If anyone finds this I bequeath whatever I have on my body to you. Use it well.
My name is Kordell Thayko, I am a wizard and a member of The Red Order. I come from Fallcrest. If you find my body take news to the Seven Sided Tower you will find in that city. Tell them I bequeath my research notes to The Academy and my money to The Corellon Temple School for Girls - they will know what to do. A map of how to find Fallcrest from here is in the back of this diary.
Burn my body. Do not bury me. I worship Corellon.
If you find a body with me his name is Shibboleth Sequitor, a cleric of Bahamut and also of The Red Order. Bury him with honour as befits his station.
Oh, it hurts. My hand shakes.
Today started out so well.
After arriving in Winterhaven having dispatched the Kobolds on the road we marched boldly into town to look for Douven my mentor . Lenwe went off to talk to people about Kobolds while we hung out in the Wrafton Inn and chatted to the locals. Douven was last seen off digging through a dragon's graveyard looking for treasure artifacts for the museum, so I had a local draw us a map and we set out.
No sooner had we left town than we encountered more Kobolds! Why did it have to be Kobolds? The fight was vicious and short, a bit like Reed the Halfling. After resting up we travelled on and found what the locals call The Great Dragon Burial Mound. It turned out to be a crater in the ground.
In the crater we met a gnome and some workers. They were excavating the site and invited us to look at their treasure. If there is anything that life has taught me it is that my rash nature needs to be tempered with caution. I hung back, which is just as well because then the gnome set his guard drakes on us! I immediately responded by unleashing Horatio the Flaming Chimp, conjuring him forth from the Elemental Plane of wherever the hell he comes from. I stood to the back and directed his movements as best I could as he immolated the excavation workers and chased off a halfling with a crossbow who was shooting at us.
Unfortunately I then recognised the gnome, a rival of my mentor Douven. He turned invisible and shot me full of crossbow bolts. Dear diary: crossbow bolts HURT!
The Red Order (that's us) made short order of our enemies. I healed Lenwe our ranger with a prayer to Corellon while Shibboleth and Jovial searched the dead bodies. Lenwe started digging through the packs of our slain foes and we found a tied and gagged Douven. Freeing my master I discovered that his rival had tried to steal Douven's dig and had slaughtered his hired workers. All for an old mirror. Examining the mirror I discovered that it was a holy relic of Bahamut, Shibboleth's god, so I gave it to him.
The others had captured the one remaining worker and were debating wither to execute him on the spot or simply to take him back to town with us and hand him over to the hangman. His impassioned pleas moved my heart and instead I offered him a job as my porter, manservant, and fag. He gladly accepted.
Back in Winterhaven we met up with the wizard V and went for drinks in his tower. Very convivial. Shibboleth, Jovial and I ended up in a corner discussing comparative theology. V went off and did research in his books. Reed - I think he went looking for silverware. Lenwe stayed apart from the group, staring out of the window towards his beloved southern forest with a melancholy air to him. We found some interesting information that I will record here now.
- There is a nearby ruin called Shadowfell Keep
- Shadowfell Keep was build by the last empire to defend a 'shallowing' between this world and the dark world of the Shadowfell, realm of the Raven Queen
- The spot on the other side of the shallowing contains a temple to Orcus, Demon Prince of the Undead
- The last guardian of Shadowfell Keep went mad and slaughtered his family and retainers. He had to be sealed up in the tombs and dungeons beneath the keep. His name was Lord Keegan. I think V mentioned that he was a knight of the empire or a paladin of some long-dead order. Things get a bit fuzzy around here, we were drinking V.s wine.
- Something about Otters and Orcs or Orcs riding Otters??? We were drinking a lot of wine.
Now add this to the fact that Joe, former farmer and hired labourer for the gnome grave robber says that:
- The gnomish grave robber was looking specifically for the mirror.
- The gnomish grave robber was hired by someone else and kept talking about 'the ritual'.
and
- The Kobolds seem to be targeting deliveries of spell components coming up the trade route from Fallcrest
- The Kobolds had a Orcus medallion with a dragon on it
and I have a theory...
The Kobolds, and the Grave robber are working for someone (Dragon?) who worships Orcus and wants to open a rift to his accursed temple!!!
