• NOW LIVE! Into the Woods--new character species, eerie monsters, and haunting villains to populate the woodlands of your D&D games.

Welcome to the Halmae (updated 2/27/07)

At last!

Part the One-Hundred Eighteenth
In which: a fifth-level party explores their first constructed dungeon. Oh, the memories!

Casting detect magic again (as she is nothing if not an unending source of detect magic), Lira finds no particular auras associated with the constructed man, but she does notice a lingering one in all of the walls.

“What do you think it could be?” Eva asks.

“Probably part of whatever he does to move the tower.”

Thatch meanwhile finds a door at the back of the dining room, and—with some caution—opens it. He discovers an empty kitchen, with a half-prepared meal on a large wooden table in the center of the room. A large stone hearth takes up most of one exterior wall where a fire is made-up and ready to be lit.

The first rush of exploration over, the party takes the time to note four holy symbols—one for each of the four gods—hanging in the foyer, along with a large oil portrait of a scowling man with dark hair and a black goatee.

“Do you think that could be Petros?” Annika asks.

Kiara frowns. “He doesn’t look very friendly.”

“Friendliness,” Anvil reminds her, “is not required. Merely rectitude.”

Kiara looks at him blankly. “Huh?”

“Hey guys!” Thatch calls. “Over here!”

Thatch has ventured behind the main staircase and discovered a door tucked back on the left side. He is obviously quite pleased with himself. “I thought the sitting room looked a little short.”

The door shows signs of damage, but opens easily when Thatch turns the knob. Beyond, a wooden staircase descends into the darkness.

“Well,” says Eva, “that’s odd.”

“I would have said ‘staircase,’ but we can call it ‘odd’ if you want to,” Lira offers, ever the diplomat. Eva gives her friend a withering look.

Reyu clears her throat. “I believe Eva is referring to the fact that it would seem impossible for a moving tower which we entered at ground level to have a basement.”
“Oh,” says Thatch. “That.”

Lira does not seem disturbed by the revelation. “I point out that we are in a magical moving tower made of stone… and you are bothered by it having a basement?”

###

Wisely, the party decides to take some rudimentary precautions before tromping down the steps into a wizard’s basement without an escort. First, Lira casts message so that the party members descending the stairs can easily communicate with those still above.

Anvil casts light on his staff. In the bright, cool glow the party can see that the stairs are coated in a thick level of dust, with no tracks leading up or down. Thatch hefts his sword. “Let’s go.”

Thatch descends. Followed by Anvil. Followed by Eva. Benedic stands at the top of the steps as a message relay between the three of them and the rest of the party who are waiting in the foyer near the main doors.

(Note: Yes, we really sent our rogue down the stairs third. Some parties detect traps by searching for them. We take an alternate method.)

The steps descend straight down before curving away to the left when they reach the back wall. Thatch has just reached the turn when he puts his weight down on a step that goes >click<.

“Umm…”

Bolts of electricity are suddenly shooting up and down the stairs. Eva manages to dodge the worst of them, but Anvil and Thatch are not so lucky. Fortunately, although they are a bit singed by the experience, neither is grievously wounded. They pause on the steps while Anvil heals Thatch and himself. He also lights a candle, and drips a small pile of wax on the offending step so that they can avoid treading on it again.

As he bends to drip the wax on the step, Anvil notices it, and several others, have mounds of dust that do not look like the result of natural accumulation. He files this observation away with the not-alive man in the dining room, the basement, and other things to ask Petros about when they eventually locate him.

At last, they are ready to begin their descent again. Turning the corner, Thatch finds that the basement itself is pitch black. Fortunately there is enough light from Anvil’s staff that he can see the last few steps in front of him. Cautiously, he descends the last three, and, with a small sigh of relief that no more electrical bolts seem to be forthcoming, puts a foot down on the flagstone floor.

The instant he does so, Thatch feels a sudden >whoosh< of energy rush past him. It almost feels like it does standing next to Anvil when he’s turning undead. For not the first time, Thatch is happy that he is not undead.

