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<blockquote data-quote="Xorn" data-source="post: 4451030" data-attributes="member: 61231"><p>Wow. Well suddenly the forums are working much faster and smoother for me, and I'm encouraged that the paste of this post is going to work, this time. I keep retyping this little header, so if it's really short and to the point it's just because I'm tired of typing it. The absence of updates has primarily been due to my finally getting to <em>play</em> 4th Edition, and the difficulty I've been having in just navigating the EnWorld forums, let alone post to them! On with the story! (The players have finished the adventure at this point, and I haven't decided if I will continue the story for the next adventure, yet.)</p><p></p><p>===============</p><p></p><p>Omar felt a wall of heat crash above him like a roiling stampede of fiery rage, and squinted at the clawing flames lapping about just above his head. Having spent more than a few days stoking the coals of the Hammerfast smithy as a child, he was no stranger to the hot, sizzling flash that drew your skin tight and made your senses scream out in alarm, but rather than flinch he charged through the inferno, keeping his shield over his head and covering the top of his back. A pair of zombies standing to either side of him was engulfed by the arc of fire the wizard was blasting around him, as the handle of his shield began to sting his palm from the growing heat. Just as his mind expected the burst of flame to recede, like an explosion would, the arcane blaze only strengthened, snapping at his torso as the living thing washed over the two larger zombies that he was charging.</p><p></p><p> Daichot lunged the butt of his axe into a zombie that grabbed at the wizard from behind, cracking its floppy neck like a twig with the force behind such a subtle attack, then raced after Omar, aware of the fire around him, but not feeling the effects; he wasn’t even sweating in the rising heat of the room. Gritting his teeth with determination, he caught up to the fighter, and they plunged their weapons into the sturdier zombies at the end of the room in unison. Terrible crunching and cracking noises reported from both of the walking corpses, wounds that would have slain any living creature, but only hampering these undead animates’ ability to swing their arms accurately. Grabbing onto Daichot’s axe by the head of the weapon, the beast reached toward him with supernatural strength, and the tielfling fought to wrest his weapon free, as its jaw opened impossibly wide—but no roar came out. Only the soft jingle of the rusty, corroded chainmail the thing wore made any noise at all. Then another explosion of fire howled through the room.</p><p></p><p> The dragonborn had spun to face the north end of the chamber, and vomited up a sickly looking orange flame that engulfed a zombie on the left, while casually pointing his staff at the last zombie in the northeast corner, which spontaneously caused the creature to burst apart as a living fire ravaged the corpse from within. As the hiss of the air racing into the room to replenish the hungry fires slowed, Vrax felt the heat radiating from the flames that danced along the ceiling, begging to race down and gobble up the flesh below, but instead obeying the wizard’s command.</p><p></p><p> The little goblin, Splugg, staggered into the room from the north corridor, clutching at his throat, desperately trying to stop the spray of blood that arced away from a terrible wound. Reaching a blood-slicked hand towards Vrax, the goblinoid gurgled a plea for help as the dragonman’s eyes narrowed. He whipped the tip of his staff around with both hands, impaling the sharp, talon-tipped end of the staff across the goblin’s throat again, severing several of his digits and nearly decapitating the dying goblin. Splugg crumpled to the ground in wide-eyed terror as his lifeblood left him.</p><p></p><p> Percy bolted into the room in time to see the goblin fall, and showing only a moment of hesitation to take in the scene, quickly loosed a bolt from his crossbow, lancing it in between the heavily armored dwarf and tiefling expertly. As Omar twisted away from the unfeeling grasp of the zombie before him, Daichot side-stepped behind him and they switched places, crashing their mighty weapons in from new angles, watching with grim satisfaction as the zombies crumpled with the impacts simultaneously, and fell.</p><p></p><p> Panting from the exertion, Omar turned to face the rest of the room as Daichot watched down the dark passage to the south.</p><p></p><p> “That be all of ‘em?”</p><p></p><p> A chorus of wails, similar to the one the rune made when the wizard touched it careened into the room from the north, and the sound of shuffling, dragging footfalls drifted into the room, reverberating from the north.</p><p></p><p> “I think that answers that question,” offered Percy, “and your beard is smoldering.”</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p> Omar and Daichot squinted as they looked down the long expanse of the crypt before them. Rows of stone sarcophagi stood on end, spaced every ten feet along the chamber, which extended over fifty feet to the east, and twenty to the west, from the passage they followed north after finishing of the last charge of the zombies. Their footprints marred the thin sheen of dust on the floor, and it was apparent this chamber had not been used in a very long time.</p><p></p><p> “This is a burial chamber,” observed Daichot.</p><p></p><p> “Aye, ‘cept tha buried don’ like ta stay that way, it seems.”