Martin Olarin
First Post
Story hour really helps me remember key events - thanks. Looking forward to this weekend and dealing with the repercussions of Markos killing 1/2 the group.
Just kidding... or am I?
Just kidding... or am I?
-
The VOIDRUNNER'S CODEX is LIVE! Explore new worlds, fight oppressive empires, fend off fearsome aliens, and wield deadly psionics with this comprehensive boxed set expansion for 5E and A5E!
"Second Son of a Second Son" - An Aquerra Story Hour (*finally* Updated 04/19)
- Thread starter el-remmen
- Start date
Cyronax
Explorer
Hi el-remmen,
I loved Out of the Frying Pan and I am finally getting into your new story hour (new for me).
I'm still in the early sessions, but its all great so far! I really like the party and the way you set up the adventuring charter. I will hopefully catch up in a week or two. I just wanted to emerge out of my typical lurker status and voice my appreciation.
Thanks for the story
C.I.D.
I loved Out of the Frying Pan and I am finally getting into your new story hour (new for me).
I'm still in the early sessions, but its all great so far! I really like the party and the way you set up the adventuring charter. I will hopefully catch up in a week or two. I just wanted to emerge out of my typical lurker status and voice my appreciation.
Thanks for the story
C.I.D.
el-remmen
Moderator Emeritus
Hey all!
Sorry it has been so long since an update. Between the end of the semester, holiday season, being very sick and just not being in a D&D head lately the writing has suffered.
However, I am slowly (slowly) making progress on writing up Session #18 and when that is done I will post the first part of #17 (which is already done and waiting).
We have not played a session since December 9th, but our next session is scheduled for a week from tomorrow (the 20th of January), and hopefully will continue on every 2 weeks from there as normal.
Peace.
Sorry it has been so long since an update. Between the end of the semester, holiday season, being very sick and just not being in a D&D head lately the writing has suffered.
However, I am slowly (slowly) making progress on writing up Session #18 and when that is done I will post the first part of #17 (which is already done and waiting).
We have not played a session since December 9th, but our next session is scheduled for a week from tomorrow (the 20th of January), and hopefully will continue on every 2 weeks from there as normal.
Peace.
el-remmen
Moderator Emeritus
Session #17 – “Into the Moor-Tomb”1, 2
The Signers of the Charter of Schiereiland stood before a shallow pond of brackish water that was lined with tall flat ridges of stone entwined with sickly gray vines with yellowing fronds. At the center of the water stood a black obelisk of six sides that came to a point. Each face of it was etched in deep runes that were similar to the style they had seen on the mask signposts that led them here.3 It was over twenty feet tall.
“Is this like some kind of holy place for the locals?” Timotheus asked.
“There are no locals,” Bleys replied in his baritone. He was looking intently at the obelisk.
“The mummy cult?” Timotheus asked, but no one answered.
“Well, let’s take a closer look,” Victoria began to march out across the shallow water, and Bleys and Laarus followed. Timotheus had Falco and Dunlevey come with him to scout out the rows of stone around the pond.
“In context like this, it is easier to read the runes,” Laarus said, and he began to translate them aloud. They were carved inches deep into the stone, and Victoria examined them closely, puzzled by their design.
The priest of Ra, read the southern face:
Those crossing deeps to gain the ground. May fall as biting fear is found.
The southwestern face read: One’s days can ne’er be forged anew, But magic may give great their due.
They heard Timotheus call out a warning. Dunlevey had spotted something white move between some stones. Falco and Timotheus moved to join him, Tim noticing some kind of form wrapped in strips of dirty white. He moved in that direction, as Falco swung out to get a possible shot with his bow. Distracted, they did not notice another of the creatures crouched behind a stone near Dunlevey. The sell-sword cried out as he felt something grab him from behind. It was a man. Or was it? Squat and muscular it was covered in strips of loose hanging white bandages made gray by dirt and bits of leaves and sticks stuck on it. It moaned in an inhuman voice, rheumy deep-set eyes looking out from the folds. It had powerful arms that it locked around Dunlevey, and the hireling could feel the bandages adhere to him tightly; he was stuck like a fly in molasses.4
The first creature they had spotted popped out from behind a stone near Falco, having crept back around. The scout let an arrow loose, but blundered in his alarm, and the missile went wide. He reeled as the strange mummy slammed him in the face with heavy black fist. The thing’s hands were not covered in the dirty bandages.
“Get up here! It’s mummies! They’ve got Dunlevey!” Timotheus cried, dropping his saber to draw a dagger.
“Sagitta aquom” Markos cast his magic missile spell sending two bolts of watery blue light slamming into the creature.5
As Victoria of Anhur took up her spear and charged around the ring of rocks to get in sight of scrum, Telémahkos crept around, staying out of view and loading his crossbow, and Tymon stayed close mimicking his master. Bleys the Aubergine withdrew to Markos’ position, Crusta cringing behind the tanned mage in her gray smock. The watch-mage took a shot at the creature harassing Falco. He missed. Timotheus Smith wrapped a beefy arm about the grappling mummy’s neck, and tried to pull out one of the creature’s legs with his own, to send it to the ground. He stabbed hard with the dagger, but felt the awkward jerk as the point scraped through the loose bandages drawing yellow pus from beneath. The dagger was now stuck to the creature, and Tim could not pull it free. It was then that he realized two things. The first was that the ‘mummy’ was not wrapped in bandages at all, the loose dirty flaps were some kind of disgusting hide that covered the thing, and second being that he too was now stuck to it, adhered in place by the hide’s properties.
“May Ra’s holy light clear the darkness from this place!” Laarus of Ra chanted, drawing his flail as he did so. A golden beam of light flashed out of the sun and the mummy-creature attacking Falco moaned, as its shoulder began to smoke and the flappy hide began to roll back and blacken, revealing pink raw flesh beneath.
“Give us the shinies!” the creature hissed as it throttled Dunlevey, the bushy-haired hireling’s face darkening with each futile attempt to free himself.
”Get the Hells off of him!” Timotheus yelled, but he was stuck as well and his attempts to give Dunlevey a chance to lever himself free failed.
“Falco! Get out of there!” Bleys called to the scout, seeing the raven-haired man’s bloody face. He had been struck again, and again, each of his arrows doing no harm as they missed completely, or merely hung ineffectively, adhering to the false mummy.
Brimming with bull’s strength granted by Anhur, Victoria dropped her spear and grabbed one of the grappling creature’s arms to help free Tim and Dunlevey. In a moment, she was stuck and struggling as well, the four of them fell over into a squirming pile of desperate bodies, twisting and choking, their armor clanging against each other.
Another call to Ra to send the holy light of his glory down to strike the other ‘mummy’ failed, as the creature managed to sidestep when it noticed Laarus pointing at it. The ground sizzled for a moment and then the beam dissipated.
“Markos, you fool! Enlarge Dunlevey already!” Bleys called to Markos. The diminutive mage was making his way around to the melee from the other side of the pond, Crusta creeping along behind him. The watch-mage sent another arrow at the one following Falco, but it had little effect, hanging inertly amid its flaps of skin with the other arrows.
Falco withdrew as Telémahkos hurried back to his pack to get the Steel Whip, dropping Dunlevey’s longsword as he did so.6 Instead of continuing to follow, the ‘mummy’ ducked around the tall stones and slammed a fist down into Dunlevey’s face. The hireling was at the top of the sticky grappling pile still trying desperately to break free. “Someone help us!” he cried. Deep in the pile, the other creature managed to twist it body around making use of its loose skin, and pressed a forearm down on Timotheus’ neck. Tim coughed out a stream of raspy profanity, as he clawed ineffectively to get the arm off of him.
Laarus of Ra moved in, flail swinging over his head to drive the free mummy-thing away from the scrum, flicking away the punches of the creature with the weapon’s head.
“What are you doing? Get in there!” Bleys admonished Telémahkos finding the blond Briareus crouched behind a rock again, rapier tucked into his belt. The watch-mage hurried by and took up Victoria’s longspear. Markos finally came around the stones and could not suppress a laugh when he saw the scrambling scrum, but seeing that Laarus was now grappled and stuck to the other creature, he cried out. “Don’t be stubborn, cousin! Say the word!”
”Do it now!” Laarus replied, and a few moments later the priest of Ra began to grow so rapidly there was a sickening rip as the false mummy fell loose, leaving narrow strips of its sticky bandage-like hide on Laarus’ armor.
“One… Two…Three!” Victoria, Dunlevey and Timotheus were trying to concert their efforts to free themselves. Timotheus had managed to reach up and squeeze the thing’s neck until it stopped moving, but they were still stuck. Now having scuttled over closer to a rock, they were trying to gain leverage with their feet. They were covered in muck, blood and broken reeds, flailing in about eight inches of scummy water.
“Can’t you use magic to free us?” Timotheus asked Bleys, but Bleys did not answer. Instead he called for Tymon to join the fight with the other creature as he ran forward and thrust at it with Victoria’s spear. Telémahkos had finally gathered the courage to tumble out from behind the stone and try to flank the creature with Laarus. Falco had leapt up onto a stone and was loosing an arrow whenever he had a clear shot, which was not often.
“Does someone have a torch or something? Maybe we can burn this thing off,” Timotheus called out, obviously frustrated with their inability to free themselves from the false mummy glue.
The remaining ‘mummy’ ran towards the pond, and Laarus took the opportunity to slam his enlarged flail into it back as it fled. The head of the great weapon stuck to the creature even as it crunched flesh and bone beneath. With a violent jerk, the monster hurried away, and the flail tore free.
“Keep shooting it!” Bleys commanded Falco and Tymon, though their bolts and arrows seemed to be doing little. He planted Victoria’s spear head first into the muck and drew his bow off his back, and let loose another arrow that went wide as the thing weaved to avoid Laarus. The priest’s great height and girth had given it momentary cover. Telémahkos ran in from the other side, flicking a dagger at it that splashed into the water and disappeared.
Victoria of Anhur roared with the righteous fury of her god and after a few hard frustrating jerks managed to free herself of the jumble of bodies and hurried out to the pond to join the melee, taking up her spear as she passed it. Timotheus and Dunlevey continued to rock back and forth in place trying to get free. Tim was so desperate he called over Crusta to aid them, as Markos had joined the others to take care of the final grappling adherer.
“You’re not my boyfriend anymore!” Crusta complained, putting her face real close to Tim’s to leer at him.
“Please help?” Timotheus tried more kindly.
The half-orc witch pushed them closer to a rock and Dunlevey grabbed it while she grabbed Tim’s arm, bracing a foot against the stone and pulled.
As Victoria skirted the pond to find the clear opening through the others surrounding the ‘mummy,’ moving as it moved, peppering it with arrows. Telémahkos cursed as he dove in to stab it with his rapier, but had to draw back with the steel whip still stuck to the creature. Taking its only opening the creature tried to run again, but Victoria had moved into place to block its exit. Markos cursed at Laarus for getting in the way of his clear shots. “You’re all hopeless!” Markos complained as the ‘mummy’ could not seem to be defeated.
Out of arrows, Falco drew his scimitar and joined the circle.
“Don’t let it get away with our weapons!” Telémahkos warned.
Another devastating blow from Laarus and once again his flail was stuck to the thing. As it stumbled back from the blow, the priest lost his grip and the weapon shrunk back to normal size, still hanging from the thing. Bleys cursed a moment later when his saber was also hanging from it, having abandoned his bow again. Finally freed, Dunlevey came rushing over, great sword in his hands, the false mummy made one last attempt to flee, and ducking Laarus’ desperate swing, it popped up only to have Victoria’s spear slip under its chin and shove it back. There was a cascade of blood as the militant of Anhur torn her weapon free. As it collapsed dead, the red wash of its blood loosened the weapons stuck to it, and they could be retrieved. Still filled with rage, Victoria continued to smash and pierce the corpse with her spear, until she finally sank to her knees and let out a long low breath of relief.
“You’re pathetic,” Markos murmured to Timotheus when he walked over to see the tall warrior still trying to free himself with Crusta’s help.
“Boyfriend! Don’t be jealous!” Crusta cried, dropping Tim’s arm, to wrap her own around Markos’ neck lovingly.
“It’s okay, Crusta,” Markos replied, gently pulling her arms away. “We’re all friends here. We have to help each other.”
Timotheus was quickly freed using the blood of the other corpse, and then Markos slit the thing’s throat to make sure it was dead.
“And how many times did Markos hit that thing?” Timotheus asked Bleys, the mage’s comments had stung.
“None,” Bleys replied in flat tone, and Tim threw Markos a glare.
