Book of Tristram’s Travels

Dear Reader, the events leading up to this Trieste are contained in the prior volumes of my travel logs. The prior months after leaving the Fey wild are a blur and find me in the city of Isonhound enjoying some well deserved frivolity.

29 July The Law of Consequence

 

So there I was, sitting in a bar drinking free drinks ( my favorite brand) hanging out with Professor Galloway and Linden Rue from the events of the prior weeks in the dormitories of the College.  We had been asked there by the Professor to perhaps do a job with the Wold Order.  This is an order that seeks to protect the world and its inhabitants.  They have all trappings of the secret order: descended from the Sylvian Order that no longer exists, Lots of Elves in Robes, Inscrutable motives, and a haughty sense of self righteousness.

We were enjoying the afternoon of cost free beverages when the contact ( am Elf in a robe) arrived with 4 additional personages in tow. After a round of introductions the additions were Cluck the Aarakocra Barbarian, Volrac the Red Dragonborn Monk, Hugo a human Warlock, and Markoth the Aasimar Paladin.  With Linden Rue the Harengon Life Cleric and myself we made the sextet that the Wold Order looked to send on a job, or Quest in the language of the Harengon.

The Dramatically hooded Elf, Aldean, spoke of The Dread Titan’s Firegates, of strange beasties inside, of other parties decimated, of fire and Ice, of nothing Concrete at all.  He knew nothing, the survivor's stories were supposedly unintelligible, The other group's survivors were driven mad by the events that unfolded within the Caves of The Dread Titan’s Firegates, Hordes of Dragons were spoken of, which was slightly odd as parts of the tale spoke of unknown beasties. The Order wanted us to take the next step in the progression of heroic adventures and clear the foul possible dragon and keep the lands safe.  He again told us that the reward was the hoard of the possible dragon was ours for the taking. It meant one of two things was on the table. One he knew more about the cave and situation than he was willing to share with us. Or Two, we were being offered empty promises by their Order to work for them and we may get nothing at all for the trouble.

Performing for exposure is a hated concept for any artist or entertainer in almost any multiverse. So possibility two was countered with a quick discussion of risk and reward whereas we were able to at least get a collection of Magic Potions numbering one each due to my negotiations.  For a potion, promise of possible compensation, and more over the chance to wander along for a good story or two, a chance to get out of the confines of the city and its rules and conventions and wander the wild ways.

It was gonna be a few days of travel, so we did a quick provision gathering, in which I needed some gold to supplement my perpetually empty coin purse. I confess my performance was pedestrian but solid as performances go due to my mind being on the becoming road. The monk decided to switch the show into a slam dance pit complete with Pyrotechnics.  In his over eagerness to be a pat, he slightly set the stage on fire.  It was quickly put out, but I willingly surrendered any earnings I accrued to the bartender to keep to cover repair costs and whatever gold that was extra he could keep for his troubles and loss of custom.

The next pair of days was normal pedestrian travel through the countryside and not much of note happened, we bonded, we learnt of each other with the normal sort of trail talk, and we walked under a cloud of fog courtesy of the warlock.

Morning of the third day we were breaking camp about a half day from the night prior, when we were all aware of a figure lurking about on the other side of the tree. Even our devout but less than observant Markoth the sparklely.  While the rest of us looked normal,  Volrac went around the tree to the left, and Hugo to the right.  On their signal, they jumped out and confronted the interloper.  Well Hugo did, Volrac found the undergrowth a bit confrontational and decided to entangle and lay down to contemplate the situation.  Our Hugo used the belligerent antagonistic negotiation tactic so common to the rough and tumble types before I stepped in to have a formal discussion with the visitor.  He was Sro the Great ( maybe in non stealthy areas) a Paladin to Bahamut, writer of rules, stopper of falling burning brands, and a master baiter of dragons.

We chose to accept his aid in drawing the mystery beastie from their lair after checking out the dragons manifestation upon the river. This river had an interesting, almost oily like sheen. In the name of random curiosity, we decided to see if it would burn.  Our powerful spell casters debated what spell of incineration would work best. While they talked about what inferno to unleash, I walked over to the fire and tossed a flaming log at the river.  It almost hit, but due to some obscure Paladin ability, Sro stopped it in mid air and kept it from splashing into the river, suggesting that the dragon may learn of our presence if it landed.  It was decided to get closer and maybe use this to draw out the bestie to fight outside its lair.

