Bo-Jing Follows His Wife

Satisfied that he had established himself as the new protector of the Master’s Palace, mourning his lost beauty, and missing his wife, Bo-Jing concluded that it was time to return home, using the wondrous teleportation room in the Master’s sanctum. In addition to his trusted henchmen, he invited two natives of Hunza to join his retinue, a crafty carpenter named Nagar Ahmar and a farmer who took a new name, Lin Zhou. Lin Zhou’s parents had emigrated from Zhou-Deng to Hunza when he was infant, attracted by tale’s of the Master’s wisdom and entrusting their son into his care. Having known noting but toil, Lin Zhou was strong and brave, and eager to see the world beyond the Master’s wheat fields. Bo-Jing promised that Lin Zhou would meet his consort, the Khatun, and then they would travel together to the “island of angels” where Bo-Jing hoped he would regain the youthful appearance he had lost in an instant in his encounter with the true spirit of Hosadas. Salt also invited two of the Master’s former followers to join her—Zhak-Shi a former red-robed enforcer skilled in both swords and sorcery and Wu-Jin-Fen, a young man from Zhou-Deng who had traveled to Hunza and joined the Master’s ranks as a scribe. Wu-Jin-Fen had learned much about Hunza and was eager to learn magic from Salt. Finally, Hu-Fei, the longtime resister to the Master’s tyranny who had assisted the party in evading the enforcers was happy to accept Tetsukichi’s invitation to accompany him to the “land of horses.” Hyamsam and Bangqiu, meanwhile, elected to remain in the Master’s palace, experimenting with the various strange objects which Hosadas had accumulated over the centuries.

It was a strange homecoming for Bo-Jing. He read in the faces of his people their discomfort with his changed appearance. Or so he believed. Soon, his protege Batu revealed the truth. The Khatun, despairing of  the long and unexplained absence of her her unnaturally handsome husband, had gone to look for him. For almost a year she had waited for news of her husband’s success or failure in his fight against the Master. For almost a year, she had waited for her husband to return and give a name to the son whom she had borne him. And then, five weeks ago, she had entrusted the boy to a nurse and selecting as her companions only Altani the holy man and Narnuteng the woman warrior, Narantsetseg the unhappy Khatun had set off for the Land of Hunza, determined to learn the fate of her husband.

And so Bo-Jing wasted no time going after his wife. He called for Tses-Hami, his flying horse and within an hour was flying toward the mountains and the monastery that would have been Narantsetseg’s most reasonable intermediate destination on the way to Hunza.

Bo-Jing, on Tse-Hami’s back, flew through stinging rain, reaching the lights of the Monastery as night was falling. The monks confirmed that they had sheltered the Khatun, they had encouraged her to wait with them where it was safe, but that she had been determined to find him. The monks that, after a good night’s sleep, they would show Bo-Jing the maps of Hunza by which Narantsetseg had planned her route.

The next morning, with the monks’ help, Bo-Jing made his plan to find Narantsetseg. The next stage of the journey would be much easier for him than it was for her. A hundred leagues of undeveloped wilderness lay between the monastery and the steep ridge that marked the edge of Hunza. No towns, no inns, no roads—nothing but thick pine forests and deep meadows in this unclaimed territory. The monks had directed Naransetseg to simply rid west, keeping the pinnacle of Mt. Baltistan in the middle of her horizon until she reached the snowpack, then cutting southwest into Hunza by way of the Green Pass. Bo-Jing would do the same, but traveling by air, would bypass the many obstacles that his wife likely encountered and also without the risk of losing sight of his landmark. The sky was clear and the moon would be full; Bo-Jing decided to fly at night, expecting to be nearly invisible on his jet black steed.

And so Bo-Jing set out. What an exhilarating night. The snow-capped Mt. Baltistan shone like a beacon in the moonlight and the small lakes below shimmered like dropped coins. Bo-Jing wrapped himself in furs against the cold and urged Tse-Hami onwards. As dawn broke and the peaks of Mt. Baltistan turned pink, Bo-Jing and Tse-Hami glided downwards, seeking the break in the ridge that would be the Green Pass. They found their way, passing over the ridge and into the warmer air of the Hunza Valley. With additional plans buts to seek out a large settlement, Bo-Jing decided that he and his steed should first rest and eat. Rather than land on the flatlands, Bo-Jing identified a pile of boulders atop a steep-sided bluff as a place where he could sleep soundly with little fear of being discovered.

As Tse-Hami circled the identified refuge, seeaking the past landing site, Bo-Jing spotted an enormous, bright red reptilian monster—a dragon! At the same moment, the dragon noticed the uninvited guests and blasted them with a storm of fire. Before Bo-Jing could react, Tse-Hami took evasive action, diving steeply. The flames licked Tse-Hami’s flanks but thanks to the barding gifted him by the King of the East, Tse-Hami suffered no harm. The khimori raised his head and flapped his wings hard, but Bo-Jing urged him into a diving, counter-attack. Bo-Jing leapt off of Tse-Hami and onto the back of the dragon, drawing his sword and driving it into the tender flesh under the dragon’s wing. The dragon rolled slashing out with its claws, striking Tse-Hami as the Khimori climbed back into the sky. Bo-Jing landed heavily on the rocks. Bo-Jing leapt to his feet parrying a series of lashed from the dragon’s tail. Once again, Bo-Jing climbed onto the dragon’s back, running up its spine, and jumping from one side of its back to the other as the dragon rolled one way and the other. He stabbed the dragon between the shoulders and then slid off as the dragon twisted its neck to come at him with jaws wide enough to fully engulf him. Bo-Jing dropped to his knees, then sprang up with his sword above him; the dragon lifted its chin and Bo-Jing’s blade sank through its scales and into its throat; Bo-Jing made a single clean slash and opened an enormous wound, releasing a torrent of blood. The dragon fell to the earth and was still.

Tse-Hami landed and, after confirming that his rider was alive, turned his attention to the long, thick grass. Bo-Jing unsaddled his mount and then rifled through his saddlebags, making a quick uncouth meal of dried yak meat and mare’s milk. He then set upon butchering the dragon.