“Is this really what mummies are like?” Dunlevey asked, leaning on a stone.
“I don’t think these were real mummies, or even undead,” Laarus of Ra said. “Who know what kind of accursed men these once were, but from their guise I assume they are what were meant by the ‘cult of mummies’ Brother Cineas mentioned.”7
Victoria called on her god to close the wounds of Telémahkos and Dunlevey, while Laarus lent some of Ra’s graces to Falco.
Finally able to get back to examining the obelisk, Laarus finished translating the runes.
The southwestern face read: The immortal clock will never chime, for he who fears a simple climb.
“What is this crap?” Timotheus swore.
The north face read: The gold you give repays in kind. Give well when asked and safety find.
The northeast face read the same as the southwestern one. The northwestern face read: Desire for gold may secrets show, But giving stills the fatal blow.
“Hmmm, the climb one is mentioned twice?” Victoria mused after resting a few minutes to recover her strength.8 She examined the deeply carved runes once again, and then without further words began to climb the obelisk, using the runes as foot and handholds. At the top of the obelisk, the pointed top held two crystal lenses. One faced southeast and was much smaller, and the other faced northwest and was much bigger. They were both convex and clouded, and she could see nothing inside by putting her face to the bigger end. She called down, describing what she saw, and Bleys suggested she put her eye to the small lens and look in that way.
Scrambling over to the other side, she did as he suggested and the distant landscape was astonishingly magnified, revealing the moors as a gorgeous vista.
…to be continued…
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Notes:
(1) This session was played on September 30, 2007.
(2) The Moor-Tomb Map is from Dungeon #13.
(3) See Session #16. “Follow the Masks” was written on the map provided by Malcolm the Bronze.
(4) Once again I am proud to use a monster from the 1E Fiend Folio, the best monster book ever! These are adherers, and the fact that they were used in the original adventure did a lot to convince me to incorporate it.
(5) Markos’ player (Martin Olarin on these boards) was unable to make it to this session, so all his actions and words are those of the DM as he was able to resist coming down with bog flu.
(6) Worried about ghouls and needing a slashing weapon, Telémahkos borrow Dunlevey’s long sword in Session #16.
(7) See Session #12
(8) Militants of Anhur are fatigued after using their righteous fury ability until they have rested a number of minutes equal to the number of rounds they were raging.
The Signers of the Charter of Schiereiland stood before a shallow pond of brackish water that was lined with tall flat ridges of stone entwined with sickly gray vines with yellowing fronds. At the center of the water stood a black obelisk of six sides that came to a point. Each face of it was etched in deep runes that were similar to the style they had seen on the mask signposts that led them here.3 It was over twenty feet tall.
“Is this like some kind of holy place for the locals?” Timotheus asked.
“There are no locals,” Bleys replied in his baritone. He was looking intently at the obelisk.
“The mummy cult?” Timotheus asked, but no one answered.
“Well, let’s take a closer look,” Victoria began to march out across the shallow water, and Bleys and Laarus followed. Timotheus had Falco and Dunlevey come with him to scout out the rows of stone around the pond.
“In context like this, it is easier to read the runes,” Laarus said, and he began to translate them aloud. They were carved inches deep into the stone, and Victoria examined them closely, puzzled by their design.
The priest of Ra, read the southern face:
Those crossing deeps to gain the ground. May fall as biting fear is found.
The southwestern face read: One’s days can ne’er be forged anew, But magic may give great their due.
They heard Timotheus call out a warning. Dunlevey had spotted something white move between some stones. Falco and Timotheus moved to join him, Tim noticing some kind of form wrapped in strips of dirty white. He moved in that direction, as Falco swung out to get a possible shot with his bow. Distracted, they did not notice another of the creatures crouched behind a stone near Dunlevey. The sell-sword cried out as he felt something grab him from behind. It was a man. Or was it? Squat and muscular it was covered in strips of loose hanging white bandages made gray by dirt and bits of leaves and sticks stuck on it. It moaned in an inhuman voice, rheumy deep-set eyes looking out from the folds. It had powerful arms that it locked around Dunlevey, and the hireling could feel the bandages adhere to him tightly; he was stuck like a fly in molasses.4
The first creature they had spotted popped out from behind a stone near Falco, having crept back around. The scout let an arrow loose, but blundered in his alarm, and the missile went wide. He reeled as the strange mummy slammed him in the face with heavy black fist. The thing’s hands were not covered in the dirty bandages.
“Get up here! It’s mummies! They’ve got Dunlevey!” Timotheus cried, dropping his saber to draw a dagger.
“Sagitta aquom” Markos cast his magic missile spell sending two bolts of watery blue light slamming into the creature.5
As Victoria of Anhur took up her spear and charged around the ring of rocks to get in sight of scrum, Telémahkos crept around, staying out of view and loading his crossbow, and Tymon stayed close mimicking his master. Bleys the Aubergine withdrew to Markos’ position, Crusta cringing behind the tanned mage in her gray smock. The watch-mage took a shot at the creature harassing Falco. He missed. Timotheus Smith wrapped a beefy arm about the grappling mummy’s neck, and tried to pull out one of the creature’s legs with his own, to send it to the ground. He stabbed hard with the dagger, but felt the awkward jerk as the point scraped through the loose bandages drawing yellow pus from beneath. The dagger was now stuck to the creature, and Tim could not pull it free. It was then that he realized two things. The first was that the ‘mummy’ was not wrapped in bandages at all, the loose dirty flaps were some kind of disgusting hide that covered the thing, and second being that he too was now stuck to it, adhered in place by the hide’s properties.
“May Ra’s holy light clear the darkness from this place!” Laarus of Ra chanted, drawing his flail as he did so. A golden beam of light flashed out of the sun and the mummy-creature attacking Falco moaned, as its shoulder began to smoke and the flappy hide began to roll back and blacken, revealing pink raw flesh beneath.
“Give us the shinies!” the creature hissed as it throttled Dunlevey, the bushy-haired hireling’s face darkening with each futile attempt to free himself.
”Get the Hells off of him!” Timotheus yelled, but he was stuck as well and his attempts to give Dunlevey a chance to lever himself free failed.
“Falco! Get out of there!” Bleys called to the scout, seeing the raven-haired man’s bloody face. He had been struck again, and again, each of his arrows doing no harm as they missed completely, or merely hung ineffectively, adhering to the false mummy.
Brimming with bull’s strength granted by Anhur, Victoria dropped her spear and grabbed one of the grappling creature’s arms to help free Tim and Dunlevey. In a moment, she was stuck and struggling as well, the four of them fell over into a squirming pile of desperate bodies, twisting and choking, their armor clanging against each other.
Another call to Ra to send the holy light of his glory down to strike the other ‘mummy’ failed, as the creature managed to sidestep when it noticed Laarus pointing at it. The ground sizzled for a moment and then the beam dissipated.
“Markos, you fool! Enlarge Dunlevey already!” Bleys called to Markos. The diminutive mage was making his way around to the melee from the other side of the pond, Crusta creeping along behind him. The watch-mage sent another arrow at the one following Falco, but it had little effect, hanging inertly amid its flaps of skin with the other arrows.
Falco withdrew as Telémahkos hurried back to his pack to get the Steel Whip, dropping Dunlevey’s longsword as he did so.6 Instead of continuing to follow, the ‘mummy’ ducked around the tall stones and slammed a fist down into Dunlevey’s face. The hireling was at the top of the sticky grappling pile still trying desperately to break free. “Someone help us!” he cried. Deep in the pile, the other creature managed to twist it body around making use of its loose skin, and pressed a forearm down on Timotheus’ neck. Tim coughed out a stream of raspy profanity, as he clawed ineffectively to get the arm off of him.
Laarus of Ra moved in, flail swinging over his head to drive the free mummy-thing away from the scrum, flicking away the punches of the creature with the weapon’s head.
“What are you doing? Get in there!” Bleys admonished Telémahkos finding the blond Briareus crouched behind a rock again, rapier tucked into his belt. The watch-mage hurried by and took up Victoria’s longspear. Markos finally came around the stones and could not suppress a laugh when he saw the scrambling scrum, but seeing that Laarus was now grappled and stuck to the other creature, he cried out. “Don’t be stubborn, cousin! Say the word!”
”Do it now!” Laarus replied, and a few moments later the priest of Ra began to grow so rapidly there was a sickening rip as the false mummy fell loose, leaving narrow strips of its sticky bandage-like hide on Laarus’ armor.
“One… Two…Three!” Victoria, Dunlevey and Timotheus were trying to concert their efforts to free themselves. Timotheus had managed to reach up and squeeze the thing’s neck until it stopped moving, but they were still stuck. Now having scuttled over closer to a rock, they were trying to gain leverage with their feet. They were covered in muck, blood and broken reeds, flailing in about eight inches of scummy water.
“Can’t you use magic to free us?” Timotheus asked Bleys, but Bleys did not answer. Instead he called for Tymon to join the fight with the other creature as he ran forward and thrust at it with Victoria’s spear. Telémahkos had finally gathered the courage to tumble out from behind the stone and try to flank the creature with Laarus. Falco had leapt up onto a stone and was loosing an arrow whenever he had a clear shot, which was not often.
“Does someone have a torch or something? Maybe we can burn this thing off,” Timotheus called out, obviously frustrated with their inability to free themselves from the false mummy glue.
The remaining ‘mummy’ ran towards the pond, and Laarus took the opportunity to slam his enlarged flail into it back as it fled. The head of the great weapon stuck to the creature even as it crunched flesh and bone beneath. With a violent jerk, the monster hurried away, and the flail tore free.
“Keep shooting it!” Bleys commanded Falco and Tymon, though their bolts and arrows seemed to be doing little. He planted Victoria’s spear head first into the muck and drew his bow off his back, and let loose another arrow that went wide as the thing weaved to avoid Laarus. The priest’s great height and girth had given it momentary cover. Telémahkos ran in from the other side, flicking a dagger at it that splashed into the water and disappeared.
Victoria of Anhur roared with the righteous fury of her god and after a few hard frustrating jerks managed to free herself of the jumble of bodies and hurried out to the pond to join the melee, taking up her spear as she passed it. Timotheus and Dunlevey continued to rock back and forth in place trying to get free. Tim was so desperate he called over Crusta to aid them, as Markos had joined the others to take care of the final grappling adherer.
“You’re not my boyfriend anymore!” Crusta complained, putting her face real close to Tim’s to leer at him.
“Please help?” Timotheus tried more kindly.
The half-orc witch pushed them closer to a rock and Dunlevey grabbed it while she grabbed Tim’s arm, bracing a foot against the stone and pulled.
As Victoria skirted the pond to find the clear opening through the others surrounding the ‘mummy,’ moving as it moved, peppering it with arrows. Telémahkos cursed as he dove in to stab it with his rapier, but had to draw back with the steel whip still stuck to the creature. Taking its only opening the creature tried to run again, but Victoria had moved into place to block its exit. Markos cursed at Laarus for getting in the way of his clear shots. “You’re all hopeless!” Markos complained as the ‘mummy’ could not seem to be defeated.
Out of arrows, Falco drew his scimitar and joined the circle.
“Don’t let it get away with our weapons!” Telémahkos warned.
Another devastating blow from Laarus and once again his flail was stuck to the thing. As it stumbled back from the blow, the priest lost his grip and the weapon shrunk back to normal size, still hanging from the thing. Bleys cursed a moment later when his saber was also hanging from it, having abandoned his bow again. Finally freed, Dunlevey came rushing over, great sword in his hands, the false mummy made one last attempt to flee, and ducking Laarus’ desperate swing, it popped up only to have Victoria’s spear slip under its chin and shove it back. There was a cascade of blood as the militant of Anhur torn her weapon free. As it collapsed dead, the red wash of its blood loosened the weapons stuck to it, and they could be retrieved. Still filled with rage, Victoria continued to smash and pierce the corpse with her spear, until she finally sank to her knees and let out a long low breath of relief.
“You’re pathetic,” Markos murmured to Timotheus when he walked over to see the tall warrior still trying to free himself with Crusta’s help.
“Boyfriend! Don’t be jealous!” Crusta cried, dropping Tim’s arm, to wrap her own around Markos’ neck lovingly.
“It’s okay, Crusta,” Markos replied, gently pulling her arms away. “We’re all friends here. We have to help each other.”
Timotheus was quickly freed using the blood of the other corpse, and then Markos slit the thing’s throat to make sure it was dead.
“And how many times did Markos hit that thing?” Timotheus asked Bleys, the mage’s comments had stung.
“None,” Bleys replied in flat tone, and Tim threw Markos a glare.
