East of Winter

Miniature Monday
Our first installment

 

For today's Miniature Monday I primed 8+ figures.  These are all figures destined to be heroes for some of you fine champions.  Remember, there are in game rewards for painting minis including your own.  And there is a very real sense of accomplishment when you look down at the battle mat to behold the figure you painted yourself, your avatar, standing tall amidst their fallen foes.  Feel free to take these guys to go so you can paint them or paint them here at my place.  Whatever you prefer.

 

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Upon hallowed ground

Skulk is more cunning than I thought. He convinced me to help him hallow his cabin, though I was not aware until the 11th hour. The reptile has banished my minions from his land, and I helped. I, along with Al, Jempy Drucker, and the enchantress Amastasia, fought off a gnoll hunting party led by a gnoll witch, while Skulk completed his ritual. She summoned fell steeds. Fiendish horses - I must learn that trick! We found their campsite and raided it, only to find something even more glorious than hell horses: A Fang of Yeenoghu, a creature of terrible and unholy might. He ripped apart Teds 3 and 4 (I never really liked them, they never listened, unlike Ted 2), and nearly felled the expendables, er… the party, before succumbing to our onslaught. He is my thrall now. Call him Berry. 

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On the Reality of Ghosts
Every court attracts its share of hangers-upon, barely noble, permanent court dwellers clinging to fragments of long-ago power and influence. Cradle’s newest resident, Lord Willosby, had been one of these in Remidon since he was born, but since the thaw, he actually had some sort of claim to land. Specifically: Cradle. Ancestral home of his family. 

It is absolutely typical of Enryn to have shown up after the hard work was done; the man’s always been a weasel. 

The sorceress, Esmerelda, was able to use her own court connections (which I really am going to have to look into one of these days) to secure an audience with Willosby, to figure out what he wanted and how much trouble it might make for the rest of us.

Whatever she said to him in their meeting, it worked- by the time she left, he’d explained his purpose and entrusted her with the retrieval of a family heirloom, a sword lost in battle with the Horde. 

To which Esmerelda earnestly agreed, and then immediately came to find me to discuss how to keep the sword out of Willosby’s hands by any means necessary. I think she and I are going to get along swimmingly. 

500 years can make any hereditary claim a little vague, and such things can make for powerful symbols. No need to give it away to just anyone

Given that Esmerelda and I are both…somewhat unfamiliar with wandering the wilderness, we decided we’d need at least one other to travel with us, to make sure we found our way to the battlefield and, really, most importantly, back again. Willosby would be sending an old elven woman with us to identify the sword when we found it, but she wasn’t likely to be of much use aside from that. 

The rangers either of us already knew were otherwise occupied, but Esmerelda’s kenku friend, Cicada (I wonder if I could replicate the actual sound he made on a flute?), introduced us to a little goblin (!) woman who claimed to be a druid and wilderness guide. 

Well, beggars can’t be choosers, and I know humans less polite than this Kawli, so no questions, no problems. Besides, she was three feet tall, we’d be able to deal with her if she decided to try anything. 

After buying supplies for the road and some mounts to ride, we set out, returning initially to Sprigand by way of Skulk’s cabin. Kawli was delighted by the free beer and even by the somewhat worrisome boiling pot of soup (what meat is in there, exactly?); I don’t think the poor thing’s had much kindness in her life. I doubt goblins hold much stock in it, usually.  

We set north-east from Sprigand, traveling in a light, misting rain (my hair) over grassy plains to the old Marches. It was an easy journey, and Kawli proved herself worth her claims, swift and unerring in her navigation.  We chatted idly as we traveled, and I played a few of my newest compositions. 

The elven woman, Caerthynna, was initially aloof, but warmed up to us over the course of our trip, eventually telling us tales of the dashing lord Arshan Willosby, whose sword we were going to retrieve, long ago lost. Not everyone would have noticed how her voice caught when she spoke his name, or the wistful little smile when she told us things he had done, but to me the story unfolded clear as day in the space between her words. This, then. This is what we would need to use. 

After a few days travel, an enormous totem pole appeared like a tower on the horizon. As we got closer, it became clear the heads making up the pole were of the monstrous races: drow, the devils, a beholder weird and strange, all of them stacked high and topped with a face that looked almost human, but twisted. Wrong. Kawli says it looks like a lich that haunts the dark swamps near her own homeland. I can’t blame her for leaving, if that’s the neighborhood. There’s something really unnerving about that thing. 

