They were as relentless as Javert

With the fears the prisoners were starting something, the group headed off north towards the shore line. Upon arrival, they found several boats beached up against the surf, the misty rain washing over them. No people where inside.

Investigating them, the party found that lying in the bottom of the boats were oars for rowing, as well as arms and armor! Someone was attempting to free the prisoners and provide them with enough weapons to start a bloodbath!

No sooner had the group found this out than a wave of humanity broke onto the beach from the south. About twenty prisoners rushed the shoreline and the three boats there. The party was all that lay between the desperate men and the weapons and transport they needed to go on a rampage back in High Castle.

Using lightning and mauls, axes and magic, the party tore into the unarmed men. Bodies were broken and thrown to the sandy ground, but still they came on. A wall of brambles was called forth from the very earth beneath them, and one of the boats was cut off by the thorny runners. Still, despite all the party’s valiant efforts, four of the driven men were able to arm themselves, and the party then battled those on a more even keel.

Still, the prisoners were unable to break the spirit of the adventurers, and the criminals were cast down. The party shattered the boats and dumped the weapons into the water. Seeing movement towards the south, the group headed that way along the beach.

Moving along the shoreline, the party came across more examples of boats washed up on Prison Island. And more prisoners that were attempting to make use of them and escape their incarceration. But the party put steel, magic, and some really hard boots to the prisoners, breaking the boats and crushing their attempts to flee.

Reaching the end of the sandy coast, the party found one final set of boats, but these were not for use by simple prisoners; no these boats carried the ones who had navigated the empty rowboats in past the rocky shoreline. These were the people responsible for undertaking the escape attempt… a detachment of mercenaries from the Opal Black Blades!

Outnumbered, but filled with furious anger (and for one, a desire to claim more distinctive daggers for himself), the party rushed the enemy force. There was much violence perpetrated there, and many fell in battle. But in the end, the Opal Black Blades were defeated, their shattered force either dead or surrendered to the forces of the party.

The question now is, why would the mercenaries do such a thing? And being mercenaries, who paid them to do it?

Prison changes a man

Using the information gained from their breaking up of the cult, the team of adventures informed the authorities of expected assaults upon noble families, preventing the attacks and demolishing many of the remaining cultists that had escaped.

However, the line, “no more rowboats,” worried the party. Could it have something to do with Prison Island? Concerned, the gang headed out there and discussed the situation with the warden.

Searching the island the team found that the main tower was under repairs due to budget limitations and wouldn’t be useful. An examination of the island suggested that landing rowboats on the island would be difficult, but possible with a considerable amount of luck. The team decided to camp out on the north shore and see what would happen that night. A summer shower blew in as the adventurers settled in.

First however, they examined an abandoned tower on a small outcropping to the north of the island. Hans stayed back, still scouting the Prison (rather taken at being in a prison and not being one of the long-term guests).

On the rocky outcropping, the gang found a decrepit tower. Upon opening the door they found the bottom floor was flooded, with water pouring down from the roof. In the waist-deep water they found two severed heads.

On the next level they discovered a headless corpse, water pouring from its neck. More water poured down from the ceiling of this room as well. The corpse rose to its feet and began to attack the party with blasts of filthy water, dark-infused whirlpools, and the ability to turn into water itself and vanish from sight. As well, it called upon four spectral headless bodies to help it slay the invaders.

The party fought long and valiantly, although they did discover that the floors of the tower were rather rotten and weak, as the dwarf, the Halfling, and the dwarf (again) crashed down through the weakened floor.

Eventually the party discovered two more severed heads and battled their way to the top floor. There they found four bodies, hanging from the rafters, missing heads and water pouring out from their severed necks. After some guess-work, the party reattached the heads to the right bodies and their spectral attackers vanished, thanking the party for releasing them.

Let by itself, the one solid headless corpse that was still there fought a bitter fight, but was finally caught and cornered by the party and beaten down into death once more. Phat lewts were recovered by the team.

Returning to the main prison island, the team settled into a duck blind and awaited to see what would happen. The answer came as a small team of prisoners stumbled right into the party from behind and were quickly subdued. From them they learned the cell blocks had been opened for some reason and the prisoners were making it towards the north shores. Was this the Chaos the raven messenger had spoken of?

