Troll Lord Games

Herein lie the tales of the bold adventurers who walk the face of the world known as Thos Nabura, the realm of three moons.
Dramatis Personae

Healfdane is the only PC. Turold and Alphonse are NPCs.
Healfdane, Human Male, Dervish 1, HD 1d12, HP 23, AC 12, Move 30, Longsword (+3/+3, 1d8),STR: 18 (+3), INT: 12, WIS: 14(+1), DEX:16(+2), CON:14(+1), CHR: 10, Dances, 0-level spells. STR, DEX, CON are Primes.
Turold, Human Male, Merchant 1, HD 1d8, HP 18, AC 15, Move 30, Mace (-1/-1, 1d6), STR 9 (-1), INT: 17 (+2), WIS: 13 (+1), DEX: 13 (+1), CON: 11, CHR: 15 (+1), Merchant abilities, INT, WIS, CHR are Primes.
Alphonse, Half-Elf Male, Ranger 1, HD 1d10, HP 21, AC 16, Move 30, Longsword (+1/+1, 1d8), Long Bow (+2/+0, 1d8), STR: 15 (+1), DEX: 17 (+2), CON: 13 (+1), INT: 11, WIS: 13 (+1), CHR: 9 (-1), Ranger abilities, STR & DEX are Primes. +2 on INT checks (racial)
Character Creation Notes

* Classes from the Netbook of Classes are allowed.

* A point-buy system is used for stats.

* In addition to max HP at 1st level characters received an extra 10 hp.

* Jason Vey's implementation of Fate Points is in use.

* Jason Vey's Backgrounds are in use.

It seems that one of Healfdane's old running buddies, Turold (who was always among the weakest/least rough & tumble of the wharf rats, due in part to being raised by/apprenticed to his apothecary uncle in the wake of his soldier father's death) had news of a recently unearthed tomb. Cyneglis, the great alchemist of the 7th cycle, had been buried in the hills north of Armstead-On-Sea and rumor was that this tomb was his. Turold's interest lay in the possibility that perhaps an excursion to this place might yield some tome or tablet containing even a fraction of Cyneglis' knowledge, which would yield "formulae for the creation of concoctions, collyriums, unguents and ointments lost to the people of Thos Nabura many hundreds of years. In other words, wealth beyond our wildest dreams." A chance for wealth and possibly battle had Healfdane hooked. "We should set out at first light!" exclaimed the bold warrior. "Indeed," agreed the merchant.

Following a map that Turold had come across, the two heroes hit the road. The fist day went by without incident - just a couple of caravans on their way into Armstead-On-Sea. "We should avoid talking to them," Healfdane suggested. "Lest they glean where we are headed and decided to beat us to our fortune." Turold agreed with his friend's paranoid wisdom.

Camping at the side of the road that night, the party was beset by hobgoblin brigands.

Turold was able to hold a hobgoblin at bay while Healfdane made short work of several others courtesy of the Dervish's "Dance of the Whirling Blade" In the end, the battle went well with only minor wounds befalling the protagonists. A little bit of silver was looted from the corpses and then we were safely on to morning.

The next day saw the party reach the "turn here" landmark (the proverbial three rocks and two trees in a distinct layout) around noon and head off into the hills to find the entrance to the Tomb of Cyneglis. Near twilight Turold spotted the recently unearthed portal at the base of the south side of one of the larger hills.

"Are you up to venturing in?" he asked Healfdane.

"Do we know of what might await us inside?" the Dervish responded.

"I have no clue."

"Then there's no use in waiting," Healfdane replied.

The characters approached the hillside and descended the stairs into the darkness of the tomb. Even by lanternlight Healfdane was able to tell that the dust on the stairs seemed somewhat disturbed, though not freshly so. "We're likely the first ones here, which means you may get your secrets after all," he observed.

At the foot of the stairs, the two found themselves at a four-way intersection - left, right and forward (and back, up the stairs, out of the adventure, which really means it was a three-way intersection...). "I prefer to take the right hand path when presented with these types of situations," declared Healfdane. Turold saw no reason to disagree, so down the corridor they went. 30-odd feet later the passage terminated in a stone door.

"I see no hinges," the swordsman said. "How do we open this thing?"

"I suspect it's on pivots," replied the merchant. "I've seen such things in the past."

