I've written & translated my traditional halloween ghost story.
Wednesday, 30 October 2024
Sunday, 19 May 2024
AFF solo - Part XXIII: The Skull of Ukhuttaz
Challenge: Awareness (+1)
The next chamber is decorated with low reliefs; a welcome change from the sequence of bare walls they've traversed. The reliefs depict fairly standard scenes of city life: markets, processions of soldiers, livestock, etc. Ksandajja and Ilog insist on a thorough examination. Grebdal Themp is frankly bored by it, and would rather just take the corridor to the next room, but [Awareness roll succeeds] then he notices a single bit of inlaid metal glinting in the eye of a sacrificial bull. He presses it, and a section of wall slides open to reveal another passageway.
Room 23
Challenge: Encounter (-2)
Standing in the centre of the next chamber is the four-armed skeleton of an ogre or small giant, standing unaccountably between the three companions and an altar of pure white marble on the far wall. The creature holds a terrible, rusty scythe in each set of arms, and raises them high to strike down the hapless mortals who have disturbed its millennium of slumber. The THASSALOS advances upon them, eye sockets glowing green with unholy malice.
THASSALOS SKILL 10 STAMINA 15
"Keep it busy," mutters Ksandajja. "I'll use my magic."
[Round 1]
Ilog and Grebdal Themp go forth to meet the monstrosity as Ksandajja lingers at the threshold. She produces the energy crystal from her pouch, and slowly lets the magic build within her.
Grebdal Themp opts for a defensive stance, and adroitly dodges every pass of the whirling blades [nat. 12]. Ilog opts to assault the fiend head-on, and takes a long jagged wound across the torso for his impetuosity [4-0 damage]. As he recoils from the blow, the thassalos emits radiant green rays from its eye sockets, enveloping the the warrior in their freezing effulgence [1 more damage leave him at 6 Stamina].
[Round 2]
[She took an extra round to cast ZAP (for +2 to her casting check for 9-); the one-use energy crystal provided the 4 stamina for the spell. 3d6=13 damage leaves it with 2 Stamina.]
Grebdal Themp again opts solely for defence, but the furious skeletal colossus has learnt to anticipate his feints. A rusty blade cuts across Grebdal Themp's side, hampered somewhat by his stiff leather hauberk [4-1=3 damage, to 7 Stamina]. Ilog cannot find an opening for attack, and the thing's superior reach means he comes away with a gory gash across his shoulder [4-0=4 damage]. Another gout of green energy freezes the hapless warrior, nearly overcoming him [1 more damage drops him to 1 Stamina].
[Round 3]
Ksandajja moves in to join the fray, but cannot find an opening in the Thassalos' defence. Grebdal Themp tries to fight back, and receives a cut across the thigh [3-0 damage to 4 Stamina] for his effort. Ilog tries desperately to defend himself, but the scythe blade smashes past his shield and slices into his abdomen; the warrior falls senseless at its clacking feet into an ever-spreading puddle of his own blood [4-1=3 damage, to -2 Stamina]. The green ray shoots past where Ilog had stood, making a patch of frost on the stone floor [miss!].
[Rounds 4-5]
At last Grebdal Themp's blade strikes true -- but only a few chips of bone fly off from the thing's spine; the counterstrike nearly saws him in half [both down to 1 Stamina]. Ksandajja is frozen by the thing's baleful glare, and nearly has her arm taken off [3+1 damage, down t 2 Stamina] before finally felling the thassalos with a well-placed strike.
The bones are still skittering over the floor as they rush to the side of their fallen comrade. There is still life in him -- but swiftly ebbing! Grebdal Themp flips him over and Ksandajja hurriedly pours a healing elixir down his throat. All his wounds close up, and he opens his eyes. "I take it victory was ours?" he says.
Grebdal Themp drinks his own potion, whilst the sorceress must content herself with a tightly-wound bandage or two [G&I back to full Stamina; K gains +2 for first aid, up to 4.]. In contrast to her companions, Ksandajja still feels the pain of her wounds, but it is soon forgotten as she turns her attention to the marble altar, for upon it rests a gleaming human skull.
She leaps to her feet and rushes toward it.
"Be careful!" calls Grebdal Themp.
"I am!"
[Q: Is there a final trap? 50/50 (4+): O3 C1 - no, and...]
She lifts it from the altar, turns it over a few times in her hands, feeling it unexpectedly cold and dead. Then, realising it's incomplete, she roots round in her pack for the jawbone. She hold it in place, and feels it bond with the rest, held on by the centuries-old enchantment. The completed skull throbs almost imperceptibly beneath her fingers, and she knows instantly she holds a potent weapon against the undead.
[The Skull of Ukhuttaz - Banish Undead 1/day (as the wizard spell, but affects 100' radius; counts as the Disrupt battle magic spell in mass combat); the possessor may use any weapon to fight undead, even incorporeal ones.]
"Come," says the sorceress, "let's go destroy the phantom that killed Fhenteskeer."
[Q: Can they get out from here without incident? Likely (3+): O6 C8 - yes
Q: The hamakei wasn't trying to trick them, was it? Doubtful (6): O1 C7 - no.]
The little gremlin is flitting about impatiently as they at last emerge from the temple. "Come," it chitters, "back to my master's dwelling to rest!" As much as they burn with the desire to avenge their friend, the fire-priest, weariness and the promise of a proper meal propel them to follow the tiny creature to partake of the Hamakei's hospitality.
But the next morning sees them up with the dawn, trudging solemnly back to the ruined manse.
[Q: Any surprises? Likely (3+): O2 C6 - no]
The air inside is even less salubrious than before, the bitter incense being entirely overshadowed by the reek of decay. As they come into the circular atrium, they find Fhenteskeer's corpse lying next to the dead wizard's, already bloated and swarming with flies.
"Show yourself, coward!" calls Grebdal Themp with only half-feigned bravura. The SPECTRE meets his challenge with an inarticulate screech as its glowing form fades into view.
SPECTRE SKILL 10 STAMINA 14
Ksandajja steps forth defiantly, brandishing the Skull above her head. The relic's potent enchantment roils round the chamber in an unseen tempest, felt even by the sorceress' magic-blind comrades.
Skill 10 - Magic 5 = 5; 2d6=6]
The spectre is drawn howling into the Skull's gaping mouth and is no more.
Their foe annihilated, the companions' thoughts turn immediately to their fallen friend. Grebdal Themp is wracked by grief, so Ksandajja and Ilog bid him sit apart whilst they attend to the grim task. Chasing away the swarm of flies by beating their cloaks in the air proves futile, so in the end Ksandajja summons a sorcerous gout of fire to blast them all away. Then they divest poor Fhenteskeer of his pack and wrap him in a cloak.
Meanwhile Grebdal Themp has plucked up his courage to rifle the necromancer's laboratory. Ilog moves to stop him. "Something here killed the necromancer. Mayhap we should let our sorceress do the searching."
[Q: Are there dangers in the treasure? certain (2+): O2 C3 - yes, but... only the book
Ksandajja rolls against Second Sight (2d6=2!) and Magic Lore (6, succeeds)]
Ksandajja uses her witch's sight to examine the wizardly accoutrements. The tome is radiant with unsettling power, and she shivers each time she looks at it. She uses a wooden chair leg to close the tome, and wraps it in a blanket without letting it touch her skin. She volunteers to carry it so no one else has to.