As for the totem pole, what makes it unnerving is perfectly clear: it’s made of the arms and armor of the dead. A monstrous monument to the victory of the Horde, thousands of the men and women of Remidon lost. 

We slept beneath the thing that night, and even before I was rudely awakened I had nightmares. So you may imagine I wasn’t in the greatest mood when a fish-person threw a horrible net over me in the earliest hours of the morning, presumably to attempt a kidnapping. I may have driven a few of them to fatal insanity in the resulting tussle. These things happen.
 
Esmerelda seemed to be in a similar mood after one of the fish people stabbed her with a spear, and flung magical bolts at them in a dizzying rain. Kawli trapped them with her natural plant control, and even Caerthynna swung upon the hideous creatures with good will (though not much effectiveness), so we fought them off quickly and took what small treasure they held. Teach them to assault people in the middle of the night. 

As we continued past the totem, we encountered a goblin, emboldened by Kawli’s presence, which asked us to look into a “bear cavalry” that threatened its tribe. I’ll admit, I mostly went to see what that could possibly be- as it turns out, a goblin who had bullied a marvelous brown bear into agreeing to be his mount and companion. Kawli distracted the goblin while Esmerelda and I snuck into position; when he turned hostile, I convinced his bear to resist him, and once he dismounted, he had little chance as a lone goblin against three. 

The goblins gave us some interesting items they’d acquired in return (one day, I shall be making deals with kings, not goblins, but treasure’s treasure, I suppose), and we took the bear north to more friendly climes before sending him on his way. 

In the morning, we set forth again, and further journey (led by the expert Kawli, who I was becoming very fond of) took us to the edge of the battlefield that had been our original destination. 

That battlefield…it’s a wound on the world. Every house in Remidon lost someone here, a sudden, crushing defeat. Even the insects don’t buzz, and there is nothing green. And it’s enormous- the front line sprawled across hills and valleys. We needed to find a single man’s sword, a needle in a field of needles. 

Luckily for everyone, I spent my childhood playing with a scale model of this very battle, laid out in my uncle’s study. He had been obsessed with it, playing out the conflict over and over, changing details, trying to find something (a secret, something lost, something Mother doesn’t want to talk about). Willosby’s little sky blue figurine had been on high ground a mile away from where we were now.
 
Once I was able to get us that close, Caerthynna used a locator spell to zero in on the sword itself; a beautiful piece, still sharp and shining after five centuries under the ice. We also found boots, with the painted sigil of Willosby flaking off ancient metal, though thankfully nothing unpleasant like the man’s bones. I’m not sure Caerthynna would’ve been able to bear it. 

Before we were able to leave the battlefield, we were threatened by fel armor and weaponry, floating without anything to support them. Animated by ghosts? Some wizard’s strange spell? Whatever the cause, we used thunderous, forceful magic, and the metallic forms crumbled under our assault. We left after that, before any other strangeness could appear. You never know what you're going to get in a place with that much death. 

That evening, Esmerelda and I shared a watch- it was time to decide what we were going to do about Caerthynna. We’d become fond of her, but we couldn’t allow her to return the sword to the lesser Lord Willosby. Esmerelda, as it turns out, has a mind nearly as twisty as my own, and a delightful talent for charm and illusion, too. Perfect. I knew a plan would come together. 

Caerthynna began hearing whispers as we traveled, indistinct at first, but growing in strength as time passed, whispers speaking her name and begging Caerthynna to find the child of his line. She didn’t speak to us of the whispers at first, or even acknowledge them. We pretended we heard nothing, and the whispers continued as the nights fell. 

We would need to get Caerthynna into Cradle from the north; it wouldn’t do for her to see Willosby before we could complete our plan. Kawli lead us in a loop around, distracting Caerthynna with requests for more tales of the old days and the dashing heroines that had existed then. Caerthynna indulged her, but grew more pale as we traveled. I don’t believe she was sleeping more than an hour.

Eventually, she came to us with her tale, and we listened in wide-eyed and friendly concern, leading her conclusions towards our lost-heir story as best we could without giving away our own part in the game. We suggested that perhaps she could visit Arshan’s tomb- maybe this ghost would be more clear, there. She agreed, and we bundled her up and fed her tea. 

By mutual agreement, Esmerelda and I gave the whispers a break that evening, and let her sleep the night through. 

The Willosby crypts are set beneath the chapel in Cradle; a quiet area Esmerelda came across during her lessons with Alcadizzar (one can only take so many exhortations to Rhollor, but she’d told me her fire magic was improving by leaps and bounds, so it was worth it).
 