And lo, such was indeed the case. After a failed strength check, followed by the removal of some spikes in the floor that were holding the door shut, Healfdane and Turold pushed the door open - it spun on a central pivot, halving the width of the doorway - and crossed through to the other side.

A fabulously traditional 20'X20' room greeted them. Worn tapestries adorned the walls and a simple tome sat on a tall dais in the center of the room. Two stone slabs took up much of the rest of the floor room, and upon each of these lay the skeleton of a long-dead soldier, still wearing their armor and shields. Healfdane was clearly ill-at-ease in this situation, but he summoned the will to remove the book from its resting place and stow it in his backpack.

"That can't be it," he said. "That's far too easy."

"Probably so," agreed Turold. "But perhaps we're lucky today. In any case, let's keep moving, just to be safe."

As they began to leave the room a chill ran down their spines as they both clearly heard the creaking of ancient bones. They turned to see the two skeletons rising from their platforms and approaching the doorway, the cold fire of undeath burning in their darkened eye sockets.

Healfdane and Turold positioned themselves on the far side of the door and prepared to fight these creatures of darkness from a position of relative safety. The skeletons, bent only on the destruction of the interlopers, came forward without regard for tactics and put up a good fight before eventually being reduced to dust after numerous blows from Healfdane's sword (rendered less effective against mere bone than it normally was against fleshier foes) and Turold's far-from-mighty mace.

After dispatching the guardians of the tome, the party headed back down the hallway and reached the original intersection. A brief debate ensued on whether to continue with "the rightward path" or simple to cross the main hallway and go into what they suspected was the symmetrical mirroring of the room they had just encountered. Symmetry won out in the end.

At the end of this other 30' hallway, they found another 20'X20' room, but this time without a door. Inside they could see that each wall was lined with multiple shelves, each containing countless jars, bottles and jugs. In each of the corners of the room that weren't occupied by the doorway there sat a life-sized statue of a powerful-looking canine (think mastiff). Before either character entered the room, there was a lengthy discussion about what to do if (when, as far as Healfdane was concerned) the statues came to life and attacked them. Eventually, though, the two just entered the room and planned to face whatever came at them.

Healfdane stood guard while his more inquisitive (and acquisitive) friend examined the containers on one wall. "They're all spices," Turold observed, reading the labels and cards located with the containers . "Oooh, wait," he continued, "This one is salt from the Lyssian Sea! And look, epazote! And here's a jar of turmeric..." And several more things that Healfdane had never heard of and wouldn't have cared about even if he had. "These are worth more than a little," Turold added as he pocketed some of the rarer items.

The next wall contained numerous spell components and alchemical reagents, though nothing particularly useful or valuable. At least until the basilisk tongues were discovered. By this time, though, Healfdane was half-mad from waiting for the statues to awaken and attack, so a shorter inspection was made of the third wall, which turned out to be just more spices.

"Perhaps we can come back for the last set of shelves after we've seen what else in this place wants to kill us," the Dervish suggested. His companion agreed and they warily exited the room. Healfdane's nerves finally frayed when a deep growling came to his ears - but the rumbling in Turold's stomach ceased after a second and the merchant begged his friend's forgiveness for the start. "We didn't eat dinner, you know..."

Again, the party headed down the hallway back to the initial intersection, but this time they turned back to the north. Sixty to seventy feet down the hallway they came to another crossing passage and opted to take the right turn again...

After traveling some 60 feet they came to a heavy, reinforced oaken door, which they were able to force open with little effort. The room behind the door, which measured roughly 30'X30', had clearly been Cyneglis' laboratory. Two large tables, both lined with the various implements and instruments of the alchemical arts, dominated the room. A thorough inspection of the room was halted, though, because of the overpowering stench of rotten eggs that rendered lingering in the space almost intolerable.

Before fleeing, though, Healfdane was able to determine that the odor was originating from behind a concealed door in the southeast corner of the room. Standing near it both adventurers could clearly hear a steady hissing noise and observed that the flames in their lanterns sputtered slightly when held close to the door itself. Both explorers opted to abandon this area and move on, doing their best to seal the oaken door behind them as they retreated down the hallway.

The "go straight after right turn" approach held and the party continued down the western branch of the most recent intersection. At the end of ye olde symmetrical 60' hallway they found another 30'X30' room, but this one was doorless. Peeking into the room they deduced that it must have served as a sleeping quarters - a great, ornately cared four-poster bed serving as the primary giveaway. The room also contained a desk and chair and some bookshelves.

