The Hacktastic Blog

Session 7 recap

2004-08-12T14:53:00.000-05:00

The curtains went up with the anti-hero, T'kal Zahara, traversing the endless corridors of the all-too-familiar Demonweb Pits. A dozen threats dodged, a dozen more slain, one tiny danger was missed by the drow's keen eyes. An infinitely slender strand of oblivion spider web was this danger. T'kal proceeded cautiously, ignorantly along, eventually running right into the dread web. Reality exploded, all quantum laws were promptly ignored, and T'kal's very essence was scattered about the multiverse. 1/10^10 of a second later, after having passed through every point in existence, his body and spirit reconstituted themselves in a slightly higher level of the Demonweb, safe and sound. Relatively.

Not a stranger to teleportation and physics-bending magics, T'kal cooly reassessed the situation, adjusted the straps of his dagger bandoleers, put a stray hair back in its place, and proceeded along once more. After only a few minutes of travelling the predictable bloodstone corridors of Lolth's domain, he happened upon a most curious door. Unlike every other door in the plane, which were constructed of the same bloodstone used in the tiles, holding the souls of the damned, this door was simple, wooden, though still hung in nothingness, like the others. Careful inspection with eyes that would put a dragon to shame revealed nothing more, just a simple door. Too simple. Armed with only his wits, shadow magics, and several dozen daggers, T'kal entered into a room even more odd than the gateway into it.

It was like all other rooms of the Demonweb: bloodstone floor, swirling mist in place of walls and ceilings. However, no other room had a door of beaten metal with elaborate patterns of spiders and arcane sigils inscribed upon it. I am close... thought T'kal. And indeed he was, as the party as a whole would soon learn. But first, T'kal had to get through this door. A quick scan revealed two amateurish death sigils (of fire and lightning, respectively). After a whispered charm of invisibility upon himself (just in case, of course. He smelled trouble, and feared it might smell him too.), T'kal opened the door, revealing yet another puzzling room... the opposite side also held a door of another peculiar metal, but the walls were of bloodstone, as was the ceiling. It might as well have had TRAP carved on every square inch of it. This is no hallway, no foyer... this is a slaughterhouse meant to be hip-deep with the blood of the fools who enter it. T'kal simply smirked at the idea. A minute flicker of motion caught his eyes, which promptly narrowed and focused on the movement. Though stillness instantly resumed, T'kal had already seen the drow eye surveying him through the tiny marble-sized peephole in the stone wall to his right. Alas, he only managed to see the eye because of the aura of flickering truesight-magics that surrounded it... which meant he had a rough time ahead of him.

T'kal sighed to himself even as he tumbled backwards to avoid the magic exploding around him. Grasping, gnawing tentacles born of magic whipped out at him, but T'kal managed to dodge, evade, and squirm his way free. Now breathing a little bit more heavily, he whirled back into the first room, finding some cover quickly. The final door slammed open, releasing a twisted half-breed of orc and drow: an Audrin. With prey close at hand, unseen though certainly savory smelling, he ran full out, blunt instrument of destruction in hand... right into T'kal's waiting sneak attack that slit him open from side to side, spilling steaming intestines to the bloodstone tiles, but also tearing apart the last of his shroud of invisibility magic. The archmagi waiting behind the charging audrin promptly began the harsh, grating chants and stabbing hand gestures that could only mean terrible magics were about to be unleashed. Those cruel eldritch syllables soon turned into curses and shrieks of frustration as T'kal nimbly backflipped off the platform, as if he was doing a backwards swan dive into oblivion. In reality, T'kal used a single hand on the platform as a fulcrum in order to use his momentum to fling himself down the platform, perfectly parallel to it. As his horizontal momentum waned and his vertical descent was about to begin, T'kal called upon the shadow magics woven into every seam of his piwafwi and thrust his hands up at the bloodstone floor that had become his bloodstone ceiling. They stuck as if he was atop the platform, not under. Spell blasts rocked the platform, causing the thick stone under his fingers to become the slightest bit warm. T'kal wasted not a moment with this diversion and quickly began scampering down the platform. Hmm... now to pick them off one by one, I suppose. One archmage hurried over to the edge where T'kal dove off, cast aside whatever remained of his pride, and dropped to his belly to peer under the platform. Hoping for the best, he spat out an arcane phrase, sending ice shards and elemental frost fortuitously towards T'kal. Twisting suddenly, T'kal evaded a speeding icicle the size of his leg, caught another dozen tiny shards in the weave of his piwafwi, and unluckily chanced into a fist sized spinning chuck of ice that caught him right in his right shoulder blade, shattering it. In his many years of cloak and dagger operations, T'kal had heard hundreds, nay, thousands of creatures' death cries. So, his imitation was quite perfect in every respect as T'kal let go of the platform, falling away to safety.

Six seconds later, T'kal focused his mind and called upon his birthright as drow: the power of levitation. His fall halted, he unsheathed a slender quartz-tipped wand and gingerly tapped his useless right shoulder. Brilliant white light flared five times, and T'kal suffered no more. Change of plans... Willing himself to rise, T'kal rose through the swirling mists of the Demonweb, back in action.

While T'kal fought for his life, dodging spell blast and steel, other adventurers slept in the quarters of the Peacemakers, a kindly circle of clerics who attempted to heal the suffering of those trapped on the Demonweb. Who were, as fate would have it, complete liars and in fact, werewolves. Four slept, and only one awoke, a grimlock mind-mage. Because he was a grimlock, he did not see his friends being torn apart in their sleep by the hungry lycanthropes. He felt it. Drops of raining blood pattering on the ground awoke the grimlock, each one reverberating in his sensitive ears. In an instant, one of the werewolves rushed to fell this bit of prey who did not sleep as easily as the rest. Instead of tender flesh meeting his maw, however, a silver battleaxe decapitated the werewolf in one swing. Now the others swung their heads, dripping with gore, around to meet this threat. At that moment, the door shattered inward and in came a knight riding a most strange beast, a stone flyer! Before they could react, the knight galloped through the room, catching one werewolf with a massive warhammer upside the head. In a few short moments, the combined force of the grimlock psion and the human dark paladin was enough to paint the room in the black blood of the shapechangers.

Few words were exchanged, for few were needed. They recognized the hunter in each other, not the prey. Hunting Lolth was always easier with company, and so they banded together. They searched the bodies of their mauled and quite dead companions, searching for supplies and equipment. As they did so, a chorus of disembodied, sibilant whispers spoke with one voice.
"You who so masterfully bring death... do you seek the death of the one who rules here? Of the Spider Queen herself?"
The two companions glanced at each other, and in unison nodded.
"Then know that you have found a partner in this task, and his name is..." The whispers hushed, and a true voice spoke, from a drow they had not previously seen in the shadowed corner of the room. Stepping forth from the embracing shadow, melting back into visibility, T'kal spoke, "... the Hidden Hand. T'kal Zahara." With wicked grins, the new adventuring party set out with deicidal intentions.

