From
the Journals of Bartholomew Pettibone, of the House Pettibone
A
Purveyor of Enchanting Sorcery
04
February 2023
A
S'ro By Any Other Name is Still A S'ro
In
the recent past, our good friend Arngeir of the Green Gleam had a
certain map come into their possession. It was purported to describe
where serudla lived, deep in the bowels of the Weirding Caverns,
along with promises of hoards of untold treasure. To help secure this
lucrative windfall, Arngeir sent word throughout the taverns of our
fair city, attempting to gain the assistance of any stalwart
adventurers. And the call was answered.
Durham,
of the Ringing Anvil, and his companion Lars (known as the Ghar
Rider), initially went to Arngeir to hear more of this expedition.
And with them went Sesel and Raoden of the Survivors, Heijo of the
Ink-Stained Hands, and a young mendicant by name of Fa Min. After
considerable vetting of the veracity of this map, and of course not
wanting to pass up on an invitation to learn more about beasts of the
s'ro kind, Gan and I also answered this call. Purely for furthering
our basic understanding of the natural sciences, of course.
Durham
initially proposed that we hie ourselves to the Colossian Oracle in
order to have various aspects of our expedition divined – for
success or ill. All agreed that this was an excellent beginning. We
gathered items deemed on our part as sufficient for sacrifice and
made our way through a gloomy, grey morning to those hallowed halls,
near the Necropolis. Among those goods were fine wines, ciders, and
ales … sweet morsels of dried meats, fruits, and nuts … a flask
of blood from vanquished foes … a fatted beast … finely fashioned
jewelry … and other finery.
The
monitors of the oracle ushered us in and took stock of our offerings,
allotting a total of four questions to be posed to their priestess.
While the others paid attention to the questions and the answers,
Raoden and I let our gazes wander over the vast array of mirrors,
view-plates, knobs, levers, touchstones, and blinking lights that
constitute the outward visage of the oracle. This facade brings to
our minds the inner workings of Bob. Between the two of us, and our
experiences, we decided that there is something more here than just a
mysterious “oracle”. It smacks more of a technological divining
device. Perhaps it relies on information, devoured and absorbed over
untold centuries, that can be parsed and queried in a manner that
allows for answers to be estimated with varying degrees of
confidence.
But
I ramble.
Our
questions and answers were thus:
What
is the most dire physical weakness of the Old Pale Wyrm?
Simply
put, its love of and desire for treasure.
What
can counter the acid allegedly spewed by the Old Pale Wyrm?
Metals
of the Earth.
What
are the attributes of the weapons carried by the Old Pale Wyrm?
Swift
one strikes,
Sure
all strike.
Spells
they wreak,
Of
withering, charm, and sleep.
Aside
from the Old Pale Wyrm, how is its treasure hoard protected?
Deep
within the Earth it lies,
Protected
by what family he might gather.
And
others o'er the caverns fly,
Who
cast sharp stones that scatter.
After
our questions were answered, and some small refreshment shared, our
party returned to the city to gather goods and wares, and to arm
ourselves. In short order we departed through the city gates once
more, making our way to the Tel al'Safina, and into its labyrinthine
bowels of the Weirding Caves. I should note that as we entered the
caverns, due to Fa Min's obvious lack of experience, I twisted the
arcana around them, rendering them invisible to the eye. As well, Gan
lit his trusty lantern to provide us with a means of seeing in the
dark passages that lay ahead. And so into those familiar tunnels we
delved, once again.
As
Sesel has led several previous mapping expeditions in those caverns,
his expertise led us straightway to what we all agreed must be the
very same area that Arngeir's map illustrated. After scrambling down
a rather precipitous ledge, dropping near thirty feet into a dank
chamber, we took a break in order to orient ourselves. At this
location I could definitely make out the aroma of what reminded me of
reptilian origin – sakkra and s'ro. And there were signs of
previous, horribly failed expeditions.
While
others were quietly discussing options on moving deeper into what we
believed to be the lair of the Old Pale Wyrm, Gan and I made a
startling discovery. In the darkness of a connecting passage, we
clearly discerned a pair of large, gleaming eyes, intently watching
our party. I unobtrusively nudged Sesel with my elbow, and Gan
pointedly directed Durham to take note – a beast of obviously large
proportions was studying us. Heijo immediately retreated deeper into
the shadows of our chamber and began fiddling with a piece of
jewelry, muttering a foul incantation over it, no doubt instilling it
with a curse.
