Goblin Campaign

[Steerpike]

Tweaked it anyway and did the other fixes, thanks Light Dragon.

Mordant invading was one of the few things I had in mind for quite a while, but I hadn't originally decided that Thollom/Chalsecze were going to be part of it.  I was planning a plot where Thollom changes into a death slaad and goes on a killing spree, but as the end of the campaign started looming I decided to compress events and link up some of the plots I had in mind.

Glad you enjoyed the hillbilly giants.  I had their Giant dialect sound like Boomhauer.

[Steerpike]

[ic=Episode 47: Covey]The group of newly enthralled aboleth slaves '" including our hero, the goblin Kraashgar '" linger at the surface of an underground lake, waiting for the mucus gas they inhaled earlier to wear off so that they can breathe air once more.  After this transformation the band swim ashore into a small cavern with a muddy, soft floor.  They are led by the Skum overseer Ithilax: a slimy, viciously authoritarian creature with a chip on its shoulder.  The aboleth's servant orders them onwards and they press into a warren of caverns, soon coming to a fork in the path.

'Split into two groups,' Ithilax commands.  'Goblin, bugbear, you form one.  Myself, the kobold, and the ogre will form another.  We'll investigate both tunnels.  Report back here if you find anything, including Rhan'Taikol.'

The group splits up.  There is no chance of Kraashgar attempting to escape: under the aboleth Holsuth Phagn'Neysugg's psychic domination, he is incapable of disobeying its commands, which obviously strictly prohibit any escape attempts.  He and the bugbear creep forwards through the tunnels.  Kraashgar notices that the goblinoid has been grafted with webbed digits and similar augmentations, presumably to make him more amphibious.

'So what's your name, anyway?'  Our hero asks the lumbering thrall.  'I'm Kraashgar.'

'I am called Draug.'

'Uh huh.  So how long you been here?'

'Twenty years.  Soon I hope to be granted Union.'  A look of rapture flits across Draug's face.

'What exactly does that entail?'

'Our Master will caress you with its tentacles,' Draug says, a note of religious ecstasy in his voice.  'Draw you to its bosom, into its loving embrace, where you will be changed.  To be made sacred, almost like Ithilax.'

'Right.  But you're still a thrall?'

'Those given Union no longer breathe the unclean air.  They become the ultimate servants, rather than mere slaves.'

'I see.  Well, good luck with that.'

Draug laughs.  'We are all like you when we arrive.  In time you will come to covet Union, like myself.'

'Well, whatever you say.'

The two come to another branch in the path.  After some investigation Kraashgar finds some drying footprints down the left hand path, which they take.  Soon after they hear voices in a throaty, croaked tongue; Kraashagr motions Draug to stay back and creeps forwards.

Two sahuagin are conversing round a corner.  Kraashgar contemplates his options.  He could attack '" but they would be no closer to finding Rhan'Taikol if they killed the sea devils.  He creeps back to Draug.

'You go find the others,' our hero whispers.  'I'm going to follow these things.'

He steals back to the corner and listens again.  The sahuagin are moving away.  Following at a discrete distance Kraashgar tails them.  He scratches a mark in the stone walls at junctions to direct the rest of the band to the correct path.

After some time Kraashgar follows the two sahuagin to the mouth of a much larger cavern dominated by another underground lake.  The sea devils move down a slope to the shore, where a group of them are gathered, along with two other figures '" a hulking, ogre-like thing with scaled flesh and a slender, female figure with long hair resembling seaweed and greenish skin.  The creatures stand in the shadow of an enormous, fish-shaped thing like a cocoon '" presumably the beached aboleth Rhan'Taikol, trapped in the Long Dreaming.

Kraashgar listens; the sahuagin are conversing with the woman '" a sea hag '" in Undercommon.

'Why must we wait here?'  They ask.  'Our skins grow dry!  When shall we be rewarded?'

'When my sisters return,' the hag responds.  'Then we will bring the creatures to the flayers.  If you are dry, bathe yourselves in the pool.'

At this moment Kraashgar hears steps behind him, and the rest of the group appears, crouching behind a stalagmite and watching the scene below.  Kraashgar relates what he just heard.

'We must attack at once,' Ithilax says.  'Before reinforcements arrive.  Goblin, bugbear, kobold '" you take the sahuagin.  Ogre, you will target the merrow.  I will kill the hag.'

Our hero and his companions spring out from the hiding places and rush down towards the hag and her minions.  Kraashgar hurls his spear, taking one sahuagin in the throat; he runs down and yanks it free, jabbing at a second.  The hag shrieks and fixes Kraashgar with her evil eye while menacing the group with her horrific appearance, but our hero resists and only Cromn visibly shudders at her immense ugliness.

