Most of the party is asleep while the Monk keeps watch by using the throne of Candololian to scrye. Observing the room with the two portals the Monk sees a strange grey four foot long dragon (its a portal drake from the forgotten realms underdark setting) emerge from the lower portal. It sniffs the air as if looking for something winks an eye and disappears. The Monk searches frantically for where it went. A blood curling scream from the bedchamber soon reveals its location. After a desperate melee which wakes the entire party up to rush to the aid of a frantic Magic User, the fell beast is put down. But how did it get in? The sole clue is that the cover has come off the mirror in the antechamber. Whats this wedged in the frame of the mirror? Four cards from a Harrow desk (pazio 2nd adventure path prop) The Big Sky, The Tangled Briar, The Mountain Man, and the Devils Lantern. Touching the mirror reveals the surface to soft and liquid. After sticking the hand and pulling it out a few times one brave soul sticks his head through and notices he is in a pitch black cavern. He hears the sound of dripping water far off, and picks the dang musty smell of wet rock. He looks around his head and notices it is sticking out of a glowing portal similar to the two down in the dungeon. Perhaps the portals are worth investigating further. The party descents to the portal chamber and are promptly jumped by White Spawn who spring from the upper portal, The 12 hordlings go down quickly, the 6 hunters last only a little bit longer, but the chain wielding berserker gives then a decent fight. After the "funny looking lizardmen" are defeated one of the adventures pokes his head through the lower portal and sees rolling hills of reddish clay (Illustrated with a picture from Mysteries of the Himalayas which I had picked up for 5 bucks at Half Price Books) he looks around and sees his head sticking out of the side of a small cliff of obsidian glass. Another adventurer sticks his head through the upper portal and sees a gravel streambed at his feet and above his head Aquamarine light filtering through a ceiling of ice. He notices his head is sticking out from a floor mirror similar to the one in the elven tree house. After the magic user complains about not having enough sleep to get spells back yet. The party returns to the tree house for some more shuteye. Morning finally comes after another tense moment while the ranger uses the throne to scrye another White Swarm patrol which searches the forest in vain (not noticing the secret doors in the trees) and returns back through the portal to their glacial layer. Being severely warned he more sense than to wake the spellcasters yet again. OK time to see what the cards do. Perhaps something to do with the mirror? Holding the Tangled Briar to the mirror switches its destination to a steaming tangled jungle swamp. Holding the Mountain Man to the mirror returns in to the dark cavern it was at originally, risking a light reveals this to be a 30' wide tunnel of natural stone, a rangers practiced eye on the floor reveals a trail worn smooth by the passage of many generations of feet. Holding the Big Sky to the mirror reveals the same red clay hills as the lower portal in the dungeon, in fact there is a small obsidian cliff with a stream of water flowing out from it ab out 100' away. No one feels like using The Demons Lantern. Feeling bold with the mirror tuned to the Big Sky the ranger steps through. He is just about to push back through a liquidy feeling portion of the obsidian cliff when he hears a shrill whistle and a shout of "Hey you". Looking behind he sees a small wizened old man in a sheepskin cloak clutching a gnarled staff. The man beckons the ranger to come towards him and says "Come, Come your already terribly late".
DM Tips
- If your DM imagination ranges from sweltering jungles to glacial tundras its good to have magical transport available
- Props are cool even if you don't use for what they were originally designed for
- Bargain books of photos of strange and exotic locale are a good for inspiring the imagination
- Little old men wandering the wilderness are seldom as vulnerable as the they appear
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