Slickenfiber
First Post
BLOODY MAZE
-
The VOIDRUNNER'S CODEX is coming! Explore new worlds, fight oppressive empires, fend off fearsome aliens, and wield deadly psionics with this comprehensive boxed set expansion for 5E and A5E!
Three Kingdoms and Empire
- Thread starter the Jester
- Start date
the Jester
Legend
Cough cough!
Fire everywhere! Smoke chokes our heroes. They are sweltering in the waves of heat. The dead grass maze that they are in is burning, it seems, in nearly every direction.
“This should be the way out!” cries Barouk. “The pit should be just up here...” He trails off.
No pit.*
“Somehow, we’ve gotten badly turned around,” moans Romdar.
“Lost. We’re lost.” Barouk’s tone is mournful.
“We’re going to die,” Romdar groans.
“Come on,” Barouk responds. “The fire is coming that way. If we backtrack, I think there’s still a passage that hasn’t ignited yet.”
But when they reach it, they are just behind the spreading flames coming from the other direction. They dash through the blistering heat, their beetle shuddering from the damage it takes. They stop to ensure that their unconscious companions aren’t deteriorating. Then they move on, hurrying away from the fire. The grass walls on either side rustle and shift in the wind. The group rounds a corner, and ahead of them- they see a flickering sheet of flames traveling along the grassy walls.
“Flames ahead, flames behind,” sighs Romdar.
“Well,” Barouk reasons, “there might be a non-flaming path somewhere ahead... we know that there isn’t one behind us.”
Romdar nods unhappily. The two lead the beetle, and begin to dash through the flaming hall as quickly as they can manage. Flames singe them; their hair smokes, and some of it curls and crisps away. The beetle shudders again, giving off a distressed squeal. Kifla bites her lip and hisses in pain as blisters rise on her skin.
The passage branches, and Barouk turns to the right. A few paces later, it branches again; he goes left.
Ahead is a burnt kobold body, not moving, on the ground.
Barouk and Romdar kick past it, dragging the screaming beetle. The passage is curving to the right, then to the left. Another body. Two more, one of them still breathing in harsh little gasps.
Suddenly they burst out into the open! Flames roar behind them as they drag the blistered beetle, and their own burnt forms, forward and collapse. They gape in awe at the conflagration behind them: the dead grass maze is aflame! Foul smoke rises from it. Brownish-orange flames reach twenty feet above the maze. The stink of burning grass is disgusting.
Suddenly, Barouk realizes that the party is being watched. He gulps and turns around.
A semi-circle of several dozen kobolds have their weapons trained on our heroes. Bows and slings and crossbows, all loaded and ready to fire. And snarling at their head, several wicked red burns on his skin, is a foul-looking lizard man, three humanoid skulls at his belt. His teeth, sharp by nature, have been filed into exaggerated points.
He growls at our heroes.
“Uh oh,” Barouk moans.
Next Time: Our heroes survived the maze and the fire- but can they survive the entire kobold tribe??
*Unfortunately for our heroes, the pit was there, but the kobolds simply re-set and re-covered it, so the party couldn’t tell! If they had advanced another, oh, 30’, they would have fallen into the pit and found out- but alas, they retreated.
Fire everywhere! Smoke chokes our heroes. They are sweltering in the waves of heat. The dead grass maze that they are in is burning, it seems, in nearly every direction.
“This should be the way out!” cries Barouk. “The pit should be just up here...” He trails off.
No pit.*
“Somehow, we’ve gotten badly turned around,” moans Romdar.
“Lost. We’re lost.” Barouk’s tone is mournful.
“We’re going to die,” Romdar groans.
“Come on,” Barouk responds. “The fire is coming that way. If we backtrack, I think there’s still a passage that hasn’t ignited yet.”
But when they reach it, they are just behind the spreading flames coming from the other direction. They dash through the blistering heat, their beetle shuddering from the damage it takes. They stop to ensure that their unconscious companions aren’t deteriorating. Then they move on, hurrying away from the fire. The grass walls on either side rustle and shift in the wind. The group rounds a corner, and ahead of them- they see a flickering sheet of flames traveling along the grassy walls.
“Flames ahead, flames behind,” sighs Romdar.
“Well,” Barouk reasons, “there might be a non-flaming path somewhere ahead... we know that there isn’t one behind us.”
Romdar nods unhappily. The two lead the beetle, and begin to dash through the flaming hall as quickly as they can manage. Flames singe them; their hair smokes, and some of it curls and crisps away. The beetle shudders again, giving off a distressed squeal. Kifla bites her lip and hisses in pain as blisters rise on her skin.
The passage branches, and Barouk turns to the right. A few paces later, it branches again; he goes left.
Ahead is a burnt kobold body, not moving, on the ground.
Barouk and Romdar kick past it, dragging the screaming beetle. The passage is curving to the right, then to the left. Another body. Two more, one of them still breathing in harsh little gasps.
Suddenly they burst out into the open! Flames roar behind them as they drag the blistered beetle, and their own burnt forms, forward and collapse. They gape in awe at the conflagration behind them: the dead grass maze is aflame! Foul smoke rises from it. Brownish-orange flames reach twenty feet above the maze. The stink of burning grass is disgusting.
Suddenly, Barouk realizes that the party is being watched. He gulps and turns around.
A semi-circle of several dozen kobolds have their weapons trained on our heroes. Bows and slings and crossbows, all loaded and ready to fire. And snarling at their head, several wicked red burns on his skin, is a foul-looking lizard man, three humanoid skulls at his belt. His teeth, sharp by nature, have been filed into exaggerated points.
He growls at our heroes.
“Uh oh,” Barouk moans.
Next Time: Our heroes survived the maze and the fire- but can they survive the entire kobold tribe??
*Unfortunately for our heroes, the pit was there, but the kobolds simply re-set and re-covered it, so the party couldn’t tell! If they had advanced another, oh, 30’, they would have fallen into the pit and found out- but alas, they retreated.
the Jester
Legend
Gnashing his filed teeth, the lizard man leading the kobolds begins stalking towards our heroes. Romdar is too weak to fight; he can only cough, his lungs full of smoke. Blisters cover his body. Only Barouk and Kifla can stand.
They move to protect their friends from the lizard man. Grinning, slavering, it begins to advance- and then Kifla casts a spell at it.
Sleep.
For a moment, it slows, blinking its eyes; then Barouk rushes forward, swinging his staff at the lizard man! It shakes its head, throwing off the influence of Kifla’s spell, and then ducks under Barouk’s blow. The monk and the lizard man struggle for a moment; the dwarven tenacity and muscle of Barouk against the wiry, reptilian strength, sharp claws and teeth of his enemy. The clench together for a moment, striking, blocking, ducking and slashing; and then they explode apart for a moment, neither one of them injured.
The crowd of kobolds seems restless. They yip and bark, watching the fight eagerly.
Kifla casts mage armor and expeditious retreat while Barouk and the lizard man occupy each other. Then she begins edging around behind the lizard man. The bestial creature hisses and throws a javelin at her! She yells out in dismay as she dodges to the side, and the javelin whizzes by, nearly skewering her.
“That wasn’t very nice!” she calls out, and casts color spray, but again, the lizard man throws off the effects of her spell. Growling, it bares its teeth again, then hisses at the gnome with obvious malice. “Try to talk to the kobolds!” she shouts at Barouk.
“I don’t speak Draconic,” he replies.
“Try Dwarven! They’re like dwarves, right?”
Barouk almost drops his guard for an instant. “No, they are not like dwarves.” He tumbles away to the smoking beetle and drags out the adamantine dagger. “Maybe I’ll have better luck with this!” he hopes fervently.
Kifla, too, draws her dagger, and with a gulp, she closes in on the lizard man. It slashes with its claws, but both of our heroes manage to dodge- for the moment. Finally, they draw blood from the lizard man! Kifla pricks him in the upper arm with her dagger. The lizard man shouts what sound like threats, but then Barouk finally manages to land a blow as well, smacking him in the mouth.
The lizard man retaliates swiftly, tearing into Barouk, who is in too close to escape the lizard man’s slashing claws any longer. He is left barely standing, while Kifla shouts Orcish curses at the lizard man and casts true strike on her crossbow.
The lizard man hisses something terrible (and incomprehensible) at Barouk before biting him on the shoulder. With a cry, the dwarf falls!
“Uh oh,” Kifla moans. “Help!” she shouts at the kobolds. She fires, landing a quarrel in the lizard man’s shoulder. It laughs and strides quickly towards her; she backpedals, trying to get away. It casts a spell as it advances, and she recognizes it as vampiric touch. Kifla gulps again, realizing that this could be it for the entire party.
Then one of the kobolds starts casting a spell.
It just got worse, Kifla thinks- but, shockingly, the kobold’s sleep spell targets the lizard man! It blinks, as surprised by this turn of events as Kifla is; then it collapses, unconscious.
Kifla turns to the kobolds, ready to defend herself; but they are too busy cheering and hugging each other to pay any attention to her. Clearly, there is some sort of subtext to what is happening that the gnome is missing; but she doesn’t care. Hands shaking, she slits the lizard man’s throat, ensuring that he won’t wake up to trouble our heroes any further. Then she glances back up at the kobolds.
The one that cast a spell has been yapping at them while Kifla killed their- leader? Tyrant? She isn’t sure how to think of the lizard man. But the spellcaster seems to be urging the kobolds to leave. In fact, many of them are already trotting away across the fields of grass, vanishing below the tall blades.
Kifla glances around at her blistered, smoke-choked friends, scattered on the grass or strapped to the dying beetle.
“We’re alive?” she asks.
After a few moments, when nobody contradicts her, she begins dragging her friends away from the baking heat of the burning grass maze. She can tell that they are on the same side of the maze as they entered, but- for now- she is just glad that they are alive. She grunts, groans, struggles to haul her friends- all much bigger than she is- just a few dozen yards away. Just to the back of a small embankment, where they will be shielded from the fire. “Gonna burn a long time,” she mumbles to herself as she totes Grom. Finally, after what feels like hours of work- at least there is plenty of light to work in, from the flames- she collapses to catch her breath, all of her party having been taken to safety. Breathing hard, Kifla closes her eyes and shakes her head. I’m exhausted, she thinks.
