Sniktch's Story Hour Prelude - From the Beginning (UPDATED 04/22)

[Sniktch]

The wight dwarf

The last pair of doors led to a half-finished room with no other exits. Immense slabs of stone were stacked all along the left wall. Several blocks of stone had been stacked to form a raised platform in the center of the room and a makeshift throne had been constructed atop it from the skulls of countless dwarves. Seated in the throne was a pasty-skinned, rotting dwarf that stood when they entered and shuffled jerkily toward them, arms raised before it, and dripping flesh and slime upon the floor as it moved. One of its eyes held them in its malicious stare while the other hung useless and torn upon its cheek.

“Voltare!” roared Jack and charged forward with Grick right beside him. The undead thing swiped at them with its arms, but they easily avoided the clumsy blows. Jack responded by driving his axe powerfully into the undead’s midsection, chopping it clean in half. The creature fell to the floor twitching and was soon still.

Grick looked down at the vanquished foe in consternation. “Huh?” he said, “That was easy.”

Artimas concurred, “Too easy. Something is extremely wrong with defeating a wight with one - look out!!”

Another figure appeared from behind the propped-up stone blocks. This was also the figure of an emaciated dwarf with pasty white skin, but this one moved much more smoothly than the beast Jack had just destroyed. It wore a suit of rusty chain links and had a gem-studded coronet upon its brow; its face was framed by wild black hair and its eyes glowed with an eldritch light. It sprang between Jack and Grick and leveled a solid punch that drove the dwarf backwards, gasping. Jack felt himself grow weaker at the touch, like a piece of his spirit had been taken from him, and the others could only watch in horror as he seemed to age before their eyes, while the aura of evil surrounding cursed Gregor became even more intense. The fierce dwarf was more afraid than he had ever been in his life, and he sank to the ground weakly and started crawling toward the door. Quinn pulled her mace and stepped in front of him to guard his retreat.

Grick launched a flurry of blows and heard the distinct crack of ribs as he landed one vicious knee, but the wight seemed unfazed. It dodged to the side and avoided the halfling as Welby charged in swinging his axe wildly, then jumped forward and pushed Grick hard. The half-orc flew across the room as he felt his life energy being drained away and his head cracked against the platform. He dropped to the floor and did not move.

Quinn stepped before the monster with her holy symbol raised and called upon the might of Dumathoin to destroy the unhallowed being, but she had not yet the power to effect such a powerful undead and it backhanded her across the face, enraged at the reminder of the good gods. However, her actions had provided a brief opening, and Welby and Ike stepped in from either side and got in a pair of solid hits. The Crow thrust with his rapier and also scored a glancing blow, but then Gregor seized his arm with icy fingers and he dropped his sword from numb, lifeless fingers. The wight dwarf lifted the half-elf by the throat and pitched him away to land unmoving on the ground.

Artimas and Eli had not been idle during this time, first taking the time to raise their protective mage armor to ward off attacks. Now Eli launched a globe of silver force to impact upon the beast while Artimas simultaneously fired a ray of energy that disrupted the wight’s ties to the negative energy that animated it. They repeated the attack as Gregor seized Ike by the hair and hurled him into the halfling, then bounded across the floor towards them. Artimas stepped back and allowed Eli to receive the charge, and the elf screamed as undead fingers bit into his skin and absorbed his life essence.

Jack rose from his terrified stupor at the sound of his friend’s voice and examined the scene before him. The two wizards were backed against the wall and the wight stood ready to spring. Artimas was gesturing desperately while his voice shouted the words to disrupt undead again, while Eli merely parried weakly with his rapier. Jack could see the awful bluish-white streaks on the elf where the undead fingers had clawed his skin. Welby had regained his feet and ran towards the undead, while the rest lay cowering in fear or unconscious.

The barbarian saved Eli’s life then, diving forward and chopping the wight in the back before it could spring. It roared and picked up the halfling with both hands, then spun and hurled him into Artimas and disrupted the necromancer’s spell. The bravery of the little warrior awoke the old dwarven spirit in Jack’s breast, and he strode determinedly in the direction of the battle.

“Gregor Foulspawn!” he taunted. “Ya were never a dwarf! Ya was a goblin changeling and a twisted thing fro’ the start! Come get a piece o’ a real dwarf so’s I c’n send ya straight ta hell!”

