Session 4: The Redbrand's Hideout

NOTE: Due to my lack of updates and uselessness, some details are not entirely accurate (and some have been added in for story purposes Jordan, just trust me). Apologies for this. Feel free to correct them by messaging me and I will update accordingly.

Also I am aware of some rule inconsistencies, however due to keeping the game fun I allowed it to play out.

Our heroes finished wiping the blood from their knuckles, and looked towards the manor atop the hill. Glasstaff was there. And he was to be dealt with. Suddenly, Galion collapsed, spasming on the ground, while party could but watch in horror at their friend in his uncontrollable state. When he calmed down, Vanar offered to take the unconscious back to the inn, and watch over him, while the other two dealt to the Redbrands. Thespus and Ragnar were more than happy to watch their blades rather than the wizard, and thus agreed without question. However halfway up the hill toward the manor, the pair was stopped, by a familiar voice humming a tune ahead of them, and they saw Mytar sitting atop a rock. “Well it’s about time you showed up,” growled Ragnar. “I was…” started the gnome, pondering over the words to use. “Busy,” he finished with a wink. Ragnar rolled his eyes and Thespus cracked a smile, when they heard a call from behind them. It was Slagathor. “What are you guys doing up here?”

“We,” replied Mytar, “are going to deal with the Redbrands. Care to join us?”

“Of course.”

And thus, the new party marched onward toward the wrecked manor, in quest for Glasstaff.

They found the door leading to the cellar, where the hideout was allegedly located. “Now, what’s the plan?” asked Ragnar. “I think we should light a fire at the door and suck all of the oxygen out of the cellar, thus suffocating all inhabitants and giving us free reign through the area beyond,” smiled Mytar. The others shot each other glances and glared at the gnome. “What?”

“Where are we going to find the fuel for the fire?”

“There’s spare timber around, it is a wrecked manor. And we have fire.” The others nodded in agreement. It was a rather fool proof plan. Plus, if it didn’t work, they didn’t lose anything. “Wait a second,” began Ragnar. “My other cousins are missing too. What if they’re in there?” he asked and gaze across the group. “I’m not suffocating my cousins.” Mytar argued the point, to no avail, and the conversation became rather heated, until at last Slagathor, with no care any longer for any kind of a plan, kicked the door in.

The party emerged onto a small flight of stairs that lead down to a camber, with a large cistern against the opposite wall, with an oak door beside it, and another door on the northern wall. Barrels and crates lined the walls, and upon closer inspection it was found that they held provisions. Salted meats, and the like. Ragnar dived head first into the semblance of food, while the others inspected the cistern. A small pouch clung to the inside of the cistern, submerged in the water, but when retrieved the drops rolled off it, and the satchel was completely dry. The party split the contents of a healing potion, a potion of invisibility, and fifty gold pieces amongst themselves. Suddenly through the eastern door burst three men in dirty red cloaks. Redbrands.

The party armed themselves for battle, and the first thing anyone heard was the scream of a banshee beside one of the Redbrands, who tripped over the edge of the cistern and fell in, much to the shock of everyone (and the amusement of Mytar). Thespus hacked away mercilessly at the lawless thugs, while Slagathor rained arrows from atop the stairs and Ragnar tried to prevent the Redbrand from exiting the cistern. He, unfortunately, failed at the pivotal moment of the struggle, resulting in him getting rather wet, and the Redbrand escaping from the pool. Mytar then conjured up the illusion of a Banshee as well as keeping the sound constant, and frightened another Redbrand so much he wet himself and ran back the way they had come from, while our dwarf friend climbed clumsily out of the pool and Thespus finished off the combatant with a swift heave of his axe, and threw the other into the cistern. Mytar used his prestidigitation spell the soak the surface of the water with tar, including the enemy inside. A flame was dropped onto the mess, and the entire thing went up in flames, and the poor man began to burn to death, drowning in tar. After following through the door the final enemy retreated to, Mytar approached the very frightened thug, and the room he was in was evidently their barracks, where he was hiding under his covers, shaking. He masked his face as that of a banshee’s, pulled back the covers, and merely said ‘Boo.’ The thug screamed and wailed, running out of the room, to only see one of his friends decapitated on the floor, and the other smouldering in the cistern. This shock and previous the previous mental scars proved too much for the poor man, and he went into cardiac arrest, which unfortunately took his life.

Meanwhile the rest of the party had moved on, unaware of Mytar’s brief bout of madness, exiting through the northern door, into a hallway, lined with half-pillars and a brass door capping it, with reliefs of mournful angels carved into its face. The party pushed on, Ragnar in the lead, and suddenly the floor gave way beneath him. He grabbed at the ledge, but found not holds, and fell 20 feet to the bottom of the pit, landing with a heavy thud. He groaned slightly, but dusted himself off, while the other made their way around the pit, along small ledges across the walls. He climbed out with assistance from a length of rope, noting to themselves to be warier of traps in future.

The doors grated open as the party forced themselves on them, and they emerged into what appeared to be a crypt. Three large stone sarcophagi stood before them, propped up against each a skeleton clad in scraps of armour. Ragnar knew all too well what this might be, and informed the others of his suspicions. Thus they did the only thing reasonable, and destroyed the skulls of the skeletons before they could rise, putting the bodies to rest.

