The TOMB Of HORRORS Updated 08/17/05

[DM-Rocco]

I am not dead. I am going to finish all tales I have started.

My son is now 8 months old and damn all of you who said I would not have time after he was born. I hate when others are right.

Anyway, I am getting an itch to write again, I am starting a bigger writting project than this forum, but I need to get back in the swing of things, so I will finish this thread first and update those of you who care about my Gaming Campaign and then finsh up Lizard Bait and then perhaps something new.

My problem is I always have something new.

 

[the Jester]

Hey, cool! I was just lookin' at this thread again the other day...

Glad to hear you've not given up on it.

 

[DM-Rocco]

Hey, cool! I was just lookin' at this thread again the other day...

Glad to hear you've not given up on it.

Yeah, I got an itch in my craw to write some more, that and my son is growing like a weed, can hold his own bottle and plays with himself nicely, so I can concentrate a bit more on writing. Also, my gamers are bitching cause I haven't wrote anything in a while, so I am back.

Going to try tonight to write some more, but I have a friend coming over to help remoive spyware, not sure how long that will take.

Stupid spyware.

 

[DM-Rocco]

Session 21 Module the Tomb of Horrors

“Gren, are you okay?”

Gren refocused himself and nodded to the others. It was a stressful time for him. In the last two days they had uncovered the remains of the entrance to the Tomb. In fact, they had found three. They had started with the one to the right, which turned out to be a plain stone corridor roughly worked, dark and full of cobwebs. The roof rose to twenty feet and the corridor stretched to thirty feet, leading to a set of double doors made of thick oak. Gren had spent a few minutes in examining the huge doors, only to find no traps or tricks. He felt confident in his abilities to find and disarm traps that so many people in the past had set to protect their belongings in the after life. He felt safe in his knowledge of what to look for, that is until he tried to open the door and a large section of the ceiling came crashing down on the party.

Years of training had been for not. He had lost something, his focus he had thought. Perhaps it was cause his pupil had died the day before when she was torn to shreds by a maralith. He felt the guilt of her death. It was his responsibility to watch her, to mentor her, to train her, and he had failed.

After many frustrating hours in this tight and cramped section of the corridor, Gren had come to the conclusion that traps were plenty in this Tomb and that he could detect very little of them. They headed for the center Tunnel now, only to find a long corridor. This tunnel was different from the others, this corridor was not drab and dreary like the others, this one had bright and brilliant colors everywhere. Undimmed by the passage of time the stones and the pigments told a tale in a display of mosaic relief. With a distinct winding path laid out in red tiles about two feet wide it was an inviting welcome into the Tomb. The stone plaster had been smoothened over all of the surfaces of the walls and ceiling and then illustrated. The scenes painted showed fields with kine grazing, a corpse with several wolves in the background, slaves of all races and a strange human-animal mixture, pig-human; ape-human; and dog-human, going about various tasks. Certain frescoes showed rooms of stone, a torture chamber, a wizard’s work room. There are chairs, windows, boxes chests, birds, bats, spiders and all manner of things shown on the walls.

Gren focused himself and placed a tentative foot on the red tile in front of himself. He tested it for weight and then proceeded into the corridor. He moved along the Red tile path, careful not to touch the other colors in front of him. Years of training in raiding Tombs just like this had taught him that such paths were meant to be followed, straying from them often lead to death. He moved with the graceful stride of a cat as he went from one square to another, testing each foot before placing weight on the square. He followed the trail as it widened to the right, following close to the eastern wall. So far so good, but he paused here to look at the mosaic on the wall.

Two jackal headed human figures were painted so as to appear to be holding a real bronze chest. The bronze chest was partially protruding from the wall. A careful observation of the box lead Gren to discover a switch on the lower panel of the box.

“I think I found the entrance into the main chambers of the Tomb,” he said to the others, who were closely gathered to watch, but safely far enough away to avoid hazards of the job. Gren then flicked a switch and his heart sank as the floor beneath gave way to a thirty foot deep pit. He could barely make out the bottom of the pit, but he could see the tell tale signs that the pit was spiked with sharp objects. At the last possible moment, he made a grab for the bronze box and managed to hold on for dear life. Time ticked away holding the small box and his fingers began to slip. He had to do something, so he braced his feet against the wall and kicked off as he jumped to his left, away from his friends, toward the depths of the Tomb. Nimble as he was, and skilled with all manner of acrobatics, he somersaulted onto the far ground with ease, only to have the floor there fall from his feat and Gren fell the thirty feet to the bottom of the pit, impaling himself on the sharp spikes. Instantly he felt the warmth and then burning of the poison coursing through his body.

