Bootsy – 5th/1st Level Gnome Sorcerer/Fighter.
Celtir – 6th Level Elven Cleric.
Frankie – 6th Level Dwarven Barbarian.
Tristan – 5th Level Human Paladin.
Wencis – 5th Level Aasimar Incarnate.
As the companions came back downstairs from preparing spells and equipment for the trip to the Necromancers Spike, they saw a familiar face sitting at one of the tables. Bruthwol Coalhauler smiled as he spread his arms in greeting.
“Greetings, friends! You made it safely, I see. Have you had any success finding what you seek? If there is anything you need to buy or sell, I’m sure I could be of assistance. With the resources of the Bazaar at my disposal, I could find many things that you might find useful. There would be a ‘finder’s fee’ of course,” he adds with a wink. “If there is anything I can help you with, you have but to ask and I’ll do what I can. Please join me if you will, you can tell me of your experiences in Pedestal.”
Thinking of things they may need or want for their expedition to the Necromancers Spike they accepted Bruthwol’s invitation and seated themselves around his table.
Into the Spike
Their business with Bruthwol completed, the companions left the Inn and headed east down Matron Row to where the unblocked East Gate allowed entrance to the Noble Quarter. Passing through the gate the ruined towering mansions were revealed. Most were decaying and covered with opportunistic fungi.
Traveling just a block through the ruined quarter they came upon the massive column of unbelievable size that was the Necromancer’s Spike – the heart of the city, its highest point. Looking up, the companions saw light glimmering all around the curving sides of the towering natural formation, as if from hundreds of tiny windows. As they approached the entrance at the base of the column, they could see the tiny patches of light were clearly discrete patches of luminescent fungi.
As the companions approached the entryway, Tristan checked to make sure the obsidian ring was in place on one of his fingers. “Remember, I should enter first. The magic that wards the entrance may not be obvious.”
Thick stone doors that must have once secured the entry lay in piles of gravel and small boulders all around the entrance. As they approached, a bulky male Drow in a shining breastplate stepped out from behind a pillar. He glared at the companions and waved his serrated scimitar, his shield at the ready.
“Get gone from here, or we’ll use your skins for our cloaks!” He snarled. “House Dusklorn claims the Necromancer’s Spike!”
Deeper in the tunnel, they saw another Drow covering them with an ornate longbow.
The companions stopped, unsure of how to proceed. As Celtir tried to think of what approach to use diplomatically, Bootsy stepped behind some rubble and cast two spells in quick succession. The first rendered him invisible, the second created a strong electrical charge on his hands.
Moving as quietly as he could, he snuck up to the first Drow, who had grown even more suspicious of the party. Just as he was about to signal his companion to attack, he heard the sound of the rocks in front of him shifting even as he saw a brief spark discharge on his armor. The spell washed harmlessly over the Drow and he was only mildly surprised to see the gnome standing before him.
Bootsy quickly backpedaled to put some distance between him and the Drow, drawing his trusty crossbow as he went. The Drow slashed him with his scimitar as he retreated causing a minor wound. At first Bootsy was unconcerned as he brought his crossbow up for the shot, but then noticed that he suddenly felt drowsy and understood that the enemy’s weapons must be poisoned. He shrugged off the feeling and fired his crossbow, his bolt creasing the Drow’s cheek. The remaining companions surged forward to attack and the first Drow was quickly cut down. The Second fired his bow, piercing Tristan’s leg. Wincing at the pain and shaking his head to clear his mind from the sluggishness that followed, Tristan charged forward and slashed the Drow with Merthuvial. His companions crowded into the narrow entryway to assist where they could and the second Drow only managed to attack Tristan once more before he was dropped in a flurry of blades and arrows.
The companions made a quick search of the bodies and the surrounding area but found little beyond the Drow’s equipment.
Looking deeper into the tunnel, they saw a green haze filled the next chamber, giving it a strangely aquatic look. The floor was tiled with slabs the color of bone and the walls were crowded with what appeared to be hundreds of vault doors, each bearing the crude likeness of a humanoid. Drifts of gray dust were mounded here and there, but were piled thickly in each corner. A chill radiated from the chamber that cut right through the companion’s cloaks and seemed to portend death.
Tristan gave a wry smile, “Then again, the warded room may be rather obvious. We should decide on a course of action before we enter. Es Sarch warned us that the protection offered by the ring only lasts a short time each day.”
Examining the room without entering, the companions noticed only two exits, one on either of the side walls. Following a brief discussion it was decided to go left. While making sure all was ready for their advance, Bootsy Slumped to the floor. Used to Bootsy’s antics the companions waited for a moment to see what he might do. When he made no move to rise, Wencis bent over to check on him. “He’s out. He must have finally succumbed to the Drow poison. He’ll wake eventually, but it may be a few hours.”
Another brief discussion and it was decided they should rest once they were beyond the warded room. Double checking everything once again, Frankie lifted the gnome up onto his shoulders and they gathered at the entryway.
Moving quickly through the room the companions opened the northern door and crowded through into a narrow hall that offered a number of choices. Four doors were equally spaced down the length of the northern wall and, counting the door they had entered through, two doors stood at either end of the southern wall.