After hours of silent exploration of the corridors with T'kal in the lead, unseen in the shadows, he finally spotted something at the farthest edge of his darkvision. Two dark elves, wearing the elaborate robes and pouches of scented spell components of archmagi. Undetected, T'kal quickly hurried back to the main group and exchanged seven words before rushing back off again: Charge when you hear the first fall. Once again, T'kal climbed spiderlike on the underside of the platform until he was even with the archmagi. Peering a single eye over the platform, he saw only one wizard now, who was worryingly alert, with a wicked wrought iron wand in hand. Ironicly, he was alert for the right reasons, but looking in the wrong direction: towards where the rest of the party lurked. Using all his strength, T'kal silently flung himself into an arcing flip that landed right in front of the surprised magus. T'kal nonchalantly slashed three times at the mage's throat. He didn't have the time to scream. As the drow fell backwards, T'kal caught him and angled him away, so that the dying wizard made no sound and didn't sully T'kal's outfit with gouting lifeblood. A few short minutes later, the body was disposed of, all the valuables secreted away on T'kal's person, and the group was off again. Where could that last one be... she looked familiar...

In answer to T'kal's unspoken question, the party of stalwarts soon came upon a section of the bloodstone corridor that was suspiciously frigid to the touch. The out of place, wooden door confirmed T'kal's suspicions. "Grimlock, hu-man... this is it, I know for certain. Lolth lies beyond these doors. This is the most heavily guarded room in all the Demonweb Pits, of that I assure you. Mages, audrin warriors, and most likely a few cutthroats like myself lurk behind those doors. We act quickly, or we lose the element of surprise. Grimlock, you're in front; Hu-man, behind him with your lance. Now." In the blink of an eye, they had taken their positions, and the grimlock beat down the first door with his axe, not bothering with the latch at all. Rushing through, wind in their hair and the taste of battle coming to their mouths, they kicked open the next metallic door, revealing a very surprised and very healed audrin, who promptly received an arrow to the eye, mouth, and heart. T'kal grinned with feral glee, and the reverberations of his twanging bowstring filled the room. The grimlock roared, raising his axe and charging the final door, smashing it open. Death awaited them, greater than any of them had anticipated. To the front, a wild witch woman with prismatic, multicolored hair and mad eyes stood, a spinning shard of pure entropy whirling in the air next to her. An entropomancer. To her side, a cunning male assassin, knives in hand. To the right, a mighty archmage stood cloaked in layer upon layer of magical enchantments. Behind the peephole that offered a view into the entry rooms, a strange female drow wearing the skins of beasts, with rune-carved bones in her hair and a savage glint in her eyes. In the midst of all of them were ranks upon ranks, dozens upon dozens, one hundred animated corpses of all shapes and sizes. Displacer beast zombies shambled next to drow male sacrifices which were next to screeching svirfneblin skeletons. Ogre zombies and skeletons towered above all of them, often using their own bones as huge, improvised clubs.

Without hesitation, the doomed company of drow, grimlock, and human charged forward. An unexpected ally from Session 6 materialized through the floor in the shape of a fearsome drow maiden, slinging psionic blasts of energy left and right. The dark knight put the spurs to his fearsome stone steed, which flew forward in a majestic and deadly arc, allowing his rider to skewer several undead on the tip of his lance. T'kal leapt through the doorway, came up in a shoulder roll and let fly with a searing blast of lightning at the shaman drow woman, though the eldritch energy washed over her natural spell resistance. Strangely, she grinned, winked, and made a single sign: that of an apprentice to a master. Then, she dashed off, a spell on her lips, an imperious finger pointed at the rest of the party. The grimlock focused on something entirely different, something the rest of the party either did not see or did not pursue. In his vibration, scent, and hearing-based "vision", this something literally hummed with arcane power, though it was slowly and steadily decreasing. To the others, this form was a dying or dead female creature with once-graceful, now broken and crushed wings, bristling with a dozen drow crossbow bolts. Most odd of all, her form was licked by a fire that did not consume. However, the grimlock had a tidal wave of shambling undead to get through in order to get to the female. With literally hundreds of individual events in this battle that would make a veteran weaponmaster or great archmage gape in awe, it is difficult to put into words. To be succinct and to summarize, the grimlock found quite a surprise in the erinyes' body: a key to a portal that would inevitably lead to Lolth's domain; the knight engaged in aerial combat with the great drow archmage, had his brave steed disintigrated out from under him, and in the end struck the archmage with a mortal blow; the psionic creature of many names destroyed the minds of "her" opponents, created deadly electric and fiery bursts, and destroyed several dozen undead with an artfully placed fireball; the Hidden Hand blasted through the lines of undead, incinerating twenty at a time with his potent wand, and when the way was clear, deftly severed the life force from many of the drow combatants. In roughly a minute, more blood, gore, ichor, and general filth was spilled than in several weeks of a well-fought war of maneuvers. One particular threat to the party should be noted: the mortally wounded archmage, choking on his own blood, removed a black scroll, curled and tattered with age, but still emanating raw magic power. He read from it a hideously corrupt spell, one that abandons one's current body and thrusts one's soul upon another body, destroying the soul and essence of the previous occupant of the body. He targeted T'kal, spitting out broken teeth and blood along with the final word of the incantation. The mind and spells of this archmage in the lean, conditioned, and thoroughly deadly body of T'kal Zahara, the Hidden Hand? Twould have been the end of the party. Twould, if the spell had not merely brushed against T'kal's innate and mighty spell immunity, like water off a duck's back. The dying mage shrieked in anguish as the spell fizzled, his body collapsed into dust, and the gem containing his soul fell from the lofty heights where he'd been levitating, and shattered against the bloodstone floor. Lucky break indeed.

Once the bloodlust had left them, they gazed around the massive room in wonder, now littered with burning or bloody corpses. Three huge pyramid-like sets of steps led up to platforms in the center of each wall except one. Also, in the center of the gory room was a sandstone statue of a hulking warrior wielding a very large blade. After a thorough search of the room, very little was uncovered in the way of valuables (besides the drow warriors' and magi's equipment), other than a set of mysterious, unidentified though obviously magical bracers. While searching the sandstone warrior, however, T'kal happened upon something quite interesting. A single lever. T'kal's hand hovered over the lever, but wouldn't dare pull such a mysterious thing, not until all other possibilities were explored. Vhaeraun, Masked Lord... I have come a very long way for you, for our cause. As far as Lolth should be concerned, I am you. And, to be frank... now would be a good time for a little -help-. If you don't quite feel like it... than to hell with you! I will kill her myself. And with a wicked smile upon his face, T'kal began to pull the lever, than halted himself, chuckling under his breath. "Grimlock! Come, pull this lever." Obligingly, the grimlock did so, after the rest of the party had adequately hidden themselves or prepared to charge.

Shhhhh-click. Click. Clickclickclick. Whrrrrrr-click. Clickclickclickclickclickrumblllllllllle...

