What Happened Last Session
A Soldier’s Farewell, A Soldier’s Beginning
Agaron fell at Valthis, his life claimed by Nordic steel during the desperate defense against raiders. The party gained a new companion in the wizard’s place: Bargon, one of Signe’s own soldiers, who pledged his axe to the cause as the legendary shieldmaiden vowed to rebuild her shattered village. The exchange was bittersweet—a capable warrior joining the ranks, but at the cost of a companion who’d journeyed with them from the beginning.
With Adagar practically vibrating with eagerness to finally reach home, the party set sail for Dvergheim. The grueling eight-hour mountain climb that followed tested their endurance as Adagar led them along confusing, circuitous paths that made some question whether the dverg truly remembered the way. But eventually, they stood before a hidden golden door carved into the mountainside, its surface inscribed with dwarven runes: “This door is opened only by the touch of a worthy hero’s blade.” Hagen stepped forward, touched Gerald’s Legacy to the stone, and watched as the massive door swung open in perfect silence. Warm air rushed out, carrying the scent of hot metal and coal smoke—the breath of a kingdom carved from living rock.
The King Below the Mountain
The illuminated cavern city of Dvergheim spread before them in breathtaking glory—elaborately carved pillars rising to impossible heights, the distant rhythm of forges echoing through stone halls that made surface craftsmanship look like children’s toys. Dwarven guards watched but did not challenge Adagar’s return, and soon the party stood before King Snorgin Thrain Ironheart himself.
The reunion between Adagar and Thrain carried warmth despite the dverg’s century-long absence, but the king’s preoccupation was immediate and dire. Deep trolls had emerged from the depths below, and this time they were different. Every decade the trolls rose, but never like this—never so ferocious, never so coordinated. Something had disrupted the “monster ecosystem” far below, driving them upward with unprecedented fury. The dwarves had managed to kill just one troll, and at terrible cost.
King Thrain’s briefing painted a grim picture: the trolls regenerate constantly during combat, healing wounds almost as quickly as they’re dealt. Fire stops the regeneration, but only briefly. Worse still, severed troll limbs continue to act independently, crawling and grasping with horrifying autonomy. Cold iron and freezing magic work best against them, the king explained, but even those advantages felt slim against creatures that had already claimed so many dwarven lives.
The party shared their own dire news in return—the seers dead, the gods silent, devils responsible for severing divine connections across the entire region. King Thrain confirmed that dwarven divinations had also gone dark approximately one week ago, matching the surface timeline perfectly, though he dismissed any connection as “folly.” Crixbin proved his diplomatic skill by negotiating magic weapons as part of the reward for investigating the troll threat. The party accepted the mission, and Thrain himself led them deep into the mines.
Blood and Truth in the Darkness
The mine tunnels descended for an hour—narrow, cramped passages where earth shook periodically from trolls digging somewhere below. Beyond a barricaded door guarded by grim-faced dwarven soldiers, the party discovered two dead dwarves caught in a barbed net trap, and four kobolds waiting in ambush.
Combat erupted with brutal efficiency. Astrid’s arrow struck a kobold sorcerer with devastating accuracy. Zahlie delivered a lethal backstab crossbow shot, dropping another sorcerer before it could unleash its magic. Dolitan entranced one warrior with his Fascinate ability, rendering it helpless as the party subdued the final kobold sorcerer alive.
Crixbin’s Zone of Truth spell compelled the captured kobold to speak plainly: the trolls command the kobolds to dig, forcing them to excavate and set traps throughout the tunnels. At least three trolls operate in the immediate area. The kobolds don’t know what the trolls are searching for, only that they must obey. The sorcerer warned against the southern and western passages where troll activity concentrates, and revealed a secret northern route. Then the party killed the fascinated warrior and took the sorcerer as their guide.
When Darkness Swallows Light
Following the kobold through the secret passage, the party entered a room where light itself died. Magical darkness consumed their torches, lanterns, even Crixbin’s conjured illumination—nothing penetrated the absolute black. Hagen ventured in with a rope tied for safety, and Crixbin followed, hands outstretched. His fingers found a table, and upon it, a smooth glass orb.
When Dolitan retrieved the orb and tucked it into his bag, the darkness vanished instantly. They’d found the Orb of Darkness—a fragile glass sphere that creates a thirty-foot radius of impenetrable shadow, absorbing light like a hungry void. Its power is formidable but comes with frustrating limitations: Dolitan must now fumble blind whenever he reaches into his bag, and the glass construction means throwing it would shatter their prize instantly.
But their kobold guide had other plans. As they descended deeper into natural cave systems where wind howled through passages and extinguished their mundane lights, the sorcerer seized his moment and fled. They heard his skittering descent down a ladder, then—far below—the sound of him speaking in Giant, the language of trolls. The party had lost their guide, and worse, the trolls now knew they were coming.
The Spider’s Appetite
Pushing forward through the northern tunnels, the party discovered an extinguished campfire with scattered food scraps—someone had sheltered here recently, though whether dwarven expedition members or something else remained unclear. Opening the next door revealed four terrified kobolds with spears leveled not at the party, but at an eastern entrance. These kobolds weren’t guarding for the trolls; they were defending against something that hunted them.
Dolitan stepped forward, offering help. That’s when the eastern door exploded inward with bone-shattering force, killing one kobold instantly on impact. Through the splintered doorway came a creature from nightmare—a pale, horse-sized arachnid wreathed in unnatural darkness. The air grew cold and hollow around it, and light itself seemed to dim in its presence. A Void Spider, ancient and starving, had found new prey.
The session ended with the party locked in combat beside three surviving kobolds, all of them facing a monster that feeds on essence and shadow.
Looking Ahead
The Void Spider represents an immediate deadly threat, but it’s merely the first obstacle in a much deeper crisis. Somewhere in these tunnels, at least three deep trolls are excavating for something unknown, their regenerating bodies and autonomous severed limbs making them nearly unstoppable without the right tools. The escaped kobold has warned them of the party’s presence, eliminating any hope of surprise.
King Thrain’s promise of magic weapons awaits those who can survive long enough to earn them, but two dwarven expeditions have already vanished into these depths without returning. Whatever disrupted the “monster ecosystem” far below—driving trolls upward with unprecedented ferocity just as the gods went silent—remains a mystery wrapped in darkness and earth-shaking violence. The divine severance that plagues both surface and stone suggests connections the dwarven king dismisses too quickly, and back on the surface, five villages still face Nordic invasion while Signe rebuilds Valthis from ashes and blood.
The party stands at the threshold of truths buried deeper than any mine, where regenerating trolls dig for purposes unknown and void-touched horrors hunt in absolute darkness.
When the gods fall silent, the monsters below remember what mortals have forgotten: that stone holds secrets older than prayer, and hunger outlasts faith.