Session 205: The Strange Whispers of Orlane: Frost, Fish Burps, and the Glass House

Day 25 Ready'reat CY 576

Gather 'round, if you’ve the stomach for it! It’s the 25th of Ready'reat, and though the sun tries its best, there’s an early frost creeping in the shade and a cool, steady breeze that warns of a long winter ahead for our rebuilding Orlane. I’ve been perched here at the Foamy Mug, watching the usual mixed crowd—soldiers, brawlers, and this lot of "heroes" who seem to bring the strange with them wherever they tread.

They spent their midday huddled over bowls of thick lentil stew with salt pork and mash with drippings. Not all was merry, though; that girl Syrius was in a proper state, barely looking up from her stew and snapping "none of your business" at anyone who dared ask why she was so surly. Perhaps she lost at cards, or maybe she’s just tired of the company she keeps.

The druid girl, Niki, has the oddest notions. She’s been pestering the innkeeper about building a "glass house"—a greenhouse, she calls it—to grow food right through the winter. Florin looked at her like she’d grown a second head, wondering why anyone would want a glass room they could see right into when we’ve perfectly good root cellars,. She even has a strange cat that she says used to talk all the time but now just demands fish and milk. I haven’t seen the cat speak, but in this town, I’d believe the stones themselves were gossiping if the wind blew right.

And the magic! That high elf, Dwerom, has been performing rituals that would turn a normal person’s stomach. He’s been using owl feathers and live carp to identify their treasures. I heard he even let out a great fishy burp after one spell. They’ve come into some powerful trinkets: a white gold ring of fire resistance and a massive, magical weapon they’ve named "The Stripes Axe". They spent a good deal of time squabbling over 1,540 gold pieces, nearly losing their minds over how to divide the shares (they decided to "give" the axe to Sergius, but he had to make a payment back to the party). 

But the road called to them again. They marched off toward the Barrow Marsh, hiking through the Dim Forest where the leaves are falling and the gloom never truly lifts. There are whispers on the wind out there—legends of groaning spirits, the ghosts of elven women who can slay a man just with a scream. I’ve heard those faint, wailing noises myself from the northwest.

Word travels back to the tavern fast, and they say the group found trouble soon as they touched the stone. They opened a tomb and were met with a horde of undead, ghouls that tear at the living. From what the birds tell me, poor Arnd and Kyro were frozen stiff by the touch of those rotting things. 

Will they return to finish their stew, or will they become just another story for me to tell? Only the mists of the marsh know for sure. Be careful where you walk, neighbors—the frost isn't the only thing that bites this time of year.

Session 204: Treasure and debts

 

Day 12 of Ready'reat CY 576

Hmph. Another day dawns in Orlane, or tries to, anyway. A dense fog crept in this morning, thick as thieves and twice as chilly. Makes an old woman's bones ache, it does. But the snow is finally melting, and the last of the leaves are letting go of the trees. Change is in the air, you can smell it.

I’m sitting here in my usual corner of the Foaming Mug, nursing my tea and watching the heroes. They call themselves the Saviors of Orlane, you know. A fine, grand title. But this morning, they looked less like saviors and more like any other gaggle of folk trying to sort out their breakfast. Oatmeal, poached eggs... the grand business of heroism starts with a full belly, I suppose.

And what a morning it's been for them. First, the dwarf Sergius turns up again, like a bad penny you’d forgotten you’d lost. Been off walking the deserts, he says, finding bugs. A closed-mouth sort of dwarf, that one. The party takes him back, of course. They’re a loyal bunch, even if they bicker. They even decided to give him a share of their latest haul, just to get him leveled up and useful. Smart thinking. A level-one character is a liability in a place like the barrow maze.

Ah, the barrow. That’s where their minds are set, you see. But not today. Today was a day for what I call the housekeeping of heroism. You don’t hear about this part in the songs. First, there was the healing. A few of them were banged up, and there were hushed talks of who would spend their divine spells on whom. It’s not just a simple matter of waving your hands, you know. The clerics, Aratzi and Nikki, they have to consider if you’re worthy, if you’ve been respecting their gods, if you’ve killed unjustly. I heard Aratzi asking young Los if she’d killed anyone unjustly. She insisted all her killings were justified. That one… she’s an elf of a hundred and twenty-four years, but her soul feels as old as mine. Can’t carry a tune to save her life, though. Kicked out of the elven choir, I hear.