</p><p></p><p> Daichot glanced back at Vrax. The wizard was holding his staff tightly, watching the coffins lining the walls anxiously, and for a moment the warlord wondered if a nervous mage could accidentally unleash a torrent of fire. He chuckled at the thought, and the dwarf frowned.</p><p></p><p> “Glad ye’re enjoyin’ this, lad,” he scolded, “but try to focus.”</p><p></p><p> Daichot’s smile vanished, and he started to defend himself, but decided to let the issue drop. While the zombie horde had not proved terribly difficult to deal with, they were all still feeling out of sorts after battling fiercely to kill something that was already dead.</p><p></p><p> “I’m ready to admit that I have never been anywhere like this,” interjected the halfling, “but I just gotta say, this feels like a trap. How about we just skip this area and go back to the north?”</p><p></p><p> “Splugg said to go north,” said Vrax, “right before he tried to trick us. So we go south.”</p><p></p><p> “Right,” agreed Percy, “but that was before I realized that south looks like a trap, to me. I’m thinking maybe I should at least just go check what is north. You guys can even wait here—in the trap—till I come back, if you like.”</p><p></p><p> “This is a crypt for the fallen of the First Dragon, Percy.” Daichot pointed at the runes and a familiar silver and blue dragon crest they had seen about the upper levels of the keep. “This is their resting place—and probably why there are no footprints in here. If it is a trap, we’ll still be better off together.”</p><p></p><p> Percy raised a hand in surrender. “Fine. Fine. We’ll go into the trap—but I want someone to remember that I called it, before it’s sprung.”</p><p></p><p> “Noted,” agreed the wizard.</p><p></p><p> “It looks like there is a mural on the ceiling at the end of the chamber, where it opens up there.” The warlord pointed east to the end of the room, past all of the sarcophagi. “And even from here, I can see a shimmer on those stone doors—that’s probably a crypt for someone very important.”</p><p></p><p> “Ye think Keegan is ‘innaer?”</p><p></p><p> “Perhaps.”</p><p></p><p> “And what are the odds that ole’ Keeger ‘is all the way dead,’ and not ‘walking around and trying to kill us’ dead?” asked Percy sarcastically.</p><p></p><p> “One way to find out,” stated the wizard, and they made their way carefully past the leering stone faces on each of the coffins.</p><p></p><p> As they passed the first set of coffins to the east, a tremendous, thundering clack, like the sound of stone blocks crashing together heavily, snapped the air of the room in two as the heavy booming rebounded about the narrow hallway, and the ceiling shuddered, sending rivulets of debris toppling to the ground around them.</p><p></p><p> “Son of a—!” yelled Percy. “I told you!”</p><p></p><p> “How often are you actually right, Percy!?” answered Daichot, as the lids to the coffins all opened at once, and vomited out a wall of skeleton warriors, each brandishing a wicked, rusted blade and awkwardly thrust forward a shield crested with the familiar symbol of the platinum dragon. As all ten of the skeletal fighters seemed to become aware of the intruders in the crypt, they turned as one and charged at them.</p><p></p><p>***</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Xorn, post: 4451030, member: 61231"] Wow. Well suddenly the forums are working much faster and smoother for me, and I'm encouraged that the paste of this post is going to work, this time. I keep retyping this little header, so if it's really short and to the point it's just because I'm tired of typing it. The absence of updates has primarily been due to my finally getting to [I]play[/I] 4th Edition, and the difficulty I've been having in just navigating the EnWorld forums, let alone post to them! On with the story! (The players have finished the adventure at this point, and I haven't decided if I will continue the story for the next adventure, yet.) =============== Omar felt a wall of heat crash above him like a roiling stampede of fiery rage, and squinted at the clawing flames lapping about just above his head. Having spent more than a few days stoking the coals of the Hammerfast smithy as a child, he was no stranger to the hot, sizzling flash that drew your skin tight and made your senses scream out in alarm, but rather than flinch he charged through the inferno, keeping his shield over his head and covering the top of his back. A pair of zombies standing to either side of him was engulfed by the arc of fire the wizard was blasting around him, as the handle of his shield began to sting his palm from the growing heat. Just as his mind expected the burst of flame to recede, like an explosion would, the arcane blaze only strengthened, snapping at his torso as the living thing washed over the two larger zombies that he was charging. Daichot lunged the butt of his axe into a zombie that grabbed at the wizard from behind, cracking its floppy neck like a twig with the force behind such a subtle attack, then raced after Omar, aware of the fire around him, but not feeling the effects; he wasn’t even sweating in the rising heat of the room. Gritting his teeth with determination, he caught up to the fighter, and they plunged their weapons into the sturdier zombies at the end of the room in unison. Terrible crunching and cracking noises reported from both of the walking corpses, wounds that would have slain any living creature, but only hampering these undead animates’ ability to swing their arms accurately. Grabbing onto Daichot’s axe by the head of the weapon, the beast reached toward him with supernatural strength, and the tielfling fought to wrest his weapon free, as its jaw opened impossibly wide—but no roar came out. Only the soft jingle of the rusty, corroded chainmail the thing wore made any noise at all. Then another explosion of fire howled through the