Tomb of the Serpent King 5e, session 6

Yanzar makes a new friend!

Dramatis personae:

• Gour-Gash, a goliath barbarian 3. Collector of various weapons who understands the better part of valor.
• Trollin, a hill dwarf cleric 2. A red-robed inquisitor with a hidden agenda and a cunning tongue.
• Yanzar, a dark elf druid 2. Very sneaky, except he loves loud, thunderous spells.

Followers:

• Schmee, a goblin famulus. A little cowardly. Likes bonsai trees and tea.

 

Dungeon cucumber

 

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Yanzar wakes up on the floor of Xiximanter's cage room. From the moment he was paralyzed and abandoned by the rest of the party until now, he remembers nothing, and his head is throbbing in pain. Xiximanter stands over him, hands clasped behind his back, skull turned slightly to the side as if in thought.

“Fascinating,” he says, “I don't see any Dark Ones in your memories. We disappeared. We were all-powerful and eternal — and then we just disappeared. Isn't that funny?

Maybe I closed myself off too much from the world. I lost an entire empire, and I didn't even notice!" He laughs. "But that just means I was right. And my work is just that much more important."

He then looks at Yanzar: "Say you, little elf, would you like to die or live?"

"Ehm, Lord Xiximanter, I... I would definitely like to live. I would definitely like to make up for any damage or problems we might have caused, too!"

"Yes, everyone would like to live! To live and not to dwell on death. Never to think about death. To live forever. Why should one die, anyway?"

He stares at Yanzar for a moment, as if pondering something, then fishes out a vial from the folds of his robes. "Drink this," he orders.

Yanzar slowly takes the vial - it is full of clear, rose-scented liquid - and resignig himself to his fate, drinks it in one gulp. It's warm - first in the stomach, then all over the body. Yandar's pupils start to dilate. He's absolutely bursting with energy. He looks up at Xiximanter and stammers: "I thought your- Ehm, I did not expect... this... sir. With all due respect."

It nearly looks like Xiximanter's smiling, although it's hard to tell from his bare skull. But when Yanzar goes to hand the bottle back to him, he suddenly squeezes Yanzar's hand. A strange shimmering feeling washes over Yanzar's wrist and a tattoo in the shape of a runic cobra appears on his skin.

"Appearances are not always deceiving," Xiximanter says. “I don't care what you and your party do in this crumbling crypt. You can't do any harm.

I am interested in your original task, though. Your master sent you to find a certain Malévol. I, too, once knew a Malévol. Médard Malévol robbed me and then disappeared. But it seems that during the years I was lost in my seclusion, the cockroaches stopped being afraid and came out into the light. I want my property back and you will help me. If you find out anything about the Malévols, any Malévols, let me know. Just press my sigil and I will hear you. Find me the Malévols, or better yet, find me Médard Malévol."

"I'll definitely let you know whatever I can find." Yanzar rubs his hand with a frown.

"Now, do you think your friends will come back for you?"

"I don't know. What do you intent to do with them?"

"We shall see," Xiximanter says, waving his hand to summon a gust of wind that sends Yanzar sliding into one of the cages. The cage door closes and the lock clicks. "We shall see."

***

From the diary of Trollin, 26th day of Harvest, 198 Aureum Diem
Although I didn't like it, I had to order my goblin women to get off me and to give me and my one remaining companion a moment to think. Although I have known Yanzar for barely any time, my conscience and especially my god would never let me rest if I left him in the clutches of that dead sorcerer. If he really is a Dark One as Gour-Gash claimed, Yanzar would be in for a very unpleasant fate. I had to hope that I can appease the lich with copious compensation for the damage my party caused, and some deference. The former won't be a problem.

I ordered a dozen goblins to follow me and led them to the alchemical workshop. Though scared and grumbling, I managed to force them to obey by sheer intimidation and having Gour-Gash at their back to kill any would-be runaways. Janek went with Gour-Gash to provide him with light, but the magister and Schmee were left with the goblins for the time being, despite their obvious unease.

I knocked on the lich's door and then he was standing there. Xiximanter, a Dark Lord. So it was true. No wonder only Gour-Gash returned from this misadventure.

I had to choose my words very carefully. Fortunately, my training taught me humility, even if feigned and insincere. But still, I flattered the Dark One. The goblins were accepted as a replacement for those left loose in his workshop, but he demanded my shield, blessed by Miri, in exchange for Yanzar's release. Though my blood was boiling, I reasoned with myself that if I refused and made him angry, it wouldn't help me nor Yanzar nor anyone at all. May the Three-That-Are-One forgive me. Xiximanter returned Yanzar to us and before we retreated, he told us that he would pay handsomely for every magic-user we bring to him.

"What a reasonable skull guy," Gour-Gash said.

Now, though, nothing awaits me here in this tomb. I rescued Yanzar and found out about the whereabouts of a surviving Dark One. Just as high priest Vatek feared. Now I must get back to Balalán as quickly as possible and report my findings. We returned for the magister and though She-Bull was loath to let me go, I convinced her that I shall be back in just a few days. Well, it might take more than a few days, but hopefully I shall be back, with an order of holy warriors to raze this place.

We also took the golden statuette that was the goblin king before me, and the magister decided to try his depetrification mushrooms on a petrified head, so we brought it to the inn as well. It worked, and it was bloody and ugly. We drank to our dead comrades and the now dead head.

But I had my mission and no more time to spare. The only thing left to do was offer an apprenticeship to Janek. He has proven his mettle and will make a fine addition to the Church's finest. His father was reluctant at first, but he soon understood the opportunity that his son has within his grasp.

We slept until the morning, said goodbye to Gour-Gash and the others, and joined an Ugrathi caravan headed to Balalán. May Miri guide and protect my companions until I return with fire and blessed blades.

***

From the diary of Yanzar, 27th day of Harvest, 198 Aureum Diem
In the morning, we (Gour-Gash and I) said goodbye to Trollin and headed back to the dungeon with Schmee on our heels. Although I knew Trollin for a very short time, he saved my life and I will never forget that.

We stopped for more of the miraculous anti-petrification cucumber-fungus-things and went to decide which statues we could bring to life. The magister was excited by the idea that he could talk to someone who actually lived centuries ago. (There technically was Xiximanter, but who in their right mind would want to talk to him?) We searched through the statue room and found the least damaged ones - a lady dwarf in heavy armor, a belligerent-looking human woman, a robed elf, a (possibly) human with horns and decorative armour, and three statues entangled in an embrace, an orc and two gnomes. Starting with the least burly one, we had Schmee crush the cucumber and carefully smear the elf statue with it. After a while, the stone cracked and crumbled away. An orange-yellow-gold elf emerged from the dust - he was literally all tinged in autumn colors; his skin, clothes and all. He was clearly still shaken from his stony sleep and he immediately drew a crossbow at us. After a bit of calming down, we learned that he is one of the Sidhe. He spoke Elvish with a very strange accent and seemed completely oblivious even to our calendar.

Meanwhile, Gour-Gash and Schmee managed to revive another statue - the human fightress. Unfortunately, it quickly became apparent that she was once loyal to Xiximanter, so a scuffle broke out until we managed to tie her up.

Our new golden friend then told us that he was petrified on his way to assassinate Xiximanter, and that he was a part of a hit squad. We found one of his brothers-in-arms - one headless statue lying nearby - and he insisted on trying to revive it even though the head was nowhere to be found. It turned out quite predictably and our golden friend had a small meltdown. On reflection, we might have taken the head of this statue with us yesterday, to experiment with...

Gour-Gash had the perfect idea to use our captive as a guinea pig for one of the unopened tombs, so we took her there. On the way past the terracotta statues sitting on the three thrones, however, the prisoner managed to momentarily slip Gour-Gash's grasp and crack one of them. Gour-Gash cracked her neck in retaliation. She still had released three skeletons from inside the statues, but even though the crown-bearing skeleton was throwing some strange black fire about, we quickly subdued them all.

Before we returned to the village for a dinner, I persuaded the others to make a quick detour to see Xiximanter. I had some questions.

Arriving at the village was unexpectedly grim. Something foul had clearly happened and the village had been ransacked, as if people dropped everything they were doing and ran away. Splashes of blood were left on the ground and the inn had a huge hole in the wall. No birds nor other animals could be heard.

Just behind the door of the inn stood a statue of the innkeeper.

***

Yanzar knocks on Xiximanter's door. Nothing happens for a moment, then the door opens slowly and silently. No one is behind them.

The alchemical workshop has been somewhat cleaned of the havoc wreaked by the party and a skeleton covered in orange slime is kneeling under the table, scrubbing the floor which still has a slightly greenish-gold tint to it. On the table in the center of the room now lies some kind of a silvery orb roughly the size of a human head.

"Come on in, little elf," Xiximanter calls from the warehouse. "Why did you come? You couldn't get results that fast - so what do you need?"

"I would like to know if you can tell me anything about Runcius Malévol, as I know nothing about him except that he is somewhere in these mountains. It would be quite helpful in my search for malévols, if you could give me any information."

When Yanzar enters the warehouse, he sees Xiximanter standing in the middle of the room, hand splayed, a goblin hovering in the air in front of him. The goblin is rolling his eyes, his arms are outstretched and his chest is open. Organs are slowly flying out of his chest cavity and landing in prepared containers set on the ground. The rest of the goblins are cowering in three cages and not even breathing as they're trying to disappear from notice.

"I don't know your Runcius Malévol, but I know the Malévols. Once upon a time, they served the Storm King and served him well. Many generations of Malévols served him and they won glory and power for themselves in his services. They were even appointed the magistrates in Balalán and the surrounding lands under the mountains. They began to consider themselves a powerful noble house and eventually rebelled against the poor old Storm King."

Xiximanter laughs and the goblin's still beating heart flies out of his body. The goblin gasps and stares at the drops of blood swirling around the heart.

