After retreating from the Ghostlord's lair, the party returns to the wild elves' camspite. There, they find their Tiri Kitor guides awaiting their return. Relating their desire to return to Vraath Keep, the elves simply nod and begin preparing their great owls for a hasty departure. Apparently, they too have little desire to linger in the Thornwaste for they also noticed the ghostly lions prowling in the distance and would just as soon be gone at once. And just like that, the adventurers are helped onto the great owls and borne aloft, soaring above the Thornwaste as the sun drifts under the distant horizon, the landscape below them cast in shadow.

Soaring high above the ground, the owls glide ever northward, beyond the ruins of Drellin's Ferry and over the darkness of the Witchwood toward Vraath Keep. As the owls swoop in on the ruins of Vraath Keep, one of the elven guides gestures off in the distance. In the light of the waxing moon that hangs overhead, the adventurers see the shadow of a familiar foe, a manticore, alighting quickly away from the keep. Apparently the manticore returned to its lair after the adventurers previous departue and wants no part of a lopsided confrontation with a flight of Tiri Kitor hunters.

One of the wild elves begs to give chase, but is waved off by her flight leader. A chase for another day. The great owls circle the keep for some time in an effort to assess whether any other foes remain within and then, presuming the site to be devoid of threats, they land just outside the keep.

The Tiri Kitor leader says, "We must not tarry here long. Do as you will, but make it quick." As soon as the party has dismounted the owls, the wild elves take flight yet again and begin to circle the area, remaining vigilant for the manticore's potential return.

Eoni had fallen asleep on the flight over from the Thornwaste.  She was tired, but shook it off to explain why she'd chosen this stopover.

"We're looking for Lord Vraath's hidden arsenal," she explained, recalling the map they'd recovered after their battle with the first acid beast.  "That map we found said there was a tunnel beneath the tower somewhere.  I believe we'll need every bit of his legacy in order to save the Vale."

She nodded for Valthur to lead the way through the familiar ruined gates of Vraath Keep.  The circular tower in the southwest corner towering above the ruin was their destination.

"To the hidden vault and final resting place of Emery Vraath!" Valthur brags, leading the team to the southwest tower. "Sounds like some useful items should be here for us. Who's got the map? Taerix?"

OOC: For those of you who (like me) forgot, chapter 10, msg #158 describes the map.

Entering the ruined keep, the party proceeds directly to the southwest tower, the site of Wyrmlord Koth's private quarters and the location where the adventurers first found the map detailing the Red Hand's war campaign.

The tower appears much as it did a month ago during the party's first visit--a circular chamber outfitted with a mixture of furniture, including a large desk, an overstuffed chair, a four-poster bed, and a large easel. A set of stairs leads up to the collapsed second floor and a pile of debris is strewn about the chamber's floors below the section of ceiling that has caved in and now lies heaped up at the base of the stairs.

"Let's try under the bed," Eoni suggested.  "See if you can slide it out of the way."

Valthur dutifully grabs the bed and slides it over the floor to reveal what lies underneath. "Don't worry, Eoni," he boasts. "We Ironhelms are experts at finding secret doors and such. If there is so much as a concealed mouse hole in this room, I'll find it."

With the bed out of the way, he carefully scans the floor for any sign of anything hidden.

Valthur discovers a concealed trap door located in the floorboard, between the four poster bed and the overstuffed chair. Pulling the trapdoor open, the dwarf finds a 5-foot wide vertical shaft fitted with a rusty iron ladder that descends 40 feet straight down.

"Nice work," Taerix compliments the dwarf. He gets ready to take his turn if the group decides to descend.

"There may be traps," Eoni warned the dwarf.  "I don't think we should all go down at once.  Maybe you and Taerix can scout ahead.  You can take my tiara for light."

She held out the magically lighted tiara to Taerix.

"You can let us know if you need anyone else to help out once you've discovered something."

Taerix takes the tiara and asks Valthur, "You first or me?"

"Let me go first," Valthur insists, confidence bolstered by his successful detection of the trap door. "With this magical chainmail, I'm nigh invulnerable!"
The dwarf proceeds through the trap door and scans the area below as he does.

Taerix puts Eoni's tiara over one shoulder and heads down next.

