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22 Readying, 581 CY, Oldridge
We stepped through the portal and were whisked to another place. The first impression one gets after stepping through the doorway is that you need to dry off, it makes your skin crawl momentarily. As soon as you can get your bearings you are confronted by the green glow of light from fixtures much like the ones Prince Francenn has in his tower.
The room we entered was round with an exit to our right and one straight ahead. The room itself was free of dust, and the white flagstones were still as tightly woven as the day they were laid. Ahead we could see another well lit room and a statue, to our right, a blue lit room and a glowing white bridge. We went forward, to see the statue. It was a twelve foot tall statue of Boccob. In his left hand, a large staff, in his right, a gold wand, set with six colored gems. As we were looking at it, Oliver was prodded by Darcius to give Galen the idea of taking the wand from the statue's grip. Oliver told Galen that the gold in that wand would certainly buy a lot of 'Holy Smoke' and that was all the reasoning Galen needed to make the attempt. He climbed onto the dais of the statue and snatched the wand. Before he'd even dropped off the pedestal, the statue's eyes had flashed bright blue and it came to life! The people in the back of the room noticed the portal had closed as well. We appeared to be trapped in here with a living statue...It took an enormous step (it was twelve feet tall, after all) and chased the wand that had been taken from it. Everyone scattered out of the way, some taking a pot shot at the living statue. Oliver broke a dagger on it. Galen ran a ways and then dropped the wand. The creature bent down to pick up the wand and returned to it's dais, where it resumed it's pose. We all breathed a sigh of relief.
Ryvvik led us back to the foyer and we all looked down the other passage. The light bridge extended ten feet across a deep pit. The sides had been stained where water must have existed at one time, like rings on a bathtub that had been full, but has since evaporated, or been drained at intervals. Looking down to the bottom of the pit, we saw four more of those light fixtures, each glowing with a blue light. We crossed the bridge, which was wide enough to walk across comfortably and entered the next room. In it were four iron arms, seemingly growing out of the walls, each producing light. On the far wall was a stone door, with a silver pull ring. Oliver investigated it closely and finally settled on grabbing and twisting the ring. The bridge vanished, and the same white light that had composed the bridge covered the entire doorway. We stood there stunned for a moment as the arms on the walls opened their hands and gem in the palm flashed. Quickly we found ourselves faced by four pairs of fists (duh, Bigby's tower, Bigby's spells, fists). Battle was joined as we cut at these ghostly fists. Ryvvik came up with an idea early in the battle that the gems were important and tried to dislodge the gem in the hand closest to him. His idea was borne out when we defeated a pair of hands and it was respawned immediately. (This doesn't do justice to the amount of struggle that went on at this point, we must have killed a dozen)
DM: The trap operated as follows. As soon as the door was moved the force energy that composed the bridge was shunted to the door frame, preventing further access, and creating a 20' wide pit on the other end where the bridge used to be to prevent escape. Next the irom fist opened up to reveil a diamond in the center which was capable of casting Bigby's Pugnatious Pugilist and maintaining one at a time. The hand would promptly close after the spell was cast, protecting the gem. The hands fought as fighters and pummeled the party, each time one was destroyed the fist would reopen and create a new fist. The party caught onto the trick of breaking the gems to stop the trap right away.
Cedric of St. Cuthbert called upon the mighty powers at his disposal and became as strong as a bull. He and Ryvvik teamed up to open the fists on the wall and smash the gems. Once they had worked out a pattern of attack, the trap was defeated in short order. That left us with the small problem of no bridge to get back. Oliver lowered himself down into the pit, hoping there might be a door down at the bottom, and as he was coming back up, the bridge reappeared. This worked out really well, as this meant the shield on the door was also gone. We went to open the door again, and the shield shot back up. This clued us into the trigger for the trap. Using a five foot length of pole, we pushed open the door quickly and waited for the shield to disappear.
DM: Once triggered the fields would last for 10 minutes, then return to their original states.
Once it dropped, we entered the next room. It was, by all appearances, ransacked rapidly by someone who knew what they were doing. Interestingly, there was no dust anywhere, and no damage beyond the quick searching. We set to work exploring every nook and cranny but found nothing. We found that a tapestry on the wall was glued down, or stuck some other way to the wall. All efforts to remove it, short of cutting it loose piece by piece failed. All other searches in the room also turned up nothing. We were standing around, scratching our heads, when Ryvvik tugged on a tassel on the border of the tapestry. It moved down, like a pull cord. He tugged it farther and suddenly the entire wall began moving backwards.
DM: At this point our resident rogue was getting a little annoyed that the wizard was a better searcher than he was, the simple fact was the wizard was more intelligent, and so had a better bonus and thus a better chance at success.
