Nights at the Round Table

Workin' the 'ol Dwarven mine to survive
The boss is a slave driver, to bad it's you

Callebain is a difficult place to earn a living. You either have a fair skill, or you work the menial for your fungus. You lot are of the latter. You all met at one of Callebain’s grittier taverns and drank what little money you had away. Together you’ve gone into the mines to keep food on your plates.

The South district is too cluttered and fought over. The West a warren of dangerous atrocities. The North is well traveled and safe, but too competitive as well. The East has been supposedly mined out, haunted and heavily patrolled by Modron looking to keep the fringes in-tact. You know there’s still riches to be had. Haunted? Pffff! Modron, you’d rather wrestle one of them than the trolls that wander the West.

So, you spend your remaining coin on a set of mining picks, shovels, wheelbarrows and head into the mines. You go deep into the far reaches, hoping to find anything at all of value. Settling on a mine after days of searching, you just decide to dig and see what happens.

Within a day you find a vein of quartz! A sure sign that silver or gold is in the vicinity. Renewed you continue to dig the hard rock,.

Your efforts are soon rewarded with a thin vein of silver. Suddenly this is viable work and you all throw your backs into it. A profit is in sight!

At first you barely notice the sound. The pick slams into the silver bearing granite and a ringing thump echos back. Soon it’s hard to miss.

Ping… pong…

Ping… pong…

It’s intriguing, but doesn’t seem dangerous.

Then one night you’re all awoken from the midst of sleep. You sit in the remaining light of dying embers of your campfire suddenly not the least bit sleepy. You realize that you’ve all awoken, but no one knows why…at first.

Then you hear it…

pong… ping…

Moments go by, each of you holding your breath.

Pong… Ping…

Something, or someone, is at your silver! You’re sure of it!

POng… PIng…

Who ever is digging is hitting the stone harder and harder with each stroke. Concern, greed, fear, pride and excitement kaleidoscope through your thoughts as you quietly pickup your gear.


Collectively, and quietly, you vote. Whomever it is you won’t allow them to steal your silver…



In the news: Dwarven Partiers found dead
Bartender upset over unpaid tab.

A group of Dwarves that had been drinking hard at Tallybend’s Tale have been found dead. The mutilated corpses were identified by loved ones who recognized the various healed bones.

They’re bodies were found under the rarely used East End Arch, just outside of the guard station. The guards had been on routine patrol when they were overcome by the smell of fried chicken, leading them to the bodies.

The family is distraught as the group had left behind a large tab at Tallybend’s and are having to sell a daughter to pay.

Those wishing to help can buy a beer in their name at Tallybend’s.


Callebain - Cavern city of Nöd/Throne of the Sleeping God


After unknowingly entering through a portal of Kolerös the party finds themselves in the Harpy’s Hallow. Borg, the rather boisterous, but ever friendly barkeep, quickly gets you rooms and brings you hot bowls of mushroom stew. “I pulls some choicest bits of the carrion crawler out for yeh.”, he says with a wink as he leaves you to yourselves.

The stew is good. Even if the carrion crawler flesh is a bit rubbery. You quickly find yourselves feeling better and then fast asleep.

Magnus startles awake some time later. The sounds of Billie Jean’s loud snoring filling the comfortably warm chamber. Music, coming from downstairs, draws his attention. Laughing, the clinking of glasses and the smell of food puts the thought of safety aside for a minute.

Downstairs you find the Harpy is hopping. The central hearth is hissing and popping with large dried pieces of wood like mushroom stems. The pretty waitress you encountered before collapsing into sleep is busily going table-to-table. Her deep red hair falling over her stark white shoulders. You catch her eye and she heads over to you as you gape momentarily at the scene.

“Esmerelda?”, Magnus just barely recalls as she approaches.

“You and your friends were knackered. Came in pale as ghosts you did. Unusual for top siders like yerself. Borg figured you needed to rest so he put you in our best room for sleepin’. That room was blessed by the Sleeping God herself it’s said.”, with a wink she eyes Magnus up and down.

“Two days of sleep seems to have done you well.” She reaches out, tracing a small circle in the hair of his chest. Magnus blushes as he realizes he’s just wearing his undershirt and breeches. His gambeson and armor left in the room. The ‘V’ of chest continues to draw her attention for another moment and then it’s her turn to blush.

“Can I get you something?”

Magnus manages to sputter “…food?”

