Things have been pretty lame recently. Ever since we've descended into this dingy combination crypt/temple, it's been non-stop horror, dread, and darkness. Very nostalgic, I suppose, but not in the good "retro kitschy" way. I'd rather not think about the past anyways; I did not spend my salad days eating spidercandy and flying spiderkites like all of the other young Drow.
We had just defeated a giant undead mummy of some sort. It was climbing the walls like some sort of titanic spiderman. Conan the Librarian got to show off his berserker moves. The giant grabbed me, but I used my patented Thunderwave attack to escape -- note to self: it didn't work. I had to escape the old-fashioned way. I think, all in all, it was a good fight.
We left that mummy rotting in the hallway and explored further. There was a great door, just like the ones to the other crypts. Cherubim graced the archway, basins filled with pitch-black liquid flanked the door. Images of copper coins were engraved above. Our barbarian, in a feat of heretofore unrivalled brilliance, placed a pair of coppers in the basin, unlocking the door.
The crypt was much like the others we raided. Inside, the annoying wailing sound dulled. The walls lined with cubby holes with a name inscribed, each bricked up. A random smashy-smash confirmed this was a crypt for children. As usual, the rest of the group were kind of uneasy about kicking about baby skulls. We kept my patented room-exploring strategy of casting the spell of Light on a bone and throwing it across the room.
We found a finely crafted set of armour in one room, surrounded by hacked-and-slashed corpses. Judging by the make and model, very baroque, probably forty-third century with influences from overseas. I'd say he's been here for hundreds of years. Its owner was inside, dead, probably from boredom. He was still holding his mace in his hands; we pinched it. Not magical, but quite masterfully-crafted. Vira'll good use of it. She left her old mace in his hands, for chuckles. We also took his purse of coins and some gems. Thanks, dead guy; have a business card.
An aged velvet rope separated the next room, with the same silver locket like from the other crypts. Instead of just screwing around with that, we gingerly stepped over it. In the next room, we found another corpse torn in two. I'm pretty sure that the cause of death is related to his legs being several feet away from his torso. He looks like he could've been buddies with the dead guy from the last room. Not really a fashion sensation, though he had some really nice boots. Like, really nice. The barbarian dwarf pinched those; turns out they're magical. Makes you about 20% cooler. We also found some other junk, like some crappy thieves' tools. Must've been a thief?
It started getting real just about then. Skeletons formed from the scattered remains in the room, pulsing with some sort of dark energy. Just like the first crypt, the skeletons had no head and moved as if they were marionettes. We immediately looked up for skulls hanging from the ceiling; destroying the skulls would destroy the body. Nothing hanging from the ceiling. We all shared a look of dull realization that we had a game of hide-and-go-seek-skulls on our hands. The swordmage and Micron kept everyone occupied (I helped, totally.) Vira was standing between the two halves of the thief corpse. Each of the corpse halves animated and started kicking the hay out of Vira. Though stunned, she took the hits like a champ.
Wally the barbarian took to the left archway to look for skulls. It sounded like he found a few pit traps. It definitely sounded like he fell down one of them. The new kid (the rogue, I call her Rouge because she refuses to tell us her name, even after losing all of her memory) ran to the right-most exit looking for hanging skulls. They were two rooms away. After Vira came to, she healed herself and ran over. They found the skulls and shattered them up real good.
Tuckered out from our fight, we decided to take a nap in the room surrounded with pit traps. I've never had a worse nap in my life. Paralyzed. Darkness darker than pitch black. Tendrils coiling and writhing behind my eyes. A millstone grinding, the dust settling in the cracks of my mind. I woke up just as stiff as I was before, perhaps stiffer.
The others woke up funny as well. Vira, her unfocused eyes darting each which way, mouthing inaudible words to invisible people. The lines on her face trace unearned years of age. I last saw Walbert fixated on the runes carved into the wall, looking lost like a child at the spiderbazaar. Rouge woke up shaken and refuses to ever sleep again. Micrin is normally bright, but we find him cowering in the rear, holding his hammer as if it were a stuffed spiderbear. Ramuh... he's become even more like himself, perhaps the most terrifying of all?
But, you know what? We've been through worse. I've been through worse
During the watch, we found a lock box. Inside was the chalice we saw in that painting. The painting we found in the cabin above us. The painting of all of us, the new kid holding the goblet, and an altar of a giant skeleton.
We left the crypt and pushed into a corridor blocked by a giant plant-like plant thing. Tendrils attacked us, we burned it. We burnt it all. Behind the plant was a door to an altar.
We play D&D. In our company's board room. Every Monday evening given enough players.
