Episode 9 – Part 2 – The Shattered Crystals of Menhirs’ Maze

Twitchy, nervous, and on guard, the party collects itself, heals from the ropers and vicious assassination attempts and takes some time to decipher the ancient druidic runes slashed into the stalagmites .  Vasco, having permanent comprehend languages cast on his eyes, sees that their topics vary widely.  Initially, they appear to concentrate on local detail of weather patterns and the eating habits of sharks, with some being simply gibberish.  A few more minutes, however, reveals that they are in a pattern of chapters of an ongoing history of the natural world.  As the runes move towards the centre, they become warped, chaotic and nonsensical.  There is, however, a glowing green crystal growing out of this rocky bed.  It doesn't appear magical, but Zeek carefully uses his hammer to break it off and bring it along.

The party pushes forward through the maze.  They are stuck looking up, at the scale of the place, with ancient black basalt walls and standing stones risking out of sight into the storm, which rages 60 feet above.  Vasco decides to fly ahead, keeping just shy of the ceiling of the storm.  The others track for footsteps or trails, but no tell-tale bird feet can be seen.

Rounding a corner, they find a pile of rubble collapsed and cluttering up a corner of the giant stone walls.  It doesn’t seem quite right to Yldar, who quickly determines that it is an impressive illusion.  Seeing through it, a simple camp is revealed, with one small unlit fire and a bedroll.  The camp has clearly been in recent use.

Vasco scouts ahead, noting large obsidian disk set into the floor at the very northern most part of the maze, and another wide area of rubble and broken statues.  While checking it out, he feels the sting of two crossbow bolts.  Letting off a scorching ray into the general area he things the assassin bird may have shot them from no one is revealed.  He flies quickly back to camp, skin itching from the bolts, where they are determined to have been poisoned.  Luckily, it seems the poison did not take.  Strategy is discussed.  Half the party want to chase down the solitary bird, true seeing lantern unmasking any invisibility the assassin may be using but the Seekers in the party – archaeologically fascinated with the place – want to continue their exploration of the obsidian disk and broken statues.

At the 20' diameter obsidian disk set into the stone floor they find more druidic runes to read “Return my eyes to me, and I shall gaze through the storm” There are three shallow divets set around the circumference of the disk, at the pupils of stylized eyes.  “The crystal must be the eyes” says Talis, and they strike out to find more.

Arriving at the site of the broken statues, all is quiet.  They search around carefully, and see some fairly recent bloodstain amongst the rubble and on the wall.  The statues appear to have been of some druids guardian, each cloaked and holding mammoth stone quarterstaffs.  Shattered now, they lie in ruin.  Under a huge torso of one of the statues there is a faint blue glow.  The party words together to push and leverage the torso aside, and they hear the crushing of rock as they do so.  There is a scatter of blue glowing crystals, with at least seven major pieces and many tiny fragments recoverable.  Talis tries again and again with a mend spell, but the crystal does not reform.  She hassles Zeek for some gnomish crafting skill, but Zeek declares that he’s an architect not a jeweller and is unable to help.  They pocket the fragments, and go looking for more.

Pressing south back into the maze, and still concerned that any one of them could fall victim to a swift assassination, they find a large pool that Vasco had spotted. The murky tidal pool seems to be filled from a small break in the ancient ruin, and there are clumps of driftwood and seaweed all around.  From the centre is an immense black plant – at least 20 feet in diameter – with a thick truck and eight major limbs.  It sways in the gentle wind the storm whisks through this place.

Vasco, with a few minutes of his fly spell left, picks up a stone from the nearby debris and flies 15' over the giant tree to drop the stone on it.  A look of complete surprise crosses Vasco’s face, as the dropped cobble provokes an entirely unexpected reaction from the tree.  All eight major limbs simultaneously swing violently up and smash into Vasco.  Every single one hits with sheer, bludgeoning force.  Every bone and organ in Vasco’s body is crushed and broken.  The momentum of his flight and the force of the hit hurdles his lifeless body to the floor skiddering gruesomely up against one of the stone walls.  Vasco is dead.