The sandstone warrior came to life, ancient eyes filling with evil, hate, and the capability for absolute killing efficiency! The grimlock quickly backpedaled, raising his battleaxe in defense. As the construct stepped off its platform, a rather interesting new development became apparent. Even to the ignorant or superstitious, the whirling miasma of crackling lights and swirling energy under the platform was clearly a portal. Every one there knew just where it would lead to. T'kal ran full speed from his hiding spot and dove into the portal, tucking himself into a ball as he did so. With a bit of quick thinking, the grimlock dove under the creature's tree trunk-like legs and slid into the portal. The knight came around from behind his cover and dove into the portal before the ponderous golem could even react. The psychic entity wafted through it as well, leaving the sandstone warrior free of injury, with no more enemies to fight.

The world span dizzily under them, then fell away into nothingness, and darkness overwhelmed them.

In a second or an eternity, it was hard to gauge which, they realized that they were, in fact, alive. This was to be the last time any of them gazed upon the endless bloodstone and swirling mist of the Demonweb Pits. Unlike any other platform or level of the Demonweb, the section they found themselves sprawled upon had an end. Two ends, in fact. It was only thirty feet, from end to end. Compared to the rest of the plane, this section of corridor was a feast for the eyes. Into each of the doors was carved a pictorial representation of what ostensibly lied beyond. On one, a picturesque Arthurian kingdom, complete with castle and moat and cute trees. On another, the words "LOLTH'S PRISON" were carved hurriedly. On another, a representation of a fish swimming underwater. On another, a snowy realm. Quiet discussion began on whether or not they should try one of the portals in the hopes that they could, rest, regain their strength, bolster the forces, and then move on to the final battle. Several more doors awaited, but only one truly drew the attention of the would-be Lolth-slayers. A delicate, effiminate, and completely horrifying spider was elaborately embossed on the stone door, enlaid with precious metals, jewels, and intricate designs. Behind the assembled adventurers, the faint traces of a portal opening up and the stony face of a sandstone warrior began to appear. No more urging was needed. T'kal unlatched the door, and purposefully strode through, twin wavy daggers at his side.

It is impossible to describe the sense of complete and utter despair that oozes from this particular layer of the Abyss. Ancient, desicated sand stretches out for endless, infinite miles in every direction. Umbral, twilight violet suffuses the sky, and countless stars streak erraticly across the sky, so fast that they are painfully white blurs. In the distance, a colossal metal spider palace sits, perched precariously on the wasteland plane, as if eager to spring upwards. T'kal vaguely wondered how many of those stars were Lolth's, how many had yet to fall to her power, and how soon he would sheath his dagger in her cold carcass.

In Session 8, it all comes to an end. This is not a time for heroes. No hero could do such a thing.

Now is the time when we all discover who is the greater villain. Our band of villains marches confidently up to the very doorstep of Lolth. Will they march away, victory in hand, or will they join the eternally damned of the Abyss? Session 8. Be there.

This is it

2004-08-04T12:20:00.000-05:00

That's right, boys and squirrels, this is it. The end, or at least the beginning of the end. We have come a long way...

Flashback!

Once upon a time, our humble heroes were hired for a seemingly simple job: to escort a caravan through the oft-deadly Underdark. A survivor, street thief, and assassin. A mercenary. A dancer of luck and misfortune. A berserker warrior, pit fighter. They happened into events far greater than they could imagine, let alone survive. A crystal maze, a dungeon in the deeps of an unknown and dread plane threatened to snuff the life out of the entire party, but they persevered through amazing odds: a crimson vampiric mist, a zin-carla, roving beholders, metal-plated badgers, flesh-eating fish, and living columns with skin-flaying tentacles.

Once upon a time, our tried and true survivors held off an entire family of voracious cave wyrms, killing two and driving off the third. From there, things got worse. Priestesses of the spider goddess Lolth swarmed out of Arach Tinilith, the High Temple, killing all in their path. No N'Telquessir were left alive in the great and terrible city of Erehei'Cinlu, and precious few drow. Madness roamed the streets in the form of hungry bands of bloodlust-driven priestesses. Our heroes personally felled an entire warband of Sorcere wizards, Selvatarim blackguards, and priestess-spawned giant spiders, including a great House weaponsmaster. Blood flowed through the streets at an apple's depth.

Once upon a time, our bloodstained and weary slayers dismantled two gargantuan spiders and a dozen Type IV demons. One would think a long rest would be deserved after such a battle... But no. The greatest challenge was yet to be found. Our heroes had not dreamt of the carnage they would face in the Demonweb Pits, of the hellish twists, turns, and anti-architecture of that abyssal chasm.

And now, back to the present... Our heroes have trudged through wave upon wave of fiendish creatures, devilish traps, and cruel spells... On Thursday night, it all comes to an end. Either Lolth dies, her gluttonous reign of terror at an end, or we all perish, condemned to eternal perdition. Perhaps the two foes who started it all, T'kal Zahara, the Hidden Hand, and Orka Balmung, Merc Lord, will join forces once again to banish Lolth's tyranny back into the cold peace of oblivion.

All or nothing, death or glory, flames or fame. All will be decided Thursday night. Behold the exciting conclusion of Q1: Queen of the Demonweb Pits, the most deadly dungeon-crawl ever conceived by mortal mind!

O How The Mighty Have Fallen

2004-07-24T12:48:00.000-05:00

A most brutal session, session 6. Our heroes continued their exploration of the infinitely large and infinitely deadly Demonweb Pits, and were met with many a foe.

Project Alpha, a drow breeding project gone terribly wrong, was the first of our ignoble heroes to die. He survived four Type III demons, submersion in 600 feet of acidic saline, and 1 drow lich-mummy... but the other 3 finally vanquished the 8 armed-whirlwind of death.

Orka Balmung, mercenary lord, renowned fighter of the Underdark also fell to the sickly decay of the 4 mummy lords. When all was said and done in that brutal combat where spells rocked the corridors, blades let loose gallons of blood (or dust, in the mummies' case), and mysterious mindmagics warped the very fabric of timespace, only two adventurers and godslayers remained: a most peculiar creature by the name of Quinn, master of the mind, shapeshifter; and a surprisingly dextrous and brilliant grimlock, also posessing the strange mindmagics. Perhaps this force, nearly unknown in the Demonweb, provided the edge they needed to survive. Alas, only Quinn will remain alive in the long run, however. The grimlock suffered a grievous injury from one mummy... one that is continually causing the flesh to melt from his very bones.

And what of T'kal? Has he fallen to the same pack of 6 beholders that nearly slew an entire party in session 5? Has he merely been in waiting, searching for clues that will lead him to his ultimate goal and prize: Lolth Herself? All will be revealed in exciting Session 7, soon to come!

Stay tuned, hackmeisters!

Top 10 Things to Keep in Mind as a Drow

2004-07-03T22:57:00.000-05:00

1. Kill any drow child with lavender eyes at birth.

They're not even paying me

2004-06-20T20:41:00.000-05:00

Hail and well met, all ye who hack!

Behold, there's adventure to be had in Baldur's Gate!

Baldur's Gate: Dark Alliance 2!

Squirrel's rating:
Hack: 10/10
Loot: 10/10
Elven Dancing Girls: 0/10

Overall level of hacktasticness: 11/10

This game hacks hard, and hacks true. And trust me, I know hackage.

Hack on.