I announced to the rest of The Red Order there is no more Empire left to come to the rescue here. If someone is trying to reopen the rift then we are the only ones who stand between the world and eternal darkness!
We wandered slowly back to our rooms in the Wrafton inn.
Lenwe paused in the street, a strange look on his face. Wistful perhaps. A look of mourning passed across his features. I have heard that some rangers, the best rangers, are so good they can track death, can feel the gaze of The Raven Queen herself. I have never seen Lenwe look like that before. It caused me to shiver in the warm spring air.
I would like to say that far off a dog howled, or that a dark cloud passed across the moon, but the world is not that dramatic. We stood in the doorway to the inn, the laughter and warm light spilling out into the street. At the edge of that rectangle of gold stood Jovial and Lenwe. Jovial muttered something, perhaps a prayer to his dark goddess of death Raven Queen. The moment passed, but it is one that will stay with me.
In the morning we left Winterhaven in high spirits, despite the grim parlour that the revelations and conjecture if the previous night had cast. As Lenwe pointed out clearing out the Kobold lair to the south will earn us money. As I pointed out it will allow us to stop whomever is trying to open a rift to Orcus. Reed the Halfling said he would stay in town as clearing out Kobolds sounded like "A whole heap of bullshit". His plan is to stay in town and try to fleece some farmers out of drinking money with a quick game of Cripple Mister Onion. I hope the local farmers are not familiar with the 5 River Shuffle or we may need to bail Reed out again.
Walking through the peaceful countryside it was as if the world could hold no darkness. The mood was light. Even the normally dower Jovial smiled and started to whistle a jaunty tune. I spent my time laughing and joking with Shibboleth in the Draconic language he taught me. It may be the last time I ever make a joke in Draconic.
Kobolds speak Draconic. They turn it into a guttural slur of insults and blasphemies. Their lair is in a charming valley with a wonderful waterfall. If I had to build a home somewhere that would be the place. Like everything they touch, they spoilt it forever.
Lenwe motioned us to alertness, his keen elven hearing picking up the dopplering yips of incoming Kobolds. We came to attention and once again I unleashed Horatio. Horatio did his job, and the rest of the group formed a defencive formation about Joe. Lenwe left formation to go charging around the meadow, ducking through the trees and picking off the Kobolds. Horatio burned up our foes. Then we found our self swamped with yipping smelly Kobolds. Jovial broke formation in order to engage in some heroics but stepped right into my Burning Hands spell. I warned him beforehand. Everyone heard me. Then he got back in formation and yanked the Kobold trying to turn me into a pincushion away, forcing him into a one-on-one fight while calling down the curses of his goddess on the Kobold.
The Kobold menace dealt with I scanned the area but saw no other enemies. Unwilling to let Horatio go just yet I sent him into the cave entrance, and his light illuminated hundreds of Kobolds waiting for us, poised to throw spears and rocks. Thank the stars that I did send Horatio in or we would have been caught unawares.
Shibboleth and Jovial rushed into the caves seeking to end the Kobold menace and passed from my sight. I sent Horatio into the midst of the Kobolds waiting behind the waterfall and the sounds of their dying was intermingled with the sound of steam - music indeed. I was trying to clear the outside meadow of Kobolds but Lenwe was out there too peppering them with arrows and drawing their attacks. While I'm thankful for the assist he seemed to be unfocused, wasting his powerful bow arm on something a simple spell could handle. Still we heard nothing from within the caves until Shibboleth started shouting. I can not say what he shouted but Lenwe and I both rushed through the falls. Thankfully Horatio had cleared the area behind the waterfall of our foes and was now romping around in the meadow setting fire to things. I muttered a quick prayer to Corellon and laid my hand upon Lenwe, asking for my god's blessing on him. Light shone from my hand and his wounds closed. I dashed round a corner, Lenwe in tow, to find Shibboleth falling to his knees, a Kobold withdrawing a spear from his chest. I dropped to my knees and uttered a prayer to Corellon again, asking him once more for his divine favour. Meanwhile Lenwe rushed forward and attacked the Kobolds in vengeance for our fallen foe. I started looking for a way out of the caves, seeing the Kobolds pouring over the rocks towards us. My back against the wall I edged to the cave opening when I heard a blood chilling cry.
