the Jester
Legend
Grandfather’s Legacy, as the complex behind the great statue is called, lives up to its reputation as a trap-filled warren. Many deadly traps, both mechanical and magical, remain active. But as they descend deeper into it and keep exploring, our heroes begin to piece together some of Grandfather’s story out of mosaics, statues and paintings. The rods he holds- like ankhs with no cross bars- are omnipresent in the paintings and mosaics depicting him and his works. From all appearances, he was a great hero of Fandelose, the greatest of his time. He is remembered only by the name ‘Grandfather’, for it has been many long centuries since his time.
More and more, as our heroes explore, they are convinced that these two keys have something to do with the secret weapons that General Argos asked them to try to find.
Mural after mural shows Grandfather presiding over the great city in times of battle, in times of peace, or both. His face is stern in some; in others, it is cracked with sorrow. Finally, in a long vaulted hall trapped by a field of deadly necrotic energy and a ceiling that drops a rain of gravel upon them, the party finds another fresco of Grandfather. In this one, he is looking at his blood-covered hands in horror, with the barbed iron rod clutched in one of them. The rod with olive leaves growing from it is under his feet, in the skull of one of his defeated foes. Cleverly hidden amongst the painted scene is a message: The Key to War is the Key to Peace, but the Key to Peace is the Key to War. Without the strength to defend the state, one cannot have peace. Bloodshed is a regrettable necessity, or so I found it. At the end I wished there had been another way, even at great cost. If you come for the keys, I pray your intent is better than mine was. Solve the puzzles to earn a great boon.
The jagged metal rod must be the Key to War, and the olive-leafed one must be the Key to Peace. Except... the Key to War is the Key to Peace. What does that mean?
“Maybe you need war to keep the peace,” suggests Vann-La.
There is no way to be sure, at least at first.
The “puzzles” that the writing refer to consist of wooden boards and three-dimensional, jigsaw-like puzzle pieces. The party stays back while Iggy messes around with them; he quickly finds that messing with the boards triggers a deadly trap in the room, as gravel starts to rain from the ceiling, and he is forced to flee, dimension dooring to safety.
“We can come back later and investigate those puzzles further,” Heimall says, “but for now, let’s move on.” Reluctantly, Sta’Ligir agrees.
***
It doesn’t take long before our heroes find a crypt. Only a single large sarcophagus, chased with turquoise, rests within it. In the eerie flickering blue light illuminating the chamber, they can see that the surface of the sarcophagus is carved to resemble Grandfather, his arms crossed across his chest. In his hands he clutches what our heroes assume to be the Keys to War and Peace. “Do you suppose that this is Grandfather’s tomb?” asks Loridell.
“Who knows?” replies Iggy. “It’s possible. No way to be sure, without opening it up.”
“Oi, maybe there is treasure within,” Cook points out.
“I don’t know,” Vann-La answers. She hesitates. “Maybe we should leave it alone.”
“Well, you just know that something undead is gonna pop up when we open that,” Sta’Ligir continues. “So let’s just get it over with.”
“Or,” Vann-La returns, “we could... not. Let it stay asleep in there.”
Torinn snorts. “Adventure!” he cries. “Let’s open it up!”
First, they examine the sarcophagus for traps. Immediately, they note that it has already been broken open. “Maybe we’re too late!” exclaims Heimall. They elect to open the heavy lid nonetheless.
Cook sets to work on the lid of the sarcophagus (which has been crudely re-sealed), and before long he manages to lever it open. Within it is a desiccated corpse laid out in finery. It is clear that the body has been looted; from marks and impressions left on the body, it is obvious that rings once adorned the fingers, a weapon was once in the sarcophagus with the body, and several necklaces were previously around the corpse’s neck. However, whoever looted the corpse missed some gold earrings and a silver pocketwatch, as well as a golden circlet on the body’s head. Finally, clutched in one of the bony hands of the body is the jagged rod that the party has seen in so many murals- but not the rod with the olive leaves. The other hand looks as though it has been forced open, and it is empty.
“Grandfather,” whispers Heimall. Then, noticing the empty hand, he swears. “Damn! Now what?”