After what seemed like forever he could feel himself raising in the air, slowly being pulled from the mass of spikes. He could feel the warmth returning to his limbs and the poison slowly left his system. He opened his eyes to Oaklin levitating over him and forcing a potion down his throat. It would be a while before he could move without pain, but for now he had enough strength to get himself out of the pit. He grabbed two metal rods from inside his pack and placed one in each hand. He held one over his head and pressed a button, it hung in the air in defiance of gravity. He then pulled himself up and placed the second one further above the first and hit the button on that one, it too held itself in place. He released the first button and repeated the process, using the metal rods to climb to freedom.

When he was at the top of the pit he examined the under side of the trap, to see how it worked. It was incredible, the trap appeared to be seamless from above, almost totally undetectable. While he was examining the traps, he noticed the red tiles on the floor portion of the trapped area that he had landed on. They seemed odd to him, but he could not place it. Then an idea dawned on him and he climbed his way back to the beginning of the corridor. He closely examined the path, from where he had began to where the pit had been and scratched his head.

He then pulled out two long metal poles from his bag. Each was ‘L’ shaped with straps that he tied to his feet. Under the ‘L’ portion of the polls, he inserted the one of the two metal rods he had used to climb his way out of the pit. Each was inserted into a small tube that locked in place. Now he raised his leg and pressed a button on the top of the pole which extend a leaver that hit the activation button on the Rod of immovability. He did this again, and again, making of the rods an air walking device.

He walked the length of the corridor hovering just a few feet above the red tiles. While he walked, he placed a torch in the air from time to time, each torch staying in the air were it was left. He covered the whole of the corridor and repeated the path a few times. Then he came back to the beginning.

“It is a clue, our first clue,” he said, “a message, scrambled within the confines of the red tiles. It says, ‘Acererak congratulates you on your powers of observation. So make of this what you wish. For you will be mine in the end no matter what!’”

“It appears we have found the correct tomb, it continues;

‘Go back to the tormentor or through the arch, and the second great hall you’ll discover.

Shun the green if you can, but night’s good color is for valor.

If shades of red stand for blood the wise will not need sacrifice aught but a loop pf magical metal - you’re well along your march.

Two pits along the way will be found to lead to a fortuitous fall, so check the wall.

These keys and those are most important of all, and beware of the trembling hands and what will maul.

If you find the false you find the true and into the columned hall you’ll come, and there the throne that’s key and keyed.

The iron men of visage grim do more than meets the viewers eye.

You’ve left and left and found my tomb and now your soul will die.”

“What does that mean,” said the massively deep voice of the half-orc barbarian Brakka?

“I don’t know, perhaps it is a tormented message from the creator of the Tomb, perhaps a trick to lure us to our death, I can’t say, what I do know though, is this tomb is deadly and we can trust nothing.”

* * *​

The spirit of Acererak studied a flow of magical energy, a rift of raw power that tore through the fabric of reality. The energy was immense and strange and wonderful effects caused unexpected results to the surrounding landscape. He observed the effects and mentally documented the effects for further research. Such places as this were few and far between and a rift this big and powerful he had never seen before.

Acererak held forth his spirit hand and the raw power he felt course through his body made him tremble before its might.

This will do, he said to himself. Once he had enough souls, he would need a strong power source. Something stronger than this, but he could use it as a base.

Something stopped him at that moment, something distant.

So, they have found the warning. Most do not, few can decipher the runes, fewer still can understand the message. No matter, in the end they will die and I will live.

 

[the Jester]

update

Hey, awesome! Thanks for the update!

Did you run the original Tomb converted to 3e? A while back I hit my nigh-epic group with RttToH...

 

[DM-Rocco]

Hey, awesome! Thanks for the update!

Did you run the original Tomb converted to 3e? A while back I hit my nigh-epic group with RttToH...

