Garan Fest 3: Evil defeated! A New Champion Exalted!

The third day of the competition was in horseback riding and jumping. Vlad, whose grew up tending apples (along with listening to his grandfather’s prophecies and learning to fashion silver crossbow bolts) had never sat on a horse before. He was eliminated in the first round. (Roquelle and Sir Henry, meanwhile were not inspired to compete at all.)

Rellum, a local tanner noted that Mark seemed to have little interest in either the martial competition or the accompanying revelry and suggested that maybe he was “Some kind of wizard? I’ve known people like you.” Mark tried to put a quick end to the conversation, but the Tanner persisted, advertising his services in “custom covers for valuable books.” Made from dragon hide according to the Tanner. Mark said that he’d think about it and told his friends about the strange man’s offer. Vlad was still nursing a sore shoulder and his injured pride, but Thoric agreed to help find the Tanner’s shop. Asking around they heard that the Tanner was new in town and had taken over the old Tanner’s shop next to the well. Mark and Thoric located the shop, but found it closed. By this time, Vlad was back on his feet and eager to restore his pride. He convinced his friend to visit the festival tents and they cheered him on in a test of strength with a visiting strongman. (Vlad lost.)

Wandering on the outskirts of the festival ground, the party met Oli the village drunk and Februm the village loanshark. Having just received a beating from Februm and his toughs, Oli was grateful for a sack of wine and he told them what he knew about Garanton and the festival. This was very little, but Mark and Vlad were perplexed about one fact he told him—every year, the winner of the competition receives the Mantle of Garan—a black velvet cloak that according to legend once belonged to Garan himself. The same black velvet cloak? How? Oli asked for more wine and passed out.

That evening, they met someone else who also found it strange the same gift should be given away every year. Mikail Vetter, hero of the day’s riding completion was being feted at the tavern—and acting completely miserable. The party followed him out of the tavern and learned the reason for his mood. Both his grandfather and his father had won the mantle—and then gone off to war, never to be seen again. None of the winners were still around today. Only the mantle.

That evening, the party went on patrol with their red moss torches. They talked to some patrolling friars and questioned them about the history of Garan and the festival. The friar extolled Garan’s martial virtues of good words and deeds. Especially deeds. Garan led the uprising against 3 evil brothers who had terrorized the land. As they explained it, the winner of the festival customarily accepted the mantle and then went forth to seek glory and do honorable words and deeds. “Why should a hero spend his days in a sleepy village like this one?” Such heroes would of course be welcomed, but they couldn’t name any who actually had returned during their years at the abbey. But the mantle itself, they agreed, always returned. Taking their leave from the friars, the party went to the top of the hill to check on the arch. The sky was overcast and the arch wasn’t glowing. Reasoning that the shadow demons wouldn’t be a threat, the party called it a night.

The farmers and artisans rise early in Garanton so when Vlad, Thoric, and Mark did awaken, the village was abuzz with disturbing news: a local man had been killed—apparently by a shadow demon—right in the middle of the village. His body was found near the well. But a festival to honor a legendary warrior must go on regardless of portents and tragedy. Vlad went to testing ground to prepare for the archery contest, one he hoped to win. Vlad and Mark decided to visit Rellum the Tanner. The shop was closed, but they knocked loudly, Mark calling out that he wanted to talk about covering his spellbook. Rellum opened the door and ushered them into his little shop to display samples of his work. His skill was impressive and his price reasonable, but his manner strange. Mark did not like the way the Tanner covetously fingered his spellbook. But the distraction gave Thoric a chance to look around the shop. There was one interior door—with a door placed in fronting of it, jamming it closed. When Thoric tried to wriggle the chair free—but ended up cracking it, Rellum the Tanner snapped angrily and jumped across the room to slam the door shut—but not before Thoric caught a glimpse of a small kitchen in which the rest of Rellum’s furniture was stacked on top of a trapdoor. Mark heard a crashing noise from the cellar. Rellum began to scream that he was being robbed. Thoric and Mark agreed they should leave and went to the archery grounds. They told Vlad that they thought that the missing sculptor was being held prisoner in Rellum’s basement. Vlad agreed that he would go with them to check it out after the archery contest was over. But—when the sculptor’s distraught assistant Deidra heard that someone knew where her master was, she begged them to tell her and, after they did tell, went directly to the Tanner’s house to confront him. Vlad and a few other contestants agreed that they would not start the archery contest until the matter was resolved and went with Thoric and Mark to assist Deidre.

