It wasn't us!

The crew: Bear [Ian], Debbie [Steven], Dexter [Jamie], Gillard [Kevin], Myrtle [Andrew], Oliver [Jeff], Ouzo [Darryl], Tu [Shane], with Scuttle [Chris] slumped somewhere nearby marmalading.

Oliver jerked awake out of a deep sleep and looked around.

"Oh, it was a dream" he sadly realised.

The party were staying at the Bestial Maid Inn in Toluene. We had identified the last haul of magical treasure, handed the magical chalice and incense off to the REAL Temple, and were going to decide on our next moves this morning at breakfast. The cook had promised a decent cook up, although he had politely declined Ouzo’s offer to assist with the cooking.

A sumptuous breakfast

After filling our bellies, Bear walked over to the door and leaned against the jamb, rubbing his back up and down against the wooden frame.

“So, what now?” he questioned, sighing happily.

We all watched him scratch his back on the door, then looked around at each other. Myrtle raised an eyebrow. Gillard gave a wry grin. Tu shook his head. Dexter licked some grease off his hand. Debbie had not even noticed.

The trail appeared to lead to either Skulk or Penstoke.

Skulk was where Ophelia Treacle was apparently residing now. She was definitely a witch of the local coven, the owner of the mansion we had just explored, and the cousin of Ruby Jeffrey, the other local witch who had suspiciously passed away in the Magic User’s guild house, at the exact time we had killed the were-cat!

Penstoke was where Ingrid Barnett, mentioned in various letters uncovered in the Malachi shrine below the witch’s mansion, had recently been serving as a cleaner in the Penstoke REAL Temple. The very same Temple that had been raided and desecrated by a group of Malachi following mercenaries a month ago.

Vigorous discussion ensued; voices were raised.

Other guests at the Inn glanced over at us worriedly. The serving girls gave us a few “sshhh” gestures as they hurried about the dining hall.

After some debate it was decided that we would travel off to Penstoke the following morning. But since we were here in Toluene, we would pay a visit to the other house here owned by Ophelia Treacle before we left.

“Why therrrrre?” purred Bear happily from the doorway.

“That house is above the end of that tunnel we explored, the one where we decided not to crash through because of the two male voices we heard in the room above” stated Myrtle.

So, an hour later we nonchalantly strolled passed the house a few times before striding up to the front door. The gardens looked overgrown and untended, and leaves had been blown into the front porch and were built up against the wall. After a quick glance around, we all crowded into the porch while Ouzo ducked down and worked his lock-picking magic on the keyhole.

“Maybe around the back” he suggested a few minutes later.

The coven symbol

We had previously confirmed that the back door had the coven symbol scratched into one of the door panels, and it was still there. But it did not deter Ouzo, and in a few seconds the door swung open to reveal a messy kitchen. Mouldy food scraps littered the table and benches. Most prominently though, in the centre of the room was a barred iron trapdoor! The rest of the house was also messy, and empty. Signs of habitation by a couple of men were present, perhaps two weeks old, but there was nothing of interest to be found.

We unbarred the trapdoor and peered down into the tunnel below.

“Just as it was when we were down there” stated Tu.

We closed everything up and made our way back to the Inn to prepare for the next day’s travel.

The next morning revealed an overcast and drizzly day. Dexter and Bear looked mournfully at the grey sky and muttered grumpily about the dampness. And off we went …

It was a three-day trip up to Penstoke, across the Toluene river, skirting the Oble foothills, past the Strontime forest with its Druid Grove and CARIBOU GORN Temple, and over the Strontime tributary. We planned to spend each of the two overnights at the waystations, small and secure bunkhouses for travellers, that were maintained by the local militia at about a day’s easy travel apart.

At around midday we crested a small rise and looked down into the valley ahead. A group of riders were attacking a wagon about three hundred yards ahead. About five or six figures could be seen huddling around the wagon, while eleven or twelve horsemen circled them, firing arrows and obviously intent on butchery!

“We must assist” yelled Myrtle, starting to rush forward.

