Eberron: Towers and Tunnels

Agents of Breland?
Of the blood-soaked hunt for a treacherous dead man

So’s yeah, we got back, an’ I got a chance t’unwind, play some fastball sports an’ make some easy dough. Seems all this runnin’ around has sharpened me up. (The old gig w’House Orien seems t’have died due to me not bein’ around, but it was a tad borin’ anyway). An’ in the meantime, I got me some armour that’s not fallin’ t’pieces.

But then, while over some drinks in a cosy nook, we got a message, claimin’ t’be from th’Dark Lanterns. We follow it up, an’ it seems as they’ve a job fer us in terms of huntin’ down some magic sword-stealin’ murderin’ traitor, just seen harin’ off out of the city in th’company of his sister. Good bounty fer him alive, less fer him dead, plus a bit more fer the sword. So we get sent off straight t’chase him, w’magebred horses an’ all, although strangely things seem not so urgent that they don’ stop t’check our credentials w’some silly assessment involvin’ catchin’ an ape.

An’ so off we go. T’begin with, he gains on us a little as we try t’spare our horses, so we start ridin’ em harder an’ changin’ ‘em as we go. On thinkin’ abou’ it later, it seems strange they couldn’ have provided some faster mode o’transport, or used agents more readily t’hand than ourselves; mebbe they’re stretched, or mebbe someone don’ want too many people knowin’ o’this. We’d best be careful when it comes t’gettin’ th’bounty… bu’ yeah, back to th’ story.

Long story short, we catch up just shorta the city our man Luciern is headin’ for. As we ride ‘im down, th’coach driver starts throwin’ fire at us. Mebbe she got upset when I tried settin’ fire t’the coach w’my own arrows or somethin’. Meantime, Rokar’s lookin’ a little off, starin’ at the back o’the coach fer some reason. Anyways, tha’ doesn’ last long, as Aleyn an’ Atreus do somethin’ t’get th’coach t’crash. The driver falls from the coach an’ I ride up an’ plug her quick, not likin’ the idea o’more balls o’fire comin’ my way. Then wolves come runnin’ outta th’forest, an’ this strange black smoke comes outta the wreck o’the coach. The wolves are soon despatched, bu’ when we look inside th’coach, all we find is a coffin.

So yeah, a vampire. Our man Aleyn gives us th’lowdown from his scholarly knowledge of’em as we put an’end t’the sufferin’ of a wounded horse, burn th’body o’the driver in case she might be tainted, an’ then settle down t’some horse steaks. Waste not, want not, as they say. I’m a bit off my dinner, however – never killed a woman before (well, ‘cept fer helpin’ off that one as worked fer the emerald claw, but she hardly counted), an’ I’m not too sure how ta finish off a man as can wander off as smoke.

But anyways, we carry on t’the city that Luciern was headed for in such a hurry. Seems as there’s some contact he may have there at an embassy, an’ Aleyn scores us some tickets fer a party there that seems a likely way in fer him, while I shop aroun’ fer smart duds an’ some concealable little silver knives – seems as silver may, or may not, help w’finishin’ off our man Luciern. Meantime, we hear stories of people turning up without any blood, an’ we give th’watch what information we can… but there’s little t’be done t’find him inna strange city, other’n turn up at the party.

So to the party we go , me feelin’ like a goblin in silk in the strange clothes. I find a seat an’ keep my mouth shut an’ eyes open while th’others go aroun’ askin’ questions. Then up pops our man Luciern outta nowhere, about t’assault some lady. We rush in, bring him down, an’ I grab his sword… but away he vanishes inta smoke again. We’ve half an idea where he’s goin’, though; seems he’d booked passage on an airship outta here. Wi’the city’s watch an’all up in arms besides possible other black lanterns in pursuit, we’re hopin’ he’ll get on board, an’ so we’re headin’ that way ourselves. Besides th’bounty, an undyin’ bloodsuckin’ murderer with a grudge against us is not someone we want wanderin’ around. If he sees us, mebbe he’ll make himself scarce, an’we’ll be stuck strapped to an elemental in the sky headin’ a hundred miles from anywhere. But I’m half hopin’ he’ll stick around; after all, we’ve got his sword. Th’other half is wonderin’ how we’re goin’ ter finish him off fer good this time…

Green blood and fire

Pour me ‘nother one.