The next thing she knows, the sun is up, and she’s blinking sleep out of her eyes. “I fell asleep!” she exclaims. Quickly, she checks on her friends; they all prove to be okay. Nobody is dead, but nobody is close to conscious, either. Kifla sighs. I’ll have to guard them until someone wakes up, she realizes.
A branch to the southeast cracks. Kifla turns her head and gasps. Two humans, a man and a woman, are walking towards her. She thinks ruefully, I still haven’t prepared my spells for today. I hope they are friendly!
Fortunately for her, it appears that they are, for the first words out of the man’s mouth are, “Do you require assistance?” Shrewdly, he eyes the scattered, burnt, battered party.
“Yes!” Kifla exclaims. The man has a rough, unshaven look that she likes. “Say, you’re cute. But we’re all hurt! My friends are hurt very badly! If you can help us at all, we’d really appreciate it.”
“We’ll do what we can,” the man assures her. “I’m Severin.”
“And I’m Zelda!” the woman says. She is a gorgeous sex pot of a woman: leggy, busty, blonde, beautiful. She oozes sensuality out of every pore. When she tosses her hair, the light scintillates through it as if it were contemplating casting a rainbow. Her eyes are like sapphires; her lips are the soft velvet red of rose petals.
After staring for a moment, Severin shakes his head and asks, “So, uh, what are you folks doing out here? It’s dangerous.”
“I could ask the same of you,” Kifla replies primly. “But we’re traveling to a valley somewhere, to help him with some goblin problems.” She points at the unconscious Grom. “I guess his home town is having trouble with some raids and stuff.”
Severin’s eyes flash fiercely. “Goblins, eh? Well, I’m a ranger, and defending frontier towns is just my type of thing. I wouldn’t mind accompanying you for a time.”
“It sounds like fun to me,” Zelda nods. A strand of hair falls across her fair cheek. When she smiles, she lights up the room. (Except that our heroes are outside. But hey, you know what I mean.)
***
Rest, and a search of the lizard man, follow, with a serious downpour right on their heels. With Severin and Zelda to help keep watch, Kifla can at last rest enough to feel- rested. She regains her spells, and despite her recent exertions, she feels more powerful than ever. She feels as though she has unlocked certain powers that were previously beyond her, like she has had certain insights that will allow her to transcend her current limitations.
Most of her friends are still badly wounded, but the next day, as Severin, Zelda and Kifla sit around in the mid-morning, the ranger’s eyes narrow. His nostrils flare. “I hear something,” he murmurs, very softly. “In the grass. Tittering.”
Kifla cries, “Maybe they’re fairies!” She leaps up and looks around. After a moment, she declares, “I don’t see anything.”
Suddenly, from behind her, she hears a voice in Gnomish: “Who are you guys? What are you doing?”
The gnome looks around for a source, but finds nothing. Invisible? she wonders. “Are you like me?” she asks.
“We’re not gnomes, but we’re friends if you are friends.”
“Well, we want to be friends.”
“Really?”
“Yes!” Kifla smiles. “You should come out! Say, can you help our friends?”
“Um, we probably could. Come out? I don’t know...”
“I’ll give you an apple!” Kifla wheedles.
For a moment, there’s no answer. Then, the voice demands, “An apple- and a gold piece!”
“All right,” Kifla agrees eagerly, digging apple and coin from her backpack. “Here, now come out!”
“Hmm... well, all of you, close your eyes.”
The party complies. Nothing obvious happens for a moment. Tempe can’t resist; she peeks, but sees nothing.
“Hello?” Kifla calls. No answer.
“I’m going to open my eyes,” says Tempe.
“Let’s all do it,” replies Kifla.
They do. Kifla starts. She did not realize that the apple and gold piece were no longer in her hand, but they are gone. There is no sign of anyone that was not previously visible. But the wounded are covered in flower petals, which are dissolving even as the startled conscious heroes watch.
“What is that?” cries Tempe.
“A gift?” hopes Kifla. “Wait, look- their wounds are healing!” Indeed, the wounded are recovering, at least somewhat. Barouk and Grom both groan and awaken. They are still weak enough that another full day’s rest is warranted; but the next morning, the party- now swollen in size with two more members, Severin and Zelda- moves along.
They decide to move around the burnt maze to the northeast. The pregnant clouds burst, and the downpour pours on down. The thick burnt masses of vegetation look too tough to simply force the party’s way through, even after the fire. “We should be careful,” Grom points out. “This is kobold territory.” The half-orc begins searching for tracks. Soon enough his caution proves warranted, and soon the treacherous path that our heroes are following proves to be laced with pits and worse. The ground beneath their feet turns to mud in some places, leading to a couple of minor slips. After a time, the warm rainfall stops and the land starts to steam, filling the air with humidity.
“Hey, what’s that?” Zelda gestures.
Up ahead, a small, shriveled body lies in the midst of the path.
“Hmm,” comments Grom.
Next Time: Ambushed!
They move to protect their friends from the lizard man. Grinning, slavering, it begins to advance- and then Kifla casts a spell at it.
Sleep.
For a moment, it slows, blinking its eyes; then Barouk rushes forward, swinging his staff at the lizard man! It shakes its head, throwing off the influence of Kifla’s spell, and then ducks under Barouk’s blow. The monk and the lizard man struggle for a moment; the dwarven tenacity and muscle of Barouk against the wiry, reptilian strength, sharp claws and teeth of his enemy. The clench together for a moment, striking, blocking, ducking and slashing; and then they explode apart for a moment, neither one of them injured.
The crowd of kobolds seems restless. They yip and bark, watching the fight eagerly.
Kifla casts mage armor and expeditious retreat while Barouk and the lizard man occupy each other. Then she begins edging around behind the lizard man. The bestial creature hisses and throws a javelin at her! She yells out in dismay as she dodges to the side, and the javelin whizzes by, nearly skewering her.
“That wasn’t very nice!” she calls out, and casts color spray, but again, the lizard man throws off the effects of her spell. Growling, it bares its teeth again, then hisses at the gnome with obvious malice. “Try to talk to the kobolds!” she shouts at Barouk.
“I don’t speak Draconic,” he replies.
“Try Dwarven! They’re like dwarves, right?”
Barouk almost drops his guard for an instant. “No, they are not like dwarves.” He tumbles away to the smoking beetle and drags out the adamantine dagger. “Maybe I’ll have better luck with this!” he hopes fervently.
Kifla, too, draws her dagger, and with a gulp, she closes in on the lizard man. It slashes with its claws, but both of our heroes manage to dodge- for the moment. Finally, they draw blood from the lizard man! Kifla pricks him in the upper arm with her dagger. The lizard man shouts what sound like threats, but then Barouk finally manages to land a blow as well, smacking him in the mouth.
The lizard man retaliates swiftly, tearing into Barouk, who is in too close to escape the lizard man’s slashing claws any longer. He is left barely standing, while Kifla shouts Orcish curses at the lizard man and casts true strike on her crossbow.
The lizard man hisses something terrible (and incomprehensible) at Barouk before biting him on the shoulder. With a cry, the dwarf falls!
“Uh oh,” Kifla moans. “Help!” she shouts at the kobolds. She fires, landing a quarrel in the lizard man’s shoulder. It laughs and strides quickly towards her; she backpedals, trying to get away. It casts a spell as it advances, and she recognizes it as vampiric touch. Kifla gulps again, realizing that this could be it for the entire party.
Then one of the kobolds starts casting a spell.
It just got worse, Kifla thinks- but, shockingly, the kobold’s sleep spell targets the lizard man! It blinks, as surprised by this turn of events as Kifla is; then it collapses, unconscious.
Kifla turns to the kobolds, ready to defend herself; but they are too busy cheering and hugging each other to pay any attention to her. Clearly, there is some sort of subtext to what is happening that the gnome is missing; but she doesn’t care. Hands shaking, she slits the lizard man’s throat, ensuring that he won’t wake up to trouble our heroes any further. Then she glances back up at the kobolds.
The one that cast a spell has been yapping at them while Kifla killed their- leader? Tyrant? She isn’t sure how to think of the lizard man. But the spellcaster seems to be urging the kobolds to leave. In fact, many of them are already trotting away across the fields of grass, vanishing below the tall blades.
Kifla glances around at her blistered, smoke-choked friends, scattered on the grass or strapped to the dying beetle.
“We’re alive?” she asks.
After a few moments, when nobody contradicts her, she begins dragging her friends away from the baking heat of the burning grass maze. She can tell that they are on the same side of the maze as they entered, but- for now- she is just glad that they are alive. She grunts, groans, struggles to haul her friends- all much bigger than she is- just a few dozen yards away. Just to the back of a small embankment, where they will be shielded from the fire. “Gonna burn a long time,” she mumbles to herself as she totes Grom. Finally, after what feels like hours of work- at least there is plenty of light to work in, from the flames- she collapses to catch her breath, all of her party having been taken to safety. Breathing hard, Kifla closes her eyes and shakes her head. I’m exhausted, she thinks.
The next thing she knows, the sun is up, and she’s blinking sleep out of her eyes. “I fell asleep!” she exclaims. Quickly, she checks on her friends; they all prove to be okay. Nobody is dead, but nobody is close to conscious, either. Kifla sighs. I’ll have to guard them until someone wakes up, she realizes.
A branch to the southeast cracks. Kifla turns her head and gasps. Two humans, a man and a woman, are walking towards her. She thinks ruefully, I still haven’t prepared my spells for today. I hope they are friendly!
Fortunately for her, it appears that they are, for the first words out of the man’s mouth are, “Do you require assistance?” Shrewdly, he eyes the scattered, burnt, battered party.
“Yes!” Kifla exclaims. The man has a rough, unshaven look that she likes. “Say, you’re cute. But we’re all hurt! My friends are hurt very badly! If you can help us at all, we’d really appreciate it.”
