Session 0023 : Rescue and Reprieve

• The Heretic gather themselves after the battle with the Hill Giants and the Ettin, patching wounds and cleaning bloodied blades. Resolved to press on, they quickly organize and continue down the eastern hall that Cathlynn said led to the imprisoned children she spotted before.

• Organizing themselves in the hallway to maximize look out and defense, the party agrees that Cathlynn and Lilly go forward into the room where the children are held captive, as they seem to be the least intimidating to children.

   

• Cathlynn and Lilly tepidly open the door, unsure and very nervous about what they might encounter exactly. Banishing the darkest thoughts from their minds, they peer into the room and see twelve children. All of them are pre-pubescent of varying genders and all seem to be of Human species. The most remarkable feature that immediately leaps out to Cathlynn and Lilly is their extreme dispondancy, which likely has something to do with their obvious state of malnutrition.

1. The pair quickly go through the children trying to identify any obvious wounds, finding none apart from their extreme negligence. Cathlynn beckons help from the rest of The Heretic to assist them in giving the children bits of jerky and sips of water. After a short period of time, they are able to get nine of the children on their feet, while the remaining three need to be carried in some fashion. Dorian fashions a travail from some spare wood he rummages from the room where The Heretic defeated the Ettin and the Hill Giants and is able to pull two children on that. The third child is lifted onto Tigeth's back and secured onto his back saddle.

• From there, The Heretic lead the children out of the room with full intentions of leaving the Temple as soon as possible. As the group exits the diagonal corrider that leads to the fountain with distored faces, Ikiri and Ironcast notice a figure standing at the fountain, apparently refilling their waterskins. In just a few moments, Ikiri recognizes the figure as Matteu. She alerts Cathlynn, beckoning her to the front of the formation and says "look who's here", in a flat, sarcastic tone.

• Cathlynn smirked, shaking her head in both disappointment and resignation with Matteu's behavior. "What do we do? Do we ask him where's he's been", asks Ironcast. Cathlynn replies "as if it would do us any good. He won't give us the truth so why bother. Just move past him and ignore him. The Heretic do just that and proceed down the hall, past Matteu, towards the Room of Statues.

• As they pass Matteu, Matteu nods at everyone, receiving a cold reception from everyone as he does. Matteu decides to join the crew, and jumps in stride alongside Dorian. Matteu chats with Dorian casually, as if he'd never gone missing.

• The crew moved past the Room of Statues and into the room of mushrooms that the Lamia had tended. Lilly took the huge opportunity to load up every bag she could with the various mushrooms she saw, most of which were unrecognizable to her. Later, she found that she'd discovered nine new mushroom species, something she journals more about here.

• After the mushroom harvest, The Heretic continue up the stairs the led to this room on the prior day, and quickly retraced their steps to head towards the surface with the full intent o getting these kids out of the area and back to Blüm. As they got to the ramp that leads from level 2 to level 1, the Hydra that was chained in the room next to the ramp was off of its chain and attacked The Heretic. They were able to quickly dispense of the Hydra in three quick rounds.

   

• Recognizing an opportunity to harvest more materials, Lilly began to work quickly on the Hydra's body. Dorian helped her, and together they were able to obtain 10 hydra fangs, some of its scales and its heart. Lilly realized that the heart had restorative powers, and after successfully retrieving it, she fed a bit of the heart to each of thee children. In just a few minutes, the children were remarkably more alert; even the three children who had to be carried were back on their feet and able to walk on their own.

• Dorian decided to try to harvest the Hydra's spinal column, an item he knew that could be sold to Artificers when making certain kinds of magical staves. During his unsuccessful attempt at extracting its spine, a very large Black Pudding dropped itself down before Dorian. It had been clinging to the ceiling above the fight encounter before but "chose" now to try and envelop Dorian and make him into a meal.