“We’ll have to see if we can track whoever took it down,” Vann-La says.
“Why?” asks Kratos. “What do we need these things for?”
The party is silent for a moment; then, Iggy answers, “Just because we don’t know what we need them for doesn’t mean we don’t need them.”
“I bet that this complex has something to do with the Cathedral of War,” Vann-La suggests. “The Keys to War and Peace, a great hero who defended Fandelose in the past- it makes sense.”
“Maybe the Key to War opens the door to the Cathedral of War,” Sta’Ligir suggests.
“Well, then we have it.” She gestures at the rod clutched by the corpse.
“And why do we want to get into the Cathedral of War, anyway?” Kratos demands. “Four hundred weapons? That’s not enough to make a real difference in the coming war, and even if it were, we couldn’t possibly haul them back with us without help.”
“Still,” Sta’Ligir retorts, “General Argos wants us to try to find them.”
“Maybe we only need one key anyway,” says Torinn.
“But which one?” asks Vann-La. “Especially with what that message we found said- ‘the Key to War is the Key to Peace’ or however it went.”
“Oi, I don’t know if we want to take things from this grave anyway,” Cook says nervously. “My people believe that sometimes the dead will curse grave robbers. We could become haunted by their spirits!”
“We aren’t grave robbers, we’re adventurers,” Torinn replies.
“I don’t know...” Heimall looks thoughtful. “Maybe we should just take the Key to War- assuming that is what it is- and leave the rest.”
“That’s gold in there,” Loridell points out. “And if we’re taking something, we might as well take it all.”
The party debates for a while, but greed wins over superstition, and Cook, Loridell and Hkatha end up taking the corpse’s items. Vann-La suggests turning them over to the war effort.
The party continues on. A nearby hallway contains a rent with a passage, seemingly opened at some point in the past by an earthquake, that heads downward. “This could be where our looters came from,” Hkatha observes.
The party elects to finish exploring the level of the dungeon that they are presently on before venturing further downward. More traps and undead litter the place, but more interestingly, the party finds a chamber with a trap that has already been triggered with the corpses of a number of bulky, reptilian humanoids impaled on spears that thrust upward from the floor. Carefully, our heroes inspect the bodies, and Sta’Ligir identifies them as troglodytes. Vann-La notes that they seem to be dusted with some kind of yellow powder, but no one can identify it.
“Well, let’s head down,” Torinn says. “Maybe we can find the other key.”
“Not yet,” Iggy replies. “First, let’s go try to figure the puzzles with the wood blocks out.”
“Hello, sir,” a new voice calls from behind the party. They spin, weapons flying from sheaths, to face the newcomer: one of Borgan Tyre’s mercenaries.
“What are you doing here?” demands Heimall.
“Who are you?” asks Iggy.
“How did you get here?” exclaims Torinn.
The mercenary, bemused, says, “Well, my name is Glen. I’m one of Borgan Tyre’s mercenaries.”
“Who?” asks Loridell.
“A mercenary that works for us now,” Heimall answers. “But go on, Glen.”
“A messenger from the city came,” Glen resumes, but is interrupted again.
“From General Argos?” says Vann-La.
“No, from the Heinrikson family.” The mercenary pulls a sealed envelope from his pocket and hands it to Heimall. “For you, sir.”
Heimall nods his thanks and looks over the letter, then breaks the seal. It amounts to a courtesy hello from the local branch of his family, which has considerable mercantile power. Bemused, he realizes, They want me to help protect them in the coming war. Well, I’ll do everything I can for them, of course- but I’ll be doing everything I can for everyone, anyhow.
“As to how I got down in here,” Glen continues after Heimall is finished reading, “I followed the signs of battle and trouble.”
“Since you’re here...” Heimall says.
***
Even in trying to get through the necrotic field, our heroes have trouble, setting off yet another trap. This one animates a collection of wall-mounted weaponry, which set about dicing our heroes up. In reply, our heroes hack the weapons to pieces. They try their hands at the puzzles again, but fail, and are forced to jump through the field to escape the rain of gravel that pummels down from above. This proves almost lethal, dealing an inordinate amount of necrotic damage. They watch through the field as the room fills with gravel, and then it seems to magically clear away.
