Session #30
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| Title: | Cursed Brothers of Keldor |
| System: | Dungeons & Dragons: Third Edition |
| Style: | FCS Gaming League - Mass Melee |
| Date: | December 5, 2002 - Thursday |
| Time: | 6:30pm - 10:30pm (Sign-In at 6:00pm) |
| Game Date/Time: | 1 July 153 P.A. |
| Game Master: | Christopher J. Ford |
| Location: | Flights of Fantasy Books, Games, & Accessories |
| Ratings: | Exposition 3 Combat 3 Experience 2 Danger 3 |
| Maximum Registration: | 6 Teams |
| Level: | Master Level - Novice level teams may enter, but safeties do not apply! Epic level teams may enter, but safeties apply! |
The Situation |
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| Occasionally, there comes a time when the irony of the ages sifts into legend and the stories we tell each other. The story of the Cursed Brothers is one such token of lore. Weapons cursed to be the only instruments to save a kingdom. And yet, cursed to be seemingly useless to those who wield them. In a time when evil has so recently encroached on our lives, take a seat and a drink and look to what i now reveal for the little comfort it may offer. Take away the warnings and the lessons by your own council. In the land of Lanmar, north of the Sitting Mountains on Terra 16, arose a leader stronger than any had seen in generations. Great deeds were expected of this man and great pressure was driven upon him to settle his people and bring them to peace. But this was a job he did not do alone and his council was ill of soul and devoid of compassion. Under the tutelage of his chief advisors he grew into a tyrant that would see peace at any price. Execution, long prison sentences, and torture became common threats for increasingly minor crimes. And crime soon encompassed far too much territory for a sane man to comprehend. Nearly a full third of his subjects were killed and his neighbors near to war before a light shown in the kingdom. A weapon smith from a small village rallied the people and created 18 weapons of cunning strength. Skillfully crafted from the strongest materials available these weapons were superior to even those of the castle guard. 18 warriors were chosen to lead the rebellion against their king. Now in all of lore there is nothing more dangerous than a bored god. Unless it is a god who believes they are helping out in only a "small" way. On the march to the castle, several of the powers that can be called good bestowed upon the weapons their blessings. It will never be known exactly who they were. Since that day many more have claimed participation than can possibly have been paying attention. But that is for a debate and not our ears this day. The warriors found themselves cloaked in armor they had not donned. Their weapons became lighter and the gleam of their edges could be seen piercing the daytime sky. I stop to take a drink now. I want you to know that what i tell you next is of some importance; for it foreshadows all to come. As it happens, if good feels something is worth noting, then evil feels it worth attention most foul. A nest of vermin let loose their curses upon the warriors that day. When the warriors attacked to free their families from a generation of tyranny, they won the battle at the cost of their own lives and a hundred more. The weapons and the armor bestowed upon their wielders struck their targets with extreme accuracy. Precision shots were made that defied logic on every level. But this blessing of skill found no home after the king and the advisors were dead. As the last breath of life drained from the last of the royal advisors, the weapons turned on their owners. Not a single shot landed true from that point on and the remaining guards cut down the rebellion and its warriors in short order. Now as fate would have it and the universe sometimes dictates, the kingdom eventually found its peace. When the dust settled, the dead were buried. The king was replaced and the rebellion had its intended effect. No one ever figured out why these weapons turned on their wielders. The people decided that the best thing to do was bury them deep within an underground vault. It's now 50 years later and I hear tell that an archaeologist by the name of Zemfry Dundaw seeks the weapons. He is offering 1,000gp per weapon for anyone willing to retrieve them. He will be here tomorrow to contract fools with a death wish. What was the point of my story? My friends. I have spent time around the fire with fellow travelers. I have had decent mead and a roof over my head. And in the end, that is all any need. But what i have spun here was spun of truthful thread. And it forms a cloak that i hope will deter any of you from fatal choices. I take my leave now. I can do no more to help you. A poster in Tagar's Inn confirms what the old bard said. A man by the name of Dundaw will appear tomorrow. Will anyone accept his challenge?! And why would anyone want weapons cursed to allow their wielders to die? Or is the full story behind the weapons yet to be revealed? | |
Registered Teams & Their Fates |
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The teams started at Tagar’s Inn. As they walk in, they noticed
a line of applicants interviewing for the job with Dundaw. A greeter at the door
handed them an information sheet and asked them to wait their turn.