But there is nothing else possessing even a slight dweomer, save for a beaded necklace worn by the necromancer's rotten corpse. Ksandajja beheads him with a stroke of her sword, and plucks the necklace off, wrapping it in a bit of linen until it can be washed. She pronounces the rest of the lot mundane, and her companions eagerly begin searching for valuables, though fruitlessly. The implements of the Art are serviceable rather than costly, the incense is too foul and cloying to be worth much, and everything else is made of cheap bronze, too bulky to be worth taking. But at least there are ample materials to construct a litter for Fhenteskeer's body, to spare him the final indignity of being dragged through the dust.
[Treasure was rolled on the AFF charts (p.A-142)--
coins +0: 2d6=4sp
treasure +4: 4d6=8gp worth of sundries
magic item +5: yes, necklace of survival 5 beads]
"We should send him off with his axe," says Ilog. "But his pack is too... befouled where it lay against him."
"But his elixirs," says Grebdal Themp. "here, let me... three potions, one for each of us. Let us take them, and swear a solemn oath to our own gods, and of course to mighty Filash, that we will use them to combat evil. It's what he would have wanted."
[Q: Anything happen for the rest of the day? 50/50 (4+): O3 C2 - no, and...]
Their several oaths sworn, the companions spend the rest of the day collecting wood from the ruined manor and surrounding buildings, and that night burn their comrade on a great pyre. Grebdal Themp stumbles through a half-remembered prayer to Filash that he's heard the priest often recite that it may speed his soul into the empyrean to stand beside the blazing throne of his lord.
next post: as one Quest ends...
Saturday, 11 May 2024
AFF solo - Part XXII: 'We keep looking'
Challenge: Evaluate separate from ENCOUNTER
The next chamber is darkness, so complete the lamplight can scarcely penetrate it. The companions are briefly excited to come to a chamber whose far side be further away than their lantern can reveal, but as they proceed into the space the darkness begins to abate. It reveals a chamber of similar dimensions to all the rest, with a dark figure in the centre. The figure is clad in heavy plate armour of blackened iron, bristling with hatefully pointed spikes. The CHAOS WARRIOR hefts his fearsome greatsword and hisses out a challenge in some unknown tongue.
CHAOS WARRIOR SKILL 10 STAMINA 10
No quarter will be asked, nor given. The warrior leaps into the centre of his adversaries, swinging his sword in long arcs under which they must duck to keep their heads upon their shoulders. His overhand swings send up sparks and crack the floor where they strike. Swords bounce off the spiky armour, and Ilog's mace and chain can barely dent the surface. They strike in concert, ever more fiercely to match the rage of their foe, and the blows begin to tell. The Chaos Warrior slows and the hits against him become more frequent, eliciting more shrieks of inchoate rage and pain. At last he collapses in a heap. Ilog raises his morningstar above his head, and crashes it down on the awful helm of the prone warrior with both hands. Again and again he strikes, until the pool of blood on the black stone floor shews the foul knight to be truly, permanently vanquished.
[The fight took 7 rounds, and the Chaos Warrior didn't hit once. The PCs didn't roll super well either, and most of their hits were negated by armour.]
Grebdal Themp does not wish to watch Ilog making certain that their foe is definitively vanquished, so sets about examining his sword. The pommel is in the shape of a skull, with two small emeralds in the eye sockets. These he prises out and adds to his treasure pouch. [His Evaluate roll succeeded; the gems are worth worth 10gp each.]
Challenge: Ancient Lore (-2) reveals Awareness if failed, then... Secret Signs
Another series of friezes greet the companions in the adjoining chamber. At first glance they all appear to be historical scenes from the city's past.
"Wait," says Ksandajja. "This part is all wrong." [her Ancient lore and Awareness rolls succeeded]
"It's a group of soldiers," says Ilog, "pointing at the enemy. Is that not to indicate a challenge."
"It is... but look at their armour. Look at those swords. They're all wrong for the period. And the crested helmets are the wrong shape. They look neo-Zarite, not ancient Anhassuulite. And these, if I'm not mistaken, are Thralxan cavalry. They'd not long since arrived from Johor when Anhassuul's might was at its apex. Now, these ones are proper Anhassuulite soldiers. And they're pointing back toward the entrance, not at the enemy."
"It's the same on both sides," says Grebdal Themp.
"We should turn back..." says Ilog.
Room 24
Challenge: ENCOUNTER obstructs Healing (-2)
They retrace their steps through the Chaos Warrior's chamber where another passage leads to a room occupied by a SKELETON WARRIOR clad in a corroded mail hauberk and wielding a rust-pitted yet still formidable battle axe.
SKELETON WARRIOR SKILL 8 STAMINA 6
Battle is joined without a word from the grim companions or the grinning, silent skull. The skeleton warrior fights with the swiftness of its kind, but it proves no match for the living, and though its rusty armour is still the equal of many a blow, in less than half a minute it has been reduced to a pile of shattered bones.
Its only treasure is a healer's kit, nearly useless after so many years. Some unguent still remains, but no one is willing to risk using it.
Room 25
Challenge: Trap Knowledge (+2)
As they proceed to the next chamber, Grebdal Themp stops them short. "Look!" he says, "The walls are full of holes. And see round the edges of the door? I think it's just carved into the wall and painted." [He made his Trap Knowledge & subsequent Awareness rolls.]
They retreat to the skeleton warrior's chamber and take the other exit.
Room 28
Challenge: Acrobatics interlinked with Engineering
As they approach the next chamber, their lantern light glints off many lengths of chain suspended from the ceiling. When they reach the threshold, they find the room to have no floor -- or rather, it does have a floor, just three stories down. And set with iron spikes. The far wall is bare stone, but passages are visible in the centre of both side walls at the same height as the way in.
The chains are of thick links, forged from the same unknown metal used elsewhere in the temple, and each terminating in a larger ring. They seem at first to be distributed haphazardly about the room, but closer inspection shews them to be suspended in the tracks of some sort of mechanism on the ceiling. Ilog reaches out to grab the nearest one, and as he pulls it closer, all the other chains move as well, rattling along the looping track the same distance.
"This is how we're to get across, then," says the warrior pensively.
"Which way are we going?" asks Grebdal Themp.
"That one?" says Ilog, pointing at random.
"Let me go first," says Ksandajja. "And give me the lantern. If I fall, I should be able to use my magic to land safely."
[No one has either skill, so this is just tests of SKILL. They will only fall if they miss their roll by 2 or more; they keep rolling until they succeed or fall.]
Grebdal Themp starts to hands her the lamp, but she stops him. "Let me get underway first." She takes the ring from Ilog in both hands, then drops into the void. Her momentum sends her a little way along the track, and all the other chains clack along the same distance in various directions. Ksandajja hangs in space for a few moments, then must awkwardly swing herself back and forth, trying to shift her weight more in the direction she wishes to go. After a few tries, and a lo of lost ground, she get close enough to the doorway to accept the lantern from Grebdal Themp's outstretched hand. She hooks the lantern's handle under her thumb against the ring, and then begins the slow and laborious process of swinging jerkily along her track, until she can get close enough to reach the next ring with her free hand. She changes to the next ring with great care, but always swings out of control for a few seconds as her weight propels the new ring in an unexpected direction.