As the secret doorway opened, we were confronted by a gigantic blue hand, easily 6 feet tall. A feeling of magic washed over us and the hand simply rolled over and vanished. Behind it we saw a small storage room, the shelves bowed under the weight of many tomes, and in the center a table with a chest, a large book and a piece of parchment under a paperweight. In the letter were some words from Bigby:
Dear Reader:
I Bigby, mage of renown and candidate of the circle of Eight in Greyhawk, most prestigious and preeminent of all wizardly circles on this continent, give to you my most humble greetings. If you are reading this it means one of two things; 1) my defenses have failed and you are more powerful than I had anticipated, or the one I would hope, 2) you are not of the ones that I had to flee and have come here out of curiosity or respect.
Know that I have had to make an expedient withdraw from my residence and had to leave a considerable amount of my collected knowledge behind for lack of capacity and also for concern of being intercepted. If you are reading this I have not been able to return to my residence due to unfortunate demise or frustrations left by my nemesis’ to keep my at bay. Whatever the circumstances surrounding it you now have at your disposal some of my life’s works, and the key to extricating the secrets of many more.
Know this whoever you are. If you plan to use the Surreptitious Road in the pursuit of anguish or suffering you will fail. For it’s secrets are beyond your means. If you poison my works with your immorality I shall hunt you to the ends of the Flannaess, or haunt you for eternity if that is my fate. If the pursuit of knowledge is all you seek or if you quest for the salvation of integrity then I send you my blessings.
Bigby
Ryvvik opened the book, which was The Surreptitious Road, and was frozen in his tracks for half an hour by the wards placed upon it.
Ryvvik's
Wild Ride
He shooed everyone else out of the area, and took the wand for himself after
smashing the golem in the pit by dropping the bridge out from under it. Then
he claimed the wand saying none of us did it and he did. (Or
I could be wrong about his motivation, That's just my opinion)
DM: He probably felt that he would gain ownership of the
wand anyways, being the only wizard in the party, so he felt he should be the
one to take the risk in aquiring it.
23-25 Readying, 581 CY, Oldridge
We got out of the tower as quickly as we could, pausing only to rest before possibly facing problems on our way out. In the down time, we searched the rest of the basement, discovering very little in the way of usable material. A lot of questions, but really, this place was a ruin, and many people has been through here before us. Whatever wasn't taken was smashed. How irresponsible for the forebears to rob us of our chance to understand what each room was for.
DM: The bulk of the dungeon was badly damaged by a few years of curious townsfolk looting it for materials, looking for valuables, or simply looking to destroy something that was not theirs. For a while mercenaries used the tower as a proof of bravery for new recruits, judging anyone who could pass the dark room with the fell presence as being brave. However, after a few mysterious accidents involving mercenaries being brutally and messily slain near that room the Prince forbade any such activity from taking place within the tower.
As we exited the tower, we were stopped by a group of men, intent on taking a cut of our treasure, but we convinced them, using the sack Francenn had given us, that we had nothing, short of some pulp books worth very little. We left Oldridge as fast as we could and made good speed back to Ralsand.
The rest of the journal will be told by Cedric of Saint Cuthbert, bless his strong arm.
25 Readying, 581 CY, Ralsand
St. Cuthbert's grace smiled upon us, and our journey from Oldridge to Ralsand was uneventful. The snow has started to melt, making our makeshift sleds rather noisy and bumpy. The toll where Isaac so foolishly agreed to a duel was still burned and abandoned. I regret the death of those guards, but then again, they had it coming. I have little pity for "official brigandry". It is one thing paying a fair toll, but that was robbery. Their willingness to try it against an armed group shows that they would have ended up poorly sooner or later.
We paid the other tolls and arrived at Ralsand and went to visit the mage-prince Francenn immediately. As Galen had been wounded in a fight against Isaac in his raven form, we feared that Galen was infected… but that was not the case. Francenn was cautiously happy (meaning concealed glee) to receive the book The Surreptitious Road written by Bigby, and then dispelled the lycanthropic curse that was on Angele.
Sadly, the Mage then informed us that he could not remove the curse upon Isaac and Darcius. I was more than disappointed at this news, but I held my peace. I suspect that now that he has his precious book, prince Francenn will forget all about us and will do precious little research.
He did inform us that spells of protection against evil might help them resist the change or keep them at bay (once changed). Also, they apparently find divine magic (whether holy or unholy) highly irritating… an "allergen" he called it. I must admit it makes sense. He believes that this is a form of lycanthropy modified with arcane magic to take on a demonic aspect… so it makes sense to me that divine magic would be helpful to keep the curse at bay. I will have to try to apply the healing grace of St. Cuthbert to any companions wounded in any future battles against such creatures (sadly, this includes our friends), perhaps that would stop the curse from taking.
