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Against the Shadows VII - A Faded Glory Story Hour (Re-Updated - 5/17)
- Thread starter Old One
- Start date
Session 26 (Part One)
In honor of Willpax stopping by (and me seeing that he stopped by), I thought I would drop in a quick update...
Crypt of Horror
Cragen, sweating profusely beneath his scale armor, cursed for the third time, squared his broad-shoulders and raised the symbol of Moradin. Violet light pulsed as he reached deep within his consciousness, seeking the grace of his God with his mind. That tiny corner of his mind that never seemed to stay on task wandered – rolling the events of the last week over and over.
The departure of the Emorians and the survivors of the disastrous Battle at the Bridge had left their combat power seriously depleted. During more lucid moments of their trek north, following the undead army along the Lords road, the companions had questioned the sanity of four (or four and an undead half) against four hundred, but they were driven…determined to succeed or die trying. The trail split in the lofty hills above the shattered ruins of Lords; the larger trail led towards the desolate city, the smaller into a narrow canyon that snaked north and east through the hills.
They had chosen to follow the smaller trail and that trail deposited them before their current predicament…an ancient, faded rune-encrusted doorway, pulsing with subtle, dark energy that, thus far, had resisted all of their attempts to pass. Rosë’s tried to dig around it, Rowan’s attempted to locate an opening mechanism and the combined efforts of the whole party had failed to force the portal. Several hours of frustration spawned no ready answer and Rowan’s idle off-hand comment that their current position – at the end of a narrow box canyon with steep, 20-pace high walls – was a fine place for an ambush.
Inspiration had struck Cragen from far back in his religious training, a remembrance that some portals could be opened or forced through pure faith. Thus, for nearly an hour, the dwarf called upon his inner power and pitted it against the door. Several times he felt the magic barring them waver and retreat, but his faith was not enough to open the way. Thus, he gathered his will for the sixth time and hurled it at the stubborn door.
Cragen’s full mind snapped back to the present as he hammered his will against the door. Sweat washed down his body and matted his beard. He felt invisible cracks begin to appear in the barrier and tried to pour his faith into the gaps. Finally, the strain was too great and the dwarf cried out and fell to his knees, releasing his will. The invisible force snapped back into place like a spider’s web rebounding after snaring an unwary fly.
He pounded his iron-clad fist into the hard ground in frustration and howled. His baritone echoed down the canyon and arroyos. He shook his shaggy head, “I am defeated.”
Rowan and Rosë exchanged helpless looks while Sextus stroked his chin with a delicate hand. The bard wondered aloud, “Perhaps it only works for undead…”
The younger Scipio’s voice trailed off as he turned and stared at the forgotten Garrick.
Three other sets of eyes snapped to the form of the undead halfling. Less than a minute later, after hurried instructions, the diminutive zombie stepped to – and through – the portal. A click and an audible “hiss” soon followed. The energy field wavered and died, revealing shadowy shallow steps down and a corridor lit with a sickly green hue at the far end.
Cragen couldn’t tell of the look the halfling shot him as they trooped down the corridor was one of amusement or disdain, but the cleric’s mood was dark as the sunlight disappeared at their back.
To Be Continued…
Next: Session 26 (Part Two) – Madness
Enjoy!
~ Old One
In honor of Willpax stopping by (and me seeing that he stopped by), I thought I would drop in a quick update...
Crypt of Horror
Cragen, sweating profusely beneath his scale armor, cursed for the third time, squared his broad-shoulders and raised the symbol of Moradin. Violet light pulsed as he reached deep within his consciousness, seeking the grace of his God with his mind. That tiny corner of his mind that never seemed to stay on task wandered – rolling the events of the last week over and over.
The departure of the Emorians and the survivors of the disastrous Battle at the Bridge had left their combat power seriously depleted. During more lucid moments of their trek north, following the undead army along the Lords road, the companions had questioned the sanity of four (or four and an undead half) against four hundred, but they were driven…determined to succeed or die trying. The trail split in the lofty hills above the shattered ruins of Lords; the larger trail led towards the desolate city, the smaller into a narrow canyon that snaked north and east through the hills.
