Session 80

Journey to the Forest

Chapter 1: The Hideout

When the group returned to their hideout, they were met with a grim sight: the entrance was boarded up, the once-safe refuge now sealed and abandoned. Many neighboring buildings shared the same fate, evidence of a merciless crackdown. The Balican guards, it seemed, had been relentless in their hunt for members of the Veiled Alliance. Zahraan, ever the shadow in dangerous times, took it upon himself to investigate. As he crept closer, his keen eyes caught the telltale signs of watchers lurking nearby. Without breaking stride, he played the part of a passerby, masking his intent. Only once he was clear did he deliver the somber news: their sanctuary was no longer safe.

Chapter 2: The Four Bits

The group arrived at the Four Bits, a bustling inn on the edge of Altaruk, securing rooms for the night before mingling with the eclectic crowd. Fazanna, ever curious, struck up a conversation with the trio of barmaids—Shenna, Eleehna, and Trahdoie. Their disdain for a peculiar group of stony-faced pilgrims was clear. “No fun at all,” one sneered. “They just sit in the courtyard, staring into the void, then shuffle off southward like herds of mekillots.”

Twon, a flamboyant half-elf bard, shared his own encounter. “I followed a pack of them into the fortress once,” he revealed, his voice laced with mockery. “The closer we got to Altaruk, the less they seemed to notice the world around them. Tiresome, truly! No songs, no dancing—nothing but dull stares.”

Their attempts to gather more from the merchants met resistance, and when Anvar tried tailing one to the latrine, the merchant’s half-giant guards swiftly blocked his way. Turning their attention to a band of mercenaries—rugged dwarves and muls from Gulg—they learned of the escalating war with Nibenay. More intriguing, however, was the tale of a defiler sorceress who had stormed into Gulg with a dozen mul bodyguards. “She caused quite the stir,” one mercenary recounted grimly. “Seeking something about trees of life, they said. A nasty fight broke out, and though some of her guards fell, she escaped.”

Safi’s sharp eye caught a man flashing signs of the Veiled Alliance. Dorak Fhel spoke in hushed tones about the pilgrims. “They’ve been arriving for a month now, forming packs of twenty before heading through the south gate. Strange business.”

Finally, they turned to Gelrade, the innkeeper, for his perspective. He scoffed, his voice a mix of bitterness and disappointment. “I thought the pilgrims would mean a windfall, but no! They just loiter in the courtyard, oblivious to the world, then vanish once enough of them gather. It’s like their minds are tied to some other place.”

With questions swirling and few answers, the group retired to their rooms, their thoughts heavy with the strange happenings in Altaruk.

Chapter 3: Ambush

The group retired to their adjoining rooms, setting vigilant watches outside their doors. Deep into the night, as Shank and Anvar stood guard, a sudden attack shattered the stillness. A spell stunned Anvar, leaving him frozen, but Shank resisted its effects. Reacting swiftly, Shank dashed into his room, shaking his companions awake in silence before returning to guard the door, eyes scanning for threats.

Three muls charged from the shadows, their wrist razors gleaming in the dim light. Shank was blinded by a spell as one mul emerged from a room across the hall, leaving the door ajar. The muls turned on the helpless Anvar, slashing him ruthlessly until the hall erupted in flame from a fireball, dropping him. Blinded but driven by rage, Shank lashed out wildly, his weapon finding its mark and cutting one of the attackers down. A mul retaliated, carving into him with its razors.

Safi, transforming into a massive cilops, teleported into the open room, searching for the elusive spellcaster, but it was empty. Another mul struck Shank, and suddenly, disintegrating rays ripped through the air, striking both Karnos and Safi. Karnos’s magical defenses absorbed most of the damage, but the onslaught was unrelenting. Shank, undeterred, fought with fury, killing the remaining muls.

Safi shifted back to his human form and attempted to dispel the oppressive silence, but the effort was countered. Undeterred, he revived Anvar with a healing potion, bringing him back to his feet. Anvar bolstered himself further with his vitality and another potion. Karnos, shaken but determined, roused the rest of the group from their rooms.

Just as the party regrouped, another fireball detonated, its fiery shockwave engulfing all three open rooms. Fazanna quickly slammed the door to her room and dispelled the silence. Zahraan, sword in hand, raced down the stairs in search of the spellcaster but found only frightened patrons. Shiv stormed down the hall, torch in hand, yet saw no sign of their enemy.

As Karnos nursed his burns with a healing potion, Safi dragged him into a room, securing the door. Shank did the same with Anvar. Shiv, refusing to relent, smashed through several doors, rousing sleeping patrons and ultimately drawing the ire of the inn’s half-giant guard.

