…by Scalrag

I knew it.

I knew that coming here was a bad idea. I predicted that we’d gotten ourselves into trouble, and I was right. All I’ve ever wanted was limitless power, vast wealth, a palace and a gaggle of adoring concubines to look after my every need. Why, oh why do the Gods force such tribulations upon us?

I suppose I should be more specific: having defeated the Skeletal Warlord and his equally flesh-challenged minions, we returned to the heavy bronze doors and then proceeded down the left-hand path. Having claimed from the Warlord an obsidian eye that looked like it would fit one half of the locking mechanism, we presumed that the hand-shaped item that would fit the other half would not be far. After descending a set of stairs we came to a grated door, locked. Viggo briefly inspected it for traps and declared it safe, then raised one of his Goblin Stompers and delivered a hefty kick. He overdid it and staggered himself – which worked out because as it happened the door was trapped. As he stumbled back, Viggo narrowly avoided getting zapped by an arc of lightning that whipped from the still-unopened door. Clearly a more subtle approach would be required.

Arnold stepped up, produced his lockpicking tools and set to work. Almost immediately he yelped and ducked another bolt of lightning. The halfling gave us a reassuring smile. “Just wanted to see if maybe it was one of those one-time-only traps,” he explained, and tried again. This time he was able to get nearly ten seconds of work done before he tripped the trap again and had to dive for cover as lightning flashed from the door once more and slammed into the wall.

“Are you done warming up?” Dirock asked.

Before Arnold could answer, Viggo marched up to the door and brought his sword down on the lock with a howl. I shielded my eyes, expecting the ranger to get cooked like a brace of conies, but to my surprise his weapon smashed the mechanism and the door swung open. The ranger smiled knowingly and strode forward. The rest of us shrugged and followed, determined to enjoy our jar of sheep and not worry about how they got in there in the first place (note to self: spend less time talking to Arnold).

We entered a worship chamber. The floor in the center of the room was slightly raised, and there were two waist-high ziggurats to either side. At the far end of the room stood a black monolith, covered in ancient runes. Jutting out of the middle of the floor was a stone forearm. It was quite large – like that of an ogre or troll – but it looked to be the right size for our purposes. Viggo quickly searched for traps; satisfied that there were none, he grasped the stone hand. Remembering how good a job he’d done finding the trap on the door, I prepared for the worst.

I was right to do so: the stone hand immediately twitched and grabbed Viggo by his tunic, and the raised section of the floor began to grind, buckle and crack. I felt a rising panic, no doubt a side effect of my recently-developed landsharkophobia. At the same time there came the sound of grinding stone as hidden doors on either side of the room swung open and a pair of corpulent zombies shuffled into view. The bodies of these disgusting creatures seemed to be alive with necrotic energy, and they tore out great gory handfuls of their own flesh to heave at us! At the same time, a large glass jar floated out from behind the monolith at the back of the room. The cylinder was filled with a murky liquid and something was floating inside it. To my right, Thoradrin gave a cry and then suddenly turned on Dirock, who just barely managed to side-step Thor’s axe. Judging by the shocked looked on Thor’s face (only Dirock seemed more surprised), I surmised that the dwarf was under mental domination, and I began to wonder just what was floating in that jar …

The icing on this horrific cake came from the center of the room, where the floor finally split open and a brutish zombie hulk emerged, still grasping Viggo by the collar. His feet dangling two feet off the floor, my Kuzian companion drew his blades and began hacking at the huge monster. Arnold assisted by firing a magic sling bullet that set the hulk on fire. Nearby, Thoradrin managed to shake off the mind-control and furiously assaulted one of the lumbering corruption corpses. “Oh ye mighty gods!” he shouted as he got to grips with his foe, “ye smell almos’ as bad as the runoff room a’ the Redink Brewery!” As if all this wasn’t bad enough, a swarm of huge spiders emerged from the hole in the middle of the room. No, not spiders … but severed left hands – hundreds of them! I felt my gorge rise as they immediately set upon Viggo and Thor, scratching and clawing. Both warriors crushed many of the hands under their boots, but to little effect. I cast an atmospheric combustion that charred dozens of the limbs (and missed Thoradrin for a change), and Dirock called down Kord’s lightning to flash-fry many more. Finally, Thor swung his axe in a series of wide, sweeping blows that hacked chunks out of the corruption corpse in front of him and shattered another two score hands. At this point, the remaining hands began to flee back beneath the flagstones from whence they’d come. Having dealt with one threat, it was time to address the others.

