I ran this adventure once before for an online crew, but enjoyed running it again for the Greater KC RPG Day folks.
Sir Atticus Bellows hired sixty veterans to mount an assault on a fey quiet point. Thrustus, a fey knight famed for hunting soldiers, created Lace Falls as his palace. It presides over where the Missouri River falls into a massive basin created in one of the fey battles. Quiet for a year now, it is time to assault it and get what gear can be got. One guilder for signing on, four more upon survival (and you can keep one item from the palace.)
A team of six formed.
- Cpl. Meryl Nelson, a tough leader with a scarred face and the ability to communicate telepathically if touching. She wore a glamour mask all the time.
- Roan Durson, a vigorous young man specializing in melee weapons, also wearing a glamour mask.
- Randy Sumter, a somewhat frail man with a really big gun and a glamour mask.
- Reginald Throckmorton III, a sort of upperclass mindset overlaying his experience. He possessed a sword that, when drawn, allowed all those near him to breathe normally regardless of the circumstances. He had an apprentice named Hubert.
- Kelly Marte, a rugged soldier focused on succeeding in looting.
Twenty vets would attack from the east bridge, twenty from the west, and twenty from small boats on the river. Nelson took leadership of the team, after Throckmorton tried but was found a bit too stuffy and entitled to run the op. She wanted to be coming from the west, the sun at their backs. Because the team had three glamour masks, they were put at the front of the assault (since they could see through fey illusions and resist mind control.)
Through the Wytherwitch Weed
They knew about how the weed functioned, how it hid just out of reality until they came near. The glamour masks could see it, so Sumter lined up his Redcapper and Nelson ran close enough to trigger its emergence; a hail of gunfire blew apart the node that allowed it to operate.
Meanwhile weed from under the bridge furled up and attacked those behind them. They raced ahead, and the weed took out Throckmorton and almost knocked down Durson, who was too tough to fall. They pushed through the last couple nodes, and rested just outside the massive palace to bandage their wounds.
As they were rested, ten of the survivors caught up to them, needing rest in turn. Throckmorton demanded the other warriors give up gear if the crew was to take point, and the other warriors reluctantly parted with a grenade, some rope, some knives, and other such equipment (which was loaded onto Hubert.)
Inside, they saw another small group had entered the cathedralesque central chamber. The stained glass window panes began sliding down, and the characters opened fire. As a massive stained glass golemish thing was forming, Throckmorton threw a grenade, and it was pulled into the predatory thing, and blew it to bits. Half the glassic was knocked down in a fell blow, and the rest split to attack the hapless trio downstairs and the characters.
A withering hail of fire slowed one glassic as the other two advanced into melee range. Desperate action blew them to pieces with minimal damage to the crew. Meanwhile, the other trio retreated, glassics in pursuit.
As the crew rested again, they watched the weed on the back of the building wiping out the small boats, and figured they made a good decision go cross the bridge instead.
Using their glamour masks, they saw that dozens (maybe hundreds) of wyrd threads all converged in a concealed spot by the roof’s center. Durson was able to focus his will enough to attune with a thread, and cut it. Several characters fired on the ambiguous center to the network of invisible strings. At that point, three marionette-like Tellurian Special Forces corpses bounded up over the balcony and attacked with bayonets!
They were creepy, and the crew lost their nerve, temporarily paralyzed by fear. The corpses cut down Nelson and Marte, and Throckmorton and Hubert utterly failed to restore morale by yelling and slapping their allies. Nelson managed to touch Durson’s foot and telepathically give him courage, and bayonet stabbing quickly granted an adrenaline rush to the wavering crew that was prepared to run.
One of the corpses sprouted a long black twig-like limb, which popped open with a pre-woven spiderweb that acted as a sounding board, and taunted the crew.
Hitting back hard, the standing warriors knocked the corpses down. After they won, Throckmorton decided something must be done about the puppetmaster in the roof, so he tried to climb a rafter. He slipped and fell, all six stories to smash on the paving below; his firebomb shattered, and he gave himself a viking funeral. Hubert resolved to become the man Throckmorton wanted him to be.
As they tended their wounded, the survivors from the bridge came in. They immediately were forced to do battle with some weird web-and-skeleton masked figures, and during the distraction the crew realized the thing holding all the strands had retreated to the second balcony, which was supposed to be invisible from any angle but its own level. They passed the panting and injured soldiers who had fought the web corpses to a standstill, intending to take the masks from the fallen, but seeing the masks were haunted. Crushing all three, they did their best to ignore the web-skeleton-body constructs, and they closed in on the second balcony.
The Thing Behind the Throne
Some shot from far away, hitting the spider-thing that crawled by the throne that held the twelve foot tall fey prince Thrustus, hunter of men. Others moved some distance, firing. Only Hubert ran right up to the prince, hoping to grab his spear.
Some warriors realized the prince was only a puppet. The masks strapped to him were not active, not in use, not serving as life energy batteries. As Hubert heroically stabbed the prince puppet, Nelson hurled herself over the throne and fired from midair, knocking the spider-thing down further. As the puppet hesitated, Hubert “killed” it as Durson backed Nelson up and blew the spider thing away, while Sumter chopped off some of its fingers.
Victorious (and lacking the heart to tell Hubert he did not, in fact, kill the fey prince) they took masks as their trophies and let Hubert keep the spear. (It ignores armor and hit points, damaging strength directly.) The day was won, and they got paid.
The session ran 2:45 with one casualty–fortunately the character who had randomized a servant who was an entirely playable character. There was another adventure on deck, but with little more than an hour to go, the players opted to call it a day.