Valthur climbs down the ladder first, followed by Taerix, and then the rest of the party. The iron ladder is sturdy, but quite rusty, and goes straight down for 40 feet before terminating in a small vault.

The walls to this small vault are of worked stone, the ceiling 12 feet overhead. The air is thick and smells stale and slightly smokey. Three alcoves have been cut into the walls, two to the north and one to the east. Each alcove is sealed by an iron gate and locked with chains and a large paddock. Beyond one alcove are several shelves bearing 10 small iron coffers. Beyond the second is a small desk and chair piled high with papers and books. Beyond the third sits a single large trunk.

A human skeleton lies slumped against the eastern alcove's gate. Still dressed in tattered chainmail and feebly gripping a sparkling sword, the skeleton has a massive arrow protruding from its ribs.

While waiting for a report of what they find below, the Sister slumped into the overstuffed chair to close her eyes.  They still had a long way to go before they could take a breath.  From here they'd fly to Brindol, perhaps trying to avoid the Red Hand's flying sentries.

She hoped they were ahead of the Hand's schedule.  A few days to rest would do them all good even if they knew the wave about to crash against their walls.

Sarah inspects the trunk.  She is convinced that it is safe.



17:25, Today: Sarah rolled 89 using 1d100 with rolls of 89.  Find Traps (43).

Valthur cautions Sarah as she approaches the gate. "Careful, Missy. I presume that skeleton was once a curious explorer like us. We'd better make sure there aren't any more giant arrows set to shoot out of the wall."

Before turning his attention to the gates and checking them for traps, however, he examines the skeleton's sword. "Funny that this poor fool is in tatters but his blade shines like it's fresh from the armory."

Viewing the trunk, located behind a locked iron grate, Sarah does not notice any obvious signs of it being trapped.

Meanwhile, Valthur examines the sword currently clutched within the skeletal hand of the slumped figure and instantly recognizes it as a masterpiece of craftsmanship. The sword has a golden pommel and hilt, set with brilliant red gems and the blade gleams with what the dwarf surmises to be great magic power!

"Moradin's beard," Valthur gasps as he unwraps the skeletal fingers from the hilt of the gleaming sword. "Marklin, take a look at this blade. It came from no ordinary forge!" He carefully takes the weapon into his own hand, marveling at its fine balance when he does.

Taking the enchanted sword in hand, the blade leaps to life as flames begin licking up from its dark luster!

Certainly Valthur has heard of such weapons in lore, none other than a Flametongue!

Marklin examines the magic sword, his eyes gleaming with wonderment as flames begin licking up the blade in response to Valthur grabbing its hilt.

"A fine find!" he comments.

He then turns his attention to the locked gates. "Can you do your thing, to open them locks?" He asks Sarah. "Or you want me to go to work and break them open the old fashioned way?"

Valthur takes a few more practice swings with the flaming sword. "I'm calling it Ardoth Alar, The Red Hand's Bane. Let's see how those cocksure hobgoblins like me now!"

Marklin cracks a smile at Valthur's comment. "A fine name for a fine blade, if I ever heard one!"

Retrieving a crowbar from his pack, the warrior then goes to work on the first of the iron padlocks. He works at the lock for a few moments then switches tactics and attempts to break one of the chain links. Moments later, he is rewarded with a satisfying metallic snap.

"Best lockpick known," he comments while wiping a bead of sweat off his temple. He then proceeds to do the same to the remaining chains.

The adventurers take stock of the items formerly held behind locked iron gates and find the following:

Ten iron coffers are held within the first of the four alcoves...

Six of the iron coffers contain the following coins: 2,500 silver, 2,100 gold, and 120 platinum. Three of the iron coffers contain notes of credit from the fallen kingdom of Rhestilor, though these have long since expired, not that there is anything left of that old kingdom to lay claim. The last of the iron coffers contains the deed to Vraath Keep.

Within the second alcove the party finds a wide range of notes and letters concerning Vraath Keep's construction and general function. Picking through the assorted papers, the party learns about the importance of this post along a vital trade route during the height of the then Kingdom of Rhestilor. The keep was the home of one Lord Amery Vraath, whom eventually got into a war against nearby forest giants--a war which he apparently lost if the keep's current state and indeed, the large arrow sticking out of the skeletal figure is any indication.