Its anatomy was different from that of a mammal or bird, but Bo-Jing, relying on half-remembered lore, took the tongue, the heart, and what he thought were the lungs. And then he noticed the sounds of wild animals below him. He saddled Tse-Hami and they flew down to investigate. There were four bears. And they were not friendly. Their growls sounded like speech and when Bo-Jing attempted to command them using one of his magic rings, the bears’ speech took on an obscene and insulting tone. Bo-Jing returned to the top of the bluff. He cut off one of the dragon’s legs and threw it down. The bears descended and began to tear off and devour its flesh.

Bo-Jing spent the next several hours deskinning the dragon, while listening to the sounds of bellowing bear. He listened to them fight over the dragon’s leg and when the bone had been cleaned, the bears began to climb the steep bluff again. The bears were nimble and determined, but it was an arduous climb. Bo-Jing finished his work of flaying and packing the scaly hide, and then took to the sky. He was exhausted and Tse-Hami also need to rest.

Spotting a lone farmhouse, he landed about a mile away, then repacked his burden to obscure Tse-Hami’s wings and the dragon hide under a tarp. They hobbled toward the farmhouse and were met with blank stares. The residents, young but haggard farmers said nothing. Bo-Jing muttered a few words in Hun-Yi and offered them a handful of silver coins. They nodded and showed him to their woodshed. They brought him water for washing and he fell asleep.

He was awakened by the sound of laughing children. “Bird Horse! Bird Horse!”

Tse-Hami, unburdened and uncovered, was lying on the ground, allowing three small children to climb on him, taking turns running their fingers through his mane his tail and his feathering wings. When Bo-Jing emerged from the shed, the children’s mother made of show of horrified anger, shouting and slapping. Father gave Bo-Jing a dark stare. Bo-Jing smiled and produced a gold coin, while saying some friendly words to the children. Bo-Jing’s hosts took the coin, killed a chicken ,and began preparing a delicious meal.

Bo Jing napped, eat heartily, and then slipped all the next day, leaving as the sun set, after a hasty good-bye. He flew westward, looking for the lights of isolated farmsteads to roughly follow the course of a road. When he saw the lights of a larger settlement. He landed, , repacked his burden to conceal Tse-Hemi’s wings and once again wrapped a tarp over the dragon parts, and approached the town on foot.

He received an uneasy welcome. It was the town of Magden, which he had visited with his friends nearly a year ago on their mission to track down and defeat the Master. He remembered the town and the guards at the gate remembered him.

They looked excited at first, and then surprised, even embarrassed as he drew closer. One of them spoke Zhou and asked what Bo-Jing was carrying. He refused to answer them and asked for information about his wife. Some red-robed Guardians of Knowledge were summoned. They demanded to know why Bo-Jing had come and brushed off his questions about his wife. “No, what is the real reason.” In the ensuing bitter exchange of words, the Guardians revealed that they had seen some foreigners a few weeks ago, but “They did not comport themselves in a civilized manner” and had not stayed long. Reading the Guardian’s body language, Bo-Jing surmised that his wife and her companions had taken the south road out of Magden. Preparing to leave, Bo-Jing glared at his interlocutors and informed them that he was telling the truth. “Last year, I came to kill your Master, but I have done that, so I don’t need to do it again.”

He leapt onto Tse-Hemi’s back and galloped away. Without making any friends, he managed to gather enough scraps of information about his wife to know she had, followed his trail from the year before and traveled from Magden to Gilgat. He was met there with open hostility, but just before any weapons came out, a Guardian appeared. His name was Batar and he had encountered Khatun the week before. Seeing her dedication to her husband and based on the rumors about the “”one with a face like the morning sun,” he had offered her his assistance, even though he considered her mission a risky one.

“She said that you had gone to seek the Master’s Palace. And someone had told her that, without the Master’s invitation, there was no way to reach his palace except by way of the Dark Wall. So I told her how to get to the Dark Wall.”

Bo-Jing demanded to know the rumors. “What are people saying?”

“That it was time for the Master to choose a successor. And that you were the one he had chosen.”

“No. I killed the Master.”

Batar collapsed in grief, and the guards once again reached for their swords. But Batar ordered them back.

“So, you are not the Chosen One. The clouds are gathering, and the seal will break. But still there is a woman who loves you and I have likely sent her to her death as she is going to the Dark Wall and among the ones who will meet her, there will not be one whose face is like the morning sun.

“Before you release your wrath on me, allow me to give you the same advice I gave her, I can tell you the way to the Dark Wall. Perhaps you will reach her before she reaches the Wall.”

Bo-Jing relented and heard Batar’s directions: “Go now, if you hope to reach her in time. No reason to wait as you are not welcome in Gilgat. If you survive long enough to remember your time, remember me as the one who helped you when no one else would.”

Against the Bear People

 Having defeated the Master, and also destroyed the older force that created him, the conquering heroes, spent several weeks relaxing in Hosadas’s palace. His panicked minions, craven confederates, and disabused disciples had fled with as much treasure had fled with as much treasure as they could carry. But this left behind much in the way of rich food and drink and a comfortable setting in which to enjoy them.

They washed their travel-soiled clothing or, even better, exchanged it for new garments, and slept in warm beds. They also debated what relationship they would have with the domain that seemed to be theirs by right of conquest. Indeed, a few of the Master’s former followers had remained, and begging pardon, promised to honor Bangqiu or Bo Jing or even Tetsukichi as their new Master. Salt, despite expressing no desire to rule the lands of Khorosan, was likewise attended by retainers equal to prove their loyalty.

Most of these former attendants to the Master had little explanation for their changed loyalties, except for the evidence that the powers that had once favored the Master clearly favored his conquerors more. Among the toadies and sycophants, the party identified three honest liars—Sahir, a wizard who confessed he’d paid lip service to the Master’s teachings only to gain access to magical knowledge. Nagar Ahmar, a skilled carpenter, had been pressed into service, and by pretending to be a fool, had gain access to storerooms throughout the palace. Finally, Zhak Shi had entered the lands of Khorosan on a private mission of vengeance, having lost his family to the Master’s depredations. All three, for their own reasons, were thankful for the regime change, and eager to help the newcomers reinforce their claim.

