[DnD] Tomb of Horrors (GFF D&D Adventure X)

It was many days before the three of them returned to Freeport, with the halfling hitching a ride for reasons of his own. Perhaps it was simple wanderlust, or perhaps he was getting a little too well-known in certain parts of Veltalar. Shadowspade kept his own counsel.

While they were away, the Freeport Captain's Council had finally reached the end of weeks of deliberation. The issue: who to blame for the Foulspawn Incident. News traveled slowly out of Lamid, but eventually the larger picture became clear. Adventurers were at fault. Lazy, sloppy adventurers. An initial, half-hearted attempt was made to find the precise adventurers responsible, but the testimony of the Lamidans was considered unreliable in identifying them. One of the culprits was said to be a doppelganger who rode a white stallion and always stank of rotting meat, while other stories insisted that the blame lay on a talking golem and a tiny bear that it had tamed. Worse, the golem was said to have escaped justice by flying away in a magical bag. It was all very preposterous.

In the end, there was only one real solution: all adventurers would be blamed equally. To prevent this sort of catastrophe happening again, the course was clear. Soon the news went out: any and all mercenaries and sellswords working within the walls of Freeport must register with the city. Henceforth, individuals with tasks in need of resolution would bring them to the proper authorities, and the Council's wise sages would assign worthy adventurers to each task as they deemed appropriate. The resolution met with relatively little resistance from Freeport's dozens of mercenaries, mostly because they were extremely hung over from a festival the previous night. The convenient timing of the resolution's passage has not gone unremarked-upon.

And thus in a very short time indeed Glenn and Puyet were both assigned to a longstanding case involving a man who had misplaced some kind of tent. The exact details of this undertaking have been lost to history; the official records were incinerated under Freeport's rarely-enforced laws regarding printed obscenity. While it is regretful that this intriguing adventure must remain a mystery, most undertakings around this period are delightfully well-documented. Consider, for example, the grim and dangerous quest in which Gra-fa-zut and Samwise promptly found themselves entangled — a venture deep into a deadly place known even today as...

The Tomb of Horrors.

"Mr. Shadowspade! Lovely to see you again. How'd things go with the rats in Mr. Farvington's cellar? Wonderful, just wonderful. I'll go ahead and put that one in the outbox. Let's see if we've got anything else for you... ah! Here we are. Actually, we just need one more for this and you can probably get started on it today. Bit of a specialist position, though...

Excuse me! Are any of you in the lobby swordmages, by any chance? Swordmages, hands in the air. Ah, yes! Already dealt with that escaped lion, I take it? Great. So it's settled! Here are your briefing envelopes; the rest of your group should meet you on site. They're a motley bunch, but I'm sure the sages know what they're doing. Best of luck!"

And so Samwise and Gra-fa-zut were thus en route to the municipal cemetery in the heart of the old city, Samwise reading over the briefing as he walked.

Summary of Problem
Ancient lich looms ever-closer to godhood, as each death within his sphere of influence makes him ever stronger!

Location (Be Specific!)
Old city boneyard (von Brandt mausoleum)

Reward (if any)
Salvage on-site (estimated large)

These things were always so melodramatic. Nobody ever had goblins in their turnip patch, they had a plague of miscreants plotting a massive famine!

The pair arrive at the cemetery to find the rest of their group already there. A kobold, a minotaur, and a shifter — hardly an ideal company for close-quarters work underground. You take what the sages give you, though. The old von Brandt mausoleum is a massive affair, but it's a sham; the heavy doors hang wide open, and the mausoleum is revealed as nothing but an empty shell. No bones lay at rest here; the real tomb lies far below. The mausoleum of Aloysius von Brandt conceals only one relic of the dead: a perfectly maintained staircase, leading down into inky darkness.

How ya doing, buddy?

Well, well, well. New people. Monsters... OK, I can deal with monsters. A shifter, though... god, so close to the loathed changelings, but at least still human. I introduce myself quickly, before peering down the staircase, and checking the rest of the room out. I wonder if there's anything arcane about this place.

Arcana check on mausoleum/stairwell

There's nowhere I can't reach.