The creature turned snarling and bellowed its rage toward the foolhardy warrior, then charged forward at full speed. Jack raised his shield and braced for impact, his axe held ready to swing. He swung with all his might as he felt the brutal impact, and his axe was torn from his grasp as he toppled over with the creature above him. His survival instinct screaming, Jack kicked and twisted to get free of the heavy weight pressing him downward, then realized that it no longer moved. Slowly sliding from under the shield that had saved his life, Stumpwater Jack beheld Gregor in a state of final rest, the axe that killed him lodged deeply in the side of his skull.

 

[Krellic]

Cracking tale, made by excellent characters, I look forward to the next installment.

 

[Sniktch]

Gel-o wrestling

The second time they passed through the hall of statues Eli noticed something different.

Miraculously, they all survived the battle with the wight. After they had dusted themselves off and the unconscious members of the group had been roused they exited the chamber to find Bori waiting to congratulate them on their victory. They then camped a second time in the tomb of the kings, and fortified by the prayers of Jack and Quinn everyone managed to recover the strength the foul undead creature had drained from them.

Now, as they exited the crypt area, Eli called for them to halt and moved to examine the middle statue on the eastern wall.

“Look,” he said, “the design is different on this figure than on any of the others. See how the arm is positioned? It’s almost like you should be able to move it… like so…”

A loud click sounded through the chamber as the elf triggered the secret mechanism. A grinding sound followed as the stone wall pivoted on its axis, revealing a ten-foot wide corridor leading into the darkness. Unlike any other passage they had traversed before now, this tunnel was clean of dust and debris, the walls, floor, and ceiling were polished until the stone gleamed reflectively in the torchlight.

They proceeded with extreme caution and came to a branch in the corridor. To the right the stone retained the clean, polished look but the left fork was once again dusty and littered with rubble. They chose the dirty path and after about a hundred feet it ended in a stout oaken door, swollen with moisture and wedged firmly in place.

Not for long, though. Grick backed up about ten feet and rushed the door, leading with his shoulder. He hit the door with a loud crack and splinters filled the air as it broke from its hinges and split asunder on the ground. They stood in the entryway of an old forgotten shrine to Moradin that had been desecrated long ago. An altar stood on a raised dais across the room, spattered with dried blood and other encrusted filth, and the walls were covered in insane scrawling graffiti and demonic symbols.

The room also contained three bat-like creatures hanging from the ceiling, which unfurled their wings and dropped from their roost as torchlight flooded the chamber. The Crow screamed like a little child when he beheld the hideous visages before them. The resemblance to bats ended with the creature’s wings. Suspended between each pair was a fiendish head with glowing green eyes, and pulsating tendrils and bumps in place of hair and beard. The closest of the three monsters opened its mouth and let loose an unearthly shriek and nearly the entire party froze in terror.

Only Jack resisted the effects of the supernatural wail. He charged into the room and brought his weapon around in a wide arc that cleaved one of the flying heads in two and chopped into a second, slaying them both. Unfortunately, the third monster flew past him and over to Welby and planted a kiss full on the little warrior’s lips. The halfling felt a silky brush as the beast forced its tongue into his mouth and tore away, dropping to his knees gagging from fear and revulsion, and Jack quickly dispatched the monster before it could seek out another victim.

“Ya alright, whelp?” the dwarf helped Welby back to his feet, holding him steady with a concerned expression on his face. The others were slowly shaking off the effects of the monsters’ powerful screech.

“Fwah!” Welby groaned. “Taste real bad, real bad. Never taste good again.” The halfling rolled about on the floor, scrubbing at his tongue with both hands and taking frequent mouthfuls of water that he gargled and spat upon the floor.

“Aha!” Ike cried from near the altar. He found another secret catch that opened a small closet in the wall. The closet was bare except for an armor stand, on which rested a beautiful suit of well-crafted platemail armor fitted for a dwarf and a large steel shield of fine quality engraved with the symbol of a hammer. Since Quinn already owned a suit of plate Stumpwater claimed the armor as his own and enlisted the aid of Eli in fastening himself into the heavy suit.

Finding no other exits or anything else of interest they left the room and backtracked to the intersection, this time selecting the direction that had been cleared of dirt. They passed an open archway and Ike stopped to examine the empty masonry arch.

