the Jester
Legend
Monkey Business
The buzzing of insects, the occasional chirp of birds, the croak of a frog, the dripping of fat beads of water as they fall from wide rounded leaves... all within the tower. Looming over our heroes, trees up to 30’ high brush the ceiling of the level of the Ghost Tower of Inverness that our heroes are presently exploring. The undergrowth is so thick that it is impassable; a trail would have to be cut through it for our heroes to advance off of the path- for a single path leads away, through the rampant growth.
“Thith ith prepothterouth!” exclaims Sir Cedric.
“Clearly, my lord, we must explore,” Sir Jorgen says smoothly.
“Here,” Sir Fwaigo adds, handing his wineskin to Cedric. The former squire squints as he looks around. “Well, I guess we only have one way to go, unless we want to spend hours cutting through the brush...”
With that, the party sets off down the winding path. Its width varies and it seems to wander one direction and then another. As they walk, Kyle catches a glimpse of motion off in the woods. He whips his head around and Peers nervously in that direction, but the only thing he sees is some kind of monkey.
“It’s weird,” he comments, continuing to walk the path, “that there is a forest in this tower.” Nervously, he pulls out his shortbow and nocks an arrow.
“Me like furry,” replies Sir Percival, pointing at Dahlia’s badger companion.
Otis suddenly cries out, “ABOVE US!!”
Silently, two monkey-like creatures have crept into the branches that arch above the path. They are ugly-looking things, overly muscled, with prehensile tails and feet that seem able to grasp like hands. The creatures’ fur is a dirty gray; their tails and faces are black, and their paws are a bloody red.
Kyle is fast. Even as Otis begins casting a spell, the elfblood fires his arrow at the monkey. The shaft takes it in the throat, and blood begins to spurt from the wound. The things gives a choked screech, and then Otis finishes his spell. A magical dart of energy flies out and blasts the wounded monkey in the chest. With a loud shriek, it teeters and falls out of the branches, crashing to the ground 25’ below!
The other monkey bares its fangs in rage. Suddenly Otis cries out in pain, pressing his hands to his temples. “Beware!” he cries. “They have some kind of mind powers!” Gritting his teeth, he fights off the psychic blast and struggles to focus. Another magic missile shoots from him as he gains his equilibrium, He watches as a series of projectiles fllies up from the party, sticking the monkey in two, three, four places!
It plummets from its perch, smacking into the ground with lethal force.
“What are those things?” wonders Otis. “I have never heard of them before!”*
“Monkeys with mental powers,” Kyle marvels. “Master, it’s fantastic!”
“Perhaps we’ll have a chance to research it sometime,” muses Otis.
The monkeys do not have any clothing or tools, and thus have no treasure. Our heroes shrug and continue along. The other monkeys, noting that the adventurers killed two of their numbers without suffering a wound or any mental effects, wisely decide to fade back into the thick woods and avoid further conflicts.**
The party wanders along the twisting paths. Once or twice the path splits, and Dahlia begins making a map lest the group become lost. Eventually something strange and disturbing comes into view. Topped by what appears to be a human skull, a rack of bamboo woven with weird bits of hide, bone, fur and feathers stands about 7’ high in the middle of the path. It looks like some kind of weird totem or fetish.
“What the hell is that?” exclaims Goer.
“It looks like some kind of totem or fetish,” Jorgen answers (repeating the boxed text).
“Nobody touch it,” Otis commands. “It may be cursed, trapped or dangerous.”
“It doesn’t look relevant to us anyway,” Sir Jorgen muses.
The party thus leaves the strange totem be and continues along their winding way. Soon there is another branching, and their path curves and comes back to the totem again.
“Let’s return to that last branch,” Jorgen suggests, “and go the other way.”
The party does exactly that. Soon, they come into a clearing that is roughly 20’ in diameter, with three other paths leading from it. Throughout the place, rosebushes grow, scenting the area with their delicate fragrance. Two statues of men with daggers upraised are in the place; the moldering, headless corpse of what appears to be a human woman lies near the entrance of one of the paths.