So, with the help of these trusted advisers, Bo Jing, Bangqiu, and Salt listened to accounts from the remnants of the Master’s followers who had stayed on at the palace.  It was the soon determined that the farmers—simple folk who had been promised enlightenment through nearly uninterrupted field labor—had the most reliable information to offer. As they had pushed northwards, clearing forest for new rice paddies, they had come into contact with a group of cave-dwellers, primitive people who seemed mainly by hunting for game and forest fruits.  They kept few animals and planted nothing. They had attacked the farmers with fearless savagery. The Master had rallied an army to drive the savages back to their caves, but the northern farms had been deserted. In the ensuing years, an uneasy truce had created a no man’s land between the farms and the northmen’s hunting lands.  The truce was enforced by regular patrols of [Red Robes]. Zhak Shi had participated in these patrols and had learned to respect the savages’ uncanny ways.  He’d found their strange totems in tree hollows and on hanging from branches, he’d seen one of the Master’s best soldiers felled by an arrow from the shadows, but he’d never caught more than a glimpse of the strange denizens of the forest.

They’d occasionally raided the farms, and when they did left no survivors. They did leave tracks.  Clear ones, as if taunting the Master to seek revenge. Zhak Shi had followed the tracks far enough to know they led to the mountains that the Master had claimed as his northern border.  There was a waterfall and in the darkness, Zhak Shi had seen the glow of a fire behind it.

With the Master’s death, the patrols had ceased and the raids were reaching further south and east, toward the more populated half of Khorosan. If the newcomers were serious about protecting its people, maybe it was time to take the fight to the northmen in their lair.

The adventurers agreed, even managing to summon the mercurial Hyamsam to join them.  And so the conquerors from Zhou Dang, together with their newest allies set off to raid the raiders.

Zhak Shi showed them the best way to reach their enemy, avoiding any potential ambush by ignoring the most obvious tracks and instead taking a more circuitous route by traveling west before heading north, and then climbing up into mountains and traveling along a ridge line until they reached the river that descended as the waterfall that marked the savages’s lair.

Behind the waterfall, the party found a large natural cavern and, at the back of it, a narrow tunnel leading deeper into the earth. The tunnel was flanked by crudely-carved stone statues of voluptuous women, both with gaping wide mouths.

Nekhil led the way past the statues and was struck by a small bolt of lightning arcing between the two statues. Non-lethal but painful, the rest of the party stopped in their tracks. The party discovered that inserting a pole into either of the statue’s mouth resulted in a shortening of the pole. At length, Bangqiu and Hyamsam transformed themselves into small birds and tried to fly past the statues.  They, too was struck by lightning, but shook off the pain and flew deeper into the cave.  The passage descended steeply, soon reaching a low point from which two other passages rose back up, with flickering torchlight visible at the top of each of the interesting passages. From one side, the torchlight grew brighter and more steady, and was accompanied by voices. Six huge men emerged at the top of the slope, their torches casting bizarre shadows about the cavern. They were dressed in furs with helmets fashioned from bear skulls.  Spotting the little bird that was Bangqiu, one raised his spear. Bangqiu and Hyamsam dropped to the ground, resuming their human forms and enveloped their would-be attackers in clouds of scalding steam.  The men dropped to the floor, their torches extinguished.  Bangiqu and Hyamsam dashed up the slope and examined their still steaming bodies.  Each carried a leather pouch containing a few polished greenish gray stones.  They returned to their friends with the stones and found that dropping a stone in a statue’s mouth permitted the offeror to pass by without suffering any punishment.

The party explored a labyrinth of tunnels leading up and down, choosing their way carefully to avoid meeting any large groups. When forced into combat, the magicians used their most devastating spells before Bo Jing rushed in to quickly dispatch any survivors. And in this way, they avoided raising any alarm. They were intrigued to find a stout, well-constructed door in an otherwise rough natural cavern. They were especially intrigued to note that it was barred from their side.  But when Bo Jig removed the bar and pushed it open, the door squeaked loudly.  Knowing they had given up the advantage of surprise to whatever horrible thing resided within, they moved away quickly, bypassing a nearby group of women engaged in cooking to follow a narrow twisting passage deeper into the caverns.

Exploring the home of the “bear people” the party found crude murals depicting houses on fire and screaming people being pursued and eaten by snakes, animals, and horned men. Sudden drafts carried pungent, eye-watering smoke.  A shrill discordant piping, like that of a bird, could be faintly heard above the sound of the party’s footsteps, ceasing when everyone stopped to listen.

They wandered into a large cavern, the floor slick with guano and the foul air almost unbreathable.  Choosing another path, they found a short flight of steps carved into the rock. The steps, thickly covered with filth, led into a small forgotten shrine for a single dusty idol. Searching the tiny chamber, they heard voices. A fissure  behind the idol provided a second means of egress. In a room beyond, a group of bear-man warriors sat next to a smoldering fire, passing around small jars and sniffing the contents. They sat with heir backs to the fissure and gave half attention to the wide corridor in front of them.

Hyamsam, using his magic to conceal himself from being seen or heard, climbed through the fissure and into the room.

The party watched the men closely and silently, waiting for any sign that they had detected Hyamsam.

Salt, for her part, watched the way that they had come, and heard the sound of soft footsteps approaching. Not wanting to risk being caught between two groups of enemies, she  stepped into the guano room and directed a cloud of boiling steam at the approaching figure. The figure, a woman screamed and perished. The sound alerted the bear-men. Bangqiu blasted them with magic missiles and  Bo-Jing charged in with his word, followed by the other warriors.  The bearmen barely had time to stand before they all been cut down.

Salt, fearing that she had overreacted, inspected the body of the woman she had killed and found that she had snaking growing from her head in place of hair. With a mixture of relief and horror, Salt reported to her companions that the caverns could be filled with strange creatures, among whom the bear people were perhaps the least fearsome.  Hyamsam reported that the large corridor led back to the entrance.

After a brief conference, the party agreed that they had been very successful in infiltrating the bearpeople’s lair, having killed several of the warriors without having raised the alarm or even leaving any living witnesses.  They had suffered no casualties themselves, but they were hungry and tired and none wanted to risk finding a place to rest with the caves. Thus, the party heartily agreed that it was time to leave the caves and return to the Master’s palace, feeling all the more secure in claiming it as their own.