Orka Balmung... the Story Behind the Hero

2004-06-15T23:00:00.000-05:00

I guess when you’re going to tell a story, it’s best to start at the beginning. Since this is my story, it all begins with me. We won’t go into what my parents named me; it was very embarrassing, and I told them that every opportunity I got. So how I rejoiced when I was allowed to choose my adult name! Then, the tale of Orka Balmung really begins.
My family is rather large, although it didn’t seem so to me, at least when I was little. The twins, Konami and Bandai, as well as Gringo, had already grown up and left home by the time I was born. Gringo is a full twenty years older than me, and the twins nearly fifty (gloamings live a long time, and so a spread out family like ours is not unusual). Then my parents, Homsar Runner and Neltatex, began breeding like cave rats, and you got my batch of siblings, or like Iluna liked to fall us, the Fab Four.
Technically, I’m in the middle of all the kids, but I’m the oldest of the cluster of the youngest, so I always felt like the oldest. And boy, did being the elder suck rothe dick. I was always different from the rest, and when my folks kept telling me I needed to be an example for my siblings, I always reminded them that might not be such a good idea. I was always wandering off; I preffered the wilds of the Underdark to the city of Sphur Upra. That little predilection got me into some rather nasty messes, but I to this day don’t ever regret it.
Iluna Taily, our sister, and the only girl in the whole group of the Runner kids, was born after me, and she probably is the sibling I was closest too. In the harsh world we lived in, Iluna was a beacon of beauty and kindness. She was always doing nice things for all of us, her brothers and her parents. I saw in her something rare and wonderful, and protected her like she was made of solid gold. She had several ex-suitors who went home with few non-broken bones when they treated Iluna less than optimally while I was around.
Nanoo was next, and he shared some habits with me. He liked being alone, although he wasn’t attracted to the wild like I was. He would read book after book, and he was very smart. I think that if our parents had let him, he would have loved to go to a mage academy somewhere. I’m certain he would have thrived there. But his temperament got him picked on by our peers, and once again, I got in trouble for picking fights in defense of my siblings.
The last of us was Rix-Rac-Room. Of all of my brothers, even the older ones, he was the one I liked least. From the day he was born, there was just something about him that I thought wasn’t right. He always seemed pretty morbid to me, and I didn’t spend much time with him. Looking back, it seems ironic that he was the one to have survived. Orka and Rix, the last free gloamings of the Fab Four.
Of all the relatives that visited us, and they were many, I enjoyed two the most. The first was Father’s grandfather, John Woo. He was old, and had long stopped his gallivanting, but he still had a spark that I saw, a feistiness that stayed with him until the end of his life. He would tell us tales when Mother wasn’t around, tales of him hunting a creature called a vampire. I had never heard of such a thing, and it gave the others horrendous nightmares of their own kin hunting them through the darkness to drink their blood. They were only fuel for my active imagination, the prey in my imaginary hunts through the shadows around our city. Mother would always stop him if she was around, telling him to leave children alone with such morbid stories. But then our aunt, her sister Jillian Decker, would wander home, and Mother and Father had a whole new set of issues to deal with. You see, Aunt Jillian didn’t hunt some imaginary undead monstrosity; she stalked dark elves, drow, a small but growing murmur in the community of a looming threat. She had seen them, seen the wickedness of their heart, and had killed countless of their number. My parents always told her that the drow were not an issue, that we had nothing that they could possibly want. But I listened to Aunt Jillian, had her tell me tales of her exploits, and now I’m glad I did, for more than once something she told me has paid off. I would like to find her again, to be able to compare notes with Crazy Aunt Jillian, but I never had picked up word of her in my travels. If only she could see her nephew now, the nephew that people said was insane just like her.
Looking back, it was my love of the wild that saved me. I was off, chasing cave lizards or some shit like that, when it happened. I came home hours later, sweaty, tired, and hungry, to see my house burning to the ground. Something fled me then, my innocence, my childhood, whatever you want to call it. It was on that day that Orka Balmung stopped being a child and became the hardened bastard I am today.
Searching the burnt out husk of our home, I found the bodies of my parents and Nanoo, all relatively untouched by the fire. Which of course means that something else killed them. Nanoo was missing all his fingers, and both of his eyes were gone as well. Father had simply been stabbed through the heart, but Mother…
After I had buried my family, and searched all over for Iluna (and Rix as well, although I’ll never admit it), I talked with the other survivors of the Sphur Upra raid. It was indeed a drow attack. My aunt was right. The dark elves were a very real threat, and the gloamings could not ignore them any more. I gathered together what provisions I could and set out, searching for my missing kin, although really I looked for a balm for my broken heart. Looking back, I’m surprised I didn’t die during that time, a lone gloaming, inexperienced and still naïve, wandering the Underdark. But survive I did, much to the detriment of more than a few drow.
Eventually, I found myself in Undrek’thoz, the Segmented City. It’s actually a series of cities, although I couldn’t tell you which one I was in at the time. My mind wasn’t working well at the time, and my memories of before this event are pretty blurry. Anyways, here I was in Undrek’thoz, surrounded by a race that I despised, despairing that I would never find my sister or a way to enact the revenge I so desperately craved. I stood in that deserted ally, fighting back tears, glowing like a fool, until I saw my salvation. Lying, sprawled amongst the garbage, was a drow. He may have been Houseless, or running from some angry Matron, I don’t know nor do I care. At the moment, my hatred for the dark elf race was channeled through him and him alone. As I stood there, above the passed out wretch, I didn’t think anything. Rage had so overwhelmed me that I was beyond the point of reason. I was going to kill this fool with my cobblestone, crush his head like a ripe cave melon, and Lolth herself couldn’t have stopped me. Then I looked up, through misty eyes, and saw it. The very symbol for what my short little life has become. It was a wanted poster. And it had this bastard’s face on it.
I still couldn’t speak their language, but somehow I managed to get some of his kin to show me how to find my way to collect the reward. I don’t know if this guy had pissed off the wrong people, or if it all comes down to the cruelty of the drow. It doesn’t matter. I made my way to the collection point, and as I waited for my money to arrive, I heard the beginnings of his torment. Then and there I knew that nothing I could do could punish these people as much as they can rip themselves apart. The Matron actually spoke the language I did, which is now known as Undercommon. She was a beautiful but cruel person, somewhat like the snake which I have taken as my totem. She liked something about me, and offered me more work. I don’t know if she was playing with me, or seriously thought I was up to the task. Regardless, I took the job. What a fool I was. That mark was way over my head, and if I hadn’t met Irae, I would have died.
Irae was a drow, but she was also like me. She hated her own kind, and she preyed off their petty rivalries to her own gain. She must have seen something in me during those days that she liked, because she took me under her wing and showed me the ropes. Irae belongs to a handful of drow I haven’t wanted to kill, a prestigious honor indeed. During that time, I learned to temper my hate with pragmatism, and Irae led me on to greater heights.
I spent several years with the drow woman, and we were quite a team. I made a lot of money, and slaked the thirst of my vengeance against her people. Then her past caught up with her, and it all came crumbling down. I don’t know what she did, but as soon as the lizard shit hit the cave twister she told me to back off. I wanted to help her, but she pushed me away. She was showing me kindness, of a sort, and didn’t want me to pay for her own supposed crimes. I watched her get hauled away in chains, destined to a miserable existence supplied only on the whims of her vicious kinfolk. I almost wept, for the loss of the closest thing to a friend I’d had in years. Almost.
After I lost Irae, I wandered the Underdark, collecting bounties and doing the odd job here or there, sometimes alone and sometimes with a temporary partner. I hated the drow, but couldn’t dispute the fact that they paid well. Then, the life I’d left behind found me, in the shape of my long lost brother, Rix. He was crazier than before, driven mad by his time as a slave and, later, a wanderer. But he was family. And if I had learned to work with drow, then certainly I could work with my nutso little brother. Blood ties are stronger than business ones, and together, we began to take our vengeance one job at a time. Then we met Drisinil Lhalabar, and the world went to hell.
What started as a simply escort job spiraled into a House war, and we all found ourselves tossed through a portal into a crappy crystal maze. Me, Rix, the half-way descent drow Zegal, and the drow that epitomizes everything I hate about the race, T’qual, wandered around in this dimly glowing pit for what seemed like forever. We met a tiefling monk, and a big, strong, dumb orog named Mohg. Finally, we made our way to the center of the maze, after fighting a metal badger, a strange mist that tried to kill me, and dozens of fish-cat things, we made our way to the middle, avoiding the eye tyrants and the freshly killed dragon. There, we heard about the birth of a new drow goddess, who begged us to kill her mother, the Spider Queen.
Somehow, we made it home, and Rix and Mohg have helped me start our business, the Dark Angels Mercenary Corporation. Business is a little slower than I’d like, but it’s picking up. Life is good, better than it’s been in a long time. I’ve picked up this hag that decided to follow me home, but at least she can magically change her looks so I don’t vomit at dinner. I also have some kobold outcasts who help me manage the citadel, and Drig is very lucky I haven’t fed him to Yaxx’tuarl, the hydra, yet. Rix helps us keep a healthy amount of paranoia about, and Mohg provides the muscle for those marks who just refuse to go down. I found a new partner as well, whom I call Khal’abbil. I think it’s ironic that I call a viper bigger than I am the drow word for “my trusted friend.” But the snake is a valuable ally, and more than once has his poison proved vital in stilling the struggles of an unruly mark. I still keep an ear out for news of my little sister, hoping that I can save her sweet soul from whatever hell it lays trapped in now. I can’t bear the though of her in the hands of the drow, and heaven help the dark elf I find with his clutches around my little sister.
But every night, I have the same dream. That young goddess’s words ring in my skull, and I dream of the ultimate vengeance: the death of the Lolth. The idea of fighting a goddess scares the shit out of me, but my thirst for revenge is too great. When the time comes, will I be able to follow my wits and stay out of it, or will I get sucked in, falling to my venom infused doom? I don’t know, but I need to have some kind of end. My story can’t continue on like this forever…

