Egill’s Log – 18th of Autumn Continued, Part 2

18th of Autumn Continued

Pickles drinks the healing potion. We investigate the first floor of the tower. There’s a closet full of rubble in the foyer. A hallway leads out of the foyer through the center of the tower. Entering the hallway, we find two doors. In the first one we find a scene of interrupted work and a cowering orc. The orc tells us about how many orcs are here. He says there is no temple of Morlock here. He seems frightened of the colored/stained glass windows. The orc tells us that the dark humans live in the “big building.” He says that there might be four or more of those dark humans holding the power of Molock. The orcish coward says that the dark humans are with Molock and that they know their dark angel. They speak of conquering a city to the west. 

After the questioning, we tie up the orc while briefly discussing murdering the orc. We equip ourselves with some of the weapons and shields here in this room. We exit the room and, in the hallway, we find that there’s a third room. We also see that the hallway opens up into a larger room. In the second door is what looks like a barracks. Hay and furs are on the floor and the furniture is broken.

We swiftly head towards the third door. We find that the hallway opens up into a foyer that has another door in it. The third room is also a barracks. The second foyer actually has two doors. The foyer has a large pile of fur and a crate. There are three separate sets of furs in the center of the room, and amidst the furs is a chest. The crate appears to be a shipment between merchants’ guilds, which holds a fancy outfit and two carefully wrapped vials (small wax-sealed flasks). Pickles discovers that the chest is trapped (a string suspiciously attached to the lid of the chest). Pickles triggers the trap and is injured, but Darvan heals him. In the chest are very very expensive jewelry, gems, and coins. (Gold & Yellow Topaz, Black pearl, two red garnets, deep green spinel, piece of jade, pink pearl, tourmaline; 91gp 2sp 4cp; fancy eye-watering necklace of platinum and gems). The lid of the chest has the initials of: DGI.

The western door of the foyer leads to a staircase (down) and the northern door leads to a spiral staircase (up). We decide to open up the trap door to the second floor from the spiral staircase. The second floor is completely open. Ceiling is open in some areas. There are arrow slits along the walls of the tower. Satisfied with its emptiness, we head back down towards the stairwell to the basement. Pickles listens to the door and hears orcs berating someone. Probably, they’re scolding the goblins. The party charges into the room and a battle with the two orcs ensues. We quickly kill the orcs. 

The room connects to a chamber full of fearful goblins. We question the goblins, the party agrees that they should kill the goblins but disagree on how. The paladins decide to grab some weapons and give them to the goblins, providing them with the opportunity to give up their lives. At that, the goblins sink to the ground and beg for their lives. Pickles dishonorably murders one while it says that it didn’t want to tell us something about pushing something. The goblins shriek and beg for mercy, promising they’ll show us. We finally ask them what, and they tell us that they’ll show us. There’s a button. Darvan pushes the button. It reveals a door. Obroam, Rem, and Darvan open the door. Past the doorway is a hallway and they trigger a trap. Pickles then triggers the trap on them again. They ask the goblins to walk down the hallway and find the pressure plate, but the goblins disapprove of that idea. This angers the paladins and seems death-worthy in the eyes of Obroam. Egill feels conflicted – killing slaves doesn’t seem courageous nor feel in Tyr’s light.

Mortisms

  • If we go to the center of the town and start screaming his initials someone will eventually give us a free meal.
  • Oh man, if we’re spearing goblins, there’s no way I’m not getting in on this.

Egill’s Log – 18th of Autumn Continued

While discussing breaching the walls, Pickles brings up that when they’d last spoken with the kobolds they spoke of a back entrance tunnel. This is kept in mind as a backup plan should entering through the gatehouse is not feasible.

Pickles sneaks up the rubble pile wall and finds that the courtyard is empty and that the doors to the gatehouse is closed. Pickles clumsily sneaks onto the tower. Surveying from the roof, Pickles sees beyond the wall and through the trees two squat, damaged towers. He can hear the sounds of orc-speech. Listening closer, he hears one of the orcs lecturing the others, the gist being: “the boss is upset that the big one is dead, we’ll stay here until we figure out what to do next.” Some other orcs (3-4) are angry about being taken off guard duty and put on patrol now that the ogre is gone – they enjoyed watching goblins excavate. Having heard all that, Pickles returns.

