D&D Post Game 5-2-2018 part 1

Wychlight in the Voodun Lounge

After a few days of swamp travel and battles our trio of adventurers is relaxing with food and drink. They are discussing their next move: return home, travel after the rampaging barbarian tribes, or investigate the strange gold currency. That is when a pair of filthy, ragged looking and very Southern sounding dwarves walk into the bar and begin questioning and investigating all the patrons.

They eventually notice a dragonborn, human and half-orc sitting at a table. They rush over to them, check a small sheet of paper and then begin to spin a story to the trio. The story is a bit sketchy sounding to the trio, but that is when the dwarves produce a small package and place it on the table.

The monk opens it to discover a rolled map, a small bag of gold coins, a vial of grey powder, a letter and a small stack of notes. The letter is from an occasional employer and minor acquaintance Lukas Fudderer. He has an opportunity to discover lost artifacts and information pertaining to a long lost magical city. This time his information has led him into the Argenian Wastelands and to a small mining village. This is where the party can find him. The they will all travel to find the hidden lair of a long thought dead Tiefling warlock. He also has left some notes for the party to pay the dwarves with the coins in the bag, where they can acquire some restorative  and healing potions from a witch doctor friend of his, a map to the last known location of Silver Town, and a vial of teleportation powder that will blink the trio to his last known location.

The party pays the dwarves who instantly begin to whoop and holler about their new found fortune ( 30 gold ). They send the monk to witch doctor. They then activate the teleport powder. There is a flash of light and they are no longer in Wychlight, but atop a small hill looking over a near barren wasteland off to  South and the Twilight Fens to the North. As they take in their surroundings they notice five water skins hanging from a small tree. The bark has the letters L.F. carved into it. It appears Lukas was making sure the group had extra water for their trip through the wastelands. The party grabs the waterskins and begins their descent down toward the rocky wastes.

Several hours and three times that in miles later they have gone from green and soggy ground to dry , rocky and unseasonably warm. The vegetation has quickly turned to scrub brush, briars and patches of tall dry grass. They have seen little fauna besides the occasional lizard, snake, bugs and small chirpy birds. There is also the faint scent of rotten eggs they notice when they get a breeze.

As they crest their eight rocky bluff they find their route drops down into  a shallow valley. As they descend they can see what looks to be a wagon, several crates and possibly  a trio of bodies lying on the ground. They slowly approach and then send the rogue to investigate further.

He easily sneaks up to the wagon and begins to investigate….

Empty, full of dust and very old looking. It has been here for some time.

The crates…..

Empty and in the same shape as the wagon.

The approaches the bodies….

They are clothes full of twigs and straw?

He doesn’t hear the barbarian and monk yelling at him. He doesn’t notice the two large forms rise on either side of the valley. He does notice that he large shadow forming from above him. He quickly dodges to the side as a boulder smashes to the ground beside him. He isn’t as lucky as a second rock glances off his shoulder. The rouge quickly rushes to the wagon looking for cover.

Hill giant ambush! The party never saw it coming.

The monk and barbarian decide to split and move to each giant individually. As they approach they begin to pepper the giants with arrows.

The giants continue to launch boulders at the rouge, who deftly dodges them.

Eventually the monk stows his blow and sprints up toward one of the hill giants. As he approaches the hill giant smiles and chucks a boulder at the approaching monk. The Kung-Fu master takes the full force of the blow. He is able to focus his Ki and keep his feet and stay conscious.

The rouge leaps form the wagon and dashes off to help the monk.

The barbarian also stows his bow,  draws his two handed vorpal sword and runs toward the second hill giant. He is met with a pair of swings from a rough looking club. He dodges them and retaliates in kind a wide arcing swing to the left and a quick reverse swing. It is the reverse swing that removes the giant’s head from his shoulders.

Meanwhile the monk  and rouge are having issue dropping their giant. Magical fists and daggers find their mark time and time again. However, so does the giant’s club. He is able to strike at both of them and with incredible accuracy. The monk unleashes a flurry of punches as the rouge drives his dagger and rapier into the giant. The brute just smiles and then raises his club ready to finish off the wounded monk.

The barbarian seeing this pulls a javelin and lets fly. The weapon strikes and buries itself deep in the temple of the giant. He staggers several feet and then falls with a ground shaking thud! Their barbarian companion approaches and looks at his companions with a look of derision as he retrieves his javelin from the giant’s head. They policed the area but found nothing besides the two ambushing giants, a stash of small boulders, their food stuffs and a pair of large empty canvas bags. The part continued on until night fall and rested.