Then came the money. Oh, the money! They scurried off to a private room to divvy it all up. They’d brought back coffers heavy with thousands of silver pieces. And that was just the coin! Later, they went to see the traveling merchant, Tame, who’s set up shop where the old common shop used to be. And the things they pulled out to sell! Death masks, gem-encrusted chalices, ivory bracelets, a silver necklace worth a king's ransom, runic tablets, and more gems than I’ve seen in my long life.

That elf, Nikki, she has a silver tongue. A charisma of sixteen, they say, and she used it to get them a fine price. The merchant appraised it all, for a small fee of course, and when the sums were done... eighteen thousand, eight hundred and sixty-two gold pieces. Can you imagine? Enough to make a dragon blush. Of course, it’s not all pure profit. Young Arnd is in debt up to his eyeballs—thousands of gold—from a curse he picked up. Needed a restoration spell that cost a fortune. See? The songs never tell you about the debts.

They spent a good chunk of that coin right away. The newcomer Sergius needed a thousand gold pieces to train to the next level, plus fifty-four gold for a fancy room for the month. Others bought healing potions at seventy-five gold a pop. Feno, he picked up the lockbox he’d ordered from the blacksmith and went to the dwarven tinkerer to get an excellent, hard-to-pick lock for it. He bought four more good locks for the coffers they’d emptied, turning them into personal treasure chests.

So now they’re flush with cash, patched up, and better equipped. They’re planning to head to Hokk to train, as no one in Orlane is skilled enough for most of them. And after that? Back to the barrow maze. Back to the danger and the dying. That’s the rhythm of their lives. From near-death to unimaginable wealth, and then right back to risking it all again. It’s a strange way to live. But then, it makes for a wonderful story, doesn't it?

Session 203: Of Loot and Legends: The Mimic's Feast

 

Day 11 of Ready'reat CY 576

Hullo, my dears! Come, pull up a chair. The wind howls a frightful tune through the Barrel Marsh tonight, but in here, the fire’s warm and the ale is… well, it’s ale! Vilma’s here, and I’ve got a story for you, fresh as the trout they pulled from the icy creek today. A story of our Saviors, who just blew in with the snow, laden with burdens both seen and unseen.

They’ve been away, you know. Deep in that miserable Barrel Maze, a place of stale air and blood-stained stones. They tunneled their way into a gargoyle’s throne room, bold as you please, and walked away with its hoard! And they weren’t alone. They brought back a friend, a most peculiar fellow named Myr. He’s a mimic, they say, and he’d heard tales of Orlane’s feasts and came bouncing along, eager for a taste. A discerning fellow, that Myr!

But oh, to have been a fly on the wall for what came next! Before they could take a single step toward home, our heroes held a great and ponderous council. You think battles are all swords and spells? Ha! The truest battles are fought against numbers on a page, against the sheer, stubborn weight of the world!

For hours they debated, these mighty adventurers, not of dragons, but of the heft of their gear. "Does my armor count against me?" asked one. "These two daggers and a staff can't possibly weigh seventy pounds!" cried another, wrestling with her magical ledger. It was a sight to see! They measured the weight of a single torch down to a fraction of a pound, argued the proper burden of a gnome-sized shovel versus a man-sized one, and recalculated the load of a week's rations. Every coin, every waterskin, every silken rope was accounted for. Such is the unglamorous truth of heroism, my dears. It is a thing of careful mathematics and strong backs. They know a simple truth I’ve always held dear: you can only carry so much, so you’d best choose your burdens wisely.

And what burdens they chose! Coffers filled with treasure, yes, but also mystery. I saw it all in the flames of the hearth. They opened one box to find not gold, but books! One bound in reptile scales, and another beneath it that snarled like a cornered beast when they tried to lift it! Even Myr the mimic, a knowledgeable sort, claimed those books were from before his time.