Lost Knowledge

2004-06-14T13:16:00.000-05:00

It is a damned shame that a vault of knowledge is becoming more and more lost to us diehard hackers as the weeks turn into months and the months into years. You see, WOTC had a feature running called the "Year of the Drow," in which they published articles relating to the dastardly and nefarious race. The best part of this series was that everything within is official Forgotten Realms material, fully sanctioned. The main page for that is now, evidently, gone forever. The articles still remain, buried in dusty layers of HTML, and so, for your reading pleasure, I present these ancient gems for your continued enjoyment. (This post will be permalinked to, on the sidebar, so be sure and reference it.)

Pets of the Drow
Drow fighting styles
The Underdark below the North
A brief history and summary of House Baenre

The Great Struggle for Power

2004-06-11T02:00:00.000-05:00

T'kal Zahara, male revolutionary, Anointed Blade of Vhaeraun, and leader of the Hidden Hands. Orka Balmung, survivor, drow hunter, and leader of a famed mercenary company. These two titans and their opposed armies very nearly clashed and destroyed each other in Session Two. Very nearly.

The two leaders, paragons among males of their respective races, can see reason (from time to time.) Their followers exhibited rabid hatred, and sought open war, when Thorgrim Stonebeard, Priest Dwarf rallied his companions to slay The Dagger, T'kal's faceless master assassin. Only a quick escape via portal magic spared both parties many lives and many gallons of blood.

This escape, however, splintered the party in twain. Three factions arose from the smoking rubble of the old. Orka essentially said, "To hell with it," and left. The grey dwarves and their battle slave minotaur grumbled and set after Orka, trying to recruit his services once again. T'kal, Lilith the Succubus, and the Dagger went their own way, to find their prime entrance into the Demonweb Pits.

The party is split! Can they enter the Demonweb Pits? Can they survive? Can they succeed, and overthrow Lloth, and upset the very Cosmological Wheel?

UPDATE!
After Session Three, we have a glorious victory to boast of.

The party came together admirably, after a frank correspondance between the two men. The united party was remarkably business-like, professional, and best of all, tactical. The legions of Selvetarm's unholy templars, gigantic spiders, masters of Sorcere, and bound Type III Devils could not even slow down this unstoppable congregation of mighty drow, gloaming, and duergar. Alas, a minotaur died. But he was a slave.

Now comes the true challenge... for after breaching Arach'Tinilith's gates, slaying three guardian spiders, and a dozen guardian devils, and battling back a swarm, a tide of spiders... the party has leapt through a gate to the Demonweb Pits.

Out of the frying pan, into the fire? We shall see.

Type XX Poison (NEW OFFICIAL RULE)

2004-06-03T10:45:00.000-05:00

DC 14 Fortitude save
Initial: Death
Secondary: None
Market price: Variable

Six centuries after the Drow arrived in Erehei-Cinlu, the City of the Spider Queen, from the Demonweb Pits, their warriors still use the same poison. In fact, the majority of the society still uses Type XX poison.

The vile substance is actually distilled eight times, for each of the legs of Lolth, within the sacred temple, Arach'Tinilith, from the loyal arachnid temple guardians. Type XX is actually quite watered down, for a pure concentration of the poison is too caustic and strong to be contained within any vial.

Excerpt 1 from the journal of T'kal Zahara...

2004-05-31T13:02:00.000-05:00

(Several mechanical locks that sever fingers, explode hands, and prick poison needles into arteries lie between the durable pages of this rothé-vellum journal, and several arcane symbols promise death, blindness, or transmutation into something wretched)

The crystal maze held the key, and I took it. Lolth is bloated, glutted with Her supremacy. She has ruled unchallenged for too long. The time is now. I go to House Xuxim soon. The weakling Daughter, She has chosen a few mortals weak-minded enough to respond to Her divine ministrations. That fool gloaming is with them. I will recruit them to my cause, one way or another. Shields of blood are far more effective than those of mithral, after all.

At this opulent and sex-maddened festhall, Merethond, there lies a well of ancient limestone, but it holds far more than water. With the proper key, it holds VICTORY. I am still debating how best to enter the festhall. 100 guards and two magelings are constantly on duty, so that rules out force, unless I have a wyrm on my side, unbeknownst to me. Many spellwards, but not all, have been shut down, making stealth possible, though tricky. There is another possibility, however. Either I can find one of their couriers and kill him, which might raise further inquiries, or I might locate a few jaded nobles that I know of, who care not for inebriation and orgies, and take their invitations. There is a young, minor noble bitch that might do the trick.

