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Dragon of Life ([personal profile] dragonoflife) wrote on February 16th, 2017 at 11:04 pm

The DM opens the game by threatening to murder Krixxix for calling the game ‘the story of Krixxix, as is the wont. Recapping: the PCs defeated a cult ambush on their way back to Waterdeep.

DM: And so the morning finds you standing over several dead bodies, their life bled out on the inn floor.
Raven: Well, I guess we pissed off a couple cultists today.
Maldrake: And they murdered the whole town. And we somehow didn’t hear it. I don’t have a shovel…
Eben: Astrotrain!
DM: Eben launches himself into space, to train among the stars. Or astro-train as he calls it.
Maldrake: I normally suggest we bury the bodies but judging by what happened outside, there’s too many.
Eben: Firebolt… firebolt… firebolt… Jedi funerals for all of them.
DM: You’re correct in your assessment. The entire town has been put to the sword by the dragon cult, who apparently snuck in during the night and brutally murdered them in their beds. Men, women, and children all, their life bled out of them. A simple matter, if gruesome, to pile up the bodies and give them a funeral suited to a god of flames.
Maldrake: Hope you guys enjoyed that town, it’s the last town we’re staying in.
DM: The stench washes over you as you put them to the torch, melting fat and burning flesh, nauseating most of you, except Eben, who does not breathe, and Krixxix, who does not feel.

A moment’s pause and then laughter for days.

Thalynmar: I like the pause…
Eben: If our group had a social media page, that would be the quote of the top for this month.
DM: Oh man, am I on tonight. That delivery was perfect if I do say so myself.
Thalynmar: With a heavy heart, I dig these mass graves.
Krixxix: With a heavy heart, I watch him.
Eben: I use Mage Hand to do my share…
Thalynmar: This is an argalarchy—arch aggrow lope ep nope, it’s not coming out. I’m going upstairs.

They spend the morning digging, then pile into their wagon to put some distance between them and the town. Krixxix attempts to hire someone to carry him, but everyone is dead. Eben complains about… Altered Beast? Did not see that coming. A long dissertation on bacon pancakes is interrupted by a warm, wet storm. Back to Waterdeep the head, with evidence of depredations by dragonkind all along the way.

Maldrake: There’s a Trogdor on the loose.
Thalynmar: ‘He’s burninatin’ the towns. And the townsfolk.’
Maldrake: ‘And those thatched-roof cottages don’t stand a chance.’
DM: Refusing to let your spirits be depressed by these sights, you conjure up unthreatening visions of a S-shaped foe and continue onwards.

They reach Waterdeep after a few days travel, which is untouched by danger as of yet – the DM sells up how the people are free of the troubles outside, which ends in Thalynmar punching a leprous orphan into the water supply. Maccath separates from them to report back to the Arcane Brotherhood.

Maldrake: Time to report a mission failure! Back to the town council so they can reprimand us. Talk bad about us!

They head for the Lords’ Palace to do just that, although Lualyrr runs afoul of TSA, being a drow.

Eben: Are they really like, scorned in this setting?
Thalynmar: Oh yeah, they’re evil.
DM: Drow are universally evil, except for the 97% of them who are chaotic good renegades from their oppressive culture.
Eben: So 3% of them are evil…
Lualyrr: I’m going upstairs.

Redacted jokes occur. The DM and the players squabble for a bit about how they can back to the chambers in the labyrinthine palace, which ends in them summoning a page who promptly fanboys at them. They find themselves in a sitting room, in comfort and food. Eben wrestles the food away from everyone for some reason.

Eben: Zap! Zap! Firebolt on the food!
Thalynmar: At least I got a nibble before he destroyed it.
Krixxix: Don’t we have a cleric, can’t he create food and water?
DM: He’s a paladin.
DM: The Lords of Waterdeep come in only to find you in a vigorous roomwide brawl!

