Building Bhakashal - Session Stories
In my business I sometimes run one shot games for people. After these sessions, I offer the option to have a short fiction of their adventure written up for them. I take the events of the game, add some flavor text and fill out what happened a bit, and write it up as a short story.
I completed one a few weekends ago for two players, I have their permission to share it here to give a sense of how Bhakashal handles one shots for people unfamiliar with AD&D. The two players had played a lot of Pathfinder and some 5e, that’s it.
I used Bhakashal’s system for generating adventure seeds and created an adventure, generated two PCs and an NPC for the players, and we ran the session for 4 hours. They had a blast, the ending was really fun, and I got to see some of my custom classes and spells used in real time by complete newcomers. I have a regular “playtest” group, so running things past outsiders helps.
If you wanted to get a sense of what a one-shot session or individual campaign adventure would be like in the setting, this is a good example.
A Hell of a Time…
Yorkun the Ambergris felt the boat bump up against a dock pole. The chitin who had punted them here was wearing a soft gold kilt, a bandolier with two daggers and nothing else, the sun blazed on his dark blue carapice.
Yorkun took out three silver, one more than the trip was worth. It was not wise to give too much here in the Raosk, it would mark you for theft, but to give too little might do the same…
Yorkun climbed on to the dock and took in the sounds and smells, the city had its sensoria, the Raosk was another thing again. The smell of the marshes was heavy here, even with the strong breeze and the miasma of mist and smoke that emerged from the tents of the Raosk. The enticing odor of frying food, decanters of strange liquids brewed from wild berries exhausting their fumes, everything vied for his attention.
Garudin pinwheeled in the crimson tinted sky above, some hunting, some carrying things, some even carrying passengers. Yorkun had considered getting here that way, but feared one of his enemies might pay off a garudin to drop him to his death.
No point being careless.
A Togmu hunter with a sizzle bowl sat at the nexus of hanging bridges that extended from the end of the dock into the Raosk. There was a circular platform there, resting on driven poles, and a steady stream of hunters, fishers, day laborers, mercenaries and tent merchants swirled around and through. Yorkun had arrived at a busy time, all the better to blend in and not be noticed. He wandered over to the Togmu, who was using a pair of metal sticks to pinch what appeared to be a large, defeathered poima bird, easily three hands long in the barrel. The smell was intoxicating, the hunter was using risha wine to steam bathe the bird, which had been roasted first before bathing.
Yorkun stopped, the hunter did not look up from the bird. He had chalked out a circle around him, Yorkun just crossed the line with his foot, not entering the circle. The Togmu held up his hand, spreading his fingers to show a fan of membrane, yellowed only slightly compared to the dark green skin around it. He shook the hand three times, then attended to the fire with a handful of what appeared to be sawdust.
Flames leapt up and bird flesh sizzled.
Yorkun looked away and saw Jokai walking down the dock. Jokai was also a Saan, a full foot taller than the phantasmist, with dark wine red skin, and armor that shone a bright polished brass: helm, breastplate, greaves and vambraces, with his circular shield on his back, blazoned with a twisting lizard for his Noble House, Tairn. Yorkun could have handled this job alone, but he had learned over the years that a warrior of Jokai’s presence could cause enough hesitation in his foes to allow him to use magic before things got out of hand. Then again, Jokai often caused the trouble that got things out of hand in the first place, but Yorkun wanted someone trustable, and they had worked together for years.
Jokai took out his hands and brought them, palms together in front of him, Yorkun closed his hands on Jokai’s and Jokai said, “Karas kam, karas dir”, pulling his hands apart. Yorkun repeated, “Karas kam, karas dir” and took his hands away.
Now that it was clear that no one was holding a knife, Yorkun smiled and pulled out a silver, pointing to Jokai, and the hunter began to strip off slices of meat and collect them with two fat, dark purple bokua leaves. Once each leaf was filled, he spiced the meat with several powders, and a last splash of risha wine for good measure.
Once they both had their food, Yorkun dropped the silver and waved off change, and they walked over the rope bridge to one of the large platforms. The sun was searing today, and Yorkun felt the cool touch of shadows as they found refuge winding through colorful tents. Most of the platforms by the dock were filled with tents and vendors of all kinds. Yorkun had kept only a few silver in his pouch for purchases, the rest of the coins and gems on his person were hidden away.
Fast hands abounded in the Raosk.
They wandered through the tents and around the periphery of the Raosk. Yorkun knew that they were headed to their arranged transportation, they had taken the extra precaution of changing here at the Raosk, and of not discussing Jokai’s travel arrangements ahead of time. Meeting in the Raosk gave them a chance to talk outside of the city, away from prying eyes, ears and enchantments.
