A private game
Fisher thanks the goddess of the sun for granting him the power to heal himself, and for the power to fend off the giant spider's poison. He gets a helping of giant snake from the greenflame barbecue, where the captain of the mercenaries has installed himself as lead butcher and grillmaster.
"Maybe these mercs are good for something after all," he thinks to himself, looking at the shining gleams of gold-lust in their eyes. They'd seen the gold in the sack, and were celebrating their prosperity. Judging by their appearance, they were fairly seasoned warriors, though the two who were wearing scavenged chainmail stood out as particularly ready. But would they be reliable in a serious fight?
Athame watches Keth put her heavy pick through the last skeleton's skull with some feelings of sadness at the waste of it all--the waste of good, expensive magic. But the paladins have proven their worth as well. "Best to humor them. I must live long enough to raise my sister from the dead, wherever she may be. They are my best chance," she thinks to herself. Out loud, she graciously accepts her pick back from the half-orc.
Let the others deal with the mess and spoils, I've a map to make, notes to take, stonework to inspect...where did it sleep...not shed its skin...former occupants, builders...need to carry more spare quills...columns not carved from local stone...
I hope they don't suffer, being released and all. Maybe they a'ready passed on, no bats in the belfry, like. Be awful t'be trapped in there and moved around 'ithout any say in th' matter. Lyrev'd prolly know. Bet it's written up and I've read it and forgotten. Penance t'do for that. Should know. Their souls should have some'un more fit than me to shepherd them on. Couldn't bear to have them waitin' in pain 'cause I couldn't be bothered t'be more dil'gent in my duties...
Placing the remains gingerly into separate sacks, then neatly in a corner with a whispered prayer and blessings, "Damnation and my sword on the cuss what disturbs these bones."
His voice booming with righteous authority, "These folks deserve better than rotting here in this cursed place. They'll be buried in peace as we leave and you'll pay your due respects."
Keth met the eyes of each merc in turn, putting the full threat of his physical prowess behind his words.
After a moment he turned to check in with Lyrev.
We'll need to find better leverage if we want to sleep soundly next to this slovenly lot.
Circling round the room I take stock of our sell-swords.
We'll be trusting these dogs when we're at our weakest. Best to be cautious on this excursion. Once in town we can see how they spend their loot, note their vices, chart their weaknesses. We won't give them another chance at our throats. They'll be put in their place and honed to a useful edge.
He's left handed. She's a dagger, left boot. Those three closer together than the others, not gaming, with a bath the two could pass for brothers.
Familial bonds can be exploited.
Slights against kin are not soon forgotten.
We will be cautious and continue our observation.
"My Great-Uncle owned t'is 'ole feck'n place an' I swear on yer Ma's t!&# if'n any of you go 'bout it 'ithout wipin' yer feet a'fore ye set foot in'it proper I'll cuck yer Da af'er I put an arrow through yer throat an' a boot up yer arse!"
Unfortunately, William was busy shoving an over-sized cut of juicy, medium-rare snake meat into his face, and none of the present company could understand a word he was saying. Coincidentally everyone did slide an inch or so away from him after he had finished trying to say this, but it was mostly due to partially chewed meat and spittle being ejected from his mouth in all directions. He took this as a sign of respect for his threat and then proceeded to eat more than anyone else as a continued show of dominance. William would have a tummy ache the rest of the day.
The party's party begins to wind down, and people's minds begin to turn to--what next? A look around, first:
...and because everyone's so incredibly satiated and slightly stoned by the snake meat, nobody notices the secret door 'cept Twiggy, and she only because of dwarven stonecunning. But then, Druids are used to being stoned, and dwarves are used to stones. Her cataloging of the walls finds the door precisely where she thought it would be: a (nonmagical) portal to a previously explored section of the dungeon.
After jimmying open the secret door, the party finds itself in the room that led them down to level 3. The room of the giant leeches and the statue. It stinks pretty bad right now. The mercenary captain briskly asks Lyrev for permission to withdraw to the bunks of the abandoned barracks, drawing his handkerchief with a flourish. That'd be easy to grant--but Lyrev has a more difficult decision to make. Athame poses it to her:
"Half-orc, I am glad to follow your lead in this. Do we continue down to return to the monastery of Asclepius you intend to cleanse--or do we backtrack and continue clearing this level?"
"We'll continue to map this level before heading down again. The corruption below may have spread and we could quickly find ourselves surrounded by it if we act in haste."
