Session #19– “Return to the Moor-Tomb” (part 2 of 2)
Bleys stiffened as he felt the mask adhere to his face, holding in a sharp breath… But then he let it go. Save for the mask being stuck, he could feel nothing else wrong. The others looked at him expectantly, Telémahkos gripping his magical rapier so tightly, he was readjusting his fingers every few seconds. Bleys looked around and there, behind one of the vile stone panels, he could sense something. He looked and concentrated, and suddenly the panel became translucent to his vision, and behind it was a rune. It was the same rune as on the mask of generosity. He could also see the faint outline of a door there…
“Generosity!” He said, and another pulse of the vile stone made them all wince. Markos hurried over and grabbed the ‘generosity’ mask, but before he could put it on, Laarus stopped him, casting the same spells on his cousin that Bleys had cast on himself. Markos Ackers put on the mask and it adhered as well. Nothing looked any different, but he walked over to the panel Bleys indicated and touched it. It sprung back, revealing a narrow hall going off to the left.
The Signers of the Charter of Schiereiland could not help it, a cheer burst forth from them, and Telémahkos moved forward, dragging Markos out of the way in order to check for possible traps. “Can anyone provide me a light?” he asked, and a moment later Bleys had a
radiant spark hovered over the blond Briareus.
He could note nothing out of the ordinary, but he was hurrying, as the vile stone was sure to pulse again soon.
“If you think its clear, go!” Markos said.
“What if you’re supposed to go first with that mask on?” Telémahkos asked.
“Or what if I am supposed to see something with this one,” Bleys said, his voice slightly muffled, pointing to the mask still stuck to his face. After a brief discussion that seemed too long given the circumstances, Markos and Bleys went in first, followed by Crusta and Telémahkos. Then came Timotheus, then Dunlevey and Tymon, and finally Laarus and Victoria. The stone pulsed once last time as they went through, seeing that the narrow hall soon ended in a set of very steep stone steps leading down. Soon after they were all in the hall, the door to the chamber of masks closed of its own accord, sealing them away from their only known egress. The masks fell off Bleys and Markos’ faces.
Telémahkos squeezed his way to the front and soon he led the way down the narrow steps checking the walls and steps for any irregularities that might betray some trap or other danger. The sound of stone sliding against stone joined that of their breathing and of their boots upon the steps, as walls slid down to seal the way back. One slid down at the top of the steps, another when they were fifty feet down and another when the long steps had led them seventy-five feet down,
“These walls could be seen as a metaphor for life and death,” Markos’ whisper seemed overloud.
“They need not be a metaphor… They are life and death for us at the moment…” Bleys replied, seeking to end the discussion, but Markos continued with his analogy.
“Markos? Please! How can we hear if anything is coming or if any mechanisms go off?” Telémahkos’ voice had a pleading quality of exasperation.
“Anyone else smell that?” Timotheus said before Markos could reply. “Smells like bad wine…” And there was a vinegary smell that was reaching them. Telémahkos noted that the steps abruptly ended in a narrow shaft straight down. He could not see the bottom with the
radiant spark, so it was more than twenty feet deep.
Telémahkos got down on his hands and knees, pulling the skirt of his toga up, and began to examine the shaft. “There seem to be some kind of handholds carved into the shaft…” He said. “Looks like it should make the climbing easy for anyone that isn’t totally clumsy…” He stood and looked at Laarus when he spoke the last few words.
“A simple climb…” Bleys said. “It was written twice and this is the second simple climb… It is even in the right order of the clues…”
“Why would this Dalvan want to even give clues?” Victoria wondered aloud. “What does he have to gain from people finding his final resting place?”
“It is some nefarious plot, no doubt…” Bleys offered. “But we shall find out and foil it soon enough…”
Telémahkos began to climb down, a rope tied about his waist. Timotheus held the other end. At the bottom he found that the narrow hall continued another twenty feet before leading into a larger room from which the acrid smell was coming. It took some time, but all the others finally made it down. They squeezed into the remainder of the hall as another stone wall slide down to obstruct the way back.
The room beyond was rectangular and greater than forty feet long, making the far end draped in shadow beyond the light of the
radiant spark, but at a word from Bleys the spark shot across the room. They could now see that a narrow stone walkway led around a shallow depression that made up most of the room. In the far corner held a column with a strange statue carved into it. It was of a muscular bare-breasted woman with the head of mantis. It was nine feet tall.