It takes fully ten minutes of swishing and clacking -- punctuated by some most unladylike turns of phrase -- before she has safely come to the other side. [SKILL 6; 2d6=4, success]
As they had hoped, Ksandajja's movement to an exit has moved another chain close to the entrance. Ilog whispers a prayer to the gods of his ancestors, and bravely tries to swing across. It's much harder than he'd expected -- not that the sorceress made it look easy! He seems to be moving sideways more than across. Did he reach for the wrong ring? Now he's going in circles. Maybe it's best if he go back to--
And then he is falling. Somehow he lands between two spikes, and rolls with the fall. He's going to have a bruise all up his left arm and across his ribs, but he feels remarkably whole. Perhaps the gods of his ancestors like to have their little japes from time to time. He calls up to his companions to let them know he's unhurt. [His SKILL is currently 5, so he elected to Test his LUCK (10), but rolled an 11... reducing his Luck to 9. He tries again, rolls a 12; to avoid damage in the fall, he must test Luck again at -2; he succeeds, but his current Luck is now 7.]
Grebdal Themp catches the nearest ring with some difficulty. His passage is no less ungainly than Ksandajja's, but at least he doesn't fall. Once he is safely in the passage, Ilog throws his rope up to his companions to pull him up.
Having all caught their breath, they proceed to the next chamber.
Room 29
Challenge: Challenge: Second Sight (+1) reveals Swim
The stone floor of the next room is but a small semicircular platform by the entrance, a few paces in diameter. The rest of the room is a deep pool filled with still, limpid water.
"Trial by air, now a trial by water?" says Grebdal Themp.
"Shhhh," scolds the sorceress, "I'm concentrating."
The water is clear, but in the flickering lantern light the bottom of the pool isn't visible. Ksandajja gazes upon it with her second sight. As her vision slides from this world to the next, the glare coming from something at the bottom of the pool momentarily blinds her. She steps back, hands over her eyes whilst her vision clears. [2nd sight +1=8: 2d6=3]
"What?! What is it?!" shriek her frightened companions.
Ksandajja looks up up at them with a broad smile. "There's powerful magic in there!" she beams as her loosened sword-belt slides to the floor with a thud.
"At least test the water first," admonishes Ilog, "if water it even be."
"I'm hoping it is," says Ksandajja, kicking off her sandal. "The air is so dry and stuffy in here. A bathe sounds heavenly right about now."
Having divested herself of all her equipment, the sorceress dips a toe into the water. She shivers at the cold, but as nothing untoward happens, she pronounces it safe. Taking only the gold backed mirror as protection, she leaps into the water near the edge, drenching her companions with an almighty splash. When she surfaces, she can barely suppress a giggle at the stern and not-at-all-amused countenances staring down at her. "Oh, it's really rather divine," she says, "honestly, you'd ought to try it! No? Fine. You've only yourselves to blame."
Her companions can make out very little, now that the surface of the pool is awash with ripples and a great deal of murky sediment has been stirred up. After a breathless age, a hand breaks the surface of the water, clutching a human jawbone. Ksandajja's head and shoulders follow. The shine of the gold backed mirror in her teeth illuminates her triumph. But she only reluctantly climbs out of the pool.
"Where's the rest?" asks Grebdal Themp.
"We keep looking!"
Grebdal Themp and Ilog pause to partake of some provisions [+2 Stamina each] whilst the sorceress does her best to wring out her clothes and squeeze the water from her hair.
They go back to the chain room [Room 28]. Instead of swinging their way back to the other side, they instead use Ilog's rope and grappling iron to climb down to the bottom and walk across. Grebdal Themp slips and falls halfway down when trying to climb back out, but other than that they get through without incident. [His climb roll (at +2) was a critical failure. He had to Test his LUCK to avoid damage from the fall.]
next post: The Skull!
Sunday, 28 April 2024
AFF solo - Part XXI: Tests and initiations
Challenge: Second Sight makes easier Dodge
The passage beyond the door leads to a room suffused with radiance. White-hot arcs of pure energy shoot across the room at seemingly random intervals. The companions watch from the doorway, but can't detect any pattern. Ksandajja looks at it with her second sight, and sees the magic surge before the energy discharge. There's still no discernable pattern, but she surmises that there should be enough time between blasts to sprint to the passageway on the left-hand wall.
"Trust me?"
"You see more than we, I presume," says Ilog.
"Indeed. Now, when I say run, run........ RUN!"
They dash across the space into the passageway. Their momentum sees them fairly smack into the wall, and each other. The loud crackle behind them announces how close they came to feeling the fury of the uncanny energy blasts.
[Ksandajja made her Second Sight roll, giving all of them +2 on their Dodge rolls.]
Challenge: Trap Knowledge (-2)
Having recovered their composure, they proceed into the next chamber, which is empty save for an immense octagonal podium of polished white marble. At first it seems empty, but the flickering torchlight reveals a metallic gleam in the centre. Looking closer, there is a tiny silver ring.
Grebdal Themp tries to lean over the podium without touching it in order to examine the ring at the centre.
[Q: What's the trap guarding? Oddly / Small
G's Trap Knowledge: 7+2-2=7; 2d6=7, success]
"This is too small to fit any of our fingers," he says, "but it must be important. Wait! There's a thread attached to it, nearly invisible, running all... the way... up..."
Ksandajja and Ilog follow his pointing finger to see a small cauldron suspended from the ceiling.
"I'm sure I can get it without setting off whatever trap that is. But just in case, maybe you two had ought to wait in the passageway."
[He will Test his LUCK to cut the thread without setting off the trap: 2d6=11, just!]
He very gingerly holds the thread in his fingers and cuts slowly between them with the very point of his dagger. Then abruptly he leaps back, though the cauldron above does not empty its contents over him. He brings the ring triumphantly over to his colleagues for a better look. It is far too tiny to wear; Ksandajja could not even get it past the first joint of her little finger. It has a series of unevenly-spaced raised bumps round the outside, and appears to be made of the same mysterious alloy as the trap door that led into the temple.
Grebdal Themp stows it carefully in coin purse, and they head back to the previous chamber. They are pleased to note that the energy balls have dissipated. They return to the room [10] where they'd fought the skeleton, and take the passage from there to the next chamber.
Room 9
Challenge: Ancient Lore separate from Awareness (-2) makes easier Evaluate
Low reliefs are carved directly into the black stone walls, painted with over with now-faded pigments. The sorceress makes a circuit of all four walls, and finds them to be be strangely secular depictions of events in the city after its founding, with the possible exception of the the building of the temple at its heart [her Ancient Lore succeeded].
Grebdal Themp feigns polite interest in Ksandajja's mumbled history lesson until his eyes are diverted by an unusual discolouration in the incised seal of the city [Awareness -2 succeeds]. The seal is bordered by black bands -- not from paint or stone, but tarnished silver inlays [Evaluate +2 succeeds]. He is on the verge of prising them out with his dagger when Ilog reminds him gently that they are not here to loot the temple. "Maybe on the way back..." mutters Grebdal Themp.
Challenge: Awareness interlinked with Sleight of Hand (-1)
The carvings continue down one of passages out from the room. Ksandajja notes aloud that the tenor of the depictions has taken a decidedly more religious turn. The only break in the carvings is a metal slab, about the size and shape of the temple's doorways.
"There's no way I could shift this," says Ilog. "It looks like it's set into the floor."