"As far as I know, the Malévols made a deal with the Aunian Empire and invited the Triune Church to Balalán. That's when the slaves of the other Dark Lords started rebelling. I was travelling a lot back then and didn't have time to deal with such trivialities.

Once when I was away from my palace, however, Médard Malévol broke in and stole my grail- He stole my property."

Xiximanter finally turns to Yanzar. The goblin falls to the floor and crawls away from Xiximanter, groping at his body in terror. His chest is still open and now completely empty.

"The Malévol family had many members, and I'm sure it didn't just disappear. They must have estates, mansions, residences. Find any Malévol and he might be able to tell you more about Médard. Or about that Runcius of yours. And if the first Malévol doesn't know anything, kill him and try a cousin. One of them must know something."

"Ehm... Thanks for the information, I guess... I'll go then," Yanzar mumbles and slowly inches away. "I don't want to keep you from important things..."

“One moment, please,” Xiximanter slides closer, as if examining something on Yanzar (in Yanzar?).

"Can I... help you?"

"Try feeding this to one of your companions," Xiximanter says. One of the glass containers with goblin pieces rises from the floor and floats through the air towards Yanzar. Who knows which organ is it - maybe the spleen? - but it pulsates slightly. It seems that Xiximanter lost interest in this interaction. He swoops over to the poor goblin, poking at it with a skeletal finger as the goblin tries to crawl away.

"Uuh, should I be worried about something? What effects will it have?"

"I'm curious, too."

"Well, you created it. You must have some-"

Xiximanter stands up and turns around, robes billowing. "Do you know what a mutation is? A random change in an organism. Sometimes beneficial," he motions to the disemboweled goblin who won't die, "and sometimes less so. Mostly much less so. But the most interesting and least predictable results are always when using multiple subjects from different races. Mutagenic hybridization."

"Aah, then... I'll definitely... Yeah. Ehm, so... Thank you and nice talking to you?" Yanzar says as he backs out of the room.

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Tomb of the Serpent King 5e, session 5

The mysterious master of the Tomb is encountered and angered, with predictable results.

Dramatis personae:

• Gour-Gash, a goliath barbarian 3. Collector of various weapons who understands the better part of valor.
• Trollin, a hill dwarf cleric 2. A red-robed inquisitor with a hidden agenda. Also horny.
• Yanzar, a dark elf druid 2. Very sneaky, except he loves loud, thunderous spells.
• Zeru, an air genasi warlock 2. A gentleman and a scholar, sent by his genie patron to learn about the barbaric customs and traditions of the far West.
• Zyl, a half-elf rogue 1. Curiously honest and helpful for a wanted criminal.

Followers:

• Janek, a linkboy. The son of a local innkeeper who will be mightily cross is he learns where the adventurers took his child.
• Schmee, a goblin famulus. A little cowardly. Likes bonsai trees and tea.
• magister Kryštof Harant, an alchemist and archeologist. Very easily distracted with any historical artifacts. Or strange creatures. Or herbs of any kind. Or nice-looking pebbles.

If any of the players have by sheer chance found this recap, do not read any further, please.

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From the diary of Trollin, 26th day of Harvest, 198 Aureum Diem
We defeated the stone cobra guardian. A flawless victory.

After the fight, I advised Gour-Gash not to tease any further statues, or they might try something, too. But I don't think he was really listening, as he seemed really keen on finding that one shield from the hundreds placed on the walls that would perfectly fit his style and looks. Anyway, we were all exhausted, so we sat down for a quick breather until a click snapped us out of our slumber. It came from the stairway slide, which became a staircase again.

We gathered our things and cautiously went back up. At the top of the stairs, a stranger greeted us with a crowbar in his hand. He warned us about the hidden mechanism that sets off this trap. Right behind him, I recognized Janek and Zeru, so I didn't question the stranger at the moment. From Janek we learned that the magister and Schmee have been kidnapped by the goblins again and that Janek ran all the way back to the village, where he recruited both Zeru and the stranger to rescue all of us. Also the stranger expected payment. From me. After a bit of back and forth, we agreed that no payment will be provided at the moment, given that we needed no saving, but that he may share in any treasures we shall uncover. The stranger's name seems to be "Not important", so he's probably a foreigner. I've heard that the elves of Draja name themselves in such an incomprehensible manner.

I had an inkling where our two victims might have been taken to, so we all went through the hidden passage to the hall with the dead basilisk. To our surprise, the hall was well illuminated by several bonfires and full of goblins. In the middle, a square was marked out with the basilisk's chain, a fighting arena. Magister Harant and Schmee were tied to a pillar.

The goblin commander I challenged was already waiting for me. He apparently calls himself Face-Your-Death, probably because he soon will be really dead, when I finish with him. We got in the arena and exchanged the customary insults. But I didn't pay that much attention to him, as there was a she-goblin by his side, probably a shaman who came to preside over our duel. She shall be mine.

Combat was over fast. He managed a few hefty blows, but nothing I couldn't heal later. On the other hand, with the favor of Miri, I inflicted horrendous wounds upon him, until he fell dead. The goblins immediately began proclaiming me their new king, and it seemed that even She-Bull (the goblin shamaness) favored me now.

I ordered the two poor fools released from the pillar and arranged for some of the goblins to get out of our way and go on errands, while the party will be led by She-Bull to the goblins' treasure room. "Not important" also finally admitted that people usually call him Zyl. I must say, his art of eloquence could be envied by many. He coaxed ten gold from the magister as a reward for his rescue, more than the rest of us saw even though we've already rescued him the second time, and he agreed that we can keep the artifacts we find in the tomb as a part of the payment.

She-Bull led us to the muddy cave where we first met Yanzar and where the goblins were now busy picking mushrooms. The magister spotted some rare "dungeon cucumbers" and gathered a few. Yanzar, on the other hand, noticed some gold coins and would have taken them for himself, had Zyl not forced him to share. It will take more to earn my trust, but this is a good start.

We continued through a cave that could be classified as a kitchen and a dormitory in one to the goblin throne room. She-Bull dethroned their temporary king, a golden snake-man statue, and motioned for me to take my rightful place. In that moment, Zeru also handed me a serpent crown they've previously found with Gour-Gash, and I realized that it pulses with powerful magic. I just held it in my hand for now, enjoying the feeling of sitting on a throne, even if it's just a chair in a goblin cave. It's good to be a king.

She-Bull then described the tomb to us, or at least the parts the goblins have been to, and revealed all the treasures they have - some food, some silverware and the golden idol. Truth be told, I expected more, but then she introduced me to my new harem. I decided to have some fun while the others return to exploration, but I sent a couple of goblins with them as guides just in case.

This next part was only recounted to me by the shaken Gour-Gash:

They've made their way to the richly decorated gate beyond the basilisk hall and to the smaller, locked door next to it, because with Zyl they now had new options. Zyl opened the smaller door without a problem and inside, they found a very well-equipped alchemical workshop. They looted some potions, but also noted a bright orange potion being currently prepared in a complex apparatus, so it was painfully obvious the laboratory was not abandoned.

Another door lead them to a room with several cages and crates. Six goblins were locked in one of the rune-covered cages, and they immediately pleaded with their brethren still accompanying the party and asked to be rescued from the boogeyman. Zyl let them out and all the goblins immediately ran away, scared. The party is not so easy to shake, though, so Zeru calmly inspected the runes on the cages and found them to bind and counter magic. Gour-Gash discovered a silver circle set into the floor and a small cask of saffron, which he gladly appropriated.

Further explorations had to be put aside, though, because the magister and Schmee have drawn the party's attention to a skeleton covered in some kind of orange liquid that walked into the alchemical lab. It seemed more confused than hostile at first, so Yanzar tried to distract it and lead it away, but the skeleton remained impassive, which unfortunately also meant it blocked the exit. Then everything when wrong when the magister tried talking to the skeleton in the Dark Speech, at Gour-Gash's urging. The skeleton suddenly got interested in the magister and tried to push him into one of the magical cages. Yanzar barely managed to push the skeleton off and pull the magister aside.

At that moment, everyone has drawn their weapons and they try to neutralize the skeleton. Unfortunately, no matter what they try, they are unable to hurt it. It is as if the orange sludge was blocking any and all harm. In all this confusion, Janek tries to throw random things from the alchemical workshop at the skeleton, but nothing works and he ends up shattering the massive glass apparatus, leaving a violently fuming puddle on the floor. Finally, they tie up the skeleton and throw it into a cage.

Another door leads from the room, which Zyl opens after a bit of struggle. However, a cloud of golden-green smoke begins to spread from the alchemical workshop and Gour-Gash is unwilling to risk staying any longer. He pulls a bit of cloth over his face and runs out to the corridor. They then close the doors to the lab from both sides, trapping the smoke inside for the moment.

Zyl and the others explore the last room, which is full of bookcases and locked chests. Zeru and the magister inspect the literature, while Zyl shares a flask of foreign coffee, miraculously still hot, with Yanzar. Then, a hooded stranger appears within the silver circle.

The stranger is confused as to what is going on, he order them to explain why are they here, where they came from and what do they want. He introduces himself as Xiximanter, the Serpent King. It is pretty clear to the group that he wields powerful magic. They bumble up an excuse of being a diplomatic mission seeking to pay him a tribute, and he tells them to make an appointment next time and to get lost from his sight. Things take a turn for the worse when they try to leave, only to reveal the havoc they wreaked in his laboratory. Janek, the magister and Schmee flee immediately, while Xiximanter is distracted by lamenting over his equipment, but Zyl decides to cover the retreat of the group and whips out his crossbow. He shoots at the lich, but the quarrel dissolves into dust before it can hit. Distracted, Xiximanter makes a minute gesture and Zyl drops dead on the spot.

Seeing this, Zeru discorporates into blue smoke and flows into a small lamp he always carries on his belt. The only one left is Yanzar. He tries to run and Gour-Gash is still waiting in the corridor, ready to shut the door behind him, but he fails to avoid Xiximanter's touch and suddenly cannot move. Finally, Gour-Gash realizes that all is lost and runs, too.

