Watchfires & Thrones Session #13

Lucky number thirteen and boy were there changes in store for us on this day!

Having successfully unlocked the casket of treasure, the party decided to return to the surface and venture back to Rhuun so that certain members could take advantage of that fair city’s facilities. Domdull required training and supplies were needed. One uneventful trip later, the PCs were back in their rented abode.

After recouping for a day or so, a smaller party left the gates of the city. This excursion consisted only of Anwar, Baragkus, Fanta, Kyrinn, Lyrax, Mars, and Morg. They once again enjoyed an uneventful journey and quickly found themselves back at the Y-shaped corridor that split outside the room of the glass casket.

From the northern branch came a soft red glow that drew their attentions. Edging down the corridor, they saw a pair of archways that led into a gloomy chamber to the west and an askew and much dilapidated wooden door to the north from which the red illumination originated. As they approached the glow, they cast a glance into the chamber beyond the archways.

That room was dominated by four horn-like columns of stone that arched up from the floor. Suspended by chains attached to the top of each column was a 12’ diameter disk of stone held on its horizontal axis. A 10’ tall flight of steps ascended to the level of the stone and a mass of tattered furs and bone—the remains of a dead Low Man—lay sprawled upon the steps.

Judging this worthy of investigation, Morg climbed the stairs to get a better look at the corpse. As he stepped near it, his ear caught a sound from overhead. Looking up, he was startled to see part of the ceiling detach itself and drop down atop him. As it fell, the “ceiling” shifted in coloration chameleon-like to reveal itself as a large spider with a carapace of green. Morg, phobic of arachnids due to the horrible injuries they once inflicted upon him, screamed like a maid surprised on her tuffet before heading towards the door.

The crab spider missed it one chance at envenoming the fighter before Lyrax calming sighted down the shaft of an arrow and launched a missile into the arachnid’s tiny brain. Despite an attempt to halt Morg’s flight—one undoubtedly undermined by Anwar’s puppet show with the spider’s corpse—the fighter fled the room and turned north without thought, bound for the red glow. Lyrax and Baragkus reluctantly followed after him.

The battle over, the party was able to survey the room in more detail. After determining that the Low Man (and spider) corpse had nothing of value, Anwar climbed to the top of the stairs and looked down upon the stone disk. Formed in the shape of a ring, the air in the disk’s hollow center shimmered as if heat haze but was otherwise without note—until Anwar detected that the dust on the floor glimpsed through the hole looked much thicker than that of the chamber around him. Carefully poking his staff into the heat haze, he found that it could be breached and seemed to do no harm. As an additional precaution, he plucked one of the beetles he keeps to assuage his uncanny hunger and tossed it through the center of the disk. It landed unharmed in the dust below.

With initial experiments seeming to declare this disk safe, the sorcerer climbed out onto the disk and stuck his head through the center. After a brief nausea, he found himself peering back upside-down at the room behind him. Alarmed, he noticed that the rest of the party had suddenly vanished and that the room was much more dark and dusty than it appeared moments ago. He pulled back only to see his comrades standing around him in the unchanged chamber. What magic was this?!

Meanwhile, Morg burst through the half-destroyed door at the end of the hallway to find himself in a room holding three large wooden cylinders that resembled silos. One had split open and a thick layer of tan cereal or kibble covered the floor. Five large beetles, their abdomens glowing a soft red, munched contently at this bounty of food, ignoring the fighter. Moments later, Baragkus and Lyrax joined him. After convincing the fighter that the spider had been dispatched and deciding that the beetles were best left alone, the trio returned to the room with the disk.

Fanta, suspecting that the ring might be a magical door or gate (having some experience with those devices), leaped through the center of the disk to land amongst the dust below. There, he saw that the room was indeed an exact duplicate of the one he had departed, only more neglected and unlit. Looking up, he was slightly dismayed to see that the circle through which he had just passed was now a shimmering liquid mirror—one which defeated his attempts to pass back through! Anwar could still see the Old Blood sorcerer and the hole seemed unchanged, but no sound was audible. A rope was dropped through the portal but, although it passed and could be reeled in unhindered, the barrier would not let Fanta pass.

Rather than leave the sorcerer to his fate, the party sent some of their number back to the surface to gather supplies which might be needed for a long excursion. When they returned, supplies were distributed amongst their number and, one by one, they each passed through the shimmering portal into a destination unknown.

After a brief moment to inspect their surrounding, the party left the chamber and found themselves in a corridor that ran north-south. To the north were a locked door and an eastbound corridor that ended in an open door. Passing through this one, they found a room that smacked of sorcery and conjuration. A six-pointed star was embedded in the floor and tapestries with arcane formulae hung from the walls. They were encouraged when they saw that the room could be barred from within and made a note of it as a possible redoubt. A second door exited the room to the east, which they passed beyond in search of clues to their destination.

The corridor beyond turned south before ending in a corroded iron door, one decorated with three female faces—that of a young girl, a mother, and an elderly woman. From beyond came the faint sound of conversation. Cautiously cracking the door to get a better listen, they heard a voice say, “Hello?” from the room beyond. Caught red-eared, the party entered carefully.

The room beyond seemed to be a shrine. A tall statue stood in a curtain-lined alcove to the east. It depicted a three-faced woman who towered over a chair made of bone and inlaid with silver. A clear reflecting pool shimmered in the pale lavender light that filled the room and cast dancing shadows on the walls.

Standing near the bone chair was a woman dressed in tattered robes of black embroidered with silver crescent moons. Her platinum-blonde hair hung before her face, obscuring her features, but her voice was young and clear. She appeared to be alone. The party moved forward unthreateningly but half-expecting trouble.