The sahuagin put up a fight, ganging up on Druag, stabbing at him with their spears and raking with their claws, ignoring Kraashagr and Kurlok.  The goblin kills a second sahuagin, taking a claw-wound himself, and hurls his spear again, wounding one of the sea devils attacking Draug.  He grabs the spear of one of the fallen sahuagin and wades into the fray with Kurlok.  They flank the sahuagin and pick them off, the last fleeing towards the water.  Kraashgar throws another spear and kills one of those fleeing before snatching a fresh weapon and turning to the merrow.

Debilitated by the hag's horrific appearance, Cromn is being overpowered by his aquatic combatant.  Kraashgar throws a spear that lodges itself in the merrow's back; the creature growls and turns.  Cromn aims a blow to its chest and skewers it while it is distracted; the creature coughs blood and dies.  Ithilax, it seems, has already dispatched the hag.

The group are breathing hard when three forms appear out of the water: a second hag and another merrow, plus two more sahuagin.  These new foes launch themselves at Rhan'Taikol's rescuers.  The hag uses her evil eye on Kurlok, who is stricken instantly with gibbering madness.  While the others join the fray Kraashgar leaps towards the hag, again resisting her horrific appearance.  While Ithilax and the second hag claw at one another Kraashgar aims a spear-thrust and impales the hideous creature, slaying it instantly.

The other foes are quickly destroyed, though Cromn and Draug are badly wounded.

'Alright, stop lollygagging,' Ithilax snaps.  'Everyone form up, we need to get Rhan'Taikol back to the shore near Phagn'Yath!'[/ic]

[Steerpike]

[ic=Episode 48: My Favorite Son]After hauling the aboleth Rhan'Taikol back to the shore of Phagn'Yath, the slaves are ordered to immerse themselves in the water to be subjected to the rescued abberation's mucus gas, allowing them to breathe water instead of air.  After doing so they swim back to Holsuth Phagn'Neysugg's citadel in the aboleth city, closely directed by Ithilax the Skum.  Kurlok, deranged by the hag's evil eye, must be gently shepherded by the rest of the group.

Back in the aboleth's citadel the slaves are ushered into their cells once more, after the gas wears off and they return to breathing air.  Here they rest and are fed: a fishy-smelling slop sluiced into troughs from a small hole near the ceiling.  As Kraashgar goes to claim his share of the meal a duergar in line behind him taps him on the shoulder.

'Hey new guy,' the gray dwarf snaps.  'Greenskin.  You don't eat for three days.  That's the rule.'

'Sure, whatever,' Kraashgar shrugs, allowing the duergar to move ahead.  When he stoops to spoon some slop into his bowl our hero slams his head down against the lip of the trough.  The duergar splutters and spits a tooth, growls and swings round.  With a furrow of his brow the gray dwarf suddenly grows in size, towering over the goblin.  He punches Kraashgar hard in the gut, winding him, then seizes him by the neck.  Our hero grimaces and head-butts the duergar, then rushes forwards and bears the gray dwarf to the floor.  He pummels him for awhile with his fists, then leaves him be.

After his hard-won meal Kraashgar sleeps, knowing that Cromn and Skabrat will watch his back (Kurlok is still addled).

He is shaken awake by Ithilax.  Two other Skum stand behind the overseer.

'Come,' Holsuth's servitor commands, wrenching our hero up and pushing him onto the elevator.  The lift descends, back to the room with the cylindrical shaft, where the aboleth broods.  Holsuth speaks.

'You have shown promise, thrall.  I have selected you for'¦ modification.  Your body will be augmented.  You will become a superior servant.  In time I may even deem you fit for Union.  Now: accompany Ithilax to the kuo-toa, Syrgos.  I find Skum lack the delicacy required for graftwork.'

Powerless to disobey, Kraashgar is taken down a series of corridors, deeper into the complex.  The tunnels slope up and down at odd angles, but are not filled with water.  After some time they arrive at a round door, which opens at Ithilax's command word.  Inside is a slab-like table surrounded by sinister-looking machinery.  A kuo-toa in a bloodstained smock glances up as they enter.

'Ah, another thrall ready for augmentation?'

'Yes,' Ithilax responds.  'He is to be fitted with the mucus sheath, and the second eyelid.'

'Excellent.  Bring him in, then.'

He is prodded forward.

Strapped in to the slab, the kuo-toa Syrgos humming to himself and looking over a selection of gruesome-looking knives, Kraashgar's mind rebels.  The strain of it is too great '" the aboleth's grip on him snaps.  He begins to struggle, but Skum hold him down.

'Ah, he has broken free of Holsuth's mental hold,' Syrgos says, observing Kraashgar with his bulbous eyes.  'Not to worry!  He will be drugged during the procedure, and afterwards Holsuth can reestablish control.'  The kuo-toa approaches our hero with a syringe.  Struggle as he might, he is unable to prevent the horrible frog-person from injecting him '" and then everything goes dark.

