Out of the Abyss, Session 2.2

Losing my Sight, Losing my Mind... 

Cast:

Zern- a duergar cleric of Asmodeus, ousted from his homeland and determined to preach the word to his people. He really likes killing things. He REALLY likes killing things.

Nosey- a half-elf paladin of Ao, raised by dragon-born and determined to do her adoptive parents proud. Since ‘adopting’ a pair of deep gnomes, she’s gotten surprisingly nicer…

Frec- a Halfling monk who decided to drop the game after this session. Thanks, Frec!

Kian- a green dragon-born barbarian and party wild card. Sometimes he’s a savage, sometimes he’s a tank. You never KNOW what Kian’s gonna do next!

Angel- a drow ‘cleric’ of Vhaeraun acting as the party’s guide. The party doesn't know it, but his necromantic powers are slowly turning him into a baelnorn.

NPC cast:

Topsy and Turvy- a pair of deep-gnome twins with very sticky fingers. They’re secretly wererats and are soon to turn again.

Stool- a myconid sprout that the party is escorting home on their way to the surface. He keeps the party connected via his telepathic spores.

Cut my Life Into Pieces...

Now rather accustomed to their environment (as well as each other), the travellers made short work of the next leg of their journey. Before they knew it, the caverns began to open. The rooms grew more spacious; the mushrooms, more plentiful. Judging by Stool’s increasing levels of excitement, the Neverlight Grove was fast approaching. As they neared the last cavern however, the Underdark proved it had one more surprise for the conquering ‘heroes’. Mid-way through the twentieth day of their journey, the party began to encounter spider webs yet again. The locals, it seemed, had been prolific as of late; what had once been an empty chasm (by Angel’s memory) was now covered in a sturdy-looking road of webs. Intrigued, Zern and Angel consulted and determined that the new path could potentially shave half a week off their journey. The party considered their options carefully. Remembering the giant spiders of Velkynvelve, they were hesitant to take the short-cut—lest they become quick snacks for the beasts! Moreover, the webs were sticky and hard to traverse; if one wasn't careful, they could easily end up entangled. Ultimately, they decided the potential benefit wasn't worth the risk of being eaten alive and prepared to take the long way around.

But, just as they were set to leave, the escaped prisoners heard the sounds of joyous laughter from somewhere above them. Peering into the darkness, those with superior dark vision were able to make out a pair of small figures, traversing—surfing!—the spider webs. Simultaneously confused and curious, the refugees hailed the surfers, who turned out to be a couple of deep gnomes. The two introduced themselves as brothers, travelling the Underdark as part of their trade business. They also described the area of webs as the Silk Road: an ever-changing network of pathways created by local spiders. The Roads connected a variety of cities, and made swift travel for those who knew its secrets; moreover, since it was off the beaten path, it was an easy way to avoid pursuit. Hearing this, the escapees were intrigued, and asked how the two gnomes had managed to traverse the Roads so expertly. The gnomes just laughed good-naturedly and replied the solution was simple: that they had greased their feet. But, while the traders laughed, the party’s hopes sunk: they had two powerful casters among them, but neither was able to cast the spell Grease. Upon hearing this, the merchants mentioned they had a few extra vials to trade if the party was interested. Unfortunately, there was not nearly enough to cover everyone, and the team was forced to decline. The traders wished them well all the same, and were even nice enough to provide the refugees with a third option. It wouldn't be nearly as fast as surfing, but some of the web strands were older than others, and had lost much of their stick. If the party was careful to walk on the smoother, opaque strands, they should be able to traverse the Silk Roads as easily as the rocky ground.

