Chapter 1: Sellendelline's Secret

The sun passes behind a wall of black cloud as the last adventurers close the doors of Sellendelline's Sanctuary behind them, perhaps for the last time. Ash fills the air, carried by the shreiking wind. Visibility is low and it's unpleasently cold. Everything smells of fire.
It's a typical day.

You have said your goodbyes to close friends and respectful enemies. Perhaps even lovers or children. If you fail, all of them will die when the winter comes.

The young prophet Secret walks with you. She's a short eladrin of about 14 years old. She's dangerously pale and thin, like most people in The Sanctuary, but you'd only know from her face. The rest is covered by her cultist's cloak, single leather glove and oversized boots. She has an eye-patch, wears a hiking pack on her back and carries a staff topped with a sliver hand holding a large crystal eye.
She's her usual, cheerful self; laughing as the wind threatens to push her over and shouting over the the noise it makes. "Holy shit this is cold! Onward, to adventure and deep holes!"
She points her staff ahead and strikes a theatrical pose before striding off toward the pit dug for you by the local kobolds.

Also here is Pharrammurinion, a humanoid devil. He's wearing clothes knitted for him by the women in his chess club. Usually he fits in surprisingly well, but he doesn't understand the concept of appologising and he's in trouble at the moment for trying to kill a satyr who touched Secret's butt. Again.
He's staying behind to help fend off any monsters that attack while you're away, but he's carrying on his shoulder the key to a mysterious door the kobolds have uncovered, which will open your path to the depths. He smiles and takes a deep breath, like a human savouring fresh air.
"Ah, that's good! No offense, but it's bloody hot in there and it all smells a bit... mortal."

You have been given gifts by those you're leaving behind:

Talon- Gain a necklace the razorclaw kids made for you out of colourful junk and a twinkling rose from a secret admirer. On close inspection the rose is an illusion cast on a metal rod, but it's a really good one. It even feels right to the touch if you don't concentrate.

Fynn- Gain a stale cupcake from a secret admirer (hopefully not the same one who gave Talon the rose), a box of candied fruit from a not-so-secret admirer, some salt from what's left of your resistance and two bottles of gnomish bootbrew. One bottle has a label on it reading "Sorry about the millenia of war and stuff! You guys are alright!" the other is marked "Fin I stowle all youre socks and stuf but now I can't find them so you can have this its not really brewd in boots".

Theorid- Gain a toe bone of saint Sellendelline in a glass tube, the high priest's very tall hat (officially yours now. You're the last known Erathis worshipper of any kind, let alone the last member of her holy orders) and an elven mixture of dried herbs, which can supposedly make almost anything palatable.


(Anyone can take an action.)

Theorid smiles a little with thought of the hat - now secure within his pack along with the Sellendelline Relic. The smile, sadly, fades as he looks around the wasteland, the cleric coughing a little as he inhales the dust.

"Does it look worse to anyone?" He murmurs as he starts to move after Secret, motioning to the others to follow, adjusting the silver bracelet on his left arm as he does so.

Hurrying after Secret he begins to march in front of her, hunching down for warmth in the cold wind, hands straying to the hafts of his maces.

Pharrammurrinion falls into step behind Secret. "Better, to me, I'm afraid. Reminds me of the countryside at home. Not so good if you're a weed though. Or a mortal, by the look of you."

Fynn ponders his gifts, deciding not to partake of the booze, but does nibble a bit on the cupcake. [Blast it! They took my socks. Wait... those weren't mine in the first place. Silly stolen goods...]

"Not like you'll be seeing any of it anytime soon. Less dust, more tunnel, all better, right?" Despite the bad fashion of his open chested cloak, Fynn seems to be alright with the cold. Not so much the dust, though.

Secret turns around and walks backwards, facing everyone except Theorid. She makes big reaching gestures with her oversized staff "Looooooooads more tunnel. Huge tunnels." She coughs a little. "Pharra, you're strange!"

Fynn's cupcake started out a little hard but otherwise ok. Now it's becoming discoloured and untasty. Must be all this ashy crap floating about.

Talon studies her new comrades. She might have wished for a more heroic looking bunch, but they had the will to act for change and the good of all, that counted for alot.

She is used to the cold, the snows of home lasted many months, but this cold was unnatural, it cut the skin. She pulls her thick fur cloak tight around her neck against the ash filled wind. "Lets get a move on then, the less time out here the better." She moves to stride in the direction Secret has been pointing.

Secret says "Ok" and spins around on the spot so she's facing forward again. She hurries a little, catches up with Theorid and walks alongside him.

Pharrammurinion shakes his head. "If you think this is tough, I'd hate to see what you make of where you're going."

As the devil speaks, Secret cries out and drops into the ground. Theorid, make a dex check to catch her.

Theorid darts to Secret to grab her as she stumbles, heritage showing through in the sudden swiftness with which he abandons his battle-ready posture to catch the prophetess.