He awakes in what seems like a dim tunnel.  He knows immediately that he is dreaming, but the dream has a profound clarity unlike any other he's ever experienced.  He moves forward.  The tunnel opens into a yawning cavern with an air of the scared.  It smells of blood and sweat and food '" and of goblins.

An enormous goblinoid figure towers over Kraashgar.  She is clearly female, with a massively swollen belly and breasts: she looks pregnant.  She regards him with huge red eyes.

'All-Mother,' he greets her reverently, falling to his knees.

'Greetings, my son,' the goblin speaks with a voice that echoes throughout the cave.  'It was I that created you, guided your race's evolution over long eons.  Where the other gods bred creatures who were strong and large, I made you small of stature, knowing that your size would give you the gifts of stealth and of cunning.  I created you to be beneath the notice of those who believed themselves the most powerful, so that while the strong fought amongst themselves goblins would be safe, ignored.

'But every gift comes with a price.  Though your race is stealthy, you are weak, also.  While you are cunning you are also cowardly.  This is the way of things.

'And yet you, Kraashgar, have somehow moved beyond these limitations.  You have transcended your race's weaknesses.  You have been noticed by the strong, and yet you have not been destroyed.  You have not given up the gifts I gave you: you are stealthy, you are cunning.  And yet you do not flee as all others do.

'I first noticed you in the settlement of Ool-Nacha, when you offered up a sacrifice to my image.  Since then I have been watching you.  So many of your ilk have been a disappointment to me, but you '" you I am proud to call '˜son.'

'Fate did not conspire to make you what you are.  Your destiny is of your own fashioning.  But I am still your goddess, and so I will help you in this time of need.

'I did not mark you at birth as my champion.  But I mark you now, as one of my favorite children, and I give you a measure of my power.'

Kraashgar feels a burning sensation in his skull, over his eyes.  He raises his hands to discover that his small horns '" a typical goblin feature '" have grown into massive, curled things jutting from above his brow.

'Soon you will awaken.  The amphibian believes that you will sleep for hours yet.  You must use your gifts wisely to escape: the gift of stealth, the gift of cunning.  And also, you must use your courage, so rare in my children, and thus so precious.

'My blessing upon you, Kraashgar.  Now, awake!'

Our hero opens your eyelids '" not one set, but two now, freshly grafted by Syrgos.  The kuo-toa is humming to himself and busying himself with his tools, his back to the goblin.

Kraashgar checks that his newly grown horns are there.  He grins.  There are no Skum holding him down now '" there aren't any in the room at all.  Quietly he picks up a bloody scalpel from a tray'¦[/ic][ooc]Kraashgar receives a level of cleric, choosing Luck and Earth as his domains (other possible domains were Trickery and Chaos).[/ooc]

[Nomadic]

That was an awesome read. I love the part where he beat the duergar senseless.

[Ghostman]

Should have guessed that you'd break out grafts at some point. Can we hope for an upgraded illustration of the goblin hero anytime soon?

[LD]

I am looking forward to the exciting escape (!)

[Steerpike]

[blockquote=Ghostman]Should have guessed that you'd break out grafts at some point. Can we hope for an upgraded illustration of the goblin hero anytime soon?[/blockquote]I'm working on his updated illustration.  The player commented that really it was at this point that Kraashgar became "unique," acquiring those traits we usually give characters when they're created but which for this we deliberately eschewed.

Grafts were kind of inevitable, yeah. I'd like to think that though it's a vanilla sort of world, it's got a lot of the flavor of my other stuff to it - the cold war between tentacled abominations, the clockwork arm for the grig, Thollom's experiments, the bionic dwarves, the grafts.  I wish I'd figured out a way (and had time) to include mind flayers more prominently (despite the fact that ultimately they're a major player, I think Kraashgar's seen one only once or twice, and never properly interacted with them).  I suppose keeping them unseen leaves them rather ominous and mysterious, but still.  Also I would have liked to incorporate devils somewhere, who'd have fit right in.  Originally I'd imagined the portal in the dungeon led either to the Abyss or the Nine Hells, but it proved a perfect way to get Mordant (who I'd first imagined as a lich) into the dungeon.

[Steerpike]

Small psuedo-update: the actual campaign itself has now finished.  At the end Kraashgar was a Goblin Warrior 5/Fighter 2/Cleric 1.  There are 11 episodes remaining (for a total of 60) - it'll take me awhile to get all of them up.

After that it'll probably be back to regular broadcasting on my other projects.

[Nomadic]

Alas it was over too soon... Now I totally want to see more of these.