They had chosen to follow the smaller trail and that trail deposited them before their current predicament…an ancient, faded rune-encrusted doorway, pulsing with subtle, dark energy that, thus far, had resisted all of their attempts to pass. Rosë’s tried to dig around it, Rowan’s attempted to locate an opening mechanism and the combined efforts of the whole party had failed to force the portal. Several hours of frustration spawned no ready answer and Rowan’s idle off-hand comment that their current position – at the end of a narrow box canyon with steep, 20-pace high walls – was a fine place for an ambush.
Inspiration had struck Cragen from far back in his religious training, a remembrance that some portals could be opened or forced through pure faith. Thus, for nearly an hour, the dwarf called upon his inner power and pitted it against the door. Several times he felt the magic barring them waver and retreat, but his faith was not enough to open the way. Thus, he gathered his will for the sixth time and hurled it at the stubborn door.
Cragen’s full mind snapped back to the present as he hammered his will against the door. Sweat washed down his body and matted his beard. He felt invisible cracks begin to appear in the barrier and tried to pour his faith into the gaps. Finally, the strain was too great and the dwarf cried out and fell to his knees, releasing his will. The invisible force snapped back into place like a spider’s web rebounding after snaring an unwary fly.
He pounded his iron-clad fist into the hard ground in frustration and howled. His baritone echoed down the canyon and arroyos. He shook his shaggy head, “I am defeated.”
Rowan and Rosë exchanged helpless looks while Sextus stroked his chin with a delicate hand. The bard wondered aloud, “Perhaps it only works for undead…”
The younger Scipio’s voice trailed off as he turned and stared at the forgotten Garrick.
Three other sets of eyes snapped to the form of the undead halfling. Less than a minute later, after hurried instructions, the diminutive zombie stepped to – and through – the portal. A click and an audible “hiss” soon followed. The energy field wavered and died, revealing shadowy shallow steps down and a corridor lit with a sickly green hue at the far end.
Cragen couldn’t tell of the look the halfling shot him as they trooped down the corridor was one of amusement or disdain, but the cleric’s mood was dark as the sunlight disappeared at their back.
To Be Continued…
Next: Session 26 (Part Two) – Madness
Enjoy!
~ Old One
Session 26 (Part Two)
Tryin' to get caught up here
!
Madness
Their exploration of complex was cautious, but their pace somewhat rapid, driven by the keen desire to save the remainder of the children. Ancient masonry supported slightly arched ceilings but, despite the obvious age of the walls, the floor looked almost new. The green luminescence they noted initially grew stronger as they worked their way down the corridor.
The first chamber they entered spanned many paces in both length and breadth. The light issued from large troughs that lined the wall opposite the entrance. Hands flew to weapons as a skeleton entered through another doorway, but the undead minion ignored the party as it moved to one of the troughs, dipped a large ceramic jug into it and departed, bearing the jug away.
Examination revealed the troughs to be filled with thick liquid that provided the eerie illumination. Rowan dipped an arrow into the liquid and was rewarded with a faint hissing sound. He pulled the projectile away in time to see the head pit and crumble away within a few grains, leaving a headless shaft.
“Look, but don’t touch…” He looked pointedly at Rosë. The Brigante grinned sheepishly. Their examination was interrupted by the arrival of another skeletal urn-bearer. Again, it seemed to take no notice of the party, but simply scooped an urn-full and departed. This time, they trailed after the silent skeleton.
Their undead guide wove its way through corridors and vacant rooms. They noted another trough room and several other skeletal servitors before they passed through a doorway and found themselves on a half-round platform overlooking a vast, dimly lit chamber. The skeleton emptied the sluggish liquid into a small cistern in the middle of the platform and departed.
The sight before them assaulted their senses and chipped away at their sanity. The cavernous chamber bore the same greenish taint as the rest of the complex, but it emanated from four rivulets of liquid that ran from the apparent corners of the room to meet and intertwine in the center, rising in a seemingly unsupported column to the roof.
One of the flow originated from below the platform they stood on and they could barely make out a similar platform to their right as they stared at the center column. Cragen quickly surmise that two other platforms were across the chamber, hidden in the greenish gloom.
Rowan snorted and shook his head, “This makes no sense…what in Light’s name is this place?”