1 Die Roll Perception on entrance

I sighed and rubbed the bridge of my nose as we approached the temple. Yes, yes. Surely the sages knew exactly what they were doing. The last time they sent us after an archlich it turned out to be some snot nosed half-orc and his three goth friends trying a summoning ritual they read in orque beat magazine. I let my mind wander to thoughts of breaking each of the sage's law signing fingers. One by one. I smiled a little.

The familiar squish of wet cemetery mud under my boots brought my attention back to the task at hand, though. It took the whole of my considerable self-control not to balk when I saw the motley group we were approaching. Sages, it is good to remember, are assholes. And they seemed to enjoy proving it time and time again. As I walked past Gra, I muttered under my breath...

"If it is a lich, and it probably isn't, but if it is, whichever of us gets his head drinks free."

I approached the group while Gra started poring over the opening. I pointed at myself. "Sam." And jerked a finger at my partner. "Grape-fra-oot." I didn't wait for too many introductions. In this line of business, when you learned names the person was generally dead too quick for it to ever be of any actual use. I'd remember names if they did something useful. Or at least suitably flashy. At least this group seemed more able than the usual group of glorified farmers with rakes.

As I approached the entrance, I let my senses take over, feeling more than looking for anything out of the ordainary. The place had the slight smell of decay and death. Maybe this would be fun after all. I dropped Gladys into the left hand covered by my light shield, my rapier sliding into my right. For queen and country and all that.

Perception check. 4 + 8 = 12. Allow us to stick with passive perception and call it 18.

This thing is sticky, and I don't like it. I don't appreciate it.

1 Die Roll Active Perception

On one hand, Garold was pleased that his request for work involving the destruction of the unnatural had not gone ignored by the council this time. On the other hand he was now faced with descending into dark catacombs most likely filled with hungry undead. He supposed there was a chance that this would end up like his previous job where the "monstrosity" he was called upon to save a town from turned out to be an eccentric artist's particularly hideous modern art sculpture, but as he gazed into the black void beyond the stairs that possibility seemed to be waning.

A halfling and a genasi arrived together and introduced themselves. Brevity seemed to be the order, so the shifter simply nodded and said "Garold" before returning his attention to the creepy hole in the floor.

Upon seeing the halfling ready himself for combat, Garold decided to do the same.

Equip light shield.
Light sunrod and place in shield hand.
Equip distance tratnyr.

Garold then held the sunrod out to illuminate the stairs, and joined the halfling in looking and listening for zombies or other undead abominations.

Perception check. 16 + 12 = 28

I am a dolphin, do you want me on your body?

Another day another set of critters to blatter upside the head with a hammer. No Gnomes this time, Life is good.

I'm "Slim" and I don't know about the large bovine fellow he's just been staring at the grass producing methane since we arrived.


Pull hammer and everburning torch Descend as soon as the group is ready.

Most amazing jew boots

I wasn't entirely sure quite how I'd ended up becoming a registered mercenary. After all, it wasn't like I spent all my time running violent odd-jobs for cash, quite the opposite in fact. My years long quest to track down the evil cultists who murdered my parents had, granted, dragged me all over the continent and certainly a lot of people had offered me money to go off and kill monsters and things, probably mistaking my simple woodsmans axe for a weapon of war. Of course, being a pacifist and abhorrent of all kinds of martial displays I had turned them down but it was uncanny how often I had woken from one of my crippling migraines to find that some other fellow had come along while I was in a daze, murdered an entire mountain full of demons and then left without a word, leaving the locals convinced that it had been me who'd done it and showering me with gold. It was rather embarrasing to be honest and so I had come to Freeport in the hope that in a town already chock full of swords for sale, I might escape notice and be able to knuckle down and find the patricidal bastards and bring them to justice. Sadly, Freeport seemed almost completely devoid of Goblins and those I had attempted to capture and interrogate had proved slippery and, sadly, a bit fragile.

It was primarily for this reason that I had signed up to the guild, hoping that a few of the members might be a bit more academically bent than myself and could help shed some light on my thus far fruitless quest.

The Sages had for some bizarre reason decided that I was suitable for a job involving tracking down a liche in a tomb. I told them that there would be little call for a simple woodcutter like myself in a tomb underground but I can only guess they knew about my hobby of solving mazes and figured the underground tomb might be a bit twisty-turny. I fervently hoped that the rumours were exaggerated though, my new companions certainly looked a rough bunch and I had no desire to be caught up in any rough-housing, I'd probably just get in the way.