Leosin shows up! He greets them effusively, and they related their adventures in excessively brief form. Horrified by their tale, the monk begs them to send word in the future if their plans change like that.

Krixxix: In a quiet voice, hopefully that nobody else around can hear… ‘Do – do we – do we fully trust this guy?’
Maldrake and Thalynmar: Well, yeah.
Eben: He was like, one of the earliest people we encountered when we began.
DM: Leosin gives you an odd look.
Krixxix: I said in a voice quiet enough—
DM: You said HOPEFULLY quiet enough, and it’s a small room, and he’s RIGHT THERE.
Maldrake: Why don’t you speak Gnome or something?
DM: Fortunately Leosin takes no offense because it is Krixxix who said that.
Krixxix: Anyone else speak thief-talk?
Eben: I speak Groot. ‘I am Groot. I am Groot.’

Leosin warns them that something is afoot with the council, and then tells them that the White Dragonspeaker, Varrin, is rumored to have lost his mask in the Boareskyr Bridge region! Given the danger of a Wyrmspeaker, Leosin asks them to capture him and bring him back for questioning. They promptly all ask for their stuff; Leosin tells them to rest the night and he’ll find out. Shopping ensues! As money is worthless, no one cares, and everyone gets distracted by looking at the map of the Sword Coast and debating the difference between a sea and a bay. Krixxix rolls to carouse!

DM: …at least this girl, you haven’t left crying.
Krixxix: Ha HA! What’s her name?
Eben: You don’t know.
DM: Fiel.
Eben: Wait, he did this before, but that girl is dead now…
Maldrake: You haven’t work up in an alley with a dick in your butt.
Thalynmar: (singing) I got a dick in my butt!
DM: This girl was in it just for the night. I also want you to roll me a Constitution saving throw.
Maldrake and Thalynmar: Uh-oh.
Krixxix: I got herpes! ….3. You have gonasyphaherpelities.
Maldrake: You are the zero patient for a new disease.
Thalynmar: I got Krixxix today!

Thalynmar also makes the acquaintance, heh heh, of a dwarven lass who is interested in MORE! A lass by the name of Buryn is interested in seeing him while he’s in town. Maldrake refuses to accept that there might be dragonborn chicks in Waterdeep.

Krixxix: And don’t worry about her husband.
Thalynmar: Shh! Shut up!
Krixxix: He was just the one who would make your armor.
Maldrake: She spreads rumors of your tiny man.
DM: ‘His great weapon mastery is jus’ compensation!’

Krixxix complains about the time the woman tried to beat him up with the fireplace poker; the DM points out he loved every second of it. Leosin arrives the next morning, passing over some of their magic items. Transportation has been arranged to the bridge, so they head through the winding streets of Waterdeep.

DM: The address is not terribly difficult to locate, being in one of the higher-class quarters of the city, where the streets are just that little bit nicer, the guards just that little bit more pompous, and the innkeepers just that little bit more unwilling to accept any gold except for one more than you have to offer.

They enter the storefront and are greeted by an elven woman, who politely inquires if she can help them. This can’t possibly go wrong.

Lualyrr: Keeping my hood up for sure.
Thalynmar: “This guy, we need.” (miming holding something up)
DM: …What were you holding up?!
Thalynmar: Piece of paper with his name on it?
Eben: A severed head.
DM: It had his ADDRESS on it, where you ARE at the moment!
Lualyrr: “We were sent by… Leoric?”
Eben: Leosin…
DM: She leads you back to the rear, where in as stereotypical a setting as you can imagine, probably for exactly the effects you are getting from it, an old wizard sits behind a desk, writing out something on a scroll, surrounded by books of eldritch lore. A raven sits on a perch nearby, tilts his head at you, and then croaks out a laughter. (noticing Thalynmar’s gestures) You lick the raven’s beak and begin writing with it on the parchment, as near as I can assume from your actions. Which is very weird.
Thalynmar: I imagine there’s a couple quills nearby too!
Raven: When you said ‘raven’ I imagined myself sitting there…

With little fanfare, the wizard teleports them on the winds of magic. They appear on the Boareskyr Bridge, with a collection of tents and wagons on one end as a town and a powerful keep on the ridge nearby. Maldrake identifies it as a keep belonging to the paladins of Elturgard!