The third alcove contains a single trunk, within which is the skull of a young black dragon, two dozen forest giant teeth tied to a thick string, a mithril chain shirt; a staff made of white oak and carved to resemble braided bands of holly and oak boughs, twisted around a unicorn's horn at the end; and a thin metal wand with metallic grips topped with an angular blue glass bauble.

"Quite the haul," Marklin comments while surveying the spoils. "Enough to set a guy up pretty good with no troubles..."

In truth, this cache represented more treasure than the sellsword had ever seen and it was almost enough to convince him to run for the hills until the dust settled.

Valthur stops swinging the magical sword long enough to examine the rest of the loot. "Quite the haul indeed. Platinum! A pocket of that will feed you for months, although it'll bring with it some attention, and not necessarily good attention. I hope that necklace with the teeth on it isn't another one of those fajactories like the ghostlord had. One of him is more than enough."

23:56, Today: Valthur Ironhelm rolled 7 using 1d8+1 with rolls of 6.  Level 6 hit points.

It's almost more than Sarah can imagine.  And she has quite an imagination.  So, she returns to a theme she's raised before:

"S-so . . . are we done now?"

"Our work here is done, Missy. Well except for hauling it out of this hole." He gives the sword a couple more swings and then stows it. "Marklin, give me a hand and let's start hauling this stuff up to the others. I suspect Eoni will want a look at this funny stick and and the metal wand with the blue whatever that is on the end."

Valthur sizes up the exit to determine if it is big enough for the chest to fit through it. If so, he works with Marklin to tie a rope around the chest and haul it out in its entirety. If not, he organizes the crew to haul it out piece by piece.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:38, Sun 24 Mar 2019.

Once the magic items (including the skull and tooth necklace) are removed, Valthur works to extract the coffers. "Leave the silver," he instructs. "We can't afford all that weight for what it's worth. Take the platinum and gold."

Once those tasks are finished, he climbs up the ladder far enough to poke his head out of the hole. "There's a bunch of papers still down there, Eoni. Looks like the kind of worthless stuff you might be interested in. Ledgers and notes and crap like that."

He waits on the ladder for Eoni to confirm she has no interest in the papers. At least that's what he hopes she says.

Startled awake, Valthur had to repeat his question before she understood what he'd said.  She must have fallen asleep.

"Let me take a look at the papers," she said groggily as she got to her feet.  "Did you find the frostbrand, staff, and gauntlets?"

"I agree that the silver will only weigh us down too much." Taerix tries to keep the excitement from his voice as he sees all the gold and platinum.

Having glanced into the trunk at the top of the ladder, the Sister had an idea of what they'd already discovered as she followed the dwarf back down.  Reaching the bottom, one thing was obvious.

"That's too much gold," she said as the others were counting it out.  "The owls won't be able to carry all of that and two riders.  Maybe a hundred fifty coins apiece.  We'll leave the rest here.  It's been safe here for years.

"I don't know there'll be anything for us to spend it on in Brindol anyway."

She looked at the body with the arrow and hoped for more time to give him a proper burial for his deeds.  Another time, if they lived to return.

"Take his gloves in case those are the gauntlets," she said.  "I may be able to see if they're magic tomorrow.

"Taerix, that chain shirt in the trunk is yours if it fits."

"Valthur," she said, spotting the new sword on his belt.  "If that's the frostbrand, we have three magic weapons and three of you.  Make sure each of you has a magic weapon they can use when the time comes.

"Now where are these papers?" she asked, taking the tiara from Taerix so she could see what she was looking at.

"You're breaking my heart, Sister," Valthur replies. "I've heard of no such thing as too much gold." He opens his mouth to argue more, but decides it not worth his while, instead letting Eoni continue with her inspection.


"Begging your pardon, good sister, but this isn't just a magical sword, it's a magical masterpiece. It's a prize. The Eldbrandur. Ardoth Alar, the Red Hand's Bane!" He draws the sword carefully from its scabbard to observe the light. "See the flames? You can't possibly suggest that I part with prize like this."

