Conquering the Barbarian Altanis: Session 94
Adventurers
| Character | Class | Description |
|---|---|---|
| Hagar the Hewer | Dwarf level 4 | Imagine Conan as dwarf. |
| Ambros | Cleric level 4 | Follower of Aniu, Lord of Time. |
| Tarkus the Promising | Cleric level 3 | Follower of Bachontoi, God of Red Wisdom. |
| Beorg the Gravedigger | Fighter level 2 | Inspired to adventure after burying several adventurers. |
| Bob the Dwarf | Dwarf level 2 | Midget with big beard in search of an adventure. |
| Bairstowbury the Chaotic | Halfling level 1 | Remarkably muscular for a halfling. |
Sweetrain 1st, Airday
“Help me out, will you?”
Ambros donned ornate plate mail worn by the undead knights the party had vanquished moments ago. He lost his own armour in an acid vat not even an hour ago.
Bairstowbury the Chaotic finally showed up. He was apparently shadowing them the whole time, but choose to appear only when he deems so.
Six adventures opted to thoroughly search the cursed king's chamber before proceeding down the steps hiden underneath the rubble of the king's tomb.
This was no tunnel, nor hewn spiral staircase. No, this was a hole in the ground, bored either by great might or magic. The slope was nearly vertical. The steps were nothing but formed soil and stone. It was a narrow one as well.
The party had to proceed in a single rank; they could only fight with small, one-handed weapons. Hagar took the lead.
Down and down they went. Deep. A hundred feet or more, if the dwarves are to be trusted.
Another twist, but this time ending with an opening into thick darkness, barely penetrated by the adventurers' torchlight.
“Help... me...”
Barely understandable cry could be heard. At first they misunderstood the accent as foreign; but after listening closely to some time they realised it is in fact Ancient Common.
Inching forwards soon revealed the sad predicament of the tortured one.
Upon a hexagonal plinth was a figure wrapped in chains; pinned to the ground like a ball, with face and belly pointing downwards. The chains were thick and of unknown material; two were anchored to each side of the platform. Figure itself was incorporeal, barely visible under all the chains.
Illustration by IdleDoodler
“We are here to help! By the holy orders of Poseidon! Are you the wrongly accursed soul?” Hagar inquired.
But the figure only communicated with nonsense, cries, wails, sobs, and repetition of pleas for help.
Canvassing the cave revealed little. Chains were indeed real, and not an illusion. Upon closer inspection, it became transparent that all of them wrap around the figure, and then through its torso and down into the center of the platform.
Halfling made another discovery, something much more interesting than a king cursed to suffer for all eternity: nine chests of blackened wood. Five had a gilded lid, three silvered lid, and one jewelled lid. First was filled to the brim with gold pieces, second with silver pieces, and third with small gems.
By now three adventures have climbed the platform and were attempting to speak with the figure. Two failed, but Beorg succeeded.
“Destroy... chains... please...”
Bob tapped his warhammer on the first link of one chain. Hammerhead shattered.
“Magic... use... magic...”
Everyone stepped off the platform.
Bob took out two-handed Wolfhammer.
He swung.
The link exploded, and the chain retracted like an angry eel, making the figure scream as it pulled through it.
Bob repeated this three times.
As the chains were broken one by one, the figure slowly rose to kneeling position, then to crouching, then slouching, and then to finally standing.
Without chains obscuring its figure, the adventurers could see a gauzy figure of a naked man. His body was broken, his regal face tortured but relaxed, his eyes sunk but radiating.
The man looked at each adventurer, as if he was studying them. They could feel the warmth of the gaze.
“Thank you.”
The man vanished.
As the warmth slowly abandoned them, Beorg and Hagar felt a bit wiser from the whole experience.
The heavy chests contained a total of 7 500 gold pieces, 9 000 silver pieces, and 40 small gems.
The party discussed at great length how to get all this treasure out. There is an unreliable bridge over acid pool, there is a corridor with pendulums and scythes, and there is a crypt with hundreds of restless undead.
Having adventured for nearly sixteen hours straight, the adrenaline faded away, and exhaustion set in. What better place to rest at than cursed king's torture chamber? At least it has one entrance, they said.
Sweetrain 2nd, Waterday
“Oh no!”
In the morning the party had found all their standard rations spoiled. They also spent ten torches. After another round of discussions, they decided to take all the gems, and load all the gold coins they could in their backpacks.
Heavily encumbered they moved on. It took them half an hour to get back up in the tomb! Low on torches, they opted to pour all their coins in one broken sarcophagus, and vowed to return for it all.
They successfully navigated the maze.
Their rope was where they left it, so they used it to cross the bridge.
Illustration by IdleDoodler
When they opened the stone doors leading into the long trapped corridor a mass of burning flesh fell upon them, setting some on fire.
Although the stomped the flesh blobs wreathed in purple flame with ease, that still left some adventures a tad charred.
“What is this?”
The corridor was chock full of broken skeletons—bones and skulls all over the place.
“Were they following us?”
Pushing on led to another encounter with a mass of burning flesh; dispatched as easily as before. Afraid of descending into hip-tall purple fog, Bairstowbury the Chaotic climbed on top of Hagar's shoulders.
Illustration by IdleDoodler
Not a bad call since the party indeed had to deploy their stomping boots once more. Four skeletons were turned to dust by Ambros's holiness. The party increased their pace dramatically, and exited this place uninterrupted.
They reached Midway by end of the day. The plan was to sleep and head to Hara for a multitude of reasons.
Sweetrain 4th, Fireday
Mavis, the High Priestess of Poseidon, confirmed that she doesn't have any visitations from a cursed spirit. They did the right thing.
Hagar met with Zenon Coke, Headmaster of the Assassins' Guild, to negotiate terms on his life. Alas, since seven separate contracts were signed, Hagar would need to pay at least 8 600 gold coins.
“And that's why, my dear friend, I had helpfully indicated that one of your mithral bars would be sufficient to cover our expenses for cancelling the contracts. Think about it and let me know no later then by next Spiritday.”
For a little bit of good news, the party found two letters waiting for them. Both Imrael and Namelin, two of Hara's wealthiest and most influential merchant families, are interested in representing the adventurers in distant markets like Tarantis, Viridistan, and City State of the Invincible Overlord.
“Perhaps we can play them against each other!” Bob thought excitedly.
Beorg and Bairstowbury spent the day drinking and pub hopping. They learned that commoners are increasingly worried about ever growing tensions between Namelin and the Red Queen. Will Hara plunge in bloody civil war?
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