"Bring the torch over this way," says Ksandajja. "There's a hole in the carvings."
Grebdal Themp holds his torch back so they can peer into the gap. It's about as big around as Ilog's forearm, and maybe as deep. At the back is a tiny round impression, the size and shape of the little ring they'd found. But dozens of minute, paper-thin blades line the entire length of the hole.
"I... I suppose my hands are the smallest..." says Ksandajja.
"No, let me," says Grebdal Themp. "This requires a certain sort of... finesse."
[He will Test his LUCK (currently 10) rather than relying on his capped SKILL (7-1=6); 2d6=5, success (current Luck decreases to 9).]
He balances the tiny ring on the tip of his middle finger, and slowly, ever so slowly, puts hand and arm into the razor-lined channel. Ksandajja jumps at a sudden loud snick, and is relieved to find it is merely the metal slab retracting into the floor. But there is still an age of silent trepidation as Grebdal Themp removes his arm from the deadly gap.
Room 5
Challenge: Trap Knowledge obstructs Evaluate
The room at the other end of the passage appears to be empty at first glance. As the mistrustful companions study it from the safety of the passage, they first note a set of stone steps leading downward. Then Grebdal Themp [Awareness roll natural 2!] points out the nearly invisible tripwires criss-crossing the whole chamber. Looking up, he sees the array of pendulum blades on the ceiling, poised to fall on the unsuspecting or incautious.
[Evaluate fails -- he doesn't see the pendulum blades are intricately worked and gilded.]
Challenge: Herb Lore reveals Sleight of Hand separate from Religion Lore (-2)
The chamber at the bottom of the stair is of the exact same black stone and exact same dimensions as all the previous ones, leaving our heroes to marvel at the singularity of purpose displayed by the ancient architects. The walls are ringed with reliefs, each in 2' square sections bounded by dried, intertwined thorn branches.
[Herb Lore roll fails, so the section bounded by a different sort of vine isn't noticed. Religion Lore also fails, so no clues.]
Ksandajja studies the carvings until her friends grow impatient. Announcing her ignorance of any symbolism germane to their task, she leads them through the sole passage into the next chamber.
Room 14
Challenge: ENCOUNTER
A colossal, black stone statue of a nude man, fully half again as tall as mighty Ilog, stands in the centre of the room. The STONE GOLEM booms out a challenge in the city's forgotten tongue, then strides forth to do battle with the puny mortals before it. "Keep it off me for a few moments," says Ksandajja as she produces a gold backed mirror from the pouch at her belt.
STONE GOLEM SKILL 8 STAMINA 11
[Round 1]
As the sorceress is murmuring words of occult import over the mirror, Ilog and Grebdal Themp rush forward to attack. The golem moves with greater alacrity than its lumbering form would suggest. It pushes their weapons aside with ease. Ilog takes a solid blow from a stone fist on the rim of his shield, knocking it back painfully into his shoulder and wrenching his wrist. Grebdal Themp receives a clumsy blow to the sternum, softened somewhat by his leather hauberk.
[The golem has 2 attacks, so they got n outnumbering bonus. Ilog took 4-1=3 damage (to 9 Stamina). Grebdal Themp took 3-1=2 (to 8). Ksandajja is casting her spell slowly, for a +2 to cast on round 2. KIN costs her 1 stamina to cast; the Golem fails its resistance. The spell lasts 7 rounds -- just enough.]
Her incantation complete, Ksandajja flashes the mirror at the golem. An exact duplicate seems to spring from the out-thrust mirror, and stomps up to attack its twin. Ilog and Grebdal Themp give way as the two mighty colossi trade earth-jarring blows. Chips of stone fly as the giants pummel one another into powder. At length the original crumbles into a pile of jagged stones, and the copy fades into nothingness.
Room 18
Challenge: Locks (1d6: 1-2 south, 3-4 east, 5-6 both)
The golem's room is otherwise bare, as is the adjoining room, save for two heavy iron-banded doors. A quick examinations shews them both to be locked. Ksandajja is about to use her magic when Grebdal Themp intervenes. "At least let me try. Besides, you should save your strength for when it's truly needed." Ksandajja bows out of the way, as Grebdal Themp sets to work on one of the locks. Moments later (which seemed longer to him under his companions' watchful eyes) he sits back in triumph as the door swings gratingly inward. [2d6=6; he finally made a successful Locks roll!]
Room 19
Challenge: Languages if failed, then... Climb (-2) if failed, then... Religion Lore (-2)
The walls and floor of the room at the other end of the passage are awash with scintillating patterns which dance and play in the lantern light before the companions have reached the threshold. Only a small semi-circle of bare black stone at the entrance is free from the swirls of palm-sized coloured stones that make up the garish, undulating mosaic. Golden letters are inset along the curve of the black stone.
"Can you read the inscription?" asks Ilog.
Ksandajja studies the words, half thinking aloud. "It's ancient Allansian -- really ancient, not the classical language that usually gets taught. The letter forms are a bit idiosyncratic, too. [6+1+2(learned)=9; 2d6=9, success] Let me see... 'solis... in tesserulis... atris calcato'. We should only step on the black tiles. The dull black ones, that is -- not the shinier ones."
"What happens if we do?"
"Let's not find out."
[Each PC must Test their SKILL at +3 to get through. Ksandajja and Grebdal Themp make their rolls (needing 9-, 10-) easily. Ilog's current Skill has been reduced to 5, so he will Test his LUCK (10-) instead: 2d6=5, ok; Luck is now 9.
Had anyone stepped on the wrong kind of tile, it would have activated a mechanism which rapidly dropped the floor 50' down, causing no real damage, but making it hard to climb out.]
Ksandajja and Grebdal Themp bound gracefully from tile to tile, practically racing across the chamber to the other side. Ilog finds he cannot readily determine which of the black tiles are shiny and which dull. He trusts his fate to Sindla, and the goddess does smile upon the stalwart hero, for he too passes through the chamber without misstep.
next post: deeper still into the temple
Saturday, 20 April 2024
AFF solo - Part XX: Temple of the Skull
"To what god or gods," says Ilog, almost in a whisper, " was this temple dedicated?"
"To the state god of Anhassuul," answers the learned sorceress, "for whom the city was named."
"And what sort of god was Anhassuul?" asks Grebdal Themp.
"Not so stern as Telak -- nor mild as Usrel."
[The entrance is (1d6): 1-2 top, 3-4 ground level, 5-6 below; d6=top]
They lapse back into silence as they make a circuit of the foundations. Not a single doorway nor a break in the stone is to be seen. They begin their careful ascent up the cyclopean pile on the shaded side, where the burning rays of Glatanka have not yet reached. When they get to the very top, the square platform is already hot to the touch, uncomfortable even through the soles of their boots.
[Q: Anything guarding the top? 50/50 (4+): O2 C3 - no., but...]
The platform is bare save for a heap of discoloured and gilded wood fragments in the centre, the remains of a gaily painted shrine. They push some of the fragments aside to reveal an ornate trapdoor of strange silvery metal, icy to the touch, and securely locked after all these centuries. The intricate, whorling patterns conceal the tiny keyhole and recessed handholds on either side.
Grebdal Themp makes a thorough search for any traps, but finds none. He set to work on the lock with the slender point of his knife, but after a few minutes of fumbling at it, stops to stare at it in resignation. [rolled Locks +1, but the -2 for improvised tools caused the failure.]