The others slowly shook their head. Sextus silently wished that Quintus were there. His brother had a knack for figuring these types of mysterious out. The bard felt a sudden, and very acute, pang of loss. Cragen rubbed his eyes and blinked before rumbling, “Something isn’t right here…Rowan, look closely at yonder pillar…how many paces away do you guess?”
The ranger’s practiced eye gauged the distance and he started to speak. He stopped as his vision wavered a bit and the physical location of the liquid column seemed to shift ever so slightly. He concentrated again and was again about to answer when the same thing happened. “I…I…can’t tell…it seems to be…moving!”
The dwarf nodded grimly. “My perceptions of this place…in this place…keep altering.”
A scraping sound behind them attenuated their discussion. Another skeleton appeared with its ceramic urn. Rosë, startled, reacted on instinct. His borrowed gladius lashed out, skittering through the undead ribcage and sending bone chips flying. The skeleton staggered, but didn’t fall. Its riposte was immediate. It hurled the ceramic jar at the barbarian.
Cragen cursed in dwarvish.
Rosë managed to dodge the jar, but it shattered as it struck the parapet of the platform, spewing green liquid. Several of the companions joined Cragen’s cursing as the liquid sizzled and popped on steel, leather and bare skin, leaving acidic burns in its wake. Hammer and sword converged on the skeleton, reducing it to kindling.
Cragen groused as a patch of beard came away from his face with a bit of underlying skin. “Dammit…if they not be botherin’ us…let’s not be botherin’ them…leastways not fer now!”
The others nodded in agreement as they attended their wounds.
A turn of the minute glass later, Sextus whistled softly. “Would you look at that.”
He pointed to the remains of the skeletal urn-bearer. The others followed his gesture. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the broken bones and urn shards were sinking into the floor. They stood, stock still, for nearly five turns of the minute glass, watching as the floor swallowed every last fragment.
Rosë grunted. “That can’t be good…”
The scrape of bone on stone alerted them to the arrival of another urn-bearer. They left this one unmolested and it returned the favor.
Further inspection revealed another platform on the same side of the cavern, but they could find no way to get to the other side. Distance, space and even time seemed somewhat suspect. An attempt to reach the cavern floor by rappelling from one of the parapets left Rowan dangling 20 paces above the bottom – too little rope for too much climb. Frustration continued to mount as minutes turned into hours.
Cragen slammed an armored fist into the top of the parapet as they stood on the overlook for the tenth time. His stomach turned a bit when the seemingly solid stone “gave” a bit under his blow. “There has got to be a way down there!”
Rowan, equally irritated, agreed. “Clearly we have missed something…we must redouble our efforts.”
After a brief discussion, they concentrated their efforts on the long corridor connecting the two platforms. A long, tedious search revealed a cunningly designed hidden door. “Damn fine work,” Cragen mumbled with grudging respect.
Stairs behind the door took them down and passage through another door deposited them on the floor of the cavern. Two things became readily apparent. First, the distortion they had experienced above was magnified two to three-fold at ground level. Second, the floor itself, a patchwork of irregular flagstone gave as they stepped on it, with their boots sinking a finger’s breadth as they walked.
(DM’s Note: I likened this to stepping on a very firm waterbed.)
The greenish cast from the rivulets and center pillar washed their collective faces in an eerie hue as they cautiously crossed the floor. The hair on the back of Rowan’s neck stood at attention. The ranger’s eyes darted too and fro, trying to fix objects and distance into a stable pattern, with little success. He whispered, to no one in particular, “Something about this is so…wrong.”
Halfway to the pillar, hazy details became more distinct. The pillar was, in fact, supported. A large, low dais rose from the floor and the rivulets, defying gravity, ran up the corners of the dais before twining around the column and rotating upward in a bizarre display. The closer they got to the center, the more give the floor displayed.
Sextus, whose eyes had been drawn increasingly to the floor during their advance, softly called for a halt. He crouched down, removed a glove and lightly ran his hand over the flagstones. He was startled to find them warm to the touch. Bile rose in his throat as realization struck him like a hammer blow. The floor was not constructed of flagstones…it was crafted from flayed skin…thousands and thousands of flayed skins.