“Hmm, this is strange,” he muttered. “Everybody, look at this.”

Evidently an oak door like the one Grick had recently smashed once blocked entry into the room, although no sign of it still existed. The hinges were still driven into the wall undisturbed, and Ike could not even find a single splinter stuck in the metal fastenings, which also shined like they had been recently polished. The room itself was bare and spotless; just a blank, empty, twenty by twenty foot chamber devoid of any other entrances or exits, secret or otherwise.

They moved on and the passage dead-ended before another bare masonry arch exactly like the last one. This chamber also appeared to be empty, except there was a strange shimmering effect in the middle of the room, a layer of distortion that reflected the torchlight. Eli pushed his way to the front of the group and approached the area of the effect.

“Hey guys, what’s this? Aaaaiiiieeeeee…..”

The elf froze as he seemed to suddenly run into a semi-solid object. The air shifted and a clear membrane of tissue extended and wrapped itself about him. The gelatinous cube was now plain for all of them to see as it engulfed Eli and continued forward. The others could only watch in horror while the acidic mass of the ooze went to work on their helpless friend and his clothing seemed to melt away, his skin beginning to bubble and blister as it became nourishment for the scavenger.

“No! Eli!” Jack bellowed and leapt to attack the creature, hacking away furiously with his axe. He ignored the touch of a pseudopod that brushed against his side and seared the flesh stretched over his ribs.

Welby and the Crow moved up beside the enraged dwarf and lent their aid to the assault, while Ike and Grick moved to hit the creature from the side. Quinn raised her voice in prayer and the companions felt the blessing of Dumathoin guiding their sword arms and steeling their resolve. Artimas stood in the doorway and pelted the cube with a flurry of magic missiles, then started dipping his crossbow bolts in lamp oil and igniting them before firing the flaming quarrels into the monster’s vast bulk.

The gelatinous cube was rapidly diminishing in size under the furious attack, and though it inflicted several grievous burning wounds upon the companions they did not relent. Jack howled in anguish again and again as he watched his friend being slowly digested before his eyes. Eli’s hair and eyes had been consumed along with the outer layers of skin, and now the ooze was working on the muscles and softer organs beneath.

Jack dropped his axe and lunged forward, grasping the elf by the arm and pulling him free from the now dying cube. While the others surrounded the monster and methodically pounded it into slimy slush he knelt at his friend’s side and called upon his god to heal Eli one more time.

Nothing happened, and as Jack stared into the empty sockets where once the elf’s clear, sparkling eyes had danced with life he realized that his companion was dead. He hugged the lifeless shell to his breast, ignoring the gore, and burst into tears, his sturdy frame continuously wracked by massive sobs.

Welby stared at the dwarf in his grief and reached up to scratch his scalp. A funny, tickling itch had been building and he rubbed at it furiously to drive it away, then stopped and stared at his hand aghast. He was holding a large brown tangle of hair that had simply pulled off at his touch. He reached up and took hold of another handful and it also came free, pulling away from the roots as though it had never been attached. A feeling of great apprehension overcame him then and he brought his hand up to stroke his chin. Beneath the surface of the flesh he could feel hard, pulsing lumps, and he knew that the bat creature in the other room had done more than just kiss him; it had inflicted him with some form of hideous curse and he was now changing to become just like it.

Jack was too lost in grief to notice, but the others all jumped as Welby let out a horrendous yowl and ran out of the room holding his head. Praying that his skull would stay attached and not fly right off of his shoulders, the little barbarian held on for dear life and sprinted for the exit. Even after he rushed from the cave and felt daylight warm his skin he continued, turning towards town as he ran and ran…

 

[Broccli_Head]

wow! Now I know whay Jack is so protective of the other elf in the othe story.

Vargouilles are nasty!

 

[Sniktch]

Yeah, but in all honesty, gelatinous cubes don't kill adventurers. Adventurers that fail to take 10 on spot checks kill adventurers. The DC to spot a cube is 15 (off the top of my head - no reference books available atm), which Eli could have made easily with a 10 + elf bonus + alertness + wis mod. They all rolled, though, no one made a 15, and the elf walked right into the cube. In fact, almost every time my group fails to take at least one 10 on a round of Spot checks they all roll pitifully low and I get to surprise them.