"Let me," says Ksandajja, and bends low to murmur a word of power over the keyhole. The bolt within slides open with a grating snick. [She cast DOP, for -2 Stamina (to 9)]
Ilog shivers as he puts his fingers into the handholds, then, muscles straining to the utmost, he hefts the trapdoor open and lets it drop against the stone platform with a heavy thud, followed by a barely audible brassy reverberation. [Strength 2 + Skill (currently) 5 =7: 2d6=5]
"Let's hope there's nothing bigger than this that needs moving," he jokes unconvincingly.
Stone steps lead down to into darkness. Grebdal Themp lights his lantern, and they descend.
[The temple has 3 levels, of 4, 9, and 16 rooms. I made the maps in advance, so I had the PCs move randomly (except when backtracking). The Skull is in 2 parts; unfortunately I forgot to record how I determined where they located, and don't remember exactly. I think I may have just inferred it from the nature/difficulty of the room contents. I played this part a while ago... sorry for the crap posting schedule.
Challenge: ENCOUNTER separate from Sneaking (-2)
The chamber at the bottom of the stair is square, about twenty cubits (~10m) on a side, with the flat ceiling about half that height. The middle of the room is bare; there is in fact no ornamentation save for two empty, shallow alcoves on facing walls. There is but one doorway, on the wall opposite the stairs, and almost invisible as the bare black stone is hard to differentiate from the dark corridor beyond.
The chamber becomes suffused with a bright glow. Ksandajja shoots an unconscious glance towards the trapdoor, expecting to see a ray of sunlight streaming through, but the light has another source. Coalescing right before the passageway is the nude form of a man, floating above the floor and wreathed in uncanny energy. He becomes more solid as the brightness increases. The TEMPLE GUARDIAN moves into the room, calling out a challenge in an antique, forgotten tongue.
TEMPLE GUARDIAN SKILL 9 STAMINA 10
Colourless energy crackles round the guardian and whips out at the companions, but they dodge each glowing lash. Their weapons pass through the centre as if through thick porridge, but each strike leaves the creature weaker, less substantial, and dimmer. At length it is reduced to a shimmering puddle of evaporating sparks.
[Temple Guardians can take any form, so I selected a random image file in my game folder. It's attack rolls were pathetic. There was also a 1-in-3 chance every round that the energy would burn each PC for 1 damage, but they all avoided it. They slew it in 2 rounds.]
The short exit corridor has a drum-like floor of scuffed bronze. Every footstep upon it resounds like thunder. Try as they might, the companions cannot move slowly or lightly enough to avoid making a clamour. [Sneaking -2; Grebdal Themp was the only one to succeed at his roll, but who could tell?]
Room 1
Challenge: Desert Lore (+2) if failed, then... Awareness separate from Religion Lore (-2)
The next chamber has the same dimensions as the first, but is much lighter. Low reliefs on what appears to be the ubiquitous local sandstone line all 4 walls. They depict a procession of priests and functionaries in some sort of procession. Each holds some sort of insignia or sceptre of office, and recessed into several of them are small golden keys or coin-sized tokens.
"A cunning test," says Ilog. "Which of these holds the right key, do you think? If any of them do."
"I confess I don't understand the imagery." [Religion Lore failed]
"Perhaps we'd ought to see if there's anything they fit first, and come back."
Room 3
Challenge: Magic Lore reveals Religion Lore (+2)
The next chamber is again the same dimensions as the first two. The walls are lined with sandstone (actual, not razor silicate) panels decorated with bas-reliefs, once brightly painted but now bearing scant traces of pigment. The scenes represent the city itself as seen from the top of the pyramid.
In the centre of the chamber is a low marble altar in the shape of a long table. Upon it, antique coins, bars of silver, and precious stones gleam in the lantern light. The altar is ringed by two concentric circles carved into the floor and filled in with copper. The space between the circles contains many glyphs and sigils, similarly inlaid.
[Magic lore is not a knowledge skill, but a Magical one, so uses MAG as a base instead of SKILL (and Ksandajja doesn't get her +2 bonus for the Learned talent). So MAG 5 + Magic Lore 1=6; 2d6=6, success. (I wrote this out mostly for my own benefit, as I keep having to check the rulebook.)
Q: What does her Magic Lore reveal? Positively / Lethal]
"I've seen these figures before, in a book, says Ksandajja. "They're very ancient, dating from the invention of writing in the Time of Heroes. They seem to all be repeating variations on a theme."
"You can read them," asks Ilog. "What do they say?"
"Death blast."
"Of course they do."
"But there are symbols of protection and blessing round the edge. I think whoever put this here was trying to keep the altar from being defiled by malefactors. Anyone leaving an offering should be unharmed." [Religion Lore, 9+2=11, 2d6=5, success]
"Even so..." begins Ilog, "call me a primitive ancestor worshipper, but I can't help feeling it would be somehow sacrilegious to make an offering to a god I'd only just heard of an hour ago."
"There's wisdom in your words, as ever."
"Perhaps," offers Grebdal Themp, "we'd ought to keep our looting here to a minimum."
Room 4
Challenge: Desert Lore (-3) or Secret Signs
The floor of the next chamber is a series of irregular, painted zigzag patterns, each a slightly different colour. Ksandajja stops short of steeping inside, preferring to examine them from the relative safety of the corridor. She finds that small notches have been cut into the floor where each jagged line begins.
[Secret Signs 6+2=8; 2d6=4, success (that would also have been a successful Desert Lore roll)]
"Look, it's more razor silicate."
"Where?" asks Grebdal Themp.
"The whole of the floor, except for this dark greenish stripe. See these rough hieroglyphs scratched on it? They read 'Path of the Faithful', or something like that. Only walk on this one."
The uneven path leads to a gaping hole in the floor -- a black stone staircase leading down.
Room 13
Challenge: Healing separate from Locks obstructs Second Sight
If they were expecting the second level to be different than the first, the companions would be sorely disappointed, for the chamber below is built to an all-too-familiar plan.
Other than the exposed staircase along one wall, the room contains only a low stone table, similar in proportions to the gold-heaped altar. Upon it are six low bowls of fired clay in a row, three on either side of an iron-plated box. Each bowl is filled with chalky purple powder.
Ksandajja and Ilog examine the powder, holding their breath lest they send up clouds of the stuff. After a time, each looks at the other and shrugs in resignation. [Healing rolls failed; neither realises the dust is a counter-agent to razor silicate toxin.]
[Q: Can Grebdal Themp resist the box? 50/50 (4+): O5 C3 - yes, but...]
Meanwhile Grebdal Themp is entranced by the box, weighing the odds of forcing the lock or finding something to pick it with, until his companions drag him bodily away, reminding him of the dangers of looting such a place.
The chamber has two exits, one in the centre of a bare wall, the other on the wall with the staircase, passing under it.
Room 10
Challenge: Evaluate separate from ENCOUNTER obstructs Locks (-2)
The passage beneath the staircase leads to a bitterly fragrant chamber, but the companions scarcely notice the odour as their attention is arrested by the armoured skeleton standing in the chamber's centre. It wears a corroded chain byrnie, and holds a heavy steel sword. Its shield has been defaced so that no device is visible. An iron crown has been bolted to the bare skull.