“Um, twelve” noted Tu, grabbing Myrtle’s cloak, and preventing her moving.

We held the higher ground and watched as the one-sided battle evolved. One of the riders went down, but pretty quickly all the defenders were felled and the horsemen moved in. One of the riders spotted us and trotted towards us a little. He stared up for a minute, while we stared back.

Then they all gathered together, picked up the body of their fallen comrade, and took off away from us up the road.

Once they disappeared over the next hill, we rushed down to the wagon and the bodies.

Six dead people. Four humans, one of them quite large, one elf, and one halfling. They had been butchered mercilessly and laid out in a row. The wagon had been searched, but it did not look like anything had been taken. The two horses were also left and were still hitched to the wagon.

Myrtle sobbed as she crouched over the bodies.

“Those bastards” she muttered, “we better not find them at the waystation!”

We gathered everything we could find, and Myrtle cast a Detect Magic spell. Nothing. The dead horseman’s long sword had been left lying on the ground, and just beside the pool of blood where he had fallen, we found a necklace with a Malachi symbol lying in the mud.

The Penstoke road

Sure enough, later that day we arrived at the waystation to find twelve horses tied up to the hitching rails and two sturdy looking guards positioned outside the door. Before approaching we discussed just carrying on past but decide to hold our tempers and stay the night in the much “safer” waystation with these Malachi murders.

“Do not antagonise them, … please” pleaded Tu.

“Stink’n evil murderers.” whispered Myrtle, “They’ll be lucky if I don’t reap justice on them all”

“Um, eleven” noted Tu, as we move forward towards the waystation.

One of the two guards stepped forward and brandished his sword.

“It’ll be a bit crowded” he notes, “perhaps you better just move on”

“We’ll be staying” stated Myrtle, “and you had better put up that sword or deal with my twelfth level Ranger here”. She was pointing at Dexter, whose mouth dropped open in surprise.

Things were getting a bit tense, and then the door to the waystation swung open and a short burly looking man stepped out.

“Good evening, I am Godfrey” he stated, “is there a problem?”

Bear’s hairs were standing on end, and he was bristling. Gillard stretched up on tiptoes to look a bit taller. Tu’s hand was around the pommel of his magic sword, ready to draw. Oliver was at the back, ready with a Magic Missile. Myrtle was full of righteous indignation and was staring angrily at this Godfrey character. Dexter was staring at Myrtle and spluttering. Debbie had wandered off to pat the nice horses.

“We are but mercenaries and have completed our mission here. Tomorrow we will be off towards the Homer Saddle and back over the ranges to Honkeysville. You are most welcome to stay the night, we will not offer you any trouble; if you offer us none”

Things settled down after that assurance, and we all bundled into the crowded waystation. There were eight beds available, just enough for us, and so we settled in.

Myrtle was fuming, but sensibly restrained herself.

Godfrey offered to share their meal, and Ouzo proffered some of our condiments in return.

SOIXANTE-NEUF Priestess

Their party consisted of three females and eight males. Another dead male body was laid out behind the waystation, and they were intending to return him to his home back in Honkeysville. One of the females was a priestess of SOIXANTE-NEUF, who oddly kept to herself in the corner. Their cook was an obvious thief, as evidenced by his and Ouzo’s communications via hand gestures and unintelligible cant. Another of the females was an attractive warrior named Eliza, who was eyeing up Bear in a professionally hungry way.

“Eliza, the Tasty” grinned Bear, rubbing his back against one of the bunks.

One or two of the males were likely wizards since they did not have any armour, and their whole band all looked pretty competent and experienced.

Various discussions during the evening revealed that they were a long-established mercenary party based over the Oble Ranges in Honkeysville. They had been hired to hunt down and wipe out a party of adventures that were known to be operating in this area. These adventures were apparently hunting down witches and included a Halfling member and a mage called Oliver.

“Oh” gasped Oliver.

“Well, did you hear that … Frank” Dexter asked, looking pointedly at Oliver.