So, we tried musterin’ up what help we could, given that th’great an’mighty council weren’ innerested. Atrius in particular, since he knew the territory, but precious few wanted anythin’ t’do with it. Even the over-clever wolves we saved from their pens in a hole in th’mournlands buggered off, despite all th’druid could say, an’ I could see he took that hard. In the end, though, we managed t’find five more fools with axes an’ a stray jaguar. Which with the four of us, an’ the six pretty unimpressive fellows we had t’help before, put us at abou’ 15, plus 2 jaguars an’ one horse, against maybe 50 orcs plus who knows what else.

I was pretty happy abou’ all this at th’time, min’ you. My firs’ proper battle, a chance t’see what my dad’s old stories o’scoutin’ in th’woods migh’ really be like… an’ maybe t’make a name fer myself.

So, we talked an’talked ‘bout plans, an’ finally reckoned we had t’get these orcs outta the fortifications they’d put up aroun’ th’stolen temple, an’ draw them out inter th’woods t’ground of our choosin’. But first, we reckoned, we could maybe hunt down some o’their hunters as they went out for food. And so me, Atrius, an’ a few o’the help went out and bagged us some hunters. I took down the first three we met with arrows nice’n’quick, but the next three spotted us from further off an’ got away; after that, there were no more.

So then it was time t’see about drawin’ em into our trap. I put a good case t’bein’ th’guy t’draw them out, knowin’ I could run fastest an’ make myself fel’ at a distance pretty well. So I snuck off toward th’orc camp, shinnied up a tree, an’ had a look inside their camp. Seemed like they had plenty o’tents, enough so’s t’make our guess o’50 not so bad… a couple huts too, an’ one larger tent, an’ a horrible lookin’ totem at th’middle that was just barely recognisable as somethin’ that was once a tree, an’ still alive. After watchin’ fer a bit, an’ not seein’ anyone clearly in charge, I decided t’get things started. A fire arrow t’set light t’the big tent, maybe, an’ another arrow ter bring down one a the easier orcs t’get a line on. That went fine, and I carried on; firin’ arrows an’hurlin’ abuse bagged me a few more, specially a couple that were brave enough t’come out an’ meet me. Although I felt all sortsa bad abou’ one preggers orc gettin’ carried outta th’burning tent. But then a line formed up at the barricades an’loads of arrows came back my way, so’s I cleared off, after some jumpin’ aroun’ in the trees ter tempt some more out brought me nothin’ more but more arrows comin’ my way.

An’ so I went back ter the others, an’Aleyn magicked away where a coupl’a arrows had sorta found their mark, before I went out t’hassle ‘em some more. I tried a few times, sometimes alone, sometimes w’backup t’ambush anyone who tried t’catch me, after I got almost bagged m’self… but nothin’ doin’. Th’orcs even figgured out a way ter protect their camp from m’arrows, so huntin’ them from the trees seemed t’be out.

An’ so, feelin’ frustrated, an’knowin’ that th’clock was tickin’ before other unfriendly parties mebbe came lookin’ fer the schema, an’ with th’open gate of th’orc’s stockade tauntin’ us, we got reckless. With only a half-arsed attempt at a diversion w’oil on th’stockade, we went fer the frontal assault we’d rejected from the get go. I led the way, mebbe because I felt a little responsible fer failin’ ter get th’orcs out. Th’rest followed, an’then th’orcs charged out too. Loads of them, their boss n’their shaman ridin’ great wolves, an’a couple others whippin’ four bears along towards us. Their boss was howlin’ up a storm an’ragin’, an’ a few o’the help ran away from the start. Then they hit us. I yanked the shaman outta his saddle, stabbed him after he fell, an’ the help had a good go at stickin’ the knives in, but he had good armour, an’ just wouldn’ stay down, so’s I had t’keep makin’ him bite the dirt, even while I fel’ his dark sorceries try t’take th’light from me eyes an’ the strength from me arms. Ter the lefta me I saw Mawfrey go down, clawed by a bear, an’ Rokar then take down that bear an’his mate while th’orc boss ragin’ like a madman sliced away at our men on all sides an’ the two jaguars, while Yaguara in her turn tore the teeth from the wolf carryin’ him, although that barely slowed him down. Ter my righ’, Aleyn sent th’orcs tumblin’ with a gust o’wind but they just charged righ’ back in again, an’ Atrius drove off th’other coupla bears somehow before joinin’ us in tryin’ ter take down the shaman permanent, like.