Markos took an arrow from Bleys’ quiver and laid down beside the edge of the depression, holding the arrow out. The bottom was about four feet down and covered in a few inches of brownish liquid that gave off the strong smell. The mage’s nostrils stung as he got close to it, and then he grimaced as the steel head of the arrow bubbled when immersed. “Acid,” he said, rolling away from the edge and back to his feet. There were deep cracks in the seams of the stones that made up the depressed floor. “I would bet coin that once this whole thing was filled with it, but over time it has seeped down between the stones…”
Telémahkos moved carefully to the left side of the room where the stone pathway hugged the wall on its way around to where the statue was on the opposite diagonal corner. He looked it over carefully before stepping out. Nothing happened immediately, but a little more than five feet in there was a groan of moving stone. The twenty-foot piece of stone path Telémahkos walked on tipped to the right, threatening to spill him off into the acid. Lucky for him, the sliding stone mechanism was not working as it was supposed to, and it got stuck at about a forty-degree angle. Deft of foot, he leaned his weight back and kept from tumbling off.
“Uh-oh!” Tymon said, as they all heard the sound of scraping stone and looked up to see the caryatid column
1 come to life, the stone insect-headed woman with pincers for hands stepping off the platform to splash into the shallow acid and stir up a cloud of the caustic stuff. Telémahkos leapt back onto the non-slanted section of stone.
“Oh no!” Crusta moaned.
Bleys willed the
radiant spark to hover near the living statue, while he cast his
shield spell. Dunlevey drew his great sword and stepped up to the edge of the depression.
“Does anyone want to be enlarged?” Markos asked, eagerly.
“Sure!” Timotheus cried, coming forward. Markos began to cast.
“Anhur, I call upon your holy chosen weapon to fight for me where I cannot reach!” Victoria called to her god and a silver and blue translucent spear appeared hovering next to the construct. It stabbed at it to no visible effect.
“Bleys! Should I try to get to the other side and see if this thing can be turned off?” Telémahkos looked to the leader of the party for instruction, even as Tymon looked to him with worry as to what to do himself.
“Only if you can come back,” Bleys replied, so Telémahkos began to balance across the slanted stone path as quickly as he dared.
“Oh no! Oh no!” Crusta moaned again, showing true fear of this magical guardian. She ran back towards the narrow hall pushing Tymon as she went past. The portly man lost his balanced and fell face first into the acid. He screamed as it burned his face and hands and he scrambled to his feet desperately. He looked up to find Laarus of Ra leaning over the edge with a hand outstretched. Tymon grabbed the priest’s hand and was yanked up.
Meanwhile, Dunlevey was reeling from a blow from the thing’s clawed hand. “Aw, fџck this!” he cursed and leapt down into the acid to reach the tall monster with arms longer than even a great sword. The sell-sword’s boots sizzled as he splashed in it, tiny holes burning in his leggings. Victoria gave chase, but leapt right into the thing’s grasp. Only the weight of her fall kept her from being clasped by the neck, and she swung wildly, twisting away as she felt her breath momentarily closed off. The weapon crunched as it struck the heavy magic-laden stone of the living statue. A crack went down the wood and a few more blows like that and it would become useless.
2
“Okay, let’s surround this thing and finish it off!” Timotheus ordered with the tone of a veteran, his voice deepening as he grew in size. He stepped down into the acid as well, moving to flank the caryatid column with Victoria. The militant dropped her morningstar. “This pit will be your grave not ours!” She cried and drew a spear from her back. The thing shattered as she drove it up under the creature’s head. There was barely a scratch to show for the ruined weapon, but at least there was a scratch.
“
Digitus magicus!” Markos cast
prestidigitation to clean the acid off of Tymon’s face and then he took off past the statue, kicking up more acid in his hurry.
“Ko-kos!” Crusta shrieked taking off after him. She had to duck to avoid the statue’s swing at her as she went by.
Tim’s flail rang off the stone creature again and again, though the painful reverberations shook his bones, the blows only made the smallest of cracks, if any at all. Dunlevey’s great sword was showing obvious signs of dulling and bending, and Victoria drew another spear from her back, and this one shattered against the statue as well. One of Dunlevey’s heavy blows knocked it off its feet, and they hammered at it as it got up, but to little effect. Timotheus’ armor crunched as the thing drove its pincer hands into his gut. Tim let out a cough and tasted blood in his mouth.
Everyone’s eyes burned from the acid mist in the air from the disturbance of the narrow layer of it at the bottom of the pit. They could taste it at the back of their throats, burning their lips and singing their nostrils.
