The Avengers

With a slightly disorienting jolt, the party appeared in the seldom-visited region of the Gray District that hid the secret headquarters of Korvosa’s budding rebellion. After communing with his ancestors to reveal the secret history of the warlord/dragon Kazavon, whose fangs now adorned Queen Ileosa’s crown, the Shoanti shaman, One-Life, had agreed to travel to Korvosa with the party, to consult with Thousand Bones and Field Marshall Kroft on how the Shoanti might be able to aid the rebellion.

The party descended into the mausoleum that housed the secret entrance, and spoke the password – ‘Blackjack’ – that allowed them to enter. As they came into the headquarters’ meeting room they saw Cressida Kroft sitting at the table, her head down and cradled in her hands. Bishop d’Bear stood behind her, her hand on her shoulder, while Thousand Bones and Boule stood off in a corner, eyes averted. As the group entered, Kroft raised her head, and her eyes were red from crying. “Vencarlo Orsini is dead!” she sobbed.

Everyone was too shocked to speak. At last, Jax managed to ask the question on all their minds: “What happened?”

Cressida Kroft tried to compose herself. “Vencarlo had returned to Korvosa to work with us to organize an underground resistance to the Queen – he’d talked a wizard friend of his into teleporting him here, then returning to help guard Neolandus. We’d started to devise a strategy, and Vencarlo had gone into the city to reach out to contacts of his who he thought would be willing to support the resistance. But he was ambushed by a group of Red Mantis assassins! He fought as hard as he could, but there were too many, and they’d taken him by surprise. He never stood a chance.”

“How did you find out about this?” Wren asked, her mind still struggling to accept that their charming friend was really gone.

“It was a public assassination, in front of a dozen or more bystanders. I think they wanted to instill fear in the public as much as to eliminate Vencarlo. They left his body lying bloody in the street – that’s how I still have this.” Cressida reached down beside the table, and laid a beautiful mithril rapier on the table. They all recognized it: it was Vencarlo’s – or more accurately, Blackjack’s.

“But if you have his body, we can bring him back from death!” Wren said excitedly, but Bishop d’Bear shook her head sadly. “I’m not sure what they did to him – they might have killed him with a spell like Slay Living, or simply cast Animate Dead on him briefly after he died. But it’s no longer possible to recall Vencarlo’s soul from the Boneyard. He has passed on to Pharasma’s judgement.”

“These fucking Red Mantis,” Nat growled, wiping away his own tears. “They tried to kill Vencarlo once already, in Old Korvosa, and they ambushed us on the road to Citadel Vraid. Lictor DiViri told us that Ileosa had a pact with the Red Mantis. What will it take for us to buy them off?”

Boule gave a snort of derision. “You don’t know much about the Red Mantis, do you? Once they’ve taken a contract, they’ll die rather than fail to fulfill it. It’s part of their code of honor. No, if Queen Ileosa has ordered them to kill you, you’re as good as dead.”

“But DiViri also told us where their hideout is in Korvosa,” Wren said, her face growing grim. “We need to avenge Vencarlo!”

“But I thought we were going to Scarwall,” Jax interjected. All eyes turned to him. “What’s ‘Scarwall’?” Kroft asked.

So the party told them what they’d learned from One-Life. They were a little light on the details of what they’d had to do to gain his release (and Kroft didn’t press them on the gaps in their story). When they’d finished, Kroft spoke again. “OK, let me rephrase my question – where is Scarwall?”

“We kind of hoped you’d tell us,” Nat said hopefully, but Kroft and d’Bear both just shrugged. “Do you know where Castle Scarwall is?” Nat asked Thousand Bones, but the Shoanti was no more help than the others. “I have never heard that name. If what the ancestors told you is true, it is somewhere deep in the Hold of Belkzen, well beyond our people’s new home in the Cinderlands. That land is under control of the orc tribes, and we do not venture there.”