We proceed to the caves above the river that held the Gates of fire. No fire was present but there were three flameless entrances into the nether darkness. Cluck astutely noted the tracks of 6 being leading into the left most of the yawning portals, the smallest of the three.  WE surmised that was the egress of the prior doomed party and struck that from our choices to raconteur. We decided to get some information of the occupant prior to setting up a confrontation on the banks of the River below.

In a fit of overwhelming and uncharacteristic heroic optimism I offered to go forth and gather information while most of the party lounged about the river awaiting my return.  We had no full fledged Sneeky Sneeky type to wander in, and as a bard I can half ass anything, I figured I was the best choice.  There were offers by Hugo and Volrac to also scout sneaky like, up till Linden Rue pointed out that as they could not see in the dark, that the information they might collect would be less than completely useful or they would have have to use a light source, so they would be less than completely sneaky. They countered with an offer to let me turn invisible and see if they could detect me. No party member could, but I saw Sro the pally with many extra abilities pretend to not notice me. Fair enough, I went off in search of Bilboesque fame and fortune. Well, Intel and excitement would be more the adjectives of the mission.

The rightmost entrance was my first choice, as it was farthest from the choice of the prior party, and they apparently made bad choices, so it seemed a solid choice.  It was, in fact, the best choice as there were no dragons, no traps, nothing to set off my allergies to being punched in the face. It also held nothing of interest in the continuation of our endeavors as it was a false entrance.

Informing Sro of the geographical limitations of the right cave, I then spelunked into the darkness of the center cave. After an entrance cave I came to a pair of flames flanking a passage further in.  The Flaming Gates as advertised at last!  The Flaming Gates passage had a stream issuing forth with the same sheen on the water as before, so in I went.  This cavern next held a skull of some unknown reptile like being as it was large.  The stream was missing out from the mouth of this creature, or at least from some fissure behind it.  It appeared that there was some effort to remove this skull from its mounting, however it was not the creature I was looking for.

I then proceeded onwards deeper into the unknown down the curving corridor that held a second stream of the water from the dragon skull. I found an arrow trap prior to entering the next chamber that held a desecrated altar. I skillfully used my body to keep the arrows from making too much noise to alert those deeper within. The Altar room was a let down. There was interesting blood streaks, but no actual symbolism as to who the altar belonged to, very generic and tropey.  The path split to the left and straight. The stream headed straight and into a larger concourse. A dry but blood smeared passage lead left and up.

I went like a cat up to a T intersection, which on the left hand branch stood  two elves in the cult of Dragon robes and regalia discussing things best left unwritten at this point. I was unsure of the odds of Elves being involved with the chromatic Dragons. I went back from whence I came as stealthy as a cat to follow the big inviting pathway to the overly obvious Dragons Lair.

My mind did wander as in my ponder of elves and evil dragon cults, I splashed into the water of the stream.  Freezing like a panda with its paw in the cookie jar, I waited to see what would happen. One of the cultists came down to have a look see, and saw not.

I waited for them to wander off and proceeded down the lairway.  The Heavy breathing grew with each step, and I saw copper coins, and gold coins scattered in the hall ahead.  Although I saw no obvious traps on these, I know enough about dragons to know they like their hordes in piles and not scattered willy nilly.

I knew that there were holes in the stories before we went. The poor cookie cutter altar, the tropey arrow trap, the presence of 2 elves in this place representing a cult that is mostly Dragonborn, were all inconsistencies I would ignore for a good story.  A Dragon with a messy horde was a bit too far.  I have confirmation at the mouth that dragons could see invisible creatures so I knew that if there was another dragon I may not want to face it. Fairly certain that the ‘Lair’ was supposed to be up there, and cognizant of the time I took on this solo mission I returned to the beginning and gathered with the party down by the river.

  I explained what I physically saw, if not the full ramifications in my mind of what that meant.  I showed them the physical proof of the arrow trap and assured them I didn’t mean to take anything from the caves We proceeded to set up and have a splashdown to draw out the dragon.

