"Oh, he'll die.  But he came from somewhere and we need to understand that threat first.  White sword for justice doesn't necessarily mean that justice is delivered with the sword..."

Istvan hurries to catch up with his colleagues...

It took Spriggy a moment or two to recover from the biting cold. His handy buckler seemed to stop a bit of it, but his leather armors didn't even feel like they slowed the cold down. Gritting his teeth, the bard stood up and dropped his invisibility. "I'm not sure we have the luxury of taking more prisoners," the bard said as he blasted a new bolt of arcane energy toward the shaman. Hopefully before the shaman could finish casting his own spell.

He wouldn't mind taking the shaman prisoner if it ended up working out, but he was not about to take unnecessary risks to do so. Especially since they had already captured the cook downstairs. "Why don't you surrender, shaman? Make this easier for everyone."

---

Casting Magic Missile at the shaman. And Spriggy is no longer invisible.
14:20, Today: Spriggy Glompgut rolled 13 using 2d6+2 with rolls of 5,6.  Cast Magic Missile at shaman.

Damage.
14:21, Today: Spriggy Glompgut rolled 5 using 2d4 with rolls of 1,4.  Damage.

The shaman growls as Gorrid hit him again, only for Spriggy's spell to hit him face-on. He falls over, the spell dying on his lips as he lays there, immobile. A quick check confirms that he's dead.

With that threat gone, you look through the room. Most of the herbs and scrolls are pretty much worthless, but Spriggy finds a few that you can sell for 100$. You also find a coin pouch, holding 112$.

With all immediate threats dealt with, what do you want to do next?

"There's still the basement door to investigate," the thief notes, "and some barbarians to tend to."

For herself, Kharla heads to the last I checked door and prepared to see what it hides.  Of any join her she will open it

Spriggy breathed heavily as the shaman's death was confirmed. "That went better than expected. Sorry we didn't get to interrogate him, Gorrid." He turned to Kharla. "But yes, let's make sure the prisoners are doing alright and maybe rest a bit ourselves, then make sure there are no other nasty surprises waiting for us in that basement. You guys want to start on that and I can sort through this mess?" He gestured at all of the herbs and scrolls strewn about. There had to be at least a couple of treasures buried among the trash.

---

Let's split the gold 4 ways again (28$ each), and pay our hirelings at the end. Especially since we may be giving some gold to the barbarians or something. I guess Spriggy will hold onto the scrolls/herbs for now, as long as they are 0 weight.

I would like to use my Bardic Lore on the cache of spells. My question: "Is there a way I can add any of the spells to my spellbook?"

Also sending you a Private Message about my next level up, GM, and how it might relate to their current situation.

I'd been trying to do stun damage.  He's well & truly dead?  No chance of revival?

Staring down at the cellar, Kharla doesn't hear any sound of movement. A short glance reveals nothing threatening either... Just a room carved directly into the frozen foundation of black ice under the citadel. Crates and barrels of food and supplies line the walls, while a particularly fine-looking tapestry is draped over something round that protrudes from the eastern wall.

The shaman is, indeed, dead. The cook is the only survivor of the frost folk slaver crew. Thankfully, it seems most of the slaves they took already are still alive, though badly underfed and desperate for some form of warmth.

Sir Gorrid sighed.  Hopefully they'd be able to get something useful out of the cook.

He slung the shaman's body over his shoulder and descended the rope, following Kharla into the basement in case there was any more fighting to be done.

quote:

16:03, Today: Sir Gorrid of Torr rolled 8 using 2d6+1 with rolls of 3,4.  Discern realities.

What here is useful or valuable to me?

The thief nodded to Sir Gorrid and any others who joined her below before motioning towards the tapestry on the wall and the shape it covered.

"This feels like a moment," she cautions as she takes hold of the cloth, "Not sure why the the shaman chose to keep whatever is under here covered.  Don't suppose you can sense if there's anything evil here that will scar our souls or send us into madness, can you?" she asks the paladin or cleric.

Her hand remains on the cloth, teasing for the reveal but waiting to do so until all were ready.

Waaaait for it.....

By the time Spriggy descended the rope ladder from the shaman's tower, he had become quite enthralled with the magical writings he had gathered from the shaman's lair. There was no single item that was all that impressive, but the magics written there... well, there were bits and pieces that caught Spriggy's eyes. Little hints here, a clue there. Pieces that, when combined with the bard's extensive knowledge of magical lore, painted a picture of a vast untapped potential. Spirit-shaping magic.

But studying it would have to wait a bit longer. There were things that still needed to be done first. While Kharla and Gorrid investigated the last unexplored corner of the fortress, Spriggy strove to make the former prisoners more comfortable. He pulled out the last of his adventuring gear to build a small fire for them (far from any frost lichen), and provided them with a large blanket big enough that it could double as a makeshift tent. He figured they could huddle together for warmth and regain some of their strength.

As he got them situated, he kept an eye out for who looked most at risk of failing to recover. Once the fortress was deemed safe by his companions, he hoped to use the powdered unicorn horn on someone to help with their recovery and overall morale.

