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Darian grabbed the gold and took a victorious swig of ale from the tankard. "Calidor would be proud," she thought. She looked at the large figure slumped against the wall, with a gaping wound from it's back. "Or not...," she thought. She wiped the black clotting mess off her sword, and headed to the west. She was beginning to think that adventuring alone was not all it's cracked up to be. Kinda lonely, actually.
{What else can I say? If she comes to a door, she'll listen at it.}
Adventuring alone had its plusses and minuses. On the one hand, she had to answer to no-one. Darian could do whatever she wanted and have no goody-goody allies try to stop her or tell her off about it. There was less time discussing things... she could just go.
On the other hand, it was nice to have support. Having Andy around to patch her up was always nice. She also didn't have to worry as much about the task at hand... Calidor was always the one to keep them on track, and if not him, someone else. That left her time to goof around while the others did the hard work. Most importantly, Darian was a social animal. She liked having people around to talk to, even if they weren't always friendly. Any reaction was better than none at all.
Striding along the passageway, it got darker. The air grew increasingly damp, and at one point she had to wade across a pool. Water dripped from the ceiling and thick hanging stalactites made progress slow and difficult. As the passageway bent to the south, a stalagmite formation on the floor caught her eye; it was clearly unusual in shape.
Darian picked up a stone and chucked it at the formation.
{I want to know if similarly unusual stalagtites appear on the ceiling? Anyway, if nothing happens with the stone, she will approach carefully and poke it with her sword.}
Darian's rock struck a curious looking piece of stone. Wait... it wasn't stone at all. She could just make out that the formation was actually a slim body limed over and covered with stalagmites. It had obviously been here for some time. If she wanted to examine the body, she would have to chip away the chalky deposit to find out what lay underneath -- a task which could take a couple of hours.
She examined nearby stalagmites carefully. She wanted to make sure they weren't those kind that are actually alive. She'd heard how they can drop on you and ruin a girl's perfect figure.
Darian began chipping away at the lime covered body, trying to find any clues (and, of course, valuables). It was always so exciting to find a fallen adventurer. She paused for a moment, wondering what killed the poor bloke. Typically they were adorned with curious trinkets. Travelling alone, Darian wouldn't have to share any goodies with greedy little Kenders.
After much determined and careful chipping, a skeletal shape began to reveal itself. She had to eat some rations during a break from her work, it took that long. Eventually, she uncovered most of a slim skeleton -- an elf, perhaps. She could make out the remains of a backpack and a rusted sword -- both quite useless. However, in the rotted shreds that were once a pack, there was a slender flask of white metal.
Darian lit up when she saw the curious metal flask. She quivered with excitement as she held it, flushing with temptation to open it. She stood up for a better look at the flask. She stood with one foot ignorantly on the face of the fallen adventurer, partially caving it in.
"I better save you for later," she thought, in a rare show of self-control. She slipped the flask in with her stuff.
"I love my job," she thought, as she dusted herself off, and moved on.
As she walked on, she began to feel lonely. She had taken for granted the comforts of having others around, especially men. She enjoyed watching them pine for her, especially when she was dancing. After, she would step down from the platform, and it was like a goddess had joined mortal men. All eyes in the Prancing Pegasus would follow her to the bar. She longed for the day when, somehow, Calidor would enter the tavern, and see her dancing there. And somehow, he would find her irresistable.
She knew, of course, that it would never happen. It just not possible with him. He would probably blush and avert his eyes, or scowl at her, or worse. She supposed that behaviour was part of what made him a lord. Perhaps it was also partly what made her not a lady. At least, not yet.
She got along so much better with Lenear; they had so much more in common. But now he was married. Darian's life was starting to feel very much like this tunnel. Only one direction, stifling, and confining. She would have to get out of these passages soon, with or without Alsander. This was getting beyond lonely; it was becoming... uncomfortable.
The flask was metal, and not transparent. She would have to open it to find out more.
Darian had conflicting desires for independence and companionship. She wanted people to like her and respect her... but with no strings attached. She wanted freedom, but none of the accountability which went with it. It was interesting that while her relationship with the paladin was rocky at best, she still cared about his opinion of her. It was as though she desperately wanted his approval, but had no idea how to go about getting it.
The place seemed more and more cramped. Perhaps it was getting narrower... or maybe it was simply her own subconscious fear of confinement playing tricks on her, distorting her view.
She trudged south along the passageway which seemed to go on interminably. Finally, she came to a T-junction, and from there she could head either east or west.
Darian decided to head east.
{If she comes to something blocking her way (a door, etc) she'll head back west. She's kinda scoping things out.}
There was a smell in the damp air, which grew stronger the further she walked along: the smell of the crypt, the dread stench of death. The passageway opened into a darkened chamber. Even with the enchanted torch, she could see nothing in it unless she entered.