The most interesting feature of the room, though, was the fountain on the eastern wall. It stood three to four feet off the ground and featured a stonework demon, pot-bellied and winged, sitting crossed-legged and spouting water into the pool at its base. A faint sense of malice could be felt emanating from the demonic stonework, so the party turned its attention to the ancient alchemist's personal effects, leaving the fountain to its pleasant burbling.

A tad treasure-hungry, Healfdane set about trying to break his way into the locked draws of the desk. As he worked away at his task, he and Turold became aware of a change in the sounds coming from the fountain. They spun to find water now pouring over the edge of the pool, yet not flooding the floor as one would expect. Instead, the water was holding together, and rising up before them, almost like a giant snake preparing to strike.

Sensing that this new foe might be the most powerful they had faced, Healfdane began to sway and shuffle with the intricate steps of The Dance of the Maiming Stroke, which made his blade even more deadly. Turold simply gripped his mace and shield tighter and uttered a soft prayer to any god that would listen.

The fountain creature struck swiftly and its powerful blows seldom missed. Again, even with the power of his dance assisting him, Healfdane's blade did not bite as deeply into this abomination while Turold continued to prove that he was far more of a merchant than a warrior. In the end, it was only the shining hand of fate that allowed the party to survive the onslaught. Halefdane's final blow shattered whatever magic held the fluid creature together and in a frozen Matrix-moment the tendril burst and hung in the air before raining to the ground.

Having defeated the terror, the two adventurers resumed looting the desk. They gained a silver dagger, several fistfuls of platinum and two large rubies for their efforts. It was then that Turold noticed that the remains of the fountain creature had formed into rivulets that were rushing back to the fountain and, against gravity, back into the pool. "Let's get out of here before that thing decides it's not dead after all," Healfdane whispered worriedly.

Back at the intersection, it was time to head north again - but only after a healing potion or three from Turold's limited stock were consumed. The hallway continued for what seemed like an eternity and appeared less traveled than the other areas the party had already visited. In the end, they entered a tremendously large rectangular room. Abstract mosaics in watery hues covered the walls and a giant seahorse statue sat atop a stone dais at the far north end of the room. More inspection would surely have taken place were it not for the two pot-bellied demon fountains that sat near the center of the room that put the fear of death into the tomb raiders.

"It must be a temple to some lost sea god," observed Turold.

"Indeed. But it also must be a place we'll need to return to after we rest. And perhaps find some additional brave souls to join us." replied Healfdane.

So the two explorers snuck out of the temple, avoiding the fountains, and headed back for the entrance. They made a quick stop in the alchemist's store room to examine the last wall, feeling somewhat less concerned about the statuary dogs that had only recently given them pause. The last shelf turned out to contain more spell components and yielded a jar of imp wings - or so the label claimed - but little else of value.

Exiting the tomb, Healfdane and Turold decided to pass the night upon a nearby - and highly defensible - hilltop, keeping an eye on the entrance and pondering how best to proceed when daylight came...

Morning came and Healfdane and Turold set out for Armstead-On-Sea to restock and seek reinforcements. The journyx back to the city was uneventful - even the guards at the gate barely bothered to lift their heads from the dice game they were playing in the shade of the city walls. The duo made their way to the merchants quarter of the city and headed for the bazaar, looking for the shop run by Hayle, a dealer in weapons.

Healfdane and Hayle haggled over the price of the silver dagger that had been found in the locked desk.

But surely the fact that this blade once belonged to Cyneglis, the great alchemist himself, makes it worth more than some simple silver dagger you might run across in your trade, Healfdane pushed, doing his best to get the most he could out of the tight-fisted shopkeeper.

Fine, fine. Well enough indeed. Ill make it 103 and thats as far as I go. Anything else you want to sell?

Well, the Dervish replied, We have these two large rubies...

If you have a fancy story to go with those, too, youll be wanting to take those to Thomas, of Thomas Wonders. Hes just around the corner and specializes in selling things that come with a bit of history to folks who like to own such things.

The party took Hayles advice and headed over to sell the rubies to Thomas. Thomas Wonders proved to be a whale of a shop, filled to bursting with trinkets and knick-knacks and at most a handful of truly valuable items. Yet, Thomas himself seemed to be a canny dealer. The size of the stones, combined with their origin, brought a healthy return - more than enough to cover the costs of restocking for a return to the as-yet-not-completely-pilfered tomb.