Laarus called to Ra to cure some of Victoria’s wounds as he hurried by, having leapt into the pit as well to make his way across to where Markos was climbing onto the stone path with Crusta’s help. Telémahkos was searching the black stone door that was now visible in the corner where the caryatid column had been. As the priest ran he grew light-headed, and felt himself gag, nearly overcome by the acid flying all over the place.
3 Bleys had a similar idea about getting to the other side of the room, but he tried navigating the sloping path as Telémahkos had. He did not prove as deft, and landed with a splash at Timotheus’ feet. The tall warrior danced away to avoid tripping over the watch-mage, leaving him momentarily open to the statue’s attacks, but Victoria shattered another spear, and the stone protested as a chunk of its side came chipping off.
“Don’t let up!” Timotheus encouraged, as Bleys hurried through the acid to climb back up to the stone lip with the others.
Tymon let loose a crossbow bolt, but it shattered as it struck the thing’s chest.
Victoria grunted as the thing shoved her back with a heavy blow as she knelt to pick up her morningstar. Acid dripped off of it and scored the sides of the weapon, flicking in a wide stream as she swung at the creature, hitting it in the leg to no visible effect. The metal of Tim’s heavy
enlargedflail swung with the warrior’s great strength seemed the only attacks that was doing any serious damage to the thing, and finally one heavy blow sent the statue flying onto its back. As it awkwardly got back up Timotheus swung the flail up from the left and brought it down on the statue’s head with all his weight and might. The head exploded into a thousand shards of stone. The caryatid column stopped moving.
The acid was beginning to show its effects on all of them, especially Bleys and Victoria, who felt their lungs burn as they struggled to climb up onto the ledge. Tymon mewled as he hurried across the acid, cringing with every step. Telémahkos was still searching the door, Markos used
prestidigitation to clean himself and his companions off as best he could.
“Shall we not try the masks again?” Victoria said.
Bleys placed the ‘greed’ mask back onto his face and once again it adhered there. And once again, he saw the rune for ‘generosity’ within the outline of the door. Markos did the same with the ‘generosity’ mask and made his way to the front. The door opened for him easily, and beyond was a hall with walls of hardened clay set with many different formations of lacquered bones. They hurried in to get away from the sickening mist, and the door sealed behind them. Unlike last time, the masks Bleys and Markos wore did not drop off.
Once again they were in a narrow hall, crammed into its thirty-foot length. There was another door of black stone on the right side of the hall at the far end. Bleys the Aubergine moved to the front and could see the now familiar rune upon the door. He instructed Markos to open it, but Telémahkos protested, insisting on examining the door closely before it was opened. Once he gave the all clear, Markos walked over and touched the door and it clicked open, letting the fetid stench of death waft in from the other side.
With a word from Markos Ackers, a brazier ignited dimly lit the dark room beyond. The chamber was about half the size of the room with acid, and there was another brazier against the opposite wall from the closer one. The ceiling was vaulted but barely ten feet high, and the walls were decorated with the tattered remains of musty tapestries. At the far end of the room was a large stained marble dais with a large sarcophagus atop it. Bleys immediately spotted a tarnished and twisted decorative silver sword on the floor by the dais.
Timotheus squeezed his way forward and walked in first, thus he was the one that spotted the figure rising from the sarcophagus. “We’ve got a problem!” Tim announced.
As the figure stepped out of the stone coffin, Bleys sent his
radiant spark into the room. It wore tattered clothing that revealed gray nacreous flesh. It had long wild hair, and a face distorted by large teeth in its human-jaw, and rheumy bulbous eyes emerging from a sallow face. Behind it on the dais was a thick red curtain that clearly obscured a passage beyond.
“Finally!” The thing croaked. “Some has arrived to set me free! I am Dalvan d’Amberville. No! We are Dalvan! No, not Dalvan. We shall be free! We shall finally be free!”
Dalvan, if the thing was who it claimed to be, spoke with an odd manner. His head jerked back and forth, and his voice changed tenor, as if he were answering himself.
“I think he’s crazy!” Timotheus hissed to his companions who were slowly coming into the room. “Good afternoon!” Timotheus smiled and addressed the thing. “So, are you Dalvan or not?”
“I am Dalvan!” the thing croaked with anger, but then its head sunk and it brought it hand up to its forehead, it thick black claws glinted in the spell’s light. “No, I am not! Yes, we are! Either way, we must eat!” And with that he leapt off the dais with a deftness belying his hideous state.
“Anhur! Please let me see another battle!” Victoria cried out to her god and then choked down one of the potions of
aid that the young nobles had found among
Herzah Blacktooth’s things. It was like sour milk and vinegar, but she felt its strength fill her.