Yldar, not to be phased by the site of his lifeless, powerful friend, fires arrows deep into the core of the tree, doing massive damage with only two well-placed shots.  Fire damage, more arrows and some electric shock follow, before the ancient octopus tree responds by throwing a huge, thick wall of thorns.  Not before blood was drawn from nearly everyone one in the party, Kydara managed to dispel the thorns away, and more arrows puncture into the now sapping tree.  A forceful line of energy emits out, strongly repelling all wood away from the tree, pushing nearly everyone back almost 60 feet.  Yldar tries to let loose some arrows, but they splinter and shatter in mid air.  Now smouldering with fireballs from Talis, the tree finally is taken down.  Ash and smoke fill the air and water, but the threat is gone – and fortunately there had been no sight of the assassin.

Kydara, not having known Vasco for long, feels the obligation to kneel at his corpse.  Bringing the power of Pelor into the room, and forfeiting a minor fortune, he sets about performing Raise Dead and Restoration.  After some time, with nearly all from the party now gathering around to observe, Vasco’s broken lifeless form revives.  Kaydence nods with the impressiveness of this seldom-observed power.  All respects paid to Pelor as Vasco, gingerly stands up, returning from the dead.

Zeek, not standing on ceremony, asks if anyone has water breathing, as he wants to plunge down into this pool and find what must be the crystals below.  His eyes stinging and straining to see through the ashy murk, he persists and thoroughly searches the bottom, coming up with the lost magic armour and weapons of the advanced octopus tree’s last victims, and a handful of glowing red crystals.

They return to the obsidian disk, unable to activate it without the blue fragments repaired.  Kydara finally decides to try stone shape to reshape a new crystals from the fragments and the base rock at the original site. Success.  With two blue crystals, three red crystals, and one green crystal with them, they approach the disk and spend several moments buffing up.  They step onto the disk, place the crystals into the small hollows, and find the world shift completely around them.  The crystals are gone, and the cloud enshrouded maze is replaced by a bright, vibrant life-filled landscape, with a forest nearby, meadows to either side and a backbone of mountains behind them.

A few shimmers of light flicker momentarily in the plants ahead. Unsure of what to expect, the party watches.  Momentarily four figures appear to simply emerge from the vegetation itself.  These four tall figures are cloaked in a glimmering ,gossamer armour.  A halo of churning insects swirl about their heads. They carry four banners, red tapered in flames, white trailing into cloud, deep earthy brown, and blue and bubbling.  One steps confidently forward and speaks:

“I am Tylanthros, guardian of this realm. We are the Last Resort, as surely as the trees and stones and sea and air around you. We protect the secrets of this island from all trespassers. You have mastered the portal of storms, and therefore must be brave, but it remains to be seen if you belong here at all. Why have you come to Last Resort?”

Vasco offers that they are here to fight a great evil, with Zeek embelishing with a story of how they are the emissaries of the ancient Wind Dukes.  There is a pause in the response from Tylanthros, who considers their answer and seems non pulsed.  He continues,

“You seek the Fountain, although you do not yet realize it. The Fountain of Dreams is linked to all things in Last Resort. The earth, the dark trees of the Doomshroud, the clouds above, my life and that of my brothers are a part of it. If the waters are consumed, the Order of the Storm’s rite is undone. The secrets kept from the world will be released, and the great creatures of legend imprisoned here on this isle shall be unleashed upon the Material Plane once more. You say you are heroes? This remains to be seen. Accomplish four tasks and prove yourselves to be the heroes of old returned. The Fountain shall not be despoiled lightly.”

The strange creature looks at his four brothers, then back to the party. “The Fountain of Dreams shall know those destined for its gifts in but one way. It will know them by the Trials of Tilagos. Survive these trials, and you may slake your thirst on what you seek. Fail, and Last Resort shall be your grave. I am Tylanthros, and the first trial is the Claiming of Kratharios’s Golden Belt.”