As Frankie set Bootsy down, Wencis moved to the first of the four doors and opened it while Celtir opened the second. Beyond each door was a small room, its walls lined with shelves, nooks and pedestals upon which rested the dusty relics of a life spent in the study of magic and death. The first held preserved body parts of rare beasts. The second held what may have been exhausted magic items, dusty wands and staves now nothing more than sticks. Celtir smiled, “It’s a good thing Bootsy is already out, the sense of frustration at seeing so many expended magic items would probably send him right over the edge.”
Making sure Bootsy would be in the first room, the companions split into two groups to rest in the two rooms. Most of the time was uneventful, though in the first hour the companions heard distant screams and cries that seemed to come from further in the Spike. In the fourth hour, mere minutes before Bootsy finally awoke, Tristan felt a strange sensation that he could not describe, though the feeling was fleeting and seemed to have no lasting effect on him.
When Bootsy finally awoke he seemed back to his normal self, though he was a little grumpy at what he felt was a display of weakness in front of his companions. The companions quickly ushered him past the second door and down toward the end of the hall. The third door revealed a similar room with various religious icons and paraphernalia spread throughout the room. Always interested in displays of religion, Celtir entered and gathered a few of the relics noting they seemed to cover most of the common religions of the world and even a few that were uncommon.
Wencis opened the fourth door and saw cobwebbed niches filled with dusty skulls and bones of humanoid creatures. Before he could take more than one step into the room, the door made a sound as if it were opening once again, even though the already open door did not budge. The translucent shade of a gaunt male Drow seemed to step right through Wencis and into the room, his black staff clicking against the floor as he entered. As Wencis watched, the shade removed a cloak and hung it on the wall near the door, and then he abruptly cocked his head and looked upwards, mouthing words silently and looking angry. The figure turned and rushed from the room, disappearing near the doorway. Wencis noticed the cloak still hung near the door.
He entered the room and cautiously lifted the cloak from its peg. He turned to Bootsy, “Is this magical?”
Bootsy murmured a quick incantation and then gazed at the cloak, “Yep.” He then cast his gaze around the rest of the room, making sure to include the ceiling in his scrutiny, but saw nothing of interest. “But nothing else is,” he said, shaking his head as he left the room.
Seeing no other options, the companions turned to the door on the opposite wall. Soft illumination from a candelabrum full of black candles that sat in the center of a huge stone table lit the chamber beyond the door. Ten ironwork chairs, the most elaborate of which was at the head of the table to the north, surrounded the slab. All the places were set. Dust and cobwebs covered the whole scene.
A quick examination revealed nothing of value and showed the candle flame was magical in nature. Noting the double doors on the southern wall of the room, the companions chose to go through a single door in the western wall.
Covered in cobwebs and dust, this small room was empty except for rows of blanket covered beds.
“Guess we should have explored a little further when we were looking for a place to rest,” Wencis laughed. A quick search uncovered nothing else of interest.
Returning to the dining room, the companions opened the double doors into another hall that continued south where it appeared to open into a room to the east. The corridor also went to the west where there appeared to be a number of doors on either side of the corridor.
Following the corridor to the south, the companions found it opened into what appeared to be a small kitchen. A stone counter lined the southern wall and a leering gargoyles head looked downward, mouth open, into a black sink at the counter’s end to the east. Worn smooth in places, a long stone table occupied the center of the room. Above it hung a web of wrought iron, upon which dangled iron pots and utensils. Two huge fireplaces, each furnished with iron wire shelves and rods to set or suspend pots on, were set into the walls – one to the east and the other in an alcove to the north. Soot and ash were still piled in their bottoms. A pantry loomed in the northwest corner, its shelves still held a few shiny dishes, possibly of gold or brass. Unlike the musty areas they had explored so far, this room smelled vaguely of death.
Bootsy, finding the idea of exploring a kitchen rather boring, started to wander back down toward the western hall to inspect one of the more interesting doors. Celtir and Wencis entered the kitchen to see what they could find, while Tristan and Frankie stayed in the hall, waiting for the first sign of trouble. They didn’t have long to wait. Celtir turned to examine the stone counter and sink as Wencis went to the table in the center of the room. Before he could touch anything, he noticed five tiny, vaguely humanoid accumulations of ash, bone and teeth dart from the fireplaces. Their leg-like appendages made a repulsive pattering sound as they surged toward Celtir and Wencis with alarming speed. Sooty dust they had stirred up lent a bitter tang to the air.
Wencis lashed out with his hammer wounding one as the three of tiny creatures crawled right up to him and bit at his legs. Holding his bow, Celtir was unable to get a bearing on the two that attacked him. Frankie and Tristan ran to help, each killing one of the horrid creatures that crawled on either of their companions. Hearing the sounds of combat, Bootsy ran back down the hall to see what was going on. With the full force of the companions weapons and magic brought to bear on the tiny creatures they were quickly killed, but not before Wencis and Celtir were both bitten by the tiny undead.
As Wencis went to examine the pantry, Celtir showed Tristan his leg where the creature had bitten him, “Does this look infected to you?” Tristan just shrugged then they both looked about as the stench of rot suddenly grew stronger in the room.