Instead they found the woman to be open and gracious. She introduced herself as Klydessia, the last remaining Sister of the Argent Moon, who held vigil in this place awaiting a sign from Chthonia. The rest of her sisterhood was deceased, lost to old age, and only she remained to heed the call of her goddess. She informed the adventurers that they had indeed passed through a gateway between worlds: one she had thought was no longer functioning. They had stepped into a realm called R’Nis, specifically into a particularly notorious locale known as Stonehell. A former prison, one in which she had been incarcerated for her beliefs long ago, the place was now the habitat of all sorts of foul creatures. However, to the party’s fortune, they were on the level closest to the surface and if they just headed [redacted because the players missed this useful piece of information] they’d find the exit.

After learning a few more bits of information such as kobolds were small scaly lizard men who had a market to the east and that they could exit this shrine via a ladder to the west, the party thanked her for her help and promised to return with something she needed—dogs. They wisely didn’t inquire why she needed canines.

Following Klydessia’s instructions, they reached a chamber with both a smaller three-faced statue, a one-way door which couldn’t be opened from within, and an iron ladder ascending 20’ up to a trapdoor. Morg took point on the ladder, followed by Baragkus, Mars, Lyrax, Kyrinn, Anwar, and Fanta.

As the fighter reached the top of the ladder, he could hear the sound of gruff conversation and smelled cooking meat. Pushing the door open carefully, he found it exited underneath a three-walled compartment, one like the underside of a desk or podium. He glimpsed bare wall but could see nothing more. He opened the door some more only to have it knock against one of the desk’s side walls, creating a noise that the occupants of the room detected. Closing the door swiftly, he waited.

The sound of moving furniture, walking feet, and “Is it that bitch, again?” were heard before the trapdoor opened to reveal a lanky, pale figure with a cleaver-like sword in hand staring down at him. Although human, he had a barbaric cast and was dressed in scrounged armor adorned with hooks, barbs, and other bits of nasty metal. His face bore multiple scars and nails pieced his nose and eyebrow. When the figure called out to his unseen companions, Morg decided to seize the initiative and throat punched the guy. I love these players.

This led to a battle that I thought was going to end very poorly for the party. Trapped on a ladder and having to battle their way out from under what turned out to be an altar was bad enough, but then Morg took a wound that dropped him to 2 hit points right off the bat and couldn’t seem to push his opponent out of the way so that the others could exit the shaft and join the fight. There were four more foes in the room and they closed quickly on the fighter.

One of the things I love about the older editions is the round-by-round initiative rules and this was one of those times when the survival of the party came down to whether or not they had the opportunity to act first each round. Luckily, the dice were on their side, and even the fact that the berserkers they were fighting enjoyed a +2 bonus to hit couldn’t make up for their poor attack rolls during the rest of the fight. Mars Markus’ ability to use healing magic also pulled Morg’s bacon out of the fire and, once he was healed and broke the party out into the open to battle, the melee turned in their favor and they soon won the day.

The battle over, the party found themselves in a ruined non-denominational chapel. Policing the corpses of the copper coins that they carried, they were disgusted to find that the dead men’s pouches also contained dried meat of unseemly quality: one piece had a tattoo. A small fire in the corner of the chamber had a human(oid) arm roasting above it and a grisly larder of smoked meat sat nearby. That spurred the party to leave the area and find their way out of this Stonehell place as swiftly as possible.

Unfortunately, as they exited the chapel to find themselves in a north-south corridor, they couldn’t recall which way they were told to go. East sounded likely, so they determined to head that way as soon as they could find a corridor aimed in that direction. But the dungeon seemed to conspire against them, for although they found a few corridors that ran east-west, lowered portcullises impeded their travel everywhere.

Approaching one octagonal chamber guarded by a lowered portcullis, they detected laughing, grunting, and talking in a very inhuman tongue. A cadre of grey-green humanoids, ones that somewhat resembled the Low Men they knew so well, stood in the chamber beyond the lowered gate, their attention focused down another hall from which the sounds of battle emanated.

As the party crept forward, hoping to slip down a southbound passage undetected, one of the creatures looked back to see them slinking down the corridor. Tapping his compatriot on the shoulder, the group of humanoids slowly turned and silently watched the party. The adventurers nodded politely and continued to move towards the side passage. Then, one of the humanoids reached behind his back and began drawing an arrow from the quiver strapped there…

Soon arrows were fly on both sides and the orcs (for that was what they were) split up to flank the party. One arrow caught Kyrinn in the chest, plunging him into unconsciousness and very nearly removing him from the mortal coil entirely. However, Mars stepped up with his last healing scroll in hand and revived the fallen archer.

Morg and Baragkus charged down the southern passage, seeking to stop the orcs from outflanking them, and ambushed them as they came around the corner. They cut down two but a more formidable one, perhaps a patrol leader, fended them off briefly before succumbing to their blades.

Missiles continued to fly back and forth in the hallway to the north and two orcs threw open the portcullis that separated the parties, charging towards the front ranks of the adventurers. The battle turned to a full melee. Sadly, one of the orcs managed a particularly grievous wound on the just-revived Kyrinn and killed him outright (a natural 20 that resulted in 10 points of damage to the 5 hp fighter. Poor Rob wasn’t even at this game session and his character perished. I’m so sorry, man).

In the end, the party triumphed albeit with injuries all around. The decision was made to return back to the chapel to heal and plan their next step, but first the nearest orc bodies needed to be looted. As they stripped the electrum coins from the corpses, the adventurers heard a voice suddenly speak from the darkness behind them, saying, “Well, what do we have here?”

And that’s where we ended it. Stay tuned for the next exciting chapter coming your way in one week’s time.

Watchfires & Thrones: Session #12

The party returned to the surface bearing the blackened corpse of Malbane, sitting down to recuperate and eat before settling in for a night under the desert stars. As the sun began to slip behind the rocky hills and the dun-colored sands started to cool, Yazil, one of the muleskinners, spotted an armored figure approaching from the northeast atop a tired looking mule.

“Ho!” he cried, not knowing how appropriate that call was. “Someone approaches.” He peered into the gathering twilight. His eyebrows arched in surprise. “It’s a woman!”

