Session 51, Tula's Treachery and a Visit from Zara and Family Paldegora
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Session 51 – 2025-04-19 = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
Summary
In the frigid heart of a Paldegoran winter, the Company Clandestine huddled in their camp, wagons circled like a fortress against the snow-dusted night. It was 3 a.m., and X'or, the stoic barbarian, took the final watch, his breath fogging as he patrolled the perimeter. The fire’s embers glowed faintly, casting long shadows across the frostbitten ground. The group, wary of their enemies, had discussed disposing of the assassin Kalandra’s body to prevent her return—a grim necessity in a world where death was rarely final. Cal-El stoked the fire, and the others bedded down in the covered wagon, seeking shelter from the biting cold.
An hour passed in silence, the night’s stillness broken only by the soft crunch of X'or’s boots. Then, a cry shattered the quiet—a desperate, trembling wail from the woods across the road. “Help! They’re coming for me!” It was Tula, the young girl they’d rescued from cultists, her voice raw with terror. X'or signals Cal-El to follow him. Eryn and Cassandra grabbed their bows, covering the camp, while Angelique stood guard over the caravan’s families, her own bow drawn. Symon, ever the mage, readied his spells. Garret catches up to X'or and Cal.
The company surged toward Tula’s screams, hearts pounding with the urge to save her. But as they reached the forest’s edge, the air turned foul, a shrieking wind tearing through the trees. Tula’s silhouette emerged, small and tattered, clutching a staff topped with a pulsating black crystal. “Fools, I am Tula, the foe is this blade,” she hissed, her voice no longer that of a child but venomous and cold. The sky split open, black clouds roiling with jagged lightning, their roars like the screams of the damned. A flash of dark energy erupted from the crystal, birthing a vortex of dread. From it spilled the undead: crimson skeletons with bleeding bones, rotting zombies dripping rancid flesh, and skeletal warriors in shrieking armor, their rusted blades gleaming with malice.
Tula’s form shimmered and dissolved, revealing a towering woman with lashing black hair, burning green eyes, and a jagged tattoo across her forehead. Her arms pulsed with unholy marks, and her presence crackled with power. “Kalandra tried to best me, and I crushed her. Now you join her. I am Tula, and your deaths crown my glory,” she roared, her form splitting into flickering duplicates that mocked the company.
The battle erupted. Symon cast Blink, vanishing and reappearing to dodge attacks. Angelique tried to turn the undead, but Tula’s staff countered, unturning the zombies with a sneer. Eryn and Cassandra loosed arrows, shattering Tula’s mirror images. Garrett swung at a skeleton but missed, his blade glancing off bone. The storm intensified, raining more undead upon them. Angelique turned zombies and skeletal warriors, but a crimson skeleton struck Garrett, felling him with a vicious blow. Eryn used her new boots to closed on Tula, attacking her directly now. Cal-El charged Tula, blades flashing. Cassandra’s critical strike shattered a skeletal warrior. X'or cleaved a skeleton in two, but the undead reassembled, their bones knitting with unnatural speed.
As the company fought, Tula’s staff flared, summoning yet more horrors. Cassandra downed a Potion of Giant Strength, her muscles bulging with the power of a stone giant. Symon hurled a Fireball skyward, disrupting the vortex; the clouds began to dissipate, slowing the undead tide. But the fight was far from over.
A green firebolt split the sky, striking the earth with a deafening crack. From the fading flames stepped Xantha, a necromancer cloaked in shadow, her raven-black hair streaked with green, adorned with skulls and glowing horns. Her staff, topped with a skull and a green crystal, pulsed with dread. She raised an orb, its beat like a heart, and unleashed a wave of power. Skeletons shattered into ash, zombies melted into ruin. The battlefield fell silent.
Zara and Zora appeared as well. Zora, impatient, snatched Tula’s staff, muttering, “Brainless fool, using Mother’s gifts for petty schemes.” Cal-El lunged to stop her, but a flash from Xantha’s staff dropped him lifeless. Zara revived him with a touch, her tone light but serious. “Hi guys! That’s my mom, Xantha. She’s good at cleaning up messes, huh? But you’ve got bigger problems now.” She warned of Aphobis, her father, allied with Lord Vardek Báthory, who had sent a Death Knight and a Zombie Lord after them. To Angelique, she offered an Amulet of Proof Against Detection and Location, a shield against their pursuers.
