Kelwyn’s expeditions uncovered many nefarious secrets around Thanhal. One such secret is a magical device that can slay diabolical fiends. Does this weapon exist? The infamous Righteous Defenders, who helped in its supposed creation, never used it. Discreet officials wish to acquire that weapon and use it to destroy the last remnants of the rising goblin forces. Do the Dungeon Knights dare to search for this dangerous device? (Part Four of the Kelwyn’s Keys series)
The town of Thanhal looms ahead as the Dungeon Knights travel the long road towards its gates. There’s a brisk breeze in the air and the clouds sail gently across the sky. The final hill gives way to a long gentle descent into the fertile fields around the town. At the town’s gates, there is a winding line of people, sheep, goats and food-laden wagons. Out of the other far gate is a line of dung-filled wagons leaving for distant fields. Getting into town is going to take a few minutes.
Gûltar’s mouth is dry from the dusty road and he longs for the welcome comforts of a tavern. He rushes the others to assume a better position in the line to pass through the front gate’s inspection. The locals know this gate as Wagon Gate, popular with incoming merchants and farmers. “How much longer is this gonna take?” mutters Gûltar.
After several minutes of idle waiting, the heroes are in reach the guard towers bracketing the town’s almost massive gates. A tired looking human in tarnished armor motions to the pair of peasants in front of the heroes. “C’mon you, move ahead.”
As Bandric reaches the front of the line, the guard lifts his writing tablet and quill. With a dreadful sigh, he orders, “What is thy name and business in Thanhal.”
The guardsman sergeant, called Saulo by his friends, waits for Bandric’s answer. “Well? I don’t have all day.”
“I am called Bandric, leader of the Dungeon Knights.” He motions to his friends. Kotyka sinks deeper into her heavy cloak and veil. Then she nuzzles further behind Chalándril. “We’re returning from a short trip across the river and a bit further that way.”
“Why do you have such a big weapon?” Sergeant Saulo asks looking at Gûltar’s weapon and motioning towards Bandric’s bow. “Are you doing any hunting or killing in town? Before you get cocky, the answer better be, no.”
“Well, uh.”
“You, dwarf fellow, why isn’t thine ax peace bonded?” snaps Saulo.
Gûltar’s face snarls. “I didn’t realize thou hast got rid of all thy criminals and…”
“Thou art a smart-ass? We don’t need those here. We’re all full.” He looks askance at his guardsmen. “…even in the watch. Why are you wearing all that armor? You expecting a war? This is a town, not a tournament or some battlefield.”
Chalándril speaks up. “Sir, we are highly trained warriors previously in the service of the Kelwyn Merchant House. Without these weapons, we would not be able to ply our trade nor defeat the monstrous goblins that plague the area.”
Sgt. Saulo rolls his eyes and again sighs. “All right. You’re good…” His sentence is cut short by the alarm horn above. A guard on the tower yells down to Saulo.
“Sergeant Saulo, several mounted units are heading this way. There are a lot of them. We’re under attack!” He continues to sound the alarm. Other horns sound from other towers along the wall. The peasant folk in line begin to panic.
Gûltar elbows Bandric, “And he wonders why I wear my armor.”
The folk in line begin to rush the gate, forcing their way into Thanhal. The guards start pulling people behind the gates. Sergeant Saulo yells, “All you scum! Now listen up. Make an orderly line. Hurry up. Ya’ll be coming in just do it orderly. You there, forget about yer cow. Leave it! Just get in here, now!”
The gates begin to close as the guards hurriedly prepare for combat. Dust from the arriving forces looms close. Indistinct yells and barking get closer and closer.
“By the gods!” Saulo exclaims, “We’re not going to get the gates closed in time. Can anyone help hold the line?” He looks over at Bandric’s well-armed group. “Time to earn another reference and prove you are caravan guards. Stall the riders a bit while we get these people behind the gates. For the good of Thanhal, they need your help.”
Saulo turns away to help the line of panicked commoners and peasants enter the city. “Orderly line! Orderly line! By the gods, are you daft? I said orderly line!”
Arrows from the battlements fly through the air, hitting several of the riders and their mounts as they come into view. Small, leather-armored green and yellow-skinned creatures atop savage looking wolves bolt towards the walls. They continue their advance, running in zig-zag formations to elude the arrows. Still, the arrows put down several riders and mounts.
Now that the invaders are closer, the heroes see the goblins are arranged in small units – spread out over the field. One squad of goblins is headed straight for the Wagon Gate. The largest of three goblins headed towards the gate dismounts and yells from the top of his lungs, “My name is Nashtuk Fen, you humans killed my brother. Prepare to die.”
“Gods how I hate goblins!” yells Gûltar as he drops the backpack and readies his ax. “The whole goblins riding wolves thing is getting really old.”
The goblin cleric Feleru Nhol, an obvious priest to the goblin gods, casts a spell to bless and empower his fellows. Tolok notifies his friends, “I believe that fellow yonder is a priest of some sort. We should disrupt his ability to heal and help our foes.”
With a nod, Tolok throws a fireball centered on Feleru and the other goblin forces. Just as the smoke clears, Merimonwë throws her own fireball onto the crowd of goblins. The charred remains of several goblins and their mounts fall to the ground, smoky steam rising from their ashen remains. However, a wounded Feleru remains standing atop a dead mount. The goblin yells something profane in his language.
About this time, Nashtuk Fen arrives at Gûltar’s position. His lance digs deep into the dwarf’s flesh. Undeterred, Gûltar grabs the lance with his left hand and strikes with his ax from the right. He, in turn, leaves a grave wound on Nashtuk. “This isn’t my first dance with you wolf riders.”
Nashtuk dismounts and draws another weapon. The dwarf and goblin warriors engage in a long melee, exchanging blows. Feleru is able to cast a spell and takes flight into the air. Bandric takes aim and unleashes a volley of arrows upon the goblin cleric. A bit out of her element, Kotyka locates her short bow and fires off a few shots. Finally, Feleru succumbs to the wounds and falls dead.
Chalándril continues to provide cover and protection to the last remaining peasants caught outside the town’s gates. The half-human spots Gûltar engaged with an agile goblin. Before she can render aid, Gûltar drives the pick end deep into the goblin’s skull. The dwarf lets out a rage-fueled scream, his eyes wild with fury.
As Bandric surveys the battlefield outside the town walls, he sees the goblin forces retreating by foot and paw. The skill and luck of the town’s archers won the safety of Thanhal from the marauding goblin horde. And Wagon Gate is well defended by the bravery of the Dungeon Knights. The Far Gate didn’t fare so well. A thick black plume of smoke rises from the burning gatehouse. A team of guards is pouring water and sand on the gate in hopes of dousing the flames.
Several guardsmen from atop the nearby walls cheer the success. “Huzzah! You beat back that goblin general. Thanks for your help adventurers. You stalled the goblins long enough for us to get the innocents to safety.” Sgt. Saulo says, “I owe each of you a drink.”
Gûltar wipes the blood off his ax. ‟Now that’s payment I will enjoy.”
The town gate opens once again. Some guards flood into the field to loot…er…capture any surviving enemy. Several other guards pat the Dungeon Knights on their backs as they walk into Thanhal. “Just tell the Bartender at the Dancing Dog I owe you a drink. He’ll put it on my tab.”
Thanhal’s main road is filled with screaming children and weeping women, the threat of death still looming close in their minds. Many of Thanhal’s citizens wander out of their homes and businesses to learn about the excitement and horn blowing. The side streets and merchant stalls are filled with the frantic murmuring of gossip.
A small gnome wearing black traveling clothes approaches. Standing to his right is a large “man” with an umbrella. The large man patiently holds the umbrella over the smaller man – keeping the sunlight from hitting his dark clothes. Both men are dressed smartly and wear wide-rimmed black hats. The gnome and his giant-like assistant both sport dark glasses. The two sulk up to the Dungeon Knights, looking around nervously for eavesdroppers.
When all appears safe, the small man leans forward pushing the glasses forward on his nose. He looks at Chalandril with a serious glare. “Yah, we saw yah. Real heroic type stuff, yah see. We like that. Don’t we Gurlg?” The gnome elbows the hulking Gurlg in the leg.
“We sure do, Boss. Really heroic stuff they did. Kill a lot’a goblins they did. One, five, two, uh ten. No? Hey Gamalek, what’s after one?”
Gamalek elbows Gurlg’s leg harder. “Never thee mind. Now, back to why we’z here. Yah see, we need someone to perform a dangerous mission. All covert like, yah see. We contacted this sage, yah see, who will explain all the details, see.”
Gamalek motions the heroes towards the Dancing Dog Tavern. They enter the building; the bustling energy of the lively drinks feels like a shockwave to the nervous emotions outside. A large man with disheveled robes and lots of books under his arm approaches. His goatee and mustache show signs of graying, but otherwise, he is in good spirits. “You there. Hello! My very good friends, it’s me, Professor Muskegum, recently transferred to the Guild out of Weirdlingspire.”
Awkwardly balancing his books on one raised knee, he reaches in his robe pocket with his now free hand. Pulling out a bit of jerky, he takes a bite. The books begin to wobble and he jerks to keep them in his arms. “Whew, that was close. Anyway, I am in need of your services. Actually, the Guild is in need of your services.” Tol looks over at Gamalek briefly. “Your reputation and recent gallantry have proved you to be of excellent quality…and resourcefulness.”
“Get to the mission, Professor. Ya see, we’re under a deadline. See.”
“Huh? Oh yes, the mission! My research in the dealings with Kelwyn has uncovered some startling news. It seems those Righteous Defenders, his father was their primary fighter-type, developed some sort of devil slaying weapon – or perhaps a devil debilitating device. The good news—I think it’s here in Thanhal!”
He takes a deep breath, “Their wizard, Fyodor, lived here in a house over in the High Quarter. A nice house and all but I can’t very well enter into a potentially trapped or magically protected building. Oh that wouldn’t do. I am ill prepared to defend myself – against doctrinal thesis yes, against potential magical traps no. The Guild would like to get that device and study it. The Wizards of Weirdlingspire may be able to replicate the device once they study it. That would make fighting fiends a whole lot easier for you adventuring types. Wouldn’t it?”
The professor straightens up. “I’m authorized to reward you 100 guilder pieces each for your efforts in securing this device.”
The little man butts in, “You’ll be saving lots of people, see, hero type stuff and getting paid. The professor forgot to mention, half up front and half upon delivery of the item.”
Chalándril thinks for a moment. “That sounds sufficient. Some way of developing a weapon against extra-planar fiends is good in my book.” The others in her team nod in agreement.
-
Following the directions to Fyodor’s house is no problem. In the nicer part of town, it is easy to find homes in the clean, well laid out blocks. The house is a three-story dwelling with a fine, yet dirty exterior. The windows look as if they haven’t been cleaned in years. A curious paper is posted on his front door. Tolok approaches, “The note is written in the local language. It says:”
“House for Sale. To be auctioned off at Potopinka’s Auction House. Next Moonday at Noon. All proceeds towards back taxes. Inquiries taken at Potopinka’s Auction House.”
The door is locked with a stout lock box. It has the official heraldry of Barony of Thanhal. The note is signed by Musulak Griffinhollow, Realtor.
Bandric thinks for a moment. “Maybe we can have Kotyka pick the lock and we can look for the magic device.
“Bandric!” reprimands Chalándril. “We’re in an urban location with laws and rules of conduct. This isn’t some dungeon. We’ll just visit Master Musulak and explain our purpose. I’m sure he’ll oblige us the opportunity to enter the house briefly.”
Gûltar’s eyebrow raises but he doesn’t say anything.
-
The well-dressed gnome is called Musulak Griffinhollow, of the Griffinhollows in the Tin Hills. He is a consummate professional and is highly regarded by the townsfolk for his fair dealings and good demeanor. When asked about the house, Musulak says, “The old Fyodor Estate. Hmm, sadly that is in arrears for back taxes and the owner hasn’t been seen in seven years…at least. According to Royal law, the estate can be sold by auction to pay taxes and fees.”
Merimonwë flutters her eyes and asks, “Could we have a quick look around the house? We need to pick something up from Fyodor for our client. Please.”
Musulak says, “That is not possible. Last week was the last time for potential buyers to do a walkthrough. You’d need an official order by the Town Council to gain access, or buy the house at the auction. There is absolutely no way to get inside otherwise.” Musulak smiles, “Would you like to register to become bidders for the auction? I can give you discount for being good friends of the previous owner.”
Chalándril breaks in, “Maybe speaking with the auctioneer would be a good idea. Where can we find this gentleman?”
-
A rather portly and rosy-cheeked man approaches dressed in a rabbit-fur vest and other poorly selected items of clothing. The fashion-challenged proprietor hails you. “Hello, my good friends, I am Potopinka, chief auctioneer, and merchant excellanté!”
“We’re here in regards to the Fyodor Estate. Is there any way you can delay or cancel the auction?”
“Oh, the Fyodor Estate. I see. That is scheduled for auction this coming Moonday. At noon I believe. We can not take it out of auction at this time because it has become an official matter due to the taxes and such.”