“We’ll do what we can,” the man assures her. “I’m Severin.”
“And I’m Zelda!” the woman says. She is a gorgeous sex pot of a woman: leggy, busty, blonde, beautiful. She oozes sensuality out of every pore. When she tosses her hair, the light scintillates through it as if it were contemplating casting a rainbow. Her eyes are like sapphires; her lips are the soft velvet red of rose petals.
After staring for a moment, Severin shakes his head and asks, “So, uh, what are you folks doing out here? It’s dangerous.”
“I could ask the same of you,” Kifla replies primly. “But we’re traveling to a valley somewhere, to help him with some goblin problems.” She points at the unconscious Grom. “I guess his home town is having trouble with some raids and stuff.”
Severin’s eyes flash fiercely. “Goblins, eh? Well, I’m a ranger, and defending frontier towns is just my type of thing. I wouldn’t mind accompanying you for a time.”
“It sounds like fun to me,” Zelda nods. A strand of hair falls across her fair cheek. When she smiles, she lights up the room. (Except that our heroes are outside. But hey, you know what I mean.)
***
Rest, and a search of the lizard man, follow, with a serious downpour right on their heels. With Severin and Zelda to help keep watch, Kifla can at last rest enough to feel- rested. She regains her spells, and despite her recent exertions, she feels more powerful than ever. She feels as though she has unlocked certain powers that were previously beyond her, like she has had certain insights that will allow her to transcend her current limitations.
Most of her friends are still badly wounded, but the next day, as Severin, Zelda and Kifla sit around in the mid-morning, the ranger’s eyes narrow. His nostrils flare. “I hear something,” he murmurs, very softly. “In the grass. Tittering.”
Kifla cries, “Maybe they’re fairies!” She leaps up and looks around. After a moment, she declares, “I don’t see anything.”
Suddenly, from behind her, she hears a voice in Gnomish: “Who are you guys? What are you doing?”
The gnome looks around for a source, but finds nothing. Invisible? she wonders. “Are you like me?” she asks.
“We’re not gnomes, but we’re friends if you are friends.”
“Well, we want to be friends.”
“Really?”
“Yes!” Kifla smiles. “You should come out! Say, can you help our friends?”
“Um, we probably could. Come out? I don’t know...”
“I’ll give you an apple!” Kifla wheedles.
For a moment, there’s no answer. Then, the voice demands, “An apple- and a gold piece!”
“All right,” Kifla agrees eagerly, digging apple and coin from her backpack. “Here, now come out!”
“Hmm... well, all of you, close your eyes.”
The party complies. Nothing obvious happens for a moment. Tempe can’t resist; she peeks, but sees nothing.
“Hello?” Kifla calls. No answer.
“I’m going to open my eyes,” says Tempe.
“Let’s all do it,” replies Kifla.
They do. Kifla starts. She did not realize that the apple and gold piece were no longer in her hand, but they are gone. There is no sign of anyone that was not previously visible. But the wounded are covered in flower petals, which are dissolving even as the startled conscious heroes watch.
“What is that?” cries Tempe.
“A gift?” hopes Kifla. “Wait, look- their wounds are healing!” Indeed, the wounded are recovering, at least somewhat. Barouk and Grom both groan and awaken. They are still weak enough that another full day’s rest is warranted; but the next morning, the party- now swollen in size with two more members, Severin and Zelda- moves along.
They decide to move around the burnt maze to the northeast. The pregnant clouds burst, and the downpour pours on down. The thick burnt masses of vegetation look too tough to simply force the party’s way through, even after the fire. “We should be careful,” Grom points out. “This is kobold territory.” The half-orc begins searching for tracks. Soon enough his caution proves warranted, and soon the treacherous path that our heroes are following proves to be laced with pits and worse. The ground beneath their feet turns to mud in some places, leading to a couple of minor slips. After a time, the warm rainfall stops and the land starts to steam, filling the air with humidity.
“Hey, what’s that?” Zelda gestures.
Up ahead, a small, shriveled body lies in the midst of the path.
“Hmm,” comments Grom.
Next Time: Ambushed!
the Jester
Legend
“Looks like a dwarf,” comments Barouk.
Indeed, the shriveled form beneath the juniper tree in the midst of their path does seem to be a dwarf- shriveled, almost mummified, wearing corroded armor and with a rusty axe in the dirt next to it. The body is half-buried in the soil, with some grass growing on the clumps of earth covering its lower portions; there is no doubt that it is dead, and has been here for some time. The party tromps forward to the corpse and begins to check it out; curiosity is a powerful motivator, after all.
As they approach, Kifla hears a strange scrabbling sound, like a bundle of sticks being rubbed against each other. She glances to the side and gasps in shock. All around the party, a bunch of small creatures seemingly made of twigs and branches formed into semi-humanoid shapes are advancing on them. The adventurers, except for Kifla, are caught completely by surprise. The twiggy creatures rake ragged twig-claws across the heroes, but most of them fail to penetrate the armor protecting their targets. Unfortunately for Grom, one of them gets through. He draws in a hissing breath as he feels a burning sting in the wound.
“Poison!” he cries. “Beware! Their claws are poisoned!”
The party rallies, drawing weapons and beginning to strike back. But what follows is a comedic dance of misses, with blades and fists and claws flying every which way to almost no effect. Barouk manages to stick a shuriken in one of them, but his other throwing stars fly wide and away. Severin flails about with a greatsword significantly larger than his small wooden targets, which dart about evasively. Grom finally manages to stick one with his shortsword, but even though it’s a solid thrust, he can barely penetrate the wooden hide of the beast. Severin finally hits, and finds himself facing the same problem. Zelda, too, is foiled by the wooden beasts’ damage reduction. Another of the creatures scores a wound on Severin, and he winces. He can feel the poison flowing into his thigh where the wound is, burning as it is carried through his body.
Then Barouk clenches his fists and they burst into flame.
The wooden monsters shrink back for a moment, and the dwarf lashes out, punching one of them in the face. It squeals, bursts into flames and falls to the ground, unmoving.
This seems to rally our heroes, and they redouble their efforts. Grom seems to have better luck chopping with his sword rather than stabbing, and he manages to destroy one of the twig monsters that way. Zelda scores a telling wound at last, and Grom finishes it off with a blow from the other side. The party hacks, chops and bludgeons the two remaining plant monsters down quickly once they have superior numbers on their side.
The battle is over. Their weapons sticky with sap, our heroes tend their wounds. Kifla examines the sap for useful properties, but determines that there is no reason worth carrying it around for. Barouk searches the long-dead dwarf. His banded mail is corroded past the point of usefulness, as are his weapons. However, in his boot is a rolled up, stained piece of parchment.
“What’s that?” Kifla exclaims. “Let me see!”
Zelda, meanwhile, has begun strumming on a harp, playing a soothing melody that relaxes the others. “Does anyone know what those things were?” she asks. “I know a lot of songs and tales, and I have never heard of those things before.”
Severin shakes his head. “I know a lot about plants,” he says frankly, “but I have no idea what those things were. They certainly weren’t natural.”
“It’s a deed,” announces Kifla.
“What?” Grom looks over at the little gnome.
“This,” she waves the parchment around. “It was in the dwarf’s boot. Not Barouk, the dead dwarf. It’s a deed- to something called the Highgate Mine.”
Everyone scratches their collective head over that.
”Never heard of it,” is the unanimous verdict.
“Well, let’s move on, then,” Grom urges. “My people need help with those goblins.”
“Wait a minute,” Kifla cries. “We can’t just leave him there!” She points at the dead dwarf.
“Oh, come on,” groans Tempe.
“No, this time she’s right,” Barouk says curtly. “We should at least build him a cairn.”
The party moves the body off of the trail and then spends an hour gathering stones of various sizes and piling them upon the corpse. They bury his gear with him as well. Soon enough the body is concealed securely beneath a mound of rocks, adn our heroes move on. Severin lingers long enough to take a sample of the twig monsters, then hurries after the others.
That night, it rains. It is warm but wet. The various watches see occasional flying silhouettes and hear the croaking of frogs, but nothing eventful happens. The rain keeps coming even as the sun rises, though, and through breakfast. When the party strikes camp and begins to walk, the rain lightens for about an hour, but it keeps coming down.
Across the Deadgrass Lands our heroes move, heading north along a series of rolling hills. They clamber up a short ridge, weaving amongst clumps of thick grass. As they crest the ridge, Severin calls out, “Hold on a second!”
The party slows to a halt, looking at him questioningly.
“Look over there!” He gestures. Down the side of the ridge there is a small scarp, and at the base of it is a small boggy area. There are clumpy, tangled bushes in the bog, with berries visible on them.
“What are those?” asks Tempe.
“Cranberries!” exclaims the ranger. He smiles broadly.
The party heads down into the bog. Zelda triggers a rather dramatic mudslide in the process, but fortunately it does not cause anyone any harm, herself included. “Whew,” she says, brushing mud off of her pants, “that was a close one!”
“Yeah, well, look at what you uncovered,” gestures Grom.
She turns, and to her surprise, her mudslide seems to have revealed the outline of a door of some kind. The party clusters around, checking it out, and Grom suggests using water to clear off the door. Kifla points out that they don’t really have a way to carry water to it without filling their water skins with bog water, but she does have a shovel. Grom shrugs and empties a waterskin on the door, then trudges down to fill it from the bog in order to do it again. Kifla starts scraping, and between the two of them, they soon manage to clean off the door enough to open it. It is a massive stone slab. It swivels open part way when Grom kicks it. He tries to push it open further, but can’t get it open very far. His eyes widen when he notices that there is a crown carved on the door.
Could this be an ancient king’s burial mound? he wonders. He licks his lips and throws his weight against the door. It budges open enough that everyone will be able to squeeze through and get inside. Grinning to himself, Grom slips through the gap and looks around warily.
Skeletons are pouring out of alcoves in the room.
Immediately he pushes himself back through the gap. The others are just starting to approach the door, but he waves them off. “Skeletons!” he gasps.