The Lingering Disquiet of the Khatun part 1

In Banua, the Khatun slept poorly. She had given birth to a son, but the boy’s father, her husband, the Khan, was gone.

Khatun Narantsetseg knew why her husband had gone. The brave, noble, and handsome Bo-Jing had called upon his allies, the most stalwart and wise, to join him in a quest to confront the evil “Master” on his own throne in his own palace in the middle of his own strange domain.

What she didn’t know why her husband, brave, noble, and handsome, had not returned.

Her servants and advisers did their best to comfort her. “He will prevail. Have courage, have faith. There is none like him. Brave, noble, and handsome, how could he not prevail in achieving whatever objective he pursued?”

The Khatun, in her soft bed, in her warm palace, slept poorly.

There was a stupa that she had visited with her mother when she was a girl, and used to sleeping soundly on a soft goatskin in a warm yurt. Her mother prayed at the stupa, the elaborate mausoleum of a simple holy man, and the young Narantsetseg had watched all the worry and care lift from her mother’s face.

Narantsetseg made inquiries until she could locate a holy man. Altani, a respected hermit sometimes visited Banua, confirmed for her that the stupa she remembered was real and that its soul-healing properties had been famous for centuries. It was easy to find, being on the road to Blue City, less than a day’s ride from Banua! But, there was a problem. Lately, those who had gone to pray there, did not find peace . . .

Narantseteg ordered Batu, her husband’s baghatur to go with Altani to find out what had cursed the holy stupa and to assist in driving away any evil spirits found therein. Batu, flattered by the important mission, but also wary of what forces could threaten the power of a centuries-old holy place, not only recruited four palace guards to assist him, but also persuaded Bo Jing’s friend Narnuteng that this quest was an opportunity for her to win honor and the favor of the Khatun.

The party set out on a chilly, bright morning and reached the stupa at midday. The warriors approached while Altani lingered near the road. As they got closer Batu and his companions were struck down by one curse or another. One lost his sight, another his hearing, while Batu himself was overwhelmed by visions of flames on the edges of his vision. Altani began chanting and, with help from Narnutang, gathered the men to his side and led them away from the stupa to a safe place in the hills. He prayed over them and led them into sleep. The next morning Altani brought the warriors back to the stupa, chanting and burning incense, promising them that the only way to completely break the curse is to face it with courage.

Trusting Altani’s guidance, Batu led his companions toward the circular, columned building capped by a squat dome. Cautious at first, their strides became more purposeful as they drew closer; Altanu and Narnuteng followed close behind them.

The party walked around the stupa, and found it virtually identical The platform, about four feet off the ground, could be reached by the steps, crumbling in places, but generally solid, that ran all the way around it. The platform itself was empty of anything but the columns that supported the dome.

The party clambered up and walked around the platform. Over the centuries, windblown sand had gathered in seams between the paving stones. Except in one section, roughly 10 foot square, next to one of the columns, which, unlike any of the others, was marked with a triangle. The seam around this section had not filled with sand. One of Batu’s men found he could slide his sword into the crack all the way to the hilt. There was something more to the stupa, something beneath it; Narnuteng and Batu agreed that they must be standing on an entrance of some kind.

They spent several hours on the stupa. They felt dizzy, sometimes to the point of nausea. Battu’s men urged each other to “go find some fresh water if you’re feeling so bad” but no one budged. Batu dragged his sword over the stones throwing sparks and cursing. He tried pushing the column marked with the triangle, then pulling it, lifting it up, and pushing it down. He jumped up and down on the platform.

Narnuteng had a suggestion. “I wonder if you could turn the entire column.”

Batu thought that was a stupid idea and to prove how to stupid it was, he tried it. He planted his feet on either side of the marked column, squatted, wrapped his arms around the column and shifted his weight first to one side in an attempt to make the column turn. And it did. Almost imperceptibly at first, but then with a low rumbling far beneath them, with surprising speed and force, a full 90 degrees. The outlined section of the floor trembled and then began to sink, dropping ten beneath below its former level, revealing a pit whose bottom could not be seen. As the sunlight broke into a darkness undisturbed for centuries, hundreds of spiders scurried into the shadows.

The party descended, lowering a rope so that they might Narnuteng might climb into the pit. Even with a brightly burning lantern, the bottom of the pit was shrouded in darkness, deeper than the length of their rope. However several dozen feet down, a tunnel in the side of the pit, seemed to allow access to the stupa’s depths by more gradual descent. One of Batu’s men stayed at the top to secure the rope and guard the entrance. The others climbed down the rope one-by-one to the side tunnel. They lit a second lantern and walked down a narrow tunnel, sending spiders scurrying before them. They reached a domed room that seemed to demand further examination. But even after wiping away centuries of dust, the most notable feature was an uneven brick in the ceiling of the dome, sticking out several inches from its fellows. Climbing on Batu’s shoulders, Narnuteng was able to reach the brick and pull it free—whereupon the ceiling began to collapse. Batu’s men ran for cover, while Batu and Narnuteng instinctively dropped to the floor and ducked their heads, suffering a few stray bricks bouncing g off their armor. Altani, seemingly favored by holy powers, stood unscathed, as the dust, suddenly illuminated by sunlight swirled around them. He chanted a prayer of thanksgiving, rallying the battered warriors and they continued their exploration down a flight of stone stairs.

Another domed room. This one impassable due to thick spider webs. Narnuteng doused the webs nearest her with lamp oil and then , using a strand of rope as a wick took fire from her lamp and set it to the webs. Hot flames eagerly devoured the thick, dusty webs , creating thick clouds of dark smoke. The air became unbreathable and the party dashed back up the stairs to the domed room with the new opening to the sky and fresh air.

The party collapsed to rest and catch their breath, but as the smoke cleared, they heard the sound of a rapid click-click scuttling and tapping on the stairs. Batu ordered his men to flank the entryway with their spears ready while he and Narnuteng readied their bows. As soon as the dark, hairy form of the first spider appeared at the top of the stairs, Batu and Narnuteng loosed their arrows. One arrow bounced off its thick shell and the other did little to slow its charge. Khuyag, one of Batu’s men gored it with his spear. It shook violently in its death throes, nearly pulling the spear out of its wielders strng grip. More spiders behind the first ran up the walls and across the ceiling. Batu and Narnuteng drew their swords. Batu’s men pointed their spears toward the ceiling, driving the spiders onward until they dropped on Batu and Narnuteng, who trusted their fine armor to protect them from the spiders’ venomous fangs. The spiders’ size and strength, comparable to wolves, was nearly enough to overcome the powerful warriors but the Batu and Narnuteng each lent their strength to other when it was needed most and so kept solid footing and with courage and fine blades were able to defend themselves from the disgusting vermin. Batu’s men took advantage of their long spears and following their brave order’s advice, skewered the spider so that one by one they could be dispatched by a sword.