We took Caerthynna, trembling and pale, past the long rows of nameplates, until we came to the empty three: Arshan, lost in battle, Bertom, the middle child, who had survived and died far from his home after the Edict, and Tane, the youngest, who had slain a lich in personal combat and whose skeleton is in city hall. 

Mist crept forth from the ground, building slowly, Kawli hiding her spellcasting behind investigation of the ornate inscriptions. It built until it blurred our perception- and Caerthynna’s. Showtime. 

Esmerelda drew forth a ghostly image of Arshan, and I gave it voice. 

It spoke to Caerthynna, who had loved him, of a lost child- his child, the true heir to the Willosby line. It begged her not to allow the sword to fall to Bertrom’s line. It reached out to her, wistful, yearning, and lost. 

Unable to bear it, she fled. We followed, and comforted, and, advised. So kind, we were. So understanding. What a terrible shock it must be! 

Caerthynna couldn’t bring herself to look for proof of the lost heir, something she and Arshan had never shared. But she couldn’t bear for the whispers to continue either, and what would happen if she let the sword slip away? 

I will say no more of what we spoke of that night, or of what we ultimately did with the sword. Those who were there know, and perhaps one day it will be needed again. 

In the meantime, I’ve started a rumor about a five hundred year old scandal that may or may not be true, I got to watch Willosby have a minor fit trying to pretend not to be angry with us given that Esmerelda evidently outranks him, and I earned enough gold from the affair to work out that silk supply shipment from the capital. Wins all around, a week for the books. I wonder what next week will bring? 
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Status on Library
Donate your unwantes tomes now!

Memo:

From:  the Desk of Yera Dream, Scribe of the Guild and Head Librarian:

To: My Fellow Adventurers

Many of you know, I have begun the tideous process of restoring the library situated in the now gnoll free City Hall in Cradle.  Any tome donation or prestidigitation spells would be most appreciated!

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All Along the Watchtower
No Goblin Druids were killed in this adventure.

As the Scribe of the Guild, I am happy to report that we have the proper set up for an official Guild Library.  First order of business, updating the section regarding Gnolls to insure we have noted Fenriss' knowledge regarding Gnolls being a Matriarchal Society.  Second Order:  Killing the Matriarch and hoping that she has plenty of tomes that we can add to our collection.  

Before being to invested with gaining new insight on Gnolls, as Scribe of the Guild, I must state that I'm not sure how wise wooden watch towers are in the protection of Cradle.  In Vincento Mischos "Upon Fortification of Watch Towers," it is clearly indicated that at a minimum the base of all watchtowers should be made ot of a heat resistant stone to insure against Gnoll fires.  If we are to insure the further establishment of Cradle as a stronghold in the area, the watch towers must strengthened.  Otherwise, any Gnoll with a torch will be able to burn down our defenses.  We are fortunate that while I took out the remaining Gnolls attacking the Southeast Tower, Fenriss was able to quickly douse the burning sections with water, or we might already be short a defensive structure.

I was excited to meet so many others who see the benefit of utilizing spells to protect the area. The party fought well together as we defended city hall where on young son was able to slay an evil lich in the past and a group of adventurers were able to wade through armies of undead and gnolls to bring Cradle out of the miasma of death it has sat under since the Honor Knight was struck down in battle.   

Until next time the gnolls strike, I have a library to scrub.

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Sunset Patrol

Sunset in a new city, time to patrol and stretch my legs. I’ve been working my way through some of the documents in town hall, but I can only take so much of it at once; paperwork’s not really my style. We’ll see what’s in there, after so long, but I’m hopeful. 

Cradle’s a pretty little town, now that it’s not completely crawling with undead- Alcadizzar’s been insistent about setting up a shrine to Rhollor in the empty church, and lord knows we used enough flame in the retaking of the city for it to be appropriate. I'm glad- something should go there: a town without faith is a town without a heart, and an empty church is a sad sight. People need something to believe in, in a place like this. 

Yera’s got her heart set on a library, she can use one of the houses, or maybe we’ll put it in city hall. And I think Runt wanted to set up a forge so we can repair our weapons when out of town, which will allow us to range further East. Maybe once everything’s set up Cradle will feel less…strange. 

There’s so many empty rooms. So many people used to live here, and none of them are left. 


(there was one, but he had been driven mad with grief. I can't help but wonder if we could have saved him)

There are a few wandering bands of undead left, but I've been glad of it- gives me something to do while I think too much. 