Culling the Cult

The prisoner was only able to tell us that he worshiped The King that Crawls, and that we would be maimed, brutalized, burnt, cut, tortured, imprisoned, and given substandard meals. Needless to say, he was not much help.

However, the group and the local constabulary came up with a plan so cunning you could brush you teeth with it. The prisoner was allowed to escape during a fake fight between the guards and unknown assailants, but was shadowed most successfully by Hans and Aisha.

The rest of the team followed and found a gathering of cultists in High Castle’s biggest park. A depression in the ground served as the cultists’ meeting ground, and while the party watched, a raven landed and spoke to the assembled group.

“Torog speaks: more work jailers. Houses Tarakan and Aligo offend, silence them. Vren dies. No more rowboats. Chaos will midwife change. Await the coming order.”

The magically inclined members of the group realized the raven was acting under the effects of a modified animal messenger ritual. But who cast the ritual?

Leaving such answers for later, the group attacked the assembled cults with surprise. The fight was long, brutal, and bloody, but eventually the team was successful and brought many of the cults down to face justice.

Except for one mind-controlling slimy git. He got away.

High Castle

Having returned to High Castle after various distractions created by my companions (and our pet, Bolgen) we discoverred the city somewhat the worse for wear.
It seems that arsonists had begun to strike the city and were burning down building all over town. Since the last time we encounterred such events, it culminated in a Goblin invasion, Aisha and I were justifiably concerned. Aisha set off to investigate.

The rest of us set off shopping. I, for some reason, decided to wear my Opal Black Blade daggers. This, obviously, attracted some attention. I suspect God is trying to tell me that my Creation Destruction balance is off. Fair enough, but I would have though the balance was too far towards destruction not the other way around. But then I'm not God am I?

After reuniting, the group headed back towards the Loard Varren's manor when we came across an arson in progress. Not ugle halflings this time but rather deranged cultists of some sort. We captured the most lucid one and hopefully we can get some answers from him.

Escaping the Shadowfell and other complications

Having defeated the Necromancer at the Witch's behest, we set about exploring the ancient mansion for anything that might help us. In addition to finding some religious and arcane reageants, we found 2 rituals - one for lower water, the other for shrink object. Additionally, in the barn behind the mansion, we found a number of tools and such, of which we took an extra wagon wheel, a pick and a shovel. There were also some boards and nails and such, which we did not take - but more on that later.

Having done so, we called our imp guide to us, and indicated to it that we had slain the necromancer as his (her? its?) master had requested. Somewhat disturbingly, the imp removed the necromancers head and fasionned it into hat. That done, the imp spoke to us with the Witch's voice - whether it was a pre-ensorcelled message, or whether the Witch momentarily possessed her lackey, my still developing arcane senses were unable to tell - telling us that she (the Witch) would uphold her end of the bargain. The imp then gave us the scroll, which Dench varified was capable, if read properly and in a place where the barriers between world's were thin, of taking us out of the Shadowfell and back to the plane we refer to as "home". This was quite a relief to us (especially Dench and I, who seem to be the most prudent of the bunch), as we had previously had no guarantee that the Witch would uphold her end of the bargain - as we really didn't have time to go teach her a leason if she did not.

Making as much haste as we could, we followed the imp to the coast. It led us to the top of the cliff's overlooking the surf and pointed - and all of our heart's dropped as the imp pointed to a jagged rock 60ft out from the base of the cliff, and the obelisk there on it - it was there that we needed to get.

Pondering the situation, we put our heads together as to how to A. get ourselves and the suits down the cliff, and B. how to get from the base of the cliff across the water to the obelisk. Hans climbed down the cliff, and found below a wrecked ship on a thin beach, but judged the path too difficult to quickly lower the suits. Instead, remembering the path we had taken in the real world, we investigated a nearby graveyard - where we found an analogous set of tunnels. Judging them the easiest way down we went doen the tunnel, where we encountered some restless, angry spirits. In our rush to be through as quickly as possible, we damaged the cart (good thing for the extra wheel!) but made it through with both of the suits.

Over the next 8 hours, we built ourselves a boat - Dench did the building, Bulgen and Hans collected materials, I repaired things - which proved surprisingly sturdy. Meanwhile, Cullen learned the shrink ritual taken from the Necromancer's, and which he then cast on the suits. With Bulgen swimming across first with a line (his first time out of armour in years, at least by the smell of him), we arrived, wet and cold, at the obelisk, and successfully used the scroll to bring us to the real world. To our relief, out imp guide did not cross over with us.