Rellum the Tanner refused to allow anyone inside. A friar joined the negotiations and tried to convince the Tanner that the visitors were not brigands. After a brief argument, Rellum cast a spell on his accusers and most of them fell asleep. Those who remained conscious battered down his door. The shop area had been cleared of small, valuable items. Vlad, Thoric, and Mark moved through it into the kitchen, reaching it just in time to see the shutters fly open. Thoric suggested that the Tanner was a magician and had turned invisible—they braced for an attack. When none came, the party began disassembling the pile of furniture and other heavy objects that held the kitchen trapdoor closed. As they worked, a force began battering against the door from below. Each blow from belong knocked the door open a couple inches and shook the pile of furniture. Thoric out the sculptor’s name and were answered by snarls.

Reasoning that there was a shadow demon in the basement, Vlad lit one of his special red moss torches. The others continued to move furniture. The trapdoor was now bouncing open several inches. A black claw flashed out, grabbing for Vlad’s ankle. He knelt and thrust the torch into the shadow demon’s face. The trapdoor slammed down on Vlad’s arm. He let go of the torch and pulled his arm free.

The party heard frantic commotion in the cellar. The shadow demon was no longer battering the trap door, but instead flying around the cellar, screeching and destroying things. Vlad loaded a crossbow bolt. Mark prepared to cast a spell. Thoric and the friar moved the rest of the furnitutre off the trap door. On the count of three, they opened the trapdoor. Thick, pungent smoke came spilling out, followed by the howling shadow demon. Vlad and Mark both hit it with their respective missiles. As the monster emerged, it was struck by the sunlight from the open window and vaporized.

The friar went out to tell Deidre the good news—the sculptor had been found! And the bad news—Rellum the Tanner had turned him into a demon in order to kill local cows and villagers! And the really good news—the demon had been destroyed by the villagers and now the festival could continue!

Vlad and Thoric checked that the basement was empty of any other shadown demons. Then Vlad wen to compete in the archery contest while Thoric and Mark searched the Tanner’s house. In the attic sleep space, they found a book that purported to tell the True and Secret Story of Garan the Ravager. Nothing about good words and deeds. The arch, according to the book, was built by one of Garan’s two brothers in the course of a fierce three-way sibling rivalry that escalated into war. Garan was killed in the battle with his brothers and buried in a secret tomb. Interesting stuff.

Vlad had another bad day, and was eliminated early from a contest that he had expected to win. He rejoined Thoric and Mark and the three debated their next course of action. They discussed visiting Garan’s tomb. Vlad wanted to return to the ravine near Garan’s tomb to recover the weapons he’d left behind so that he could carry his cousin’s body. But Thoric convinced his fellows that they should investigate the arch. Hadn’t Mark and Vlad seen four shadow demons emerge from the arch on a moonlit night? Shouldn’t they investigate it during the daylight hours?

In the daylight, the arch was just an arch, and the three adventurers discussed destroying it, using a hammer to test whether it was vulnerable to normal methods of destruction. It was—but their work was interrupted by a voice warning them of their imminent destruction. 

In the ensuing conversation, the party resolved that the voice wasn’t coming from the arch or from inside the arch, but from behind a bush or in the ruins nearby. And the voice sounded very much like Rellum the Tanner. He told them that instead of destroying the arch, they should learn how to harness its power. While Vlad and Mark peppered him with questions about the nature of this power and exactly how it could be harnessed, Thoric set about looping a rope around the keystone of the arch. Vlad and Mark couldn’t find the Tanner, but they heard him—not only his voice, but the sound of footsteps as he moved from one hiding place to another. They continued to close in on the source of his voice until finally, with a last threat of doom, he seemed to run away. When the sound of his footsteps faded, the three adventurers agreed to destroy the arch. They seized the end of the rope, walked out as far from the arch as they could and pulled with all their might. At first nothing happened, but when they did manage to twist the keystone, the rest of the stones did the work, pushing the keystone out and then tumbling to the ground. There were some surprised shouts from down in the village and a cloud of dust. When the dust settled, the heroes walked back down to Garanton.

That night at the tavern, Mark, Thoric, and Vlad were the heroes, praised for their success in killing the demon and in driving the Tanner out of town. “I always said he wasn’t right.” 

The celebrations were stymied by some disturbing news. The friars had caught someone trying to steal the mantle of Garan. Most people—other than Thoric, Vlad, and Mark—were shocked to hear that the culprit was local favorite Mikail Vetter, descendant of two previous winners! The friars locked Vetter in the cellar of the abbey. Tavern talk turned to Vetter’s strange behavior. Locals and visiting spectators debated whether Vetter’s crime was motivated by his poor performance at the day’s archery contest or whether causation worked in reverse—“I could tell by the way he looked at that target—his mind was on something else. And now we all know what!” Everyone agreed that he was a disappointment to the memory of his father and grandfather.