I’m increasingly haunted by what happened to these people, when the Edict came. Why weren’t they called back earlier? They were so close to safety, and then their country left them trapped for five hundred years. There are almost certainly more people out there, more of our people, left behind. We have to help them, if we can. If they’ll let us.

I need more information. Everything's so piecemeal out here, it's hard to get a real picture of what happened. But one line of questions keeps coming back to me: 

What horror was coming, that something as drastic as the Edict had to happen? What did the Horde have planned? And…is it still out there?

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You Can Count on Numbers

We awoke at the tower to find the basement door still fully jammed. In the distance we spotted a pillar of smoke which made me wonder if Flamer had gone off on his own at night. To my amazement, he was still with us. Though he seemed to approve of the shadowy column's implication.

Esmerelda, Glimm, and Skulk determined they would go off on their own to seek out foes. The remainder set out to find the source of the knoll pestilence. Creatures though they may be, my affinity for nature only goes so far as nature not trying to kill me.

We came across a town square. Intricate cobbled pathways reminisced of a time before the knoll invasion. While admiring the craftsmanship, we were once again set upon by knolls. Despite our fewer numbers, we acted with swift stealthy intent. Flamer's obsession with fire has intrigued my own. Though fire brings destruction, it also cleanses food and warms the heart. Flamer and I both created balls of fire which scorched our enemies' backsides.

Abby was as fierce as ever, rushing toward the enemies. And I, for the first time, made an attack in Dire Wolf form. It seems I needed more practice, though, as my attacks were frequently without precision. We three charged ahead while Imil stayed behind us with Ted. His infatuation with this thrall became overwhelmingly apparent by the end of the fight. You could say Imil is easily en-thrall-ed.

The knolls were equally attentive to Ted, firing arrows at him first. Before Ted had made any moves, he was on the ground … dead, once again. Imil mourned his passing as if it were his first while we rounded up the knolls into a pile of stinking beast-flesh. Imil's eyes filled with fury and, for a second, I saw a form beneath his eyes that one could only compare with evil-incarnate. It begs the question of what terror Imil may one day be capable of. He directed his fury to a nearby knoll who cried what could only be described as a howling screech and dropped to his knees in terror. What horror he saw befall him, one must not attempt to imagine.

Soon our enemies were cast aside in whole. Imil's wrath subsided, leaving only despair at the loss of his friend. He took Ted's head to remember him by. That was endearing, until Imil began to speak to Ted as if he were alive and, even then, capable of communication.

As we reached the town center, and the city hall that rested there, we happened across two groups of guild members. "More friends!," I thought. Our numbers greatly amplified, we set fearlessly to opening the hall's massive arched double-doors, only to find ourselves unable to touch the doors or the walls that surrounded them. A blue light shimmered at any contact, preventing us from proceeding. A stone was spied nearby inscribed with an unknown language I learned from our companions was dragon-born. After interpretation by our companions, we considered the inscriptions' meaning. After much debate, we spoke the word of our location, "Cradle," and the doors creaked open, the blue light no longer appearing.

As we cautiously entered the doors, we were set upon from behind by 8 knolls of varying armor and four undead creatures. I considered for a moment what could possibly have united these two factions. Again, I made a flaming sphere, then became the Spider and scurried up the hall's exterior walls to get a good look at our opponents.

The tieflings were mightily effective while another one of our companions summoned a panther that looked strangely like a dinosaur. After much scorching and brawling, the enemies knew they were no match. One even ran away. I later regretted finding a perch atop the hall. I should have attacked our opponents head on.

Once inside the hall, Imil searched the place with his Crow to confirm we were alone. Later, his Crow also confirmed that the city was, for the most part, now ours.

In the hall we came across what could only be described as "former" adventurers. They seemed lonely, having only the bones of others to keep them company.  We found and took from amongst them several gifts.

Meanwhile, Imildrak and others found a library wherein they researched the apparent history of our new home. What they found astonished me. Many years ago, a Lich King attacked this area. He was ultimately killed. Perhaps the undead that remain are just that … remainders, but something tells me the evil that once haunted this place is still less than absent.

I found a forge in the city in which I determined to set up residency. My time spent forging in and hunting outside our newfound home would be more than enough for me, especially when coupled with the companionship of my new-found friends.