• Once again, The Heretic sprung into action and quickly dispensed of the Black Pudding. There was a moment during the battle that the Black Pudding struck Dorian's leather armor and dissolved it. Dorian tried to kill the Black Pudding in reaction to this, over-swung, and very nearly fell into the pudding -- he was able to regain his balance before tumbling forward headlong into it.

   

• After the Black Pudding's defeat, the crew decided not to try and harvest anything from the Black Pudding, opting instead to double-time out of the dungeon and get out of the area as originally planned

• The party made it out of the Temple very quickly. Their mounts were still waiting where they had left them, including the cart, onto which they loaded the children. Five hours later, they arrived in Blüm, where they arranged for room and board accomodations for the children, and subsequently sent for the sheriffs of Karja Tal to pick up the children and return them to their families.

       

 

Afterwards

Cathlynn and Orianna

The rustic inn in Karja Tal was dimly lit, the din of travelers and locals alike filling the air. Cathlynn sat at a worn wooden table near the hearth, her leather armor still dusty from the road. Across from her, Orianna stood with her hands planted firmly on the table, her cloak catching the firelight. Her sharp eyes were fixed on Cathlynn with a mixture of anger and pain.   “Fifty gold pieces,” Orianna said, her voice low but trembling with restrained fury. “You gave fifty gold pieces to Lilly Genrill without even talking to me about it. After everything we’ve been through—together—you just decided, on your own, that she deserved that?”   Cathlynn leaned back in her chair, her expression taut. “She saved those children, Orianna. If it weren’t for her, they’d be on their way to be food for a..." -here Cathlynn lowered her voice and cast her eyes around the room-"...for a bloody dragon, Orianna! Fifty gold is nothing compared to what she risked.”   “You think I don’t know what she did?” Orianna snapped, her voice rising just enough to draw a few curious glances from nearby tables. She lowered it again, though it was no less biting. “I was there, Cathlynn. I fought by your side. I saw what Lilly did. But that doesn’t change the fact that you made this decision without me. Again.”   Cathlynn’s eyes narrowed. “It’s not like I drained our coffers. We’ve earned far more than that in bounties and rewards. What’s the real problem here, Orianna? Because it’s clearly not the money.”   Orianna straightened, her arms crossing over her chest. “The problem is that you always think you know best. You take risks, make decisions, hand out gold—and you don’t think for one second how it affects me. We’re supposed to be a team, Cathlynn. But more and more, it feels like I’m just following in your shadow. You even had no problem asking Dorian for advice!.You didn't even ASK me what I thought!”   Cathlynn’s face softened, but there was frustration in her voice. “Ah. There it is. The jealousy. We have talked about this Orianna. I love you, but you know I'm literally becoming something different. Will you still want ME when I am more tree than woman? Or is it because I relied on a MAN and a Halfling to give me the support you were not inclined to offer. You too, just stood there waiting to be told what to do! Make a decision for yourself once in awhile! Bloody Tiefling angst. Get beside me, and help, not in the corner waiting for instructions!”   Orianna laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “By your side? No, Cathlynn. I’m behind you. Always picking up the pieces when your plans fall apart, patching you up when you push yourself too far, and waiting—always waiting—for you to finally see me.”   Cathlynn stood, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. “What are you saying? That you don’t want to do this anymore? That you don’t want us anymore?”   Orianna’s lips pressed into a thin line, and she looked away for a moment, as though gathering her thoughts. When she spoke again, her voice was quieter but no less resolute. “I’m saying I can’t keep doing this, Cathlynn. I love you. I’ve loved you since the moment I saw you. But you don’t leave room for me in your life, not really. And if I stay, I’ll lose myself entirely.”   Cathlynn’s heart clenched, but she turned away. “Orianna, I never meant to make you feel like this. I thought we wanted the same things. A partnership. But you just wait to follow me and then angry when I lead. I want to help people, make a difference…”   “I thought so too,” Orianna said, tears glistening in her eyes. “But somewhere along the way, it stopped being ‘we.’ It became ‘you.’”   The two women stood there, the fire crackling softly behind them, the hum of the inn fading into a distant murmur.   “So, what now?” Cathlynn asked, her voice barely audible.   Orianna adjusted her cloak, her fingers trembling slightly. “I think I need to go my own way for a while. Figure out who I am without you.”   Cathlynn swallowed hard, her throat tight. “Is this goodbye, then?”   Orianna hesitated, her gaze lingering on Cathlynn’s face. “I don’t know. Maybe not forever. But for now… yes.”   Without another word, Orianna turned and walked toward the door. She didn’t look back. Cathlynn stood there, rooted in place, watching as the woman who had been her partner in battle and in love disappeared into the night.   The firelight flickered on her face, but Cathlynn felt cold—colder than she had ever felt in the fiercest winter or darkest dungeon. And then the anger set in. She slammed through the door and into the night. She mounted her horse and rode hard and fast toward Lankhmar. Where Orianna went she didn't know, and at the moment, didn't care.

