Campaign: Dominion of Adventure 20/4/2023

Written by and from the point of view of Hamlet Wolffort:

The battle had ended by the time I descended into the sewage — a veritable river of filth. Iivan, Sylas, and the others had slain the mutants before I could acclimate to the disgustingly putrid stench.

Or, were they truly… killed? Were they even alive before being shot or cleaved in two? I heard their senseless murmurs… were these the sounds of a dead-but-functioning biological machine or the desperate cries for help of a souled-but-malfunctioning human?

There was no time for hesitation. I would rather live with guilt than become one of them.

We pressed on. Kevin didn’t look well. He usually avoided blood and filth, but there was no escape down here. I considered sending him away and “finding” him (as a familiar) again later. Yet, I supposed he preferred to enjoy the “shit show” more than anything else.

Navigating the sewage was challenging. The floor was slippery, and there were sizable gaps between stable ground. More than once, we accidentally plunged into the repugnant river, drenching our belongings and equipment in the foul-smelling product of human excretion. Darkness was the least of our problems — perhaps not for Sylas, but I didn’t concern myself with that.

As we continued, we gradually began to hear the wailing of children in the distance. Initially, we assumed it was just the sound of water pouring into the sewer, but as we drew closer, it became evident that there were survivors.

“Let’s ignore the wailing and continue marching towards the exit into the city,” suggested Sylas. I thought he was one of the “Brothers.” Perhaps the Brothers had been corrupted from top to bottom.

“No. Each survivor brought back would make each of us 300 gold. Treasures lie ahead!” disagreed Luther.

But before any others could join the argument, the true knight and Brother — Navarro — had already acted upon the call of his heart. He sprinted towards the source of the wailing sound, and we — some more reluctantly than others — swiftly followed.

Around the corner was a room large enough to fit around fifty people. Inside were several small groups of three to four poorly dressed individuals, mainly women and children. They showed no signs of mutation. And even though their bodies were covered in filth, their eyes were clear — in some, I could even see glimmers of hope.

As Navarro stood at the entrance, with us armed behind him, a man came forward and confronted him in a quivering voice, “What are you here for?”

Navarro, with a mix of anger and concern, quickly replied, “What are you doing to the children here? I heard them crying and won’t let you hurt them!”

The man glanced at Navarro’s sword and instinctively took a small step back. Nonetheless, he mustered his courage and shouted uncontrollably, “Whatever you want, leave us alone!”

“We are here to rescue the survivors of Coatlan! Stop what you’re doing, or we’ll do what’s necessary to save those behind you,” said Navarro in a firm and menacing voice, as he leapt forward from the entrance to reveal us, armed and ready, to the trembling man.

Clearly, a righteous heart doesn’t always imply an adaptive mind. The moment I saw the fearful looks on the cowering survivors’ faces, I realised that their fear was not directed at the feeble, unarmed man confronting Navarro, but at the would-be savior himself.

Before I could stop the eruption of a futile — indeed, wrong — battle, Luther dropped his usual wit and poured oil onto the fire. He marched up to Navarro and barked, “Yield, or you know how it will end.”

As if Luther’s words were a mountain collapsing on the survivors’ shoulders, they could no longer hold back their fear and all surrendered on the floor.

“Sorry! I’m sorry!”

“Please! Please don’t kill us!”

“Mercy!”

The wailing children cried even louder.

Only at this point did Navarro and Luther realise that they themselves were the very objects of fear. In a slightly embarrassed manner, Navarro took out his badge and held it in front of the survivors.

“Calm …,” before Navarro finished his sentence, he caught the confusion in the survivors’ eyes. He quickly inspected his badge and realised … it was all covered in yellow-brown paste. He turned around and shot me a please-help-me look. Despite still feeling ashamed of his blunder, I cast Prestidigitation on the badge and cleaned it up.

“Calm down. We are here to rescue the survivors of Coatlan.”

“How do… how do we know you are not one of them! The mutants! How do we know you can be trusted!”