(Below is scrawled a rough set of notes over the festhall's defenses)

100 guards
2 mages
Spellwards, some off, some on
One front door
2 unguarded back gates
14 seths left!

................

It appears my companions do not posses the expedient quality of -haste-. Alas. Ah, nor the quality of survival, which may prove quite advantageous in the Demonweb Pits. Why, the three pathetic tunnel wyrms tore right through them, slaying two. No tactics, no strategy, not even the sense to flee. I begin to wonder if I can even use them effectively in the Abyss! They might just fling themselves off the Great Spiderweb, babbling "We hate brains!". Oh well. And of course I can use them. It is what I do, after all.

DM INTRO

2004-05-28T22:09:00.000-05:00

It has been thirty one yastins (months), almost three complete cycles of Narbondel since a strange series of events led members of this company into the depths of Deep Dark— a seething, unimaginably powerful place in the gut of the world where no creature is ordinary and no trek easy. However, something about those sordid days played harsh with your minds, and the details grew obscure with the fast-falling draws of Narbondel, so that now all which remains are memories of some vague urgency, some pending events which once drew you together but are now hidden within recesses of the mind and of history itself. Perhaps it was a bounty run, perhaps an errand of death-dealing, or perhaps a quest to reclaim a tribal artifact-sword. In any case, life (as one measures life in the gritty, trafficked, cutthroat bowels of Middle Dark) has continued. And so, two years later, we see where Fate has taken us.

SETTING BACKGROUND
A generation ago, dark elves came to these grim-hollowed tunnels, this gods-forsaken Night Below. And they came not as explorers, not as merchants, not as colonists, but as slayers.

Now, from this cavern Erehel-Cinlu, "the body of Lloth," spreads the eight legs of the Spider Queen. And down each leg a drow settlement has brought death, torture, and enslavement to a new Underdark people.

But the many tales of woe filtering across Middle dark are best left for another time. Tonight we weave a new tale of despair and killing: all focused on Erehel-Cinlu, the Body of Lloth and the First Settlement of the Drow. The current time period is so-called the Cycle of the Spider, an auspicious time marking the anniversary of the drow coming to these under-earthen bowels, a time measured by Narbondel once every 666 year and lasting merely two draws (tendays).
It is said that during the Cycle of the Spider, all destiny of the Mori'quessar are awry, and anything can happen.

Characteristics of City of Erehel-Cinlu:

Unlike any other civilization imaginable. This is a place of open, naked hate. Upon every street flows the blood of the poor and reviled. Three carved tiers, each the size of ten city blocks, cut like giant stairway steps up to the highest point of the city: Academe Arachtillith, Temple to Lloth. Day and night, the wails of the tortured of mind and the tortured body resound from this lofty site, which is not only the focus of the city's worship but also the center of all economic life: every merchant , merc, and ambassador who wishes to deal with Erehel-Cinlu must first offer tithe and penance to Arachtillith, and all marketplaces spread out from the base of this remorseless landmark.
Through winding, broken streets (at times so tight nimble drow urchins must scale vertically across wall spaces) hover regular processions of twelve-member bands of the priestesses, the tallest (by three feet) strongest, smartest, and cruellest specimens of the drow race. The priestesses represent the highest state of dark elf evolution. And not just of stature, but of physiology. Their bleached hair naturally stains charcoal black after witnessing so many atrocities (some say it a sign of abandoned souls). Their stomachs reject all food and drink that is not the blood and flesh of male drow or Lloth's sacrifices. And their personal store of magicks are haunting: ability to summon clouds of screaming, whirling blades; to control planar horrors; to corrode the minds of captives; and of course to enslaves the will of enemy races —which are ALL n'tel'quessar (non-drow).

A sunless, clawing metropolis of rot, perversion, spell-strength, screams, spiders, and endlessly, endlessly dripping blood. This is Erehel-Cinlu.

Underdark Campaign Optional XP Opportunities, PART 1, 12/23/03

2004-05-28T22:02:00.000-05:00

Contact Brian at briandodson7@aol.com with any questions.
Note that unless stated in the assignment description a player may never earn bonus experience points ("XP") submitting the same assignment more than once, though he or she may complete a second (completely different) draft of the same assignment as regards a different character . As an exception to this rule, some assignments may make provisions for continually earning bonus experience points via the maintenance of the assignment. See individual assignment descriptions for details.
(EXAMPLES: The book reading assignments may never be submitted a second time for additional XP; the Character History assignment, however, may be submitted again as pertains to a brand new character. And the Journal Entry may be submitted at the start of each session, so long as the entry describes only the events of the previous session.)

Optional Assignment
Each month, at the conclusion of a game session, players are encouraged to email feedback to the dungeon master (email is: briandodson7@aol.com). This should include specific, detailed thoughts and criticisms about the session. For example, what you like, dislike, would have preferred; what you want for you character in the campaign; what you don't want; etc.
Any and all feedback is appreciated, and can only serve to improve the campaign.

Optional Bonus Experience Point (XP) Assignment #1
Type a prayerful homage to your character's patron deity or patron deities. This work can be in your character's own words, or it can be written in the third person.
REWARD: Submitting this document earns your character 90 XP per current character level per typed page. (A page is 250 words.)

Optional Bonus Experience Point (XP) Assignment #2
At any point after 12/22/03, a player may read one or more of the following books, listed in preferred reading chronology:
Realms of the Underdark, ed. King (ISBN 0-7869-0487-9)
Homeland, Salvatore (ISBN 0-88038-905-2, or 0-7869-3123-X hardback)
Exile, Salvatore (ISBN 0-88038-920-6)
Sojourn, Salvatore (ISBN 1-56076-047-8)
The Legacy, Salvatore (ISBN 1-56076-640-9)
Starless Night, Salvatore (ISBN 1-56076-880-0)
Siege of Darkness, Salvatore (ISBN 0-7869-0164-0)
Daughter of the Drow, Cunningham (ISBN 0-7869-2929-4)
Tangled Webs, Cunningham (ISBN 0-7869-2959-6)
Queen of the Demonweb Pits, Kidd (ISBN 0-7869-1903-5)
Dissolution, Byers (ISBN 0-7869-2944-8)
Insurrection, Reid (ISBN 0-7869-3033-0)
Condemnation, Baker (ISBN 0-7869-2824-7 hardback)
(All of the are in-print and available mass market.)
REWARD: At the onset of any game session, for each book read, your character earns a one-time XP bonus equal to 275 per current character level. The book in question must be on-hand at the time this XP is earned, and you may be quizzed on the reading. Note that scanning the book and not actually reading it nets zero bonus XP.

Optional Bonus Experience Point (XP) Assignment #3
Draw up a family tree of your character's family. Include at least three generations. Include noble or royal titles, surnames, family names, or nicknames, if appropriate.
REWARD: At the onset of a game session, submitting this assignment earns your character 90 XP per current character level.