Poor Joseph. The others mocked me for hiring him, and mocked me for paying him up front and letting him leave us to give the money to his starving family. They mocked the amount I paid him, calling it extravagant. Still, he returned to us faithfully, proving that no matter how far you have gone down the dark path you can be redeemed. He was a true soul.
Then another scream, this one of rage. Shibboleth rose to his feet, his wounds still aglow from the healing word of Corellon. Hefting his scythe he charged into the darkness where a tittering sorcerer degenerate and bent awaited us with malevolent eyes and drooling lips! Oh foul Kobolds!
Then another scream, this time from poor Jovial. I could not see him, but could see the flickering shadow of his form on the cave wall as the Kobolds swarmed over him, their knives and teeth pulling at his dying flesh. Brave Jovial, servant of the Raven Queen, you will not be soon forgotten.
Then I had no more time to reflect, things fell apart. I looked and saw myself surrounded. A strike of my staff against the ground and a word from before the world was formed unleashed a wave of thunder against my foes. The Kobolds fell upon me, their wicked knives slicing into my flesh. I staggered back, blood in my eyes, hitting my head against the cave wall.
I heard a moan, Jovial was still alive! I ran towards him heedless of the spears and knives of my attackers. Then the world went dark. When I came too I found myself in a puddle of blood. My ears rang, battle sounded from some distant place.
I got unsteadily to my feet and looked at the blood, trying to keep myself from collapsing again. The blood was not mine, and it was not the foul sticking blood of the Kobolds. It was the blood of a Tiefling. It was Jovial's blood. It covered the cave. Bits of his organs and skin coated the mouth of a dying Kobold nearby. I was too late. I was too late to save my friends. I turned and fled.
I looked behind me to see the Dragonborn shape of Shibboleth and the distinctive outline of Lenwe the Elf behind the waterfall. I was out of breath, black dots swam before my eyes.
Shibboleth threw himself through the waterfall into the meadow and ran towards me, a broken spear still in his side, blood trickling down his chin.
Lenwe ran towards the waterfall but froze still. His shadow remained behind the waterfall. I saw the spears piercing his neck and chest. His face came through the fall, then his eyes closed as the Kobolds pulled him back inside. I saw their knives. I saw their knives.
Then nothing. Darkness. Pain in my legs and my lungs and my heart. Fractured memories. Kobolds in the trees. Their hellish yipping. Their stench, their hateful stench. Branches whipping my face.
Then the sky. Pain and thunder in my lungs. I reached out and touched something. It was a hand. Then darkness again.
Shibboleth was beside me when I awoke. He had covered me with his cloak before he had passed out. He must have assumed I was dead. I checked on him, alive but barely. He had stumps of spear shafts stuck in his side and back. His breathing sounded wet, a wet rattle in his chest. There was blood on his, still seeping from his wounds. His left eye was closed. I looked about us. A clump of trees near the excavated burial mound. I listened for Kobolds, but now Lenwe was gone.
Oh Lenwe. You were the best of us.
If it were not for you Reed and I would be dead already.
You will be avenged. This I swore, by fire and flame you will all be avenged!
As I write this it is getting dark. I dare not cast a spell of light lest we be found. I will wait for the moon to rise and will try to get us back into Winterhaven. Shibboleth stirs, his breathing is still uneasy but he opened his eyes earlier. He will live.
Don't die Shibboleth. Please.
We are currently resting up in a hidden room in Shadowfell Keep.
With me is the Red Order: Sara (an Elf), Lenwe (an Elf), Shibboleth (a Dragonborn priest of Bahamut), a Dwarf (who seems to be some sort of apprentice wizard), and Splurg (a Goblin Princess).
I shall recount briefly how we came to be here.
Shibboleth and I escaped from the Kobold lair and waited for dawn, and in the grey light before sunrise made our way toward the Fallcrest-Winterhaven road.
As we approached the road we saw a horde of Kobolds attacking a trade caravan.
We heroically defeated the Kobold horde, with a volley of arcane blasts from my hands sending the Kobolds to the nine hells.
We tended the wounds of the mercenaries accompanying the caravan and saved their lives.
The mercenaries were a group called The Azure League, a failed adventuring group fallen on hard times and just one step from banditry themselves.
Putting the still-wounded Shibboleth onto the dead merchant's cart I commanded the wounded 'Azure League' to pull it while I kept watch for trouble.