“We should let them come out to us,” Kifla states. She draws and loads her crossbow, and Zelda does the same. Severin moves up and puts his strength against the door. Finally, whatever is obstructing it gives way, and he throws the door wide.
Four skeletons are moving towards the party.
Grom draws and loads a crossbow too. Hmm, who is going to stand in the front? he wonders nervously. Barouk moves to stand before Kifla, ready to intercept any attackers. Not him, thinks the half-orc. Not this time, at least.
But Skaal and his kocho move to the forefront as the skeletons advance. The druid has his two sickles gleaming in his hands. He scowls at the unnatural things approaching him.
Then, from the darkness behind the skeletons, a large, bright red centipede comes crawling out.
The party’s first volley of bolts entirely misses, but suddenly a pair of darting bolts of light and force streak out from the shadowy depths of the hallway in the hill. They blast into Tempe, knocking her unconsciousness. Fortunately, her facility with autohypnosis saves her from bleeding to death.
“What was that?” cries Skaal.
From the depths of the corridor comes an evil laugh.
Next Time: Our heroes fight for their lives!
Indeed, the shriveled form beneath the juniper tree in the midst of their path does seem to be a dwarf- shriveled, almost mummified, wearing corroded armor and with a rusty axe in the dirt next to it. The body is half-buried in the soil, with some grass growing on the clumps of earth covering its lower portions; there is no doubt that it is dead, and has been here for some time. The party tromps forward to the corpse and begins to check it out; curiosity is a powerful motivator, after all.
As they approach, Kifla hears a strange scrabbling sound, like a bundle of sticks being rubbed against each other. She glances to the side and gasps in shock. All around the party, a bunch of small creatures seemingly made of twigs and branches formed into semi-humanoid shapes are advancing on them. The adventurers, except for Kifla, are caught completely by surprise. The twiggy creatures rake ragged twig-claws across the heroes, but most of them fail to penetrate the armor protecting their targets. Unfortunately for Grom, one of them gets through. He draws in a hissing breath as he feels a burning sting in the wound.
“Poison!” he cries. “Beware! Their claws are poisoned!”
The party rallies, drawing weapons and beginning to strike back. But what follows is a comedic dance of misses, with blades and fists and claws flying every which way to almost no effect. Barouk manages to stick a shuriken in one of them, but his other throwing stars fly wide and away. Severin flails about with a greatsword significantly larger than his small wooden targets, which dart about evasively. Grom finally manages to stick one with his shortsword, but even though it’s a solid thrust, he can barely penetrate the wooden hide of the beast. Severin finally hits, and finds himself facing the same problem. Zelda, too, is foiled by the wooden beasts’ damage reduction. Another of the creatures scores a wound on Severin, and he winces. He can feel the poison flowing into his thigh where the wound is, burning as it is carried through his body.
Then Barouk clenches his fists and they burst into flame.
The wooden monsters shrink back for a moment, and the dwarf lashes out, punching one of them in the face. It squeals, bursts into flames and falls to the ground, unmoving.
This seems to rally our heroes, and they redouble their efforts. Grom seems to have better luck chopping with his sword rather than stabbing, and he manages to destroy one of the twig monsters that way. Zelda scores a telling wound at last, and Grom finishes it off with a blow from the other side. The party hacks, chops and bludgeons the two remaining plant monsters down quickly once they have superior numbers on their side.
The battle is over. Their weapons sticky with sap, our heroes tend their wounds. Kifla examines the sap for useful properties, but determines that there is no reason worth carrying it around for. Barouk searches the long-dead dwarf. His banded mail is corroded past the point of usefulness, as are his weapons. However, in his boot is a rolled up, stained piece of parchment.
“What’s that?” Kifla exclaims. “Let me see!”
Zelda, meanwhile, has begun strumming on a harp, playing a soothing melody that relaxes the others. “Does anyone know what those things were?” she asks. “I know a lot of songs and tales, and I have never heard of those things before.”
Severin shakes his head. “I know a lot about plants,” he says frankly, “but I have no idea what those things were. They certainly weren’t natural.”
“It’s a deed,” announces Kifla.
“What?” Grom looks over at the little gnome.
“This,” she waves the parchment around. “It was in the dwarf’s boot. Not Barouk, the dead dwarf. It’s a deed- to something called the Highgate Mine.”
Everyone scratches their collective head over that.
”Never heard of it,” is the unanimous verdict.
“Well, let’s move on, then,” Grom urges. “My people need help with those goblins.”
“Wait a minute,” Kifla cries. “We can’t just leave him there!” She points at the dead dwarf.
“Oh, come on,” groans Tempe.
“No, this time she’s right,” Barouk says curtly. “We should at least build him a cairn.”
The party moves the body off of the trail and then spends an hour gathering stones of various sizes and piling them upon the corpse. They bury his gear with him as well. Soon enough the body is concealed securely beneath a mound of rocks, adn our heroes move on. Severin lingers long enough to take a sample of the twig monsters, then hurries after the others.
That night, it rains. It is warm but wet. The various watches see occasional flying silhouettes and hear the croaking of frogs, but nothing eventful happens. The rain keeps coming even as the sun rises, though, and through breakfast. When the party strikes camp and begins to walk, the rain lightens for about an hour, but it keeps coming down.
Across the Deadgrass Lands our heroes move, heading north along a series of rolling hills. They clamber up a short ridge, weaving amongst clumps of thick grass. As they crest the ridge, Severin calls out, “Hold on a second!”
The party slows to a halt, looking at him questioningly.
“Look over there!” He gestures. Down the side of the ridge there is a small scarp, and at the base of it is a small boggy area. There are clumpy, tangled bushes in the bog, with berries visible on them.
“What are those?” asks Tempe.
“Cranberries!” exclaims the ranger. He smiles broadly.
The party heads down into the bog. Zelda triggers a rather dramatic mudslide in the process, but fortunately it does not cause anyone any harm, herself included. “Whew,” she says, brushing mud off of her pants, “that was a close one!”
“Yeah, well, look at what you uncovered,” gestures Grom.
She turns, and to her surprise, her mudslide seems to have revealed the outline of a door of some kind. The party clusters around, checking it out, and Grom suggests using water to clear off the door. Kifla points out that they don’t really have a way to carry water to it without filling their water skins with bog water, but she does have a shovel. Grom shrugs and empties a waterskin on the door, then trudges down to fill it from the bog in order to do it again. Kifla starts scraping, and between the two of them, they soon manage to clean off the door enough to open it. It is a massive stone slab. It swivels open part way when Grom kicks it. He tries to push it open further, but can’t get it open very far. His eyes widen when he notices that there is a crown carved on the door.
Could this be an ancient king’s burial mound? he wonders. He licks his lips and throws his weight against the door. It budges open enough that everyone will be able to squeeze through and get inside. Grinning to himself, Grom slips through the gap and looks around warily.
Skeletons are pouring out of alcoves in the room.
Immediately he pushes himself back through the gap. The others are just starting to approach the door, but he waves them off. “Skeletons!” he gasps.
“We should let them come out to us,” Kifla states. She draws and loads her crossbow, and Zelda does the same. Severin moves up and puts his strength against the door. Finally, whatever is obstructing it gives way, and he throws the door wide.
Four skeletons are moving towards the party.
Grom draws and loads a crossbow too. Hmm, who is going to stand in the front? he wonders nervously. Barouk moves to stand before Kifla, ready to intercept any attackers. Not him, thinks the half-orc. Not this time, at least.
But Skaal and his kocho move to the forefront as the skeletons advance. The druid has his two sickles gleaming in his hands. He scowls at the unnatural things approaching him.
Then, from the darkness behind the skeletons, a large, bright red centipede comes crawling out.
The party’s first volley of bolts entirely misses, but suddenly a pair of darting bolts of light and force streak out from the shadowy depths of the hallway in the hill. They blast into Tempe, knocking her unconsciousness. Fortunately, her facility with autohypnosis saves her from bleeding to death.
“What was that?” cries Skaal.
From the depths of the corridor comes an evil laugh.
Next Time: Our heroes fight for their lives!
the Jester
Legend
The skeletons press forward, swinging their rusty weapons at our heroes, who dodge and parry madly. It is all they can do to protect themselves. Barouk tries to stand guard over Tempe’s unconscious form, but it is all he can do to fend off the slicing scimitars of his bony attackers. He turns them one way or the other or deftly steps out of his undead attacker’s way.
Severin falls back. He raises his crossbow and sights at the unnatural-looking centipede. His finger twitches on the trigger and his bolt flies forward, piercing the centipede’s head and sticking it to the ground. Unlike the juice he expects to see coming from a bug, the centipede bleeds bright red, coppery blood. Severin feels a little ill. Its legs wave in the air for a few seconds, and then the thing goes still. Its body suddenly catches fire with a dirty brown flame and burns away to filthy ash in seconds.
Zelda fires her crossbow at one of the skeletons. Unfortunately, the bolt passes through the monster without harm. She pouts prettily for a moment, tossing her golden hair, and then stows her crossbow on her back. She begins to sing, encouraging the party, praising their skill and ability. The heroes’ collective confidence swells.
Kifla uses her acid splash spells to good effect. She can’t see a crossbow bolt doing much harm to them, and there’s no way that she’s getting into melee with them! She casts the spell twice, but does not have it prepared a third time. That’s a useful spell, she thinks. My illusions won’t be much good here!
Barouk catches a skeleton’s arm as it descends, attempting to chop at him. He slides inside its guard and slams his fist through its skull. The skeleton collapses into individual bones immediately. The monk tumbles towards another of the undead, but there are too many obstructions on the ground for him to avoid a telling blow to the head that leaves him momentarily helpless. Skaal is having less luck; his dual-sickle attacks don’t seem to be able to scratch the skeletons. “Slashing doesn’t work so well,” he calls to the others. He backs away and begins to cast summon nature’s ally I. A few moments later, a wolf appears from nowhere.