Upon
realizing that we had discovered its presence, a serudla of immense
size (obviously a wingless s'ro) scuttled out of the passage and
approached us menacingly. Its body was massive, and in two of its
hands (it had four!) it wielded a battle ax and a sword. Immediately
its sibilant voice filled the chamber, and it demanded to know what
tribute such pitiful miners and prospectors had brought for the Old
Pale Wyrm this time. What baubles and tasty treats had been brought
in exchange for the trifle of sparing our insignificant lives?
Indeed, this was a s'ro; they are always going on about tribute and
entitled offerings.
Lars
stood forth and claimed that he had come for the beast, which it
seemed rather amused by. Dropping its head, which was the size of two
large barrels, it flicked a dry tongue over Lar's face, declaring
with satisfaction that he would be a tasty morsel, indeed! Heijo then
stepped forward and presented a most charming necklace – of gold
and garnets – to be hung about the neck of our host. And it agreed.
As this gem laden jewel was draped upon that tree-trunk thick neck,
the curse it contained exploded and dissipated, fizzling inertly.
However, it did have the effect of alerting our foe of our unfriendly
intent. Before any other reaction could be made, Lars wrapped an
arcanist's web around the creature's head, effectively clamping its
vile mouth shut. Sesel, Arngeir, and Durham rushed forward to
initiate a melee, and Gan strode forth slowly and calmly, studying
his opponent. Raoden instantly constructed a wall of force from the
arcana, and called the rest of us to take refuge with him. The fight
was on.
The
encounter was chaotic and quick, and the details are murky. Suffice
to say, Gan was seriously damaged (but he gave as good as he got!),
and Arngeir suffered grave wounds also (which were later healed).
Lars attempted to ride the wingless s'ro – but alas, was tossed off
as easily as water is shaken from a soaked yekki. The beast was
eventually overcome and dispatched, thanks to a series of solid blows
dealt by Sesel and Durham. And especially to the amazing light-beam
from a weapon held by Roaden, that actually cleaved the
sword-wielding arm from the body of the s'ro! The same sword that
almost delivered Gan unto the dark-lands with one devastating stroke.
We
reveled in our fortune, salved and cured our wounds, then went to the
task of investigating the corpse of our fallen foe. While the beast
was divested of its weapons (Gan claimed that fated sword for
himself, and Lars the ax), and its body investigated, Heijo and Fa
Min looked about this room further, discovering another very narrow
passage leading out and away to the south. With all in agreement,
those two entered that “fat-man's misery”, to discern where it
might lead, while the rest of our group completed the task of
shearing its head from its body, and flaying the skin from the beast.
Their report was glorious – a new chamber lay close beyond, with
heaps of glittering coins and baubles laying unprotected! We sent
them back to scoop, Scoop, SCOOP!
Buoyed
by our success, we moved deeper and further into the lair of this
wingless s'ro, and were not disappointed with our findings. Another
s'ro was found, slightly smaller but still formidable, resting among
and guarding yet more lucre! We enticed this next fellow into another
melee, and were once again victorious. More coins, baubles, and
intricate items were shoveled into our bags – our greed at least as
voracious as that of those we were vanquishing. Hmm … are we just
s'ro of a different type?
After
learning of the possibility of even more treasure laying deeper and
further in these meandering halls and chambers, and eliminating some
trifling speleo-vermin, we became inclined to rest on our laurels and
return, alive and monetarily sated, to the sunlight realm above. And
so we made our way out of the caverns, and back to the city, retiring
at Cothon Understar to nurse wounds and to toast our success with
tankards of ale!
S'ro
are most certainly creatures of much infamy, and can conjure up
images of savage, chaotic destruction. However, after having
discourse and interchange now with at least four of their type, I
must say, they are no different than any other tyrant, brigand, or
despot. I am now more than eager to return to the Denyan Isles and
make entreaties to our s'ro nemesis out among those far lands. That
will be another adventure, for another day!
[written by Phil, player of Bartholomew Pettibone regarding the recent expedition into the Weirding Caverns, earning Bart 100 xp per level]