“Whoa,” says Sir Fwaigo.
The party moves into the clearing and begins examining the scene. The two statues prove to have been wearing Sir Harth’s livery and sign (a rose twined around a blade). They also bear wavy-bladed daggers similar to those used by Harth and his cultists. “Interesting,” murmurs Jorgen. As the sheriff, he has become quite an investigator, and he is carefully assembling all the clues the party has seen so far.
The decapitated body seems to have been left behind at least a month ago. In the bushes nearby, Kyle finds the head- but instead of hair, it has a mass of (now-dead) snakes atop its head.
“Well, we have several other paths to explore,” says Dahlia, looking down one of them. It winds away, just like the one that led the party here. Our heroes complete their examination of the area and then pick a path. It loops around and leads to another clearing. Across it, our heroes spy another of the signature wrought-iron staircases that this tower seems to prefer.
“Well, well,” smirks Otis. “We have found another ascent.”
“Let uth forge ahead,” commands Sir Cedric.
The party moves towards the clearing, and suddenly, from either side of the path, two piles of bones which were hidden by the grass leap together, forming skeletal wolves! Jorgen, near the front of the party, charges, barreling into the beasts, slamming his sword through the ribcage of one of them! The skeleton staggers, but then snaps forward. On either side of the sheriff, the skeletons bite at him, tearing into his left forearm and his right hip! Sir Fwaigo hurries up and stabs one of them, but his blade turns ineffectually off of it! Likewise, Kyle finds his arrows to be useless. With a gulp, he nocks another arrow.
Then Me rushes in with a roar. “BAD DOG!!” he shouts, and his huge blade crashes through the one that Jorgen wounded, shattering it into its component bones!
“By the power of my pinky finger!” declares Sir Cedric, “We shall dethtroy thethe monthterth!!” He moves forward, bringing his blade free of its sheath, but is too far back to get an attack in. Dahlia hurries up beside him.
Meanwhile, in the front line, Jorgen slams his blade into the remaining skeleton. Bits of yellowed bone go flying, but it still stands. And then- Otis, of all people, moves in. He clutches his staff in his bony fingers, and then swings it with all his might, slamming it into the skull of the undead wolf, and crushes it! The skeleton collapses.
“Interesting,” murmurs Sir Jorgen.
“Shall we go up?” asks Kyle.
“Indeed!” cries Sir Cedric. “Brotherth in armth, againtht all oddth- we thall triumph! Here, Fwaigo, have thome of my whithkey!” He passes the bottle over.
Up our heroes go, climbing about 20’ before coming to a stone landing with two pathways projecting from it, away to the right and left, and looping away. The pathways and the landing are about 1’ above the surface of what seems to be a sea of fire. The flames lick upwards to heights of 2’ to 3’ above the surface of the sea, and breathing is a little difficult due to the smoke and sulphurous fumes. The flames lick up before our heroes, but they can make out an island in the center- the long paths seems to loop around to it. Across the 160’ diameter circular chamber is what appears to be a wrought-iron spiral staircase leading up to a ceiling 20’ above, but our heroes’ vision of it is somewhat obstructed by the soot-black giant standing 12’ high in front of it.
Kyle is in the lead, trying to be somewhat stealthy, and he hisses in surprise and pushes the others back down the stairs about ten feet. “A giant!” he gasps. “And a lake of fire!” He shivers. “I don’t want to go up there! Maybe we missed something down here, along the other paths or something.”
But a few minutes’ exploration reveals that they just loop around, one leading back to the fetish and the other to another clearing.
“I guess it’s the giant, then,” Goer says.
Weapons ready, our heroes ascend.
Next Time: Against the giant!!
*Of course, most of my players identified these things right off! However, none of the characters could make the appropriate check.