"Then give your axe to," she replied, pausing to look at the halfling compared to the size of the axe, "Marklin.  He can give his sword to Taerix.  Then you'll all have a magic weapon.

"Your axe or the sword."

Valthur looks back and forth between the weapons. "Moradin's beard, Eoni" he grumbles. "You might as well ask a father to choose between his two children!"

Taking a deep breath, he looks at both weapons. On one side the flaming frostbrand. Ardoth Alar. How could he refuse such a prize? From it's jeweled hilt to its flaming blade, it nearly sang with arcane power. And it had a name!

On the other hand, his trusty axe. Try as he might, he never settled on a name, but he couldn't escape the feeling that it felt right in his hands. The weight. The balance. The flash when he first pulled it from that razorfiend's (essentially a dragon's) hoard. "The dragon's axe. Wait a minute, that's it. Drakmar Az, the dragon's axe! And let it bite the red hand with the same intensity as that foul spawned razorfiend."

His decision was made. He unbelted the frostband and scabbard and handed it to Marklin before he could change his mind. "Marklin, I would trust none but you with Ardoth Alar. Let the Red Hand's Bane suit you well in the battle ahead. For me, I stand by Drakmar Az, the Dragon's axe. She has served me well so far. I only hope she stays as sharp and true in Brindol."

Math problem solved, Eoni returned her attention to the paperwork.  The most notable item was the deed to the keep.  If they survived this, it might be something to discuss.  She placed the deed safely in the desk and moved on.

After a cursory examination of the remaining paperwork, she set it aside and returned her attention to the others.

"I think we're done down here," she concluded.  "I can see what may be magic in the morning, but now, we need to reach Brindol."

OOC: I expect they've counted out 150 coins for each of them, beginning with the platinum and the remainder gold.

Valthur painstakingly counts out equal shares of gold for each of the party members. "Six equal shares, right? We don't need to cut in any worthless hirelings or dead people this time, do we?"

OOC: 20 platinum and 130 gold (if you can carry it) each.

"It's just us this time," Eoni replied to the dwarf as she climbed back up into the keep to examine the trunk's contents.  If the staff did indeed have healing properties, now would not be a bad time to examine it.

Taking up the finely carved length of oak, she called upon Avandra for her guidance.  "Blessed Avandra, as we grow nearer the danger before us, please guide us and allow us insight on how best we may serve.  If you will, grant me the ability to wield this staff in your name so I may heal the ills of others and further your name.  Most merciful Avandra."

Marklin's demeanor turns quite grim as the party gathers the treasure within the vault beneath Vraath Keep. It is obvious to even the least perceptive members of the party some great conflict wells within his soul. Finally, unable to withhold his feelings any longer, the fighter breaks his silence.

"I aint going back to Brindol," the mercenary says bruskly. "There's nothing but memories of bad times and dirty deals for me in that city. Make no mistake, I am sure the feeling's mutual. Let's just say there's no great love between me and the city guard, and leave it at that!"

The fighter pauses a few moments and adds, "Besides, we got enough to set ourselves up right with this little haul...and we're just going to throw it away and rush back into death arms on some crazy little notion of stopping an army?!"


Turning now to Eoni, "No offense, Captain, but, this is where I get off..." Marklin's face is quite conflicted over this point, but he seems to have steeled his resolve to his decision.

"I wish nothing but the best for the lot of you, but, I'm out. If any of you had any sense, you'd be thinking the same right about now." He then turns his gaze briefly to each party member in turn.

"This aint our war. Let the Lords of Brindol sort this out. They sit there on their gilded thrones born of the blood of folk like you and me. And what do we get for our troubles?"

"A life spent renting flee-ridden rooms in second-rate inns, third-rate fare, and a pauper's grave at the end of it all?"

"No thanks!"

Having said his bit he adds, "Old Man Jorr, hell, even them elves got the right of it..."

Aldara is the first to speak after Marklin's rant. Speaking with a heavy heart, "I understand all too well." The wizard seems to be taking great care to guard her words, but finally adds, "Likewise. I vowed never to return to, there, and have no great desire to do so now."

"But, I understand if others feel otherwise," she says.