I am an old pro at this module, I love running guys through it. I try to have them use characters that they don't mind getting killed, but in this case they were mostly using their own.

This is the only time I have run someone through TTOH in 3.5. The conversation is very rough and I ended up using many of the same things from the original, including the 4 in 6 chance of finding traps and such. This pissed off the rogue, who is the resident rule lawyer, but it puts the players in thier place and reminds them that the DM can set the rules.

Anyway, what problems did you find using the RTTTOH in 3.0?

 

[the Jester]

We didn't have any problems with it per se- the party sure was paranoid from the word go, though!

The single biggest problem was probably arranging for smooth CRs throughout. It took a lot of work to convert it.

 

[DM-Rocco]

We didn't have any problems with it per se- the party sure was paranoid from the word go, though!

The single biggest problem was probably arranging for smooth CRs throughout. It took a lot of work to convert it.

Do you have some conversion notes left over? I have some that I downloaded for it, but it would be nice to compare what you had being that you actually ran through it.

 

[DM-Rocco]

Session 22 Module the Tomb of Horrors

Minutes turned into hours and faded into the first full night they spent in the Tomb, or actually the entrance. Gren had systematically went through the entire opening entrance, foot by foot, walking on his floating rods of immovability and testing areas for traps by throwing bags of sand tied to a rope on area after area. The Tomb seemed to have traps that defied normal means of detection, so rather than spend hours searching for traps that could not be detected, he had went through the whole of the main corridor and set every trap off, marking each and taking careful notes of the walls and floor and ceiling.

“Finished,” came the call from the end of the long passage. A few more seconds and Gren could be seem carefully navigating around each of the pits he had detected.

“What is down there,” queried Stonecracker, as he jumped up and grabbed Lawbringer by the handle and gave it a mighty practice swing?

“The passage is twenty feet wide and twenty feet high and goes back a distance of 130 feet. The red tiled path leads the length of it and stops at an Evil-appearing devil face set in a mosaic art at the corridor’s end. The mouth of the face is open and pitch black. Also down there is a arch way of mists.”

After much debate, a decision by all was made that sleep would do them good. They decided that waiting until first light would be the best thing. After an uneventful night, other than strange noises and wicked screams with no source, the adventurers gathered up their gear and got ready to move their base camp into the dungeon.

“Go back to the Tormentor or through the arch,” quoted Gren from his notes,” this must be the arch and the Devil face must be referring to the Tormentor. ‘and the second great hall you’ll discover,’ this must be the first hall we are in, so there must be another hall as detailed as this.”

“’Shun the green if you can, but night’s good color is for those of great valor,’ what do you think that means,” asked Sir Darian?

“Well, ’Shun the green if you can, but night’s good color is for those of great valor,’ must mean that the mouth is night’s good color so we should go into the mouth,” said Rupert.

“What about the part that says ‘shun the green,’ the face of the devil is green?”

“What’s to worry, here, see,” said Rupert as he placed his left hand into the mouth of the Tormentor. “See, nothing,” he said as he pulled his hand from the hole.

“By the Gods,” replied Shump as he and the others stared at the hand of Rupert. It wasn’t until Rupert looked at his hand that he understood what the others had been frantic about. Where his hand had once been was now nothing but a stump, it had been completely removed, cleanly from his arm, but he felt nothing, no pain, until he saw the out come of it of course.

Without a true cleric in the party there was nothing they could do to help Rupert, he would have to suffer without a hand until such a time as Delvin regained the favor of Pelor or they could find their way back to a city. For now though, he had to suffer with a bandage on his wrapped stump.

“Apparently this is some type of modified sphere of annihilation,” said Gren. “both, Delvin and I agree that it is so.”

“What is a Sphere of Annihilation,” asked Shump?

“Well,” said Gren, the resident know-it-all, “a sphere of annihilation is an object of great power. Most are about two feet in diameter and are globes of absolute black. The object is actually a hole in the continuity of the multi-verse. Any matter coming into contact with it is instantly sucked into the void, gone and utterly destroyed. As I said, this is a modified sphere, it is bigger and in spite of our best efforts, we cannot control this one. Rupert is actually lucky that he did not get sucked into the void and only lost a hand.”