The night passed without incident, confirming for most people the friar’s theory that the recent threat posed by Rellum the Tanner and his unwilling accomplice the sculptor had been effectively eliminated. But it was a somber morning. Mikail Vetter was tried and convicted of multiple crimes against the village, the abbey and Garan the Mighty. He was sentenced to a sound flogging and exile.

In the afternoon, the completion of the week’s competition culminated in a series of one-on-one combats. Despite his poor showing on recent days, Vlad was still considered a favorite, along with locals Muttal and Ouvrar. Berl an expert archer had earned the right to easy first round contests but wasn’t expect to succeed in hand-to-hand combat against a “real warrior” in the mold of Garan the mighty. The duels were fought with wooden swords and lasted until one of the duelist fell and could not immediately return to his feet. Vlad easily won his first two rounds. Berl the archer also advanced. The other two finalists included Sir Havad and Barre. Sir Havad was the captain of a mercenary company and thus regarded by many as not a proper contender in a completion intended for untested warriors. Barre, one of Februm’s goons was even more disliked. Barre stumbled and was defeated by Berl the archer to the surprise of all and to the dismay of the many punters who had bet against him. Vlad’s success in the earlier rounds was attributed to his quickness, but in his fight against Sir Havad he showed he was also willing and able to sustain some heavy blows and keep on fighting. The crowd cheered to see the heroic stranger defeat the mercenary. Vlad and Berl were permitted an hour’s rest before the final round. The friar’s tended to both men’s wounds and gave them fortified wine for their final battle. Once again Berl surprised many by his ability to defend himself in hand-to-hand combat. But Vlad had more stamina and after sustaining a few solid blows himself, at last forced the archer to yield.

The final duel was followed almost immediately by the victory procession to the Plaza of Garan. The friars led the way with their statue of Garan, draped in its mantle. The procession arrived at the plaza, in front of Garan’s tomb, and the mantle of Garan was presented to Vlad. He was wary at first, but as the joyous crowd draped it over him, he felt encouraged by its presence. It felt strangely familiar, as if it had always belonged to him and he pulled it around his shoulders.

Mark and Thoric, lurking on the outside of the crowd, took a closer look at the tomb. It looked like the plaster seal had been broken, though it was unclear whether the stone door had been opened.   

Garah Fest Part 2 (Vlad and Mihir search for blood moss)

While the rest of the party rested after the battle on the clifftop and helped to calm frightened revelers, Vlad and Mihir talked with one of the friars who told them of a special incense that could be used to drive away. The one ingredient he needed was a special, blood-red moss that sometimes grew in the canyon near the tomb of Garan. Friar Colton told them the way and warned them to be careful—sometimes snakes, wild animals, and more dangerous things could be found in the dark places around the tomb.

The tomb was easy to find. The trail leading there ran through thin woodland and had recently been cleared in preparation for the festival. They passed over the flagstone plaza in front of the tomb and into the rocky canyon beyond. There was no path but Vlad and Mihir followed the walls of the canyon to its end, and found themselves in a place strewn with boulders. Spindly trees grew next to the canyon walls. Vlad and Mihir cut them away and found narrow slot canyons and explored these looking for the red moss.

Instead they encountered two of the vicious-looking pigmen that Roquelle had seen in the reeds of Barrow Creek. These didn’t run away, but attacked with their spears, making a strange “orc, orc!” grunting noise. Vlad dropped his crossbow and drew his sword. The orcs' spears were clumsy weapons in the slot canyon and Vlad killed them both.

Vlad and Mihir hiked back down into the main canyon and then hiked up into another one of the more narrow crevasses. Success at last!

Vlad and Mihir gathered handfuls of the red moss, moving further and further into the narrowing crevasse.

There was more moss and also more orcs. This time one attacked, while the other ran further up the crevasse and loudly blew a horn. Vlad killed one with his sword and shot the horn-blower with his crossbow. But out in the main canyon, he and Mihir could hear battle cries. They moved quickly down, hoping to exit the crevasse and get back to Garan without having to fight. But they weren’t fast enough. Three orcs met them. Vlad chose a narrow place where he could fight them one at a time. Mihir crouch on a boulder behind and, when an opportunity presented itself, lashed out with his flail. 

