This is a play report for a minidungeon written by Mellonbread, using the CC1 Creature Compendium.
I need some Elves dead. A trio of lunatic schismatics fighting for a return to the Old Ways, when we slept in the mud and wiped our asses with leaves. They're kidnapping farmers under my protection and cannibalising anyone they can't brainwash. They and their coven are lairing in a ruin two days to the east. Kill them. I don't care what you do with the converts. Nor any treasure they have.
Should you succeed, name any beast that walks, crawls, flies, or swims. If it is within my power to do so, it shall be yours.
The assembled Jailbirds signed on the dotted line and arrayed themselves for adventure.
- Jacob, Canonist 3. Worshipper of Oil Lamp in his aspect of Glad-Hand, patron deity of lawyers.
- Dunsin, Factotum 2. The loyal bodyguard and manservant of Jacob.
- Luciano Torres, Acolyte 1. Wandering gambler-priest of Fat Sun.
- Guiteau, Assassin 1. A deranged hired gun recruited by Luciano.
Before they left, Verbover mentioned an additional task they could perform for him. Zagh, a friendly nature spirit the Don was quite fond of, had been kidnapped by the cult. If the Jailbirds brought him back alive the mafia would owe them a casting of Reincarnation, redeemable at a time of their choosing.
The surrounding terraced farmland had been bought up by the Mafia's usual Crassusian tactics; exploiting the anarchy of the Marble Cliffs to ruthlessly lowball desperate campesinos. The Jailbirds passed rows of exhausted Tontean refugees, all labouring over banana passionfruit and yellow chilli under the watchful gaze of macuahuitl-toting capos. They paid a quick visit to the hacienda's small forge, where druids on punishment detail used Heat Metal to hammer a better fit into their looted breastplates.
After distributing extra equipment to their new recruits, the adventurers saddled up and set off.
Their journey through the cloud forests was uneventful, spending the first night at a ruined papaya farm that had been sacked by the cult some days ago: the stone outbuildings, built from the usual spoliation of dungeon ruins, were pitted with acid burns and claw marks. There was no sign of the inhabitants until the Jailbirds clambered onto a boarded-up barn and spotted a mass grave through a hole in its roof. The corpses were surprisingly well preserved and locked into rictus screams of terror, different from the usual rigor mortis. Luciano figured out they'd been dosed on an especially virulent paralytic, one so powerful that it still polluted their flesh and kept the necrophages away.
Ignoring the charnel pit, the party fortified themselves in a farmhouse and slept in shifts. Though the screech of jungle animals constantly pierced the darkness, the night passed without event. The following morning they came across a snowmelt river that their map said originated from the dungeon. Sure enough, a plateau of granite soon loomed out of the mist, a thin wisp of smoke visible from its summit.
Scouting the available entrances, the Jailbirds settled on the river's origin point, a fissure in the rock face. Guiteau clambered up the waterfall without issue, securing a rope to a thick root. Careful to avoid getting their powder wet, the party clambered up. They pushed against the fast-flowing current into the flooded base of a deep pit cave, the sky visible far above. The water originated from an aqueduct halfway up the chasm, at the same level of the dungeon where the cooking fire was burning.
In the centre of the underground lake was a small island, populated by a lone alder tree. Before the Jailbirds could consider swimming over to it, Guiteau hustled them onto a gravel beach and pointed out the form of a massive reptile in the waters below, a 20' long fusion of a serpent and saurian. Tearing their eyes away from the monster, Jailbirds noticed a leather satchel nailed to the island's alder tree.
Something glinted within.
The party debated their next move. There were valuables before them, but no one wanted to tangle with the thing in the water. Luciano wasn't sure if it was his internal monologue or the word of providence, but a voice in the back of his mind called him a bitch. Before him was the clearest test of his principles and he was too much of a coward to take it. Fat Sun taught only one commandment, that there could be no reward without risk. If he was unwilling to accept that, he may as well give up now.
Despite the cries of his teammates, Luciano doffed his armour and hurriedly swam across to the island. But the churning water and snapping teeth and crunch of bone never came. Instead, a lone sun ray shone from the sky above, playing across the water and distracting the beast. Grinning, the prosperity cultist snatched up the bag and fled back to the party. Within was a silver scepter and platinum burial mask, both in the style of the Ancient Empire. Luciano shoved them into his pack and the Jailbirds pushed onwards.