“Lucky, you call this lucky,” said Rupert as he held up his stump.

“Yes lucky,” shouted Gren, “you were stupid enough to put your hand into it, your lucky it didn’t swallow you whole. Not even Khael, Gods rest his soul, could even bring you back to life, only the direct powers of a god could do that. From now on we need to be more alert, take nothing for granted. If neither Delvin or I can control the sphere, that means that Acererack is controlling it. He has the power to move it or hold it in place, he can control it and he chooses to torment us with this twisted Tomb of his. He could kill us at any moment but chooses to let us live, he must be testing us for some greater design of his or just his sick and twisted entertainment. “

“Well,” sulked Rupert, “what should we do now then?”

“I say we leave,” said Oaklin, “it is obvious he is toying with us and it is also obvious that we do not belong here. We can find another way to kill Vecna.”

As in reply to Oaklin’s challenge a sound erupted from the far end of the corridor. They watched helplessly as the far end of the passage sealed itself from all exit. The wall completely closing and then merging with the mosaic of the rest of the hall.

“Well, that settles that,” said Brakka, as he turned towards the frightful Oaklin, “now we have no choice.”

“Well,” said Gren, “we had better find the end of this nightmare and find it quick. I had been testing this arch and…”

“Well, let’s get it on, I’m coming for revenge Acererack… …AARRGGHH!!!” screamed a war cry from the over eager Rupert as he charged into the mist before any one else could stop him. His scream instantly stopped and none heard from him again.

“For crying out loud,” yelled Gren, “are you all daft? Stop charging around this place like it is a beach resort on the Land Locked sea. How many more need to die in order for you guys to get it, this is just a game to Acererack, but for us it is a matter of life and death. I don’t know what happened to Rupert, but we will find out. With luck he is alive somewhere, but I have a feeling it is the last we have heard of him. Does anyone else want to do something foolish, cause I will wait right here while you try!”

None spoke, they only listened.

* * *​

Everything was black when he came too. He was in pain. He wondered if you felt pain when you died? He reached for a glow rod from his pack and instantly the small room he was in became clear. He was in a smallish miserable cubicle that appeared to have no means of egress. On one wall there were three iron leavers about a foot long. They appeared to move only in two directions, up and down.

After having no success in screaming for his friends, he decided that he had no choice but to try a leaver and see what happened. He pulled out his sword and from as far as a distance as he could manage he flipped the first lever up.

Nothing.

He sighed in relief and tried the others. When nothing happened on flipping them up he tried down.

Still nothing.

Then he placed his sword under all three of them and flipped them up. He heard a small click and looked up with baited breathe. Hopefully he had not let loose another trap, this was a miserable place to be in. When he looked up, he saw a small hatch open in the ceiling.

“Ha, not so smart, are you Acererack?” he said as he removed his sword from under the levers and attacked the iron bars from above, causing all three levers to be placed in the down position. He tried to scream, but he was too in shock to even put forth the effort. He could only watch in horror as the floor beneath his feet gave way and he fell. As the light source was falling with him, he had a hard time figuring out how far he had fallen. When he impacted it was painful. He crashed into a pile of bones. Heros who long ago tried to master this horrid place and found the same fate as he. He could barely breathe, he could barely move, his injuries where severe and he knew he was dieing. He managed to drink a potion of healing, which recovered some of his life force, but the evil of the place was sucking away his will to live.

He got up and moved about, trying to find a way out. He found none. He was lucky, he had not broken any bones, and the terrible scraps he had suffered where healing as the potion was taking effect. After realizing he had to leave, he got up and started to climb. The walls were slick, but he was a skilled climber so he moved quickly but cautiously. It took him a while, but he was able to see the end of the road. He climbed for what seemed like hours and now he could see the levers he had pulled and the room he had fallen from.

“Noooo,” he screamed as the floor started to close right before his eyes. He had almost been quick enough, almost, but now he was trapped and he could not get out. He tried to find a way to release the trapped floor, but he could not. Minutes ticked away and he regretted not listing to the others. He also now regretted not letting himself die. He had food and water on him, but it would slowly run out and he would starve to death.

The others would not save him, they would never find him. He decided to finish what the Tomb had started and right as his strength gave out, he leapt to his death.

