As to herself, she finds that the Labyrinth Elixir hasn't left any lingering effects, just a soft drowsiness like waking slowly from a cosy dream. And she doesn't feel like she's gone the least bit mad... but then how would she know? A worry for a later time, perhaps. She finds her bonds have been removed and all her wounds fully healed. She can't see even the slightest hint of a scar through the hole in her dress. Her poor, blood-stained, ruined dress, which she's now been wearing for the better part of a month. Her nose wrinkles at the thought of how she must smell. As she's not bound or in prison, perhaps she'd ought to enquire about a bath. Oh, but she is bound! A heavy iron collar has been affixed round her neck, and when she sits perfectly still she can feel it pulse faintly with insidious magics.
And as she finds when she gets bored of waiting and tries to leave, there is some awful thing guarding her door, summoned up from the very recesses of the netherworld.
[Q: Does Tzingaal wake in the Cabal's dungeon? Certain (2+): O1 C6 - no.
Q: Why isn't she dead yet? (never mind, I have an adventure idea of my own)
Q: Is there time to rest/reflect before setting out? 50/50 (4+): O5 C1 - yes, and...
Experience Rolls from the first adventure--
dodge x
swim +4
*bargain x
*nature +8
move quietly x
repair/devise x
*insight +2
search x
*profession skill, 1d8 instead 1d6; I chose Insight as her automatic improvement.
(21-18=3)x5=15% to increase POW: 21, no]
The rhythm of her days and nights becomes oppressive. She can either pace or sleep, and does so without regard to the steady entry and exit of the servants and their ministrations. Thus it is when the door opens, she does not even look over, fixed as her eyes are on the canopy of her bed.
"They'd told me the Labyrinth Seed elixir had worn off over a week ago," says Mazgandrvehss, jolting Tzingaal from her weary reverie. "Perhaps I shall have to see the herbalist about a purgative."
She sits upright to face him. "No need. I'm sure if you just keep talking it will have the same effect."
"Charming, as always. And to think I'd come with good news! Now I find myself too wounded to share."
"Sorry. It's been so long since I've spoken to another living soul. My retorts used to be much more cutting."
"You soon shall have ample time for practice on me, it seems, for we're going on a little trip."
"We are? Whither? And wherefore?"
"Why, into the swamp of Hththum! The elders have need to consult the hag Gogoda on the workings of a great incantation. You are to bring back her answer."
"I see. And this will win my freedom?"
"Should everything prove successful, it may very well do."
"I see. And why are you going?"
"For is to me, and to me alone, that our elders have entrusted knowledge of the question."
"Even with you as a minder and this demon bound round my neck, they still don't trust me?"
"Can you blame them? Now, you should not find it surprising in the least that your task carries several important stipulations..."
--- --- --- --- ---
That night Tzingaal was given a proper meal, and found that Mazgandrvehss had left her a bottle of decent wine on her vanity. In the morning, only slightly worse for wear after having drunk the whole thing, she puts some extra clothing in the bottom of her pack and waits for her summons.
Mazgandrvehss himself comes to fetch her. After some perfunctory verbal sparring with the groggy sorceress, he dismisses the demon guard and leads her to the main door of the Cabal's fortress. As the ianitor unlocks the heavy brazen door, Mazgandrvehss produces a dagger from his satchel and addresses Tzingaal directly. "This is yours. You can have it back, provided you promise not to do anything foolish."
She stares at him expectantly.
"Well?"
"I thought you were speaking rhetorically! Fine, I promise not to do anything foolish. With the dagger or otherwise. Satisfied?"
"I haven't any truth magic, so I suppose I shall have to be."
They do not speak further as he leads her through he streets of Ka-'ahhad to the harbour, where they board a swift sailing ship and sail a few hours up the coast.
[Sea Legs and Sea Sickness: on the first voyage, roll CONx3 to get sea legs (avoid caps on Physical skills). If this roll is made, the PC never need make it again. To avoid seasickness, it's a Stamina (CONx5) roll, check every trip. Since Tzingaal put away a whole bottle of wine herself the night before, I'm giving her a -3 penalty to CON for the resultant hangover; Mazgandrvehss' largesse may not have been an entirely friendly gesture!
So with an effective CON of 8, she's got 24% to finding her sea legs, and a 40% chance to avoid spending the whole voyage being sick over the side: rolls are 02 & 17!]
Tzingaal spends the voyage enjoying the breeze and fresh air above deck. The sailors know who she and her companion are, and their superstitions keep them well clear.
Their destination is no harbour, but a little village on the coast where the forest begins giving way to swamp land. Mazgandrvehss and Tzingaal are rowed ashore in a little boat, and then the ship swiftly departs. Then there is a short wagon ride over a bumpy forest path to another village further inland where they meet the three locals who are to be their guides.
Gosk is also a mercenary, and will not say why he returned home. He is always impeccably dressed, neatly groomed, and well-manicured. It would seem like these habits were picked up in some far-off land, but the other villagers swear he was always this way.
Imlatie is a shy tracker, and has never been more than a day's journey from her village in her life. She carries a small crossbow, mostly for bird hunting. She trusts she'll be able to steer them round anything bigger once she picks up its trail.
[For the next adventure, I was in the mood for a swamp crawl. I used Word Mill's Location Crafter to run it; this may have been my first use of it.