(Dexterity: 17 + 7 = 24)

Theorid grabs her wrist as she's about to disappear. Ash from around his feet is flowing into a crack in the ground, about 6' across. Secret scrabbles up to lie on the ground. "I found a hole."


due to our sad lack of a warlock, extra gifts have been distributed around the party.

Theorid- gain an 80 year old bottle of Zadar's Ginger Smoke, supposedly some of the finest liquer in all the planes, brewed in the city of brass. Currently worth about the same as Fynn's bootbrew.

Talon- gain an origami shape from Lindel, symbolising purity and protection from evil. It's sort of wheel-shaped and folds flat so you can keep it in a pack or pocket without damaging it.

Fynn- gain a "lucky" double headed fake gold piece.

Anyone can take an action.

Talon flattens herself to the ground, spreading her weight and peers down into the gap, cats eyes giving her vision distance.

It's not actually that deep. Secret would probably have been ok if she had fallen. Probably.

She seems to see the funny side. "Just so you guys know, I seriously did know that was coming. Just didn't know it was right here, cos, you know... Grey." She waves vaguely at the scenery, before picking up her staff, dusting it off, and continuing.

Pharramurinion facepalms. "3 minutes and you fall down a hole. You do know the holes will be bigger down there, don't you?" He keeps following Secret.

Fynn rolls his eyes. "Well, if she's that good at finding things, then maybe she can find us a hot bath and warm bed down there."

"Maybe, if the fates are kind," Theorid deadpans, turning to catch up with Secret and Pharra, looking to Talon as he does so. "How're you holding up, then, Talon?"

"This foul air sickens me" she replies, "I'll be glad to get underground, despite the dangers. Lets press on." She knows Theorid would understand the horror she felt at the ravaged and ruined landscape around her, knew he would also be remembering the colours and textures of thier lost world, but she did not wish to show weakness in front of the party, so simply wrapped her arms tighter about herself and trudged onward after the seer.

As the party advances, towering shadows loom out of the haze. They're heaps of ash and dirt, dug out by the kobolds. A rock strewn trail curves around the nearest one, sloping downward.

Secret says "I guess this is it. Lets see if I can fall down there." She hurries forward to test and looks around the heap. "Ooh. It looks bigger in real life! Come on! Last one there gets there after everyone else!" She rushes on.

Pharrammurinion puts a hand on Theorid's shoulder. "I know this is pretty obvious, but look after her, ok? It's not that she's stupid, she's just all over the place, Seeing too much at once. Goes for all of you. Try and bring her back with no more bits missing.
"Oh, and she forgot to remind you about the loose stone. Don't fall over."


Anyone can take an action.

Talon nods in thanks to Pharra, gives Theorid a look as if to say "Well, here we go!", and bounds with sudden speed after Secret, not knowing whether protecting the girl or getting out of this filth at last was her greater motivation. She even smiled a little as she ran.

Theorid grins as Talon heads off, nodding somberly to Pharra before turning to follow the shifter, motioning to Fynn to follow, though in his scale armour he is among the slowest of the group.

Pharramurinion follows, still carrying his giant key.

Fynn walks along to wherever the key and its demon are going. Also puts the cupcake away in hopes of brushing off the ash later for further nommins.

As the group walks to the other side of the heap, a large round pit becomes visible. Its about 20' deep and 100' across. The path you're now walking on slopes down to its floor. Sticking out of the opposite wall is an arch with what looks like a huge stone wheel in it. There might be something written on it, but that might just be decoration. It's hard to make out through the ash. The ground between you and it has been cleared, but the rest of the ground is strewn with rocks of all sizes.

Secret is standing right in the middle, yelling over the wind. "You're all slow!"

Pharrammurininon is taken aback by the size of the pit. "My god those little bastards like to dig! Fynn, are you the only one who ever-" He is cut of by the sudden rain. It's horizontal, grey and really, really hard. It feels like having a bucket of icy water poured on your head. Pharra points at the arch. You can just about make out the word "shelter!" as he sprints into the pit.

Talon gasps as the rain pelts her square in the face. She runs after Pharra to the door and scrabbles at it. She looks desperate. Her messy hair, now plastered to her forlorn face making her a comical sight.

Saving Throw: 19

Talon and Pharra reache the relative shelter of the pit without anything unpleasant happening to them.

Fynn or Theorid can take an action. And a saving throw.

Fynn finds himself very displeased at this turn of events. Cold weather he can take, but this is a little much. He shoots off towards the pit as fast as his little feet can take him.

Saving Throw: 12

Fynn also reaches the floor of the pit. He's still getting wet, but less so. It'll be dryer right up against the wall, where secret is now huddled.

Theorid can take an action.

"Erathis' Gates!" Theorid curses at the sudden deluge, hurrying after Secret into the relative dryness of the wall's shelter.

(Saving Throw: 13!)