Campaign: Dominion of Adventure 13/4/2023

Having fought off the demonic Tiefling the party kept a strong watch through the rest of the night but no further threats presented themselves and as the sun crept over the horizon they gathered at the bow to rest as the crew busied themselves getting the vessel back underway again. Around midday they realised that they’d not seen any other boats plying their trade along the great river for some time, a familiar sense of oppression seemed to infect them all as they followed the meandering river. Yet the landscape revealed nothing to suggest imminent danger and they each found ways to deal with their unease as the sun moved in a slow arc across the sky above them. Turning a bend in the river they finally saw in the distance the towering walls of Coatlan ahead of them. As they drew closer the scale of the city and it’s defences became clear, walls towered over a hundred feet into the air, topped by crennalated battlements and overseen by even taller watch towers spaced along the main curtain walls. A mighty keep could be seen within, rising above even above the other defences as they slowly passed under a massive wooden drawbridge in the shadow of the imposing barbican.

The unmistakable stench of death and decay hung heavy in the air, a foul miasma that caught in their throats and sent Gregg staggering to the gunwhales retching in disgust. As the crew moored their boat up and made preparations to unload supplies a unit of heavily armoured infantry challenged the Renegades. Dorian and Sylas explaining their links to the church and Clan Hammerbeard and securing safe passage into the besieging forces camp. Having been given directions to the Lord Commander of the local forces, a well respected man of the Legion named Agoris they decided instead to try and leverage Dorian’s familial bonds and made their way around the city to where Clan Hammerbeard were camped. As they made their way through the camp they noticed scurrying shapes on the battlements shadowing their progress inside the city, unable to get a clear sight of the creatures they were reassured as they noticed the front line troops would mark and hand off these movements from unit to unit as they passed – it seemed the rumours were true and nothing was being allowed to leave the walled city. The still smouldering piles of what must have once been men, women and children in the no mans land between the walls and the defensive fortifications built by the encircling forces reinforced the seriousness of the contagion and the Legion’s determination to keep it contained. Solid casements surmounted by giant ballistae stood ready, their crews keeping a careful watch on the city gates which had been barricaded heavily by the troops.

Eventually they passed into a stretch of the frontline guarded by stout looking Dwarves bearing the emblem of the Hammerbeard Clan, Iivan couldn’t help notice that many of the Dwarves were armed with powerful looking fire arms, some replete with strange lensed attachments which presumably helped the stunties find their mark at longer ranges. While the Drow eyed the finer examples of these weapons hungrily Dorian approached one of the soldiers seeking directions to their chief. But before he could learn much the blaring of horns sounded and a wave of mutated humanoids errupted over the walls facing them, the creatures hurled themselves off the towering fortifications recklessly thudding into the ground and shattering limbs only to rise again or drag themselves forward across the mud towards the besieging forces. The Dwarves of Clan Hammerbeard rushed to their fortifications and formed up in tight ranks, before on a signal from their leaders they began firing thundering volleys at the onrushing creatures. The Renegades watched in awe as the Dwarven troops rotated ranks in a well practiced manner, as one rank fired they would step back behind a fresh wave of troops to reload while the others discharged their own guns in disciplined volleys. Yet still the creatures came on, closing the distance between them and the Dwarven lines despite the murderous fire whipping through them. Navarro watched, impressed at the precision which spoke of long months of training which allowed the defenders to decimate their foes, a final clockwork volley finally putting the last of the creatures down for good.

“Clean up crews” bellowed a Dwarf and the cry was taken up by others along the front line, groups of even more heavily armoured Dwarves could be seen moving forward along lanes which had been formed by the well trained gunners and they moved out into killing ground and began hacking the heads and limbs of the dead creatures, dragging them into piles to be cleansed by fires.

Iivan turned to Dorian “Are you sure Helm wants us to go in there?” he asked, Dorian made a show of consulting his magical compass and nodded grimly. Directed by one of the Dwarves towards a large green cloth pavillion the Renegades were told to seek an audience with Fellstalker, the leader of the Hammerbeard forces in the area – and it turned out, the elder brother of Hammerbeard and another of Dorian’s Uncles.