Jack managed to pull him out at -9 hp, but of course Eli failed the 10% stabilize check before Jack got a chance to cast any healing spells.

Vargouilles are fun. Welby's just lucky it was daylight outside so that it halted the metamorphosis long enough for him to get back to town. He's been bald ever since, and it is unknown whether or not he is even capable of growing facial hair anymore. Whatever the case may be, no one has ever seen him shave.

EDIT: While I'm thinking about it, we play with a house rule that increases the randomness and tension in combat and might help explain some of the sudden reversals we see in combat sometimes. A long time ago I felt that attacks of opportunity were not being used to full potential in the game. At the same time, I really wanted some sort of critical fumble rule but didn't really like the ones I'd read at that time.

Thus, our house rule: A roll of 1 on an attack is a critical fumble, which draws an attack of opportunity from the target of the attack. I don't know about game balance or anything like that, but we've only had 2 PC deaths in 2 years because of this rule, and it certainly does seem to increase the suspense and excitement of combat.

 

[Capellan]

Thus, our house rule: A roll of 1 on an attack is a critical fumble, which draws an attack of opportunity from the target of the attack. I don't know about game balance or anything like that, but we've only had 2 PC deaths in 2 years because of this rule, and it certainly does seem to increase the suspense and excitement of combat.

I rather like the look of that rule. Adds a negative effect to rolling a '1' in comat without introducing the completely arbitrary 'fumble' tables that marred so many campaigns in the past

I might have to give some consideration to using it, though I'd probably add the rider that it must also miss by at least 4, or something like that: if the only way to miss is to roll a '1', then it's already bad enough to roll it, without being hit by an AoO as well.

 

[Sniktch]

Eldred Moonthistle was out for his afternoon run with Blackfoot, the wolf that followed him everywhere, when he heard the disturbance in the woods. It sounded like some sort of beast crashing through the underbrush while letting loose a keening child-like wail. He was easily able to follow the sound to its source, and he stifled a chortle of amusement when he at last beheld the strange figure.

A halfling ran through the woods alone, both hands clasped on top of his head as he screamed unintelligibly and his legs pumped along almost faster than the eye could follow. Eldred stepped out in the path of the sprinting warrior and called, “Hold!” but the figure did not slow or change course and Eldred felt a crushing impact as the small man bowled him over and continued on his way. Eldred lay winded for a moment before regaining his feet and staring curiously at the back of the departing figure.

He shrugged. The halfling was moving too quickly for him to catch up now. Besides, if he really wanted to know what had happened, he would probably have more success following the trail back in the direction from which the halfling appeared.

“Let’s go, Blackfoot,” he said and as the wolf fell into step beside him he started off through the forest.

*****

The companions had a hard time getting out of the cave. Welby did not stop running for an instant and the others were unable to keep pace, loaded as they were with Eli’s corpse and the loot they had gathered thus far. Also, Ike discovered another secret door in the room that had contained the cube, this one leading to a flight of stairs that descended to a lower level, and Artimas argued that they should explore further before leaving since no one was really injured other than the elf and the barbarian. When they finally convinced him that exiting now was in their best interest, they discovered that the halfling had taken the lift back to the surface and raced off without sending it back down the shaft. In the end Grick was forced to climb the walls level by level until he reached the top then ride the lift back down to collect everyone else.

They exited the cave perhaps an hour after Welby’s frantic shrieks faded into the distance. His trail was easy to follow and made a beeline in the direction of Travensburg. As they prepared to follow a tall elf with raven tresses wearing clothing of soft deerskin stepped into the clearing and regarded them silently. A large black wolf interposed itself protectively between the elf and the party.

“What d’ya want, elf?” Jack growled. “Either state yer piece or get outta our way, ‘cause I ain’t in the mood fer games.”

The elf stared at them and saw sadness and weariness weighing down their hearts. His gaze rested on the large misshapen bundle wrapped in a thick blanket that was soaked through with blood. Finally, he spoke:

“Are you friends of the halfling that passed through not long ago?”

“You saw Welby? Where is he and what did you do to him?” The Crow’s voice was filled with worry for his little friend.

“He ran past me screaming about an hour ago. I could not tell what was troubling him, but he would not slow to speak with me. I backtracked along his trail looking for answers.”