A second of the quartet of creatures speaks up next. “I am Beskawahn, and the second trial is the Silence of the Doomshroud’s Mournful Song.”

The third speaks. “I am Thadimar, and the third trial is the Death of the Thorn Vale Nightmare.”

Finally, the last creature speaks. I am Sayren-Lei, and the final trial is the Harvest of the Living Feather of the Roc King.”

Tylanthros speaks again. “These trials complete, return here and we shall show you the Fountain of Dreams. Until then, we shall watch. And wait.”

All four turn away and three slip instantly into the plants.  Zeek urgently tries to catch their attention with a question about if others had been there before.  Tylanthros pauses his retreat to say,

“You speak of the Hand of the Lich-Lord. He has come to Tilagos with his flock, seeking knowledge as you do. Even as you linger, they seek to complete the tasks we have named. If they outspeed you, then the secrets of the Fountain are theirs. Who claims the secrets of the Fountain matters little to us, for once these secrets are claimed our role in Last Resort has come to an end.”

Then he is gone.

Kydara offers to commune with Pelor and to seek an answer to where they may find the trials they face.  After considerable discussion, she asks what island environment they may find Kratharios’s Golden Belt. The commune reveal that Kratharios may be found on the shore. Disappointed but not deterred, the party sets out west for several hours before taking up camp.

That night, Talis, a loremaster, reflects on their circumstances and realizes that this must be the place on a nearby plane that was ripped out from the Material plane 1500 years ago by a group of druids, and that these Watchers who met them must be directly connected to those druids some how.  Vasco adds that based on the obsidian disk which is so similar in design and materials to what they had encountered in Kuluth Mar, that these must be of the same order of druids who imprisoned Kyuss so many generations ago.

Episode 9, Part 1 -- Lashonna Reveals a Storm

The party arrives back in Alhaster, invigorated – triumphant even –  and intrigued at what Lashonna will have to share.  They arrive at their midnight meeting at her palace on time, and are impressed by the tasteful and comfortable office you are led to by her mostly silent servant.  Wrapped in a gold-trimmed gown, she dismisses her obviously well-armed help and opens the conversation by showing them what is left of Balakarde’s journal.  She draws the party all in to her real purpose for the midnight meeting  – to reveal that she is likewise on the trail of the Age of Worms, and about her hunch as to what must be done to stop it.

“Thank you for meeting with me tonight. I know why it is you are here, you wish to learn more about Balakarde. My sources in Alhaster have told me as much, and though you mentioned his name but a few times, you have very nearly wrecked centuries of planning for old lore does not die in Alhaster as it does in other places. However, I think for now we are safe and the tale may be told in its entirety. In truth I have little to say about Balakarde himself, but perhaps what I have to say will serve instead.” Lashonna pauses for a moment and searches your eyes before continuing. “What I am about to tell you is known to very few living things, though there are those things which do not live that also know this tale.” As she speaks these words, a shadow of pain crosses her flawless features but she swiftly regains her composure and continues.
“Two millennium ago, my father Tellanar was one of the leaders of the army that dared to approach the befouled city of Kaluth-Mar in the aftermath of Kyuss' failed apotheosis. It was his righteous army and the drudaic Order of the Storm that constructed the ring about the center of that accursed place that forever would bind the servants of Kyuss within its obsidian walls. Through Tylanthros, leader of the Order of the Storm, we learned that the ring was raised too late, for while it most assuredly bound the remaining servants of Kyuss in that benighted city, the great monolith that rested atop the ziggaraut was taken by the red dragon Dragotha years before. Even in that distant time, the name Dragotha was a name of death and fear. The heroes of the army quailed at the thought of seeking him out to reclaim the stone that held the essence of the failed god of writhing undeath.”