The three orcs fell, but more kept coming. One of them thrust his spear through the gap in Vlad’s breast plate ad also pierced the chain mail beneath. A larger orc appeared, wearing metal armor himself. He called the orcs out of the crevasse. Vlad and Mihir pursued them, and killed another two. As the crevasse widened, Vlad could no longer protect his cousin—while the orcs attacked on one side, another two attacked Mihir. A long spear pierced Mihir’s chest and other orcs pounced on him with their long knives, stabbing him repeatedly. Vlad killed one of his cousin's killers and then fell withdrew into the crevasse.

 The orcs did not follow, but stood waiting in the larger canyon, their spears pointing at him, daring him to try to escape the narrow crevasse. Vlad sheathed his sword, and pulled out his crossbow and fired it quick shot at the leader. His shot went wild and in his rush to reload as the leader ran for cover, Vlad jammed the firing mechanism. But as the chief orc cowered behind one of his minions, an especially ugly, white-face specimen, Vlad dropped his crossbow and charged with a war hammer in each hand. He threw the hammers as his enemies closed in and in the momentary confusion, drew his sword and killed the white-faced orc. The others reacted quickly. Vlad was struck by an axe that he fell to the ground. He rolled away from the stabbing spearpoints to regain his feet next to stunted pine tree and made what he thought would be his last stand.

There were four orcs, including the leader. They circled, stabbing with their spears. He slashed at them with his sword wildly, doing his best to keep their blades away from him. He feinted, baiting one into making charge. He dodged the point, grabbed the spear and killed its bearer, trusting his armor to absorb the blows from the orc chief. He turned on the orc chief, sword against sword, Vlad twisting his body this way and that to avoid the spear points. Suddenly Vlad turned and leaped at one of the other orcs, and killed him. The orc chief took a last wild swing; Vlad felt the chief’s sword glance off his shoulder plates, but by the time he turned, the orc chief was running away. One orc remained to guard his chief’s retreat and he was canny and tough. Knowing Vlad’s tricks, he waited, circling and making short thrusts.

 Only when Vlad, exhausted by the combat, stumbled to one knee did the orc charge. The spear point found a gap in Vlad’s plate and the orc leaned in with all his weight to pierce the mail. Vlad dropped his sword to seize the spear with both hands, and then threw himself backwards while rolling his body, throwing his enemy on the ground. Before the orc could regain his feet, Vlad recovered his sword and killed him. Remembering that his cousin Mihir wore a magical phylactery on his arm, Vlad removed his dead cousin’s armor to recover this item. In the course of completing this work, some feelings of sorrow or remorse emerged, and Vlad decided to also bring Mihir’s body back to Garan for a proper burial.

The people of Garan, were duly impressed by Vlad’s valor and startled by the news of monsters camped so close to the village and in the vicinity of Garan’s tomb. Friar Colter was grateful that Vlad had recovered enough blood moss for 10 torches. He would give 5 to Vlad and his companions, and the friars would carry the others on their patrols that night.

Garan Fest Part 1

Every year the village of Garanton hosts a weeklong festival honoring the legendary hero for which it was named.  In keeping with Garan’s reputation as a heroic knight, young warrior from far and wide gather to prove their mettle in tests of strength, horse-riding competitions, and feats-of-arms.  The contenders and the gathered assembly feast together every evening and at the end of the festival, the champion is presented with Garan’s Mantle at a ceremony in front of Garan’s tomb.

This year has attracted several impressive new contenders including Sir Henry de la Reine Blanche, Vlad of Matopher Orchard, and Roquelle of Hommelet. Each of them acquitted him- or her- self well in the initial competitions.  Their companions Mark, McDowell, Dumitru, and Mihir cheered them on.

And yet, they and their friends have noticed something strange going on at this year’s festival.  Mark the Magician, though he had arrived in Garanton after a long journey from with southlands in the company of Sir Henry and Vlad, had no personal interest in martial endeavors.  He was not the only one.  Many were there for commercial reasons, or for the revelry, or, like the traveling minstrels, for some combination of the two.  But Mark noted one or two others whose dour demeanor masked what purpose they had in spectating at an event that seemed to give them no enjoyment.

One man who more than compensated for his lack of warriorly virtue with enthusiasm for the event and for Garan himself, was a local sculptor named Brant Arwell who had carved a monumental frieze of Garan’s face into the cliffs overlooking Garanton.  He was now looking for a new project and approached Sir Miles to request that he and his companions sit for a formal portrait.  They agreed and made plans to meet at the abbey the next day.