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Rocking the Cradle
Gnoll Exit

I awoke earlier than the others and began the grim task of creating a pyre of the twice dead corpses that littered the north west tower of Cradle.  A pillar of smoke rose to the heavens.  The acrid scent was the incense that accompanied my morning prayers.  Hail to Rhollor the bringer of Dawn.

Imildrak's crow returned with its message undelivered.  It seemed intent that we should follow it.  It led us to the center of cradle, to the town hall.  We dispatched a band of gnolls and Jackals on the way.  Ted was put to rest by the gnolls.  Imildrak was quite distraught over this development and expended much of his magical energy punishing the gnolls for their audacity.  I am troubled that Imildrak has kept Ted's skull…and even more troubled that he talks to it.

We reached the city center and met up with Abby's infernal allies as well as a big bird and a human who appeared quite unremarkable.  Vera's thaumaturgy could not open the door.  My firebolt did not ignite it.  In the end it was Imildrak's keen mind that divined the password and opened the doors.  Cradle.  I should have known it.  Should have guessed it before my brother. 

A large band of gnolls and witherlings attacked us as the doors opened.  Abby charged forward and engaged their main force as many of us withdrew to the safety of the hall.  The gnolls fell before a phsyical and psychic onslaught.  It was a talent show for sadists.  Each of our motley members showcasing their talent for destruction.   

After claiming the town hall it has been a small matter to clear the last pockets of resistance from Cradle.  The gnolls have been driven out and the undead have been purged.  The buildings are being restored, adventurers staking their claims.  I have taken up residence in the temple.  The sacred flame burns through the night as I cremate the twice dead corpses that litter the streets.  Imildrak has dominion over the sewers.  We never finished clearing them of undead.  Perhaps he prefers it that way.  Abby has claimed town hall, she is intent on forming a system of governance that prioritizes individual liberty.  While I'm not generally in favor of such poppycock it does afford me and my brother more leeway to pursue our goals in peace.  I suppose I have to take the good with the bad.  Runt seems more intent on having the land turn him a monetary profit.  Avarice is a golden chain that drags you beneath the waves.  I would be interested in visiting Yera's library.  She says that she read a book about how to properly care for books.  She seems qualified. 

The Tengu is a devout servant of Rhollor.  Every prayer I recited he joined in.  He offered each oblation in a voice as clear and fervent as my own.  Even the unremarkable human knows of some fire magic.  He holds more potential than I originally thought.  The tieflings fought well today.  I am forced to admit that my suspicions were unfounded.  They are creatures of fire, favored by Rhollor.  I must research this revelation further.  Do not the eternal fires of hell burn even hotter than the sun?  Are these flames not also sacred? 

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New Toys
Minis!

We are getting a bunch of miniatures over the next few days!  These things look great as they are currently.  But once you put a coat of paint on them they really come alive.

To that end, the GM is currently offering the following promotion:

  • For every mini you paint your character gets 25 Gold
  • Once you paint 5 minis, you get 125 Gold and an Inspiration
  • Paint 10 minis and you get 250 Gold, an Inspiration, and 250 XP
  • Large miniatures count double!  

So yes, please paint the Storm Giant King and Queen pictured above.  You totally won't have to fight them later on…

We have a full set of acrylic paints, brushes, and other supplies.  So come on over and use them.

That picture is Emma's order of minis.  Mine comes on Thursday.  Joel and Alex Pate are also getting a ton of minis soon.  All are eligible for this promotion.  Somewhere in there you can probably find a great representation of your character.  I'm excited to see everyone using them on the table!

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The Source and Power of Wind
Runt's Second Outing

I had just finished tracking a Great Eagle when I arrived to meet my companions. I haven't had any friends before. Not sure if that's what these are.

Glim and Esmerelda were there. It was good to see Skulk again as well. Some new faces. There were two brothers, a tiefling, and a skeleton named Ted. I liked Ted. He was as anti-social as I, though I talked more than he. One brother was Ted's master. Not being one to affirm slavery, I went about questioning Ted as to his comfortability with indentured servitude. Being unable to find any presence within him beyond a "will," I determined he was not burdened with his lot — not beyond the burden of existence itself, at least. Still, I liked him.

Imildrak was his master. And Alkadizzar was Imildrak's brother. One a necromancer. The other a flamer. The flamer was cold and uninterested in even things that would please a troll. He did like to burn things, though. In that he seemed to find a semblance of … something beyond dissatisfaction or apathy.

Then there was Abby. A devilish woman of free mind. Her stance against slavery is even stronger than mine. But I wonder how many people have been enslaved by her intimidating presence? We shall be friends, I think.