He jumped to his feet and staggered back, choking back vomit. “The floor,” he coughed.
Pale faces awash in sickly green accompanied group understanding.
“This is monstrous,” Cragen growled through clenched teeth. He shifted the grip on his shield and swung his hammer low as he strode toward the pillar. The others followed…all but Rosë. The barbarian’s natural curiosity warred with urge to flee for several grains before he stabbed the floor with one of his borrowed swords. Greenish liquid sprayed, drenching the blade and catching him full in the torso. He cursed, grimly stifling a scream as flesh and metal succumbed to the acidic liquid. Abashed, he hurriedly limped after the others.
He found them cautiously mounting broad, shallow steps. They halted a spear’s length from the pillar and upward spiraling liquid. The pillar was so big that a dozen grown men clasping hands would barely have circled it. Cragen noted Rosë’s new wounds and shook his head
‘Idiot.’
Careful to give the rivulets and pillar a respectful berth, they began to search the area. A cursory search produced no results, although they noted a faint pulsing – almost a rhythm – coming from the pillar.
Rowan paused, cocking his head. “It’s almost like a heartb…”
His comment was interrupted by a harsh cackle. The voice of the undead commander assaulted their ears.
“Welcome!”
A high-pitched keening sound followed quickly on the heels of the unwelcome welcome. Something the size of a grapefruit hit Cragen in the side and almost knocked him from the dais. He blanched in horror as he looked down at the missile. A mummified child’s head, yellow eyes blazing with malevolent hatred, was busily trying to gnaw through his scale armor with razor-sharp teeth. A cord of twisted and dried intestine connected the head to something in the greenish haze beyond the dais.
The dwarf screamed as the teeth found his flesh. His screams redoubled as the crew of the zombie-head shooting ballista, feeling the bite, began winching their living “fish” towards them. Cragen, vision swimming in agony, planted his feet and tried to keep from being pulled off the dais. All around, skeletons and zombies appeared, marching inexorably toward the small band of companions on the dais – a sea of undead washing around a small island of life.
The battle was joined!
To Be Continued…
Next: Session 26 (Part Three) – Of Traps and Bones and Unlikely Heroes
Enjoy!
~ Old One
Tryin' to get caught up here
!Madness
Their exploration of complex was cautious, but their pace somewhat rapid, driven by the keen desire to save the remainder of the children. Ancient masonry supported slightly arched ceilings but, despite the obvious age of the walls, the floor looked almost new. The green luminescence they noted initially grew stronger as they worked their way down the corridor.
The first chamber they entered spanned many paces in both length and breadth. The light issued from large troughs that lined the wall opposite the entrance. Hands flew to weapons as a skeleton entered through another doorway, but the undead minion ignored the party as it moved to one of the troughs, dipped a large ceramic jug into it and departed, bearing the jug away.
Examination revealed the troughs to be filled with thick liquid that provided the eerie illumination. Rowan dipped an arrow into the liquid and was rewarded with a faint hissing sound. He pulled the projectile away in time to see the head pit and crumble away within a few grains, leaving a headless shaft.
“Look, but don’t touch…” He looked pointedly at Rosë. The Brigante grinned sheepishly. Their examination was interrupted by the arrival of another skeletal urn-bearer. Again, it seemed to take no notice of the party, but simply scooped an urn-full and departed. This time, they trailed after the silent skeleton.
Their undead guide wove its way through corridors and vacant rooms. They noted another trough room and several other skeletal servitors before they passed through a doorway and found themselves on a half-round platform overlooking a vast, dimly lit chamber. The skeleton emptied the sluggish liquid into a small cistern in the middle of the platform and departed.
The sight before them assaulted their senses and chipped away at their sanity. The cavernous chamber bore the same greenish taint as the rest of the complex, but it emanated from four rivulets of liquid that ran from the apparent corners of the room to meet and intertwine in the center, rising in a seemingly unsupported column to the roof.
One of the flow originated from below the platform they stood on and they could barely make out a similar platform to their right as they stared at the center column. Cragen quickly surmise that two other platforms were across the chamber, hidden in the greenish gloom.
Rowan snorted and shook his head, “This makes no sense…what in Light’s name is this place?”