“Dorian. Show them the holy fire.”

Dorian stepped forward and took out the holy cross — having learned Navarro’s lesson, he inconspicuously wiped the cross with a cloth before displaying it.

“See. I’m a cleric of Helm,” said Dorian, carrying a calming grin. A small, white fire appeared in front of Dorian. As the sacred fire reflected in the many pairs of despairing eyes of the survivors, the wailing stopped, and the stiff bodies slowly relaxed.

We talked to the survivors, told them why we wanted to enter the city, and asked how they managed to survive in the sewage.

It turned out they didn’t survive on their own. A brother named … had been visiting them from time to time to supply aid. They pointed us in the direction from which he came. It seemed clear that the brother came from inside the city, so we should retrace his steps.

Out of guilt, or perhaps also out of his insatiable urge to perform, Luther played a song of rest for the survivors. It was a serene, calming lullaby, mirroring the natural cadence of the sea. It provided solace and rejuvenation, allowing for restorative moments in a chaotic world — however ephemeral the peace may be.

Inspired by Luther’s tune, I stood up and delivered a passionate speech, “The blight is formidable, but together, we shall never lose faith in a better tomorrow.”

In almost an instant, a very slight, lively red appeared on the survivors’ skin. They looked more energetic, less battered. How long would this last? Even if they survived the next danger, would they eventually fall into the hands of mutants? I looked at Dorian, wondering if the cure he mentioned was really available. As if my doubt was noticed, Dorian looked back with firm, reassuring eyes.

“We’ll go on. And we’ll find the cure,” said Navarro in his usual unreflective, optimistic tone. My doubts weren’t cleared, but somehow his persuasive voice infused a blind optimism in my body too. The party — apart from Nick — stood up with unwavering strength. We were ready for whatever came next.

“Let’s go,” said Navarro as he led the way towards the city.

Prestidigitation was difficult to pronounce, so I chose to avoid the mess altogether rather than casting it occasionally to clean myself. I activated my Boots of Levitation, tied a rope around my waist, and handed it to Navarro. I became his floating companion. The elevated perspective was refreshing and superior—was this how Kevin felt when he picked a safe height and enjoyed watching the chaos whenever our party encountered danger?

As Navarro and I entered a small room, we noticed a bubbling surface not far away on the river of filth. I was floating, so I should be safe. Right?

Not quite. To investigate what lay beneath the surface, I fired an Eldritch Blast at it. Moments later, I regretted my decision: a feminine, heavily mutated monster leaped out of the river and snatched me from the air. Damn it.

As the world spun and my mouth filled with the foul contents of the river, I sensed Navarro attempting to pull me back with the rope. He reacted swiftly, but before he could gather enough strength, the rope had already slipped from his grasp.

What followed was chaos. The monster beat me repeatedly, and I was hit by an arrow. Who? Why? Was it because I wasn’t worth the 300 gold? Pain and the monster’s choking grip prevented me from getting my bearings, but I didn’t panic. As long as the party knew I was “taken,” I trusted they would come to my rescue.

It wasn’t long before the monster halted suddenly, and I managed to catch my breath. Reacting instinctively, I cast Misty Step back to the room we had come from and saw the full situation:

In the room where I had originally floated, Sylas aimed his bow at the monster, with Dorian, Luther, and Gregg close by. Intriguingly, Navarro was on the other side of the monster. He likely used Misty Step to block its path.

I assumed that’s why the monster stopped. Thank you, Navarro.

With our party in its standard formation, we gradually but surely defeated the monster. Nick’s shots were so precise that I believed his arrow that struck me was revenge for excluding him from the audience of my inspiring speeches. Fire attacked the monster from above and below—Dorian chanted, causing a flame-like radiance to descend upon her, while Gregg created a bonfire on the floor directly beneath her.

Luther, under the constant delusion that every creature could be reasoned with, said something to the monster. Naturally, it was futile. He could have simply healed my wounds. But I didn’t blame him, particularly after witnessing Gregg’s enlightening conversation with the grass.