“Tolok suggests, “What if we offer to pay the outstanding taxes and other fees? Could you cancel the auction then?”
“The time to pay the taxes has long since passed. The town council has put it to auction. There is no way to take it out of auction now.” Potopinka feigns sympathy. Then he smiles. “Would you like to enter your name for the auction? You could pay the taxes and take possession of the property all at once.”
“We will think about it. We’ll keep in touch.”
-
Sitting together at a table in the quieter section of the tavern, the Dungeon Knights ponder their next move.
“Do we have enough money to buy the house?”
“Not with the pay we’re getting from the Guild.”
“What about talking the bidders into letting us loot the place before they take ownership of it. Or we could talk with them. Hmm.”
“We could convince the local watch to let us investigate the house for possible squatters or theft or something.”
“Or we could request a permit to bless the house and remove any maligned spirits. We just need to get in good with the local Temple.”
They all take a deep gulp from their mugs. Bandric off-handedly says, “My idea about breaking in seems the best idea so far.”
“No, we can’t do it. Not where other citizens can see us.”
Kotyka’s eyes light up. “Can’t break in? Let’s enter through the sewers. All these fancy houses have a personal line to the sewers.”
-
Bandric says to himself, “This seems really familiar. Like I’ve been here doing this before.”
Gûltar snaps, “Dungeon, sewers, it’s all the same after awhile. Now focus on what you’re doing.”
Kotyka quips, ‟We have done this before in these sewers.”
Bandric stops suddenly. “I hear something.”
Merimonwë’s ears perk up. “I hear it too.”
The ranger redirects the lantern light down the sewer tunnel. A float crocodile glides towards their location. “I didn’t think there really was a crocodile in the sewers. At least not since our last encounter.” Scoffs Bandric. [Issue 004]
Merimonwë says, “We don’t have time for this!” She casts a sleep spell on the crocodile. The scaled body begins to drift deeper into the water until it finally disappears.
The Dungeon Knights continue down the sewer until they reach the approximate location of Fyodor’s estate. Gûltar looks around. “Aye, this should be the place.”
Kotyka lowers her goggles and looks around. She finds a well-concealed door in a recessed alcove. Looking around for traps, she fails to locate any. “The door appears to be locked.” The half-orc retrieves her lock pick set and begins work in earnest.
The door suddenly slams into her and quickly closes. “What the…” yells Bandric.
Kotyka gets up, slightly stunned by the sudden hit. “I don’t know what…” The door quickly opens again and slams into Kotyka. She falls unconscious.
Before anyone can grab the door handle, the door slams shut. A mouth on the door appears and says, “Do not enter. This house is protected by the great and powerful Fyodor. This is your last warning.”
Merimonwë and Bandric reach over and grab the limp body of Kotyka. They pull her to safety. Tolok says, “I could cast a spell to unlock the door but I think something else is at work here.”
“Aye, I know what it is!” retorts Gûltar. “This is a magical door and I have a dwarven key for wooden doors.”
The dwarf spins his ax around and drives the pick end deep into the door. The metal pick digs deep into the wood. Pinned, the door begins to shake attempting to open itself. Gûltar wiggles the pick creating cracks in the wood. Finally, he pulls the pick out. The door opens suddenly and then begins to close. Gûltar turns his ax around and swings the ax head through the door. The wooden door splits in two and stops moving.
“Steel trumps magic. It’s an old Dwarven saying.”
As the Dungeon Knights make their way into the house, the musty air and thick dust rise with every step. They reach the main hall and enter into the house from the cellar stairway. Looking around, they see table and chairs fallen over. Progressing further into the house, they spot small, decayed bodies of rats and other vermin littered all over the floor. Some are tucked into little makeshift nests while the bodies seem to leave a trail into other rooms.
The thick, cloth curtains are closed. Chalándril opens one of the curtains. Beams of light pierce the darkness like dusty knives. The old furniture looks nice but neglected. The colors are red velvet, brightly colored tapestries, and darkly stained wood tables. Overall, this is a respectable house for a wizard.
In the study, the room seems more in shambles than usual. It also has more than its fair share of rat and vermin skeletons. There are also old piles of excrement near the walls and next to overturned wardrobes. Bandric kicks one of the tiny mouse skeletons. It hits the far wall, landing with a thud. It rights itself and starts scurrying towards the group.
“Oh no it didn’t!” screams Bandric. “These stupid mice aren’t dead, they’re undead.”
As the others turn to see what Bandric is screaming about, a flood of decayed skeletal mice swarm in from the next room. Like a dark wave of death, they scamper on the walls, floor, and ceiling.
Without waiting for an invitation, Chalándril acts. “By the sacred names of the Goddess and the God, begone ye vermin of undeath, ye mockery of nature.”
A bright wave of light bursts from her body; passing over the skeletons like a tide. The dead bodies once again fall lifeless to the ground. Gûltar crushes one under his boot.
“We should go upstairs.”
As Kotyaka opens the door, she sees tables with glass beakers and jars filled with viscous goo. An ornate bookcase leans against the far wall. The room houses many books and scrolls. An odd assortment of bestial skulls and preserved monster parts sit in sorted bins and cupboards. This looks like some sort of mystic library or arcane laboratory. A large bluish-green blanket covers a very tall, thin piece of furniture. Everything here is coated with a thick layer of dust. The air in this room is stale and musty. It seems no one has used this room in years.
Kotyka removes the blanket to expose a large object, a full-length mirror. The base is ornately crafted of fine brass. The mirror is large and well polished. Inside the mirror, a figure of a man covers his face from the sudden exposure to light.
“Ahhgg! What’s that?” He stammers. “You thieves get out of here or I will smite you with my magic!”
Merimonwë walks up to the mirror. “What and who art thou?”
“I’m warning thee. Begone thieves!”
“We’re not thieves. We’re adventurers and where here to retrieve a weapon to fight fiends.”
“Oh, I am quite grateful for that fact. Whew. I’m actually trapped in this mirror. I don’t see Master Fyodor. Is he with thee? Did he send thee?
Tolok approaches, “Sir, Master Fyodor is presumed dead. He has not been here for over seven years.”
“What? He’s dead? Oh dear no. Who will get me out of here?” He cries.
Soon the Mirror Man regains his composure and says, “My name is Varush, chief apprentice to Master Fyodor. How may I help you?”
Chalándril replies, “Well met Varush. Perhaps we can help each other. How did you get into the mirror?”
“That was an accident. While waiting for Fyodor to return, I was toying with some new spells and didn’t understand the arcane force I activated. The spell’s failure sucked me into this mirror.”
“How do we get you out of the mirror?”
“I really don’t know. I hoped my master would be able to help.”
Chalándril looks over at Tolok. “We’ll pool our resources and figure out a way to release you. Give us a little while to determine possible solutions. What is Fyodor’s secret weapon?”
“The Crystal Heart. It’s an astral diamond cut into a multifaceted heart-shaped gemstone. It is masterfully crafted to be a magical focus, a weapon against devils. You must pour a devil’s blood onto the crystal. The evil blood is absorbed into the center of the crystal. At that point, it is ready for use. Simply being in the area of the Crystal Heart will weaken devils. It saps some of their natural planar traits making them easier to kill. However, getting the blood in the first place has proved to be the devices weakness.”
“I see,” replies Chalándril. “Who are the Righteous Defenders?”
“The Righteous Defenders are five seasoned warriors, Kralis of Chulon, the party’s warrior, Aron Thul the Devilslayer, a man who hates devils and was the group’s leader, Beromand the Pious, their priest and healer, Tythis Truthteller, the party’s paladin, and Fyodor, the party’s wizard and arcane specialist. They were quite good at what they did. Sadly, most of them died during a fight with a tricky devil and his goblin associates.”
“Do you know Kelwyn?”
“No. Oh wait, I think Kralis had a young son named Kelwyn. Is that who you’re talking about?”
“Yes, we met him a few months ago.” Chalándril looks at her companions. “Now at least we know what to look for, this crystal heart. Do you know where Fyodor hid the crystal heart?”
Varush answers, “No, I do not.”
Chalándril and Tolok discuss their options. Finally, they approach the magic mirror and inform the apprentice how they’ll remove him from the mirror. After a long incantation and ritualistic procedures, the young man is drawn from the mirror and stands next to his rescuers.
“Thank you so much.”
Gûltar nudges him, “Now just stay out of trouble and don’t play with alchemy or spells unless you know what you’re doing.”
‟Yes sir, master Dwarf. Yes, sir.” replies Varush.
-
The top floor of the house is a greenhouse for Fyodor’s garden. Large, glass windows allow light into the greenhouse. An automatic, clockwork watering system keeps them watered. The flowers and plants seem unusually large for such a small, rooftop garden. The heroes and Varush walk out of the stairwell onto the roof.
The overgrown planters and containers are ripe with verdant vegetation. Their approach causes an ear-piercing sound. The heroes all cover their ears and move away from the sound. Bandric points towards Varush, “Varush, that big fungus plant. I think it’s emitting the sound. Smash it!” yells Bandric.
Varush moves into the vegetation with a big stick. “Ow, I pricked my leg on these other pointy fungi. It really hurts…” The young human collapses into the fungus patch.
“Damn!”
Gûltar and Kotyka run over to retrieve Varush. Merimonwë yells, “Look out!”
A long vine reaches down and snatches the completely robed figure of Kotyka, pulling her up into the rafters. Gûltar yells, “I can’t reach her. I’ll finish off these blaring toadstools, the rest of you kill that plant thing.”
The dwarf commences with weeding the garden using his mighty ax. Tolok exclaims, “If I use a spell, Kotyka will be caught in the area of effect.”
“It’s hard for me to aim too. She keeps struggling and moving around. We need to find the base stalk or trunk. Then we can attack that.”
With a wriggle, Kotyka cuts herself out of her robes. Her black-skinned form drops to the ground. “I’m free.”
Merimonwë and Tolok smile at each other. Two fireballs explode at the far end of the greenhouse sending scorching flames up to the edge of the garden. Bandric fires his arrows but is picked up by another vine. Merimonwë and Kotyka grab his legs trying to keep him on the ground.
“Do I have to kill everything myself?” grumbles Gûltar. He races over to a soot-covered trunk and hews a large chunk out of the vine’s body. A few more strikes and the assassin vine goes limp.
“Where’s Varush?”
They find his lifeless body strangled and poisoned among the hacked up fungi. “I think he was safer in the mirror.” chimes Bandric.
In the far corner of the penthouse garden is a tool shed. Inside there are racks of gardening equipment, broken chairs from the dining room, a crystal mobile wind chime, sacks of soil and pruning shears. Tolok concentrates and detects for magic. Within seconds, he determines where the magical crystal heart is located. With great care, Kotyka removes the Crystal Heart from the crystal mobile wind chime.
The Dungeon Knights return the Crystal Heart to Gamalek and Professor Tol. At least now this potent weapon can be used by people more powerful and capable than the Dungeon Knights.
-
A decade or so ago:
A goblin lord meets with Yuughathroth Nefkar in a large shrine. They discuss things at great length. A female goblin sentry interrupts their meeting. She points over to an area beyond the open where noise is brewing. Both the goblin lord and devil look over to where she points. A large explosion erupts from that location sending goblin bodies raining down near Lagoch and Yuughathroth. Other goblins including the robed Ithayek arrive from the depths of the shrine to lend aid.
The Righteous Defenders, a band of humans, appear from the dispersing smoke, enter the shrine and begin to fight Lagoch and Yuughathroth. Lagoch opens a portal on the wall using his magic. Ithayek and the other goblin mystics help force the humans into the undulating portal. Yuughathroth is caught in the assault and is pushed into the portal. The wizard Fyodor is left outside the wall portal. He casts a spell causing the gateway to shut. The portal winks out of existence.
The remaining goblin mystics are enraged. They scream, yell and gnash their teeth in anger. Their beady little eyes turn to Fyodor. The eyes are filled with malice and hate. Before they can kill the human, Fyodor casts his teleport spell.
Later that day, Lagoch and Ithayek are talking in the breeding hutch. Lagoch says in the goblin tongue, “Enough of the women are pregnant. It’s not a total loss. Our plans may still work out.”
Lagoch looks at Ithayek sternly. “I have another project for you. You need to locate and recover a monster with unusual properties, the Harbinger of Doom.” He hands Ithayek a whistle to control the unique monster. “The beast is not of this world but it is just a beast. Use great care when releasing it from its prison; it may not distinguish friends from foes. It will, however, provide us with a great advantage. Use this whistle to control it.”
Ithayek takes the whistle. Though his hood hangs low over his face, a toothy smile is visible.
-
Who will use the powerful Heart against the foul enemies? What will the Dungeon Knights do now? Find out next issue.
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Location: Thanhal, a walled town along the river
Dungeon Knight Roster:
Bandric (Human Ranger 6)
Chalándril (Half-human Cleric 6)
Gûltar (Dwarf Fighter 6)
Kotyka (Half-orc Rogue 6)
Merimonwë (Elf Sorcerer 6)
Tolok (Gnome Wizard/Conjurist 6)
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“This guy needs a new housekeeper…and an exterminator.”– Bandric
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This adventure is based on one I was writing for Living Greyhawk, but this module was canceled so I could write the final installment before the campaign ended. Sadly, no one officially played in this adventure.