Optional Bonus Experience Point (XP) Assignment #4
Provide musical accompaniment for a game session, in the form of recorded music appropriate to what is going on during the adventure.
REWARD: At the close of a session during which you provided recorded musical accompaniment which met with the DM's approval, your character receives 20 XP per character level.

Optional Bonus Experience Point (XP) Assignment #5
Type a two-column list of the people who taught your character something important, naming also what was taught. No description or narrative is necessary; simply one column of names next to one column of things learned. Include at least ten names.

For example:
1. Jed McMasterson of Wheloon Shoeing a horse
2. Ray "Stinky" Leftsword Running from the law
3. My militia sergeant, Lord Whistledown Running a trout line
4. etc. . . etc. . .

REWARD: At the onset of a game session, submitting this assignment earns your character 40 XP per current character level.

Optional Bonus Experience Point (XP) Assignment #6
Select one or more Underdark Campaign player characters. Type a one-paragraph introduction for each player character selected. Introductions should include any titles or prestigious family name the PC owns, place of origin, as well as noteworthy deeds accomplished and noteworthy places visited. The introduction(s) should be as grandiose and as positive as possible, and the tone of the composition should be that of a court attendant announcing the arrival of a revered hero.
REWARD: Submitting this typed document earns your character 25 XP per hero detailed per current character level.
For example, a player with a 5th-level character types an introduction for three characters in the Underdark Campaign to earn 375 XP (3 intros x 5 character levels x 25 bonus XP = 375 total bonus XP).

Optional Bonus Experience Point (XP) Assignment
At the onset of a campaign session, players who field a fully-painted 25-mm scale plastic or metal miniature representation of their character receive an experience point bonus equal to 50 per current character level. This bonus applies once per session, at the onset of the session.
For example, a player with a 5th-level character brings a painted mini to the next game. He thereby garners 250 bonus experience points (5 character levels x 50 XP = 250 total bonus XP). If that character gains a level, and the player brings the same mini to the next game, he garners 300 experience points. If that character dies, the player must field a new mini to represent his new character.

Optional Bonus Experience Point (XP) Assignment: Character History
Type a complete character history for your current, active Underdark Campaign character.
REWARD: At the onset of the game session, submitting this assignment earns your character 50 XP per page per current character level. A page is 250 typed words. Page-fragments less than 250 words earn no XP.
For example, a player with a 3rd-level character submits a three-page character history. At the onset of the game session, that player's character earns 450 bonus experience points (3 character levels x 3 pages x 50 bonus XP = 450 total bonus XP).
NOTE: Players who have already submitted their character's history are not eligible for this optional assignment.
Players who bring a new character into the Underdark Campaign may submit a new Character History, for the listed bonus XP.

Optional Bonus Experience Point (XP) Assignment: Journal Entry
Each game session, players may submit a typed journal entry detailing the events, people, and places of the previous session. This entry may be composed as a first-person diary, a third-person narrative, a third-person eyewitness account, or any other form.
REWARD: Submitting an entry earns your character 25 XP per full, typed page per current character level. (A page is 250 typed words.) A partial page earns no XP.
For example, a player with a 5th-level character types five pages in his log after a particular session. At the onset of the next session, that PC earns 625 experience points (5 character levels x 5 pages x 25 XP = 625 total bonus XP).
NOTE: A player need not have been present at the last game session to submit this optional bonus XP assignment, just so long as the log entry is accurate.

My apologies

2004-05-25T17:35:00.000-05:00

This tome of forbidden knowledge and dark lore would normally be updated quite a bit more, but our summoned and bound imps have escaped, and T'kal Zahara is... er... taking his final assassination exams at Melee'Magthere in order to finish his 10th year of studies and become a Junior disciple of death. So the bards say, at least.

Updates soon! The kobold minions shall be whipped into an updating frenzy.

Hark, a dwarf!

2004-05-21T16:31:00.000-05:00

Thorgrim Stonebeard moves with grim determination and purposeful strides, heading into the Underdark to seek his fortune. A life of endless toil and back-breaking manual labor are not what he seeks, he searches for a better life, one without mindless drudgery and meaningless work. Towards this end he will head, selling his services to the highest bidder. Adventure and combat are what he is best suited for, and far be it for him to go against what he was born to do.

The Underdark

2004-05-21T16:18:00.000-05:00

Once, long ago, a group of deep denizens became embroiled in events beyond their comprehension. The mad quest of a single drow house led to the death of most of the travelling group, with the deadly purpose still unknown. Those who survived the interhouse feud found themselves thrown through a mysterious portal, in a bizarre crystal maze. Lost and desperate, this motley crew of heroes had to struggle against the dwellers of the maze, as well as the internal forces that threatened to rip the group apart, in order to survive.

Finally, they made their way to the center of the maze, to learn a disturbing truth: Lolth, Queen of Spiders, patron to the dark elves, had spawned. A new goddess, freshly born, begged our heroes to slay her mother.

Time has passed since those fateful days, and our heroes have returned to the tunnels and caverns they call home. To this day, they struggle for survival in a world harsh and cold, and dream of fame and power, the true currency of the Underdark.

That goddess' request lingers on. Join us Thursday, May 27th, as we plunge back into the lightless depths of Faerun.

A scrawled post script by T'kal:
One wonders, however, just how many "heroes" were present on that fateful day in the crystal maze... for heroes are a rare commodity in the Underdark, and not particularly valued. The only heroes known are dead heroes, heroes of "legend." Those who survive do so by ferocity, treachery, and betrayal. Can such a weak, "loving" goddess as Eilestraee survive in the Underdark? Only time will tell.

Words of a Suzailian Madman

2004-05-21T10:33:00.000-05:00

on a cool night in Suzail an old beggar steps up onto a rickety stack of crates outside a run-down tavern and proclaims
--Beware Gurvin the Mad Gnome! What fell magics does he have in store for the realms; will he conjure forth elemental beings of the earth, foul poisoness mist, fiendish monstrosities bent on spreading plague, or perhaps new witcheries never befour seen in the realms. The mind of Gurvin the Mad Gnome is eclipsed only by the prophet he now emmulates, the terrible Sammaster who has foretold the time when the Sacred Ones will rule Faerun under an iron talon--
at this point the beggar falls from his makeshift pulprit and, frothing at the mouth, he begins screaming obsenities in a dozen languages as a siezure takes hold.

T'kal Zahara, the Hidden Hand

2004-05-20T08:20:00.000-05:00

The Hidden Hand is aptly named. When he wishes to be seen, he is seen. Otherwise, the first notice his enemies have of his presence is the warm flow of blood from their slit throat. He is eerily silent, even for a drow, but more unnerving yet is the absolute confidence, nay, PRIDE that T'kal shows. As a male, that should not be. But this is no mere male.