GM Commentary:
Here is the stat block for Face-Your-Death:

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Tomb of the Serpent King 5e, session 4

The adventurers encounter the goblins for the second time and have to flee again, so they go and pick a fight with a statue.

Dramatis personae:

• Gour-Gash, a goliath barbarian 2. Strong of muscle, weak of head. Collector of various weapons.
• Trollin, a hill dwarf cleric 2. A red-robed inquisitor who curiously surrounds himself with outlanders and strange types. Definitely has a hidden agenda.
• Yanzar, a dark elf druid 1. Very sneaky, except he loves loud, thunderous spells.

Followers:

• Janek, a linkboy. The son of a local innkeeper who will be mightily cross is he learns where the adventurers took his child.
• Schmee, a goblin famulus. A little cowardly. Likes bonsai trees and tea.
• magister Kryštof Harant, an alchemist and archeologist. Very easily distracted with any historical artifacts. Or strange creatures. Or herbs of any kind. Or nice-looking pebbles.

If any of the players have by sheer chance found this recap, do not read any further, please.

Goblin Archer by Paul Abrams

 
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Yanzar had a mission. He had a quest. His quest, indeed, was of utmost importance. He had to do his best to find the secret lair of the black druids, a cabal that his teacher and friend Belfinas had long been hunting down.

Unfortunately, that lair could be anywhere in the Trollish Mountains, so their little circle of druids has decided to split and cover as much ground as possible individually. Even more unfortunately, this meant that now that Yanzar found a hidey-hole with clear signs of someone regularly using it to slip in and out of some underground area, he had to investigate.

He sighed.

He climbed in.

After a short and clastrophobic squeeze through the gaps between massive tree roots, he emerged between broken stone blocks of some ancient structure. A stairwell descended deeper into the hill. Though torchless, Yanzar had no fear, for his dark-elven eyes would serve him well until even the very last sliver of light disappears. He made his way down the stairs and then down the following corridor. A faint glow could be seen ahead.

The corridor suddenly ended, caved-in a long time ago, but the ground gave way too and a muddy, rocky slope went down to a long, mud-filled cavern from where the weak phosphorescence emanated. Fungi of all kinds and shapes were filling the cave, some that even Yanzar as a druid didn't recognize. He slid down the slope and jumped from one rock to the next, easily crossing the cavern clean-footed. At this other end, the main part of the cave took a sharp upturn and a small tunnel split from it, going eastwards. But before he could investigate further, Yanzar had to hide in the shadow of a large boulder, for a gaggle of goblins started to pour out of the tunnel, squabbling and cackling and stinking.

Yanzar gripped his scimitar, but the goblins seemed oblivious to his presence. Then, a terrifying voice boomed out from behind him, startling him and sending the goblins to a panicked scramble.

***

From the diary of Trollin, 25th day of Harvest, 198 Aureum Diem
Facing the puckered, goblinish faces peering at us, I didn't hesitate. Making a simple thaumaturgical gesture, I yelled at the goblins in the cave below, my eyes flashing and my voice booming. They were immediately spooked and ran off, further into the darkness. Little cowards.

Our group carefully made it down the muddy ramp where the corridor collapsed into the cave below, to the edge of the thick mud covering the entire cave floor. All manner of mushrooms and molds were growing there, some even glowing slightly. I sent Janek to scout ahead, to find a safe path to the other side. He quickly clambered over the rock outcroppings and boulders littering the cavern, stopping at a particularly large boulder near the southern end of the cave, where it branched into a tunnel disappearing east and a rocky slope going up to another cavernous hall. He waved his torch to give us a signal to follow him, when all of a sudden some stranger emerged from the shadows behind him and put a saber to his throat.

Janek was frozen with fear, but Gour-Gash leapt to action and threatened the stranger with unspeakable cruelties should he do any harm to Janek. In a quick verbal showdown, we learned the name of the stranger - Yanzar. He apparently came across the back entrance that we've just investigated. There wasn't much time for further chit-chat, though, because goblins appeared atop the rocky slope, led by a rather capable-looking commander. The little goblins were once again armed with nothing but some silver forks and knives, but their commander was in ramshackle armor with a bow ready in hand.

We exchanged a few choice words, but the whole situation inevitably resulted in a fight. "Face your death!" the commander screamed. While Gour-Gash rushed towards the commander and was overwhelmed by a group of goblins, Yanzar began to conjure up a remarkable magic. Various vines and thorny brambles began to slide out from the ground, not only slowing down the oncoming goblins, but even trapping some of them and breaking their charge. In the meantime, Janek retreated back to me but still managed to fire his sling, while Schmee of course was getting ready to run.

The goblin commander decided to retreat to a safe distance from the menacing Gour-Gash, but not before Gour-Gash landed a crushing blow to his shoulder. The rest of the goblin horde then completely blocked his path, though, and forced him to retreat with a fork stuck in his forehead. Yanzar, on the other hand, got stabbed under the ribs with a sharpened spoon and fainted from the pain and blood loss*. His magical roots and vines immediately began to dry up and break, releasing the restrained goblins. I ordered Janek to drag Yanzar to safety while I myself went to help Gour-Gash, who was having a lot of fun smashing the goblins' heads against each other, but got quite wounded in the process. I sent him back to the others and tried to cover the retreat of them all.

Amazingly, Yanzar required no help. Though bloodied and cursing under his breath, he staggered to his feet and limped back to where we came from. I have no idea where Schmee got the courage to crawl up to the front line, but out of nowhere he tried to pull magister's alchemical satchel we had just found off my shoulder. I backhanded him into the mud at first, but when he started sputtering something about magic potions inside the satchel, I relented and he started rummaging through it, wide eyed and panicky.

And so there I stand, alone against massive odds. When I wasn't deflecting the commander's arrows or dodging goblin attacks, I turned my head and saw Yanzar and Gour-Gash sitting in the safety of the end of the collapsed corridor, eating something that Yanzar called "good berries". Or gooseberries? Anyway, all that was missing from the scenery was a checkered blanket and a basket with a bottle of wine and some foreign cheeses. I shook my head and was brought back to reality by a fork thrown by one of the goblins that got stuck in my shield. I plucked it out and threw it back to the original owner, catching him in the eye, then Janek took down another one with a hit in the balls. Schmee finally found something useful, taking out a tiny bottle and throwing it towards the goblin commander. On impact, thick smoke started to fill the cavern, shielding us from the goblins. We took our chance and began to retreat.

But before we got away, the goblin commander emerged from the smoke and mocked our supposed cowardice. "Face your death with dignity, you sun-dwelling scum." I had no choice but to challenge that bastard to a duel. One on one, to the death, tomorrow, in the basilisk hall. He seemed immensely pleased and retreated with his henchmen deeper into the caves.

On the way out of the tomb, Gour-Gash procured a new spear from a hidden room we found previously and Janek was literally enchanted by Yanzar being an elf like the ones from his grandma's tales. Magister Harant was already waiting for us in the inn. He was very grateful that his bag was returned and paid back my gold. Good. In exchange for a basilisk claw, Gour-Gash arranged to be taught literacy.

Then we drank.

***

From the diary of Trollin, 26th day of Harvest, 198 Aureum Diem
In the morning, the magister greeted us with two healing potions as a reward for saving his hide and a request that he would accompany us today. We breakfasted and went to the tomb, but hadn't been underground for more than five minutes and the magister had already managed to crack a statue and douse himself with poison gas. He might turn out to be just another dead weight that we have to lug around.

We returned to the octagonal room and glimpsed an unknown figure slipping away to the room with the petrified people. I took a quick look but found nobody, so I stood guard while magister Harant and Schmee were doing their thing with all the statues and frescoes. Gour-Gash and Yanzar decided to explore the other door left ajar, but with a click, the staircase turned into a slide and they disappeared into the darkness. When I called down to them, though, they claimed to be perfectly fine, so I let them be and thought about the fight that awaits me instead.

I was snapped out of my musings by a thunderous echo that came from the stone slide. The sounds of heavy fighting were coming from there, now. I instructed Janek to take the magister back to the inn and jumped to my companions' rescue. I slid down and emerged into a massive, vaulted room decorated with countless shields. Yanzar and Gour-Gash were fighting with a huge snake guard statue, but before I could do anything, the fight was over and the statue kneeled down, resting its spear on the ground.

But Gour-Gash got carried away and kicked the motionless statue, which brought it back to life. He managed to steal the statue's spear, but then it knocked him down and backhanded Yanzar so strongly he flew halfway across the room*. I tried to burn it with sacred flame and it launched itself high in the air, crashing onto me and pounding me into the ground. But Yanzar and Gour-Gash had my back and distracted the statue for the moment I needed to crawl away. The rest of the fight was a whirl of shields being magically pulled from the walls and slamming into us, the statue flipping and backflipping around like crazy, until finally, with the help of the Sun Lord, I managed to melt the statue into a puddle of slag.

GM Commentary
Yanzar was reduced to 0 hp twice this session (*), but made his death save both times.

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Tomb of the Serpent King 5e, session 3

Only two players once again, so they decided that that best course of action is to go and pick fight with the biggest thing they've found in the dungeon so far.

Dramatis personae:

• Gour-Gash, a goliath barbarian 2. Strong of muscle, weak of head. Collector of various weapons.
• Trollin, a hill dwarf cleric 1. A red-robed inquisitor who curiously surrounds himself with outlanders and strange types. Definitely has a hidden agenda.

This session's recap was kindly provided by Trollin's player, so it contains no spoilers. Don't read the GM Commentary, players!