We were safe again—for now. Aware that danger could appear at any moment, we pressed on in the direction suggested by the survivors.

Kevin returned to my shoulder, mockingly scratching his ears. It was irritating, but I couldn’t bring myself to hate him.

Navarro and I were both slightly injured, but taking a rest was not an option as new threats could appear at any time. There was no turning back.

Our party was forced to halt when we reached a crossroads: The way forward was where we were supposed to go, but to our left, we spotted two agile mutants and two large, muscular, heavily mutated monsters devouring a small body that resembled a child. To our right, there was another group of four agile mutants.

By the time we arrived at the crossroads, it was too late to sneak past the mutants or to sprint away. Both groups were less than 80 feet from us, and worse, they began crawling towards us the moment we spotted each other.

“I’ll hold the right side. Sylas, Dorian, you hold the other side,” ordered Navarro as he quickly positioned himself to face the four agile mutants. He began dancing in a strange and confusing manner. It looked ridiculous, but he knew what he was doing.

As I was still assessing the situation, a painfully intense ringing noise emanated from the center of the right-side enemies. The four mutants’ bodies shook as though they were standing on the edge of a tornado, and amid the loud echoes reverberating through the sewer, Luther confidently returned to the back of the party.

But it was my turn to act, not Luther’s. I stepped forward, aimed my arm at the mutant closest to Navarro, and fired an intense, deep fiery-red blast at it. Before the mutant could regain its balance, a silvery beam of pale light dropped onto the group. As their flesh ignited in ghostly flames, the mutant that took my blast collapsed.

On the left side, the two large monsters rapidly closed in. However, Sylas and Dorian had already formed a defensive line in the narrow sewer, preventing the mutants on the left from reaching the core of our party. They held their shields close to their bodies, eyes fixed on any movement from the enemies, protecting each other’s flanks whenever the enemies attempted to strike.

Sylas and Dorian bought us time. But if we couldn’t finish off the right group before their defense faltered, the large monsters would wreak havoc on our party. We needed to hurry.

Navarro took a hit from the right-side group despite doing his best to avoid their attacks. He wasn’t looking well. The wounds from the previous fight began bleeding again.

Another loud bang erupted among the four agile mutants. I immediately capitalised on their distracted attention and fired two Eldritch blasts at the closest mutant. Another one down.

Seeing that the pressure on Navarro’s side had eased, Gregg shifted the moonbeam towards Sylas and Dorian’s side, which didn’t look good at all.

Sylas’s left arm had a dark red bruise, apparently struck by one of the large monsters. Yet, instead of giving up the defensive line, he mustered his remaining strength and slashed one of the smaller mutants. After decapitating it, Sylas spun around and carried the momentum of his glowing sword to strike another mutant, which then fell flat into the river of filth.

Sylas’s moment of victory was short-lived. The large monster next to him seized the opportunity before his recovery and landed two punches on his belly. His body curved into a bow shape and blood spattered onto the monster’s face. He was so badly hurt that he could barely maintain his balance. Even the weakest punch could now knock him unconscious.

Fortunately, Navarro had been freed from holding the right side’s line, and he charged forcefully towards the monster that had just hit Sylas. With an agile thrust at the lower body of the monster, Navarro’s sword pierced its dick and sliced it off. The monster let out a loud, painful groan and joined the dead mutant in the river of filth. As Navarro pulled his sword back, he realised that the dick had stayed on the blade, and I could tell that he was quite amused by it.

At this point, only one large monster and one nimble mutant remained. Luther pointed at the mutant, and as the sound of a dolorous bell filled the air around it for a moment, both of its eyes suddenly rolled back, and it collapsed onto the ground.

Finally, fueled by the excitement of holding the severed dick on his sword, Navarro delivered a clean strike at the last monster and chopped its head off.

We were battered, and yet, we emerged victorious.