It Hurts to Say Goodbye

Master Jakobus Borgenicht is dead. He died after a really heroic fight, killing two rival wizards and an apprentice. A trap was his doom, having sustained quite some damage already.
His apprentice could have taken over the warband, but chose not to. Nathaniel will return to his homeland far south.

When three players decide that your luck is too great for this evening, rolling too many 20's, it is only a matter of time until your luck turns. And this is what happened to me now.

Defending against two players, killing off two wizards and an apprentice, my band got smaller and smaller. I had already understood that I would make it off the board with only one treasure in this game - but then, the third player rolled a 1 at her initiative, springing a trap.

Jakobus had already outlived two traps, one because he was a Chronomancer and the second because of a good roll. But the third trap got him - and then I rolled a 1 on the survival roll ...

So, he is gone for good and I don't feel like playing his warband with the apprentice in his place, losing 10 levels.

We will see how those damn wizards like my new man - Daylan Doombreaker, the Distortionist.
He has already completed the Dark Alchemy campaign and proved to be really capable. Maybe they will wish old Jakobus back ...

Secrets Uncovered

En'Ki Nar'Duk looked at the mural that had appeared above the Hallows as the sheet of ice crashed down. A rare smile appeared on his bearded face.
"See this, Salvatore? A demon lord, about to return to the mortal realm! This is what we're here for."
His apprentice did not look excited.
"What are we to to do with it?"
His master gave him a smothering look.
"Enslave it to my will, of course! And if it does not yield, we will destroy it."
He shook his head, than let his gaze roam over the ruins of the old temple. Finally, he read the golden runes on the mural once more.
"We need an amulet to contain the demon. It seems to consist of two halves, which are kept in the northern part of the temple, it seems."
He thought for a moment, running a hand through his beard.
"We split up. You take Captain Eldanar with you, Berningar and Quicknight. The rest will come with me. We'll meet again at dusk right in this spot."
With a sharp gesture, he marched off, followed by his selected entourage.
Salvatore shrugged and turned to Eldanar. The new captains face was stoic as ever, but that was natural with the elves.
"If the master orders..."
"... we will obey." the captain finished the sentence.

 ***

Salvatore took a look around the ruins. He could hear some grunting noises from inside the temple complex.
He sighed. "Let's get to it, then."
Calling upon the Infernals, he made the ranger Berningar into a vessel for one of those black souls. The eyes of the ranger glowed with a deep scarlet, as he turned and went to scouting.
Salvatore and Eldanar followed him slowly, while the thief, Quicknight, darted from shadow to shadow.

Berningar returned. "Demons - fat ones. They seem to guard treasure. I could see two, one at some kind of altar."
The apprentice nodded. "Eldanar, Berningar, you try to get them closer, Eli, you circumvent them. Get me this amulet!"
The warriors nodded and got to work.

***

Eldanars sabres flashed, as the demon closed in. A fat arm fell to the frozen stones, the second saber opening the fat belly. The demon screamed, sulphurous smoke rising and engulfing it.
Berningar shot arrow after arrow at the approaching demon, but they just stuck in the wobbling flesh. Even his demon-enhanced muscles could not stop the demon with arrows, it seemed.
Salvatore saw the demon perish under the elven blades and cast his spell. A magical leap brought him to the chest, the demon had been guarding. His master would be furious if they left anything valuable behind.

Finally, Eldanar and Berningar destroyed the second demon and Salvatore leaped with the chest back to the entrance.
"We've got company" said the elf, pointing into the ruins.
Salvatore had trouble seeing what the sharp eyes of the elf had seen, but then he saw the small forms move towards the altar. Mouslings!
"Master Nar'Duk will be very displeased if we let them get away with our prize! Get them!"

Sabres clashed on steel as Eldanar fought the mousling ranger. His opponent used his small size effectively and the elf missed. He felt something scuttle between his legs, than he lost his footing and crashed onto the floor. Darkness engulfed him.
Quicknight the thief saw the captain fall and rushed in. He was met with steel and felt himself being pulled by tiny but strong hands into a throw, crushing into a wall and knocking him out.

***

"No! This cannot be!" Salvatore saw his men fall, then one mousling grabbed the amulet. He felt rage rise within his chest - and fear.

He channeled both into a ball of green fire, casting it on the mouslings. Screams and the smell of burning hair and flesh made him smile triumphantly. Berningar ran in front, loosing arrows at the critters.

And then Salvatore saw her. Hasela, the apprentice. Again he channeled his rage and fear into fire, and again a ball of searing flame shot through the ruins, exploding on the mousling. The screams of pain and fear came like music to his ears. 

The mouslings ran, but still carried the amulet and another sack of treasure. 

"Stop them!"

The ranger nocked an arrow and took aim. He shot the mousling with the sack down, just as it was about to clear the ruins. The other one, the one carrying the amulet, got away, though.

"The master will not like this..."

***

Salvatore and Berningar took care of their companions, and together they carried the treasure back to their meeting with the master. Hopefully, master Nar'Duk had fared better - it would not matter that the mouslings had paid a price. They had the half of the amulet now and that was all that would matter to the summoner.