“Yeh, he got kissed by some floatin demon ‘ead an’ he freaked out. Speakin o’ answers, who’re ya an’ what are ya doin ‘ere?” Jack spoke abruptly.

“My name is Eldred, and these woods are under my protection. Anything that happens in the forest is my business. This noble animal is Blackfoot, my only and constant companion.”

“Are you a druid, then?” queried Artimas. “Maybe you would consider joining us for a time, for we have found a great evil under the surface of your woods. Also, you may have noticed that we just lost a companion,” he indicated the stiff bundle with a wave of his arms at this point, “and thus reinforcements would be welcome.”

“Yes to the first question,” the elf answered. “For the second, I must admit to being a little intrigued. If you say an evil lives within these boughs then it is my duty to discover its nature. I will follow you for a time, but I cannot say for how long.”

“Welcome aboard, Eldred,” Ike stepped forward with a toothy grin on his face. “Your life is now guaranteed to become more interesting.”

*****

When they got back to Travensburg Eldred excused himself from their company, explaining that he felt uncomfortable in settlements of any size and would rejoin them when they reentered the forest. They entered the Foaming Mug and found Welby waiting for them, downing a large tankard of ale and animatedly describing their adventures to Ned and a group of farmers that had gathered.

“Welby, you’re alright!” the Crow exclaimed. “What happened?”

“Priest say kiss was curse. Want money to help but me convince him help free. He pray and head stop itching.” It was the most talkative they had ever seen the little savage, and they soon discerned the reason. Welby was drunk.

“What do you mean ‘convince him help free,’ Welby?” Quinn inquired. She found the statement rather ominous.

“Oh, that easy. Like this.”

Welby leveled a murderous stare at her, gripped his axe until his knuckles turned white, and growled fiercely. She was startled by the change to her normally cherubic companion – for a moment she found herself frightened of him, and she understood how the poor village priest must have felt.

“Oh, Welby, that wasn’t good,” she chastised him. “In the morning we will have to go back to the chapel so that you can apologize and we can properly reward the church for his aid.”

“Okay,” the halfling shrugged and turned back to his flagon.

The next day they all went to the local shrine. Quinn forced Welby to make amends for his threatening behavior of the day before and then they obtained burial services for the fallen Eli. The cost of the healing spell and the funeral nearly drained the resources they had accumulated.

Jack’s heartbroken sobs rent the air throughout the service and then he spent a silent and sullen night in the tavern drowning his sorrow. In the morning he was still sitting downstairs nursing a mug of ale, although he looked his usual stern self again.

“C’mon,” he barked when they were all assembled. “Its time ta get back – my axe is thirsty.”

Despite the complaints of Welby, who had time neither to raid the chicken coop nor to consume any of Ned’s famous pancakes, they packed up and hit the road again. Eldred joined them as soon as they passed the village limits and soon they were ready to delve deeper into the hold of Duernfast.

 

[Krellic]

Walking into a gelatinous cube is a hell of a way to go, yeuch! A lot of fun for the DM though...

 

[Sniktch]

The unholy altar

When they reached Duernfast they descended back to the site of Eli’s passing and readied themselves to continue further down into unexplored areas. Blackfoot and Filthy Ike stayed behind with the supplies this time; Eldred was unable to convince the wolf to board the lift no matter how he coaxed and Ike complained about a touch of the grip and said he needed to rest. With Welby and Jack in the lead, the others descended the secret staircase.

It ended in front of a sturdy double door. Opening the portal and stepping through, they found themselves in a twenty-foot square chamber with three other doors leading onward. A splintered table and chairs were strewn about the floor and the skeleton of a huge cave bear blocked the southern egress.

Jack snorted, “I’m gonna go knock that skellie apart an’ make sure it don’t come ta life.”

Thus, no one was really surprised when Jack entered the room and red lights flickered to life in the hollow pits of the bear's skull and the skeleton began rising to its feet. The dwarf activated his axe and hustled forward, but the undead was surprisingly quick and launched him back across the chamber with a sweep of a paw. The shorter Welby somersaulted under the blow and slashed at the skeleton, knocking a few chips of ivory off of one massive ankle. Grick dodged forward and launched a powerful roundhouse kick that shattered several ribs and the Crow launched a crossbow bolt that imbedded in the bear’s skull, but it seemed to have no effect as the animated beast tore into Welby and Grick with its scything claws.