The others slowly shook their head. Sextus silently wished that Quintus were there. His brother had a knack for figuring these types of mysterious out. The bard felt a sudden, and very acute, pang of loss. Cragen rubbed his eyes and blinked before rumbling, “Something isn’t right here…Rowan, look closely at yonder pillar…how many paces away do you guess?”
The ranger’s practiced eye gauged the distance and he started to speak. He stopped as his vision wavered a bit and the physical location of the liquid column seemed to shift ever so slightly. He concentrated again and was again about to answer when the same thing happened. “I…I…can’t tell…it seems to be…moving!”
The dwarf nodded grimly. “My perceptions of this place…in this place…keep altering.”
A scraping sound behind them attenuated their discussion. Another skeleton appeared with its ceramic urn. Rosë, startled, reacted on instinct. His borrowed gladius lashed out, skittering through the undead ribcage and sending bone chips flying. The skeleton staggered, but didn’t fall. Its riposte was immediate. It hurled the ceramic jar at the barbarian.
Cragen cursed in dwarvish.
Rosë managed to dodge the jar, but it shattered as it struck the parapet of the platform, spewing green liquid. Several of the companions joined Cragen’s cursing as the liquid sizzled and popped on steel, leather and bare skin, leaving acidic burns in its wake. Hammer and sword converged on the skeleton, reducing it to kindling.
Cragen groused as a patch of beard came away from his face with a bit of underlying skin. “Dammit…if they not be botherin’ us…let’s not be botherin’ them…leastways not fer now!”
The others nodded in agreement as they attended their wounds.
A turn of the minute glass later, Sextus whistled softly. “Would you look at that.”
He pointed to the remains of the skeletal urn-bearer. The others followed his gesture. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the broken bones and urn shards were sinking into the floor. They stood, stock still, for nearly five turns of the minute glass, watching as the floor swallowed every last fragment.
Rosë grunted. “That can’t be good…”
The scrape of bone on stone alerted them to the arrival of another urn-bearer. They left this one unmolested and it returned the favor.
Further inspection revealed another platform on the same side of the cavern, but they could find no way to get to the other side. Distance, space and even time seemed somewhat suspect. An attempt to reach the cavern floor by rappelling from one of the parapets left Rowan dangling 20 paces above the bottom – too little rope for too much climb. Frustration continued to mount as minutes turned into hours.
Cragen slammed an armored fist into the top of the parapet as they stood on the overlook for the tenth time. His stomach turned a bit when the seemingly solid stone “gave” a bit under his blow. “There has got to be a way down there!”
Rowan, equally irritated, agreed. “Clearly we have missed something…we must redouble our efforts.”
After a brief discussion, they concentrated their efforts on the long corridor connecting the two platforms. A long, tedious search revealed a cunningly designed hidden door. “Damn fine work,” Cragen mumbled with grudging respect.
Stairs behind the door took them down and passage through another door deposited them on the floor of the cavern. Two things became readily apparent. First, the distortion they had experienced above was magnified two to three-fold at ground level. Second, the floor itself, a patchwork of irregular flagstone gave as they stepped on it, with their boots sinking a finger’s breadth as they walked.
(DM’s Note: I likened this to stepping on a very firm waterbed.)
The greenish cast from the rivulets and center pillar washed their collective faces in an eerie hue as they cautiously crossed the floor. The hair on the back of Rowan’s neck stood at attention. The ranger’s eyes darted too and fro, trying to fix objects and distance into a stable pattern, with little success. He whispered, to no one in particular, “Something about this is so…wrong.”
Halfway to the pillar, hazy details became more distinct. The pillar was, in fact, supported. A large, low dais rose from the floor and the rivulets, defying gravity, ran up the corners of the dais before twining around the column and rotating upward in a bizarre display. The closer they got to the center, the more give the floor displayed.
Sextus, whose eyes had been drawn increasingly to the floor during their advance, softly called for a halt. He crouched down, removed a glove and lightly ran his hand over the flagstones. He was startled to find them warm to the touch. Bile rose in his throat as realization struck him like a hammer blow. The floor was not constructed of flagstones…it was crafted from flayed skin…thousands and thousands of flayed skins.