As they moved through the camp Gunnar moved to Dorian’s side “Why is it you sound so different from all the other Dwarves in your clan?” he asked, having noticed the follower of Helm seemed far more softly spoken than the other Dwarves they’d encountered.

“Oh, I was sent South for my schooling when I was younger, I think I must have just lost the accent over the years” replied Dorian airily before calling a greeting to the two heavily armed Dwarves sat outside the large tent. After a brief discussion they were ushered into the warm darkness of the tent, finding a cleric of Helm engaged in a heated discussion with a grand looking Dwarf, eyeing Dorian#s features it was clear there this must be a blood relative – albeit older and more battle scarred. Looking up from his talk the older Dwarf beamed when he recognised the Helmish Priest

“Ahhh ya weee shite, what are ye doing here eh?” bellowed the Dwarf heartily, turning back to the man he’d been talking to he continued “I’m sorry Father, but this will have to wait – but I’ll speak to the Lord Commander for you about trying to save the townsfolk if it’s possible” before moving round the large map laden table to engulf Dorian in a bear hug.

“Hello Uncle” replied Dorian once they’d extracted themselves

“Ahh, hello Uncle bollocks….what brings ye to sunny Coatlan aye?”

“Ummm, I’m on a bit of a quest actually…” began Dorian before being cut off

“A Quest eh? We Hammerbeards love a quest eh boys” the genial Dwarf added eyes glinting with a mix of excitement and more than a hint of mischief “Bring us some ale!” he yelled and a Dwarf immediately hurried from the tent to do his bidding “…A quest eh, excellent, songs, fights oh I’ve missed those days laddie – how can your old Uncle help ye and yer fellows?”

“We need to get into the city Uncle” answered Dorian

“Feck no, I cannae be letting you in there lads – no bugger in or out is the Lord Commander’s order – and I’ve seen enough of the fuckers coming out, that I find myself in agreement with the man”

“I’m afraid I must insist Uncle” persevered Dorian as the tent flaps parted to admit a Dwarf bearing a tray laden with foaming mugs of what Gunnar hoped was fine Dwarven ale.

Fellstalker sighed “Well, if ye must ye must” he said “come on boys, let’s go see the big man” he continued, picking up his weapon and heading for the tent’s entrance. Sensing the loss of the promised beer, Gunnar eyed Dorian angrily but they all fell in behind the Warchief as he led them out and through the camp towards where Lord Commander Agoris has set up his command post.

“Before we go, might I be able to get one of those too” asked Iivan pointing at Fellstalker’s ornately crafted multibarrelled handcannon

“Don’t bother me with such trifling things now Drow” said Fellstalker, waving his hand dismissively at the Rogue

“I think I like this guy” grinned Sylas to Hamlet as the Drow bit back whatever scathing reply he’d been considering

“Would you look at that” muttered Gregg, eyes turned upwards, the others followed his gaze and saw a massive Dwarven airship moored above the camp, it’s guns trained on the walls of Coatlan

“Witchcraft!” gasped Luther

“Errr THAT craft” said Gunnar helpfully, gesturing to the floating behemoth in awe that something so large could float effortlessly and admiring the lines of the armoured ship suspended below the strange metallic sphere that seemed to allow it to overcome gravity. They were interrupted in their reverie when Gregg pointed to the the main keep of Coatlan

“Why is the keep so dark?” he asked, but none of the others could give him an answer – a shiver of dread running through them and chilling them despite the sun’s warmth as they stared at the darkness that clung to the keeps walls.

Gunnar caught his foot on something and stumbled, looking down he saw a large and heavy iron ball deeply embedded into the mud. Eyeing the cannonball curiously he reasoned it must have been fired at the keep from the airship above and bounced back to land here, yet try as he might he could see no sign of an impact on the keep’s walls. Judging from it’s size alone the cannon that fired it must have been a mighty weapon indeed, and should have easily scarred the stone of any fortress in the land. Looking around more carefully now he saw that the ground around them was littered with other cannonballs, all similarly sunk into the hard earth….it offered him no comfort that the weapons the Dwarves had at their disposal had still proved ineffective against the eerily dark keep brooding over them.