“We’ll get that solved sooner or later,” growls Iggy as Torinn heals him. Everyone is groaning in pain.
***
Further down, our heroes find the source of the yellow powder on the troglodyte corpses: strange, viney yellow plants that have somehow animated corpses to serve them. The party fights through them, blowing them apart with fire spells and hacking the plants to pieces. They slay a carrion crawler and some kind of strange worm made of blazing fire and molten earth. Then they come upon some live troglodytes, and this time the battle is much more severe. The troglodytes are ruthless, implacable foes, hurling stone-tipped javelins with deadly force. Even so, the party is a disciplined fighting force, used to working together to take out difficult opponents, and with Kratos, Heimall and Torinn all able to help restore the strength of the wounded, the party is able to face even superior numbers and drive them away. But it is a tough battle, and the party retreats to recuperate their strength for what they hope will be a final push the next day.
When they go back in, they fight their way through an angry, hungry cave tiger that is chained to a stalagmite. Its tether won’t allow it to leave the cavern that it is chained within. Clearly, the beast has been set in place as a guardian.
Our heroes put it out of its misery.
After passing through more traps and monsters, and failing the puzzle above yet again, the party finds more troglodytes. There is some hissing negotiation, and then the chieftain of the trogs steps forward.
“What you want?” it rasps in Common.
“You speak our tongue,” Vann-La says in surprise.
“We want the Key to Peace,” declares Heimall.
“What that?” the chieftain demands. “Besides, you kill my people. Why we give you anything?”
“It looks like this, but with leaves growing from it,” Sta’Ligir declares, pulling out the Key to War.
Loridell catches a flicker of recognition in the chieftain’s eyes. “They have it, all right,” she murmurs.
“And we are willing to buy it from you,” Heimall says. “We’ll pay you fairly and leave you alone. No more killing.”
The chieftain sneers. “You pay 100 gold pieces for it,” he demands.
“Done,” Heimall says immediately, “if you have it right now.”
“You show money, first,” the troglodyte growls.
The party quickly pulls together 100 gold, but they refuse to hand it over until the key is in sight. The troglodyte almost balks at that, but finally, they manage to transact the deal, and a few moments later, the party is headed to the surface with both the Key to War and the Key to Peace.
“Now how do we find the Cathedral of War?” wonders Hkatha.
Next Time: How indeed!
More and more, as our heroes explore, they are convinced that these two keys have something to do with the secret weapons that General Argos asked them to try to find.
Mural after mural shows Grandfather presiding over the great city in times of battle, in times of peace, or both. His face is stern in some; in others, it is cracked with sorrow. Finally, in a long vaulted hall trapped by a field of deadly necrotic energy and a ceiling that drops a rain of gravel upon them, the party finds another fresco of Grandfather. In this one, he is looking at his blood-covered hands in horror, with the barbed iron rod clutched in one of them. The rod with olive leaves growing from it is under his feet, in the skull of one of his defeated foes. Cleverly hidden amongst the painted scene is a message: The Key to War is the Key to Peace, but the Key to Peace is the Key to War. Without the strength to defend the state, one cannot have peace. Bloodshed is a regrettable necessity, or so I found it. At the end I wished there had been another way, even at great cost. If you come for the keys, I pray your intent is better than mine was. Solve the puzzles to earn a great boon.
The jagged metal rod must be the Key to War, and the olive-leafed one must be the Key to Peace. Except... the Key to War is the Key to Peace. What does that mean?
“Maybe you need war to keep the peace,” suggests Vann-La.
There is no way to be sure, at least at first.
The “puzzles” that the writing refer to consist of wooden boards and three-dimensional, jigsaw-like puzzle pieces. The party stays back while Iggy messes around with them; he quickly finds that messing with the boards triggers a deadly trap in the room, as gravel starts to rain from the ceiling, and he is forced to flee, dimension dooring to safety.
“We can come back later and investigate those puzzles further,” Heimall says, “but for now, let’s move on.” Reluctantly, Sta’Ligir agrees.