“Is this really what mummies are like?” Dunlevey asked, leaning on a stone.
“I don’t think these were real mummies, or even undead,” Laarus of Ra said. “Who know what kind of accursed men these once were, but from their guise I assume they are what were meant by the ‘cult of mummies’ Brother Cineas mentioned.”7
Victoria called on her god to close the wounds of Telémahkos and Dunlevey, while Laarus lent some of Ra’s graces to Falco.
Finally able to get back to examining the obelisk, Laarus finished translating the runes.
The southwestern face read: The immortal clock will never chime, for he who fears a simple climb.
“What is this crap?” Timotheus swore.
The north face read: The gold you give repays in kind. Give well when asked and safety find.
The northeast face read the same as the southwestern one. The northwestern face read: Desire for gold may secrets show, But giving stills the fatal blow.
“Hmmm, the climb one is mentioned twice?” Victoria mused after resting a few minutes to recover her strength.8 She examined the deeply carved runes once again, and then without further words began to climb the obelisk, using the runes as foot and handholds. At the top of the obelisk, the pointed top held two crystal lenses. One faced southeast and was much smaller, and the other faced northwest and was much bigger. They were both convex and clouded, and she could see nothing inside by putting her face to the bigger end. She called down, describing what she saw, and Bleys suggested she put her eye to the small lens and look in that way.
Scrambling over to the other side, she did as he suggested and the distant landscape was astonishingly magnified, revealing the moors as a gorgeous vista.
…to be continued…
----------------------------------------------------------------------
Notes:
(1) This session was played on September 30, 2007.
(2) The Moor-Tomb Map is from Dungeon #13.
(3) See Session #16. “Follow the Masks” was written on the map provided by Malcolm the Bronze.
(4) Once again I am proud to use a monster from the 1E Fiend Folio, the best monster book ever! These are adherers, and the fact that they were used in the original adventure did a lot to convince me to incorporate it.
(5) Markos’ player (Martin Olarin on these boards) was unable to make it to this session, so all his actions and words are those of the DM as he was able to resist coming down with bog flu.
(6) Worried about ghouls and needing a slashing weapon, Telémahkos borrow Dunlevey’s long sword in Session #16.
(7) See Session #12
(8) Militants of Anhur are fatigued after using their righteous fury ability until they have rested a number of minutes equal to the number of rounds they were raging.
Last edited:
handforged
First Post
I also like the adherers. And the clues on the obelisk. I hope that you are able to get back into the swing of things after the holidays. I know it is hard for me.
Thanks for the update.
~hf
Thanks for the update.
~hf
Martin Olarin
First Post
Wow - I think those "mummies" were only mentioned in passing to me when told afterwards about the session. Considering how frustrating the encounter seemed while reading I'm not surprised Thanks for the update.
Thanks for the update.
el-remmen
Moderator Emeritus
Session #17 – “Into the Moor-Tomb” (part 2 of 2)
“It acts as a spyglass of sorts!” Victoria of Anhur called down with uncommon wonder in her voice. She noticed a silver arrow between the two lenses and followed it with her eyes. It revealed a lake set into a black hill surrounded by thick brush. It went back several miles.
“That must be where the tomb is,” she said as she climbed back down. Bleys had Falco climb up and look to get an idea of a route out to that place, while he produced the moor-tomb map and a quill. He had Laarus read the inscriptions again, and this time he wrote them down, next to a quick diagram of the obelisk itself.
“Pointed tower keyhole to tomb,” Laarus said, remembering the map. 1
“Well, we looked through the keyhole and now we know where the tomb is,” Timotheus said with a smile.
Soon after Falco began to lead them deeper into the moors to the northeast. The insects grew unbearable making itchy welts on their face and necks that burned in the wet heat if scratched at. At many points in the trek they had to wade though thigh-high muck, and cling to trees as they hurried along patches of what Falco thought might be quicksand. It was nearly three hours later that they broke through the tall thorny brush around the black hill to find a clearing and the placid lake. A gravel path led up to the lake edge and just beyond were five stone steps rising out of the water eighty feet in. They led to a marble pedestal that held a great stained bronze bowl of some sort that looked as it was once at the foot of a statue long broken off its base. Another eighty feet out past that was a metal door in an elaborate stone arch that was only reached by a narrow stone platform about five feet over the surface of the water. It led into the tall cliff wall of where a great oval bite had been taken out of the hill. The tops of the cliff walls were nearly one hundred and fifty feet up and crowned with sharp jagged rocks.
“Bes’ big-honkin’ cock!” Timotheus swore. “This looks like more magic stuff! Bah!”
“This is out of our league,” Telémahkos sighed.
“Why do you say that, Telémahkos? Who is to say what is in our league?” Markos asked.
“Yes, magic is involved,” Bleys said. “Dalvan Meir, was of House Amber, he changed his name after he was banished by his family, but before that he was Dalvan D’Amberville, and he served Agon the God-King. He ruled over the survivors and cast offs of Agon’s Realm after Agon was defeated by Sorlorn and Amarantha. He built this elaborate tomb to protect his remains and his treasure, and his followers mimicked him in the centuries that followed. There were once many such tombs to be found here, but most were long ago ransacked, or otherwise sunk into the swamp never to be found again…”
“If this is so simple we can handle it, why has no one else solved its riddles and made off with its treasures and the amulet of Fallon?” Telémahkos asked.
“I did not say it would be simple, but I still believe we can handle it,” Bleys replied.
“We have the clues to aid us from the obelisk,” Laarus added. “There are not many left who can read those runes…”
“You make a decent point, I guess…” Telémahkos’ voice still wore a tone of skepticism.
As it was getting dark and they were worried that they might be caught out in the open by more of the ‘mummy cultists’ as they took to calling the grappling adherers, they sent Falco off to find a defensible place to camp while they discussed the clues they had gathered so far.
“I bet we’re going to have to put money in that bowl out there,” Timotheus said.
“Desire for gold may secrets show, But giving stills the fatal blow,” Bleys the Aubergine read from the notes on his map. “My guess would be you are correct.”
Anulem, the 7th of Keent - 566 H.E. (637 M.Y.)
Uneasiness settled on them with the morning mist that cut down visibility to a few feet, and that roiled above their heads in and out of the speckled light of Ra’s Glory coming through the thicket they slept beneath. They groaned and stretched as they awakened upon the damp heather and prepared their return to the entrance to the tomb of Dalvan d’Amberville wordlessly.
They marched back and soon enough Markos and Timotheus were rowing Bleys and Laarus out to the steps and pedestal on the conjured boat.
“Which one is your boyfriend?” Crusta asked Victoria as the latter watched the cliff for any unexpected surprises.
“None of them,” Victoria replied. “They are my brothers in arms.”
”Bleys handsome…” Crusta said. “Tee-Kay soft and mean like a girl… Me likes that…” She smiled her smile of broken rotted teeth and cracked black lips. Victoria shuddered. “You should tell him that,” she said.
“Boyfriend would get jealous,” Crusta said.
“It is not our fault if men get jealous,” Victoria replied with dead seriousness.
Just below the bronze bowl, carved into the rock were more runes, and Laarus did his best to translate them: Respect this tomb, so firmly sealed / Most giving gain admittance / A noble gift will gain fair yield / A shocking due for pittance. The bowl had a hole in the bottom, and Telémahkos was called over to check the area for any traps. Markos fetched him in the boat, and Falco came along. The hole was not more than three inches in diameter and disappeared quickly to darkness sloping off to the north. They could hear a faint buzzing coming from the metal door across the water.
“One gold piece each sounds about right,” Laarus suggested.
“That is an expensive experiment,” Bleys commented, but no one had any other suggestion. Markos rowed back to the shore again to pick up Crusta, Victoria and Dunlevey. Upon arriving the militant prayed to Anhur to reveal magical auras to her sight, but aside from the Steel Whip, only the metal door across the way was enchanted. Telémahkos, Bleys, Timotheus and Dunlevey took the boat in two trips to the door and climbed up onto the stone platform, being careful not to touch the metal door. They could feel a slight tingling coming off of it, and from here the buzzing was distinct and constant. Bleys cast radiant spark and willed it to follow Tim. Markos waited in the boat by the steps, as Laarus stood over the bronze bowl with gold coins collected from those in the party that had any.
The priest of Ra began to drop the coins one by one and when he reached ten, those by the metal door heard a loud clank on the other side and then sound of stone scraping against stone just behind it. A few moments later there was another loud click and then the buzzing of the metal door stopped.
“Stop!” Bleys called back to Laarus, though the priest had already dropped an eleventh coin.
The watch-mage and the tall bastard of Briareus grabbed the handles of the sliding door and felt the sharp shock of electricity leap off of it and addle their bones. Gritting their teeth they raised the door as the pulse of sparks grew steadily greater along with the pain.
“Hurry up!” Timotheus said through his teeth. Laarus and Victoria leapt into the boat and were brought across, as Telémahkos did his best to quickly search the area just within the door. Beyond there was a tunnel carved with long steps downward, the rounded walls and ceiling dripping with moisture. He noticed a second door just within the metal one. This one was made of stone and over a foot thick. It must have been what they heard slide out of place when the coins were placed in the bowl. He warned everyone that they would have to leap deeper into the tunnel once the metal door was let go. When Laarus arrived and Markos went back to get Falco and Crusta, the priest switched places with Bleys who shuddered as he shook out the cramping pain in his limbs There were long painful moments before everyone had finally clambered up to the platform and gone past the door into the tunnel. 2 Laarus and Timotheus let go of the metal door with a grunt of relief, and then leapt away, as the thick stone door began to slide down to doubly block the way they had come in. The boom of it sliding into place echoed down the tunnel.
“That settles it then,” Telémahkos was startled by how loud his own whisper seemed in the corridor, he squinted into the shadowy illumination at the edge of the radiant spark. “Forward and onward, I guess…” He sounded anything but sure.
“Well, Master Bleys, I hope we find what we’re looking for,” Victoria of Anhur said with some consternation in her voice.
“And I hope we are let out as easily as we were let in.” Telémahkos added.
“Easy? Eleven pieces of gold is a good deal of money,” Bleys said with total seriousness.
Timotheus led the way, Bleys’ radiant spark still following over his shoulder. He was followed by Telémahkos, then came Laarus, Bleys, Tymon, Dunlevey, Victoria, Falco, and Markos and Crusta took up the rear. “Hey! What’s this?” Tim asked, noting that the natural stone walls gave was to a narrow strips of grooves in the rock that reached from floor to ceiling. Telémahkos yanked his cousin back with alarm and looked up. The ceiling here was not round as the rest of the passage, but flat at about the same width as the groove.
“We are going to have to hurry past this four foot strip,” said to the others. “I think this is another door that will slide down when we have passed this step. They did as he instructed, and as he suspected another wall of stone slid down blocking their egress. They had to go forward. Telémahkos hurried back to the front of the group again, and on they went.
And down and down they went. The passage turned and dropped, and after every eighty feet or so another stone wall would slide down behind them, pressing them forward and making their confines all the more oppressive. The uneasiness of morning had given way to a feeling of doom, though none wanted to put a name to it. When they counted six walls sliding in behind them, they made one last turn to find the glow of green light filling the passage from a room beyond. As Timotheus and Telémahkos came around that corner, they both noted another set of grooves in the wall and hurried everyone through. There was only a narrow piece of passage, about twenty feet of it that they squeezed into, hesitating before entering the actual green-lit chamber. Even back away from the entrance they could all sense a palpable evil that emanated from within.
Peering in they could see why the chamber glowed as it did. It was sixty-five feet to a side and just off center, emerging from the stone floor was a shard of green rock over eight feet tall. The green stone glowed dully in quick pulse, giving the room its light. The chamber’s ceiling was vaulted and the supporting arched held up by eight thick columns, a pair diagonally set in each corner. Between the columns on each wall were great plaques of the green stone mottled with black carved with ornate images of bones. The plaques were set into the wall a few feet from the floor and each one was about eight feet high and between three and four feet wide. But the most fascinating part of the room was the skeletons. There were eight of them in total, one in front of each column and wore a gold mask carved with a rune like those found on the trees. 3 Each skeleton was perfectly balanced in a different pose.
From right to left around the room: One was dancing arms stretched, and a scimitar in one hand, one sat, resting its head in it hands and its hand on its bony knees. It had a heavy steel shield resting on its shins, a longsword across its lap. The rune on its mask was not visible. The next was laying back, arms folded behind its skull, a scimitar lazily cast aside. The next stood perfectly straight, but its head was not on its neck. Instead it held its mask-bearing skull within a hole in its ribs. The next skeleton also wielded a scimitar, and was in a pose of fierce combat, while its neighbor bore a longsword and shield, cowering out from behind them. The last two were on the left. One held a great sword pointed up, clutched to its chest, while the last had a longspear and held it out with both hands, as if in offering.
