Trollish Terrors
We arrived by stylish transcontinental teleport as is our custom. The Kurzon compound was a large collection of buildings evidently garrisoning a large alliance force, however the guards that challenged us has conspicuously removed their alliance insignia.
After some generic debate we had discovered one or two nuggets of information, namely:
• The alliance had been here for four not very glorious years.
• The trollish ruins lay nearby to the east.
• Noted hunter Nessingwary Hemerick was the local hero who kept local fauna down through the simple expedient of brutally killing them.
• The Horde had a base 4 days travel away, but an uneasy peace existed between the two armed camps.
• The alliance hierarchy led by Kurzan included some wizards and priests of the light.
• Morale was poor, and recently the group had seceded from the alliance.
• Zeppelins regularly supplied the Horde base, but supplies had long since stopped reaching this compound where they were forced to live off the land.
• The troops here were highly suspicious of our Horde personnel, who I explained were completely safe under my benign control
The sergeant returned and ordered me to visit the wizards of the camp whilst the Horde party members were temporarily caged in a handy enclosure. We baulked at this and Kasbo was able to persuade the sergeant to relent and the party remained outside the base whilst I went in.
I went in to explain our situation and negotiate safe passage with my arcane colleagues only to be overwhelmed by magical onslaught and seized in an episode that seemed vaguely familiar. I had a strange elixir poured down my throat, and then everything became clear to me.
Our good trollish friends had daringly infiltrated the alliance interlopers threatening our sacred grounds. Though hugely outnumbered we had been able to control the wizardry of the camp through our potions and also many NCOs and others. The enemy leader was also under the influence of our potions that prevented him from any decisive action and left him in a lethargy that served our purpose.
Obviously it was important that our own party troll should be brought into our circle as quickly as possible so that she could se the truth of the matter, and I pledged to engineer that happy event to my new comrades.
I returned to the others and we were taken to see the puppet human leader of the compound. The rest of the party seemed somewhat suspicious of me and I realised just how shallow and transitory their friendship actually was. Nevertheless, I was able to persuade Fuq’ Witt to accompany me back to the wizards where she was welcomed to our brethren and taken through an illusory wall to a Hakari shrine there. How she would thank me when she realised how I had acted only in her best interests, but I could see that the thanks would not be immediately forthcoming.
Meanwhile however, my suspicious former companions were plotting. It seemed that they could not accept that all was well in the camp and were prying ad spying with their spells and interfering and meddling to uncover what they regarded as some sort of conspiracy. Makes you realise how annoying adventurers can be pushing their noses into other peoples’ business.
They had used magic to weaken and disrupt the potion controlling Kurzan and were sowing distrust of everyone in his addled mind. They then managed to identify our agents monitoring the situation, again the magic of the cursed tauren playing a big part in uncovering our assets. They then tortured them brutally until one cracked revealing part of our plans. The other, a disguised troll died under the knife and then revealed his true form to them.
I returned and immediately realised that all was not well, but before I could raise the alarm I was seized yet again after being anaesthetised by a certain gnome and had to watch helpless as they brewed noxious potions that undid the control that we had worked so hard to achieve.
I was free and of course recounted at once the unfortunate circumstances of my little lapse of loyalty. Everyone was of course totally sympathetic and understanding, just like I was sure Fuq’ Witt would be too. Plainsweaver continued to manufacture his antidote in order to recover enough sergeants to rally the troops against the insidious evil that had infected the camp.
Kurzan was freed finally of his malady, a noxious gas being released from the arm wound that had been the source of his corruption. We gathered our forces as I returned to the wizards for the third time, this time with an army determined to free our beloved Fuq‘ Witt. The enemy came out to greet us, both shape shifted trolls and their enslaved wizard servants.
There was an exchange of magic as we charged and enough of our loyal troops fell to encourage me to turn invisible for a bit. Whilst the battle proceeded, I slipped into the enemy lair cutting down the enemy leader with a deadly killing blow. I then rushed to the illusory wall dispelling it to reveal the manacled Fuq’ Witt on the receiving end of an archaic Hakari ritual conducted by a priest.