“Well surely there’s a library here in town that would have an atlas or something, right?” Nat wasn’t giving up, but Thousand Bones kept shooting down his ideas. “The ancestors said Scarwall was abandoned centuries before the first white man set foot in Korvosa. It’s unlikely there will be any records here of such an ancient ruin. Your best bet would either be the libraries of the Dwarven city of Janderhoff, or the sages of Kaer Maga.”

“Why those places?”

Bishop d’Bear took up the narrative. “Janderhoff was one of the Sky Citadels the dwarves built when they first emerged from the Darklands, after Earthfall. And Kaer Maga – well, it was ancient when the empire of Thassilon first arose. Either would have been inhabited when Kazavon ruled in Castle Scarwall. If anyone will have records of where Scarwall is located, it would be there. And neither is very far – on the borders of southern Varisia.”

Wren sighed. “Well, as much as I’d like to just go visit a library, we probably need to take out the Red Mantis first. If they ambushed us once in the middle of the wilderness, it’s likely they’ll do it again, and next time they’ll probably be better prepared.”

This launched an hour-long discussion over possible strategies, the likelihood of being scryed by the Red Mantis, what they might encounter in the assassins’ lair, and what spells would be most necessary to defend against all threats real and imagined. At last, Erin had had enough. “Are we even sure this is a good idea? I’m thinking we should just ignore the Red Mantis for now, and head straight for Scarwall.”

Wren turned to Bishop d’Bear. “Could you perform a Divination for us, to see which choice is best?” d’Bear nodded, and began the ritual. She extinguished all lights except a single candle, burned incense, and crushed a small pearl into a fine powder, which she used to trace the holy symbol of Pharasma on the floor. Then she raised her arms to the sky. “O Lady of Graves, hear our prayer and favor us with your wisdom! Is it wise to attack the Red Mantis in their lair?” She did not move for a moment, then her eyes opened, showing nothing but white. A woman’s voice came from her mouth, a voice not her own. “Danger now prevents far greater danger later.”

That seemed to settle it. Everyone retired for a hard-earned rest, and awoke the next day refreshed and recharged, at least in spells. They waited until after nightfall to set out. They started to put on disguises until the Bishop pointed out that scrying spells were unlikely to be fooled by fake mustaches. As they prepared to set out, Jax tentatively approached Field Marshall Kroft. “Ummm … do you think it would be alright if I took that?” He pointed to Vencarlo’s rapier.

Cressida Kroft smiled. “I think nothing would please him more than to know it was still being used in the pursuit of justice.” Jax lifted the blade and gave it a couple of practice swings. A chill ran up his arm as he realized he held the sword of his childhood hero, Blackjack. He wondered if Kroft had known Vencarlo’s secret, if she realized that Blackjack had died with him. The city of Korvosa had never needed its hero more than it did now.

The party encountered no difficulties traversing the city; the Field Marshall had told them that since their raid on Deathhead Vault, the Gray Maidens’ patrols had been scaled way back. They found The Perfect Pestle with no difficulty, and Tomas quickly spotted the secret door in the alley behind it, just where DiViri had said it would be. It opened onto a steep stone stairway into an ancient catacomb beneath the building. Again as the Lictor had promised, there was a place where the wall had crumbled, providing an entrance into the sewers. The route from there was twisting but certain; at every intersection all but one of the routes forward was blocked.

At last they came to a rusted grate that had collapsed into the stinking water. A slimy five-foot wide walkway kept them out of the effluence, and Tomas could see marks in the muck that indicated they were not the first to come this way. Ahead, the tunnel turned to the right, but before that, there was a narrow opening to the left. Tomas cautiously approached, and saw a small door inset into the wall. He held up a clenched fist to signal the others to halt, then carefully pressed his ear to the door; inside, he could hear a cheerful whistling. He retreated to report, and everyone began furiously casting protective spells. They gathered around the door, tensing for a fight, and Tomas threw it open.

What they found was not at all what they expected. Behind the door was what looked like a tiny tavern. A couple of tables with rickety chairs sat at one end of the room and a wooden bar stood along the other. A goblin sat on the bar, his little bandy legs dangling over the side. As soon as he spotted the party he leaped to his feet, standing on the bar.

O'Malley???