Sunday, January 28, 2018
Monday, January 22, 2018
Issue 017: Forgotten Temple of Shumhanrhu
In the wild marshlands, dark places become lost, decayed and forgotten. For resolute treasure hunters and mystery seekers, it’s a nagging call and a ripe lure. The route unearthed on a hidden map leads to a long-forgotten temple ruin in the depths of an overgrown swamp. Legends say only a fool would use the keys to open that dark door and the Dungeon Knights are just such fools. (Part Three of the Kelwyn's Keys series)
Previously, the Dungeon Knights visited the hidden tomb of the infamous goblin lord Waerlan Ghel. There they found information leading to the lost temple and the purpose of the mysterious keys. After that, the heroes set off to recover several other keys across the known world: from the dark Gnarlewood Forest, in the Vaanak Sea, to the decadent Gemóre, in the Stenchwood Moors, under the dark city Sakkal, to the old capital Uruk, and to the Royal trade routes. They now return to the town of Chulon and the office of their current patron, the merchant Kelwyn.
The sunlight beams through the windows of the merchant’s office. A man of medium girth and fine clothing sits drinking a cup of tea. He reads his financial ledger, making notes and corrections with his quill pen. The bell atop the door rings. “I’ll be right with you. A moment, please?”
A familiar voice responds, “Kelwyn, take your time. We need the rest anyways.”
The merchant Kelwyn stands up suddenly, setting his teacup down clumsily. The cup tips over and spills out onto the ledger. He straightens his shirt and rushes out to the front room. “Chalándril? Is that you?”
“Yes. We have returned with the last of the keys.”
“While you were gone, I was able to compile a better map to the temple. By cross-referencing notes, other maps, and a few legends, I have something you could actually follow.” Kelwyn continues, “Well, we now have all nine keys, the location of the temple, and supplies for the trek. Take some time off to rest. Then you’ll set off for the mysterious door.”
“I have a bad feeling about this” laments Bandric.
-
Meanwhile, Ithayek and Lagoch, a powerful goblin lord, discuss matters with a purveyor of extra-planar beings. Their original diabolic specimen died. It has taken nearly a decade for them to locate and potentially free another willing specimen.
Ithayek says, “I require another subject for our project.”
A masked figure, known as the Devil Master to the goblins, asks, “What happened with the previous specimen?”
“The primary breeder expired during the birthing process.” Lagoch responds, “It seems her body couldn’t take the strain we put her through.”
“That is unfortunate” answers the Devil Master. “And how is our back up plan with specimen B going?”
Lagoch straightens up, “We still can’t extricate him from his new prison.”
“New prison?” barks the Devil Master. “What happened this time?”
Ithayek adds, “Surprise guests interrupted our project. During the conflict, a human mage pushed specimen B into a rift before dying. Over the years since that time, we’ve relied on the abilities of specimen A, until she expired recently.”
Devil Master thinks for a moment, “Obviously, this will cost you more.”
-
On a skiff poling through a brackish swamp, Gûltar grumbles, “This Kelwyn fellow has us traveling to all sorts of disgusting places.”
“You should add smelly too” quips Bandric.
In the distance, large dots approach. Merimonwë’s ears perk up as she senses danger. Her eyes narrow and her ears fold back. “They look like insects.”
“Hmm,” murmurs Tolok. “That may prove very annoying.” He pulls out a wand from his satchel and points in the direction of the insects. A few magic words are spoken and then a spout of fire roasts the insects as they fly towards the boat. Their burnt husks sizzle when they hit the water. “There,” says Tolok proudly, “that should take care of them until we apply a bug repellant solution I purchased at the last town.”
“Bug repellant?”
“Why yes,” continues Tolok, “it is made of various herbs and leaves. The smell is rather foul but it should keep the tiny insects off our skin.”
“You weren’t lying about the smell—that’s awful.” cries Merimonwë.
“I was worried that the enemy might see us, now I’m worried they might smell us first!” adds Gûltar.
The first night, large flies and tiny mosquitoes plague the Knights. Luckily Tolok’s repellant actually works. On the third day, however, Tolok tells the Dungeon Knights some bad news. “I miscalculated the amount of repellant we need to traverse this seemingly endless swamp. I am out of the goo repellant.”
During their trek through the muddy swamp, the large flies and tiny mosquitoes begin to arrive in larger numbers and in larger forms. Bandric slaps his neck and pulls away a large mass of insect innards, “There’s so many of them. Why isn’t there some sort of bug-eating creature living in this area? They’d be as fat as a Gemórean merchant.”
The heroes start swatting at the bugs with great regularity. “This is getting out of hand!” cries Merimonwë. “I do not like bugs.”
A mosquito the size of a tiny dog bites Kotyka on the neck. Bandric stabs the insect, killing it. “I’m not sure mosquitoes are supposed to be that big.”
He turns around to see another giant mosquito next to his face. It lands on his shoulder and bites his neck. Bandric tries to pull off the mosquito but fails to dislodge the barbed feeding tube from his neck. Chalándril, Gûltar, Merimonwë, and Kotyka (again) are also bitten with their own giant blood-sucking insect on their necks. Somehow, only small Tolok escapes the onslaught of hungry mosquitos.
“Tolok! Get these things off us!”
“These seem much bigger than the ones I burnt a few days ago.”
Gûltar cries hoarsely. “Fireball! Ground zero!”
“I do not advise…” Tolok looks around to see his companions falling to the ground. They are getting pale while the mosquitoes grow in size. “Then again…” Tolok backs up onto a fallen log and unleashes a huge, searing fireball. Kaboom! As the steamy smoke clears, burnt husks of giant mosquitoes litter the area. “Are you all alright?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I think the constant level of moisture in my clothes helped keep me from bursting into flames with your spell,” responds Bandric. “As long as you got them all.”
“I think I did.”
Chalándril commands, ‟Everyone, gather around. Let me heal your burns and other injuries. Tolok’s magic was potent as usual.”
Several more days of the muddy, squishy torment pass. Merimonwë looks more miserable than normal – if that was possible. “Our food smells like the swamp. Our feet have blisters and mold. I have rashes in places I didn’t know could get rashes.”
“At least we’re finding more solid soil. We should be out of it soon,” answers Bandric. Within an hour, Bandric locates firmer footing. He helps the others up the fallen tree logged island. He points over to the thickly floral area. “This must be the place.”
Another hundred yards (filled with thick vegetation) later, the Dungeon Knights climb a small hill rising out of the swamp. Tree roots and branches writhe and twist around the vine-choked stone. Mud completely covers the stonework except in the most exposed areas. Thick roots create bastions of dry land and sure footing. In the nooks and alcoves created by the enormous roots are statues – some broken and lying on the ground. A few others sit waist deep in the last remaining pools of swamp water. Several look like goblins and wolves. Others look like human explorers or swamp people.
“Let me scout it out first. Remain quiet.” Bandric begins sulking in the trees.
On the largest stone building are three hooded figures. One obviously looks male with his strong, stout build. The other two figures moves have a more slender build and move with grace. The women’s hoods undulate ever so slightly. Bandric notices they are looking over the walls for the source of the noise. He leans in to get a better look. Bandric sees the glowing eyes of the woman beneath the hood. His clothes and body become stone, stuck in a tree.
“Fek! We have a situation here. Don’t look at their eyes or you’ll become a giant doorstop.” Orders Gûltar, “Can someone lob big magic over there? ‘Cause I’m not carrying you all home if you all turn into rocks.”
Both the gnome and elf says, “Will do!” and cast spells.
“What’s going on?” asks Chalándril. Kotyka looks at the dwarf worriedly.
“Apparently, Bandric spotted a Medusa over there on the ruin. These monsters can turn ya to stone if they get a look at you. So don’t look them in the eyes.”
Astral badgers show up on the temple walls as a fireball explodes upon the three hooded figures. The smoke and flames quickly clear. All of the figures pull down their hoods exposing heads of writhing snakes. Two of the badgers turn to stone. The large male called Temek walks over to the remaining badger. He grabs and crushes the badger in his large powerful hand. Vambeunik and Ipai, the female Medusas, and Temek, a medusa lord, look around for other intruders.
Temek yells, “Invaduloj, vi profanis nian domon. Kapitulacu al nin aŭ vi mortiĝos.” He has his arms out to protect the women. Turning his head, he says to the women, “Vambeunik, Ipai, restu ĉi tien. Ne lasu ilin ĉirkaŭi vin. Mi enmetos ilin en embuskon.”
“Temek, singarda estu.” Vambeunik responds.
“Estos, mia amulino.” Temek closes his eyes and melts into the stone floor.
Chalándril rushes to the tree. “I’ll take care of Bandric. You focus on killing those creatures.”
Gûltar moves forward and begins to climb the steps. Temek rises up behind him, emerging from the stone stairs as if it is water. Gûltar stops his climb and senses something. “This is bad, isn’t it?”
Temek smashes the dwarf with his powerful fist. “Enano, hodiaŭ ci mortiĝos.”
Two fireballs explode over the medusas on the temple roof. They appear staggered by the onslaught of magical fire. Gûltar hops over the wall and scrambles into a fighting stance. He blocks a powerful fist of Temek. Gûltar strikes and hits Temek with his ax. “Damn, I should have used the pick end.”
Chalándril casts a spell on Bandric, the rock in the tree. Kotyka hops off the tree root onto the temple roof, tumbling into position with her sword. “Am I near them?”
Two medusas with arrows sticking out of their heads fall to the ground next to the half-orc girl. “Yes, they’re on your left,” replies Bandric. “Chalándril thank you for restoring me to my squishy form.”
“No problem.”
Gûltar barks, “I could still use some help over here. This guy is much tougher than he looks.” Temek’s mighty fist misses Gûltar and lands on the stone roof. It leaves a large cracked dent in the stonework. Temek turns to see who is coming to the dwarf’s aid. Gûltar spins his ax to the pick side and lands a powerful strike into the back of Temek. The pick digs deep into the medusa lord’s body, causing his skin to crack. He crumbles in pieces to the floor. “Never mind, I got it.”
-
Beneath the huge gnarled tree that sits upon the temple, between its sprawling roots, the Dungeon Knights find a short tunnel-like passage. The cramped space is overgrown with weeds and roots. Inside, they find the stout stone doors of the temple. This must be the entrance to this fabled place. Kotyka clears away the mud and years of grime from the face of the doors. Ornate designs of strange beings are etched along the edges. In the center of the two doors is a solid piece of hexagonal shaped stone. It appears to be a lock, holding the two doors shut. Nine hexagonal slots are on this centerpiece. They are the exact size of the keys Kelwyn provided.
Kotyka places them into the slots. “This is the arrangement Tolok gave me.”
Tolok adds, “It should be correct. I am rarely wrong. Research at the Grand Library revealed several possible solutions. I used all of them to deduce the arrangement of key configurations. Interestingly, they all provided a similar distribution of...”
The others give him a glance of disbelief and roll their eyes. The doors begin to open up with a stone-on-stone grind. Musty air rushes past as the doors slide open. The doorway exposes a dark hallway. Fine stonework leads in and then begins to descend in a flight of stairs. The stillness and silence of the temple seem ominous.
Merimonwë shines the lantern down into the dark stairs. The rays of light seem to wound the darkness. “Shall we move on? We didn’t come all this way to open the doors and leave…right?”
The Dungeon Knights arrange themselves in marching line and head into the darkness. The light from the lantern struggles to maintain its weak radiance. The stairs end, but the hallway continues a few more feet before opening into a dark chamber. Merimonwë shines a directed ray of light forward. Though more focused, the darkness eats away at the dimming light. A statue centered upon the far wall is draped on either side by purple curtains. The statue is a large man-like being with his face obscured.
In the corner sit three ghoulish skeletons. The creatures look like tattooed, rotten remains of a human or something similarly sized. Its eyes are such a deep shade of inky black that they stand out against the shriveled remains. Unfortunately, the creatures stand up. The lead ghoul speaks as glowing energy whips emerge from his hands. “Teosile enkwas sanktaom dewdemom. Sun teosiso malsanktaosia, teosile mortet!”
Bandric asks, “Did anyone understand that?”
The other sigil-etched ghoul says, “Kameosi egedat. Krewospai edein e perekaia animospai poiein. Kormat sun kameospaiso vipospai!”
“I’m guessing,” says Bandric, “that wasn’t a compliment or an invitation to a party.”
The sigil-etched ghouls snap their arms out to the sides. Glowing threads of light grow out of their hands, creating sizzling, incandescent whips.
The third ghoul moves quickly and uses his whips to choke Merimonwë. She starts to slump and chokes, “Uhhhhh Kuuhhh!”
The ghoul grins as only undead can grin, “Taip!” The entropic whips make an audible hum, “Zzzzzzhhh”
The second ghoul uses his whip to snatch Bandric’s bow from his hands. Bandric exclaims, “Oh that’s not nice at all!”
The leader snaps his whip and wraps it around Gûltar. The whip hums and pulsates. Gûltar winces and spits, “Fiku vin! The whips are doing something to me. It hurts. It drains!”