The team thanked the traders for their information and, after a brief discussion, decided to take the gamble on the short-cut. If they could successfully traverse the webs, they would reach the Neverlight grove in only 2 days; furthermore, with only a single day detour, they would have their choice of Duergar strongholds to restock supplies. Stool, eager to get home, initially questioned why they would make such a detour, but eventually agreed with some gentle persuasion from his comrades. As thanks for their helpfulness, the party offered to travel with the deep gnome brothers and act as their protection. Unfortunately, the pair of traders were headed in the opposite direction, and would have to bid the party farewell. Before parting ways however, the group took the opportunity to ask after the gnomes’ other wares, and were enthusiastically received. The duo dealt in a surprising number of trinkets and other oddities, but their most interesting stock was an impressive pile of books. One of these, Angel realized, was a wizard’s spellbook—and was filled with a handful of low-level rituals written in Undercommon. Eager to fill up his ritual tome, the drow asked about the book and was informed that it was one of the younger brother’s favourites, and he would be loath to part with it. Apparently the young gnome liked the pretty pictures and bright colours: they gave him hope, even in the ravages of the Underdark. Laughing at their stroke of luck, Angel and Zern wasted almost no time in offering the siblings their orb of daylight in exchange. This was met with some frustration by Nosey, but eventually the ‘clerics' won out, and Angel led the march down the Silk Roads with a new spring in his step.

But, if the party thought their trip down the Roads would be easy, they had another thing coming.

On the first day of their journey, the party was hyper-aware, and carefully took in all their surroundings—including the distant ceiling. Initially, their paranoia seemed to be for naught, and the early half of the travellers’ day was uneventful. As the day began to come to a close however, the adults all made note of a strange shape in the distance. It was sizeable and round, floating several feet off the ground. With nowhere to run, the party braced themselves for attack, pushing the children (and Frec) behind the safety of their cover. As the creature approached, the refugees could see it more clearly: it had a gooey green body covered with half a dozen blinking eyestalks; a massive violet eye consumed most of its face, as a hungry looking tongue wagged some two feet beneath it. Most of the group was horrified at the monstrosity, thinking it a Beholder. But Angel recognized the beast as a Spectator—a lesser beholder species that powerful wizards sometimes summoned to guard their towers. Spectators weren't nice, but they were much weaker, and generally didn't attack unless commanded by their masters… Then again, if this one was wandering around, it may not have a master anymore…

And that meant the beast was likely violent and insane.

Thinking fast, Angel stepped forward and hailed the beast when it was still some 30 feet away; the monster paused in its advance, central eye blinking at the menagerie of refugees. As expected, the Spectator reached out to the party telepathically and asked if they had seen its master. Putting on his best noble airs, Angel replied that they’d seen a few other travellers on the road, some headed towards Menzoberranzan, and suggested the monster might try in that direction. Unfortunately, his other party members were a little slower on the uptake, and before the ‘cleric’ could even begin to persuade the creature, Nosey had already bounded forward. The half-elf cheerfully introduced herself and promised to help in any way she could; hoping to aid the creature in its search, she asked it to describe its master. The Spectator blinked its enormous eye, and looked as if lost in thought. Then, its gaze immediately snapped to Angel, and it telepathically replied: “My master is… like you.”

Dread washed over the drow at these words. He suddenly had a bad feeling about this... But, swallowing his fear, Angel forced his voice to remain steady. He addressed the creature once more, still hoping diplomacy might save them. In light of the beast’s comments, he suggested if it was seeking another of his race, then it should most definitely head towards Menzoberranzan. After all, any of the House wizards would be more than capable of—! But the creature shuddered, as if trying to shake its non-existent head. Again fixing its eye upon Angel, it continued: “No… My master is like you… His powers… dark…

“…like yours…”

Now Angel’s dread had become full-blown panic.

The drow realized with horror what the creature was implying: its master had been another necromancer. And, if Angel was reading his own symptoms correctly, it was likely the man had either been trying to become a lich… or had been taken out by one. Shit, this was bad! But what terrified Angel the most at the moment was not his impending undeath, not the prospect of fighting a Spectator, not even the concern for other liches running around the Underdark. What terrified Angel most was the fear that his companions might realize the truth—the truth about his powers, his curse—if he didn't play this very carefully…

Fortunately, Angel soon had much more emergent problems to worry about—as did the rest of the party. Still floating some 30 feet away, the Spectator continued to peer at the necromancer, its eye narrowing. Its telepathic speech began to slur as the creature muttered wildly to itself, seemingly putting pieces together. “My master…” it muttered, “Where is my master? Master is gone! Master isn't coming home!” As realization dawned, the Spectator suddenly flew into a rage. Prepared for this, Angel drew his sword and prepared to charge the beast…

Unfortunately for the drow, luck was not on his side. His mind blinded by panic, he forgot to watch his footing and mis-stepped into the fresher strands. His legs caught in the sticky silk, the drow was betrayed by his own forward momentum and collapsed into the webs. Completely entangled, Angel watched with horror as the monster screeched and immediately shot towards him. “Master is gone!” it screamed as it charged, “Gone because of them! Master is gone because of things like you! Because of—!”