Maldrake: “Perhaps we can get some information on the person we seek from this place. Krizzik!”
Eben: (bursting into laughter)
Maldrake: “I would like to do the talking.”
Krixxix: “If I have anything important to say, I’ll say it.”

They approach, and no sooner do they approach than merchants spot them. They are inundated by offers!

Krixxix: “Fresh fish!”
DM: Fresh fruit! Lamp oil. Rope. Bombs.
Eben: Dental plans!
Thalynmar: Mah boi…
DM: This oddly poorly-animated city… A young paladin passes by, musing that he can’t wait to bomb some dodongos…
Maldrake: We try to open this door, but someone’s standing in front of it. ‘Hello! Ha ha. Hello!’ Damn it.
Thalynmar: ‘My cakes will burn!’

Gratuitous NPC interactions shower down on them, and Thalynmar depresses a merchant to tears by displaying his dragon-bone glaive. Lualyrr continues to not know who the hell sent them, and they somehow end up interrogating the bridge itself. They give the vague description of Varram to said dwarven merchant.

DM: “I haven’t heard of anybody by the name, but perhaps you should ask at Bolo’s.”
Thalynmar: “Bolo’s.’
DM: “Aye, ye see that large pavilion tent there? That be Bolo’s Tentside Inn.”
Thalynmar: “Is the beer good.”
DM: “It’s halfling mix, so…”
Thalynmar: “So no.”
Eben: “It comes from a tent, how good can it be?”
DM: “It’s a bit light. Flavor’s good. It’s like very tasty water.”

Krixxix attempts to use his criminal contacts to find Varram, and consequently just wanders off. Thalynmar quietly panics. Maldrake goes to track down a paladin.

Lualyrr: I’m suspicious. So I’m gonna hang out with Eben, so we can be weird and suspicious-looking together.
Maldrake: I’m just waiting for a cleric to be like, ‘I MUST CLEANSE YOU!’
Eben: I’ll go seek out a cleric. There won’t be one in a shantytown…
Maldrake: What he didn’t realize is that they’re having Cleric-Con here.

Maldrake espies a squire watching the goings-on, and greets the supercilious young fellow.

DM: “Well, dragon-man. Who art thou?”
Maldrake: “Maldrake. A paladin such as the one here. I seek information.”
DM: At the mention of your oaths, he immediately softens his stance. “Oh, what do you seek, noble lord?”
Maldrake: “We’ve been sent here by the Council of Waterdeep to seek a dwarf. Quite a shady character. He speaks to dragons.”
DM: “Have you a description?”
Maldrake: Just his attire: a purple cloak.
DM: At the mention of the purple cloak, his brows gather in a scowl. “Him! Murderer! He stabbed a man here in this very village, but the people consider him a hero for some reasons!”

Maldrake pumps the squire for more news and hears that Varram fled to the hills, and the squire’s master Sir Cudgel is the one investigating. Maldrake makes arrangements to speak to said knight, while Krixxix spots a beggar feigning ill health.

DM: “A coin, young master, a coin.”
Krixxix: “Aye, but a coin is not always given freely, something in return should be nice.”
DM: “I am but a withered old man, master, weary from the wars.”
Krixxix: “Aye, but even withered old men have knowledge of events and the locale.”
DM: “I’m afraid I don’t know anything, young master. I’m but a weary old veteran with a wounded leg and an empty purse.” He bows his head mournfully. If only you were using Thieves’ Cant, you moron.
Krixxix: What do you want me to do to do Thieves’ Cant?!
Eben: Just speak like the Zorgons from Hitchhiker’s…
DM: Use rhyming slang.
Krixxix: Why you gotta make this difficult on me all the time?
DM: Or you could just talk normally to me and SAY you’re using Thieves’ Cant. I don’t make you speak in fucking Tolkien Elvish when you’re trying to use that language, do I?!
Krixxix: Using my thief talk… “I’m looking for information.”
DM: “Ah, the sly fox is trying to seek a wily prey.”
Krixxix: “Yeah, sure, whatever.”