“Despite the risk, my father, the leaders of the Order of the Storm and others began to search for Dragotha. He was never found. Mighty spells were cast, the past and future were plumbed, the gods themselves were consulted to no avail. All that could be gleaned was that Kyuss remained trapped between worlds and that at some point in the future, his agents would move to bring him forth, to cover the world in darkness, to bring about the Age of Worms. So the Order established a network of Watchers in those places their divinations told them yet had a role to play in the coming darkness and they waited. Decades passed without a sign, and then a century and another and another. And then finally word came that Dragotha was dead, slain on another plane by the b&%%&-queen of dragons, Tiamat. But the elation was short lived, for the Watchers soon learned that Dragotha was remade by the will of Kyuss as a dracolich and it was this abomination that would serve as Kyuss' general when his armies blighted the land. But there was a glimmer of hope, for the Watchers were vigilant and they noted Dragotha's return to our plane; they watched him bore like a maggot into the heart of the Wormcrawl Fissure, a putrid offshoot of the great Rift Canyon that lies less than 200 miles north of this very spot. Plans long laid were put into motion. The Order gathered the Watchers and once again assembled an army. Little did they know what awaited them.” Lashonna pauses for a moment to sip her wine. She closes her eyes and collects herself for a moment and then resumes her tale.

“I had come of age by then and served in the vanguard of this army. My father and Tylanthros led our forces to the edge of the Rift Canyon and beyond. At my father's insistence, I remained above with our reinforcements. I know not what happened in that battle, only that Dragotha had built a vast undead army and our surprise attack became a pitched battle. Our forces were overcome and my father...” at this Lashonna cannot hide a catch in her throat, “fell, only to rise as a servant of Kyuss. As the undead swarmed toward our position, Tylanthros and other leaders of the Order of the Storm arrived, caked with blood and filth. They bore a chest or stone upon which were carved leering demonic and draconic faces. This, they claimed ,was Dragotha's phylactery. Their arrival could not have been more opportune, for just then Dragotha climbed into the sky above the battle and made straight for our position. His advance filled our foes with a madness and filled the hearts of our bravest with fear. But as his undead gaze took in those that stood against him, he saw that his phylactery was taken. What passes for wisdom in his mind gave him doubt or perhaps fear and he fled the field. This turn of events restored our hope and our forces were able to buy Tylanthros and the other leaders of the Order of Storms time to flee with the phylactery.”

“The next 50 years were ones of constant fear. One by one, the servants of Kyuss that survived the battle hunted down the Watchers and members of the Order that managed to escape. They searched too for the hiding place of Dragotha's phylactery but their search was in vain. For my part, I came here to this land at the instruction of Tylanthros himself. I was to assume the role of a Watcher and inform the Order should anything stir within the Wormcrawl Fissure. Over time, the city of Alhaster rose and my own divinations told me that this place has some part yet to play in the Age of Worms. I waited, always vigilant for the signs of Kyuss. I had a hand in destroying the Cult of the Ebon Triad and it was I that told the few Watchers that remained that the cult was but a front for the cult of Kyuss himself. I have remained here, acting quietly as an advisor to rulers great and small all the while maintaining a watchful eye on the events in Redhand.”

“This was the state of affairs when Balakarde found me twenty years ago. A new leader conquered Redhand, Prince Zeech, and I was busy ensuring I was a trusted advisor. Perhaps this distraction was why Balakarde was able to so readily convince me that he could aid me in my task. I met with him and heard how his research led him step by step to me. It seemed he knew much of the tale I already told you, though not as completely and not as accurately as I. I shared what I knew, glad to have found a compatriot that could help free the town of the last of the Ebon Triad. For his part, he was a good man, but I believe now he suffered some deep hurt at the hands of Kyuss that left him obsessed with the Age of Worms. As I worked with him, it became clear he trusted no one; he was feral and prone to bouts of melancholy or mania. One night he announced that he had learned enough, that there was nothing left for him to do here. I tried to get him to stay but it was no use. He left magically that evening, leaving only a scrap of his notes behind."

Lashonna hands the party Balakarde's notes.