“Master, what should I do?” Tymon looked to Telémahkos for help, but Telie was making a show of going into the room, while actually delaying his own entry, the stench of death worrying him. “Follow Dunlevey in,” he said to his manservant.
“May Ra’s holy light guide your strikes!” Laarus of Ra cast a spell, reaching out to touch Timotheus’ sabre as he stood shoulder to shoulder with his companion.
4 Dunlevey joined the line as the thing that claimed to be Dalvan slowed its approach, almost creeping as it appraised the preparing warriors.
“You wanna fight or you wanna talk?” Timotheus asked the thing with bravado. “Because if you want to fight, get to it, because we are going to take you down!” He sliced his saber back and forth with great flourish. But in that moment it became clear why the thing tarried, for the smell of death that filled the room had its source in him, and now not more than fifteen feet from the thing, it roiled off in visible waves of wispy green. Dunlevey, Laarus and Timotheus felt their stomachs turn, and Laarus who was already sickened from all the acid he had inhaled, gagged.
“Anhur! Grant us a boon in this battle against evil necromancy!” Victoria called to her god once again,
blessing the battle as she moved to the left flank of the line of warriors. Laarus called to his god as well, clutching his holy symbol to channel positive energy in a burst around him and call the
glory of Ra, but the darkness of this place was too deep, and Laarus faith not strong enough in the moment for it to work.
Dunlevey came forward, sidestepping to draw it towards Victoria, but it was not without some prowess in combat. Suddenly in its right hand there flashed a knife with a blade made from sharpened green stone that glowed dully, as the great shard had in the chamber of masks. Dunlevey gasped as the knife sliced a hole in his chain mail, and he felt a deep, now all too familiar chill deep inside of him
5
“I will eat your brains, and…” It began, but Timotheus’ roar drowned it out. He charged forward, but the ghoulish Dalvan easily ducked and rolled away from the blade. This would have left an opening for Laarus, but the priest of Ra could no longer resist and began to vomit, his body wracking with painful spasms.
6 Laarus Raymer crawled over to the corner by the door, helpless.
“Anhur! Let this thing not be the end of us!” Now Victoria was having a conversation with her god, bellowing out pleas to him as she moved around the creature trying to draw it away from the others. It swatted away the spear, effectively ignoring and angering her further.
“
Deprehensio veneficus! Bleys cast
detect magic as he entered the room and the mask fell off. He could immediately see that the knife the Dalvan-thing was wielding was magical, but so was a ring it wore on the other hand. Markos had already moved into the room, putting away the ‘generosity’ mask, as he made his way into the left hand corner. “
Lorca magica,” he chanted, casting
mage armor on himself.
Unable to delay any further, Telémahkos tumbled into the room and stabbed at the thing with
the Steel Whip, snapping off a chunk of flesh from its forearm, even as the first whiff of the thing weakened him.
“You will die first!” Dalvan said, looking directly at Telie. He stepped towards him, grabbed and stabbing at him. It even reached forward to bite him, but Telémahkos danced aside, letting out little frantic shrieks of fear, momentarily forgetting the duelist’s stance he had been trying so hard to perfect recently. “Get it off of me!” he cried, pushing and thrusting wildly with the magical rapier.
Undead Dalvan took advantage of the distraction and thrust the blade at Timotheus, who barely swatted it away with his own weapon. Dunlevey tried to avoid being grabbed by the creature’s other hand, and in doing so moved too close to it and felt a sharp bite on his neck. Instinctively, he drew back, but found that there was a deepening ache in his limbs as his reactions slowed down. Less than a moment later he was standing perfectly still, his muscles rigid, his eyes burning.
Bleys hurried across the room, avoiding the melee, followed by Tymon, but he passed too close to the ghastly remains of the thing saying it was Dalvan. Already feeling woozy from the inhaled acid, he too began to vomit, holding the edge of the dais for support.
The Signers of the Charter of Schiereiland closed in around the undead thing. Markos’ right hand crackled with electricity as he moved in and grabbed at the thing. All he got for his efforts was a deep cut to his chest from the vile stone blade. He felt the coldness of the wound run deep, and faltered, allowing the ghastly Dalvan to sidestep away.
“Ko-Kos!” Crusta cried, moving in behind her boyfriend.
“Pile it on! Don’t give it a chance,” Timotheus ordered, closing in and swinging of his saber, and barely avoiding it when it clawed at him. Tymon came rushing in to his master’s aid, longsword in hand, but accidentally cut across Victoria’s vantage, and she pulled back her spear hurriedly. “Argh! Tymon! Stay out of the way!”