The next series of caves were covered in unidentifiable sludge and strange drag marks, like a ratking of snakes had crawled across the floors and ceiling. One wall was worked stone, a series of pillars reinforced by wooden shutters. Jacob mused it was probably to keep something out of the larger dungeon. As if on cue, his pet dog began barking at the surrounding caves, clearly spooked by something. Unwilling to wait and see what horrible thing boiled out of the darkness, the Jailbirds retreated the way they came and decided to try accessing the dungeon from above.
Recovering their horses, the party carefully negotiated the goat paths that led to the top of the plateau. Guided by the rising smoke, they pushed towards a series of rock formations. Then something moved. A giant with a face like a bug strode out of a hidden cave and picked around for something to eat. It moved sluggishly, like it had just woken from cryptobiosis. The party decided to sneak past, but the horrible thing's compound eyes immediately spotted them. Counting on the thick mist to muffle their gunshots, the Jailbirds released a volley of musketballs, but that did little other than piss the monster off.
Scattering, Luciano and Guiteau climbed nearby trees while Jacob and Dunsin fought a fighting retreat with their ranged weapons. Though they were out of arms reach, the giant shook the treetrunks until the cleric and his pet assassin fell to the forest floor in a tangle of cracked bones and bruised flesh. With their attacks ineffectual, the party sounded a general retreat and fled towards the edge of the plateau.
Luciano couldn't run faster than the giant's immense stride, but he didn't need to. After throwing away all of his rations, which the monster proved uninterested in, he was just able to outpace Guiteau. Though Jacob called upon Oil Lamp to shield their hireling, it wasn't enough. The giant brought down its hand and crushed the man, greedily slurping up his pulverised corpse.
While the monster devoured their hireling, the Jailbirds rallied around the cliff's edge and tied a thick rope between two sturdy trees. When the giant came for them, face slick with the blood, Luciano stood before the trap and shouted obscenities. At the last moment, he dove aside and the monster tripped over the rope, tumbling over the cliff. It tried to grab onto something, anything to arrest its fall, but only succeeded in uprooting a tree. It crashed to the forest floor with an earth-shattering thud and died. The adventurers fled the scene before someone came to investigate, mounting their horses and recovering Guiteau's discarded equipment. There was nothing left to bury, so they drove his bloodied falchion into the wet soil as a grave marker and offered up a brief prayer for his soul.
Back at the ruined papaya plantation, the Jailbirds rested overnight to recover from the ordeal and set about preparing for their next sortie. Though it was a grisly business, they broke open the barn door and stuffed the poisoned corpses into empty fruit barrels. With four containers of rotten flesh strapped to their mounts, they set off back to the dungeon. As they climbed back to the top of the rock formation, they noticed a lone man standing over the giant's corpse in the valley below. He was dressed in crude armour of leather, cloth, and woven vines, and clutched a wooden spear for defence. Clearly baffled by the monster's untimely demise, he gazed up at the cliff's edge above but didn't spot the Jailbirds. The adventurers briefly discussed trying to shoot him, but decided against it for fear of alerting the dungeon. Eventually the cultist picked up his basket of foraged jungle greens and left.
The adventurers unpacked three barrels and retreated to a safe distance. Soon enough, two giants emerged from their hidden caves. They briefly attacked each other over the food, before beginning to devour the poisoned long pork. The Jailbirds briefly feared the overpowered monsters would no-sell the paralytic, until one keeled over. The second was none the wiser, and continued stuffing its face until it too crumpled. Surging forward, the adventurers hack, stabbed, and bludgeoned the paralysed monsters. Weapons slick with giantsblood, they pushed onto the undefended dungeon entrance. The chasm yawned before them, a thin trickle of woodsmoke curling into the cloudy sky. Peering down over the edge, they spotted the cultist from earlier, cooking conserves of native goldenberries on a stone platform below. Retreating before they were noticed, the adventurers set about looting the monsters' caves, finding a rusted iron bracelet dotted with diamonds among the human bones and other detritus.
A further search found a secret entrance concealed behind a boulder. It exited into the rafters of a luxurious bedroom belonging to the Mother, the middle sister of the Coven. It was furnished with stolen furniture from frontier settlements and a massive bed of alpaca wool, and the Jailbirds looted a magical pillow, box of gemstones, and a self-heating teapot. The creature comforts the druids afforded themselves were surprising - the cultists were hardly the dirt-worshipping luddites Verbover made them out to be.
