Patience, most definitely a virtue!
An Evening with Endithas Wolfram
Session 16, Player recap
Oh, hello there friend! Have I a story for you, and one with a valuable lesson to be gleaned and not to be forgotten.
Together with my companions Belgarath and Kalasandr… look over yonder table, notice the two gentlemen, pale in complexion and shivering slightly? Yes, the three of us, along with our aides Erasmus, Mearl, Waevryn and Solla, we ventured into the barrows yesterday.
We began our day here in Helix. We hired a lad by the name of Morgar from Guildmaster Osen, meant to lead us back to the barrows where we had ventured once before. We had intended to spend a part of the day searching the Barrowmaze and then to head towards the Sukiskyn farmstead. You see, we had been tasked with transporting pure white steeds to the elven town of Rifflian. But you know the saying; even the best laid plans…
We got a bit lost on the journey to the barrowmoor, the second time this has happened. But our guide eventually delivered us to our destination.
Next to the entrance into the Barrowmaze were several other mounds, two of which still had their stone caps in place. However, at the furthest mound we noticed half of its capstone lying in the grass, a hole into darkness on the side of the hill while the sun shone warm on our faces. We crept forward to investigate.
Seeing a staircase leading down, and with lanterns in hand we followed the dingy stairs into a mausoleum of sorts. The room was 30 feet square and only 7 feet high! In the centre lay the remains of a stone sarcophagus with the top cast aside and smashed; the bones of its inhabitant were strewn about the room.
Kalasandr searched for hidden inlets and passageways, but found none. Whilst he did so, I strode up to the large cold coffin and peered inside. On first examination, there was nothing but more of the remains of its resident. That’s when I saw it: A slight shimmer from the light cast by the lantern; I spied a ring on the finger of the deceased! I gently took the gem, thanking its former owner for his generosity. What luck that this had not been noticed by those that had first entered! Passing the band around, none of us knew of its value, or if there was some powerful magics locked within.
We decided to move the sarcophagus to see if anything was below, but there was no more to be found. After replacing the casket, we headed back out to the light of day. We quickly looked at the other two capped mounds, but decided that they would be for another adventure. We headed back to the entrance of the Barrowmaze.
Morgar was tasked with staying behind to look after my donkey, Wilemina, as we descended into the dungeon. Kalasandr tied his lantern to the rope and lowered it down ahead of us. The place smelled damp and foul, and the echoes of quiet dripping was all that could be heard over our breathing. We peered closer at the frescoes on the walls; they showed a sullen and melancholy march towards a barrow mound, surely a funeral procession from long ago.
Now, my friend, we come to the crux of our story. We formed ranks, and cautiously made our way into the maze. Veering left into the unknown, we came to the end of a short corridor with a large oak door standing before us. We quietly discussed how to go about venturing within. We decided on an order, checked for signs of any type of machination designed on injuring those unwanted and uninvited. I quietly stood in the vanguard, sweat trickling down my brow and back as those better suited than I took the necessary precautions. More necessary than we had realized.
From the rear of our group came what sounded like shuffling feet and whispered grumblings. Belgarath, our sage and certainly most learned of our group, shouted ‘That’s it!’ and stormed through us all and towards the door, angrily grabbing the latch and moving inside! I could not believe his actions, and neither could my companions, as we all stood frozen in disbelief at his actions.
He turned to look at us, a smirk on his face as if to say that he knew better than we did, when from above we heard a grinding sound. We all looked up to the top of the doorway, only to see a slab of stone rushing towards the ground to trap our hasty mage within! All I saw before it slammed into place was Belgarath’s face, the smirk replaced by stark terror in his wide open eyes!
Kalasandr dove into his satchel, quickly finding what he searched for, a crowbar. He silently handed it to me. From within we heard a scream, and then words of magics being uttered in a shrill and quivering voice. Our friend on the other side was in peril! I dropped to my knees, trying desperately to wedge the tool beneath the large aperture, and with all the strength I could muster, I pulled upwards.
Solla, Waevryn and Mearl leapt under the raised stone slab to aide Belgarath, and to our relief, our friend was fine. He had used his magics to trap his assailants within an enormous web! Bound within were half-a-dozen chattering skeletons, terrifying to behold, their bones clicking together in an unholy cacophony. They were swiftly dispatched, silencing the predators eternally, and the door braced with a spear to allow safe passage out of the room.
Once out of the reach of the door, we stared incredulously at Belgarath. There may have been an unsavoury comment or two uttered in his direction. But as we cursed our companion’s hasty actions, we noticed an orange glow coming from down the corridor, erratically moving from side to side. I drew my bow, as did Mearl, and we fired simultaneously as the largest beetle I’ve ever seen came into view! Our arrows destroyed our attacker, killing it instantly before it could do harm. The noise must have lured it to us. Belgarath, humbled by his blunder, meekly moved forward and began to remove the glowing orbs attached to the creature’s body.
We returned to the corridor from which we had come, and decided to continue on through the dungeon. We came to yet another door, and Kalasandr looked at us, worry creasing his brow. Would another trap be sprung as we ventured within?
He opened the door, cautiously and quietly. From his crouching position he looked inward, and the upward. As he did, a huge spider lunged at him! But with lightening reflexes he was able to deflect the foul creature as Mearl brought his spear down, impaling it, innards spilling out onto the floor.
The danger avoided, we looked into the room, seeing the ceiling covered in thick webbing. Kalasandr took one of the glowing orbs and tossed it into the web. It held firm, and it illuminated the entire nest. Along the walls were intricate carvings of a procession of the dead walking towards the afterlife. It chilled me to look at the images of their blank expressions. Belgarath ran over to the dead spider, giggling and mumbling to himself, in search of glands containing venom, which apparently is quite potent in this eastern Karameikos variety. As he worked on the carcass, the skeleton of an adventurer was found in the room containing a small pouch with a number of electrum pieces within!
After taking the treasure we moved on, cautiously entered the neighbouring chamber, Kalasandr listening and searching for more hidden devices. The room was unnaturally cold, the temperature suddenly dropping. From within we could see a single skeleton lying on a stone slab in the centre of the room, the walls covered with frescoes that had been vandalized. A mist gathered, translucent and certainly not from the world of the living. An ephemeral figure appeared, arms outstretching towards us, a sword impaled through the ghostly creature’s chest!
Kalasandr’s scream could barely be heard over our own, I’m ashamed to say. He was the first to turn and bolt, the rest of us in tow! I dropped my sword, though I didn’t realize it till later, and lanterns and torches were all discarded by our group, such was our fear of the haunt!
We raced back to the start of the Barrowmaze, heaving breaths and recovering our wits. It was several minutes before we realized Belgarath was missing! We hurriedly began to light torches in order to search for our lost companion, but while doing so, Belgarath sprinted into the room clutching his chest, his face stark white from his second ordeal! We all agreed that we had had quite enough for one day. We ascended the godless depths, disheartened and defeated.
Morgar and Wilemina were nowhere to be found when we came to the entrance. An ill-fated end to an inauspicious day, to be sure. What can be learned from this, dear friend? There are a number of lessons, I am sure. But the one that seems to be clear above all others, patience is a virtue of virtues, do not forget this, friend!
And our beloved Begarath has earned a new nickname in addition to the Miser! I now call him the Hasty One, as do the ladies I hear! Hawr hawr hawr!
Buuurp.