The bellows that came from the mountain were ferocious. They assaulted our ears with boundless rage. They struck our party as just sort of the noises an angry dragon of great power would make.  What didn’t assault our senses was any sort of large flying lizard. Stopping for a moment when we heard a plea to ‘stop’ in Draconic, we suddenly reassess our plans.  Having a  moment where i remembered that the natives of this plane see dragons as either Metallic and generally good, or Chromatic and general bad, I had encountered tales of many other types of dragons throughout the multi verses, including my own plane where we would play ‘ pin the tale of the fairy dragon’ well into the night, with the fairy dragons having to deny the new rumors about its reputed activities the next few days.

Linden Rue took a sip of the river water to healing and beneficial results. I then took a few sips ( arrow Trap) to confirm.  So that lead us to realize we were tormenting an unknown dragon (if it was actually a dragon) that may not have hate and murder in its heart for us… yet.

Some of the party wanted to continue splashing in the river to torment it to come out.  I pointed out that best case scenario, we were tormenting an enemy dragon, worst case scenario we were tormenting a possible neutral or friendly one, either way we were currently pissing off a dragon of immense size ( if it was actually a dragon).  I was feeling it was all a little theatrical and we were in a big set up at this point.

We clambered back up to the cave. Marched into the center cave.  Came up to the Gates of Flame and face to face with a Dragon.  (so it was a dragon)  It was an unknown dragon with a long serpentine body and elk-like horns on its head, a milky white pearlescent skin tone. Linden Rue greeted it warmly and he seemed to pause.  Speaking a warning he let us know they were coming and melted back into the darkness towards his lair.

I scatter zoomed into the room and took cover behind the dragon skull. The two cultists came around the corner without setting off the arrow trap and launched into a warning to leave or die!  As they were pronouncing their utterance of doom and horrible things that were to happen to us, I spoke up and apologized, we were in the wrong place and we would leave. I had to stop them, it was bad theater and too painful to watch.

That stunned them into inaction. The lines they had were memorized and they had no real improv skills.  They informed us they were awaiting someone, and we needed to leave so they could be ready for the expected guests.  Apologizing profusely for interrupting their event, I assured them we would leave and we had seen another group of people nearby. This proved beyond a doubt that it was a theatrical setup from the start. They knew we were coming because they sent us.

So there is when the first ground breaking miracle happened. We had a party that had not one one but two paladins, a Murderous Warlock to liked to shower doom upon his foes, a Barbarian, and a monk who burned down a tavern (allegedly) when he tried to arrange and impromptu mosh/fight pit at the Trout’s Toe.  Not one of them charged forward and attacked!!!  Happy Day!!!  

I was going to spin a story about us actually being inspectors for the Wold Order. A try to get them to give us details about the number of ‘cultist’ who were there, maybe gather everyone together into a conference in a nice tight silence spell radius with meat shield being close enough for attacks of opportunity as they moved away to more noisy locals.

I thought that was too much to hope for so I cast de inspiration on one of the two, and hold person on them both.  Got one. The other reacted with a quick fireball into the room with most of the party. It looked like it hurt, but to be honest, I have seen hotter fireballs. Maybe he was off due to the lingering effects of the hold.

Our pally ‘ Faux’ levitated across the space and applied Pally interrogation techniques on the ‘cultist’ as he was breaking free of the hold spell. The questioning with the back of his hand left him knocked the smack out. The party quickly tried to close the gap with the fleeing ‘cultist’ and left Markoth with a lot of arrows in him as he stopped in the trap zone. Even more arrows were sticking out of Markoth the pincushion as Volrac the nimble juked his way through the trap area, I didn’t even see a single arrow touch him. Volrac smacked the silly out of the mage.

Sro spoke Draconic ( gotta learn that lingo) to which the dragon answered and stopped retreating, looking thoughtful. The rest of the party came up from behind as I stopped next to Sro, and tried to heal our Pincushion as best I could.  I wanted to toss the downed ‘cultist’ into the trap area as it did not affect them, but he seemed to get all noble and protective of the meat bag he had interrogated. So I caught the cone of ice right in the face.

So did the rest of the party, except Sro, which led me to believe that the damage parts of the encounter were illusionary as Sro took no noticeable damage and actually lept on the prone cultist to save him from the cold.  Markoth and Volrac were not so lucky as the combination of fire and ice ( with a few arrows) left them laying on the ground. I will vouch for the ouch, the damage was real and not illusionary.