The SKELETON KING rouses from his millennia of silent reverie to test the latest aspirants in the temple.
SKELETON KING SKILL 9 STAMINA 7
[Round 1]
With blazing points of light in hollow eye sockets, the skeletal monstrosity charges into the midst of its foes. At first, it seems a canny combatant; Grebdal Themp's every strike rebounds off its dented shield. Ksandajja's sword clashes with the skeleton's rusty blade. It catches in the guard, and as Ksandajja fights not to lose her grip on her own sword, she leaves herself open to its riposte, and comes away with a bloody gash in her shoulder [4 damage puts her at 5 Stamina]. Ilog's morning star whirls round and connects solidly. Flecks of rust fly from its mailed torso, but with no great effect [3-3=0 damage].
[Round 2]
Then the creature makes a mistake, pausing to gloat over the pathetic mortals' feeble attempts at martial prowess [fumble - expose weak spot (no armour roll)]. Two swords plunge through the corroded armour, snapping ribs like twigs [1 damage each] and a morning star cracks the skull in twain [4 damage] -- only the iron crown keeps it from splintering to pieces.
[Round 3]
It does not recover, and as twinned swords lop off an arm and leg, it collapses into a heap of bones and rusted links.
As Ilog and Grebdal Themp examine a table laden with clay pottery, Ksandajja attends to her wound -- and takes the opportunity to scarf down some provisions whilst no one can look at her judgementally for it.
[Grebdal Themp needs to make an Evaluate roll to find the treasure amongst all the other items: Evaluate 7+1=8; 2d6=7, success.
Q: What is the treasure? Miserably / Smelly]
The clay vessels are filled with sundry items: pine cones, dried leaves, powders, pebbles, cones of incense -- it is these last which give the room its acerbic fragrance. Grebdal Themp chances to sniff a few of them. Amongst the commonplace sandalwood and sorrel, he finds [2d6=] nine made of blackthorn bark, something he'd not expected to find in a desert so far away from the Old World.
"Phaugh!" says Ilog, "are those the ones making that awful stench?"
"I fear so. But they're worth a fair few gold coins."
"I thought we weren't looting..."
"What if we need them in here? For... some sort of magic..."
"Fine. But you're carrying them."
[The cones are worth 2d6gp each to right buyer.]
Her companions soon join her, and Grebdal Themp sets about trying to open the lock, though after a few moments of prodding it announces it's far beyond his paltry abilities [he rolled a natural 12, auto-failure].
"There's a passageway we haven't tried," he offers.
"No, let me," says Ksandajja, and whispers a magic word into the lock. The lock clicks into place and the doors swing noiselessly open.
[She recovered 4 Stamina for binding her wound and eating a provision. Casting DOP cost 2, so she's at 7 Stamina.]
next post: deeper into the temple
Friday, 12 April 2024
AFF solo - Part XIX: Reversals
The KNIGHT's booming voice rings hollow under his helm as he brandishes his gleaming greatsword. "Turn back, or face my blade!"
"Who are you?" calls out Fhenteskeer.
The challenge is merely repeated.
"We've no quarrel with you," says Grebdal Themp. "Our business is with Thalman."
[Q: What next? (1d6): 1-2 stands, 3-4 attack, 5-6 summon help:1]
The figure shifts its grip on its greatsword.
"I've had enough," says Ilog, raising his morningstar. "I accept your challenge."
[Q: Stats? (1d6) 1 chaos warrior, 2 normal mercenary, 4 elite mercenary, 4-5 freelance knight, 6 an illusion; d6=5]
KNIGHT SKILL 8 STAMINA 12
The knight is overconfident. He swings his blade in a contemptuously slow arc, allowing Ilog to dart in under his guard and slam his whirling morningstar into the side of his great helm. It connects with an almighty clang, but the thick iron shews barely a scuff [4-3= 1 damage].
Ksandajja is suddenly beside Ilog. "He's a necromancer's pawn. An honourable duel is meaningless to such a cur!"
Ilog is glad of the help, for the knight is fighting in earnest now. Neither warrior nor sorceress find a way past his guard. The greatsword crashes down on the boss of Ilog's shield. Though it protect him from the keen blade, the force of the impact wrenches his arm and he can feel his tendons strain. [he's hit for 4-1=3 damage, down to 9 stamina]
[Round 3]
Let not Telak, god of battle, be watching from his heavenly fortress, for the only red in this mêlée comes not from spilt blood but ruddy-cheeked embarrassment. The sorceress gambles on a fancy manoeuvre, and with a whirl of silvery steel she wheels about -- only to expose her back to the knight. Said knight rushes in to profit from her blunder, but swings a full pace shy of his foe, and with nothing to impede the blade, it whips round so he smashes himself in the shoulder with the spiky cross-guard. Ilog's ball-and-chain does at least strike his enemy, but right in the thickest, most unyielding part of his breastplate.
[Ilog hit for 3-3=0 damage. Ksandajja and the knight both fumbled. She exposed her weak spot (+2 to enemy damage roll), whilst the knight hit himself for 3-2=1 damage.]
[Round 4]
Recovering from her error, Ksandajja strikes the knight in the calf, but her blade glances off the heavy plates [3-3=0 damage]. The knight slices into Ilog's chest, leaving a long bloody rent and exposing several ribs [5-0=5 damage, to 4 stamina]. As the warrior cries out in pain and shock, the knight's tabard erupts in flames; Fhenteskeer has called on mighty Filash to intercede [casts Flame on the knight for 1d3=3 damage; the knight is at 7 Stamina].
The flaming knight cackles like a madman. Grebdal Themp reluctantly joins the fight, and he and Ilog both manage to catch the knight unawares, though as always the heavy armour eats up most of the force of the blows.
[Round 6]
But the raving knight battles on, and his terrible sword cuts Ilog down before he finally succumbs to the flames. [Ilog takes 5-1=4 damage, down to 0 Stamina].
Fhenteskeer rushes to his fallen comrade's side, and finds his soul has not yet departed for the other realm. He prays again to his fiery god, and Filash shews his mercy, re-kindling the spark of life within the gallant warrior's breast. [Casts Heal; Ilog regains 9 Stamina.]
Having all recovered their breath, they advance into the dim opening of the domed manse at the street's end. Grebdal Themp lights his lamp against the oppressive dark.
[Q: Is Thalman hard to find? likely (3+): O2 C3 - no, but...]
[Awareness rolls as they get nearer: only Ilog fails.
Q: Something to notice? 50/50 (4+): O1 C2 - yes
Q: What? Dimly / Aromatic]
"What's that smell?" asks Grebdal Themp.
"Incense?" says Ksandajja.
"No, something else."
"Under the incense, you mean?"
"I don't smell anything," says Ilog, "but dust. And that latrine we blundered into. Phaugh!"
They table their discussion and creep forward until they see dim light glowing from round a corner. Ksandajja pauses to throw a counter spell over herself, proof against the malisons of the vile necromancer who they are all certain lurks just ahead [MAG, -2 Stamina].
[Time to roll for the complication (SS&SS): d66=Characters’ Weapons are Useless]
They turn corner to see a shadowy circular atrium with half the roof fallen in. Eight oversized copper braziers still smoulder round the perimeter. A recent, swollen corpse in black robes lies in the dust before an iron-bound tome propped open on a chunk of masonry, surrounded by implements of the Art.