Before the creature could finish however, a sharp, feminine battle cry cut the air. Glancing to his side, Angel caught sight of Nosey drawing her sword and racing to his defence—!

…Sadly, if the drow had any faith in Nosey, it was short-lived. Following suit with her fellow elf, the paladin tripped on her charge and toppled into the webs—right at the monster’s side to boot! Under normal circumstances, Angel would have said the stupid paladin was in trouble. But, in this case, their enemy seemed to have eyes—eye—for only one. While Nosey struggled to free herself, her act of aggression had further enraged the Spectator. With a growl, it glared at Angel, and began charging a massive beam out of its eye. Just before the beam fired, the creature’s voice filled his mind with a final battle cry: “Die! Die like master!” Helpless, Angel whimpered and looked away, unable to watch. He was pretty sure this was the point at which a mortal creature's heart would be pounding, and its life flashing before its eyes. As it was... well, at least Angel could say he felt more ironically alive at this moment than he could remember in his entire life. With a sickening crackle, the attack was unleashed and raced across the air towards the entangled drow. Then, many things happened at once: the ray exploded with a massive burst as it struck unprotected flesh; a flare of blinding light consumed the entire field; from his prison in the webs, Angel screamed bloody murder!

…

One heartbeat later, he was still screaming.

…

In fact, one heartbeat later, he realized he still had heartbeats to count. Wait… what? Even without a wizard’s intelligence, it wasn't hard for Angel to put pieces together: somehow, he wasn't dead. In fact, somehow he wasn't even hurt! Confused, the drow snapped his eyes open to a flood of green. He blinked for a moment, dumbfounded; then, everything snapped into clarity. Hovering above the necromancer, panting slightly, was Kian—naked arse and all! In the back of his mind, Angel realized the inglorious view probably should have perturbed him. However, at the moment the necromancer was still trying to work his brain around what had just happened. He wasn't dead. And that could only mean one thing. One horrible, incomprehensible thing: someone had just taken the proverbial bullet for him. A shiny, scary, zappy bullet!

Someone had actually just taken a ray attack! On his behalf!

Kian, meanwhile, didn't seem the slightest bit concerned with his interposition. Big, strong tribesmen were supposed to protect the soft, squishy ones. Like momma bear. Covering for squishies was a barbarian’s sacred duty! The only downside was the damage it did to good clothing. Glancing down at himself, Kian grunted with disapproval. “That hurt!” he whined at the Spectator, “For this I smash your face!” Then, without further ado, the dragon-born rushed forward with a mighty battle cry on his lips; his newly-acquired war-axe struck home, and embedded itself deep within the monster’s main eye. The beast erupted in cries of rage and pain, flailing its secondary eyestalks and showering the field in a spurt of blood and tears.

But Kian wasn't alone. Not a half-second behind him, light exploded once more across the battlefield—but this time the Spectator found itself the target rather than the progenitor. With a thunderous explosion, the beam struck with deadly force, and the monster wailed even louder. When it cleared, Zern stood beside Kian, his holy symbol held aloft as the static of his Guiding Bolt gradually dissipated. Nosey, ever quick on her feet, was not one to be left out. With a burst of strength, she tore her way out of the spider webs and dove after the others, blade raised for a powerful smite. Magic flared, steel met flesh, the smell of roasting monster slowly began to fill the chamber. Though primarily blinded, the Spectator continued to fight the party with its accessory eyes. Smaller beams from these struck Nosey, Zern, and Kian, but the trio shook off the damage as though it was a mere annoyance. And the escapee team, meanwhile, was showing no mercy.