“Can we smash those things up or are they some other kind of puzzle?” Timotheus asked.
“No one touch anything yet,” Bleys warned.
Laarus Raymer stepped up to the edge of the chamber entrance and did his best read the runes without entering. The first one was ‘happiness.’ He guessed the hidden one was ‘sadness.’ “Ya think?” Tim chided. There was ‘tranquility’ (or was it peace?), anger (or was it courage?) fear, avarice, and finally ‘generosity’ (or giving). He could not interpret the rune on the one that held its skull in its chest.
They noted that more runes were carved and painted onto the floor of the chamber in front of the strange glowing stone. Laarus translated these as well: What guise would you wager to gain my master’s favor? It leads to man’s grief at the end of my master’s leash.
“As there is no visible way out of the room, my guess would be that one of the masks must the key to getting past this,” Bleys speculated. Telémahkos began to creep into the room with the others close behind, the watch-mage reminding everyone once again to touch nothing, but it would not matter. Telémahkos had not gone more than six or eight steps into the chamber when green stone pulsed once with a sudden cold brightness. The skeletons sprang to some parody of life, stepping towards them with apparent hostile intention.
“Everyone form a line!” Timotheus commanded in a veteran’s voice that could not be disobeyed by those experienced in the rigors of melee. Laarus raised his shield and fended off a heavy blow from a scimitar that made his legs shake.
“I’m anchoring this end,” Dunlevey said, moving to the left side of the entrance, and was surprised by how quickly the skeleton with the long spear brought it to bear, and staggered when it slapped his side hard.
“There must be a way to deactivate this stone!” Markos hurried towards the stone and left himself open to the skeletons still marching over from the other side of the room. He cried out as a scimitar traced a line of red on his forearm. As another came around him, a third rushed forward, swinging a greatsword with silent fury. There was a jet of blood and Markos crumpled at the foot of the great green stone, dying. Crusta began to shriek.
“Hide girl!” Victoria called to Crusta as she dropped her longspear and drew her morningstar. She took her place in the line and smashed at one of the skeletons.
Suddenly the great stone began to hum and once again it sent out a shockwave of green light. This time, the Signers of the Charter of Schiereiland felt as if some blot of evil grew within their very essence, devouring the light of life, and it pained them. 4
“May Ra send these abominations to cower in the darkness from when they were spawned!” Laarus cried out, clutching the ankh around his neck. He felt the wave of divine energy wash out of him, but even as it did he could sense it diminish, the darkness of the tomb and the evil of the stone working against him and the will of Ra.
In the tightening cluster of skeletons and adventurers, two of the undead began to flee. Telémahkos was standing near Markos, and clicked his rapier at it as it hurried past him, but it did not seem to do much damage. “Crusta! When there’s an opening come help me help your boyfriend!” Bleys moved over to Telie’s side to help him fend off the skeletons. Laarus moved over as well, pinning one of the skeletons between them. The thing spun around, not sure which for to go for and the priest of Ra sent its head flying across the chamber, the skull cracking as it slammed the wall. The skeleton fell to its knees, but immediate tried to get back up, it had no need of a head.
“Nephthys! Bless my smashing!” Timotheus cried out and struck it hard with his heavy flail, so it did not get back up. He used the momentum he built up to swing back up at another skeleton closing in, but it blocked the flail on the flat of its scimitar. Another skeleton lost the grip on its long sword as it stabbed at Tymon and it clattered on the floor. “I disarmed it, Master!” Tymon called proudly to Telémahkos.
Victoria of Anhur hurried past the unarmed skeleton, leaving herself open to an attack from its claw-like bony hands. She grunted in pain, but got past drawing the attention of the skeleton with the greatsword. It turned to face her, its skull covered in the gold mask marked with the rune for avarice. Crusta took off around the room trying to find a way to reach Markos safely, as he was still bleeding out.
And now there was a knot of furious melee. Telémahkos and Bleys moved back and forth to keep the skeletons occupied while others smashed at them. Timotheus’ instincts made him notice an opening as Falco moved in, his scimitar sending sparks when it clashed with that of his undead opponent. The tall and muscular son of Briareus crushed it handily, his usual grin growing wider as he spun to face the one who had sent Victoria to the ground. The militant crawled through the chaos, a prayer to Anhur her lips, but before she could get the spell off, the skeleton with the great sword chopped down on her back. She groaned and fell on her stomach, feeling the blood bruise swell up beneath her armor. She looked up wincing with anticipation for another blow, but it did not come. She leapt to her feet, noticing Timotheus running through a shower of bone fragments on his way to face the skeleton with the longspear. He called Dunlevey off, sending him to help the others.
Laarus let out a satisfied grunt as he smashed another skeleton, is gold mask clattering on the floor.
“Anhur, let this boy live to see another day,” Victoria finally had a chance to see to Markos unthreatened by the skeletal undead, but as she cast the spell she also noticed that Markos had stabilized. Crusta was sitting with the sun-tanned mage’s head in her lap, stroking his hair and making murmuring noises. “Isis, take care of my boyfriend,” she said, and he finally sputtered awake.
By this time Timotheus was charging the two remaining skeletons who were cowering away from Laarus in one corner, while Dunlevey and Tymon finished one last one. As the chamber grew silent, the young nobles and their hirelings and followers took a collective breath, but the air down here was foul and they were filled with a sense that they should find the way out as quickly as possible. The masks were collected and examined.
“Which of these emotions leads to man’s grief at the end of a leash?” Bleys asked. “My guess is that the answer lies in that question.”
“But what of the clues on the spire?” Victoria said. “Shall we not consider those?”
“It could be greed…” Bleys mused, not answering the militant. “Or perhaps serenity? As in the serenity of death? Dalvan was a necromancer…”
All this time the great green stone hummed softly, but suddenly it gave off a pulse of green light again, and again they felt the deep cold of evil in their soul.
“We have to do something to get out of here,” Telémahkos said, clutching his chest dramatically.
“If no one is sure then someone just take our best guess,” Timotheus said. “If someone needs to put the mask on, I will do it…”
“Don’t be a fool,” Victoria admonished him. “It seems to me that whichever way we choose will lead to grief, so even the ‘right’ choice may be dangerous to us.”
“Well then, I am the best one to take it,” Timotheus said, smiling. He began to gather the skeletons’ weapons, as Bleys arranged the masks on the floor and made ready to cast detect magic. There was another pulse, and this time Falco, Crusta and Markos let out groans of agony, unable to hold back.
“Well, all the masks are magical,” Bleys said a moment later. “I only had a chance to look at a few before the spell’s duration ended, but they seem to hold necromantic and enchantment dweomers.”
Timotheus picked up the mask with the rune Laarus had translated as representing happiness. “I am going to put this one on, okay?” he asked. “You think it is this one?”
“The never-ending search for happiness does sometimes lead to the end of a leash,” Bleys reasoned.
“Don’t put anything on, blockhead!” Telémahkos slapped his cousin’s shoulder.
“You know, maybe the last adventurers who got into this place put on those masks and they became the skeletons we just destroyed,” Markos offered. As the speculation continued in earnest, Telémahkos began to search the area around each of the columns looking for some kind of secret passage out of the room.
There was another pulse and a sense of panic wafted in the room to mingle with the dread already found there.
Markos grabbed Crusta by the wrist and led her out to the narrow bit of hall that led into the chamber that was not blocked off, hoping it might keep them out of the range of the pulse of vile energy. Falco followed, as did Tymon, once Telémahkos told him he might as well try. Meanwhile, the blond Briareus was still searching, and it was over by the pillar where the skeleton wearing the mask marked with rune for anger or courage that he noted an unusual amount of moisture beading through a seam in the stone wall behind the great plaque of green stone there. He dug at the wall with a finger and the stone flaked and gravely mud crumbled out from behind the seam. He showed the others what he found.
“It looks like there is some kind of damage to the structural integrity of this chamber,” Telémahkos said. “We might be able to pull this wall down, or at least a big enough chunk to get out of here without having to risk a mask…”
“Or we might flood the chamber and end up killing all of us,” Laarus replied. “Even if the water is not enough to drown us, the chamber may collapse…”
Bleys shrugged, “At least if we cause a flood and wash the masks away no other can enter this tomb and share in our folly.”
“We got Bes, that’s all we need,” Telémahkos said.
“We could try to break a wall where there is no water,” Bleys speculated aloud.
“It is only loose because of the running water,” Telémahkos replied.
Timotheus walked over and examined the wall flail in hand.
“Don’t you go smashing anything, Moose!” Telémahkos slapped his cousin’s shoulder. “Grab on to the stone plaque there and pull instead.”
“Better a moose than a weasel,” Timotheus replied with a smile, and he began to pull on the green stone plaque. Victoria walked over and aided him. The whole thing shifted less than an inch, and a sputter of mud and grit poured out from behind it. Telémahkos stopped them and examined the wall and then listened. He gave them the okay to continue, and a moment later the entire plaque cracked into three pieces and fell onto the floor. They leapt back as a torrent of mud made a pile on the floor. A few more moments of digging and a natural passage of hollowed out mud was revealed beyond. They could hear the steady beat of gouts of water from beyond. The passage climbed sharply to the left, disappearing into darkness.
A rope was fastened about Telie’s waist and Timotheus held the other end while his cousin explored the sudden egress holding a lit lantern. The muddy sides of the tunnel dripped and crumbled as he climbed, and about thirty feet in he emerged from the wound in the earthen wall of a natural cavern. Here walls were tall and slick with mud, water was splashing down in a staccato waterfall along from a shaft in the one corner of the ceiling and disappeared down into a dark hole beyond. Telémahkos carefully walked out into the middle of the cavern and noticed there was another way out, a narrow passage of mud that curved and disappeared down to the right. He walked over and raised his lantern, but could see no further than about forty of fifty feet. He hurried back, arriving in time to feel another of the evil pulses.
“I found a chamber you all can wait in while I explore a possible way out,” Telémahkos said, wincing. “I think it will be far enough away from this stone to not have to worry about it hurting us anymore.”
“Well, it is either that or try the masks,” Laarus said.
“We risk Telémahkos’ way,” Bleys said steadily. Telémahkos climbed back up to steady the rope from that end as the others made their way up one by one to keep from collapsing the way out. As Victoria, Laarus, Bleys and Timotheus waited their turns, being the last to go, the stone pulses once again, and once again they felt its soul-wracking cold pain. Finally, they all made it up into the cavern, wary of its muddy walls and torrents of water. They waited until enough time had passed that they thought the stone would have pulsed again, but nothing happened. Out of sight of the stone, and feeling no foul pain, they had to assume they were safe for the time being.
End of Session #17
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Notes:
(1) To see the map, click here.
(2) Those holding the door had to make Fortitude saves or take increasing damage every five rounds. Thus, they took 1 point the first time, 2 points the second time, etc…
(3) See Session #16.
(4) They did not know it yet, but they were suffering vile damage. I don’t care what anyone says, I think The Book of Vile Darkness was a great book.
“It acts as a spyglass of sorts!” Victoria of Anhur called down with uncommon wonder in her voice. She noticed a silver arrow between the two lenses and followed it with her eyes. It revealed a lake set into a black hill surrounded by thick brush. It went back several miles.
“That must be where the tomb is,” she said as she climbed back down. Bleys had Falco climb up and look to get an idea of a route out to that place, while he produced the moor-tomb map and a quill. He had Laarus read the inscriptions again, and this time he wrote them down, next to a quick diagram of the obelisk itself.
“Pointed tower keyhole to tomb,” Laarus said, remembering the map. 1
“Well, we looked through the keyhole and now we know where the tomb is,” Timotheus said with a smile.
Soon after Falco began to lead them deeper into the moors to the northeast. The insects grew unbearable making itchy welts on their face and necks that burned in the wet heat if scratched at. At many points in the trek they had to wade though thigh-high muck, and cling to trees as they hurried along patches of what Falco thought might be quicksand. It was nearly three hours later that they broke through the tall thorny brush around the black hill to find a clearing and the placid lake. A gravel path led up to the lake edge and just beyond were five stone steps rising out of the water eighty feet in. They led to a marble pedestal that held a great stained bronze bowl of some sort that looked as it was once at the foot of a statue long broken off its base. Another eighty feet out past that was a metal door in an elaborate stone arch that was only reached by a narrow stone platform about five feet over the surface of the water. It led into the tall cliff wall of where a great oval bite had been taken out of the hill. The tops of the cliff walls were nearly one hundred and fifty feet up and crowned with sharp jagged rocks.