Once in the real world, we found ourself on a reef, not far from where the Jagged Coast had set anchor. They were as surprised to see us as we were relieved to see them - they had given up waiting, and were to sail with the tide. It seems we had made it just in time.

The sail back was largely uneventful - or would have been, if not for Bulgen. Apparently, the flag that saw us past the blockade on the way out of High Tower had been obtained by Bulgen promissing any suits we captured to the dwarves. The first the rest of us learned about this was when we were approached a ship of the dwarves human allies, who sent accross a team of mercenaries (led by that insufferable mercenary woman who had tried to kill Lady Verren, burning down an inn while we were in residence in the process) to procure the deal. When Bulgen told them there were "two suits" and had them hauled up, and a chest of gold was taken across, I knew things weren't right, and got Hans, Cullen and Dench together for a quick discussion. They quickly came to the same conclusion as I - that if those in High Tower found out that we had sold them out our lives would be short. By that time one suit had already been transfered, but we refused to give them the other, though we would return their gold. They took issue and attacked us, and nearly defeated us. Fortunately, the crew of the other ship did not seem beholden to their mercenary passengers, and did not get involved - if they had, I doubt we would have survived.

Though, being dead does have its attractions - for one, I wouldn't need to have to explain to Bulgen that friends don't stay friends when you use there money to get stuff which you then sell to their enemies.

Sigh.

In the Shadowfell

The group was in the dark of the Shadowfell, and looking for a way out. Around them was a dark twisted echo of Grand Port, dripping with a cold, malevolent aura. Hungry glances flitted towards them from hollow-eyed citizens of this gloomy world.

Bolgen said he didn't see any difference between it and the real Grand Port. He wanted to burn both to the ground.

Leaving aside the dwarf's destructive tendencies, the group proceeded North, heading to a bazaar. Hans got his hands in trouble when he attempted to pick the pocket of a nearby merchant, and was forced to flee from the merciless justice of the cold Shadowfell... and the equally unpleasant righteous beating Bolgen wanted to lay upon him. He spent quite a bit of time away from the group.

While shopping in the marketplace, the team purchased a magic rod for Cullen, to aid in his invoking of the Raven Queen's wrath. Dentch was interested in purchasing a skull from a skull salesman, but was unable to find an agreeable price... even for a discounted halfing skull.

In the marketplace the group also found information about someone else who could possibly provide them with a way back to the real world. Outside the city walls was Vizous, the Witch, who might aid them in their quest. Over the far city walls the party was pointed towards shimmering, ethereal spikes, and told that was Greyous, the Thunderbeast, another possible way home.

Leaving the dark reflection of Grim Grand Port, the party left the city walls (Hans sneaking behind them, still fearful of the completely heterosexual spanking Bolgen promised to lay upon him). Outside, they could see the shell of Greyous, the Thunderbeast, and it was a huge shell, nearly as tall as Grand Port's walls, with a crown of spikes all over it. The shell shimmered with opalescence, seeming otherworldy in this dark realm.

"I'm not riding a giant, phasing, trans-dimensional turtle if there's any other option!" Aisha declared. No one disagreed, so the Witch beckoned.

In the hut of Vizous, the group negotiated with the hag, and she was eventually willing to provide the party with a ritual scroll that should provide them with a way home. All the group had to do was kill a necromancer who was "interfering" with Vizous' ways. Although fearful of being caught in a dark turf war between macabre crime lords, the gang agreed.

Hauling their precious cargo of goblinoid mechasuits with them, the group headed North, away from Grand Port and towards the necromancer's realm. They passed many disturbing scenes that highlighted the gloom and macabre nature of the Shadowfell, but pressed on.

Eventually they entered the realm of their foe, as they were attacked by the outer guards. A furious battle occurred amongst the broken stone obelisks, with teleporting dark hounds, a winged zombie horse, and a corpse that threw parts of its body at the party. Eventually the party was triumphant.

Finally, the party reached the decaying remains of a manor house, the seat of the necromancer's power. Advancing in, the party took sword and spell to the inhabitants, interrupting a foul ritual that would increase the necromancer's unwholesome army. Fought on all sides by zombies, death priests, and creatures of flayed skin, the party struggled and brought forth much violence and fire. Eventually, the necromancer was brought low, and his forces crushed.