Down he fell, repeating the path he had just taken, but right before the impact he felt an evil presence with in the room, a voice inside cackled and he stopped, not from the impact of the body hitting the floor, but of some force preventing him from taking his own life. At the last moment he was saved from death, only to die a long and slow death of hunger and thirst.

Now he screamed, for it was the only vice left to him.

* * *​

After systematically testing of the archway, they had discovered that by going near it, the three stone, one yellow, one blue and one orange, had lit themselves up. After carefully touching each, they had come to the conclusion that by touching them in the following order, yellow, blue and then orange, the mists would disappear. Gren slowly entered the arch and he was gone. Teleported was Delvin’s assessment as she was knowledgeable in such matters.

The rest of the party followed and ended up in the same place, a small ten foot by twenty foot room.

Shump was gaining his bearing when he heard a battle cry.

“Lawbringer,” cried Stonecracker as he rushed pass Shump and the others and attacked a large figure in the distance. He could here blow after blow, the sound of metal on stone and then the beast fell over and was no more.

“Congratulations dwarf,” sneered Sir Darian, “you have just killed a stone statue.”

“Taunt all you want master paladin, but I have not survived five years in the dwarves navy just to die to a statue come to life.”

“Yes, well, it is a possibility,” replied Brakka, “but I hope it was not a clue to get out of here.”

“Everyone, this way, cried Gren from a small passage off to the side of the room.

They followed Gren through the tight fitting passage and into a room similar in size to the last great hall they just left.

“This must be the second great hall the riddle spoke off,” said Gren.

The others could do nothing but agree.

* * *​

Kuth’lik traveled the distance between the planes with ease, he was a demon, a powerful demon and he was not bound to the limitations of the mortals in the mutli-verse. He knew where to find his master, he knew well, for long centuries of servitude had given him insight to his master where-abouts.

Kuth’lik saw his master the instant he arrived in this small out of the way quasi plane. He waited for a moment, for a mortal, hours may have passed, but to one such as he, it was the blind of an eye. Time had different meanings to those who where not bound to it. He waited until his master had stopped from his observations to address her.

“I know they have found the tomb,” casually replied Acererack.

“They have breached the second great halls master.”

“Have they now,” he said with a flare of arrogance, well, monitor their progress.”

Kuth’lik thought to question Acererack, but he knew better. In the past such questions had brought him no end of pain. Someday someone would come along and put Acererack in his place, but many have entered the Tomb and none have survived.

Well, none have survived in the end, some had survive the Tomb itself, they had survived the test, but none had survived the final test. It would not be until then that he would be free of Acererack, but with the poor quality of choices that these adventures had made, they would not last until he end.

* * *​

On another plane, another watched with interest for he too had a vested interest in the out come of the party. He had come to know peace in the short time he had been here, but now he was troubled with a new burden. For now he could do nothing but watch in dismay.​

 

[DM-Rocco]

Session 23 Module the Tomb of Horrors

“Shun green if you can, but night’s good color is for those of great valor.” The words rang in the ears of all of them. Death had welcomed them twice and none of them wanted to die here, in this Tomb of Horrors, but a riddle was before them and they needed to solve it if they wished to survive. This time they left nothing to chance, they again covered the hall, from top to bottom, they poked everything before touching and poked twice for good measure. Every step was checked for traps and every door opened from as much as a distance as possible.

This great hall was exactly the same shape and size as the last great hall, there could be no doubt that they found the second great hall. This one too had many drawings on the wall, but instead of scenes from ancient times, this mosaic pictured odd figures foreign to the adventurers. Most of these figures had human bodies, all had heads that were not human, ranging from birds to dogs to bats. Each also held a sphere of some type and in a different color.

The party had found another arch too, at the end of the hallway. Like the last one, this one had colored stone but these, unlike the last one, did not change the mists.

They never disappeared.

While the others where fooling around with the magical arch, nameless was in the side room contemplating the days journeys. He was settling himself into a state of calm, meditating on events, trying to find a solution that the others might have missed. From the distance, he heard them in the other room and then there was silence. He heard them no more. He was just trying to sneak a peek from around the corner of the hall when he felt a hand touch him on the back, it was Shump. He was completely naked and was grappling with nameless.