He jumped to his feet and staggered back, choking back vomit. “The floor,” he coughed.
Pale faces awash in sickly green accompanied group understanding.
“This is monstrous,” Cragen growled through clenched teeth. He shifted the grip on his shield and swung his hammer low as he strode toward the pillar. The others followed…all but Rosë. The barbarian’s natural curiosity warred with urge to flee for several grains before he stabbed the floor with one of his borrowed swords. Greenish liquid sprayed, drenching the blade and catching him full in the torso. He cursed, grimly stifling a scream as flesh and metal succumbed to the acidic liquid. Abashed, he hurriedly limped after the others.
He found them cautiously mounting broad, shallow steps. They halted a spear’s length from the pillar and upward spiraling liquid. The pillar was so big that a dozen grown men clasping hands would barely have circled it. Cragen noted Rosë’s new wounds and shook his head
‘Idiot.’
Careful to give the rivulets and pillar a respectful berth, they began to search the area. A cursory search produced no results, although they noted a faint pulsing – almost a rhythm – coming from the pillar.
Rowan paused, cocking his head. “It’s almost like a heartb…”
His comment was interrupted by a harsh cackle. The voice of the undead commander assaulted their ears.
“Welcome!”
A high-pitched keening sound followed quickly on the heels of the unwelcome welcome. Something the size of a grapefruit hit Cragen in the side and almost knocked him from the dais. He blanched in horror as he looked down at the missile. A mummified child’s head, yellow eyes blazing with malevolent hatred, was busily trying to gnaw through his scale armor with razor-sharp teeth. A cord of twisted and dried intestine connected the head to something in the greenish haze beyond the dais.
The dwarf screamed as the teeth found his flesh. His screams redoubled as the crew of the zombie-head shooting ballista, feeling the bite, began winching their living “fish” towards them. Cragen, vision swimming in agony, planted his feet and tried to keep from being pulled off the dais. All around, skeletons and zombies appeared, marching inexorably toward the small band of companions on the dais – a sea of undead washing around a small island of life.
The battle was joined!
To Be Continued…
Next: Session 26 (Part Three) – Of Traps and Bones and Unlikely Heroes
Enjoy!
~ Old One
HalfOrc HalfBiscuit
Adventurer
That's truly twisted ................ I like it
!!Excellent stuff. Keep those updates coming!
HalfOrc HalfBiscuit said:That's truly twisted ................ I like it
Excellent stuff. Keep those updates coming!
HO-HB,
Why thank you! I actually came up with the zombie-head firing ballista as a recommendation to another DM in the RBDM Club Forum. I liked it so much, I decided to inflict my own players with it
! One of the fun things about it is that you can use all kinds of ammo...ghoul heads, shadow bolts, skelatal harpoons, wight grenades...there is no end to the fun you can have with it ![:]](http://www.enworld.org/forum/images/smilies/devious.png "Devious :]")
!Thanks for stoppin' by...
~ OO
Greetings Gang,
One thing I failed to mention was the Rose - in his less-than-infinite wisdom and thinking the green liquid was some new-fangled tropical drink - decided to "taste test" the acidic slime!
Needless to say, it burned the cr*p out of his tongue and made it even harder to understand for awhile.
EDIT: Our apologies to Dranko of Sagiro's SH Fame!
~ OO
One thing I failed to mention was the Rose - in his less-than-infinite wisdom and thinking the green liquid was some new-fangled tropical drink - decided to "taste test" the acidic slime
!Needless to say, it burned the cr*p out of his tongue and made it even harder to understand for awhile.
EDIT: Our apologies to Dranko of Sagiro's SH Fame
!~ OO
Last edited:
Rel
Liquid Awesome
Far out.
I see that Rose is a firm believer in the barbarian school of thought that there is no problem that can't be solved by either knocking it down, eating it or stabbing it with a sword. Good stuff.
There's a guy in our group now who is playing his barbarian in the exact same way. It should provide many an entertaining moment in the future!
I see that Rose is a firm believer in the barbarian school of thought that there is no problem that can't be solved by either knocking it down, eating it or stabbing it with a sword. Good stuff.
There's a guy in our group now who is playing his barbarian in the exact same way. It should provide many an entertaining moment in the future!
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