[Steerpike]

[ic=Episode 49: Watery Revenge]Our hero soundlessly steps from the operating slab and approaches the kuo-toa Syrgos, scalpel in hand.  With all his strength he plunges the blade into the amphibian graft-worker's back.  Syrgos screams in pain and turns around, blood dribbling from his wide, frog-like mouth.  He begins to croak the syllables of a spell but Kraashgar lowers his head and thrusts forward.  His newly grown horns skewer Syrgos through the chest; the magus gasps, his spell interrupted.  His eyes go dead.

Calmly, Kraashgar equips himself as best he can with a few surgical instruments, stowing them in a small leather bag which he slings across his chest.  The door to the room is shut; the hand-print identification lock (magically keyed) does not recognize his signature.  With a scavenged hacksaw our hero removes Syrgos' webbed right hand and places this on the lock, palm facing forward.  A glyph lights up above the lock and the door dilates open.  He stows the severed hand in the surgical bag.

Outside the corridor is quiet.  Our hero slinks down the passage, rounding a curve and discovering a Skum guarding another door.  Kraashgar pads silently forwards, two scalpels in his hands, keeping to the shadows.  When the Skum's back is turned the goblin rushes forward.  He flings one scalpel at the Skum's head and continues charging, slashing with the second.  The Skum cries out as the first scalpel hits his neck and turns, claws bared, to find forty five pounds of horned, green fury hurtling towards him.  Kraashgar barrels into the Skum, his blade tearing across the creature's chest.  The guard, surprised but still alive, claws at our hero, raking him across the chest.  Kraashgar stabs again and again with his scalpel, ingoring the Skum's flailing till the creature dies.

Using Syrgos' hand Kraashgar opens the door the Skum was guarding and drags his corpse inside.  The chamber is filled with equipment '" by the looks of it, mostly the former belongings of slaves.  Shelves carved in the walls hold weapons, armor, jewelry, ammunition, clothing, and coinage.  A small, round window looks out upon Phagn'Yath.

Kraashgar investigates the shelves and eventually finds his own equipment.  He shrugs on his mirthil mail, buckles on his cold iron mace, and puts his Broach of Shielding round his neck, as well as the small necklace he made of the redcap teeth.  His pistol is useless: the powder got wet.  Nonetheless he decides to take it with him, in case he finds any useable powder elsewhere.  Finally he considers the Ring of Protection Chalsezce used to scry on him.  He is tempted to keep it, but decides in the end to smash it with his mace.  He is still wearing the glyph-graven manacles that enhance his strength: they do not hamper his movements.

He briefly rummages through some of the other equipment and turns up Kurlok's katana and several of Skabrat's masterwork throwing knives.  Heavy with the burden of equipment he leaves the armory and heads back into the complex.

Using the kuo-toa's hand Kraashgar investigates several other chambers.  In one room, humanoids of various sorts are trapped in cylindrical shafts of liquid here.  All have grossly distended stomachs, as if they were impregnated '" even the males.  Kraashgar shudders.

'Incubation,' he mutters.

He is continuing his search when he hears a familiar voice echoing down the corridor '" a high, nasal voice with a whine to it '" Chalsezce!  Kraashgar follows the voice to an open door and peers inside, perceiving a high, cylindrical chamber.  The beholder floats about halfway up, conversing with someone through a magical console.  Our hero hears a silky female voice '" that of the drider Mordant.

'And how are things at the Lair then, Mordant?'  The beholder asks.

'For the most part, according to plan.  Obraxus is still at large; there's been no sign of him.  We suspect he may have fled to the Overworld, or perhaps to one of the drow cities.  Thollom survived, but that Umber Hulk is loose somewhere nearby.  I've sent out patrols to look for it but it's been picking them off.  Otherwise, the dungeon is secure.  We repelled the illithid counter-attacks with ease.  The portal to the necropolis remains operational.  How is Phagn'Yath?'

'Oh, tolerable, I suppose.  The place smells rather like fish, but I can't complain.  I'm shopping about for a new lair, but for now this will do '" they've been keeping this level sealed, so that it doesn't flood, but it's still a trifle damp.  The sound of running water is rather soothing, though.'

'Mhm, well.  I'll keep you updated on any developments.'

'Excellent, my dear.'

So '" the beholder relocated to Holsuth's citadel.  Kraashgar's mind races with possibilities for revenge.  His hit-list is growing long these days.  The goblin sneaks past the door and up a sloping ramp, into the upper levels of the complex.

He finds Ithilax the Skum in the main chamber, though Holsuth is absent from the glass cylinder from which it addresses its thralls.  Grimly our hero readies his heavy mace.  He creeps towards the Skum and aims his blow carefully, but his botos squeak against the floor and Ithilax turns round, alerted to the goblin's presence.  Kraashgar shrieks a battle-cry and charges, mace raised.  Ithilax blocks the blow with his arm, but Kraashagr hears the crack of breaking bones and the Skum screams in agony.

