Good morning lads and ladettes! And you, you weird salamander-y thing. What are you doing on that laptop?
It is early Monday morning again, which means I have finished the second installment of what shall be known as the Passage of Planeswalker Chronicles. My first Dungeons and Dragons narrative was posted last week at around the same time. I got some great reviews from my fellow 'planeswalkers' and so I have endevoured to make this a tradition. I shall write a short, narrative type thing for every dungeon we play. Here is our second dungeon, and our first actual adventure into another plane. Beware though, this one is quite a bit longer...
A familiar group of faces could be seen
through the grimy windows of the store. There was Jetulfgar, the dwarf,
browsing among the lower shelves, his battle axe strapped firmly to his back. Then
there was the curious barbarian halfling, Mange, shopping on the shelves even
lower. The half-elves Lereahl and the Lady Celerean were standing near the shop
counter. Senji, the full-blood elf samurai who seemed very attached to Lady
Celerean was standing protectively behind his mistress while she weighed up
different products. Lereahl looked totally bored, his fingers straying
suspiciously towards a rack of healing potions.
The group had decided to stick together
after their last misadventure in the bowels of the Hungry Badger. It was unspoken, but their quirky little band seemed
to work together well. Well, all bar the shifty, blond half-elf. The other knew
that an eye had to be kept on him now.
After what felt like several hours to
Lereahl, the group finally left the store and made their way to the portal
located in the middle of the great city of the spark. The new planeswalkers’
blood tingled at what would be the first walk that any of them had ever taken.
No words were traded as they paused before the plinth upon which the portal
stood. It was polished black marble, upon which the feet of many brave warriors
and legends had trod. The portal itself was a huge, wrought iron affair, twisting,
swirling designs rent into its great circular frame, burnt black by the disc of
fizzling purple-white magic it held. As one, the companions took a deep breath
and stepped into the magic.
They stepped through the swirling veil
onto soft grey sand. The starlit sky of the planeswalkers’ city had been
replaced by a roiling grey sky. There was no sun, just a steady, cold light
emanating seemingly from the clouds. As the small band looked around, tiny misshapen
crab like creatures scuttled and flickered away from them. The grey water that
stretched in all directions was as calm as a pond. It was strange though.
Looking at the water, it was calm, but at the edges of their vision, they could
see the sea tossing and raging as if in a great storm. One could feel no breeze
either. Not a breath stirred, but they could hear the low, strange whistle of a
ghostly pale wind. The motionless wind whispered to the five planeswalkers. It
whispered the name of this warped place; Davy
Jones Locker…
Scattered all around the small island
upon which they had stepped, were ships and boats of all sizes. There were
great hulking wooden sailing ships, small rotting fishing boats, huge rusted
metal tankers, even Chinese junks. Every ship was in strange states of decay.
Upon inspection of the closest ship, one could see that the hull was torn
asunder and that the wood was rather rotten. The masts were chipped and
diseased, but the sails hug bright, white and full. The chain attached to the
anchor was nothing but red, crumbling rust, but the anchor itself looked as if
it had been minted the day before.
“Wow,” breathed the dwarf.
“You can say that again,” said Lereahl.
Their first port of call, to pardon the
pun, was the ship they had seen earlier with the great rift torn in its hull.
With weapons drawn, the companions ventured into the dark belly of the beached
ship. After scrounging around a little in a room that looked and smelled like
it had been long forgotten on the bottom of an ocean, they concluded that it
must have been some sort of old pirate ship. There were several rusty falchions
and short swords in crates. They pushed onwards, eager for more valuable pirate
treasure. There was a corridor off to the right. Jetulfgar was at the head of
the group and thus was the unlucky discoverer of a trapdoor. The rotting wooden
boards beneath his feet dropped away, revealing a black hole where long slimy,
eel-like creature slithered and snapped. Jetulfgar managed to throw himself
forward, scrambling to safe footing on the other side of the trap with a few
choice, dwarven swear words.
“Well, that wasn’t terribly graceful,”
said Lereahl. He took a moment to ready himself, performed a leap over the
black hole that a ballerina would have envied and then finished it with an
elegant pirouette and flourish. Jetulfgar glared at him from beneath his bushy
red eyebrows, but then turned hurriedly to help Mange who had misjudged the
distance badly and was now hanging onto the lip of the hole my his fingertips.
Lady Celerean hopped over the gap as effortlessly as climbing a stair. Senji on
the other hand must have slipped on a damp patch. He too ended up clinging to
the edge of the pit. Celerean reached down to help her protector, but alas, he
slipped from her grip and plunged into the darkness with a small cry.
