Coldeven 4, 576 CY – Afternoon
Weather Conditions:
- Description: Freezing
- Temperature: 14.8°F to 32.2°F
- Wind: Gentle breeze, southwest, 8-12 mph
- Precipitation: None
- Clouds: A few scattered
Players:
- Dog the Ranger of the Gnarley (Forest)
- Irving the Reluctant (Paladin of St. Cuthbert)
- TerryOr the Cleric of St. Cuthbert
- Dixon the Dwarven fighter
- Oleg the half elf magic-user / thief
NPCs:
- Zert the Fighter
- Spugnior the Conjuror
After the harrowing battle with the ogre and ghoul, the adventurers regrouped in the moathouse’s main hall. Irving and TerryOr lay unconscious but stable, their wounds bandaged but severe. The group debated their next move, their morale battered but unbroken.
“Canon Terjon has healing potions,” Dog said, his tone urgent. “But we’ll need someone fast to fetch them.”
Zert and Spugnior stepped forward. “We’ll go,” Zert said gruffly. “But if the good Canon wants coin for his blessings, you’d better have something to offer when we get back.”
The two mounted horses and rode toward Hommlet, the clatter of hooves echoing through the frozen air.
A Foul Infestation
Back at the moathouse, the party settled in to wait. The silence was short-lived. Dixon’s ears twitched as faint scurrying sounds grew louder.
“Rats,” he grumbled, hefting his axe. “And not the small kind.”
The door burst open, revealing a swarm of giant rats, their filthy fur matted with grime. The creatures lunged, their yellowed teeth snapping.
Oleg stepped forward, raising his hands. “Sleep,” he intoned, his voice steady despite the chaos. A shimmering wave of magic rippled outward, and several of the rats collapsed instantly.
Dixon and Dog dispatched the remaining creatures swiftly, their blades cutting through the foul beasts. “This place is a cesspool,” Dixon muttered, wiping his axe clean.
A Return with Supplies
Hours later, the sound of hooves announced Zert and Spugnior’s return. The conjuror carried a bundle of potions, his expression grim. “Canon Terjon said you’d better find some treasure to pay for these,” he remarked dryly, handing over the vials.
The group divided the supplies: six healing potions and three extra-healing potions. With Irving and TerryOr revived and fortified by the potions’ magic, the adventurers steeled themselves for another foray into the dungeon.
Delving Deeper
Returning to the dungeon, the party passed the fallen ogre’s corpse, its hulking form a grim reminder of their earlier struggle. In the torture chamber, they searched the cells but found nothing of value.
At the northern door, Dixon’s sharp eyes spotted a hidden mechanism. “Secret door,” he said with a nod, pushing it open to reveal a long hallway.
The passage led to a narrow staircase spiraling upward. At its top, they found themselves behind a bookcase in what appeared to be an abandoned study. Their exploration was cut short when they encountered a barred and trapped door, impassable despite their best efforts.
Frustration mounted as Dog, scouting ahead, triggered a falling portcullis. The heavy iron slammed down, pinning him. With Dixon’s help, they freed him, but not before the ranger suffered bruising and a bruised pride.
The Bugbear Barracks
Pressing forward, the adventurers stumbled upon a chamber filled with crude bedrolls and the stench of unwashed bodies—the sleeping quarters of six bugbears. The creatures snarled, leaping to their feet as the intruders entered.
Spugnior wasted no time, casting another sleep spell. Two bugbears dropped instantly, their snores blending with the shouts of their still-standing comrades.
The battle was brutal but quick. Dixon and Dog tore through the bugbears, while Zert and Irving worked together to subdue the leader. The bugbear captain fought fiercely but was soon overpowered.
A Cryptic Warning
The party interrogated the leader, his lip curling in disdain. “The New Master will kill you all,” he spat, blood trickling from his mouth.
“Where is he?” Dog demanded, pressing the tip of his blade against the bugbear’s throat.
The creature sneered, offering only vague directions. “He’s near,” it hissed. “You won’t live to find him.”
As a parting reward for their efforts, the group found a silver bracelet on the leader, gleaming amid the filth. Spugnior examined it with a keen eye. “Worth about 450 gold pieces,” he said, pocketing it for safekeeping.
Session End
The adventurers, bloodied but resolute, prepared to press on. The bugbear’s cryptic words weighed heavily on their minds. Somewhere in the depths of the moathouse, the New Master waited, his shadow growing ever closer.
Would they find him before he found them? Only time—and courage—would tell.
Giant Rats (8): AC 5; HD 1/2 HD; ; MV 12 "; #AT 1; D 1-3 (Disease); XP 15
Bugbear (6): AC 5; HD 3+1; #AT 1; 2-8 (2d4) or by weapon;; XP 120
Treasure:
Silver Necklace worth 450gp
I thought the bugbears would finish us off. The sleep spell really tipped the battle in our favor.
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