01-30-2015, 06:32 PM
After some healing and a long ride in the desert countyside, they easily retrace the huge black swarm: they watch helplessly as it
engulfs a small town in the valley below. Amid the multitude, a palanquin is borne aloft by willing hands, and above it hangs a pulsing black cloud.
The characters prepare the Jheera torch and approach the horde by horse.
The horse is vast, and a foul stench wafts from it. As the characters near the bottom of the slope, they pass a dark cave entrance. The people of the horde take no notice of you, but the dark cloud above the palanquin begins to move in their direction, picking up speed.
The cloud of biack hornets swirls round them, but the breeze picks up, dissipating the Jheera smoke. The hornets are dosing in on them, so they run back to the cave entrance they passed, hoping that no breeze will endanger them there.
The cave mouth is large enough for them and their horses, but inside there is a small group of cavemen, thatattack while the characters have to hold on their torches, but eventually they dispatch them without damage and without much delay. By the time the hornets enter the cave the torches are re-lighted and soon the floor is littered with a thick layer of dead hornet bodies. None seems to have survided!
The characters go back and face the multitude of blank-eyed peasants. Several nf them set down the palanquin they bear, and from it steps a richly dressed man, his fact deeply scared, his eves burning with malevolence. His silent horde makes no move towards them, but the man gestures them to advance, his movements calm and deliberate. He speaks: "You'll pay for the slaughter of my winged
servants. You'll pay with your life.'
The characters, instead of fighting take off the fish shaped bottle that they got from the Riddling Reaver early on their adventure, making their opponent shrink back. He stretches his hand out towards youand moans, 'No! No! Not that!' They ignore his pleas and uncork the bottle. There is a sound like a faint chuckle from within, and the once-proud commander of the army dissolves into helpless crazed laughter.
The sacred weapons ssem pulsating in the hands of the characters as they unsheathe them. Convulsed with laughter, their enemy can do nothing to dodge the blades that catch him in the belly, and he is still laughing as he starts to topple. The Slave Master crashes to the ground, his body shattering as if made of china, from the shards emerges a wisp of black smoke, which grows and twists... into the shape of the man they just slew!
He smiles confidently and drifts towards them. '1 am Bythos, Master of the Abyss,' he says defiantly. 'Though you have destroyed my earthly shell, yet 1 live on. Blackmoor is still mine, taken from within. You will not rob me of victory! I have the spirits of these people in thrall. They will remain trapped in the Abyss for eternity!' His smoky form dissipates and they fall to the ground. Around them stand the people of Backmoor, or at least their bodies, empty and unmnvtng. They can do nothing for them.
The characters try standing up again, but they trip again: around their legs there is a big snake curled up! angrily, they raise their swords to cut it down. Before they can strike, the snake speaks softly. 'Don't you recognize me? 1 am Caduceus! Bythos has fled to the Abyss. You must follow him there if you wish to save these people, for Enihymesis has failed. The river in this valley flows underground and passes through a cavern in which there is a gateway to that region. Go now, lose no time.' He slithers away and the characters hurry over to the river. Using a rotting log as a makeshift raft, they are soon racing with the current.
Continues...
engulfs a small town in the valley below. Amid the multitude, a palanquin is borne aloft by willing hands, and above it hangs a pulsing black cloud.
The characters prepare the Jheera torch and approach the horde by horse.
The horse is vast, and a foul stench wafts from it. As the characters near the bottom of the slope, they pass a dark cave entrance. The people of the horde take no notice of you, but the dark cloud above the palanquin begins to move in their direction, picking up speed.
The cloud of biack hornets swirls round them, but the breeze picks up, dissipating the Jheera smoke. The hornets are dosing in on them, so they run back to the cave entrance they passed, hoping that no breeze will endanger them there.
The cave mouth is large enough for them and their horses, but inside there is a small group of cavemen, thatattack while the characters have to hold on their torches, but eventually they dispatch them without damage and without much delay. By the time the hornets enter the cave the torches are re-lighted and soon the floor is littered with a thick layer of dead hornet bodies. None seems to have survided!
The characters go back and face the multitude of blank-eyed peasants. Several nf them set down the palanquin they bear, and from it steps a richly dressed man, his fact deeply scared, his eves burning with malevolence. His silent horde makes no move towards them, but the man gestures them to advance, his movements calm and deliberate. He speaks: "You'll pay for the slaughter of my winged
servants. You'll pay with your life.'
The characters, instead of fighting take off the fish shaped bottle that they got from the Riddling Reaver early on their adventure, making their opponent shrink back. He stretches his hand out towards youand moans, 'No! No! Not that!' They ignore his pleas and uncork the bottle. There is a sound like a faint chuckle from within, and the once-proud commander of the army dissolves into helpless crazed laughter.
The sacred weapons ssem pulsating in the hands of the characters as they unsheathe them. Convulsed with laughter, their enemy can do nothing to dodge the blades that catch him in the belly, and he is still laughing as he starts to topple. The Slave Master crashes to the ground, his body shattering as if made of china, from the shards emerges a wisp of black smoke, which grows and twists... into the shape of the man they just slew!
He smiles confidently and drifts towards them. '1 am Bythos, Master of the Abyss,' he says defiantly. 'Though you have destroyed my earthly shell, yet 1 live on. Blackmoor is still mine, taken from within. You will not rob me of victory! I have the spirits of these people in thrall. They will remain trapped in the Abyss for eternity!' His smoky form dissipates and they fall to the ground. Around them stand the people of Backmoor, or at least their bodies, empty and unmnvtng. They can do nothing for them.
The characters try standing up again, but they trip again: around their legs there is a big snake curled up! angrily, they raise their swords to cut it down. Before they can strike, the snake speaks softly. 'Don't you recognize me? 1 am Caduceus! Bythos has fled to the Abyss. You must follow him there if you wish to save these people, for Enihymesis has failed. The river in this valley flows underground and passes through a cavern in which there is a gateway to that region. Go now, lose no time.' He slithers away and the characters hurry over to the river. Using a rotting log as a makeshift raft, they are soon racing with the current.
Continues...
He's a real Nowhere man, sitting in his Nowhere land,
making all his Nowhere plans for Nobody.
making all his Nowhere plans for Nobody.