While Arnold worked his sling against the hulk, I summoned my Glacial Gripper, and a man-sized hand of black ice rose up next to one of the corruption corpses, smacked it and then put it in an icy bear hug. A moment later the monster’s head exploded under Dirock’s divine powers, so I directed the Gripper to attack the floating jar. Viggo finally freed himself of the zombie hulk’s grip by slashing out its throat, causing it to collapse in a stinking heap. Any celebration was cut short, however, as a moment later the beast arose again, shedding most of its skin and battering the erstwhile triumphant Viggo with crushing fists. The ranger staggered under the assault, but held his ground. As I prepared to lend a hand, my mind suddenly reeled; I felt as though I was both falling down and being pulled up. I couldn’t concentrate or even hear anything. It was as if a great weight were crushing my skull. I suddenly realized that I was moving … how? Then the awful, dawning realization: I was not in control of my actions! Whatever had dominated Thoradrin was now forcing me to dance to their depraved tune! I watched in horror as I fired a ray of frost that struck Thoradrin in the back – as if I didn’t “accidentally” hit him often enough!

“Scalrag, ye daft bastard! Wot’ are ye doin’?” Thor demanded, not unreasonably.

“It’s not my fault!” I thought.

“DIE, MORTAL!” I said.

“Oh, very cute,” I thought.

“I’M A WEAK-MINDED FOOL!” I said.

Right – enough of that. I tried to drive the invader from my mind, but it was no use. I lamented that a dwarven warrior with a fondness for some of the foulest brews known to man had quickly succeeded where I, with all my intellect, was now failing.

Fortunately, my friends saved me from any further humiliation. Arnold dodged between the zombie hulk’s legs and slashed its tendons. As the monster stumbled forward, the halfling leapt onto its back and buried his dagger in the back of its skull, putting it down for good. Viggo jumped over the carcass and lunged at the floating jar, his swords flashing. The jar shattered under the ranger’s attack, and a foul-smelling liquid spilled on to the floor. I felt a twinge of fear, but realized that it was not my own – whatever had gotten into my head was retreating in terror – but too late. As the jar crashed to the ground, a brain flopped out of the wreckage and began to slowly crawl away. Viggo spat a curse and kicked the brain against the wall, where it instantly calcified on impact (good thing, too – Viggo was going to stomp it, which would have made an awful mess). Meanwhile, Thoradrin chopped the head off the last corruption corpse, and when that didn’t have the desired result, he buried his axe in the base of its spine. Spurting filth, the cadavre teetered over and lay still – the fight was over.

We quickly claimed the stone arm from the fallen hulk, and as we prepared to leave, I noticed that the hardened brain was radiating magic. Upon closer inspection, it became clear that I could use it to focus my spells as I would a magic orb. Though slightly grossed out, I decided to keep the macabre prize – at least for now.

We returned to the great bronze doors and Viggo and Arnold set the obsidian eye and stone hand into their respective slots. My companions reported that the “keys” seemed drawn to their places and snapped into position easily. After a long moment of silence, the massive doors ground open with a metallic rumbling that resonaterd throughout the Undercroft. We clearly weren’t going to be surprising anyone, and so after waiting for Viggo to finish a prayer to the Raven Queen (my companion had become a most fervent disciple of late), we passed beyond the doors with Thoradrin in the lead.

We advanced through a huge hallway and then descended some stairs to a much smaller corridor. After a few minutes, Thoradrin signaled us to halt. In the dimmed light of our torches and cantrips we saw that we were on a platform at one end of large cavern. Walkways and staircases connected to other, smaller platforms and we reasoned that they must lead to a way out on the other side. Glancing over the edge of the platform, Thor warned us to watch our step – it was a thirty foot drop to the uneven floor below. As we tried to decide which way to go, Viggo suddenly raised his voice and shouted into the darkness:

“Followers of Vecna! Show yourselves that I might mete out the judgement of the Raven Queen upon you!”

I was about to point out that no one could possibly be foolish enough to fall for that … but then an unfamiliar voice shouted back:

“Defilers! Drop your weapons and surrender, or face the wrath of the Lord of Rotted Tower!”

At that moment a dim light arose all around us, enabling us to see to the other side of the cavern. Standing on a large platform across from us was a human in ornate robes, clutching a staff. A group of snarling orcs and a pair of skeletons were at his side. I noticed that the skeletons were holding bows, and an instant later an arrow rattled off Thor’s helm, and another grazed Viggo.