Francenn believes that to remove the curse on Isaac and Darcius, we would have to destroy the source. It seems that our conflict against Pervost and the Order of the raven must continue. Of course, I think it would have continued anyway (I have no tolerance nor mercy for slavers) but destroying these foul meddlers in dark arcane matters is now an imperative.
Francenn did agree to help us by allowing us to stay in the town and have Darcius and Isaac sleep in cells during the full moon so that they do not kill innocent folk… for that I am grateful. Had we kept traveling; the rage would have taken them (at the full moon) in Rel Deven. There would have been much blood shed. So we decided to stay at the inn… the price for a prolonged stay is quite steep indeed… the innkeeper should be ashamed for gouging his customers so.
DM: Yet the customers continue to pay, so who should be ashamed? (someone has to stick up for the NPC's)
26 Readying, 581 CY, Ralsand
We did little today. Isaac picked up the shackles he ordered, and I did the same with the silver morning-star. It seems this weapon will be of little use against the cursed ones… but it might come in handy in other occasions. Oliver spent time looking for another mage in town, we wish to identify some of the loot we found in Bigby's tower. Darcius is still trying to repair the gnolls` scale-mail, and I am helping him with spells of restorations and repair. St. Cuthbert, in his wisdom, grants those spells to his faithful… not all days are about battle and the following patching up the wounded.
27 Readying, 581 CY, Ralsand
In the morning while we were eating at the Twin Harp, a knight came to visit. He (tried to) intimidated the room down with this silent glare… it seemed to work with the commoners, but we have seen a little too much to be affected much. His squire informed us that this was the Knight Protector of the First rank, Karnath, and that he wished to inquire on who owned the war-horse outside. Apparently the knight is too good to speak to us directly. Isaac said that it was his.
Some negotiations followed. It seem that the young knight, wishing to prove himself, wanted to joust. Of course, he had to make sure that his opponent wasn't too much of a commoner… the convoluted thinking of the nobility is beyond my grasp sometimes. One would think that knights would be better, but years of jousting seem to addle their brains in certain cases. Anyhow, Darcius agreed. I was concerned that the fighting could trigger the rage, but apparently jousting doesn't actually injure beyond a few bruises, due to the padded lances.
DM: This particular challenge was for a Joust of Skill, so injuries are minimized, however accidents can happen…
Ryvvik and I will stand by just in case. Darcius and I worked exclusively on the breastplate the Baalzite's bodyguard was wearing. It is a bit too large, but it should protect Darcius well during the joust. The knight was wearing plate mail, so it will even things a bit. I always thought it was silly of Darcius to wear studded leather armor… he is quick (certainly quicker than me) but he doesn't have Isaac or Oliver's reflexes. My armor has saved me many a time, and Darcius will soon get used to the weight.
Oliver informs us that there is no other mage in the town, and that the knight protectors were here looking for Goldwhite. I wish the lad would let that notion of revenge go… sure he was swindled, but he rather asked for it… if we meet her again we will deal with her appropriately, but we have more important things to do.
28 Readying, 581 CY, Ralsand
The joust took place in the morning. I offered several spells of protection to Darcius, but he refused, saying it would be cheating. He has a point, but that nuance might be lost to his knightly opponent if he changes in his ravenous raven form and starts tearing the knight apart. I placed a blessing upon him nevertheless. It will help him little during the joust, but might just allow him to keep the rage under control.
We went to the knight protectors' camp. Isaac acted as Darcius' squire. Isaac was also kind enough to lend Darcius his war-horse Torment. Solid head on that boy, it wouldn't do for Darcius to joust on an untrained horse. The squire still spoke for the knight (who remained blissfully ignorant of how pompous and insecure that made him look) and explained the rather straightforward rules. They each went to one side of the jousting field and started charging at one another. It quickly became apparent than this was an even match… the knight was heavily armored, but Darcius was quicker. On the fourth pass, Darcius managed to unhorse his foe. Saint-Cuthbert be praised that he kept his temper. As a reward, he and his "squire" Isaac got to eat a solid meal in the company of the knights, who now spoke to him directly.