Eventually Fellstalker led them through the carefully arranged lines of the Legion’s bivouac to a larger tent, a man in fine armour stood outside glowering at their approach. Gunnar and Iivan recognised him as the Commander of the troops at Shepherd’s Rest who had given their old companion Tianzi a beating in a tavern brawl months earlier. The grizzled veteran made no indication that he recognised them, but it was clear he’d weighed them up on their approach and found them all severly wanting. Fellstalker’s presence seemed to be enough to satisfy the man that the Lord Commander was in no danger though and he made no move to stop the party entering the Commander’s tent.

The greying middle aged man stood pondering maps and lists of supplies at a finely carved table in the centre of the tent, looking up he waved away the scribes and soldiers gathered round him and smiled at the leader of Clan Hammerbeard

“Fellstalker! Welcome, you’re a sight for sore eyes”

“Ye can thank me later for saving your hairy arse from the paperwork, I bring news….and family” he turned to Dorian “say hellow family”

“Uh, hello” stammered Dorian on que, with an awkward wave of their mailed hand.

“Well met, what brings you to Coatlan?” asked the Lord Commander

“We need to get into the city m’lord, there’s a Doctor who might have a cure for the Blight inside and I need to find him” explained Dorian

“Bollocks” snapped Agoris, his nostrils flaring in anger “there’s no cure in that cesspool, just death and misery, now tell me what the fuck you’re doing here before I loose my temper”

Dorian looked to Fellstalker for support but the older Dwarf shrugged “This is your quest laddie, no mine”.

Dorian took a breath and then began to explain how he’d found mention of Dr Kleinberg while researching the Blight in the City of Seven Libraries. How the Dr was the preeminant expert in the study of Necrodillium and it’s harmful effects and that his son had contracted the Blight and that was what had spurred the Doctor to try and find a cure for the sickness. A cure which, according to Dorian’s research he had been close to finding before his dissappearence.

“..and so we’ve travelled here with orders from Father Lucius to seek out this cure and try to help the city” finished Dorian at last

“Father Lucius sent you?” the Lord Commander asked, instantly recognising the name “Why the fuck didn’t you start with that bit of information?” he snapped, and beckoned them to follow him as he rose and strode purposefully from the tent. He led the party through the serried ranks of tents, pausing to exchange greetings with many of the soldiers they passed on their way through the camp away from the city walls before finally coming to a halt by a circle of tiny graves.

“The last people we sent in to that place looking for suvivors were killed” he stated flatly staring at Dorian “all we got back were their heads” he gestured to the small graves at their feet “I will not risk the lives of my men trying it again until I know they won’t suffer the same fate as these unfortunates”

“We don’t ask for you men Lord Commander, just for safe passage through the walls and into the city so we can find Dr Kleinberg and bring back the cure” answered Dorian

“And some of those fancy looking guns” added Iivan hopefully but the Lord Commander merely shot him a look and turned back to Dorian, as he did so his tunic parted to reveal what looked to be a suit of Nearith armour beneath his robes.

“We do have a way to get you into the city, but it’s risky and once you’re inside we won’t allow you to exit the same way. You’ll need to find a way to contact us before you try and escape the place – my men cannot risk that filth getting loose in the world”

“Dorian, what does success here look like for you?” asked Luther unexpectedly

“Well…. to save Dr Kleinberg and find a cure for the Blight of course” replied the Dwarven cleric “and if we can save some lost souls and help end this corruption in Helm’s name then all the better”

Luther’s gaze met the Dwarf’s for a long moment before he seemed to reach a decision and nodded his acceptance

“I have some other conditions of my own before I’ll help you” interjected the Lord Commander Agoris “As well as finding the cure, you’ll share that with me – consider it the price of my help. Inside the city we believe there may be pockets of resistance – if you can aid them in their fight or bring them safe out of the city then I’ll offer you a bounty of 150 gold” Gunnar and Iivan’s ears pricked up at this but the Lord Commander continued “and I want to know what happened to the former ruler here, Lord Chival- he is or maybe was a powerfull wizard in his day and if he still lives I want him saved, do you agree to these terms?”

Dorian looked around at their companions gauging their mood in turn before turning back to the Lord Commander and agreeing

“Very well then, you may take whatever supplies you think might be useful, meet me back at my tent at dusk” and with that he turned and marched back to his camp.