While all this was occurring, Angel still lay dazed upon the floor, speechless at this unexpected turn of events. He had understood surface folk were strange—they cared about each other, they formed these things called ‘friendships’… He had long accepted that the lot of them were crazy. But… he still could not comprehend why—! Then, as Nosey’s battle cry cut the air, the drow finally snapped out of his stupor. Dammit! This didn't matter right now. Angel had put up with a lot of things in his 120 years of life—horror, rape, torture… occasional dismemberment—but there were some things he simply could not tolerate.

And playing damsel in distress was definitely one of them!

Now thinking clearly, it took the dexterous drow almost no time to slip his bonds. Two seconds later, he had rushed the front row along with his companions, chanting the words to Inflict Wounds. Before the creature could so much as whisper about its ‘master’, he struck it so hard that it elicited another burst of eye fluid. As the blow landed, the Spectator gave one final shriek, then withered away before the party’s eyes.

The quartet remained in place for several tense seconds, staring at their felled foe as if expecting it to suddenly revive. When the beast remained unmoving, however, the team all breathed a mutual sigh of relief and loosened their stances. Concerned for their respective ‘babies’, Nosey and Zern peeled off and went in search of Frec, Topsy, Turvey, and Stool. Kian, meanwhile, gave a luxurious stretch of his sore muscles, then eagerly dived into the task of looting the corpse. That left Angel suddenly all alone with Kian, his unexpected rescuer. The drow hovered uncertainly for a few seconds, then he plopped down beside the dragon-born and helped with the monster carving. For his part, the barbarian didn't seem to even notice anything was amiss, and even hummed a happy tune as they worked. A few minutes later, the pair had excised a handful of coins, some miscellaneous shiny stones, and (curiously enough) a small bag of spices. Nosey and Zern soon returned, children in hand (and on head) and the group prepared to be underway once more. Just as they were gathering their things, however, Angel held back and addressed Kian. Staring at his toes, he murmured an awkward ‘thank you’ to the barbarian. Kian only laughed, and patted the drow on the head. Then, without a moment to spare, he picked up his sword and bounded to the front of the party, leaving an even more confused Angel in his wake.

The travellers spent the rest of the day on high-alert following their run-in—even the children helped keep watch! Fortunately, it seemed their vigilance was unnecessary, and no other beasts emerged out of the gloom. As the party began to tire, they noticed their surroundings growing darker; the webs, thicker. As tiny spiders darted across the ground and skated up the walls, the refugees were reminded unnervingly of Velkenvelve. As they progressed further, the Road grew stickier and the team began to notice the corpses of various small monsters littering the webs above. Fresh webs. Dead prey. Tiny vermin. Altogether, it told a single, unnerving story: this area had been recently occupied. And, judging by the size of the various discarded victims, the spiders that had been hunting here were easily as large as those back at the outpost. Momentarily, the escapees considered turning back, but eventually decided they had walked too far already to realistically consider retreat. As a precaution however, they decided to turn off all their light sources and proceed in the darkness. This greatly bothered Frec, who was afraid of the dark, and was concerned about getting carried off by spiders while helpless and blinded. Thus far, the little Halfling had been clinging to Angel’s Dancing Lights like a lifeline, and was loath to give up his security blanket. There was a brief argument about the matter, which was settled when Kian offered to carry the monk piggy-back if he would consent to the precaution. The matter decided, Angel dissipated his cantrip, and the refuges carried on with darkvision alone.

After an hour or so of wandering, the group began to encounter pods in the webs that blocked their path forward. These were made of finely-wound spider silk, and varied in size from 3 to 6 feet tall. These worried the denizens of the Underdark, who recognized the pods at once. They were spider victims, likely sentient—and by the looks of it, the kill was fresh. Judging by the size and shape of the pods, anything could be housed within: monster, enemy, friend. Zern and Angel briefly considered whether or not they should even warn the party about the pods. Unfortunately, Nosey, ever curious, was already examining one and poking at it with her sword. Intrigued, she wasted no time in asking her guides what the strange thing was. But, before the dark duo could reply, the bundle gave a terrible shake and began to churn within its bindings.

Whatever was inside, it wasn't quite dead.

