Darkness in the Delimbiyr

A time to rest

Having secured lodging and food at Firewater’s Rest, the party took in some much-needed rest and relaxation, the Mystran cleric spending his time in deep prayer, and the psion entranced with psychically-charged mantras and meditation. Their guide was worried and began to look for stout warriors who could replace the fallen totemist, but the few warriors the town presented were a shade green and perhaps wholly unready for what laid ahead.

In between their retreat, the group purchased and traded fine dwarven wares from the Library of Dumathoin , as well as the Allfathers Forge, benefitting from fine dwarven craftsmanship, as well as carefully wrought spell and magic.

While scouting around town for a potential sell-sword, the psychic warrior noted a strange dog observing atop a build. His abilities enabled him to scale the wall with ease, but the dog was long gone, observing him from a building a street or two away. Piqued, the group followed this curious vanishing dog. Finally, it led them to a warrior who was having his blade sharpened at the Allfathers Forge. As luck would have it, this plated-warrior was looking for some trustworthy men of adventure, himself being skilled in both the sword and spell; the dog, as they would soon realise, was a blink dog and his faithful companion, who had led them to his master, in hopes that they might explore the Greypeak Mountains together.

Through The West Pass

Their Ranger companion fearing the loss one of his protective charges, chose to guide his way through the rocky hills and bad weather in order to make it to Zhedarak within a day or so. Camping was boring and cold, and by morning they were well on their way through the remnants of a hacked and pitted forest – the remorhazs’ former territory.

Upon nearing a cleft within the rock of the Greypeak Mountains, the keen eyes of the gnome realised that some winged and horned terrors known as Perytons were circling the party. Luckily, they were less than minutes from the steep canyon and managed to avoid these sharp-clawed beasts.

Taking a winding passage through steep, snowed-in canyons, the group was suddenly under attack by an invisible attacker, however, strange luck pervaded and nothing seemed to happen. The attacker then began to attempt to whittle away precious spells and power points, before returning to harming the party. Eventually, the psion identified an udoroot – a strange and alien psionic plant-like creature, common to the Underdark as the invisible attacker. Nested upon a high ledge, the party made the decision to attempt to climb the peak and attack it. The cleric was wholly unable to climb and sustained several bruises for his failed efforts. The psychic warrior was able to scale the peak, but thrown off almost every attempt, and even then, his weather battle-axe barely scratched the party. Luckily, and facing near-death, the psion was able to finally overpower the crystalline stalks – but the bulk of the plant was hidden underground. After much deliberation, the group decided to leave, lest the plant rouse itself and continue to attack them.

Perhaps an hour or so later, and closer to their destination, they encountered the remnants of a bloody and obviously magical battle: charred bone, scorch marks, arrows lining the canyon walls, and a strange black circle set directly within their path. The warlock struggled to maintain his powers, but managed to discover that it was an engraving of magic tinged with conjuration. Undaunted, the group pressed on and approached the glyph, which burst into sour flame and smoke. After a moment or two, a rocky earth elemental rose up admidst the party and began hammering away with its weighty stone fists. Facing another dire situation, the group barely pulled through, as the psychic warrior did little more than annoy it, and the psion found himself taxed almost fully. The warlock attacked it to the best of his ability, but struggled to maintain his fell powers. The bard managed to nick it with a lone arrow, and Radion’s magical arrows did strike true at least once.

Once this beast was rubble, a weird blade of strange design was found near the rocks that it emerged from. Although magical, it radiates divination and functions wholly differently than most other magical weapons of the area.

Barely a half-hour from town, the weather began to turn to blustering, slush-rain. The band came across a squat dwarven caravan of trade-goods and militant dwarves. They welcomed them to Zhedarak and gave them a few pointers toward which areas may interest adventurers such as they.

A Fate Most Dire

After continuing up the rock, snow and tree-strewn hills of the Greypeak Mountains, the party stumbled across a particularly dark recess of forest. Joshtrodamus used his fell abilities to scout ahead and perched in a tree, ready to attack any enemies. The group pressed forward and were partially ambushed by a group of Lost, who breathed acid, but were dispatched without too much difficulty.

Several hours onward, the very ice cracked in a hiss of steam, and a Remorhaz tunnelled up and lashed into them. Although split, the heroes were able to put up a formidable defense, as the beast grabbed the totemist in its massive jaws. Joshtrodamus and the psion were able to belt it with strange energies, as the bard desperately attempted to aid his allies. The totemist was able to cause it to drop him, due to a susprisingly vicious counter-attack against the creature. It tore into him again and curse Beshaba, the warlock accidentally struck his totemist friend with a dangerously overcharged eldritch blast. Nearing death, the totemist was saved from being eaten by clawing viciously, but was unfortunately killed when the foul beast toppled upon its own death, crushing him beneath its massive and burning bulk.

Although they are alright with him now, the group generally blame Joshtrodamus for this untimely death. The warlock claims he’s “ok with things”. Their guide leads them onward, perhaps debating a stop-over in nearby Zhedarak as this new development may well derail their entire expidition.

A Friend In Need

Upon returning to Loudwater and getting some well-needed rest, the party then inquired about the surrounding Greypeak Mountains, suspecting them of being the source of the seemingly dragon-led Goblin horde. They learned of the Dwarven reclaimation-warren Zhedarak and decided to investigate. Also, the group returned an item of importance to a local chapter of the beast-hunting guild the Headhunters.

However, in a strange turn of events a ranger by the name of Rhadion sought out their services as bodyguards – he has an ambitious plan to travel through the foothills of the Greypeak Mountains to meet with a wise sage, who he believes will be able to tell them the source of the horde. He promised the group a pool of some five-thousand gold to be theirs, once they’ve visited and returned successfully.

Barely a few hours outside of Loudwater, the group was beset by starved dire wolves along the The Black Road, who carefully stalked and ambushed the party. Through vicious fangs and the skillful prayers of their Mystran cleric, the group managed to defeat them with only minor setbacks. The totemist decided to collect some fangs as trophies, in hopes of impressing the Headhunters. The warlock revealed that his real name was Joshtrodamus, and that he may or may not be a powerful seer – only time will tell.

The Story So Far...

Returning to Orlbar from successfully defending the trade caravan from Silverymoon, the company was able to trade and reinvigorate local coffers with hard-won gold, trinkets and salvaged weapons. They then hitched a ride on the caravan-sleighs back to Loudwater.


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