From Mythical Archive

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From the diary of Trollin, 25th day of Harvest, 198 Aureum Diem
Zeru and Gour-Gash have left me and Toxin to wallow in our filth rather than properly treat us, then returned from the depths of the tomb like beaten dogs. What else could they expect when they brazenly braved such a god-forsaken place without a warrior of the faith? Anyway, I healed their wounds and we rested in this village's excuse for an inn. By the next day, my bowels were fine, but Toxin was still in a bad shape and magister Harant wasn't feeling too good himself, so we agreed that Zeru would stay behind and watch over them, and only I and Gour-Gash would continue with explorations of the tomb.

Before, though, we visited magister Harant in his room to get any intel he might have. He told us, among frivolous ramblings and a lot of unnecessary chatter, that somewhere in the tomb, he had lost his satchel of notes, alchemical equipment and most importantly money. For us, it meant that we had to find his bag and also pay for his temporary accommodation in the inn. In addition to all this nonsense, the innkeeper wanted to rip us off, but a little intimidation was enough to make him backpedal like the blathering little man he is and from now on, we have a free room for as long as necessary.

Magister Harant also sent his assistant Schmee with us. Gour-Gash tried to persuade the magister to join our exploration himself, as his experience with the Dark Ones, their magic and mechanisms might've proved most helpful, but he's apparently "not feeling well enough and needs some rest". We could all tell right away that he was shaking with fear under his covers at the thought of once again entering that monster-filled darkness of the tomb. We however received an unexpected thiefly support in the form of Janek, the innkeeper's son. He claimed to be skilled in the lock-picking arts and would help us disable any traps, for just a few silver pieces even! So the four of us went underground again.

In the entrance hall with the sarcophagi, Gour-Gash remembered that one of the statues had a ring on its finger and wanted to get it. He swung with his maul and shattered the earthenware statue and we immediately regretted it, because the room was filled with poison and we had to leave post-haste. Any further ideas of smashing were promptly forgotten and instead we headed further and deeper.

We entered the octagonal room with water in its center and took a peek behind the western door, standing slightly ajar. Behind it were stairs - where they lead we don't know yet. Instead, we continued along the proven path through the room with a lot of granite statues. An impressive sight, all those petrified souls that will never wake up again. Gour-Gash opened a secret entrance to a narrow staircase and we went down to a great hall. But even before we entered, we could hear the clatter of a chain as it slid across the floor. It was immediately clear to us that this is the tell-tale sign of the huge lizard they encountered here yesterday being awake. The magister gave us some tips on how to take down the beast - a basilisk, we were sure - so we prepared our weapons and vowed silently to take down the monster, now or never. After all, such an abominable creature does not belong in our blessed world.

Gour-Gash lured the basilisk closer with a torch thrown into the center of the hall, then thrust a spear into its side. Its bulk was horrible and hideous, yet I didn't hesitate and charged out of the corridor to deliver a necrotic strike to the reptile's tail. The basilisk writhed in pain, screeching, with a spear stuck in its groin and its flesh rotting away. Inspired by the courage of his warrior role models, young Janek fired his slingshot, aiming to snap shut the monster's eye-covers. Unfortunately the stone just bounced off the helmet, but so close! Shaking at the knees, Schmee proved what a coward he is and dropped the axe he was clutching in his sweaty hands rather than actually trying to hit the lizard with it.

But the basilisk had had enough! It swiped with its tail, back and fro! I kind of dodged away, but Gour-Gash bore the full brunt of the blow and flew to the side. I'm going to have to ask him about his forebears sometime; though coughing up blood he landed gracefully on his feet like it's in his bones. He immediately tried to return the favour and jumped at the basilisk, but staggered and missed and wasted his attack. However, I didn't leave anything to chance and through the grace of the great Sun Lord caused further wounds to this affront to natural order. Its body couldn't take it anymore and its flesh turned putrescent, rotting before our very eyes. Not even his head could be saved, just the clean skull and bones remained. The beast was no more.

We caught our breath and searched the room and dismantled the false wall on the south side of the hall. It opened up to an unknown corridor. To the west, the corridor turned to stairs and went up and upwards, until a collapse ended it abruptly. We found a tunnel, though, through which Schmee voluntarily went after a short round of persuasion. It led out of the tomb, to a hole somewhere deep in the forest. Stuck here on a root, we found the magister's satchel!

Then there was no other option left but to turn around and head east. Again, the corridor ended in a collapse, only this time with a hole in the floor. From below, a lot of goblin eyes were peering at us, glistening in the light of our torches.

GM Commentary
A big part of this session was spent in the inn, talking with the magister, the innkeeper and also Janek, whom Trollin eventually hired as a part-time linkboy, part-time trap tester.

Also spells in 5e deal mean damage. Poor basilisk never stood a chance. However, Gour-Gash decided to take its skull with him, unaware that the basilisk is one of Xiximanter's experiments into immortality...

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Tomb of the Serpent King 5e, session 2

A session of lucky stealth rolls, unexpectedly extensive exploration and only two players.

Dramatis personae:

• Gour-Gash, a goliath barbarian. Strong of muscle, weak of head. Big, big maul in his hands. Probably compensating for something.
• Zeru, an air genasi warlock. A gentleman and a scholar, sent by his genie patron to learn about the barbaric customs and traditions of the far West.

If any of the players have by sheer chance found this recap, do not read any further, please.

From The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey
I hate that movie just as much as I like the book.

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In the last session, the party had some interesting goulash at the local inn, but now it turns out it doesn't sit so well with Trollin and Toxin. They have to rather rapidly excuse themselves and stay behind in the side-tomb of Sparamuntar whom the party has just destroyed. Gour-Gash and Zeru leave them to their retching.

They move on to the room with cracked-open doors they wanted to investigate. Peering inside, they see statues. A lot of statues. Statues of warriors and robed scholars or magic-users, of rogues and other never-do-wells, all of varied races but of the same panicked expression. There is a total of eighteen of these statues, all stacked carelessly over each other and all made of granite, unlike the carefully crafted serpent-men statues of marble they have been seeing until now. The hint is obvious enough.

At the very end of the room, two serpent guard statues stand in their alcoves. Zeru recalls the secret entrance to the guard room that they found in the last session and pulls at the statues' spears, opening a secret door. The two adventurers take the narrow staircase behind the door and soon reach the other end, with another door that Gour-Gash carefully pushes open with the end of the battle-axe he took from the remains of Sparamuntar. Luckily for them, the door don't creak.

They stare into the darkness of a large, columned hall and hear the sounds of heavy, animalistic breathing and the occasional rattle of a chain. Wary and nervous, they nevertheless decide to take their chances and explore the hall.

In the middle of the hall, they find a massive iron chain hanging from the ceiling and then snaking its way between the columns to the other end of the hall. They follow it and at the end, a massive lizard is sleeping, curled up by the wall. It has an iron collar and a helmet with open blinders. It is snoring and swishing its tail. They carefully creep back.

After some deliberation, they sneak along the wall to the east. Through a tall, arched doorway, they find a vestibule. The northern wall is completely covered by a moth-eaten tapestry and multiple mouldered benches line the walls. First, they try the corridor to the east, but they notice several thin gaps in the stonework running all across the corridor. Suspicious, they take a plank from the benches and push it over the first gap. A whiff of a hidden blade later, the plank is cut in half.

Instead, they take the path to the south, bringing another plank with them because you never know. There is a room with a strange, uneven, cracked floor. They throw their plank on it and the whole floor collapses, except for a thin walkway around the walls.

The next room is similar to one they've already found - just like in the tomb atrium, there is a circular well-like hole of runed stones in the middle of the room, except this one is not flooded. Deep at the bottom, they can see a cold, blueish light flicker faintly.

Going south, they enter a domed hall with door on each wall. The southern door is more of a gate, massive and reinforced, with a single small keyhole. Listening by each door, they only hear something behind the western ones - two high-pitched voices chatting in a language they don't know and a set of dice being rolled.

They hide behind the door and then Gour-Gash opens it and immediately closes it again. A pause and then a set of footsteps approaches. As someone opens the door, Gour-Gash slams them back closed, then they both burst into the next room. At their feet, a goblin is lying with a bloodied nose, and another is getting up from the single table in the room, reaching for his spear - a silver fork attached to the end of a broom handle. Half of the room is collapsed, a heap of stone blocks mixed with loose earth, rotting wood and roots. There's a lard lamp on the table and two piles of silverware, apparently used as currency in the goblins' game of dice.

These are also not the same goblins as Schmee was - while Schmee would fit right in at Gringotts, these goblins are more like from the Unexpected Journey - grayish-white, cancerous and disfigured, clothed in rags and mud.

Zeru tries to de-escalate the situation and parley with the goblin guards, but then Gour-Gash picks up the one at his feet and yeets him across the room, shattering the table. The second goblin stabs his "spear" in Gour-Gash's shoulder, but the fork comes loose. He is quickly pacified, but the thrown goblin has disappeared.

They tie up their captive and find crawlways hidden among the rubble, but let them be for now. Instead, Zeru takes a silver spoon as a souvenir. They then try to interrogate the goblin, but as he speaks only a stuttered Imperial, they only learn that no one is allowed to visit the goblin king and that there is a spell-slinging boogeyman in the tomb that the goblins are afraid of.

Suddenly, goblins start pouring from the crawlways. Gour-Gash starts raging but the goblins keep coming and the adventurers are forced to make a fighting retreat. They manage to get a little bit ahead of their pursuers and once they are back to the vestibule, they barricade the south door with the benches.

Not wanting to wait for the goblins and the ruckus that might wake the lizard, they immediately go and cross the columned hall to the west. The corridor beyond ends with a lavishly decorated, runed gate that has a handle in the shape of an ouroboros - but half of it is missing. The door right next to this gate is locked, with bubbling sounds coming from behind them. They then take the corridor to the south.

At its end, a tall arch is guarded by two statues of serpent scholars, both holding up a golden globe. Beyond the arch, the smooth corridors of the tomb end, replaced with a cavernous slope. Gour-Gash tries to poke one of the globes with his maul and lightning zaps his hand. Still, they decide to walk through and get zapped even more.