A pair of Kutya seers, worshippers of Keskittall if their black kilts, elaborate boar tusk daggers and two large mastiffs on lead were any indication, beckoned the adventurers to a telling, to be held in the fire pit two platforms to the west at sundown.
The pair of Saan nodded politely then continued.
Jokai was making short work of his food, between bites he spoke, “So you only told me to arrange transport, you did not say what we were going to find.”
Jokai understood that Yorkun had made his messages vague to avoid detection, but the time for vagueness was past. Yorkun finished another bite and wiped his mouth, the juices from the meat spilling to the platform below.
“Yicinth the Tourmaline suspects someone in House Himmenghost of betrayal, he did an accounting of his gold recently and came up wanting. He believes that Hoak the Red, one of his closest allies in the House, is responsible. He has been siphoning off gold in small amounts to avoid notice, possibly for a year or so, he is unsure what Hoak has been using it for, but through the use of divination magic he is sure of his guilt.”
Jokai did not know Hoak, but he believed what Yorkun was saying, warlocks always needed gold for something, though stealing from one of your peers was a particularly bold move. No matter, Jokai smiled to himself, Hoak’s head can be separated from his body as easily as anyone else’s.
Jokai walked towards a square between the tents where a pair of large Jugyi were dueling with xama, each one taking turns playing off the other, adding intensity and color to the sound. Of all the wind instruments, Jokai loved the sound of the xama the most, and they tarried there until their food was finished. Yorkun wasn’t particularly fond of the raspy, sharp sound of the xama, but stopping to listen helped them to blend in. He even found himself tapping his feet.
“So where do we go today then?” Jokai wiped his mouth and took a swig from his waterskin, it was searing hot in the square.
“Yicinth the Tourmaline”, Yorkun spoke the warlocks full name as a sign of respect, “used subtle magics on agents of Hoak to determine where he has been for the last few months, anything more direct would have tipped his hand. He has discovered that Hoak has been going to the same area in the marshes now since the spring. It is in a remote, untamed forest off the trade routes, known for its hostile inhabitants. A perfect place to set up undisturbed.”
Jokai and Yorkun wound their way along the outer platforms of the Raosk until they finally came to another long dock, Yorkun waved at the tall, rugged Emberi who waited for them, she was surprisingly young, and lightly attired in a dark green vest, purple pantaloons and long boots, carrying a rather heavy looking axe on her back and a long, cruel looking machete at her side. She had vambraces and a hard leather belt, otherwise she wore no armor.
“Yorkun, you are on time, as always, and you bring a friend. Is my axe not enough to satisfy you anymore?” Her voice was high yet soft, it was always reassuring in its confidence.
Yorkun laughed and patted his broadsword, “Your axe and my broadsword are usually more than enough Seathala, but an extra arm was in order this time”.
Seathala was a slayer, she trained all her life to hunt the various oversized animals that stalked the marshlands, she knew the part of the marshes where they were going today very well. Once Yorkun was told where they were going he knew Seathala was the right choice to guide them there.
Yorkun looked past the slayer to dockside, there were three tulures there, all resting atop the water, floating in place and in total contentment. Each one had a canopy saddle on their backs, made of worn but quality Saan-worked leather, engraved with the image of a three frond plant, the signature of the artisan who had created it. From the back of the saddle a pair of sturdy wooden poles thrust up and formed the anchor for a canopy that had two ears, enclosing the rider on three sides and above and blocking out the unforgiving sun.
“Tulures, not so good in a fight you know”, Yorkun wrinkled his brow as his eyes narrowed, the croaking beasts had never been his favorite mount.
Jokai spoke for the first time since they had arrived, “They are the fastest thing on two legs that can’t fly, and they can swim too. The slayer knows her business.” Jokai then reached down and stroked the head of one of the beasts. Jokai had been a rustler for tulures and gess as a child, he felt more at home in the saddle than on his feet.
Yorkun grunted and looked up at the blood red sun, “Why leave now, it is infernally hot and will get worse by noon, why not travel at night?”
“You wanted me to get you there unnoticed, yes?” Seathala smiled, and pointed across the water to the road on the nearby shore that stretched away from the Raosk going north. There was what appeared to be a caravan there, all emerald, black and brown gess, being packed for departure.
Yorkun squinted and pulled down the brim of his hat to shield his eyes, “I see them”.
Jokai turned to the slayer, “we accompany the caravan, then break off at some point, yes?”
Seathala turned to grab her pack and some small items before mounting her tulure, with her back to Jokai she smiled wickedly and spoke to Yorkun but so Jokai could hear, “You brought a smart one this time, good, maybe he won’t get killed.”
The three of them then got comfortable on their tulures, Jokai rode a sleek black runner, “the fastest of the bunch, I can tell” he asserted confidently. Seathala rode a larger glossy red beast, it had striations of inky black from muzzle back to the ends of her feet. Yorkun had the largest of the three, light greenish yellow with sky blue mottling, it stood a full 8’ at shoulder with legs extended and could leap ridiculous distances.