“He mentioned trying to learn more about Dragotha by traveling to the Wormcrawl Fissure. I advised against this reckless act but my words went unheeded. He never returned.”

“This brings us to tonight, and our meeting. I no longer can ignore the portents. Look at it this way: Balakarde learned much of this tale before he met me, which indicates things long held secret are coming into the light and I am afraid more now know of this lore than ever before. Prince Zeech is building that damnable ziggarut that reminds one far too much of the blasphemous architecture found in Kaluth-Mar. You heroes have risen, battle-weary from fighting the servants of Kyuss. Even the raving predictions of the cultists have come to pass. Something has changed, the writhing dead grow restless, the Age of Worms is at hand.”

“If things but were as they once had been, I would fulfill my duty as a Watcher and report all I know to the Order. However, this is no longer possible. The Order fled to their island-fortress of Tilagos almost 1500 years ago to avoid destruction at the hand of Kyuss' minions. There they are strongest and it is there they kept the greatest bulk of their lore. It is said that they built a library of sorts there that houses hundreds of years of history, memories, dreams and secrets as a last bastion of knowledge against the Age of Worms. Of course, merely fleeing to an ocean fortress would not ensure their safety. It is said that the Order drove a lasting bargain with primal elemental forces. They sacrificed their lives to whisk the island's interior off the Material Plane. In its place is a barren rock surrounded by an ever raging storm of such intensity that that any ships that approach within ten miles are invariably lost. The island appears on no maps, but lore maintained by the Watchers hints that the druids left a way for those in need to reach their secrets while at the same time warding the place away from the eyes of Kyuss' undead fanatics.”

“Fate has left us to deal with the rising of the Wormgod. But it is fate as well that seems to have placed heroes capable of the task here with me, in the very hour of our need. It seems obvious that Dragotha intends to release Kyuss from his prison and in so doing usher in the Age of Worms. The solution is also obvious. A king without his general is powerless. It has taken Dragotha 1500 years to reach this point. If he can be removed now, it will certainly be centuries before anyone or anything has a chance to release the Wormgod again. Of course, you cannot follow Balakarde into the Wormcrawl Fissure, one does not simply attack a dracolich without forethought. Dragotha may not know where the Order of the Storm hid his phylactery but that does not mean it is not useful to him. If he is destroyed before his phylactery is found, it is as good as turning it over to him. "

“The first order of business must be to find his phylactery and destroy it. I have no idea where it may be hidden but then again neither does Dragotha. Certainly his doubt to its location is the main reason he has not tried to simply destroy himself as a desperate way to discover it. It has undoubtedly been secreted away by the Order of the Storm for this very need, either on the isle of Tilagos or elsewhere. Furthermore, if a written account of what Tylanthros did with the phylactery exists, it must be somewhere within the library. It is my fervent hope that you will take up this task, travel to Tigalos, and uncover the lore that the Order of the Storm gave their lives to hide from the world.”

Lashonna ends her tale and pauses for another drink, attending to questions from the party.

“I’m afraid others have learned this as well, in part as an unfortunate result of my own research. I have a fair amount of competition in the arena of gathering and keeping secrets, and invariably word gets out that I’ve made a discovery. My enemies are always quick to nip at my heals. I speak, in particular, of a simpering dog of a man named Heskin who once served me. I’m afraid Heskin has been wooed from my side with promises of wealth and power, and has taken word of this discovery to a disreputable man indeed, a powerful priest of Vecna named Darl Quethos.”

She offers to use a scroll to scry on Heskin with the party right now, to see how pressing this competition is.  The party agrees and a tumultuous scene fades into view.