With the defiler gone and no trace of their attacker, the group explained the chaotic events to the guard and, grudgingly, agreed to pay for the damages. Exhausted and wounded, they returned to their rooms, the night’s harrowing events lingering in their minds like a shadow.

Chapter 4: Joining the Pilgrims

The group determined the wisest course of action was to blend in among the pilgrims, adopting their guise to avoid suspicion. They crafted their deception with meticulous care, adhering to the rules they had observed. Weapons and armor were carefully concealed, along with any physical adornments that might hint at their true nature. Necklaces, bracers, and even the smallest trinkets were stowed out of sight.

Silence became their shield, as speaking or reacting while in the formation could unravel the ruse. They devised subtle signals to communicate, a silent language born of necessity. Their attire was stripped of all finery, replaced with simple garments and head coverings that bore no trace of wealth or status.

To further strengthen their disguise, they joined a group of at least twenty pilgrims, knowing the numbers would provide safety as they ventured into hostile territory. All members of the party followed the rules—save for Safi, whose equipment was far too suspicious to hide. Instead, Safi used his druidic magic, wildshaping into an unassuming lizard and perching inconspicuously on Shiv’s shoulder, a silent and watchful companion.

With their ruse complete, the group moved with the pilgrims, their hearts heavy with tension as they entered the unknown.

Chapter 5: The Giants Attack

As dawn broke over Altaruk, the pilgrims assembled in hushed groups of twenty or more, shuffling in stoic silence toward the south gate. Joining one of these groups proved absurdly simple for the disguised party, blending seamlessly into the solemn exodus.

The journey westward led through rocky badlands and stony wastelands under the relentless heat of the sun. The pilgrims bore the scorching rays with unyielding resolve, marching without complaint or pause. By midday, their group neared the edge of the stony terrain, the vast expanse of the Great Alluvial Sand Wastes stretching ahead.

Suddenly, calamity struck. A massive boulder hurtled from nowhere, crushing a pilgrim into a gory pulp. His companions, eerily detached, merely stepped around the remains and continued. More boulders followed, each smashing pilgrims without eliciting a single cry. The group maintained their ruse, silently enduring as two-thirds of the pilgrims were obliterated. The giants bellowed with cruel delight, mocking their helpless prey: "Ha! Human sheep go squish! No fight in them!"

Fazanna could take no more. Her bladesong flared to life as she unleashed a pair of devastating lightning bolts, upcast with ferocious precision. The giants roared with twisted glee, clapping their hands as they taunted, "Oho! Some sheep have claws and fangs! At last, maybe yes—a real fight?"

Fazanna raised a magical shield, deflecting a boulder aimed at her. Karnos retaliated with his psychic pandemonium, sending one giant fleeing in terror, but not before another struck him squarely with a boulder. Zahraan joined the fray, unleashing a relentless flurry of blows that bruised and battered a giant. Shank, ever calculating, stayed in his pilgrim guise, blending into the chaos.

Anvar dashed to Zahraan’s side, channeling his vitality to heal his ally’s wounds. Meanwhile, Shiv launched a daring assault, scaling a giant’s massive form with razor-sharp precision. Climbing wrist razor by wrist razor, he reached the beast’s face, driving his blades into its eyes and eliciting a bellow of fear. The brutal display sent another giant fleeing.

As Fazanna cast toll the dead, weakening her target, Zahraan seized the moment. With a final series of punishing strikes, he felled the last giant, his fists and feet delivering a decisive end to the carnage.

The battlefield grew silent, save for the heavy breathing of the party. The once-stoic pilgrims who survived simply resumed their march, unshaken by the slaughter, as if the blood and death were nothing more than an inconvenience.

Chapter 6: Madness

The journey dragged on, each step sapping the group’s strength. Exhaustion weighed heavily on their minds and bodies, and the relentless march of the pilgrimage tested their limits. By the time the sun began to set, the air mercifully cooled, and the promise of the nearby forest offered a faint glimmer of reprieve.

Then, shattering the oppressive monotony, an unexpected sound pierced the evening air—a human voice. The group turned to see an astonishing sight: a lone figure astride an enormous bird, its wings spanning an impossible 100 feet.

The man, clad in rugged brown armor, held aloft a flaming sword, its fiery glow cutting through the dimming light. As the colossal bird swooped closer, his voice grew clearer, carrying a chilling message: “Away! Away, servants of Rafernard! Your blasphemous devotions shall not reach your master! Death to Rafernard! Death to her followers! Death to the deceitful one!”

With a shriek, the man urged his colossal steed into a deadly dive, heading straight for the heedless throng of pilgrims. Chaos loomed as the crowd remained oblivious to the fury descending upon them.

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