We arrived at Winterhaven and I paid for rooms for the wounded Azure League.
Later that night they were inducted into The Red Order by myself, though as provisional members only.
We discussed matters with the town wizard, for it was his shipment of spell components and alchemical reagents that was ransacked by the Kobolds.
He revealed to us the the Kobold menace seem to have been targeting such shipments of magical substances a lot recently, and taking much more food than they needed.
Such boldness from normally cowardly Kobolds indicated to me that they were stealing these things to order, perhaps to feed another group with whom they are trading.
The others pooh-poohed my idea, refusing to believe that the Kobold infestation is anything other than the random acts of savages.
I was especially disturbed by the evidence of an Orcus cult in the area. If they Kobolds were targeting thaumaturgic reagents to whom were they supplying them, and for what dark purpose.
I knew that this did not bode well for Nentir Vale, so I convinced the others to return with me to the lair.
They took some convincing, until I pointed out that it would afford us the chance for vengeance upon the Kobolds and the opportunity to recover the bodies of Lenwe and Jovial.
Approaching the lair with the Azure League in tow, I scouted ahead only to discover the foul Kobold Sorcerer raising his fallen comrades as undead abominations.
I fell back, throwing orbs of crackling energy that exploded into shafts of flesh-rending light around the Sorcerer. I called for my companions to move forward and they charged into battle.
I directed the fight from the rear, using my magics to destroy the Kobolds before they could close upon my companions, as Shibboleth led a charge into the caves.
Once I had cleansed the area outside the caves I moved inside to support my lieutenant Shibboleth. He had led our band into the caves and was locked into a fight with hordes of undead.
While Shibboleth called upon Bahamut for strength I blasted fire and thunder into the hordes of undead that had been sneaking into a flanking position.
Then from the darkness we heard the cackling of the Kobold Sorcerer. Shambling towards us were the revivified corpses of Lenwe and Jovial. I conjured forth sheets of withering blue flames to slow their advance and summoned my Elemental Companion, Horatio the Flaming Chimp.
While Horatio engaged the shambling mockeries that the Kobold had made of our friends I kept the undead away from my companions while Shibboleth tended to their wounds.
I then had Shibboleth distract the Sorcerer while I healed our companions by the grace of Corellon. Once I had uttered a short prayer the rest of our companions turned their attention on a Goblin with one iron-capped tooth, the Goblin we had seen here before guarding their treasure.
Fading into the background of the fight I bided my time until Sara, our mistress-of-the-daggers, to cut off his escape route. Once he was cut off from escape and drawn into the fight by a seemingly wounded Shibboleth I stepped forward to face him in a duel of quintessential energies. His peasant magics were no match for Kordell The Red!
After the battle the Dwarf interrogated Irontooth to Goblin, while I investigated the treasure. Sara checked the chest for traps and once she had finished I searched with my inner eye for magic.
I discovered a suit of armour, forged by the Dwarves in ancient times, each link and scale inscribed with protective sigils.
Leaving our newer member to construct litters to drag our fallen comrades back to Winterhaven I pulled Shibboleth aside to discuss a discovery I had made.
The suit of Dwarven armour was a gift from someone called 'K' to these Kobolds, payment for the magical reagents they had been stealing for him.
The being called 'K' intends to open a rift to the Shadowfell and wake the legions of Orcus. My suspicions were yet again proved correct, though I wish that they had not.
Knowing of the nearby ruined Keep, originally built upon a rift to the Shadowfell dimension, I surmised that this is their base of operations.
I immediately commanded The Red Order into formation and force-marched us back to Winterhaven. K's message revealed that he had a spy there so we made sure to seem as though we were returning to Fallcrest.
In town I met an Elf Maiden, claiming to be a local flower seller. She acted strangely, showing no physical attraction to me. I suspect that it is she that is the spy, possibly a Changeling or a Beholder with training in the subtle arts of illusion.
At the local temple we pooled our meagre funds and raised Lenwe from the dead. He seemed dazed and confused, at first unaware of the prescience of his friends nervously watching the ritual.
After a time he seemed to come back to himself, though there was a strange look in his eyes.
Watching over him that night I observed him to be withdrawn and somewhat fey (or at least more so, considering that he is an Elf). He didn't even make a pass at Sara.