Getting a bad feeling, Darian decided to backtrack. As she travelled west, a faint singing could be heard in the air, as if a subterranean choir was at its devotions in the far distance. She saw that the passage turned north and opened into a vaulted chamber from which the sound seemed to be coming.
Darian quietly entered the vaulted chamber, trying to get a closer look. She pulled out a piece of wax from her spell components and fashioned two small plugs from it. She was wary of enchanted music - the kind that makes you do things you wouldn't otherwise do. Even worse, it could sometimes make you fall asleep. She kept the pieces of wax ready to stuff in her ears, if she started feeling strange.
Occasionally soft religious music was played while Darian spoke to Andarra in the temple at Hawkwind Castle. She associated it with annoying behaviours like oaths, praying, and especially chastity (her least favourite). The purpose of music was to encourage sex, not to abstain from it! She giggled as she thought of how silly they looked all lined up in yellow robes. Of course, some people thought she looked silly in her dancing outfit. She liked this new "armour". It was enough to make any priest think thoughts unchaste!
Darian silently crept closer, attempting to determine who (or what) caused the music.
Music was funny. As far as Darian was concerned, music and sex had a direct relationship. Yet that was more a reflection of her, and her interests, than in music in general. The music played and sung in the chapel was concerned with faith. Andarra had a marvelous singing voice, and was a priestess, but tended to sing more for pleasure than for any religious reasons. Rand, a born lecher, could make his lute weep. It was amazing how such a seemingly shallow person could produce sounds that cut to the soul.
Darian entered the huge chamber in which stood tombs and mausoleums made of grey stone, with exquisite embellishments. She was very fortunate indeed that she had chosen to plug her ears. Even the muffling of the earplugs could not completely keep out the hypnotic singing, which made her want to stay and listen to it forever.
The earplugs probably saved her life. Darian was not noted for her strong willpower. She saw the source of the singing, as wraiths began to emerge from the shadows, eager to greet her with their cold embrace. Darian did the thing anyone with any sense would do: she fled for her very soul. The wraiths howled in agony as she escaped them, the inhuman longing for warmth and life echoing as she fled the room that was their prison.
That was simply too close.
Darian paused to catch her breath. There was not a whole lot she hated more than being dominated. It seemed to her that lately, this had been a recurring theme. Bane had imprisoned her, far in the past. That creep Ra's Al Ghul had manipulated her, for his own purposes. Now, even the undead tried to claim her most precious freedom. Even her friends, in subtle ways, sought to control her actions. If, for example, Calidor had his way with her, she would be singing religious monotones with Kayla and Andarra. She couldn't see much difference between that kind of assimilation, and the eager wraiths in the other room.
She started to think that perhaps the eastern path, leading to that dark room, was more inviting after all. It might have a nauseating stench, but so far it didn't seem to contain wraiths. She cautiously headed east, and stopped where the darkness increased.
She attempted to cast Dispel Magic in the area. Darian found that Dispel Magic rarely worked for her - there were simply too many wizards with superior ability. She hadn't been focussing on her magical studies anyway. Her abilities used to be much more impressive, with spells like Stoneskin. Now she had simply forgotten how to do it. Darian preferred the sword. Meanwhile, wizards like Starlimas were able to cast things she had never heard of. Even that bookish, foreign girl Kayla had an obvious advantage.
{If the Dispel doesn't work, she will cast Continual Light in the area, trying to cancel out any magical darkness effects that might be present. Whether they work or not, she has to eventually enter the room, so she will... cautiously. If she can see an exit, she will head for it. Otherwise, she will stick to the left wall, moving silently.}
It was perhaps fortunate that all Darian cared about was being dominated by the wraiths. It kept her from thinking of what her fate would be... having her life force ripped from her body. To be an undead shade was a truly horrific thing, beyond any mundane sort of horror that could happen to her.
Darian was a creature of stereotypes. She grouped Andarra and Kayla together, while they were as different as night and day. She would probably be surprised to hear Andarra's opinion of Kayla. Kayla was very conservative and dogmatic, while Andarra was liberal and tended more to philosophy than preaching. It was clear that after all this time, she had never actually listened to either one's point of view. She simply assumed that religion equated to slavishly following a single set of rules. Not ideology, not a moral code -- rules.
She assumed that Calidor wanted her to become some sort of religious drone... and she grouped his approach with that of the truly insidious Ra's al Ghul, who didn't give you a choice in the matter. Any restriction of her freedom, even for a good reason, was repulsive to her. Unfortunately, respecting the rights of other people and behaving in a "good" manner could be considered a restriction. It was this inability to distinguish right from wrong that was the root of her incomprehension of the man.