Cal-El, enraged by the deaths of innocents, drew his swords, but Eryn interposed herself between he and those he wished to kill. Zara dismissed the caravan’s losses as “unfortunate,” blaming Tula. As Snuggle Fang, an undead black dragon, landed, the trio climbed aboard. “We gotta go now. Be safe,” Zara said, and they vanished into the sky.
Cal-El, branding the party cowards, began digging graves, vowing to avoid innocents. The survivors, shaken, took two of the magical swords of the cultist and a potion, returning to Three Points. Exhausted, the company debated rest, but it was morning and they pressed on instead. Angelique had healed Cal quite a bit and she'd worn Cassie's ring healing herself quite a bit as they traveled. She passed it back to Cassandra. They pressed south toward Middlesfeld, Cal-El scouting in his Cloak of Elvenkind.
At noon, an unnatural stillness gripped the air. The sky fractured, golden light clashing with writhing darkness. Three ancient voices boomed: one of justice, one of chaos, one of balance. Visions of scales, snakes, and storms filled the heavens, the earth splitting with symbols of order and chaos. The Fire Tip Mountains quaked, the Emerald Sea churned, and meteors blazed. The air hummed with divine power, a promise of a world reborn in conflict.
Symon, shaken, muttered, “You saw that too, right? That’s what we’re going to stop.” Battered but resolute, the Company Clandestine marched on, their path fraught with peril, their hearts steeled against the storm that awaited.
This is where the session ended.
Please start the recorder.
Exp: 2485 + 249 = 2734
Detail
It was around 3 a.m., and the Company Clandestine needed one more watch to reach dawn. X'or, who hadn’t taken a watch yet, volunteered. The group decided to set up camp, pulling their wagons off the road to form a protective circle. X'or planned to patrol the perimeter, walking around the horses and wagons, warming up by a small fire periodically to avoid freezing in the cold, snowy night. The air was frigid, with snow falling intermittently, and the group opted for a covered wagon for shelter. They discussed disposing of Kalandra’s body to ensure she wouldn’t return, a dark but practical precaution. Cal-El lit the fire, and X'or began his patrol, circling the camp while the others bedded down.
An hour passed quietly, the camp still under the night’s light, embers crumbling in the fire. Suddenly, X'or heard a cry from across the road, near the edge of the woods—a raw, frantic wail: “Help! They’re coming for me!” It was Tula, her voice trembling with terror, pleading for rescue. X'or rushed to wake Cal-El, signaling him to follow. Both moved toward the noise, while Eryn and Cassandra armed themselves with bows, covering the camp. Angelique stayed back, guarding the family in the wagons, her bow ready. Symon, alerted, prepared to act.
The group lurched toward Tula’s screams, desperate to save her. But her cry twisted into deceit. A shrieking wind tore from the forest, 30 feet beyond the fire’s frail glow. Tula’s silhouette—small, tattered, holding a staff with a throbbing black crystal—loomed. “Fools, I am Tula, the foe is this blade,” she hissed, her voice venomous, swallowed by a chant. The sky ruptured, black clouds boiling with jagged lightning, their roars like screams of the damned. A searing flash of dark energy lanced from the crystal, summoning a vortex of dread. From its churning maw, undead spawned: three crimson skeletons, bones weeping red; two rotting zombies, flesh sloughing in rancid clumps; and two skeletal warriors, armor shrieking, blades rusted. They crashed among the party with gibbering laughter and guttural moans, claws and blades flashing.
Tula’s form dissolved in a sickening shimmer, revealing a towering woman with black hair lashing like the storm, green eyes burning, a jagged tattoo on her forehead, and arms riddled with pulsing unholy marks. Her form split into flickering duplicates, mocking the party. “Kalandra tried to best me, and I crushed her. Now you join her. I am Tula, and your deaths crown my glory,” she roared.
The battle began. Symon cast Blink, vanishing and reappearing 10 feet away each round, dodging attacks. Tula countered Angelique’s attempt to turn the undead, casting a spell through her staff to unturn the zombies. Cassandra and Eryn fired bow shots at Tula, dispatching the mirror images she'd conjured to protect herself. Angelique continued turning the undead. Garrett, part of the caravan, retaliated against the skeletons but missed.