**Alas, that means that they’ll never fight the cool advanced su-monster chief I had statted up. Oh well.
The buzzing of insects, the occasional chirp of birds, the croak of a frog, the dripping of fat beads of water as they fall from wide rounded leaves... all within the tower. Looming over our heroes, trees up to 30’ high brush the ceiling of the level of the Ghost Tower of Inverness that our heroes are presently exploring. The undergrowth is so thick that it is impassable; a trail would have to be cut through it for our heroes to advance off of the path- for a single path leads away, through the rampant growth.
“Thith ith prepothterouth!” exclaims Sir Cedric.
“Clearly, my lord, we must explore,” Sir Jorgen says smoothly.
“Here,” Sir Fwaigo adds, handing his wineskin to Cedric. The former squire squints as he looks around. “Well, I guess we only have one way to go, unless we want to spend hours cutting through the brush...”
With that, the party sets off down the winding path. Its width varies and it seems to wander one direction and then another. As they walk, Kyle catches a glimpse of motion off in the woods. He whips his head around and Peers nervously in that direction, but the only thing he sees is some kind of monkey.
“It’s weird,” he comments, continuing to walk the path, “that there is a forest in this tower.” Nervously, he pulls out his shortbow and nocks an arrow.
“Me like furry,” replies Sir Percival, pointing at Dahlia’s badger companion.
Otis suddenly cries out, “ABOVE US!!”
Silently, two monkey-like creatures have crept into the branches that arch above the path. They are ugly-looking things, overly muscled, with prehensile tails and feet that seem able to grasp like hands. The creatures’ fur is a dirty gray; their tails and faces are black, and their paws are a bloody red.
Kyle is fast. Even as Otis begins casting a spell, the elfblood fires his arrow at the monkey. The shaft takes it in the throat, and blood begins to spurt from the wound. The things gives a choked screech, and then Otis finishes his spell. A magical dart of energy flies out and blasts the wounded monkey in the chest. With a loud shriek, it teeters and falls out of the branches, crashing to the ground 25’ below!
The other monkey bares its fangs in rage. Suddenly Otis cries out in pain, pressing his hands to his temples. “Beware!” he cries. “They have some kind of mind powers!” Gritting his teeth, he fights off the psychic blast and struggles to focus. Another magic missile shoots from him as he gains his equilibrium, He watches as a series of projectiles fllies up from the party, sticking the monkey in two, three, four places!
It plummets from its perch, smacking into the ground with lethal force.
“What are those things?” wonders Otis. “I have never heard of them before!”*
“Monkeys with mental powers,” Kyle marvels. “Master, it’s fantastic!”
“Perhaps we’ll have a chance to research it sometime,” muses Otis.
The monkeys do not have any clothing or tools, and thus have no treasure. Our heroes shrug and continue along. The other monkeys, noting that the adventurers killed two of their numbers without suffering a wound or any mental effects, wisely decide to fade back into the thick woods and avoid further conflicts.**
The party wanders along the twisting paths. Once or twice the path splits, and Dahlia begins making a map lest the group become lost. Eventually something strange and disturbing comes into view. Topped by what appears to be a human skull, a rack of bamboo woven with weird bits of hide, bone, fur and feathers stands about 7’ high in the middle of the path. It looks like some kind of weird totem or fetish.
“What the hell is that?” exclaims Goer.
“It looks like some kind of totem or fetish,” Jorgen answers (repeating the boxed text).
“Nobody touch it,” Otis commands. “It may be cursed, trapped or dangerous.”
“It doesn’t look relevant to us anyway,” Sir Jorgen muses.
The party thus leaves the strange totem be and continues along their winding way. Soon there is another branching, and their path curves and comes back to the totem again.
“Let’s return to that last branch,” Jorgen suggests, “and go the other way.”
The party does exactly that. Soon, they come into a clearing that is roughly 20’ in diameter, with three other paths leading from it. Throughout the place, rosebushes grow, scenting the area with their delicate fragrance. Two statues of men with daggers upraised are in the place; the moldering, headless corpse of what appears to be a human woman lies near the entrance of one of the paths.