As the party rose from their cold meal of trail rations, they could see that beneath the banded mail of the stranger were indeed feminine curves. A whip and scimitar hung from her belt and the symbol of Isis, one of the strange deities from the land of Dis, dangled from her neck. Uneasy silence settled over the band until Mars Marcus (done in an apparently uncanny imitation by yours truly) broke the ice by declaring himself and the rest to the new arrival.

Introductions were exchanged and the cleric, as she indeed turned out to be, identified herself as Velma, recently arrived in Rhuun to undergo her term of devotion before being initiated into the inner mysteries of Isis. With the corpse of Malbane cooling on the ground beside them and lacking the presence of Bannath the snake priest in their ranks, the party invited the priestess to join them for the next morning’s sojourn into the Gut. Velma agreed, eyeing Mars Markus with interest.

Perhaps for that reason, the spider cleric announced that the morrow was a minor holiday in the calendar of Mog and he would be required to attend to various prayers and rites during the day that would leave him unable to participate in the excursion. He would be available if magical healing was required, provided the party members could make it back to the surface. Anwar, too, announced he had certain duties to attend to, popping some unknown morsel into his mouth and crunching it beneath his teeth with a satisfied sigh.

The next morning saw the party reentering the dungeon and returning to the intersection near the chamber where the mage met his doom. Heading down a diagonal corridor to the west, they travelled only a short distance before Thud and Baragkus detected the sound of quiet grunts coming from an open chamber ahead. Unfortunately, with only one lit lamp in the party and a dog-leg in the corridor, there was not enough light to see what lay beyond. After a quick rearrangement, the party advanced towards what they suspected was Low Men.

The chamber at the corridor’s end seemed to have once been a bath. Archways divided the room into cells and each held a shallow basin that was now filled with rubble, debris, and dust. A staircase exited the room to the north. The many pillars in the chamber and the gloom that the single lantern failed to disperse hid most of the area, but the fighting men at the vanguard discerned two heads with squinty eyes and slanted brows staring at them from behind one of the pillars. With no command of the Low Men’s rudimentary language of grunts and hoots, Thud and Baragkus approached carefully but non-threateningly. As they did so, the remainder of the party entered the room with the lantern, casting more light upon the chamber. Now, with adequate illumination, they saw another five of the Low Men watching from behind other pillars.

It was too late to back down, so Thud and Baragkus continued to advance, causing the Low Men to grunt and hoot and wave their spears. Not to be outdone, Baragkus and Thud did likewise…which the Low Men took to be a challenge and a melee broke out. However, despite the almost even numbers between combatants, the party cut down the degenerated cavemen in a measly twenty seconds, taking only slight injuries in the process. Amongst the corpse they discovered yet more “caveman cash” (trinkets, shiny stones, etc.) but the leader carried three tourmalines as well. In addition, on a long spit, was the body of a large beetle which seemed to be destined for the Low Men’s cook fire before the PCs interrupted.

After a toss of the room turned up nothing, the party descended the northern stairs, going down two flights of stairs before entering into a long arrow-shaped room. In the gloom, something large and insect-like scuttled away from their lantern, so the adventurers advanced carefully. As they stepped further into the chamber, they saw that the entire northeastern section of the room was covered in a thick layer of a white-amber substance, similar to dried sap or resin. This plastic material encased two large stone pillars in a depth of up to ten feet and choked a corridor that exited through the eastern wall to a similar depth, leaving but three feet of the corridor near the ceiling clear and passable. A third pillar stood just outside the resin and bore a stone hatch set in one side. To the west, another corridor exited the room.

Most disturbing, however, where the half dozen insect creatures that watched them warily, slipping back into the gloom as the party’s light brightened the room. Standing close to 4’ tall, these strange insect-men resembled hissing cockroaches that stood on two legs (and sometimes four) and carried spears and weird-angled crossbows in their chitonous arms.

Both sides paused, evaluating the opposition. The roach-like men huddled just outside of the party’s light with weapons held but not aimed at these intruders from the surface. The party stared at the bug men, unable to fathom their intentions. At last, the decision to slink out the western corridor was agreed upon, but not before Fanta suggested a cunning plan to demonstrate their lack of aggressive motives towards the roach men.

“We cannot speak their language and they undoubtedly do not know ours. But laugher is the universal language understood by all species. Perhaps if we laughed mirthfully as we left this chamber, they will let us pass unhindered,” the Old Blood posited. Doing just that, the party exited the room, keeping a wary eye upon the bug men, who watched them carefully but did not move from their posts.

The corridor T-ed not far from the resin-filled chamber, with both arms heading off into darkness. Choosing the northern arm, the party moved deeper into the Black Gut, only to discover that the passageway wound to the west, and then north, then east before ending in an archway filled with motes of blue light. On the left column of the arch was a slight indentation that depicted two horizontal lines with a diagonal one beneath them. Stones tossed at the glowing barrier revealed it was quite solid and that the glow of the party’s lantern failed to pierce the mystic blockade.

As the point men of the party contemplated this glowing archway, those in the rear were keeping a close eye on the passageway they had just traversed, fearful of an ambuscade from the bug men. Knowing them to avoid light, a torch was placed on the ground at the point where the passage turned from the west back towards the north. All seemed safe until the torch suddenly went out, extinguished by a large glop of sticky, phlegm-like matter which shot out of the darkness behind the intrepid party.

This had to be a prelude to an attack, and the party quickly shuffled ranks to best meet the threat. Sure enough, there was a strange mechanical ratcheting from the darkness and a circular, serrated blade shot towards Morg only to rebound off his hastily raised shield. Thud and Baragkus charged into the darkness in the direction of the attack and the rest of the party followed suit. As the party approached the corridor’s turn to the south, they found four of the roach men crouched with spears and their strange crossbows at the ready.

