Through the wall
Session 9 June 2024
We open the door, and I immediately shoot over Farryn’s shoulder to keep the wraiths at bay. Morph commands the shadow dragon to kill the wraiths but to keep Farryn safe. The dragon unleashes its breath weapon, but it doesn’t affect the wraiths. Instead, Farryn, now medium-sized and thus taking the full blast, staggers back, very bloodied. Despite his condition, he hurls his dwarven thrower at the wraiths with impressive determination.
Farryn looks older and more worn than I’ve ever seen him. Flames flicker around the wraiths, and the dark mage curses—his attack must have missed or failed to do what he intended. Morph takes cover under the dragon, launching four eldritch blasts at the wraiths. After all these attacks, the wraiths dissolve into smoke.
Morph collapses on the floor, exhausted, and returns the shadow dragon to the flask. Farryn repairs Grond, grunting in pain—whether from the dragon’s breath or sheer aggression, I can’t tell.
Morph and the dark mage begin searching the hoard for the phylactery. Morph finds a blue ball and a small pony statuette. I search for gems, collecting treasure for my dragon-to-be. Farryn closes the doors to the room, and I fill my bag of smuggling with 1,000 silver pieces, 5,000 gold pieces, and 500 platinum pieces—about 100 pounds of loot.
I walk over to Farryn, asking if he needs help. Both he and Morph are severely wounded. We realize we don’t have enough healing to get through this level. Half of the hoard remains, but everyone’s bags are full. Morph, lying on the ground, suggests, “Could Corvax help?”
“NO. YOU KEEP THAT STUPID THING ATTACHED TO YOUR BELT,” Farryn snaps.
We decide we need to rest, but we don’t want to lose control over the dragon. We must find the phylactery. Morph groans in pain but casts Locate Object using Corvax. He finds nothing.
“Maybe the phylactery isn’t here, or he doesn’t know what it looks like?” I suggest.
The dark mage posits that the death knights might have it. “Maybe we can set the dragon on the death knights so we can rest a minute,” he adds.
Morph agrees and releases the dragon from the flask. It moves to another room. Moments later, the dark mage hears from Morph, “We’re not alone.” He returns to us, saying, “I see shadows. It looks like wraiths—in the wall. It went away when I saw it.”
We ready ourselves, the atmosphere tense. Farryn casts Mass Cure Wounds on the entire party, and Morph, looking slightly rejuvenated, picks up his sword.
“We need a plan,” Farryn says, his voice steady despite his fatigue. “We can’t keep going like this. We have to find a way to deal with these wraiths and locate the phylactery.”
Morph, now standing, takes a deep breath. “Let’s use the shadow dragon to scout ahead. It might draw out any lurking enemies, and we can follow behind. If we encounter more wraiths, we’ll have to face them head-on.”
We agree on the plan and cautiously proceed, the shadow dragon leading the way.
Farryn begins examining the statues in the throne room. There are three: one depicts a human in robes with tentacles emerging from its face, another in the south appears to have monstrous hands and pods protruding from its back, and the one in the east has a face deformed as if it were smeared like wet paint. “They look like something from the Far Realm,” Farryn remarks, his voice tinged with unease.
Morph returns and releases the shadow dragon, directing it towards the death knights. Farryn requests healing, and I assist Morph with some restorative spells. We decide to head upstairs to find a safe place to conjure a rope trick for rest. As we move stealthily, Morph keeps whispering odd things like “Yeah, I need to leave,” to imaginary entities.
Ascending the stairs, we hope for a reprieve from the oppressive Far Realm influence. We arrive at a crossroads. “That wasn’t here before, right?” someone mutters. Farryn sniffs the air, detecting apple pie to the right and mossy scents to the left. “Guys, follow me!” he urges, stepping forward. “Grab my hand!”
We take his hand and follow him straight through the wall. The transition is excruciating, a sharp contrast to the moldy smell that greets us on the other side. We find ourselves in an unfamiliar hallway. “I just manifested it in my mind—it’s a hallway,” Farryn explains. I don’t recognize it at all, and it seems neither does anyone else.
Morph, looking disturbed, calls out, “Corvax, help me! I manifest that I want to leave now!” He suddenly jerks back. “Okay, something else is trying to be Corvax!”
Ignoring the odd behavior, Farryn quickly creates a rope trick. The rope appears, though it twists and bends unnaturally. We climb up and find ourselves in a small, safe space, though the view outside is bizarre—psychedelic colors and waves stretch out in all directions, as if we’re looking out the window of a train speeding through a kaleidoscope.
We take a moment to pause, the surreal surroundings giving us a chance to catch our breath. The colors outside swirl and shift, a reminder of the Far Realm’s lingering influence.
“We need a plan,” Farryn says, breaking the silence.
I notice Farryn staring out the window, lost in thought, completely unresponsive to our attempts to communicate with him. Morph speculates, “Maybe the Mad Mage went mad because of the Far Realm.”
After about ten minutes, Farryn suddenly starts talking again, acting as if no time had passed. His know-it-all attitude resurfaces, although he eventually realizes we were right about the passage of time, though he’ll never admit it.
The dark mage approaches me with a gem, saying, “This will float around you and help you cast spells.” I’m thrilled by the gift.
As we plan our next move, I firmly state, “I’d prefer not to go through a solid wall again, thank you very much.”
The manifest mind of the dark mage spots a cockroach mage with a staff of power. Farryn orders its death so that the dark mage can claim the staff. The cockroach mage pets the dragon, only to have its arm bitten off before stepping aside to let the dragon pass. Oddly, the mage appears unharmed.
After 45 minutes, Farryn returns to his normal size. “Is it smart to have a new enemy, the dragon, on this level?” he asks.
I propose we make a pact with the dragon, considering we have part of its hoard. We take a short rest and review the map. Farryn tries to grab the stone orbiting my head. “Don’t do that, please,” I warn him.
With the hour up, the dragon is no longer aligned with us. We exit the rope trick to find ourselves on a plateau with numerous stairs. Gravity defies itself here. The dark mage closes his eyes and starts walking. “Weird stuff,” I mutter.
Farryn chooses stairs leading downward. Morph notices movement in the distance: duplicates mirroring our actions. Morph transforms into Melissara again, and we decide on a password, “SAFFRON,” to distinguish ourselves from the duplicates.
Walking for what feels like hours, exhaustion sets in. I feel the need to push the stone away from my forehead every couple of seconds… Just to be sure I’m still sane.
We continue following the dark mage, with Morph making odd noises, complaining about not hearing anything. The dark mage leads us downstairs, where he mentions a creature that had been watching him.
The rest of the party realizes Morph is completely deaf, and I notice I’ve developed a nervous tick.
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