“‘ello, ‘ello, ‘ello! Welcome to O’Malley’s, the finest drinking establishment under Korvosa! Always nice to see some new faces. What’ll it be? I’ve got lager, ale, bitters, stout, porter, or mead. Or if ye’re in the mood for something stronger, we’ve got rye whiskey, bourbon, rum, vodka, gin, tequila, brandy, and of course, for the ladies, peppermint schnapps.” On the shelf behind the bar, the group could see two small wooden casks, one branded with a single ‘X’ and the other with three ‘X’s.

“Ummm … I guess I’ll have a pint of bitters?” Wren was so taken aback that she felt it would be rude not to order something. “Comin’ right up!” the goblin replied with a wide grin. He hopped down behind the bar and pulled out a chipped mug. He squinted inside, spit into it, then wiped it out with his shirttail. Turning to the cask with only one X, he poured it full of a cloudy, yellowish liquid, and slid it across the bar to Wren. “One silver piece, m’lady!” Wren paid, cautiously sniffing the drink. It smelled vaguely beerish, but it had no trace of a head and she could already see sediment settling to the bottom of the mug.

Tomas decided to test the goblin a bit more. “I’ll have a Lagavulin, if you please.” The tiny barkeep raised an eyebrow. “A gentleman of refinement, I see. As you wish, m’lord.” He pulled a cloudy shot glass from beneath the bar, cleaned it as he had Wren’s mug, then poured a shot of dark liquid from the XXX cask. “Two silvers, sir.” Tomas gave the drink a sniff. There was none of the intense peaty woodsmoke aroma he’d expect; in fact, if anything, it smelled a bit like paint thinner. Wren and Tomas both held their drinks uncomfortably, neither willing to actually risk a taste.

“So, what brings you folks down here?” the goblin asked as he began wiping the bar with a rag that probably made it even filthier than it had been before. “As I said, we don’t get many new visitors.”

“Oh we’re looking for some folks,” Shadow said, and the goblin gave him a sly smile. “Lookin’ for folks, eh. Well, as it turns out, pretty much everybody who’s anybody down ‘ere comes through O’Malley’s, and for the right price, I’d be willin’ to let you know what I knows.”

“Do you get many folks in masks down here?” Tomas asked warily.

The goblin nodded vigorously. “Oh yeah, you’d be talkin’ about the Red Mantis, wouldn’tya? Sure, come in here all the time – slittin’ throats be thirsty work, I imagine. Fun group, great sense of humor. If there’s a vampire here when they come in, they always order a Tequila Sunrise, just to rub it in. For the right price, I’d tell ya how ta find ‘em.”

Erin slid ten gold pieces across the bar, which the goblin quickly pocketed. “Yep – for the right price, I’d tell ya how ta find ‘em.”

Erin was quickly losing patience. She drew her sword and flames flickered along its blade. “Whoa, whoa, whoa!” the goblin sputtered, holding up his hands. “These are the Red Mantis you’re talking about – they’ll slit my gizzard if they find out I told you anything. A fella’s got to get reimbursed for that kind of risk, don’t he?”

Erin held the flaming sword to his nose. “How about we reimburse you by not setting you on fire?” The goblin was trembling, but still greedy. “Look, I’d normally ask for fifty, but for ten more gold, I’ll tell you everything.” With an exasperated huff, Erin extinguished her sword and tossed the coins to the goblin.

There seemed to be no hard feelings as he slipped them into his pocket with a smile. “OK, just outside here, the tunnel takes a hard right. Keep goin’, and you’ll pass two grates, then come to a tee. You go left, then take the first left again. You’ll come to a place where the tunnel drops into a hole, and you’ll see somethin’ like an oversized cow in the hole. Don’t let it worry you none – it’s just an illusion. The entrance to the Red Mantis place is in the hole, and they keep that illusion there to keep idle wanderers away.”

The group prepared to leave, but Nat stopped them. “What’s to stop him from warning someone as soon as we leave here?” The goblin overheard him, and grinned. “Well, the best way would be to pay me a whole lot more money!” he suggested.