In the battle, two were taken down by the missiles of Lyrax and Kyrinn, which was enough to break the morale of the two remaining insectoids, who fled back the way they came with the party in close pursuit. As the roaches turned the corner, the party paused, anticipating a trap.

Tactics were hurriedly discussed and the party decided to break both to the east and west as they reentered the hall that led back to the resin room. They anticipated roach men to try and catch them in a pincer move, but when they burst into the corridor, they found that their adversaries where not as adept as they suspected. Although two more of those serrated discs were launched at the party, the front men took the blows and pressed the fight back into the resin room. Once there, the weapons of Thud and Baragkus took down two of the insect men while Lyrax and Kyrinn thinned the rest with their arrows. Moments later, the room was cleared but at the cost of a serious wound to Morg.

The party began policing up the strange crossbows that the roach men had carried, finding them to be complex devices compared to the simple spears the rest of their kind carried. In addition to the crossbows (which Baragkus and Thud commandeered), numerous copper coins were found affixed to the insect men’s abdomens with a sticky spittle. These were pried loose with knives and added to the party’s collected loot.
With the room to themselves, the party set about prying open the stone hatch on the only pillar not embedded in resin. Inside, they found naught but human bones and more of that coral-like substance clinging to the inside walls. What was this stuff?

Since no answers were forthcoming, the party decided to head back west and explore the other arm of the T-intersection. But first, Morg wanted to bind his wounds and raise his spirits with some wine. Unwisely, the party chose the resin room to do this and found themselves again in battle with more of the roach men who emerged from the eastern corridor. Although the battle was quick, it became obvious that they couldn’t stay there.

So of course, they split up, sending one group down the unexplored dark hallway in search of a room with a door they could close to rest behind, while the other members of the party kept the roach men in check. Not the wisest of plans, but who am I to tell them so?

The scouting party learned that the corridor extended quite some distance from the resin room—almost a hundred feet before splitting again. A stairway rose to the west and an open area loomed in the darkness to the north. As they were exploring the passageway, another force of roach men appeared to threaten the other half of the party and was again rebuffed. It was obvious that the roach men had a lair to the east and would continue to emerge unless the party ventured in to clear it out or left the area. Once the scouting party returned with their report, the party chose to return to the surface to heal and plan their next course of action.

As they headed back towards the entrance of the dungeon, they were surprised to discover an ajar secret door in the bath chamber where they had fought the Low Men. Someone or something had ventured this way after they had left. Peering down the corridor that lay behind the door, they saw a Y-shaped intersection with an iron-bound door located in the crotch of the diverging passageways. Although this piqued their interest, they chose to exit the dungeon to heal before coming back to tackle this new portal.

After a cold lunch and some wine to revive their flagging spirits, the party stood before the recently revealed doorway. Both arms of the Y-intersection revealed only more corridor heading off into the gloom so they turned their attentions to the valve. Unlocked and untrapped, the door opened to reveal a long chamber which held nine 5’ square stone plinths set in rows of threes and a mottled red and black glass casket at the far end of the room. A crystal glyph lay set into the top of each plinth and lit up whenever something or someone passed over it. Tests revealed that only three would light at a time, a fact which had the party suspecting this might be a cipher system that kept the glass casket sealed since their efforts to pry open that container had failed. Anticipating disaster, most of the party fled the room while three brave souls remained behind to try and solve the cipher of the plinths.

Surprisingly, it was Domdull who chanced upon the proper pattern of glyphs and the casket unlatched with a “click” (I’ll go into deeper detail about the glyph puzzle in another post because it’s an interesting one and deserves more time than I can devote to it now). The three stalwarts approached the casket and opened its lid. Inside, they delighted to see thousands of copper and silver coins and a vial of some sort contained within.

This seemed to be a nice way to end a game session, so that’s where we left it. We’ll pick it up again the Sunday after Independence Day.

Watchfires & Thrones: Session #11

…and decided that, before they started poking at the glossy black stepped platform, they should return some of the party to the surface so that they could recuperate and relearn the spells that were expended fighting the smoke monster. In reality, one of the players had to miss the session and another was returning after missing the previous week, so a return up top to deposit inactive PCs and pick up replacements was in order. After a quick up-and-back, the party stood again in the chamber they had just vacated, staring up at the 20’ tall glossy stone edifice which bore stylized decorations of the Tomb Herd upon it.

As the adventurers spread out to cover them, Thud, Baragkus, and Anwar clambered up the high steps to discover a series of three 5’ tall stone posts, a pair of braziers filled with a pink, gravel-like substance, and a 10’ diameter iris hatch of the blue-white metal they’ve seen in other parts of the Black Gut. Anwar decided to light the braziers and each began to produce a heavy pink-white smoke that rolled out of the braziers’ dishes. The smoke collected in the center of the platform, settling to rest in the slightly concave surface that housed the iris hatch. Interesting.

Some poking and prodding of the stone posts determined that they could be depressed into the platform’s surface in the order of right to left. The first post caused a loud CHUNK to be heard from beneath the metal iris. The second opened the iris slightly, leaving a 6’’ diameter hole in the center. Anwar carefully climbed out upon the hatch and tried to peer down into the shadowy interior, but his torch was insufficient to determine what lay beneath it. His ears caught the sound of an unsettling slithering and clacking, however.

Returning back to the safety of the platform, Anwar, Thud, and Baragkus called for the rest of the party to join them atop the structure. There, the adventurers fanned out to cover the opening, as it was expected that the last post would open the hatch fully—and it did. Peering over the edge of the now completely dilated metal door, the party saw a 20’ deep shaft. At the bottom lay numerous bones…and four creatures that shared the characteristics of the beasts carved on the exterior of the platform. Tomb Herd!

Three seemed to be incapacitated or slumbering, their inert bodies wreathed by the thick pink-white smoke. A fourth was groggily clawing its way up the side of the shaft, looking determined to escape its captivity. The party’s archers unleashed a volley of arrows at the beast, injuring it and jarring it fully awake. It continued to climb, its featureless face somehow promising violence, but another volley of arrows inflicted more wounds, and it was barely alive as it clambered over the edge of the shaft and stood up to face the party’s fighting men.