The lurking, spell-casting creature- whatever it is- blasts Severin with another magic missile. The ranger groans in pain and takes one last shot with his crossbow, collapsing into unconsciousness as he does so. Alas, his shot goes wide.
Grom is attacked by one of the skeletons, too, and is forced to drop his bow in favor of a sword. He slashes with his shortsword, and although his blade passes through the rib area and cuts some empty air, he does manage to do some damage, crashing through a few of the thing’s ribs. The half-orc cries out gladly and shakes his fist at it.
Romdar enters the fray by falling on his face. Skaal’s kocho and wolf step up in front of him before the skeletons can take advantage of his plight. Two of the remaining three skeletons attack the kocho, but only one hits; the other one remains locked in combat with Grom, striking him hard. Staggering, Grom drops his blade as he tries to tumble away to safety. He groans again at his misstep.
Zelda pulls her sword and slashes at the nearest skeleton. Again, it skitters away without doing much damage, if any. She curses. Then she gives a startled laugh- as Skaal summons another wolf, this one near enough to charge the spellcaster. Barouk follows it in, activating his fiery fists in a burst of ki power. He misses, but the wolf hits- and pulls the caster off of its feet!
At last our heroes get a good look at it: some sort of undead creature, with the grey pallor of death in its skin and unblinking, dry eyes. It looks roughly like a man- a dead man- but it has a distinctly arcane mode of dress (albeit rotten, decayed dress).
The thing mutters arcane words and attempts to cast another spell, but the wolf growls and shakes him, spoiling his concentration. Then, Skaal leaps at it, using both sickles to hack- and misses.
The kocho, meanwhile, is still under attack by two of the skeletons. It kicks out, finally connecting, and smashes one of them into pieces. It bites the other one, tearing off several ribs, and ruffles its feathers. That skeleton strikes back, but the kocho dances away, avoiding the blow. The skeleton steps forward and the kocho kicks out again. This time its talon connects with the pelvis of the skeleton, breaking the bone into six pieces. The skeleton collapses.
Now that Grom has gotten out of its immediate reach, the remaining skeleton turns its attention on the nearest target: Zelda. It slashes her across the belly, cutting open her shirt to expose her midriff. She cries out and hacks at it with her longsword, but her blow glances off of it. “Help, I’m not a fighter!” she cries.
“We don’t have a fighter,” Barouk grumbles.
The undead spellcaster manages to maintain his concentration long enough to cast another spell, and suddenly the wolf yelps in fear and flees. Skaal curses.
Simultaneously, Grom retrieves his lost sword and tumbles in to attack the remaining skeleton. He misses; the skeleton is surprisingly quick and agile. Romdar, picking himself up off of the ground, comes in to aid him after first attempting to dazzle the (eyeless) skeletons with a flare.
The spellcaster, still on the ground, tries to cast defensively, but he again fails to get the spell off. He makes an exasperated sound and struggles to stand up, giving Barouk an attack of opportunity. The monk attempts to grapple him! Unfortunately for Barouk, the creature bites his hand, ruining his attempt to grab on. With a growl, the dwarf continues his unarmed assault. His hits the caster in the stomach.
Romdar finally shows his stuff. He smashes his longsword through the skull of the last skeleton, destroying it. Then he, and everyone else, turns to face the spellcaster.
Suddenly it’s a running battle, with the caster attempting to retreat but unable to get away. There are too many adventurers for a solitary spellcaster to take. Skaal’s kocho kicks it in the belly and finishes it after a few more seconds of skirmishing.
The sudden relative quiet- for our heroes are panting loudly- is gratifying.
***
Deeper in the mound is the burial chamber, with two sarcophagi in it. When Romdar tries to open one, there is the tell-tale flash of a ghoul glyph, and he falls to the ground.
“He’s dead!” cries Kifla. She begins to weep.
”He’s not dead, is he?” Barouk says uncertainly. “That... that can’t be.”
The party checks him out, and soon it becomes apparent that he is merely paralyzed. In a few more minutes, he begins to move again. “P-pins and needles,” he groans, shaking his hands. “I have no idea what just happened to me.”
On that note, the group breaks for dinner.
Next Time: The sarcophagi and other matters!
Edit: Correction: It was a ghoul glyph, not a glyph of warding.
Severin falls back. He raises his crossbow and sights at the unnatural-looking centipede. His finger twitches on the trigger and his bolt flies forward, piercing the centipede’s head and sticking it to the ground. Unlike the juice he expects to see coming from a bug, the centipede bleeds bright red, coppery blood. Severin feels a little ill. Its legs wave in the air for a few seconds, and then the thing goes still. Its body suddenly catches fire with a dirty brown flame and burns away to filthy ash in seconds.
Zelda fires her crossbow at one of the skeletons. Unfortunately, the bolt passes through the monster without harm. She pouts prettily for a moment, tossing her golden hair, and then stows her crossbow on her back. She begins to sing, encouraging the party, praising their skill and ability. The heroes’ collective confidence swells.
Kifla uses her acid splash spells to good effect. She can’t see a crossbow bolt doing much harm to them, and there’s no way that she’s getting into melee with them! She casts the spell twice, but does not have it prepared a third time. That’s a useful spell, she thinks. My illusions won’t be much good here!
Barouk catches a skeleton’s arm as it descends, attempting to chop at him. He slides inside its guard and slams his fist through its skull. The skeleton collapses into individual bones immediately. The monk tumbles towards another of the undead, but there are too many obstructions on the ground for him to avoid a telling blow to the head that leaves him momentarily helpless. Skaal is having less luck; his dual-sickle attacks don’t seem to be able to scratch the skeletons. “Slashing doesn’t work so well,” he calls to the others. He backs away and begins to cast summon nature’s ally I. A few moments later, a wolf appears from nowhere.
The lurking, spell-casting creature- whatever it is- blasts Severin with another magic missile. The ranger groans in pain and takes one last shot with his crossbow, collapsing into unconsciousness as he does so. Alas, his shot goes wide.
Grom is attacked by one of the skeletons, too, and is forced to drop his bow in favor of a sword. He slashes with his shortsword, and although his blade passes through the rib area and cuts some empty air, he does manage to do some damage, crashing through a few of the thing’s ribs. The half-orc cries out gladly and shakes his fist at it.
Romdar enters the fray by falling on his face. Skaal’s kocho and wolf step up in front of him before the skeletons can take advantage of his plight. Two of the remaining three skeletons attack the kocho, but only one hits; the other one remains locked in combat with Grom, striking him hard. Staggering, Grom drops his blade as he tries to tumble away to safety. He groans again at his misstep.
Zelda pulls her sword and slashes at the nearest skeleton. Again, it skitters away without doing much damage, if any. She curses. Then she gives a startled laugh- as Skaal summons another wolf, this one near enough to charge the spellcaster. Barouk follows it in, activating his fiery fists in a burst of ki power. He misses, but the wolf hits- and pulls the caster off of its feet!
At last our heroes get a good look at it: some sort of undead creature, with the grey pallor of death in its skin and unblinking, dry eyes. It looks roughly like a man- a dead man- but it has a distinctly arcane mode of dress (albeit rotten, decayed dress).
The thing mutters arcane words and attempts to cast another spell, but the wolf growls and shakes him, spoiling his concentration. Then, Skaal leaps at it, using both sickles to hack- and misses.
The kocho, meanwhile, is still under attack by two of the skeletons. It kicks out, finally connecting, and smashes one of them into pieces. It bites the other one, tearing off several ribs, and ruffles its feathers. That skeleton strikes back, but the kocho dances away, avoiding the blow. The skeleton steps forward and the kocho kicks out again. This time its talon connects with the pelvis of the skeleton, breaking the bone into six pieces. The skeleton collapses.
Now that Grom has gotten out of its immediate reach, the remaining skeleton turns its attention on the nearest target: Zelda. It slashes her across the belly, cutting open her shirt to expose her midriff. She cries out and hacks at it with her longsword, but her blow glances off of it. “Help, I’m not a fighter!” she cries.
“We don’t have a fighter,” Barouk grumbles.
The undead spellcaster manages to maintain his concentration long enough to cast another spell, and suddenly the wolf yelps in fear and flees. Skaal curses.
Simultaneously, Grom retrieves his lost sword and tumbles in to attack the remaining skeleton. He misses; the skeleton is surprisingly quick and agile. Romdar, picking himself up off of the ground, comes in to aid him after first attempting to dazzle the (eyeless) skeletons with a flare.
The spellcaster, still on the ground, tries to cast defensively, but he again fails to get the spell off. He makes an exasperated sound and struggles to stand up, giving Barouk an attack of opportunity. The monk attempts to grapple him! Unfortunately for Barouk, the creature bites his hand, ruining his attempt to grab on. With a growl, the dwarf continues his unarmed assault. His hits the caster in the stomach.
Romdar finally shows his stuff. He smashes his longsword through the skull of the last skeleton, destroying it. Then he, and everyone else, turns to face the spellcaster.
Suddenly it’s a running battle, with the caster attempting to retreat but unable to get away. There are too many adventurers for a solitary spellcaster to take. Skaal’s kocho kicks it in the belly and finishes it after a few more seconds of skirmishing.
The sudden relative quiet- for our heroes are panting loudly- is gratifying.
***
Deeper in the mound is the burial chamber, with two sarcophagi in it. When Romdar tries to open one, there is the tell-tale flash of a ghoul glyph, and he falls to the ground.
“He’s dead!” cries Kifla. She begins to weep.
”He’s not dead, is he?” Barouk says uncertainly. “That... that can’t be.”
The party checks him out, and soon it becomes apparent that he is merely paralyzed. In a few more minutes, he begins to move again. “P-pins and needles,” he groans, shaking his hands. “I have no idea what just happened to me.”
On that note, the group breaks for dinner.
Next Time: The sarcophagi and other matters!
Edit: Correction: It was a ghoul glyph, not a glyph of warding.