***
It doesn’t take long before our heroes find a crypt. Only a single large sarcophagus, chased with turquoise, rests within it. In the eerie flickering blue light illuminating the chamber, they can see that the surface of the sarcophagus is carved to resemble Grandfather, his arms crossed across his chest. In his hands he clutches what our heroes assume to be the Keys to War and Peace. “Do you suppose that this is Grandfather’s tomb?” asks Loridell.
“Who knows?” replies Iggy. “It’s possible. No way to be sure, without opening it up.”
“Oi, maybe there is treasure within,” Cook points out.
“I don’t know,” Vann-La answers. She hesitates. “Maybe we should leave it alone.”
“Well, you just know that something undead is gonna pop up when we open that,” Sta’Ligir continues. “So let’s just get it over with.”
“Or,” Vann-La returns, “we could... not. Let it stay asleep in there.”
Torinn snorts. “Adventure!” he cries. “Let’s open it up!”
First, they examine the sarcophagus for traps. Immediately, they note that it has already been broken open. “Maybe we’re too late!” exclaims Heimall. They elect to open the heavy lid nonetheless.
Cook sets to work on the lid of the sarcophagus (which has been crudely re-sealed), and before long he manages to lever it open. Within it is a desiccated corpse laid out in finery. It is clear that the body has been looted; from marks and impressions left on the body, it is obvious that rings once adorned the fingers, a weapon was once in the sarcophagus with the body, and several necklaces were previously around the corpse’s neck. However, whoever looted the corpse missed some gold earrings and a silver pocketwatch, as well as a golden circlet on the body’s head. Finally, clutched in one of the bony hands of the body is the jagged rod that the party has seen in so many murals- but not the rod with the olive leaves. The other hand looks as though it has been forced open, and it is empty.
“Grandfather,” whispers Heimall. Then, noticing the empty hand, he swears. “Damn! Now what?”
“We’ll have to see if we can track whoever took it down,” Vann-La says.
“Why?” asks Kratos. “What do we need these things for?”
The party is silent for a moment; then, Iggy answers, “Just because we don’t know what we need them for doesn’t mean we don’t need them.”
“I bet that this complex has something to do with the Cathedral of War,” Vann-La suggests. “The Keys to War and Peace, a great hero who defended Fandelose in the past- it makes sense.”
“Maybe the Key to War opens the door to the Cathedral of War,” Sta’Ligir suggests.
“Well, then we have it.” She gestures at the rod clutched by the corpse.
“And why do we want to get into the Cathedral of War, anyway?” Kratos demands. “Four hundred weapons? That’s not enough to make a real difference in the coming war, and even if it were, we couldn’t possibly haul them back with us without help.”
“Still,” Sta’Ligir retorts, “General Argos wants us to try to find them.”
“Maybe we only need one key anyway,” says Torinn.
“But which one?” asks Vann-La. “Especially with what that message we found said- ‘the Key to War is the Key to Peace’ or however it went.”
“Oi, I don’t know if we want to take things from this grave anyway,” Cook says nervously. “My people believe that sometimes the dead will curse grave robbers. We could become haunted by their spirits!”
“We aren’t grave robbers, we’re adventurers,” Torinn replies.
“I don’t know...” Heimall looks thoughtful. “Maybe we should just take the Key to War- assuming that is what it is- and leave the rest.”
“That’s gold in there,” Loridell points out. “And if we’re taking something, we might as well take it all.”
The party debates for a while, but greed wins over superstition, and Cook, Loridell and Hkatha end up taking the corpse’s items. Vann-La suggests turning them over to the war effort.
The party continues on. A nearby hallway contains a rent with a passage, seemingly opened at some point in the past by an earthquake, that heads downward. “This could be where our looters came from,” Hkatha observes.
The party elects to finish exploring the level of the dungeon that they are presently on before venturing further downward. More traps and undead litter the place, but more interestingly, the party finds a chamber with a trap that has already been triggered with the corpses of a number of bulky, reptilian humanoids impaled on spears that thrust upward from the floor. Carefully, our heroes inspect the bodies, and Sta’Ligir identifies them as troglodytes. Vann-La notes that they seem to be dusted with some kind of yellow powder, but no one can identify it.
“Well, let’s head down,” Torinn says. “Maybe we can find the other key.”
