D&D - Session I

A Sticky Situation

The Journey Begins...

High atop the great oaks of the forest, lay an enormous web filled with cocoons of victims new and past. Among them, wrapped tightly in strands of thick spider silk are Martoz the goblin, Axlot the half-orc, Weary the tiefling, and Dior the high elf. A nasally voice cries from another webbed victim, imploring anyone for help with promises of information of a great treasure should they do so. The mention of treasure attracts the attention of the ensnared strangers and they begin finding ways to free themselves.

The goblin is the first to free himself, using the prestidigitation trick he had been using to practice his recently acquired magical powers to burn the strands wrapped around him. The hulking half-orc Axlot snaps through his binds effortlessly and assists the tiefling out of his own. A rogue adept at sleight-of-hand, Dior slices his restraints with his dagger. Free of their trappings, the group turns their attention to the pleading voice, finding it to belong to a wizened old man by the name of Volanthorpe. Hesitant to trust the man, they decide to strap him to the back of the half-orc using strands of web instead of cutting him free.

The group must now face the reality of their situation, descending from their branch that hovers some twenty metres from the ground. Looking around to explore their options, they notice a hole within the trunk of the tree, the darkness obscuring whatever may lay within. Fearing the wrath of some unseen horror, they decide to lower themselves down one at a time using the strands of silk. Martoz, paranoid as ever, decides to create a harness for himself when lowered; a well thought out move that prevents him from falling to his death when the rope slips. Meanwhile, Axlot lowers Dior slowly as a soft chittering can be heard from the trunk.

A small brood of spiders skitters out and onto the branch, advancing on their would-be meal. Weary unleashes a torrent of purple energy from the palm, incinerating the foremost arachnid, while Martoz unleashes his own spiral of otherworldly shades of blue, green, and lavender to expand another spider’s thorax until it bursts. Hearing the commotion from above, Dior slashes his rope and unsuccessfully tumbles the remaining distance down with a sharp crack coming from one of his legs. His focus no longer needed to hoist the elf, Axlot drops the rope and stomps through a shiny black carapace, splashing himself in a pale blue ichor. The remaining spiders charge towards the adventurers standing atop the oak branch, one managing to jab its mandibles deep into the goblin warlock’s leg injecting him with a paralytic venom. Feeling nauseous, Martoz stumbles backward and is unable to direct his bolt accurately missing the spider entirely but is saved by an arrow arcing from the forest floor which impales his foe’s chitinous exoskeleton. Weary launches another barrage of eldritch energy to dispatch the other spider at Martoz’s feet, while Axlot tears the still-twitching legs from the last assailant.

A sigh of relief passes through the survivors and they contemplate their next move. Seeing the high elf’s damaged leg, they decide to take their chances venturing through the trunk of the great oak. Blessed by their inherent darkvision, the three demihumans crept slowly through the humid recesses of the tree, the sickly-sweet stench of fungus hanging heavily in the air. As they descended through the trunk, the narrow tunnel widened into a large circular room in which lay yet another arachnid, this one several times larger than the ones they had previously encountered, no doubt the brood queen. Before the monstrous spider can react, twin beams of arcane energy arc towards it, stunning it momentarily before the head of Axlot’s axe split its abdomen, spilling a mess of blue entrails and fist-sized orbs onto the ground as it let out an ear-piercing screech.

Having survived yet another terrifying encounter, the motley crew regroup among the gnarled oak roots jutting from the forest floor. Volanthorpe expresses his thanks for being saved from becoming yet another desiccated husk on the spiderweb and introduces himself as a tenured professor of the Azure University of Neverwinter. True to his word he informs them of a rumour of a vast treasure hidden under the feet of Lord Neverember. Both puzzled and intrigued by the cryptic rumours, this group of strangers decides to venture forth together and seek out this supposed hoard. Still doubtful of the old man’s tale, they decide to tie his hands and ‘escort’ him back to the city of Neverwinter.

A familiar chuckle echoed through Martoz’s skull. How wonderful He mused, these mortals, their riddles, this mysterious treasure. All legends had truth, and all truth contained knowledge, knowledge that would feed His insatiable hunger. The goblin would assist these other surface dwellers and unravel the mystery that lay below the feet of Lord Neverember. The laughter gradually faded away along with the nausea from the spider venom, and with a deep sigh Martoz leaned against his staff and trudged along behind the group. What dangers lay ahead and would he survive to tell the tale?

Comments