BladeSmith
First Post
Gricks and Ghosts
Gricks and Ghosts
“Tira, go do some of that rogue stuff and find us a secret door or something. I know there’s more to this tomb, we just have to find it. All the lanterns are hung and lit. Something MUST have changed somewhere. No way is this,” Gorin slammed his hand against the empty sarcophagus, “the final resting place of a mighty Wind Duke.”
Following Gorin’s suggestion, Tira began to search each of the now colored hallways, looking for new openings and clues. The red, orange, yellow, and green hallways all yielded no new secrets. The blue hallway, however, had a pile of bones she hadn’t noticed before in her quicker searches. “Hey Gwendolyn, come check this out,” she called. Gwendolyn studied the bones for a minute. “Notice how many of the bones are broken?” she asked. “I’d say he was either crushed, or fell from a great height.” Tira looked up and noticed what she had missed before. Where the other lanterns hung on chains that attached themselves to a domed ceiling at the edge of her vision, the blue lantern hung on a chain that vanished into the darkness. The ceiling in this hallway was defiantly higher than the rest.
After testing the lantern’s chain for traps that might involve objects falling from above and crushing her, Tira climbed the chain. High above the tiny spot of blue light, Tira found an opening in the wall, a hallway leading off into the darkness. She scouted out a little ways, and then called for her companions to join her. Crunch lifted the shorter members of the party onto the chain. Only Gorin was unable to manage the feat, his heavy armor weighing him down. Crunch hauled him up using a couple of ropes.
The corridor opened up into a most unusual room. A narrow beam of petrified wood protruded out over an open expanse. Down into the depths, the floor was an uneven ocean of iron balls the size of oranges. There were a great many geometric patterns on the walls, but Tira noted that many of them were dark circles, probably holes. “I think I understand. It’s trapped. Let me find the trigger before we cross,” she stated as she began searching the floor of the petrified walkway. She found the trigger in short order and disabled it. “The balls come out of the holes in the walls and probably bludgeon you to death,” she explained. Continuing to the far end of the beam, she came to a slightly curved wall. There was a metallic portion that she presumed was a door, but it had no handle, lock, keyhole, or even a seam or hinge. She couldn’t find a way through the door, despite her best efforts. “I can’t find a way through the door,” she hollered back to her companions on the far side of the ball strewn chamber. “That’s because there isn’t one,” whispered a voice in her ear. She turned quickly; whipping out her rapier so fast it seemed to materialize in her hand. There was nobody there.
Tira didn’t have time to ponder the voice however; as she noticed that something beneath the ocean of iron spheres was moving toward her companions like a sea serpent stalking a fishing boat. Her warning shout beat the grick to her friends by the merest fractions of a second. They had barely enough time to draw weapons before the green body lunged for them out of the balls. It looked like a giant worm with four octopus tentacles for a face complete with a very sharp looking beak in the center. Gorin and Crunch were the only two that could reach the grick from the hallway, and neither of them wanted to venture onto the unsure footing of the slender wooden walkway. Crunch swung his axe with a mighty blow but the grick reared back out of reach. “Good follow-through, but you can’t kill it if you don’t hit it,” proclaimed a ghostly whisper. Ignoring the voice, they laid into their foe with mighty blows, but the damage they caused seemed to heal almost instantly. “Blasted metal resistant aberrations,” bellowed Gorin, “Only magic can damage these.”
Sethrie and Damon answered the dwarfs call, blasting the beast with the best they had to offer. Damon summoned the eldritch energies gifted him by ancient forebears, while Sethrie threw a ball of sound at the strange creature. At each blow the ghostly voice cheered them or taunted them, depending on the outcome. The owner of the voice was certainly enjoying themselves watching the companions battle the grick.
When the grick was nothing more than a smoldering corpse lying atop the ocean of iron spheres the owner of the ghostly voice showed himself to the companions. A translucent blue teenage farm boy with a broken neck floating several feet off the ground materialized rather suddenly and introduced himself. “Hi, I’m Alastor,” proclaimed the ethereal boy.