Last edited:
Slickenfiber
First Post
yes..... beware of unassuming mounds in an otherwise flat and featurless plane....
query....wasn't there a glyph of warding on the floor of the hallway leading to the chamber of sarcophagi?? didn't grom read it and get hit with some sort of explosion???
grumbling and triumphant --- baruk.
query....wasn't there a glyph of warding on the floor of the hallway leading to the chamber of sarcophagi?? didn't grom read it and get hit with some sort of explosion???
grumbling and triumphant --- baruk.
the Jester
Legend
Slickenfiber said:
No, that was the glyph that Romdar read- it paralyzed him for a short time. The final bit of the update.
Or if there was, there is no note of it in the notebook, and I don't recall it. And, on a double check, you didn't get xp for it.
the Jester
Legend
Skaal moves around outside, gathering berries, eggs and frogs for later consumption. The party settles in to rest outside the mound. They will recover their strength first, and then go back inside to penetrate the two sarcophagi. Severin binds wounds and tends aches as best he can, fixing poultices and teas from the herbs in the area, and soon our heroes bed down under the stars. Only whoever is on watch remains awake, tending their fire. When dawn creeps in to the east, Tempe adds a few twigs and a log, and watches the flames climb slowly up the wood. She glances at the entrance to the mound and yawns, then stretches. She stands up, performing a few mental exercises to sharpen her edge, and then starts to cook breakfast. The others stir, and soon enough everyone is strapping on weapons, tying boot straps, and stretching fatigued muscles. The wounds that they have previously suffered are somewhat healed, and Skaal touches up the worst with a cure light wounds.
Then they return to the passages within the ancient burial mound. Before they attack the first sarcophagus itself, they search around, making sure that there are no hidden passages or alcoves from which more undead might leap. Then Grom moves over and searches the sarcophagus for traps. “Aha!” he exclaims. “There is a poisoned needle trap here.”
“Can you disable it?” asks Romdar.
“Let’s find out,” the half-orc replies. He pulls out his thief’s tools and gets to work. After a few moments, he grunts in dismay. “It’s tricky,” he admits. His fingers dance at the end of slender sticks of metal as he fiddles with the trap. He mutters to himself; then there is a snapping sound. “Got it!” he cries. “Snapped the needle off.”
“Open it, then,” says Barouk.
Grom tries to lift the lid, grunts, “It’s heavy,” and struggles for a minute to no avail. He shakes his head. “We’re going to have to get three or four of us on this thing to move it,” he says.
“Let’s make sure the other sarcophagus is safe first,” suggests Skaal. The party nods collective agreement to this, and Grom checks for traps on it.
“This one is clean,” he announces. He and Severin together try to muscle the lid open.
“Aw, no,” says Grom.
“What is it?” asks Kifla.
The half-orc holds up his hand. The back of it has a small bead of blood on it. “I missed a trap,” he laments. “Another poisoned needle. I can feel it burning.” Grom leans against the wall and sweats as the poison begins working its way through his system.
Severin, meanwhile, shows a surprising facility with traps as he moves over and disables the needle with some thief’s tools of his own.
“Are you going to be all right?” Kifla asks.
Grom nods wordlessly.
The party works together, and slowly they manage to open the two sarcophagi. Each one stinks faintly of old decay, but the remains in them are clearly hundreds of years old. Most of what remains is bones, though some tatters of hair and flesh are there.
And they are buried with treasure.
One of the corpses, in addition to some fancy jewelry, wears a breastplate of impressive quality and fancy workmanship. It also holds a ceremonial, jeweled greatsword. The other body has the rusted and pitted remains of fancy armor, some jewelry and a longspear.
Kifla casts detect magic. “That’s magical!” she exclaims after a few moments, pointing at the spear. She claps her hands together in glee.
The party gathers up their loot and then exits the cold barrow. “Let’s get moving,” Grom urges. “My folk need help with those goblins. The others nod, and the party resumes their northward march through the Deadgrass Lands. For a time, the land gradually slopes downwards, and our heroes are forced to traverse a waist-deep swamp. They grumble about it, but slog along. Skaal grumbles and almost stumbles. Suddenly his eyes widen. He looks around wildly.
“LEECHES!” he bellows.
Leeches the size of small dogs. And they are already attached to him, to Tempe, to Romdar, to Barouk and to Zelda! And though the rest of them only have one on each of them, Tempe has two attached to her already!
Our heroes go into a frenzy of motion, stabbing, pulling, screaming and yelling. Now that they know the leeches are there, they can feel a strange numbness in the parts of their bodies that have the leeches attached to them. Kifla summons a celestial porpoise to attack the leeches, while Tempe finds- to her dismay- that the leeches on her are essentially mindless, and thus are not subject to her mental attacks! Grom manages to tear one of them off of her, though, and she smiles in gratitude at him. Romdar can’t seem to get free of one; as some are cast off by other party members, they seem to find their way to him! He cuts and kills, but there seems to always be one on him, sucking out his strength, leaving him weaker and weaker...
Everyone is stabbing, grabbing... more leeches die. Skaal skewers the one sucking his blood with his sickle. Kifla’s porpoise smashes one to pieces. Zelda cuts one. Severin stabs one and it bursts like a balloon filled with blood. Finally, the last leech dies as the porpoise smashes it with its nose. The bog is full of blood.
“That is so gross,” Zelda says, swaying on her feet. She has lost a lot of blood. So have Tempe and Romdar.
“Let’s get out of here,” groans Grom.
As quickly as they are able, the party hurries across the boggy area to the high ground on the other side. It still takes half an hour, but by double-timing it, they manage to get out shortly before dark. They inspect each other: no leeches.
They rest.
They rest and rest and rest, for two days and one night. Barouk and Zelda come down with a rash and a fever; Skaal diagnoses it as the red ache, a disease that may have been carried by the leeches. Skaal and Severin do their best to tend their sick friends. The party, far from fully recovered, continues to rest. Four more days and nights of rest... finally, although both Romdar and Zelda are still not fully recovered from their encounter with the leeches, at least Barouk has thrown off the red ache.
The party moves on across the Deadgrass Lands. In the distance, they can see the mountains; smoke rises from Bleak’s Maw, that terrible mount of evil. That’s the reason that there are Deadgrass Lands at all, thinks Zelda. The ash falls from Bleak’s Maw killed all the more wholesome vegetation that used to live in this area during the Time of the Tarrasques, when the five tarrasques ran rampant over Forinthia. It is hard to believe that was less than three centuries ago!
The party moves along. There is a little vegetation of other sorts here and there; doubtless it grows up quickly between ash falls in a given area, only to be wiped out again when Bleak’s Maw speaks, broods Skaal. At about noon, the party passes into a wide canopy of large, quick-growing trees.
Just inside, something attacks from above.
Grom senses it at the last minute and whips his sword out. It is a blob of living sap, dripping malignantly at him from above- the size of a man! He stabs it with his sword, but it is so sticky that he barely wrenches his blade free! “Look out!” he cries.
Barouk hurls a handful of shuriken at the blob. Plop, plop! Where they hit, they stick, but they also cause it to leak some kind of clear fluid. He moves towards Kifla, throwing more shuriken as he goes.
Zelda, emulating him, fires her bow. Arrows plop into the living sap; she cannot tell if they are hurting it or not. She shrugs. As long as she might be having an effect, she might as well keep it up. It does look like Barouk’s first couple of shuriken hurt it, so why not?
The living sap strikes with a pseudopod, smacking Grom a ringing blow to the head. When it withdraws its pseudopod, it takes a remarkable amount of Grom’s hair with it, tearing it out by the roots. Grom howls in pain and smashes his lantern on the blob, covering it in oil. He pulls out his tinderbox and strikes a spark.
WHOOSH!
The sap thing bursts into a sizzling flame. It starts to make a loud squeal. Severin leaps in and slashes at it with his greatsword, damaging it further, but he, too, can barely keep ahold of his weapon. “It’s sticky!” he shouts. “Be careful when you strike it!”
A burning pseudopod strikes him. With a yell, Severin finds himself drawn towards the burning creature. He kicks the pseudopod and then pushes off against it, tearing himself free and leaving a layer of skin and flesh behind.
The living sap is burning rather merrily, making a bunch of sizzles and squeals, but it is still going. I don’t think it likes fire! Romdar thinks gleefully, and jumps in close to cast burning hands on it. The squealing, sizzling and smoking on increase, and the flames leap higher for a moment. The air is filled with a smell like burning maple syrup. Kifla shouts, “Yes, that’s it! Use fire!” She hurls a torch into the mix, adding fuel to the fire. The blob writhes and squeals, extending pseudopods in all directions, then tries to escape the fire by flowing back up one of the trees. It makes it 15’ before it stops and begins to spatter down to the ground in flaming pieces.
“It’s dead,” Skaal announces with finality.
“Ow,” Grom groans, sitting down. His scalp is a bloody mess, as is Severin. “Do you have any healing?”
Skaal goes to work, but can only do so much. Glancing up, he says, “We should move on. The tree is on fire.”
The party moves on.
***
3 p.m.
Bleak’s Maw is spewing out considerably more ash and smoke than our heroes have seen before, at least from this close distance. “I wonder if there’s going to be an ash fall,” mutters Severin.
“There isn’t much we can do about it, if there is,” Skaal says.
“What would happen if we were caught in an ash fall?” wonders Kifla. ]
“I’m not sure,” the druid replies. “But I doubt that it would be pleasant.”
They make camp early, making a point of choosing a location with a reasonable amount of overhang. As they are gathering what firewood they can find, they notice a figure coming towards them across the Deadgrass Lands. “It looks like a human, from the size of it,” says Romdar.
“Maybe he’s friendly,” Kifla hopes.
The man hails them from about 30’ away. “Hello,” he calls. “I am a traveling herald. May I share your fire?”
The man wears armor and wields a falchion. “You look like a warrior, not a herald,” remarks Barouk.
“Well, I am both,” the man admits. “My name is Cooper.”
“Well, Cooper, so long as you mean us no harm, you may join us,” the dwarf replies.
The man walks forward, keeping his hands in view. He helps the party finish setting up their camp and pulls out some food to contribute to dinner.