The priestess Chalándril races over to Merimonwë’s opponent. She touches it with her glowing hand. The flash of light turns the ghoul to dust. The second one hits Chalándril with the whip, leaving a bleeding gash across her midsection. “Zzzzzzhhh”
The leader releases Gûltar and turns to face Chalándril. It uses its whips to entangle the priestess and begins to feed on her soul. The ghoul speaks, “Kameos welat teoso animom.”
Merimonwë shoots magical missiles at them but they hit a shield. “Damn! They have Shield up!”
A flying shield hits the second ghoul in the head. Gûltar taunts, “Try this shield.”
Gûltar swings his ax with both hands. With momentum on his side, he turns and swings again at the last ghoul feeding on Chalándril. Two skull pieces hit the ground and roll to the side. Gûltar kicks one of the skulls fragments, “Don’t mess with our priestess.”
Kotyka and Bandric begin searching the room for possible treasure and secret doors. In a lone footlocker in one of the corners, Kotyka discovers rotted ceremonial robes and a strange, cold animal horn. Tolok examines the horn using the limited lantern light. “It has similar markings to the tattooed undead and etchings on the walls. Some sort of ancient script I gather. For what purpose I do not know.”
Bandric says, “Let’s pack it and move on.”
-
Chalándril says, “There’s got to be more of the temple here—somewhere. This small chapel seems out of place with the size of the structure outside. There must be more rooms or hidden doors.”
Kotyka takes a very long time to thoroughly search the walls, floors, and ceiling of the tiny room. “There’re no secret doors or false walls in this room.”
Tolok add, “Since the room lacks an egress point, perhaps we should think outside the room. Check the staircase and the hallway.” The Dungeon Knights move to the staircase and the previous hallway. Within a few minutes, Kotyka finds a hidden door on the first landing.
“Here! I found a secret door.” She smiles with a toothy grin. “I was beginning to doubt my skills for a moment.”
Kotyka, Bandric, and Gûltar stick their heads into the previously hidden, narrow hallway. It leads to another set of stairs going much deeper into the structure. The torchlight does not reach the end of the descent. Bandric quips, “I have a bad feeling about this.”
-
The Dungeon Knights travel down deeper into the bowels of the temple. They find all sorts of rooms for a small community such as sleeping barracks, lavatory, cooking area, and a supply room. One of the other rooms appears to be some sort of library or study room. Inside one, Bandric spots a translucent man dressed in priestly robes mumbling. His hunched form and occasional sobs are interrupted by spurts of curses and yelling.
As the others begin to take notice, the fuzzy form of the man sits up straight. His head turns towards the heroes. His form flickers for a moment becoming a bit more incorporeal. A thin smile emerges on his ghostly face.
“Visitors? I see that Shumhanrhu isn’t with you. Why, he wouldn’t travel with a motley crew such as you. Ah, but visitors you are. Please come in. I am Parvis Auswyn, acting High Priest of this temple.” Parvis stands up and floats away from his chair. He floats in the air non-aggressively and beckons to enter the adjoining room.
“Please come in.”
Inside the room are an old bed, a chest, a wardrobe, and a small, personal latrine. A couch sits on the other side of the room and is garnished with worn pillows. Parvis continues, “From your appearance, I gather you’re here seeking evil to smite under your do-gooder blades. You seem like nice folk. I’ll provide some information to help you defend against the fiend.”
“How is it you speak our language? The other beings here did not.”
“Most likely I do not. However, in my present form, I seem to have unusual abilities—one of which appears to speak to you.” He holds up his nearly transparent hand. “Please let me continue. I have vital information for you regarding the other inhabitant of this temple.”
“Yuughathroth Nefkar was bound here by my teacher Shumhanrhu. Binding an evil outsider strengthened the unholy darkness and thus magic of this place. As you would expect, the bearded devil did not like the arrangement. He has fought his forced captivity from the beginning. My teacher proved much more skilled and held Nefkar with powerful magics. Shumhanrhu left on official business centuries ago. He still hasn’t returned. Since that time, Yuughathroth has looked for a way out of his captivity by using this library. The binding magic is strong, but he is quite clever and persistent.”
Tolok takes out some paper and begins writing notes. “Eventually he found a solution, a loophole that even my brilliant teacher overlooked. Yuughathroth Nekfar torn off his shadow allowing him to be bound yet unbound. He was able to use his natural ability to teleported out. Only his shadow remains. And I with it, the obligation to guard this temple until the High Priest returns.”
Tolok strokes his beard. “Can you tell us more about how the devil’s binding is increasing the power here?”
The ghost nods, “Shumhanrhu was able to tap into the Plane of Shadows using the bound devil and the Dark Vault as anchor points. This allowed him to bridge the metaphysical distance between this temple and Falestrin’s dark domain, thus increasing his access to more powerful spells and blessings from the Dark One. You may know the Dark One as An, the deep dark void, parent of the Sovereign Twelve. Extra-planar creatures have a natural transplanar essence that can be tapped for such conduits to divine beings. This enhancement allows the priest access to more divine power and the temple more boons. I’m sure Shumhanrhu gained Falestrin’s favor in building such a complex temple, even if it is small compared to more traditional temples of the time. Through intense study in the library here, Nekfar eventually discovered a way to split his shadow from his normal form using an ancient incantation. Since his shadow form is also Yuughathroth Nefkar and was there at the time of his binding, the binding magic keeping him here is satisfied. This semantic loophole allowed him to circumvent the conditions of his binding. Apparently, the magic Shumhanrhu used is a binary conditional statement to test the state of the containment. It wasn’t sophisticated enough to deal with altered states of being.”
“You have provided much information and we are grateful,” Chalándril says. “Is there anything we can do to help you stop being a ghost and pass on to the service of your god?”
“No, I am content with the conditions of my confinement. I took an oath to remain here until my teacher’s return. It has been so long. I was cruel in my youth. Countless hours of reflection has unwound my anger, my righteous indignation, and my pride. This state is much better than where I am destined to go. Your offer to help me is appreciated but not required.” The ghost bows respectfully. “Now go. Be wary of Yuughathroth. He may sense your presence already.”
-
The Dungeon Knights continue to explore the remainder of the subterranean temple, dispatching the dark, dead inhabitants in their centuries-long captivity. After hours of exploration, they reach the last junction. The final dark-stone hallway extends down for several yards. The Knights hear the gentle sound of pouring liquid echo in the stark hall. The rhythmic plop of water dropping into a pool does echo. Drip drip drip.
The hallway widens mid-way down. In the center of the enlarged hall is a pillar-like fountain. The front and rear are solid pillars while the middle section is open to the sides. Ornately carved figures descend from the ceiling, forming a font. Black water pours out from this font.
The water pours out into the bottom structure, a carved pool. The figures on the whole piece are strange fish-like humanoids and other sea creatures. Some have octopodal appendages, while other figures have crustacean-like appendages. Other carved figures are completely unfamiliar and distorted. To the Dungeon Knights, the whole garish statuary is both strange and alien in appearance.
Bandric touches the stonework with his bow. He taps it gently. “I wonder what this is. Seems out of place and a little bizarre.”
“The water looks refreshing and cool.” Kotyka says quietly, “I wonder if it’s fresh water?”
Bandric puts out his hand as a warning. “Kotyka, that’s a bad idea.” His warning is much to slow for the quick reflexes of Kotyka. She cups her hand and draws a drink from the font. Her skin becomes completely black with a purple sigil on her forehead.
“Wow, that was very clean water.” Kotyka looks at the others. Their shocked expressions confuse her. “What’s everyone looking at?”
Bandric half-smiles, “Well, she’s not green anymore.”
“What do you mean I’m not green?”
Chalándril touches her shoulder warmly. “Your skin has turned ebony black.”
“What?”
Tolok adds cheerily, “This will improve your roguish abilities to sulk around. That is a bonus, no?”
Kotyka begins crying. “Can you fix me Chalándril?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps tomorrow. I’ll need to commune with the Great Mother for a possible cure.”
At the end of the hallway, the Dungeon Knights find an ornately carved door.
Tolok says, “It seems our fate to continually find closed doors, eh?”
Kotyka’s goggles are filling up with tears. “At least it isn’t locked or trapped. What’s behind here should be too bad.” She empties her goggles of tears and sniffles.
The door opens to a shadowy room. The heroes fight the hard to see anything. The lantern’s light shrivels and shrinks to half its former strength. Merimonwë shivers. “It’s really cold in here.”
A devil-shaped shadow emerges from the dark. Yuughathroth Nefkar announces, “Saluton kretenoj. Ĉu vi comprendas min, nen? How about this? You understand now? That’s a nice beard, dwarf, but mine is better.”
His beard reaches out and strikes Gûltar. The dwarf winces in pain, blood pouring from the jagged wound. “I can only assume you are here to slay me. You can assume that I am here to slay you. Together we shall have a grand battle. Do me a favor, do not die quickly. Let me savor the conflict. I have been bored for countless years. This will give me fond memories for countless more years.”
Gûltar steps forward to attack. Yuughathroth whips his glaive around hitting Gûltar multiple times. “You are a pitifully slow dwarf.”
Chalándril touches Gûltar, attempting to heal his wounds. “The wounds won’t heal.”
The devil spears Chalándril with his dark glaive. “A healer! So you’re the one I should kill first. Excellent!”
Merimonwë casts her magical missiles at the devil. The missile fizzles once they hit. “My spells can’t overcome his resistance.”
Bandric shoots some arrows. Yuughathroth snaps a few with his glaive, but the others sail by. “You could become a nuisance boy. I shall save you for seconds, once I carve up the pretty healer.”
Desperate, Bandric says. “It’s too dark to get a clear shot.”
Badgers appear in bright pops. Tolok says encouragingly, “Keep shooting! Reinforcements have arrived.”
Gûltar tries to move in to help the badgers. They nip and claw at the shadowy devil, opening up a wound. A bloodied Yuughathroth sweeps around with his glaive at the astral badgers killing them. Gûltar swings and lands a deep cut into the shadowy form. Yuughathroth slashes Gûltar across the belly, causing blood to drip from the wound. The dwarf slumps to the ground.
A puff of glittering dust fills the area around Yuughathroth. The mystical sparkles fall off the shadowy form. Merimonwë curses, “Damn. I can’t get the spells to stick. His resistances are strong.”
Bandric shoots again. This time, the shots hit home. “Those are starting to hurt, boy.”
Yuughathroth blinks out of existence only to appear next to Bandric. He slices Bandric across the chest. Bandric falls to his knees clutching his bleeding chest. Then he slumps to the floor. The devil’s foot is on Bandric’s body. “Two down and four weaklings to go. This is much too easy.”
Tolok casts an entangle spell. “Lesser Black Tentacles” Tentacles wrapping around Yuughathroth’s body hold the shadow. The devil teleports away.
“Nice try but not good enough!”
“Enough of this!” Merimonwë frowns. Her eyes begin to glow. “It ends now! Empowered Searing Light.”
The thick bolt of light hits the devil and he screams, “Noooooo!”
Yuughathroth’s shadowy form melts away. An amulet falls to the ground with a clunk. Only the cold, dark air remains.
Kotyka retrieves the amulet. Just as they are about to exit the unusual room, Tolok begins to stroke his beard. “This room is unusually cold and dark. It even diminishes our lantern light to a significant degree. What else do we have that is rather cold to the touch?” The others shrug. “The horn we found up top. Maybe there is a connection between this room and that item.”
Taking a deep breath, Bandric blows a note on the horn. A dim light appears on the far wall. The lit form is a large, circular sigil. Within seconds, the symbol begins to fade away. “Sound it again Bandric, this time hold the note longer.”
Bandric blows another, longer note on the horn. Tolok studies the symbol before it fades. “Ah, this can be activated by positive energy. Chalándril, will you do the honors?”
Bandric rubs his cheeks.
Chalándril steps over to the wall and sends forth a wave of positive energy from her gods. The sigil glows stronger and remains. However, the wall behind it fades exposing a small chamber beyond a short hall. Gûltar and Tolok venture into the small chamber and explore a bit. Tolok calls back, “There is a dimensional fork here. This room is some kind of inter-dimensional portal to the Shadow Realm. I suggest we refrain from entering that dimension. There are no other items here. It appears that the proximity of this portal is causing the drop in temperature and the limiting effect on illumination.”
“That’s enough.” declares Chalándril, “We don’t need a whole lecture. Take what you want and let’s get out of here.”
-
The Dungeon Knights return from their swamp expedition after many days. Their friend Kelwyn the Merchant, welcomes them into his office. He listens attentively to Chalándril as she relates the events of their adventure, making notes in his notebook for further reference. Kelwyn gives the Dungeon Knights their fee and collects maps. Then he sits back with a sorrowful face. He sighs and begins his tale.
“I haven’t been completely forthcoming with all the details of your missions. You see, I have more interest in these events and locations than mere greed and curiosity.” He clears his throat. “My father, Kralis, was one of the Righteous Defenders. They were a mercenary band of talented adventurers with a particular fondness for hunting and slaying devils. My father fell trying to kill Yuughathroth Nefkar. His body was never recovered and I swore to my mother and his departed spirit that I would find his body and get revenge on that devil.”