“Quick,” called Celerean to Mange, “your
rope.”
The halfling bound forward, digging in
his pack for the rope. Pulling it out, he grabbed one end and threw the other
rather hard down to Senji.
“Ow,” muttered the samurai as it hit him
squarely in the face. There were more gasps of pain as the large eels slipping
and sliding through the darkness began to nibble on his legs that were new
stuck fast in some sort of quicksand. Senji grabbed the rope and Mange and Jetulfgar
heaved on it. Senji tried to pull himself out of the muck, but only sunk
further into it; earning him more bites form the eels. Lereahl grabbed the rope
too and the three of them dug their heels in, pulling Senji slowly but surely
from the muck. He was pulled wet and bleeding from the trapdoor. He stood,
wincing slightly and nodded thankfully to his rescuers. That was something they
had noticed about the samurai – he was not a man of very many words, except for
when it came to his mistress’s opinion.
They continued on, being careful to
search for more traps. The corridor took a turn. The walls here we rather
rotten and caved in. In one place one could see a great crack in the wall,
looking as if it lead into a room beyond. Lereahl peered through the rubble,
noticing that there was sign over the continuing corridor. Like the rest of
this paradoxical world, the hooks upon which the sign hung were old and rotten,
but the sign itself looked like it had been painted hours before and was still
drying. It read ‘Cargo’.
“Ooh! Cargo sounds promising,” squealed
Mange. The others nodded in agreement and they turned down the corridor,
struggling through the wreckage. The corridor was then split into two by fallen
architecture. The tried the right hand fork first. At the end of the hall,
there were several crates that looked quite interesting. The band took a crate
each and began rummaging. Jetulfgar uncovered a strange, long, thin chain. It
was surprisingly light, seeming to be metal rope rather than actual chain. The halfling
uncovered a faintly magical spear that, for once, was a weapon his size. Lady
Celerean was also the finder of some unusual magic. The black and gold gloves
she tried on made her feel lighthearted and giddy, but also slightly nauseous.
She took them off quickly. Senji had found a large chest. Unfortunately all his
strength could not break the lock and as such he was forced to resort to asking
Lereahl for help, having proved himself quite adept at lock picking. Lereahl
set to work on the lock. It was a tough one and he was just about to give up
when it clicked open to reveal a large pile of gold. Lereahl was set on having
a larger cut for opening the chest, but after arguing rather grumpily with lady
Celerean, he was given the same share was the rest of the group. As such, he
was last to go searching. The only remaining crate seemed to be filled with
old, decaying clothing. Huffily, the half-elf rummaged through the scraps,
tossing ugly, stained garments over his shoulders. However as he did so, he
felt something catch on his finger. Swinging there was a small velvet purple
pouch. Inside was a white, stone ring. It seemed to be carved from white opal,
with the images of tiny feathers around the edges. It too appeared to be
magical in some way.
After stashing away their loot, the
group struggled back down the corridor, then turned and made their way up the
left hand hallway. They ducked under a final beam and their breath caught as
they beheld an enormous, ghostly blue crab. It was turned away from them
currently, but was sure to hear them any second. Jetulfgar rand forward, his
battleaxe high, a war cry in his throat, ready to strike the first blow - that is
until the rotted wood beneath his foot splintered and he sunk to his hip. He
was stuck. He cursed angrily as Lady Celerean rushed forward too, but her sword
merely glanced off the crab’s steely blue carapace. It had noticed them now and
turned to snap angrily at the warriors. While the others were making moves to
attack this creature, Lereahl was at the back of the group, dancing cheerfully
for some reason. Senji was hot on his mistress’s heels, stabbing the crab in a
soft spot between its armour plates. Mange had thrown one of his harpoons,
sinking it too into one of the crab’s weak spots. Lereahl, the weirdo, had
finally stopped dancing and aimed his crossbow at the great snapping beast. His
bolt found a crack in the shell too. Jetulfgar was finally out of the floor,
cursing and growling beneath his wild, red beard. He lifted his axe and ran
forward again. Senji struck the crab again, but it retaliated, lashing out with
one huge claw and catching him in it. Senji struggled, but the crab hissed and
squeezed him tight in it pincer. Senji’s vision went black and his head lolled.