Mazgandrvehss was a random PC I'd rolled up but never used, so had his own character sheet. The three other NPCs were generated by a messy Excel sheet I made which spits out soldiers & thugs (to which I later added sorcerers). The demon bound in the iron collar is a minor demon I designed with the rules in Advanced Sorcery.
All the character sheets are on a page (click here) to keep from cluttering up the post overmuch.]
T1 : nest - none - random
Location: mockingly / ruined
An autumnal chill pervades the Swamp of Hththum, but the going is hard and tiring, so that the heavy cloak Tzingaal had brought against the damp is soon relegated to her pack. The tracker, Imlatie, leads the group past murky pools and foetid mires. Despite their route staying to mostly to hunting trails and natural high ground, Tzingaal finds she's more than glad of the high boots Mazgandrvehss has helpfully provided as they trudge through mud and splash through puddles. The slate coloured sky cannot decide if it wishes to rain in earnest, but the misty drizzle has soon wormed its way through the fabric of Tzingaal's simple dress which clings to her skin like a heavy dish rag. But there's nothing to be done for it, so she puts one foot in front of the other and keeps her complaints to herself.
After they pause for food and rest, they must pass through a stand of trees. Mazgandrvehss spots a great nest rising from the mud, and something glittering inside. A wooden staff carved in a twisting fashion and coated in bright red lacquer has been woven into the rim of the nest.
[Q: Does M's greed make him grab the staff? 50/50 (4+): O4 C1 - yes, and...]
As the sorcerers covetous fingers reach for the staff, a horrid creature schlurphs over the side of the nest to devour him -- a deadly swamptapus! But the hapless creature becomes tangled in the new branches it was bringing back to add to its nest, and its tentacles flail comically as it opens an ichor-spurting gash in its own hide.
[The swamptapus rolled a special success (d%=14) on its Hide (100%) check. None of the party made an equivalent roll, so it attacked from surprise -- rolling a 00, fumble. A 99 on the fumble chart ("Really bad fumble") gave it two results: a bleeding cut (cosmetic only), and being tangled (reduces movement). My notes for this part were a bit messy so I'm truncating the mechanics of the fight; the next one will be better (and more eventful!), I promise.]
Swamptapus
STR 24 CON 14 SIZ 19
INT 4 POW 11 DEX 24
HP 17
Skills: Hide 100%, Search 50%, Sense 50%
armour: skin (2d3)
attacks: tentacle (60%) constriction/2d3
bite (40%) 2d6+venom
[Round 1]
The beast soon rights itself and flails at Mazgandrvehss more purposefully. For his part, the squealing sorcerer turns tail and flees back behind his companions [it missed twice]. With his employer out of the way, Gosk hurls his spear, which makes a shallow wound in the creature's rubbery hide [8-5(armour roll)=3dmg to 14hp].
[Round 2]
The swamptapus flops to the ground in front of the nest and advances, grabbing at the three hirelings. Gosk manages to dodge as he draws his short sword, but Imlatie is not as fleet of foot. Fortunately her leather jerkin spares her the worst of the blow [1 damage gets through], though it holds her fast. Her own stabbing sword in return does even less harm to her foe [2-5=0 damage].
Meanwhile Tzingaal is calling upon her magic [spell casting takes a full round, so her spell takes effect on her initiative (from INT) in round 3; she's casting Sorcerer Strength (+6 STR, costs 2MP) which will raise her STR to 17 and give her a +1d4 Damage Bonus.]
[Round 3]
The buffeting tentacles thrash Pnoorgunth and Imlatie, who feels some ribs pop as the tentacle wrapped round her torso begins to squeeze [he takes 3, she takes 2+5 damage, down to 4hp; she makes her POWx4 roll to remain conscious for slipping under the Major Wound threshold].
Tzingaal joins her companions as they fall on it with sword and dagger. Many ichor-leaking punctures are opened in its elastic hide, until at last it loses all strength and slumps into the mud [3+7+6 damage (after armour reductions) kills it].
As they are catching their breath, Mazgandrvehss creeps back to the nest and removes the magician's staff, which falls immediately in two halves. He throws it into swamp in disgust.
"Aren't you going to heal them?" snaps Tzingaal.
"Hm."
He signs and turns back to Pnoorgunth and Imlatie, assessing their injuries before he invokes his sorcery, commanding wounds to close and broken bones to re-knit. As impressive as the enchantment may be, it is no panacea, and the two feel better, but not completely whole. [Healing costs 2MP, and heals 1d4 per injury; the remaining damage is only cured by time; both are now up to 10hp.]
[Daily Navigation roll - Imlatie (57%) succeeds, so they aren't lost]
T2 : expected - random - deathtrap
Encounter: majestically / glorious (= a knight)
[Q: Is the knight caught in the trap? 50/50 (4+): O6 C7 - yes
Q: Is he still alive? unlikely (5+): O2 C8 - no.]
As the sky darkens further with the steady advance of night, the little band come to the mouth of a pit amidst the trail. They move with great care up to look down into it, and find that it is scarcely as deep as Gosk is tall, but the bottom is filled with jutting wooden spikes, upon which a knight in gleaming panoply is impaled. Rivulets of dried blood run down his armour into the sticky dirt, and his clouded, sightless eyes stare out from behind the silvery visor of his helm.
"That's the fool who went into the swamp from our village these two days gone," says Gosk.
"I told him it were too dangerous to go alone," adds Pnoorgunth.
"Better him than us," says Mazgandrvehss. "But all the same, let's not camp near here."
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