Gricks and Ghosts
“Tira, go do some of that rogue stuff and find us a secret door or something. I know there’s more to this tomb, we just have to find it. All the lanterns are hung and lit. Something MUST have changed somewhere. No way is this,” Gorin slammed his hand against the empty sarcophagus, “the final resting place of a mighty Wind Duke.”
Following Gorin’s suggestion, Tira began to search each of the now colored hallways, looking for new openings and clues. The red, orange, yellow, and green hallways all yielded no new secrets. The blue hallway, however, had a pile of bones she hadn’t noticed before in her quicker searches. “Hey Gwendolyn, come check this out,” she called. Gwendolyn studied the bones for a minute. “Notice how many of the bones are broken?” she asked. “I’d say he was either crushed, or fell from a great height.” Tira looked up and noticed what she had missed before. Where the other lanterns hung on chains that attached themselves to a domed ceiling at the edge of her vision, the blue lantern hung on a chain that vanished into the darkness. The ceiling in this hallway was defiantly higher than the rest.
After testing the lantern’s chain for traps that might involve objects falling from above and crushing her, Tira climbed the chain. High above the tiny spot of blue light, Tira found an opening in the wall, a hallway leading off into the darkness. She scouted out a little ways, and then called for her companions to join her. Crunch lifted the shorter members of the party onto the chain. Only Gorin was unable to manage the feat, his heavy armor weighing him down. Crunch hauled him up using a couple of ropes.
The corridor opened up into a most unusual room. A narrow beam of petrified wood protruded out over an open expanse. Down into the depths, the floor was an uneven ocean of iron balls the size of oranges. There were a great many geometric patterns on the walls, but Tira noted that many of them were dark circles, probably holes. “I think I understand. It’s trapped. Let me find the trigger before we cross,” she stated as she began searching the floor of the petrified walkway. She found the trigger in short order and disabled it. “The balls come out of the holes in the walls and probably bludgeon you to death,” she explained. Continuing to the far end of the beam, she came to a slightly curved wall. There was a metallic portion that she presumed was a door, but it had no handle, lock, keyhole, or even a seam or hinge. She couldn’t find a way through the door, despite her best efforts. “I can’t find a way through the door,” she hollered back to her companions on the far side of the ball strewn chamber. “That’s because there isn’t one,” whispered a voice in her ear. She turned quickly; whipping out her rapier so fast it seemed to materialize in her hand. There was nobody there.
Tira didn’t have time to ponder the voice however; as she noticed that something beneath the ocean of iron spheres was moving toward her companions like a sea serpent stalking a fishing boat. Her warning shout beat the grick to her friends by the merest fractions of a second. They had barely enough time to draw weapons before the green body lunged for them out of the balls. It looked like a giant worm with four octopus tentacles for a face complete with a very sharp looking beak in the center. Gorin and Crunch were the only two that could reach the grick from the hallway, and neither of them wanted to venture onto the unsure footing of the slender wooden walkway. Crunch swung his axe with a mighty blow but the grick reared back out of reach. “Good follow-through, but you can’t kill it if you don’t hit it,” proclaimed a ghostly whisper. Ignoring the voice, they laid into their foe with mighty blows, but the damage they caused seemed to heal almost instantly. “Blasted metal resistant aberrations,” bellowed Gorin, “Only magic can damage these.”
Sethrie and Damon answered the dwarfs call, blasting the beast with the best they had to offer. Damon summoned the eldritch energies gifted him by ancient forebears, while Sethrie threw a ball of sound at the strange creature. At each blow the ghostly voice cheered them or taunted them, depending on the outcome. The owner of the voice was certainly enjoying themselves watching the companions battle the grick.
When the grick was nothing more than a smoldering corpse lying atop the ocean of iron spheres the owner of the ghostly voice showed himself to the companions. A translucent blue teenage farm boy with a broken neck floating several feet off the ground materialized rather suddenly and introduced himself. “Hi, I’m Alastor,” proclaimed the ethereal boy.