These valiant warriors unleashed the flurry of blows and axe, hammer, and sword fell hard upon the creature. As they smote its black-bronze carapace, a thick yellow blood erupted from its wounds and splattered on Morg and Thud. The fighters grimaced as the vitae burned their flesh and armor, but continued their blows. Mars Markus moved quickly to sluice the acidic blood from his compatriots, and the Tomb Herd finally fell under their onslaught. It collapsed to the floor, the weight of its long tail dragging it back into the pit’s maw where it fell in a heap below.

The party discovered that they could close the hatch and spent some time healing the fighters’ wounds and debating their next course of action. The argument to continue their attack on the other, seemingly slumbering Tomb Herd won the day, and the hatch was reopened. A vial of oil was poured on the nearest critter and a torch dropped in after it. The subsequent blaze woke the creature and it writhed in pain at the bottom of the shaft before one of Lyrax’s arrows brought it down. Again, the hatch was sealed and the party debated moving on while their luck held. However, lessons learned in the battle with the fungal dead were quickly forgotten, and the band pressed its luck by opening the hatch a third time.

As they did, they looked down in horror to see that one of the Tomb Herd was now awake and crouched in preparation to launch itself from the pit. As it did so, missiles flew but missed and the fighting men prepared to meet the creature head on. The Tomb Herd’s jump took it up to the top of the shaft, but not out of it, and its clawed hands grasped the edge of the pit. Its barbed tailed lashed out at Morg, but he ducked the strike. The fighting men again swung their weapons but were unable to pry the creature loose. Anwar, sensing disaster, moved to push the post that would seal the creature inside the pit.

Unfortunately, the magic-user moved too slowly and the Tomb Herd launched itself out of the pit before the hatch closed shut. As it just cleared the closing hatch, the end of its tail was sliced off by the iris and it let out an unearthly shriek. It forced itself against the rudimentary shield wall the warriors formed at the pit’s edge, its tail lashing about, sending burning acid blood splattering everywhere (thanks for the idea, Pete!) but not enough to inflict great harm on the adventurers. Again, the fighting men confronted the beast as a solid wall, ducking and blocking its claws and secondary mouth as it snapped at them. But again, a Tomb Herd fell slain.

Choosing to press their luck one last time, the adventurers doused the strange corpse in oil and set it alight before pushing the post that would open the iris. As the hatch expanded, they saw the last Tomb Herd had awoken and was preparing to leap from the shaft…until the flaming corpse of its brethren landed atop it, scorching its hide and knocking it off balance. Missiles rained down upon it and Anwar prepared to slam the iris shut, hoping to recapture lighting in the bottle and bisect the creature as it closed. The beast leapt, sorely wounded, but it easily dodged the closing iris portal. Battle was forged anew and again the party prevailed (This last encounter is the first part of the video).

Their foes finally defeated, Mars Markus dispensed healing to those who had been injured in the melee, while the rest of the band examined the now reopened shaft. Baragkus prepared a rope, but the miasma of acid-scorched bones, lingering smoke, and burned Tomb Herd corpses deterred anyone from climbing down into the pit. No treasure could be seen from above, so it was decided that the party should press on. Leaving the room now referred to as the sacrificial chamber via the room’s other door, the party came upon a second four-way intersection. A chamber opened off to their left and a half-closed sliding door of the now ubiquitous blue-white metal stood to their right.

“When all else is uncertain, head left” being the party motto, they entered the chamber to discover a dilapidated barracks. Rusting iron frames which once held sleeping pallets and the greasy ashen remains of seven humanoid figures was all the room contained. Something seemed to have the power to render entire creatures down to ash. What and where is it? Although no answers were forthcoming, the party was able to confirm that the chamber was indeed connected to the first four-way intersection they had passed, but decided to return back to the half-closed door.

There, Baragkus overheard the sounds of snarling and the ripping of flesh, but could make out nothing in the gloom beyond the door. He attempted to shut the portal, being one to always explore his options, and discovered that it could indeed be closed, albeit with a great deal of noise. With the door now sealed—and the inhabitant(s) of the room now alerted—the party prepared for battle and reopened the door.

From out of the darkness loped a hairless, six-limbed monstrosity the size of a coyote. It’s seemingly sightless eyes took in the party’s presence and it snarled at Baragkus’ attempt to win its favor with softly spoken words. Then, with its jaws gaping wide, it lunged at the party. So fearsome was its aspect that Baragkus turned tail and ran back towards the barracks, leaving the rest of the party (who had all made the saves vs. death to avoid the fear effect) to face off against the hairless beast—hairless and apparently armorless as well, for it fell after a very brief skirmish.

After collecting Baragkus and fortifying Morg’s flagging spirits with bandages and wine, the party set in to exploring the room behind the sliding metal door. Mysterious rusted racks lined the walls, their original purpose unidentifiable. Perhaps they held armor or some other large objects in the dim past? The room smelled particularly foul, with “moldy undergarments” being the closest descriptor. In the northeast corner lay the partially devoured corpse of a Low Man and beside it lay a nest of greasy wool-like material. Amongst the bones and insect parts (some of which were quite large but no one chose to question that…heh heh heh), the party turned up three garnets of decent size. This was good enough for the party, so they left the chamber behind, eschewing the need to search for secret compartments or doors.

Heading further northward at the intersection, the adventurers discovered another just down the hall. To the left, the hallway angled off into darkness and a sealed sliding door stood on the right-hand wall. In the gloom ahead, the corridor ended in an open doorway with small heaps of rubble on the floor before it. Judging the rubble to be worth investigating, the party left the door alone for the moment, with Malbane the Green shuddering for some reason he passed it by.

