D&D Adventure #5: Oakgate Complex

[Grimmie]

Beards tonight when Bits gets back from work!

[Mr. Johnson]

Seeing as me and Threader are the only ones that can hurt the slimy bat-men, we'll try and keep them occupied whilst the rest of you tries to figure out what that sigil in the cell means. If it means we can get rid of all the excessive slime and those bat-things it's probably worth the risk.

[Grimmie]

Right, rightrightright.

I can't remember the fine details but here's what I can recall.

The party returned to the second level of the complex with renewed vigour and swiftly dispatched the summoning slime before it had regained its ability to call down various animals to do its bidding. They found that it didn't act the same as the orange slimes from the first level in that slashing and piercing weapons left it as a singular slime. The mother spider they encountered earlier seems to have crawled off through some crevice in the mean time

With time to fully explore the area the team split up and take a look around. One of them pushes a door open but fails to see the crumbling foundations above, and gets hit on the head with falling masonry. Orovan, quickly gaining reputation as the party looter, examines the skeleton suspended in a spider's web with a casting of Detect Magic. It lights up like a Christmas tree; the pendant, set of fine clothes, and waterskin it carries each carrying a different magical aura.

Thoon (I believe?) notices unusual stonework at the extreme end of the corridor and somebody identifies finger-grips right at the top of the stones, which when pulled at lowers the slab down into the ground with an ancient, grinding motion. Behind the slab is tunnel that bends to the left, the flagstones just after the bend look to be well worn and covered in rubble. Advancing down the tunnel, a couple of party members brazenly step on pressure plates and set a huge stone boulder trap off, which pops out of the wall behind them, at the head of the gently sloping tunnel bend. Ahead? A locked door, and a wooden grate in the floor kept horizontal by impressively strong springs. A strength check and use of slashing weapons turns the door to spinters, allowing the pair to advance down stairs to level three.

The boulder noisily depresses the wooden grate (which, if the door hadn't been opened quickly, would've squished the party members) and rolls back into place as though in a bowling-alley mechanism, cogs clicking and whirring inside the masonry underfoot to reset the trap. The other party members follow, jumping over the pressure plates and also descend.

The next area opens up into a large, long room with the party descending stairs by the short edge. An empty table surrounded by chairs is immediately jumped on (because gnomes can't resist an impromptu climbing frame). The room's on two levels, with the party standing on a sort of observation deck for a set of prison cells on the lower levels. Glibberig tosses a stone with light cast on it into the room, which shows that a few of the cells have inanimate skeletons still inside, but more curious is the green carpet of glistening slime that seems to be coming from the north-east corner. Horrible, oozing winged beasts about the size of cats flit from cell to cell, and protect a circular set of glowing runes in the furthest jail cell, conjuring a huge area of poisonous smog between themselves and the adventurers which hinders vision and acts as a distancing mechanism, keeping them relatively safe. Furthermore, damage done to the creatures seems to either glance off their slippery hide, or heal soon thereafter.

[Grimmie]

So, after all that, do you guys want to press on and try and conquer the complex, or make a tactical retreat again?

[Mr. Johnson]

It might've been me that spotted it, I think I pushed forward the furthest.

A draf never backs down, but he's all for tactical retreats.

[Dog Pants]

Yeah, go back to the surface to regroup and report, see if we can find out what the bloody things are (or more importantly how to kill them).

[Shada]

Tactical retreat, then buy the Prima strategy guide on how to clear the dungeon because I'm a dumb adventurer who forgot if we actually found out the weakness of those batmen or not

[Grimmie]

The acrid cloud covering a large portion of the prison cells dissipates, allowing our heroes to once more see the full length of the room, or at least as far as their illuminated rocks and shields extended. In the narrow coridoor that runs along the north face of the room, Thoon faces down a partially wounded Ooze Mephit (now they're dealt with I don't see any point in concealing their Monster Manual entry name) whilst the others, save for Glibberig, converge on the one approaching down the central gulley. With some acrobatic moves, and taking advantage of the winged creatures trying to depart in close quarters, decent hits are landed and it appears as though the creatures may yet fall - especially as once out of their native sludge their regenerative powers begin to fade. Thoon takes a dwarven stride towards his opponent and brings Waraxe Davis down into its head, cascading green and brown jelly from its split skull down its spine. The others hound the remaining Mephit, and Glibberig attempts to Flare to confuse it, and though it resists the sudden blast of bright light, he follows his attack up with a soothing song from his ghost harp.