But Salvatore had been surprised by his own power. Casting elementalist-spells was no easy task, but he had used his own fear and rage to power them. Maybe he was not such a fail at all, even if his master said otherwise...

The Summoner and the Djinn

En'ki Nar'duk, Master of Infernals, Enslaver of Souls, frowned. He had come to this land of ice and snow to claim his rightful share of treasures and knowledge in the spoils of the Great Empire That Was. And now, he could see a band of vermin scuttle over the ruins in search of treasure that was rightfully his!

Miraclepaw, the Mouslings called their so-called wizard. He was a trickster, a huckster, vermin on the inside as he was on the outside. His apprentice was no better, this screeching female named Hasela.

The summoner let his dark eyes fall on Salvatore, his apprentice. The boy with the blonde hair was naive as he was idealistic - not really the stuff a summoner was made of. But magic flowed strong through him and he had a talent for overpowering the will of others.

He had assembled a troop of he most capable soldiers he could pay for. Two cutpurses, men that stole faster than the eye could see. A red-haired beauty who was a crack-shot with her bow and a quiet man, that was as good with his bow as he was with his sword. Then there was the dark-clad man with sword and dagger, a hunter of treasures and men. And then there was the savage dog at his side, he called Remus.

"Get me anything you find", he ordered with his rich southern accent. "And if any of those critters interfere - kill them!"

Wizard, ranger, thief and warhound

Apprentice, thief, treasure hunter and archer

Wizard and rangers

Setup and deployment

Eli Quicknight opened the chest before him. The blinking of gold confirmed that this was indeed worth the trouble - but then he froze. There was a golden lamp inside the chest, shining with an inner light. He could not resist, he had to grab it.
But just as he looked at the lamp from all sides, a green mist was pouring out of it, forming into something vaguely human a few strides away ...
Ludovico, the treasure hunter, swore. "Idiot! You never dabble with those things! Pray your foolishness doesn't get us all killed!"

Master Nar'duk unleashed the ball of magical fire onto the Djinn and engulfed the creature in green flames. Only moments afterwards, a ball of blue fire crashed into the burning Djinn, cast from above the summoner, and blue and green flames mixed into a flaming turquoise. The death scream of the Djinn resounded through the ruins as he dissipated ...

The Mouslings carrying away the treasure

Master Nar'duk looked upon the field of battle with disdain. Blood painted the snow, his men slowly coming to, moaning as the pain set in. The Djinn had proven a formidable foe, but he had perished like all the others that had stood in his way.
"The Mouslings have carried Miraclepaw and Hasela away - and quite a haul of treasure, Master."
The black eyes of the wizard burned with rage as he turned towards Salvatore. 
"Do not remind me of your incompetence!"
"Master, I'm no soldier, I can't lead these men ..."
The wizard cut him off. "Silence, fool! I know perfectly well how incompetent you are. I will hire someone who can lead these simpletons in battle."
With a swirl of his robe, he turned around and stomepd off, back to their base.

Flight of the Dragon

Berendar the Mighty, Crusher of Mortals, Eater of Souls, stirred. His great golden eyes slowly opened, his nostrils inhaled a first, shuddering breath. Cold, it was cold, his muscles stiff, but it was warmer than before his slumber. Slowly, he got his limbs to move, painful as it was.

Finally, after hours, he unfolded his great, leathery wings and pushed his body up from the ground of the big cavern. Icicles broke from the ceiling as his wings touched them. 
Berendar looked around the cavern that had been his lair and grave as the ice fell outside. How long had he been asleep? He did not know.

Sunlight fell through the mouth of the cavern, as he crawled outside. He looked around - the valley was still full of snow and ice, the small brook still frozen solid. But there was spring in the air, the promise of warmth and Berendar finally left the cave. 

He took wing, perching on a rocky spire high above the valley and looked south, where the city of mages stood - had stood. There were only ruins now, frozen over and thawed again, the skeleton of a city. Like an eagles, his eyes could see far, and he saw mortals fighting over spoils in the ruins. 

His slumber must have been even longer than he had believed for a city like this to fall into such ruins. But then a new thought made its way into his mind: If the mages were all dead, their treasures were ripe for the taking!

With a triumphant roar, the dragon took wing again, gliding on the winds southward towards thr ruins, the mortals called Frostgrave.

***

Master Borgenicht scratched his head. He had been brooding over the piece of parchement for hours now and Nathaniel knew when to keep to his own studies.
"That's it!" the old Chronomancer exclaimed with an exitement that belied his age.
"Assemble the crew, we leave for the northern district within the hour!"

 ***

In the old days, when Felstad was still the center of an empire, this district had been the heart of craftsmanship. Crafters and Enchanters alike had lived and worked here. The Guildtower rose like a finger in the middle of the district, amidst the ruins of workshops and laboratories.
The roar of a snowtroll sent shivers down Nathaniels spine. "There are trolls abound, master!"
"Yes, yes, that's what Gnorrik and his men are here for. We are looking for an ornament gateway near the tower, boy."