"Marklin, if you would have a wizard as a travel companion, I offer my services."

She sighs deeply and then says in a low voice, "We don't have to do this. None of us."

Maintaining a rather blank expression (i.e., a normal expression for her) Sarah watches the others go.

Once they are gone the girl looks at Valthur and Eoni as if expecting them to say something. When they don't, she looks at the ground and shifts uncomfortably.  Then, as if addressing the ground, she haltingly mutters:


"They're right, y'know?  We . . . we can take what we got an' go far away.  Someplace that 'asn't heard of Ghostlords, or greenspawns, or any of this stuff.  'Sides, it's jus' four of us now . . ."

Then, with tears, welling in her eyes, she says to the ground: "I don' wanna die."
This message was last edited by the player at 14:13, Wed 03 Apr 2019.

"You could go with them," Eoni said gently to Sarah, "or you can come with us."  She opened her arm to include Valthur and Taerix in the gesture.

She did not begrudge Marklin and Aldara their departure and had hugged them both goodbye.  It was their decision and she let the sorceress pick what she would from their magical spoils to keep them safe.  May Avandra look over them as well.

"We don't plan on dying," she explained to the girl, "but someone has to stand and fight.  We play our roles in this life, whether it's tanning hides as Yhus' family does or hammer iron as Darna's.  Someone has to fight for them, keep them safe in Brindol.

"We haven't turned out to be cobblers and farmers.  We have strength, resilience, and the Blessings of Avandra that set us apart.  Enable us to do more than others, stand up to evil.

"Sarah," she said, gently raising the girl's chin in her hand.  "I think you'd be a horrible barmaid."

Valthur soaks in everyone's words in silence before speaking. "I feared this would happen, Marklin. As soon as I saw things was turning toward Brindol. No secret that you and it aren't exactly on speaking terms. Didn't know it was the same way for Aldara, but it stands to reason. You two've been a welcome sword and dagger by our side, and welcome friends. I looked forward to fighting with you both one last time in Brindol, but if the gods have another plan for you, I won't stand in their way... or yours."

He shakes the fighter's hand and grins. "Sorry about trying to kill you when we were in that rotten tree trunk."


Having spoken his piece, he turns to Sarah. "The Sister's right, Missy. Ain't nobody here gonna' die in Brindol. Not you. Not me. Not Taerix or Eoni."

"I told myself that I wouldn't go home until I made a name for myself. This is a good start. Becoming a hero at the Battle for Brindol or whatever the history books will call it sounds good to me. Best of luck to the two of you," he finishes, nodding to Aldara and Marklin.

Sarah looks at Eoni as she speaks her words of encouragement, but the faraway look in her eyes makes it hard to tell whether she's actually processing what Eoni says.

When Eoni finishes, Sarah sniffles a bit and walks away, sits down on the ground, and wraps her arms around her knees as if she is hugging herself.  Rocking gently, she maintains that faraway look and thinks her unshared thoughts.

"Hmmmmf," Valthur mumbles quietly to Eoni as he watches Sarah walk away. "Poor Missy is at her limit, I'm afraid. This isn't exactly how I pictured things going. Sure, the halfling's brave-hearted and not bad with a bow and a blade, but with Marklin and Aldara leaving and the girl where she's at, we'll be lucky to even make it to Brindol, let alone save it."

"The Tiri Kitor will get us to Brindol, I'm sure of that," the Sister assured the dwarf.  "After that, Avandra will watch over us.

"Gather up what we're taking and get ready to go."

Valthur silently packs their belongings, alone with his thoughts. Great, the Tiri Kitor. I'd rather walk to Brindol than fly with with those stupid elves and their stupid owls.

But with teeth clenched, he concedes that time is of the essence, and getting to Brindol quickly will require sacrifice. Even the significant sacrifice of accepting the help of the Tiri Kitor.

Taerix slides the Blur Potion into his pack, and tries on the mithril shirt.

Blessed by Avandra to understand the workings of the divine staff, Eoni determined it was indeed, a Staff of Healing.  The only item recorded with the map that actually lived up to it's description.  She demonstrated the staff's power on each before their departure.