For as many blows that land and take jellied chunks out of the creatures, others land firmly and bounce off, or appear to leave the non-newtonian fluid bodies unscathed. Getting the advantage from his allies flanking positions, Shankley tumbles beneath the hovering creature and spears its genitals with his rapier, sending innards and Mephit testes over his head. Shrugging the revolting mess off, the party explore the rest of the dungeon. Glibberig (now auto-piloted by Grimmie) finally makes it down to lay his Gnomey hands on Threader and restore a little of his health.

Shankley finds a glowing blue circle of runes buried under a shallow puddle of ooze and tosses a skeleton bone into it. The bone promptly vanishes. Orovan identifies it as a summoning circle and starts to summon creatures from his Bag of Tricks - first a bat, and displeased with the result, he banishes his winged ally in a puff of bat innards and black bristles, summoning a weasel instead. Speaking with his furry ally, the team convince Mr Weasel (or Sam, as Orovan quickly names him) to enter the circle and report back. Weasel in, weasel bones out. Threader, played by Pnut in Shada's absence, initially offers to "kick the door down", reasoning that a portal is just a magical door, but thinks better of it with a little party persuasion. Instead he rubs one of the runes out with a discarded tibia, and the circle vanishes from sight.

Exploring the remaining rooms, Ovovan makes a beeline for the century-old cups of dehydrated treacle-like goop in the prison's break room, his hearty Gnomish fortitude saving him from its ill effects. He nonchalantly offers the purse of 400g he also finds to Thoon. Shankley meanwhile carefully breaches the back rooms and checks for traps, finding himself in a corridor that stretches north and south with a further three rooms. Threader instinctively boots the first door down, snapping the latch as he goes, and finds an empty solitary cell with a pile of bones in it. Disenchanted, Forenrond carefully listens to the next door down, and as he's doing so, both Threader and Orovan attempt to collapse it with their feet, to no avail. Thoon rocks up and knocks it down with a single blow. It too has only a pile of bones inside. Tricksy things, these prisons.

Forenrond, Glibberig and Thoon hang back for the last door, while Threader, Orovan and Thor eagerly approach. The pirate brings his boot against the door frame without even checking to see if it's locked, and it swings violently back as his foot connects. A huge, fiery blast knocks the three nearest back, and Orovan takes the brunt of the explosion (15hp!). They enter the room, now in disarray, to find a splintered torture rack, a million bone fragments, and an iron maiden whose doors swing off its hinges at odd angles. All three of the blast victims make searches, but turn up nothing. Once clear, Shankley steps in and immediately finds a hidden prize on the inside of the maiden, a beautiful, shining black dagger made from a single piece of silver-veined metal. He appraises the loot for 2,500gp, and Orovan identifies it as a Meteoric Knife, which has strong magical properties - a returning, flaming and exploding +1 blade.

The party are briefly sidetracked by a stone section of the wall that's slightly different in texture and colour, and spend some time trying to crack the mystery. Threader comes away with bruised toes and ego, and even Shankley can't find anything that might suggest it's an entrance. They decide to surface and regroup.

Upon surfacing they find the camp partially on fire, the tents ablaze and a good number of the students slain or missing. Their mounts are still obediently tied up at the rear, but it appears as though Grizelle attempts to break rank and escape at some point, given the fraying rope hanging from her mouth. Only the mustard-robed Half Orc Halil and the Quartermaster Armand Osbourne remain in camp, bruised and cut, staring into the woods and muttering between themselves.

----

Good job, guys! Given how long it's been since we played, I figure levelling up wouldn't go amiss. Contact me when you can and we'll get you advanced to Level 4, and we can heal you for a full day's rest as a bonus. I'd love to get this back on track as a semi-regular thing.

[Dog Pants]

Cheers Grimmie! A satisfying conclusion and a tantalising cliffhanger.

Everyone, regarding the dagger, I reckon the fairest way to distribute the wealth of it is for whoever keeps it to buy everyone else out. I use a dagger, although I don't think I throw them, so I'll pay out if nobody else wants it. I also have two pretty nice weapons already so I'm happy to defer to someone else who wants it and who doesn't have any special stabbies.