They swam through the river to the caravan, Yorkun directed his tulure to sit low in the water so he could put both legs in and cool off his feet. When they arrived on land and the tulures walked out, standing their full height, well above the gess who made up the caravan. There were 18 gess, each laden with baskets slung over their backs, 3 on each side. Only the first and last gess did not carry baskets, they had bags. Each gess had two Saan riders nestled in front and behind the baskets, both had shields (hanging left rear), spears (sheathed right back) crossbows (sheathed right front), and carried long tetsubo in easy reach (hanging on the left front). The gess flicked their tails, scratched the ground and clicked their leathery tongues, restless to move.
The caravan set out soon after, Seathala agreed to accompany the caravan as a hunter and a guide, in case they had to go off road on their way north. She had told them that the others were here as protection, and they would be leaving the caravan in several days to strike off on their own. In exchange for traveling with the caravan for that time, Seathala had committed them to fighting off any beasts that might approach them as they traveled. The tulure would trail, parallel and precede the caravan, Seathala took the lead, Jokai the rear, and Yorkun rode on the right.
All three of the adventurers stayed in the marshes to the side of the road, letting the caravan draw out possible threats, then the three of them could attack from surprise if needed. Yorkun did not disclose that he was a phantasmist, and he had not been in the arena much lately, so there was little chance any of the caravaners would know him. That would be their secret.
By the time they were heading north it was halfway through the morning. Everyone had their canopies up, flaps down, and the driver had them stop every hour to water the gess and the riders for a time.
Peak summer heat was never disrespected in Bhakashal.
By noon they had passed two teams of shepherds, the first herding axebeaks and the second water bison, in both cases the shepherds were bright yellow Togmu who croaked lewd river songs as they reed whipped the strays back into line. Yorkun was mildly surprised when Seathala joined in the singing as they went by.
By nightfall they had passed an armed patrol on its way back to House Jin (the black spiders on red that adorned their chests was the giveaway), and two marching lines of primarily Emberi mercenaries, let loose from their service at some village near the road they were heading to the city, many were already drunk. They passed without incident.
After some discussion they located a copse of trees off the road, and after a brief inspection by Seathala they all disappeared into the trees and camped down. Watches were set and a fire was lit, the surrounding trees meant that its glow and smoke would not easily reveal them, and the smell might put off some predators. The mighty gess slept nose to tail in a long chain, their deep slumber filled with chaotic dreams. The watch consisted of two gess mounted by one guard each that circled the camp continuously and slowly until the next watch was roused.
In the center near the fire Yorkun had out his carving knife and a piece of bright metallic blue krys stone. He had carved out the rough form of a carrion crawler, and had started to finesse the back end up to about halfway down the torso. Now it was relatively soft and could be worked with the knife, once it was finished it would be heated for a few hours in a kiln then be shiny and hard as iron.
His knife worked relentlessly and precisely.
“Tomorrow won’t be so busy on the road, not this far up, we might see some hunters, and likely lots more beasties”, Seathala’s voice was bright and fast, she loved being here. For all the temptations and conveniences of the city, she was a creature of the marshlands.
Yorkun gently ridged the sectioned leg of the crawler, drawing the stone back and up to define the joint. Once he had carved such a creation, his illusions of those creatures were more formidable and real to his victims. The crawler had attacked him and his group several weeks ago, it’s bulbous, reeking form was still fresh in his mind.
At this hour about 3/4 of the camp were asleep, and the watch had completed several turns of the camp.
Jokai was gambling with the caravan guards, he played cards but preferred dice, and the caravan guards were bored enough to risk precious silver for the thrill.
The night was uneventful, and the morning brought clear skies, an almost non-existent wind, a searing heat, and tendrils of mist emanating from the greenery all around. The caravan set out again, and followed the same routine as the day before, they stopped frequently for water and shade, allowing the gess an hour long sleep at midday for good measure. Late morning saw a troupe of chitin troubadours, sporting woodwinds and drums, riding a very large and very long snake that criss-crossed the road to the swamp and back over the road again. By mutual agreement the two groups stopped for a break under shady trees and the chitin serenaded the caravan in exchange for samples of spice and powder.
The afternoon saw nothing of note other than two groups of kutya hunters making time on the road before heading into the deep marshes to hunt for boar. Seathala spoke with them for several minutes before the caravan moved on. They decided to continue traveling through the evening as it was substantially cooler than it was before, and by midnight they had found a suitable spot to camp for the night, a small Togmu fishing village a few miles off the road. The caravan master negotiated their stay in spices, a sample of a half dozen or so of their wares was enough.