“Whoa,” says Sir Fwaigo.
The party moves into the clearing and begins examining the scene. The two statues prove to have been wearing Sir Harth’s livery and sign (a rose twined around a blade). They also bear wavy-bladed daggers similar to those used by Harth and his cultists. “Interesting,” murmurs Jorgen. As the sheriff, he has become quite an investigator, and he is carefully assembling all the clues the party has seen so far.
The decapitated body seems to have been left behind at least a month ago. In the bushes nearby, Kyle finds the head- but instead of hair, it has a mass of (now-dead) snakes atop its head.
“Well, we have several other paths to explore,” says Dahlia, looking down one of them. It winds away, just like the one that led the party here. Our heroes complete their examination of the area and then pick a path. It loops around and leads to another clearing. Across it, our heroes spy another of the signature wrought-iron staircases that this tower seems to prefer.
“Well, well,” smirks Otis. “We have found another ascent.”
“Let uth forge ahead,” commands Sir Cedric.
The party moves towards the clearing, and suddenly, from either side of the path, two piles of bones which were hidden by the grass leap together, forming skeletal wolves! Jorgen, near the front of the party, charges, barreling into the beasts, slamming his sword through the ribcage of one of them! The skeleton staggers, but then snaps forward. On either side of the sheriff, the skeletons bite at him, tearing into his left forearm and his right hip! Sir Fwaigo hurries up and stabs one of them, but his blade turns ineffectually off of it! Likewise, Kyle finds his arrows to be useless. With a gulp, he nocks another arrow.
Then Me rushes in with a roar. “BAD DOG!!” he shouts, and his huge blade crashes through the one that Jorgen wounded, shattering it into its component bones!
“By the power of my pinky finger!” declares Sir Cedric, “We shall dethtroy thethe monthterth!!” He moves forward, bringing his blade free of its sheath, but is too far back to get an attack in. Dahlia hurries up beside him.
Meanwhile, in the front line, Jorgen slams his blade into the remaining skeleton. Bits of yellowed bone go flying, but it still stands. And then- Otis, of all people, moves in. He clutches his staff in his bony fingers, and then swings it with all his might, slamming it into the skull of the undead wolf, and crushes it! The skeleton collapses.
“Interesting,” murmurs Sir Jorgen.
“Shall we go up?” asks Kyle.
“Indeed!” cries Sir Cedric. “Brotherth in armth, againtht all oddth- we thall triumph! Here, Fwaigo, have thome of my whithkey!” He passes the bottle over.
Up our heroes go, climbing about 20’ before coming to a stone landing with two pathways projecting from it, away to the right and left, and looping away. The pathways and the landing are about 1’ above the surface of what seems to be a sea of fire. The flames lick upwards to heights of 2’ to 3’ above the surface of the sea, and breathing is a little difficult due to the smoke and sulphurous fumes. The flames lick up before our heroes, but they can make out an island in the center- the long paths seems to loop around to it. Across the 160’ diameter circular chamber is what appears to be a wrought-iron spiral staircase leading up to a ceiling 20’ above, but our heroes’ vision of it is somewhat obstructed by the soot-black giant standing 12’ high in front of it.
Kyle is in the lead, trying to be somewhat stealthy, and he hisses in surprise and pushes the others back down the stairs about ten feet. “A giant!” he gasps. “And a lake of fire!” He shivers. “I don’t want to go up there! Maybe we missed something down here, along the other paths or something.”
But a few minutes’ exploration reveals that they just loop around, one leading back to the fetish and the other to another clearing.
“I guess it’s the giant, then,” Goer says.
Weapons ready, our heroes ascend.
Next Time: Against the giant!!
*Of course, most of my players identified these things right off! However, none of the characters could make the appropriate check.
**Alas, that means that they’ll never fight the cool advanced su-monster chief I had statted up. Oh well.