The storm howled, raining more undead—crimson skeletons, zombies, and skeletal warriors—onto the battlefield. Angelique turned the zombies again and some skeletal warriors. Eryn sprang at Tula, landing a hit for thirteen damage, but took a point of damage in return. A skeleton dealt fourteen damage to Garrett, felling him. Cal-El broke away from the skeletons and charged Tula. Cassandra landed a critical hit, dealing nineteen damage to a skeletal warrior, bringing it down. X'or struck a skeleton for sixteen damage, felling it, but the undead kept coming, their bones reassembling with eerie speed.
The fight raged on. Angelique turned more zombies, but the skeletal warriors pressed their assault. Cal-El landed multiple hits, dealing significant. He, Eryn, and a few well placed magic missiles finally ended Tula. This didn't stop the raining zombie storm. X'or and Cassandra continued their onslaught, felling more undead, but the storm persisted, summoning additional foes. Symon, blinking unpredictably, threw a dagger at a skeleton, dealing six damage, and eventually blinked into the wagon next to Tobin, startling him.
As the party struggled, Tula’s staff flared, summoning yet more undead. Cassandra quaffed a Potion of Giant Strength, gaining the power of a stone giant. Symon cast a Fireball into the sky, disrupting the vortex. The clouds started to dissipate, halting the undead reinforcements.
Suddenly, a green firebolt streaked from the clouds, striking the earth with a thunderous crack. A cloaked figure emerged from the fading flames—Xantha, her presence a chilling void. Her raven-black hair flowed with green streaks, adorned with skulls and horns glowing with necromantic energy. Tattoos swirled across her shoulders, and a dark, ornate corset layered with chains and glowing green gemstones adorned her. In her hand, a twisted staff topped with a skull bore a glowing green crystal. She raised an orb, pulsing like a heartbeat, and unleashed a jagged wave of power. The skeletons shattered into ashes, zombies collapsed into molten ruin.
Zara and Zora also appeared. Zora stepped from the shadows, her short black hair tussled, her cloak loose. Her vivid green eyes flashed with irritation as she reached to snatch up Tula’s staff. Cal stepped in the staff to prevent this but a flash of energy shot out of Xantha's staff and he collapsed. Zora picked up Tula's staff then, muttering, “Brainless fool, using Mother’s gifts for your petty schemes.” She tapped her foot impatiently, as if eager to leave. Xantha, wielding the skull-crowned staff, locked her piercing eyes on the party, her stare unsettling, as if peering into their souls.
Zara approached, addressing the group. “That was awesome, Mom. That was so cool,” she said, stepping toward Tula’s body. She checked on Cal-El, placing a hand on him, restoring him to life, then turned to the party. She motioned for the party to gather. Zora urged haste, saying, “Will you hurry up? I’m gonna be late.” Cal-El, angry at the loss of life, drew his swords and advanced on Xantha and Zora, intent on attacking. Eryn interposed herself, pleading, “Just stop, don’t try to do this.” She managed to calm him temporarily, though he kept his weapons drawn, glaring at Zora.
Zara explained, “Sorry, Cal, that was Mom’s wedding gift, so you don’t need to be messing with that.” Cal-El, furious, his rage shown in his eyes. With a small, playful smile, her tone serious but carrying the curious, direct edge you remember from your first meeting in the rain, when she was eating apples and humming to herself. “Hi guys! I saw all this commotion from a ways off—knew it had to be you. That’s my mom, Xantha, who just came down from the sky. She’s good at cleaning up messes like this, huh? You don’t look too bad, considering all the skeletons and cultists you’ve been dealing with. But you’ve got bigger problems now.“.
She added, “My dad, Aphobis, he’s officially allied with Lord Vardek Báthory from Ravenspire now—they’re our cousins, the Báthory family, up north. Dad got Báthory to send his second-in-command, Sir Kael Vossler—a Death Knight—and Lord Zorin Von Toth, a Zombie Lord, after you. You need to beware of Von Toth and Vossler—they’re feared and despised by everyone around Ravenspire and throughout Cordas. I know Von Toth is already here in Philanahn, probably close by. Vossler hasn’t come himself—he’s Báthory’s second-in-command, and you should pray he doesn’t show up. He’ll probably send agents instead, though, so watch out.”.