They made a wise choice then, a choice many fail to make. They found a king’s ransom in copper—a pile weighing more than 700 pounds—and they left it. They knew its worth wasn’t equal to the effort of hauling it home. A lesson for all of you: not all treasure glitters, and not all that glitters is worth the strain on your soul, or your shoulders.

They returned to us as the sky turned to bruised indigo, just in time for a hot meal. And what a scene it was here at the inn! I was just telling the tale of their encounter with the Fearsome Five—a fine story, if I do say so myself—when in they walked! I gave them a wave, of course. It’s always good to see the subjects of your stories in the flesh.

Their new friend, Myr, proved to be the most cultured mimic I’ve ever seen. He transformed his appendages into a knife and fork and ate his trout with the most polite manners before negotiating his own employment as the inn’s new guard! The villagers were aghast at first, but a polite monster who appreciates good wine is a hard creature to hate.

Now, the threads of fate are pulling at them again. Young Eloin and the fierce Sirius are clamoring to return to that dusty barrow tomb they found. Our heroes, meanwhile, speak of needing training in Hook and appraising the giant black pearl they found, hoping it's worthy enough for a powerful spell. And all the while, a hooded stranger sat in the corner, carving the very story I was telling into the top of Floren’s table. A strange way to keep a history, but who am I to judge?

So, watch them, my dears. Watch our saviors. They think they are just counting coins and feeding horses, but they are writing the next chapter of our story with every step they take. And old Vilma will be right here by the fire, watching and waiting to tell the tale.

Session 202: Negotiating with Dwarves, Mimics, and Treasure

 Day 11 of Ready'reat

Well now, pull up a stool and warm your bones by the hearth. Old Vilma’s got a new tale for you, fresh from the whispers on the wind and the mouths of our own brave adventurers. It’s a strange one, full of echoes and arguments, treasures and teeth, and a friendship forged in the most peculiar of circumstances!

Our heroes—they call themselves the Saviors of Orlane, you know — were deep, deep underground in that cold and dreary Barrowmaze. Not a place for the faint of heart, I tell you. They had just finished a tussle with some nasty gargoyles and were headed back to a room where they suspected a bit of treasure was waiting for them.

But what do they find when they peek around the corner? Not treasure, not yet. They find another group of adventurers staring right back at them! And wouldn't you know it, this other group, led by a haughty elf named Findaloo, calls themselves the Fearsome Five!. This is the first time they have encountered another adventuring party in the Barrowmaze! The world is only so big, I suppose.

A proper standoff it was! Our heroes said they’d slain the gargoyles to earn the treasure. Findaloo’s lot claimed the gargoyles were already vanquished by the power of their deities when they arrived. To prove their valor, our lot pulled out the very heads of the gargoyles they’d slain, including the great leader, Zigbrawl! A fine bit of proof, that. But this Findaloo, slippery as an eel, just scoffs and has one of his friends pull out a tiny vial of acid, claiming they’d defeated a black dragon that had moved in after the gargoyles. A vial of acid! Can you imagine the cheek?

And in the middle of all this was our dwarf, Arn, having a bit of an identity crisis. The other group’s dwarves looked at him, jaw-to-the-floor, claiming Arn Cobblestone had been missing for decades. Forty-five years, they said!. Our Arn insisted it couldn't have been that long — he’d have starved!. But they told him time can get a bit funny in the Barrowmaze. A mystery for another day, that one.

Things got heated. Accusations of being part of the dreaded Band of the Black Hand were thrown about. It all came down to a bit of magic. The noble cleric Armanzi was to cast a spell on Findaloo to see if he was evil. The elf agreed: if he was found to be not evil, our heroes had to let them pass. Armanzi cast his spell, and what did he find? The elf leader was True Neutral, his dwarven friends were Lawful Neutral, their cleric was Chaotic Neutral… but they had a thief with them, a woman named Dazdra, who was Chaotic Evil! Our Norsha gave her a little wink, can you believe it?