“But as you know, I’m just a merchant, not a fiend-slaying hero like you. So I had to use my money and influence to gain what my sword arm could not. Please don’t be cross with me.” A tear runs from his eye as he looks down. “Alas, even in my enthusiasm to kill my father’s murderer, I have failed. Yuughathroth Nefkar is truly a deceitful foe. How could there be two of him? What are we to do now? There are no more leads to follow or places to find. I am at a dead end.”
Kelwyn composes himself. “Still I am grateful for what you have done so far. I am in your debt.”
=======================================================================
Location: Distant swamp
Dungeon Knight Roster:
Bandric (Human Ranger 6)
Chalándril (Half-human Cleric 6)
Gûltar (Dwarf Fighter 6)
Kotyka (half-orc Rogue 6)
Merimonwë (Elf Sorcerer 6)
Tolok (Gnome Wizard/Conjurist 6)
=======================================================================
“I’m not sure mosquitoes are supposed to be that big.” – Bandric
=======================================================================
This is another of my Living Greyhawk adventures which I wrote for the RPGA. This too is based on my home campaign and continues the story of Kelwyn’s Keys.
Previously, the Dungeon Knights visited the hidden tomb of the infamous goblin lord Waerlan Ghel. There they found information leading to the lost temple and the purpose of the mysterious keys. After that, the heroes set off to recover several other keys across the known world: from the dark Gnarlewood Forest, in the Vaanak Sea, to the decadent Gemóre, in the Stenchwood Moors, under the dark city Sakkal, to the old capital Uruk, and to the Royal trade routes. They now return to the town of Chulon and the office of their current patron, the merchant Kelwyn.
The sunlight beams through the windows of the merchant’s office. A man of medium girth and fine clothing sits drinking a cup of tea. He reads his financial ledger, making notes and corrections with his quill pen. The bell atop the door rings. “I’ll be right with you. A moment, please?”
A familiar voice responds, “Kelwyn, take your time. We need the rest anyways.”
The merchant Kelwyn stands up suddenly, setting his teacup down clumsily. The cup tips over and spills out onto the ledger. He straightens his shirt and rushes out to the front room. “Chalándril? Is that you?”
“Yes. We have returned with the last of the keys.”
“While you were gone, I was able to compile a better map to the temple. By cross-referencing notes, other maps, and a few legends, I have something you could actually follow.” Kelwyn continues, “Well, we now have all nine keys, the location of the temple, and supplies for the trek. Take some time off to rest. Then you’ll set off for the mysterious door.”
“I have a bad feeling about this” laments Bandric.
-
Meanwhile, Ithayek and Lagoch, a powerful goblin lord, discuss matters with a purveyor of extra-planar beings. Their original diabolic specimen died. It has taken nearly a decade for them to locate and potentially free another willing specimen.
Ithayek says, “I require another subject for our project.”
A masked figure, known as the Devil Master to the goblins, asks, “What happened with the previous specimen?”
“The primary breeder expired during the birthing process.” Lagoch responds, “It seems her body couldn’t take the strain we put her through.”
“That is unfortunate” answers the Devil Master. “And how is our back up plan with specimen B going?”
Lagoch straightens up, “We still can’t extricate him from his new prison.”
“New prison?” barks the Devil Master. “What happened this time?”
Ithayek adds, “Surprise guests interrupted our project. During the conflict, a human mage pushed specimen B into a rift before dying. Over the years since that time, we’ve relied on the abilities of specimen A, until she expired recently.”
Devil Master thinks for a moment, “Obviously, this will cost you more.”
-
On a skiff poling through a brackish swamp, Gûltar grumbles, “This Kelwyn fellow has us traveling to all sorts of disgusting places.”
“You should add smelly too” quips Bandric.
In the distance, large dots approach. Merimonwë’s ears perk up as she senses danger. Her eyes narrow and her ears fold back. “They look like insects.”
“Hmm,” murmurs Tolok. “That may prove very annoying.” He pulls out a wand from his satchel and points in the direction of the insects. A few magic words are spoken and then a spout of fire roasts the insects as they fly towards the boat. Their burnt husks sizzle when they hit the water. “There,” says Tolok proudly, “that should take care of them until we apply a bug repellant solution I purchased at the last town.”
“Bug repellant?”
“Why yes,” continues Tolok, “it is made of various herbs and leaves. The smell is rather foul but it should keep the tiny insects off our skin.”
“You weren’t lying about the smell—that’s awful.” cries Merimonwë.
“I was worried that the enemy might see us, now I’m worried they might smell us first!” adds Gûltar.
The first night, large flies and tiny mosquitoes plague the Knights. Luckily Tolok’s repellant actually works. On the third day, however, Tolok tells the Dungeon Knights some bad news. “I miscalculated the amount of repellant we need to traverse this seemingly endless swamp. I am out of the goo repellant.”
During their trek through the muddy swamp, the large flies and tiny mosquitoes begin to arrive in larger numbers and in larger forms. Bandric slaps his neck and pulls away a large mass of insect innards, “There’s so many of them. Why isn’t there some sort of bug-eating creature living in this area? They’d be as fat as a Gemórean merchant.”
The heroes start swatting at the bugs with great regularity. “This is getting out of hand!” cries Merimonwë. “I do not like bugs.”
A mosquito the size of a tiny dog bites Kotyka on the neck. Bandric stabs the insect, killing it. “I’m not sure mosquitoes are supposed to be that big.”
He turns around to see another giant mosquito next to his face. It lands on his shoulder and bites his neck. Bandric tries to pull off the mosquito but fails to dislodge the barbed feeding tube from his neck. Chalándril, Gûltar, Merimonwë, and Kotyka (again) are also bitten with their own giant blood-sucking insect on their necks. Somehow, only small Tolok escapes the onslaught of hungry mosquitos.
“Tolok! Get these things off us!”
“These seem much bigger than the ones I burnt a few days ago.”
Gûltar cries hoarsely. “Fireball! Ground zero!”
“I do not advise…” Tolok looks around to see his companions falling to the ground. They are getting pale while the mosquitoes grow in size. “Then again…” Tolok backs up onto a fallen log and unleashes a huge, searing fireball. Kaboom! As the steamy smoke clears, burnt husks of giant mosquitoes litter the area. “Are you all alright?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I think the constant level of moisture in my clothes helped keep me from bursting into flames with your spell,” responds Bandric. “As long as you got them all.”
“I think I did.”
Chalándril commands, ‟Everyone, gather around. Let me heal your burns and other injuries. Tolok’s magic was potent as usual.”
Several more days of the muddy, squishy torment pass. Merimonwë looks more miserable than normal – if that was possible. “Our food smells like the swamp. Our feet have blisters and mold. I have rashes in places I didn’t know could get rashes.”
“At least we’re finding more solid soil. We should be out of it soon,” answers Bandric. Within an hour, Bandric locates firmer footing. He helps the others up the fallen tree logged island. He points over to the thickly floral area. “This must be the place.”
Another hundred yards (filled with thick vegetation) later, the Dungeon Knights climb a small hill rising out of the swamp. Tree roots and branches writhe and twist around the vine-choked stone. Mud completely covers the stonework except in the most exposed areas. Thick roots create bastions of dry land and sure footing. In the nooks and alcoves created by the enormous roots are statues – some broken and lying on the ground. A few others sit waist deep in the last remaining pools of swamp water. Several look like goblins and wolves. Others look like human explorers or swamp people.
“Let me scout it out first. Remain quiet.” Bandric begins sulking in the trees.
On the largest stone building are three hooded figures. One obviously looks male with his strong, stout build. The other two figures moves have a more slender build and move with grace. The women’s hoods undulate ever so slightly. Bandric notices they are looking over the walls for the source of the noise. He leans in to get a better look. Bandric sees the glowing eyes of the woman beneath the hood. His clothes and body become stone, stuck in a tree.
“Fek! We have a situation here. Don’t look at their eyes or you’ll become a giant doorstop.” Orders Gûltar, “Can someone lob big magic over there? ‘Cause I’m not carrying you all home if you all turn into rocks.”
Both the gnome and elf says, “Will do!” and cast spells.
“What’s going on?” asks Chalándril. Kotyka looks at the dwarf worriedly.
“Apparently, Bandric spotted a Medusa over there on the ruin. These monsters can turn ya to stone if they get a look at you. So don’t look them in the eyes.”
Astral badgers show up on the temple walls as a fireball explodes upon the three hooded figures. The smoke and flames quickly clear. All of the figures pull down their hoods exposing heads of writhing snakes. Two of the badgers turn to stone. The large male called Temek walks over to the remaining badger. He grabs and crushes the badger in his large powerful hand. Vambeunik and Ipai, the female Medusas, and Temek, a medusa lord, look around for other intruders.
Temek yells, “Invaduloj, vi profanis nian domon. Kapitulacu al nin aŭ vi mortiĝos.” He has his arms out to protect the women. Turning his head, he says to the women, “Vambeunik, Ipai, restu ĉi tien. Ne lasu ilin ĉirkaŭi vin. Mi enmetos ilin en embuskon.”
“Temek, singarda estu.” Vambeunik responds.
“Estos, mia amulino.” Temek closes his eyes and melts into the stone floor.
Chalándril rushes to the tree. “I’ll take care of Bandric. You focus on killing those creatures.”
Gûltar moves forward and begins to climb the steps. Temek rises up behind him, emerging from the stone stairs as if it is water. Gûltar stops his climb and senses something. “This is bad, isn’t it?”
Temek smashes the dwarf with his powerful fist. “Enano, hodiaŭ ci mortiĝos.”
Two fireballs explode over the medusas on the temple roof. They appear staggered by the onslaught of magical fire. Gûltar hops over the wall and scrambles into a fighting stance. He blocks a powerful fist of Temek. Gûltar strikes and hits Temek with his ax. “Damn, I should have used the pick end.”
Chalándril casts a spell on Bandric, the rock in the tree. Kotyka hops off the tree root onto the temple roof, tumbling into position with her sword. “Am I near them?”
Two medusas with arrows sticking out of their heads fall to the ground next to the half-orc girl. “Yes, they’re on your left,” replies Bandric. “Chalándril thank you for restoring me to my squishy form.”
“No problem.”
Gûltar barks, “I could still use some help over here. This guy is much tougher than he looks.” Temek’s mighty fist misses Gûltar and lands on the stone roof. It leaves a large cracked dent in the stonework. Temek turns to see who is coming to the dwarf’s aid. Gûltar spins his ax to the pick side and lands a powerful strike into the back of Temek. The pick digs deep into the medusa lord’s body, causing his skin to crack. He crumbles in pieces to the floor. “Never mind, I got it.”
-
Beneath the huge gnarled tree that sits upon the temple, between its sprawling roots, the Dungeon Knights find a short tunnel-like passage. The cramped space is overgrown with weeds and roots. Inside, they find the stout stone doors of the temple. This must be the entrance to this fabled place. Kotyka clears away the mud and years of grime from the face of the doors. Ornate designs of strange beings are etched along the edges. In the center of the two doors is a solid piece of hexagonal shaped stone. It appears to be a lock, holding the two doors shut. Nine hexagonal slots are on this centerpiece. They are the exact size of the keys Kelwyn provided.
Kotyka places them into the slots. “This is the arrangement Tolok gave me.”
Tolok adds, “It should be correct. I am rarely wrong. Research at the Grand Library revealed several possible solutions. I used all of them to deduce the arrangement of key configurations. Interestingly, they all provided a similar distribution of...”
The others give him a glance of disbelief and roll their eyes. The doors begin to open up with a stone-on-stone grind. Musty air rushes past as the doors slide open. The doorway exposes a dark hallway. Fine stonework leads in and then begins to descend in a flight of stairs. The stillness and silence of the temple seem ominous.
Merimonwë shines the lantern down into the dark stairs. The rays of light seem to wound the darkness. “Shall we move on? We didn’t come all this way to open the doors and leave…right?”
The Dungeon Knights arrange themselves in marching line and head into the darkness. The light from the lantern struggles to maintain its weak radiance. The stairs end, but the hallway continues a few more feet before opening into a dark chamber. Merimonwë shines a directed ray of light forward. Though more focused, the darkness eats away at the dimming light. A statue centered upon the far wall is draped on either side by purple curtains. The statue is a large man-like being with his face obscured.
In the corner sit three ghoulish skeletons. The creatures look like tattooed, rotten remains of a human or something similarly sized. Its eyes are such a deep shade of inky black that they stand out against the shriveled remains. Unfortunately, the creatures stand up. The lead ghoul speaks as glowing energy whips emerge from his hands. “Teosile enkwas sanktaom dewdemom. Sun teosiso malsanktaosia, teosile mortet!”
Bandric asks, “Did anyone understand that?”
The other sigil-etched ghoul says, “Kameosi egedat. Krewospai edein e perekaia animospai poiein. Kormat sun kameospaiso vipospai!”
“I’m guessing,” says Bandric, “that wasn’t a compliment or an invitation to a party.”