“If we are naked, then so too shall you,” cried shump. Not sure of his motivations but sure he didn’t like the sound of it, he broke the grip on the mans arms and fled for the next room. Soon, the whole of the party flooded from the small room he had been in and it became apparent to nameless that they were messing with the portal and it had not only teleported them to the beginning of the Tomb, but it had some how stripped them of all gear. Now so some reason, they felt a compulsion to make nameless the same, by shoving him into the portal as well.

Nameless was a monk of the first order and had sworn an oath of poverty, he had very little in terms of wealth or possessions, but never the less, he felt a sense of entrapment from the rest of his comrades and didn’t want to go through the arch. It looked however, that he had little choice, he was getting surrounded and grabbed by everyone and they were dragging him into the arch. He didn’t want to do it, but he had no choice, his friends had violated his personal space and went against his wishes, he had no choice, he concentrated for a moment and tried to shift his body through the strands of time and space and slip from one place to another. He triggered the fail safes of the tomb to prevent escaping or cheating the tomb of fun from those who would teleport to the end or as a means of escape.

It was the last mistake he ever made.

Shump screamed in agony, as did they all. On either side of the party appeared two balors. One talked in a painful language of evil so vile that just to hear the blasphemous words caused everyone who heard them to stand around in a stupor. They could barely stand their own ground and protect themselves from harm. While one did this, the other summoned a Maralith, a general of the armies of the Abyss, to do its bidding. It immediately went for Shump and wrapped its coils around the huge barbarian and began to grapple the man, squeezing the life from him.

The first kept speaking in its vile tounge while the second drew forth its massive sword of flame and thunger and struck at Nameless with its lethal blade while it cracked its flaming whip at Gren. The sword missed its mark, nameless just barely able to dodge out of its way, but Gren on the other hand was not so lucky as the whip wrapped around his legs and entangled the man. He then turn his attention to Delvin and with an unseen force, blasted the woman/man, with a force of unseen energy, knocking her through the air.

Dlevin, normally blind, could see the evil radiating from the demons. They stood out in stark contrast to the blackness of being blind. He watched as the battle rages on. No, it was not a battle, it was a slaughter, the first balor had continued speaking in its evil tongue, causing all that heard it to be unable to react. He watched as the second balor struck down with his mighty blade of flame and thunder, striking Gren a fatal blow that severed his head. He watched as the Maralith continued to squeeze the life from Shump.

He had had enough.

In that moment, watching Gren’s head fall from its neck and roll towards him, he had gained a strength that he could not describe. His naked body gleamed in the flickering torch light. The Collar around her neck, the ring of Pelor, began to glow, a holy light that spread over her naked form and made her eyes glow. She drew into herself the power of Pelor, a divine force of unmatchable power. With each passing moment, as her power grew, her faith in Pelor increased as well. Somewhere, deep inside, she could her a long forgotten friend, whether it was Pelor himself or someone else, she could not tell. When she could not stand a moment more of the power she held within, she released the power and directed it at the first Balor.

She watched as the white light of holy energy struck the demon and it paused for a moment, unable to move as the unfiltered power or Pelor struck the beast and in a moment of pain it was gone, exploded into thousands of tiny pieces of demon flesh that soon became eaten up by the power of Pelor.

With the First Demon gone, Shump flew into a frenzied rage, a furry so mighty that he broke the hold that the maralith had on him and began pummeling the demon with his bare fists. A normal man would not effect such a beast of the outer planes, but in his rage he was strong enough to slowly pummel the beast and make her pay. He paid for every blow however, while he could hit and wound the demon, he was not trained in the art of fighting unarmed as Nameless was and for every attack that he had landed she had hit him with two in return. Again a normal man would have fallen from the many wounds, but the others had seen him in this frenzied state and they had know from past experiences that such a man as he would not succumb to such wounds until his rage had abated.

While Devlin gathered her power again and blasted the second balor with a lingering fraction of the power that remained. This time it was not enough to kill the beast, but it was greatly wounded, not wounded enough to prevent it from casting spells however. At that moment he pointed a finger at the wily monk and Devlin could do nothing as she watched in horror as the body of the Nameless imploded in on itself. She screamed again and again blasted the demon with a force of divine might that did its job and slew the demon.