I dismissed it as the befuddlement of one who has crossed over into death and returned, and simply ensured that he had the food and drink that his body needed, and ushered him to his room that night.
Bidding farewell to Reed the Halfling and some of the former Azure League who were to remain in Winterhaven to defend it should we not return, we set out early upon the road.
At my insistence, at at protest from Lenwe, we travelled away from Shadowfell Keep until we were out of sight of any of 'K's spies, then we curved back to cut across country towards Shadowfell Keep.
Shadowfell keep is a series of ruins, rooms open to the sky and half-walls broken down by neglect. Nothing grows there, a sign of a rift between the Shadowfell and our world. The keep seemed to be a late-Empire example of Humanistic Nenterian architecture.
Drag marks showed a great number of beings hand pulled heavy loads towards a stairway leading down into the ruins.
At Shadowfell Keep my companions seemed cowed by it's unearthly aura, so to show them that magic (even the darkest kind) is nothing to be afraid of I stealthily crept into the darkness, and spied a Goblin loitering at the bottom of the stairs.
As I began my ex-filtration process to warn the others Lenwe spoilt my stealth by shouting "Have you seen any Goblins yet?" at me.
The irony hurt almost as much as the Javelin that the goblin threw at my chest. Stumbling back I threw forth a blinding burst of arcane energy to ward off further harm while shouting at my companions to aid me.
As they thundered clumsily down the stairs I warned them that this being a late-Empire example of Humanistic Nenterian architectural structure that they should avoid the middle of the room as the ornamental carp pond had been clumsily boarded over and covered in straw.
Shibboleth thundered right into the middle of the room, and fell into the dried up Carp pond.
While I pulled on the weapon embedded in my body and Shibboleth scrabbled to escape from the pit the others proceeded to chase goblins around in the dark, more often than not bumping into walls and letting out yelps of pain.
After I pulled Shibboleth recovered I decided to just sit where I was and wait for everyone to start listening to me.
Eventually my foolhardy comrades ran back into the room bleeding and cursing under a goblin onslaught. I casually tossed off a couple of elementary spells and routed the Goblins, and instructed the rest of my Red Order to cooperate with each other. Sara and the Dwarf then charged the enemy covered by Lenwe while Shibboleth used his icy dragon breath and sharp scythe to deny the goblins the ability to flank us from the enjoining corridors.
I stood back and directed the battle, easily killing the Goblins who tried to break past Sara and the Dwarf with bolts of fire flung from the tip of my staff.
Towards the end of the battle some goblins snuck up upon us from a side passage that Shibboleth was unable to guard. I charged them, stopping just short of them and calling forth a sheet of fire from my hands.
I created light with a simple spell and we investigated the area, discovering a Goblin supply post and guard room. Not seeing any evidence of the alchemical and thaumaturgic supplies I urged my companions to push on deeper.
The lower parts of the keep are mostly store rooms, long empty since it's abandonment. The area we were exploring would have functioned as kitchens or guard rooms.
As we explored we broached the subject of Lenwe paying back those who had contributed to raise him from the dead.
Lenwe flatly refused to pay us back, despite the fact that it had paupered us to have him resurrected and we were now having to face goblins using inferior weapons.
In fact Lenwe showed a complete lack of gratitude for our selfless sacrifice, refusing even to deign to thank us for risking our lives to raid to Kobold lair to recover his body.
A silence fell over the rest of the party as he haughtily declared that it was our duty to raise him when he died. We listened in bemusement that quickly turned to anger as he declared and declaimed at great length how his death had been our fault somehow - how we had forced him to rush ahead without support, how we had failed in our duty to protect him in the fight when he separated from the rest of the party, and how I had personally caused his death by not drawing fire from him by engaging the foe in hand-to-hand combat instead of using magic.
The way he figures the final balance WE are in HIS debt. After his speech I suggested that he scout ahead, and the rest of the group had a quick by lively discussion.
We have concluded that while we have returned life to his body, perhaps Lenwe returned 'wrong'. It was even suggested that we take him right then and there back to the temple for him to be ritually slaughtered so that the priestess could try again.