Escape routes as well, but more importantly knowing where the stab to our back may come from. The dwarf has been mapping, studying...scheming? She needs to be watched.
Turning to the mercenaries, "Captain, secure the barracks. Clear out the trash. Defend the position. We'll scout the rest of the floor and circle back to check-in before going lower."
As the party backtracks to the room of the six doors, they get the sense that there may be monsters wandering these halls yet.
However, nothing troubles them this time. They reach the room of six doors without incident.
In order to speed things up a bit, I will roll to see which door they attempt to open of the three remaining--I believe we've tried the
Northeast Door: dead end trap.
East Door: the first one we opened.
South Door: We just backtracked through this one.
Which leaves: West, Northwest, and North.
West Door it is. Now, who opens? Slugfoot and Athame have proven themselves far too cautious for such. That leaves Twiggy, Keth, Lyrev, and Fisher. Fisher used up all his healing and his Orc Ferocity fighting the snake, so he'll bow out.
Lyrev steps forward and carefully inspects the door before approaching it. Knowing her, she'd probably call Twiggy up to check on it as well, especially after Twiggy's sharp eyes found the secret door just moments before.
That was a wise decision--Lyrev is satisfied that there is no danger, when suddenly Twiggy pulls her back and points to telltale differences in the mortaring of the stones that indicate a pressure plate. Fisher ducks back into the tunnel and returns with the corpse of a giant centipede from the earlier fight. Throwing it on the pressure plate opens a pit trap which swallows up the deceased arthropod--a sickening squelch follows. Shining lights down into the pit, our two lead characters see if there's anything of use under the chitinous mess.
Nope, this one seems clean. Onward. I'll post this to minimize the chances of a crash and loss of much typing, then continue. I hope you don't mind me running the trappy bits this way. I'll stop when we get to a real decision--but feel free to rewind something if I misplay what you'd have done.
Turning to the north west door, Lyrev and Twiggy give it a once-over.
This time, they don't see the trap. Carefully opening the door and shining lights down the hall, Lyrev steps onward, with Twiggy remaining in the slight alcove holding the door, and the others observing.
There was, however, a trap--as Lyrev takes a further step, a portcullis made of stone slams shut on the outside of the alcove. Twiggy narrowly misses being smooshed. Now she and Lyrev are separated from the rest of the party by the mechanism. Twiggy would immediately start studying the pressure plate Lyrev triggered--fascinatingly, it is designed to trigger when you step off of it, rather than when you step on it. Lyrev armed the trap and then triggered it when she stepped forward. The party can see each other and talk through the gaps in the stone pillars, and could even hand small items through the gaps. The pillars look very strong.
What will you do now?
"Twiggy, bring up the map."
Do you think she saw it? She could be leading is into a trap
"Is there any indication that we'll link up with an explored passage?"
Watch where she steps, how she steps; she knows more than she's telling us about this place
"Hmmm? Oh, right, we're trapped. It's ingenious. No pattern or reason, just meticulously planned chaos. No reason to think thete's a way out. We'll probably die down here. Our remains adding to the plunder, the ambiance, the legend. It's a tiny immortality. A place we make come alive by existing in it."
I'm rambling again and I shouldn't chew my lip while I talk and think and ponder...To wander! We just have to keep going, exploring. There's ever so much to see!
"If we can make it north and east, and them around the entry, then north and west we might meet up. Or we might run in to another monstrosity, or some new and devious trap, or fall to our deaths. Can you imagine all the new traps we'll find?"
William piped up about the great lengths his uncle had gone to in order to protect his expansive domicile, but as usual no one was listening.
"Is there no way to reset the trap? From one side or the other, there's got to be a switch or mechanism hidden nearby."
If we don't keep her busy she'll annoy us to death or insist on blundering into it.
"Everyone take a look. If we can't find anything we'll split up. Keth, come copy down Twiggy's map."
"Oh, no need. I've got a dozen or so copies. Tracing the pathways, watching the stone push out from the earth and living rock it's built into, you get a feel for the land, the method..."
Or you go mad in the labyrinth, it consuming you as you devour it...
"Here you go. This one doesn't have as many of my speculative notes."
Lyrev and Twiggy note (Twiggy literally) that due West is a shut door down a straight passage. According to the plan to proceed northeast, they turn away from that passage and instead take one to the north. They approach a strange three-way fork in the road--one to the northwest, a shut door straight ahead north, and a passage to the northeast. Lyrev eyes the door suspiciously, and the two continue northeast. They hear a muffled voice in the distance, shouting about death and destruction.