And yet, whether by instinct or chance, the spiders deployed a similar tactic. One more spider, smaller than the others, was the last up the stairs. Khuyag, distracted by the melee and lacking the metal armor that protected his master, was an easy target. He screamed in pain as the spider climbed up his back and sunk its teeth into his shoulder. His comrades came to his aid. One stabbed the spider with a dagger while another took hold of its legs and slammed it against the wall, cracking its shell and sending it running.

As the last of the larges spiders lay quivering and dying, Khuyag slumped to the floor. Altai rushed to his aid, applying a poultice and chanting a prayer that divine favor be shown to this brave man. Khuyag slowly stood, smiling weakly. The humble Altai acknowledged he had no right to demand a miracle and none had been granted. If they gave up their mission and brought him back to Banua, they might save his life.

If re-telling this story, Khuyag’s favorite moment was this one. “Without wasting a breath, my master gave the order, ‘Now, we go.’”

And so, Khuyag’s life was saved, but Narantsetseg’s heart continued to suffer. She summoned Batu to her audience chamber and demanded his thoughts on why master had tarried for so long. When he couldn’t find words to give her peace, she demanded that he resume his quest to make the stupa safe for her to visit.

In Banua, they had met a wise woman who had sold them an antidote for Khuyag. After a few days of rest, he was strong and hale. During those days, Batu drew additional gold from his master’s treasury and purchased bows for each of his men. Altani performed the appropriate rituals and they returned to the stupa.

Rather than climb on to the stupa platform and descend into the pit, Batu and Narnuteng agreed to enter by way of the collapsed ceiling they had “made” during their last visit. They also decided that having one more warrior with them was more important than leaving a guard. So they tied a rope securely to one of the pillars and each made the relatively easy entrance into the collapsed dome room. They passed through there into the room of burnt webs and, finding no evidence of new arach-tivity, pressed onward and again, downward by way of another pit.

This pit was lined with rungs making descent easier. Again, there was a side tunnel, though this one was sealed by a metal door. The door, with subtle manipulation by Narnuteng, was opened; the round tunnel behind it led to another domed room, this one with five statutes, and a single ancient rune on the floor which Altani translated to mean “pray.” Batu stepped onto the rune and pronounced his prayer for the Khatun—and immediately vanished. The others followed suit and immediately joined Batu. . .

They found themselves standing at the bottom of another pit—one that opened moments after they had pronounced their prayers. . . the skeleton of the exalted shaman was there—minus the head. The beatific skull was rolling on the floor, among a throng of rat-sized spiders.

Altani began to sing in a low sonorous tone and the walls of burial chamber resonated with his chanting. Shaking off the horror of what they were witnessing, Batu and his followers along with Narnutang attacked the spiders, burning them, slicing them, smashing them, driving them back into the cracks in the wall. Not all of the spiders gave up their prize so easily. The largest and most vicious charged at their attackers, climbing up their legs to drop into the top of a man’s boots or finding a open space in his armor to drive venomous fangs through his clothing. Batu’s soldier Gan fought through the pain, using the opportunity of a spider pumping poison into his forearm to seize its head and crush it in his fist.

When the spiders had been killed or driven away, Altani replaced the skull to it s proper resting place and chanted a prayer of rest. The walls resonated in a lower, comforting register and all breathed a sigh of deep relief.

Altani tended to the wounds of the warriors, applying poultices to the discolored skin. Except Gan. Knowing he was mortally wounded, he refused any treatment and pledged to remain in the tomb, praying that his spirit would stand guard over the holy man for 99 years.

Batu mourned the loss of his companion and released him from service. The rest of the party returned to the surface and to Banua.

Batu shared the news of his success with Narantsetseg, with Altani affirming that every word was true and recording it exactly as it has been written here.

The next day, Naransetseg rose early, and choosing only a small retinue to accompany her, went to visit the stupa.

She remained the whole day and her spirits were settled. Those who prayed with her also experienced the deep serenity for which the stupa had long been famous. But as night approached, Narantsetseg announced that she would spend the night there. She commanded Batu and his men to return to Banua, explaining she only wanted the company of one woman and one holy man, that being Narnutang and Altani. Before Batu departed, Narantsetseg handed him a letter, commanding him not to open it until the new moon.

Recommendations: X4 Master of the Desert Nomads and X5 Temple of Death

This post is tagged as “Recommendations” because I recommend the two modules named for anyone running an old school D&D game and because I will offer advice on how to use them well.

In my conception, the two modules comprise four main parts, none of which neatly fit together. This disjunction might be regarded a deficiency, but also offers more opportunities for customization. The first part concerns an overland journey, and is composed of a number of compelling encounters, roughly stitched together. Yes, these modules are very modular, and the rough stitching makes it easy to move the pieces around.

Perhaps my favorite element of the first part is the hook—the party is connected to an army with a mandate to repel mysterious invaders, led by an ominous “Master” before these invaders reach the civilized lands. But it’s not like a modern army with documented protocols, written orders, and a clear chain of command. And so the PCs get left behind. Thus the first part is all about the party trying to catchup with the “main army.”

But, when you give this hook some serious thought, there are some problems. A small group of PCs with magical advantages typical of their level should be able to easily catch up with hundreds or thousands of foot soldiers, camp followers, and a baggage train. The module provides a flimsy premise for traveling along a sluggish river, with the plan of meeting the army at a rendezvous point. My players had a large number of characters available so my solution was to split the party, with one group going overland and the other by barge. Each player had one PC with each group. This approach made it feel less railroady and we collaborated on reasons why each route had potential merits and why certain approaches made sense to each group. We settled on the need to deliver a message; splitting the party ensured that at least one group would reach the intended recipient.