Climbing down the slope, they get to a thin cleft smelling of sweat, rot and urine. They squeeze through and find a small cave with a low ceiling, full of goblin nests but thankfully no goblins. There are two other exits - a chimney to the south which wafts of unwashed bodies, rotting meat and fresh plants, and a tunnel to the east which smells of smoke. They search the room and Zeru rolls a natural 20 on Investigation - he finds a small locked box and in a deep crevice in a wall, a beautiful crown as if braided from gold and silver serpents. Then they go east.

There is a much larger cave with a bonfire burning in its centre. In addition to a few goblins lounging around the cave, there is someone tied to a chair by the fire. The adventurers withdraw and go back through the thin cleft, resting on the other side for a short while. They want to get a better look at the goblins' captive, suspecting they might be close to their quest's goal, but they really needed that rest.

Once they go back to the goblin warren though, there are a few goblins sleeping and sleeping together. A confused skirmish ensues and the adventurers nearly manage to subdue them all without much hubbub, but a single goblin slips away from them and runs to the bonfire cave. They chase after her even though that Gour-Gash is getting seriously battered, fearing they might get no other chance like this one.

In the bonfire cave, the goblins were warned and they immediately beset the adventurers, but Zeru and Gour-Gash burn through their last reserves of power and quickly slaughter several of their opponents. Their foes' morale is broken and they flee.

In the meantime, the figure tied to the chair has revealed itself to be magister Harant. They free him and drag him back to the warren, just as the sounds of many goblins are starting to draw near from deeper in the caverns. They get to the arch of serpent scholars with a wave of goblins nipping at their heels and run right through. Both Gour-Gash and magister Harant are on their last legs, but the first few goblins who try to get through the arch are completely fried and the rest give up the chase, slinging only insults and silverware at the retreating party.

They get around the lizard and up the secret path, collect Trollin and Toxin from their sick room and stagger out of the tomb without further trouble.

It's just past midnight when they get back to the By the Oak inn. They ignore the stunned looks of the few late patrons, get a room and collapse on their beds.

GM Commentary
This session, the players had a lot of morale and stealth rolls go in their favour. On the way back and out of the tomb, we were already ending the session, so I gave them the last stealth check to circumvent the basilisk for free, but otherwise the players were lucky they left their clanking armoured dwarf behind - both Gour-Gash and Zeru are rather stealthy and they were relying on it a lot. Still, Gour-Gash once again ended the session nearly dead (1 hp this time).

A ruling I want to remember: Gour-Gash managed a very nice Intimidation check against the oncoming flood of goblins, but there were way too many to break their morale so easily. Instead, I pushed the goblins back on the initiative tracker, which actually helped Gour-Gash to act before them and retreat more easily.

The players very wisely retreated both times the goblins kept pouring - the first time there were 22 and the second 26 goblins.

Speaking of goblins, I've misread their AC at first and made them harder than intended. I didn't notice that the default goblin stat block assumes they are fully armoured, while these goblins couldn't have less clothing even if they tried. On the other hand, I've inadvertently made it easier for the players in the warren skirmish - the cave is low enough that they probably should've been fighting with a disadvantage.

When Zeru rolled his natural 20 on Investigation, I've decided to make it a properly cool moment and moved the Crown of the Serpent King from the goblin farms the the warren. The adventurers realized it's magical, but they actually think it's a key rather than an artifact - I've placed a crowned statue in the false king's tomb and they found the missing ouroboros handle, so they are now looking for a place where the crown might fit and open something.

The golden standard is taking its toll - even though the goblins were literally flinging silver at the PCs, the players didn't bother to collect any silverware when they had the chance, even though it would've been a nice sum for all the forks and spoons.

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Tomb of the Serpent King 5e, session 1

I have committed an unforgivable heresy. I run a D&D 5e game.

A group of friends has recently tried kicking off a new game, but their GM fell through at the last possible moment, so I offered to take over. With their characters already made and everyone comfortable with 5e, they weren't really keen on switching to a different system, but they didn't (yet) object to my intention of slowly adding house-rules to OSRify the rule set.

And so with no time to prepare, I skimmed the converted version of my favourite starting dungeon, the Tomb of the Serpent Kings, and off we go.

Dramatis personae:

• Gour-Gash, a goliath barbarian. Strong of muscle, weak of head. Big, big maul in his hands. Probably compensating for something.
• Toxin, an owlin alchemist. Once a familiar who became an apprentice, then an adventurer when his master has met an untimely end.
• Trollin, a hill dwarf cleric. A red-robed inquisitor who curiously surrounds himself with outlanders and strange types. Definitely has a hidden agenda.
• Zeru, an air genasi warlock. A gentleman and a scholar, sent by his genie patron to learn about the barbaric customs and traditions of the far West.

If any of the players have by sheer chance found this recap, do not read any further, please.

 

At the southern edge of the Amir Steppes, where the Trollish Peaks start to rise, there lies Balalán, the city of thousand races. Should one venture from there up to the mountains, to the deep valleys and deeper forests, they will eventually arrive to the Halfway Hamlet, a village known to few and only because of its inn. Yet here's where the party was sent by their benefactor, one viscount Lucián Malévol, on a rescue mission.

But let's start from the beginning. One and a half months ago, the viscount had received a message from the Halfway Hamlet, it being a part of his estate, speaking of heavy storms that damaged the crop and caused a landslide that not only blocked the road, but also revealed an old, broken tunnel disappearing into the mountain. And that might have been it, with the road fixed and the mysterious tunnel left alone, but viscount Malévol is a great lover of mysticism and the occult arts. And right at that time, he had a well-renowned alchemist and archeologist Kryštof Harant staying at his manor.

To cut the long story short, magister Harant went to investigate this wonderfully mysterious tunnel and promptly disappeared the first day after arrival. The party was then contacted and sent to retrieve the magister and any invaluable artifacts he might have found in the depths.

***

The party arrives to the Halfway Hamlet by a stagecoach. The village is as backwater as can be - a single inn, named By the Oak, standing, wait for it, by a huge oak, then a handful of cottages, some fields and a lot of pastures with sheep. The party goes in the inn to find the local elder and innkeeper, mister Jan, to hand him the letter of authority given to them by the viscount and to question him. They learn nothing much except that magister Harant had been lodging in the inn along with his famulus, and then just never came back from the tunnel. No one in the village was foolhardy enough to search for them inside.

The party has some passable mutton goulash and then make the innkeeper's son Janek lead them to the tunnel.

Once they climb over the broken trees and ground torn apart by the landslide, they consider using Janek as a torch-bearer, but eventually decide to just leave him at the entrance to watch for any outside threats. They also promise him a whole gold coin for his help, so he's quite giddy to help.

They creep inside, coming to the first junction and investigating both guard tombs, but they don't dare to disturb the sarcophagi inside. They continue to the second junction, finding that that scholar's tomb was already opened - the tracks suggest two people, likely magister Harant and the famulus, had recently moved the lid. Inside, they find a terracotta statue of a snake-headed scholar, and one of the statue's fingers is broken off, revealing the hollow inside. Gour-Gash promptly smashes the statue. (The party was lucky that the gas was already gone from this statue.)

Toxin collects a golden pendant in the shape of a rune-inscribed cobra from among the terracotta shards and ancient bones, then they move on to the last side tomb. There they push the lid off of the sarcophagus and spy the silver ring on the hand of the terracotta sorcerer. They discuss at length whether or not to smash all the statues for the loot, but (rightly) fear that a hollow statue might contain a nasty surprise, like a gas. Eventually, they agree to came back later.

As Zeru puts it: "The statues were here for hundreds of years. They will not run off now." (Now that I think about it, they might. They might.)

And so they go deeper, to the barred stone gate. More serpentine designs can be found on the gate and Trollin recognizes them as belonging to the Serpent King, a god-sorcerer of yore. They find further tracks of the magister and his famulus, but no other signs of them nor any clue where they might have disappeared to. The party wonders for a bit about the fact that the gate is barred from the outside, clearly containing something inside of the tomb, and that magister Harant couldn't have easily gone through the gate and close it behind him. They even bring up searching for an alternate entrance (Good idea!), but then they just say "Screw it, maybe they got inside with magic." and go to unbar the gate.

They notice the pegs starting to rise, they can hear a faint clicking noise from above, but they shrug and believe in their saving throws and hp pools. The swing of the huge hammer trap nearly catches Toxin and Trollin, but they roll out of the way. Gour-Gash, on the other hand, is caught square across the back and rammed through the gate, opening it in the process. Good thing that his player thought to use Stone's Endurance ability; Gour-Gash still picks himself up with only 2 hp left. Cue nervous laughter around the table.

The false king's tomb is expansive, its walls covered by murals of snake people experimenting on other races and warring among themselves. More importantly, there are three thrones of dark stone, with a terracotta statue seated on each - two snake-princesses on the sides and a (fake) serpent king on the middle throne, with a crown and a sceptre of real gold set into the statue. The party scours the room, with Toxin even flying up to the ceiling and searching for secret doors or compartments there, but they refuse to touch the statues. Tempted as they might be, they reason that they are on a rescue mission, not a tomb-robbing one, so they should prioritise exploration over looting.

They continue to the false temple and find the collapsed secret door under the pedestal of the Serpent King's statue. Trollin at the front, they go deeper, down the circular stairwell.

They creep through the statue hall, expecting a monster behind every statue, but instead they find two other things - a statue twisted out of alignment and a collapsed figure on the floor, still breathing but bloodied and unconscious. They approach the figure carefully, expecting a jump scare, but it's really just lying and dying there. They turn it face up and realise it's a goblin, albeit one in an uncharacteristically nice (blood- and mud-streaked) clothing. They discuss whether they shouldn't just coup-de-grace it, but then Toxin reaches into his pocket and pours a healing potion down the goblin's throat.

Which is when Gour-Gash learns that Toxin had a healing potion and Trollin has healing magic, yet nobody has bothered to heal him and he is still shuffling around battered by the hammer trap. They still don't heal him, despite his grumbling.