Startled, the portly man lost his footing as he thrust his sword and wobbled there trying to keep from falling.
7 Dalvan ignored him and focused all its attention at Timotheus with sudden ferocity. Tim felt the knife puncture his armor on the right side at the waist, and he teetered, allowing the monster to reach up and bite him on the cheek. Timotheus’ muscles grew rigid and he fell over, unmoving.
As if the sight of Timotheus’ sudden paralysis and fall was what did it, Victoria suddenly felt a wave of nausea come over her and weaken her some. She had been resisting the stench for some time, but her lungs still burning from the acid begged for deeper breaths, and she could resist no longer. Her stomach spasmed and soon she was bent over retching and snorting.
“This is bad…” Markos said, half-heartedly grabbing at the creature, his hand still crackling. He stepped away from the melee. Tymon cried out as he felt the bite of the vile stone blade as well, but Telémahkos continued to bat away the thing’s claws with his rapier.
“Ra! Hear my cries and send this foul creature from our sights!” It was Laarus of Ra, standing and wiping his chin with his sleeve as he called to his god, yellow and green spittle flecking on his upper lip. Ra did not respond. Markos took that moment to step back into the fight and he grimaced with pleasure as he felt his hand wrap around the thing’s shoulder momentarily. There was a great blast of blue light and the rancid smell grew momentarily worse as hair and fleshed burned.
“I am Dalvan! I cannot be defeated! You… I… We… will live forever!” the thing cried, raving. Markos satisfaction did not last long. Once again, he felt the cut of the evil knife, and as he fell, the creature pulled him up to it mouth and bit down deeply. It dropped him, turning to look at Laarus with House Raymer blood smeared around its black cracked lips. Crusta crawled over to drag Markos away. He was not only dying, but also paralyzed.
“Ra! We need your judgment!” Laarus tried again, but again the evil of the tomb resisted the divine presence.
The mad undead necromancer laughed. “I don’t want to die,” Tymon whimpered, still working with Telémahkos to keep the thing occupied.
“Ra! Please!” Again Laarus tried, but all he could do was swallow his disappointment. Bleys had recovered enough to join the fray, swinging Victoria’s morningstar. The thing spun around and ducked in towards the mage, easily absorbing the weight of the man’s dropping arms without taking any damage from the weapon. It pulled away again, grabbing at Bleys as it did and biting him. The watch-mage suffered the added indignity of feeling his stomach roil again even as his limbs stiffened. Bile bubbled out of his open mouth, as he stood there unable to do anything about it or about the battle happening around him.
“Ra! Burn his weapon! Sear it from his grasp!” Laarus called to his god again, this time to heat the metal of the knife’s handle. It did no good.
Dalvan’s laughter was cut short by a deep stab from Telémahkos’ blade. It went for him and Tymon dared to take the opportunity for a heavy downward blow. The creature sidestepped and the manservant felt its claws rip his sides open. He fell over bleeding to death, clutching where the vile stone blade had pierced his side.
“How dare you?!” Victoria roared. “How dare you?!” She charged back into battle and her spear caught the thing as it spun around. Pierced through the stomach it fell backwards as if plopping down to rest. “I… I am Dalvan d’Amberville… I… I cannot die… I will eat your brain… I will live again…” The militant tore the spear from the creature’s gut and thrust it through the thing’s skull with disgusting ‘pop.’
The living corpse lived no longer. The thing’s flesh congealed and crumbled into a fetid jelly that stained the stone beneath it.
End of Session #19
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Notes:
(1) Yep, yet another converted
1E Fiend Folio monster! Anyone keeping count?
(2) Every time the caryatid column is struck by a weapon it take an equal amount of damage +1d4 back.
(3) The acid in the room had the following effect: Those in the mild acid take 1d2 hit points of damage every 5 rounds (ignoring hardness). Armor loses 1 damage point every 10 rounds. Once the acid begins to be disturbed, those in the room must make a Fort save (DC 13) every five rounds or become
sickened (-2 penalty on all attack rolls, weapon damage rolls, saving throws, skill checks, and ability checks). Once sickened, characters must make a Fort save (DC 13) or lose 1 point of Constitution, and if so one minute later must save again or lose 1d3 points of CON.
(4) This was the
magic weapon spell.
(5) This knife does Vile damage (see
Book of Vile Darkness)
(6) The sickening power of the ghastly stench stacked with the sickness from the acid room, leading to the
nauseated condition if a save was failed.
(7) Tymon suffered a fumble effect:
Off Balance. Make Balance check vs. DC 20 or be flat-footed for one round.