Ikiri

Ikiri sat silently in the corner of The Black Swan’s Common room, her plate of stew untouched as the argument between Cathlynn and Orianna unfolded before her. The typically warm and inviting inn, dimly lit by a few flickering oil lamps and the glow of the hearth, felt oppressive tonight. Not because of the inn itself, but because of the emotions boiling over between her companions. The din of the other patrons faded into a muffled hum as Ikiri’s sharp senses tuned into the tense exchange.   She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. She’d come down for a quiet meal, something to ground her before setting off for Kokgnab in the morning. But the heated words between Cathlynn and Orianna pulled her in, forcing her to confront feelings she wasn’t ready to face. Seeing the children in the Temple had already tested her emotional resilience, their haunted faces and terrified cries replaying in her mind. This argument, full of raw emotion and deep-seated frustrations, only added to the weight pressing down on her.   Ikiri’s heart ached as Orianna’s voice cracked, the pain in her words echoing through the room. The Blood Huntress wasn’t one for romantic entanglements, but she recognized the heartbreak in Orianna’s tone. It was the same anguish she saw in the parents of the children they’d rescued. A pain born of loss, whether of loved ones, trust, or a shared future.   When Orianna turned and walked out of the inn, her cloak billowing behind her, Ikiri felt an urge to intervene. To stop her. To say something. But what could she say? She, too, had her own wounds to mend, her own shortcomings to face. As Cathlynn stormed out after Orianna, the door slamming shut behind her, Ikiri’s chest tightened. She gripped the edge of her table, her nails digging into the wood.   The room felt colder now, despite the roaring fire. Ikiri forced herself to eat a few bites of her stew, though the taste was lost on her. Her thoughts were a whirlwind of regrets and resolve. The Temple had tested all of them, not just their physical strength but their emotional bonds and mental fortitude. And for all their successes, it had left scars—on the children, on their party, and on herself.   After finishing her meal, Ikiri returned to her room but found no peace there. The argument had stirred something within her, a realization that her journey wasn’t just about honing her combat skills or vanquishing evil. It was about finding balance within herself. Watching Cathlynn and Orianna’s relationship fracture reminded her of how easily things could break when cracks were left unattended.   The next morning, Ikiri descended the stairs with her belongings packed. The inn’s spectral servants had already prepared her mount, and the first rays of sunlight cast a golden glow over the city of Karja Tal. She exchanged a quiet farewell with the innkeeper, her voice steady but laced with an undertone of determination.   She rode out of the city with her destination clear: Ilthmar, where she would board a passenger ship to Mythan Belanore and then onwards from there to Kokgnab. But as the wind whipped through her hair and the rhythmic clatter of hooves filled her ears, Ikiri resolved that this journey wasn’t just about rest or training. It was about rediscovering the fire within her, the strength to confront her own vulnerabilities, and the courage to return to her companions one day—not just as their ally but as someone who had faced her own shadows and emerged stronger.   For now, though, the Blood Huntress of the Order of the Ghost Slayer needed to heal. And healing, she knew, often began in solitude.  

