The Legs of Lolth

Beginnings
Danger and Mystery

After the Drow attack, Master Traoren summoned four young people to run a message to a friend for him. He was enigmatic, but insistent and urgent, so they agreed. They set off through the woods, hoping to avoid any Drow still watching the village.

The first afternoon of travel was uneventful. They got to the highway with enough time before sunset to finish the trip into the nearest town, opting not to camp in the forest. They had no money for the inn, but Xenia got them floor space with the church of Ehlonna after the local cleric learned of their unfortunate situation.

The next day of travel was a bit more hazardous. Keeping off the highway as Traoren recommended, they chanced to stumble upon a scavenging, young wild boar. Xenia bound it with an entangling spell while the others steadily attacked the frenzied creature. It fell swiftly, but not before giving Avaril a grievous gash. He passed out, but Xenia swiftly attended to his wounds and the party continued, richer by a sizable portion of pork.

The day’s excitement was not yet over. Leaving the woods, within sight of the tower they sought, a lone Drow stalking them sprung her ambush. Her first bolt missed, but her second poisoned shaft struck Xenia, who succumbed to the sleeping poison. Denzil swiftly retaliated with an arrow, placed solidly in the Drow’s throat. The shadow-Elf died instantly, leaving some useful items for Eilir to scavenge.

The travelers finally made it to their destination, where they were met by an old but lively man, Corysan Illythinan. He gave them tea, and healing as needed, while answering a few of their questions. The mystery behind just what the Drow were after remains just that, as Corysan insists on waiting for Traoren to arrive before that story is told.

Session 1 Chat Log

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Prelude
The Dawn of an Epic

From the Narrative:

“Last night was the most terrifying moment in your life. At dusk, just as the most of village was finishing their day, your quiet little home was assaulted by a warband of Drow. The Shadow-Elves were like ghosts in the darkest night of the new moon, the feeble starlight glimmering dully off their black armor. They cut down a dozen before anyone could realize what was happening. As the commotion spread before the invaders, most fled for the cover of their homes, but others, too slow or too brave, were slain as the Drow flooded through Arenal. They stormed through the village to the doors of the small local chapel. There the Drow stopped, confronted by the Master Traoren, half-elf monk who teaches there. After a brief and quiet discourse between him and the warband’s leader, the Drow swarmed him. He defended the chapel against the full force for what seemed like hours, but finally he fell before their amassed might. The Drow entered the chapel and took an old darkwood three-section staff that Traoren had kept, then retreated as suddenly as they arrived.

The village slowly regained activity as people grew confident enough that the Drow were gone. The wounded were attended to, and the dead were gathered. No one slept for the rest of the night. When dawn arrived, everyone was astonished to see Master Traoren suddenly rise from death and stagger away to his chapel. He has refused to speak to anyone so far, but has suddenly sent out a message asking you to come attend him."

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