The beggar performs a magic trick by making Krixxix’s coin disappear, telling him that Varram went to the north to meet with the scaled folk. The others head off to Bolo’s Tentside Inn, and talk to the halfling proprietress – who gives him a little more information on Varram’s stabbing of the scaled-folk spy.

DM: “Heroism for sure! He’s a hero and make no mistake about it. Ah, but before we could thank him properly, he and his entourage took off straight for the hills, quick as cats.”
Thalynmar: “Any idea where he headed to?”
DM: “Ah, who knows? The hills are deep, there’s strange things up there. We don’t go up there if we can help it.”
Thalynmar: “Anybody who might know where he headed off to?”
DM: “There were about a dozen people with him. He probably shouldn’t be too hard to track if you’ve got the mind.”
Thalynmar: “Aye.”
DM: ‘Even Marros could do it.’
Thalynmar: ‘Oh, that’s quite a feat…’

The DM asks for a horrible price: a soda. Krixxix refuses and the DM BANISHES HIM AT THE TOP OF HIS LUNGS.

Krixxix: Wow.
Maldrake: Holy shit. Wow. What the fuck?
DM: I impressed all of you. I impressed myself, too, I got some really good volume out of there.

The group laughs at the transcriber’s pain, but that wasn’t actually so bad. It was in fact a lot less worse THAN SOME DOUCHEBAG CRINKLING BAGS OVER THE MICROPHONE. The audio fails but is quickly recovered. Realizing they can track the Wyrmspeaker, Maldrake makes his apologies to Sir Cudgel’s squire and they take off, following the fairly blatant trail. Travel rules are discussed and weather is rolled. They spot movement in the distance at sunset: creatures on a mesa in front of them! Desirous of making camp, they send Krixxix ahead to scout.

DM: That’s a d30.
Krixxix: Yeah, I roll a 30!
DM: You explode.
Krixxix: My Stealth is 20.
DM: You creep forward, and the effort and exertion you put into your stealth has a sweat break out on your brow. By the time you reach the mesa, you’re breathing heavily, raggedly, from the effort you’ve put into this. There’s a path, narrow and perhaps treacherous, that you can climb. Perhaps it’s what these creatures used to reach the summit.
Krixxix: Would it be Acrobatics to be able to climb it safely?
DM: You wish. I’ll let you take a different path that is more of an Acrobatics roll. It involves some precarious balancing on a ledge, rather than more climbing, how about that? You’re at disadvantage.
Krixxix: Can I use my inspiration to balance it out?
DM: Yes.
Krixxix: 35.
DM: Right in the middle of the precarious path, you immediately begin coughing furiously. However, with inspired luck, if nothing else, you cling to the side of the cliff. Your hope of stealth is lost, but at least you didn’t fall, and once the coughing fit passes you cross the ledge without further incident. It was an exhausting journey, however; your legs feel like rubber beneath you.

Krixxix pauses to catch his breath, and then presses on even though he doesn’t feel much better. The DM calls for Stealth, again with disadvantage, but Krixxix’s 21 keeps him quiet enough to spot the herd of goats sheltered up here.

Thalynmar: Looks like meat’s back on the menu, boys!

Paranoid, Krixxix ultra-checks the goats, and rolls terribly, thus believing their flaming demonic wings are normal. Maldrake bemoans the loss of their comrade to the dimension of Goat Simulator.