I stood, staring at my feet nervously as the group assembled. Meeting new people had never been my forte and all these weapons made me particularly wary. The others introduced themselves in curt, milataristic fashions and they all looked very professional as they examined the entrance to the tomb. Not wanting to show myself up as the obvious amateur in the group, I quietly introduced myself in what I hoped was my best, gruff mercenary voice.

"Ah, hello chaps. My name is Beefi, Beefi Kertanz, pleasure to meet you all. Shall we er, get this show on the road then? Don't want to keep the blighters waiting, what?"

I chuckled nervously as they all gave me slightly funny looks. It was going to be a long day I could tell. Rather than extend the awkward silence, I strode forward into the gloom.

Let's do this shit, onwards down the stairs

What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now?

The group stares hesitantly down into the dark tomb below. The sunrod and torch provide more than enough light to see to the bottom of the stairs and a little beyond. The stairs were perhaps 25 feet, terminating in broad corridor roughly 20 feet wide. The floor below is a bright melange of colorful mosaic tiles. Among the random scatter of colors, a broad red streak of tiles wends roughly down the center of the corridor below; the red streak curves east and west irregularly on its way down the corridor to the south. There's no sound of anything moving down there, and while there's a distinct smell of rot it's no stronger than you'd normally expect from a poorly-tended graveyard.

The place is practically humming with magic, though; Gra-fa-zut picks up on it practically as soon as he arrives. The mausoleum stands in stark contrast to the dilapidated mess that constitutes the rest of the cemetery; The stonework looks practically new, and the grass around the mausoleum in a large radius looks significantly lusher and healthier than the sickly brown & yellow grasses in the rest of the graveyard. Maintenance enchantments weren't inherently suspicious, but old Aloysius had been among Freeport's founding fathers, and as far as anyone knew his descendants had scattered to the four winds ages ago. Task mages don't work for free.

Breaking the awkward mood, Beefi suddenly leaps up, introduces himself, and hurtles down the stairs. As he has no light, he can't really see much more than he could have from up above. The corridor continues south for quite a long way; he can't see the end of it from here. On the walls are beautiful frescoes; cows grazing in open fields, gnolls standing guard in a wizard's study, wolves on the prowl. On the west wall is a gruesome portrayal of slaves cowering in a doorway, suffering under the cruel lash of a demon.

The frescoes are amazingly lifelike and detailed; it's as though you could step into the scenes, or the inhabitants of the scenes are threatening to step into reality. Beefi realizes with a start that this perception isn't entirely false; one of the painted gnolls carries a brass-bound strongbox, but the box isn't part of the painting; it's just affixed to the wall somehow.

FELIPE NO

1 Die Roll eyeballs

I follow down the stairs and look around keeping well clear from either the red tile or the strongbox. Let the Halfing handle it. He looks to be a shifty little bastard so this sort of thing should be right up his alley.


percept bitch 4+2=6



Sigh I'm going to assume my +2 to find traps will not help here.

What, you don't want my bikini-clad body?

I had on my travels found myself in quite a few odd catacombs and from experience, I knew that the people who built these things seemed obsessed with setting up traps to keep unwelcome visitors out. Always seemed a bit silly to me as surely it made getting in and out yourself rather annoying and in fact dangerous if you happened to be drunk or something. Gods knows I had managed to injure myself pretty badly once or twice just tripping over my own feet, without leaving rigged crossbows around the place.

Not wishing to further prove my amateurism by setting off a trap, I looked warily around the room, avoiding touching the obvious possible dangers of the red tiles and box. A sudden thought occured to me, if I was building a deathtrap, I'd want a secret entrance that bypassed all the traps so I could get in easily. Figuring the more experienced members of my new team wouod deal with any traps, I poked and prodded the painted walls, looking for a secret door.

Search for secret doors

Jam it back in, in the dark.

1 Die Roll Active Perception

Satisfied that the minotaur and kobold would provide enough flesh to distract any undead long enough to make a run for it should need be, Garold descended as well and took a look around. Being largely unfamiliar with mechanical devices, he decided to leave trap checking to the others and focus on what was down the hall.

