Category DND Blog: EFK Saga

Exiting the well and water storage area, the group sneaks and peeks around, discovering the odd trap, a storeroom or three and the odd assortment of barracks – most without occupants – but a few rooms hold snoozing guards – who are encouraged to snooze for eternity. The group picks up speed as it moves from area to area. Dalliance summons up a trio of ghasts to take the lead, and they gleefully rend and tear all that venture within range. Stopping only to rescue a badger and a halfling (at the insistence of Mr. Feaster), the group tears around the final corner at high speed. Bursting into a large room filled with Hobgoblins, barbarians and a black plate mail clad individual – Dalliance whips up a Rod of Fury tripled Fireball that roasts all within the room to a fine medium rare...

Stuck in Mirabar, the group ponders what to do. Ma’lorn (AKA Shoress) opines that he is sick of trudging about for much risk and little reward and wants to take a break. He asks the group to accompany him to Daggerford, where he hopes to join Kowela’s theater troupe and earn an ‘honest’ living. Given his Zhentarim connections, it is far more likely that he plans to spy on Thudheim, but his announcement angers Dr. Mingus. Mingus takes the opportunity during the discussion to cast Slay Living on the unsuspecting Ma’lorn.
Luckily for Ma’lorn, his Cowl of Warding reflects the killing spell back onto Mingus – who fails his save and promptly expires on the spot...

Armed with nothing more than a general indication – “The frost giants live in the frozen wilderness” and some general pointing – “over that way”, the group sets off to discover how many days they can wander about without freezing to death. Luckily for the slightly frozen party members, Dalliance likes to travel in style – and the hut makes a nice refuge at day’s end. Within a week, they latch on to some indications of travel, and eventually spot a quartet of the frosty ones trudging through the glacial passes. The group follows and sees the giants enter into a large glacier through a crevasse in the side. Invisible to the eye, but not to the ear – the group ‘chuff chuff chuff’ through the snow and descend into the rift...

…the opening doors heralded the onslaught of another dozen trolls, backed up by the Grub of Evil – a human headed, maggoty-looking thing with a poisonous stinger and the power of flight – and spells. The battle was savage – death touched both sides of the warring factions as TBA and the trolls fell in the melee of blades. Barada escaped the reaper for the moment, but the arrival of 6 ogre archers made it a near thing for a time till Mingus’ Mystic Lash stunned the grub and allowed it to be defeated. Malorn-Shoress ate some grub brain and revealed many of its secrets, including the news that the caravan goods were not present – having been sold off hours after the raid to others.
While nursing the fallen members back into some semblance of life – Mingus remarked upon the remote location and...

Finding Waterdeep (and indeed the North in general) to be a bit…slow…during the mind-numbingly cold winters, the group turns to the previous employer in hopes of obtaining more gainful employment. While the wizards have no need of help now that they have their very nice Soul Gem thankyouvery much, but they might know someone who needs another odd job done. They then contract with a merchant group looking to return the lost caravan goods taken during a raid and to deliver a punitive strike at the raiders. Seeking and finding and returning to the scene of the assault is no great feat – the frozen , naked, half-eaten corpses litter the landscape like some sort of Hieronymous Bosch christmas card.
The group treks out into the High Moor (in the dead of winter…again)...