“Luckily we got somes of that. Have a seat, I’ll bring it right out.” She looks around the room pointing to a booth in the corner. A rather large dwarf takes up one whole side of table. A haunch of meat in one hand, a large mug in the other. He alternates, almost metronome like, between the two. Putting one, and then the other, into his mouth. His dark beard covered in grease and what not.

“Kelvus, you’re getting a guest.” The dwarf looks over to you and raises the haunch as a manner of welcome.

Sitting down the dwarf adds a third step to his eating and drinking. As gobbets of food and spittle eject from his mouth and he raises an eye over his mug. “Well come to you. Ezzie doesn’t like empty seats when she’s busy. I don’t minds. Down here in the dark you need friends.” A few words at a time are all he can get out at a time as he continuously takes a bite and then drinks.

“I’ve been out in the dark for nearin’ a month. This is the first thing I ate that isn’t mushroom in that whole time. Mutton is spendy down here, but damn it’s worth it.” He’s picked off all of the meat on the bone at this point and begins to suck noisily at the marrow. Taking a moment he cracks the thigh bone to get to all of it.

“What brings you down here? Them damnable moons? Them damnable Slaad? A Modron decide you’s in the wrong place and drug ya here?”

Esmerelda has brought a plate of the same mutton, and a rather bitter tasting, but hearty, beer. She lingers for a moment after placing the plate and mug in front of him, blushing slightly again. A sigh carries her off to her next customer.

“We were in Nöd…and then got her, somehow.” Magnus manages to say as he suddenly realizes he’s starving.

A rumble of a laugh comes out of the dwarf. “Yer in Callebain. If Nöd is the opposite to Garradon then Callebain is the opposite of Nöd. Sorts of. I don’t tinker with the magicks much so I don’t fully understand. But the orichalcum curtain protects the city from the moons effects. That’s what I been doin’, finding me some orichalcum materials to sell to the meister. Found a solid vein and just couldn’t stop until I’d gotten all I could.”

Kelvus continues on to describe the city somewhat and making a second reference to the sleeping god. That piques Magnus’ curiosity, but just as he is about to ask motion on the stairs down catches his attention. The rest of the party has awoken and made their way downstairs. Yawning and stretching they also take in the scene before them. Esmerelda has already diverted herself to catch them at the base of the stairs and points out your table.

Kelvus notices Esmerelda sending over the rest of the group. “Well, I guess I’d better let you have yer table.” He manages to squeeze his impressive girth out of the seat and gives Magnus a nod as he heads toward the stairs himself. Likely headed to his own room to take a much needed rest.


Reamya's Eulogy/Birth Announcement

It is with great sadness that I announce the death of the mighty Reamya in the dungeons beneath Nod. She died bravely while fighting a demon from the 9 levels of hell. Unfortunately it was not the demon that killed her.

On the upside we are proud to announce the birth of a beautiful bouncing Blue Slaad. They’re saying it has its mother’s eyes. No, literally, they’re in a pouch at its waist.

For the time being the party is resting in a tavern in the underground city of Callebain. The city seems safe and comfortable, but please make sure to wash well as fungus spores grow quickly down here.

Dark room/Darker secrets

You’d gone through the basement of the Blade Runer’s shop and found his own room of horrors. A Death Slaad had followed you with a group of unwary city guards in an attempt to stop you. After working your way through the sewers, avoiding a heavily trapped set of stairs you opted to go down the, comparatively, non-descript set of spiral stairs in the storage room.

Once down the stairs you found yourself in a small 20′×20′ room with a single doorway leading out. The room is unlit and only a small amount of light leaks out from the doorway. A ‘crunching’ sound draws your attention to the floor. It’s littered with bones. Some with bite marks. The marrow sucked from all of them.

A loud ‘THUNK’ comes from above as you redouble your efforts to work out the door. A heavy stone slab has closed down over the top of the stairwell you just used. A push against it shows that it would be nigh impossible to open.

Your remaining exit, the door, seems to be barred from the outside as there is no signs of of a lock, or even hinges, on this side.

The smell of charcoal wafts through the small amount of air moving under the door. Feint whispering can be heard on the other side as well.

As you talk among yourselves trying to decide what to do you hear a feint voice. At first it’s mistaken for someone talking outside the room. Then it gets louder.

“What? The light, it’s real?

Well, no, it can’t be.

One hasn’t seen but the crack of light for so long.

Well, then, who pray tell is that? If the light isn’t real certainly they are?

I ’spose. The room is remarkably smellier than it was a bit ago.

Then I ’spose we should talk to them? Yes, yes, it would be rude to do otherwise."