“They’re shooting at us!” I observed. The battle was on!

I headed towards a staircase on our right and sent an atmospheric combustion at a pair of Orcs who were running towards us; the detonation incinerated one orc, but the other continued forward despite the scorching. Thor charged straight up the middle, vaulting the space between two platforms to get to grips with our foes. On our left, a frightening apparation appeared and approached: fluttering over the ground and wrapped in a cowled robe, the figure drew near, a bone scythe gripped in its dessicated hands. Dirock looked at it, then at me. “It’s for you,” he said.

But this was not Death. It was clearly something far fouler, a creature fallen far from grace and here now on unholy business. Viggo drew his swords and vowed to destroy the reaper. Though I had supreme confidence in his abilities, I moved further to the right, just to be safe.

Arnold fired a sizzling sling bullet at the reaper, blasting away its jaw, and I took offence on Arnold’s behalf when that failed to stop it. Viggo rushed into battle, screaming in the language of Kuz and heedless of his own safety. Dirock added to the fight with his divine powers. Things seemed to be going fairly well … until disaster struck – the reaper lunged forward and shoved Viggo off the stairs and into the pit! With a final curse, Viggo disappeared into the darkness and a moment later we heard the sickening sound of shattering bones.

Enraged by the death of his friend, Dirock roared an oath to Kord and heaved his maul at the reaper. The creature was struck full on and vanished in a flash. From across the room, the robed human Ascetic of Vecna snarled in anger and placed a vicious curse on Arnold. I shouted at my little friend to come closer so I could help remove it. A moment later I felt a tug on my sleeve. Looking down, I saw Arnold standing next to me with an expectant look on his face and crawling filth on his arm. “What are you going to do about this?” he asked.

“Aagh!” I replied, “Not so close! You’re going to get it on meeeeee!” Sure enough, the necrotic curse seemed to leap from Arnold onto me, infecting us both. I was able to shake it off, but not before it burned my arm. I fired an acid arrow at the Ascetic and was rewarded when he stumbled back, hit. I then used my orb of unlucky exchanges to pull the necrotism off of Arnold and send it back at its creator!

With Dirock at our side, we surged forward to catch up with Thor, had managed to get well ahead of us and was cleaving orcs left and right as he tried to reach the Ascetic. Dodging arrows and spells, we dispatched the orcs and skeletons (though the latter were very good shots and put several holes in my robes) and Thor was soon hand-to-hand with the enemy leader. As the Ascetic uselessly smashed Thor’s shield with his staff, a hidden door slid open behind the dwarf and to our astonishment Viggo emerged! Without missing a beat, the ranger charged forward with a shout and ran the Ascetic through with his swords. With our enemy dead, Viggo was able to explain that he had survived the fall into the pit because the entire floor was covered with bones – the crunching we’d heard was some poor soul’s rat-eaten ribs breaking under Viggo, and not the ranger’s skull cracking on stone as we’d thought. Viggo told us how “an angel” had appeared shown him a secret staircase out. Along the way he’d passed through several preparation rooms and libraries and had taken the time to do as much damage as possible on his way back up to us. Though dubious of his story about divine guidance, I could not deny the efficacy with which Viggo has desecrated the Undercroft’s sacred vessels. Fortunately, he hadn’t gotten around to setting the various texts on fire, which allowed Dirock and I to save a few spell and ritual books, along with some volumes that we felt might give us some insight into the cult’s activities. We let Viggo burn the rest.

With the Ascetic’s death, Vecna’s power over the Undercroft seemed to be broken. The heavy darkness was lifted and we were able to see normally by our light sources. Moreover, we all shared a sense of great accomplishment and a lifting of our spirits that left us feeling energized and ready for action, despite our great exertions. Viggo told us that the Raven Queen was pleased by our success and that our renewed vigour was her reward for destroying the reaper and bringing down this temple of her sworn enemy.

Flush with victory, we pushed on through another set of doors, down some stairs and into a corridor which opened into a large room, encircled with a raised walkway. Off to one side were several ominous-looking pits and in the center of the room, next to an icon of Vecna carved into the floor, was an altar – around which were five people, bound and gagged! Surrounding them were a number of orcs and several Shadar-kai. As we entered the room, one of the orcs spotted us and shouted an alarm. As the rest of the evildoers rushed to intercept us, another orc drew a dagger from its belt and slashed the throat of the nearest captive! Dirock invoked Kord’s blessing upon us and so empowered we sprang into action.

