a faint smell of woodsmoke reached Dog’s keen senses—a sign of a campfire or nearby inhabitants.

The Moathouse came into view, a dark and crumbling silhouette against the twilight. Oleg and Dog scouted ahead, spotting two guards patrolling the parapets. It was clear: the Moathouse was not abandoned.

TerryOr hatched a clever plan. Leading one of the mules to the side, he feigned a struggle, loudly pretending the animal was stuck. The guards, distracted by the scene, shouted down to the courtyard below. Soon, six armed guards emerged from the gate, unaware of the ambush awaiting them.

Hidden in the underbrush, Oleg and Dog waited until the guards passed

before springing into action. Oleg stepped forward, casting a sleep spell. One by one, the soldiers collapsed to the ground, leaving only the soft chirping of crickets to break the silence. Arrows rained down from the parapets as a massive warrior in plate armor charged across the bridge. TerryOr, calling upon St. Cuthbert’s power, commanded the warrior to "disrobe." Stunned and compelled, the man began fumbling with his armor, temporarily out of the fight.

Slash, Irving, and Zert seized the opportunity and rushed the gates. The remaining guards were swiftly overwhelmed. Victory was theirs, and the alarm had not been raised.

After the battle, the group searched the fallen soldiers. Each bore the unmistakable sigil of the Flaming Eye—the mark of elemental evil. The battle for the Moathouse had begun, but the real challenge was yet to come. Somewhere within those crumbling walls, Lareth the Beautiful awaited.

Glad to have Old Trusty Zert Back in the Group

 Amazing how one successful adventure can change a person for the better.  I was glad our old friend was eager to go adventure again with us.  We will need every sword for going against the Moat House.  Hopefully the town elders can get the local lords to act now.  

We cannot do everything.  We rush to one location to quell the evil only for it to sprout anew in another.  Since the beginning of this I have felt we can do nothing without the backing of the local lords.  Who dismissed all reports as just local banditry that has gone on for generations.  With the evidence of the Werewolf, the Witch's Diary, and the Letter from the Moat House I feel we have now established enough evidence of a bigger problem than just local banditry.  They must listen to our call for aid now.  

I have not heard from my Dwarven People on our attempt to collect on our bill to the Tower People.  With my new party I collected some of the payment back.  However, the leaders escaped.  Perhaps they went to the Moat House?  Maybe I will see them and be able to present them with a bill & interest must be charged.  The Kron Hills Dwarves always get paid!  

Dixon of the Kron Hills Dwarves on this Coldeven 2, 576 CY

Episode 2 / Session 35 – Hommlet’s Sanctuary and the Rising Shadow

Coldeven 1, 576 CY – Morning

Weather
Temperature: 8.4°F to 31°F
Wind: Light breeze (SW), 4-7 MPH
Precipitation: Light snow
Cloud cover: Overcast

As dawn breaks, the group stirs from their makeshift camp, eager to close the final stretch to Hommlet. Two days more. The biting cold clings to their bones, and a light snow falls steadily from the heavy clouds above. The air is frigid—so cold that every breath billows in front of their faces like smoke. Even bundled in their cloaks, the chill is relentless.

Slash the Bard, his face gaunt and pale, looks worse with every passing moment. The venom from the drider’s bite has spread, leaving him weak and barely able to stay upright. His breath is shallow, and his eyes glassy. There’s no time to waste. If they don’t reach Hommlet soon, he won’t survive the night.

After a quick and meager breakfast, the party sets out, trudging through snowdrifts that seem to grow with each step. The bard’s condition deteriorates rapidly, his balance faltering as he struggles to stay on his horse. The others glance at him nervously—they know they may not be able to save him if they don’t reach the village soon.

The snow falls relentlessly all day, covering the road and making progress slow. But with Dog leading the way, ever vigilant, they press on. As dusk settles in, they stop briefly to rest and light a small fire. Looking at Slash, they know they can’t afford to wait for morning. He won’t make it. With determination in their hearts, they decide to push forward through the night.

Coldeven 2, 576 CY – Before Dawn

After what feels like an eternity, with Dog guiding them by lantern light, the village of Hommlet finally comes into view. Exhausted but relieved, the group trudges into town just before daybreak. They’ve made it, but barely.

Without hesitation, TerryOr leads the group to the Church of St. Cuthbert. Together, they push through the doors into the chapel, their boots heavy with snow. The acolyte hurries off to wake Canon Terjon, who emerges from his quarters, bleary-eyed but alert. One look at Slash tells him everything he needs to know.

“This way,” he says, his voice urgent, and they follow him to the infirmary. There, under the glow of flickering candles, Canon Terjon kneels beside the Bard and prays to St. Cuthbert. As his hands rest upon Slash, the divine energy flows through him, neutralizing the poison coursing through the bard’s veins. Slowly, color returns to Slash’s face, and his breathing steadies. The party breathes a collective sigh of relief.

The group finally takes the rest they so desperately need, collapsing into deep, dreamless sleep. When they awaken, the acolytes have prepared a hearty breakfast, and fresh clothes await them along with baths and healing for their wounds. The warmth of the church is a welcome reprieve from the cold and danger of the road.

Later that afternoon, when the adventurers are ready, Burne and Canon Terjon meet with them to discuss what they’ve learned. Burne examines the dispatch addressed to "Lareth the Beautiful," his face grim.

“Exactly as I feared,” Burne mutters. “The Temple is stirring once again. We’ll have to deal with this Lareth. I’ve only heard rumors—an evil priest, said to serve various dark gods, including those tied to elemental chaos. We must act quickly.”

As Burne and Terjon strategize, the group gathers around. They try to use the healing power of the rod they’ve been carrying, but something is off—it doesn’t respond as it should. Irving the Reluctant steps forward and casts detect chaos on the rod, and the truth is revealed: the rod is steeped in chaotic evil. Even TerryOr backs away from it, his face pale with concern.

The mood shifts when Zert, the hired fighter, returns to reunite with the group. He’s made it safely to Hommlet, escorting the freed captives—a man and woman of high status from Highport. They’ve been through an ordeal, kidnapped weeks ago by a group of slavers working in league with the Temple of Elemental Evil. The captives reveal that hundreds of people have been taken from the Wild Coast, enslaved for the Temple’s nefarious purposes. The connections between the Temple and the slavers in Highport are now undeniable. Something must be done.

With the immediate crisis behind them, the group prepares for the next leg of their journey. They decide the moathouse will be their next destination, but first, they must resupply. They visit the trader’s establishment and gather the essentials:

• 2 mules (30 gp each)
• 2 horses (40 gp each)
• Large saddlebags (8 gp)
• A bow (40 gp)
• Rations for a week (10 gp)
• 20 iron spikes (5 gp)
• 10 days of grain for the animals (5 gp)

The mules are loaded with supplies—torches, oil, shovels, ropes, and weapons—ready for whatever dangers lie ahead. But as they finish their preparations, a heavy snowstorm blankets the village, dropping several feet of snow and making travel impossible. Reluctantly, they decide to delay their journey to the moathouse, waiting until the morning of Coldeven 3 to set out.

So ends Coldeven 2, 576 CY.