Session 63: Big Green men
General Summary
The troll hit hard, but fell quickly. Its damage, however, had already been done. The diggers below were in full flight, running pell-mell toward a set of carved double-doors across from the cliff-base.
Lins flew down quickly and stopped the progress of four figures using her Web spell. Trislee wasn't far behind with a suggestion that they cooperate, one that held much more weight after a Fireball reduced two of them to gristly confetti.
The figures, who of course turned out to be cultists, weren't able to tell them much. They were here as part of an archaeological expedition to find the Sceptre of Duncan, a legendary dwarven wizard and warlord whose final resting place was never found. They were being led by a high priest of Hextor, but the expedition was the idea of a priest of Vecna.
The party had had enough of murder for the moment, and let their hostages go. They ran into the chasms, though one lingered behind, begging for a swift death by sword rather than the slow torture that would await him if he were caught. He cursed the party for refusing it before moving into the caves.
The party retrieved their shaman helper, asked him to never mind the meat-bits on the ground, and dressed their wounds, taking a quick catnap before they opened the double-doors.
Lins entered first, tapping with her ten-foot pole, and was swiftly surrounded by darkness and cold. Loud slurping sounds filled her ears and a feeling of chill worm-like things wrapped around her legs as she moved. From without, Trislee and Connall saw only darkness.
Lins made her way out of the effect into a side-room, where she waited for it to dissipate. In the meanwhile, she found records of a very basic "not it; not it; not it; might be it? Wasn't it" nature. The side-room opposite that one had crates of dirty, hastily-stored artifacts—fossils, metal sculptures, etc. Most damaged by careless pickaxes and all jumbled together.
They pressed on, waiting out the darkness effect which seemed to kick in whenever someone entered the foyer, and found a branch in the path through a portcullis. Magic got them to the other side, where there was indeed a lever to raise it, but also quite a number of cultists, including those who had escaped before, now ready for combat.
The fight was brief, but it became apparent quickly that they had only been buying time. As the sounds of battle faded, another sound remained; many voices chanting, reaching a fevered pitch on the other side of the room's only door.
It was locked, and the party battered it with all they had to get it down. They saw a multitude of cowled figures, their armaments raised, chanting around a rectangular pool of viscous green fluid which was risen in a column, coagulating into an aberrant humanoid shape. The wizards moved fast, slinging spells at the creature, to limited effect, but they were too late. It solidified into a towering, ten-foot-tall monster, six arms with deadly claws, bulging muscles pulsing with arcane power, a skeletal head and oversized, bulging eyes stared at them as a mouth with fangs longer than its jawline opened in a battle-cry
Report Date
19 Dec 2022
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