Sunday, February 14, 2016

D&D Princes of the Apocalypse 2016, Post 3

The flames were hot and bright – and yet also tainted with shadow, somehow.

On a kitchen table amidst the flames a scroll lay, like master Quarbo had hidden before, with secrets on the family heirloom that Pliskin was here to take back. And from the other door the shouts of captives and the smell and heat of smoke emanating from that door. Plistkin’s knowledge of arcana would let him douse only one set of flames. Which would a man like Pliskin choose?

‘There are always more peasants’, might have been the words muttered as he brushed away the flames from the kitchen and went after the scroll!

Lucian and Brogue looked at each other and went for the door, despite the fiery supernatural blast that even being near it seemed to sap the strength, let alone running through it. The amnesiac warlock, despite seeing the flames were not natural, decided he would be fine – and had to turn back after much burning. Inside the room, Lucian wrapped two captives in blankets to jump back through the flames, while Brogue decided the inside of a nearby arrow slit would prove a good place for the goliath to craft a new doorway, so he burst through with two captives of his own!

And having split the party now, they attempted to re-join, heading west then south to the statue room, then the long east corridor and attempting to shield the captives from the hob goblins and the Bullette rider in the room at the end, who merely waved congenially to the party, having been bribed quite nicely already and less inclined to look closely as such.

The left by the battered north doors and there, decided what to do? Escort the former captives all the way back to town? Or try to hide them somewhere here? Either way, they’d have to get them past Master Quarbo upstairs. Though now that Brogue had re-joined the party and was Quarbo’s favoured one, perhaps this would not be as difficult?

As they argued, something crawled up out of the chasm to the north, something of stone, up the bridge and then lumbering towards them. The remnants of the armoured elemental that they had fought on the bridge before, now pulled itself together sans armour and lumbering toward them. The warlock looked at it startled and muttered something about why would it attack because they argued. As if speaking takes no time in the bowels of the earth with threats all around. Barbarian charges and blastings of magic ensued!

>> Just another small sample of play from the session!

No comments:

Post a Comment