Mange’s other harpoon went to work, but Lereahl’s next arrow glance off the
shiny shell. Jetulfgar missed too, his axe whistling through the air and biting
into wooden planks. He wrenched the axe out of the board and tried again, but
missed this time also. He was really not helping at all. Lady Celerean, instead
of attacking again, pulled the magical Rod of Healing from her belt and cast an
aura over the downed samurai. He awoke with a start and with a brilliant feat
of strength, was able to pry the beast’s claw open as Mange leapt forward,
driving a killing blow through the beast’s head. Cold, blue blood gushed
everywhere. It’s spindly legs wobbled and collapsed, its great claws falling to
the ground with great crunching noises. The companions panted, wiping blue goo
from their faces. Jetulfgar crossed his arms, angry at himself for having not
hit the stupid beast.
“Fine,” he growled and began cleaving
the crab’s armored shell pieces from its body.
“What are you going to do with those?”
asked Mange as the rest of the group sat down to rest. There was some talk
about new skills. Senji had just come to the realization that he could use one
sword in each hand. Why he had never done this before, no one knew. Lereahl
though, was looking very bored again.
“Make some armour maybe,” the dwarf
replied. The halfling’s eyes shone.
“That will look awesome!” he squealed.
The companions made their way back to
where they had seen the strange crack in the wall. Lereahl had ants in his
pants. The others had taken so long to recover from their tussle with the oversized
crustacean that he was the first to leap into the darkness beyond.
“Wait!” cried Mange, who had just been
about to look carefully inside for any signs of monsters. Lereahl’s cockiness
disappeared instantly as he laid eyes upon what was inside this dark hole.
“I hate snakes…” he whimpered.
A huge, sinuous snake was coiled
luxuriously in the rubble. It turned its orb-like eyes towards the half-elf and
struck, rows of sharp teeth snapping shut over his head.
“Argh! It’s got me! Help! Heeelp!”
Lereahl yelled, but as his head was now in the snake’s mouth, all the others
heard was “Mmph! Mmph mm mmm! Mm! Mmmmm!”
Jetulfgar
rushed to Lereahl’s rescue, but somehow missed again. The samurai was luckier, landing two nasty blows along the
snake’s writhing coils, which were now wrapped around the unconscious Lereahl,
crushing him more tightly by the second. Lady Celerean missed, too, but Mange
nailed the creature with a harpoon, and then a devastating blow with his great
sword. Senji sliced ribbons in the snake’s skin, and it released Lereahl who fell
limply to the floor, twisted and broken. Jetulfgar failed to land a hit again,
but Senji came through, leaping forward to slice the great snake’s head cleanly
off. It continued to coil and thrash, but was no longer any threat. The
companions sighed and smiled at each other. Another monster slain. There are a
few moments in which the only sound was the rasping of dying snake, but then they
remembered Lereahl. Mange was the first to his side. The half-elf’s long blond
hair was matted with blood. The dark red liquid seeped too from his mouth and
his bones were all in the wrong places. There were only small puncture wounds
around his neck – the worst injuries were inside. He was still breathing though
and his pulse was weak but still there.
“Quick, we have to help him,” said
Mange.
“What do you suggest? I have no
knowledge of healing,” Jetulfgar shot back, kneeling next to the half-blood
too, his deep brown eyes wide with worry.
“Wait. Lereahl had a healing potion,
right?” asked Mange. The others just shrugged. Mange glared at them and
gingerly reached towards Lereahl, levering him up in order to access his pack. It
too had been crushed by the python, and as Mange dug his tiny arm into Lereahl’s
pack, the same thought crossed all of their minds. What if it had crushed the
potion too? But, by some miracle, it hadn’t. The tiny bottle of glowing red
liquid was in Mange’s hands and with Jetulfgar’s help, he was able to pour it
into Lereahl’s mouth. They waited a few moments, the seconds ticking by
painfully. They could see the magic working slowly. A small groan escaped
Lereahl’s chest as his bones moved beneath his skin, knitting and healing. But
then the magic stopped. He lay still, still breathing, but the blood still
trickled from the corner of his mouth.
“It’s not working,” said Mange, looking
down at him, horrified.
“He was probably too far gone,” said
Senji slowly.
“Serves him right, the idiot,” said
Celerean. Senji nodded, immediately taking her opinion as his. Mange glared at
Celerean. He opened his mouth to yell at her to help. She was a bard. Their
magic was minimal, but still might have been enough to help Lereahl. He stopped
though, seeing the stony, indifferent look on her face. He thought for a
second.
“You know,” he said slyly “if you don’t
heal him now, we’re just going to have to drag his unconscious, possibly
lifeless butt around with us until we decide to return to the citadel. Unless
you want to take him back now and risk never being able to return to this place
to see what other treasure lay in store for us.”