Krixxix: Did something feel unnatural about my strength being sapped at all?
DM: It’s unusual that you would feel this tired.
Krixxix: I wonder if it’s because I’m so high I’m getting air deprivations.
Maldrake: No dude, it’s the disease you got from that bitch. You’re only just now feeling the symptoms. I read about it online.
DM: Apparently in WebMD, the MD stands for MalDrake.
Krixxix: I’m going to make my way back down…
DM: Roll me an Acrobatics check to get back down. At disasdvantage.
Thalynmar: ‘Aahhhh!’ (miming Krixxix’s body bouncing) I don’t think it’d kill him though.
DM: You all make camp right at the bottom. (miming Krixxix’s body hitting the ground) ‘I’m back!’
Thalynmar: Looks like meat’s back on the menu, boys.
Krixxix: Double 1s!

Krixxix is a halfling and so gets to reroll both of those, but his second die comes up a 3 which turns out to a 19 for him. He throws up mid-ledge and slips on it, falling to the ground for 11 points of falling damage and ending up in a pile of scrub and burrs, which he climbs out of, dry-heaving all the way.

DM: You all hear the thump.
Thalynmar: “You think that was his lifeless body or just his body?”
Krixxix: And then you hear, “Ohhhhhhh….”
DM: He’s a ghost now. ‘OoooOooooOoo!’

Racist jokes occur and are redacted – primarily from the DM, who has to apologize a lot. Thalynmar goes to investigate, and finds Krixxix dry-heaving and sweaty still. Thalynmar gets so coated in burrs he becomes known as Burr-Hand Thalynmar, as he hauls the halfling back to camp. Maldrake diagnoses him with the Thayvrian Flu and heals him with Lay on Hands. The DM calls for Thalynmar to make a roll for contagion. He… really, really does.

DM: A brief scenario appears in your mind, in which Thalynmar’s white blood cells all surround this little virus, kicking it in sequence while it sobs helplessly. Also all of his white dwarf cells – white blood cells have beards.
Maldrake: I like the idea of the white dwarf cells.
DM: Well, that’s what they are. “You came to the wrong neighborhood…”

Thalynmar gives Krixxix some bacterial soap… and some whore’s blood is brought up somehow? Anyway, all is well and the group rests the night to continue their journey on the morrow.

Krixxix: That’s effed up, man. That I completely failed all my shit because of some girl I banged a few minutes ago? And it JUST caught up on me.
Thalynmar: That’s GREAT, actually.
Krixxix: That is FANTASTIC DMing.
Eben: It’s like trying to ride a pony untrained.
Thalynmar: What IS it with me and having problems like, roll well, fail. Roll well, fail.
DM: Well, let me put it this way: once again riding has been the bane of a player character at this table.’

Traveling on for the day, their quest bears fruit at the end of the day: signs of civilization in the distance!

DM: Or at least the work of intelligent minds.
Thalynmar: “We. Make. Holes in teeth.”
DM: Give me a pretzel, I have to eat my pain away.

A towering cliff shows signs of work, smoothed stone and walls. They clamber up into a cave in the wall to rest, and be safe from nocturnal predators.

Thalynmar: ‘But not from my nocturnal emissions.’
DM: Everyone roll me a swim check…
Lualyrr: I’m more worried about choking to death…

Ahead they advance, finding a courtyard with a dry broken fountain in it, and two giant statues flanking stairs up to what appears to be a tomb and a LOT of flavor text. A campfire burns slowly down next to three bedrolls, with several shallow graves recently dug nearby. Thalynmar mounts the ladder up to the stairs!

DM: As your each the platform, you hear the sudden sound of grinding stone. The two colossal figures turn their massive heads, their shattered features stared down at you. Two voices issue forth in unison, booming forth as if from the deep earth. “Halt. You come before Diderius, ether walker and conduit of clairvoyance. Behold ye now, his wonderous triumphs! Diderius extends wisdom. Diderius offers knowledge. Which do you seek?”
Krixxix: “Wisdom! Go with the wisdom!”
Thalynmar: “Wisdom.”