Then th’shaman ran, an’ I looked ter my left, an’figgured there was only one way t’end this fight. So’s I stepped back t’see clear, pulled out m’fire lance, and aimed it straight at th’orc leader. He looked puzzled fer a momen’, as if wonderin’ what I was carryin’, before I launched m’firework an’ his whole fron’ exploded in flame. Away he ran, roarin’ in agony, an’ figgurin’ m’friends could handle the rest, I went after the shaman.

Seein’ which hut he’d gone ter, I chased after him, kicked down th’door, an’ there in fronta me I saw th’pregnant orc from the tent earlier, screamin’ in pain, an’ him chantin’ away at some dark purpose. I tried t’interrupt him with a fire arrow, but then the floor lurched from under me, an’ I fell away t’the dirt outside while th’hut went an hopped righ’ over the stockade. Nobody felt much like chasin’ it.

After that, there weren’t much t’do, save fer us t’bury the fallen among th’fools who’d follered us, Aleyn t’fix up th’wounded, Atrius t’get back his axe from th’hideously burnt body o’that orc leader, an’ me t’rustle up what loot I could, although I couldn’ muster much enthusiasm fer the task, an’ even suggested we give away a fortune in basic orc weaponry t’the village where the fools with axes came from, seein’ as how we’d got a coupla them killed an’ all. Also, we couldn’ find the schema, an’ reckoned that Shaman – Blackjaw, his name was – musta taken it away in his damn leapin’ hut. Atrius an’ his druidic friends then fixed up their holy tree with a great ceremony, an’ then there wasn’ much more t’do there.

But anyways, I learned me a few things. Mebbe I unnerstan’ the times m’old man would fall quiet a bit more, an mebbe I learned, also, that I don’ ever want t’use m’fire lance against anyone I can hear scream as they burn again. I’ll keep it by me, fer monsters an’ worforged, but otherwise I’ll stick t’me bow an’ me blade, an’ keep any killin’ I have ter do quick an’ clean. A man’s gotta sleep at night, when all’s said an’ done.

Lost in woodland politics

Seems we’ve been upsetting some powerful people – we met a pretty tough assassin on our way out of Sharn to see the woodsy folk. However, he still went down to a few arrows (and pecks from a bloody great bluetit Foreststrider called outa nowhere). Serves him right fer takin’ on the lot of us by hisself without any armour on him.

But then, when we teleported out t’the woods with a few mercs in tow, expecting no more than a party and maybe the hope of some assistance, we find things’ve got all political. Some seer lady claims doomy doom will come if we take this schema off the Orcs, her exact words being something like: “The brutal ones will invade the sacred place; the brutal ones will defile the sacred place; the brutal ones will save the world”. Loada hogswash if ya ask me, but she seems serious about it, an’ the woodsy council took it in kind. Even with all m’friends fancy talkin’, there was no help to be had. Still, I had a cheerful dance with a pretty lady, and that mead they had wasn’ too bad either. An’ if they ain’ helpin’ us, they don’ get a share o’ whatever loot these orcs’ve got, which suits me fine.

The Mournlands is no vacation destination

Having found the map and the location of the House Cannith research facility, we left Rosequarry in the land cart and headed for the Mournlands. Brokering a deal with the driver, he agreed to return 5 days later to collect us, providing we were still alive. The mists of The Mournlands did not look inviting and I was suddenly feeling very home sick. At any rate, we had agreed to find the schema so we headed into the mist, weapons at the ready. Once we were in, Alain Orgev d’Orien kindly told me that Orcs patrolled the borders of the Mournlands and killed anyone who came out… he could have told me that before and perhaps I would have changed my mind about this trip.

After a short walk through the mist we came across the remains of a trebuchet and some dead guards. These guards looked like there were only killed yesterday, but they wore the crest of the old rulers of these lands who were wiped out over four years ago. Something very odd is going on here and I do not like it. It was at that point that four wolves lept from the mists, but they were no ordinary wolves. I was shocked to see such abominations, but Lago did not blink as he let loose with his hand cannon, disintegrating two of them. Not to be out done, I cut down the final two and was once again glad to have Lago by my side. Perhaps he is not all that bad after all?

After some light hearted banter to break the tension we continued our trek and soon came across the door to the research facility. Entering was easy, but the facility was strange. It was a series of rotating spherical rooms with corridors and rooms running of them, accessed using different coloured rods. We quickly worked out how the facility worked and set about exploring the rooms. We found the schema, but for me, two far more important things occurred while we were down there.