He grew up on the mean streets of Erehel-Cinlu, an outcast from a fallen house, surviving from day to day, hour to hour, as ruthless hunting parties of drow nobles rampaged through the streets on their lizard mounts, slaying for sport. His father was Uulrin Zahara, feared weapons master, and T'kal learned well. He rose to infamy as an assassin in a few short decades, honing his skills to the highest level... After returning from a harrowing adventure into the lowerdark as a bodyguard (which provided him with ample opportunities to steal from the high priestess that he accompanied), T'kal re-founded an ancient order of thieves, assassins, and vagabonds: Velve'Velkyn, the Unseen Knives. Rumor has it that this is no mere thieves' guild, just as T'kal is no mere male. It is said that Vhaeraun himself lurks behind the dark plots and scheming of the Hidden Hands, and that T'kal returned from that fateful adventure to the Crystal Dungeon with a mission greater than can be comprehended: a mission of deicide. Death to Lolth.

Bonus Experience Point Assignments #2

2004-05-15T19:51:00.000-05:00

Behold! Myreldon has graciously provided a wonderful selection of assignments to keep even the most scholarly of players up to their armpits in work in-between sessions. It keeps your mind on the game, enhances roleplaying, and best of all, is a prime source for XP! Enjoy:

Optional Bonus Experience Point (XP) Assignment #7
In days past, players provided food and drink for their hardworking DM. In the spirit of these more collaborative times, players may collect for sustenance and receive XP in kind. The DM appreciates chicken sandwiches, fresh fruit, meat-topping pizza, skim milk, and bottled water. The DMA collects for this tribute.
REWARD: At the conclusion of any game session in which you contributed all or in-part to the DM’s refreshments, receive a flat 400 XP bonus.

Optional Bonus Experience Point (XP) Assignment #8
Start an Online Venue
Create and maintain a website, blog, yahoo group, or other online forum featuring the UNDERDARK CAMPAIGN. Such a composition should detail campaign events, notes on PCS and NPCs, special items, goals, and related information. (But ultimately the design and contents are per your preferences.)
REWARD: At the onset of each game session, the DM will rate your website which he has visited as being decent, good, or exceptional. Each game session, your PC earns bonus experience points based on the DM’s rating, as follows:
✣Decent: The venue is one page, updated once a month, with bare facts and brief, one-sentence descriptions, and no images, sound files, or animation. There is only one contributor. The page is neat and informative. A typical blog is an example of a decent venue. This effort earns your PC 150 experience points per current character level, at the onset of the current campaign session.
✣Good: The venue contains multiple pages, updated at least once per session, with paragraph-long descriptions of PCS, NPCs, goals, major locales visited, etc.; including images, links, and brief commentary from one or more players. This effort earns your character 250 experience points per character level, at the onset of the current campaign session. All those who contribute earn a like amount.
✣Exceptional: The venue is a full-out website, supporting multiple pages, updated at least once per week, with a time line of campaign events, campaign news, scanned maps, and elaborate descriptions of every PC and major NPC, major locales visited, major magical equipment, plans of the characters, fears, etc. As well, this website sports images, and/or animation, and/or sound files, and links. (It could link to one of the many fan-sites dedicated to Underdark campaigning, for example.) This effort earns your character 590 experience points per character level, at the onset of the current campaign session. All those who contribute earn a like amount.

Optional Bonus Experience Point (XP) Assignment #9
Memorize a multiple-sentence saying (i.e., tagline) in a language your character speaks. (Of course, make up the dialect, or check online for sites featuring the dark elven tongue, goblin tongue, etc.)
REWARD: Reciting a new multiple-sentence saying at the onset of a game session, followed by the English translation earns your character 15 experience points per current character level.

Optional Bonus Experience Point (XP) Assignment #10
Print and/or cut-out three or more pictures (B&W or color) of an Underdark environment setting. Resources include: Half Price Books sells National Geographic and similar magazines for 50-cents an issue; there are numerous sites dedicated to spelunking, national preserve caverns, underground water flows, etc.; any public or campus library may have useable reference works and will have copiers. It is the DM’s hope to collect dozens of cool pics for use to set the tone of an encounter, illustrate surrounding terrain in different regions, and/or represent PC and NPC homelands.
REWARD: At the onset of any game session in which you donate to the DM at least three appropriate Underdark pics, apply 90 experience points per current character level to your PC. Each submission must be a different pic.

Optional Bonus Experience Point (XP) Assignment #11
Continued Writing
Campaign time has elapsed since the prequel game sessions of December, 2003. Players may submit typed journal entries detailing the events, people, and places of their character’s exploits during this elapsed time. This entry may be composed as a first-person diary, a third-person narrative, a third-person eyewitness account, or any other form.
REWARD: Submitting any entry earns your character 25 XP per full, typed page per current character level. (A page is 250 typed words.) A partial page earns no XP.
For example, a player with a 5th-level character types five pages in his log after a particular session. At the onset of the next session, that PC earns 625 experience points (5 character levels x 5 pages x 25 XP = 625 total bonus XP).

*****

Granted, this is specifically meant for the Chronicles of the Lightless Lands, but hopefully all you webcrawlers can find a use for it. Hack on.

The Underdark Campaign intro

2004-05-13T11:42:00.000-05:00

The dawn of the draw is upon us. Out of the Demonweb Pit they swarmed, and into the eternal night of the Lightless Lands. Fanatic priestesses of the tyrant-goddess, Lolth, rule all, and aim to conquer all. The first rumors of an overworld are being heard, and the priestesses speak with utter confidence of conquering the surface in less than 100 years. Perhaps they speak the truth. The matriarchy and in sooth, all females wield some measure of the divine wrath of Lolth Herself. The male warriors thrive and survive in the most deadly environment in all of Toril, perfecting the art form of the blade in their daily struggle for survival. The dark elf magi wield earth shattering magic, further empowered by faerzress, the natural magical radiation of the Underdark. Hundreds of thousands of goblins, orcs, ogres, and other beasts have been enslaved and bred for war. The greatest enemies the drow know, ilithids, mind flayers, are being systematically eradicated. What, then, will stand between the drow and total domination? Nothing...

Except for a brave and foolish few. Two young gods cautiously gather followers. Vhaeraun, God of Thieves, Assassins, and most blasphemous of all, equality in the sexes, brother of Lolth. A secret, highly elite cabal of rogues and ne'er-do-wells rises to power in the Middledark. Rumors say Vhaeraun's avatar leads this new guild, or some Chosen mortal, the champion of the Masked Lord. Meanwhile, Lolth's exiled daughter, Eilistraee gathers an extremely strange and out of place group of followers: those with good impulses. These two forces have both sworn the same thing... To bring an end to the horror that is Lolth.

The Chronicles of the Lightless Land follow the adventures of an eclectic group of heroes and villains: T'kal Zahara, the Hidden Hand; two gloaming brothers, a mercenary and a crazed assassin; an orog berserked; a stout duergar warrior; a wily agent of Velve'Velkyn, the Unseen Knives.

The campaign begins once again May 27th, with Brian Dodson, Hack-certified Dungeon Master, at the helm.

Soon, the Hack begins

2004-05-13T08:41:00.000-05:00

Prepare to enter realms of danger, intrigue, magic, and monsters. From the shadow-world of the Underdark, to the perilous Dungeon X, to noble, besieged Suzail, even to the far off island archipelagoes of Oceanus... There is much in store.

Just comment here, dungeon masters and players, if you wish to contribute to the blog. Character biographies, histories of the world, and adventure summaries are always welcome.