“Really? Witch hunters?” stammered Myrtle.

“Nothing to worry about though” replied Godfrey, “we found them and wiped them out already. I believe you have recovered their wagon” he chuckled. “And I believe there was a barrel of ale aboard it?”

Bear and Eliza the Tasty hauled in the barrel, and everyone set to with a will. Apart from the SOIXANTE-NEUF priestess and one of the other mercenaries that is. They just kept to themselves and quietly watched everything going on.

Eliza (the Tasty)

Bear and Eliza the Tasty decided to have a friendly bout, so the furniture was pushed back to create a small arena. Quarterstaffs were chosen, armour removed, and the two combatants stepped forward. Eliza the Tasty swung first, striking Bear a ringing blow across the head. Bear’s return strike was obviously disrupted by his head blow, as he staggered forward into Eliza the Tasty and winded himself on her staff. [An eleven fumble was rolled, “wind yourself by running into opponent”, -4 for the rest of the combat] With a flurry of blurring strikes, Eliza the Tasty got in three more solid hits while Bear was unable to even hit her.

“Enough” he coughed, spitting blood. “You are too much, even for me”

“You were just unlucky” Eliza laughed.

She beckoned over the SOIXANTE-NEUF priestess who strutted over and cast two Cures, licking the blood off from Bear’s chest and running her hands and tongue over his bruises.

“Mmmmmm” purred Bear.

“Mmmmmm” agreed the priestess.

The rest of the night was uneventful, unless you count the rustling, grunts, and purring from Bear’s bunk that continued until the small hours.

Our watches were vigilant though, right through the night, and no one else stirred. One of their group was also awake. The man who had not joined in with the festivities. He just stared across at us all night and did not appear to sleep at all.

The next morning we packed up and left early.

“Well, that went well” stated Ouzo, “They won’t think we are anything special”

“Yeah” laughed Dexter, “and they think our mage is called Frank!”

They rode past us a few hours later. Eliza the Tasty gave Bear a friendly wave and laughed.

We decide that rather than spend another night with them at the next waystation, we will turn off to the right and head to the CARIBOU GORN Temple in the Strontime forest.

Druid in black bear disguise

As we entered the forest, two large Black Bears crashed through the undergrowth towards us and transformed into humans right there in front of us. The two Druids welcomed us back to the Stontime forest and invited us to visit the Temple for rest and repast.

“Except for you!” he growled at Oliver, “You are not welcome in the Temple”

While at the Temple, the party had a comprehensive discussion with the Druids regarding lycanthropy and the potential risks associated with being infected. Dexter felt that if he had contracted lycanthropy then that was the obvious will of CARIBOU GORN, and being a naturally occurring condition, he would happily go with it. Bear thought it prudent to have his blood tested, which gave strong positive indicators of lycanthropy, and he chose to allow the Druids to “treat” him. This treatment involved the ingestion of a known poison that was deadly to the lycanthropy disease, but only harmful to humanoids in rare circumstances. Bear was fine of course. [Bear successfully rolled against his System Shock chance of 99%, governed by the CON requisite, and was fine. A failure would have led to the treatment killing him]

Bear’s treatment and recovery required an extra day so after two nights in the forest we continued on our journey towards Penstoke.

“I hope we don’t catch up to those big nasty mercenaries!” said Gillard.

We only had a few short hours to the second waystation where we decided to pause for the rest of the day and stay overnight. This would allow us to arrive in Penstoke before dark at the end of the next day. We had a quiet afternoon, a peaceful night, and a half day of uneventful travel through the next morning.

Around midday the next day we spotted a caged slaver’s wagon with a driver, shotgun guard, and four mounted guards heading towards us. We pulled over to the side of the road to let them pass, and to our astonishment we heard a familiar, but unwelcome, voice from inside the slave cage.

Dubull the Goblin returns!

“Oh my golly gosh, u must be buying me dis dime” yelled Dubull the Goblin.

“No thanks” replied Bear, “we already have enough little people”.