After converting the loot to capital, Turold and Healfdane made their way to Turolds own shop (still named for his uncle), Dyes Distillations. Turolds aunt Cryseida and mother Cristine welcomed the adventurers and helped them stow the remaining treasure (the diary and tome, along with the spices and spell components) in the safety of the buildings safe. The party then set out for The Lanternhouse, the most notorious tavern in all of Armstead-On-Sea. Surely there they would be able to find another soul brave enough to venture into the Tomb of Cyneglis.

At The Lanternhouse, a dangerous place even for hardy souls whose youths were misspent within spitting distance of its never-closing doors, Healfdane and Turold ran across just the person they were looking for - Alphonse, the half-elf who had also been among the wharf rats of the city when they all were young. Though the wandering bard that most assumed to be his father had disappeared from Armstead-On-Sea long before the boy was born, Alphonse was marked by many of the aspects of his lineage. Most of all, Alphonse was always ill-at-ease whenever forced to remain within the confines of the city for too long. So it was no surprise to his friends when he uprooted himself for the life of a ranger.

A chance to fight alongside his childhood companions and to taste some fresh adventure was all it took to get the half-elf to agree to accompany the party on their return to the Tomb of Cyneglis. They spent the rest of the evening drinking and telling tales and set out at first light (after resupplying, of course). The journey back to the tomb was uneventful, though the trio decided to spend the night at their now familiar campsite atop the hill overlooking the entrance to the tomb.

In the night another hobgoblin raiding party came upon the party and battle was joined. Healfdanes Dance of the Whirling Blade and Alphonses combat skill against the fouler humanoids allowed the heroes to make short work of their assailants. With a few handfuls of silver and a couple of potions of healing served as a middling reward for their efforts, the adventurers slept fitfully for the rest of the night and rose early, anxious to begin their next round of plundering.

The party descended into the darkness of the tomb, not knowing what fresh trouble awaited them beneath the surface. At the bottom of the stairs they found the hallway generally as they had left it. Healfdane wanted to return to the spice room to investigate it further since they now had another sword at their side to help in case the guardian statues did finally come to life and attack. Turold was game and Alphonse felt no need to refuse, so they turned down the hallway and made for the room.

A deeper inspection of the alchemist's store room yielded no new discoveries and, thankfully, no attack (or hint of motion even) from the statuary dogs that sat in each corner of the room. Still not confident that they werent missing something, Healfdane agreed to abandon their search for the time being and head for the temple at the end of the central hallway.

As they passed the second side hallway, Healfdane recounted the battle with the fountain creature for Alphonse and warned him that two more fountains of similar design were to be found in the temple.

I suppose we should be careful of those, then, the ranger observed.

Indeed, replied the dervish. And take care that you have your weapon at the ready as well. This place likely has more than a few more horrors left up its sleeves.

The trio continued down the main hall until they reached the entrance to the temple. Moving cautiously, staying close to the intricately mosaicked walls that danced and swam in the flickering torchlight, they skirted the two central fountains and made their way towards the towering sea horse statue at the far end of the room. Investigating the area more closely than they had when it had been just the two of them, Turold and Healfdane were still at a loss to determine just what their next move should be. Alphonse, his heightened healf-elf senses at full alert, managed to spot a subtle anomaly in the mosaic-work that turned out to be the seam of a concealed doorway just behind the enormous statue.

I believe that if we just give it enough of a push it will recede far enough to allow us to squeeze by on one side or another, remarked Alphonse.

Then stand aside and let me put my back to it, grumbled Healfdane as he stretched his muscles and prepared to push.

With an effort that would have been impossible for one whose strength were not so prodigious, the powerful dervish pushed the great stone back. After a few long minutes, the party was greeted by a rush of dank air as the stone at last cleared its alcove and revealed the passage hidden behind.

Give it a little more, my friend, Turold said. Alphonse and I might be able to squeeze through such a narrow opening, but youll need more room that that to get your lumbering frame through.

Alphonse stifled a laugh.

Very... nice... you two, sneered Healfdane as he continued to push against the mammoth stone. Perhaps... I should... just let you... face this on your own? the dervish finished his last words as he reached the end of his task. It will move no more, so well have to squeeze as much as we have to.