The goblin sputters and coughs, then sits up. Trollin grabs him, pulls him to standing, then violently shakes him and screams questions right into his face. When the situation is de-escalated by the rest of the party, they learn that the goblin's name is Schmee and that he is a famulus to magister Harant.

They were indeed investigating this tomb when they were ambushed and knocked unconscious by a group of other goblins. Schmee insists that these goblins were hideous, unhygienic and overall barbaric. They took Schmee and the magister to some cave, likely deeper in the tomb, where they made Schmee work their mushroom fields while chaining magister Harant to a throne and insisting that he is now their king, irrespective of his objections. Also the goblins have no soap, their living conditions are atrocious and their cooking unpalatable, according to Schmee.

Eventually, Schmee had seen a chance to escape when his goblin guard dozed off and he seized it. Unfortunately, the guard woke up and a scuffle ensued, where Schmee managed to get away but not without injuries. Bleeding and with no light, he got lost in the tunnels and eventually passed out right where the party found him. When he hears that the party is on a rescue mission to free his master, he is overjoyed.

As the conversation with Schmee drifts from his misadventures in this tomb to bonsai trees and various types of tea - Zeru has apparently found a soulmate in the goblin - Trollin fiddles with the tilted statue and quickly learns that pulling on the snake-guard's spear opens a secret door in the alcove. He goes to the hidden guardroom, rummages through the debris and retrieves a gold serpent pendant, but leaves usable two spears behind. When he returns to the rest of the party, they are still engaged in a lively debate with the rather chatty goblin. However, as Schmee has no more actually useful information to offer, he is sent to retrace the party's steps back through the upper tomb and away to the village. He disappears into the dark, alone.

Finally, the party moves on to the tomb atrium. They eye the pool in the middle of the room mistrustfully and want nothing to do with it. Instead, they search the rest of the room. Two doors out of the seven in the room are slightly ajar - the door directly across from the entrance and the first one to the right from the entrance. Without Schmee, they have no easy way to determine which were the ones he used, but there are a few blood splatters which point to the right door. It screeches painfully as Gour-Gash pushes it open and a sudden pounding can be heard from the northernmost door on the opposite side of the atrium.

Unsure what to do, the party approaches the door as the pounding continues. They are loath to leave a possible threat behind their backs, so Gour-Gash carefully pushes the door open with the end of his maul. That saves him from a surprise strike of a great-axe as a skeleton steps through.

The first initiative of the game is rolled and the skeleton wins it easily, immediately taking down Gour-Gash with a single blow. His player grumbles, but the rest of the party descends upon the skeleton. Toxin and Zeru pelt the skeleton with sling shots and magic, Trollin steps up to tank the skeleton's assault and get Gour-Gash back on his feet with some healing, then Gour-Gash gets a quick revenge by demolishing the skeleton with a lucky strike.

Now chuckling about how the first monster nearly meant the first death (It really didn't, 5e offers way too much leeway when dying. That will have to be house-ruled.), the party returns to the door they wanted to explore and we close the curtain until the next session.

GM Commentary
The "less rolling, more descriptions of actions" way of playing has been well-received, it seems.

It was nice that some combat happened at the very end of the session, as all the players were eager for some hack and slash action. I fully expected them to find and fight the skeletons in the false king's tomb, but the quest of rescuing a kidnapped magister has turned out to be a double-edged sword. On the one hand, the players were really keen on having a clear goal within the tomb. On the other hand, they prioritised pushing deep into the tomb as quickly as possible, so they favoured the way forward over poking at fun things. I've added the cracked scholar statue and then the extra treasure in the false king's tomb in hopes of them taking the bait and smashing open one of the fun statues, but no luck.

Magister Harant and Schmee were actually kidnapped outside of the tomb and taken in through the alternate entrance directly to the goblin caves, but the party has dropped the idea of tracking the magister and Schmee too quickly to notice that. Speaking of Schmee, he was inspired by the converted TotSK and he worked great for giving the players vague warnings of the dangers to come.

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Fever-Dreaming in Marlinko, part 8

This is a game of Finders Keepers set in the city of Marlinko. The dramatis personae are:

• Atiin Brigantia, a brilliant but lazy lunatic
• Edward "the Wild" Bleestocles, a leper disowned by his wealthy family
• Jacobin "Jackass" Valentin, a soulless bastard
• Tadzio Checker, an estranged son of a powerful mage
• Victory Alder, a young vampire

 

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All over Marlinko, late morning to late afternoon
Stopping by the Chicken Scratch shop, Victory collects all the supplies that Attin has ordered yesterday and loads them on a pair of donkeys that will surely come in handy on their venture, too. Then she takes the uncooperative animals all the way back to Atiin's apartment, leaving them tied to the well railing in the yard and giving a random urchin a silver coin to keep an eye on them.

"Hey, Tadz, do you think we could pass a message to your father?" she asks as she sees him through the open door to the apartment.

As she walks further in, though, she notices that he is acting awkward - although a different kind of awkward from the fidgety paranoid seen earlier. Restrained, but still on his toes. A couple of guys, both tall and rather rough around the edges, are standing just around a corner and talking to Tadz.

"Mm-kay. You have your paperwork to fill up if you're taking the job," says one of them. He looks bored. Or tired, maybe.

"If not, the boss needs to know as soon as possible," says the other, all no-nonsense-like. "That means tonight."

Tadz nods and they leave, barely acknowledging Vic's presence at all.
 
"What job?" she asks Tadz after waiting for their footsteps to disappear from the stairs.

"They say Atiin was at the League HQ just the other day asking that giant handler guy for more work. I do not know the details - I don't even think they know. The only more specific thing that they told me was that Tiny Tomáš says that the big boss says 'It has to be the girl.', whatever that means.

And they left a bunch of forms for us to fill out in case we take the job. Again, no details. Basically just them disclaiming responsibility for our actions regarding any nondescript shit not previously covered by other paperwork we already signed."

"Well, that sounds like something that Atiin didn't share. Where is everybody else, anyway? No, wait! I needed to ask you something... Yeah, would it be possible to talk to your dad, or give him a message? Not that I'm really looking forward to meeting him again, but there is something he should probably have a look at."

He frowns as Vic mentions his dad. "W-why would you want to talk to him? I mean, sure, I- If you succeed in scheduling an interview with the big shot wizard at his phallic seat of power, then yeah. Good luck with that, though. He simply loooooves to remind everyone how busy he is all the time. Rosalind would prolly have a slot for you as soon as six months from now."

"I don't want to make you do anything, but... There's a chance that one of the city gods has broken free from the Tomb. Remember that crazy pantsless barbarian we saw the other day? Apparently, he cracked one of the coffins in the Tomb. Anyway, it will be nice to leave the city for a few days. The Frog Demon Temple sounds quite tame by comparison."

As much trouble as Tadz may have when listening to anything that has to do with František, Victory has his undivided attention now. When she tells him everything she knows, sans the murder, that is, he begrudgingly admits that he may be able and willing to broker a meeting with his dad.

"I don't even know if your dad could or would do something about that, though," Vic hesitates, seeing him fighting with himself to help her.

"I don't know anyone else in the town who could give it a shot, much less anyone else that would give a crap. So yeah, I think you should tell him right away." He pauses for a long few seconds, then offers a little twitchy, a little uneasy smile: "If you wish, we can go together."

"Yeah, that would be great. If you don't have something else, we can go right now."

And they do.

"Why did you go into the Tomb, anyway?" Tadz asks Victory to fill out the silence as they walk past Fraža's Brokerhouse and get just across the street from the Checkered Mage's Onion Tower. He looks so strung up he would probably resonate if strummed.

There are all sorts of stalls in the streets, everywhere where it hadn't been cleared for the racing track. Vic stops at one stall to buy some freshly baked quark buchty and also to buy a second to think. Why did she do it? Was it only a stupid, senseless, spontaneous idea born of some suppressed fascination with the Tomb?

"Frankly, I was curious about the Tomb ever since that barbarian guy went inside," she ventures eventually. "And tombs always feel so... welcoming, I guess? The door were open and waiting and, ehm, tempting me? But I might have just been a bit drunk, too," she chuckles and looks up at the Tower.

It is an imposing structure that casts its onion-domed shadow over a long stretch of the city. One could gawk at its colourful intarsias and manifold fine architectonic features for quite some time.

However, they both know they are simply nervous and stalling, so after a brief moment of more awkward silence, they cross the street and walk into the arched entryway, guarded on both sides by half a dozen statuettes of bugs. It leads up several stairs to a double ogive-shaped door crafted out of walnut wood and brass. Tadz grabs the handle and knocks twice.

Five minutes later, the heavy door opens at a narrow angle, just enough that an older, short, bespectacled and red-haired lady can stick her head out to greet them.

"Master Tadzio, I am so happy to see you!" she says, still not letting them in. "And who is your stunning friend?"

"Hi, Roz. This is Victory. Ehm, Alder. Vic, this is Rosalind, the reason dad's still alive and in good health."

Rosalind chuckles and waives dismissively towards him, blushing.

"Look, Roz, uhm," Tadz continues, "I know we don't have an appointment nor anything like that, but we gotta see dad. Vic has crossed the Tomb's threshold and... uhm, one of the town gods' vaults has been breached. One of them's missing."

Rosalind's eyes widen and she goes even paler than her naturally tanless complexion. "Come on it," she says and locks the door behind them.

The entrance hall is massive and richly decorated with tapestry from a variety of places and periods. There are multiple pieces from the second Němetzian empire, some from Kezmarok's golden century, more than a few from the time of the Ancient Pahr horselords and others that Victory cannot place at all. At the back of the hall is a large desk, with piles of books and expensive-looking writing implements neatly arranged on top of it. A crystal orb sits there as well; it lights up when Rosalind touches it.

"Yes?" resonates from the artifact in the Mage's voice.