room. The dragonborn had spun to face the north end of the chamber, and vomited up a sickly looking orange flame that engulfed a zombie on the left, while casually pointing his staff at the last zombie in the northeast corner, which spontaneously caused the creature to burst apart as a living fire ravaged the corpse from within. As the hiss of the air racing into the room to replenish the hungry fires slowed, Vrax felt the heat radiating from the flames that danced along the ceiling, begging to race down and gobble up the flesh below, but instead obeying the wizard’s command. The little goblin, Splugg, staggered into the room from the north corridor, clutching at his throat, desperately trying to stop the spray of blood that arced away from a terrible wound. Reaching a blood-slicked hand towards Vrax, the goblinoid gurgled a plea for help as the dragonman’s eyes narrowed. He whipped the tip of his staff around with both hands, impaling the sharp, talon-tipped end of the staff across the goblin’s throat again, severing several of his digits and nearly decapitating the dying goblin. Splugg crumpled to the ground in wide-eyed terror as his lifeblood left him. Percy bolted into the room in time to see the goblin fall, and showing only a moment of hesitation to take in the scene, quickly loosed a bolt from his crossbow, lancing it in between the heavily armored dwarf and tiefling expertly. As Omar twisted away from the unfeeling grasp of the zombie before him, Daichot side-stepped behind him and they switched places, crashing their mighty weapons in from new angles, watching with grim satisfaction as the zombies crumpled with the impacts simultaneously, and fell. Panting from the exertion, Omar turned to face the rest of the room as Daichot watched down the dark passage to the south. “That be all of ‘em?” A chorus of wails, similar to the one the rune made when the wizard touched it careened into the room from the north, and the sound of shuffling, dragging footfalls drifted into the room, reverberating from the north. “I think that answers that question,” offered Percy, “and your beard is smoldering.” *** Omar and Daichot squinted as they looked down the long expanse of the crypt before them. Rows of stone sarcophagi stood on end, spaced every ten feet along the chamber, which extended over fifty feet to the east, and twenty to the west, from the passage they followed north after finishing of the last charge of the zombies. Their footprints marred the thin sheen of dust on the floor, and it was apparent this chamber had not been used in a very long time. “This is a burial chamber,” observed Daichot. “Aye, ‘cept tha buried don’ like ta stay that way, it seems.” Daichot glanced back at Vrax. The wizard was holding his staff tightly, watching the coffins lining the walls anxiously, and for a moment the warlord wondered if a nervous mage could accidentally unleash a torrent of fire. He chuckled at the thought, and the dwarf frowned. “Glad ye’re enjoyin’ this, lad,” he scolded, “but try to focus.” Daichot’s smile vanished, and he started to defend himself, but decided to let the issue drop. While the zombie horde had not proved terribly difficult to deal with, they were all still feeling out of sorts after battling fiercely to kill something that was already dead. “I’m ready to admit that I have never been anywhere like this,” interjected the halfling, “but I just gotta say, this feels like a trap. How about we just skip this area and go back to the north?” “Splugg said to go north,” said Vrax, “right before he tried to trick us. So we go south.” “Right,” agreed Percy, “but that was before I realized that south looks like a trap, to me. I’m thinking maybe I should at least just go check what is north. You guys can even wait here—in the trap—till I come back, if you like.” “This is a crypt for the fallen of the First Dragon, Percy.” Daichot pointed at the runes and a familiar silver and blue dragon crest they had seen about the upper levels of the keep. “This is their resting place—and probably why there are no footprints in here. If it is a trap, we’ll still be better off together.” Percy raised a hand in surrender. “Fine. Fine. We’ll go into the trap—but I want someone to remember that I called it, before it’s sprung.” “Noted,” agreed the wizard. “It looks like there is a mural on the ceiling at the end of the chamber, where it opens up there.” The warlord pointed east to the end of the room, past all of the sarcophagi. “And even from here, I can see a shimmer on those stone doors—that’s probably a crypt for someone very important.” “Ye think Keegan is ‘innaer?” “Perhaps.” “And what are the odds that ole’ Keeger ‘is all the way dead,’ and not ‘walking around and trying to kill us’ dead?” asked Percy sarcastically. “One way to find out,” stated the wizard, and they made their way carefully past the leering stone faces on each of the coffins. As they passed the first set of coffins to the east, a tremendous, thundering clack, like the sound of stone blocks crashing together heavily, snapped the air of the room in two as the heavy booming rebounded about the narrow hallway, and the ceiling shuddered, sending rivulets of debris toppling to the ground around them. “Son of a—!” yelled Percy. “I told you!” “How often are you actually right, Percy!?” answered Daichot, as the lids to the coffins all opened at once, and vomited out a wall of skeleton warriors, each brandishing a wicked, rusted blade and awkwardly thrust forward a shield crested with the familiar symbol of the platinum dragon. As all ten of the skeletal fighters seemed to become aware of the intruders in the crypt, they turned as one and charged at them. *** [/QUOTE]
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