And again, there were great encounters along the way. The barge made for a great setting with enemies on either side of the river. The overland group did meet with a large contingent of friendly soldiers and together fought an advance party of raiders.

One very interesting encounter that deserves additional thought is the “swamp curse.” It’s a very atmospheric trap with no enemy to fight, and only one “book” solution, which is to cast Dispel Magic. One of my frustrations with newer D&D is that it can feel like Magic the Gathering. (“Ok, the DM played X spell which is a fire type, so I need to counter with a water type.”) To my mind, magic should not be the main way to solve problems, but a fall back for when things go wrong. So, having PC survival depend on knowledge of the rulebook and being “right” about how the designer would interpret it (not to mention having a cleric of a high-enough level) is too much. If you don’t think this one out in advance, there will likely be an argument, followed by disgruntled hand-waving.

There are some other silly things to mention such as the plot coupon under a hydra. And there are also some more weird cool things like a unique buzzard-headed monster and tombs half-buried in the sand.

The final question about this part of X4 is what to do when the party successfully rejoins the army. In my case, the “message” was that the Master’s armies had found another way to attack the civilized lands and so the army should return to defend their homes. The published adventure uses another pretext for sending the party into the lands of the Master alone. As I describe below, I’d recommend delaying this final confrontation and all of X5.

The second part of X4 is the “Evil Monastery.” I ran this as a separate adventure, an interlude between invasions, without any direct connection to the X4/X5 campaign plot. Because even though a run-down mountain monastery inhabited by corrupted monks enhances the vibe, I couldn’t make sense of the supposed agreement between an evil genius and the buffoonish cannibals who were supposedly “guarding” the entrance to his domain. (He has an army, with juggernauts.) Among the library of moldering scrolls, I dropped some clues that the Master had been at work over centuries, harassing good people. So the monks were just a casualty of his past depravations.

Removing the direct connection provides a great stand-alone adventure. What makes the “Evil Monastery” component so good is the suspense—the gap between when the players have a hunch that something is amiss and the moment when the monks’ true nature is revealed. So plan to stretch out the suspense and then wrap things up quickly once the fighting starts.

I used the Evil Monastery together with some more recent “OSR” adventures* to draw out the war between the “Master” and the “Empire” that the PCs were defending. Some of these adventures involved repelling the Master’s lieutenants while others dealt with local troubles within the Empire. But the Master was always in the players’ imaginations, and always suspected (often wrongly) to be the one pulling the strings when things were going wrong, whether the trouble was bandits or a bad harvest. Anyway, when a map turned up that seemed to permit the PCs to confront the Master on his own turf, the PCs were ready.

The two parts of X5 do work together. Part one is the land of Thule (which I renamed Hunza) where the Master’s people live rather normal “D&D land” lives. Markets, taverns, minstrels, puppet shows. But in place of the typically bumbling town watch, you have heavy-handed enforcers on the lookout for wrong-thinking. If you have something to say about global pandemics, misinformation, disinformation, or misinformation, here’s your soapbox. Also, learn what the robe colors mean, it will be important later. White robes are for peasant-level initiates. Yellow robes are for middle management. Red robes are for the “muscle” which doesn’t just mean fighters. Many wield magic. Likewise the purple-robed judges count some retired but capable warriors among their numbers.

The second half of X5 is the actual Temple of Death, which is the Master’s lair, and feels more like a palace, with a succession of ornate buildings, each having more restricted access. Most all of the occupants are robed humans who come in one of the four colors described above. There are also some monster guardians and other NPC villains. This is a well-organized cult headquarters, so combat should be limited if you value verisimilitude. I’d recommend having a plan for how the complex activates if the PCs become openly violent.

There are many ways to avoid open violence. Most will probably involve appropriating sets of robes from the peasants who work the fields around the palace and then trading up to the high-status colors. There are a number of short cuts to victory, which, to my mind, are fair game. Yes, PCs can defeat the Master by destroying his glass coffin, which is in plain sight. Yes, PCs can use the teleportation room to go directly to the Master’s chambers if they saw him in the magic mirror in X4. Yes, PCs can charm a high-ranking enforcer and ask him for an immediate private audience. Yes, PCs can exploit their opponents’ cultish groupthink to avoid combat. But sometimes shortcuts go wrong. Encourage your PCs clever ruses, but be ready for what happens when their plans hit a snag and the cult members realize they’ve been infiltrated.

OSR D&D is not like a video game and so the final boss fight might be a little anticlimactic. My party got the jump on the Master and took him down in one round. If he doesn’t get taken down at once, he has a number of escape plans. (Including the ability to return to life in a new body.) The module doesn’t really explain how the cult members will respond if the Master’s current body is destroyed so give that some thought as well.

I found this pair of shambolic modules a lot of fun to run, finding in their numerous gaps and a rather abstract villain, plenty of room to add additional material and create a long and multi-threaded story arc. Comments and questions are most encouraged.

* The OSR adventures that I used were Valley of the Five Fires and The Northland Saga Part 4 Blood on the Snow. Wow, in finding those links I realize those adventures are over 10 years old. And yes, the first is based on Mongols and the second on Vikings. X4 and X5 are stylized as West meets East. The campaign also works as Far East meets Central East. And Vikings are Mongols with boats and trashy blond hair.

The End of the Master (by Tetsukichi)

"In my latest adventure, l joined Bojing’s campaign against the Master. After witnessing the havoc wrought by his armies, our group resolved to tackle the Master in his home country of Hunza. After some disorienting encounters with the brainwashed population, we were taken by surprise by a young thief named HuFei. He had a great deal of inside information about the Cult of Knowledge and the Master and shared our desire to bring an end to both. With his help, we were able to make our way to the Master’s temple without attracting the attention of the watchful Guardians, who according to HuFei, were aware of our mission.

"The Temple of Death was under extremely close observation, but our party was able to enter either disguised in Guardian’s robes, invisible, or miniaturised. As we made our way through the Temple, Guardians questioned us suspiciously, asking us to dispose of the agricultural offerings we had brought as cover for our mission. Armed guards threatened us, but we managed to fight them off, with Mustapha’s shadow monsters serving as a distraction. We reached a large room referred to as the Hall of Law, which contained glass coffins of former Masters and their remains. Ryu and Bojing, who had researched the Cult of Knowledge, recognised the name of the current Master, Hosadas, on one of the coffins. This surprising development altered our view of the nature of our enemy. We were attacked again, but Bojing was able to use his special abilities to transport us to the Master’s lair.* Once there, most disconcertingly, we were confronted by a creature resembling a handsome young man. As we attacked him, he started to float away. HuFei grabbed his foot and then we were able to finish him off.