Now the party has completed their task. They wait to see if the Witch will keep to their agreement, or betray them in the cold dark of the Shadowfell's pitch-black night.

Getting the Heck Outta Town

Secure in their constructed fortress, the adventuring team awaited another assault by the goblinoids, this time hopefully with battlesuits. An attempt was made to repair the door the warcaster had blasted away, but it appeared it was a slap-dash repair at best.

Nevertheless, the group prepared itself for the next conflict, and it did arrive. Instead of battlesuits however, the hobgoblins were lead by an Anekeg ('frigging giant locust), and a pair of acid Spitting Drakes! These creatures made short work of the barrier the group had prepared, and they and a number of goblinoids rushed into the building to do battle.

Big. Frelling. Mistake.

Angered by the fact the goblins were not providing the needed battlesuits, the party fell upon the miscreants and preceded to completely trash and thrash their opponents. I'm talking this was a near complete steamroll. The hobgoblin commander had to yelp and run like a little schoolgirl, barely managing to save himself and a single minion from the horrific boot-stomping the party inflicted upon them.

"But... but... my beautiful encounter!" The DM was heard to cry out in despair.

The party was unmoved by such pleas, and grimly looked towards the battlesuits arriving.

And, finally, it did come to pass. Two goblin soldier suits and a hobgoblin commander suit lead the next assault, and to the great satisfaction of the divine, it was a rough and rumble battle. There was much throwing of spells and effects and using of special powers and hard hitting smack downs.

In the end, the party was successful, having brought down all their opponents. Taking the commander suit and one of the goblin suits, the party retreated to their prepared escape route, fleeing down old thieves tunnels. They arrived at the location their friend Priest Garjic was preparing the ritual to shift the party into the Feywild so they could escape the city without further goblin interference.

Lady Vren was on hand to present the party with letters for the leadership of High Castle, as well as one of her son in the far off city. With a quick hug for her saviors, she stepped back as the party stepped through the veil between worlds and stood gazing upon the majestic view of the Feywild.

Where before they had been inside a city, now the party was in the middle of a vast forest, the colors brighter, the air sharper, and no sign of any habitation around them. They had finally escaped Grand Port.

Or at least, they kind of did.

All of a sudden, one of the nearby trees shifted into a new shape, a face appearing on the bark. "HOW DARE YOU!" The tree thundered. "HOW DARE YOU BRING SUCH DEATH MAGIC INTO MY REALM! AN ITEM LIKE THAT WILL ONLY BRING DESTRUCTION WITH IT! I BANISH IT FROM MY SIGHT!"

With a wave of his leafy hand, the tree threw the party out of the Feywild with great force. The party crashed back into Grand Port, but kept moving through the gap between worlds. When the party finally stopped spinning, they found themselves in what vaguely looked like Grand Port, but a Grand Port taking over by Gothic architecture and cold climate.

The buildings around them were tombs and mausoleums, the decor filled with gaunt and hollow images. The sky above was cold and lifeless, a faded sun hidden behind thick clouds. Colors were muted, being mostly black, greys, rust reds, and dirty-yellowish white. The fey had pushed them out of the Feywild and into the Shadowfell.

Some exploration found that dead souls drifted throughout the Shadowfell, souls wandering before their final judgment was decided.

Once given time to reflect upon things, Aisha realized that her mask --a powerful item she had held for quite some time now-- was probably the reason why the party had been violently shunted from the Feywild. Looking at the mask in a mirror showed the mask was attached to a ghostly crown of some kind, and behind the wearer were the eyes of some horrific monster, staring at them with hunger and fury.

The party is now looking for an escape from this dark echo of Grand Port. There are no living goblins here, but the world is not entirely safe either. There are living creatures here as well, but also packs of undead that creep from alley to alley, striking at the unwary and always hungry for flesh and soul. The party itself was ambushed by a group of these beasts: ghouls, poltergeists, flying zombies, and dead sprites that burned with a hollow fire.

Following advice from a somewhat friendly soul, the party is proceeding north to either find a bazaar where they might find information on a way home, or else talk to the Thunder Beast, who might know of a way to return to the real world.

Only 2 days remain before their ship leaves its sheltered cove. The party must make haste.