Shump, after having battered the demon to a bloody pulp looked for a new beast to slay. He bled from every manner of cut. It was amazing that the man could still stand, muscle and sinew could be seem and in places hung on shreds of flesh. He turned his murderous rage on his friends for lack of any other enemy to attack. He could not help himself, he had to kill, he could not stop himself. He focused his rage on Sir Darian, a man whom he considered a friend, but now, he might as well have just been a demon. He bloodied the man in one blow, a lucky strike that knocked the naked man from his feat and lifted him from the ground and he was dead before he even hit the ground. As Sir Darian flew through the air he could feel the touch of Delvin as the man cast a spell that healed the man of all of his wounds. Flesh reformed itself and mended in front of every ones eyes. Then, an instant later, a calming effect came over Shump and he was able to regain control of himself.

Silence filled the room. No one could make sense of what had happened and none pointed fingers at anyone. Three more had died and that was not acceptable. Everyone gathered their wits and placed dead bodies neatly to the side of the tomb, bringing them to the front of the entrance, for when they left, if they left.

They took an inventory of the items they had left, they had no food, no water, no weapons save for those the maralith had on her, and three artifacts that seemed to not disappear as the other items had. The Ring of Pelor, The Penetrating Dagger of Dulum and the orb of the Ancients. One other thing they now had, or at least Delvin had, she could now see. She was still blind as most would consider, but she could make out shapes in the light, which is more than the total blackness that she had seen before her.

Throughout the course of systematically checking the hall for traps, they had uncovered the master illusions hidden behind the spheres. They had found three illusions and after much debate, they had decided to go down the illusion of the black sphere for the riddle had said, ‘by night’s good color is for those of great valor.’ Although, after the situation at the Tormentor, the party was cautious and slow moving through the tight tunnel. It lead to a dead end, but some careful searching exposed a way through. It lead into a small hallway, seventy feet long and ten feet wide. They rest of the party slowly came through the tight fitting hole. The hallway was plain an unadorned, save for a massive ten foot by twenty foot door, a simple desk and a cloaked figure sitting in the chair behind it.

* * *​

On another plane a tormented soul felt a calling to return, but he was in a state of bliss. He had served his purpose in life and wanted no part in the dealings of man. Still, he considered it.

* * *​

Acererack sensed the death and mayhem in his Tomb, but he was beginning to become disappointed in this band of individuals. He had hoped that these brave and foolish adventurers would serve their purpose in life and pass his tests. Acererack had needs, but not the need for the weak. It could only wait to see what would happen.

* * * * * * *​

If you are following along with your own copy of the module, you will notice some inconsistencies. This night the party was in a funky mood. They thought that if four of them were dumb enough to jump through the second arch and lose all their gear then the rest of the party should be forced to the same fate. I don’t understand it either, drove me nuts, but that is a players job some times, okay, all the times, to drive the DM nuts.

The module calls for a chance that a demon gets summoned when certain spells are cast. I changed this to a demon will be summoned every time a spell is cast of the right type. This brought the PCs to think they could farm XP, so for every summon they did by teleporting or dimension door or the like, I had a progressively harder demon fight the party. When they got to the Balor, I started over, but had them summoned in pairs. They stopped before having two balor to deal with. While having a fit and trying to throw Nameless into the arch, nameless said ‘screw this’ and did an abundant step, triggering two balors. Many died, yes it was foolish, still not sure what they were thinking.

I also ruled that artifacts would not be effects by the teleporting of all gear from the party. Partly cause the artifacts in the game are custom and plot points and partly cause even though Acrerack is powerful, I feel that he should not be able to effect an item of ancient power like an artifact.

If you are wondering, Shump is a barbarian frenzied warrior orc (the world is mostly evil, so I allow a large selection of races to choosed from) and he was able to gain a strength score so high that he could hit the maralith and damage the Demon and punch the demon to death. Cause of his frenzied state he could not die.

NOTE FOR OTHER DMs, NEVER ALLOW A FRENZIED WARRIOR INTO THE PARTY. YOU WILL REGRET IT!!!

As to the hallway, I added a change to the temple and this is part of it.