The other group left, claiming there was no treasure in the room to begin with. But our heroes are cleverer than that. They searched, and Feno found a small latch, high up on a wall. Behind it? A secret chamber with two massive chests spilling over with thousands of silver and copper coins! So heavy it would take an ox to move it all.

But wait, the story doesn't end there! As they were counting the coins, Feno spotted another latch, in the exact same spot on the opposite wall. This one opened into a larger room, filled with even more promising treasures. But the floor was hollow, dangerously so. As Los, our nimble elven thief, began to spider-climb along the walls to investigate, the entire floor collapsed into a bottomless pit, leaving only a narrow ledge where the treasure sat! Arn was nearly on it himself! A close call!

Los, brave as ever, reached the ledge and began to gather the valuables. But as she did, one of the chests sprang to life! It was a vile mimic, a monster of legend, with a ferocious mouth full of teeth!. It struck poor Los down in a single blow, and she lay there bleeding on the edge of the abyss.

Things looked grim. But then, the strangest thing happened. The mimic spoke!. It wasn't just a monster; it was hungry! It had been forced to guard the treasure by the gargoyles and hadn't been fed in weeks. A deal was struck. Our heroes offered a bottle of fine Orlanian wine in exchange for their friend's life. Nikki, with her plant Fernadette wrapped strangely around her neck, bravely crossed the chasm on a rope to deliver the wine and heal Los.

The mimic, who introduced himself as Myrr, the mimic, was so grateful. Armanzi then used his divine power to create a grand feast for the starving creature. Myrr was so moved by the cleric’s kindness that a holy light enveloped him. He turned to Armanzi, gently touched his hand, and in a flash of divine power, all of the cleric’s spent spells were restored! A blessed mimic! Who has ever heard of such a thing? Myrr has now pledged to leave the dungeon and come back to Orlane with them!

And the treasure? Among the coffers, Armanzi felt a pull to a large brass one. Inside was no gold, but something far greater: the Rebrace of St. Cuthbert, a long-lost holy artifact that attaches to the gauntlet he already bears!.

So you see, a day that began with a bitter argument ended with a blessed meal, a peculiar new friend, and a piece of a holy suit of armor. You never know what you’ll find in the dark, do you? Sometimes it’s a monster, and sometimes… that monster just needs a decent meal and a bit of kindness.

Session 201: Barrowmaze revisited

 

Greetings, dear hearts! Vilma here, warming these old bones by the hearth in Orlane, and oh, what a day it's been for our brave adventurers! The air outside is thick with the creeping cold, down to -4 degrees Celsius! Even the stoutest soul needs a good cloak, though our dear Feno, with his magical sword, is immune to the chill. That sword, by the way, glows when the temperature drops below zero Celsius, bright enough to be a makeshift torch. A handy thing to have, especially when the fog rolls in from the marshes, thick as dragon's breath, and the ground crunches underfoot with frost crystals!

Our heroes — Feno, Arand, Dwarum, Norsha, Nikki, Los, and Cairo — were off on day 11 of their grand adventure, aiming to revisit the Barrel Maze. They'd defeated a bunch of gargoyles there before, but only truly claimed a great axe, bones, and horns. Treasure, you see, is a fickle friend!

Now, before they left, one might have noticed Elo, fussily writing in his journal, lecturing folks on Flandish burial customs, and lamenting the brutish way of delving into tombs without proper scrolls. He's a peculiar one, not keen on the Barrel Maze, but he keeps pestering them about that tomb they found. Then there's Sirius, who just vanishes for hours without a peep, with no desire to join the party underground either. Some folks just aren't cut out for the dark, eh?

As for the cold, not everyone was prepared! Cairo had winter clothing, and Norsha a wool cloak, but poor Arand, thinking himself tough, had only a tunic, boots, and plate mail. Los had two cloaks, but they were just normal cloth, and Nikki's adventurer's cloak was no better. Even the elf, Dwerom, was scantily clad, though they retroactively gave him some basic gear so he wasn't adventuring naked in the freezing cold!