The Dispel caused the darkness to turn to the mundane blackness she had become accustomed to. As she was very close to the entrance, she could see a round chamber littered with bones. Stone steps leading down into the floor were cut into the far end of the chamber. Turning towards her as she gazed in was a skeletal figure carrying a huge, ice-blue, two-handed sword!
Darian had recently learned how to use a club, and felt quite comfortable using one. The thought never occurred to her, however, to actually carry one with her. Unfortunately, she knew her favourite bladed weapons would have little effect on this boney fellow.
Perhaps a defensive approach would be better. She tried to cast Mirror Images on herself, hoping to get if off before the creature stuck.
{If there's a clear path to the stairs, she'll make a run for it. Otherwise, Darian's going to stay in the entranceway and defend herself with her sword. How many skeletal figures can she see? Your "undead to the left and right of me" description makes me think there's lots.}
{Naw, that is in reference to the wraiths in the last room, and 'bonehead' in this one.}
There was only one skeleton, but in its ancient plate armor and massive blade, it was fearsome-looking indeed. The skeleton stood guardian over the stairs... she would have to get painfully close to it if she wanted near them, and it seemed doubtful it was going to easily let her by.
Darian cast her spell, and many false images of herself appeared. She smiled confidently. However, her confidence vanished as the thing came straight for her, the --real-- her. Skeletons were mindless, and could "see" a creature's life-force. Illusions were useless against them!
The thing raised its blade, and brought it around in a deadly arc! Darian frantically ducked, and the weapon hit the wall near the entrance with a resounding clang. Quickly counterattacking, Darian didn't bother to stab with her sword... it would only slide past the bones. She brought her sword around in a slash, which penetrated the undead thing's armour! However, the skeleton showed no sign of slowing... these things felt no pain. Still, it would be suicide to relent in her offense, and attacked once more before the ponderous thing could attack again. Lashing out once more, she brought her sword down in a chopping motion, actually connecting with its arm in what would have been a nasty slash... had there been any skin there.
{Geez, you have no luck at all in initiative rolls! While you occasionally win, I think so far in this adventure, you've lost about two thirds of them!}
The thing brought its sword around again, and again Darian ducked. This time, however, it had slashed in a diagonal arc, and the chilling blade bit her, creating a shallow, but painful slashmark.
{Take 5 damage.}
Darian once again attacked twice. She slashed once, again penetrating its armor. Unfortunately, instinct took over as her next attack was a lunge, which passed harmlessly through its ribs.
The thing paused for a moment, seeming to think about what to do. That was impossible! As Darian tried to take advantage of the pause, it suddenly lunged forward, nearly impaling her on its blade!
{Yikes, a critical! Rolled a 9 and a 10, +3 for the sword. Take 22 points of damage!}
Numbed by pain, Darian weakly tried two more blows. In her weakened state, they both bounced harmlessly from its armor.
Darian knew she was in trouble. She lashed out with all her might, and her sword crashed into the monster! She heard a satisfying snapping sound, and actually saw bone fragments fly from the hole she made in its armor!
{Natural 20, rolling two 8's for damage, even though it only takes half, it had to notice that!}
Off balance, the creature swung its sword around once more, and hit nothing but air.
Hoping to press her new advantage, Darian tried to quickly counterattack, only to have it jerk up its blade, deflecting her blow.
{Okay, it looks damaged, but Darian just took a very nasty owie. What now?}
Having to vanquish evil by herself really pissed Darian off. She was here to rescue some pesky mage, and as far as she was concerned, the gold wasn't going to cut it.
Her back was already marked up from her childhood. She didn't need additional scarrage on her front to match. She simply couldn't believe the size of the hole in her torso, and that it could ever heal up again. She could feel the warm blood moving slowly on her skin.
No more playing around. Darian desperately grabbed the wand. She sincerely hoped this thing wasn't immune to paralysis. She pointed at it, and said the activation word.
{Darian is carefully backing away from the creature. Not enough to give it a free attack, but I'm switching to "she's almost dead let's use spells" mode. She's down to 11 hit points. Any ideas? Let's take this slow... one round at a time.}
Darian's eyes widened in horror as the green beam of the wand struck the skeleton... and it didn't even slow down!
{Sorry, ALL undead are immune to paralyzation.}
The creature approached and once again brought up its sword, cutting Darian across the stomach. Darian's vision was beginning to blur and she could see spots in front of her eyes.