A pithy observation dies on Ilog's lips as the phosphorescent green form of the slain wizard coalesces over his corpse. The terrible SPECTRE shrieks with inarticulate rage as he floats towards the quivering mortals who would steal his prize.
SPECTRE SKILL 10 STAMINA 14
[Notes: The spectre can attack 2 PCs each round. They can't hurt it with normal weapons, but won't know that until they score a hit in combat.]
[Round 1]
It is suddenly before them. Ghostly claws tear at Fhenteskeer and Ilog. Wounds open on the priest's neck and the warriors shoulder, but the pain in their flesh is nothing compared to the cold of the grave piercing their souls.
[It rolled a natural 12, a critical, doing double damage (6 each) and inflicting the loss of 1 Skill. Ilog now has 4 Stamina, Fhenteskeer 1.]
[Round 2]
The startled companions bring their arms to bear, but the enraged phantom flits among them so rapidly that every swing seems to pass through the air just behind it. Fortunately Ilog is able to fend off its assault, but the awful talons rake down Fhenteskeer's back. His life-essence is siphoned off by the caterwauling spirit, and he collapses in an ungainly heap.
[It, Ilog, and Ksandajja all rolled 17s, so no hits. Fhenteskeer's total was a paltry 12, so he got hit. He Tested his LUCK to reduce damage to minimum (in hopes that his armour might absorb it): 2d6=10, fail; 4-1=3 damage to -2 Stamina...]
[Round 3]
The spectre's rage turns to glee. It gloats over the fallen priest, giving warrior and sorceress time to strike. They lunge at it -- Ilog swinging his mace-and-chain right at its head, Ksandajja slashing her sword at its abdomen -- and their weapons swish right through. The spectre's malicious mirth only redoubles.
Behind them, Grebdal Themp only stares dumbly at the corpse of his oldest friend [technically, he fumbled (leaves self open)].
[Round 4]
Ksandajja's resolve breaks. "Run!" she cries, even as she summons the magic of a defensive spell to keep the clutching claws at bay. An invisible barrier springs up before her, and the spectre vents its rage in vain against the mystical bulwark. Her companions back out hastily, not daring to take their eyes off the glowing horror.
[Round 5]
It takes a supreme effort of will to keep the barrier up, especially with a leering, jeering phantom clawing at one's face. Ksandajja confines herself to a single, petulant sticking out of the tongue, which only increases the fury of the assault. She backs slowly out of the ritual chamber, concentrating on maintaining the barrier until well after the spectre has ceased to follow.
[Q: Can the spectre leave the chamber? unlikely (5+): O4 C6 - no.]
Back in the sunlit street, Grebdal Themp is still sobbing, a dishevelled Ksandajja appears as one who's not slept in weeks, and Ilog is trebling and feverish.
"We need to find somewhere safe to recuperate," mumbles the sorceress.
[For being wounded by the Spectre, there was a 5-in-6 chance of losing a point of Skill. Combined with the -1 from the critical hit, Ilog's current Skill is now 5.
Q: Can they find somewhere high-up, safe, and defensible? 50/50 (4+): O6 C 6 - yes
+Event: Introduce a new NPC - Assist / Attention
Q: What are they like? Wildly / Quaint]
Just then a grey, winged GREMLIN flits out of the shadows and hovers right before the enervated explorers. "Hold!" it says in a shrill, nasal voice. "My master wishes to talk with you. Put down your weapons. It is safe."
Grebdal Themp shrugs and sheaths his sword. Ksandajja and Ilog lower their weapons. They follow the curious creature down the street until it stop short, and lets out a tiny screech. With a slow shuffling gait, a stooped vulture-headed humanoid in a drab travelling cloak emerges from a shadowy doorway, leaning on a short staff. The HAMAKEI looks the companions over, then rasps out a pointed question.
HAMAKEI SKILL 7 STAMINA 5
"What are you lot doing here? Treasure hunting?" [prejudiced - view - current scene]
"No," says Ksandajja. "Trying to recover stolen property before it can be put to evil use."
"The necromancer?"
"The same."
"A victim of his own experiments -- cursed now to guard that wretched tome for eternity."
"We must destroy that foul guardian," sobs Grebdal Themp, "to avenge our fallen friend!"
"And bring the tome back to one who's wise enough to keep it safe," says Ilog, "and not be tempted by its evil."
"But our weapons pass right through it," says Ksandajja.
"I might know a way you can defeat it," says the hamakei. "In the great temple at the centre of the city, there is a artefact of great power, the enchanted Skull of Ukhuttaz."
"Ukhuttaz!" gasps Ksandajja. "The lich-king!"
"I'd be loathe to touch such a thing," says Ilog.
"Surely, there must be another way to fight this fiend," says Grebdal Themp.
"Forgive my momentary astonishment," says Ksandajja. "I didn't mean to imply that I'm afraid to wield it."
"Wait-- really?" asks Grebdal Themp.
"Yes, really."
"Oh, well, if you're willing, that's fine by me."
"As long as you're absolutely sure you want to do this," says Ilog.
"Why wouldn't I be?! I'm surprised that neither of you wanted it. I was afraid this would sorely test our friendship!"
"It won't be easy to obtain," says the Hamakei. "It was secreted somewhere in the maze of chambers within the city's greatest temple. The maze is full of traps and terrors, designed to test the mettle of the initiates, so only the most worthy could wield the Skull."
"I didn't build the place," says the Hamakei. "I'm just telling you what the old books record."
"How can we get there?" asks Ksandajja. "Will you show us the way?"
"Of course. But you're in no fit state to go there now. Come, share my camp for the night, and brave the temple's dangers on the morrow."
[Q: Quiet night? likely (3+): O5 C6 - yes
+1 LUCK for finding ally (I&G back to initial levels, Ksandajja is still down 1)
+8 STAMINA (meal, sleep, morning meal; K & G to full, I up to 12)
Q: Is it far and/or hard to get there? 50/50 (4+): O3 C8 – no]
next post: temple of the skull
Saturday, 6 April 2024
AFF solo - Part XVIII: The Dead City
[Q: Is it open? 50/50 (4+): O6 C4 - yes, but...
The last post ended with the final room in the entrance 'dungeon'. For exploring the city ruins, I switched to the Randomized Location Crafting tables in Mythic Magazine #2.
I'm using the Small Locations column, but Completed results need a roll to track/notice/etc. or will be treated simply as Expected. Also, this is a vast, dead, ruined city, so it isn't swarming with monsters. An Expected result for encounters = none.]
T0 : expected - none - none
When they are at last able to ascend, they emerge into what must have been the triclinium of a fine townhouse. The wooden furniture has since collapsed to nothing and the colourful wall frescoes have faded and flaked past the point of recognition. Only the wrought iron skeletons of the dining couches remain, rusted but intact.
"Nice digs," observes Grebdal Themp.
"I suppose Death cultists have more refined tastes than worshippers of Decay," adds Ksandajja.
"All that black dye for the robes doesn't come cheap," says Ilog.
The adjoining room is choked with rubble and impassible, but a gap in the wall affords access to the next room or house.
T1 : expected - expected - none
They pick their way through to the front room, which lacks its roof entirely. The walls on one side are scarcely waist-high. From there it's an easy clamber out to the street.
T2 : random - none - expected
location: important & unusual
They traverse a ruined portico leading to long narrow area with stone tables and benches arranged in cramped rows.