Up stepped Linden Rue and shone as a Life cleric, healing the whole of the party at once. Up came Markoth and Volrac and dispatched the remaining ‘Cultist’ with fist, fury, and extreme smiteing.

With all visible foes down, and the arrow trap of ouchyness in front with a thoughtful dragon beyond, I decided it was time to talk.  I implored him to help us help him. I cajoled, I pointed out we had shrugged off the best his captors could do, I pointed out we would free him no matter the cost.

I succeeded

Two ‘cultists’ came from deeper in the caves, turning the corner and barraging magic missile into the back of Markoth the first set of missile slammed into him and he survived ( See he can handle it) and turned just as the barrage of missiles from the second knocked him down ( he is fine just a little tired) and he was up again as Linden Rue healed his wounds. (See just resting his eyes)

The Dragon of Pearl rose up, and filled the passageway of the mages with sleet and lightning. Sro quickly flew forward over the arrow trap taking a willing me along.  I became less and less enthusiastic about the lift as we closed in on the maelstrom. Alas we landed right on the edge of the storm. Cluck, enraged by the damage he and his party were taking, smote one of the remaining ‘cultists’ with a mighty blow.  Markoth charged forward into the maelstrom to slay our foes and succumbed to that maelstrom. The party was ready to finish the last remaining ‘Cultist’ when he got off a remaining cone of cold.  So several of us went down.  But only as long as it took Linden Rue the time to again cast ‘ party get up’ spell. As my eyes were closed OI saw not who got the killing blow.

We found the binding circle that had trapped Mentztonalcoatl. With a short period of questioning of the last ‘ Cultist’ it was revealed that he was actually a part of the Wold Order and this was all a set up to ‘train’ new groups. We also found out the Dragon Horde was planted by the Wold Order and as such, we were more than welcome to take it.

Not willing to leave this magnificent Dragon in chains, and with the annoyance of the set up with the training hall, we decided we needed to free the Dragon and break the training area. The Dragon had no hope, but mentioned there were some people looking for the answer and one of them was a deity. I am Fey, the Harengon is Fey.  WE Fey do not take kindly to enslavement.

We rested and prepared. In the morning Linden Rue sought inspiration from her deity.  I gathered my most bardic abilities and sought to inspire her.  She cast her mighty Dispel magic upon the Binding Circle. And it seemed to fade.  The confirmation came as the Pearl Dragon approached the fiery gates. He was bound to not be able to pass, trapped in a prison with the defaced skull of his daughter. He stepped to the gates.

He then passed through.

This party of six random people who knew not of each other four days prior were able through teamwork and skill, reach and concur the challenge lain before them.  They as a group all contributed to Freeing a Great Dragon, A feat that others were unable to perform.  A feat that a deity themselves were able to perform.  We six were able to accomplish that which even a god was unable to do.

We returned to our town on the wings of Sro, a great silver Wyrm. Truth be told, as fast and as high as we were flown, hour hearts and souls flew faster and higher with the knowledge of what we did.  We freed an innocent from bondage. We succeeded well beyond those who would train us. WE SCHOOLED THEM.  

Will there be a reckoning day with the Wold Order….. Only time will reveal, and only a storyteller will tell the tale.

July 15th Entry in the book of Tristram’s Travels (Seglock West Gate)

So there I was, enjoying a bit of steam blowoff wandering about this festival called the Gala of Protection, sliding in a as my Elixir Merchant persona know near and nearer as Balgeiros Quodrephostir the Feywild based Elixir merchant to submit his entry into the cooking contest. I was currently Tristram in the truest bardic form. My search for  a crooked game of cards or dice to engage in a favorite pastime of fleecing the fleecer was interrupted by a massive Brouhaha to the south. Sounding like something interesting was happening I wandered down towards the Seglock university seemingly erupting under its own volition. Seeing the Faculty and Students were streaming out, and Adventures were streaming in, the three gates.