As they were close to their departure point from the caravan, Yorkun decided to reveal his talents to the group. The Togmu had stoked a roaring fire and were roasting food for the visitors, while the food was being prepared, Yorkun asked the Togmu if they were interested in entertainment. After enthusiastic croaks all around, he spoke muffled words below his breath, then stepped forward and gestured in an arc with his arm, then, from the fire, arose a life sized carrion crawler, it stepped out and moved to a clearing just beyond the fire, then out of the darkness three spectral warriors appeared, each armed with spears, they kept the beast at bay with the spears, it thrashed at them with tentacles, while the loud shouts of the collected Togmu egged them on.
One of the illusory warriors was struck down by a tentacle, their body freezing up in paralysis. Many of the Togmu hushed at this sight, they had all seen crawlers before, and knew what they were capable of. As the beast moved in for the kill the two remaining warriors stabbed with their spears, each sinking them deeply into the beast. It thrashed, bled profusely, then stumbled.
The Togmu raised a mighty cheer in appreciation.
Yorkun was about to the end the illusion when a gaggle of the Togmu children howled in protest. Yorkun smiled, and the crawler came back to life, it’s greasy orifice flashing teeth, and the children screamed. Yorkun entertained them until the village elders called it time to bed down.
The night was uneventful, except for the howl of what Seathala indicated were likely caterwauls, they kept their distance from the village as the Togmu, due to repeated exposure, were immune to their cries. And they fancied caterwaul skin cloaks for the cooler months.
The morning brought rain and a respite from the heat. The caravan master had them moving early to take advantage of the break. The road was easy to travel despite the rain, but everyone knew that off-road would be a muddy mess. By mid-afternoon the rain was coming down in sheets, and they met a pair of giant alligators on the road. Seathala cautioned the caravan master to wait and draw weapons. They did so, spears dripping rain, and the beasts saw the better of it and slithered off into the marshes.
By nightfall the caravan had reached the separation point. Seathala gave some final instructions to the caravan master then they broke off from the group. The rain was now coming down in waves, with thunder and lightning rolling in from the South. Even with their canopies in place water made it through to them, the wind whipping it to and fro. Yorkun suggested that they stop and camp down, but Seathala was insistent that they continue.
“The tulures don’t mind the rain, and we won’t get better cover than this downpour in open marshlands, we should press on”.
Yorkun replied with a grunt, Jokai with a determined grimace, and the group continued on.
It would normally be a 2 hour trip to reach their destination from the road, but with the driving rain and wind that was slowed significantly. Jokai was grateful to have Seathala at the helm, at one point they skirted a small lake rather than crossing it, and as they departed Yorkun saw a huge, mottled head on a long neck emerge from the water.
“They come out in the rain, never cross the lakes in the rain”, Seathala cautioned. Jokai laughed, the creature’s maw looked big enough to swallow him whole!
After 4 hours of slogging through the rain it began to let up, and Seathala pointed to a large forest ahead. The clouds were still thick enough that the moonlight was gentle and unrevealing, the forest loomed black in the distance.
“That is where Hoak the Red has been going for the last few months, I have skirted the forest several times, not going in, hunters regularly avoid the forest so it would be believable if I was seen”.
The slayer pointed to a spot near the forest’s edge, “It is hard to see, but there are broken branches and flattened grass right there, Hoak and his men have worn a path into the forest, I have no idea how many there are or what they are doing, but that’s the way in.”
Yorkun was tired and wet, but he recognized the value of going in now before dawn, hopefully they could catch their quarry unaware. They entered the forest a few hundred feet away from the opening that Seathala had identified, paralleling the path, their tulures rose to their full height to walk through the undergrowth. At night, with minimal moonlight and the forest all around them, the way forward was quite black, all three adventurers put their trust in their mounts to navigate through the towering yellow-leaved golabi trees.
After around half an hour, Seathala held up her hand and signaled a stop.
“You see, off to the left, there is a fire”, Yorkun looked and saw a pinpoint of light, likely Hoak’s camp.
“Time to see what all the fuss is about”, Jokai smiled, he was restless and looking for something to hit.
Seathala shook her head, “The path that we have been paralleling, the one that led in from the forest’s edge, it does not go to this camp, it passes to the East, we should follow the road and see where it goes, we have identified the camp, we can return once we have seen what lies at the end of the road.”
Yorkun was irritated, this was his mission, and Seathala was directing things without asking him, he hissed quietly and was about to respond when Jokai, sensitive to his friend’s moods and mannerisms, broke in.
“It is a good plan, the camp will be there when we are done, and we need to know why they are here before we do anything.”
Yorkun breathed in and sighed, “Fine, I defer to the maid of the marshes, forward.”