Firstly, we met a talking wolf; what a miracle! I could not believe my ears when I heard her speak for the first time and was so glad when she agreed to return to Greatpine with me. I cannot wait to tell her all about my home and what the forest has in store for her and her friends.

Secondly, and far more disturbing, was what happened to me when some strange device was activated. It seems I am dragonmarked and even worse it is House Cannith who betrayed and murdered my father. Since our return to Sharn, I have discovered that my father could have been Arron di’Cannith who was instrumental in the creation of the warforged. I must find out more, but I am not sure I will like what I find. Diago d’Cannith seems to want to help me, but who can I trust? Perhaps mother will know more about my father. I must return home and ask her and luck or fate would have it, we must return to Greatpine to continue pursuing the schemas. It seems a higher power is watching over me, but do they want me to continue my work with the Wardens of the Woods or right the wrongs done to my father and House Cannith? I must meditate on this.

Of goblins and zombie dwarves

As y’can guess from what went on before, we had to hit the ground running. So we headed out of town bound for Darguun on the first lightning rail service we could catch (although I left a note for me old mam first, and asked a couple of the lads to watch out for her – she’ll doubtless skin my hide when I return anyway, and I don’t want her to have any extra reason).

From lightning rail, we switched to guard duty on a caravan. Luckily for the others, I spotted trouble coming, when it inevitably did, in the way of a whole goblin war party coming up behind. While the others did what they could to set up for a fight, I snuck back and had a shufty at the oncoming horde. Unfortunately, one of ‘em got lucky and saw me too – after sending a warning message to the rest back at the caravans, I had the chance to show off my markmanship to a few goblins who came after me, before taking to my heels with their arrows at my back.

Luckily, the rest had done a reasonable job of the defences, and when I got back a little ways ahead of our would-be attackers, we were fit to make a stand. So the goblins charged, and got chewed up like meat in a grinder (literally, in some cases – that Yaguara’s a scary beast when she’s riled, or hungry, which seems to be most of the time). Lootin’ proved fair profitable, although I never did get my hands on one of the fancy bows some of them were totin’.

So, we get into the city, and make our way to this guide we’re meant to contact. The greedy bloke asks us for a real rube’s price, but I talk him out of it, and we head out of town, duly wow’ing the local loan sharks when they come to collect along the way. He had a pretty swanky ground vehicle, as it happens, and we got up into the mountains to where we needed, righ’ on the edge of the blasted Mournlands, without any real trouble.

However, it seems others had got there ‘fore us, and not just anyone – the bleedin’ Emerald Claw were there, along with plenty of walking bonepiles. Now, I’m none too feared of a fight, but there’s something unfair about the other bloke being already dead. So we sneak around, and with me leadin’ the others, and them not doin’ so bad, even the toffs, we manage to go right past the Claw all the way to the buildin’ we need. Inside, though, it’s not so easy – a half-frozen zombie dwarf manages to sniff me out, if you’ll believe that, and we end up having to have a bit of a barny w’two of the claw’s henchmen and that stunted corpse clawing at my ankles. We take ‘em out before they think to raise the alarm, however, an’ more or less get what we need from the buildin’. Or at least I think so – I got busy watchin’ fer trouble while the others had a look at it, soon as I saw there was little worth the takin’. We need to find us some more profitable ruins. Although I’ve a thought that our guide’s vehicle might be worth a fair bit, if I can persuade the others it needs borrowin’...

We all love a good bar brawl....

Told by Atreus Foreststrider:

After a month of regular work in Sharn I was still no closer to undercovering the identity of “J” and house Canith had been next to useless. Elaydren d’Vown had come up with no information and, although she had promised us more work, none had materialised. That was until a regular trip to the mail office found it ransacked and the messsage we had all been waiting for had been stolen. Bloody typical!

I managed to work out that the ransackers consisted of a warforge and some kobolds. Not those warforged again…. Lago Glusely then went off looking for any traces of them, but instead recieved a message from Elaydren d’Vown, asking us to urgently go to the Broken Anvil. We did as told, but she barely said two words when the ransackers found us and a rather bloody bar brawl began.

To cut a long story short, I took a nasty wound to the gut and Lago Glusely cooked a large number of Kobolds with what can only be described as a firework launcher. I regret ever mocking him for such a ludicrous drunken purchase. As always we then looted the corpses, finding a rather nice looking magical cutlass, and headed on our next adventure. Finally we were leaving Sharn for somewhere hopefulyl quieter and with more trees.

Continuing in the depths of Sharn...