There were a few minutes of tense
silence in which Celerean and Mange glared at each other. Finally, the woman
conceded.
“Fine. Only because having him unconscious
will make him such a burden,” she sighed.
Lereahl sat up. He felt weak and very,
very sore, but he was alive. He grinned up at everyone.
“Miss me?” he asked. Mange rolled his
eyes and punched Lereahl in the shoulder.
“Ow!” he cried. The fellow may have been
a halfling, but he sure could hit. Lereahl levered himself slowly into a
standing position.
“Ah, and to who do I owe this great pleasure
of continued existence?” he asked. Lady Celerean sighed and raised her dainty hand.
Lereahl smiled and limped forward. He rummaged in his coat and pulled out his
coin pouch. Celerean’s eyes widened as he counted fifty gold pieces into her
hands.
“I, uh, thanks…” she said. Lereahl
smiled and turned away. When his face was hidden, his smile turned bitter. He’d
only done that to get back in her good books. It was apparent that she really
had no care for him. They had been at odds ever since they had met.
The first ship fully explored, they had
set off for the second one. It was a strange vessel – much larger than the
last, and the wood it was made of felt almost as if it were about to burst into
flames at the touch. It was dry and crumbly.
“How do we get in?” asked Lereahl,
rubbing the hot wood. Jetulfgar shrugged and threw himself at the beached hull.
The wood gave easily under the force of his passage, leaving an amusingly dwarf-shaped
hole.
Inside they encountered three swift,
red, horned imps with small spears that burned when struck by, which they
dispatched rather easily. However, the larger serpentine, red creature that
attacked them after they had finished the smaller ones was a little harder to
take down. They assumed that its anger was for killing its progeny. After
slipping past the larger demon’s guard, Mange was able to slice her nasty head
off. The serpentine body writhed horribly on the floor, much like the giant
snake. Lereahl eyed it warily, taking a few steps backwards.
As they continued along the corridor, he
and two others stopped to examine the fallen imps’ spears. However, the three
dolts had already forgotten the burning magic they held, thus singing their
fingers.
The corridor widened into a room where
the companions could see a smaller door a large set of double doors. Also, off
into a corner was a small opening into a round room. They decided to
investigate this strange round room first. It was full of charred sticks and
burnt wooden logs – apparently the red imps’ nest. Among the chars and ash
however, there looked to be some goodies. So, climbing down into the pit, the five
warriors stuffed their pockets. Lereahl happened across something rather
interesting upon picking up some armour he dug out of the ashes. It looked like
standard set of plate armour at first, but when he picked it up, the light
around the metal seemed to ripple and suddenly he was now holding a normal
looking shirt. Lereahl released it in alarm. The breastplate clattered to the
ground again, looking much like a breastplate should. He cocked his head and
picked it up again, and watched in amazement as the illusion flowed over it
again, changing itself to look like a plain shirt, but a different one. It
still felt as heavy as plate armour though.
“Woah… That is wicked cool,” said Mange,
appearing under Lereahl’s elbow and eyeing the armour appreciatively.
“Yeah, it is pretty cool,” said Lereahl,
smiling down at the halfling. “I wonder if it would change to look like a
dress?”
Mange giggled. A sly look crept across
Lereahl’s face.
“Perhaps if I wore the armour and it
changed to look like a dress, then I might be able seduce the dwarf…” he said,
referring to incident in which a little attempt to misdirect Jetulfgar had gone
rather horribly wrong. Mange began laughing.
“And then if it does fail again and he punches me, all he’ll get is bruised
knuckles,” added Lereahl. Mange snorted and began cackling with laughter.
With more loot stashed away in their
bags, the group turned to the smaller door first. It was locked with a small,
seemingly easy lock. The others looked at him and Lereahl nodded and stepped
forward to pick it. Of course it only seemed
simple. The lock itself was actually pretty easy to overcome, but the spring
loaded poison barb in it was not so much. A small prick on Lereahl’s finger was
all it took. Lereahl however was quite learned with traps like this and was
able to quickly squeeze and wash out the tiny spit of poison. He sucked at the
pinprick and then stood and stepped to the side, spitting out the poison and
pushing the door open. Inside was another cargo hold, but this one held shelves
and shelves of potions. The shelves looked brand new, their nails still shining
brightly, but most of the potion bottles were cracked with age and the ink on
their labels was long since faded. They did however find some that were not so rotten.
