Tomb of Horrors

02 - Planar Peril

Wherein You Never Split the Party

Northwest was our player’s intended path, and they headed back across the bridge – but not before tying a rope off to Norm. Good thing, too – he slipped and fell and nearly splattered across the ground below. Castus held tight to the other end, and the party managed to haul him up.

The building they first came to – nearly flush with the cliff wall – was of bizarre shape and terrifying construction: It was built from the rocks that once comprised the graves of the burial site that the team now walked upon. The door opened easily, revealing nothing but darkness beyond. Everyone stepped forward together, and found themselves … somewhere else.

The party was clearly still inside a building, and one that had the shape of the one that they’d entered, but the nature of the world was drastically different than the Feywild. Evil and darkness permeated the very air, and echoes of distant screams cascaded into a resounding drone of noise until it suddenly stopped. Not quite the Shadowfell, realized the arcane-minded of the party, but perhaps somewhere … darker. The walls were lined of solid marble, clearly worn with many years of age.

Hogar stepped out through the door, and found himself back in the Feywild. Relieved, he went back through the door … and found himself in a third location entirely. Once again, the halls seemed accurate, but now the walls were made of brick and mortar, and seemed leak dried blood. This felt evil, albeit not with the anguish and sorrow of the former location – this was distinctly like the Shadowfell. Even the contents of the halls were different – empty sarcophogai lined the hall, and religious items and personal tokens lay strewn about, as though vandals had come in and crudely knocked everything aside in an effort to steal the corpses within.

The rest of the team investigated their unhallowed environs, finding armored footprints chiseled into the marble beneath their feet. Following them, they found a room with humanoid bones jutting from every space on the wall and ceiling, with dark corners and a mysterious humanoid statue in the center of the room. The statue appeared to be a humanoid noble of some kind, with a cloak and circlet atop his head, and a clutched sword facing down. Its face had been erased – cut off wildly with some sharp tool.

From out of the shadows came an angel, or what might’ve once been an angel. It appeared harried, demented, and it shrieked with an insane howl.

A scythe materialized in its hand and it swooped in to attack. Retreating down the hall to maneuver into a better fighting position, the party found a second one waiting to carve them apart from behind.

(Some help from the party might be useful remembering the exact order of combat here. Norm dropped consecrate, Castus hit people with planets, Crave did a lot of swaming and stinging, and Haldor did a Jedi mind push – and Hogar managed to make it back to the rest of the party and run on the ceiling a couple of times. I can probably elaborate on that a bit later but if someone else wants to, feel free – I’m running out of steam right this second.)

The angels put down, the team inspected the rest of the crypt, finding a couple more statues, but nothing else of note beyond horrible side effects from the bone-pincushioned room – bolts of necrotic power seeped up from the ground, and the room itself incited a malaise, making it difficult for any to escape. Hurriedly deciding they wanted nothing more to do with the place, the team left through another door – emerging back into the Feywild.

A pair of blank obelisks flanked the area where the guys found themselves – adjacent to the river that fed the waterfall. Heading down a walkway that wrapped around yet another grave-built structure, the team changed tacks when they crossed the river and headed into the building across the river. This building was the other option that had laid before them earlier – a building not made of gravestones. However, the interior appeared lined with arcane runes of uncertain origin – across the floor, the walls, and even the ceiling. Beetles darted in and out of the corners of the strangely arranged, twisting hallways.

A female eladrin, seemingly bound in manacles, sobbed and asked the party’s help as they rounded a corner. Castus moved to set her free – when the eladrin darted her hands forward, through the apparently insubstantial cuffs, and attacked.



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