The sigil-etched ghouls snap their arms out to the sides. Glowing threads of light grow out of their hands, creating sizzling, incandescent whips.
The third ghoul moves quickly and uses his whips to choke Merimonwë. She starts to slump and chokes, “Uhhhhh Kuuhhh!”
The ghoul grins as only undead can grin, “Taip!” The entropic whips make an audible hum, “Zzzzzzhhh”
The second ghoul uses his whip to snatch Bandric’s bow from his hands. Bandric exclaims, “Oh that’s not nice at all!”
The leader snaps his whip and wraps it around Gûltar. The whip hums and pulsates. Gûltar winces and spits, “Fiku vin! The whips are doing something to me. It hurts. It drains!”
The priestess Chalándril races over to Merimonwë’s opponent. She touches it with her glowing hand. The flash of light turns the ghoul to dust. The second one hits Chalándril with the whip, leaving a bleeding gash across her midsection. “Zzzzzzhhh”
The leader releases Gûltar and turns to face Chalándril. It uses its whips to entangle the priestess and begins to feed on her soul. The ghoul speaks, “Kameos welat teoso animom.”
Merimonwë shoots magical missiles at them but they hit a shield. “Damn! They have Shield up!”
A flying shield hits the second ghoul in the head. Gûltar taunts, “Try this shield.”
Gûltar swings his ax with both hands. With momentum on his side, he turns and swings again at the last ghoul feeding on Chalándril. Two skull pieces hit the ground and roll to the side. Gûltar kicks one of the skulls fragments, “Don’t mess with our priestess.”
Kotyka and Bandric begin searching the room for possible treasure and secret doors. In a lone footlocker in one of the corners, Kotyka discovers rotted ceremonial robes and a strange, cold animal horn. Tolok examines the horn using the limited lantern light. “It has similar markings to the tattooed undead and etchings on the walls. Some sort of ancient script I gather. For what purpose I do not know.”
Bandric says, “Let’s pack it and move on.”
-
Chalándril says, “There’s got to be more of the temple here—somewhere. This small chapel seems out of place with the size of the structure outside. There must be more rooms or hidden doors.”
Kotyka takes a very long time to thoroughly search the walls, floors, and ceiling of the tiny room. “There’re no secret doors or false walls in this room.”
Tolok add, “Since the room lacks an egress point, perhaps we should think outside the room. Check the staircase and the hallway.” The Dungeon Knights move to the staircase and the previous hallway. Within a few minutes, Kotyka finds a hidden door on the first landing.
“Here! I found a secret door.” She smiles with a toothy grin. “I was beginning to doubt my skills for a moment.”
Kotyka, Bandric, and Gûltar stick their heads into the previously hidden, narrow hallway. It leads to another set of stairs going much deeper into the structure. The torchlight does not reach the end of the descent. Bandric quips, “I have a bad feeling about this.”
-
The Dungeon Knights travel down deeper into the bowels of the temple. They find all sorts of rooms for a small community such as sleeping barracks, lavatory, cooking area, and a supply room. One of the other rooms appears to be some sort of library or study room. Inside one, Bandric spots a translucent man dressed in priestly robes mumbling. His hunched form and occasional sobs are interrupted by spurts of curses and yelling.
As the others begin to take notice, the fuzzy form of the man sits up straight. His head turns towards the heroes. His form flickers for a moment becoming a bit more incorporeal. A thin smile emerges on his ghostly face.
“Visitors? I see that Shumhanrhu isn’t with you. Why, he wouldn’t travel with a motley crew such as you. Ah, but visitors you are. Please come in. I am Parvis Auswyn, acting High Priest of this temple.” Parvis stands up and floats away from his chair. He floats in the air non-aggressively and beckons to enter the adjoining room.
“Please come in.”
Inside the room are an old bed, a chest, a wardrobe, and a small, personal latrine. A couch sits on the other side of the room and is garnished with worn pillows. Parvis continues, “From your appearance, I gather you’re here seeking evil to smite under your do-gooder blades. You seem like nice folk. I’ll provide some information to help you defend against the fiend.”
“How is it you speak our language? The other beings here did not.”
“Most likely I do not. However, in my present form, I seem to have unusual abilities—one of which appears to speak to you.” He holds up his nearly transparent hand. “Please let me continue. I have vital information for you regarding the other inhabitant of this temple.”
“Yuughathroth Nefkar was bound here by my teacher Shumhanrhu. Binding an evil outsider strengthened the unholy darkness and thus magic of this place. As you would expect, the bearded devil did not like the arrangement. He has fought his forced captivity from the beginning. My teacher proved much more skilled and held Nefkar with powerful magics. Shumhanrhu left on official business centuries ago. He still hasn’t returned. Since that time, Yuughathroth has looked for a way out of his captivity by using this library. The binding magic is strong, but he is quite clever and persistent.”
Tolok takes out some paper and begins writing notes. “Eventually he found a solution, a loophole that even my brilliant teacher overlooked. Yuughathroth Nekfar torn off his shadow allowing him to be bound yet unbound. He was able to use his natural ability to teleported out. Only his shadow remains. And I with it, the obligation to guard this temple until the High Priest returns.”
Tolok strokes his beard. “Can you tell us more about how the devil’s binding is increasing the power here?”
The ghost nods, “Shumhanrhu was able to tap into the Plane of Shadows using the bound devil and the Dark Vault as anchor points. This allowed him to bridge the metaphysical distance between this temple and Falestrin’s dark domain, thus increasing his access to more powerful spells and blessings from the Dark One. You may know the Dark One as An, the deep dark void, parent of the Sovereign Twelve. Extra-planar creatures have a natural transplanar essence that can be tapped for such conduits to divine beings. This enhancement allows the priest access to more divine power and the temple more boons. I’m sure Shumhanrhu gained Falestrin’s favor in building such a complex temple, even if it is small compared to more traditional temples of the time. Through intense study in the library here, Nekfar eventually discovered a way to split his shadow from his normal form using an ancient incantation. Since his shadow form is also Yuughathroth Nefkar and was there at the time of his binding, the binding magic keeping him here is satisfied. This semantic loophole allowed him to circumvent the conditions of his binding. Apparently, the magic Shumhanrhu used is a binary conditional statement to test the state of the containment. It wasn’t sophisticated enough to deal with altered states of being.”
“You have provided much information and we are grateful,” Chalándril says. “Is there anything we can do to help you stop being a ghost and pass on to the service of your god?”
“No, I am content with the conditions of my confinement. I took an oath to remain here until my teacher’s return. It has been so long. I was cruel in my youth. Countless hours of reflection has unwound my anger, my righteous indignation, and my pride. This state is much better than where I am destined to go. Your offer to help me is appreciated but not required.” The ghost bows respectfully. “Now go. Be wary of Yuughathroth. He may sense your presence already.”
-
The Dungeon Knights continue to explore the remainder of the subterranean temple, dispatching the dark, dead inhabitants in their centuries-long captivity. After hours of exploration, they reach the last junction. The final dark-stone hallway extends down for several yards. The Knights hear the gentle sound of pouring liquid echo in the stark hall. The rhythmic plop of water dropping into a pool does echo. Drip drip drip.
The hallway widens mid-way down. In the center of the enlarged hall is a pillar-like fountain. The front and rear are solid pillars while the middle section is open to the sides. Ornately carved figures descend from the ceiling, forming a font. Black water pours out from this font.
The water pours out into the bottom structure, a carved pool. The figures on the whole piece are strange fish-like humanoids and other sea creatures. Some have octopodal appendages, while other figures have crustacean-like appendages. Other carved figures are completely unfamiliar and distorted. To the Dungeon Knights, the whole garish statuary is both strange and alien in appearance.
Bandric touches the stonework with his bow. He taps it gently. “I wonder what this is. Seems out of place and a little bizarre.”
“The water looks refreshing and cool.” Kotyka says quietly, “I wonder if it’s fresh water?”
Bandric puts out his hand as a warning. “Kotyka, that’s a bad idea.” His warning is much to slow for the quick reflexes of Kotyka. She cups her hand and draws a drink from the font. Her skin becomes completely black with a purple sigil on her forehead.
“Wow, that was very clean water.” Kotyka looks at the others. Their shocked expressions confuse her. “What’s everyone looking at?”
Bandric half-smiles, “Well, she’s not green anymore.”
“What do you mean I’m not green?”
Chalándril touches her shoulder warmly. “Your skin has turned ebony black.”
“What?”
Tolok adds cheerily, “This will improve your roguish abilities to sulk around. That is a bonus, no?”
Kotyka begins crying. “Can you fix me Chalándril?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps tomorrow. I’ll need to commune with the Great Mother for a possible cure.”
At the end of the hallway, the Dungeon Knights find an ornately carved door.
Tolok says, “It seems our fate to continually find closed doors, eh?”
Kotyka’s goggles are filling up with tears. “At least it isn’t locked or trapped. What’s behind here should be too bad.” She empties her goggles of tears and sniffles.
The door opens to a shadowy room. The heroes fight the hard to see anything. The lantern’s light shrivels and shrinks to half its former strength. Merimonwë shivers. “It’s really cold in here.”
A devil-shaped shadow emerges from the dark. Yuughathroth Nefkar announces, “Saluton kretenoj. Ĉu vi comprendas min, nen? How about this? You understand now? That’s a nice beard, dwarf, but mine is better.”
His beard reaches out and strikes Gûltar. The dwarf winces in pain, blood pouring from the jagged wound. “I can only assume you are here to slay me. You can assume that I am here to slay you. Together we shall have a grand battle. Do me a favor, do not die quickly. Let me savor the conflict. I have been bored for countless years. This will give me fond memories for countless more years.”
Gûltar steps forward to attack. Yuughathroth whips his glaive around hitting Gûltar multiple times. “You are a pitifully slow dwarf.”
Chalándril touches Gûltar, attempting to heal his wounds. “The wounds won’t heal.”
The devil spears Chalándril with his dark glaive. “A healer! So you’re the one I should kill first. Excellent!”
Merimonwë casts her magical missiles at the devil. The missile fizzles once they hit. “My spells can’t overcome his resistance.”
Bandric shoots some arrows. Yuughathroth snaps a few with his glaive, but the others sail by. “You could become a nuisance boy. I shall save you for seconds, once I carve up the pretty healer.”
Desperate, Bandric says. “It’s too dark to get a clear shot.”
Badgers appear in bright pops. Tolok says encouragingly, “Keep shooting! Reinforcements have arrived.”
Gûltar tries to move in to help the badgers. They nip and claw at the shadowy devil, opening up a wound. A bloodied Yuughathroth sweeps around with his glaive at the astral badgers killing them. Gûltar swings and lands a deep cut into the shadowy form. Yuughathroth slashes Gûltar across the belly, causing blood to drip from the wound. The dwarf slumps to the ground.
A puff of glittering dust fills the area around Yuughathroth. The mystical sparkles fall off the shadowy form. Merimonwë curses, “Damn. I can’t get the spells to stick. His resistances are strong.”
Bandric shoots again. This time, the shots hit home. “Those are starting to hurt, boy.”
Yuughathroth blinks out of existence only to appear next to Bandric. He slices Bandric across the chest. Bandric falls to his knees clutching his bleeding chest. Then he slumps to the floor. The devil’s foot is on Bandric’s body. “Two down and four weaklings to go. This is much too easy.”
Tolok casts an entangle spell. “Lesser Black Tentacles” Tentacles wrapping around Yuughathroth’s body hold the shadow. The devil teleports away.
“Nice try but not good enough!”
“Enough of this!” Merimonwë frowns. Her eyes begin to glow. “It ends now! Empowered Searing Light.”
The thick bolt of light hits the devil and he screams, “Noooooo!”
Yuughathroth’s shadowy form melts away. An amulet falls to the ground with a clunk. Only the cold, dark air remains.
Kotyka retrieves the amulet. Just as they are about to exit the unusual room, Tolok begins to stroke his beard. “This room is unusually cold and dark. It even diminishes our lantern light to a significant degree. What else do we have that is rather cold to the touch?” The others shrug. “The horn we found up top. Maybe there is a connection between this room and that item.”
Taking a deep breath, Bandric blows a note on the horn. A dim light appears on the far wall. The lit form is a large, circular sigil. Within seconds, the symbol begins to fade away. “Sound it again Bandric, this time hold the note longer.”
Bandric blows another, longer note on the horn. Tolok studies the symbol before it fades. “Ah, this can be activated by positive energy. Chalándril, will you do the honors?”
Bandric rubs his cheeks.
Chalándril steps over to the wall and sends forth a wave of positive energy from her gods. The sigil glows stronger and remains. However, the wall behind it fades exposing a small chamber beyond a short hall. Gûltar and Tolok venture into the small chamber and explore a bit. Tolok calls back, “There is a dimensional fork here. This room is some kind of inter-dimensional portal to the Shadow Realm. I suggest we refrain from entering that dimension. There are no other items here. It appears that the proximity of this portal is causing the drop in temperature and the limiting effect on illumination.”
“That’s enough.” declares Chalándril, “We don’t need a whole lecture. Take what you want and let’s get out of here.”