[Mr. Johnson]

Yes, that was an excellent game, thanks Grimmie!

[shot2bits]

Cheers Grimmie! A satisfying conclusion and a tantalising cliffhanger.

Everyone, regarding the dagger, I reckon the fairest way to distribute the wealth of it is for whoever keeps it to buy everyone else out. I use a dagger, although I don't think I throw them, so I'll pay out if nobody else wants it. I also have two pretty nice weapons already so I'm happy to defer to someone else who wants it and who doesn't have any special stabbies.

From what Grimmie said i think the throwing is a part of the charged attack things so doesnt need a skill check specific to throwing, also im not sure if i can use it without it fudging with my druid magic so probably no use to me either. might be better for Glib or Thoroar maybe?

i have no qualms with your idea on how to "distribute" it either, seems the fairest way to go

[Grimmie]

I'd say with it being milled from a piece of meteorite it's more natural than smelted iron or steel weapons, and wouldn't mess your druid oath up.

The effect that it has just allows it to return after thrown. You still have to attack with it like any thrown weapon, which attacks with dex and does damage with strength.

[shot2bits]

In that case ill happily buy everyone out for it if no ones particularly interested, my dexterity isn't amazing but its not awful and i could do with a weapon upgrade.

When the party leaves the dungeon and see's all the dead people Orovan immediately runs to check his animal companions to make sure they are unharmed completely ignoring the survivors.

[Grimmie]

Camilla and the others are agitated by the flaming tents, and the boy that stabled your animals lays slain on his front a few feet away, a long bloodied slash down his back.

[Dog Pants]

Are we continuing on the forums until we get to a dungeony bit or waiting for the next voice session?

Also, I chucked a skill point into a crafting skill this level - bowyer, specifically - with the intent of making posh bows out of dragon cocks when we're high level. Might be something to consider if anyone has a point or two spare.

[Grimmie]

Up to you guys, you've said in the past that you prefer forum dialogue over real-time, because it lets you plan out things better. That said, I'm happy to do stuff real time if you prefer!

[Dog Pants]

I dunno, there's something to be said for not having ages to plan everything out. Online is more rowdy though and not as conducive to thee RPG dialogue parts. The run-and-gun combat parts are far more fun live I think, as long as we don't get bogged down.

[Mr. Johnson]

Thoon calls out to Flash, and after asserting that his trusty dog is okay (we established this Friday night I believe) he looks around the place to see if there are wounded and if they need any help.

[Dog Pants]

Shankley's first response is to grab his bow, drop his pack, and make himself inconspicuous (i.e. hide, but in a Solid Snake way rather than a Scooby Doo way).

[Grimmie]

Forenrond dashes to the sidelines and finds nice underbrush in the woods to skulk around in. The hanging lanterns in the clearing provide nice, hard shadows to lay low in too.

Flash bounds over a short stack of rubble and wags his tail happily, depositing a severed, red-skinned, clawed hand at Thoon's feet. His jowls are covered in blood, but it's not his.

Hearing the booming Brian Blessed-a-like voice behind him, Armand turns around in shock and limps over, his splint mail rattling. He doesn't look like he's taken any hits however.

Thank Kord you're all right! Amidst the chaos we weren't sure if you'd surfaced or not.

We were struck by a Hobgoblin raiding party, but.. I've never seen one so co-ordinated before.

The monstrous humanoid races usually keep to the fringes of civilisation, gathering in tribes that fracture when they swell too great in number, due to in-fighting. Fractured tribes then typically go to war with one another, reducing numbers on both sides. This ever-repeating process usually keeps the population down and the tribes without one central point of power. Hobgiblin raiding parties are usually five to ten strong, and strike out at small villages.

There were thirty of forty of them, on horses and huge dogs, well armed and armoured. Some of the students ran, some fell as they passed through.

Halil hid in the forest.. And so did I.

About half of the students lay in smashed or severed piles on the ground, their fine clothes stained with blood and bile. Armand looks conflicted about his decision to hide.

Time fo' some rolls!
Forenrond: A hide and spot, please
Glibberig: A spot, please