Perception check. 8 + 12 = 20

There's nowhere I can't reach.

I go back upstairs and gather about a dozen large rocks. Then Head back and chunk them at the strongbox, various points along the red tiles, and the area off to the side as well. I may not be much for lock picking but throwing shit that I can handle.

Like so

This thing is sticky, and I don't like it. I don't appreciate it.

Uxig spots no obvious traps, but with torch in hand he spots something the minotaur could not have seen in the darkness; a faint message is engraved in the red tiles.

I CONGRATULATE YOU ON YOUR POWERS OF OBSERVATION! SO MAKE OF THIS—

There was more to the message, but it was beyond the range of his torch.

Beefi carefully prods at the painted frescoes, looking for a hidden route to avoid walking the suspicious red pathway. Nothing obvious presents itself, but the plaster of the demon torturer fresco gives a different sound when poked at, as though there were a hollow on the opposite side.

Though he's not especially interested in the chest, Garold can't help but spot a hidden lever jutting slightly from the bottom of the wall-fixed strongbox. In addition, with the improved illumination of the sunrod he can make out much more of the hidden message in the tiles. The corridor leads south for at least another 100 feet before the range of his sunrod is exhausted.

SO MAKE OF THIS WHATEVER YOU WISH, FOR YOU WILL BE MINE IN THE END NO MATTER WHAT!

Go back to the tormentor or through the arch, and the second great hall you'll discover. Shun green if you can, but night's good color is for those of great valor. If—

While there's clearly more to the message and Garold can see the signs of etching in the rest of the tiles, he simply can't read more of the tiny engraved letters without getting closer.

Uxig returns to the surface, glaring quizzically at the genasi and the halfling, and gather up some scattered rocks (and a broken chunk of tombstone or two). Back in the tomb, he flings them about here and there to no immediate result; the rock thrown at Beefi's feet as the minotaur prods at the torturing demon fresco produces a hollow ring unlike the flat crunching of stone on stone that the rest of his tosses produced. Was something below the minotaur's feet?

I am a dolphin, do you want me on your body?

Oh good, a patronizing tomb builder. Now they get to look forward to being chewed on by zombies and being mocked. After seeing Slim chuck rocks at the red tiles with no ill effects, Garold's curiosity overpowered his caution, and he decided to see what the rest of the message read.

Before embarking down the hallway, he pointed his spear at the strongbox and said "There's a hidden lever on the bottom of that thing, make sure the halfling sees it if he ever gets down here."

Garold then walked slowly down the center of the hallway, keeping an eye out for anything hostile at the edge of the Sunrod's glow. Whenever he approached another line of red tiles, he stopped and tapped them with the tip of his spear to ensure they sounded solid before crossing. As he walked he began to wonder what was keeping the genasi and the halfling. They had arrived later than the rest of the party as well. Maybe they were union, he mused, and were on a mandatory break. If he survived this he'd have to look into it.

I was speaking idiomatically.

No time for literature at the moment. Sam joins the team. Flips said switch. Is quiet but inside makes clever commentary.

What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now?

3 Dice Rolls *oh, ouch.

Garold proceeds cautiously down the corridor, tapping the tiles ahead with his spear. He finds several hollow-sounding spots — 5, including the place Beefi was standing on. If it was holding the minotaur's weight it couldn't be all that dangerous, but there was no harm in caution. As he locates the suspicious areas of tile he leaves scratches on them with the tip of his spear, that the others may avoid them more easily. As he works, he gradually reads the rest of von Brandt's taunting message.

If shades of red stand for blood the wise will not need sacrifice aught but a loop of magical metal — you're well along your march. Two pits along the way will be found to lead to a fortuitous fall, so check the wall. These keys and those are most important of all, and beware of trembling hands and what will maul. If you find the false, you find the true and into the columned hall you'll come, and there the throne that's key and keyed. The iron men of visage grim do more than meets the viewer's eye. You've left and left and found my tomb and now your soul will die.

Garold was not a man of great sophistication, but even by his limited standards von Brandt's idea of poetry was badly lacking. At length he finally comes to the end of the message, and the end of the corridor along with it. The snaking path abruptly splits at the end.