One arm dangling bloody and useless, Ithilax darts forward, clawing at Kraashgar.  Our hero rushes to meet him, swingiong his mace.  The two trade blows and become entangled in a brutal melee, Ithilax fastening his fangs round Kraashgar's arms, the goblin smacking at the Skum's face and neck with his mace.  Though badly wounded by Ithialx Kraashgar eventually reduces the Skum's head to a bloody smear on the nacreous floor.

Breathing hard and covered in blood, Kraashgar walks over to the console Ithilax had been fiddling with.  He discovers twelve ornate glyphs, none of which he comprehends.  Experimenting, he activates a few and hears the sound of rushing water in the walls.  He hits all of the glyphs and small openings near the ceiling dilate, allowing water to rush into the room.  Hurriedly Kraashgar begins deactivating glyphs till the water stops.  Through trial and error he comes to understand the console '" the various glyphs selectively flood different levels of the citadel.  Realization flashes through our hero's brain.

'So, you like the sound of running water, eh Chalsezce?'  Kraashgar grins and activates all of the glyphs except the one that would flood the level he's on.  'No portal to flee through now, eye tyrant.'

One name off the hit-list.  Kraashgar turns towards the elevator that leasd to the slave quarters.  Time to rescue his friends.[/ic][ooc]The horns are a pretty transparent homage to Hellboy.[/ooc]

[Steerpike]

[ic=Episode 50: Bluff]Kraashgar ascends the lift in Holsuth Phagn'Yath's citadel towards the slaves' cell that he recently inhabited himself.  The elevator clanks to a stop in the middle of the room, and Kraashgar steps off to greet his comrades.

They're still enslaved, he realizes.  If I tell them we're escaping, they won't be able to come with me.  I'll have to lie.

'Kurlok, Skabrat, Xug, Cromn, Szor, come with me,' Kraashgar commands imperiously.

'Uh, what's going on, Kraashgar?'  Skabrat asks.

'I have been granted Union,' Kraashgar improvises.  'Hosluth Phagn'Yath has chosen me to be his servant. Now, come '" I have a special task for you.'

'No!'  The bugbear Draug bellows from the shadows.  'It's not fair!  I've been here twenty years, you've been here less than a week!  Why would Holsuth grant you Union before me?'  The bugbear looms hugely above, fists balled, tears rolling down his cheeks.

'Silence, thrall!'  Kraashagr shouts.  'It is not for you to question our Master's orders!'

Draug whimpers and draws back.  Obraxus' minions, suitably impressed, follow Kraashgar to the lift.

'So, what kind of mission is this, Kraashgar?'

'Uh.'  Our hero thinks on his feet.  'We're being sent back to the Lair.  We've been tasked with'¦ hunting down Mr. Pincer.  He got loose; Holsuth wants him destroyed.'

For the time being, the group seems to accept this statement.  The lift clanks to a halt and they step out into the main chamber.  Kraashgar ushers them quickly up a ramp to the top level, after aking sure that it isn't flooded.  I have to find a way out of here'¦ but how?

They hear Skum voices from a room to one side of the corridor.  Kraashgar realizes that his companions aren't making any effort to stay quiet.

'Uh, guys, you need to stay quiet,' he says.  'There's an important meeting in progress'¦ we shouldn't disturb them.'

Everyone quiets down, but Cromn the ogre's footsteps are heavy.  The voices stop and footsteps can be heard.

'In here, guys,' Kraashgar says, pointing towards an open door and gesturing.  'Come on, this mission is urgent!'  His companions file in; while their backs are turned Kraashgar closes the door with the kuo-toa Syrgos' hand.

The room is quite large, with expansive glass windows looking out on Phagn'Yath. A large craft of some kind is evident in a kind of channel or bay in the room's center.  It appears to have a chitinous hull, with mechanical elements integrated into it.  A small, round orifice admits entrance into the vessel.  A larger door through which the construct would presumably pass is set directly in front of the craft, and a control panel can be seen to one side.

'Alright, in here now,' Kraashgar commands, keeping an eye on the door.  'Hurry up, hurry up!'  His friends pass into the submersible.  Once they're inside Kraashgar activates the control and rushes to the bay doors and water begins to fill the room.  He closes the submersible door and heads towards the cockpit, indicating that his companions should stay in the cargo bay.

A bewildering array of glyphs is evident in the cockpit.  The room is filled with water; the large door opens onto the aboleth city.  Making his best guess as to which glyph controls what Kraashgar tries to steer the submersible forwards; after a rocky start he manages to propel it forwards and up, even as he hears the door to the submersible bay open behind him '" the Skum, come to see what all the noise was.

Throwing caution to the wind, Kraashgar activates the glyphs he thinks control the throttle and the craft bursts forward, into the underwater city.  After a couple of minutes he slows down: he should have lost any pursuers.  He begins to steer the craft through Phagn'Yath and towards the cliffs as its edge, back where they rescued the aboleth Rhan'Taikol.  Though the water is murky and the city labyrinthine our hero manages to locate the passage that leads into the underwater caves, and eventually to dry land.