Seathala chuckled as they broke through the brush to the path several hundred feet away. Yorkun was sure they would never find it, but the slayer’s instincts were on point as usual, and the tulure’s webbed feet soon found the beaten down path. It was so dark that Yorkun had a floating sensation, he could barely see his own hands on the reins, and it was disconcerting, he felt disconnected from his own body.
In short order the path they were following led to a clearing. It was a good distance from the camp they had seen, and there appeared to be no one here. Not that it was possible to tell very much in the darkness. Jokai decided that it was time to change that. He drew out a torch and lit it, the distance and the trees would keep anyone at the camp from seeing the light, or so he hoped.
By torch light the group saw what had appeared as indistinct shapes in the darkness. The clearing was perhaps 50 feet across, and it was surrounded by a ring of 8 tall stone pillars. They were made from granite, red with black highlights, and each had runes carved on the side facing the circle. Yorkun inspected the runes by torchlight.
Then Jokai spoke up, “You need to look over here, on the ground.”
Yorkun tore himself away from the stone and looked towards the ground, Jokai moved the torch right down to ground level, there was what appeared to be a thaumaturgic circle on the ground, meticulously laid out with multiple stones of the same red granite, embedded in the ground.
Yorkun’s face soured, “It is a conjuring circle, Hoak is attempting to summon something and bind it to his service.”
Seathala’s hand moved and she touched her axe, reflexively, “That is bad, yes?”
“That is very bad, any circle this elaborate” Yorkun stared at the sheer size and intricate design of the circle, “how long must it have taken to bring these stones here, they would weigh enough to give the largest gess pause…”, Yorkun hissed, “whatever Hoak is doing, we need to stop it before he summons whatever it is these are designed to bind.”
Jokai and Seathala had nothing to add, conjuring circles were beyond their horizon of experience, but both knew that Yorkun was not prone to exaggeration. The phantasmist took out his broadsword and slid the blade against one of the stones that was part of the circle. He pushed on the blade until the stone slid loose, tossed the stone into the woods, and packed down the earth where it used to be.
Jokai smiled and looked at Yorkun in the torchlight, “What did you just do?”
Yorkun mounted his tulure and sheathed his broadsword, “If Hoak tries to summon anything, he will have a surprise coming, a broken circle is useless. Now, on to the camp.”
Jokai snuffed his torch out while Seathala spoke up, “What is our intention, to raid the camp, to survey the opposition, should we report back with what we know before going in?”
Yorkun rubbed his chin and looked towards the camp, “Hoak may or may not be in the camp, but either way, he has dishonored his friend and his House. I intend to bring him in, if you wish to leave I will understand.”
Seathala noted that Yorkun had not challenged her honor or questioned her bravery, something that she appreciated. Yorkun was proud, but not arrogant.
“I will see this through, otherwise you and Jokai get to claim all the glory.”
The three of them moved through the forest atop their tulures, the darkness once again embraced them, and they trusted their steeds to navigate the trees and the foliage. In short order they were in sight of the camp. The fire at the center was lower than it was before but still strong, and from what they could see most of the people in the camp were bedded down. Two figures sat by the fire, very likely the guards on watch, but much to Jokai’s surprise they did not appear very attentive.
“They have grown lazy, they aren’t even looking around, just sitting by the fire and gambling from the looks of it, this should be easy.”
Yorkun held up a hand and shook his head, “They may be lazy, or perhaps Hoak has laid magical wards in the forest, they could have others who walk the woods around the camp, or there could be creatures ensorcelled to Hoak’s service guarding things. We do not know.”
Jokai grunted and shifted in his saddle, refraining from comment.
Seathala dismounted from her tulure and took out her axe, “I will move forward, looking for snares, tripwires and such, you will follow.”
Yorkun held up his hand and cleared his throat, “No, you could easily trip a magical ward in the darkness, you wouldn’t see it coming. I have a better idea.”
Yorkun dismounted, tied up his tulure beside Seathalas, and took out a flat iron bar, the length of his hand, from a pocket. He grasped each corner of the bar with his thumbs and index fingers. He raised the bar up in front of his eyes and spoke softly, “Stín za mnou, stůj přede mnou”, as the last word passed his lips, a shadowy duplicate of Yorkun, identical in size and shape, stepped out of his body, and stood several feet in front of him, facing forward. [Spell: The Vengeful Shade of Mire Sithin]
Seathala grinned, she had no interest in magic herself, but delighted at the phantasmist’s tricks.
“If there are harmful wards or enchantments, my shade will trigger them before I pass through.”
With this comment, Yorkun moved forward, the shade in front of him mimicking his steps perfectly. Seathala walked beside the phantasmist, looking for signs of snares or deadfalls. Jokai, much to his disgust, trailed the two with his crossbow loaded and ready.