“Bes’ big-honkin’ cock!” Timotheus swore. “This looks like more magic stuff! Bah!”
“This is out of our league,” Telémahkos sighed.
“Why do you say that, Telémahkos? Who is to say what is in our league?” Markos asked.
“Yes, magic is involved,” Bleys said. “Dalvan Meir, was of House Amber, he changed his name after he was banished by his family, but before that he was Dalvan D’Amberville, and he served Agon the God-King. He ruled over the survivors and cast offs of Agon’s Realm after Agon was defeated by Sorlorn and Amarantha. He built this elaborate tomb to protect his remains and his treasure, and his followers mimicked him in the centuries that followed. There were once many such tombs to be found here, but most were long ago ransacked, or otherwise sunk into the swamp never to be found again…”
“If this is so simple we can handle it, why has no one else solved its riddles and made off with its treasures and the amulet of Fallon?” Telémahkos asked.
“I did not say it would be simple, but I still believe we can handle it,” Bleys replied.
“We have the clues to aid us from the obelisk,” Laarus added. “There are not many left who can read those runes…”
“You make a decent point, I guess…” Telémahkos’ voice still wore a tone of skepticism.
As it was getting dark and they were worried that they might be caught out in the open by more of the ‘mummy cultists’ as they took to calling the grappling adherers, they sent Falco off to find a defensible place to camp while they discussed the clues they had gathered so far.
“I bet we’re going to have to put money in that bowl out there,” Timotheus said.
“Desire for gold may secrets show, But giving stills the fatal blow,” Bleys the Aubergine read from the notes on his map. “My guess would be you are correct.”
Anulem, the 7th of Keent - 566 H.E. (637 M.Y.)
Uneasiness settled on them with the morning mist that cut down visibility to a few feet, and that roiled above their heads in and out of the speckled light of Ra’s Glory coming through the thicket they slept beneath. They groaned and stretched as they awakened upon the damp heather and prepared their return to the entrance to the tomb of Dalvan d’Amberville wordlessly.
They marched back and soon enough Markos and Timotheus were rowing Bleys and Laarus out to the steps and pedestal on the conjured boat.
“Which one is your boyfriend?” Crusta asked Victoria as the latter watched the cliff for any unexpected surprises.
“None of them,” Victoria replied. “They are my brothers in arms.”
”Bleys handsome…” Crusta said. “Tee-Kay soft and mean like a girl… Me likes that…” She smiled her smile of broken rotted teeth and cracked black lips. Victoria shuddered. “You should tell him that,” she said.
“Boyfriend would get jealous,” Crusta said.
“It is not our fault if men get jealous,” Victoria replied with dead seriousness.
Just below the bronze bowl, carved into the rock were more runes, and Laarus did his best to translate them: Respect this tomb, so firmly sealed / Most giving gain admittance / A noble gift will gain fair yield / A shocking due for pittance. The bowl had a hole in the bottom, and Telémahkos was called over to check the area for any traps. Markos fetched him in the boat, and Falco came along. The hole was not more than three inches in diameter and disappeared quickly to darkness sloping off to the north. They could hear a faint buzzing coming from the metal door across the water.
“One gold piece each sounds about right,” Laarus suggested.
“That is an expensive experiment,” Bleys commented, but no one had any other suggestion. Markos rowed back to the shore again to pick up Crusta, Victoria and Dunlevey. Upon arriving the militant prayed to Anhur to reveal magical auras to her sight, but aside from the Steel Whip, only the metal door across the way was enchanted. Telémahkos, Bleys, Timotheus and Dunlevey took the boat in two trips to the door and climbed up onto the stone platform, being careful not to touch the metal door. They could feel a slight tingling coming off of it, and from here the buzzing was distinct and constant. Bleys cast radiant spark and willed it to follow Tim. Markos waited in the boat by the steps, as Laarus stood over the bronze bowl with gold coins collected from those in the party that had any.
The priest of Ra began to drop the coins one by one and when he reached ten, those by the metal door heard a loud clank on the other side and then sound of stone scraping against stone just behind it. A few moments later there was another loud click and then the buzzing of the metal door stopped.
“Stop!” Bleys called back to Laarus, though the priest had already dropped an eleventh coin.
The watch-mage and the tall bastard of Briareus grabbed the handles of the sliding door and felt the sharp shock of electricity leap off of it and addle their bones. Gritting their teeth they raised the door as the pulse of sparks grew steadily greater along with the pain.
“Hurry up!” Timotheus said through his teeth. Laarus and Victoria leapt into the boat and were brought across, as Telémahkos did his best to quickly search the area just within the door. Beyond there was a tunnel carved with long steps downward, the rounded walls and ceiling dripping with moisture. He noticed a second door just within the metal one. This one was made of stone and over a foot thick. It must have been what they heard slide out of place when the coins were placed in the bowl. He warned everyone that they would have to leap deeper into the tunnel once the metal door was let go. When Laarus arrived and Markos went back to get Falco and Crusta, the priest switched places with Bleys who shuddered as he shook out the cramping pain in his limbs There were long painful moments before everyone had finally clambered up to the platform and gone past the door into the tunnel. 2 Laarus and Timotheus let go of the metal door with a grunt of relief, and then leapt away, as the thick stone door began to slide down to doubly block the way they had come in. The boom of it sliding into place echoed down the tunnel.
“That settles it then,” Telémahkos was startled by how loud his own whisper seemed in the corridor, he squinted into the shadowy illumination at the edge of the radiant spark. “Forward and onward, I guess…” He sounded anything but sure.
“Well, Master Bleys, I hope we find what we’re looking for,” Victoria of Anhur said with some consternation in her voice.
“And I hope we are let out as easily as we were let in.” Telémahkos added.
“Easy? Eleven pieces of gold is a good deal of money,” Bleys said with total seriousness.
Timotheus led the way, Bleys’ radiant spark still following over his shoulder. He was followed by Telémahkos, then came Laarus, Bleys, Tymon, Dunlevey, Victoria, Falco, and Markos and Crusta took up the rear. “Hey! What’s this?” Tim asked, noting that the natural stone walls gave was to a narrow strips of grooves in the rock that reached from floor to ceiling. Telémahkos yanked his cousin back with alarm and looked up. The ceiling here was not round as the rest of the passage, but flat at about the same width as the groove.
“We are going to have to hurry past this four foot strip,” said to the others. “I think this is another door that will slide down when we have passed this step. They did as he instructed, and as he suspected another wall of stone slid down blocking their egress. They had to go forward. Telémahkos hurried back to the front of the group again, and on they went.
And down and down they went. The passage turned and dropped, and after every eighty feet or so another stone wall would slide down behind them, pressing them forward and making their confines all the more oppressive. The uneasiness of morning had given way to a feeling of doom, though none wanted to put a name to it. When they counted six walls sliding in behind them, they made one last turn to find the glow of green light filling the passage from a room beyond. As Timotheus and Telémahkos came around that corner, they both noted another set of grooves in the wall and hurried everyone through. There was only a narrow piece of passage, about twenty feet of it that they squeezed into, hesitating before entering the actual green-lit chamber. Even back away from the entrance they could all sense a palpable evil that emanated from within.
Peering in they could see why the chamber glowed as it did. It was sixty-five feet to a side and just off center, emerging from the stone floor was a shard of green rock over eight feet tall. The green stone glowed dully in quick pulse, giving the room its light. The chamber’s ceiling was vaulted and the supporting arched held up by eight thick columns, a pair diagonally set in each corner. Between the columns on each wall were great plaques of the green stone mottled with black carved with ornate images of bones. The plaques were set into the wall a few feet from the floor and each one was about eight feet high and between three and four feet wide. But the most fascinating part of the room was the skeletons. There were eight of them in total, one in front of each column and wore a gold mask carved with a rune like those found on the trees. 3 Each skeleton was perfectly balanced in a different pose.
From right to left around the room: One was dancing arms stretched, and a scimitar in one hand, one sat, resting its head in it hands and its hand on its bony knees. It had a heavy steel shield resting on its shins, a longsword across its lap. The rune on its mask was not visible. The next was laying back, arms folded behind its skull, a scimitar lazily cast aside. The next stood perfectly straight, but its head was not on its neck. Instead it held its mask-bearing skull within a hole in its ribs. The next skeleton also wielded a scimitar, and was in a pose of fierce combat, while its neighbor bore a longsword and shield, cowering out from behind them. The last two were on the left. One held a great sword pointed up, clutched to its chest, while the last had a longspear and held it out with both hands, as if in offering.
“Can we smash those things up or are they some other kind of puzzle?” Timotheus asked.
“No one touch anything yet,” Bleys warned.
Laarus Raymer stepped up to the edge of the chamber entrance and did his best read the runes without entering. The first one was ‘happiness.’ He guessed the hidden one was ‘sadness.’ “Ya think?” Tim chided. There was ‘tranquility’ (or was it peace?), anger (or was it courage?) fear, avarice, and finally ‘generosity’ (or giving). He could not interpret the rune on the one that held its skull in its chest.
They noted that more runes were carved and painted onto the floor of the chamber in front of the strange glowing stone. Laarus translated these as well: What guise would you wager to gain my master’s favor? It leads to man’s grief at the end of my master’s leash.
“As there is no visible way out of the room, my guess would be that one of the masks must the key to getting past this,” Bleys speculated. Telémahkos began to creep into the room with the others close behind, the watch-mage reminding everyone once again to touch nothing, but it would not matter. Telémahkos had not gone more than six or eight steps into the chamber when green stone pulsed once with a sudden cold brightness. The skeletons sprang to some parody of life, stepping towards them with apparent hostile intention.
“Everyone form a line!” Timotheus commanded in a veteran’s voice that could not be disobeyed by those experienced in the rigors of melee. Laarus raised his shield and fended off a heavy blow from a scimitar that made his legs shake.
“I’m anchoring this end,” Dunlevey said, moving to the left side of the entrance, and was surprised by how quickly the skeleton with the long spear brought it to bear, and staggered when it slapped his side hard.
“There must be a way to deactivate this stone!” Markos hurried towards the stone and left himself open to the skeletons still marching over from the other side of the room. He cried out as a scimitar traced a line of red on his forearm. As another came around him, a third rushed forward, swinging a greatsword with silent fury. There was a jet of blood and Markos crumpled at the foot of the great green stone, dying. Crusta began to shriek.
“Hide girl!” Victoria called to Crusta as she dropped her longspear and drew her morningstar. She took her place in the line and smashed at one of the skeletons.
Suddenly the great stone began to hum and once again it sent out a shockwave of green light. This time, the Signers of the Charter of Schiereiland felt as if some blot of evil grew within their very essence, devouring the light of life, and it pained them. 4
“May Ra send these abominations to cower in the darkness from when they were spawned!” Laarus cried out, clutching the ankh around his neck. He felt the wave of divine energy wash out of him, but even as it did he could sense it diminish, the darkness of the tomb and the evil of the stone working against him and the will of Ra.
In the tightening cluster of skeletons and adventurers, two of the undead began to flee. Telémahkos was standing near Markos, and clicked his rapier at it as it hurried past him, but it did not seem to do much damage. “Crusta! When there’s an opening come help me help your boyfriend!” Bleys moved over to Telie’s side to help him fend off the skeletons. Laarus moved over as well, pinning one of the skeletons between them. The thing spun around, not sure which for to go for and the priest of Ra sent its head flying across the chamber, the skull cracking as it slammed the wall. The skeleton fell to its knees, but immediate tried to get back up, it had no need of a head.
“Nephthys! Bless my smashing!” Timotheus cried out and struck it hard with his heavy flail, so it did not get back up. He used the momentum he built up to swing back up at another skeleton closing in, but it blocked the flail on the flat of its scimitar. Another skeleton lost the grip on its long sword as it stabbed at Tymon and it clattered on the floor. “I disarmed it, Master!” Tymon called proudly to Telémahkos.
Victoria of Anhur hurried past the unarmed skeleton, leaving herself open to an attack from its claw-like bony hands. She grunted in pain, but got past drawing the attention of the skeleton with the greatsword. It turned to face her, its skull covered in the gold mask marked with the rune for avarice. Crusta took off around the room trying to find a way to reach Markos safely, as he was still bleeding out.