Their journey began at dawn, passing the quiet village of Orlane, where smoke curled from chimneys. Those in lighter clothing, like our tough Arand, started to shiver, though they warmed a bit with movement. Through packed snow and rime, they trudged, seeing farm hands and oxen steaming in the cold. The Dim Forest offered a slight respite from the chill, but it was the Barrel Marsh that truly brought relief, its boggy air mitigating the temperature a few degrees. Mist curled from shallow pools, and distant croaks echoed.

Once they reached the marsh, a decision had to be made: lunch or the maze? Eating in the Barrel Marsh is a dangerous business, you see, as the smells and noise tend to attract marsh denizens. So, the call was made to head straight for the maze entrance, hoping for warmth within.

They took the path to the second entrance. Our old Barrel Maze is a miserable place on the outside, full of rhyming cold and trepidation. Once inside, they faced a choice: the altar room or deeper? Deeper, of course! They even considered the "stinky room" for lunch, but memories of losing past meals there quickly dissuaded them. Inside the maze, the temperature regulated, rising above 0 degrees Celsius, so Feno's sword stopped its glowing.

With Feno, Los, Norsha, and Cairo lighting torches and candles, they moved through the labyrinth. It wasn't long before they encountered something truly bizarre: a passageway glowing with an eerie, purple-green light, oozing like jelly from the walls! This "Psychedelic Alley," as it's now known, caused dizziness and disorientation, making them stumble as if in a drunken haze! Thankfully, they made it through, though their stomachs were still churning.

Further on, a pit trap was wisely avoided, lessons learned from past mishaps, I imagine! Then, they came upon a brick wall, from which they heard a faint, muffled tapping, followed by a creaky voice! It called out, and suddenly, Arand's lost memories began to flood back! He'd come to the maze with his brothers and cousins to find lost relics, but they'd been separated when a hidden chamber collapsed! The voice, it was Dornar Grudgeborn, his cousin, whose family bore a vow to remember or avenge wrongs! A tragic tale, indeed!

Despite the urgency of Arand's discovery, they decided to eat first, choosing a room with a closable door. While eating, Arand shared more of his hazy past: a fall into a pit, silence, and a symbol etched into bone, eerily similar to a sigil from the dwarf Tinker! The Tinker even knew Arand as "Your Highness," and it seems their past wasn't entirely pleasant! And then, Nikki's "demon fern" started swaying, though there was no breeze in the chamber! Strange things indeed!

Just as they finished their meal, Dornar's voice called out again, distorted and twisted: "You left us! You forgot the stone! You must remember!" The Barrel Maze then fell into a deathly silence, deepening the mystery.

The adventurers, ever determined, decided to investigate. Norsha, our stealthy ranger, moved ahead. She discovered recent humanoid footprints, not their own, leading further into the maze. Then she heard voices, arguing about treasure! The group decided to confront these potential rivals, although Feno was quick to declare his intention to attack for treasure!

But before they could reach the other group, they accidentally opened a door, revealing three gargoyles tormenting giant rats! Arand, with his deep-seated hatred for gargoyles, immediately threw his hammer, initiating combat! The rats, seizing their chance, scurried away!

What a battle ensued! Arand's hammer found its mark, while the gargoyles viciously slashed and bit, dealing nasty blows. Dwarum launched two magic missiles, injuring one gargoyle. Norsha, with her stealth and tactical positioning, delivered a flanking blow, and Nikki, with a well-placed backstab, slew another! Finally, Feno, with a powerful strike, brought down the last gargoyle in a pile of hard rock! And Norsha, not one to be outdone, finished off the remaining gargoyle with a triple damage evisceration, earning her a little happy dance! They earned 140 experience points each for their victory!

Now, with the gargoyles nothing but shattered stone, the room revealed stairs going down, and the mystery of Dornar and the other adventurers still loomed. But alas, dear readers, time runs short for our heroes this week! They've regrouped in the hallway, ready for whatever twisted path the Barrel Maze throws at them next.

And speaking of gatherings, prepare yourselves for a grand time on the 20th of the month, for a live game with pizza, treats, and drinks! Lee, our storyteller, is preparing a grand tale, and many might join, including grumpy dwarves and perhaps even a few new faces! So, keep your minds sharp and your bellies ready!