“So what are you a herald of?” asks Kifla. “Does it have anything to do with that flashing in the distance?”
“Kind of,” Cooper smiles. That gets everyone’s attention. “I’m here to announce that the old emperor, Prayzose, is dead, and that there is a new emperor- Emperor Thrush.”
Our heroes digest this. “I hope you understand, that is a little bit unbelievable,” Romdar says.
“Yeah, I mean, how could the Emperor die?” Kifla says. “He’s practically a living god!”
“Believe me,” Cooper says confidently. “If you had met this man, the new emperor, you’d understand. He is... amazing. He is the foremost swordsman of our age.”
“Huh,” Zelda grunts disbelievingly. “I still don’t believe it.”
“Well, that’s okay. I don’t have to convince people, just to spread the word.”
“Why you?” asks Severin.
“He hired a bunch of us.”
“Just to wander around and tell people that he’s the new emperor?” Zelda sounds amused.
Cooper just smiles. “You’ll see,” he predicts. “That flashing in the distance? What else could that be, but the sign of great change?”
***
The party rests, then moves on. The ash is starting to fall. They hurry along. Soon they come upon a clearing. Within it is a small thorp of four sod and mud huts clustered together. A small creek runs behind the huts, providing water. Gardens of vegetables struggle to survive the foul soil, and a flock of scrawny chickens is scratching for bugs or seeds. A number of people are outside, farming or gathering in laundry. Severin moves in and starts a conversation with some of the villagers. “We’re adventurers headed north to help deal with some goblin troubles,” he tells them.
“Adventurers, eh?” replies one of the peasants. He introduces himself as Tahl, and offers the group shelter for the duration of the ash fall. “You don’t want to be outside in this,” he tells them. “We wouldn’t turn a thief out in an ash fall.”
***
Several days pass in tiny community as the ash falls. Our heroes get to know the villagers fairly well. There are a total of 17 people here. They are simple farmers, for the most part, though their leader- Simon, an old man who has seen 70 years- is something of a philosopher. The others consist of four men (Tahl, Kevin, Trevin and Jeffrey), their wives (Lois, Tellindra, Liabelle and Herretta) and their children, a mess of lads and lasses that is very difficult to keep straight (boys: Tahl Jr, Alentis, Dexter; girls: Shadra, Nellyse, Chanticleer, Rinva, Leanna).
The folk are friendly and have plenty to eat. They have seen ash storms before, sometimes lasting for a week or more. Generally, afterwards, the area is a mess, and often strange, dangerous things appear is the wake of the ash rain- demonic forces loyal to Bleak. In fact, Simon warns our heroes about “ash zombies,” which he claims suck the heat from their victims.
But when the ash fall is finally over, our heroes thank them for their hospitality and take their leave. Adventure awaits them. They do not wish to overstay their welcome, nor do they any longer have any need to stay.
The landscape is starkly different. The waves of deadgrass are covered in thick drifts of black ash. The air smells of brimstone and foulness. Many plants are dead, and even some trees have fallen. Our heroes shudder to think of what it must be like to be caught in the ash.
Cooper has accompanied the party. His next stop, after all, is to be the same valley where they are headed, though he plans on first going to the city of Brindol. But, as our heroes well know, another sword can make the difference between life and death.
As they proceed along, a wind rises, stirring the ash. Our heroes pull cloaks across their faces and squint as the black ash swirls everywhere.
And something starts to form.
“What the...?” Barouk exclaims in surprise.
A veritable palace forms before them, composed of fragile-looking ash. They can see a gate leading into a courtyard, and within the courtyard is a palace- but it seems ready to blow away in the wind. Neither wood nor stone are in evidence; the entire structure seems composed of grey ash.
“Uh, I don’t know about this,” Romdar says cautiously.
“Hello?” calls Barouk.
There is a faint scream. Then, “Help me!” Not everyone hears it; but both Cooper and Barouk sprint into the courtyard. The rest hang back for a moment, but when nothing immediately ambushes the monk and fighter, they follow them in to the courtyard. Directly ahead of them is the palace, constructed entirely of ash. Four towers, about 50’ high, adorn the corners of the place. There is a subtle asymmetry to the building that troubles the eye. A pair of burnt trees, their shapes captured in ash, flank the obsidian flagstones that lead up to the entrance
“Where did the scream come from?” asks Kifla.
“I don’t know,” Barouk growls, looking around warily.
Suddenly there is a clang! from behind them, like the sound of metal, but from the ashen gate. The party whirls.
The gate has shut, and now is gone, replaced by ashen wall.
”It’s a trap!” cries Zelda.
Abruptly, villainous laughter echoes out from the top of the palace. A dark figure appears on the top balcony of the northeast tower. It is a humanoid goat of some kind, with fur as black as coal. Its horns curl chaotically over its head. It is naked except for a thin black robe. “Greetings!” it cries at the party in Forinthian, in a very manly, masculine voice. “Welcome to the Ashen Palace of Bleak! I am His mouth. I speak his words, and all that I eat is a sacrifice to His glory. Here we will celebrate the triumph of the Black Sun. Please, make yourselves at home; we will feast soon enough.” The figure chuckles. “Unless, of course, you can find your way out. Pass in, and up, and down, and out! Pass the test of Bleak, and you will rewarded! Fail and you will be devoured!”
With that, the figure retreats into its tower.
Our heroes exchange a glance.
“I guess we don’t have much choice,” says Romdar grimly.
Next Time: Into the Ashen Palace of Bleak!
Then they return to the passages within the ancient burial mound. Before they attack the first sarcophagus itself, they search around, making sure that there are no hidden passages or alcoves from which more undead might leap. Then Grom moves over and searches the sarcophagus for traps. “Aha!” he exclaims. “There is a poisoned needle trap here.”
“Can you disable it?” asks Romdar.
“Let’s find out,” the half-orc replies. He pulls out his thief’s tools and gets to work. After a few moments, he grunts in dismay. “It’s tricky,” he admits. His fingers dance at the end of slender sticks of metal as he fiddles with the trap. He mutters to himself; then there is a snapping sound. “Got it!” he cries. “Snapped the needle off.”
“Open it, then,” says Barouk.
Grom tries to lift the lid, grunts, “It’s heavy,” and struggles for a minute to no avail. He shakes his head. “We’re going to have to get three or four of us on this thing to move it,” he says.
“Let’s make sure the other sarcophagus is safe first,” suggests Skaal. The party nods collective agreement to this, and Grom checks for traps on it.
“This one is clean,” he announces. He and Severin together try to muscle the lid open.
“Aw, no,” says Grom.
“What is it?” asks Kifla.
The half-orc holds up his hand. The back of it has a small bead of blood on it. “I missed a trap,” he laments. “Another poisoned needle. I can feel it burning.” Grom leans against the wall and sweats as the poison begins working its way through his system.
Severin, meanwhile, shows a surprising facility with traps as he moves over and disables the needle with some thief’s tools of his own.
“Are you going to be all right?” Kifla asks.
Grom nods wordlessly.
The party works together, and slowly they manage to open the two sarcophagi. Each one stinks faintly of old decay, but the remains in them are clearly hundreds of years old. Most of what remains is bones, though some tatters of hair and flesh are there.
And they are buried with treasure.
One of the corpses, in addition to some fancy jewelry, wears a breastplate of impressive quality and fancy workmanship. It also holds a ceremonial, jeweled greatsword. The other body has the rusted and pitted remains of fancy armor, some jewelry and a longspear.
Kifla casts detect magic. “That’s magical!” she exclaims after a few moments, pointing at the spear. She claps her hands together in glee.
The party gathers up their loot and then exits the cold barrow. “Let’s get moving,” Grom urges. “My folk need help with those goblins. The others nod, and the party resumes their northward march through the Deadgrass Lands. For a time, the land gradually slopes downwards, and our heroes are forced to traverse a waist-deep swamp. They grumble about it, but slog along. Skaal grumbles and almost stumbles. Suddenly his eyes widen. He looks around wildly.
“LEECHES!” he bellows.
Leeches the size of small dogs. And they are already attached to him, to Tempe, to Romdar, to Barouk and to Zelda! And though the rest of them only have one on each of them, Tempe has two attached to her already!
Our heroes go into a frenzy of motion, stabbing, pulling, screaming and yelling. Now that they know the leeches are there, they can feel a strange numbness in the parts of their bodies that have the leeches attached to them. Kifla summons a celestial porpoise to attack the leeches, while Tempe finds- to her dismay- that the leeches on her are essentially mindless, and thus are not subject to her mental attacks! Grom manages to tear one of them off of her, though, and she smiles in gratitude at him. Romdar can’t seem to get free of one; as some are cast off by other party members, they seem to find their way to him! He cuts and kills, but there seems to always be one on him, sucking out his strength, leaving him weaker and weaker...
Everyone is stabbing, grabbing... more leeches die. Skaal skewers the one sucking his blood with his sickle. Kifla’s porpoise smashes one to pieces. Zelda cuts one. Severin stabs one and it bursts like a balloon filled with blood. Finally, the last leech dies as the porpoise smashes it with its nose. The bog is full of blood.
“That is so gross,” Zelda says, swaying on her feet. She has lost a lot of blood. So have Tempe and Romdar.
“Let’s get out of here,” groans Grom.
As quickly as they are able, the party hurries across the boggy area to the high ground on the other side. It still takes half an hour, but by double-timing it, they manage to get out shortly before dark. They inspect each other: no leeches.
They rest.
They rest and rest and rest, for two days and one night. Barouk and Zelda come down with a rash and a fever; Skaal diagnoses it as the red ache, a disease that may have been carried by the leeches. Skaal and Severin do their best to tend their sick friends. The party, far from fully recovered, continues to rest. Four more days and nights of rest... finally, although both Romdar and Zelda are still not fully recovered from their encounter with the leeches, at least Barouk has thrown off the red ache.