And now there was a knot of furious melee. Telémahkos and Bleys moved back and forth to keep the skeletons occupied while others smashed at them. Timotheus’ instincts made him notice an opening as Falco moved in, his scimitar sending sparks when it clashed with that of his undead opponent. The tall and muscular son of Briareus crushed it handily, his usual grin growing wider as he spun to face the one who had sent Victoria to the ground. The militant crawled through the chaos, a prayer to Anhur her lips, but before she could get the spell off, the skeleton with the great sword chopped down on her back. She groaned and fell on her stomach, feeling the blood bruise swell up beneath her armor. She looked up wincing with anticipation for another blow, but it did not come. She leapt to her feet, noticing Timotheus running through a shower of bone fragments on his way to face the skeleton with the longspear. He called Dunlevey off, sending him to help the others.
Laarus let out a satisfied grunt as he smashed another skeleton, is gold mask clattering on the floor.
“Anhur, let this boy live to see another day,” Victoria finally had a chance to see to Markos unthreatened by the skeletal undead, but as she cast the spell she also noticed that Markos had stabilized. Crusta was sitting with the sun-tanned mage’s head in her lap, stroking his hair and making murmuring noises. “Isis, take care of my boyfriend,” she said, and he finally sputtered awake.
By this time Timotheus was charging the two remaining skeletons who were cowering away from Laarus in one corner, while Dunlevey and Tymon finished one last one. As the chamber grew silent, the young nobles and their hirelings and followers took a collective breath, but the air down here was foul and they were filled with a sense that they should find the way out as quickly as possible. The masks were collected and examined.
“Which of these emotions leads to man’s grief at the end of a leash?” Bleys asked. “My guess is that the answer lies in that question.”
“But what of the clues on the spire?” Victoria said. “Shall we not consider those?”
“It could be greed…” Bleys mused, not answering the militant. “Or perhaps serenity? As in the serenity of death? Dalvan was a necromancer…”
All this time the great green stone hummed softly, but suddenly it gave off a pulse of green light again, and again they felt the deep cold of evil in their soul.
“We have to do something to get out of here,” Telémahkos said, clutching his chest dramatically.
“If no one is sure then someone just take our best guess,” Timotheus said. “If someone needs to put the mask on, I will do it…”
“Don’t be a fool,” Victoria admonished him. “It seems to me that whichever way we choose will lead to grief, so even the ‘right’ choice may be dangerous to us.”
“Well then, I am the best one to take it,” Timotheus said, smiling. He began to gather the skeletons’ weapons, as Bleys arranged the masks on the floor and made ready to cast detect magic. There was another pulse, and this time Falco, Crusta and Markos let out groans of agony, unable to hold back.
“Well, all the masks are magical,” Bleys said a moment later. “I only had a chance to look at a few before the spell’s duration ended, but they seem to hold necromantic and enchantment dweomers.”
Timotheus picked up the mask with the rune Laarus had translated as representing happiness. “I am going to put this one on, okay?” he asked. “You think it is this one?”
“The never-ending search for happiness does sometimes lead to the end of a leash,” Bleys reasoned.
“Don’t put anything on, blockhead!” Telémahkos slapped his cousin’s shoulder.
“You know, maybe the last adventurers who got into this place put on those masks and they became the skeletons we just destroyed,” Markos offered. As the speculation continued in earnest, Telémahkos began to search the area around each of the columns looking for some kind of secret passage out of the room.
There was another pulse and a sense of panic wafted in the room to mingle with the dread already found there.
Markos grabbed Crusta by the wrist and led her out to the narrow bit of hall that led into the chamber that was not blocked off, hoping it might keep them out of the range of the pulse of vile energy. Falco followed, as did Tymon, once Telémahkos told him he might as well try. Meanwhile, the blond Briareus was still searching, and it was over by the pillar where the skeleton wearing the mask marked with rune for anger or courage that he noted an unusual amount of moisture beading through a seam in the stone wall behind the great plaque of green stone there. He dug at the wall with a finger and the stone flaked and gravely mud crumbled out from behind the seam. He showed the others what he found.
“It looks like there is some kind of damage to the structural integrity of this chamber,” Telémahkos said. “We might be able to pull this wall down, or at least a big enough chunk to get out of here without having to risk a mask…”
“Or we might flood the chamber and end up killing all of us,” Laarus replied. “Even if the water is not enough to drown us, the chamber may collapse…”
Bleys shrugged, “At least if we cause a flood and wash the masks away no other can enter this tomb and share in our folly.”
“We got Bes, that’s all we need,” Telémahkos said.
“We could try to break a wall where there is no water,” Bleys speculated aloud.
“It is only loose because of the running water,” Telémahkos replied.
Timotheus walked over and examined the wall flail in hand.
“Don’t you go smashing anything, Moose!” Telémahkos slapped his cousin’s shoulder. “Grab on to the stone plaque there and pull instead.”
“Better a moose than a weasel,” Timotheus replied with a smile, and he began to pull on the green stone plaque. Victoria walked over and aided him. The whole thing shifted less than an inch, and a sputter of mud and grit poured out from behind it. Telémahkos stopped them and examined the wall and then listened. He gave them the okay to continue, and a moment later the entire plaque cracked into three pieces and fell onto the floor. They leapt back as a torrent of mud made a pile on the floor. A few more moments of digging and a natural passage of hollowed out mud was revealed beyond. They could hear the steady beat of gouts of water from beyond. The passage climbed sharply to the left, disappearing into darkness.
A rope was fastened about Telie’s waist and Timotheus held the other end while his cousin explored the sudden egress holding a lit lantern. The muddy sides of the tunnel dripped and crumbled as he climbed, and about thirty feet in he emerged from the wound in the earthen wall of a natural cavern. Here walls were tall and slick with mud, water was splashing down in a staccato waterfall along from a shaft in the one corner of the ceiling and disappeared down into a dark hole beyond. Telémahkos carefully walked out into the middle of the cavern and noticed there was another way out, a narrow passage of mud that curved and disappeared down to the right. He walked over and raised his lantern, but could see no further than about forty of fifty feet. He hurried back, arriving in time to feel another of the evil pulses.
“I found a chamber you all can wait in while I explore a possible way out,” Telémahkos said, wincing. “I think it will be far enough away from this stone to not have to worry about it hurting us anymore.”
“Well, it is either that or try the masks,” Laarus said.
“We risk Telémahkos’ way,” Bleys said steadily. Telémahkos climbed back up to steady the rope from that end as the others made their way up one by one to keep from collapsing the way out. As Victoria, Laarus, Bleys and Timotheus waited their turns, being the last to go, the stone pulses once again, and once again they felt its soul-wracking cold pain. Finally, they all made it up into the cavern, wary of its muddy walls and torrents of water. They waited until enough time had passed that they thought the stone would have pulsed again, but nothing happened. Out of sight of the stone, and feeling no foul pain, they had to assume they were safe for the time being.
End of Session #17
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Notes:
(1) To see the map, click here.
(2) Those holding the door had to make Fortitude saves or take increasing damage every five rounds. Thus, they took 1 point the first time, 2 points the second time, etc…
(3) See Session #16.
(4) They did not know it yet, but they were suffering vile damage. I don’t care what anyone says, I think The Book of Vile Darkness was a great book.
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handforged
First Post
This tomb is awesome! I love the complex situation that the party finds themselves in. I can't wait to see how they get out of this one.
~hf
~hf
el-remmen
Moderator Emeritus
So I return to grad school the day after next.
That means that the already slow updates will probably slow down again (though who knows, sometimes story hour writing is more fun than academic writing and ends up being a great form of procrastination)
I have all of Session #18 written up and will be posting an installment from it soon. I also have most of Session #19 written. The interesting thing is that I plan to stick an InterSession within a normal span of a session (#18; in order to put it in chronological order in which it happened, even if it was not played in that order), and there are two other InterSessions between #18 and #19. I also took a bunch of stuff from an InterSession and incorporated into the first part of Session #19 in order to integrate it without going over the mind-numbing details of a party debate/discussion that took part partly in-character and partly OOC on our messageboards.
Anyway, so that is the state of things story hour-wise. In terms of current game sessions we just played Session #23 after a long break and we'll be playing #24 on Super Bowl Sunday.
Any questions?
That means that the already slow updates will probably slow down again (though who knows, sometimes story hour writing is more fun than academic writing and ends up being a great form of procrastination
)I have all of Session #18 written up and will be posting an installment from it soon. I also have most of Session #19 written. The interesting thing is that I plan to stick an InterSession within a normal span of a session (#18; in order to put it in chronological order in which it happened, even if it was not played in that order), and there are two other InterSessions between #18 and #19. I also took a bunch of stuff from an InterSession and incorporated into the first part of Session #19 in order to integrate it without going over the mind-numbing details of a party debate/discussion that took part partly in-character and partly OOC on our messageboards.
Anyway, so that is the state of things story hour-wise. In terms of current game sessions we just played Session #23 after a long break and we'll be playing #24 on Super Bowl Sunday.
Any questions?
el-remmen
Moderator Emeritus
Session #18 – “The Broken Circle” (part 1 of 3) 1
Down and down the corkscrewing tunnel Telémahkos slid, crawled and climbed. The rest of the Signers of the Charter of Schiereiland waited in the cavern above, Timotheus holding the end of a rope that Telémahkos was no longer tied to. One hundred feet was not enough, so Telie had untied himself and continued.
“You alright down there?” Timotheus called down.
Telémahkos called back that he was just fine. The tunnel itself was through muddy earth that crumbled and slid, occasionally releasing brief torrents of silty water, illuminated by his lantern. Eventually, the tunnel opened into a much larger cavern hundreds of feet below the one the rest of the Signers awaited. The tunnel came in about five feet off the larger cavern floor. Another larger tunnel went off to the left, while the cavern stretched into darkness in front of him. He could hear the water crashing from the chamber high above into a black lake.
Judging this a safe enough place from which to launch further exploration, he began the difficult climb back up.
“How long do we wait until we begin to worry?” Timotheus asked Bleys, looking at the gash in the earth his cousin had disappeared down.
“Are you worried now?” Bleys asked.
“A little.”
“It has not be long enough to worry,” the watch-mage replied flatly.
Telémahkos emerged from the tunnel a mud-man, his blues eyes shining out from a thick layer of brown that was slicked up and down his body. He described the place he had found, but Laarus and Victoria looked at the filthy Briarius dubiously.
“What about up that way?” Victoria of Anhur pointed up the slick jagged shaft from which the halting waterfall came. “It goes up. It might be a way out.”
“I can’t climb it,” Telémahkos replied.
“You seem an adept climber,” Victoria said, her eyes narrowed.
“I mean, I might be able to climb it, but it’d dangerous,” Telémahkos explained. “Too dangerous for me… How do you expect to get up there if there happens to be a way out?”
“We have a rope,” Victoria said.
“I’m not doing it,” Telémahkos refused.
The rest of the Signers took up the debate. Markos thought checking out the shaft might be worth a try, while Timotheus sided with his cousin.
“It seems too treacherous,” Laarus said, and Bleys nodded.
“Then let’s just pick a route,” Markos said, shifting his weight to his other foot and slipping his bag off his shoulder onto the damp floor. “Ugh, my bag’s heavy…”
“I’ll carry it for you,” Timotheus offered, stepping over to scoop it up with his muscled arms, but Markos pulled it away and slung back onto his back.
“No!” Markos snapped and then caught himself and changed his demeanor. “I mean, thanks, but I got it …”
“Have it your way,” Timotheus replied, and he turned to the others. “If we’re going to go down then I’m going first.” With that he marched over to the tunnel and confidently strode in, raising his hands to brace himself against the crumbly muddy walls. He was no more than five or six steps in when he lost his footing and began a long painful slide down the tunnel in the dark. Timotheus was barely able to stop himself, sensing the colder air of the great cavern at the end. But he misjudged as he stretched his arms forward to get a sense of how much room he had, and tumbled onto the muddy bank of the lake beyond.
Timotheus had long moments in the dark and his ears grew accustomed to the drips and drops of the nearby water. Suddenly, he thought he heard voices, and then he was certain.
Bleys the Aubergine came next followed by his radiant spark, he flew into the mud with no elegance.
“Here, let me help you up…” Timotheus offered a hand, grinning even wider than usual. “But keep it down, I thought I heard voices…”
Bleys’ light revealed that they were on the bank of a dark lake of swirling water. It stretched way back into the darkness, and water ran down the black walls. There was another passage running off to the left through a limestone wall in a gradual curve, disappearing into darkness beyond.
“Where?” Bleys asked in a whisper that still felt overloud in the cavernous open.
“Out there…” Timotheus gestured to the left side of the lake, where ceiling curved down low, making the overhead clearance just under nine feet. To the right the ceiling ranged up forty feet or more.