There were two exits to the room, one to the east, and one to the north. The northern one that Slagathor explored first, lead into a small corridor with a locked room at the end of it, which the group ignored until they had dealt with the next room. A peek through the keyhole brought to attention the two Redbrands inside, oblivious to the party’s presence. The halfling downed his invisibility potion and snuck inside the room, and became aware of the cells at either end of the room, hosting a group of prisoners. Two women at one end, one middle aged and the other who looked somewhere around twenty, and a boy at the other. But his attention was focused on the threats for now. He snuck up behind one of them, and sliced his throat clean open with his dagger, and before the other one could say “Bloody hell!” he was on the ground also. Thespus and Ragnar charged into the room, to see what had happened, and noticed the prisoners after the bodies. The group broke down the cage doors, and let them free, to which the eldest woman fell into Thespus’s arms, sobbing. “They-they took him!” she cried. “Please ma’am, settle down, we need to find out what happened,” replied Thespus calmly. “Can we start with names? I am Thespus Corlynn, son of Thelus.”

“I-I’m Mirna….Mirna Dendrar, and these are my children, Nilsa and Nars. A-a few days ago, my husband went missing after defying the Redbrands….and then-then they abducted us,” she spluttered, choking back tears. “Can you tell us anything that might help us find your husband?” asked the noble. “N-not much. H-he has b-brown hair that was always tied back with a piece of twine…and he’ll have his wedding band on him, if the R-Redbrands didn’t steal it,” she replied. “Very well, thank you Mirna, we will do our best to find him, but first we must escort you out of this place to safety.” Ragnar agreed heartily, while Slagathor exclaimed that he wanted to check out the locked room at the end of the hall.

While Slagathor went about his business, the other two broke up the table in the centre of the room into planks, to lay across the pit, while tying a rope across the same edge, so everyone could navigate it safely. Thespus lead through the door, stopping suddenly in his tracks to see the horrifying mess that had been made in the room beside the exit, and turned to the family. “Er…hang on. There’s enemies afoot! Wait….here……” he explained, glared at Ragnar and closed the door behind him. “Mytar!” he hissed, “can you do some little illusionary crap and get rid of….THAT??”

“Oh, er yes, of course.” While Mytar tidied up the chamber Thespus clashed his axe against his armour, the ground and whatever else he could find while grunting and calling out in multiple voices. When all was finished he called “Okay, it’s safe now!” The family entered gingerly behind Ragnar, who glared back at Thespus and lead the family upstairs. “I have nothing in the way of a reward for your noble services, the Redbrands took everything we had,” began Mirna, “but I can tell you where a valuable heirloom of mine is hidden. When I was young, my family owned a herb and alchemy shop in Thundertree. Before we fled, I hid my emerald necklace hidden beneath some shelves. I don’t know if it is still there, but if you do find it, feel free to keep it. Again, thank you for everything.” She gave Thespus a hug of gratitude. “We can make our way home from here,” she smiled weakly. Nars hugged Thespus around the waist and spluttering “Thank-you mister, for saving us.” Thespus smiled, then glanced toward Nilsa, who blushed and gave a shy smile, and looked down at the ground. “Now, we have more people to save my friends, onward,” and persisted back into the dungeon.

Back into the dungeon, where Ragnar and Mytar began damn-near wetting themselves with laughter. “What the HELL was that??” Mytar asked, wiping a tear from his eye. “I did the best I could with the situation!” Thespus hissed back. “Oo look at me I’m fighting imaginary enemies,” mimicked Mytar dancing about, slapping stones with his blade. “From the other side of the door it sounded like a bloody good Suneday night!” howled Ragnar. The dwarf and the gnome were writhing on the floor in hysterics when the halfling wandered in with a bundle of weapons in his arms. “What’d I miss?”

Once the party had recuperated from their fit of hysterics, they realised that they had missed something. There had to be more to this compound. After a brief search, they found a secret door beside the cistern, on the opposite side from the barracks, which opened a corridor leading further in. Mytar spent a few moment conjuring up an illusionary group of undead to follow him, and he lead the party. The passage opened up into a massive ravine, with two rickety wooden bridges spanning it, at either end. Then he heard the voice. No one else seemed to hear it, but a rasping, cackling voice made itself known inside his head. “I see through you, gnome,” it said. Mytar dropped the illusion, “who are you?”

“Who am I?” it cackled, “why I am nothing but a creature, trying to survive in this dark, cruel world.”

“What do you want?”

“Food primarily. I’m getting sick of dead bodies. They become very…unlively after a time,” it cackled.

“Do you want to eat…me…?”

“Of course I do. But, if you make me an offer I cannot refuse, I may think otherwise.”

“I can get you meat, then will you talk?”

“Perhaps….”

Mytar soon returned with a barrel of salted meats, explaining to the others little, but just asking to trust him. The voice returned. “Into the crevasse, if you will.” Mytar pushed the barrel into the crevasse where it splintered on impact. “Good, good,” it seethed. “Now, what do you wish to know?”

“Where is Glasstaff?”

“The wizard, why, he is in his quarters of course.”

“Where are his quarters?”

“What do I get if I tell you that one?”

“The wizard.”

“Now that IS tempting. Well it is across the northern bridge. Keep going north, you’ll find it,” it chuckled, then the voice disappeared.

“We need to go north friends,” explained the gnome grimly. “What was that?” asked Ragnar. Mytar looked darkly at his friend. “I have no idea.”