The party moves on across the Deadgrass Lands. In the distance, they can see the mountains; smoke rises from Bleak’s Maw, that terrible mount of evil. That’s the reason that there are Deadgrass Lands at all, thinks Zelda. The ash falls from Bleak’s Maw killed all the more wholesome vegetation that used to live in this area during the Time of the Tarrasques, when the five tarrasques ran rampant over Forinthia. It is hard to believe that was less than three centuries ago!
The party moves along. There is a little vegetation of other sorts here and there; doubtless it grows up quickly between ash falls in a given area, only to be wiped out again when Bleak’s Maw speaks, broods Skaal. At about noon, the party passes into a wide canopy of large, quick-growing trees.
Just inside, something attacks from above.
Grom senses it at the last minute and whips his sword out. It is a blob of living sap, dripping malignantly at him from above- the size of a man! He stabs it with his sword, but it is so sticky that he barely wrenches his blade free! “Look out!” he cries.
Barouk hurls a handful of shuriken at the blob. Plop, plop! Where they hit, they stick, but they also cause it to leak some kind of clear fluid. He moves towards Kifla, throwing more shuriken as he goes.
Zelda, emulating him, fires her bow. Arrows plop into the living sap; she cannot tell if they are hurting it or not. She shrugs. As long as she might be having an effect, she might as well keep it up. It does look like Barouk’s first couple of shuriken hurt it, so why not?
The living sap strikes with a pseudopod, smacking Grom a ringing blow to the head. When it withdraws its pseudopod, it takes a remarkable amount of Grom’s hair with it, tearing it out by the roots. Grom howls in pain and smashes his lantern on the blob, covering it in oil. He pulls out his tinderbox and strikes a spark.
WHOOSH!
The sap thing bursts into a sizzling flame. It starts to make a loud squeal. Severin leaps in and slashes at it with his greatsword, damaging it further, but he, too, can barely keep ahold of his weapon. “It’s sticky!” he shouts. “Be careful when you strike it!”
A burning pseudopod strikes him. With a yell, Severin finds himself drawn towards the burning creature. He kicks the pseudopod and then pushes off against it, tearing himself free and leaving a layer of skin and flesh behind.
The living sap is burning rather merrily, making a bunch of sizzles and squeals, but it is still going. I don’t think it likes fire! Romdar thinks gleefully, and jumps in close to cast burning hands on it. The squealing, sizzling and smoking on increase, and the flames leap higher for a moment. The air is filled with a smell like burning maple syrup. Kifla shouts, “Yes, that’s it! Use fire!” She hurls a torch into the mix, adding fuel to the fire. The blob writhes and squeals, extending pseudopods in all directions, then tries to escape the fire by flowing back up one of the trees. It makes it 15’ before it stops and begins to spatter down to the ground in flaming pieces.
“It’s dead,” Skaal announces with finality.
“Ow,” Grom groans, sitting down. His scalp is a bloody mess, as is Severin. “Do you have any healing?”
Skaal goes to work, but can only do so much. Glancing up, he says, “We should move on. The tree is on fire.”
The party moves on.
***
3 p.m.
Bleak’s Maw is spewing out considerably more ash and smoke than our heroes have seen before, at least from this close distance. “I wonder if there’s going to be an ash fall,” mutters Severin.
“There isn’t much we can do about it, if there is,” Skaal says.
“What would happen if we were caught in an ash fall?” wonders Kifla. ]
“I’m not sure,” the druid replies. “But I doubt that it would be pleasant.”
They make camp early, making a point of choosing a location with a reasonable amount of overhang. As they are gathering what firewood they can find, they notice a figure coming towards them across the Deadgrass Lands. “It looks like a human, from the size of it,” says Romdar.
“Maybe he’s friendly,” Kifla hopes.
The man hails them from about 30’ away. “Hello,” he calls. “I am a traveling herald. May I share your fire?”
The man wears armor and wields a falchion. “You look like a warrior, not a herald,” remarks Barouk.
“Well, I am both,” the man admits. “My name is Cooper.”
“Well, Cooper, so long as you mean us no harm, you may join us,” the dwarf replies.
The man walks forward, keeping his hands in view. He helps the party finish setting up their camp and pulls out some food to contribute to dinner.
“So what are you a herald of?” asks Kifla. “Does it have anything to do with that flashing in the distance?”
“Kind of,” Cooper smiles. That gets everyone’s attention. “I’m here to announce that the old emperor, Prayzose, is dead, and that there is a new emperor- Emperor Thrush.”
Our heroes digest this. “I hope you understand, that is a little bit unbelievable,” Romdar says.
“Yeah, I mean, how could the Emperor die?” Kifla says. “He’s practically a living god!”
“Believe me,” Cooper says confidently. “If you had met this man, the new emperor, you’d understand. He is... amazing. He is the foremost swordsman of our age.”
“Huh,” Zelda grunts disbelievingly. “I still don’t believe it.”
“Well, that’s okay. I don’t have to convince people, just to spread the word.”
“Why you?” asks Severin.
“He hired a bunch of us.”
“Just to wander around and tell people that he’s the new emperor?” Zelda sounds amused.
Cooper just smiles. “You’ll see,” he predicts. “That flashing in the distance? What else could that be, but the sign of great change?”
***
The party rests, then moves on. The ash is starting to fall. They hurry along. Soon they come upon a clearing. Within it is a small thorp of four sod and mud huts clustered together. A small creek runs behind the huts, providing water. Gardens of vegetables struggle to survive the foul soil, and a flock of scrawny chickens is scratching for bugs or seeds. A number of people are outside, farming or gathering in laundry. Severin moves in and starts a conversation with some of the villagers. “We’re adventurers headed north to help deal with some goblin troubles,” he tells them.
“Adventurers, eh?” replies one of the peasants. He introduces himself as Tahl, and offers the group shelter for the duration of the ash fall. “You don’t want to be outside in this,” he tells them. “We wouldn’t turn a thief out in an ash fall.”
***
Several days pass in tiny community as the ash falls. Our heroes get to know the villagers fairly well. There are a total of 17 people here. They are simple farmers, for the most part, though their leader- Simon, an old man who has seen 70 years- is something of a philosopher. The others consist of four men (Tahl, Kevin, Trevin and Jeffrey), their wives (Lois, Tellindra, Liabelle and Herretta) and their children, a mess of lads and lasses that is very difficult to keep straight (boys: Tahl Jr, Alentis, Dexter; girls: Shadra, Nellyse, Chanticleer, Rinva, Leanna).
The folk are friendly and have plenty to eat. They have seen ash storms before, sometimes lasting for a week or more. Generally, afterwards, the area is a mess, and often strange, dangerous things appear is the wake of the ash rain- demonic forces loyal to Bleak. In fact, Simon warns our heroes about “ash zombies,” which he claims suck the heat from their victims.
But when the ash fall is finally over, our heroes thank them for their hospitality and take their leave. Adventure awaits them. They do not wish to overstay their welcome, nor do they any longer have any need to stay.
The landscape is starkly different. The waves of deadgrass are covered in thick drifts of black ash. The air smells of brimstone and foulness. Many plants are dead, and even some trees have fallen. Our heroes shudder to think of what it must be like to be caught in the ash.
Cooper has accompanied the party. His next stop, after all, is to be the same valley where they are headed, though he plans on first going to the city of Brindol. But, as our heroes well know, another sword can make the difference between life and death.
As they proceed along, a wind rises, stirring the ash. Our heroes pull cloaks across their faces and squint as the black ash swirls everywhere.
And something starts to form.
“What the...?” Barouk exclaims in surprise.
A veritable palace forms before them, composed of fragile-looking ash. They can see a gate leading into a courtyard, and within the courtyard is a palace- but it seems ready to blow away in the wind. Neither wood nor stone are in evidence; the entire structure seems composed of grey ash.
“Uh, I don’t know about this,” Romdar says cautiously.
“Hello?” calls Barouk.
There is a faint scream. Then, “Help me!” Not everyone hears it; but both Cooper and Barouk sprint into the courtyard. The rest hang back for a moment, but when nothing immediately ambushes the monk and fighter, they follow them in to the courtyard. Directly ahead of them is the palace, constructed entirely of ash. Four towers, about 50’ high, adorn the corners of the place. There is a subtle asymmetry to the building that troubles the eye. A pair of burnt trees, their shapes captured in ash, flank the obsidian flagstones that lead up to the entrance
“Where did the scream come from?” asks Kifla.
“I don’t know,” Barouk growls, looking around warily.
Suddenly there is a clang! from behind them, like the sound of metal, but from the ashen gate. The party whirls.
The gate has shut, and now is gone, replaced by ashen wall.
”It’s a trap!” cries Zelda.
Abruptly, villainous laughter echoes out from the top of the palace. A dark figure appears on the top balcony of the northeast tower. It is a humanoid goat of some kind, with fur as black as coal. Its horns curl chaotically over its head. It is naked except for a thin black robe. “Greetings!” it cries at the party in Forinthian, in a very manly, masculine voice. “Welcome to the Ashen Palace of Bleak! I am His mouth. I speak his words, and all that I eat is a sacrifice to His glory. Here we will celebrate the triumph of the Black Sun. Please, make yourselves at home; we will feast soon enough.” The figure chuckles. “Unless, of course, you can find your way out. Pass in, and up, and down, and out! Pass the test of Bleak, and you will rewarded! Fail and you will be devoured!”
With that, the figure retreats into its tower.
Our heroes exchange a glance.
“I guess we don’t have much choice,” says Romdar grimly.
Next Time: Into the Ashen Palace of Bleak!
Slickenfiber
First Post
Ah yes.... we stayed for hours with the folk of the thorp. Such a strange and unlikely place for a town. And Kifla had a long meeting with the elder cheif of these sorry pilgrims. Of what they talked about is between them. But I remember wandering the fields as ash began to fall, thoughts reeling about the news from Cooper and the chaos that our Alathion must be in... with Prayzose dethroned and even my Lord and Patron Galidor unable to stop the chaos in the city. I must go back, I thought. Lo for the ash.
Baruk, Fist of the Sun.
Baruk, Fist of the Sun.