Happily, none of the party members are either, and so they are unaffected by this countermeasure.

Thatch immediately makes his way over to a door that stands ajar on the other side of the room. By the time the rest of the party has made the descent (without triggering the trapped step again), he is already emerging.

“It looks like some kind of study,” he reports.

“We should probably be careful before we just go around just opening up doors,” Eva suggests. “You know, in case there are more traps or something.”

Thatch ducks his head. “Oh. Yeah.”

Anvil takes the opportunity to look around. The stairs let out into a large open space with four closed doors leading—presumably—to other rooms. The walls here are bare gray stone, adorned only by a large mirror that hangs on one wall. Curious, Anvil walks towards it, wondering if it perhaps conceals a safe or secret panel behind. At several steps away he catches sight of his reflection in the glass. He suddenly feels something reach out and grab him, and then… nothing.

###

Eva is startled by the sudden >whoosh< filling the basement room, followed by a loud clanging clatter. She whirls, just as Annika, standing nearby, gasps. “Don’t look at the mirror! Something tried to grab me!”

Eva feels no urge to look at the mirror. She’s too busy staring at the pile of Anvil’s clothes and equipment lying on the floor in front of it.
 

log in or register to remove this ad


Man, I hope he's just magic jarred or something else at least reversible. I'd actually be distraught if Anvil was gone gone.
 


dpdx said:
Man, I hope he's just magic jarred or something else at least reversible. I'd actually be distraught if Anvil was gone gone.
It sounds like a Mirror of Life Trapping, which is reversible. There's no goatee in that case, but Anvil would be naked.
 

Part the One-Hundred Nineteenth
In which: some questions about the mirror are answered.

“Everyone! Cover your eyes!” Reyu barks.

The party members immediately comply, turning their eyes to the floor and shading them to avoid inadvertently looking at the mirror.

“What happened to Anvil?”

“I don’t know!”

“I felt something… reaching for me, when I looked at the mirror, but I fought it off. Maybe he’s inside it.”

Inside, the mirror?”

“I point out again, we’re in the basement of a moving tower; it’s not that far a stretch.”

“Well what are we going to do about it?”

Thatch, who was standing not ten feet from Anvil when he suddenly vanished, has an idea about one thing they should do. Being careful not to actually look at what he is doing, or to touch the surface of the mirror more than he can help, Thatch takes off his cloak and drapes it over the face of the mirror. Tucking it in behind the frame, he cautiously cracks an eye to examine his work.

“It’s covered up,” he tells the others.

The other adventures cautiously open their eyes and look in the direction of the mirror. Since none of them abruptly vanish, they relax a little bit.

Eva does a quick look through Anvil’s things. Sword, armor, even his holy symbol has been left behind.

Lira looks over her shoulder. “So, wherever he is, he’s unarmed, unarmored, and completely naked.”

Eva nods. “Looks like it.”

“That probably isn’t a good thing.”

“We’ve got to get him out of there,” Thatch declares.

Eva rolls her eyes, “Well, of course we do, but how?”

“Breaking the mirror might do it—” Annika begins.

“Fine!” says Thatch, raising his sword pommel first—

“Or it might kill him!”

Thatch lowers his sword. “Oh.”

Annika is becoming agitated, wracking her brain for anything she might have ever learned about magic items of this nature. “Objects like this would probably have a command word. I mean, you’d want a way of getting people in and out of it… right?”

Lira takes charge. “Okay, let’s assume that there is a command word, and let’s also assume that he wrote it down someplace because if he memorized it, we’re back to breaking the mirror.”

Annika nods.

“Great. So, where would he write it?”

Annika shrugs helplessly, “I don’t know. His spell-book? If he kept some kind of notes…?”

“Thatch, didn’t you say that room looked like a study? Let’s check and see if there’s anything that looks relevant.”

Eva offers to help, and she and Lira follow Annika into the study.

Once they are gone, Kiara taps Reyu on the shoulder. Bending a little to whisper in the elf’s ear she whispers, “I have an idea, but Annika isn’t going to like it.”