No one recognizes the name Diderius with Religion, but History tells them that Diderius is an ancient wizard who could see clairvoyantly, and many people came seeking his wisdom in the past. They agree wisdom is the answer.

DM: “Diderius will grant you the wisdom you seek – but only if you heed him, and continue to shop proper respect!” With a grinding of stone, the statues resume their original posture.

This probably means groveling, the PCs conclude, and they bow to the statues before climbing. They reach the top of the stairs without incident, and inside see a tomb of vast riches and power! The inside is dark so they crack out the driftglobe, and illuminate a room full of statues with faces hidden in hoods and bones littering the ground.

DM: Into each of your minds, a thought drifts. “Some secrets are not meant for mortal minds to know. Look away from the darkness in which such knowledge dwells.”

Maldrake leads the way, and halfway in the statues all turn to look at him. They choose not to look into the darkness beneath the hoods – except for Krixxix, Thalynmar stops him with a crush to his shoulder. Further in they go, finding themselves in a domelike room with a mosaic on the floor. A door to the left has the word SAFE written on it. The tiles surge up into a mosaic chimera!

Thalynmar: I thought we were getting the Legend of Zelda: Link to the Past thing. (miming flying tiles)
DM: No.
Eben: Lego Chimera.

Map drawing! Initiative! Banter!

Eben: If you really want to have better dungeon crawls, you have to force the DM to describe the entrance to encounter rooms as having ‘Dr. W’ written over it. ‘Beyond the door is a short straight hallway leading to another door with ‘Dr. W’ written over it.’ Extra cool points – inspiration if you jump as you go through the door.
DM: Sorry, there is a spike on the other side of the door on the top of it.

Raven advances, while Lualyrr prepares Cutting Words to debuff it and lobs a Shatter at it.

Maldrake: I’m just gonna make this statue that moves and says, ‘Welcome! Welcome!’
DM: Because I wrote this module. Don’t forget.
Maldrake: You’ve added stuff to it.
DM: Yeah, halfling women that give Krixxix diseases.

The group accuses the DM of needing a calculator to assign damage, but the mosaic fails its save. Maldrake smites that sucker for hefty damage, then Krixxix lands a sneak attack crit as is consistent with his assassin powers – but he discovers it has piercing resistance! Maldrake cracks up.

Maldrake: I love that you let him calculate all the damage!
DM: It’s resistance, so it’s half! I still needed to know the full amount. It was just nowhere near what he hoped.
Thalynmar: You made it sound like it was negligible.
Krixxix: It pierces off, the creature didn’t even notice.
Maldrake: If I took half piercing damage, I took 40 damage, I’d still. ‘It feels like you have lost your entire chest but you only lost your arm.’

Maldrake takes an AOO as it advances, but the mosaic creature turns its narrow dimension to him and he misses, Lualyrr discovers it cannot be affected by Cutting Words as it unleashes attacks into the crowd and breathes fire on some of them. May saves are made.

DM: So I believe Krixxix takes no damage, Raven can use his reaction to take no damage –
Raven: I’m gonna hide behind my shield.
Eben: Thalynmar can use his hit point pool to take no discernable… negligible effect.
DM: You take 34 points of damage—
DM: --halved, so 17.
Eben: Oh. Okay.

Thalynmar glaives it, Eben lobs a Shatter of his own, and this destroys it. Eben is transported with delight.

Eben: I DID SOMETHING RIGHT! I DID LIKE 10 SESSIONS, AND – well, not 10. More like 3. Though pushing the dragon 10 feet was kind of decent…

The mosaic is damaged, though a sun remains near a corridor nearby – so the players all furiously praise it, because that’s how they are. The game pauses for pie, and picks up with a description of fancy doors that are bulging from their frame, leading Thalynmar to describe it as ancient botulism. A description of a corridor leads to a REALLY long rambling discussion about the Redskins team name. The PCs rule out the bulging door for some reason, and elect to try the door labeled SAFE even as they are convinced it’s a trap. Krixxix listens at the door and hears nothing.