Personally I suspect demonic possession. As our need to prevent a trans-reality rupture allowing demons of the nine hells in the service of Orcus God of Undeath into our realm of existence is greater than our need to resolve what has happened to Lenwe I vetoed the suggestion that we restrain him or kill him and instead suggested that we all individually keep an eye out for signs of unnatural blood lust, violent mood swings, or other signs of demonic possession such as an unhealthy obsession with black leather clothing or a liking for the music of Halfling youths.
Moving onwards we found a guard room proper that had been converted into a primitive torture chamber. We had surprised a large group of Goblins and a Hobgoblin torturer.
I summoned forth Horatio once more and covered the charge of my companions with a storm of destructive fire. My friends quickly surrounded the Hobgoblin and that allowed me to end his life with my magics.
The remaining Goblins were locked in a fight with Lenwe who had eschewed his habitual elven bow and had decided to use a sword. After the fight Lenwe rushed over to the fallen torturer and stripped the black leather torturers garb from the corpse, trying the gore-covered hood on for size.
Lenwe then announced that this outfit belonging to the dead torturer, the now dead Hobgoblin called (we would learn later) Gimp, belonged to him. He vowed to get the armour changed to fit him.
We heard pitiful pleading coming from one of the cells in the former guard room. Lenwe stalked off, still muttering about the leather suit. As I caught up with him I found him menacing a Goblin locked in a cell. Lenwe began shouting at the panicked being, demanding that it speak common or be killed on the spot.
The Goblin then switched from broken Elven to Common and started telling us of its misfortunes, pleading for its life, and trying to win us over. I saw that this Goblin was a potential ally and offered to free it from the cell if it would give me the privilege of paying it a single gold coin for the honour.
This strange transaction caused Lenwe to enter into a state of befuddlement, breaking his blood lust. As I freed the Goblin, Splug, Lenwe told me that he was at a loss as to why someone who is supposed to be so intelligent would do something so stupid as paying a Goblin to free it.
I just smiled at Lenwe and told him that it was all about wheels within wheels and that if he didn't understand then he never would. This seemed to enrage him and confuse him all at once. I almost thought that he would demand that Splug gave him the gold.
Assessing the wounds of our party I suggested that we withdraw from the keep and camp nearby. The group for once listened to my advice and we withdrew. That night I talked at length with Splug, who revealed to me that it was a Goblin princess, and that he had it within his capacity to reward us if we would kill his former tormentor.
I agreed and the following day I led us back into the ruins. Passing into the underground passages that formed the basements and kitchens of the keep Splug led us to the rooms of the goblin chieftain. Sara scouted ahead, using information provided by Splug to locate a hidden way into the Goblin chieftain's lair.
We moved silently into the bed chamber and there we surprised him asleep. While Lenwe began making threats to the just-woken chieftain, I decided that I should keep watch. While the rest of The Red Order were occupied a guard had crept up upon us. I let forth a blast of eldritch energy and ignited the Goblin, while my companions dealt with the chieftain.
True to it's word Splug rewarded us, gifting me a wand blessed with battle magics, and opening a chest of gold belonging to it. Splug suggested that we split the gold between us all equally and Lenwe then demanded that the Goblin who had guided us here (bypassing countless traps and guards) have no share. I used my superior wit to calm Lenwe down and protect Splurg from his sudden and unexplained wrath.
It is my considered opinion that we need to get Lenwe to a priest, and soon.
Venturing further beneath the soil we encountered a series of passages. From the cold and the clamour I knew that this area contained undead, but my companions refused to listen.
I discovered runes of warding on the ground, and advised the group not to cross them. Lenwe vouchsafed to me a secret password that the Goblin Chieftain had offered up, but upon trying it and stepping onto the ward I triggered a blast of necromantic energy. The rest of the group fled from this, taking them out of range of my light spell.
Running after them lest they be hurt Lenwe started shouting about undead. I called for everyone to fall back to my position, to get into the light.
Lenwe shouted back that he would rather fight the undead, terrifying creatures that they are. I urged everyone to fall back to a defencive position in the light of me spell. The rest of my companions withdrew from their individual skirmishes into the light, but Lenwe refused to do so. He did not even pause in his fight to light a sunrod to grant him illumination and cast harsh language at me, demanding that I venture into undead infested tunnels so that he could fight more effectively.