###

In the study, Annika sets about pouring through the many volumes as quickly as she can, looking for any reference to magic mirrors, while Eva searches for any sign of hidden drawer or other hiding place.

Lira isn’t quite sure what good her looking is going to do. Although she is comfortable with the theories behind arcane magic and can identify most common spells by sight, she is almost entirely self-taught, and not as familiar with the actual texts as Annika is.

However, perhaps because she’s not distracted by the contents of the books, Lira does notice one section where the type of books does not match the rest of the collection. One shelf, just to the left of the door as one is entering the study, is filled with thin, cardboard-bound volumes. She takes one down on impulse and opens it. She finds it’s a notebook, filled with pages and pages of regular, neat script.

Jackpot.

###

“But if I went through in swallow form” Kiara is explaining as quickly as she can to Reyu, Thatch and Benedic, “and then shifted back once I was inside the mirror, I should have all of my things still with me.”

Reyu and Thatch exchange glances. “You know,” says Thatch, “that’s really not a bad plan.”

“But what if she still couldn’t get out?” Reyu asks.

“I’ve got it!” The triumphant shout is quickly followed by Lira, emerging from the study, waving a small notebook. “Look here,” she says and begins to read aloud:

Petros said:
The mirror is at last complete, and it is a masterpiece. Regrettably, it is fragile, and any fracture in the surface will release its contents. This may be a flaw in the design, but there is no way to fix it.

“So, if we break the mirror, it should free Anvil,” Thatch translates.

Lira nods. “Exactly. But look at this.” She turns the page so that everyone can see it and points out two columns of 16 words each.

(The page from Petros’ Notebook is attached at the bottom of this post.)

“Why would he need so many command words?” Kiara asks.

“Maybe Anvil isn’t the only thing in that mirror,” Annika suggests.

“So, if we break it, we’ll release everything in there.”

“Not to mention we will have destroyed the ‘masterpiece’ of an archmage. That’s not going to make him happy,” Eva adds.

“Hang on. Hang on,” Lira interrupts. “Look at this. All of the word pairs share a common root and two different endings… except for the top two. What if those aren’t command words, but column headings. ‘Indigium’ would be words used to send someone into the mirror and ‘Anterium’ to bring them back out.”

“But you don’t know that,” Annika points out. “It could be that ‘Indigium’ are words that are used from inside the mirror and ‘Anterium’ are words used from the outside.”

“Since we are outside, and we want to bring Anvil outside, that should not matter,” Reyu points out.

The party agrees that they ought to do something, and sooner rather than later, as Anvil has already been inside the mirror for at least five minutes.

Cautiously, Lira positions herself so that she is in front of the mirror without (hopefully) being in its direct line of effect. She turns her head and Thatch raises the edge of his cloak from where it hangs over the glass.

Lira takes a deep breath...

to be continued.
 

Attachments


Part the One-Hundred Twentieth
Meanwhile, through the looking-glass

Anvil feels an awful wrenching in the pit of his stomach and then… he is somewhere else.

His clothing, his equipment is all gone, and he stands completely naked inside some kind of dodecahedral room. The walls are mirrors, and everywhere he looks is his own image reflected endlessly upon itself. The dizzyingly infinite sight provokes waves of nausea every time he moves, and he decides he had best sit down with his eyes closed.

And that is when he notices the voices. Many of them, speaking aloud.

“Not real, not real. Can’t hear you, can’t hear you…”

“My Lord, hear my prayer. Hear your humble servant…”

”…and suck it out through your nose and feast on it, like a fine dessert…”

“Didn’t do it. I didn’t do it. Please, let me out. I’m innocent…”

“You SON OF A DOG! How dare you talk to me that way! DON’T YOU KNOW WHO I AM?!”

“Oh, I know who you are. I just don’t care.”

“WHAT!!!”

“Gods and every spirit alive, why must you bait him, fool human?”

“If I were free, I would HAVE YOUR WHIPPED for your IMPUDENCE!”

”…drown you in a bucket of your own blood…”

“Shouldn’t be here. Didn’t do it. Please…”

Have me whipped? What’s wrong? Too fat to do it yourself?”