One path leads east into a stone archway; the archway is utterly clogged with mists, and Garold cannot see anything of what might lie beyond it. The arch is set with three large gems: a yellow topaz on the left, an orange tourmaline on the right, and a bright blue sapphire at the top of the arch.

The second path leads to a massive stone carving of a bearded green devil's head, with the path leading directly into the devil's open mouth. Curiously, the light of Garold's sunrod does not illuminate the interior of the devil's mouth, and the path thus leads into an impenetrable darkness.

Back at the north end of the corridor, Samwise descends the stairs at last and heedlessly pulls the hidden lever on the chest. Without warning, the floor opens up beneath him! He reflexively attempts to grab the chest to avoid falling, but he's not quick enough; the halfling plummets 30 feet onto a bed of rusty spikes. On the upside, it's obvious that he's not the first to fall for this trap. 6 small gems are scattered around the floor of the pit, amongst dozens of brittle bones.

30 damage to Samwise

FELIPE NO

I throw my magically returning maul at the chest in an attempt to knock it down in the pit where Samwise can get at it. Then I take my rope and tie one end to the bottom of the stairs and throw the other down into the pit.

If this works would you mind tying your end of the rope to the chest? I mean if you don't have more pressing business staring off into space or killing yourself of course.

Then I go over to the hollow fresco the walking prime rib is prodding and smash the crap out of it with my hammer using my stonebreaker power if need be and making certain to stand off to the side in between the pit and the scratched tiles.

Athletics? Strength?

How ya doing, buddy?

I jumped as the floor opened up next to me and the halfling fell into the pit. My mother had always told me not to go around touching things that didn't belong to you and not for the first time, her advice seemed to ring true.

The little lizard guy seemed to be the inquisitive type and I'll admit I too was curious as to what was behind the hollow sounding wall. I wasn't sure that my curiousity was grounds enough to go smashing up somebody else's wall though. In an attempt to distance myself from the wanton vandalism, I helped Samwise clamber out of the pit, steadfastly keeping my back turned to the dismantling of the wall. I sighed deeply as I noticed the attempts to get at the contents of the strongbox were continuing, despite it clearly a) belonging to someone else and b) just being a trap.

The writing on the floor appeared to be a riddle of some kind, offering advice to would be tomb raiders in an unhelpful fashion. As with the traps, I had never seen the point in these cryptic clues dungeon builders seemed so fond of. Either you want people to stay out or you want them to get in, make your mind up.

Figuring there was unlikely to be more than one pitfall trap in this corridor, despite the assurances of the poem to the contrary, I worked my way down the side of the corridor, tapping the wall with the butt of my axe as I went, looking for more hollow sounding spots. It looked as though Slim was determined to dismantle the whole tomb looking for loot and though I disapproved of thievery, I figured the quicker he found everything of value in the area, the quicker we could move on.

Help Samwise out of the pit, with or without the chest. Look for more hollow sounding spots

Jam it back in, in the dark.

Garold was mulling over the meaning of the poem when he heard a loud clank followed shortly by a crunchy thump from the far end of the hallway. He turned and shielded his eyes from the sunrod to see the kobold peering inquisitively into a pit that hadn't been there before. The minotaur was just looking startled and confused. Both of them looked alright though, so he trusted them to handle whatever it was that had happened down there and went back to analyzing the poem.

"Shun green if you can..." He looked at the big green bearded devil carving. He wasn't exactly eager to dive into impenetrable darkness through the mouth of a demonic doorway, so this advice seemed sound.

He couldn't make much sense of the rest of the colors, but the line "Two pits along the way will be found to lead to a fortuitous fall, so check the wall." caught his attention. The minotaur had been standing on a hollow set of tiles after discovering the hollow fresco on the wall. Perhaps there was one more. After studying the location of the hollow tiles along the red streak, he had a good idea where to start looking. The question remained though, would the fall into one of these pits be fortuitous for them, or the tomb architect that clearly wanted their souls.

Move 2 spaces north and 1 space east.
Examine the wall in the two spaces to the north, and tap spear on closest one.

There's nowhere I can't reach.