Along with the new staff, the Sister was now wearing the haversack of magical items Aldara had been safekeeping.  She made sure the gauntlets Lord Vraath had died wearing were added to the pack.  She would see if they too were magical on the morn.

OOC:
Eoni Daflin rolled 4 using 1d6+1.  Staff of Healing, Valthur.
Eoni Daflin rolled 6 using 1d6+1.  Staff of Healing, Taerix.
Eoni Daflin rolled 3 using 1d6+1.  Staff of Healing, Sarah.
Eoni Daflin rolled 3 using 1d6+1.  Staff of Healing, Eoni.

Eoni Daflin rolled 5 using 1d6+1.  Staff of Healing, Marklin.
Eoni Daflin rolled 6 using 1d6+1.  Staff of Healing, Aldara.

Eoni also leaves 100 silver in the crypt to save weight.
Everyone has the same 100 silver from the iron coffer of the phylactery.

"Thank you, Eoni."

Taerix ditches his used chain mail in the corner of the vault to save some weight.

"Many thanks, Sister. That'll make the flight to Brindol a bit easier."

To say Valthur was uneasy about riding the owls of the Tiri Kitor was a gross understatement. The prospect of hopping on one of those winged giants again scared Valthur to such an extent that he forgot about the flaming sword he had recently uncovered.

“Are you ready to return to Brindol? I was sent by Sellyria Starsinger to escort you back.  I have been given blessings to join your group if you could use another hand.”  he said hopefully.  He wasn’t sure what to say as he was excited  to join a group that had proved successful although he knew little about them.  He had made peace with human relationships and was more likely than most elves to keep an open mind, but he was instinctively distrustful of the dwarf, giving Valthur a sidelong glance as he spoke to Eoni.

Eoni wasn't sure how good Vaxfar's common was and guessed the Speaker of the Tiri Kitor had recently sent him some time after their departure.  He was lucky to have spotted their escort circling above the keep.

"We're ready to go now," the Sister said.  "My name is Eoni, Sister of Avandra.  A few of us are leaving on foot, but the rest fly for Brindol."

She looked over to see if Sarah had made her decision.  Whatever her decision, she would go with Avandra's Blessing.  She turned back to Vaxfar to continue.

"You do know Brindol will soon be under siege by the Red Hand," she clarified, hoping the wild elf knew what he was getting into. "It will likely be the Vale's last stand."

“I am Vaxfar Leaf.  I am pleased to meet you, Eoni.  I am aware of the trouble but fear not the red hand nor death.  Many of my people would rather ignore the world about them.  Although I love my elven kin, they miss out on the opportunity around them and are ignorant of the dangers that might inevitably find them.”  He answered.

"What are you good at?" she asked as they made their way back out to the main gate.

They were lucky they'd finished concealing the entrance to the vault before he'd arrived.  He likely wouldn't have the chance to divulge it's location, but if they didn't survive, she wanted Marklin and Aldara to have what was left.

Sensing that the time to depart -- by one means or the other -- had arrived, Sarah got up and silently shuffled her way toward Eoni, Valthur, Kane, and the newcomer.

"Great," Valthur mumbles to nobody in particular. "We lose Marklin's trusty sword and Aldara's magic and get an elf with a face of a chopping block in return."

He decides that complaining is not nearly as satisfying as it used to be when Marklin was there. The fighter was always a good listener, especially when Valthur had a complaint, which it turns out was quite frequently.

He misses Marklin.

In reply to Eoni Daflin (msg # 55):

"I can handle myself in battle with magic and just about any weapon.  How about you and the others?"

In reply to Valthur Ironhelm (msg # 57):

"You have not known me long, dwarf, so I will let such ignorant comments go - this time - as they remind me of my close-minded kin.  I cannot speak to the skill of those who have left but I have both magic and fighting skill that may prove useful for this group."

"Be nice," Eoni said, scrutinizing both the elf and dwarf.  "Save it for the Red Hand.

"As to how we've handled them in the past," she continued, circling around to Vaxfar's question about their own fighting styles, "Valthur takes it to them with his ax.  Taerix is our scout and also capable of taking the battle head on or with his bow.  Marklin also...

"I use the wisdom and Blessings of Avandra to guide our hearts, and Sarah takes care of the rest."