We have a few options: attack the orcs in the diamond room, ambush the patrolling orcs, sneak past the wall. Pickles suggests setting the rafters of the gatehouse on fire to serve as a distraction and to learn the numbers. Pickles admits that as a littleling his prone-ness to making chaos for others and Obroam and I admonish him and suggest he learn the wisdoms of either Tangodorin or Tyr.

Pickles sneaks into the gatehouse again. He peers into the diamond room and sees two orcish figures watching the hallways. Pickles reports that the orcs are watching both hallways but in positions where they cannot see into the courtyard. The front doors are locked and they are watching the entrances from the wings. 

While Pickles is away getting into position for the attack on the gatehouse, kobolds encircle us. They ask us what we’re doing and Rem and I translate for Obroam and the kobolds. Obroam bribes the kobolds with food so they’ll leave us alone. He gives them all of his rations. The kobolds fight over the food and we get back to work making the battering ram. My dagger breaks while using it to trim the tree to make into a battering ram. The kobolds describe humans with black robes and green, scary masks beyond the wall. 

We finally bash down the door and charge into the room for the attack. Once the one orc is left standing, he shouts that his “soul will be taken by Moloch.” So Moloch is, indeed, their dark god. Rem strikes down the last orc. [Weapon Speed!] Pickles finds 49 gp 133 sp, a small bluish gem and a blood-colored gem on the dead orcs. The orc who’d had a gem carried a whistle and a set of keys. Mort had been badly injured in the fight, so I cast cure light wounds on him and Obroam lays his hands on him, glowing with the light off Tangodorin.

Egill’s Log for 18th of Autumn

18th of Autumn:


The orcs and goblins had followed us from our escape from the keep after we’d slain the ogre. We’d engaged them in battle amidst the thick forest. Mort casts Entangle on four of the orcs to contain them. Four more orcs appear and attempt to flank us, but Houdin and his goons quickly protect it. Mort casts Charm person on one of the orcs.

One of the orcs cursed us, saying “Molock of the one eye will eat/take you in your sleep!” I’m curious of who this Molock might be. An orcish god? A dark god they serve? Is he their leader?

We kill all of the orcs and goblins and loot 180 silver and 95 gold. Unsurprisingly, the orcs were carrying much more wealth than the goblins. Pickles backstabs and murders the charmed orc, so we lose him as a potential source of information. During the rest after the battle, I pray in thanks to Tyr of the victory and sense that He is pleased with the battle and its outcome.

We resolve to go back to the keep. Pickles heads up toward the keep to scout. We reach the gatehouse.

Journal of Obroam Gruduvir – 13th Day of Autumn, 59 AD continued

We returned to the dilapidated fort to continue our efforts of cleansing the ruin of the foul beings that inhabit it. Our parties scout Pickles reconnoitered the grounds and sure enough guards had been replaced. Two goblins in the courtyard, two in the tower, and two Orcs in the doorway to the complex proper. In addition, he learned that at least eight goblins laired in the western wing of the facility. With a direct route blocked, we had to be a bit more inventive with out entrance. While it was suggested we drop in on the goblin barracks, I had a more tactical idea. We would sneak into the fort via the west wings roof, into the room which we did battle in a few days ago as it was empty. While we were successful, we were almost noticed, but luck was on our side and we set up in the east wing.

Now inside, we had to come up with a plan of how to deal with the current guards. Pickles had the brilliant idea of dressing as a goblin and taunting the orcs to lure them into ambush where we lay in wait. After putting on a bit of armor and dirtying himself up, he snuck down the hall and lured our foes to us. A short skirmish followed as the orcs took the bait. We then followed this ruse with yet another, Pickles bellowed out into the yard for the goblins to come inside. These foes were also slain in short order. Tangadorin’s blessings surely light our way. 