Usually outsiders were not allowed in here, so the chance to get to visit was irresistible. Spotting a large Goliath Meat shield, (I mean barbarian) I entered into the gate with several other adventures.  I was unsure if this turned out to be a wise decision and I watched the Goliath grab a professor and start yelling at him, and at the same time, a pally performed their own unique form of diplomacy by slapping a hysterical student around. However, the Goliath started forward with a Harengon mounted upon his back, which made this much more interesting, so I again joined the rush inwards. Also, there was a multi headed dragon flying off into the darkening night, so there had to be tales to be written and ballads to sing.

We entered through the café. I must say for some reason I was the first in, which is not normally my style, but there were children in danger, so I was accidentally overcome by an overabundance of exuberance. That is the only thing I can think of because of my disinclination to get smacked in the face by random beasties usually keeps me somewhere behind the various metal clad meat shields.

There were still a number of children, a professor, a really ugly Orc, and 4 goblins. Now these were not run of the mill humanoids, they had been enhanced with poison and beefed up on the nasty scale.  As you know I am usually adverse to violence, but again there seemed to be an unreasonable amount of hostility in the humanoids towards the staff and students.  Setting my sights on the Orc, I noticed he had some sort of arcane metallic device in his hands, which I figured could not be good for the collective welfare of the inhabitants of the room, which as of yet was inclusive of only 3 students , Professor Galloway, and myself.  Hoping to not regret my impudent entry, I successfully cast Hold Person on the Orc. I must have caught him by surprise because he was in the middle of a rather satisfying ear scratch.

My companions of circumstance were quickly entering the room with Harengon toting Goliath swooped in with a speed belaying his size. Full of rage, Vadath the swift-of-foot cleaved the Orc’s arm clean off. The Arm did not fall as it was attached to the Orc via the ear. A follow up swing took the rest of the Orc out. The rest of the impromptu party arrived and arrows flew, swords flashed, and spells  were cast.  One goblin who came out of the kitchen area, wielding a saber and a meaty chicken leg bore down upon the fleeing students, despite the efforts of Linden Rue ( the Harengon Cleric) and Delphi ( a Dragonborn Bard) landing magical blows, the Goblin bit into a student, dropping him. I quickly ran up to the fallen child, shooting Chicken Leg in the face with my hand crossbow. The goblin was staggered by my boldness, and was really staggered when I in full summer fury misty stepped away with the fallen child, causing Chicken Leg and a few other nearby Goblins to burn with the Fury of the sun. Chicken Leg was then quickly fried as the chicken leg he used to hold. It was too late for the child, he was gone, so I thought the death screams of the Goblin were particularly melodic.

  During the fray an additional Orc entered the room, and quickly noped out the way he came.  Patches the Scarecrow Ranger left in quick pursuit. While Zen the Misnamed Human Paladin questioned Professor Galloway with amazing restraint ( I don’t think he hit the professor once) I went to check out the device the Orc was holding.  Valdath spoke in clear sentences that had actually held thought and complexity in which he explained about the Ex Professor Horatio Chesire and the havoc he has created using his… creations of Chesire Goblins, Chesire Orcs, and other foul creatures using his secrets of forbidden Alchemy.  I instantly disliked Horatio due to the lack of imagination he used for his creations. Down with narcissism.

My investigation of the Orc object (most likely Chesire object) and indignation of creativity was  interrupted by the return of the Ranger mentioning there were more baddies in the halls, and since that was the direction Valdath the coherent wanted to go I figured I would travers the halls behind the meat shields.  

Coming to a bend, there were Orcs and Goblins running willy-nilly through the dorm room frantically searching for something.  I again reacted first, stepping in front of my shields to get a clear shot with my crossbow and flattening against the wall to allow the calvary to charge by (with pally trying to keep up) and turn another Orc into pudding. The battle was good fun, until Omen( the Teifling Warlock) mentioned there was a large metal golem approaching from behind. It came around the corner we had just vacated and walloped Patches the Ranger, stunning him.

Seeing that this construct has some sort of purpose and was headed somewhere in particular, ignoring the side rooms, I came up with a cunning plan. Yelling for the party to duck into the side rooms and let it pass so we could follow it, I shot an orc and followed my suggestion. Patches staggered into my room and collapsed upon the bed.  Apparently an Orc down the hall followed my suggestion.  Omen misty stepped behind the Iron monstrosity and confronted a cowering professor who was following the golem and suspiciously not running out the cleared way through the cafeteria.   