He is steering the submersible upwards when a sudden blow hits him hard across the temple.  A figure materializes before him '" the duergar Nhazgar, servant of Chalsecze!  He must have turned himself invisible '" typical duergar trick!  The duarger jumps atop our hero and begins pummeling him with his fists.  Kraashgar pushes him off and throws a punch but overbalances '" without a pilot the submerisible is out of control.  The floor shifts and Kraashgar lurches forwards.  He gropes for the controls in an attempt to stabilize the craft, pulling it to a full stop, just as Nhazgar strikes him again.

Kraashgar spins, elbowing the durger in the face, then hefts his mace from his belt.  The duergar snarls and hurls himself at our hero, but Kraashgar is ready and strikes the gray dwarf hard, battering him against the glass of the cockpit, which cracks alarmingly, though it holds.  Nhazgar, stunned but not out, throws himself at the goblin again.

'Filthy goblin bastard,' Nhazgar hisses as he swings at Kraashgar.  'You'll pay for my master's death!'

Kraashgar dodges away from the gray dwarf's attacks and lads one of his own, right atop the duergar's skull.  Blood and brains spatter across the walls and Nhazgar falls to the floor, limp, a red pool spreading beneath him.

A knock can be heard at the door, and it dilates open '" Skabrat peers inside.

'Get in, get in!'  Kraashagr hisses, closing the door behind Skabrat, whose remaining eye goes wide when he spots Nhazgar's corpse.

'That's Nhazgar'¦ what's going on?'

'Uh, Nhazgar was trying to impede the mission, and then'¦ oh screw it.  Skabrat, listen.  The All-Mother Herself spoke to me.  She marked me as her champion and helped me escape, and I'm taking you guys with me.  Didn't you notice the horns?'

'Yeah, I thought those were weird, but I assumed it was some side-effect of Union.  The All-Mother spoke to you?'

'Yes.  In a vision.  She has marked me; you must believe.'

Kraashgar watches as a struggle plays itself out over Skabrat's face '" Holsuth Phagn'Neysugg's mental domination versus the goblin's faith in his deity.  He lokos at Kraashgar '" and his eye is filled with sudden excitement.  Almost miraculously, faith has overcome the aboleth's psychic hold on Skabrat.

'Now listen, the others are still enslaved,' Kraashgar says.  'They won't care that the All-Mother spoke to me; She isn't their goddess.  We have to trick them, so that we can escape, maybe find some way of breaking that thing's hold.'

'Alright.'

'Okay, I'm goinjg to take us to the surface.  You go back there and tell them I had some mechanical trouble or something.  Don't let them in.'[/ic][ooc]I allowed Skabrat a saving throw to break the aboleth's hold after Kraashgar invoked the All-Mother, and he got a natural 20; much short of that Kraahsgar probably would have had to kill him, or at least knock him unconscious.[/ooc]

[Steerpike]

[ic=Episode 51: Unseelie]With Skabrat's help, Kraashgar manages to quell the suspicions of his still-enslaved companions as he pilots the submersible to the surface, eventually reaching the shore where they'd embarked before to search for Rhan'Taikol.  The group files out onto the subterranean beach.  Pity to leave the sub, but there's no way of transporting it'¦.

Kraashgar leads the group through the tunnels.  He's only thinking a few steps ahead '" what should they do now?  Look for Obraxus?  Make their way back to the dungeon?  If so, how?  Infiltrate the necropolis, or take the long way up?  Our hero ponders thse questions as the party reenters the cave where Rhan'Taikol was being held captive by the sea hag and her sahuagin minions.  As he enters the cavern Kraashgar spots something down by the edge of the underground lake '" a third sea hag, accompanied by a merrow bodyguard!  The other two mentioned they were working for mind flayers, allies of Obarxus'¦ perhaps he can convince the hag to take him to the illithids?  His companions are close behind him: if they see the sea hag they might attack'¦

'You wait here,' he whispers to his comrades.  'There's something up ahead: let me deal with it.'

Our hero moves forwards, hands up in a gesture of submission.  He walks towards the hag, resisting the urge to retch at the disturbing sight of her horrific appearance.

The hag coos and drifts close to him.  He can smell her stench, as of rotting seaweed.

'I'm Kraashgar,' he says in Udnercmmon.  'Enemy of the aboleths'¦ I mean you no harm.'

'Ah, a goblin!'  The hag coos.  'A tasty-looking morsel'¦'  She reaches out with a clawed hand, then stops, her yellow eyes fixed at Kraashgar's neck.  'What!'  She exclaims, reaching out to touch the necklace Kraashgar wears.  'Is that '" a redcap tooth?'