With no more outside guards to worry about, our troop entered the west wing. A couple of goblins who were mining our a celler came to see what was going on, and with quick word play, sent back to their tasks. At the end of the hall a ruckus spilled forth from a side room. As we entered we saw a large insect of some type attacking three goblins in what appeared to be a kitchen. As Mort and I entered to deal with both parties, Pickles had another bright idea, he chalked the door to the goblin warren shut, giving us time to mop up. Following this, banging was heard from the door and voices of goblins yelling to be let out. With the goblins contianed, we decided to use more unconventional tactics to deal with them. Pickles climbed to the roof to attack from the collapse sections with his sling while our Wizard, Rom, poured oil under the door and lit it. After a minute or so of screaming and the door burning to cinders, I charged into the room with the others in tow. While we did fell most of them one did manage to stick me in the thigh, I wish i had a replacement shield. And to top it off, those miner goblins fled during the wrapping up of their comrades. 

Two of the goblins surrendered to our group and were thus questioned. They appear to be labor for these Orcs and Dark Ones. It also seems these creatures see us as members of the Dark Ones and not intruders, very odd, but they dont seem to be very bright. With little gained from the questioning, the group moved to slay the goblins, even though they had become our prisoners. One was slain by Mort before i could stop him but i prevented the others from slaying the last pitiful creature. Goblin or no it had surrendered and thus would be treated with some decorum. The little creature was terrified and clung to my leg in hopes I would continue to protect it from my team.

Lastly Mort and Pickles search the room, finding some coin on the goblins and a chest that they were trying to get into. Our Littleling was able to crack the lock and gain the contents of the chest. Some coins, a scroll case, several fine crossbow bolts, and a suit of scale mail. Given the age of the chest, and the lack of rust and corrosion on the metal inside, perhaps their is more to these items than meets the eye?

Journal of Obroam Gruduvir – 13th Day of Autumn, 59 AD

We traveled to the castle spoken of by both the sheriff and the kobolds, or more correctly what was left of one. Nature had reclaimed the perimeter and had begun to take the inner walls as well. Crumbling walls, tight vegetation and shadows are all we saw upon a first glance. Pickles took to a tree to gain a higher vantage point and see what there was to see over the walls, while Mort sent one of this rodents to look inside an arrow slit, both forms of reconnaissance proved less than useful. So, deciding on being direct, our party entered through the front gate. Pickles still being stealthy, informed us of goblins in the crumbling wall tower, we entered boldly and slew the two vile creatures within though not before they gave out a shriek. As Mort and Fascul, looted the bodies, I stood guard at the door in case more heard the screams. Sure enough they had, but with some quick word play on Pickles part, they were dissuaded and didnt investigate very much. Im finding this littlelings abilitys more and more useful by the day. 

As we continued on, we crept along an inner courtyard wall to the main doors. Inside, pickles described a diamond shaped room with Kobolds working to clear the place of debris and dirt. Our group decided to enter as though we belonged, on the pretense that we were here to help the kobolds deal with the goblins. The gambit worked, the kobolds seemed unbothered by our presence and even directed us to the nearest goblins in the eastern wing of the ruin. Pickles and Mort slew two of them on a ruined stair with little issue since they were sleeping while on duty.

We then proceeded down the a hall, checking a few rooms before finding a room with more than just goblins, a bugbear was with them as well. We choose a plan of attack to volley the bugbear as a whole before dealing the the goblins. A short skirmish followed, with Pickles being downed by a stocky goblin with a curved blade and that Bugbear shattering my shield. But we prevailed, I slew the Bugbear after it over swung trying to finish me, in addition i took the stocky goblins life as well as it refused to surrender. Mort, though claiming the be a wizard finished off the last two goblins with that club of his, he could make a decent fighter if he tried.

After the fighting we looted the bodies and I healed pickles as much as I could. As we made our way to leave this ruin and see to our wounds, we heard more goblins from the northern door in the diamond chamber. Pickles ran and hid as the rest of us took to taking cover with the doorways walls. As we listened, we heard only two voices and thought to take only two goblins by surprise before making our final leave. However, while it was only two speaking, it was four of them in total. Not the best odds given my injuries. But by working together we slew them all, though Mort did take a wound. The way he swings that club of his makes me think there is more to this strange man than meets the eye. With the goblins dead, we had one more clever trick up our sleeves. We positioned the bodies as if they had attacked each other to throw off any would be investigations. 

