Gamelog for my Dolmenwood Campaign written by Maydrid the Rogue. Rogue’s Gallery:
- Marj Smith the Fighter.
- Maydrid the Rogue.
- Madrid the Rogue (twin sisters).
- Jackie-of-Many-Colors (Elven Magician).
- Spruce-Upon-Gallows (Elven Enchanter).
- Hogrid Weavilman (Cleric).
- Boone the Hunter (Hunter).
- Tassain (Minstrel).
Four, 8-foot tall statues stand in each corner of this room – upon closer inspection, each statue has a dusty plaque that reads, “Valour,” “Piety,” “Wisdom,” and “Duty.” Beyond, there is a separate, adjoining room with a statue of Saint Arthur, so Hogrid says.
The walls surrounding this room are crusted with brown mold. A dead goblin lies on the floor, motionless. From behind them they hear one of the goblins loudly whisper to another, “Ah poor Borckle, we have to remember to tell his missus.”
Marje ties a piece of cloth over her nose and mouth and begins clearing away the mold on the walls. Thousands upon thousands of spores explode instantly, causing the rest of the party to slightly retreat.
Once done, Marje stands back to admire her work, the walls now clean. The spores die down and she removes the cloth before turning back around. “Hogrid, I feel a strange warmth overcoming me.”
Hogrid smiles. “It seems that Saint Arthur has blessed you for your kind act.”
“There are stairs here,” Maydrid calls out, peering down the flight that descends into darkness. More giggling is heard from the gaggle of goblins. Madrid rolls her eyes.
“Let’s just go – whatever is down there I’m sure we can handle.”
As they climb down the stairs Maydrid and Marje feel a strange tug at their backpacks, as if something or someone had brushed up against it. They both reach for their gear, shooting each other a strange look.
At the bottom of the stairs is a long corridor that disappears into the darkness. The walls and ceilings drip with condensation and icy mist. Three bodies of dead goblins lie, mangled, near the last step. The sight sends shiver down Madrid’s spine.
“Okay, maybe on second thought what the goblin’s know could be valuable.”
Boone crouches to investigate the corpses, grimacing at the sight. “Something with a lot of force hacked away at them, probably with a large axe or sword.”
With that they turn and ascend the stairs to where the goblins are waiting, twiddling their thumbs. When they approach the goblins quickly stand up again, Beelzebub standing as tall as he can. “So, you have come to barter for our knowledge because you were bested?” he boasts, raising an eyebrow.
Sprue sighs. “What will you take for your information?”
“Gold and jewels of course!”
“What if I told you,” Sprue begins, flourishing an item from his pocket, “you could have this legendary wishing monkey in exchange for your information?” He is holding a small, golden statue of a monkey who is missing a paw; red gems adorn its eyes.
Beelzebub’s eyes widen in amazement. “Deal!” he screeches, reaching for the monkey. Sprue dodges him.
“Now hold on – the magic is used by anyone who touches it and thinks of their wish.”
“Boss, you can’t just have it! We want wishes too. Rock paper scissors!”
They argue back and forth for a few minutes before it’s decided that Meepbeep is the winning owner of the wishing monkey. He reaches up and takes it from Sprue, closing his eyes tightly and mumbling, “I wish to be a goblin king.”
“No!” Madrid yells frantically. “If you utter your wish out loud, it won’t come true!”
Meepbeep opens his eye in shock and stares down at his hands that once held the golden monkey; they now hold a large rock.
“You’ve used up the magic!” Sprue exclaims.
His goblin companions descend on him with angry words and the shaking of fists. Once they have calmed down, Beelzebub crosses his arms with a huff. “There’s a death knight down there – be careful! He slayed many of my bravest men.”
Now that they are looking more closely the walls of the dark, damp corridor are adorned with images of hunters in the woods searching for prey. Although the corridor continues, it branches out into another room on the left some twenty-feet forward.
The room is large and circular in shape – a statue of an antlered man stands proudly in the center. Before the man are two offering bowls; one is filled with gems and the other of coins, with a heavy amulet draped across both. There are several coloured stones laid out in a circle on the floor around the statue.
“I hear something!” Jackie hisses out as she lowers her voice, gesturing to the entrance they came from. The sound of heavy footfalls accompanied by a high-pitched scraping sound echoes down the corridor.
