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Master of the Crypt
By the next morning (we think), Rufus is fully recovered, if a bit shaken from the experience. Ragda, however, had fallen completely to the effects of the poison. It is a fairly rich tomb, so we feel it best to lay him to state here. Raywin mutters something about letting the clan know if they want to retrieve the body. We offer the third sword to Rufus – he's the only other person left in the party that can swing a proper longsword.

Moving through the last archway, we come around to a large room, full of huge jar-thingies, a whole bunch of dead guys standing around. And one dead guy sitting on a throne, dressed like one of them Southern Sand Kings I've heard about. This is Gondus. Seems he was waiting for us to get to him... and join his crew. Now me, I do like to entertain job offers, but this one seems a bit permanent. That and his interview style of “Kill everyone who works for me,” doesn't bode well for long term health.

Rufus totally freaks at the sight of Gondus, and splits. Barbarina and I step up to defend our fellows, while the rest get ready with magic and whatnot. I start laying into his ghouls, and Harl pitches one of his fireballs at Gondus... which promptly fizzles. Hmm. One of the ghouls gets a swipe in on me, and suddenly I can't move. I fall backward, and Raywin drags me out of the way. He grabs the Sprooghammer, and rushes into the room.

So here I am, lying in the hall...

The stonework of the ceiling is rather nice.

Was that Rufus I glimpsed out of the corner of my eye?

There's a lot hacking, and screaming, and crashing noises from the crypt. After a couple of minutes of this, there's this awful scream and the smell of burning jerky. Then a bit of silence, and some sifting, crashing noises.

Finally, everyone comes out, a little worse for wear, but nobody at death's door. Turns out elves are immune to the ghoul-touch that got me, and Ragda from before, and Barbarina managed to keep the Halflings from getting killed. Oh, and the rest of the party too. Apparently Gondus was immune to damage, even after Kalixta hit him with a flaming pot of oil. Seeing a crusty skeleton with his head on fire freaked Rufus again, and he knocked over one of Gondus' big jars. Gondus freaked out a bit at that. So they spent the rest of the fight splitting time between smashing jars, smashing ghouls, and running from Gondus. With the last jar gone, his head went up in flames, and the party finished him off.

Then they set about packing and divvying loot from the tomb.

Then they talked about where to go next.

And then I could move again.

We are on a brief hiatus for the summer and will return in July.

I am sure it has become abundantly clear that I can't make saturday night games. I was in denial that I was still in a saturday night game but I guess I am not. Sorry for wasting your time.

It's been a little while, so I'm breaking this up into pieces.
On the road again
As we prepare to depart from the Tomb of Gondus, we hear muffled shouting from under the floor in one corner. Prying up the flagstone, we find another jar with a voice inside. Wasn’t killing Gondus supposed to release everyone? Apparently it missed one. Being the kind souls that we are (ha!), we smash the jar, and a figure forms in front of us. Unlike the others we've seen down here, this one is solid. He says his name is Fornex, and he was the Lord High Executioner for the Empire, back when Falcor's Doom was still known as “The Imperial Capital.” He says P'thun was giving him a second chance to mend his ways. Very, very nasty disturbing ways. We figure that having someone around with working knowledge of Falcor's Doom would be quite handy, but I wasn't too sure about having another crazy One-Eye disciple running around. We've already got Raywin.

We leave the crypt behind, and put a few miles between us before we take a breather for the night. Of course, no stay on the road is complete without some random encounter of some kind, and this was no exception. We were awoken by a Gnome, walking down the road, spinning discs, and whining. Constantly. Constantly spinning, and constantly whining, I mean. According to our sorrowful traveler, his clan was responsible for the old imperial city being somewhat exploded, and renamed Falcor’s Doom. Apparently Glugfruit stew was involved. His story told he kept his spinning penance, and went on his way. And I finally got to get some sleep.

After a couple more somewhat uneventful days of travel, we make it to Tulmoor. First stop, deliver the message about the Scaled Ones to the Imperial Governor. It turns out he ain’t available, but the assistant governor is. Now this poncey sproog was everything I expect from Imperial bureaucrats: dull, dismissive, talks with a mouth full of marbles… but was surprisingly not interested in the news of impending war. Everyone was a bit suspicious about this, and we voiced our concerns, but it was Harl that raised the most fuss – and got himself arrested.

Seeing that there was no use arguing with this particular Imperial putz, and not wanting to spend a night in jail myself (I can’t speak for the others, but I’ve seen the wrong side of a prison door quite enough), we adjourned to a nearby inn to get drunk and figure out how to spring Harl, in that order.

We have room for a new player. If you want to get a feel for the flavor of the campaign, please read the history below.

Teluria is a very rules light - humor laden campaign.

We've been going strong for over a year.

We play on Saturday nights at 7:00pm on Roll20.net

If you're interested please drop me a PM.

The party found a room in the back of the inn and discussed Harl’s plight. “Of all the dwarves in the land, we had to wind up with the one with a smart mouth!” Kalixta growled, baring her stubby canines at the thought.

“Smart mouth, or not, we need to rescue him before we can leave town.” Pug replied. “He may not be the most cheerful guy in the world, but he does cast a mean firebolt.”

Just then, a slender man in a dark cloak sidled into the room. “I understand you’ve had a run in with the Assistant Governor?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Why, yes we did. What’s it to you?” Kalixta looked suspiciously at the new arrival. She was still upset that her suggestion to leave Harl behind and leave town not having been well received by the rest of her companions.

“Allow me to introduce myself. My name is...well, you can call me Shade. It’s probably better that you not know who I really am, less chance of you setting the guard after me by mistake. Do you want to rescue your friend?”

“Yes!” came the unanimous reply, drowning out the low growl that escaped Kalixta’s hairy throat. “I see I’ve been overruled. All right, let’s get it over with, what do you need us to do?”

The man sank into one of the seats around the table and motioned the others to draw closer.

“We are planning a coup. There are many of us that don’t trust the Assistant Governor and think something may have happened to the previous office holder. The Assistant Governor has told everyone that the Governor is off on a mission to the Imperial City, but noone saw him leave Tulmoor. Your friend has most likely been thrown into the dungeon below the Governor’s palace. I happen to know there’s an entrance into the dungeon from the sewers below the city, but I’m not exactly sure where. I can lead you to the sewer entrance, but from there on you’re on your own.”

The man looked up at a sound in the main room of the inn. “That’s my signal to leave. I don’t wish for the City Guard to see me talking to you.” With that, he sidled out a hidden door in the back of the room, just in time, as one of the guards poked his head into the room.

“‘Ey! Yer da stwangahs what just wandahed into town, aint’cha? The govuhnuh tode me to keep an eye on yeh, but you don’ look so tough. Just keep youah head down and don’t cause any twubble, and we won’t have any pwoblems at all.”

The guard had the same trouble with his r’s that most Imperials seemed to have.

“I’ll leave you to youah pwovisions foah now, but don’t think I don’t have my eye on you.” With that he popped a glass eye out of one of his sockets and put it on the table with a harsh laugh. “Whassa mattah, dat’s funny!” The rest of the room didn’t respond, and he replaced the small sphere with a snort, and then left. They could hear him shaking down the barkeep for a wineskin or two on his way out.

There wasn’t much to do now, but wait, and the group repaired to their rooms to await whatever was coming next....