Until next time, when the mystery of the whispering voices and the treasure stealers will surely be revealed! Vilma bids you adieu!

Session 200: Rest and Rekindling in Orlane

Vilma's Whispers from the Foaming Mug: Day 10's Dawning Deeds

Ah, dear readers, gather 'round! Old Vilma has stirred from her slumber, and oh, what a day it has been in our beloved Orlane! The sun, though veiled by a gray, biting chill, did rise upon the tenth day of Ready, and with it, the Saviors of Orlane began to stir at the Foaming Mug Inn. A delightful rest they had, much needed after their arduous encounters of late, particularly that dire tangle with the gargoyles. They sent those stony fiends back to whatever dark corner they clawed out of, arriving back safe, though certainly not sound, for a good dinner and a well-earned sleep.

This morning, the air still hums with the memory of battle, even as the aroma of fried oat cakes and spiced apples fills the inn. Our heroes, the brave souls who champion Orlane, found themselves quite worn and battered, their very spirits tested. Poor Armatzi, in a sight that nearly caused Vilma to drop her morning tea, simply appeared on the common room floor, bleeding and unconscious! A shocking start to the day, indeed! But fear not, for the compassionate Nikki was swift to bandage him and, with the aid of the new wisdom that allows for full healing in safe havens, helped him back to his feet, a true testament to their devotion. It seems Feno, ever the dramatic one, even managed to frighten a local gossip into a fit of retching with a gargoyle head! Ah, the tales these walls could tell.

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A Merchant's Wares and a Shrewd Bargain

Word had spread, carried on excited whispers through the morning air, that a traveling merchant, Jalus the 10-Ringed, was in town. He specializes in jewelry and gems, they say, but also carries common necessities and, most importantly, healing items. Our heroes, being low on such vital aid, decided to brave the cold and seek him out, setting their sights on the canopy pitched between the Slumbering Serpent and the Golden Grain.

Jalus, a tall man in velvet robes, reeked faintly of cardamom and pipe tobacco – a curious blend! He displayed his wares: a beautiful amethyst brooch, a jewel dagger more for show than fight, vials of oil, rations, torches, and yes, healing potions and cheaper healing pulyses. And our Norsha, bless her diligent heart, even acquired a set of finely made gnomish lockpicks for a hefty price.

But the true spectacle came with Feno's cunning negotiation! He offered a signet ring, a valuable piece indeed, for sale. Jalus, the wily merchant, tried to drive a hard bargain, but Feno, with his unique persuasion (or perhaps just sheer audacity!), managed to secure all three of Jalus's healing potions and 40 gold pieces in exchange for the ring. A deal well struck for the party's desperate need!

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Strange Symbols and Grateful Hearts

As some of the party conducted their business, a curious sight unfolded near the Slumbering Serpent Inn. Some common villagers were seen drawing a strange shield emblem with the words "Saviors of Orlane" on the door, then kneeling in prayer. This peculiar ritual drew the attention of Nora, Feno, and Nikki, who went to investigate.

Lo and behold, these were the Low family – Billy, Tiona, and young Ewan – followers of Ma, expressing their profound gratitude for our heroes' valiant work against the Naga and the undead horde. They see the Saviors of Orlane as instruments of Ma's grace, celebrating their aid with these heartfelt symbols and prayers. A touching display of the community's nascent faith and appreciation!

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Temple Tidings and Unnatural Ferns

With Norsha still afflicted by magical darkness from the gargoyle that had rendered her blind, the group made their way to the Temple of Ma. There, they met the priestess, Misha Devi, who, despite the usual tensions between her followers and those of St. Cuthbert, graciously offered her aid for a donation.

Indeed, the noble Armatzi (a follower of St. Cuthbert himself!) was willing to cast a dispel magic spell, and with a good roll (and perhaps Ma's quiet blessing in her own temple!), Norsha's sight was restored! It seems Ma does not disdain all outside her flock, at least not entirely. Though, Misha Devi did not shy from lecturing Armatzi on the rigid ways of St. Cuthbert, preferring the wild, natural growth of grain over ordered rows. She also suggested seeking a sage in Hokk, Dana or Diana, who might be interested in gargoyle parts – a most intriguing rumor, wouldn't you say?