"What do you suppose this place was?" asks Grebdal Themp.
"A scriptorium," says Ksandajja, "just like where I used to work in Ângu of the Interminable bloody Contracts."
T3 : expected - none - expected
There's open street on the other side, strewn with wood, clay, and stone debris, but passable. Ksandajja hears a skittering of stones, and wheels about to face an unseen assailant. Then she hears another grating sound, and watches as a fragment of plaster, having lost its struggle against the inexorable advance of time, slides down the façade of a crumbling shop front. Her relief at the sight is but of a moment; for there was no assassin, and not even a rat or other vermin. And she'd not seen so much as a single spider or beetle in the dark, cool cellar. Truly nothing can live in this Dead City.
Location: calm, lavish
Encounter: weak, anxious
A still-standing gate at end leads to public gardens -- now a grid path with empty pools, dead palm trees, and broken statues of nameless gods being choked dessicated, thorny vines.
But as our heroes pick their way through the remnants of a forgotten satrap's largesse, a pair of tiny yellow eyes observe their every movement. Only once they have left the garden does the WINGED GREMLIN emerge from beneath a cracked marble bench and flit off to make report to its master. [They all got Awareness rolls at -4 to notice (-2 size, -2 concealed) to notice the gremlin; unsurprisingly no one succeeded.]
T5: random - expected - expected
Location: dark, confusing
The street on the other side of the garden is blocked on both ends. The only way forward is through a block of large, mostly intact insulae [tenements]. After a few paces inwards, the darkness becomes complete, and they must illumine a lantern to proceed.
"I grew up in a tip like this," says Grebdal Themp. "we'd best mind our step; these places were deathtraps at the best of times."
T6 : known - none - special
Object: This is bad - threatening, mundane
Even with the lamp, wading through the dust, debris, and ancient rubbish in the blackness of the insula is a chore. Several paths turn out to be dead ends, and they must climb rickety steps to the first and then second floor to find way through. Ksandajja, having taken the lead, treads on a rotten timber, and feels it give way beneath her feet. [Testing her LUCK : 2d6=4, success; current Luck drops to 7] She springs back just in time as a whole room's worth of floor collapses.
Grebdal Themp offers to take lead; he's more used to creeping around in dark houses, anyway.
T7 : complete - expected - expected
They spot a dim light ahead. Moving toward it, they round the corner to find a room lit by a window, or perhaps simply a fortuitous hole in the exterior wall. They look down over the city ruins form the height, and espy a plume of thin grey smoke coming from the top of one of the more-intact buildings.
[For the Complete result, the party needed to roll against the best Awareness (9) at -2 to see a clue: 2d6=7, success.]
"Think we can find a way there from here?" asks Fhenteskeer.
"I'm trying to plot a course from up here," says Ksandajja, "but it's hard to say what it will actually be like on the ground."
"As log as we find some sort of landmarks," says Ilog, "it shouldn't be too hard to URKKK---!!!"
T8 : expected PP-6 - random - expected
Encounter: creepy, trap
Ilog's companions wheel round to see a pair of bony hands clasping round the warriors throat. Behind his bulk they can just make out the grinning skull in a shabby cloak beaming with diabolic glee: a SKELETAL STRANGLER, doubtlessly sent by the necromancer to destroy any interlopers who would threaten his wicked designs.
SKELETAL STRANGLER SKILL 9 STAMINA 9
Fighting in the cramped quarters of the closet sized bedroom is a challenge, but at least Ilog is able to twist round so that his companions can reach the vile undead thing. Even so, they are hampered by the space. Fhenteskeer calls down the power of Filash to aid him [Smite Undead]. But though the sacred flames play over the blade of his sharp axe, he never finds an opening through which to strike. Fortunately for poor, straining Ilog, Ksandajja and Grebdal Themp make short work of the grasping fiend with their swords.
Ilog slumps to the floor, still straining to breathe. He manages to choke down a few gulps from his waterskin, and follows it up with a bit of hard tack besides to restore a bit of his lost vigour.
[Despite some rubbish die rolls, the fight only took 2 rounds. Ilog was down to 10 Stamina. First Aid won't help, so he ate a PROVISION to regain 2 Stamina.]
T9 : random - random - special
Location: dirty, reassuring
Encounter: crazy, defeated
Object: barely there - expected
Having found their way down to ground level, they emerge into long dusty street, surprisingly clear of detritus. It bisects a larger thoroughfare, and in the middle of the intersection there is a [d6=] man, stripped almost bare and staked out on the ground. The sun blazes down unimpeded on his angry red skin, and he does not seem to notice the group of strangers standing over him, trying to get his attention.
[Q: Is he too far gone? 50/50 (4+): O5 C3 - yes, but...]
"He's got heatstroke, and severe dehydration," says Ksandajja. "I'm surprised he's still alive." [Desert Lore, auto- success.]
Ilog manages to get some water down the man's throat [Healing roll 2d6=3, succeeds] enough for him to be able to speak a few words.
"Please... give me a coin to pay the ferryman..." [inquisitive - request - wealth]
Soft-hearted Ilog gives the man a gold coin as his companions loosen his bonds, and then drag him into some shade to live out his last minutes in relative comfort.
T10 : expected - expected - none
T11 : expected - expected, PP-6 - special
Object: Multi-element - expected x2
T12 : expected, PP-6 - expected - expected
They proceed through a labyrinth of winding streets and broken buildings, with ever increasing mounds of rubble to climb over or find detours round...
T13 : random - expected - expected
Location: empty, dangerous
...until they find they can proceed in the streets no further, and must instead forge a path through a collapsing, bone-strewn workshop, whose hard wooden floor -- or the part of it still extant -- creaks ominously with every tentative step.
They've nearly reached a hole into the next street when Fhenteskeer crashes through a brittle plank, falling up to his waist and tearing up his leg on the jagged edges of the hole [1d6=4 damage]. Ilog helps him out, and binds his bloodied leg once they're all clear [Healing roll succeeds, Fhenteskeer gets 2 back; he's now at 6 Stamina].
T14 : expected - expected - none
T15 : random - expected - none
Location: harsh, lonely
T16 : known - none - expected, PP-6
The narrow, winding street leads into a sizeable open square. A single stone platform -- for orators or executions -- stands in the centre. Nothing else remains but shredded canvas tents and bits of wooden structure from the ancient market stalls. Ilog climbs atop the platform, but it proves empty.
T17 : known - expected, PP-6 - random
Object: enormous & ornate
T18 : expected - expected - expected
They leave the square by one of the broader streets. The stone buildings to either side still stand tall, their stout construction more than adequate proof against the press of weighty centuries. The companions are glad of the shade they afford, though doubly aware that an enemy could be hiding in the darkness behind any of the yawning doorways they must pass.
One street is partly blocked by a broken chariot. Bronze fittings, green with verdigris, still cling to the splintered wooden frame. A nearby human skull in a dented casque may once have belonged to the driver, and the skeleton of one horse lies in the dust beneath the broken yoke.
Encounter: calm & military
Object: new & weapon
[For the Complete result, I needed to roll Awareness: 9-2=7; 2d6=7, success]
At last they can smell smoke, and there seems a darker cast to the day; their goal is the low domed edifice at the end of the street. But as they advance, a figure steps forth from a shadowy doorway to block their path.
next post: fighting and death