"The Master’s lair contained magical items, which we gathered up and shared between us.** Next, we returned to the Hall of Law to destroy the Master’s remains. I wore the Master’s platemail armour, so the Temple acolytes naturally assumed that I was the Master. As we were closing in on the Hall of Law, Bojing started to behave oddly, as if he were someone else entirely, claiming to be the Master! Salt used her magic missile to raze the coffin and instantly Bojing dropped dead! It turned out that the spirit of the Master had co-opted Bojing, asking if he wanted to become the new Master. From the moment he accepted this role, Bojing effectively ceased to exist. Miraculously, Bojing came back to life sometime afterwards and is fortunately himself again, not the Master, although much more subdued in disposition.*** So the Cult is finally destroyed and Hosadas is defeated."

* "Tetsukichi is unsure of the exact nature of these powers, but he is grateful for them." (In fact, this was not a matter of any special powers belonging to Bo-Jing. The part found a secret room that facilitated teleportation to any place that was known and named. Bo-Jing remembered seeing the Master through a magic mirror. Playing D&D with Stuffed Animals: Master of the Desert Nomads Part 6: Invitations (dndstuffedanimals.blogspot.com). Bo-Jing remembered the room in which the Master was standing, and named this as the place he wanted to go.

** Bojing chose the levitation boots, Tetsukichi the platemail armour and magical war hammer, Salt and Nekhil got an intriguing ‘room of requirement.’

*** Bo-Jing had previously done a great service for the "King of the East"-- rescuing the demi-god's daughter and also returning to him the magical coin that bore his visage. Playing D&D with Stuffed Animals: The Most Fortunate Khatun (dndstuffedanimals.blogspot.com) As Bo-Jing accepted the offer from Hosadas, the King of the East intervened, warning him that there are no short cuts to righteousness. Bo-Jing's life was restored, but his horror at his mistake left a mark. Gone was the easy confidence that he had known since birth and that had been only been enhanced by his many successes. He came to know that he was fully mortal and vulnerable to the same temptations as anyone else. While he lost the aura of invincibility, there were a few who appreciated his new depth and sense of humility. 

On the Western Front (Part 8 - The End)

Ginjo, Bayan, and Bing Chi Ling made their way back to their inn. Being unarmed, they stayed on the busiest streets through the caravanserai and felt they had no reason to fear or avoid the Pasha’s guards. But owing to Hiram’s high station, they decided not to ask for assistance, either. They reached the inn safely and retired to their rooms to sleep.

Ginjo and Bing Chi Ling, along with Ryu, slept in Mauza’s room. Their sleep was uneasy and Ginjo’s dog whined throughout the night. Nevertheless, Mauza did not complain, but slept soundly, enough that the sound of his snores soon overpowered those of the dog’s whining.

And then the door was burst open and a man with a sword burst into the room, several others pushing in behind him. Ginjo grabbed his own sword and blocked the door, while Bing Chi Ling cut down the attacker who had made it into the room.

Drunk and reckless, the attacking thugs soon fell to Ginjo’s blade, and were routed. Bayan, alerted by the noise blocked their escape, and soon all were laying on the floor, groaning in pain or dead.

The innkeeper rushed upstairs, protesting his innocence and begging forgiveness for not preventing the intrusion. Servants ran into the street, calling for the watch.

And so, Ginjo, Bayan, and Bing Chi Ling were escorted to the Pasha’s palace in the middle of the night. When asked to surrender their belongings and be locked in a holding cell, they refused, knowing that it might be the last they saw of the sales records they’d retrieved from the gnolls. They explained to the guards that they should see the Pasha immediately. Through their investigations of the bandit attacks in the Painted Canyon, they had learned that a band of man-eating gnolls were the source of the attacks. One of the guards was friends with one of the prisoners who had been rescued. “If you are who you say you are, I know the Pasha would like to meet you. “ Between Bayan’s money and Bing Chi Ling’s winning personality, the guards were convinced.

The Pasha met the party in a small audience chamber. Groggy and cranky, he stared at them with baleful eyes, demanding an explanation.

Bing Chi Ling complimented the Pasha’s pajamas, and with his fine manners, the Pasha’s mood softened. Having heard Ginjo and Bayan’s tales at the inn, he recounted them for the Pasha, sprinkling in more compliments whenever possible.

The Pasha’s moved changed to one of horror, when he learned that Ginjo and Bayan had found evidence that the gnolls were re-selling their stolen goods to respectable merchants. “Have you any proof of this?”

Ginjo produced the records. “We got the message from Hiram that you had heard about these records and wanted to see them. I am grateful to finally have the chance.”

“Hiram said—?”

The Pasha ordered for Hiram to be brought to the palace.

Hiram, not understanding why he had been summoned, began to apologize that “Your Wisdom may have his slumber interrupted on account of these ruffians who tried to rob my house tonight. I assure you they were handily repelled by my men.”

Ginjo produced the invitation with Hiram’s seal.

Next, the Pasha asked Hiram about the caravan raids and rumors he’d heard that gnolls were re-selling their stolen goods to other merchants. After asking Hiram to vouch for the honor of several local merchant’s and receiving Hiram’s assurance, “That if any of the men you named were involved in such a scheme, I would know about it.”

Ginjo produced the gnolls’ sales record book.

After allowing Hiram to tell several more lies, The Pasha ordered that his house should be searched. Neither he, nor the adventurers were permitted to leave the palace.

The next day, based on evidence he found at Hiram’s house, the Pasha ordered his immediate execution.

On the Western Front (Part 7 - The Dinner)

Mauza found multiple fletchers in Salt Springs whom, together, could satisfy Al-Fitar’s order by the end of the week. He gladly provided Bayan and Ginjo a generous allowance so they could enjoy themselves in the caravansary while he attended to other business. His only stipulation was that they would return to the inn each evening so that he could be assured a safe and restful slumber.