Meanwhile, Keth's team opens the final door, to the north, attempting to emulate Lyrev and Twiggy's attention to detail by checking for traps. Nothing to see there. On touching the door, a carved stone face begins to speak:
"You stand at the threshold of the Rappan Athuk, the Dungeon of Graves. Turn back, trespassers, for you will find nothing but your death in these dark halls."
But the threat may well just be a warning--nothing happens.
The party hears footsteps approaching from the northeast. I'm tempted to have everyone roll initiative and perception and if really low perceptions happened, someone would accidentally stab their counterpart in the other half of the party, but I'll save that for another day. Instead, Twiggy's plan works perfectly and the party reunites in a largish room to the north of the Room of Doors.
Twiggy and Lyrev begin inspecting the walls. Billy takes a glance around, too.
Twiggy should have gotten Stonecunning--a 30 to notice the secret door in the eastern wall.
The party also notices a passage in the northwestern corner of the room, heading due west. No door.
"Quick progress with these crusaders. Quick through this Dungeon of Graves, this Rappan Athuk. Quick progress from weakness to power. My ability to connect with the chill void of undead consciousnesses seems to grow by the day... my magic becomes stronger and more complex. It won't be long until I can redeem my sister's life and leave this place forever. O Sovnya, I hope whatever plane you are on, that you will not pine for me for long--give me time to find ten thousand gold and return to the city, and I will bring you back to me.
Fisher fends of feelings of nervousness by quietly singing the ancient Hymn to the Sun Goddess to himself:
"You are my sunshine,
My only sunshine,
You make me happy
When skies are grey,
You'll never know, dear,
how much I love, love, you,
Praise the sun that'll never go awaaaayy!"
Having reunited with the rest of the party, Lyrev and Twiggy take note of the secret doors on the eastern wall of the room, but decide to backtrack and examine the less-secret door they passed at the trident-shaped fork in the passage. Typically paranoid, they take a close look at it.
You're dang lucky that Twig's got such a high Perception, because even with a Nat 2 she sees this trap--granted, it's neither really a trap nor is it hard to see (DC was 12).
Just in front of the door is a pair of boots and a gauntlet lying on the ground. Normal stuff. However, underneath them, and covering the door, is a slight sheen--as if a liquid clings to the door.
Before Lyrev reaches for the door, Twiggy again saves her by snatching her hand back. Twiggy reaches for a stone or piece of rubble on the ground (or extracts a twig from her dreadlocks or something) and tosses it at the door. It sticks.
"Hmm, reminds me of the way we would catch rats with Sovereign Glue traps back at my monastery. Then--we would SMITE them! Rats are often evil, no matter what they tell you. I know. I have SMITTEN them with my own blade!"
Indeed, the door appears to be coated in an incredibly sticky substance.
"Take a sample, Twig. We may be able to get a simple solvent."
She may be more useful to us than previously thought. Her notes on the maps appeared meticulous, but incomplete.
Do you think it could be a longer con? She's been down here before. These could be older copies of more extensive maps. She doesn't leave any trace behind her. If she wished she could disappear after luring us into a trap.
She's odd for a druid, but we don't think she's any threat to us excepting the fact that she does not seem overly concerned with all of us dying down here.
Where will she draw the line in our delving? What will set her against us. We will trust her so long as she is useful.
We agree. Complications may arise from conflict with the gnome. He is not well balanced.
The necromancer is concerning as well. Our brethren will only tolerate her so long.
We need to consolidate our leverage.
"And what did the Sovereign Glue do to your blade, Fisher? Could we hack the door down without disarming ourselves?"
"See that's where you gotta be careful. You put the glue on a little piece of wood and only on one side, and you leave a handhold, and then you gotta smite the rat very precisely without letting the blade touch the glue plank. Great fun when someone gets a dead rat plank stuck to their blade. Pretty much nothing you can do at that point save using another blade to chop off the rat plank and resign yourself to having a lil' splinter dangling from your sword until it wears off on its own. That sovereign glue stuff is serious business."
Let me know if and how Twigs tries to get some of this gunk.
"Hey Slug-foot," Keth's voice rich with friendly joviality, "what's yer uncle on about, all these traps and the like? None too kindly to those that wants to pop in fer a spell." Keth gave the gnome a lop-sided grin, as if setting Billy up for the punch-line.