[color="Red"]Hearing amusing noises coming from down in the crypt, I quickly joined my fellows. Casting a glance around, I notice the red floor, and start zigzagging my way across the room, stopping on my way to help the minotaur with the halfling. Chests are sometimes good things, so I figure more people hauling up the little man, the better. Following that, I make my way across the rest of the room, checking out both the obvious exit and the creepy green doorway.[color]

Assist in helping Samwise up, preferably with chest. WHAT'S THROUGH THE DOOR (also arcana check on green thing)

This thing is sticky, and I don't like it. I don't appreciate it.

2 Dice Rolls Check on room

As I was pulled from the pit, the gems in my pocket and the chest in my hand, I let a string of curses fly. Nothing like getting a bloody nose thirty seconds into the damn dungeon crawl. Clearly not my greatest moment. As I splayed out on the ground, bleeding quietly, I caught my breath, checking the chest for traps and then tossing it open as I sucked it up on a magnificent scale.

"I am getting too old for this shit."

On the plus side, maybe this meant there was something here. Not a lot of deadly spiked pit traps in empty crypts. Well there were, but clearly, if I fell for it, then there was magic at work. Ahem. After catching my air, I sat, watching the steps of those going before me closely. If they found anything worth checking out, I was happy to help. But I didn't have the reach. So instead I focused on not dying and keeping an eye out for traps.

Boost back up to full health.
Pocket gems. Check the box for traps. (23) If none, open chest.
Check room for visible traps.(20)

I am a dolphin, do you want me on your body?

1 Die Roll durrcana

After working together to haul Sam out of the pit, Beefi and Garold resume prodding at the walls. They find no more hollow spaces, however.

Having gone to great pains

to recover the chest, Samwise gives it the once-over for any more tricks. Finding it clean, he greedily flips it open.

It's empty.

Gra-fa-zut arrives fashionably late, and is immediately curious about the giant green devil head. One thing's for damned sure; that thing is magical. In what way, he's not certain. But it definitely is magical.

Tired of all this pussyfooting around. Uxig decides to start breaking things. Though it takes a few good whacks from the little kobold, the fresco of the slaves cowering in a doorway collapses to reveal a narrower hallway — roughly 10" wide, leading west. Alas, his torch is again inadequate to see to the corridor's end.

I was speaking idiomatically.

1 Die Roll Perception if needed

Disappointed that his theory about the wall was wrong, Garold decided to follow Slim's example and start destroying things. He wanted to find out what was under the hollow tiles, as they had proven harmless thus far, and the idea of a "fortuitous fall" still teased at his brain.

He steadied himself so as to not fall in should he succeed, and then attempted to drive his spear through the center of the closest tile.

Attempt to break floor tile at S3.
If successful, take a look and find out what's down there.

What kind of toxic man-thing is happening now?

A secret passageway! This adventure was getting more exciting by the minute, although that is was bricked up rather than covered by a door suggested that there was nothing particularly of use down there and the passage looked no less creepy and dangerous than the other options. Not having my own source of illumination, I waited for someone else to check out the new passage and while I waited, picked up a chunk of masonry from what used to be the wall and tossed it through the big, green devil head, not convinced personally that walking through it would be a good idea.

FELIPE NO

1 Die Roll ?

Ah I love the smell of crushed precious art in the morning. Excited that my go to strategy of when in doubt smash has payed off I run around the room shouting and dispensing high (middle) fives and ending with a leaping chest (crotch) bump on Beefi.

WOOOOOOOOHHHHH YEAH DESTRUCTO FIVE

Now that I've got that out of my system I retrieve my rope then head back upstairs. Find the longest poking stick I can practically carry with me. Head back down gather gather up my trusty testing rocks.

I could see that the Furry (not that there's anything wrong with that) was amenable to my way of doing things so I lend my hammer to the cause.

Surface smash 2 the breakoning!

What, you don't want my bikini-clad body?

Slim heads back to the surface to purchase a 10-foot pole, and returns. He enthusiastically aids Garold in smashing apart more floor tiles, but all they uncover is another dangerous pit, without even the consolation of more gems at the bottom.

Suddenly, Uxig remembers that (as a kobold) he can easily see in the dark. He peers down the dark western corridor again, espying a massive, moldering wooden door at the end.

Beefi picks up a few odd chunks of masonry and plaster, hurling them forcefully into the mouth of the green devil's head. They vanish soundlessly into the black void; no sign of their fate is apparent.

Jam it back in, in the dark.