'It is.'

'Any who bears a redcap tooth is a friend of the fey '" psychotic little buggers, given even us Unseelie a bad name!  I am called Granny Greenblood.  What is your name, goblin?  Why do you roam these tunnels, so close to the city of the foul aboleths?'

'I broke free of their grasp and fled here.  You work for the mind flayers, am I right?  I seek sanctuary with them: we come recently from a dungeon under their control, and have important information for them.'

'My dead sisters and I were working under an illithid contract, but they are not our masters '" merely our current eomplyers.  If I delivered them to you they would simply consume your brains to absorb the information you know directly: you would by no means be given '˜sanctuary.'  But I know a safe place '" a hidden place '" where you must go.  Come!'

'I have companions '" they will not trust you.  They are still under the aboleths' control; I'm amazed that our escape hasn't been perceived yet.'

Granny Greenblood grins, then her form quivers.  She is transformed magically into a Skum.

'A simple glamer,' she explains.  'Bring out your friends.  They will assume I am an aboleth servitor.'

Kraashgar complies, and his companions '" Kurlok, Skabrat, Szor, Cromn, and Xug '" enter the cavern.

'This Skum will take us to the Lair,' Kraashgar says, giving Skabrat a meaningful look.  'The ogre is its thrall.'

'This way,' Granny Greenblood says, pointing to the water.  'It is a short swim.'

Granny Greenblood dives into the water.  Kraashgar and the others follow her.  The goblin's skin secretes a mucus-like substance: though it does not allow him to breathe water, he finds that it aids his ability to move through the water, and his second eyelids augment his underwater vision.  The sea hag leads the group through a narrow tunnel at the floor of the lake, then up into another pool.  The group surfaces in a a mid-sized natural cavern, fed by a small waterfall.  The waterfall passes through the mouth of a carven statue in the image of a grotesque giant.

'Through here,' Granny Greenblood says, gesturing to the fall.  The group pass through.  Kraashgar feels an odd, tingling sensation as he does so that has nothing to do with the temperature.

'You have now entered Faerie,' Granny greenblood proclaims, shifting back to her ordinary form.  'The aboleth's mind-hold cannot cross planar boundaries.  Your companions are freed.'

Our hero observes the rest of the group '" all bear stunned expressions.  Quickly Kraashagr explains their situation, and all admire the goblin's cunning.

Beyond the waterfall tunnel is a cavern whose ceiling is held up seemingly by massive roots.  Gossamer webs drape the ceiling as well, and fey lights flicker here and there.  Granny Greenblood leads them down this tunnel, deeper into the realm of the fey.  An unpleasant-looking gnome-like creature with a mossy beard and bulbous eyes suddenly scuttles into view.

'Granny Greenblood,' the creature says.  'And guests.  Welcome to the Unseelie Court.  The Queen wishes to see you.'

They are led by the spriggan through a series of corridors, deep into a complex cavern system.  Will-o-the wisps bob around the caves; bizarre fey creatures look at the group quizzically.  There are places where water flows up, and where passages slope in such a way that Kraashgar feels as if he is walking on a ceiling.

At last they come to a huge, arched door, guarded by a pair of misshapen giant-like creatures.  They allow the group to pass at granny Greenblood's insistence, into a throne-room of sorts beyond.

The woman that sits on the throne is somehow simultaneously both beautiful and hideous.  She has bluish skin and features that seem both elfin and almost goblin.  There is more than a hint of mischief and malevolence to her, but humor as well.  She is dressed in ornate, gossamer clothing

'Welcome to my realm, travelers.  I am Medb '" Queen of the Unseelie Court.  Tell me '" what has brought you here?'

'I found them wandering near Phagn'Yath,' Granny Grenblood says.  'The horned goblin says he escaped from the aboleth's enslavement, along with his companions.'

'And what brought you into their clutches?'  Medb asks Kraashgar.

'We were minions of an Ogre Mage '" Obraxus,' Kraashgar says.  'His Lair '" a former dwarf stronghold over a mithril mine, near the surface '" was invaded by undead, commanded by a drider working for the aboleths.  We were enslaved.'

'I see.  And where will you go now?'

'I seek vengeance on Mordant, the drider who overtook the dungeon '" and on the adventurers who slaughtered my tribe.'

'Revenge is a motive I can respect,' Queen Medb says.  'Tell me more.'

Kraashgar recounts his story, from start to finish, leaving little out.   After his tale, Medb stays silent for a moment, then speaks.

'Word of these events have already reached my ears.  My position in the Great Below is'¦ precarious. Long ago, Lord Oberon cast us down into the depths of the Faerie world, down here, to brood amongst the shadows and cobwebs, parallel to the caverns beneath the mortal plane.  We have learned to adapt, to make a home for ourselves, but the fish and the squids bicker like the children they are.

