Perhaps we should return to the surface, notify the brewery proprietor and town guards to stand over the building while we return to the fey to inform her of the situation. I defer to Chadwick’s wisdom here. And look forward to Kragen’s treatment for the oncoming DTs
Xymox: “Well fought, all of you. And more than that… well endured.”
He sweeps his gaze across the weary faces of The Company.
“Kragen—your resilience was nothing short of divine. You faced death, staggered back to your feet, and still had the strength to mend others while everything around us collapsed. Your hammer didn’t just strike true—it gave us hope.”
“Chadwick… you bore the brunt of that creature’s fury and met it with holy fire and unshakable resolve. If Tyr marks champions, surely your name is etched in steel.”
“Starker, despite your isolation—and your... unique study habits—you held the line and scorched the enemy with arcane precision. Two foes felled, alone, in silence. A triumph of both intellect and flame.”
“Trolkarl—deadpan, relentless, and calm in chaos. When the Alewight faltered, it was your bolt that ended him. You strike like a shadow with purpose—and this realm is safer for it.”
“And Hoid. Ever the shield, ever the storm. You did not waver. You carved a path through horror and refused to fall. You steadied us all.”
Xymox sheathes one blade, now more thoughtful.
“We’ve survived, but something festers still. This place is scarred, and scars can reopen. The chest must be opened—but with care. The seal, if it's within, may yet hold the key to understanding all this.”
“Then we go. We inform the town. Secure the brewery. See to it that no further corruption seeps from these cursed walls.”
He pauses, voice low. “And after... perhaps we rest. We’ve earned it.”
He meets each of their eyes with rare, sober conviction.
Xymox turns his gaze toward Chadwick, his tone shifting to something colder, edged not with doubt—but with reverence wrapped in unease.
“And you, Sir Chadwick… the Alewight’s final words linger: ‘You are the key. The pact is broken....' let us see it through."
As flickering lanternlight dances on rusting pipes and dying embers, Xymox sits cross-legged near the collapsed dais, his violin balanced across his lap. A low, breathy hum escapes him as he plucks a mournful rhythm. The Company tends wounds, sharpens blades, or stares into nothing—but the bard begins to compose, quietly at first, but with growing intent...
“The Ballad of the Bitter Brew” (A Work in Progress by Xymox Xel'Mizzrym)
I. The Alewight's Toast
In a brewery drowned, where foul spirits stir, The foam rose thick, and the air did blur. A wight with a tankard, rotted and grim, Raised high his curse, with a half-mad hymn.
“Drink deep,” said he, “and never thirst— May your blessing be your worst.”
II. The Fermenting Tide
The floor gave way to cursed ale's might, And ghouls returned in unholy blight. Hoid held the line, iron and wrath, While Trolkarl’s blade carved a shadowed path.
Chadwick burned with righteous flame, And whispered oaths none could name. The Alewight called him “Key” at last— A truth from deep in some ancient past.
III. Starker Alone
Behind sealed door, arcane and barred, Our wizard stood, alone and scarred. Two foes he faced with fire and guile, While his monkey danced through cursed bile.
“Fear not,” he said, with voice arcane, “I’ll rest, then Knock, and meet again.”
IV. The Dwarven Hand of Tyr
Kragen, broken, then reborn, Rose with light ‘gainst undead scorn. His hammer’s glow, the radiant strike— Tyr’s judgment sharp, and fiercely like.
He healed, he shielded, cast foes to ash— The soul of The Company, stalwart and brash.
Xymox pauses. A half-smile crosses his face.
“Needs a bridge verse... something to explain why I was knocked unconscious twice. I’ll dress it up as strategic feinting.”
He plucks a final note and gently sets the bow across the strings, letting it hum like the last sigh of the dead Alewight.
Kragen approaches the chest as the final notes of Xymox’s song echo mournfully. He tugs up on the lid, and, tugs harder upon the lid, and, even harder he tugs upon the lid. Though there is no lock, the chest will not open.
Starker casts Knock while lamenting the role of the adventuring wizard. The familiar KNOCK sounds and the lid of the chest springs open. Inside you se a neatly folded leather, brewers apron. It appears to be very old and very well cared for. Resting atop the apron is a silver chalice inset with many semi-precious stones. These form a sigil of a chalice surrounded by intertwined vines. Beside the chalice is a flask made of iron. It is sealed shut with a gold stopper encrusted with emeralds.
Kragen sees the flask is the source of the abjuration dweomer.