There is the howling sound of an oceanic tempest. The image clears to show a deathly pale man lashed to a ship’s mast with several coils of rope. Although details beyond a ten-foot-radius around Heskin are hazy and unclear, it’s obvious that the ship is caught in a tremendous storm—the decks are awash in foamy water as both waves and driving sheets of rain torment the terrified man. Sounds of gruff sailors shouting commands and curses in Orc can be heard under the raging tumult of the storm, and now and then, frantic orc sailors move quickly into view and then back into obscurity as they busy themselves at securing the ship. At one point, two lithe, cloaked figures drop to the deck from the rigging on either side of Heskin. They are identically dressed in tightly wrapped silken scarves, small devilish horns sprouting from their heads. The cloaked figures spare condescending glances at Heskin, their eyes glowing faintly with infernal fire before they move out of sight toward the ship’s unseen bow. Soon thereafter, a blazing red-skinned humanoid with an immense, bulging frame strides almost casually through the scene. The rain skin. As he reaches Heskin, he looks down at the man and then looks toward the bow, crying out, “Darl! It looks like your pet might be taking on water!” With that, the creature explodes into a tremendous belly laugh. A few moments later, another two figures step into view. The smaller of the two is a shifty-eyed humanoid bird who wears a hooded cloak and carries a repeating crossbow. The other is a towering man clothed in flow ing blue robes trimmed with eye designs. His cowl protects his face from the wind and his hands are obscured by long, rain soaked sleeves. He squats before Heskin and speaks to him in a low voice, “Only a few hours more, Heskin, and we shall see if you live or die.”

Suddenly, the blue-robed man’s head whips around to look directly into the scrying sensor. His face is pale but command ing, and twists into a snarl as he stands. “It seems we have guests, my friends,” he says. “Perhaps allies of this cur?” He turns back to the bound man, and as he does he pulls back his left sleeve, revealing a rot ten, black-nailed appendage that seems to writhe and twitch with its own life. “We can’t have your friends watching us, so it seems your journey comes to an early end, Hesken!”The putrid hand unfurls and reaches out to caress Heskin’s brow. Heskin shrieks in mortal pain as the fingertip freezes the skin it touches into an angry black scar. The blue-robed man then makes a fist and utters a single unintelligible word. As he utters the word, Hesken’s eyes bulge, the cords in his neck throb, and he slumps against his bonds, dead. The scrying link is broken, and the image fades from view.

Vasco observes that the rotting hand is none other than the Hand of Vecna, the terribly powerful artifact.  Those of the party who had seen the visions in the Zigurat of Kyuss, recognize the man and the hand as the same as they had seen in their vision.

Lashonna is plainly a little shaken by the entry of the Hand of Vecna into play, something she had not known of until now.  She reiterates her request, that the party travel to Tilagos Island, which is located in the northern reaches of the Nyr Dyv – the nearby sea. The island itself doesn’t appear on most maps, but she does have some old travellers notes that point at its approximate location.

The party takes some time alone to weigh their decision, choosing in the end to pursue this as the best possible next lead.  They debate arrangements for travel into the storm at length.  Polymorph into a whale? Water Walk? Elemental Bodies?  Finally, they shadow walk most of the distance along the coast of Nyr Dyv, and then conjure phantom steeds, to make their final leg dropping down into the eye of the storm from above, and making it in good shape.

Landing one clear beachhead, they see it littered with the wreck of a ship.  Eight orc pirates, more interested in having their ship repaired than doing battle, end up bartering with the party.  As an act of good faith, the keel and gunnel are repaired by the party’s powerful magic, and Grosgriss, their captain reveals that they had been hired by Darl Quethos to bring his henchmen to the stormy isle.  They tell the party that Darl and his men entered the ruins to the north, but the orcs were deterred to follow by ‘loud, angry rocks with lots of ropes’.

Trusting that the orcs truly have the self-interest of departure in mind, the party heads in to trace Darl’s group.  They soon encounter the rope-wielding rocks, six bizarre Ropers, all etched with ancient druidic runes.  Though Yldar is for a time grappled by three ropes, the party Vasco and Zeek manage to use scorching rays and arrows to destroy the creatures.  Ambushed briefly during their skirmish by crossbow bolts shot from the fringes, the party mobilizes to search for what might be at least one remaining member of Darl’s party...