“Go!” Sprue ushers, casting a spell on himself so that he turns invisible. The rest of the party continue on into the next room as quietly as possible.
A pool of grayish water sits in the middle of the room. Algae floats on the surface and in-between the greenery Madrid catches a glimpse of shiny coins. Marje dips the tip of her sword into the water, and when she raises it to her eye for inspection she notices that the water is fizzing and bubbling in a strange way.
“It’s acidic,” she says, sheathing her sword. “Best to leave those coins for now, lest you want to lose the skin of your hand.”
Meanwhile, Sprue watches as a giant skeleton wearing rusty armor and grasping a broken blade stumbles into the room. The skeleton shuffles over to a wall that, to Sprue’s shock, opens up seamlessly for him. The skeleton enters and then disappears.
“Hey!” Sprue calls once the coast is clear. “So, it’s definitely not a death knight, but it is undead. And there is another exit in this room.”
Marje stands with a hand on her hip, staring at the two bowls. “Did the skeleton interact with any of this at all?” Sprue shakes his head, and Marje takes that as her sign to step into the circle of coloured stones and collect the loot. As soon as she does so, a loud, ear-piercing animalistic howl resounds from the antlered statue; the footfalls and scraping sound can be heard again.
“Hurry!” Jackie says, rushing back to the room with the pool. The others follow her lead.
From the sounds of it, the skeleton enters the room, stands there for a few seconds, and then leaves just as quickly as it came.
“Perfect,” Madrid says, grinning at the treasure. “Can never have enough gold and jewels!”
“Now for the door,” Sprue mutters to himself, approaching the wall that seems to be flush. He fiddles around with it before he finally finds the trigger, causing the secret door to swing inwards. Two, glowing red dots greet him, before it emerges from the darkness with a cackle. A floating skull hovers in, its head ablaze.
Hogrid reacts first, slamming his mace into the skull. It recoils against the floor and shatters into tiny, bone pieces. “Well,” he comments, staring at the fragments. “Whatever that was, it’s gone now.”
Beyond the secret door is a statue of a woman kneeling, offering forward a sword in the palms of her hands. She is sitting before a set of ornate double-doors. Sprue tries to wiggle past her, but when he reaches for the door the statue stands up, blocking his entry with her sword. “What makes a true knight?” she asks coldly.
“Valour, wisdom, duty and piety,” Sprue recites. The statue nods and places her sword first on his left shoulder, then his right, pronouncing him worthy of knighthood. Then she stands and steps aside, allowing them to pass.
The double-doors open up into a room dominated by a huge viking ship, a detailed dragon’s head carved in its bow. Unfortunately, the skeleton walks through the secret door at this moment, and upon sensing them, charges into the room. Boone just barely rolls back in time.
Marje jumps forward, her sword clanging against his bones. It causes a few to crack, but he rebuts with a swing of his own. It knocks her off her feet and she flies backwards, landing unconscious. Hogrid murmurs a few words as he holds up his holy symbol towards the skeleton, causing it to suddenly freeze in place.
Madrid, Maydrid and Boone engage with their daggers and bow, causing a few more bones to break. Its rib cage begins to collapse.
Hogrid is now kneeling beside Marje. He recites a prayer and touches her wounds, causing them to close up. Marje blinks a few times and then stands, thanking Hogrid. She, too, attacks, dealing the final blow as the skeleton explodes in bone chunks.
“Phew,” Madrid comments, a smile adorning her face again. “Man, was that guy scary. All I’m hoping is that this ship has some shiny gold.”
She is correct – beneath the first deck is a chamber containing an embellished sarcophagus. Five bronze urns sit to the left of it, and leaning against the sarcophagus is a kite shield emblazoned with a golden dragon. A jeweled chalice stands still beside the shield.
Marje pushes the lid of the sarcophagus off and inside is the preserved body of Brandon Galblight – the dragon slaying breggle knight – he is clutching a long sword.
“That emanates great magic,” Sprue comments, gesturing to the sword.
“We are taking this to aid in our fight against the dragon,” Marje says as she lifts the sword from the sarcophagus, and Brandon almost seems to nod.