She continued, “Dad and Mom had a big falling out over Styxltrix. Dad demanded Mom help him get Styxltrix fully grown as fast as possible, and he also wanted her to help find you guys. He thinks if he can get Styxltrix grown before the other dragons, he can use whatever you’re looking for to take over everything—or something like that. Mom hates politics, though. She told him it’s a stupid idea. She said, ‘What are you even planning to do with it all if you succeed? What makes you think Styxltrix would give you any power? He doesn’t need you! That made Dad really mad. He said that’s exactly why he needs to find you guys—whatever you have, he thinks it’s the key. ’”.
She continued, “Mom can already make undead dragons, you know. She told him to focus on growing his magic power and skill, not chasing useless political power. She doesn’t want the other dragons back either—they’d just get in the way of her researching lich rituals. Anyway, I’ve got something for you, Angelique.” She pulls a single amulet from her pouch, holding it out to Angelique with a small nod. “It’s an Amulet of Proof Against Detection and Location. I only have one, but I figured you’d need it most with Von Toth and Vossler after you. It’ll keep you hidden from their eyes—you’ll need to stay one step ahead.
“Hey, Symon, how’s Persephone? I remember her as a tiny kitten, so cute with those little paws—I couldn’t stop petting her!”, she asked. He explained, “She’s in a better place now. I gave her to a child; she’s fine.” Through all of this, Cal had been bringing the bodies of Tobin, Tavi, and Garret close by. He pointing at the bodies, unable to even mutter his anger at the loss of the innocent. Zara had dismissed their deaths, saying, “That was unfortunate. It was Tula though.”.
She added, “I’m heading back to school soon, but I had to come see what all the fuss was about. You guys always seem to find trouble, don’t you? Be careful out there, okay?” She gives a small, playful wave, her tone lightening just a bit at the end, before stepping back with a thoughtful look.”. A shadow loomed above as Snuggle Fang, a massive undead black dragon, landed behind Xantha and Zora. The three climbed into the Dragon with Zara saying, “We gotta go now. Be safe,” and they flew off into the distance, disappearing.
Cal-El, enraged, in his mind, branded the party cowards for not confronting Xantha and the girls. He saw the trio as evil. They had killed innocents and walked away. He grabbed a shovel from a wagon and began digging graves, refusing to tolerate more collateral damage. He communicated that they must avoid being around innocents. Eryn and Cassandra agreed, though they noted the necessity of visiting towns for supplies, like Port Ahn to find Captain Hurst. Cal-El declared he’d avoid towns, unwilling to have more blood on his hands.
Cassandra handed the Ring of Healing to Angelique, who needed it most. Symon, also frustrated, was wary of Zara’s casual attitude. The party discussed Xantha’s motives, suspecting she aided them to thwart Aphobis’s plans, not out of care for them. Eryn suggested dealing with Xantha later, when stronger, as they were only barely alive now.
They searched Tula’s body, finding an empty scroll tube and a spellbook containing first-level spells (Magic Missile, Chill Touch, Burning Hands, Color Spray, Ray of Enfeeblement, Shield), second-level spells (Melf’s Acid Arrow, Scare, Web, Blindness, Flaming Sphere), third-level spells (Vampiric Touch, Lightning Bolt, Phantasmal Force, Spectral Hand), fourth-level spells (Enervation, Ice Storm, Animate Dead, Phantasmal Killer, Fire Shield), and fifth-level spells (Cloudkill, Cone of Cold, Magic Jar, Hold Monster, Domination).
The caravan’s survivors, shaken by the attack and Garrett’s death, decided to return to Three Points, fearing further danger. Cal-El checked their horses, ensuring they were fit to travel. The party offered two magical +1 longswords from the dragon cultists, allowing the survivors to sell them and use the funds to build a new life for themselves. Cal-El gave them a Potion of Extra Healing for safety. The survivors left Garrett’s cart with the company and headed north, disappearing into the snow.
The party, exhausted after 36 hours without sleep, debated resting. They discussed having Symon cast Leomund’s Tiny Hut, to create a temperature-controlled shelter. Angelique used her healing spells on Cal-El, restoring twenty points, as he would likely refuse the ring. They set out south. By noon, after three hours, Angelique regained eighteen more hit points via the ring. She gave it back to Cassandra who was the next lowest. Cal scouted ahead on foot, wearing the Cloak of Elven kind. They traveled south toward Middlesfeld, a small stopover town, roughly two days away.
