RPG Recap: Beyond the Temple of the Abyss, 2012-01-14

Friday, the 6th day of the Red Moon, 937

Thursday night, Alp the Acolyte, Delian the Elf, Derick the Soldier, and Alec the Apprentice had arrived back at the baron’s keep early and, after a rough day beneath the Gladwell place, got a good rest before their next day undeground.

The next morning, they reported to Captain Horn to get scrolls, ink, and more bodies. All of these were waiting for them – along with a tongue-lashing by the captain, who was not pleased to have gotten the first word of the scuffle between Alp and Agbert Gladwell from old Gladwell, rather than from one of his own men. Alp promised that he was going to apologize, but Captain Horn told him to just steer clear of Gladwell for a few days to let things simmer down. Head hung, Alp agreed.

As for the reinforcements, they didn’t have much to add, save for Lyweylln the Elf, who added a few cheerful notes on his freshly-carved flute. Captain Horn, hardened to elfin nonsense by years of exposure, kept his thoughts to himself.

Once on site, Lyweylln had a quick chat with one of the farm hands, and asked about whether he know much about any history of trouble at the estate. He very pleasantly told all that he knew, which amounted to roughly nothing. He said that once in a while a horse would go missing, or goblins would be spotted nearby causing mischief. Apart from that, though, the only excitement he’d seen in his three seasons with the Gladwells was the disappearance of the men from town and the altercation between Old Man Gladwell and Alp. Lyweylln gave the farmhand his flute in thanks, and the farmhand happily accepted it and clambered back up to the top of the watchtower.

The party descended the tunnel in the stable without incident, and Alp immediately suggested hauling the bloodsoaked font back up the tunnel to be salvaged. When met with resistance, he decided to do it himself, and with a tremendous effort, managed it.

Meanwhile, the party lit a fire in the small fireplace near the still-hanging, now slightly rotting horse carcass. (Setting the tone for things to come, Delian had to leap to action to prevent Dumbasbrix the Medium from trying to light the fire with a magic missile.) With no results of note, the fire was extinguished and the party descended the tunnel behind it into the cramped complex junction with the labeled passages. Through the yet-unexplored “water” passage, they found a huge cavern with a gently flowing river. Before the room could be fully explored, all attention was quickly focused on the seven planters along the northwest wall. Dumbasbrix quickly found a seed in one of them and, before he could be stopped, took a taste. His reaction was unreserved: “Yummy!”

Unfortunately, he continued to work his way through the seeds, with increasingly deleterious effects. One nut-like seed was full of a sticky green goo. The sprout inside the goo – along with plenty of the goo itself – ended up in Dumbasbrix’s mouth, causing swelling, itching, and the inability to speak. After that, another seed seemed to have no effect, apart from possibly some numbness. The final seed sealed his fate: the green good quickly liquified and poured from his mouth. Then, too, did his tongue, jaw, and chin dissolve into a pink mess. He collapsed, dead, and his traveling companion Lyweylln quickly and respectfully looted his corpse and dumped it in the river.

Other adventurers were not deterred from further experiments in extemporaneous subterranean botany. Delian attempted to reproduce the acid admixture, and succeeded, dissolving his hand cleanly to the wrist.

Derick took a bit of time looking into the round stone pillar in the middle of the river. In doing so, he drove a large, weird frog from the water. It was deep purple, eight-legged, as big around as a saucer, and quickly bisected by a blow from Derick’s shield. Alec collected samples of the various oozes that issued forth, just in case.

Lyweylln, investigating the blue moss growing on the south wall, smeared some of it onto an arrowhead. In a feat of exemplary elfin archery, he fired the arrow into one of the small pips that Jared had found, producing a plume of grey-blue smoke. Delian, picking up the pip and getting a good whiff, was overcome by some sort of fit and ran to the north entrance, waving his arms wildly and gibbering something about goblin hordes. Jared cured him of this condition with the careful application of his sword’s pommel. When he then suggested dragging the elf around the dungeon by his feet, Derick volunteered to heft him over his shoulders.

With their interest in the river cavern exhausted, the party headed up the south tunnel to the ruined kitchen, where Jared looted a small pewter pot from the belly of the stove. The went north through several intersections and found themselves in the room with the smashed idol.

It was 16:00, and play ended.

R.I.P., Dumbasbrix the Medium

Written on January 16, 2012
rpg-beyond   dnd   rpg