The Company looks about. All are costed in the foul remains of cursed and toxic ale. It will take Chadwick a week to get it out of his flowing locks. The exit is now opened showing the flooded room to be fully drained. Only a slippery coating of foamy scum remains on the walls and floor. The pipes, fittings and valves above are slowly disappearing. You cannot see any nozzles anymore. Bergun’s chest held his old apron from his living days carefully maintained, a chalice bearing the symbol of The Pact, and an Iron Flask containing….someTHING.
Perhaps we should return to the surface, notify the brewery proprietor and town guards to stand over the building while we return to the fey to inform her of the situation. I defer to Chadwick’s wisdom here. And look forward to Kragen’s treatment for the oncoming DTs
Starker:”I concur, though I would like to open the chest in case the seal is within.”
“I agree with the Mage, we should see if it contains the seal so the oath breaker” looks to Chadwick “can return it.”
Kragen inspects the chest to see if there are any Glyphs on the surface.
Kragen sees no glyphs
Kragen begins an incantation with prayers to Tyr.
cast Aura of Life L4 (provides resistance to Necrotic damage in 30’ emanation).
then attempts to open the chest.
Xymox:
“Well fought, all of you. And more than that… well endured.”
He sweeps his gaze across the weary faces of The Company.
Xymox sheathes one blade, now more thoughtful.
He meets each of their eyes with rare, sober conviction.
Xymox turns his gaze toward Chadwick, his tone shifting to something colder, edged not with doubt—but with reverence wrapped in unease.
As flickering lanternlight dances on rusting pipes and dying embers, Xymox sits cross-legged near the collapsed dais, his violin balanced across his lap. A low, breathy hum escapes him as he plucks a mournful rhythm. The Company tends wounds, sharpens blades, or stares into nothing—but the bard begins to compose, quietly at first, but with growing intent...
“The Ballad of the Bitter Brew”
(A Work in Progress by Xymox Xel'Mizzrym)
I. The Alewight's Toast
II. The Fermenting Tide
III. Starker Alone
IV. The Dwarven Hand of Tyr
Xymox pauses. A half-smile crosses his face.
He plucks a final note and gently sets the bow across the strings, letting it hum like the last sigh of the dead Alewight.
Kragen approaches the chest as the final notes of Xymox’s song echo mournfully. He tugs up on the lid, and, tugs harder upon the lid, and, even harder he tugs upon the lid. Though there is no lock, the chest will not open.
Starker:”Seems my decades of study have made me a purely dual use instrument: either opening locked thngs or burning unburnt things. <sigh>
<Casts Knock on chest.>
Starker casts Knock while lamenting the role of the adventuring wizard. The familiar KNOCK sounds and the lid of the chest springs open. Inside you se a neatly folded leather, brewers apron. It appears to be very old and very well cared for. Resting atop the apron is a silver chalice inset with many semi-precious stones. These form a sigil of a chalice surrounded by intertwined vines. Beside the chalice is a flask made of iron. It is sealed shut with a gold stopper encrusted with emeralds.
Kragen sees the flask is the source of the abjuration dweomer.
Starker will ritually cast Identify on the flask and the apron. That’ll take 20 minutes.
The Knock upon the door expires and it closes.
The apron is mundane. You find the name Bergun inscribed in dwarven runes on the inside.
The flask made of iron is an Iron Flask, curiously. Starker is able to determine that it does contain an unknown entity.
Starker:”This flask contains an unknown entity that will be kindly disposed to us for an hour or so after we decant it. The apron is Bergun’s apron.”
Starker:”Eureka? The barrels are marked with the ‘ingredients needed to make a Fermentation Golem?”
<Looks around questioningly>
”Colleauges, might this be the case?”
Kragen looks frustrated that The Company did not secure the door before it closed again!
"Mage Starker, you may have to open the door again for us to exit."
Looks curiously to Chadwick to see if he has an inclination of returning the Chalice and repair the relationship between the town folk and the Fey??
The door exiting the room is again closed, and locked.
Starker: “are we all ready to go? If so, I will cast Knock yet again.”
<if there are no objections, Starker Knocks open the door>
Starker, once again, fulfills 50% of his responsibilities. The door opens.
The Company looks about. All are costed in the foul remains of cursed and toxic ale. It will take Chadwick a week to get it out of his flowing locks. The exit is now opened showing the flooded room to be fully drained. Only a slippery coating of foamy scum remains on the walls and floor. The pipes, fittings and valves above are slowly disappearing. You cannot see any nozzles anymore. Bergun’s chest held his old apron from his living days carefully maintained, a chalice bearing the symbol of The Pact, and an Iron Flask containing….someTHING.
/Plans?