The open doorway once housed a sliding blue-white metal door, but something had reduced that impervious metal to liquid slag, which had run and hardened on the corridor’s floor. Welded fast the stonework, the party was unable to gain a sample of it, something they’ve been eager to do, without chipping away at the stone itself and making an unholy racket.

The chamber beyond held a sunken floor which was surrounding and bisected by a 5’ high, 5’ wide walkway. Strange brass cartouches hung from the wall, the same three series of characters repeated over and over again. The writing was unidentifiable, but several of the characters resembled those discovered on the sand-scoured masonry out in the desert above. The sunken area of the room held several hexagonal fonts or basins, three of which still retains the hemispheres of smoked glass that had once covered them all, and a thin pink mist that curled around their stone bases. Two ramps ran down into the depressed areas and another sliding door exited the room to the north.

Despite their efforts, the party was unable to pry the cartouches off of the walls, and Morg’s investigations of the basins revealed that each held a strange coral-like material arranged in a bowl fashion. Whatever these things once held, it was long gone. Samples were taken of the material and it proved to be some kind of petrified organic vegetable or fungal material rather than proper coral. The party exited through the northern door, eyes peered and weapons held tight.
A long, dark passageway extended past the door, but the glimpse of a faint purple illumination peeked from around a bend in the hallway ahead. Edging forward, the party could discern three human voices speaking the common trade tongue. They seemed to be engaged in gambling and bemoaning the lack of apples to eat. Judging from their words, they had been down here for some length of time.

Anwar, ever the diplomat, was chosen to enter the room while the rest of the band waited around the corner, ready to jump in to rescue the sorcerer if things went amiss. With his hands empty and a big smile on his face, Anwar tried to get himself in on a game of Giant’s Knuckles, but the three ragged looking fighters seemed less than pleased to see him down in the dungeon. They let him know in no uncertain terms that “The Masters” didn’t want outsiders poking around in the Black Gut. When he was unable to provide the password to go along with his attempt to convince the trio he was supposed to be here, things headed pear-shaped real quick. With one last insult, Anwar fled around the corner, leading the three guards into the party’s trap.

In the subsequent melee, the warriors proved to be less than formidable in battle but unnaturally unwilling to surrender. A certain glazed look upon their determined faces suggested that they might not have been in complete possession of their free will. Despite the party’s desire to take one alive, the guards’ determination to battle resulted in all three being slain.

The party tossed the room and found that there were six bedrolls inside, meaning that another three of these yahoos were out there in the dungeon somewhere. They also discovered a leather scroll tube that held three sheets of paper covered in some form of cipher, but no treasure was to be found. Perhaps if they had checked the pile of firewood I kept mentioning…

With no other exits suggesting themselves, the band returned to the closed metal door back at the intersection and entered into the room beyond it. More of those purposeless iron racks lined the walls, but these had mounds of the same greasy wool-like material at their bases. However, the most interesting feature was the stone platform and console that stood at the far end of the chamber. The party edged into the room, but as they got within ten feet of the console, a low humming noise began to fill the air. When they closed to 5 feet away, a green glow started to emanate from the console and a snap of electricity leaped across its unseen surface. There was much apprehension about approaching closer, but Malbane, still kicking himself for bypassing the Temple of the Goat’s mysterious fruit and its CON increasing properties, stepped boldly forward.
Again, as he closed within 10 feet, a droning hum arose from the console, and at five feet, the green glow and the crackle of electricity returned. As he stepped to within two feet of the mysterious stone object, his hair began to stand on end and the scent of ozone hung heavy in the air. Unimpressed by these developments, he stepped upon the platform…and completed the circuit that sent a blast of electricity through his skinny frame. Three dice of damage, a failed saving throw, and two hit points at the best of times, resulted in the sorcerer—the longest surviving PC currently in the game—becoming a charred corpse that collapsed onto the ground.

Baragkus edged around the platform, carefully keeping his distance, to get a look at the far side of the console. There, he saw numerous small crystals embedded into the console’s face, some of which glowed green, but most of which were smoky brown in color, like those of a blown fuse. A large central crystal oscillated with illumination and its placement seemed to indict it as the culprit that killed Malbane. After the fighter returned to the rest of the party, they were able to lasso Malbane’s charred form and it was decided that a return to the surface was in order…

Watchfires & Thrones: Session #10

Ten, ten glorious game sessions are now behind us—and people said we wouldn’t last!

Play resumed with the party discoursing on their post-Temple of the Goat expedition options, and it was clear from the beginning that the much hinted at Black Gut would be the next site to explore and loot. Both Fanta and Domdull had briefly visited those ebony catacombs and could guide the party to the site. However, it would take a laden party of explorers just over two days travel on foot to reach the place. With this in mind, the party decided that a large portion of their recently-acquired treasure would be spent on riding horses and associated equestrian accoutrements. Eight hundred gold jitais later, the party was now a mounted band.

Due to various obligations, instruction, and a case of the briefly incapacitating “camel flu,” Bannath, Syl, and Kyrinn would be left back in Rhuun while the rest of the party headed off to the Black Gut. The services of the two mule-skinners, Ahm and Yazil, were again required and the grizzled pack masters readily agreed to watch the party’s mules and horses for the princely sum of five smerduks a day. Despite the off-and-on presence of Bannath, Syl, and Kyrinn in town, Mars Markus grew uneasy about leaving a portion of the party’s recently plundered loot behind in their rented home. The cleric visited the temple of Mog with the intent of speaking with the Spider Mother to see if she could recommend some devout worshippers who were both skilled in the art of warcraft and could be trusted to keep an eye on the party’s abode. Two former infantry men were spoken of highly and the duo are now employed for the next month as caretakers and guardians of the party’s leased abode.

With final details attended to, the party, consisting of Anwar, Baragkus, Domdull, Fanta, Habdazar, Lyrax, Malbane the Green, and Mars Markus, plus two recently hired fighting men, Morg Kelden and the onomatopoetically named Thud, struck out on the Lizard’s Tongue trade route headed east-southeast.