The three adventurers moved slowly but steadily forward, several times Seathala stopped them to inspect the terrain more closely, in the dark this was difficult work, but she did not want to be skewered by a spike trap or fall into a pit. Then, when they reached a point approximately 50 feet from the camp, a shriek was heard from a nearby stone.
“Awake, awake, enemies approach”, repeated over and over again.
“Damn”, Yorkun’s shade had triggered the magic mouth that was laid in the forest, they had lost the element of surprise.
He gambled that it was worth the time to cast spells while the camp organized itself, it would rob them of an unanswered attack against any of the guards who were not prepared, but they needed an advantage.
He whispered to Jokai, “Look ahead”
Yorkun took out a small handful of black cloth wrapped around a small opal. He moved them in the air to five points of a star, then pointed forward. The air in a 10 foot radius, located approximately 40 feet closer to the camp, shimmered for a brief second. [Spell: Morkoth’s Black on Black]
“Go on your belly and rest in the area where the air was ennervated, wait for my command to rush out and attack once you determine who needs to be killed.”
Though Jokai decided who to engage when the melee started, he deferred to Yorkun for strategy, and he had learned years ago to let the spell casters direct the action, otherwise he might get immolated.
Jokai nodded, his lips curling back into a smile, and started to crawl to the spot ahead.
The camp was coming alive, when they set off the magic mouth there had been only 2 guards awake, now there were 10, and others being roused.
Yorkun cursed them, “Palashurem’s axe take your heads.”
Palashurem, god of duty and honor was invoked by Yorkun as Hoak was betraying his master, Hoak’s servants earned the wrath by association. It was the Bhakashal way.
Yorkun turned towards Seathala, his shade still standing several feet in front of him, mirroring his pose and disposition, “Find a nearby spot with cover and wait with your crossbow, we need not engage directly for now, I will summon a distraction, Jokai will move closer and wait with his mace ready to charge when the time is right, I will stay here. We will let my illusion wreak maximum havok before revealing ourselves. Wait for the signal to attack.”
Yorkun reached into his pocket and removed a tuft of fleece, he held it pinched between his fingers and spoke the words, “Skutečné, neskutečné” three times over. [Spell: Spectral Force]
Out of the darkness several large shapes appeared, a trio of wasps, each the size of a small horse, each one buzzing loudly. Jokai, Yorkun and three of their companions were attacked by giant wasps several months ago. Yorkun could still see the spartan Oamal the Silent, his face paralyzed in a mask of terror, as he was carried off into the night to be injected with wasp eggs.
Yorkun despised giant wasps, and they would stoke maximum terror in his foes.
They flew forward toward the camp.
By the time someone spotted the wasps, there were 15 guards armed and moving.
The screams were immediate, giant wasps were not uncommon in the less inhabited areas of the marshland, it was likely each guard had seen one work its horror on someone they knew. The guards were in clusters, unsure of where the opposition was, Yorkun found three guards that were somewhat separated from the rest and had the wasps dive down and attempt to sting but not carry them off. Illusions had no substance, but they would believe a sting.
The wasps had terrified the guards to the point that they attacked before any could respond. All three felt the bite of illusory stingers, and immediately froze up, paralyzed by their own minds, collapsing to the ground.
Jokai reached his spot, mace ready as his side. The area was in the light cast by the bonfire, but it did not permeate the shadows, they stayed stubbornly dark.
Yorkun had the wasps swing up and over the camp, a hail of crossbow bolts flew, but in the darkness it was impossible to tell if they contacted the wasps, so Yorkun had them continue unfazed. So far no one appeared to have realized that the wasps were an illusion, and if they were looking in their direction, it was dark enough that they would be hard to spot, Yorkun moreso with his shade around, so Yorkun directed them at several guards who were sporting longswords. This bunch had more courage than the last and stood their ground, swinging at the wasps with grim determination. Yorkun gambled that they wouldn’t notice anything unusual when their swords met no resistance, it was all happening quite quickly after all.
This time two of the wasps stung guards, and both fell to the ground, rigid.
5 down, Seathala thought, she had forgotten how formidable Yorkun’s illusions could be. He had the wasps disappear into the woods for a moment, but he made their buzzing noise quite noticeable as they left. The slayer nodded silently, let them imagine how they were going to die, Yorkun knew the secret of his craft, an unseen threat was sometimes more terrifying than one right in front of you.
Jokai was watching from the enchanted shadows of Yorkun’s spell when he saw someone emerge from a large tent at the back of the camp. He was quite tall, and had a dark black shock of hair with blood red fringing, a long silver leather coat (Jokai suspected it was dragonskin) and high leather boots, and a blood red shirt and pants. Even in the comparative cool of night that outfit would be uncomfortable.
He must be Hoak the Red, only a warlock would dress so extravagantly.