Wren had had it. “You want more money? Here!” She pulled out a fistful of copper pieces and stuffed them into the struggling goblin’s mouth, then tied a gag over it. Then she tied his hands together. “You can untie yourself after we leave – that should give us a head start.” Jax was staring at her with his mouth hanging open. He remembered the painfully withdrawn girl he’d met a few months ago, who pulled her hair over her face and only spoke in a whisper. What had happened to her? What had happened to all of them?

With the goblin bartender temporarily indisposed, they left O’Malley’s. They followed his directions, which seemed to be accurate, and soon saw a place ahead of them where the sewer tunnel fell away into a pit. It looked like there’d once been a metal walkway across it, but it had long since rusted away. Looking out at them from the pit was … something. The goblin has described it as an “oversized cow”. Maybe he had never seen a real cow, but had only heard one described by someone else who had never seen a cow. It had horns, and a tail, and was staring at them as them with angry red eyes.

A Cow???

Shadow, who’d recast his Invisibility after it had expired, approached cautiously, and the beast didn’t seem to notice him. But Shadow could barely stand to move closer to it. He thought he’d become inured to stink after all they’d time they’d spent roaming through sewers, but this thing stunk to high heaven. He covered his mouth and nose, struggling not to gag, and made it to the edge of the pit. It was about eight feet deep, which put the creature’s height at ten to twelve. He saw no sign of an entrance to the Red Mantis lair.

The creature hadn’t noticed the invisible Shadow creeping up, but there was no way it couldn’t see the party behind them – the only way for them to see in the pitch black sewer tunnel was to travel with magical lights. It gave an angry huff, took a few steps forward, then let out a ferocious bellow, accompanied by a blast of noxious breath that shot down the narrow tunnel, engulfing the entire party. “It’s just an illusion!” Wren shouted. “Ignore it!” That was easy for her to say – she hadn’t breathed in much of the stuff. But Jax and Tomas had filled their lungs, and the poison began eating away at them from the inside immediately. In addition, as the thing had moved closer, its natural stench became infinitely stronger, and both of them were sickened by it on top of the poison.

From the back of the party, Nat fired off a Force Missile that simply evaporated as it reached its target, which seemed to have a level of immunity to magic. “That’s not a cow!” he cried, stating the obvious. “It’s a Catoblepas!” Tomas fired off a round of arrows, one of them sinking deep into the thing’s chest. But he could tell he was dying, and dying quickly. Erin was also sickened by the stench, but she could see that Jax and Tomas were far worse off, struggling to breath and staggering on their feet. “In the name of Iomedae!” she cried, and her sword blazed forth with a light as bright as the noonday sun. Her Power of Faith inspired all around her, and it also restored some of Jax and Tomas’s fading constitution. But it didn’t remove the poison that coursed through their veins – it only delayed the inevitable.

“It’s only an illusion! It’s only an illusion!” Wren kept repeating to herself. But it didn’t smell like an illusion, and Jax and Tomas weren’t dying from imaginary poison. Just to be safe, she summoned a Spiritual Weapon to strike at the creature, but it missed. Shadow used Dimension Door to leap to the far side of the pit, and just in time. With another bellow, the catoblepas clambered up out of the pit, where it would have trampled Shadow had he remained in place. It charged at Tomas and Erin, and gored the paladin with one of its horns. “It’s only an illusion,” Wren repeated once more, but by now even she was beginning to have doubts. She cast Dispel Magic, hoping against hope that the horrible creature would vanish, and when it didn’t, she began to consider the possibility that the goblin might have actually lied to them.

Nat was also now retching from the catoblepas’ stench, so he ran back as far as he could in the tunnel, then spun and cast Magic Missiles at it; this time, the magical bolts hit. Tomas fired arrow after arrow, but his vision was growing black around the edges, and his hands shook uncontrollably, and every arrow missed. Jax charged forward, feinting to surprise the creature with an Impromptu Sneak Attack. His blade found a vital organ, but he was in even worse shape than Tomas, and fading faster.