The secretary quickly explains the situation to him. Then there's a sound like a thousand mirrors shattering, but silent, and before Tadz and Vic have any chance to even process it, their surroundings flicker and change completely. They are now standing in a lofty, well-lit library.

Stepping down from a floating disk that had been hovering along a massive bookshelf that encircles the walls is an extremely well-groomed man in his fifties. He has perfectly trimmed, greying sideburns and wears layered capes and robes with overlapping plaid patterns that should be visually busy and distracting but somehow aren't. He seems to never waste a movement or a frown unless it is imperative to do so. He comes to them and firmly shakes Vic's hand, yet shows no intention of doing the same with Tadz, whom he greets with a cold nod instead.

"Dad," Tadzio replies sourly.

František, the Checkered Mage, addresses Victory instead: "Do you give me permission to touch your head? It would greatly expedite things."

"Okay," she says, caught off-guard a bit by the sound of her own voice. This up close, with the aura of easy, unwitting power, František suddenly reminds her of her Master.

She doesn't like that thought.

"Thank you. I promise you I will not abuse it," he says as he touches her forehead with only the tips of thumb and index finger. "But it is not uncommon for some unrelated memories or fleeting thoughts to conceal or even become entangled with the ones that are of interest to..."

His train of thought is cut off by something else. It originates in Vic's mind. The image of her creator, her sire and Master. That memory of him was clear in her mind, at the top of her head. František sees it too, and pauses. A little vexed, he mutters "Not you." though more to himself than to let anyone in on his thought process.

Digging a bit deeper, he looks at something more relevant. It seems to upset him. Victory's memories from last night's delve. He reaches through them in reverse order. Or rather in a reverse jumble. He bears witness to the murder of bro-dude, yet that doesn't seem to faze him. Maybe because he's already seen the cracked vault, the silvery orbs and the floating amoeba-thing.

He stays a little longer, just to make sure there's nothing else, and looks over Vic's shoulder as she sits in the Tomb's hallway and copies the runes onto that piece of paper. He emerges with her from the Tomb and watches as she deflects that peddler's curiosity by scaring him to death. He's still with her as she gets back to their flat earlier today and it feels so much like the times when her Master went to see the Sun and the daylit Marlinko through her eyes.

He is there in the flat with Vic and Tadz. He stands in a corner and listens to their conversation, or the parts of it that Vic's mind highlights, anyway. He sees her take on Tadzio's fears and vulnerability, and with that memory comes another and another, giving him every talk she had with Tadz and her every thought on him. They are both exposed and laid bare and so helpless, and that feeling of utter helplessness conflates the mental images of the Mage and the Master. There's a dry vanity at the corner of František's mind-eye as he recognizes his own power reflected in this mirror of sorts, but he does not dwell on it. Instead, he moves on to-

Instead, Victory's mind plunges deeper into that helplessness that hides beneath the stolen calm and confidence she shouldn't have and never had while she was still a human.

There is the young seamstress who took the wrong turn and got lost in the alleyways. Once sated, Vic took the package she was carrying, a beautiful black dress probably just about to be delivered to a client. The very dress that Victory now wears.

There is the alchemist's apprentice, all bashful yet boastful when Victory had drawn him into a conversation. She recovered the few potions she now has from his body.

There is the old lady whose cab driver had to take a leak. Victory used to be so proud of her stealth at that time, as the cab continued on its marry way with a bloodless corpse inside while Vic had kept the lady's onyx cigarette holder. At first, she used the smoke to mask the smell of blood, but she grew fond of the habit.

But it was all stolen. She made herself up of stolen things and lies stacked atop each other until they started to resemble a real person. But she is not a person, was not for quite some time. And she stacks more and more lies and stolen things on top of that ever-sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, in the vain hope that she can build herself up faster that she crumbles. In the foolish hope that there is a way how to fix-

František's grip over the inner motions of Vic's spirit is released and ceases abruptly.

She realizes that the Mage has pulled what appears to be the tail end of a lengthy string of... something from her mouth. The string is coated in this glowing slime.

"Don't worry. Nothing was subtracted from you. This is merely a copy. A document, if you will," he says but doesn't look at her. He is winding the string around a spindle.

"Wonderful. Yes. Ehm... Thank you for your time," Vic manages to say.

"The silver containers," the Mage continues, "the fact that you have them might be enough to put a target on your back."

"And why is that, dad?" Tadzio's question is basically bursting with spite. "Are you gonna rat her out to the city gods? How does that even work?"

"The orbs and the pulpit are not related to the city gods' vaults nor to the Tomb itself. The latter are the work of the most powerful arch-sorcerers among the old Pahr tribes. The former are Eld in nature. The Eld have somehow hijacked the Tomb without anyone noticing, and appear to have been hoarding whatever mystical energies they can steal from Marlinko."

He finishes winding Vic's string of memories and places it in a delicate, etched glass casket.

"We have met an Eld. Xoxx was his name. He was looking for some old artifacts, I believe," Vic hears herself say, giving a quick and concise report on the information she has and that her Master might find useful. She shudders.

"Yeah, we might want to find him," Tadz says.

"I believe the Tomb itself is now our best chance. Their tools are there, and the gate they have opened is still operative, according to your memories of earlier today. I will be taking care of that at once," the Mage says and performs a subtle gesture. There's the soundless breaking of glass again and with another flicker, all three of them are teleported to the Main Council's entrance hall, spooking the few bureaucrats hanging out in there.

"You seem to have understood how serious the situation is," František turns to Victory. "I ask you to bring me the orbs that are currently in Glamdalf's custody. If an Eld agent is scrying those, I have the means to identify and locate them. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must inform the Council of my intention to enter the Tomb."

"Fuck the Council!" Tadzio's voice reverberates throughout the entrance hall. "If you abide by their rules, you'll be stuck, still filling out paperwork by the time the Eld decide to make their next move!"

František stares, mildly disturbed by Tadzio's conspicuousness. Then he sternly reminds his son that he, the Checkered Mage, is a prominent member of the Council. Victory quickly looses track of the spiel as he start alluding to a larger philosophical debate about the eternal struggle between Law and Chaos, and how the town's laws, however flawed they may be, are a significant instrument to fend off the chaos energies perennially seeping in from the Weird. Finally, he turns and heads upstairs through the large curled staircase.

When he is out of sight, Tadz mutters: "Fuck that. I'm going in. You coming with?"

"Yes," Vic says, sounding unsure.

She hates feeling like this. Ever since her father's house had burned down and she was rid of her Master, there was this veneer of confidence and drive carrying her through. Sure, it was also tinged with bloodlust, but it kept her acting and moving and smiling. Suddenly, there are cracks in that confidence and what she only sensed and suspected was hidden below can be clearly seen through them. She cannot look at the cracks. Out of sight, out of mind, right?

"Yes," she repeats, more firmly.
 
They turn around and head across the Plaza. More people have gathered to watch the race as six jockeys ride their horses at full speed going from Sevrnu to Vychodi streets, therefore passing right between the Council Hall and the Tomb. The jockeys jump over a contraption of spinning serrated blades, and Vic and Tadz wait for them to pass. The people cheer and try to follow in procession.

At long last, they can circumvent the guardrails and cross the racing lane to get to the Tomb. The drunken dancers from before are still there; some of them asleep on the ground, cuddled together in couples or threes. The girl with the belts around her head is well awake now, however. She sees them coming her way and yells: "There she is! I told you I had seen her come out alive! There she is!"

The other dancers slowly wake up. The commotion attracts more attention from the procession headed to follow the race. Soon enough, there's a whole audience.

Tadz pays no heed and walks right inside.

Victory stops in front of the door to the Tomb, her back to the gathered people. She forces the smile to return to her face and soon, it feels like it's coming back on its own. She turns around and waits until she has the full attention of the crowd.

"Good citizens of Marlinko, my friends! It is indeed I who went into the Tomb of the Gods, and I have returned to tell the truth of what I've seen. And I shall tell you the whole truth, the only truth, just as I have told the great Checkered Mage himself: Our gods, the true gods of Marlinko, are not dead!

They have never abandoned us, it was us who failed them! We were tempted and led astray by the foreign priests who came to our glorious city and preached their heresies, who poisoned our minds with their sweet lies and empty promises! But the gods of Marlinko are infinite in their wisdom and mercy. They were sleeping and dreaming of things yet to come, looking out for us even as we turned our backs on them. But now, a great storm is coming to Marlinko. The gods have foreseen it and they have told me and now I tell you: A great darkness shall sweep over the land and our gods shall emerge from their tomb in our hour of greatest need!

Prepare yourself for their glorious return! Prepare yourself for their righteous judgement! The faithful shall be rewarded, while the traitors shall burn!

Go, go now, good citizens of Marlinko! Spread the word, tell everybody! Tell your families and friends of the things to come! Tell them about the glorious return of our true gods!

And everywhere you go, watch out for the devils with blue skin who walk among us. They are the strombringers, the agents of darkness. They are the enemies of the gods. Remember: Thou shall not suffer a blue devil to live!

GO!"

Lies stacked upon lies, but enough lies can fill up the cracks until one feels whole again. Before any questions can be voiced, she slips into the Tomb after Tadz, hoping the fear of that place will dissuade any pursuit.

Tadz is examining the glowing amoeba, confirming what he has been told about its instincts to avoid a physical presence. He turns to Vic and says: "I've heard you. You're into this shit, aren't you? Sowing chaos."

"I guess so? There's a certain power in it, isn't it? When everything around is thrown into disarray and you're the only one who seems to know what they are doing. The same people that would normally sneer at you will suddenly listen when they are confused, lost and scared. They will do what you say as long as you can say it with confidence. I guess I really like having some power.

Anyway, the spheres and the pulpit are in the next room, behind the amoeba. You have any plan, or are we winging it?"

"Dad said something about a gate left open in this place. My guess is this is it. This ugly thing right here," he points at the amoeba. "We should at the very least try to shut it down or something. I can think of ways to trick it into not avoiding us, but I have no clue how to make it go away for good. Any ideas?"

