Faerun Adventures

An accounting from Arian.  After unceremoniously (and quickly) leaving the wizard's booby-trapped tower and taking Eamon to see the Prior before he rotted away before their eyes, no one was sure what to do. Go back to the tower? Go home? Go somewhere else? But then they heard a rumour of some kind of witch taking commoners and children from a village -- and bleeding them! -- and then not returning them as promised. It certainly seemed a worthwhile endeavour.  Leaving Eamon behind to rest, they approached the manor house with the temple next door. No one was home, though an undead ogre guarded the entrance to the temple. Wisteria thought it best they try to avoid a fight with the ogre and sneak in so as to surprise the priestess (or whatever she was). She managed to cast Turn Undead upon him, which allowed them to enter without a fight. Arian wondered if he would be as amenable when they were ready to leave, but that was a problem for another time.  Inside, they were soon met with a

Trystan's account of Raganni's Tower. Waking up with a cracking hangover and snuggled up in bed with several of the Fest Hall wenches, Trystan really wasn’t in the mood to go traipsing through the mountains and the rain, with nothing but some raw meat to fend off a grumpy white dragon.  Still, a heroic bard such as himself had a responsibility to find and pen adventures of all colours; and he had to admit that the mention of a wizard’s tower had him intrigued! Well, they got there in the end, hulking all that beef around for absolutely no reason: Trystan could swear he could hear that pesky dragon laughing at them from behind a mountain somewhere!  The wizard’s tower proved to have an extremely strong front door, that no amount of bashing with Greeba’s hammer could loosen.  Trystan tried to tell the others that perhaps they should go around the back to find an alternative entrance, being something of an expert in hasty escapes from jealous lordlings and their lonely wives, but

An accounting from Arian. Two of the gricks wasted no time in snipping away bits of Greeba with their sharp beaks, but Sirondar was there with his new lance -- he charged forwards with a battle cry that would have done any barbarian proud, and skewered one of the gricks. Trystan, having heard Greeba's delicate cry of pain, rushed into the room and cast his last healing spell upon her. Wisteria followed on his heels, ready for action. Gorlock blasted another grick with an eldritch blast that lit it up in a blaze before it sank back into the murky water. Arian cast frostbite upon another, though she only managed to freeze just the tip of it's beak, but at least it seemed to disorient the beast. Thibault and Greeba both attacked the remaining gricks -- the half-orc landing a particularly mighty blow, but the nasty beast seemed to shrug it off. It did not, however, shrug off Xarius' firebolt. Little by little, they whittled away at the gricks until finally, finally, they all la

An Excerpt from Thibault's Diary. The previous combats were a series of blazing victories but it was not a reason to get complacent or to sleep on it. Everybody in the group was nervous, wary of some unknown evil that could be awaiting at the corner of a corridor, or crawling in the impenetrable darkness on the levels below. Arian, still sporting her majestic, fearsome wolven form, was sniffing the air around. Smelling the tiles on the floor, she tried to capture some intelligence about any impending threat and who could be our next enemies. Because two pairs of nostrils are better than one, I decided to do the same with my own modest talents: I reached the eastern staircase and stared along the steps until they disappeared into the darkness. I took a deep breath and muttered a prayer to let the divine open my senses for any emanation of an evil nature: Nothing… I never know if it’s reassuring news or if I should be more alarmed.  Trying again on the north stairs, this time I sense