Ironcast

Ironcast sat on the edge of the small, creaky bed in his room at The Black Swan Inn, staring at the oil lamp flickering on the bedside table. He’d washed his face, hoping the cold water would soothe his restless mind, but it only left him more awake. His thoughts churned with images from the past few days in the dungeons beneath the Temple —the chaos of battle, the haunting cries of the rescued children, and, most vividly, the sight of Ikiri fighting by his side.   She was breathtaking. The way she wielded her spiked mace, a weapon as large as her leg, with both precision and fury had captivated him. But it wasn’t just her skill in battle; it was the quiet strength she carried, the way her hardened exterior softened in fleeting moments when she thought no one was looking. The faint smile she gave one of the children as they staggered out of the darkness had been enough to stop his heart. What a woman, he thought, his chest tightening at the memory.   But then came the doubt, creeping in like a shadow. He turned to the mirror hanging crookedly on the wall and studied his reflection. His greenish skin, heavy brow, and tusks made him wince. His father, a handsome Human man, had somehow fallen for his orcish mother, a fetching woman in her own right but vulgar in comparison to the fairer Human race. Ironcast felt like he’d inherited the worst of both worlds. He wasn’t handsome like his father or commanding like his mother. He felt… awkward, monstrous even.   Why would someone like Ikiri ever want someone like me? The thought hit him hard, and he gripped the sides of the washbasin to steady himself. Still, despite his insecurities, the idea of asking her lingered. He’d been thinking about the Veilgloom Festival in Lankhmar, coming up at the end of Schwarzhexe. It would be the perfect opportunity—not just to see the famed City of the Black Toga, but to spend time with Ikiri, away from the shadow of dungeons and battlefields.   Before he could second-guess himself further, exhaustion finally overcame him, and he drifted into a restless sleep filled with dreams of her smile.   The next morning, Ironcast woke with a sense of determination. He dressed quickly and descended to the inn’s common room just as the first rays of sunlight filtered through the windows. The scent of freshly baked bread and frying bacon greeted him, and his stomach growled. He found a seat near the hearth and ordered a small cheese board to start, savoring the buttery taste of the local delicacy the waitress mentioned came from a renowned cheesemaker named Klegg.   As he chewed, his eyes darted to the stairs, hoping to see Ikiri descend. When the waitress returned to ask if he’d like anything else, he smiled sheepishly. “I’m waiting for my companion, Ikiri,” he said, his voice quieter than usual as he felt his cheeks heat up.   The waitress’s expression softened, and she gave him a sympathetic look. “Oh, the lovely lady Ikiri? She left a few hours ago, love. Mentioned needing to catch a ship in Ilthmar.”   The words hit Ironcast like a warhammer. He blinked, his appetite vanishing as the reality settled in. She was gone. His plan to ask her to Lankhmar, to take a chance on what he was feeling, had slipped through his fingers.   He sat frozen for a moment, staring at the half-eaten cheese on his plate. But then a fire lit within him. He shoved his chair back, nearly toppling it, and sprinted up the stairs to his room. In a flurry of motion, he threw his belongings into his pack, strapped on his weapons, and raced out the door.   The crisp morning air filled his lungs as he saddled his horse and calculated how fast he would need to ride to catch her. The road to Ilthmar was long, but he wasn’t going to let her leave without telling her how he felt. Whether she laughed at him, rejected him, or—by some miracle—agreed, he had to try.   As he spurred his horse into a gallop, the wind whipping through his hair, Ironcast felt a strange mixture of fear and exhilaration. This wasn’t just about catching up to Ikiri—it was about proving to himself that he could take a chance, no matter the odds. I’ll find her, he vowed silently, the thundering of his horse’s hooves matching the rhythm of his pounding heart. And I’ll tell her everything.  

