Games Logs

The contract room is on fire. The contracts themselves — thousands of them, the accumulated debt of the damned — are burning beautifully. This is not ideal, mostly because Murlack is in the contract room. He is also burning, but likely would not describe the flames that are engulfing his legs as “beautiful,” by any stretch. If anything, there is an urgency to put the flames out. A familiar face appears on the hallway side of the wall of flames. Hope rises in Murlack. It is N

Viktor and Jayce cautiously explore the subterranean chapel. It is empty save for three things: one cage fitted with manacles sized for something with very large arms — or perhaps a neck — one altar, and one ominous door. At the door behind the altar, Viktor leans in, ear to the wood. Behind it, the unmistakable sound of goats. He hisses at Jayce to get his attention. The paladin strides over, slides Viktor aside, and smoothly opens the door. No darkvision. No light. Just t

wasana jaigunta, kariyat, DepositPhoto 571766420, 2022 Where everyone is At the moment in question, where everyone is in the Cave of Lost Things takes some explaining. The party is distributed across its tunnels in a way that suggests it might be either a tactical decision or a catastrophic loss of group cohesion. It is the second of these choices. ⚔ In the main tunnel, the cloaker is dead. Freda, a ranger, views this as an opportunity, and draws a dagger from her belt. She

Jayce, Wilrick, and Jeff stand amid the wreckage of bones. Other skeleton warriors in the garrison prepare to attack. Then, something em

Nesquo's fog still hangs in the tunnel, thick and impenetrable. The cloaker, on fire and annoyed, launches a thrashing attack — and misses everyone. It connects with nothing but air and its own smoldering indignity. Inside the fog, Glumbo strikes Nesquo.

The party meets the cloaker in a narrow corridor with nowhere to run. Nesquo throws up a Wall of Fog spell to buy them cover — thick, impenetrable, blinding everyone inside it equally. Frida takes to the air to get above it. The rest fight by sound and instinct. Krasnyy hurls a dagger into the cloud and connects. The creature screams. That's the only confirmation anyone gets that they're even aiming in the right direction. Tall Glumbo sends Dog Glumbo in. The hellhound does

The cellar of the Ship’s Prow smells of brimstone and mildew. The boarded door is still holding — barely — and from behind it, the voice of

The sled journey done, the comrades stretch after the long ride. An absence of strenuous activity in the bitterly cold environment of Stygia has left them stiff. If not exactly rested, then they are at least not exhausted. The party unpack themselves to stand at the mouth of the Cave of Lost Things. The opening gapes, dark and foul smelling. In the doorway stands a sentient Yeti guardian, easily 9 feet tall, leaning on his halberd. The helm he wears upon his head seems more p

The party faces a choice: pay one scrip for a bunk in the dormitory, or sleep outside in the freezing Stygian air. Most of them pay. Those who don't spend the night on the ice, with the exception of Lynx, suffer for it. Morning finds them exhausted. Some nights in Hell are like that. At dawn, one of the sled's hellhounds pads up to Krasnyy with a leather pouch hanging beneath its chin. Inside: a letter from Proctor Azurath. He has taken the liberty of arranging transport t

The next day, the group decides they need to do a little more shopping before they leave for the Caves of Lost Things. Avoiding the Infernal

A functionary — one of a nameless army of administrative devils that the City of Tantlin seems to have — summons the group and delivers their assignment with the brisk inefficiency. The party is to travel to the Cave of Lost Things and retrieve an item. Their transport: a dog sled, paid for by the group and added to their debt, will be drawn by hellhounds. Six will be tethered to their transport, and one — the lead — will be running free as a guide for the sled dogs and guard

“Who is next?” The merragon guard, whose name they have come to discover is Ironbrand, stands before the table of bonding items. Before the

With the arrival in Stygia, the coach crashes into the frozen ground with bone-jarring force. Metal warps and splinters fly. The vehicle careens sideways, gouging a trench through the snow before lurching to a violent stop. The doors burst open, hurling passengers and luggage into the howling arctic waste.

The battle in the cemetery goes on. Viktor is finally atop the mausoleum that Jayce has just leapt down from, and frustrated to have missed him. The wizard searches, squinting at the rooftop in the gloom, for anything to throw at the fleeing Jayce. He only comes up with a large acorn. Winding up, Viktor lets it fly into the darkness. The sizeable nut catches Jayce on the back of the head, startling but not injuring him. As he cranes his head around to see where the nut cam

Worried that the bandits will attack, Jeff watches two of them closely. One uses curious hand signals to ask a question of the second rogue:

The bonfire tips into the seat just vacated by Lynx, who has fallen atop Nesquo in a tangle of limbs. Nesquo’s pack bursts open on impact,

A gathering storm threatens as the eight find their way to the City of the Dead at sunset. The sky churns gray and purple above the ancient

The coach lurches forward and the journey begins. Soon after, the purple tiefling leans to one side against the window and closes his eyes.

Later, when they compare recollections about the gathering on that first day—before the funeral but after the meeting with the half-vampire

The eight adventures mill around the coach depot, beneath the faded wooden sign, “Wallard & Son Transit and Cargo.” They have arrived in sin