The dwarf found a sneaking potion. For what use he had of this, no one knew.
Lady Celerean managed to find an intelligence potion. She scoffed at it,
obviously insulted that she would need more intelligence than she already had,
but pocketed the bottled nevertheless. The halfling laughed upon finding a
potion of enlargement, and the rogue cackled with glee when he laid his hands
on a decent invisibility potion. Senji was luckiest of all, earning many
jealous glances when he simply stumbled over a six pack of health potions. It
had a box and a handle and everything.
Their potions too now stored safely in
their packs, they approached the large doubled-doored room next. They were
matching doors, but weirdly, one looked several centuries older than the other.
They creaked open. Inside the large ship’s room, was a mangrove forest. The
grey trees had grey leaves and were rather dense. Also, they smelled. A the
back of the room, the companions could see three huge golden coffins. The crept
forward slowly, their eyes widening, realizing that all three were made of
solid gold.
“Do you reckon we could take them back
with us?” asked Mange.
“Hey, I’m strong, but not that strong,”
replied Jetulfgar.
“You should have found a shrinking
potion instead of an enlarging one. The they might have been easier to move,”
said Lereahl. Then he paused. “Or we could
get them back this size somehow, and then when we try to sell them to a
merchant, we put the enlarging potion on them and sell them for tons more! Of
course we’d have to bolt before they shrank and the merchant realized they’d
been cheated. But still…” You could almost see the dollar signs in Lereahl’s
eyes. Jetulfgar snapped his fingers in front of Lereahl’s face.
“Hey, conman, wake up. We’ve still got
to open them first,” he said, gesturing to the coffins.
“Right, right. I’ll be at the back,”
said Lereahl, and he indeed shuffle to the back of the group, raising his
crossbow. “Better not be more snakes,” they could hear him mumble.
“Okay, I’ll open the first one,” said
Jetulfgar. The others nodded and he moved slowly toward the first coffin. He
reached out slowly, fingers hovering over the polished, glinting surface. He moved
to grip the lid, as if to open a door, but with a hiss, the lid fell forward,
missing him by a hair as he jumped back. The solid gold fell with a crash like
huge, heavy cymbals. The lids of the other two coffins hissed and fell too as
if the first had triggered them. Jetulfgar retreated a few steps as a figure
sat slowly up in the first coffin. It dribbled sand like water from its dry,
grey bandages. The figure’s head creaked slowly towards them. There were no
eyes, just a bandaged face, but the five knew that the mummy was looking directly
at them. Lereahl, at the back of the group raised his crossbow and fired
quickly. The quarrel buzzed and the mummy jerked back, the arrow sticking from
its head. Its motions were slow and steady again and it moved to climb out of
the coffin. The arrow hadn’t slowed it at all.
“It didn’t even hurt it,” said Lereahl,
his mouth open in slight astonishment. The others backed off a little, sensing
that something was wrong here.
“Let me at ‘em then!” cried Mange, running
forward to strike at the mummy with the spare war hammer he carried on his
back. The blow made the mummy stagger, but as Mange backed off, it regained its
footing and began moving slowly towards them again. The other two were slowly climbing
out of their coffins too.
“Physical attacking them is not doing
anything,” said Mange, running back to the group. They were all backing slowly
towards the door now. The mummies were taking stumbling, shuffling steps,
getting quicker now.
“Uh, okay. Physical attacks not doing
much. How about magical ones?” asked Lereahl.
The others just looked at him, holding
their very ordinary weapons.
“Okay. So none of us here are really
magical. That’s a problem,” he said.
“I agree my dear lady. For your safety, I
would suggest that we retreat. As undead kings of some long forgotten past,
there would be no shame in avoiding this fight. We should leave this place
immediately, but as always, I leave these decisions to you,” said Senji, bowing
to his mistress. Lady Celerean looked boredly at him, then back at the mummies.
“I do believe you are right,” she said. “We
shall be leaving now.” She reached out to take Senji’s hand and the two of them
disappeared in a whisper of purple smoke, the way planeswalkers do sometimes.
Lereahl looked at the spot where they had been, at the now rapidly approaching
mummies, then at Mange and Jetulfgar. He grinned broadly.
“Nope. I’m out of here too,” he said and
with a click of his fingers, he too vanished. Jetulfgar rolled his eyes at
Mange who was looking positively furious at being abandoned when there was
blood to be shed. Or rather sand. Or whatever else was left in thousand year
old mummy corpses. The two remaining planeswalkers vanished as well.
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