And speaking of nature, it seems Nikki's curious fern, Bernardet, briefly thrived in the temple's holy atmosphere, even managing to "steal" a silver piece! However, Misha Devi, ever discerning, deemed Bernardet an "unnatural corruption" and cautioned Nikki against dealing with such things. A plant with a will of its own, indeed!

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Whispers of Rangers and a Summons

Later in the day, as our heroes began to tend to their wounds back at the inn, a new intrigue unfolded. Los and Dwarum noticed two cloaked figures hurrying from the inn and, ever vigilant, decided to follow. They discovered a small gathering of Rangers of the Thorn, patrolling the Dim Forest on behalf of Iron Guard Mott. It seems these rangers, led by a fellow named Todd, were looking for signs of trouble, including a mute companion named Marcus, whose spear was broken under mysterious circumstances.

Most importantly, the Rangers delivered a message: the Saviors of Orlane are requested at Iron Guard Mott, the county seat, for a commendation and further direction. It appears our heroes' reputation precedes them, and grander duties await beyond Orlane's borders!

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A Day of Decisions and Preparations

With spirits and health restored (thanks to the new wisdom of full healing in safe places, what a blessing that is!), the group convened to plan the morrow. Despite the allure of distant Hokk for leveling up and securing funds, the immediate concern of stolen treasure in the Barrow Maze swayed their decision. Tomorrow, they will return to the labyrinthine swamp, ready to reclaim what is theirs!

And what of other preparations? Our resourceful Feno has commissioned a medium-sized, metal lock box from the local blacksmith, a sturdy safe capable of holding many valuables (and perhaps even more tarps!). It seems the lessons of lost copper and vanished tarps are well-learned.

The day drew to a close with plans for the future and the clinking of copper pieces for supper and breakfast. And a new question hangs in the air: will a new hero rise among them, perhaps a cleric, a druid, or even a curious blend of both? Only time, and the strange whims of fate, will tell.

So, my dear friends, Orlane sleeps tonight under a watchful, if slightly mad, eye. The Saviors are strong, their purpose clear, and the Barrow Maze awaits. What new tales will dawn with the morning light? Vilma will be watching, and you, my dears, will be the first to know! Stay warm, and keep your wits about you!

Session 199: Gargoyle Gauntlet and Undead Onslaught

Evening falls over Orlane, a chill wind whispers tales through the cobbled streets, and old Vilma finds herself once more settling by the hearth, a steaming mug of spiced cider warming her hands. Tonight, the whispers are of true heroes, of the recent harrowing escapade on Day Nine of Ready, a day that truly tested the mettle of our valiant adventurers.

Oh, what a day it was, my dears! Our brave group found themselves knee-deep in combat against a terrifying host of gargoyles. Not just any gargoyles, mind you, but a formidable force led by Ziggstrol, the Margoyle, flanked by his four-armed bodyguards. And as if that weren't enough, the treacherous Zach revealed his true, vile colors, launching an ambush from the shadows.

The battlefield was chaotic, heroes scattered but resolute. Cairo and Nikki held the western front against Zaxic’s gargoyles, while Norsha and Los faced a hasted gargoyle to the east. And down in that accursed main chamber, Feno and Armed grappled with two magic-wielding gargoyles, Magog and Visix V. With Armatzi nowhere to be seen, having been whisked away to another dimension, and Hyde and Dwaram long absent, the burden fell heavily on those who remained.

A moment of quiet wisdom came when one of them, a true leader, stepped forward to guide the day's desperate choices. Their first targets? The magic-users, Visix V and Magog, a sensible strategy against such formidable foes.

The fight was brutal, round after round of relentless attacks. Poor Norsha, already struggling with the gloom cast by a continual darkness spell, found herself in the thick of it, struck down by a hasted gargoyle. Eight points of damage, they say, brought her down to negative one. A grim start indeed. Armed, too, faced the wrath of Magog, taking ten points of damage.