DM: You open up the door and inside it looks to be a well.
DM: There’s a bronze bucket on a rope sitting near the well, and an empty basin on the far wall that has stone steps leading up to it. There’s a brass lever protruding from the wall near the basin. The side of the well and the floor next to it are covered in bright red mushrooms. There’s sleeping rolls and camping gear scattered around here, and the word SAFE is scribed on the wall in chalk.
Thalynmar: Krixxix. Eat those mushrooms.
Krixxix: I WAS thinking that!
DM: They’re slick with a watery sheen that resembles blood.

Eben, vaguely remembering myconids or earlier in this very campaign, is skeptical of the mushrooms. They spend quite a while looking at the well and the bucket, and singing about Mr. Bucket, and making sexual jokes about Mr. Bucket. Little is accomplished. They look into the well but see nothing of great import, so haul some water up with the bucket. It evaporates away! They become convinced that they should get water into the basin somehow. Eben Mage Hands the lever and they determine that a hole opens in the basin when it’s pulled. Raven is distracted by goings-on on his side of the video call!

Raven: Gonna put you guys on mute for a moment.
Krixxix: All right.

A pause.

DM: Everybody heil.

Everybody heils.

DM: We’re horrible people.
Thalynmar: All of us instantly did it, too…
Eben: This is clearly the Half-Blood Prince chamber…
DM: Nothing’s killing you.
Eben: In reverse.
DM: Okay, write a note saying that ‘I am talking the Horcrux and plan to dismantle it, E.D.M.’ and drop it in.

They wonder why the water evaporated, and so Elkus goes for his waterskin – only to discover it too is empty! The party finds all their drinks have evaporated and their food has rotted or dried up or gone to dust! They pick the mushrooms and find them withering as well! With some effort, they get water into the basin before it evaporates and wash it down. Krixxix dumps dirt into the bucket, but the water still vanishes, leaving dry dirt behind. The DM lets them know that the water and food had vanishes as soon as they’d stepped into the tomb. Maldrake is sourly furious!

Maldrake: Well, that’s the adventure right there. None of us have Survival. We’ve got another two days before we starve to death, that’s cool.
Raven: That sounds great.
Eben: Starving takes longer. We’ll die of thirst. Which is probably why the people stayed here till they died some other way.

They give up on this room and head across the mosaic room to the slanted corridor. Krixix takes the lead, the better to keep an eye out, and the train slowly moves down into it. The DM calls for Perception from Krixxix!

DM: As you step forward, your foot touches the ground, and you feel it shift slightly beneath your weight.
Thalynmar: Pressure plate!
Krixxix: (exasperated noise of disgust)
DM: Behind you, those of you who are still waiting see the mosaic of the sun swivel open. It slides back, and rising from beneath it, a massive sphere, seven feet in diameter, made of skeletal bodies, rises from the boss.
Raven: Not again!
DM: And it abruptly rolls towards you all!

Dexterity saving throws ensues! Maldrake realizes he can use his shield. Those who fail take some damage and get swept up into the rolling ball! Most of them manage to rip themselves free, but poor Eben gets carried clean down the hall till the ball slams into a wall and shatters for even more damage.

DM: As you lie there on thr ground, picking yourselves upm, a voice whispers in your head. “Humilty ptoffered in the manner of Mystril’s shelters those opening the way towards seeking knowledge. Meanwhile the rest of you race down to this antechamber.
Thalynmar: Tripping two more pressure plates!

The voice whispers to all of them as they enter, that same phrase, but the players are more interested in taking a short rest than cracking its mysteries. Religion checks tell them that gestures from the worshippers of Mystril might serve them well here! But that’s for next time, as they settle down to rest and recuperate.
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