With a low moan, the pantry shelves sprouted lashing pseudopods tipped with terrible claws. A gnashing maw filled with yellow fangs and viscous saliva appeared between the grasping arms. One of the arms struck Wencis, who found himself stuck to the disgusting creature by some slimy adhesive.
Bootsy had once again started to wander to the far end of the hall. To get his attention Celtir let out a yell, “Mimic!”
Wencis quickly corrected him, “Undead Mimic!”
The companions converged on the creature as it started to crush Wencis in its grasp. Wencis reached out with his soul energy gauntlets, burning at the creatures flesh as the weapons of his companions sliced into the creature, the adhesive threatening to pull the weapons from their hands. Once again it was Frankie’s greataxe that finished their foe. As the creature died, Wencis was finally able to pull himself free of the creature as the adhesive seemed to break down.
Having encountered so much trouble in such a small room, the companions were hesitant to continue their search. They finally got up the nerve and finished the search uneventfully. They found nothing more than pots, pans and utensils.
While the others were examining the kitchen Bootsy had finally made it to the two doors at the far end of the western hall. One he was certain opened into the warded room so he opened the other. A wave of cold washed over him and his breath turned to steam as the door opened. Shelves all along the walls held limbless bodies – turned blue-white but preserved by the cold – with their heads still attached.
Tristan came up to look just as Bootsy was finishing his examination. He frowned in disgust and anger at what he saw, “What in the name of all that is holy is this Place? Who would commit such an atrocity? I would destroy all that is here if I didn’t think it would be even more disrespectful to the bodies of these poor souls!” He knelt with Merthuvial before him and murmured a prayer for the souls of the dead and then he quickly stood, turned and left the room without looking back.
Bootsy joined them in the middle of the hall where there was a door to the south. “Well, this is the only door on this level we haven’t tried.”
Wencis opened the door. The large chamber curved outward at the south end. Within that curve were gradual stairs that lead to an altar of black stone. The statue of a spider the size of a big bear, seemingly pieced together from bones and fangs, stood astride the altar. From the altar a gossamer carpet of webs stretched down the stairs and fifteen feet into the room, enshrouded a pedestal in the middle of the room.
Bootsy pulled out one of his wands and grinned, “This looks like a job for… Fireball!” A small bead the size of a pea flew from the end of the wand and blossomed into a ball of fire that covered most of the chamber, burning away the webs while leaving the stonework unharmed. After waiting a bit to let some of the smoke from the burning webs clear, the companions entered.
Tristan stepped up to what was now revealed to be a large font set atop a low pedestal. “Water. I wonder what would happen if I drank some?”
Celtir quickly stepped forward, “Don’t. It’s probably unholy water which, if you’re lucky, will just make you sick.” With that he bent down and pushed the font over, sending the dark water splashing across the floor where it seeped away between the stones of the floor.
Before he could even stand up straight, a volley of spikes launched from the bone spider, striking Celtir in the shoulder. There was a prolonged crack and a sinister series of clicks as the monstrous bone statue atop the altar suddenly rose up and stood on splayed legs. Mandibles formed of huge fangs clicked together as the horror lurched to life.
Wencis was first to act, launching his hammer at the creature and sending his Soul Spark forward to attack. His hammer knocked chips of bone from the creature and the energy burst from the Soul Spark burned the creature. The construct bit the Soul Spark, tearing at the energy that formed it. As it did this there was a terrible scuttling noise as shiny black spiders that had fiery eyes began to pour from between the seams in the bone spider’s construction. They arranged themselves into a mass of legs and fangs that started to churn toward the companions.
Bootsy shouted, “I got ‘em!” And a fan of fire from his outstretched hands turned the swarm of spiders to ash. The edge of the fire had washed over the bone spider but it seemed unscathed.
Frankie and Tristan ran up to the bone spider and their weapons knocked away more bone chips as Celtir cast a spell that sent a burst of positive energy into the creature. The spider lashed out at Frankie, sinking its fangs deep into his leg.
The companions struck back, Bootsy and Celtir, having seen how ineffective their magic had been, switched to their bows and Wencis continued to launch his hammer at the creature as his Soul Spark fired bursts of energy that seemed to do little damage to the construct.
Frankie and Tristan held the line, their blades slashing at the creature as it attacked over and over, leaving both of them covered in their own blood. They were a little irritated when Bootsy switched to vials of acid when he saw his bolts glancing off without even leaving a mark on the creature. Then they were amazed to find some of their wounds healed when Celtir raised his holy symbol while calling upon Solonor and a burst of positive energy filled the chamber.
Finally Tristan struck a telling blow. Merthuvial split the seam that made up the head of the creature and the spider seemed to wobble then stop for a moment. It dropped as its animating force seemed to falter and there was a cracking sound. Suddenly the creature literally blew apart, sending sharp fragments of bone throughout the room, wounding all of the companions.
Bootsy looked around the room and saw the effects of the blast on his companions. He turned to Celtir, “Can you do that holy thing again?”
Celtir smiled and raised his holy symbol once again.