Their trip along the broad, paved road was uneventful and they soon found themselves at head of a well-used trail which headed south into the desert. Nearby, they could make out a large boulder which the desert winds had eroded away, giving it a crude resemblance to a four-fingered hand pointing towards the resting place of the Black Gut. Venturing into the shifting sands of the Desert of Demons proper, the party left the Lizard’s Tongue behind them, their eyes constantly casting about for signs of danger. They detected nothing but rocky waste, blowing sand, and low hillocks.

When they paused to break for a meal, however, Fanta’s sharp pupiless eyes caught sight of sharp angles which stood out amongst the dun-colored sand. Some hundred yards east of where the party ate, a pile of fallen masonry broke the surface of the sand. These wind-scoured stones seems to have once been a wall or foundation to a long-vanished structure and the party moved closer to investigate. Carefully skirting the pile, they found no signs of danger, but a few eroded sigils were inscribed on the side of one of the blocks. Stepping closer, they were able to make our three sigils or letters inscribed in the stone. In faded chalk beneath them were letters or phonetic transcriptions in the Common tongue. The spell-casters grew excited at this discovery, as sorcerers are wont to do when archaic signs are uncovered, and they made plans to transcribe these images for later study…and promptly realized that not one of them had any ink or other method of legibly reproducing the signs. Some very humorous mnemonics were suggested (“O.K., the pony tail is ‘A’, the egg is ‘G’ and the two rivers by the hill is ‘H,’ we got that?” “I was just going to remember it as “aaaagggghhhhh.”) until the idea of carving the symbols into the shaft of one of their many torches was hit upon. Lyrax, the deftest of hand, was chosen to inscribe the sigils into the wood and did so with excellent results. Now the party must remember not to inadvertently light that torch…

Heading south again, the party nervously passed through a gap in the hills which closely resembled the ravine where a certain astromech droid was once ambushed by robe-clad vermin, but emerged without incident. As they left the defile, they did spot a Debouin well amongst the rocks and confirmed that it held clean, potable water beneath its capstone. Knowing the fatal penalty for destroying or contaminating a well in the desert, the party wisely made a note of its location and continued on. The low hills before them were quickly reached and there, in a mile-wide depression ringed by the rocky hillocks, sat a large outcrop of stone that unknown hands had shaped into an odd skull-like form. Descending into the vale, the party hobbled their mounts and prepared to delve into the Black Gut. Yazil and Ahm were a little nervous about being left in the middle of the desert all alone—after all, at the last place they had a stout wall between them and any hungry beasts on the prowl. Fanta stepped forward and delivered a rousing inspiration speech (rolling a “2” on the reaction table) and the two men’s fears were quickly laid to rest. Unfortunately, this conundrum roused doubts in Anwar about leaving two hired men to watch over more than 800 jitais of livestock by themselves. The sorcerer and Thud decided to remain to both guard the muleskinners and keep a close eye on them.

The rest of the band stepped into the gloom of the skull and found a sharply angled flight of stairs descending into the earth. Lighting torches and lanterns, they ventured down. After 70 or more feet and several corkscrew turns of the stairs, they detected a lavender glow coming from below. Continuing, they soon stepped into a small angular chamber that held a shallow reflecting pool and an artistic statue comprised of interlocking spheres, triangles, and rectangles. In the center of the pool burned a brazier, but the flames that flickered in its bowl were of purple hue. A puzzling fire indeed. Hurried examinations turned up nothing, but corridors to both the north and east were present, with another dim lavender light coming from the northern passage. It was in the direction that the party ventured.

A short flight of steps was discovered, and the party rose to a small landing followed by another short rise of stairs. As Baragkus and Morg cleared the second set of steps, a crossbow twanged from ahead of them and loud guttural shouts were raised. Silhouetted by the purple light, the fighters saw two humanoid figures taking cover at the entrance to a large chamber. Raising their weapons and voices in battle cries, Baragkus and Morg charged ahead…

And discovered that the two guards they had engaged were just a small portion of the ten Low Men who had made the chamber their camp.

Things looked bad for the brash adventurers, but they quickly brought down the two they faced. Lyrax, drawing back his longbow, stepped forward and aimed through the gap that Baragkus and Morg had carved. He then unleashed a flurry of arrows at the primitive Low Men, cutting down three before his fourth arrow failed to find his target! The gods of war smiled upon the archer that day and an eruption of cheers ran through the party.

Their number cut in half during the first few seconds of battle was not enough to stem the Low Men’s desire to fight and the two sides closed swiftly. Luckily for the party, most of the creatures had been eating when they were so rudely interrupted by uninvited guests and at least two of the beasts were forced to fight with gnarly claws and a haunch of meat in lieu of bronze and flint weapons. Nevertheless, those claws were almost enough to slay Morg as one of the Low Men wrapped his hands around the fighter’s throat. Mars Markus was encountering other difficulties on the other side of the chamber. As he rushed forward to spear an opponent, his feet stumbled over a pile of greasy sleeping furs and the spider cleric tumbled face first into the purple campfire upon which the Low Men had been cooking their meal! This was our second fumble of the campaign and, due to their infrequency, proves that the fumble system I’m using is much more preferable to myself than the standard “natural 1” method used by so many other games.

Despite these setbacks, the remaining Low Men were quickly dispatched, leaving the adventurers free to strip their corpses and the chamber of any wealth. Unfortunately for the party, there was nothing to be found on the bodies but shiny rocks, odd scraps of metal (“cave man cash”) and spoiled oats, wheat, and water in casks and crates. The one thing that drew their interest was the purple campfire and what colored it, but as far as they could tell, it was nothing but a crude blaze kindled to cook meat and illuminate the diners. They extinguished the blaze before they left, however, and thereby avoided the encounter with Smoky the Bear that I had planned. And no, I won’t reveal if I’m joking or not.