Benneth

Benneth Attrelion stood in the common room of The Black Swan Inn, his nerves taut as he watched Orianna and Ikiri sitting near the hearth. He’d intended to approach them, to exchange a few words before the group scattered to their respective paths. Yet as he took a step closer, their conversation turned sharp, their voices hushed but unmistakably tense.   Conflict. Benneth’s stomach twisted. He had always disliked personal disputes. They set his nerves on edge, made him feel helpless and out of place. He hesitated, then turned on his heel and walked out of the inn, the cool night air of Karja Tal washing over him as he stepped into the cobblestone streets.   The bustling marketplace drew him like a moth to flame, its merchant stalls still vibrant with activity despite the late hour. He let himself drift among the wares, his fingers brushing over bolts of fabric, trinkets, and baubles. When a weary merchant’s pleading eyes met his, Benneth bought a small carved amulet—not out of need, but out of pity. He slipped it into his pocket with a faint smile, offering the merchant a kindness they desperately needed.   As he turned to leave the market, something caught his eye. Near the edge of the tents, a painter worked with fluid precision, capturing the likeness of a woman and her child. Benneth paused, transfixed by the effortless way the artist’s brush danced across the canvas. The strokes were deliberate but natural, each one breathing life into the painting. It was a simple scene, yet it resonated deeply within Benneth.   That’s my sign, he thought, his heart pounding with clarity. I need to open my shop.   With renewed purpose, Benneth returned to The Black Swan Inn. As he approached the entrance, his gaze fell on the stables. Two of the horses were gone—Orianna’s and Cathlynn’s. For a moment, hope flickered in his chest. Perhaps they had reconciled and gone out together. But another thought, heavier and more somber, gnawed at him. Maybe it’s something sadder.   Shaking the feeling off, Benneth climbed the stairs to his room and lay in bed, his mind churning with ideas for his studio. He envisioned the walls lined with his work, the quiet hum of creativity filling the space. It was enough to lull him into a fitful sleep.   The next day, Benneth awoke around noon and descended to the common room for lunch. He ate slowly, savoring the meal as his thoughts wandered to Lankhmar and the shop he would build. He glanced around, hoping to see one of his companions, but none appeared. After an hour, the loneliness crept in.   Maybe I wasn’t important to them, he thought bitterly, his appetite waning. Expendable. As usual.   With a sigh, he finished his meal and left a generous tip for the waitress, who beamed at him in gratitude. Her reaction softened his mood, and he resolved not to dwell on what he couldn’t change. Gathering his belongings, Benneth set out for Lankhmar, determined to embrace this new chapter in his life.   The journey was leisurely. Benneth allowed himself to savor the experience, stopping in Ilthmar for a few days to rest and explore before boarding the ferry that crossed the Sinking Lands. As the boat glided over the water, he leaned on the railing, peering into the murky depths. The outlines of ancient ruins were visible below the surface—ghostly remnants of a time when this landbridge was solid and vital to trade and defense. The history fascinated him, a reminder of how even the mightiest structures could crumble and transform over time.   By the time Benneth reached Lankhmar, his resolve had crystallized. He rented a modest space in the Mercantile District and threw himself into his work. The studio quickly became a reflection of his soul: practical, creative, and full of quiet warmth. The walls bore the weight of his efforts, each piece telling a story. The scent of oils and parchment filled the room, mingling with the hum of the bustling city outside.   Patrons soon began to notice his talent, marveling at how his portraits captured not just appearances but the very essence of his subjects. Word spread, and though his income was modest, it was enough to sustain him comfortably.   Benneth’s life settled into a steady rhythm. While he occasionally indulged in memories of his adventuring days, his art became his refuge and his purpose. Yet, deep down, the spark of a wizard and adventurer still flickered, waiting for the right moment to reignite. For now, though, Benneth found peace in the delicate strokes of his brush, each one a step toward healing and self-discovery.  