Alarmed, Angel and Zern ordered the half-elf back at once, and drew their respective weapons. They hastily informed the party that the pods were ‘storage’ of sorts for the giant spiders. The creatures preferred their prey alive, and would sometimes paralyse and bind captured creatures for later consumption. Horrified, Nosey jumped back with a yelp of: “There are people inside?” When Angel sheepishly replied this was a possibility, she need hear no more. Throwing caution to the wind, she immediately began cutting free whatever was in the twitching pod, and begged the party to help her. Zern and Angel tried half-heartedly to restrain her, but neither was a match for the paladin’s strength or stubbornness. Eventually, however, Nosey won out and she broke away from the pair. Before anyone could stop her, she had already rushed back to the pod and sliced the webs cleanly open with her sword…

And out toppled a Halfling.

At first, the entire group was taken aback (with the exception of Frec, who couldn't see) and merely stood there dumbfounded. They watched as the elaborately-dressed Halfling toppled out of his broken restraints, many accessories jingling, and scurried about on the ground. It was quite apparent from his bumbling that the little fellow couldn't see any better than Frec could. On unsteady legs, the stranger tried to stand, but failed miserably. Tripping over his own feet, he toppled face-first back into the webs and began to cry. Pathetically, he called out to anyone who could hear him—begging for help, begging for light.

While the show was highly amusing—especially compared to the monster he had been expecting—Angel was eventually compelled to show mercy (mainly due a sharp elbow in the ribs by Nosey). Sighing, the drow called out to the stranger in Common, and urged him to be at ease. Upon hearing the voices of humanoids—and in his native language to boot!—the Halfling paused in his flailing and indeed seemed to relax. Looking to his comrades, Angel promised to provide some light as soon as they had secured the area. Upon hearing this, Zern, Kian, and Nosey (reluctantly) all fanned out and scoured the region, looking for any signs of spiders or other creatures that might be attracted by light.

The stranger, meanwhile, introduced himself as Fargas Rumblefoot, a traveller of the Underdark. He was here with his partner, a fellow Halfling, and was on the trail of some great treasure. The pair had prepared for months, and had been ready for every part of the journey… except giant spiders. Apparently the beasts had been considerably more ‘giant’ than surface books had implied. Upon hearing this, Angel laughed, and suggested if Fargas was still alive, then he hadn't even seen a large spider yet. The vicious Elder Spiders were massive enough to eat a pair of Halflings in a single bite. Shaking at the thought, the adventurer commented that Angel seemed rather well versed on the matter, and asked if he’d been in the Underdark long. This elicited another burst of laughter from the necromancer, who commented lightly: “Oh, only about twelve decades!” Just as the Halfling was blinking in confusion at this exclamation, Nosey, Zern, and Kian gave the all-clear. Chuckling to himself, Angel told the traveller not to worry—he’d understand in a moment.

Then, he turned on the lights.

For a moment, the surface creature shielded his eyes, blinded by the sudden brightness. He then glanced up, murmuring his thanks… and promptly fell onto his arse again. “Y-you’re a drow!” he yelped, pointing an accusing finger at Angel. “Well spotted,” the necromancer replied, smirking. This only seemed to confuse the little Halfling even more and, as the rest of the group approached, Fargas glanced madly back and forth at them. Eyes flickering over each refugee: duergar, drow, dragonborn, half-elf… This—this didn't make any sense! Collapsing onto the webs with a plop, the flustered adventurer screamed “who are you people!?”

While Angel was busy laughing, Nosey took the opportunity to push her way to the forefront of the party. Politely introducing herself, she explained her strange party composition: they were refugees, on the run from drow slavers, making their way to the surface. Upon hearing this, Fargas simply sat on the ground for a moment, looking flabbergasted. “A-all of you?” he murmured weakly, eyes flickering past Angel. The necromancer opened his mouth to say something sarcastic, but Nosey beat him to the punch. She confirmed that the team had all been refugees, even the smirking drow. She also assured Fargas that, despite their cruel attitude, he had nothing to fear from the Underdark natives.