It proved to be a tight fit for each of the three to make their way through the slim space now accessible thanks to Healfdanes work. The area behind the statue turned out to contain a stairway that lead deeper into the earth, but back towards the entrance of the tomb. After a brief deliberation the party agreed to descend to the next level of the complex.

After a longer-than-expected trek down the stairs, Healfdane, Turold, and Alphonse found themselves standing in a large octagonal room, the center of which was dominated by a statue of three life-sized human warriors engaged in battle. Two warriors were armed with tridents and bore small shields while one wielded a large, curved sword in its two clenched fists.

Without even the warning of a chilling breeze, the partys torches went out. Healfdane, calling upon the magic of his discipline, was able to cast a spell of light. Somehow, in the brief moments of darkness, the statues had silently left their place at the center of the room and begun to close on the party. With no emotion showing on their sculpted features they began their relentless assault, cool marble limbs moving with a quiet and unearthly grace.

The melee turned quickly against our heroes, with the statues proving to be both capable of delivering powerful blows as well as being largely unfazed by Healfdane and Alphonses swords. Turolds mace fared slightly better against his foe, but he again proved to be no warrior and was close to death when the first miracle occurred.

Healfdane landed a ringing blow that began to bite into the side of the statue he was engaged with. His sword shrieked and a rain of sparks lit the dark confines of the battlefield as his mighty thews pushed the blade further and further through the cold stone. With a deafening crack the sword finished its course and exited the far side of the statue. In a frozen moment the two cleaved halves of the strange creature began to slide in opposite directions; then they shattered on the floor leaving only shards where once death stalked.

For the space of a single breath the party felt relieved - perhaps they would survive this encounter after all. Then the remaining statues struck again, dealing terrible blows to Alphonse and Turold, both now clinging to life by the barest of threads. The battle continued, with Healfdane fighting alongside his compatriots in an effort to dispatch the silent stone guardians before the worst came to pass.

Turold, with Healfdanes assistance managed to destroy his attacker with a few more blows. The Dervish then turned his attention to the sole remaining statue. As a weakened and ineffectual Alphonse parried and blocked in a frantic attempt to remain alive the statue focused its assault on Healfdane. Tirelessly, the statue struck and struck again, missing the nimble Dervish each time. At last, though, the points of the creatures trident connected and sunk deeply into Healfdanes shoulder.

The pain of the wound itself was nothing new to a warrior such as Healfdane, but there was more to this blow than the simple damage caused by a weapon. Somehow the cold of the stone reached into Healfdanes very soul and chilled him with a dread previously unknown. His sword felt heavier in his hands, his confidence was shaken. His will to live had been pierced by this abomination and he was more unsure of his fate than he had ever been.

And still, despite everything, his dedication to the blade held true. Almost without though Healfdane swung his sword and landed a second miraculous blow. Again, the blade spat fiery sparks and shrieked inhumanly as it burned through the torso of the last statue. Again, the two halves slid apart and crashed onto the floor, shattering. Again, his companions blinked at Healfdane in awe.

After briefly regrouping and drinking the few remaining healing potions in their possessions, the party discussed how and whether to proceed. A quick trek down a westerly side hallway revealed a sleeping chamber of some sort. A trap door was discovered in the floor and pried open by Healfdane who was rewarded with a face full of pale green gas that appeared to sap some of the Dervishs prodigious strength. A small price to pay for the tresure discovered, however. Two fistfuls of ancient, hexagonal coins made of platinum, a small shield bearing the seahorse motif of the tomb and a trident that almost seemed to radiate a pale golden light.

"These will be worth something to the merchants in Armstead, no doubt," coughed the Dervish.

Now that their companion's hunger for treasure had been slaked, Alphonse and Turold were finally able to convince Healfdane that, considering their battle-weary and weakened state, they should return to town, rest and restock before continuing further in their explorations.

I am under the impression that no one, perhaps not even Cyneglis himself, has ventured this far beneath the surface of this place, Alphonse noted. It is almost as if Cyneglis had not been aware of this part of the structure.

That seems unlikely, for one as powerful as he, but you may be right all the same, replied Turold. "In any case, I would be surprised if anyone else delved this deeply while we were away."

It matters not. If the two of you are so unable to continue then return to town we will, Healfdane answered. Perhaps yet another arm can be found there to help us conquer this place once and for all.

And with that, the party made their way back to the surface and set out for Armstead-On-Sea.

Nice Journal, keep the updates coming.
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Never throw rocks at a man with a Vorpal Sword!