The voices seem to be coming from just at the point where the stairwell meets the ground, on the backside against the wall. You realize there’s a pile of fur, no hair, a wig? Laying on the ground, shoved as tight into that hole as possible.

The hair moves toward you in a shuffle. Suddenly a spindly pale arm shoots from the pile of hair, its palms covered in leather wraps. Three fingers and thumb, coming to sharpened points, shoots toward you with remarkable speed, stopping just in front of you. Hand upright as if waiting.

“Well, I ‘spose they’re more rude than we are? Hand held out for shaking and they gawk. Like they’d never seen a Korred before.

Hrm, this is no behavior to have if we’re going to be sharing the oubliette"

In Terminus you trust?

Terminus paces the floor mumbling to himself. His brow furrowed and chin in hand. Finally after several minutes he looks at the group a decision made.

“We need to find Wala. I’m sure she has heard something already and may have some guidance.” Peeking out the soft leather curtains that cover the hole that serves as a window he says, “We’ll wait for night. Be wary with Tiln and Doowin having set, your magic will be even more dangerous I’m afraid.”

As you sit and talk among yourselves, that child’s fairy tale comes back to you. Seemingly more relevant than a simple tale.

By a tick of the clock that stretches long
By Epoch’s hand she’ll take the wrong

The nightmares bring the phaeton’s creak
To search for those that she does seek

So hide thee children by thatch or sod
Or she’ll take you to the land of Nod

To protect the light, she guards the dawn
Or the night will grow too long

So heed good children, stay to the light
Or Mistress will with you take flight

Are you chasing the Fae Dust Queen, or did Reamya bring you here intentionally? Or is this all coincidence?

Outside the blue glow from the moons, Tiln and Doowin, lessen as Tiln drops over the horizon. The world is fading into a darkness unknown even in the grand caves you’ve entered. You realize you’d entered Nöd at mid-day and suddenly miss the blistering yellow sun of the desert…

Epoch's Sphinx

The sphinx sits upon the top of the pyramid, where the point would be. She watches calmly as you approach, completely nonplussed by your appearance.

You notice that the once sunny sky is now a flat gray, no clouds, stars , sun or moon mar its dome, but the heat still prevails. It’s stifling and almost threatening in its presence.

As you size her up she lays down upon her paws, crossing them, to better support her resting head.

Just underneath those great paws you note an entrance into the topmost portion of the pyramid. You can just see inside. Torches appear to light an empty room.

“Welcome fair travelers. Epoch welcomes you to his domain. Those wishing entrance to the grand city of Nöd must show a modicum of respect and intelligence before entering. Those you met on your travel had failed.”

With a yawn, she shifts in position, mildly agitated by having guests.

“I must warn you, once asked, you must answer. And once answered you must enter Epoch’s Temple.”

A hasty “Get on with it!” from the swashbuckler Inigo answers for the party.

Staring at you intently she says:

“I am all that I am and all that you see,
Yet I’m nothing at all and from you I flee.
Formed of distortion, perceptions awry,
I play the horizon where always I lie.”

With that, her eyes close, asleep, and completely at her ease.

Your food supplies low and days now spent in this eternal desert that should have only been a half-days walk. A depression hangs over you with the realization of the task before you.

There is but one way out…choose your answer wisely.

Fairweather, fairly disturbed

After your encounter in the wilds outside of FairWeather you catch sight of a small hillock with an additional Drow apparently standing watch. You attempt to speak to him, but he draws a wicked looking sword of black steel in reply. A quick fight ensues ending with the Drow’s final scream stopped suddenly by Magnus’ massive maul.

A quick inspection shows that he was guarding the entrance to a small cave. It only travels back 15’ into the hillock before dead-ending. A thorough search finds no secret doors or other apparent exits.

In the back you find a small fire pit and the sleeping pallets apparently used by the hunting party. You also find a small chest that contains an amount of loose coins as well as 5 bags of 100 gold that are marked “Queen’s Inn”…the missing payment to Inigo’s village.

In addition to Inigo’s money there is:
Very large sapphire valued at 1,000gp.
The black sword isn’t noteworthy, other than it’s designed to hold and dispense poison when a target is slashed.

Upon return to the village you find that most of the villagers are headed back to their homes after cleaning up and dealing with the night’s terrors. Even though dawn is just lighting up the sky your exhausted frames eagerly except the inn keeper’s offer for free lodging.