Introductions now made, the rest of the refugees wasted no time in following Nosey’s lead. Frec followed shortly behind the half-elf, likewise speaking well of his new friends and their plan for escape. Upon seeing a fellow Halfling, Fargas jumped for joy, and the two embraced at once. If he had retained any doubts about the bizarre group of travellers, they were immediately forgotten. The rest of the team soon introduced themselves as well, and Frec even suggested Fargas join them. But, to the monk’s dismay, Fargas had to decline. Now more at ease, he informed the party of his true reasons for travel. There was something dark striking the Faerun—something the likes of which had not been seen for millennia. Fargas was determined to combat the threat, and was now questing for a legendary sword called Dawnbringer.

The sword, according to the Halfling, was almost as old as Toril itself—dating back to a time even before the first Sundering! It was sealed somewhere in an ancient temple which, thanks to extensive research (and presumably the intervention of the gods), Fargas and his partner had been able to roughly locate. And it was of the utmost importance that the temple be found! For Dawnbringer was a vorpal blade of amazing power: she could emit light as bright as the sun, and blind any creatures of darkness who were foolish enough to step within range. There was a trick to this task, however. According to the researcher’s information, the blade itself was… difficult to handle. Unfortunately, the legends did not quite say why… But that was just all the more reason that Fargas had to find out for himself! The story immediately captivated young Frec, just as it had his kinsman; in earnest he asked the party if they might not join Fargas’ quest instead. But Stool was rather adamant about getting home—especially now that they were so close! It was a sentiment shared by many in the group, since the Neverlight Grove was also one of the most convenient routes to the surface. Thus, saddened, Frec bid Fargas a fond farewell.

Before they parted ways, however, Fargas had one more request of the party. He had come down here with his partner, a fellow Halfling, and had completely lost track of him following the spider incident. He asked the refugees if they would help him to find his lost comrade. In return, he offered to provide the group with a map of his intended journey—including the probable location of his lost temple at the end. Nosey was swift to offer her help—surely out of the goodness of her heart, and not because of a shiny holy sword in the deal—and agreed to keep an eye out for another Halfling. 

Fargas thanked the team enthusiastically and prepared to make his leave. Cynically, Angel asked how the Halfling was going to see in the depths of the Underdark all by himself, but surprisingly the little fellow had an answer. He had come prepared for that! …erm… if he could just figure out where his gear had fallen in the spider attack… Fargas bumbled upon the ground for a moment, searching by the soft illumination from Angel’s spheres of light. Then, after digging through copious piles of torn webbing, he at last exclaimed ‘Eureka!’ and produced a strange pair of goggles. Slapping the device onto his head, Fargas explained that these goggles were specially designed to grant creatures of the light a measure of usable darkvision—at least by surface standards. It wouldn't give the gnome the extraordinary range of vision that Angel—let alone Zern—possessed, but it would get him through the shadowy chambers well enough. This prospect intrigued Frec, and wondered if such items might be available in one of the nearby Duergar cities... Then, without further ado, Fargas tipped his hat to his fellow travellers, and disappeared into the distance. Angel and Zern watched him leave until the Halfling was beyond the reach of even their superior darkvision. Then, shrugging, they gathered up their own gear and prepared to carry on. They informed Frec the lights would have to go out again for safety; the monk whined, but consented to riding Kian again, and the party was soon underway.

As the team walked on, they continued to encounter pods in the webbing—though none as large as the one that had contained Fargas. In the distance, the deep gnome twins heard the sound of clicking and shuffling, and clung to Nosey’s ankles in fear. The entire group was spooked to be sure, but fortunately no giant spiders descended upon them, and the sounds eventually faded to nothingness.

Then, about an hour past Fargas’ departure, the travellers began to come across larger pods yet again. In fact, a few of these (the group noted with only a bit of horror) were roughly the same size as the Halfling’s. Nosey leapt to action at once, thinking one of the pods might contain Fargas’ missing partner. She convinced the others to help her slice the pods open—which they did, with only mild trepidation. Frec volunteered to stay back and on guard in case of attack, while Angel, Zern, and Kian followed Nosey towards the husks. Zern was the first to reach the collection, choosing the nearest mound of spider silk. And with a slice of his sword, the pod easily tore open…

But there was not a Halfling inside.

At least… not anymore.