This'll be good fer a laugh
William, unused to the friendly ribbing common between allies, misinterpreted the question as a slight against himself, his lineage, and his race.
"Et's ta put you beg, stompin' feckers in yer place, an' tha's six feet er more un'er the feckin' groun'."
William's passion was beginning to get the better of him. His face was screwed up and red, his body just starting to tremble. William was on the verge of a tantrum.
Athame, quickly grasping the nature of the situation, makes a move to mediate between her companions.
But then, quickly grasping that she has nothing to lose and everything to laugh at if she does not, she makes a move to egg on her companions while making them both uncomfortable. Even Ath's quest can take a break for a good larf.
"Six feet down might not be enough for a big guy like Keth, Billy. You gotta bury him seven. Maybe eight. Maybe ten! Put me down there too while you're at it... I like a big, strong, tall man in an enclosed space, m'self, and death ain't nothin' but a condition... I have workarounds for that."
A summary and recap of what happened on the table yesterday:
While half the party was horsing around, Twigs and Lyrev popped the secret door to find a room of zombies. Athame got grumpy at the half-orcs for destroying the zombies, but when her Command Undead failed, she decided she didn't need 'em anyway. Anyway, the OTHER secret door popped open and a bandit gang ambushed the crew, lighting up Ath with four sneak attacks and dropping her to neg 8. Due to the heroic and convenient fact that a solid 5/6 party members can combat heal (and we're nearly to 4, which will give Billy some options), she was stabilized even as Lyrev and Fisher pushed into the room, supported by Twiggy's spider and, eventually, Keth. Textbook room-clearing culminated when Ath woke up enough to start dropping bandits into slumber--netting us two captives.
Kangaroo courts aren't nearly as cute as they sound. Fisher's reluctance to execute even an evil prisoner led to some quick lies (not believed) and Billy's sudden elevation to the office of judge. A quick execution later, and we had one captive--an insane and traumatized young woman rogue who we've turned over to the bandits. She helpfully mapped out the rest of the level for us, showing us a dangerous passage to the second level, which we did not take, instead turning to our old pit trap with a ladder point of entry. This after resting a night with the mercs.
The next thing we encountered was a nest of shrieker fungus who roused a pack of giant ants. They nearly succeeded in abbreviating Keth, but paladins are the cockroaches of Pathfinder, and he squeaked through despite a series of lucky-for-ants unlucky-for-Keth grapple checks and readied attacks.
At some point we solved the glue room by piling stuff in it until we had a clear path to the treasure, so there's that too.
My records show 1075 in gold and other currency/gems, a suit of full plate, scrolls of web, fly, and invisibility, plus the loot from the bandits--piles of studded leather, falchions, javelins, but most of their value is in the composite longbows and the treasure Twiggy found in a barrel (included above). Not a bad day at work. We've just finished fighting the ants, and are at a point where our mercenary escorts are going to want a raise or payment of some kind to stay another night. Battered from the ants, we can continue despite the risks, or we can roll back to the mercs and then to town.
Lyrev should make a decision, as she's become the de facto party leader (the only one everyone trusts is the one who trusts noone). Let me know what you want to do.
I think I misremembered the gold so far--let me know if your total differs.
Note that we're about two-five good encounters away from level 4, aka the level you're supposed to start Rappan Athuk and the level where my own party began (began to die).
Fisher looks at the mess of ichor, shattered exoskeleton, and half-orc blood that has made the hallway a sticky, lurid mess. He uses his last two lay on handses for the day to bolster himself:
"Sun, let me be a window for your brightness to fill and illuminate this foul hole. It has been two days since your rays last warmed my skin. Bring me to the light again, let me leave this place alive, for I've learned much in my time here. Some things I'd prefer to forget."
He's going to be a problem the deeper we delve, we should eliminate him at the earliest convenience.
Perhaps he could be convinced to part ways with us; he and our brother are not close, but their shared brand of single-mindedness would make conflict difficult.
The path back to town is treacherous. One may easily lose their way.
"The sun does sound like a welcome friend. We should collect our entourage and head back towards the Ferry. Too long down here could corrupt even the most devout."
The online game is certainly going to help with loot management. I'll start a Google Doc that we can update while we play.
Feel free to reorganize the sheet using your excelent skills. Also please add anything from the Fire Snake delve that I haven't added yet, I don't think I have notes from that meeting.
