Upon Wild Adventure

The Adventure Continues

Last night found the party upon the Wretched Plains, upon the top of the Tower of the Stair of the Red Duke looking out across the wastelands of the lands of the listless dead. Tolvar, the mage, discovered that the tower allows one to see to any spot in the Plains so long as they are familiar with it. They had entered the plains some time earlier with a vision from Tolvar's own familiar, Marjute; he had seen two of his kinsmen, taken years previous to the Wretched Plains as prisoners of a pack of demons. Marjute himself had only avoided capture by the wizard's intercession, and binding familiar spell.

Marjute had seen his kinsman and promised Tolvar if he and the rest of the party would rescue them then one of them would be able to transport them off the plain and return them to the Darkenfold.

So the mage looked and with the vision of the kinsmen in mind found the little fey. Both were strapped to giant wheels that round upon the backs of huge lumbering beasts. Creatures scurried around them in a jittering madness.

With no other options the wizard lept from the tower heights and taken by his vision the power of the Tower flung him across the Wretched Plains to land him upon the flanks of the giant beasts. Ki the Knight, Stark the Ranger, Braelilc the Cleric as well as Gunthor the Dwarf and Karagi the Half Elf flung themselves from the tower as well. They all found themselves clinging to the sides of the giant behemoth, upon ropes or chains.

The picture unfolded before them.

The behemoth was not alone. Four of them lumbered through the jungle. Six tree like legs pounded the earth, breaking it apart with each step. A head of might tusks that twisted in coils of ivory madness sprouted from the faces of these beasts. Standing hundreds of feet high, each was 3-400 feet long and as wide. Upon legs as thick as trunks they crushed the earth and it slid away beneath them into a swirling madness of grinding matter, the maelstrom, where all things, living or now were torn asunder and returned to chaos of the beginning. Whether the earth slid beneath the behemoths or they were moving forward, none could tell, all they knew was that to fall was certain death as they would certainly slide into the abyss. Bridges flung between the walking beasts connected the behemoths one to the other.

All over them were the trappings of those who dwelt upon their backs, chains, ropes, Jacobs ladders decorated the behemoth's back and flank. Scaffolding, thrown together with boards and ropes hung lose or snaked around the creature's sides, criss-crossing to the top of the behemoth. Here stood the wheel house. A many spoked wheel facing forward overlooked the behemoth's broad back. And to it strapped with chains of iron barbs were the cousins of Marjut. One on each of two of the behemoths.

The party clung to ropes and chains and began to climb up the creature's flanks. As they did so thick chested, horn covered monstrosities, no larger than dwarves attacked them. In ones and twos at first, but more as the gathered. They gathered above them as well, led by a witch woman from some child's nightmare. Gaunt, grey skinned the woman's body was strangely misshapen, gangly and turned and twisted at unnatural angles. Then they saw small creatures clung to her waist. A shudder sent through the whole creatures flank sent her reeling, her torso rose, separated from her waist and legs as if she were cut in two, but the creatures clinging to her pulled her back together and she cried a hollow cry into the madness about them.

Tovar knew her then, a perth, a witch-women of the demonkin.

The battle was on. The party climbed ropes and chains and nets to mount the behemoth and get at the fey; the dwarf and cleric held a causeway that led to the top, battling waves of demons as the clawed and climbed to stop the party.

The wizard transformed into a rat swarm scurrying up the behemoth's flank, the half and elf and ranger and knight climbed ropes and chains, fighting all the way.

Blood and iron, sorcery and wild abandon brought them to the top where they attacked the perth. Stark himself flung himself forward grappling the woman and to the amazement of all tore her body asunder, scattered her minions that kept hew whole (he rolled a natural 20). She fell and the mage leapt to save the fey. The demons swarmed the party, they fought, hard pressed, pushed up against the wheel house. The ranger's iron sword cleaving left and right, the ranger, blind now hacking with his axe, the half elf grappling. Below the dwarf clove to the right and left but the cleric heaved the Singing Crow with one might swing after another, crushing the demons to the left and right (amazingly Davis rolled 5 natural 20s).

At last they cleared the top with spell and sword and rescued the fey only to realize that they needed the other one to escape the plain.

Below the dwarf and cleric had anticipated them and secured the bridge between the two beasts. Down and over the went in a surge. Battered and mangled they climbed up and breached the next, but outnumbered they knew they could not take. The cleric blew the horn of bridges then and the party retreated down and out over the abyss. The horse of demons followed. As they surged near he broke the note and the bridge fell below and the maelstrom devoured the demons all. On to the top where they hounded another of the perth, driving her back. The half-elf became blinded, the ranger taken with disease and then cut down, but at last they overpowered here down, one might blow with the iron sword summoned its magic and crushed her down, the chopped off her head and flung it away.

They scrambled to open the gate to leave the Wretched plains but learned to their horror that the creatures holding the perth witch together had lept upon the fallen ranger and began ripping him in two; they fell upon them and slew them one and all. Gathered at last, dead and wounding, and dying, they fled the Wretched Plains.