The sheet appeared to be a map to an area. The locations were not marked, but the terrain was very specific. The map showed a path leading from the mysts to a small structure or cave in the woods. The interviews went fairly quickly until the champions came to their turn. They convinced Dundaw that they could survive the risks. Dundaw offered them the contract and activated the names on the paper with a wave of his hand. None of the other applicants interviewed were apparently adequate. Dundaw told them that they must take the mists to the land of Lanmar. Once there, they should follow the map to the cave entrance, enter the cave, retrieve the weapons, and bring them back to Tagar’s. After an hour to prepare, the champions embarked on their journey. They stepped out of the mists and right into the winter wonderland of Lanmar. A short discussion and some sharing of blankets made things a bit more comfortable. The journey went fairly easily for the first part of the trek. If you consider plowing through 5' of snow on horseback easy. And no one bothered to ask the horses their opinion of the matter. A little more than half way along the 6 mile route, the champions spotted a corpse near the end of the evergreens. The body was that of the missing elf; Anar Laren. According to her poster and description, she was 135 years old, very comely when she was alive, slender, but still more muscular than most elves of her kind. Her body had been stripped naked and she was tossed face up in the bushes. Bruises indicated that she had been severely beaten. Animals had apparently gotten to the body and blood and dirt were caked on. Many of her internal organs were missing. Blood on a nearby tree and marks on her wrists showed where she was restrained. Her clothing, a sack, longbow, 3 arrows, quiver, a shredded shirt, and an empty vile were found in a pile nearby. Everything had been ravaged. Her clothing and her armor were literally ripped off of her and were useless. Close observation showed that someone must have been looking for hidden pockets. The sack was empty. The longbow was broken, but the arrows were good. The quiver had been essentially destroyed. The shortsword turned out to be of good quality. The money pouch contained 5PP, 35GP, 12SP, & 5CP. The vial showed a slight hint of a substance. An alchemy check by Ruin proved it to be some sort of knockout or paralyzing agent, but it had been too long and weathered for anything more specific. She had been dead about a week. When the party arrived at the entrance, they found an inscription above an iron door in the center: The left way leads to death for sure_The champions worked for a while and eventually opened the iron door. Before they entered, they considered their options. Thinking of their animals, they made a camp with some cover and a fire nearby. With Gdarin's warhorse in charge, they entered the 5' high tunnel walking, crawling, and hunchbacked in form. Mostly ignoring the frozen assassin vine guarding the entrance, and by torchlight, they proceeded. After a 30’ corridor, a circular shaft 10’ wide led down. A 15’ ladder provided the obvious method down. At the end of the ladder was a set of stones set into the wall. The down arrow proved to be what it said and caused the ladder to quickly descend 500' to the chamber below. Like the weapons’ own legend, it was expected that a determined thief would make it this far. But it turned out to be a one-way trip. The ladder magically reset when the last person let go of it. The characters would need to find their own way out. The champions found themselves in a 50' diameter, 12-sided room. Each wall held one of the weapons of Keldor. It was noted that there are 18 weapons, and 12 located in the room. An inspection of the room followed. A couple shockers lizards, some warm water, an ice storm, a reptilian response, and a lot of head scratching followed. It was discovered that once a character touched a weapon, it would ask him or her “What is the mission?”. When the weapons got a valid answer, in this case "To return you to Zemphry Dundaw", the weapons became imbued with +1, true strike. Once an individual touched a weapon, they were not able to touch any of the other weapons. Attempts to do so resulted in an electrical attack. GM Note: The weapons that you have now are +1, true strike and you cannot get rid of them. The benefit to your armor was temporary and will expire before the next session. There are additional benefits, but since you will never have all 18 weapons together, they are irrelevant. Also, inclement weather was the cause of a less than expected attendance for this game.
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