“How do we talk to you about getting out again?” asked Dorian

In reply Agoris raised his hand, allowing them to see a familiar looking ring on his finger “You” he said nodding to Sylas “know how these work, I’ll be waiting to hear from you – when you’re ready to leave”

Sylas nodded his understanding and assured the others he could call for aid when they needed to escape.

The deal made the party spent the rest of the day preparing themselves to enter the city, Iivan was unable to pursuade any of the Hammerbeard clan to part with one of their firearms and to his disgust the rest of the party forbade him from “borrowing” any while no one was looking. Gunnar, eyeing the high city walls carefully selected two coils of rope to add to his own – he had no intentions of being trapped in that stinking hole of a town if things went wrong for them.

As darkness fell across the city and it’s besieging forces the Renegades were led to what seemed to be an overgrown stream flowing out of the city

“What the hell is that?” gasped Luther clutching a corner of his cape to his face to cover his nose at the stench rising from the foetit waters

“Shite laddie” muttered Fellstalker “ye’ll be crawling in to yon shit heap through the old sewers” he continued with a grin as he gestured to a squad of men to remove the barricades and reveal a dark and stinking bricked tunnel entrance

“Last chance boys, no one will think any less of ye if you decide to turn back” stated Fellstalker flatly but none of the party took his offer and one by one they ducked to enter the stinking darkness.

Iivan led the way into the stinking darkness, moving silently into the tunnel ahead of the main group to scout the path ahead. Gunnar and Sylas followed as quietly as they could aiming to keep a solid defensive line between their comrades and any threats which might be lurking in the sewer tunnels. The tunnels themselves were actually surprisingly large and open once they were past the initial entrance way, Dorian remarking with admiration to the others at the quality of the stonework that had gone into their construction. As they progressed further below the city they began to feel a familar opressive force emanating from all sides, sapping their energy and dimming their spirits as they trudged forward. The raised path Iivan had been following alongside the effluent flowing in the sewers seemed to have been broken and collapsed in places, he leapt across the stream of waste and almost fell in as he slipped on some unspeakable filth coating the stone slabs. In the silence that followed he thought he could make out strange animal noises echoing along the stone walled tunnels from ahead, turning he signalled Gunnar to keep the others silent while he went to investigate. Creeping nimbly and silently, leaping from stone to stone to avoid the slowly flowing river of sewage Iivan came to an opening in the right hand side of the tunnel he was traversing. Easing up to it stealthily he slowly peered round the damp stone corner, only to whip his head back out of sight as two crossbow bolts flew out of the darkess to thud into the wall behind him, he could hear worried voices calling to each other to reload and prepare for an attack, he rolled his eyes in the darkness at the stupidity of surface dwellers

“Don’t shoot, we’re here to help you!” he cried out in exasperation, there was another pause while the hidden survivors conferred

“Err we don’t want any help thank you, just leave us alone” called out a hesitant voice

“Ok, fine stay here and rot if you like but I and my companions are going to be passing this way and if any of you so much as thinks about shooting us….there will be…consequences”

“Right you are sir, we’ll call out before we shoot from now on, but you need to leave now before you attract any of those things here”

A temporary peace formed with these wretched sewer lurking survivors Iivan brough the rest of the party up and explained the situation

“So, how many of them are there in there?” asked Gunnar, a frown of concentration on his face

“I didn’t go and count them, but at least two…probably more” replied Iivan

“So, that’s at least 300 gold in bounty money sat right there if we get word back to Agoris and his priest right?”

“It’s not about the gold Gunnar, it’s about saving lives” cut in Dorian, Gunnar and Iivan shared a knowing look….it was always about the gold in their experience

As they pressed on deeper into the tunnels they found the pathways were even more broken, and were forced to leap across the river of sewage from ledge to ledge. Tragically, the damp and slimy nature of the stone, the darkness and the oppressive stench was too much for some and Gregg and Dorian all fell into the foul liquid

“Is anyone else wondering why the zombie things are still using toilets?” asked Gunnar, who along with Iivan remained untainted by his passage through the sewers and was pondering the volume of filth still flowing through the sewers.

“Judging by the taste I think this is from survivors not the creatures” said Dorian absently as they tried to brush the worst of the mess from their armour after their latest slip and fall. A statement that masked it’s horror behind it’s simple, flat delivery and ended any further speculation on the source of the effluent.