A fool curses the darkness rather than lights a candle I suppose. It was then that the others started to ask me why we had paid for his resurrection. Shibboleth then ran into the darkness to aid Lenwe, and simultaneously to that Splurg was snatched by rotting hands in the darkness, his cries echoing off the stonework. Then the undead surged forwards. I blasted them with fire and a gout of acid that stripped their bones out from under their flesh. With some hard fighting we managed to see off the undead.
During the fight Lenwe briefly came into view but refused to join us in our stand or help us, instead demanding that I join him with my light spells. At this Sara lit her sunrod and passed it to me and I simply cast a glamour of illumination upon Lenwe's cloak without comment. Lenwe however made the comment that him having a light now made him a target, and that I should instead follow him with a light source.
Lenwe eventually rejoined us, cursing at us for not helping with 'his' undead and ignoring the piles of undead not slumped on the floor around where everybody else had made their stand. I suggested that we fall back to a defensible location I had spotted earlier to rest for a short while. I happened upon the body of Splurg and with the grace granted to me by Corellon I revived him from death's door, pulling him out from it's very lintel.
After a rest and a chance to assess the wounds of the party I guided my companions onwards. We encountered a crypt and I warned them to avoid this area as it is likely that undead laired within the sarcophagi. As I said this Shibboleth strode forwards and the lids opened, disgorging their shambling occupants. I let my spell fire burn the four behind us, destroying them. The other five members of the party spent some time engaging the undead in front of us before I was able to get a clear shot and destroy the undead.
Lenwe strode ahead as Shibboleth paused. This tomb was dedicated to Bahamut so he stopped to prey, and at that a light shone from above, Bahamut letting us know that even in darkest night the light of the gods shines.
Lenwe returned to us telling us that he had discovered some large iron doors. I then told them that if my guess is right (and it always is) that some sort of undead lord was behind the doors.
Shibboleth told me that he doubted my wisdom and would personally buy me a cake with "Kordell was right" on it if I was right.
Lenwe opened the doors and boldly strode in only to be confronted by an undead knight. Lenwe prepared to attack when I shouted out the name of the corpse.
It was the animated body of Lord Kelvin, former guardian of the Keep. Using my vast intellect and my ability to actually pay attention to what the hells is going on around us and remember things, I managed to make the undead lord our ally, and he gifted us with a magical sword. Though Lenwe attempted to grab it to add to his pack along with the leather suit of Gimp, common sense prevailed and it was granted to Sara.
My duty as party archaeologist/historian/diplomat/wizard/nanny discharged I let Lenwe lead the way back into the labyrinth of passages.
After negotiating the trapped markings on the floor (during which I tripped onto one - is it my fault if I'm the only one here who spent his childhood getting a formal education instead of pulling a plow or herding pigs?) we encountered a hidden pressure plate in the ceiling.
A simple spell of mind produced a magical hand and I opened a secret passage. Lenwe investigated with Shibboleth with Sara and the Dwarf kept watch and Splug guarded the treasure.
I located an illusionary wall and stepped through (checking for traps and that I was not going to fall into a pit before hand), and discovered a room full of Zombies.
I stepped back smartly and proceeded to fireball the room. I declared to the rest of the group that they should stay out of the room, but they charged in regardless.
I continued to fireball the room, asking the others to please stay away from the area I was blasting. Lenwe kept shouting out that I was fireballing where he was standing, but in reality it turns out he was stood the other side of the room (though I could not see that).
Eventually Lenwe cried out that I had killed Shibboleth. I rushed forwards to find Shibboleth standing unharmed and Lenwe laughing darkly at my distress and Sara standing there looking daggers at Lenwe.
I then decided that here was a good place to rest and commanded the rest of the Red Order into the room. Looking around the room it appeared to be an armoury. A quick check with my arcane senses detected a simple magic mouth-based spell which I activated.
It gave us a riddle, something about something non-physical thing that men desire. This being the former fortress of a warrior I surmised that the riddle would be both simple and would have an answer like "Glory" or "Honour" or "Victory". Shibboleth answered quickly with "Renown" and the spell revealed a magical suit of chain.
We all looked at the chain suit, bemused. Maybe we could sell it when we got back into town, because certainly none of us could use it and fight competently.
As I write this we now rest in this room. We have decided to sleep in shifts, keeping an eye on Lenwe. Just in case.