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[Goonalan]

Dungeon Crawl Classics #2
The Lost Vault of Tsathzar Rho
An Adventure for First Level Characters

Turn 23: Bobby Ewing.

Bec stands statue-still, smoke fills his vision, he moves forward cautiously, opens his mouth to speak, something makes him stop.

“Where?”

He mumbles to himself.

His vision clears slowly; he’s on a cobbled street, a long way away… He’s home- way back home, Grimbo, the town he was born in, grew up in- before he ran away.

Coming up the hill towards him is his best friend, Hovis Presley, except there’s something odd about him; he’s shorter, and younger, maybe only six years old.

Bec looks down, he’s six too.

Ohhh- he thinks.

He waits for Hovis to get level with him and then waves furiously, rushes out to meet him, and passes straight through the spirit. Hovis doesn’t register a thing- marches on, down the hill.

Bec stands still for a second and then swipes at himself, his hand passes through his spectral form.

Confusing.

He shrugs, and follows his friend, all the way down the street to Hovis’ fathers shop, to the Hovis Bakery at the bottom of the hill; then quickly nips in through an open side door, which Hovis locks behind him with his key.

Bec strides into the Hovis Bakery’s floury heart.

Men and women mix, kneed and fold; ovens fume- it’s a production line and it smells like heaven.

He passes on, follows Hovis through into a smaller chamber, men and women make pies, and pastries, and slices, and turnovers, and… with cream, and icing, and jam, and jelly- a fug of icing sugar fills the air.

Bec stands tongue out tasting the sweet air.

He grins.

Then gingerly reaches out for an egg custard, his hand passes clean through the dessert.

He shrugs again and presses on into the front of the store, the shop itself, he stands behind the counter, open mouthed.

On the other side of the counter is Anya, a fully… erm developed Anya.

Naked.

Except for the cream.

And icing.

And one, two… three cherries.

She leans forwards to talk to him, he can see her… Bec blushes furiously, turns away, and locks eyes on his friend Hovis Presley again, who doesn’t look away.

“Go on then… Serve her.” Hovis states.

Bec gulps, “What can I get you Anya, I mean Miss?” He enquires.

She moves right up close, her face in his, her breath on his cheek.

“Can I have a sandwich?” She states in breathy whisper.

And then everything begins to fade.

Bec tries desperately to force his way back into the sugar spun dream, thinks about good things; Anya, sandwiches in rows and rows, the sweet chocolate and cream taste of profiteroles, the moment he heard his father was dead, back to Anya and her hand on his arm, walking back to the Tetknee to re-supply, his hand reaching up to grab her neck, to strangle her…

NO.

And he’s back in the bakery.

And Anya’s passing him one of her cherries.

The one on the right.

From the top.

It’s covered in cream.

He opens his mouth.

And wakes.

He’s on guard duty, still stuck on the stair, Newt’s who should also be on duty lies at his feet, his eyes twitch and blink- he’s dreaming, Bec thinks.

And puts his tongue away.

And shuts his mouth.

And grins some more.

He looks around- they’re all asleep, all dreaming, eyes fluttering in the half-dark.

Bec smiles, his stomach growls- he’s hungry, he reaches over towards Anya, pulls her cloak over her, then settles back to keep watch.

“Anya.”

He whispers.

The sleeping form stirs a moment, smiles a little, and then heads back into the unknown.

Cas shakes violently, it passes.

The other sleepers, one-by-one, follow suit.

Bec snores.

Cas stands again in the pillared Temple, the one with the frescoes they passed through earlier.

A noise.

Louder.

A rumble constructed from deep guttural snarls and shouts. The door bursts open and Kobolds, and worse, tumble out- all manner of vile abominations, clawed, winged, beaked, taloned, a mish-mash of unholy fiends.

They rush towards him, his blade sings.

And then Ala is by his side, sword drawn.

And then Jim, bow at full extension, arrow notched.

And then Bec, hefting his great club, slapping it into the open palm of his hand.

And then Newt, swiftly slotting a bolt into his crossbow.

And then Anya, who turns to smile at him, and then extends her arm to reveal a wand.

The Kobold Abominations hit them.

And fire, and metal, and wood, and steel strike.

And nothing

The tide is gone.

And yet the noise…

The noise continues.

Cas turns to look behind him, the foul abominations have passed through them, moved on.

Darkness for a second, and then the sudden feeling of weightlessness, he passes through rock and earth and stone, and out, and up.

He floats high above the cavern entrance, the way into this hell.

Below him the hills and forests, the meadows and streams of Lincornshire.

He can see Tetknee.

And the black tide approaching it.

Watches as another tide of foul creature’s spills from the cavern entrance far below, head off towards...

And then another.

And then another.

Until he’s past counting.

Too many.

Darkness for a second, and then he’s back in the Temple.

And the blinding light of Pelor engulfs him.

He falls to one knee, head down, eyes up, trying to catch a glimpse, but he’s blinded by the light.

He feels the sun on his back, his forehead, his face, inside of him, filling his whole being.

A flood of light, of warmth.

Unbidden he stands, looks up, and straight ahead, into the eyes of his maker.

“End it.” Pelor winks.

And then is gone.

Cas wakes.

As do the others.

Anya with the tender caress of her fallen mother’s lips still imprinted on her cheek, the press of her hands, still warm, holding her, cradling her.

Newt with the crinkled feel of gold and jewels, the pucker marks still apparent on his flesh, from his bed of treasure and precious things.

Ala with the parting words of the strange woman she met in the woods, in her dream, still ringing in her ears.

“Stop asking who you are, and start being who you are, you’re stronger, by far, than you, or they, think.”

Ala smiles.

Jim with cool breeze of home on his back, the sweat of honest toil on his brow, and the memory of straw in his hair, his mother’s voice, echoing, calling him in for supper, his fathers arm around his shoulders, around his brothers shoulders- how it used to be.

Bec with his hands clutched around an invisible sandwich taking huge bites, wiping the crumbs away from his mouth.

The adventures look around them, awakened.

They know now what will happen if they fail.

They know what their reward will be.

That life will go, as normal, and they’ll be there to see it.

WHUMP

The door flies open and an enraged Derro, one of the maddened, grizzled, evil Dwarves stands silhouetted in the doorway.

The creature gibbers, squawks and rages, foams at the moth, a collar around its neck.

“Who let the dogs out?”

Newt enquires.

FWUNG

The crossbow trap, set earlier by Jim and Newt, fires- misses.

A second Derro, similarly affected lurches into the chamber.

And there endeth the third session of play in this scenario.

Everyone is now up to level two, I’ll post the stats a little later, they’ve not gained there skills, spells, or special abilities yet- that comes with training.

Next Turn: Grind Finale.