The next room was curtained by a trio of ornate woven rugs, which Luciano immediately set about stuffing into his pack, encumbrance be damned. Meanwhile, Jacob examined a carving of three women's hands, wrapped around a pulsating orb of fuligin black. Searching the room for clues as to its function, the canonist found a loose floor tile, but triggered a trap when he carelessly levered it open - a powerful acid spewing out of a bladder and destroying everything in the hidden compartment. Angered, the pistol-packing lawyer decided to just grab the thing. Jacob reached out to touch it, and then suddenly had no hand. He stared dumbly at the stump, before arterial blood began spraying across the room. Gathering his wits, he prayed to Oil Lamp and the God of Civilisation intervened to save his faithful servant: a hard film of dried sesame oil forming over his severed wrist, arresting the bleeding and dulling the pain.
Will O'Brien
After resting for a moment, the Jailbirds set about looting the remaining bedrooms. To the south was a simple stone chamber belonging to the Crone, the oldest member of the Coven. A macabre birdcage built from grafted ribcages dominated the room, containing a giant crow with the face of a man. Zagh was ecstatic to see his rescuers. Though he loved identifying all the magic items the druids showed him, witnessing endless torture, sexual assault, and human sacrifice was beginning to grate on him. It wasn't as if the Mafia didn't also chop people into tiny pieces, but at least they were polite about it.
The adventurers hacked apart his cage and freed the nature spirit, who immediately identified all of the magic items they were carrying. He couldn't help himself from sharing knowledge, hence why the cultists had kept him around. Pushing north into the bedroom of the Maiden, the Jailbirds found a solarium lit by an Orb of Daylight, identical to the lighting arrangements in Don Verbover's kallanka. Zagh helpfully explained there wasn't much of a functional difference between the mafiosos and the cult. The Druid Mafia frequently collaborated with the See of Trees, unsurprising given the crime family originated from ecumenical cargo cults of elven druidic traditions. Conversely, the Coven were secessionists who refused to toe the See's party line, so the Don had decided to (or perhaps been ordered to) put them down.
The realpolitik didn't change the Jailbirds' minds: the Coven was torturing, raping, and eating innocent people. Their employer's motivations were irrelevant - the cult deserved what was coming for them.
The Maiden's bedroom was populated by dozens of macaws, hummingbirds, and falcons, which immediately flew out a nearby window, eliciting panic from Zagh - who told the Jailbirds the critters would alert the Coven of their presence. Heeding his warning, the adventurers hurriedly looted more gemstones and fled the dungeon, hauling their loot through the secret entrance with the help of Zagh's wings.
They left just in time to witness the Coven's return. The war party was led by the three elves, all riding fearsome Dragonboars that breathed plumes of acidic death. Accompanying them was a Qiqirn, a six-legged maned wolf with a gaze attack that inflicted grand mal seizures at close range. Following the Coven was half-dozen cultists armed with wooden spears, dragging a chain-gang of terrified captures behind them. And taking up the rear was four Abysmals, awful humanoid octopus that naturally projected waves of magical fear. Though the blessings of their respective deities protected them from the line-of-sight Save or Suck effects, the Jailbirds were still unwilling to effect a rescue attempt. They'd retreat, gather reinforcements, and launch a sortie tomorrow to liberate the hostages.
The journey back to the Druid Mafia was thankfully uneventful, and Verbover was waiting to greet the party at the gates of his hacienda. The Don had grown a beautiful frock coat from the greenery matting his body, complete with a black rose on his lapel. As compensation for rescuing his friend, the mafioso produced a massive knotweed leaf covered in ornate script - a deed for Reincarnation redeemable at a time and place of their choosing (with participating vendors).
Before taking a long rest, the Jailbirds asked Zagh for a favour. By combining his divine power with the party's, they could muster enough healing to regrow Jacob's arm. The nature spirit happily agreed.Oil Lamp decreed that no weapon raised against his people would prosper. Glad-Hand accepted that he had an non-delegable duty of care to his employee. Fat Sun laughed, adoring those who took stupid risks for material gain. The Tree of Life creaked and groaned, but obliged the prayers of its faithful servant.
A limb of red clay grew from his stump, decorated with leaves of gold filigree and soaked in aromatic oils. The Jailbirds gave thanks to the Gods and laid down to rest. Come tomorrow, they would be ready for war.
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