Around noon, they paused for a brief rest. They continued on after a short time. Cal-El, scouting ahead, sensed an unnatural stillness, the air heavy and silent. He tossed a rock to alert Symon, who stopped the group, signaling a hold. Eryn and Cassandra drew their bows, scanning for threats.
The pale winter sky dims, as though a vast shadow has draped itself over Paldegora. The silence deepens, a stillness so heavy it presses against your ears, and your breath fogs in the frigid air. The Fire Tip Mountains loom to the west, their gray peaks shrouded in an unnatural haze, while the bare trees stand like silent sentinels, their branches frozen in place.
Suddenly, the sky fractures. A blinding golden light erupts from the west, searing your eyes like a thousand suns, its heat pulsing even from this distance. At the same moment, a void of utter darkness unfurls from the east, a writhing mass of shadow that devours the horizon, its edges flickering with malevolent intent. The ground beneath your feet trembles violently, a deep, resonant groan rising from the earth as if the world itself cries out in anguish. The air crackles with energy, and a storm of wind and thunder roars through the trees, their branches snapping and bending in a frenzied dance.
Three voices—ancient, powerful, and terrifying—boom across the heavens, their tones a discordant harmony that chills your blood. The first voice, radiant and unyielding, echoes like a clarion call: “Our dominion falters in this shadowed age!” The second, a venomous hiss that drips with spite, cuts through the air: “Chaos rises—we shall not fade!” The third, a primal growl of earth and storm, binds them together: “Balance must endure—we birth anew to face this tide!”
The sky above becomes a battlefield of light, shadow, and storm. Pillars of golden flame descend, each one shaping a fleeting vision in the heavens—a radiant scales balanced atop a blazing sun, glowing with the weight of justice; a shimmering lotus flower blooming in the light, radiating warmth and renewal; a fiery torch held aloft by a winged hand, its flames streaking across the sky in defiance. The light pulses, and you feel it—a surge of hope, a call to mercy, a spark of rebellion—stirring in your hearts, yet its intensity is almost blinding, as if it could burn away all that is unjust.
From the darkness, nightmarish visions emerge, their forms staining the horizon. A black crown pierced by a downward spear appears, dripping with a shadowy ichor that seems to whisper of control and fear. A coiled snake drinks from a chalice, its laughter a slithering echo that coils around your thoughts, tempting with promises of power. A broken skull wreathed in flames roars into being, its fury shaking the ground as if the world itself could shatter under its rage. The darkness presses against you, a suffocating weight of tyranny, corruption, and ruin, threatening to drown your will in despair.
The earth itself rebels as the storm intensifies. Cracks split the ground, revealing fleeting symbols—a stone tablet engraved with a tree, unyielding as the mountains; a yin-yang of leaf and claw, shifting in perfect balance; a spiraling storm cloud with a dragon’s eye, crackling with lightning that dances across the sky. The forest around you twists—trees grow unnaturally tall in moments, their roots forming the tablet’s shape, while others wither and regrow in a chaotic cycle, leaves falling in a yin-yang pattern. A whirlwind tears through the road ahead, carving the storm cloud’s symbol into the dirt before dissipating with a thunderclap.
The manifestations ripple outward, their effects both wondrous and horrifying. To the west, the Fire Tip Mountains quake, avalanches roaring down their slopes, their echoes forming a deep, rhythmic chant of order. In the distant west, the Emerald Sea churns, waves crashing in the shape of a chalice before turning black and still, as if poisoned by an unseen hand. Meteors streak across the sky, their fiery trails forming a blazing torch that ignites the horizon, while shadows on the ground writhe, shaping a broken skull that seems to laugh with cruel intent. The air grows thick with conflicting forces—hope and despair, order and chaos, renewal and ruin—pressing against your minds, a cacophony of divine will that threatens to overwhelm you.
The visions fade, the ground stills, but the air hums with a lingering power, a promise and a threat: new forces have awakened, their influence now woven into Paldegora’s fate. As the dawn light returns, dim and uncertain, you feel the weight of an unseen gaze—something vast, something ancient, something new—watching from the heavens. And in that moment, you know: the world has changed, and you stand at the edge of a storm unlike any you’ve faced before.
Symon, shaken, asked, “You saw that too, right? That’s what we’re going to stop.” The party, battered and weary, prepared to move on, their resolve tested but unbroken, as they faced a world reshaped by divine and draconic forces.
This is where the session ended.
Please start the recorder.
Exp: 2485 + 249 = 2734