The party makes its way back to the surface, battered but upright, escorted by their mercenaries and the twitching, keen-eyed rogue woman. The Forest of Hope, scene of so many terrible fights and deaths, looms gloomily around the party, which despite the hired muscle of the mercenaries feels... exposed?
I've been playing the trip to-from the dungeon pretty loosely. On closer inspection, it looks like we have about 40 miles to cover, two days march with six checks a day for a party that includes people on foot with a 20ft move speed (in medium or heavy armor or slugfooted Billy).
Day One
Day Two
At 9 AM on the second day, the party has packed up and begun to move toward town. The first day passed entirely uneventfully, but they will not be so lucky on this day.
As the party rounds a bend, a party of ten ragged people appear shambling up the road in the other direction. They look wary, dirty, some are bloody, overburdened, and generally disreputable. When they see us, they freeze, terrified. A woman's voice shrieks out, "The Dook's men! Hide in the woods!"
The captain of the mercenaries shouts out in offended dignity, "We ain't no men of the Duke, we are the free company of Hawkwood's Backwoods Woodsmen, escortin' clients from here to the Ferry. That Duke doesn't stick his well-armored nose very deep into these woods anyhow, an' I reck that's why yer here in the farst place."
The people on the road look somewhat relieved, though a man who now has to hoist his belongings back onto his back after hastily dropping them screams abuse at the woman who encouraged everyone to panic, though truth be told, he'd dropped his stuff and ran before anyone made a sound.
Attempting to ignore him, the woman turns to Werner and asks,
"Can ye walk us to the Ferry? We don' have much but we might be able to trade. We've been outlawed by the duke and need to find a place to live where his law don't reach."
"That's entirely up to our clients, woman. What say you, Ms. Delde? See what they got and bring 'em along or leave 'em to find their own way?"
"We can't just leave these poor people out here, Lyrev. It's just the rest of the day into town, let's take them in and let's not lower ourselves to picking over their belongings. A good deed for its own good."
Passersby: I am running another game where an NPC has just booked it out of the room he was in with a big sack of loot. I'm reviving this old campaign as a way to discreetly see what happens to him in a mini solo campaign thing.
Bandanna knows this floor of the dungeon, and he knows what he wants to do.
He makes a hell of a lot of noise.
He enters the TEMPLE OF CHANCE and begins gambling. He wagers an even stake of his 175 GP each time.
He collapses, dead, with 70 GP left in his satchel.
The two bandits move quickly, rendezvousing with their counterparts in the second hideout room.
They, assuming Jack is dead, immediately begin squabbling about hierarchy. The fact that they have no more loot is also a problem. They argue. They fight. Sometimes daggers are drawn. Mostly, they are very, very frightened. Jack held this band together. His orcs were supposed to be the difference between the crew's barely hanging on in the woods and a stable existence of thievery and solidly one-sided violence.
They decide, as I would, to get out of this damned cave and back to civilization, somehow. Maybe it is time to steal a boat. To get off Rivenrake entirely.
To do that, they have to go out the front door.
As they leave the compound, the six bandits stay in two groups--the front group keeps their shortswords drawn, while two in the back have longbows at ready, with one rearguard wielding his shortsword.
They move swiftly through the dungeon, picking their way around traps and obstacles.
No other dungeon denizens take note of their exit.
Soon they are disappearing up the stairs.
It is morning in the Forest of Hope. The party has wound its way deep into the dungeon, but their base camp keeps watch on the doorway from a perch on the top of the demon's mouth.
Elma Bourse lolls on the top of the demon's face, shielded by a bush she's arranged (poorly) to disguise herself. She's tapping her foot in impatient boredom, fingering the trigger of her crossbow nervously. Sarge and the private are resting by the fire, occasionally sharing a few words. Jack Ratt seethes in his bonds.
Entirely out of her depth as a lookout, the merchant doesn't notice the advance guard of bandits as they slip out of the dungeon.
...but two of them notice her.
They beckon to the others to be quiet and draw their longbows. The third still hasn't seen what's happening when the other two loose their arrows at Elma and start the combat, shooting up into her blind.
Fortunately for Elma, both arrows catch in the soft cover of her blind and glance off her fine leather armor. She yelps for help, and combat begins.
Init order:
Jack
Bandit
Bandit
Sarge
Bandit
Elma
Bandit
Private
Bandit
Bandit
Jack starts to struggle with Elma's gentle knots (remember that she thinks he's an outlaw with a heart of gold):
He will be free in a minute...