We took our leave of that ruin finally, having dealt a blow to the dark beings that dwell within. A half days journey later and camp was made. Our cleric of Tyr, Egill Thorinson, did well in healing Mort and Pickles before we bedded down. Two days have passed, and with Tangadorin’s Light, and a little help from Egill, I am whole once more. We are now headed back to the ruin to continue our efforts in cleansing the ruin of its goblin, orcish and Dark One’s, by Tagadorin’s Light we shall see to the heart of this matter. 

Letter to Jorann

Jorann,

Much has happened since my last letter. We finally reached Whiterun Fort. We met with the Marshal who told us that the Wildmen we were looking for were a half day away. We accompanied the Marshal’s man, who was charged with asking the Wildmen to speak with the Giants to find out why they were invading. We met them and Boraen was well received.

The brother of the Bear Tribe king and the successor to their Mother were leading their party. We agreed to accompany them to their Tribe where Boraen would be officially greeted as the King of the Wolf Tribe.

We set off on the 46th day of Autumn. We encountered one of the Giants. He seemed to be very old. He told us that the four of them were the last of their family of 10. The orcs, trolls, ogres and mountain ogres had run them off their land, and attacked them every time they tried to return. They had given up returning and claimed a new territory. Boraen asked them if they would fight with the humans against these invaders if the humans accepted this as their territory. He seemed to agree, and we left the Marshal’s man with the giant.

On the 50th day, we encountered a Manticore! To my shame, I was not up ahead when they met it, and Boraen and Pyria killed it before I got there.  We checked it’s lair, and found much treasure. Including a Magic helm of Comprehend Languages. Boraen was exceptionally gracious again, and offered it to me. We split the gold equally with all the Wildmen and celebrated through the night.

On the 2nd day of winter we encountered 7 Trolls. They did not see us and we successfully avoided contact with them.

On the 9th day of winter we encountered a party of Mongrel Orc-Men. The wildmen sometimes traded with them, so we gave them some items and traded with them. They gave us a carved totem of a Trollkin. We expressed interest, and usig my helm, I heard them say that they had encountered them just the other night. I very much wanted to encounter them as they always have much information, however, the wildmen believed that whoever talks to them will die.

On the night of the 11th day of winter, the trollkin came to us.Eadwig was on watch and saw my bag being rifled through and my signal whistle flying away. He was alarmed and woke the camp. I knew immediately that this was the trollkin, and spoke friendly to them and explained that they were welcome to it, and asked them to reveal themselves.

It took a bit of convincing, but they did reveal themselves and told us much. Including some very bad news that the Bear tribe had been attacked in their camp, and many had been captured and taken to Tuluk. They told us of an deep chasm where they were taken, and perhaps that is where the sword is.

They also told us of some warriors in a big stone tower, and to look for the broken town. We might fid people who can help there.

Our path lies clear….On to Tuluk…..

May the Light of Tangadorin be with you always,

Your Friend.

Grel

Journal of Eadwig – 44th day of Autumn, 59AD

44th of fall

I was certain Death put his hand in mine and said “now”. Not so. It was the hero, Wikton, which kept me in this mortal realm. Religion is not a vibrant part of the town from which I hail, but I have no doubt in his proclamations. I was wrong to despair, for Fortune favors the bold and it has been with me.

Continuing with religion, the knight Sir Grell demonstrated a ritual of the faithful to Tangodoran. The performance was complete with light works like my eyes have never seen. What interaction was between him and the heavens is unknown to me. Perhaps he heard a call for aid as not long after the conclusion of his rites we spotted a column of smoke.

Glorfindel, the elven ranger, led us to a farmhouse beset by goblin raiders. Large and burly goblins, small goblins, and malevolent wolves set themselves against us. In the melee, I was unhorsed and the damned creature bolted. Other than looking a fool, we were able to defeat the goblins and rescue a girl named Amelia. I am saddened to write that the goblins murdered her family.