As told by Atreus Foreststrider:

Having opened the door we ventured deeper into the ruins of Sharn. Thankfully Alaine was able to light the way with the use of magic, leaving us able to see any immediate threats. Eventually we arrived in a large cavern which was filled with the ruins of old buildings. I do not know much of the old architecture of Sharn, but the buildings were impressive, reminding me of visits years ago to the old Dwarven undrground cities in the mountains near to the Elden Reaches. We were not allowed to gaze for long, however, as Lago Glusely was soon set upon by large beetles scurring out of the darkness. Again, Alaine assisted us by dispatching most of them with a blast of cold. Finally the bureaucrat was proving useful… I was beginning to think that only Yaguara and I could deal with any attackers.

Searching the cavern and dispatching some rats on route, we found a large building which we entered via a hole in the roof. Unfortunately two large iron defenders were present, still active from eons ago, but they were quickly dispatched by myself and Yaguara with some assistance from Lago Glusely. Alaine was once again staring at the ceiling, or whatever he did during combat situations. In any regard, once the iron defenders were dead the others searched the room while I set about making a hearty broth to warm the party. One of my best it turns out, but I did not let on that luck had more to do with that than anything else.

Alaine then did what he does best and spouted about some ancients laws and cultures.. something I had no time for, but tried to pay attention. To cut a long story short, he found a vault and we found the artifact we were sent to find and we headed back to the surface. Unfortunatley, on exiting the building we were ambushed by a Warforge. “They do seem popular in Sharn”, I thought to myself. Thankfully, I was on guard and managed to draw my axe in time to cut a bolt out of the air which I am sure would have been a killing shot if I had not been paying attention. I coundn’t help but chuckle and smile as I then cut down a rather surprised Warforge. Thankfully was also there to help out.

It appears that our adventure was not over yet, however. Our return was rudely interupted by a band of Orcs, sent by Draz I think, but we made light work of them. In fact, I rather enjoyed ending their miserable lives.

Finally we returned to Elaydren d’Vown and handed her the artifact in exchange for payment. She seemed pleased and we all welcomed some gold to help us over the next few months.

Into the depths of Sharn

The rain was pouring down as our heroes made their way to a warm, comfortable tavern where they could acquire the essential things in life — ale and more ale. Sadly, their journey was interrupted by a chance encounter with a freshly murdered corpse and the warforged assassin that had placed the body in that state.

Things looked dicey for a moment but Yaguara, fearless animal companion of the druidic axeman Atreus Foreststrider, acted quickly to defend his master and stopped the killer with one savage attack.

It didn’t take long for the city watch to make an appearance, and they sent the group on their way after briefly questioning them.

Later, at the tavern, Foreststrider was approached by a cloaked figure bearing the seal of House Cannith with instructions to attend a meeting about the murder the next morning. It is the connection to House Cannith, as much as the murder, that causes Foreststrider to drag his friends into the business.

A representative of House Cannith, Elaydren d’Vown, is waiting for them. She explains that the murdered man was seeking to recover an artifact schema from deep below the city, and was murdered by rivals who are after it for their own purposes.

She hires the party to take up the dead mans quest and gives them a diary recovered from the body. It included directions that would help find the artifact, and had an archaic version of the Cannith seal stitched onto the cover with mithril.

The group intimidate a goblin merchant into guiding them to a point mentioned in directions left by the dead man. Unfortunately, it seemed that their rivals had also learned of the location and had set an ambush.

It was not a particularly successful ambush, and the group moved on. Their was was soon bared by a door, sealed by magic, and marked with the ancient sign of House Cannith. Farstrider instinctively raised the diary to the door, which glowed and swung open…

Welcome to your Adventure Log!
A blog for your campaign

Every campaign gets an Adventure Log, a blog for your adventures!

While the wiki is great for organizing your campaign world, it’s not the best way to chronicle your adventures. For that purpose, you need a blog!

The Adventure Log will allow you to chronologically order the happenings of your campaign. It serves as the record of what has passed. After each gaming session, come to the Adventure Log and write up what happened. In time, it will grow into a great story!

Best of all, each Adventure Log post is also a wiki page! You can link back and forth with your wiki, characters, and so forth as you wish.

One final tip: Before you jump in and try to write up the entire history for your campaign, take a deep breath. Rather than spending days writing and getting exhausted, I would suggest writing a quick “Story So Far” with only a summary. Then, get back to gaming! Grow your Adventure Log over time, rather than all at once.


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