“Not yet,” Iggy replies. “First, let’s go try to figure the puzzles with the wood blocks out.”
“Hello, sir,” a new voice calls from behind the party. They spin, weapons flying from sheaths, to face the newcomer: one of Borgan Tyre’s mercenaries.
“What are you doing here?” demands Heimall.
“Who are you?” asks Iggy.
“How did you get here?” exclaims Torinn.
The mercenary, bemused, says, “Well, my name is Glen. I’m one of Borgan Tyre’s mercenaries.”
“Who?” asks Loridell.
“A mercenary that works for us now,” Heimall answers. “But go on, Glen.”
“A messenger from the city came,” Glen resumes, but is interrupted again.
“From General Argos?” says Vann-La.
“No, from the Heinrikson family.” The mercenary pulls a sealed envelope from his pocket and hands it to Heimall. “For you, sir.”
Heimall nods his thanks and looks over the letter, then breaks the seal. It amounts to a courtesy hello from the local branch of his family, which has considerable mercantile power. Bemused, he realizes, They want me to help protect them in the coming war. Well, I’ll do everything I can for them, of course- but I’ll be doing everything I can for everyone, anyhow.
“As to how I got down in here,” Glen continues after Heimall is finished reading, “I followed the signs of battle and trouble.”
“Since you’re here...” Heimall says.
***
Even in trying to get through the necrotic field, our heroes have trouble, setting off yet another trap. This one animates a collection of wall-mounted weaponry, which set about dicing our heroes up. In reply, our heroes hack the weapons to pieces. They try their hands at the puzzles again, but fail, and are forced to jump through the field to escape the rain of gravel that pummels down from above. This proves almost lethal, dealing an inordinate amount of necrotic damage. They watch through the field as the room fills with gravel, and then it seems to magically clear away.
“We’ll get that solved sooner or later,” growls Iggy as Torinn heals him. Everyone is groaning in pain.
***
Further down, our heroes find the source of the yellow powder on the troglodyte corpses: strange, viney yellow plants that have somehow animated corpses to serve them. The party fights through them, blowing them apart with fire spells and hacking the plants to pieces. They slay a carrion crawler and some kind of strange worm made of blazing fire and molten earth. Then they come upon some live troglodytes, and this time the battle is much more severe. The troglodytes are ruthless, implacable foes, hurling stone-tipped javelins with deadly force. Even so, the party is a disciplined fighting force, used to working together to take out difficult opponents, and with Kratos, Heimall and Torinn all able to help restore the strength of the wounded, the party is able to face even superior numbers and drive them away. But it is a tough battle, and the party retreats to recuperate their strength for what they hope will be a final push the next day.
When they go back in, they fight their way through an angry, hungry cave tiger that is chained to a stalagmite. Its tether won’t allow it to leave the cavern that it is chained within. Clearly, the beast has been set in place as a guardian.
Our heroes put it out of its misery.
After passing through more traps and monsters, and failing the puzzle above yet again, the party finds more troglodytes. There is some hissing negotiation, and then the chieftain of the trogs steps forward.
“What you want?” it rasps in Common.
“You speak our tongue,” Vann-La says in surprise.
“We want the Key to Peace,” declares Heimall.
“What that?” the chieftain demands. “Besides, you kill my people. Why we give you anything?”
“It looks like this, but with leaves growing from it,” Sta’Ligir declares, pulling out the Key to War.
Loridell catches a flicker of recognition in the chieftain’s eyes. “They have it, all right,” she murmurs.
“And we are willing to buy it from you,” Heimall says. “We’ll pay you fairly and leave you alone. No more killing.”
The chieftain sneers. “You pay 100 gold pieces for it,” he demands.
“Done,” Heimall says immediately, “if you have it right now.”
“You show money, first,” the troglodyte growls.
The party quickly pulls together 100 gold, but they refuse to hand it over until the key is in sight. The troglodyte almost balks at that, but finally, they manage to transact the deal, and a few moments later, the party is headed to the surface with both the Key to War and the Key to Peace.
“Now how do we find the Cathedral of War?” wonders Hkatha.
Next Time: How indeed!