'Mithril is the single most valuable commodity in the Great Below, and it is rapidly being exhausted.  The dwarves covet it, the drow work wonders with it, but for centuries the illithids have controlled it.  By seizing the mine, the aboleths have struck a blow against the illithids.  By controlling the mithril deposits, they have seized a great deal of power.  The seizure of the mines from the illithids may seem a small event, but it is like the pebble that starts a rockslide: a small tip in the balance may have great ramifications.

'The balance cannot be allowed to tip too far.  If the aboleths succeed in destroying the mind flayers, we shall be next.  The aboleths are'¦ disgusting creatures.  They think themselves old.'  She spits.  A black flower rises from the droplet, emitting a foul-smelling musk.  'I was alive since before the mortal world was spun from primordial entropy!  The aboleths merely predate other sentient species of the mortal world.  They hate what they do not understand.  They watched every mortal race evolve on the surface of this world '" save for the illithids, themselves from beyond the mortal plane.  For this reason the aboleths fear the flayers; they would fear me as well, were my power not tied so closely to Faerie.  But make no mistake: though they do not see me and my kind as a great threat, they have no love for us.

'There are many doors into my kingdom, and though they are well hidden, the aboleths are good at discovering secrets.  If the Primal Empire conquers the Great Below, sooner or later they will find a way into the Unseelie Court.  Their foul creatures and their thralls will march through the passages of Faerie, unstoppable.  I would not be able to destroy them; Lord Oberon could care less for our troubles.

'I will help you to retake the Lair from this drider, Mordant, in order to prevent the aboleths from gaining the advantage over the illithids.  There is a tree, a sort of gate, here in my realm, that corresponds to another in the dungeon you speak of.  This tree could be used to enter the dungeon undetected '" but there is one problem.

'The tree is sick.  There is a creature '" one of my children '" called the Morrigan.  She was once a war goddess, a thing of great power and beauty.  She soared over the battlefields of the mortal world and of Faerie on black wings, singing her glorious war-song.  But when Oberon banished us to the Great Below, she was forced underground.  Now she cannot fly: her wings have been clipped.  She has lost her godhood, weakened and gone mad in the endless dark, as so many of my kind have'¦ she has corrupted part of Faerie, and all the fey near her.

'The dryad bonded to the tree I spoke of has sickened, become a demented thing, a splinterwaif.  She cannot be killed while hr tree lives, and the tree must be alive for it to be used as a gate.  To use her oak, you must restore her.  Though it pains me to condemn one of my own blood, the Morrigan must be killed '" it would be a mercy, and it will return the splinterwaif to her dryad form.

'My consort, Nodd, will accompany you.'  Here a green-haired satyr steps from the shadows.  'You have, I see, a weapon of cold iron: use this against her, for the touch of iron is anathema to all my kind.  You may purchase anything else you need in the marketplace of my realm; the redcap teeth you carry are valuable amongst my people.'[/ic]

[LD]

'No!' The bugbear Draug bellows from the shadows. 'It's not fair! I've been here twenty years, you've been here less than a week! Why would Holsuth grant you Union before me?' The bugbear looms hugely above, fists balled, tears rolling down his cheeks.

'Silence, thrall!' Kraashagr shouts. 'It is not for you to question our Master's orders!'

Draug whimpers and draws back. Obraxus' minions, suitably impressed, follow Kraashgar to the lift.

Oh... How Terrible. :)

[LD]

"Queen Medb"  ... Maeve? Queen Mab...  With Oberon... Very Midsummer's Night Dream.

I like how you managed to incorporate such a variety of monsters for your player to encounter.

[Steerpike]

[blockquote=Light Dragon]Oh... How Terrible.[/blockquote]Yeah, true - but still quite necessary.  They could hardly have brougth Draug with them; even if they freed him from the psychic hold he's been enslaved so long that he worships/fetishizes the aboleth.  The player found him sort of disturbing.[blockquote=ibid.]Queen Medb ... Maeve? Queen Mab... With Oberon... Very Midsummer's Night Dream.[/blockquote]Medb/Maeve/Mab yep, although having done a little research I'm not sure Medb and Mab are actually that closely linked (Medb was an Irish mytholoigcal figure, Mab a 17th century literary figure, and I'm not sure what relation the two actually have to one another.  Medb in this is closer to Mab, though.

Speaking of a variety of creatures, I realized that only 2 named humans and perhaps 4 humans of note have actually appeared in the campaign (Magnus the adventurer fighter, Cal the adventurer cleric, the woodsman, and teh mayor of Gloamwood), and that the only two humans I've drawn have their faces obscured by helmets, which is kind of funny.  I didn't set out specifically to avoid humans or conceal them, but the campaign seems extremely disinterested in humanity, demonizing it when it doesn't ignore it.