Lilly

  Lilly sits quietly sipping her mushroom soup adding additional notes to her research and sighs softly. This is a good start. I can make this work. Three days here in The Black Swan and I’ve got at least four new recipes for the tavern. This trip has finally proven worth it. I can’t believe the size of those mushrooms. I’ve to see if these can be sourced elsewhere without the whole hydra, ogre, whatever monster fighting stuff otherwise it’ll be too expensive to offer except on special occasions. Mushroom soup, mushroom pie, mushroom… hm… what to call it? Spread? Chutney? Its not a jam or jelly… eh. Well I’ll go with spread for now but I’ve really got to work on these names. That mushroom and rice risotto last night will be fantastic with a good bear steak too. I wonder if I can make a mushroom beer… ooo or better yet… distill it… well thats a project for another day I just don’t have access to the right equipment here. Okay, well three more weeks to get this stuff sorted but I think I’m going to need to head out to Lankhmar to find some more info on these mushrooms. I wonder if I can find a jeweler out there… these hydra teeth are going to be worth something I’m sure.. I think another day or so here and I’ll head out.   The creaky wooden sign of The Black Swan swayed in the gentle breeze, and the faint smell of stew and fresh bread wafted through the open windows…Lilly adjusted the straps on her traveling pack, double-checking the small, carefully sealed jars of mushroom samples nestled inside. The discovery of the cave of mushrooms had been a stroke of fortune, and her instinct told her that the mushrooms were just the beginning. If she could combine them with more exotic ingredients, her creations would become legendary. I’m going to miss this place. It’s been a lovely stay and the cook is fantastic. I'm so glad I got a chance to play in the kitchen with her. I hope her stories of the spice vendor in Lankhmar aren’t just stories. The prospect of finding ingredients no other tavern keeper had access to was irresistible. Lilly couldn’t ignore an opportunity like that, even if it meant braving the long road to the bustling city.   As Lilly traveled, she kept an eye out for anything unusual. She foraged along the way, plucking wildflowers with unusual colors, sampling berries she’d never seen before, and even collecting sap from a peculiar tree with golden bark. These newfound treasures found their way into her pack, and Lilly made careful notes in her journal about their flavors and potential uses.   She drug out the journey to a full week with all her side trips, tastings, and experiments; it was a long journey but well worth the effort. Lilly’s spirits were high. The city was a sprawling labyrinth of towering buildings, bustling markets, and winding alleyways, a far cry from the cozy familiarity of Oakhaven. Oliver hid in her hood, overwhelmed by the clamor of the crowd, but Lilly pressed on, her sharp eyes scanning the bustling streets for the spice vendor she’d heard so much about.  

Lev

  During his downtime, Lev has created the following goals:   Twilight Covenant Duties:

• Spending time at the Twilight Glade

• Meeting with other Covenant members

• Organizing information gathered about dragon prophecies

• Strengthening relationships with local fey

  Personal Development:

• Practicing with his new battleaxe

• Studying local customs and history

• Meditating on lessons learned from recent adventures

• Performing his daily rituals in peace

  Tactical Preparation:

• Mapping the area around where they found the children and having extra eyes on the place

• Establishing new contacts in nearby settlements

• Setting up safe houses or emergency meeting points

• Creating contingency plans for future threats

  Magical Studies:

• Experimenting with how his fey magic works in Nehwon

• Deepening his connection with Freyja and Titania

• Learning local magical traditions

• Working on adapting his Twilight Warden training to this realm

  Time with Zephyr:

• Catching up on recent events

• Planning future strategies

• Discussing insights about dragons

 

Dorian

  Dorian is looking for armor first and better melee weapons second, and premium/special arrows third. Willing to spend 25 to 30 gold for armor, up to 15 for weapon and any remaining for arrows.