Artimas completed a spell and fired a ray of disruption at the creature, while Eldred produced a leather sling and launched one stone after another at the immense skeleton. Quinn cast a blessing on her mace, temporarily enhancing it, and joined the melee, pulverizing one of its kneecaps. Jack bounced back to his feet and came in at the bear’s back, severing its spine with a brutal chop. The rear legs twitched and lay still, but the bear pulled itself forward with its front paws and bit deep into Quinn’s left shoulder, tearing through armor and muscle and causing her to stagger and cry out from the pain. She retaliated with another swing of her mace, crushing the beast’s jaw and forcing it to release its grip.

As always, Grick was enraged by the sound of his dear friend’s suffering. Ignoring his own wound, he raced back into the fray. The bear lifted itself with one paw and attempted to brain the monk with the other, but Grick ducked the blow, caught the limb before the undead could recover, and jerked down with all of his strength, snapping both bones of the forearm and leaving the skeleton with only one useful limb. The end came very quickly after that as Welby and Jack fell upon the beast and reduced it to splinters.

Quinn and Jack tended to the wounded while Artimas and Eldred searched the room. The previously blocked door to the south lead to another staircase continuing even further into the depths while the other two exits both opened on long hallways containing multiple doors. They selected the passage to the east and proceeded to the first set of doors.

The doors opened into what had obviously once been the hold’s primary chapel. Overturned pews littered the ground and the walls were covered with tattered and rotting tapestries. Across the room stood an altar decorated with typical symbols of dwarven worship. As they entered the room, a ghastly spectral figure floated into view, coming right up through the floor. It resembled a tattered black shadow of an old dwarven priest, who wrung his hands as he glided closer to the companions. An eerie babbling whisper became audible as the shape drifted near.

Artimas gasped, “An allip! Don’t let it touch you or you may share its madness!”

Quinn was already chanting a prayer as she pulled several large round stones from a pouch at her belt. The stones began to glow softly, infused with the divine might of Dumathoin, and she threw them at the approaching shade. Two of them passed harmlessly through the insubstantial form but the third harmed the undead and the whisper rose to a shriek. Artimas joined in the magical barrage with a flurry of magic missiles that unerringly ripped into the allip.

Eldred grabbed hold of one of the half-orc’s arms and started to chant a spell. Grick tried to pull away but the elf maintained his grip and completed the spell. Releasing the monk, he explained, “I have called upon the Earth Mother to give you the power to harm the abomination. Where once you would not have been able to harm the spirit your fists should now be able to strike it.”

Jack saw the wisdom in this and asked Welby for his axe, which he then blessed with a similar enhancement. The allip was by this time drawing very near, despite the magical assault by Quinn and Artimas, so those with magical weapons moved forward to engage it. Welby launched a powerful blow that unfortunately passed right through the monster and it clutched at him with spectral fingers. The halfling heard the whispers directly in his mind as the icy fingers trailed across his flesh and he could feel his sanity slipping away.

Stumpwater quailed with fear in the undead’s presence and shrank from the combat, but then Eldred moved forward swinging his stout cudgel and bludgeoned the allip with a series of successive blows. It dropped the halfling and turned to assault the elf, but Quinn pulled him out of its reach. Artimas finished a spell at that moment and hit it with a ray that severed its binding to the physical plane. With one last unearthly wail the spirit faded from view and the battle was over.

The only thing of interest in the room was the defiled altar, which had at one time been dedicated to Moradin. Now it was covered with diabolical inscriptions and a large black gem was set in the granite surface, pulsing with an inner light.

Artimas examined the stone, expending a cantrip to detect magical auras, and turned to the others. “It is obviously enchanted; the gem is layered with a great evil the like of which I have never seen. It would behoove us to leave this matter alone.”

“Why?” demanded Jack, “So that more undead c’n come an’ desecrate the place? This is what I think o’ leavin it be.”

He stepped forward, raised his axe, and brought it down with all his might square on the throbbing obsidian. The gem shattered and a wave of black energy rippled outward from the altar, then a cloud of steam rose from the ruined stone accompanied by a horrible roaring sound, and then the room went deathly quiet and still.

 

[Broccli_Head]

Mwhahahahaha! Good cliffanger!