Darcius later on gave us a few details about the conversations. Apparently the Knight Protectors are here to investigate Jichrisen, a noble prince of Jennden, who is somewhat near Munevar. Apparently he has been acquiring a lot of land with no military action, and the Knights suspect foul play. Darcius informed them of the perfidy of Darrien of Dastryth, who hired an assassin and mercenaries to take Cherrin from us. The Knights seemed hesitant to get involved… knights "protectors" indeed. Still, perhaps they will be of help later on, Saint-Cuthbert (and the Overking) willing. Darcius also received an offer from the Blue Livery, the cavalry order that defends Ralsand, to join up (they were impressed by his riding skills). Darcius politely declined.
DM: Though the offer stands and he can return here for training in the martial arts of horsemanship.
Galen slipped during the joust. I suspect that he went to se the Olidammara priest again, Justavin. That worthless dog of a priest will assuredly provide Galen with more of that "holy smoke". Holy smoke indeed! That foul substance seems amazingly addictive and has rendered Galen into a nervous wreck. How can be battle the evils of the Adri when this fool is corrupting my companion!
Ryvvik also went to see Francenn again. I am not sure what they did exactly, but they apparently exanged spells. I trust Ryvvik knows what he is doing, but I must admit I don't understand those mages sometimes… if they prayed to a proper god, they would receive the spells they wished, instead of having to research books and scrolls constantly for new spells. Nevertheless, Ryvvik apparently gained a spell of identification that can reveal the function of magical items.
1 Coldeven, 581 CY, Ralsand
Darcius and I have finished repairing the gnolls` scale mail armor. We managed to sell them for a hundred ivids. This gold was handed to Ryvvik, who bought some pearls from Francenn. These pearls were apparently needed for the magic that would identify the magical loot we found in Bigby's Tower. A brooch was revealed to be a ward against the spell "magic missile". This is a common mage attack spell, and we gave it to Oliver. Ryvvik might have needed it more, but he apparently has ways of protecting himself against that spell. The simple gold ring apparently grants protection in battle. It was given to me, and it will serve me well, until I can afford a heavier suit of armor at least. The two small black marbles are something that Ryvvik called "beads of force". If thrown against someone, they explode, inflicting great damage. Any survivor is then entrapped in a magical spherical force field. Galen and Isaac both got one. The wand we acquired from the Boccob statue was revealed to be a defensive item of great power, able to cast several warding spells. Ryvvik being the only one able to use it,(except for Oliver :p) it was granted to him. Darcius had already got an item of magic (a sword) and a new suit of armor, so he got nothing.
DM: The wand was fashioned after the deity Boccob's Wand of Conjuration that he is often depicted with and is said to contain some of the most powerful conjurations in the known spheres. The wand Ryvvik got was made by Bigby and supposedly left within his secret shrine because he had to flee his tower in such haste. This wand contains numerous defensive spells rather than conjurations, and is of significant enough power to make less scrupulous magi do unscrupulous things to obtain it.
Angele was understandably upset that she didn't get anything. I went to the armor shop and bought her a large wooden shield. She seemed rather happy at that. Hopefully the protection it grants will ward her well in future battles. It might also convince her to abandon her clumsy fighting style… she is strong as an ox, but she keeps throwing herself off balance and tangling her two blades together. Of course, I am no swordsman myself (the mace is a fine and righteous weapon) but even I can see that her second blade is too large. I tried to convince her to wield a smaller weapon in her left hand, a dagger or something, but to no avail. Maybe the shield will do what my words could not.
While Ryvvik was performing his complicated magical studies, I had a talk with Galen. He DID go see Justavin, and acquired more of that cursed "holy smoke". However, he became suspicious of Justavin's refusal of smoking it himself. Saint Cuthbert be praised for knocking some sense in that boy! There is hope for him yet. He wanted to know if I had taken the smoke in the first place, and why. I told him that it seemed to have an unholy grip upon him. He agreed to give it up, and handed over to me the holy smoke. He then asked for advice, and that he doubted his faith in Olidammara. He did say that he did not believe that he could live under the demanding edicts of Saint Cuthbert. I still have hope for him, but even I must admit that he is not ready for that. I told him that the laughing rogue was perhaps too chaotic, and that Fharlanghn, the road-warden, might guide him better.
DM: I have to give Cedric points for trying. The players seems to have nailed the St. Cuthberite bias' against other religions rather well.
Galen informed me to watch my back. Justavin might be upset with me. Let him be… Saint Cuthbert is watching over my shoulder and I have strong companions. I gave a prayer of thanks to Saint Cuthbert, made sure the draft in the chimney was strong, and burned the foul powder in the fireplace.
And
so ends the month of Readying and so begins the month of Cold evening. May Saint
Cuthbert grant us strength of arm and heart on our remaining journey. May he
ward us from treachery, and grant us the determination to take the fight to
our enemies in the dark woods. They will be crushed under our righteous blows,
for the good of the common folks.