Day two and the trio was off deeper into the rocky wastelands. The smell of rotten eggs had grown heavier throughout the day. By noon they had discovered its location. They had descended into a small valley full of small puddles of hot water. It was moments later they heard a trio of small burping sounds followed by the eruption of scalping hot water and sulphur smelling steam. This is where the rotten egg smell was originating. They now faced travelling through this  geyser field or backtracking out of the valley then miles to the West or East to avoid this area. They opted for the faster but potentially more dangerous geyser field.

They began to work their way through the randomly firing geysers. The monk and rouge falling victim more than once to the scalding water and steam.  After a half a mile into the region they heard the distinct sound of clicking approaching echoing off the valley walls. They drew weapons preparing for what/whomever was approaching. Seconds later and a trio of heavily armored giant scorpions arrived from behind quartet of tall rock formations. The party advanced quickly but cautiously, always trying to stay out of the randomly erupting geysers.

The scorpions launched into the party with their large pinchy claws and deadly stingers. It seemed no one was safe from the armored arachnid assault. The party dodged claws only to get nailed by the poison stingers or if they dodged the sting they were nipped and clipped by the creatures claws. All the while the geysers erupted around them occasionally causing burns to them and the scorpions. Eventually the trio was able to put down their trio of poisonous and pinching opponents. The party rushed  out of the area dodging blast of hot water the entire way. The rouge stopped to collect a couple vials of stinger poison and followed quickly behind his two companions.

Hours later and the party was looking for a suitable location for camping. The sun was getting low and they were a combination of tired, sore and nauseated from the scorpion poison working out of their systems. It was then they hear an approaching high pitched roar. They looked around  but saw nothing. Then a pair of large winged shadows passed overhead.

“Wyverns!” yelled the barbarian and the party quickly prepared as the two beasts had turned and were quickly diving down toward them.

The first wyvern swooped in with slashing claws. Followed by its’ fanged maw and then finally attacking with a poison filled tail stinger. The party was able to dodge the tail, but the claws and fangs did find their mark. The second wyvern made it’s turn and was also diving toward the group. The barbarian seeing this flew into a battle rage and swung madly at wyrm in front of them. His magical sword did its work once again. As the beast raided his head to strike again the barbarian’s vorpal sword removed the wyrm’s head from its neck. The beast crumpled to the ground and began to thrash about.

The second wyvern dive bombed the party and let loose a barrage of attacks with tooth, claw and tail. The monk and rouge dodged aside, but just barely. The barbarian  still in the throes of his battle rage leapt into the air with his giant blade held high over his head. The wyvern’s head turned on its snakelike neck at the sound of the bellowing half-orc. The giant sword drove down and completely through the thick scaled neck of the wyrm. The beasts head fell to the ground landing next to his partner’s severed head.

The half-orc deftly landed, sheathed his sword on his back looked to the stunned rouge and monk. “Well that’s how it’s done boys! Now this should make a nice trophy for the bar.” He said as he picked up one of the wyvern’s head and tossed it toward the monk. The monk wrapped it and stuffed in into the enchanted bag on his belt. The party decided to make camp here. The scent of fresh wyvern would keep any lesser predators away for the night.

As dawn broke on the third day the trio broke camp and continued into the rocky wastes.

After ten hours of trekking through valleys, over and around rocky bluffs, through scrub brush, around pools of slow boiling natural hot springs, and  smaller and safer geyser fields they finally saw what looked to be a several small buildings on the horizon. They made a quick map check and knew that had to be Silver Town.

After a mile and change they came upon a small worn wooden sign that read, Silver Town Population three hundred. Although the three hundred had been crossed out and thirty carve beneath it. The now stood on the outskirts of the once thriving mining town described by Lukas’s notes. What they saw before them was a handful of broken down buildings, empty animal pens, tumble weeds, derelict wagons and empty watering troughs.

It appeared that the town was empty. The buildings were all dark. The only sound they heard was the hot dry wind. The only moment was a pair of small lizards running along a fence. They were about to stroll down the derelict main street of the town, when a booming voice broke the eerie silence. This was followed by various cheering and religious sounding affirmations.

“Now my brothers and sisters! Now is the time! This outsider! This fiend! He is one the Great Maker has warned us of! It is him and his ilk that brought ruin upon this town! Practitioners of the dark arts! Wizards! Warlocks! Spell Weavers! Users of the dark arts! They summoned the eldritch creatures that destroyed the mines. They summoned the horrid tentacle beasts that attacked the town and murdered your friends and families! He has arrived to finish the job the others have  started! By the will of the Great Maker the sacrifice of this heathen! This foul sorcerer will pay for his crimes against man, beast and the will of our Great Maker!”

It appeared that Silver Town wasn’t abandoned after all, and was evidently full of a mod thirsty for the blood of someone. They party had a feeling that someone was their acquaintance and benefactor Lukas Fudderer.