Having seen you leave Fort Remote, and thinking you easy pickings, an Empire patrol rushes you.
When you reach the bridge, a band of Empire soldiers is crossing the other way. For sport, they decide to try to throw you off. You resist. Angered, they try to kill you in another way.
The guards ask you for your blue pass. When you provide it, they spend some time arguing whether to let you by or kill you. Eventually, wiser heads prevail, and you are told to pass.
The guards ask you for your blue pass. When you hesitate in providing it, they waste no time in attacking.
The spiders hiss angrily as you charge. They begin readying spells en masse.
On a whim, a group of Empire archers decides to use you for target practice. Apparently, even even Exiles with clearance are subject to being slain because of an Empire soldier's whim.
You walk south, along a well-made and well-traveled road. As you march, you see a band of Empire soldiers heading in your direction. You get your passes ready, but it soon becomes clear no Exiles are allowed here for any reason. They charge.
The tunnel slopes sharply upward to the east. Rocks have been cleared away along its length, forming a rough path.
You see what you think are humans camped around a fire. When you get close, however, you realize you've made a critical mistake. The rakshasi gleefully attack.
A rakshasa hunting party has deemed you easy prey.
Kevtar shrugs. "Your loss," he says. You depart.
Kevtar coldly, methodically takes you through a demanding regimen of training. He contemptuously dismisses your fighting technique, and shares his fascinating insights with you. It's a difficult several days, but when you're done your skill has increased.
The beasts decided to eat half the soldiers, and hunt the rest for sport. Then, tired and terrified, the soldiers head for home.
You help patch up the few surviving soldiers, and ask them what happened. They tell you that they were patrolling to the west, and stumbled upon a colony of the cat-headed beasts. The creatures subdued them easily.
The asptongue mold has been picked recently. It will take some time to grow back.
The water below this bridge reeks of rotten eggs. You see thick, yellow, sulphurous deposits lining its banks. The fumes rising from it make you light-headed.
A platoon of Exile soldiers and mages approach and question you briefly. Once they're satisfied you're not Empire agents, they tell you they're guarding the way to Patrick's tower, which is to the south. Then you part ways.
These are the Plains of Death - a large section of this barren wasteland forever declared a resting place for those who have died to defend Exile. You look around, and immediately notice this place has grown a lot since the last time you were here.
You notice that some of the grave markers have slith-sounding names on them. You look closely, and realize that this graveyard, created for those who have fallen in the name of Exile, has Slithzerikai in it. As good a reason for hope as any.
You in the middle of a large expanse of what is called The Waste - the southwest corner of the Great Cave, which is notable for its utter uselessness. Just a huge sheet of flat, solid rock, totally bereft of useful plants or interesting features.
You rapidly convert to Catholicism. The demons flee in horror.
You don't have enough money to make a decent donation.
A giant lizard, probably escaped from someone's farm, gets close to you. Then, displaying the mindless irascibility that is the species' sole personality trait, it attacks.
A band of Exile troops approaches and inspects you. After a quick talk, they let you go on your way.
An Empire patrol, thrilled to have caught a lone, isolated group, rushes you.
Nothing happens. Oh well.
From here, you have an great view of Exile's greatest building, The Castle, perched on the edge of a granite plateau many feet above you. Everyone simply calls it The Castle, and from this view it's easy to see why - nothing else down here can match it.
A spring of fresh, clear water spurts from the ground here. Amazingly, the water is also somewhat warm. You take the opportunity for a pleasant rarity in Exile - a nice, long bath.
A small, relatively new settlement has sprung up by this lake, and seems to be having some success growing mushrooms. It's not well defended, though - if they're not careful, an Empire patrol will wipe them out.
Their mushroom fields are, as you expected, sparse and unproductive. For some reason, mushrooms simply don't grow as well in the Great Cave. In fact, very few beneficial plants grow. A lot of their food needs to be bought from towns in other caves.
You find a small collection of farms, ringed by a large barricade. The farmers, once they see you're friendly, welcome you in for talk and large mugs of harsh mushroom ale.
You meet a platoon of Exile soldiers, keeping a careful watch on the plateau looming above you. They're watching for any Empire troops that might dare to climb or fly up the peak. They greet you briefly, then go back to their posts.
There is a heavily armed guardpost on this island, watching for incursions by land and river. They greet you edgily, and seem relieved when you leave.
The guards at the gate recognize you and, reluctantly, let you through.
The moment you draw a weapon, you discover that a large band of the refugees were hidden on ledges up the cave walls to either side of you. You discover this because they shower you with poisoned arrows. They make quick, vicious, merciless work of you.
Several huts have been built here by refugees from the abyss. When the people living there see you coming, they retreat inside and slam the doors shut. After a few minutes of being totally ignored, you leave.
You reach a small fishing village. The locals welcome you in to pots of savory cavefish stew and conversation. After telling them what you know about how the war is going, you depart.
In addition to the Empire soldier's other supplies, you find a fair number of gold coins fresh from the surface world. Whoever these shock troops were, they were well paid.
A small band of Empire soldiers breaks from concealment and rushes you. There aren't many of them, but they look vicious.
This is a dried out lava tube, passed by by the ever-present torrents of lava. The air is dry and sulphurous, and there is a notable lack of fungal life.
You reach the center of the small crater. It's very hot. There's little of interest here. You notice a narrow path leading out to the north that you could follow without taking much damage.
You come across an ancient and imposing ruin. Huge spires of black stone emerge from the lava. Skeletons of bizarre, demonic creatures hang from the stone, adding a particularly dark edge to an already imposing scene.
You look over the patch of crypt shrooms. Unfortunately, none of them look quite right for picking.
You gently succumb to death's sweet embrace. Your last thought: you never thought goldfish could be so vicious.
You trod the ruins of the ogre village. They were a poor bunch - you find little more than ruined skins and broken pots. Well done.
You return to the healthy comfrey root patch. None of the plants are ready for picking at this point. Maybe if you returned later...
You find a small patch of glowing nettle. However, it's been heavily picked over. None of the remaining plants are good for alchemy.
A band of fully grown and armed ogres runs off to hold you off while the females and children make their escape. Ogre magi begin their spells. The tent city begins to come apart. This is going to be a mess.
The ogres watch you warily as you approach to speak with them. In a brief, hard to understand conversation, an ogre mage tells you they have nothing to offer you and would prefer it if you left peacefully. Eventually, you oblige.
You find, inscribed in the cave floor, a pentagram. It clearly hasn't been used for a long time - it's becoming overgrown with mold and lichen. However, there is still the faint smell of sulphur in the air.
You start to feel very ill. There's a lot of nausea, and bits of your hair start falling out.
This narrow ledge runs to the east. At the end of it, you see a large fortress, hewn out of the living rock, poking out over the chasm. A few Vahnatai wander around its base. You wonder what a fort is doing here, so far from their other villages.
A band of Vahnatai emerges from nooks and crannies in the tunnel walls. Their wraps are ratty, their weapons are rusted and pitted, and their expressions are cruel. They attack.