We clashed a few yards inside the room, and Arnold found himself in an unusual position – he was the first into combat … and he wasn’t even attacking from the shadows! He caught a nasty beating from the first orcs to enter the fray, but Dirock used his healing magics to keep the halfling alive and the rest of us moved in to to help. Even as he reeled under the orcs’ attack, Arnold came under threat from another quarter: some shadows along a nearby wall seemed to fold and from within emerged a small figure in black robe. With tremendous speed, this Dark One closed the distance to Arnold, unsheathing a dark-bladed dagger as it moved. “I’ve got you now,” I heard it say as it plunged its blade at Arnold’s neck. My companion twisted at the last moment and took the blow in the shoulder, then turned to face this newest threat.

“You again!” Arnold shouted through teeth gritted against pain, “I thought you’d had enough in Phirul!” He drew hisown dagger and lunged at the Dark One (Arnold later explained that this was Svernizug, and that the party had met him in the fallen city back before I had joined them).

There followed what I can only describe as a No Holds Barred Midget Death Match. Arnold and his rival danced and twisted through the fight, diving between the legs or leaping off the backs of larger combatants. When Svernizug slipped away to try to stab Viggo in the back, Arnold used his magic vambraces to appear right behind his foe, whereupon he slipped his dagger between Svernizug’s ribs. The Dark One shuddered and breathed his last.

Meanwhile, a roiling melee had broken out and even I was in danger of going toe-to-toe with a Shadar-kai sword fighter. Fortunately, Thor placed himself between me and our enemies, and I blasted spells over his head. Arnold managed to blind a number of enemies by throwing handfuls of dirt and grit in their eyes (followed up with sling bullets, of course). Behind the enemy lines, a Shadar-kai witch and an orc shaman were firing spells into the battle, and back at the altar, the cruel orc warrior had moved and was cutting the throat of yet another prisoner.

Shocked by this appaling display of poor form, I temporarily took leave of my senses: I cast Seven-League Step and rushed past the enemy over to the altar, where I poured my last healing potion down the throat of the nearest prisoner, who was only seconds from death. The man’s wound closed up as the elixir coursed through his veins. The orc executioner came at me with his dagger, but I managed to duck under his arm. Suddenly remembering my days of being bullied in the schoolyard, I responded as I had then: with a boot in the goolies. To my amazement, it actually worked, and while winded orc clutched at his groin, I hastily wrapped a bandage around the throat of the second man, slowing the bleeding. I stood up, feeling pretty proud of myself … until I noticed the Witch and the Shaman were approaching to help the executioner deal with me. I glanced over my shoulder at the brawl behind me. “Uh, guys? A little help?”

Thoradrin chose that moment to charge through the enemy lines and shield slam the orc executioner, sending the brute stumbling back. Meanwhile Dirock created an area of hallowed ground and began moving it towards the altar, intending it to protect and heal the prisoners from further harm. Arnold slashed at the orcs and Shadar-kai warriors, assisted by Viggo, who used his goblin stompers and the power of his enchanted bastard sword to move himself and his enemies into positions more to his liking.

Thor finished off the Orc executioner and brought his axe to bear on the shaman. I circled around the altar and engaged the Witch up close, using my repelling shockwave to send her tumbling head over heels. She recovered with surprising alacrity and rushed at me, invoking an aura of necrotism that burned at my flesh and then punching me with a hand wreathed in evil energies. The second blow had two effects: first, it reminded me of the end of my graduation ball (trying to get “fresh” with Corilane Bonesnap had been a mistake), and second it spun me around and filled my mouth with blood. Badly beaten (by a girl … again), I fled from the Witch and managed to keep the blood out of my eyes long enough to collapse next to Dirock. The cleric expended the last of his blessings and pulled me to my feet even as my wounds were healed. I returned to the fight, though by this point my repertoire of available spells was all but empty. I relied on my shockwave to batter the witch and shaman while my comrades dealt the real damage that would defeat them.

Viggo and and Arnold cut down the remaining Shadar-kai warriors and assisted Thor, Dirock and I in defeating first the shaman and then the witch. At last, our enemies lay defeated and we released the bound prisoners. As we had hoped, these were the missing miners we’d been searching for all this time. It had taken everything we had, but we had prevailed!