So my plan was a good one, almost foolproof.  It was not Barbarian Proof. The large Barbarian turned and charged down the length of the hall and into the larger chain wielding monstrosity.  The noise was extraordinary as the Big Machine of Speedy Death squared off with the Golem. The golem got a good lick or two in, literally smashing Valdath into the floor. Vadath was able to hang on to this level by his armpits while Poor Linden Rue plummeted to the level below. I did point out this course of action was obviously better

It is said you cannot keep a good man down, and a Bunny can hop, so up came Linden and she squared off in hare-raising fashion next to the once again standing Vadath. This did not have to be a last stand as Omen was able to melt the golem from behind.

At the other end of the hall the Pally hung out, smacked some Orcs around and then he charged as best he could back towards the golem, a bit too late to reach it.  This left the Cleric’s Carrot of Doom and Delphi to hold the line, So I wandered down to assist. Shooting and scooting into rooms along the way.  Delphi dispatched an Orc she was playing some sort of weird yo-yo game with after a well placed bolt in the ass by myself as an assist.

She was in full murder hobo as she squared off against the last remaining Orc.  The Orc that was smart enough to follow my suggestion of ducking into the rooms, it should be noted.  They squared off in a Orc vs Lizard duel.  A duel that the Orc won. We quickly downed the Orc and revived Lillith.  

The Party turned its attention to the quarrelsome Professor.  Having arrived late on the scene, I was greeted by the sight of Zen the ironically named beating the stuffing out of the Professor under a Zone of Truth Spell. I do not cast Godly magic, nor am I a godly follower, But I thought the spell might get better results if you actually asked questions between punches, or maybe just ask simple yes or no questions sans punching.

Once the Pally was done with his form of interrogation, Linden Rue was able to get some answers, although the most telling answer was silence to the query of ‘ if the professor was going to hand over his research and work with Chesire to save his own skin.’  The Meat shields apparently decided to abscond with the Research the professor had and the professor himself and take both to their guild headquarters. The guild is called the Banded metal bird or some such.

Addendum to the story

Shortly after the group that is known as the Band of the Iron Hawk took the traitor professor to their stronghold, most likely to allow the pally to continue to ' interrogate' him with his fists under the assistance of Linden's Zone of Truth spell, in a place that was slightly less smokey and Orc/goblin infested. Of course had we followed my plan we could have let the golem go by, snatched up the traitor professor and maybe after following the golem to the meeting place, snagged the contact of the professor to whom the professor was delivering the research.

But that is a story that would have been for a less testosterone filled timeline.

Back to the Nest of Iron Avians. They apparently have a severe leak.  Not much sooner after Vadath and Delphi  returned to the stronghold with their newest recruits Zen the misnamed Pally and Linden Rue, the city watch appeared in full force demanding the group hand over the Professor to them.  In a most rude and threatening way. Publicly in the street in front of all the public to see and observe. Maybe even a curious Bard or two. The Guild gave him over without a fight after a short tstand off while the guild leader was found. The guild Leader is none other than Vadath the Fleet Goliath Barbarian. They also apparently never really looked at, or copied the research found upon the professor, as far as the word on the street indicates.

Somehow in all the confusion, death, and destruction the town guard thought it important to send a large contingent of warriors and battle mages to bring in this professor of little note or standing. A professor that no one but the party listed in the above entry even knew was in the possession of the bird guild. The College also knew of the abduction as reflected in the lack of a reward for assisting them in this time of need; other groups were generously rewarded.  Those of us in the vicinity of the Iron Avians were shorted this gratuity with guilt by association.

So a total of 7 people knew.  Four of them are now in the Iron Avian guild. I myself am not, but I talked to no one. I followed the prisoner and entourage to the destination cause it seemed like a good story in the making, and saw no one else tailing the five through town. Patches had enough of the area and left for parts less settled, so he is most likely not the source of the leak. I know not where Omen scattered off to, however she was suspiciously closed mouthed.  I know not of the rank and file of the guild.

There was much confusion so there should have been no one randomly observing the abduction of the prisoner, reporting this to the various powers that be, and having those various entities to react in such a quick and absolute way. The town guard appearing in force nowhere near the chaos of the attack, loaded for bear, also causes one to question the importance of the previously unremarkable professor.