Hoak shouted, “Deise, Kakalm, Rogha and Furlak, to me, the mouth can only be tripped by those on foot, so there is a warlock directing those wasps.”
Yorkun smiled, Hoak hadn’t figured out that the wasps were illusions yet. Spectral Force was the most powerful regular illusion spell Yorkun knew, and it was possible to have the spell continue according to simple instructions for a short time without Yorkun actively directing it. He imbued the illusions with direction to attack the guards repeatedly until they expired.
Yorkun then reached into his pouch and took out a black feather, a pair of black silk gloves and a diamond the size of a fat grape. He placed the gloves on his hands, then put the feather in one and the diamond in the other. Holding the both out from his body, he whispered the words of the spell several times over, “Lučištníci stínu, přijďte k této jiskře, připravte se na pohyb ve tmě”.
When he finished, the feather and the diamond were gone from his hands, and in the branches of one of the golabi trees above a shadow seemed to bleed from the night, unlike the one in front of him, this shadow was more angular, it looked bipedal, with two arms and a head, but the head was vaguely triangular, and the shade appeared to hold a bow in its hand, made of the same ebony stuff. [Spell: The Stealthy Shadow Archers of Shon-Sinn]
Yorkun smiled and waited.
The illusory wasps returned and made another dive at several of the guards. Unfortunately for them, the darkness made running difficult, and two of them fell, soon after all three were stung and froze up. With this, another three of the guards panicked, leaving only the four guards that were circled around Hoak.
Now Hoak reached into the folds of his long coat and took out a handful of black dust, he spoke the words, “füstkígyó, táncolj nekem” three times, and as he did he sprinkled the dust in a circle in the air. The dust fell and when the last of it hit the ground Hoak raised his hand into the air, and a thick column of smoke arose from the bonfire, slowly forming into a snake like shape. [Spell: The Sinister Smoke Serpent of Illyig the Corpulent]
The smoke snake shot forward and immolated the wasps… to no avail. Yorkun was no longer directing the illusion, so the wasps were acting automatically, ignoring the smoke entirely.
Hoak smiled and shouted to his remaining guards, “We have a phantasmist in our midst, these wasps are an illusion”.
Yorkun ignored the warlock’s words and whistled, giving the signal to Seathala and Jokai.
At the sound Seathala let a crossbow bolt fly. She had hoped to hit Hoak, but his guards served their purpose and the quarrel flew into Furlak. The Emberi mercenary collapsed like a puppet with cut strings, the quarrel embedded in his neck.
As soon as the bolt left the crossbow, Jokai exploded out of the foliage and charged the remaining three guards with his mace in both hands.
“Hoak, I come for you!”
The warlock was not expecting such a close assault, the serpent of smoke suddenly collapsed, Hoak let the spell end, and he stepped back several feet, taking out a small leaden ball from his coat. Hoak began to move the ball around in a circle while quietly repeating the words of the spell three times, “Az ólmos teher rajtad legyenAz ólmterhelés legyen”, “Az ólmos teher rajtad legyenAz ólmterhelés legyen”...
When Yorkun saw the warlock reach into his coat he directed his shadow archer to fire, to do this he made the motions of pulling back a bow to fire while wearing the black silk gloves. The creature of glossy ebony drew back its spectral bow and a black missile flew through the night towards the warlock, the angle was such that it passed over the heads of the guards surrounding Hoak, and it struck true, followed by a second shot that also hit home.
Hoak gasped and dropped the leaden ball, his spell ruined. He also slouched and clutched at his shoulder and chest where the arrows had hit, a numbing cold spreading over him.
At the same time Jokai engaged the guards. Deise attempted to stab the charging warrior with a longsword but the blade was turned back by his armor, Kakalm tried for a cleaving blow but Jokai moved to the side at the last second, Rogha went for a sky to ground blow but met only dirt.
Jokai brought his mace upwards into Deise’s midsection, crushing the warrior’s insides and dropping him to the ground, he then pulled the mace back and around, smashing into Kakalms head, a sickening crunch told the tale as the fighter’s head skewed to a grotesque angle.
Only Rogha was now left, and she backed up in front of Hoak, her weapon at the ready.
Jokai smiled then sneered.
“He will let you die for him and care not, leave here before I must kill you.”
Yorkun shouted across the distance, “Hoak the Red, I, Yorkun the Ambergris claim your life in the name of Yicinth the Tourmaline of House Himmenghost, surrender now or your road ends here.”
Hoak laughed, “You are beneath me Yorkun”, Hoak used his diminutive name to insult him, “I will see you flayed alive for this, I’ve come too far to let you stop me now!”
With this, Hoak, with the arm not numbed, took a handful of dust and threw it into the air, stepping into the cloud… and disappearing.