{Take another 7 damage. It rolled another 20, but this time the damage was low (a 3 and a 1, plus 3).}
{Okay, narrator voice is OFF. Darian is in a VERY bad situation, and is down to 4 hit points. One more hit, regardless of damage rolled, and Darian falls, and it's game over. Here, as I see it, are her options: 1) Full scale retreat: sure, it MIGHT hit her, but it is clearly slower than she is. If she can avoid that sword, she'll probably get away. 2) Damage spells: Her sword doesn't seem to be very effective against it. She'd need to unleash one of her BIG guns here, like a fireball or lightning bolt. That might just do it in. 3) Experimentation: Darian might drink that flask she recently found, and hope for the best. She could also try outwitting the thing.}
{As far as I'm concerned, this is your fight to win or lose. While I will give you every opportunity to survive, I won't twist fate to save her. I am aware that that isn't in our particular DM/Player contract. It would be unfair to you, based on your ideas on lethality in a campaign, for me to go out of my way to save her. However, I will not rule out the possibility of bringing her back should she perish, IF THAT IS WHAT YOU WANT. If not, and she does go down, well, it's been quite a ride.}
Darian decided to run for it. It may have already been too late, but she knew when she was beat. She hadn't tasted fear like this since Bane had cut her down, many months before. That fear was like fuel now. She ran for her life.
{As you can see, we're not talking about Baern here. Darian is not into that "fight to the death, die gloriously" stuff. Especially not when she's alone. However, if she dies, she dies. Period. If this skeleton rolls another critical she's going to be very dead. If she does die, it's probably going to be a blow to her back (how fitting!). Hey, it's kinda cool to die by PBeM. At least everyone can read about it! Try to make it a good writeup - if it comes to that.}
{So here I am, sort of dreading the roll, knowing that Darian will go down and die if this thing hits her once more. It has a THAC0 of 11, and hits on a 9, seven from behind. I think of how many adventures Darian has had, and what an extraordinary character she has been. I know you'd hate me forever if I fudge it, so I just close my eyes and roll. And guess what? A two. A TWO!!!! At that point, I realized I had been holding my breath, and exhaled.}
Darian turned and ran. There was no point in thinking about it... if she didn't get away, she'd join that pile of bones the skeleton had collected. She heard a whistling sound behind her... a 'clank' as it struck the floor. She didn't bother to turn around. She just ran, blind panic taking over. She turned north, having just enough presence of mind to turn away from the wraiths' mausoleum. That would be like jumping from the pan to the fire. She did not stop, did not rest, until she was sure the only sound she could hear was her own gasping breath and her own footfalls.
Finally, she risked turning around, looking for pursuit. While she was sure the thing had followed her for a time, it probably went back to its vigil when it could no longer "see" her. She collapsed in a heap, leaning against the walls, letting it all sink in. Her wounds ached, and she could do nothing but rest and catch her breath. Never had she come so close. Never had it truly occured to her that death was so close. And more importantly, she also knew, in her heart of hearts, that for all her ability, for all her talents, it was pure, blind luck that had saved her.
{Okay, so Darian ain't dead yet. She's sitting bleeding in a corridor, somewhat to the south of the body where she found the flask. And she has 4 hit points. IF she wants to progress down, she will still have to get past that f'in skeleton. Things are going very well, don'cha think?}
{If I'm moving too fast here, just cut in where things change.}
Darian felt really happy to be alive. She was getting tired, though. Her last night's sleep was so disturbing. She had been so content sleeping in the Reef Giant's cave. She longed to be back there, safe and warm.
Fortunately, Darian still had a few spells left. She pulled out a couple feathers from her spell components, and casted Fly on herself. Her reasoning was she needed to get out of here fast, and she didn't need to step in a trap or something, that would likely finish her off. She carefully casted the spell, and gently flapped her arms. She was much too tired to give that motion the usual energy. Besides, she couldn't remember if it was necessary anyway.
Darian flew over the pool of water she had waded through, and back to the Ogre's room. She continued on to the room where the orcs were. She passed back through the east wall where the illusion was, and passed back through the gate of the Iron Crypt. Once the spell wore off, she walked the rest of the way to the evil altar-room, where the priest lay slain.
In this place, Darian paused to have some food. She thought about how she would never again attempt such a dangerous mission alone. She felt sleepy, and decided it would be too far to try to reach the Reef Giant's cave today. She went briefly outside. She took a few breaths of fresh air, looked at the weather, and tried to determine the time of day.
Darian slipped back down through the trap door. She decided her sleep would be more restful if it wasn't near the altar of an evil god. She went back up the passage a short distance, and looked for a small niche or something she could hide in. She then casted Continual Darkness in the area to make herself even less visible. She used her gushy pack (which still contained a rather frumpled gown) as a pillow, and went to sleep.
Darian's head hit something hard. Muttering curses to herself, she opened her pack and realized that she had hit her head on the flask she had found. Well, it was only a small bump, and at least the flask was metal, and wouldn't shatter. Pushing it under the gown, she sighed. She'd spent a lot of money on that dress... even she, inexperienced in such things, could tell that the gown was probably ruined. Such a delicate garment simply wasn't built for such rough treatment. Well, at least it would cushion her head. Never before had darkness seemed so comforting to her. She fell asleep almost instantly.