Ginjo and Bayan hatched a plan. They wanted an audience with the Satrap so they could tell him about their last meeting with Hiram and about the ambush at the ford. Based on his reaction they would know whether he was a party to Hiram’s treachery. However, they feared meeting the Satrap at a time when Hiram also present, knowing that he would simply contradict them. So, Ginjo sent a message to the Satrap, announcing plans to visit him the next afternoon. And meanwhile, Bayan sent a message to Hiram, inviting him with them at the inn at on the same day, believing this would prevent Hiram from being present when Ginjo visited the Satrap.

The day passed slowly as Ginjo and Bayan waited for a response. During this time, they made the acquaintance of Bing Chi Ling. He was like them, a wanderer, a warrior who had pledged a life oath to lend his sword to any righteous cause, without regard for reward or personal glory. He also had a irreverent sense of humor and enjoyed a well-conceived game of chance. So the three adventurers became friends.

At the end of the day, Bayan received a return message from Hiram to decline the invitation, but also expressing gratitude for their offer of hospitality following “the unfortunate incident at the ford” and insisting that they must allow him to make it up to them by dining at his house.

The satrap did not acknowledge Ginjo’s message.

Ginjo and Bayan decided to accept Hiram’s invitation. They asked Minh and the other sohei to secure the inn for the evening. And they invited their new friend Bing Chi Ling to join them and he gratefully accepted.

Dinner was an enjoyable affair, and Bing Chi Ling was welcomed along with the others. Hiram apologized again for any “previous misunderstandings” owning that he was “arrogant” to leave the safety and comfort of Salt Springs or even to believe that “such adventures would someone suited to a life of ease.” He patted his ample belly. “Based on the stories I have heard, I fully expected that I was going to end my life being turned over a fire covered in butter! If you think I am a coward, you are right!”

In fact, a roasted butter-basting was the delicious fate of both a lamb and a goat that night; Hiram and his guest enjoyed their beautifully roasted meat, together with all the finest accompaniments. Hiram ate and laughed heartily and very much enjoyed the stories of his “new best friend,” Bing Chi Ling.

After dinner, Hiram called for music and dancing. The musicians who had sat in the shadows during the meal, lightly tapping on their drums, emerged to beat their instruments with full, unified intensity, summoning three dancers who shimmied with the music in perfect time and, with the bangles ringing around their waists, added another timbre to the music.

Always most wary when distracted, Ginjo cocked his ear toward the kitchen, and heard the muffled sounds of heavy boots on the cellar stairs and the jangle of clinking armor. He stood up and flung open the shuttered balcony. Two guard were waiting there, their swords in hand.

While their swords were ready, the guards were not prepared for Ginjo’s sudden exit. He pushed past them and leapt off the balcony, raising a call for help. Bayan rose, urging Bing Chi Ling to follow. With people in the street gawking and pointing, Hiram did his best to calm the commotion, pleading for a “chance to talk this out,” and offering them thousands of drachmas. “I know important men in the north who can help you!” The guards sheathed their swords, but Bayan and Bing Chi Ling ignored Hiram’s offers; instead, they calmly tied a rope to balcony and lowered themselves to the street.

On the Western Front (Part 6 - honor, courage, and guile)

Al-Fitar asked Bayan and Gin Jo some pointed question about what they thought they knew. It turned out to be very little.

Yes, the invitation to Salt Springs looked like nothing more than a set-up for an ambush. It could be that the Satrap of Salt Springs was in league with the Master’s forces. Was there any evidence that the Master or his agents had contacted the Satrap? Was there evidence that the Satrap had ordered Hiram to arrange the ambush? Was there evidence that Hiram had arranged the ambush? Was there evidence that he or any of his bodyguards had known it was coming? Were there not plenty of reasons why the gnolls had a special hatred for Ginjo and Bayan? The gnolls’s list of names was evidence of terrible crimes, but was there anything connecting it to anyone in Salt Springs?

What they seem to have proved was merely that the gnolls were a serious threat to almost everyone except Bayan and Ginjo. Al-Fitar did not dare send his soldiers into the Painted Canyon. Although they fought well in large numbers on the plains or when they were the ones doing the ambushing, Al-Fitar knew that even his best officers would not have made it through the Painted Canyon without heavy losses. But Bayan and Ginjo showed an unusual combination of honor, courage, and guile. Rather than try to unravel the conspiracy, Al-Fitar preferred that they should work with what they knew. The gnolls were attacking his merchants with great success. But a savage mob of gnolls were no match for Ginjo, Bayan, and a few disciplined sohei. The Company should escort a merchant to Salt Springs, lay low in the caravansary while the merchant made arrangements to fulfill Al-Fitar’s order, and then escort the merchant back to Al-Fitar’s camp. Either the gnolls would show that they had learned their lesson and the merchant would be allowed to make his way in peace. Or the gnolls would have to learn their lesson again. “Isn’t that right, schoolmasters!”

And so Al-Fitar introduced Bayan and Ginjo to Mauza. He had two drovers, who also served as guards. But he was grateful for the additional protection. They would travel disguised as nomads. Al-Fitar needed arrows, thousands of them, but Mauza was on good terms with all the fletchers in Salt Springs.

The journey to Salt Springs was tense. They had nothing to steal and all the previous attacks had always targeted caravans traveling from Salt Springs, but Mauza understood that his new bodyguards had a reputation that cut both ways. The gnolls would be crazy to attack them. But according to all the stories about them, the gnolls were crazy.

On the way, they had the good fortune to cross paths with some real nomads, some of whom were wearing fancy riding boots! Yes, they had been among the captives that Ginjo and Bayan had rescued. They assisted the travelers in improving their disguises and sold them a few emaciated goats to improve the ruse. They described their favorite places to camp so as to avoid the dangerous ford crossing. Finally, they told them that the howl of jackals at night was a good omen; the jackals were sly hunters who stayed silent when the gnolls and hyenas were on the prowl.

That night, and for three following, the travelers slept with the lullaby of howling jackals. On the fourth day, they safely reached Salt Spring. Mauza introduced Bayan, Ginjo,and the others as nomads he had hired as drovers. He led the way through the caravansary to his favorite inn and booked three rooms.