Markos and Crusta came down next, sliding down with him locked between her legs and her flabby hair-covered arms wrapped about his shoulders and head. As Bleys’ spell ended, he was forced to light his lantern and hold it up.
Victoria of Anhur ended a particularly bumpy ride with a bone-shaking landing on her backside. Dunlevey climbed out with no troubles, but Tymon, who was after him, went shooting out to the lake edge, sliding painfully across the rock-littered muck. Laarus of Ra suffered a similar indignant journey, though Bleys and Victoria were able to keep him from flying too far out of the muddy hole. Falco was second to last, and finally Telémahkos made the trip down again.
Telémahkos and Dunlevey heard the echoed murmur of voices as well. The voices floated over the subterranean lake. Rather than deal with the lake, the Signers of the Charter of Schiereiland marched down the side passage, but found that soon after it curved it grew very steep and led to a caved in area. There would be no going out that way. They made their way back to the lake and Bleys the Aubergine suggested they make camp here.
“We should check out those voices,” Timotheus said.
“Well, how deep is the water?” Victoria. “Perhaps we can look into where the voices are coming from.” She walked over to the edge of the water and then stepped in to about knee height. She used her longspear to check the depth. It was not much deeper within reach of her weapon. Now she heard the voices again. It was two voices talking to each other intermittently. The language was unintelligible, but clearly the sound came from a muddy nook on an inside wall where the shape of the cave bent and turned in many directions, water and silt lapping in its many niches.
“I’ll lead the way,” Timotheus said, wading past her. Thirty yards from the bank, Tim came to a ragged niche where the mud embankment met the earth and stone roots of the hill above them. By the light now shining from Victoria’s spear, the bold Briareus noted a hole in the mud about three feet in diameter. The voices came once again, but still seemed muffled. They were further away than whatever lay beyond this hole. Timotheus began to climb up into it, and slipping disappeared down in the hole, bringing a sluice of water and mud with him. He slammed on a flat stone floor, with a bit of light from Victoria’s spear reaching him down the narrow tunnel he had just fallen through. It was about seven or eight feet long and high up on the wall of this chamber, whatever it was.
He scrambled up to his feet, feeling a coin (or something similar) slip out from under his boot. He heard the voices again. They were loud and foreign. The language was mellifluous for the most part, but broken by had guttural suffixes and interjections. It was vaguely familiar.
“Tim!” Telémahkos hissed his cousin’s name from the mouth of the hole. Seeing Tim disappear, he had hurried ahead and leapt up to the hole, but his balance was much better. Timotheus climbed back into the hole, and Telémahkos reached a hand to help him up. The larger warrior could feel the hole getting larger as he kicked big chunks of mud into the room behind. They decided to stop in the tunnel, and Victoria handed up the lantern passed up by Bleys. Tim’s jaw dropped when he raised the lantern to look into the room he had fallen into.
There were piles of treasure! Hundreds, if not thousands of copper and silver coins, jewelry amid musty sacks, a large statue of an angel made from Sardonyx, and some common brass mugs and cutlery.
“It’s a dragon’s hoard!” Timotheus said, his grin stretching across his face even wider than normal. He whispered through the hole what he saw, and then he heard the voices again. Raising the lantern, Tim saw that the left wall of the chamber was actually the back of some kind of false wall. The voices came from the other side. They did speak in a foreign language. He could not identify it.
One after one they climbed into the secret chamber, the rent in the wall getting bigger with each person through, until there was a constant stream of muck spilling in as well. Telémahkos crept over near the false wall and listened.
“It’s Rubar,” he hissed, and gestured to Tymon join him. The portly man stumbled over as Victoria fell ungracefully from the hole, and the voices were suddenly quiet. Timotheus stepped over and grabbed the militant before she splashed into the growing pool of muck.
“Did the earth just move or was it just me?” He smiled as he looked in her face, brought close to his by the awkwardness of the fall and his rush to catch her.
“It was just you,” she frowned and firmly pushed his arms away. His smile never dying, Tim started looking through the loot, as Telémahkos found a spy hole in the false wall and was able to see out some. There was a chamber beyond that was reached from two sides, though a thick curtain covered one passage. There was a figure in silhouette, dressed in armor of some kind and armed with a scimitar. The figure wore a scarf or turban about his head. A second, similarly dressed figure entered the room and they began to talk, both looking to the wall nervously.
Tymon did his best to translate what could be heard.
“Is he coming?” the first one asked.
“Yes.”
“Was he with the old woman again? Or Eton?” the first one asked. “I do not think they are to be trusted.”
“The Marked One trusts them,” the second one replied, sternly. “That is enough…”
“Did you overhear if they plan to bring the slaves here?” the first one was asking, when a third figure arrived, taller than the others.
“Oh no!” Tymon turned to the chamber and stepped away from the false wall when he heard the third man speak.
“They are checking the wall! They are coming!” Telémahkos hissed, drawing the Steel Whip.
“They didn’t know this room was here,” Tymon added, even as the door opened. It was actually not quite much of a door, rather one of the men on the other side grabbed a section of wall and moved it over by brute strength, Telémahkos did not hesitate. As the other turban-wearing warrior stepped through, the dexterous young noble flicked his rapier out and found a space between scales in the man’s armor. The man grunted as the blade slid in and the armor protested, giving way to a bloom of blood from his abdomen. 2
“Ready! Ready! Ready!” The voices of the Signers of Charter of Schiereiland rang out one after another, having become used to the tactic of Markos’ pyrotechnics spell, and shutting their eyes.
“Tymon! Tell them to surrender!” Bleys added, and the manservant cried out in the alternately mellifluous and guttural language of the Rubes.
“Pyroclastus lux!” Markos cast and his torch gave off a flash of light. The dervish behind the false wall/door was protected, as was the larger man, clearly the leader (and drawing a mean-looking great sword from his back). The man Telémahkos stabbed was not as lucky. Blinded, Telémahkos struck him again, and then withdrew.
And they were clearly dervishes. The two men kept their armor tied tight to their bodies with sashes of red and gold, and wore bright red scarves expertly tied upon their heads. The relentless sun of the Disputed Territories browned their skin. The tall man wore no turban, letting his long black hair hang near his broad shoulders, despite having the front part of his head shaved to the scalp. He was disfigured by a burn scar on the right side of his face that appeared to be made by some hot metal rod having been pressed there. It reached from under his eye to his chin, nearly obscuring the countless other smaller scars and scratches all over his face and body, including a scar on his neck that looked as if it was less than an inch from killing him. He was also missing his left ear. He wore a bronze breastplate.
“Tymon! Tell them!” Bleys commanded again, letting an arrow loose through the doorway. The scarred man winced as the missile bounced painfully off the bracers on his forearms.
“I tried!” Tymon whined in reply.
“Ethan! Ethan! Intruders!” The scarred man called in a booming voice. He spoke common with only a slight accent, but then fell back to the Rubar tongue when speaking to the dervishes before him. “Basit! Baqir! Atravese!”
As Victoria of Anhur hurried forward to hold the doorway, the dervish holding the section of wall, rushed through. He propped the door in front of Timotheus as he went by, momentarily blocking off the sabre-wielding bastard of noble blood. He ignored the wound Victoria scored on his hip as he twisted around to try to avoid the worse of it as he let go of the false wall. Tymon hacked fearfully with this long sword and the dervish’s legs buckled, but he continued, a spear suddenly in his hand and thrusting into Laarus side, drawing dark blood from the priest of Ra.
Timotheus pushed down the door, swinging his flail with anger, as Laarus used a quick hit to buy him a moment to step away from the dervish.
“I do not know where you came from,” the marked one out in the chamber said as he stepped in, causing Timotheus to spin around hurriedly. “But you made a big mistake!” There was a wrenching sound as Tim’s breastplate crunched under the weight of the man’s great sword. His arm sagged from the pain and his return swing was half-hearted. He could feel blood seeping down under his armor. “Some help over here!”
“We should focus on the man Tim is fighting,” Markos said, raising his hands to cast. “He seems the most dangerous! Sagitta aquom!” Two missiles of watery blue light slammed into the man he pointed out. Telémahkos danced over to aid Tymon, keeping the spear-wielding dervish from turning to easily flank Timotheus. Dunlevey moved in to aid.
“No one needs die here today!” Bleys the Aubergine called to their foes. “Surrender!”
But surrounded as he was, the spear-wielding dervish was unwilling to surrender. Instead, he let loose bellow that rose into a lilting screech as he huffed and puffed, his stature seeming to increase as he worked himself into a rage that made the scales of his armor sing with his shaking.
“It is you who have intruded on our lair,” the marked one said, not pausing from his punishing blows that Tim was barely knocking aside with his own weapon. “It is you who should stand down…”
“That’s not up to me, but you’re outnumbered,” Timotheus replied, getting a hit in that led the man to grunt and fight to keep his footing. “I suggest you stand down…”
“Yes! We are not bad guys!” Tymon tried, and then switched to Rubar. “Just give up!” He withdrew from the melee, dropping his sword to draw his crossbow and begin loading it.
Laarus Raymer of Ra croaked as the dervish spear thrust deeply into his groin, the spear point wedging apart his cod-piece from his grieves. The priest tumbled to the floor bleeding out.
“Laarus!” Victoria snarled as she called for Anhur to fill her with his righteous fury until she too shook with an all encompassing rage. Unfortunately, for her however, in her fury she stepped too quickly, stumbling and fell flat out. 3
Telémahkos leapt back from the melee, leaving it to Dunlevey to cover alone as Victoria seethed and crawled to her feet.
“Eton! Eton!” called the blind dervish still out in the other room.
“Call off the dervish and let me tend to our man and I will drop my weapon,” Bleys offered, even as he dropped his bow to draw his sabre. He looked right at the marked man as he spoke, trying to get his eye. Beyond that fight, he could see the curtain draped across the left side egress open.
“Alright, what’s all this then?” said the man dressed in off-white burnoose with a yellow sash and sandals. A gray scarf that stretched out as part of his dull yellow turban covered his face, and he wore a short sword at his side. Bleys was puzzled by the hint of an accent in the voice. It was not Rubar. It was not Thrician, and not quite Herman-lander, either… The man deftly drew a fat piece of pork rind from a leather satchel at his side, chanting arcane words as he tossed it at Tim’s feet. Less then a moment later, the big man found himself landing painfully on his tailbone, the floor around him covered in a thick layer of greasy animal fat. The man looked up and his eyes met those of Bleys. They were blue.
. . .to be continued. . .
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Notes:
(1) Session #18 was played on Sunday, October 14th, 2007.
(2) Telémahkos scored a critical hit doing double die damage.
(3) Victoria fumbled her attack roll and failed a Reflex save to keep her feet.
Down and down the corkscrewing tunnel Telémahkos slid, crawled and climbed. The rest of the Signers of the Charter of Schiereiland waited in the cavern above, Timotheus holding the end of a rope that Telémahkos was no longer tied to. One hundred feet was not enough, so Telie had untied himself and continued.
“You alright down there?” Timotheus called down.
Telémahkos called back that he was just fine. The tunnel itself was through muddy earth that crumbled and slid, occasionally releasing brief torrents of silty water, illuminated by his lantern. Eventually, the tunnel opened into a much larger cavern hundreds of feet below the one the rest of the Signers awaited. The tunnel came in about five feet off the larger cavern floor. Another larger tunnel went off to the left, while the cavern stretched into darkness in front of him. He could hear the water crashing from the chamber high above into a black lake.
Judging this a safe enough place from which to launch further exploration, he began the difficult climb back up.
“How long do we wait until we begin to worry?” Timotheus asked Bleys, looking at the gash in the earth his cousin had disappeared down.
“Are you worried now?” Bleys asked.
“A little.”
“It has not be long enough to worry,” the watch-mage replied flatly.
Telémahkos emerged from the tunnel a mud-man, his blues eyes shining out from a thick layer of brown that was slicked up and down his body. He described the place he had found, but Laarus and Victoria looked at the filthy Briarius dubiously.
“What about up that way?” Victoria of Anhur pointed up the slick jagged shaft from which the halting waterfall came. “It goes up. It might be a way out.”
“I can’t climb it,” Telémahkos replied.
“You seem an adept climber,” Victoria said, her eyes narrowed.
“I mean, I might be able to climb it, but it’d dangerous,” Telémahkos explained. “Too dangerous for me… How do you expect to get up there if there happens to be a way out?”
“We have a rope,” Victoria said.
“I’m not doing it,” Telémahkos refused.