We stopped in the hamlet of Midwell while continuing to Whiterun and delivered Amelia to her aunt, Krissy. The aunt was not discreet in displaying her displeasure in Wikton and Morgan’s paganism. While this occurred a few days past, I can state now with all certainty that the woman is wrong to doubt their pagan faith. Differences in faith are becoming a reason for irritation amongst those we meet. It is only a matter of time before we come to violence over the matters of the gods.

Leaving Midwell we finally entered a valley and could see the Sithasten mountains. Soon, we came upon Whiterun fort and the camps of the Crossed Sabers and Violet Adders. Chaos surrounds us. Major Takenson brought to our attention the orc to the north, giants to the east, goblins to the south, and a sickness has infected this fort. We journeyed to the source through the tunnels under the fort. It was during this time that I almost came to know death. Words do not exist to describe the thing in the halls. Grell, Morgan and Glorfindel destroyed the chaos spawn. My memory is not right for what else occurred as Morgan mapped the tunnels as I was out of sorts.

I was ready to abandon the quest, whatever it is. Reflection has made me think with caution. While I know safety is not guaranteed, more so now than ever, I am ready to take up my sword and continue.

Journal of Obroam Gruduvir – 9th Day of Autumn, 59 AD

A few days have passed since our encounter and dealings with the Kobolds. Our company is in Gireford once more, replenishing supplies, receiving healing from the temple, and preparing once more to head back out to the hive of villainy.  While in town we spoke again with the Sheriff, who seemed most interested in out dealings and goings. He informed us in what details he could about the castle atop the hill, saying it was an old fort of the realm that had been used by the orcs in the past as a stronghold.

His concern was noted and we decided that we should reconnoiter the outpost while he sent off to the Marshal for actual troops. I also suggested that we attempt to camouflage ourselves using paints and cloaks that looked like the wildlife around ourselves if we wanted to watch and not be seen. This took a couple of days.

In the mean while, the rest of my companions ate, drank, and told stories of their exploits over the kobolds. I on the other hand, spent time with the priestess Mylla. She had been curious about me, my god, and “pagans” in general. She is a bright young girl, and the search to know more is pleasing in Tangadorins sight, so i indulged her. First I told her of our encounters with the kobolds and how they were cowed by our cleirc and even chittered about the dark ones. Mylla suggested that they were referring to worshipers of that True Darkness that brought the Doom to our world before, i pray she is wrong.

After, I spoke of how Tangadorin found me as a wayward sot, penniless and lazy. My gods edicts and tenets. But in turn she also spoke, about how since the old high priest had passed, she was to be the new high priestess, save that she was not powerful enough in the light for said position and an outside priest was brought in to lead this following. She was eager to learn more, be more, see more. I told her all things are possible within the light, to never give up on her hopes and dreams and one day, she would reach what she sought.

The hour grows late now, and i must rest, for in the morning, we march back to that overgrown hillet. May Tangadorin’s light shine our way to the heart of this matter. 

Journal of Obroam Gruduvir (Au 4, 59AD)

4th Day of Autumn, 59 Ad

Our group traveled into the wilderness to find the lair of the loathsome kobolds. In our search, we tracked their trails to a collapsed tower covered in overgrowth, scattered coins leading us to a dug out cellar to the ancient structure. We ventured into the dark to find our quarry, and were not disappointed. The lair was a series of tunnels with cracks in them, through which the vermin attacked. Tossing bottles of flaming oil at us, their attacks were in vain as our mettle stood strong.

After regrouping in their kitchen for lack of better words, we did battle once more, with Golani slaying three of them, but this time Corvin cowed them into retreating by bearing that symbol of his god aloft. After searching a bit more, our group decided that there was more to be gained from tricking the creatures into speaking to us than slaying them all, and so they were right. With Pickles acting as a translator, we spoke with the Kobold leader and learned that these were merely a labor force for Orcs and “Dark Ones” in the castle beyond the hill, and they they were only attacking the caravans because the orcs were leaving them with little to no food.