“Nothing personal Gillard” Bear clarified.

“Take him, we’ll pay you” pleaded the guards.

As the slave wagon continued past us and down the road towards Toluene, we could hear Dubull calling from the distance, “I can cook, and clean boots, and armour. Anything….”

We carried on towards Penstoke and arrived just before dark. We took rooms in the Screaming Wench, ate a hearty dinner, and then went straight to bed for a well-deserved rest. Bear reckoned he could still hear Dubull’s goblin accent echoing from the far distance.

The next morning we paid a visit to Ingbot, the REAL priest that we had dealt with the last times we had been here in Penstoke. He confirmed that Ingrid Barnett had been a cleaner in the REAL Temple, did not really have any friends in town, had abandoned her old house and moved on to Skulk after the Temple had been raided. She had also claimed to be a follower of SOIXANTE-NEUF.

“But ewww, old and retired I assumed” stated Ingbot.

He also noted that the mercenary that had been captured and “questioned” had provided some additional information regarding the raid on the temple. Before he died, he had let slip that the mercenary raiders, followers of Malachi, had been looking for a special knife, previously owned by a Mr Coultard, and suspected to be here at the Penstoke REAL Temple.

Everyone looked over at Oliver.

“What? Didn’t I suggest exactly that last time we were here” he replied.

We then popped round to the town’s SOIXANTE-NEUF priestess, a Beth McIver, to see if she had any additional information regarding Ingrid. Bear offers to worship with her.

“Excellent, my husband and I will be very grateful” she exclaimed.

“Husband” gulped Bear. “Perhaps another time, we are actually quite pressed for time right now”

Bear hurriedly leads us away and take us to the abandoned house of Ingrid.

We look around to make sure there are no witnesses, and then we gather round the flimsy looking wooded door in a huddle as Ouzo crouches down to work his magic on the lock.

“Maybe around the back” he suggested a few minutes later.

“You always say that” noted Tu, “and there is no back this time!”

Ingrid’s house was part of a cluster of dwellings all packed together, and only had the front door.

“Stand back” commanded Bear, and then violently threw himself at the door. He bounced back; the door was still closed. “That’s strange” he muttered.

“Ha, allow me” said Tu confidently, and he took a little run and threw his shoulder into the door. He bounced back and tumbled into the street; the door was still closed. “Ouch” he cursed.

“Pagh” exclaimed Dexter, “like this you boys”

Dexter flicks his hand against the door and it springs open, revealing darkness. Not your run of the mill shady interior type of darkness, but actual Darkness, filling the room like an inky black cloud. You could almost see the darkness stirring in the breeze. And there was a breeze, a cold draft that seemed to blow outwards through the door causing everyone to shiver.

Myrtle cast a Detect Evil spell and staggered back.

“Stinkin Eeevil” she hissed

Debbie was dragged forward, and she cast a Detect Magic spell.

“Oh, its dark in there” she said, “and there is magic”

Myrtle cast a Light spell on a handy stone and tossed it through the door.

It went out.

We did not even hear it land.

Oliver drew out his dagger, but it was not vibrating. He stepped forward to the door and peered in.

Ingrid's skeletal spell caster

“What do you mean dark?” he questioned. “Can’t you see that tall skeletal creature waving his arms about right there in the middle of the sitting room? Looks like he’s casting a spell actually”

A dark purple bolt of blackness shot out through the door and struck Bear in the chest, pushing him back and delivering two points of damage.

Myrtle called upon the mighty power of VINGT-ET-UN and used her innate priestess ability to turn undead. Another dark purple bolt of blackness shot out through the door and struck her in the chest, knocking her to the ground and rendering her immediately unconscious.

“Yup” confirmed Oliver peering through the door, “definitely casting spells. Looks a bit like Magic Missile, but better”

Bear pushed Oliver to the side, grabbed the flimsy door, and pulled it closed, while Gillard extracted a Healing potion from her pouch and upended it over Myrtle’s mouth.

"Why didn't the dagger vibrate?" wondered Oliver.