---

I will use my last two adventuring gears (not counting the ones with our pony) to provide a large cozy blanket and some firewood.

Does anyone object to me using our powdered unicorn horn on an NPC once the fortress is cleared of all potential danger? Remember that it is considered contraband back home.

Also, I am ready to Make Camp and rest/level up as well when the fortress is cleared.

The former slaves gladly gather around the kitchen's fire pit, grabbing and cooking whatever food they could find to eat. "I'm so grateful for your arrival." One of the men says. "They've been roaming around for a few weeks, scouting for what village to attack. We were captured while we were out hunting. Not all of us made it..." He gives a sad glance at the remains of the zombies.

Shaking his head, he turns back to you. "Well, no point worrying about melted snow. They also captured an hermit, one who didn't make it. Before they took him away, he left us this fetish. He said it could help us, but we couldn't figure out how to use it. I'm sure he'd want you to have it." He hands you a small ivory carving of a mammoth, hanging for a thin leather strap.


Gorrid looks about the room, noting the reserves of oil that could be used to make a large fire if needed. But the real prize in his mind are the walls. Although still solid, they show clear signs of stress, with multiple cracks heading deep into the ice. If a fire strong enough to melt the wall was started here, the room would likely collapse... as well as part of the fortress, if the fire is large enough.

He's distracted from that plan, as Kharla pulls away the cloth. What she reveals... is something you've never seen before. It looks like a brass armor, complete with a helm and face mask. But looking in the armor's opening doesn't show the usual straps and padding used to secure the armor around it's wearer, but rather a complex set of cogs and screws, filling every part of the metallic shell not trapped into the ice.

The paladin had heard tales of such creations in the past.  He examined the device closely and shared what he knew with his companions

quote:

12:43, Today: Sir Gorrid of Torr rolled 11 using 2d6 with rolls of 5,6.  Spout Lore on armor.

On a 10+, the GM will tell you something interesting and useful about the subject relevant to your situation

Spriggy accepted the small ivory carving of the mammoth and began examining it. It was definitely interesting. As he plumbed the depth of what it was capable, he mentioned to Drake, "Drake, do you think you could go fetch Lydia, the pony, and bring her here? We could probably make use of the supplies she carries." He hadn't even looked up from his examination when he made the request. The ivory fetish had more depth to it than a mere glance might suggest.

---

Assuming the fetish is magical, I will use my Bardic Lore to ask: "How is the magical fetish used?"

Kharla walked round the odd armor, lips pursed in thought as she studied it.  "Well, if we chip it out of the ice you could have a most...unique...set of armor," she glanced to Sir Gorrid before returning her focus to the suit before her.  She bent down to look for signs of digging or melt, any indication if the shaman had been in the process of trying to extract the armor from the ice which trapped it.

And these cogs and screws, they reminder the thief of those used for some of the more elaborate traps she had encountered but why?

It made no sense.

23:03, Today: Kharla rolled 6 using 2d6 with rolls of 1,5.  Spout Lore on armor.
- truly, to Kharla it made NO sense...but XP

Looking at the armor, Kharla feels the thing could be worth a pretty penny, seeing how old it seems...

Gorrid realize he's seen such engravings before, on old Nuatian artifacts. That means this thing is two to three hundred years old, at least. Freeing it will take time though. With the weak state of the walls, anything other than carefully chipping it out would cause the room to collapse on it.


As Drake heads out to get your pony, Spriggy examines the fetish. You figure it is of a druidic nature. As you hold it in your hand, you can almost hear the trumpet of the mammoth you saved earlier... somehow, it sounds like 'thank you'...

You have acquired the Token of the Mammoth, an item that allows you to talk to animals. Congratulation!

"Once the pony and gear are inside, I suggest we close the doors, have a good meal and get some rest.  I think we could all benefit from some warm food in our bellies and a song or two.  In the morning, we can see about freeing the armor and removing this fortress so that it can't easily be re-staffed."

Is this an appropriate time for an End-of-session?

I'll wait a bit longer, until you decide what to do with the 'armor'. Once that's settled, I'll wrap up the story, and give out the xp for the adventure.

Once it became clear that the barbarians didn't need any more immediate help Spriggy hurried to show the others what had been given to him. He climbed down into the cellar, holding the druidic fetish. "Hey guys, look! This thing can let us talk to animals! Once Drake gets back with Lydia, I'm going to try and-" He stopped mid-sentence when he noticed the armor frozen into the wall. After a moment of study, he said, "Well would you look at that... Reminds me of something in one of the books on Lydia's sled."

---

Does Spriggy know anything about the armor that the others didn't? I will use one use of my Bag of Books to Spout Lore when the pony returns.

21:28, Today: Spriggy Glompgut rolled 10 using 2d6+3 with rolls of 6,1.  Spout Lore on armor, with book.

"A meal would be good," Kharla grinned one of her infamous grins, "Your right, the armor will keep for now.  Later or in the morn we can set to chipping it free."