Jokai charged forward to the spot where the warlock was just standing, hoping to tackle him if he was still there and just invisible. He shot through the space and met emptiness.
Jokai shouted, “He is gone Yorkun, did he transport away?”
Yorkun was unsure, but suspected that he had made himself invisible.
Seathala watched the spot where the warlock was standing and saw what appeared to be flattening of grass leading away from his location.
“He flees Yorkun, to the East!”
Yorkun shouted to Jokai and Seathala, “Wait here, we will regroup, finish off the remaining guards while they lie frozen, and pursue in short order.” Yorkun said this loudly enough that Hoak was sure to hear. Let him believe he had some time, the phantasmist was fairly sure he knew where Hoak was going.
Jokai looked at Rogha, she knew that her life was forfeit.
Jokai took out his axe, “I will make it quick”.
Rogha spoke calmly, “I would die for honor, but not for he who abandoned me like a craven dog.”
Jokai smiled, “Good fortune navigating the marshes in the darkness, I give you your life.”
Rogha fled towards the guards who had left earlier, hoping to catch up to them.
Yorkun spun around and called out to the adventurers, “Time to leave, we must mount and flee as fast as we can!”
Jokai and Seathala did not hesitate or question, they quickly found their mounts and rode away. Once they were several hundred feet away from the camp, Yorkun waved them to stop and paused, concentrating. Slowly the circle of stones in the clearing appeared in his head, he was familiar enough with the location to scry it. Yorkun then focused again, and heard the wind blowing through the trees and Hoak’s steady breathing [Spells: Clairvoyance and Clairaudience]
He saw Hoak, now visible and sitting cross legged outside of the circle. Yorkun’s attack had forced his hand, and he now summoned the beast to slay Yicinth the Tourmaline.
Hoak began to chant the spell of summoning, his arms gesticulating while his voice repeated the unholy words evenly and precisely, there was no room for error here. Hoak had spent a year researching this binding spell, meticulously assembling the binding circle and stones, hand carving the unique runes that would bind the demon Kalukam to his service.
His revenge would be sweet, this infernal beast would tear Yicinth apart, and he would take his place in the House hierarchy, blaming the terrible incident on a botched summoning spell on Yicinth’s part. The plan was flawless.
As he chanted, Yorkun could see smoke begin to emerge from the circle, slowly at first, and then the sounds, horrible screams and moans of agony, empty cries of desperation, then a shaggy hand emerged from the ground within the circle, it grasped the ground and pulled out an arm, then a head appeared, like an ape’s head with batlike ears and matted, filthy dark green fur. Slowly it pulled itself from the ground and stood a full 12’ tall in the circle. The beast had small bat wings, ragged 8 inch claws and cloven hooves on bent back legs. It’s eyes glowed a deep, smoldering crimson.
“Who calls me to the plane of mortals, who commands Kalukam to their presence?”
Its voice was like cracked glass.
“I, Hoak the Red, Warlock of House Himmenghost, command you to my service, by the power of the binding circle, surrounded by eight spires of damnation, you are to find the warlock Yicinth the Tourmaline in his tower in Bhakashal, and destroy him.”
The beast smiled a crooked, sinister smile, and replied, “You lack imagination sorcerer, rather than breaking him here, I should drag him to the fields of hell and torment him for your wrath.”
At that the demon raised up his hands, and flames appeared in the circle, within the flames were bodies, twisted and torn, burnt and beaten, writhing studies in agony.
“See my realm, would it not be the perfect place for your sworn enemy?”
Hoak contemplated the horrific idea and his lips pulled back from his teeth, “Yes, I had wanted his fellows to see him torn apart in his tower, but seeing him dragged off to hell, that would be delicious.”
The demon known as Kalukam mock bowed in front of Hoak… then waved with his hand, and pulled Hoak from outside the circle to hang in the air with his arms pinned to his side, mere feet from his grotesque visage.
Hoak the Red of House Himmenghost screamed, “How, the circle is flawless, the stones bind you, how do you do this!”
“Your circle is flawed little magician, either through incompetence or betrayal, you are now mine.”
The demon laughed, the sound of which was like jagged nails scratching flesh.
Then the two sank into the ground together, leaving only smoke behind.
Yorkun turned to the group. He was going to suggest going back to the camp, corralling survivors and looking for loot, but he thought better of it.
“Let us return to Yicinth to tell him the tale, I want to be as far from that… thing… as we can get.”
“It is a perilous business you find yourself in Yorkun”, Jokai offered, “when your kind must dally with creatures such as these to gain your ends.”
Yorkun nodded, “Advice that would have served Hoak the Red well, had he chosen to heed it.”
The phantasmist looked at his companions, then began to laugh, which spread to his companions, and echoed in the trees as they turned and headed back to Bhakashal.