-
The Dungeon Knights return from their swamp expedition after many days. Their friend Kelwyn the Merchant, welcomes them into his office. He listens attentively to Chalándril as she relates the events of their adventure, making notes in his notebook for further reference. Kelwyn gives the Dungeon Knights their fee and collects maps. Then he sits back with a sorrowful face. He sighs and begins his tale.
“I haven’t been completely forthcoming with all the details of your missions. You see, I have more interest in these events and locations than mere greed and curiosity.” He clears his throat. “My father, Kralis, was one of the Righteous Defenders. They were a mercenary band of talented adventurers with a particular fondness for hunting and slaying devils. My father fell trying to kill Yuughathroth Nefkar. His body was never recovered and I swore to my mother and his departed spirit that I would find his body and get revenge on that devil.”
“But as you know, I’m just a merchant, not a fiend-slaying hero like you. So I had to use my money and influence to gain what my sword arm could not. Please don’t be cross with me.” A tear runs from his eye as he looks down. “Alas, even in my enthusiasm to kill my father’s murderer, I have failed. Yuughathroth Nefkar is truly a deceitful foe. How could there be two of him? What are we to do now? There are no more leads to follow or places to find. I am at a dead end.”
Kelwyn composes himself. “Still I am grateful for what you have done so far. I am in your debt.”
=======================================================================
Location: Distant swamp
Dungeon Knight Roster:
Bandric (Human Ranger 6)
Chalándril (Half-human Cleric 6)
Gûltar (Dwarf Fighter 6)
Kotyka (half-orc Rogue 6)
Merimonwë (Elf Sorcerer 6)
Tolok (Gnome Wizard/Conjurist 6)
=======================================================================
“I’m not sure mosquitoes are supposed to be that big.” – Bandric
=======================================================================
This is another of my Living Greyhawk adventures which I wrote for the RPGA. This too is based on my home campaign and continues the story of Kelwyn’s Keys.
Monday, January 15, 2018
Issue 016: Requiem for Waerlan Ghel
The Harbinger was stopped but its defeat only revealed a strange mystery. Who is organizing the goblin hordes? The trouble caused by these wolf riders uncovered an old, dark secret near Chulon. The Dungeon Knights are tasked with uncovering the mystery. Will this secret provide a clue to why the goblins sought the Harbinger or will it unlock a darker danger? (Part Two of the Kelwyn's Keys series)
Leaning forward, Bandric declares, “In the window, there, a little girl! We need to help her!”
Gûltar squints, “By the forge’s fire, how do you see that?”
“Help me please!” screams the little girl.
Bandric pulls Gûltar by the arm. “Hurry!”
“Stop yer yanking, Bandric.” scolds Gûltar, “I’m already running. I don’t have long legs like you.” Gûltar lowers his shoulders and busts through the front door. The inside of the home is already warm. Bandric and Chalándril bound past the dwarf making their way to the staircase. Gûltar bangs on the doors and walls, “Get yer flabby butts out of here. There’s a fire upstairs. Now get!”
Outside, Kotyka and Merimonwë begin organizing the town people into a bucket brigade so they can start putting out the fire. It takes a Merimonwë a moment to capture everyone’s attention with a flare of magical sparks. Then she orders someone to find buckets.
Inside, Chalándril and Bandric continue to sprint up the stairs until they reach the third floor. There they see the hearth is ablaze. “Bandric, I’ll try to put the fire out. That door may lead to the girl. Open it and get her out of here.”
Bandric nods and kicks open the door. More smoke flows into the room. There near the window is a small girl. He runs over to her and picks her up. “You’ll be alright now, little one.” The girl smiles beneath her soot and tear-stained cheeks. She hugs his neck. Bandric gasps, “That’s a tad too tight.”
He looks back out into the hallway. The flames are bigger. He can’t see Chalándril. “Damn,” he thinks. “Hold on tight, sweetie. We’re going to climb down.”
Bandric crawls out of the window. He reaches into his haversack and pulls out a small grappling hook and rope. With a flick of his wrist, he secures the hook in the window and adjusts the rope to rappel down. “Don’t look down. Thou art safe with me.” In a few bounds, he slides down the wall to the street below.
Chalándril’s eyes water in the sooty smoke. “Great Mother, grant me the power to create water. By your grace and power: Create Water.” Her hands rise as a torrent of water spews forth from her hands. She directs the water onto the base of the fire, snuffing out the blaze in several smoke-filled seconds.
Several people leave the burning building. The townsfolk who went to fetch water buckets return to the scene with their buckets in hand. They start to pour water on the smoldering embers. One of the residents remarks, “Look, the fire is mostly out. We saved the building!”
From the dark doorway emerges an ash-stained priestess. Chalándril wipes her eyes. “Is the girl safe?”
“Gerta!” screams a woman from behind the crowd.
“Momma!” answers the girl from Bandric’s arms. Bandric hands over the girl to the crying mother.
“Yes, Chalándril. She is safe.”
Another figure emerges from the doorway. Black with soot and smoke, Gûltar carries a limp body in his arms. ‟I couldn’t find anyone else in the house.”
Gûltar walks over to a safe area and lays the unconscious woman down. Chalándril begins to use her healing skills to help the woman recover from the smoke and flames. A few minutes later, the woman wakes up groggy and disoriented.
A familiar man steps up to Bandric and Chalándril, “Such heroics, nothing less than I expect from my very good friends.”
“Kelwyn? What are you doing here?”
The man smirks. “My office is but a few buildings down. Besides, I was going to look for you soon. Please drop by my office for drinks and a short discussion.” He bows courteously and walks back into the town square.
Gûltar burps. “I sure hope he means ale and not some sissy drink like tea.”
-
Later, in a merchant’s office, Kelwyn says, “It’s very nice to see you again. The gods have truly blessed my path to have trusted friends heed my call. Once again, I seek your expertise to unravel mysteries.” He offers them a seat near him, next to a tray of fine tea, dwarven ale, and elven wine. Gûltar taps his stomach and licks his lips. Tolok eyes the tea and smiles.
“Recently, I acquired several copies of goblin literature, sundry letters, and interrogation notes. Professor Muskegum was kind enough to help translate these documents. This allowed me to connect pieces of local lore and goblin culture to find a secret crypt.” Kelwyn takes a sip of tea from his cup then continues. “There is a local pond in the forest. Years ago, it was a popular swimming hole until some of the children mysteriously vanish, often right in front of their friends’ eyes. Now, only the brave or foolish go there to swim. For the most part, the pond is abandoned. Around Chulon, it’s known as the Haunted Pond.”
Kelwyn points to the pile of notes on his desk. “On a related note, the goblin documents contain a requiem to Waerlan Ghel, the goblin lord that ruled these parts decades ago. A goblin requiem is often sung at funerals for powerful warlords. This one refers to burying Waerlan Ghel beneath the Tears of Zangoyek. Zangoyek is the goblin god of unity and peace – well, a goblin’s concept of peace anyway.”
A smile emerges on his face. “It seems that this Haunted Pond is called the Tears of Zangoyek in the goblin tongue. We gained this bit of information from the town watch’s interrogation of a goblin thief caught within the walls. Therefore, I’d like you to go to this Haunted Pond and find the hidden crypt. Of course, once you find the crypt, enter it and obtain its treasures and lost lore. A map of the crypt and notes about its contents are greatly appreciated. There’s a potential that the tomb has another key. If not, it should have sufficient treasure to fund further research and your expeditionary supplies.”
Kelwyn sits back in his chair and takes another sip of tea. “Will you accept my little mission to this dungeon? You are, after all, the Dungeon Knights.”
-
In a small clearing, a glistening pool of water feeds the water lilies and a family of small frogs. Several human-sized rocks are all that is left of a stone ring surrounding the pool. Now the overgrown weeds, wildflowers, and tree trunks guard this once sacred, haunted place. The ranger steps over to investigate the rocks. “These look like the names of some locals scratched onto the stone. The goblins probably don’t use this place anymore.”
Upon closer inspection of the largest rock facing the pool, Kotyka notices a strange, crude carving. It looks like some sort goblin or hobgoblin crying. “Hmm, this is interesting.”
“So why did we agree to do this job?” Gûltar asks.
Bandric stands up. “Because it’s a paying job. We get paid whether or not we find loot. It’s easy money.”
“That’s what we thought last time.” pipes in Kotyka.
“Not much up here. Just a bunch of old rocks and wildflowers.” Bandric gets out his rope. “Gûltar, it’s time for a little swim.”
“Beh, with my luck, there won’t be anything to kill down there.”
-
As Gûltar descends into the murky, cold darkness of the deep pool, he sees the faint glimmer of light near the bottom edge. The farther he swims down, the more he notices crafted portions of this natural pool. The lower edge of the pool is a carved tunnel and the glow emits from the tunnel. At the bottom of the pool, many dead, bloated, humanoid bodies lie entwined by the roots and debris.
The rope snakes behind the dwarf, he continues to swim closer to the carved tunnel. The eyes of several bloated goblin bodies start to glow with necrotic energies. They float to an upright position and stagger towards the dwarf. The closest one grabs Gûltar’s boot with his skeletal, clawed hand. A burst of bubbles pours out of Gûltar’s mouth. His screams silenced by the water.
-
Bandric and Chalándril are holding the slack rope in their hands. “What were the signals again?”
“One tug, pull me up. Two tugs, pull me up faster. Otherwise, give him slack.” replies Chalándril.
He nods. “That’s what I thought. Sometimes his dwarven accent confuses me.” The line pulls taunt in two sharp tugs. “I think he wants more slack.”
“No, he wants up. Quickly pull him up. Everyone, help us.”
Both Bandric and Chalándril start pulling in the rope. The others jump up to the rope to assist. “That guy has got to lose some weight.” Suddenly, the rope begins to move more quickly. A balding head breaks the surface of the water. The dwarf gasps for air. He’s about to speak when a bloated arm reaches up and pulls him back beneath the surface. Gûltar rises up again but this time with his hand poised to punch the zombie. He dives back down into the water. The churning and waves begin to settle. Bandric asks, “Should we go in to help him?”
Gûltar’s head emerges again. ‟Yer bloated bastard!” The dwarf is pulled back down under the water.
Gûltar comes to the surface again and swims towards the pool’s side. “Well, I know what happened to the human children…and the goblins.” He gets ashore and begins putting on his armor. Kotyka offers him a towel to dry off. “No thanks. Besides, I think we’re all going to get wet soon. Those creatures are some kind of waterlogged undead goblins I reckon. There’s a glowing cave at the far end. It could be the entrance to the crypt. I’m going to need more help to slay the undead and reach the cave.”
The heroes jump into the water after Gûltar. Streams of the air bubbles streak up to the surface as the Dungeon Knights swim further down. Gûltar and Bandric slowly poke their blades, hacking at the bloated undead. Soon the water is filled with black ichor and fleshy bits. The heroes make for the light before they run out of air. The tunnel leads to a larger chamber. The light comes from above. Half of the room has carved stair dais leading up to the surface. With measured steps, Gûltar and Bandric rise out of the cold water into a large chamber. The ceiling of the cavern is filled with green glowing fungi. The eerie phosphorescent fungus sheds enough light for the two warriors to spot the last of the rotting zombies.
As Gûltar rushes to engage, he slips on the wet stone floor. Showing off, Bandric slides on the slick surface to reach the zombies first. With a strong swing of his sword, he lops off the head of the bloated goblin. Gûltar regains his footing and dispatches the other goblin zombie. Behind the dead bodies are double doors with a large lock. The carved relief of goblin gods and goblin heroes adorn each door’s face.
The other Knights emerge from the water. Shaking water off his face, Tolok asks, “What is it? It is so large.” Bandric looks down at the gnome and dwarf, then back at the top of the door—right at head level.
“Like most dungeons, this is a locked door.”
Kotyka flexes her fingers and hands. “It looks like I’m up.”
“While Kotyka plies her trade, let me take a look at that text carved into the door frame. Bandric, if you would be so kind.” The human hoists the little gnome up the carving. “It reads, ‘Here lies Waerlan Ghel. May the Great One protect his soul and slay his enemies.’ And it seems a hasty addition was made ‘…and may he feast upon the souls of his tomb robbers.’ Oh my!”
Impatiently, Gûltar hefts his ax and swings at the door, slicing the lock in two. “No need to worry about any traps or locks. Let’s get moving.”
Through her goggled eyes, Kotyka yells, “Would you mind warning me before you chop my hands off?”
The air in this hallway is musty and dank. The mold and fungus that was in the previous chamber is more pronounced here. This undergrowth makes the floor and walls slippery. Patches of phosphorescent fungus illuminate the hallway like an eerie torch.
“Well, at least we won’t need lanterns or torches in here. This slimy fungus is providing plenty of light.” Kotyka and Gûltar look at each other with eyebrows raised. Bandric continues, “I know you two can see in the dark. I was referring to the rest of us.”
Suddenly, a large patch of green slime drops from the ceiling onto Kotyka and Gûltar. “See in the dark yes. See, above you, no.”
“Aaaaaaaaahhhh! Help me!” screams Kotyka.
Gûltar grunts, “Fek! It’s burning my skin. Somebody get it off me.”