As they ascended to the main floor the redhead asked Spriggy, "So, you can speak with animals with that little statute?  Excellent!  You NEED to speak with my horse and find out WHAT is up with the flatulence.  It's not natural.  I suspect a curse but I want to hear it from....well, his mouth."

As Spriggy examines the humanoid form, you remember old references to the Nuatian empire, and their advanced magic (for humans). It seems this thing is a form of magically powered construct. You can just spot the ancient crystal that could move it... though it seems to be out of energy.

Interrogating confirms that it was once a 'living' creature, able to talk and tell them of the ancient treasures and fortune of the Nuatian Califate. They built this fortress as a way to protect this heritage of old, as well as a safe base to raid the warmer climes. From your discussion, it's clear there are no frost folks reinforcement coming, and that causing severe damage to the fortress will stop their raids in the area for a long time.

Drake comes back soon enough, and you're able to rest, and help the prisoners recover. While eating, you decide what to do with the frozen construct, as well as the way to bring down the place.

Now's a good time for the End of Session, since the rest is pretty much just an epilogue.

So, for all you've accomplished and learned, give yourselves an extra 6 xp for learning about the world, defeating significant opponents, earning a memorable treasure (not just the token, but also the construct, sort of), and for playing your alignment.

You can also add bonds to your character, if you want to.

Once that's done, feel free to write your final reaction before returning to the guild, then I'll wrap up this adventure.

When it became clear they would be able to relax safely for the night, Spriggy pulled out the contraband powdered unicorn horn they had found and offered it to the barbarian in most dire need of it. He didn't want to be caught with it back across the border, but did not want the unicorn's sacrifice to go to waste either.

After that, the bard found a nice quiet corner to sit in while he ate some rations and studied all of the magical things he had collected. The Token of the Mammoth was quite impressive. He enjoyed being able to speak with the party's equine friends for the first time. It was quite interesting. Although he never did find out what was up with Kharla's horse's flatulence, he suspected the horse was doing it on purpose. Of course he would allow his companions to borrow it whenever they wanted, in case they wanted to question the animals themselves. He wasn't sure they would be able to get the magic to work, but he was more than willing to let them try.

The Token of the Mammoth also tipped Spriggy off on a breakthrough for a new spell. Telepathy. He was able to grasp a fraction of its complexity and devised a spell that would allow him to momentarily form a mental link with another person.

He would have been satisfied with that alone, but it ended up being just the tip of the iceberg. All of the hints and clues he had noticed among the shaman's magical items earlier all managed to combine in his head while he dreamed that night. He awoke with an arcane epiphany. He managed to devise a way to harness a portion of an animal's spirit, bind it to his spellbook, and gain the ability to become that animal. All without bringing any harm to the original creature. It was all quite an... unexpected, revelation. One he was eager to experiment with in the future.

But right now they had other things to deal with. Namely excavating the geared-man, and getting the former prisoners home safe and sound. Not to mention collecting their reward for a job successfully completed.

Sir Gorrid took watch on the upper level of the tower, his oath to see all of the slaves to safety not yet fully satisfied and thus his need for sleep still suppressed.  He had enjoyed the companionship of his comrades and those they'd rescued around a small fire earlier in the evening, his heart buoyed by the spark of hope that seemed to rekindle in the former slaves' eyes as the received the mere basics of human hospitality.

He had learned some things on this trip.  His companions certainly weren't the sort he was used to from his past military campaigns, but they were still fine folk.  And perhaps they had a perspective on the world that was worth understanding further.

Tomorrow, they would gently chip away the ice binding the mechanized structure they'd found in the basement, then they'd set the fires that would destroy the foundations for the fortress and bring it crumbling down.  Hopefully that would bring some peace to the survivors.  They would gather the bodies of those prisoners who had been turned and escort them and those who remained alive to their homes - to re-unite with families or to be laid to rest near those they had loved.  Then a return to the village where all of this had first started - to report the mission accomplished and to retrieve what had been left there.

But what after that?  The knight returned to a practice of discernment he had long found helpful.  He knelt on the cold ice floor of the tower, hands on sword, tip down and prayed.  Every 30 minutes or so, he circled the tower, looking through the windows for any approaching threat.  With no fire or torches needed to keep warm, his eyes were well adjusted to the darkness.  The landscape was barren except for the dark ice and swirling snow.  Where was he called to go next?

Istvan studies the mechanized form. Bound by ice...

Ah! Bound! Is Noric not the god of freedom?

Istvan, divinely inspired, touches the form...

As the group watches, the ice surrounding the humanoid seems to quiver, like the surface of a still pond. The form slips through it, before tipping free of the wall. The ice shows no signs of ever having anything in it, leaving you with a well preserved construct.

After taking the time to rest and recover from the ordeals you've faced, you filled the cellar with all the fat and combustible you could find, and lit it up. From a distance, you could see the light of the pyre destroying the castle's foundation, before the whole place collapsed. What was once a terrible fortress, is now no more than a pile of ice and frost lichen.

You escorted the former prisoners back to Tonnsborg before they head back to their homes, while you head back to Metrosan's Breach and your own home, the Phoenix's Nest.