Returning to the entrance chamber, they ventured to the east where a crossroads offered many choices. Down the eastern corridor, two doors awaited them: an iron-bound door of wood to the south and a stout solid iron portal at the far end of the passage. As the southern door was closest, it was that one which they entered.

The room beyond was of the same ubiquitous ebony stone, but some unknown hand had painted red tiger stripes across the chamber’s walls and covered the floor in a thin layer of black gravel. A corridor exited the room directly across from the doorway and two thin brass strips were affixed to either side of the passage. Suspecting a trap, the party carefully shifted the gravel as they crossed the chamber but nothing untoward occurred.

Reaching the far passage, they were able to make out the words inscribed on the brass plates: “Pride goes before the fall, but the penitent man is well received.” Judging this to be a clue as to how to proceed safely down the corridor, the adventurers dropped down on their hands and knees and began to painfully crawl across the gravel-strewn floor. Making their way down the passage, they discovered that it abruptly ended in a semi-circular terminus, one occupied by a grim idol set atop a stone platform. The idol depicted a hulking gorilla-like body with a rotting head, gaping mouth, and single baleful eye. As they were prone upon the floor, Baragkus detected a small stone button located beneath the idol’s raised foot. However, the fighter was loathe to press it. Morg was less hesitant and volunteered to prod the device to see what would occur. This resulted in the rest of the party fleeing the chamber and taking cover in the hallway outside, leaving the fighting man alone in the passage.

With a muttered prayer, the button was pushed and a soft click was heard. Looking up, Morg noticed that the semi-circular wall behind the statue had shifted slightly to reveal an open area behind it. Testing the idol’s platform carefully, he discovered that the entire end of the corridor turned on a pivot to grant access to a hidden chamber. Peering in cautiously, he could make out a ruined poster bed, decrepit wardrobe, upholstered chairs spilling stuffing onto the floor, and rickety tables. The far wall also bore a greasy ash silhouette of a humanoid form. Another exit left the room through the eastern wall.

After the rest of the party emerged from safety at Morg’s summoning, they carefully inspected the room. Most of its contents were in poor condition, but Mars Markus discovered an offering jug made of iron and fashioned in the shape of the gorilla idol’s head beneath the collapsing bedstead. Inside were few hundred smerduks and copper groats.

The room now thoroughly search—or so they believed—the party propped the secret door open with a somewhat sturdy ottoman before venturing down the eastern passage. The corridor ended in another bound door, this one sealed with a stout lock. Their attempts at lockpicking unsuccessful, the adventurers returned to the decaying bedchambers in search of a key. There they stripped the room down to brass tacks before discovering an iron key with a ragged black ribbon tied to it lost amongst the sleeping furs of the bed. This key did indeed open the locked door and the party passed beyond it.

A long narrow chamber confronted them and the smell of smoke was heavy in the still air. Dual rows of five pillars made of a blue-white metal ran the length of the room, which ended in another half circle wall. A low platform, some 10’ in diameter and decorated by an indistinct design, stood at the far end of the room. However, as the party approached this platform for a better look, a ball of thick grey smoke appeared near the ceiling in the center of the chamber. It swirled angrily and began to grow. It would appear that the adventurers had stumbled upon the Smoke Monster’s vacation home and now had to pay the price!

Not taking any chances, Habdazar unleashed a magical bolt at the beast which caused the smoky presence to howl in pain or frustration. The column of smoke screamed down upon the party, slamming into Morg and Baragkus, inflicting moderate injuries upon the fighting duo. Their blades seemed to have no effect on the eerie thing and, as the smoke slalomed through the chamber’s columns to line up another attack, the party fled the room, locking the door behind them.

Returning to the bedchambers, a quick debate ensued about what to do next. They heard no more noise from the pillared chamber after the door was shut and noted that the smoke beast did not appear until after they began moving towards the platform in the southern end of the room. The desire to make another attempt to reach that platform was strong, and the point that Habdazar’s magic attack had seemed to damage the creature was brought up. Fanta announced that he too had such a bolt memorized and was prepared to launch it against the creature—from behind the protection of Domdull’s shield, of course. Malbane, on the other hand, had other ideas and began scouring the ashen silhouette from the chamber’s wall with the intent to burn it. He surmised that the creature and the mark were somehow interconnected.

It was decided that one last attempt should be made against the smoky guardian and a portion of the band prepared to reenter the room. Mars Markus carefully stepped into the room and demonstrated that the creature had not only vanished but that, so long as the party remained at the northern end of the room, it would not reappear. The party reorganized themselves for maximum defense and then edged their way towards the platform. No sooner had they begun, the roiling smoky ball reappeared near the ceiling and began to swell.

Fanta pointed at the sphere and blasted it with his magical dart, but although it too seemed to injure the creature, the guardian continued to materialize and the adventurers fled immediately after, once again sealing the portal in their wake. Malbane had meanwhile succeeded in burning the ashen residue of the silhouette, but this seemed to have no effect on the smoke monster.

These events were sufficient to induce the party to move along to other unexplored areas and, after they “remove[d]the ottoman and reset the monkey,” they gathered at the iron door they had noticed earlier with the intent to breach it. The metal portal exhibited a keyhole beneath the handle and much effort was made peering through the hole, trying the recently-discovered key, and inserting slim blades into the lock before the adventurers realized that no one had determined if the door was actually secured. With red faces, the door handle was turned and it opened easily.

A high-ceilinged room awaited behind the door, its sole decoration being a three stepped platform of glossy black stone which rose 20’ above the floor. Three stone plinths stood atop the platform and a pair of iron braziers flanked these protrusions. The surface of the platform was inscribed with blocky pictograms that depicted humanoid forms with elongated heads, writing tails, and claws. Malbane immediately recognized the forms as being stylized representations of the Tomb Herd although they lacked wings. Another door exited the room at the northern end of the same wall through which the entered. Uneasily, the party stepped into the room…