Erin’s holy inspiration had postponed Jax and Tomas’s deaths, but they couldn’t benefit from it again. She saw the color draining from their faces, and their limbs shaking, and knew they couldn’t survive much longer. “For the Inheritor!” she cried, and lashed out with her sword. Her first blow stabbed into the catoblepas’ throat, and it reared back, spurting blood. As it raised its head, she slashed her blade again, and its head fell to one side, nearly severed.

Back in the Dead Warrens, much of the planning debate had centered on what the Red Mantis might hit them with. No one had anticipated this, but they had been concerned about poison. Now Wren dashed forward, preparing her prayer to Neutralize Poison. Her trained eye told her Jax was closest to the Boneyard, so she cast the spell on him. Then she pulled a scroll out of her pack, turned to Tomas, and performed the same service on him. They were both far from healthy, but they were no longer dying.

Shadow was continuing to scan the pit for any sign of a hidden door. “I’m not seeing anything here,” he reported, and Jax and Tomas joined the search. “There’s nothing here,” Jax confirmed. “And I don’t see any tracks either, other than our own,” Tomas added. They all looked at each other. “That settles it – that goblin’s dead!” Erin snarled.

They retraced their steps, and Tomas slammed open the door to O’Malley’s. “Ruh Roh!” the goblin yelped as the door opened, and then he vanished into thin air. There was a door behind the bar, and Tomas immediately went to work on it. “Geez! This is an awfully fancy lock for such a dump,” he muttered after several attempts to pick the lock failed. Jax tried his hand with no better luck, but the two of them working together were ultimately able to get it open.

It revealed a narrow, twisting tunnel leading downwards. After several twists and turns, they found the way blocked by a wall of thick, yellowish fog; nothing could be seen beyond it. Nat cast Detect Magic and studied the area carefully for some time. “Hmmm … there’s a lot going on here. Some of it looks like the Mage’s Private Sanctum they have back at the Dead Warrens. Makes sense – otherwise it’d be pretty easy to find this place by just doing Locate Object on those masks of theirs. But it looks like there’s also some sort of Dispel Magic effect, and some sort of Alarm as well. Shadow cursed – he’d just re-cast his protective spells.

“Can you just Dispel it?” Tomas asked, but Nat shook his head. “I don’t have that spell ready.” Wren stayed quiet. She had prepared a Dispel Magic, but had used it trying to get rid of the ‘illusionary’ catoblepas – in retrospect, maybe not the wisest choice. “But Jax should be able to disable it,” Nat continued, “just like he did with those Symbols back in the Arkona’s labyrinth.” Jax stepped forward, examined the area closely, then began pulling obscure items out of his bag of tricks. After a bit of fiddling, he stood up. “I can’t do anything about the Mage’s Sanctum, but I think the Dispel and Alarm are suppressed for the time being.”

Jax took the lead stepping through the fog, followed by Erin, Tomas, and Wren; Shadow and Nat hung back, to make sure they didn’t hear any bloodcurdling screams. The tunnel quickly opened into a wide natural cavern with a vaulted ceiling arching up thirty feet overhead. On either side of the entrance a pair of ten-foot high ledges jutted out above the cavern floor, and to their left was a pool of dark water. Ahead of them, a fifteen foot wide passage led away, but its mouth was blocked by wide pit; a pair of three-foot wide planks formed a treacherous-looking bridge across the chasm. All around the cavern, swaths of softly glowing blue fungus grew, filling the cave with eerie illumination; the fungus grew in lumps that bore an unsettling resemblance to brains.

As the group cautiously fanned out across the cavern floor, Wren decided to climb up on one of the ledges for a better view. The rough rock face proved easy enough to climb and she quickly reached the top. As she pulled herself up over the lip of the ledge, she found herself staring into the face of a horrifying creature. It looked like a naked, winged woman – at least from the waist up. From the waist down, it was nothing but dangling entrails. It let out a high-pitched shriek from its fanged mouth and lunged at Wren with clawed hands.

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The PCs earned 4,400 XP for the night, putting you at 171,902 XP, with 210,000 required for Level 13.