Skulk and I discussed his barn and how we might profit off of it. I suggested we raise farm animals for use on a farm as well as for sale. He suggested flies. Lots of flies for good eating. Not sure if he was serious. He seems very one-track minded. But more jovial than the flamer. His craftsmanship is lovely though. His clothes are a little wrinkly, but that's what you get from un-stretched reptilian hide.

We set off to complete our clearing of the four forts. Two had been cleared previously, at one of which we ran into a few tieflings. Abby spoke to them and learned they would be watching the forts for us. That was good news. Don't think I caught their names. Of course, Abby spoke to them in infernal so I couldn't understand any of what was said at all.

We headed for the first of two uncleared forts. What I was told was a Ravager attacked us. We fought well together. As a spider, I webbed our enemies to the point of incapacitation whilst the flamer lit them afire, my webbing burning along with their bodies. Meanwhile I could hear Glim cursing downstairs due to his struggles with a particularly difficult-to-defeat locked desk. The layout of the tower was as expected: two floors and a roof, as well as a door to something below. However, unlike the previous forts, when we sought out the below, it was a dead end.

Then on to the last fort. Here we faced some trouble. Glim and Imildrak unlocked the door of the fort and found a trap which they soon unlocked. We saved the door from Esmerelda's fiery destruction, only to then be surprised by apparitional beings who had heard our attempts to undo the trap. Me being stupidly unprepared for a magical attack, I sought refuge beyond their reach.  My companions were more than effective. The flamer seems more than reliable in combat. And Imildrake's wind gust ability is a marvel, though I'm not sure from what orifice it arises. But nothing compares to the clang of Skulk's shield against the head of these apparitions. Much damage, he said with a flailing of his tongue. And he was right.

Esmerelda's magic was a formidable weapon against these incorporeal frights. Her bravery resulted in her being chased down by one such creature who was only then destroyed by another companion.

A few of these creatures were inside the tower, being able to move in and through walls. Abby rushed into the home to chase them down but she was closely followed by Imildrak who immediately exuded another gust of wind which forced these two creatures outside. Abby's untempered glare at Imildrak was enough to release another gust of wind.

Seeing that they were on the run, I changed into my wolf shape and began to chase one down who Skulk was attacking. But the creature was dead before I got to taste his untasteable flesh.

We entered the fort and explored the area. Glim and Imildrak found a trap on the door to the basement. We decided to let it go off. When we then entered the door, we were immediately set upon by a giant of a walking-hyena … and undead at that! And behind him were five more of smaller size. We attacked, full throttle; we packed ourselves through the doorway — I in spider form atop the wall. They were no match. Yet, beyond them we could see a scurrying of many things in the darkness that seemed ready to pounce. The door destroyed, I suggested closing it off with the furniture. Skulk considered crafting a door but, us being in immediate need, happily obliged the movement of our furniture. 

We then decided to rest for the night. Imildrak cast a watchful eye over the area with illuminated lights after placing alarms all along the walls of the downstairs, including the door to the basement. And the flamer cast some sort of alarm system on the roof to detect movement. We slept upstairs so there would be only one entrance. Imildrak took first watch. After four hours, he was replaced by the flamer. An hour into the flamer's watch, all hell broke loose. Every alarm sounded and we awoke in the night.

Several of us rushed to the roof. Bounding up the stairs, I turned again into a spider who took perch atop the door to the building. Glim tied some sort of toy to a rope and held it from the roof, hanging over the door. Imildrak used his owl to scout ahead and spotted an army of walking hyenas — alive this time — headed our way. I webbed the first one I saw, a four-legged hyena who took to my webbing well, or should I say it took to him.

Imildrak, inside, emitted another gust of wind to keep the enemy from entering the building. When the creatures got close, they were no match for Imildrak. Glim dropped the rope tied to his toy which burst into a fog of powerful poison, choking the creatures nearby. Glim seemed unhappy, though, as if he'd hoped for more power.

Flamer shot them, one by one, with his flaming attacks. One by one, they fell. Eventually there was only one left who took to flight. But, in the distance, my spider eyes could just make out flamer's arching firebolt scorch the creature and end its flight, forever.

We desired to head on but knew we were near exhaustion, except the elves of course. So we decided to call it a night. We gathered our belongings and headed out.

I am quite curious what awaits inside the basement we last blocked off with furniture. Hopefully some more walking hyenas. I hope again we can have the last laugh.

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