Eventually they came to a halt as ahead of them a full section of the walkway had collapsed, the 20ft gap before them seemed to offer a stark choice, go back or get wet. Sighing dissapointedly Iivan began pulling his guns and ammunition from his pack, at least he could hold them above the surface and wade across without loosing his weapons.

“Wait, I think I could make that” said Gunnar “and I can throw you a rope and we could crawl across on that”

“You’re wasting your time, you’ll never make it” muttered the Drow, but the others were keen to avoid another trip into the sewage, or perhaps were just looking forward to seeing the annoyingly dry Half Orc suffer the same fate as them. Eyeing the gap carefully Gunnar sprinted forward arms pumping and hurled himself out across the steaming horror below. Belying his size weight Gunnar sailed out into the air with surprising success, at the apogee of his leap a dark, cynical thought entered his brain…it looked increasingly likely that we would land just short or his intended destination, grimacing he kicked his legs forward hoping they might might some purchase on the onrushing stone slab. He thudded down, feet barely touching the stone and hung in there for a moment until reality caught up with what was happening, went to find it’s friend gravity and together they combined to send the barbarian crashing back full legnth into the filth, spraying a mixture of water and sewage around the tunnel with a disgusting splattering noise. His head rising grimly from the muck Gunnar wiped his eyes clear and stalked back through the sewage trying to ingnore the laughter of his fellows to offer to carry the others across on his shoulders. Most of the others simply plunged into the filth, already coated and steaming as they were but Luther scrambled onto Gunnar’s shoulders and was carried along the corridor to the relative safety of the walkway at the far end of the tunnel with the others, still smirking waded through behind them. As Gunnar reached the far end of the tunnel and helped Luther step onto the relatively dry stone slabs that remained intact the river of shit around them errupted in gouts of filth. Emerging from the (for want of a better word…) “water” were horrify, twisted creatures that may once have been citizens of Coatlan – but now were shambling beasts, lashing out with ragged looking weapons dripping with corruption they fell upon Luther and Gunnar, making the most of their unexpected appearance to stab and slash at their unsuspecting quarry. More of the beasts emerged from behind Gunnar, cutting off any aid from the other Renegades for the moment.

The mutant’s initial attacks had bloodied Luther, Gunnar and Gregg badly and Dorian pushed themselves forward to summon holy fire to burn the foul beasts which stood between the main body of the party and Luther and Gunnar. Clutching at the wound in his side Gregg grimaced with pain and glared at the beast, his eyes flared and flames errupting at it’s feet, it’s peircing shriek echoing around the dank tunnels as it writhed in the flames. Surrounded by hulking creatures Luther called on his dark powers to ensnare the beasts pressing in around him, tendrils of dark energy flailed at the creatures, Gunnar grunting in pain as he was caught by the spell’s power.

“Sorry!” called Luther as he dashed away from his tormentors for the relative safety of a chamber at the far end of the tunnel, roaring the barbarian began hacking around him recklessly, managing to drive one of the things bleeding and insensible into the sewage from where it came and leaving another badly wounded. Iivan danced forward and shot the reeling creature Gunnar had injured with a clean headshot. Sylas summoned his magical sword and in a blindingly fast strike cleaved one of the mutants in two, it’s now seperated halves slipping down to the floor before he pushed the remains into the river of filth with the toe of his armoured boot. Dorian attempted to burn another with holy fire but the beast seemed to shrug off the effects before lashing out at Gunnar, whilst it’s foul brethren attacked Sylas. Gregg, still reeling from the poison he could feel flowing from the wound he’d suffered lashed out at the creature assailing Sylas but was unable to land a telling blow, at the far end of the tunnel Luther had recovered his composure and launched blasts of energy into the melee, but in the cramped confines it was hard to tell if his attacks had any effect. Gunnar’s sword blurred as he swung in great crushing arcs, dismembering the beast before him in a gouting spray of blood and gobbets of flesh, chest heaving for breath he turned his maniacal gaze on the last of the creatures and grimly moved towards it with murderous intent but his rage was denied as Iivan danced across the tunnel, guns blazing as he flew past the beast,the multiple impacts sending it’s corpse jerking back against the stone walls before slumping down to the floor dead.