“WHY YOU--!”

At this, Anvil interrupts. “Greetings,” he says.

The voices go silent.

“WHO IS THAT?” demands a stern and booming voice.

“Isn’t it obvious?” quips a biting, sardonic one. “It’s a new loyal subject for your kingdom.”

“INSOLENT CUR!” the booming voice responds.

“I am Anvil the Just, follower of Kettenek,” Anvil replies.

At this, there is a babble of voices.

“Rock and stone, I knew it! My prayers have been answered! All hail our Lord, who hears his faithful’s prayers!” cries out one voice.

“Nope, nope, nope. No more. Not any more. Not listening…” another voice repeats, over and over and over.

“Help me, help me please,” whimpers a terrified young woman’s voice. “I shouldn’t be here. I didn’t do anything…”

“Ah. Another human. Perfect,” drolls a female voice.

”A new one? Fresh meat? Fresh blood? I’ll drink it straight from your veins, as a chaser for your entrails…” hisses one.

“Hmph,” grunts a rough voice, that has not yet spoken.

The voices echo oddly in Anvil’s mirrored room, as if the sound reflects off the walls just as the light does. Shaking his head to clear it, he silences the others. “Who is in charge here?” he asks.

At this, several voices burst out laughing.

“Well, I know who thinks he’s in charge,” the sardonic voice says.

“QUIET!” booms the loud one. “I outrank EVERY ONE OF YOU!”

“Fat lot of good it does you, and when I say fat--"

”…swallow your eyeballs whole, like little bird eggs…”

“WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON YOU--"

Anvil again interrupts the tirade. “You, sir. You claim to be in charge?”

“I am DAKLOD KRAKOTH, General of DAR THANE.”

The name means nothing to Anvil. He says as much.

“WHAT! My name is known across the plains of Ebis, spoken always with AWE AND FEAR.”

“Oh, get over yourself.”

“WHY YOU--"

“Can’t hear. Quiet now. Quiet now…”

The rough voice that has mostly stayed silent now speaks. His Common is twinged with a dwarven accent. “If anyone is in charge here, it is Petros.”

“Yes, yes!” cries the Kettenite voice. “The man is insane. He has overstepped his bounds, taking upon himself our Lord’s duties. He has declared himself judge, jury, and executioner, and imprisoned us here.”

“Didn’t do it. I didn’t do it. Please…” the young woman sobs.

”…peel the skin from your body and force you to feast upon your flesh…”

“Are you saying then that you people do not belong here?” Anvil demands of the Kettenite.

“Oh, some of them do. But I am innocent. My name is Cyrus Vaaldershen.”

“A Guardian of the Barrier,” Anvil notes, recognizing the name Cyrus, which all Guardians take.

“And servant of the Lord of the Dead. Long have I prayed for deliverance, and now, at last, my prayers are answered. You are here to free us, Justicar.”

“Yes, and wonderful job so far,” the sardonic voice quips.

“Fear not,” Anvil says. “I have no doubt that my companions will work to free us.”

Exclamations of joy burst out all around him, echoing strangely in the mirrored cell.

“After all this time, your words bring me comfort you cannot know, Justicar. Come, brother. Join me in prayer for our Lord’s Justice.”

”Oh, thank you. Thank you. Thank you…”

“HA! FREEDOM! I’ll see my enemies DRIVEN BEFORE ME!”

“Leaving? Leaving? Everyone leaving! Soon we’ll be all alone! Ah, the peace. The peace.”

”…carve my name upon your chest, and dot the i's and cross the t’s…”

Those of us who deserve freedom, Anvil adds, silently.

**********

Meanwhile, back in the basement of the moving tower…

Lira takes a deep breath and, picking the first word from the ‘Anterium’ column, she speaks it. “Colrees.”

The surface of the mirror briefly bows outward, extending a giant silver tongue down to the floor before quickly retreating back to its frame. It leaves behind a naked man, hunched and shivering.
 




Into the Woods

Remove ads

Top