“Agh! Now it’s on my hands! Hurry, it’s eating me.” Kotyka adds.
Chalándril moves to the front of the line. “Get out of those clothes before it does any more damage. You others, get out your wineskins. We’ll need it wash off the slime. Plain water won’t work.” She looks at Gûltar. “I think dwarven ale will work, perhaps.”
‟Not my ale!”
Moments later, Kotyka is standing in the hall completely naked, drenched in wine and ale. She covers her chest and crotch shyly. Bandric and Tolok begin washing Gûltar off with the rest of the wine and ale. Merimonwë puts a blanket around Kotyka.
“It’s not very warm. In fact, we’re all wet right now.” Kotyka nods.
Chalándril takes out some ointment. “Here, this will help sooth the burn. We’ll continue once you both are ready.”
The Dungeon Knights continue exploring the narrow, low halls of this goblin crypt. The dwarven warrior squirms in his armor. “Gods, with my undergarments gone this armor is really going to chafe.”
Kotyka puts her hands up. “Sh, I hear water dripping.”
“We all hear water dripping. It’s from our clothes.”
“No, up ahead.”
The narrow hall opens out into a long, rectangular chamber. The chamber is wider and deeper than the tunnel the Dungeon Knights emerge from. The path forms a stone bridge over still water. The bridge is slick with moisture, mold, and fungus. Small droplets of water drip off the bridge into the waters ten feet below. On the far walls are murals of water creatures and water spirits intricately woven into finely carved knot-work. Much of the artwork is covered in mold and moss, extending from both hallways out of this chamber.
“Now this looks dangerous,” remarks Bandric. “Best we let the dwarf go first.”
Gûltar gives Bandric a dirty look. “Aye, is that how it’s going to be?”
“If it’s a trap, you are the most likely to survive.”
“A trap?” Gûltar grumbles. “Kotyka didn’t detect any traps!”
The half-orc girl looks around. “I can find traps on doors, on walls, or hidden in the floor. I don’t where to look for a trap if the whole room is a trap. Maybe we should use some rope to tie us together?”
Chalándril says, “That’s a great idea. Then if anyone slips, the rest can pull him out.”
“Him?”
“Or if he’s heavy, then he could pull everyone else in,” adds Merimonwë.
“Alright, here’s the rope. Let’s get moving.” The six members inch their way carefully across the slippery stone bridge. Just as Kotyka reaches the midpoint of the bridge, the water begins to swirl.
Bandric exclaims, “Why is it doing that?”
Water begins to slosh upon the bridge. The waves below begin to coalesce into a watery serpent. The water wyrm’s neck rises from the lowering water. It swims its way towards the bridge. The mouth opens and the sound of bubbling gurgles nearly deafens the group.
“I think it said ‘None shall pass’ in the water language.” Tolok mentions.
His companions look back at him. Bandric snarks, “You speak water gurgle?”
“Why yes. I speak several elemental languages. Many are necessary for the arcane arts. What shall we tell it?”
Chalándril thinks, “Ask politely if we can pass. Unless you can think of another way?”
“I have another way!” shouts Merimonwë, “Fireball!”
The water wyrm explodes in a ball of fire and steam. The headless, water-stump weaves back and forth, trying to get its bearings. Then it stops. Water pours into the vacant head shape recreating the serpents head. It roars again with a gurgling scream.
“Oh, that’s not good.”
Gûltar pulls out his ax and Kotyka draws her sword. Tolok remarks, “I do not think those will be effective against this magical, planar creature. You will need more powerful weapons!”
The water wyrm lunges forward with its jaws wide-open as if to engulf the dwarf and half-orc in one gulp. Just before its maw reaches the hapless two, Tolok casts a mighty spell. The water wyrm’s body evaporates into a fine warm mist. And then it is gone.
“What happened?”
Tolok begins to lecture, “Merimonwë had a good idea, but her magic is not strong enough to defeat the creature herself. Nor is mine. But together, combining our magic, we can overcome its existence on this plane.”
“So you blew it up.”
“Well, in a manner of speaking, yes. We blew it up.”
The Dungeon Knights continue moving across the ledge into the next hallway. There they untie themselves and move deeper into the crypt. The distant drip of water still echoes in the next chamber. The ever-present patches of the fungus are much lighter here than in the previous sections of the crypt. It is much darker here than near the phosphorescent fungi beyond the water wyrm.
Along the walls on either side of the passageway are carved images and strange symbols. These images and symbols appear to tell a story. The predominant figure is a well-armored goblin standing much larger than the other figures. He rides a vicious looking wolf with fiery eyes and bony protrusions along its dorsal side.
Near the end of this larger goblin’s story are six human-like figures. There appears to be a sudden attack with magic and steel. A strange monstrous figure arrives and pushes back the humans. The last frame shows several goblin pallbearers carrying the dead lord to a dark cave near a pool. There is an interesting section of the wall depicting a trail from a large river to the edge of a swampland. The map also gives details to a strange building deep in the swamp. It depicts various landmarks and locations of settlements. Atop the building is a strange symbol, perhaps a temple. The next section illustrates the goblin king with his ax held high in triumph over the capture of a devil inside the strange temple. A priestly goblin stands next to him. The priest appears he is communing with his deity.
“Now this I can read,” says Bandric. “No need to translate this. Pictures make it easy.”
“Bah!” retorts Gûltar.
The gnome pulls out paper and his charcoal. “No, this is very important. We must record this information. It may provide details for further exploration. Besides, this is part of our agreement with Kelwyn.”
-
Further in the hallway are two doors. The Dungeon Knights decide to open one of them. The square room houses the Waerlan Ghel’s personal guard. Several upright coffins hold small, mummified goblins. Their bodies are adorned in tattered burial wraps with war paint, ceremonial armor, and weapons. A goblin voice echoes off the room walls. Tolok is forced to translate, “For your intrusion, you will find death.” Arcane words follow.
“That last bit sounds like a necromantic spell, but…” He looks over at the mummified goblin zombies approaching. The mummies’ eye glow with necrotic energy. “It seems the magical voice activated the undead guards.”
“What’s with all the undead in this place?” Gûltar bemoans.
Merimonwë answers, “It is a crypt. Dead things live in crypts.”
Bandric adds, ‟Dead things should be dead in the crypts, not walking around bothering looters.”
Chalándril steps forward. “By the mighty light of the Great Mother, be gone aberrations of life!” A wave of brilliant light spreads out from her body. The light seems to eat away at the goblin undead, their wrappings and rotted flesh turning to white ash. By the time the light fades, all that is left are piles of ash on the ground with an assortment of old weapons and armor.
“Well, that was quick,” Bandric says wryly. “Time for the next room?”
‟The door is locked, possibly trapped,” Kotyka says. ‟Give me a few moments to check and unlock the door.”
Very few things bring happiness to the eyes of an adventurer, a dungeon delver or a professional burglar. This room is one of those things. The goblin lord’s treasure room is neatly stacked with urns, chests of copper and silver coins, rotting rugs and other fineries. The mummified remains of a big wolf lie in the corner, adorned with canine jewelry and other baubles. Kotyka’s eyes are wide open, “Now this is my kind of room. We can stop exploring now, right?”
“No, Kotyka. We’ll save this for later. Let’s push on and see what else is down here.” Kotyka grabs a handful of coins and baubles before she leaves.
-
The final large chamber appears to be the main crypt. Four small archways extend out of this room into small alcoves. The walls are decorated with carved reliefs of goblin warriors wearing different styles of armor and carrying different weapons. Each of the four alcoves contains a statue. Three statues are goblins in armor while the fourth is a large wolf. In the center of the room is a large sarcophagus with an ornate lid. A bas-relief on the lid depicts a resting warrior clad in ceremonial armor wielding a battle-ax. Upon the plaque is the name “Waerlan Ghel” written in the goblin language.
Bandric looks at the sarcophagus. “Why is the coffin so big? Goblins are little folks like gnomes and dwarves.” He looks over at Tolok and Gûltar, “No offense, my friends.”
Gûltar the dwarf inspects the stone workmanship of the sarcophagus. “Rather good for such an undisciplined, feral species. This whole place is well built. Not something I expected from goblins. Perhaps they used hobgoblins to do the work.”
Gûltar continues his examination. ‟This sarcophagus doesn’t have a lid.” The dwarf uses his pick ax to crack the faux lid. After a few well-placed hits, the sarcophagus’ side crumbles away. ‟Damn goblins, this sarcophagus is empty.”
The women look around near the statues for anything unusual. Bandric and Gûltar continue to examine the sarcophagus. Tolok, on the other hand, is enthralled by the far wall. “Oh, my! This very interesting yet puzzling device over here on the wall is most remarkable.”
Chalándril and Bandric’s head snap around. She says, “Don’t touch anything Tolok.”
“Oh, this is easy. A basic understanding of goblin mythos and symbology should result in a correct solution thus unlocking this device.”
Bandric races over to the gnome. “She said don’t touch anything.”
Tolok recites the poem:
“Worship if ye will,
at the feet of Waerlan Ghel.
To rest thy eyes on his noble ear,
Turn these knobs for he to appear.
First is second to the general.
Next is a stately fellow.
Follow by the lord of all,
And his friend in battle and sorrow,
Lest ye not choose right,
Curse ye now, forever blight.”
“Oddly, it does not rhyme in goblin, but it does in our language. Hmm.” Before Tolok can touch one of the four dials on the wall, Bandric pulls him back.
“Don’t touch, you silly gnome. We don’t know what will happen.”
“Yes, you are right. But this puzzle may lead to something interesting and valuable.”
The Dungeon Knights gather at the far end of the room. Tolok creates an ephemeral hand of magic that floats to the puzzle device. With the help of Kotyka’s magical goggles, Tolok turns the dials from a distance. With the final click of the last gear, half of the wall slides away. It exposes a smaller room and the gilded sarcophagus of the goblin hero Waerlan Ghel. There are no lights in this room. “See that was…”
Tolok stops mid-sentence as the group watches a transparent cube of ooze slowly slide forward, right across the dials. “That would have been bad.”
Merimonwë whispers, “What is that thing?”
“Something terrible,” Gûltar responds. “Bandric shoot it. The rest of you start blasting it with your magic. Whatever you do, don’t get close or it’ll suck you in and eat you.” It takes only a minute for the fury of arcane fire, arrows, daggers and other attacks to stop the advancement of the strange cube. It finally melts into a pool of sticky, icky goo.
Inside the small room, they find a small sarcophagus. “This must be the real resting place of Waerlan Ghel.”
“Should we open it?”
“No,” cautions Chalándril. “We’re out of spells and we’re exhausted. We have enough of his treasure. We don’t need to desecrate his sarcophagus right now. We can return later.”
Bandric pats Kotyka on the shoulders. “Now it’s time for that room, girl.”
-
Kelwyn’s eyes are lit with excitement. “This map you copied from the crypt, it is glorious! You have found the approximate location of the forgotten temple. Thank you so very much. I now have some of the keys and the possible location of the door.” His diverts from the group as he begins a mental inventory of what he needs to do. “There is so much more to do. I need to plan an excavation team to go to the temple. They’ll need supplies and information and…and… Oh, you’re still here. Let me sort this new information out and confirm this location with existing maps. I’ll keep in touch if you’re willing to explore the temple.”
Chalándril replies, “We’ll be around. Let us know when you have enough information to begin the trek.”
“Why does he keep calling it forgotten?” Bandric asks, “He seems to remember it exists.”
Merimonwë pats him on the arm, “Theatrics my dear Bandric, it sets the mood.”
The dwarf huffs, “Unless it was so dangerous somebody was trying to forget it.”
Kelwyn turns from his mental distraction. From the far side of his office, he half-mutters, “If you’re going to stay in Chulon, then why don’t we extend our business transaction? I do have a few other missions in mind. They require people with your unique skill sets and talents…and the willingness to travel to remote, dangerous countries.”
Bandric thinks for a moment, “We were going to look for more work, right after we sell of this loot, spend the money and enjoy the spoils.”
“Well,” begins Kelwyn, “I can help with unloading your merchandise if that is what you wish. Go enjoy your well-earned rest. Return here when you wish to venture forth again.”
Gûltar grunts, “Will these missions involved killing things?”
“Assuredly,” Kelwyn responds.
-
Meanwhile back in the crypt, the corner of the true sarcophagus rises slowly from its stone setting. A skeletal, rotten hand emerges and pushes the heavy stone to the side.
What is this attached to the rest of the hand? How can it free itself from its eternal slumber? We may never know. Next issue, the Dungeon Knights tackle a much more dangerous dungeon – one that will make the heroes petrified with fear.
=======================================================================
Location: outside of Chulon
Dungeon Knight Roster:
Bandric (Human Ranger 6)
Chalándril (Half-human Cleric 6)
Gûltar (Dwarf Fighter 6)
Kotyka (Half-orc Rogue 6)
Merimonwë (Elf Sorcerer 6)
Tolok (Gnome Wizard/Conjurist 6)
=======================================================================
“There’s got to be an easier way to find your keys.” – Bandric
=======================================================================
This was the sequel to my Living Greyhawk adventure, based on stories from my original campaign documented here.
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