"I might, actually. I spilled some blood on the pulpit and it enclosed it into one of the silvery spheres, plus your dad said that the spheres are hoarding energies of all kinds, right? Whatever the glowy thing is, it has some energy and it retreats when we approach it. There are two of us, we could try and manoeuvre it over the pulpit, maybe that will suck it into a sphere."

Tadz grins approvingly. It takes some time and effort, but between the two of them, they successfully herd the glowing pink formless thing towards the silver pulpit.

As that goes on, Tadz returns to the topic of chaos: "I get what you were saying, I guess. About the thrill of persuasion, of driving others to do your bidding. Maybe that is the one core experience where both law and chaos really overlap, don't you think?"

And again later, when they have the amoeba nearly to the pulpit: "Because, you see, that's what the great Checkered Mage, despite all his impressive erudition and sharp mind, gets wrong about this whole Eld situation, I think. There's this thing I've read some time ago; it had to do with morals and its relation to Law and Chaos. Well, according to the piece, there's this common misconception (among the few scholars who have heard of them, that is) that the Eld are a force of Chaos, which would mean that their ultimate nature would be aligned with the Weird. But in actuality, all their known actions point to the conclusion that they're rather-"

Tadzio's lecture is interrupted by a sudden loud humming emitted by all the spheres on the shelves at once, as well as by the pulpit itself. At this point the floating amoeba is pushed as far as a few inches away from the pulpit. Enthralled by his own words, Tadz did not really notice how close they are.

All of a sudden, the air feels electrified and staticky. The pulpit doesn't try to envelop the amoeba in silver and the amoeba doesn't flinch away from the pulpit. Instead, the whole pulpit is sucked into that strange body with a split second of flickering.

Then the humming stops and the amoeba remains there, hovering in place.

"Well, that was... unexpected? But it still probably thwarts the Eldish plans, I hope," Vic says. "Maybe we can clean all their equipment from here?"

She starts taking the spheres from the shelves and throwing them at the amoeba. Tadz quickly follows her example. The amoeba swallows the spheres without a hitch.

"And as you were saying, I have frankly never heard about the Eld until yesterday. Do you know who they are? What they are? Or what do they want here?"

"Not many people have. I know of them because they're a topic of interest of dad's and a few other scholars. As far as I can tell, certain artifacts have been found in the Weird a few generations ago. Mostly gear, but there's been talk of a wrecked ship. It was Kuuk the Vapid who named this unknown people 'the Eld'. Back in the day, dad says, the Nefarious Nine used to claim that they had fought beings wearing similar armour, wielding similar weapons. People with pointy ears and pointy heads. More recently, there's been talk of Eld activity in the Dunes to the west. And now this.

As to what they want, well, we can only speculate. The Sun Lord knows that's all those flat-arsed scholars have been doing for years. There's this energy theft theory; sounds half-baked to me. My own guess is that they abhor the Weird as much as we do. They probably think that we are part of it, same as us when we theorize about them. But as I say, it's all wild theories and nobody knows anything."

Victory smiles: "I think we should find one to have a talk, then. I wouldn't give it a high chance of them actually talking to us or telling us anything, but it's worth a shot at least. Maybe if some people bought my babbling from before, the Eld will have more trouble staying hidden now.

Which reminds me, I have talked with Steelpike about Xoxx before going to the Tomb. He basically told me he knows nothing and to stay as far away from the Eld as I can."

"Okay, I thought that came out of nowhere when you mentioned them to dad. Did Steelpike sound like he was lying about not knowing more? If so, we could press him. Probably not as urgent as destroying this thing, but... at least I'd have an idea how to go about it. Or we could try and jump into the pink blob ourselves. To test the theory that it is indeed a gate. If it is, we should be able to cross back. If it isn't, then we might end up dead. Yeah, now that I say it out loud, that's a really bad idea."

"Steelpike was really, really scared of the Eld. He might have been lying, but I think it's more likely he is doing his best not to know anything so that there's no target on his back. And I'd rather bring the others before jumping into a weird maybe-portal. Sometimes it's nice to have a backup. But what if we pushed it out of the Tomb? We can try to get it all the way into the Town Hall, then your dad or someone will have to deal with it post haste!"

"What a lovely idea," Tadz grins.

Soon, the door of the Tomb of the City Gods are opened wide and two figures can be seen herding a wobbly, semi-solid expression of pink high-dimensional energy all the way from the Tomb's entrance to the Main Council. Now the people on the Plaza are really intrigued. There is much shouting; all sorts of fears and hopes are aired around the pair, but the drunken dancers have formed a semi-circle around them, led by the belt-crowned girl, and keep the crowd at bay.

Then the guards inside the Council Hall threaten to stop Tadz and Vic, but the whole religious aura around this moment and the mass of people following seem to dissuade them from stepping in. Rather, they step back and try to regroup. The floating thing is pushed all the way upstairs.

Victory turns back to the crowd, standing above them on the stairs, and shouts: "Behold, a trial of faith! Shall the Council of Marlinko prove themselves worthy, dear citizens? Or shall they be exposed wallowing in corruption and sin?"

The dancers seem to have been waiting for just such a proclamation. They raise their own voices.

"Witness, Marlinkans!"

"The truth shall be unveiled!"

The meeting room's door are wide open. At the head of a long table stands František, and seated near him are the chief undercouncilmen of the Sullen Apiarian and the Yare Domesman districts. Jarek the Nagsman and Hurloj Kladivo are for some reason present as well.

"As you can see, gentlemen," the Mage says and motions toward the amoeba, "my reckless son has made a judgement call. I do not endorse it, but it certainly has the potential to speed things up. This is an extraordinary situation. As such, I would advise you that putting the red tape aside for a moment is the wisest course of action here."

"They have broken into the Tomb of the City Gods! This profanation has to be addressed," the Sullen Apiarian representative jumps in, also jumping up from his seat.

"The trespassers should be kept in custody for the time being, perhaps?" ventures the Yare Domesman representative, a meek red-faced man. As he speaks, his voice keeps dropping in volume and he slowly half-submerges behind the table, shaken by all the attention he got by speaking up.

Some guards have finally managed to force their way up the stairs and they stop the crowd from getting to the council room, though the entrance hall is clogged up and full of shouting.

Kladivo approaches the amoeba. He is known to be rather heavy-handed in everything he does. When he walks, he strides. When he shakes someone's hand, they better not respond with a limp handshake, or they won't be using that hand for some time. This is how he has thrived in this world. He owes it his own success, to an extent. Now, this same personal energy pushes - nay, throws the wobbly entity back. The pressure of multiple nearby people flicks the pink alien thing sideways. It rebounds from the table, then the wall, practically touching it. Then it looks like it will bounce off Jarek the Nagsman, the owner of the Tiger Pit, and continue ricocheting-

Instead of stopping short and bouncing back like before, it touches Jarek's body. It swallows him. Now you see him - flicker - now you don't.

The room falls silent.

The moment stretches on, but before the emotions have a chance to blow up, static fills the air. Victory tastes metal and the frustration of interrupted coitus. The colours in the room fade.

František shouts: "Everyone out of the building, NOW!"

The people don't move and the guards are as dumbfounded as everyone. Kladivo stares at the Mage as the latter mutters and gestures the same bit repeatedly, more and more irritated at every iteration. He suddenly nods and roars in a voice that knows no refusal: "The Mage is right, we gotta go!"

Kladivo sprints out of the room, ramming through the clogged hallway, then quickly turning to an empty side corridor.

"Dad! What's happening?"

František stops whatever he was doing and grabs Tadzio, dragging him along on his way out. The undercouncilmen follow, as does Victory.

Taking the same way as Kladivo did, they run down a secondary staircase that gets them out via the west wing. Some of the drunken dancers are still with the group. The air still feels electrified. The Mage keeps running. They get just past the Plaza when the world's colours vanish.

All sounds go away.

Victory somehow manages to hold onto a door handle as nearly everything and everyone around gets sucked into a stop-motion vortex. She sees the girl with the belt crown in mid-air, dragged back to the former Council Hall.

All sounds return and it's as if a storm has ravaged the Plaza. In the Council Hall's stead, a sore wound in reality is pulsing, a roughly vertical slit the size of two houses looming in the middle of ruins and rubble. There are people crumpled in the streets. The ones who managed to get ahold of something just in the nick of time. Many are hurt, bleeding.

Victory roams through the debris for a while. Eventually, she finds Tadz and his father. Both are shaken. Both.

"What in both Hells was that?" Vic snaps at the Mage.

"Whatever that was, it must have been triggered by something or someone on the other side. How else have you interacted with the gate?"

"We tried to get it contained by that pulpit in the Tomb. It didn't work and got sucked through."

"So master Jarek was not the first object to pass through the gate today. They have known that we know. It took you some time to get it from the Tomb to the Hall. Enough for someone on their end to take action." He pauses and rubs his temples. "But why retaliate instead of just closing it? Thus far they appeared to have had no intention to take direct violent action."

"They panicked?" Victory offers. "Feared retribution and wanted to eliminate all witnesses?"

"Where are the others? The councilmen? Kladivo?" Tadzio asks.

"Could have been accidental, could have been a move to eliminate the town's leadership," František says. "We know nothing. We're in the dark at this point. I'll go look for the representatives. You go bring Irenka to take care of the woun-"

A flicker and Tadz with Vic are standing at Irenka's porch. A simple sign by her door says 'Irenka, healer'. She needs no advertisement with the reputation she has.

"Did your dad do this to you all the time when you were living with him? Because it's seriously getting on my nerves already," Victory grumbles before knocking on the door.

"Not really. It's been a crazy day."

Irenka appears at the front door and is quickly brought up to speed. She grabs as much medicinal supplies as they can carry and then they all rush back to the Tomb Plaza. They spend the rest of the afternoon tending to the wounded.

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