But even in darkness, light shines!

• Feno, ever the fierce warrior, with his mighty sword, delivered a slaughtering blow to Visix V, the very creature that had cast the haste spell, ending its menace in one swift strike.

• And Los, with a touch of pure genius, tried a new spell, 'Push', successfully knocking that hasted gargoyle prone, negating its attack for a round! Later, Los would land a critical backstab on the fearsome Zaxic, a blow that shifted the tide.

• Cairo, though targeted relentlessly by multiple gargoyles, seemed protected by a divine grace, dodging many attacks. Yet, the relentless assault eventually took its toll, leaving him bleeding out.

• Nikki, with her trusty Mr. Paws, delivered strong blows and later, with her precious healing spells, began to mend the broken bodies of her comrades.

Our heroes, though bruised and bleeding, showed true grit. One by one, the gargoyles fell. The treacherous Zaxic himself was eventually slain by Feno's relentless attacks, a truly satisfying end for such a villain. When the dust settled, Ziggstrol, Zaxic, the four-armed bodyguards, Magog, and Visix V —all lay defeated. But the victory came at a cost: Norsha, Armed, and Cairo were all knocked out.

Once the immediate danger passed, the urgent work of healing began. Nikki, a beacon of hope, poured her magical energies into stabilizing the fallen. But alas, the wounds were deep, leaving lingering effects:

• Norsha suffered debilitating trauma, facing a penalty to hit for weeks.

• Armed was plagued by nightmares, impacting his initiative for weeks.

• And Cairo endured haunting pain, causing random penalties to his attack rolls. These, my dears, are wounds that even the finest healing spells cannot erase without time and proper rest.

Despite their exhaustion, our crafty heroes planned their spoils. They would take Ziggstrol’s head, the heads of the hated Magog and Zach (the betrayer), and the remaining 14 gargoyle horns. And let us not forget the enchanted battleaxe that Ziggstrol never got to wield! A fine collection, though it presented quite a challenge to carry, with heads weighing 30 pounds each and wings (thankfully mostly left behind) at 45 pounds. Even cutting them from the stony hides required magical weapons and time.

With their trophies collected, weighing them down considerably, especially poor Norsha who found herself carrying more than double her body weight in gold and gear, the decision was made: retreat was the only sensible option. No more treasure hunting for now; the party was simply too injured to risk further encounters. Thankfully, Armed took on the burden of carrying Norsha, while Cairo managed her friend's excess gear.

Unfortunately for the party as they fled, they were ambushed by another gargoyle party in the main entrance room (with the gargoyle statues). Fortunately, they were able to defeat these gargoyles without much problem. Unfortunately, there wasn't any free yogurt after the battle. Fortunately, there were more gargoyle bodies. Unfortunately, the group decided not to accumulate more trophies. 

But the journey out of the dungeon was far from over. Moving quickly, they were met by yet another surprise: shambling undead led by a malevolent shade. Another battle erupted, forcing our weary heroes to fight on! Once more, their teamwork shone through. Los ignited zombies with vials of oil, Armed hurled his mighty hammer, and Feno, though weakened by the shade’s chilling attack that drained his strength, ultimately struck down the spectral foe. The zombies, too, fell swiftly.

Finally, bruised, exhausted, and carrying their hard-won trophies, our heroes emerged from the dungeon and slogged through the cold, stinking marsh. They arrived back in Orlane at 19:40, just in time for a well-deserved dinner and a long rest.

What a haul it was for experience, my dears! Slaying eight gargoyles, Zigstrol, Zaxic, four armed gargoyles, Magog, Visix V, a greater shade, and six zombies earned them a staggering 1,081 experience points each. A high mark indeed!

So, as you see, the barrel marsh holds many dangers, but it also tests the spirit and courage of those brave enough to venture within. Our heroes, though changed by their ordeal, are home. They'll need rest, good food, and perhaps a bit of Vilma's cider to fully recover. And who knows what tales they’ll weave once their strength is fully restored? This old storyteller, for one, is eager to find out!