The rest of the Signers took up the debate. Markos thought checking out the shaft might be worth a try, while Timotheus sided with his cousin.
“It seems too treacherous,” Laarus said, and Bleys nodded.
“Then let’s just pick a route,” Markos said, shifting his weight to his other foot and slipping his bag off his shoulder onto the damp floor. “Ugh, my bag’s heavy…”
“I’ll carry it for you,” Timotheus offered, stepping over to scoop it up with his muscled arms, but Markos pulled it away and slung back onto his back.
“No!” Markos snapped and then caught himself and changed his demeanor. “I mean, thanks, but I got it …”
“Have it your way,” Timotheus replied, and he turned to the others. “If we’re going to go down then I’m going first.” With that he marched over to the tunnel and confidently strode in, raising his hands to brace himself against the crumbly muddy walls. He was no more than five or six steps in when he lost his footing and began a long painful slide down the tunnel in the dark. Timotheus was barely able to stop himself, sensing the colder air of the great cavern at the end. But he misjudged as he stretched his arms forward to get a sense of how much room he had, and tumbled onto the muddy bank of the lake beyond.
Timotheus had long moments in the dark and his ears grew accustomed to the drips and drops of the nearby water. Suddenly, he thought he heard voices, and then he was certain.
Bleys the Aubergine came next followed by his radiant spark, he flew into the mud with no elegance.
“Here, let me help you up…” Timotheus offered a hand, grinning even wider than usual. “But keep it down, I thought I heard voices…”
Bleys’ light revealed that they were on the bank of a dark lake of swirling water. It stretched way back into the darkness, and water ran down the black walls. There was another passage running off to the left through a limestone wall in a gradual curve, disappearing into darkness beyond.
“Where?” Bleys asked in a whisper that still felt overloud in the cavernous open.
“Out there…” Timotheus gestured to the left side of the lake, where ceiling curved down low, making the overhead clearance just under nine feet. To the right the ceiling ranged up forty feet or more.
Markos and Crusta came down next, sliding down with him locked between her legs and her flabby hair-covered arms wrapped about his shoulders and head. As Bleys’ spell ended, he was forced to light his lantern and hold it up.
Victoria of Anhur ended a particularly bumpy ride with a bone-shaking landing on her backside. Dunlevey climbed out with no troubles, but Tymon, who was after him, went shooting out to the lake edge, sliding painfully across the rock-littered muck. Laarus of Ra suffered a similar indignant journey, though Bleys and Victoria were able to keep him from flying too far out of the muddy hole. Falco was second to last, and finally Telémahkos made the trip down again.
Telémahkos and Dunlevey heard the echoed murmur of voices as well. The voices floated over the subterranean lake. Rather than deal with the lake, the Signers of the Charter of Schiereiland marched down the side passage, but found that soon after it curved it grew very steep and led to a caved in area. There would be no going out that way. They made their way back to the lake and Bleys the Aubergine suggested they make camp here.
“We should check out those voices,” Timotheus said.
“Well, how deep is the water?” Victoria. “Perhaps we can look into where the voices are coming from.” She walked over to the edge of the water and then stepped in to about knee height. She used her longspear to check the depth. It was not much deeper within reach of her weapon. Now she heard the voices again. It was two voices talking to each other intermittently. The language was unintelligible, but clearly the sound came from a muddy nook on an inside wall where the shape of the cave bent and turned in many directions, water and silt lapping in its many niches.
“I’ll lead the way,” Timotheus said, wading past her. Thirty yards from the bank, Tim came to a ragged niche where the mud embankment met the earth and stone roots of the hill above them. By the light now shining from Victoria’s spear, the bold Briareus noted a hole in the mud about three feet in diameter. The voices came once again, but still seemed muffled. They were further away than whatever lay beyond this hole. Timotheus began to climb up into it, and slipping disappeared down in the hole, bringing a sluice of water and mud with him. He slammed on a flat stone floor, with a bit of light from Victoria’s spear reaching him down the narrow tunnel he had just fallen through. It was about seven or eight feet long and high up on the wall of this chamber, whatever it was.
He scrambled up to his feet, feeling a coin (or something similar) slip out from under his boot. He heard the voices again. They were loud and foreign. The language was mellifluous for the most part, but broken by had guttural suffixes and interjections. It was vaguely familiar.
“Tim!” Telémahkos hissed his cousin’s name from the mouth of the hole. Seeing Tim disappear, he had hurried ahead and leapt up to the hole, but his balance was much better. Timotheus climbed back into the hole, and Telémahkos reached a hand to help him up. The larger warrior could feel the hole getting larger as he kicked big chunks of mud into the room behind. They decided to stop in the tunnel, and Victoria handed up the lantern passed up by Bleys. Tim’s jaw dropped when he raised the lantern to look into the room he had fallen into.
There were piles of treasure! Hundreds, if not thousands of copper and silver coins, jewelry amid musty sacks, a large statue of an angel made from Sardonyx, and some common brass mugs and cutlery.
“It’s a dragon’s hoard!” Timotheus said, his grin stretching across his face even wider than normal. He whispered through the hole what he saw, and then he heard the voices again. Raising the lantern, Tim saw that the left wall of the chamber was actually the back of some kind of false wall. The voices came from the other side. They did speak in a foreign language. He could not identify it.
One after one they climbed into the secret chamber, the rent in the wall getting bigger with each person through, until there was a constant stream of muck spilling in as well. Telémahkos crept over near the false wall and listened.
“It’s Rubar,” he hissed, and gestured to Tymon join him. The portly man stumbled over as Victoria fell ungracefully from the hole, and the voices were suddenly quiet. Timotheus stepped over and grabbed the militant before she splashed into the growing pool of muck.
“Did the earth just move or was it just me?” He smiled as he looked in her face, brought close to his by the awkwardness of the fall and his rush to catch her.
“It was just you,” she frowned and firmly pushed his arms away. His smile never dying, Tim started looking through the loot, as Telémahkos found a spy hole in the false wall and was able to see out some. There was a chamber beyond that was reached from two sides, though a thick curtain covered one passage. There was a figure in silhouette, dressed in armor of some kind and armed with a scimitar. The figure wore a scarf or turban about his head. A second, similarly dressed figure entered the room and they began to talk, both looking to the wall nervously.
Tymon did his best to translate what could be heard.
“Is he coming?” the first one asked.
“Yes.”
“Was he with the old woman again? Or Eton?” the first one asked. “I do not think they are to be trusted.”
“The Marked One trusts them,” the second one replied, sternly. “That is enough…”
“Did you overhear if they plan to bring the slaves here?” the first one was asking, when a third figure arrived, taller than the others.
“Oh no!” Tymon turned to the chamber and stepped away from the false wall when he heard the third man speak.
“They are checking the wall! They are coming!” Telémahkos hissed, drawing the Steel Whip.
“They didn’t know this room was here,” Tymon added, even as the door opened. It was actually not quite much of a door, rather one of the men on the other side grabbed a section of wall and moved it over by brute strength, Telémahkos did not hesitate. As the other turban-wearing warrior stepped through, the dexterous young noble flicked his rapier out and found a space between scales in the man’s armor. The man grunted as the blade slid in and the armor protested, giving way to a bloom of blood from his abdomen. 2
“Ready! Ready! Ready!” The voices of the Signers of Charter of Schiereiland rang out one after another, having become used to the tactic of Markos’ pyrotechnics spell, and shutting their eyes.
“Tymon! Tell them to surrender!” Bleys added, and the manservant cried out in the alternately mellifluous and guttural language of the Rubes.
“Pyroclastus lux!” Markos cast and his torch gave off a flash of light. The dervish behind the false wall/door was protected, as was the larger man, clearly the leader (and drawing a mean-looking great sword from his back). The man Telémahkos stabbed was not as lucky. Blinded, Telémahkos struck him again, and then withdrew.
And they were clearly dervishes. The two men kept their armor tied tight to their bodies with sashes of red and gold, and wore bright red scarves expertly tied upon their heads. The relentless sun of the Disputed Territories browned their skin. The tall man wore no turban, letting his long black hair hang near his broad shoulders, despite having the front part of his head shaved to the scalp. He was disfigured by a burn scar on the right side of his face that appeared to be made by some hot metal rod having been pressed there. It reached from under his eye to his chin, nearly obscuring the countless other smaller scars and scratches all over his face and body, including a scar on his neck that looked as if it was less than an inch from killing him. He was also missing his left ear. He wore a bronze breastplate.
“Tymon! Tell them!” Bleys commanded again, letting an arrow loose through the doorway. The scarred man winced as the missile bounced painfully off the bracers on his forearms.
“I tried!” Tymon whined in reply.
“Ethan! Ethan! Intruders!” The scarred man called in a booming voice. He spoke common with only a slight accent, but then fell back to the Rubar tongue when speaking to the dervishes before him. “Basit! Baqir! Atravese!”
As Victoria of Anhur hurried forward to hold the doorway, the dervish holding the section of wall, rushed through. He propped the door in front of Timotheus as he went by, momentarily blocking off the sabre-wielding bastard of noble blood. He ignored the wound Victoria scored on his hip as he twisted around to try to avoid the worse of it as he let go of the false wall. Tymon hacked fearfully with this long sword and the dervish’s legs buckled, but he continued, a spear suddenly in his hand and thrusting into Laarus side, drawing dark blood from the priest of Ra.
Timotheus pushed down the door, swinging his flail with anger, as Laarus used a quick hit to buy him a moment to step away from the dervish.
“I do not know where you came from,” the marked one out in the chamber said as he stepped in, causing Timotheus to spin around hurriedly. “But you made a big mistake!” There was a wrenching sound as Tim’s breastplate crunched under the weight of the man’s great sword. His arm sagged from the pain and his return swing was half-hearted. He could feel blood seeping down under his armor. “Some help over here!”
“We should focus on the man Tim is fighting,” Markos said, raising his hands to cast. “He seems the most dangerous! Sagitta aquom!” Two missiles of watery blue light slammed into the man he pointed out. Telémahkos danced over to aid Tymon, keeping the spear-wielding dervish from turning to easily flank Timotheus. Dunlevey moved in to aid.
“No one needs die here today!” Bleys the Aubergine called to their foes. “Surrender!”
But surrounded as he was, the spear-wielding dervish was unwilling to surrender. Instead, he let loose bellow that rose into a lilting screech as he huffed and puffed, his stature seeming to increase as he worked himself into a rage that made the scales of his armor sing with his shaking.
“It is you who have intruded on our lair,” the marked one said, not pausing from his punishing blows that Tim was barely knocking aside with his own weapon. “It is you who should stand down…”
“That’s not up to me, but you’re outnumbered,” Timotheus replied, getting a hit in that led the man to grunt and fight to keep his footing. “I suggest you stand down…”
“Yes! We are not bad guys!” Tymon tried, and then switched to Rubar. “Just give up!” He withdrew from the melee, dropping his sword to draw his crossbow and begin loading it.
Laarus Raymer of Ra croaked as the dervish spear thrust deeply into his groin, the spear point wedging apart his cod-piece from his grieves. The priest tumbled to the floor bleeding out.
“Laarus!” Victoria snarled as she called for Anhur to fill her with his righteous fury until she too shook with an all encompassing rage. Unfortunately, for her however, in her fury she stepped too quickly, stumbling and fell flat out. 3
Telémahkos leapt back from the melee, leaving it to Dunlevey to cover alone as Victoria seethed and crawled to her feet.
“Eton! Eton!” called the blind dervish still out in the other room.
“Call off the dervish and let me tend to our man and I will drop my weapon,” Bleys offered, even as he dropped his bow to draw his sabre. He looked right at the marked man as he spoke, trying to get his eye. Beyond that fight, he could see the curtain draped across the left side egress open.
“Alright, what’s all this then?” said the man dressed in off-white burnoose with a yellow sash and sandals. A gray scarf that stretched out as part of his dull yellow turban covered his face, and he wore a short sword at his side. Bleys was puzzled by the hint of an accent in the voice. It was not Rubar. It was not Thrician, and not quite Herman-lander, either… The man deftly drew a fat piece of pork rind from a leather satchel at his side, chanting arcane words as he tossed it at Tim’s feet. Less then a moment later, the big man found himself landing painfully on his tailbone, the floor around him covered in a thick layer of greasy animal fat. The man looked up and his eyes met those of Bleys. They were blue.
. . .to be continued. . .
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Notes:
(1) Session #18 was played on Sunday, October 14th, 2007.
(2) Telémahkos scored a critical hit doing double die damage.
(3) Victoria fumbled her attack roll and failed a Reflex save to keep her feet.
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