wolff96 said:
Is Rappan Athuk REALLY this deadly? As in, LB is writing it unmodified? If so, how in the world is a normal group supposed to get through this place? Yikes.
Thus far, I haven't added anything, and I think I've represented the module in all its inherent deadliness as written. I think the intent was to have RA be a death-trap dungeon a la the classic
Tomb of Horrors. This module really epitomizes the Necromancer Games philosophy of "First edition feel," in both its good and not-so-good (read as: bloody for players) senses. The levels are heavily interconnected, and it's possible to go from an average EL 5 level to an EL12 level without a blink (and often no clue that you're making the transition, unless the DM puts something in as a warning). I think it can be a fun campaign to run, but the players have to have a guts-and-glory attitude; in other words I wouldn't recommend it for a high-RP group that gets really attached to their characters.
But as a meat-grinder, it can be a lot of fun. If you're willing to suspend disbelief a bit, and have a stack of pregens waiting to go, you can enjoy many sessions of kick-in-the-door play with RA. Heck, I'm having a lot of fun writing it. Some really crazy stuff is coming down the pipeline.
* * * * *
Chapter 42
PYRE
The companions were wrenched quickly back into the moment as the body of the troll lying on the ground in front of them jerked, a gargling hiss issuing from its throat as it drew in a deep breath of air.
“Motherfracking thing’s coming back!” Dar yelled, looking around for his club, and ultimately settling on stabbing his punching dagger into its face and chest a half-dozen times. The troll started to struggle, lifting its arms to protect itself, but Dar’s furious assault soon had it unconscious again.
“We need fire,” Varo repeated.
“Shay had the oil flasks in the
bag of holding,” Talen said. The loss of two more of his charges had obviously hit the captain hard; his sword was trembling in his hand, and his face was splattered with gobs of blood, both his own and that of the trolls he had battled. “She gone, along with the marshal’s body. We’ve failed doubly, now. All of them, dead, for nothing.”
“Talen!” Dar shouted. He looked even worse than the captain, with his entire upper body liberally coated with blood and gore. “We don’t have time for this crap... we need fire!” He looked up at Aelos, as the cleric came forward. “What about your staff, priest?”
“That flame is but an illusion,” Varo said. He’d unslung his own pack, but the only torch he had left was a sodden mess, unusable.
“What if we hack it into pieces?” Allera asked. The healer’s cloak was torn, and great rents were visible in the back of her leather armor where one of the trolls had rent her with its claws.
“No good... it’ll just keep regenerating,” Varo said.
“Damn it, there’s no way I’m fighting this bastard again,” Dar said. “Go through your bags... see if there’s anything that can be set on fire in any of them. No matter how small or soaked it is.” He stabbed the troll a few more times for good measure.
“Look around for anything that might be flammable,” Varo added. “Mushrooms, spiderwebs... whatever you find, bring it here. But don’t go far... there was another troll that we injured, but which may return at any moment.”
The five survivors quickly went to work. Talen crossed the underwater bridge over to where Argus’s body lay in a crushed heap. He returned bearing the dead fighter’s pack, and kneeling beside the troll, started going through it mechanically. The others were putting together a small pile of flammable items, including a few damp sheets of paper from Aelos’s scroll case, a coil of frayed hemp rope, some spare smallclothes, and a pair of broken arrows.
Talen lifted a small metal miner’s lamp out of Argus’s pack. A small amount of liquid sloshed inside. “Oil,” he said.
Dar looked up from where he’d been monitoring the troll. “Get it over here,” he said. “Pile everything on top of the troll’s chest. If we can get it hot enough, the entire damned thing should burn.”
Varo stood over the fighters as they prepared the small bonfire. Talen upended the lamp over the stack, careful not to waste a single drop. “You may want to take the creature’s belt and gauntlet before you burn it,” the cleric said to Dar. “There are potent magical auras about those items. The shield it carried as well,” he added, indicating the large steel plate lying a few feet away.
Dar nodded and removed the items from the troll’s body. “I also found a key on it,” he said. Talen had taken out flint and steel, and looked at them.
“Burn it,” Dar said.
The troll’s body was soaked, but the lamp oil allowed the sparks covering the piled items to catch and bloom into wisps of orange flame. The five of them watched as the troll’s body began to smoke. For a moment, as the hastily-gathered fuel they’d gathered was consumed, they worried that the fire would die out with most of the troll’s body still intact, but then it suddenly flared up, the troll’s flesh blackening as the flames started consuming its leathery hide. Dar watched until it was done, prodding every stray bit of troll onto the fire until it was completely consumed, leaving only blackened char. Then the fighter stood, and looked out toward the underground river.
“You see that, you bastards!” he shouted. “That’s what’s going to happen to all of you, if you come back here!”
The companions started gathering up their gear. None of them saw the dark lump that floated in the river on the far side of the cavern; the thing was too far away for them to detect the reflected firelight that shone in its big yellow eyes. Those eyes fixed upon the five humans with a stare infused with pure hatred.
Finally, the troll’s head dipped under the water, leaving not even a trace behind it.