With attack from behind my speciality, the priest had no chance, his lifeless body slumping to the pentagram encrusted floor is blood flowing into the channels and completing the circuit of power that sent a surge through the body of Fuq’Witt. All that was missing was the ping of the microwave announcing ritual complete. Oops!
I freed Fuq’ Witt and possibly unwisely handed her the fine pair of Hakari sabres that I had liberated from the priest’s body. She was still staring thoughtfully at them, looking at me in the same way that a surgeon might assess a patient before making the first incision, when the others burst in having achieved victory in the bloodbath outside.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t over yet, a Hakari skeleton creature rose from a great fissure that opened in the floor. The huge winged serpent attacked by stripping the flesh from our very bones, skeletonising us so that we fought on as hideous undead creatures, our wounds against it restoring or own flesh in a peculiar symbiotic relationship where the daemon in turn clothed itself in our flesh and was deprived of it by our attacks. I used my flame wand against the monstrosity, but it took all our combined efforts to drive it away, ultimately destroying the material form of the daemon, which chillingly informed us would be back as its spirit returned to whatever hellish plane of existence it called home.
So we had recovered the alliance their camp though the humans had suffered heavy losses destroying the troll horde. Fuq’ Witt has gained considerable (you might even say berserk) strength from the pureblood ritual she endured, but her gratitude to me seems strangely muted. Time to move on and travel to the ruins of the trollish temple visible to the east of the camp.
The entrance to Zollgorab was marked by a huge stone gateway, but of gates or guards there was no sign. The valley beyond was a spectacular site: Pillars rising from churning waters infested by hydras and crocalisks created a series of islands linked by fragile rope bridges.
Puderillo scouting overhead detected a troll tending three cauldrons; a temple, topped by designs that mirrored those seen recently in the secret alcove back at the compound and guarded by several huge trolls; a raptor filled arena tended by a troll champion with a huge axe mounted on a giant black raptor, and several giant floating masks.
We entered Zollgorab finding it apparently deserted at first though there were signs of recent abandonment. Crossing the first bridge we were challenged by one of the giant floating heads, but it moved aside on demand from Fuq’ Witt. The second mask was more uncompromising: We would not be passing this point without defeating Scar, the afore mentioned wielder of the giant axe, current tenant of Raptor Central.
Fuq’ Witt, as our troll-party relations expert accepted Scar’s challenge and was quickly killed. Fortunately some sort of enchantment returned her spirit to live again. We more wisely decided that the whole party would take up the challenge this time and I decided to go in safely cloaked by my trusty invisibility.
Scar was an exceptionally formidable opponent and killed our orc, Lutzbar’s head being neatly severed by the gargantuan axe. We managed to kill the raptor, but it barely slowed Scar down. Aided by backstabbing by Kasbo we finally defeated Scar, and we moved on across the bridge, all victims of the combat, including Scar and his beast, happily reanimated by the arena’s enchantment, or perhaps it was all illusion?
The next area we reached was the domain of the troll with the three cauldrons. This was reached after Fuq’ Witt correctly answered a question from floating mask head number three. The witch doctor Zanzil greeted us with a welcome that clearly indicated that we were useful material for his experimentation, experimentation that made the cruellest vivisection imaginable akin to a delightful Swedish massage.
He summoned his children, swarms of skeletons and unleashed a jet of flame against us, what could we do but defend ourselves? The cauldrons seemed linked to his modes of attack, when he unleashed poison gas, one contained the antidote; when Plainsweaver imbibed from another the skeleton disintegrated as they approached him; when he summoned an abomination, one cauldron contained a substance that froze it on contact, as I was able to demonstrate by levitating if from the cauldron with my Mage hand spell.
We took damage from the warrior priest who was a tough cookie, and his continual jets of fire also inflicted us with many grievous wounds, but just as the second abomination threatened he fell eradicating all his incantations.
We now decided to retire from the field: We had investigated enough and determined that there was a serious problem here, and we had also put a huge dent in the trollish forces on site. I had gained a rod of cold from the last encounter and a Hakari charm from the battle at the camp so I was happy any way. One task left for our little gnomish boss girl. A long trip north west to Westfall lies ahead unless we can find the elf teleport guy again.
24.11.12
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