After a bit of discussion, we struck a deal, we “deal with” the orcs and they stop attacking the Caravans. While I didn’t like dealing with these creatures, they are but a symptom. The cause lies in the castle, and i shall bring Tangadorin’s Light to these “Dark Ones”.

Feeling the Goddess’s Pain – A tale told over the forge

It was around the time that we spent the night at the ‘Lit Lantern’, the 37th of Autumn I think, when the dreams started to get really bad. Heath was having them, too – not a great introduction to the faith for a young acolyte! The image of the goddess – pale, sickly, and slumped over an anvil covered in purple and green goo was too much to bear, and led to sleepless nights, and I’d wake up in a cold sweat.

What was especially strange was the timing of the dreams. We’d just spent days in our last stop constructing a shrine to Artura, the centerpiece of which was constructed of gold – liquefied, purified, and blessed and reforged to transform it from the monstrosity of a statue it had been into a holy symbol of all that is good – and we had adorned it with the most precious jewel that we had, a very large star rose quartz gem. I’d even given up a very finely made smithing hammer to the blacksmith who’d allowed us to upgrade his forge to a shrine – it would serve as both now – and who appeared to be a new follower of Artura. All of this would be a great boon to the goddess, we thought… and so those awful dreams came as a shock.

It was only a day or two later of travelling east when our party heard the sounds of fighting coming from the woods to our right. We headed that way, and come to find out there was a mysterious group that had a hidden tower in there, and it was under attack by orcs. By this time the dreams had grown worse and Heath and I were getting terrible headaches during the day, but we were able to do our part and help the rest of the party drive the orcs off, although Beth sadly lost her canine companion in the fight. We talked to their leader, Jon, and learned that the orcs had been staging attacks from their encampment across the river to the north. An encampment, he said, that had once been a temple for the worship of Old Gods. I was tempted to take the fight up north then and there, but the orcs’ numbers seemed to be insurmountable, and Borean was following a lead that was leading him towards possible mountain tribe allies, so we moved on.

We came to the town of Saludra, which was holding a jousting tourney, the prize for which was an enchanted blade made from a metal with outstanding properties that was being mined near there. Grel and Morgan entered the tourney, and Borean gambled heavily on it, but Heath and I of course cared little about these things and tried to gather more information from the townsfolk. We found out that there indeed was a temple to Artura right where those orcs were gathered, across the river not far from Crennex Falls. Together with the marks on the orcs that were signs of the Dark Ones’ taint, we knew that it was that evil that was causing the horrible dreams and the pain to the goddess. But what to do? Artura is pragmatic, and would want us to return with a force capable of defeating the orcs and cleansing the temple, but the wait to gather allies was maddening. We swore in our dreams and prayers to Artura that we would return to her temple in force and set her free.

Further east we went, and I was happy to learn that the time they’d spent on the tourney had not been a waste, as Grel (with Borean’s help) had gotten the enchanted blade from the winner. The pain of the headaches was becoming less, which confirmed that it was the corrupted lost temple that was the source of our pain and the goddess’s. It was soon after that we had a very strange night – the dead seemed to rise to do battle near the village we were staying, and Borean took on aspects of the wolf to go join them! We managed to get Borean safely away from the ghosts, but this was a new problem we knew we’d have to contend with.

So with Borean now clearly suffering from the effects of a curse, the fact that we hadn’t found any of his potential allies and our travels taking us further away from the temple, things were looking pretty grim. Two things gave me hope, however. First, we were able to make contact with a group of mercenaries known as the Crossed Sabers, whose commander, Houe Gordan, laid out the rates for a much-needed boost to our numbers we’d need if we were to take on those orcs. Secondly, and most importantly, the warrior Morgan had come to me and said, “Wikton, I want to learn the ways of Artura.”

I was overjoyed. I knew that from at least since the time of the Doom that Priests of Artura had only been wandering priests, spreading the word as they travelled from town to town and at times taking on an acolyte, as my mentor Yereso had done with me. But always only one. Was this a sign that the goddess’s religion was destined to grow, to have a full priesthood as in the stories of days long past? Or perhaps Morgan was destined to become a Champion of Artura, just as Grel was a Tangadorin’s champion? Only time would tell…