Gnorrik sniffed the air, his hyena-like snout held high. The gnoll towered over the wizard, his yellow eyes under the black mane sparkling with bloodlust. 
"Gnorrik smell giant. Gnorric smell humans. Gnorrik hear voices."
Jakobus Borgenicht frowned. Giants were no easy foes. 
"What humans, Gnorrik?"
"Master of Death, Master of puppets and bitch of light."
The Chronomancer cursed. Could he not pursue his leads without running into those people? 
Antark, the Cold, the Necromancer had snatched treasure from him before. But the Thaumaturge and his captain held a deep grudge since their last meeting - Gnorrik had almost killed her apprentice and she had blinded and knocked him out afterwards. The Enchanter was a nuisance, nothing more.

"Gnorrik, take some men and kill this giant." Borgenicht concentrated and cast a spell on his captain to make him faster. The gnoll was strong, but his heavy mail and shield slowed him down. And of course the heavy halberd-head he used for a battle-axe ... 

 ***

Master Borgenicht had left Nathaniel in charge of most of the men, only taking Thain, the new archer, as cover with him.  He moved cautiously over the plaza, where the magical fountain bubbled despite the freezing cold. Across the plaza, at the side of the tower, he could see the form of the gateway, a door leading nowhere - his goal.

He ducked behind a statue, well aware of the sniper and archer an a ruin nearby. The Enchanter had moved a chest from the top of the tower by means of magical transport and now his men quarreled with the women of the Thaumaturge over it. A barbarian with a sword as tall as herself tried to get inside a ruin, defended by a knight in plate armour.

Taking in his surroundings, he wrapped time itself around him. Time slowed down around him, and he moved faster then everybody else. He got to the gateway, his fingers touching runes, invoking their magic. The gateway shimmered, forming a tall, vaguely humanoid form. And then it stepped forward, a giant made of stone, bowing its head to its new master.

***

The damned Enchanter did not want him to leave with his prize! He had tried to get it under his spell, but so far, the Contruct had withstood his weak magic. So, he had ordered his men to fire on the Construct, already damaging it. 

Jakobus fumed. He would not let this stand!

The screams of panic from the north made him look over the plaza, locking his gaze with Nathaniel, who pointed north, his face white with fear. He followed his hand with his eyes - and froze.

A dragon was swooping down from the mountains, his wings blocking out the weak sunlight.

***

Nathaniel used his magic to get some treasures away, leaping Yorick up to the second story of the tower - only to have the chest snatched away by Antark. 

Greybeard the dwarf had fallen under the club of the Frostgiant, Gnorrik and Hrothgar were wounded, but an arrow from afar had finally taken the life of the blue giant. The gnoll and the barbarian had raced to the magic fountain, drinking deep from the holy water. It had healed their wounds, as Master Borgenicht had said it would. 

"Wilhelm! Take out the Necromancer!"

The crossbowman nodded, took aim and shot. The bolt nailed Antark against the wall, piercing his shoulder. The Necromancer screamed, cursed and spit, but could not keep Yorick from taking the chest across the plank over the street. Finally, his head sank to his breast, unconscious.

Yorick looked to the north and screamed. "A dragon! There!"

His scream broke off, as an arrow hit him high in the chest, taking him off the narrow bridge and to his death on the frozen cobbles below.

The dragon flew over the ruins, searching. His golden eyes locked on something, then swooped down. Magic crackled, as a thaumaturgic spell formed, glancing off the dragons will like rain. But his focus shifted.

Nathaniel gestured to his master, seeking guidance, but Borgenicht seemed occupied. 

"Gnorrik, Hrothgar, block this beast from getting to the Master if necessary. The rest, make haste - we're leaving."
The gnoll and the barbarian obeyed and made haste to the other side of the plaza, while the rest of their warband made ready to leave.

***

The Construct dropped the chest it was carrying, then sank to its knees. The magic left the body, leaving a humanoid puppet without strings.

Master Borgenicht felt rage rising in his breast. He shaped the elements around him, his mind creating matter. With eyes blazing with rage, he pushed himself from the statue in his back, turning in one, swift motion, his staff pointing towards the Enchanter, lurking behind a low fir tree.

"Incendo!"

A bolt of white fire shot from his staff towards his opponent, crashing into his breast, lifting the Enchanter off his feet. He looked much like a puppet himself, as he hit dirt, smoke trailing upwards.

"Never mess with Borgenicht, scum!"

He gave Nathaniel a sign, and felt himself drawn into a leaping motion, carrying him high over the ruins. He landed softly behind a thick wall, safe from arrows.

"Good work, boy. Let's leave."

"What about the dragon?"

"What about it? Obviously, dragons aren't legends anymore. If it kills some of those fools, good for us."

The roar of rage reverbrated through the ruins, as the dragon took wing. Dark blood dropped from deep wounds on his belly. The great beast was seriously wounded and turned to flight. 

"Let's get away before those idiots turn on us."