The inn keeper himself apologizes profusely to Inigo, and the party in general, for his behavior. He knew that something was wrong, but didn’t seem to have the ability to tell anyone. He described it as being inside a room with broad windows. He could see what he was doing, but he couldn’t interact with the outside. He’s clearly traumatized.

After a long rest, you’re awakened, once again to the sounds of the villagers in panic outside the windows and a pounding at your door…

A night's rest in a small town

After the rush from Garradon to Snow Raven pass the return trip is a bit more leisurely. You’ve stopped in the small village of Fairweather. Named as such because it’s the first village below the tree line and out of the howling snows of the mountains. While not warm, it may as well be the Bahamas compared to the snow reaches you’ve just come from.

A small contingent of guards came with you to manage the wagon carrying the still unconscious Dwarven Queen. They’ve let you know that the Queen’s Honor Inn is a respectable place that will allow for your men to stay with the wagon and horse team.

A couple of the elven guardsmen speak of AmberDahlia, a small wood elf/human village just north of Fairweather known for its fishing, fine wood carving and the mysterious tears of the Amber Dahlia. The Dahlia only grows near the village that was named in its honor. It grows to great size over its life time, up to the size of a small house in some cases. Then suddenly, upwards of a 100 years after it first sprouted, it will wither and die. As the last bloom wilts a single drop of nectar hardens into an Amber gemstone that will bring life to the dead.

At least, that’s the rumor. No one seems to have seen this occur and clipped plants brought home certainly never produce a tear. Locals insist it’s true, but rare.

Either way, it’s beautiful story that brings hope when loved ones die. Strangers from across the land can be seen wandering the forests between FairWeather and AmberDahlia in the hopes that they can find a dying Dahlia. Some of them stay too long and their spectres continue to search long after their dead bodies have turned to dust. Turning the quest for a tear dangerous to those that are unprepared.

But enough of that. The small village is mostly asleep as the sun has been down for an hour by the time you enter the outer edges. The Queen’s Honor is well lit and warm looking. Inside you can hear the standard rabble rousing. it would appear the local farmers are having a dispute…

Well, at least it was painless
Even blind Beholders don't need no lovin'

Well, it was a very final end to a fun evening. Ferbilas’ kindess and willingness to heal a sick Beholder was met with a disintegration ray from said critter.

It started simply enough with the party clearing out some rather boring pantries. Spiced up momentarily by a chapel protected by a pair of protection stones. Each summoning a pair of knights to protect Thonos, demi-god to the elemental plane of snow. That was resolved mostly by closing the door.

A beholder was seen floating down the hallway at this point, but ended up being a corridor filled with gas spores. A risky eldritch blast filled the hallways with noxious and sickening gas while the party hid out in a well stocked pantry. Judicious use of gas spores.cleaned up the result fungal miasma.

A group of servants hiding in a bed chamber had immediately advised the group to just leave. They were just fine, but again our cleric decided something was amiss and decided to dig deeper. Four Duergar attempted to turn him and Magnus into pin cushions, but failed miserably.

The group had little information other than being invaded and encountering a mage and two heavily armed lackeys, which the party had encountered, and dispatched, in the last session. So they moved forward.

An interview with a bored door followed, along with official recognition of Lord Snow Raven’s stature with the keep. The door advised to not go beyond, and somewhat inexplicably, the party listened. They back tracked to clear out one final pantry.

Lord Snow Raven at this point was able to see a very cleverly hidden secret door, which opened into a burial chamber, of which the resident has yet to be properly identified, other than being human and a druid of great power.

This lead to the discovery of the gardens underneath the keep, which had been breached by a large 20’ cylindrical hole. Gas Spore killed a party of invading goblins, followed by a Beholder that became infected and blinded as a result. It had been trapped in the garden, unable to see or find an exit.

Ferbilas saw the poor maddened creature and offered to cure it. In its madness it fired a disintegration beam of which seemingly no combination of dice roles could save our intrepid cleric/warlock.

Lord Snow Raven ranged forward swinging his mightily ensorceled maul, but could not slay the creature. It returned the favor with a sleep beam, looking by all intents as to kill Magnus as well.

This angered his sister, Billie, who sent not one, but two lightning bolts at the creature. Re-starting Magnus’ sleeping form.

Our ever precise elf laid two crossbow bolts into the angered creature, releasing it from its torment.

XP for the evening: 3,800 for the evening with a total for most players of 50,430.

– 500gp
– 50pp
– 5 × 100gp gems
– +2 spear
– Staff containing a Cyper of the Iron King
– 3 pseudodragon eggs


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