As Zern sliced the pod, it immediately exploded in a spray of bloody goo. The sludge blasted the duergar straight in the face, and he staggered backwards with a startle of surprise. Slipping, the cleric soon found himself entangled in webs and coated in rotten bits of organ and flesh. Well… this was fun. As entrails wrapped around Zern’s head, it became incredibly obvious that whatever had been inside had once been humanoid—and now it was people goo! Oh... how lovely…

Angel—who had been at Zern’s side—was missed by the spray, but had doubled over almost immediately, retching. On the other side, Kian was also briefly consumed by a wave of nausea at the sight, but managed not to go the way of Angel. Nosey had been tending to the children, mercifully sparing her from the gruesome sight. Likewise Frec, unable to see in darkness, was merely left blinking in confusion while sickening squishing sounds filled the cavern.

Zern, however, was not nearly as lucky. 

No, Zern was not lucky at all. He had not been lucky for a long time… Not since all this bullshit had begun.

Zern had been a simple man, such a short time ago. He had lived in a humble little chamber, in a modest little church. He had devoted his days to the service to the god of crafts, and had spent his nights toying with his brewing kit. He had asked for very little out of life…

And now?

Why, now he was a heretic of his former faith! Now he was the bearer of the horrible truth that was Asmodeous’ takeover. He had been ousted from his temple, chased from his home, captured by the drow, tortured for nearly a month. He had finally escaped, and was stuck on the run with this bunch of loonies! By the gods! By Asmodeous, giant, jiggling testicles! His closest companion at the moment was a bloody drow! And one who was definitely lying his pretty little arse off! Gods only knew about what!

And now? AND NOW?

Why, now he was lying here in these massive, sticky spider webs. And he was covered in the goo of what had probably once been the body and brains and bowels of some: Filthy. Surface. Halfling.

Yes. That was Zern’s life these days. Oh, how pleasant it was…

Something inside Zern snapped that moment. His entire life, he had been a good boy—at least by evil standards. He had always had a deep, centred, controlled part of his being—it was what had made him a great cleric! He had learned much wisdom, he had plotted out many an excellent plans in his day! And it was all thanks to this modicum of peace he possessed, this self-control…

But no more. He was done. Zern was bloody well done with everything! And why? Well, because, as he lay there, wrapped lovingly in the rotting entrails of another man, Zern realized something. He realized that, deep, deep down…

He liked killing things.

He really REALLY liked killing things!

“Are you all right down there?” asked a voice from above—and it was only right that instant that Zern realized he wasn't alone here, in the darkness. In fact, his drow companion was leaning over him, looking almost… concerned? Could drow produce that expression?

“Oh, I’m just fine,” Zern answered at once, still unmoving. “I'm just peachy. But, ah, Angel?” he continued, and the drow blinked in reply, “You might want to get your throat out of arm’s reach. And you might want to bring me my damn sword. Because—I don’t know what, I don’t know how, I don’t know why… But SOMETHING is dying TONIGHT!”

Zern would never be the sane—ahem!—‘same’ again. 

~*~

Ha! Our team's first permanent madness! Due to some extra long sessions in weeks that followed, I'm actually several sessions behind in my write-up; but that's not all bad. For one thing, it means I can ironically say that, though poor Zern got the team's first and only permanent madness on this fateful day... he hasn't failed a madness save since. XP He also hasn't gotten rid of his madness, though he now has the power. So I guess that makes this a good turning point. 

I had originally written this scene quite differently, but thanks to November's Unearthed Arcana, it had to be changed around a bit. If some folks haven't seen, this month's release includes some class options for the Underdark--including a shadow sorcerer. A part of me wishes this had come out sooner, as I would have seriously considered playing it. But I'm happy with my present class, in any case, and have decided not to switch over. My impending undeath has become something of a recurring joke for the team, and it would be wrong to take their toy away now. My DM did have me roll on the Shadow Sorcerer's Quirk table, however, as a reflection of my manifesting undeath. And, thanks to the roll of the die, poor Angel apparently has a resting heart rate of... one. XD Poor little drow boy. Oh well, it only required some minor modifications to his nearly getting blasted by a Spectator, and I still got to have fun with it. 

The next post will probably have a little in-game action, but will serve primarily as a farewell to Frec, and his player, Victor, who has dropped the campaign. Sad. But it happens, and the party will  carry on.