Strangely, Brant was nowhere to be found on the second day.  Friar Ulric, the head of the abbey explained that Brant had gone the previous evening to put the finishing touches on his sculpture and had probably overslept.  His most immediate concern was the killing of livestock at a local homestead, presumably by wild animals.  The party visited the homestead.  Oddly, it appeared that whatever had killed the cattle had not eaten much of them

The Friar encouraged the party—or the competing warriors at least—to focus on the day’s completion which involved crossing the nearby Barrow Creek by jumping from log to another.  Roquelle made the first crossing, but in the second crossing, not only fell off the log, but hit her head and became so disoriented that the creek’s current began to carry her away.  When she swam to safety on the marshy side of the creek opposite Garanton, she got a glimpse of a pig-faced creature in the reeds who snarled at her and then ran away.

After the completion, the party decided to go and look for the sculptor.  At the top of the cliff, above the carving, they found some ruins, and also an intact stone arch.  Some of the writing on the arch could be deciphered enough that Mark understood that it made reference to the light of the moon. 

Sure enough, when they returned that night when the moon was up, the arch was glowing—and they could hear a voice coming out of it.  Roquelle boldly walked through the archway hoping that she might be transported somewhere.  Nothing extraordinary happened to her, but McDowell noticed shadows emerging from the glowing surface of the arch itself.  

When these shadows took the form of fanged, flying monsters, the party attacked with arrows, hurled stones, and from the fingertips of Mark the Magician, “bolts of pure energy.”  One of these monsters descended on Roquelle, knocking her to the ground, and slashing her badly.  A second attacked Vlad, but was repelled by his armor.  A third was killed by missiles, and the fourth swooped down from the cliff, over the village and out of sight.  Sir Henry rushed to assist Roquelle while Vlad and his cousin Dumetru teamed up on the other shadow monster.  They were strange opponents—when Roquelle slashed one with her sword, it seemed to tear like fabric, its shadowy form becoming semi-transparent.  They were also fast and vicious.  When Vlad pinned one to the ground with his foot and raised his sword to slay it, the monster lashed him with its tail, raked his leg with its claw and flew back into the air—only to swoop down once more, fangs pointed at his face.  But the heroes prevailed and destroyed their enemies.

Mihir tended to his companion’s wounds—especially Roquelle who had been clawed and bitten multiple times.  There was a short debate on whether they should enter the arch, but the party decided instead to return to the village to warn the friars that at least one shadow monster was still on the loose.

The next morning, the party learned that more livestock had been killed and this time the farmers had seen the fiend responsible, a shadowy, fanged, flying creature.  The party of course was able to help the witnesses complete their description.  

Maze of Nuromen (2 of 2)

After Chrono’s departure, the party tried some more names against the “skeletons” door (without success) and then returned to the gardens. Cutting through the overgrown vines, they found a secret passage where they were attacked by a pair of zombies. The passage led to a little girl’s bedroom. (Here, among other places, I soft-pedalled the creepiness that saturates this adventure. Part of makes it so effective is its roots in realism. This wizard, along with being crazy and evil, also had a family that he loved very much. And, unlike in many other very other good adventures, the back story isn’t background for the DM’s private entertainment.) Among the ribbons and bows and toys, there was a magical dancing puppet, with the inscription “Always for Altheana.” Wolfgang claimed the puppet.

The party also found a staircase to a lower level, and descended, hoping they would find out what happened to Gerrilynn and Caitlynn. Instead they found a room containing goblins. Because this is a well-conceived adventure, the goblins did not simply attack. Instead they started a conversation, with one or two goblins speaking to the party in common while the others conversed among themselves in their own language. The goblins wanted to know if the party had a key because they really shouldn’t be down there without a key. And how many were they? Not so many only a hundred or two, and did the visitors have anything to eat. Wolfgang shared his wine and the goblins shared their cold bouillon and they all agreed they would meet again soon.

The party left the goblins debating whether they should ask to go to their “base.” When they soon found another locked iron door they suddenly understood why the goblins wanted a key. When they returned to the goblins room, they found it barred. The occupants explained that they were napping and that they were in the middle of a ritual to summon a monster and maybe they shoud all talk later when that key had been found?

Meanwhile . . . Gerrilynn and Caitlynn resolved that since Nuromen secreted the elf crown in the caverns, there should be a way to access them from his stronghold—other than by way of a cold dark stream. They crossed to the other side, and found more and more narrow twisting passages. The smell of the reptile-men lingered everywhere. And they had no materials for making a map. The safest course of action it seemed, was to stay in one place and wait for the rest of the party to find them. They returned to the stream and the treasure room.

As the main party returned upstairs, Wolfgang had an idea. He led the others to the main courtyard and walked up to the metal doors depicting skeletons and other sights related to death. When the death’s head demanded a password, he had an answer: “Altheana”

“You may pass”

Inside thy found a particularly macabre wizard’s laboratory and—a set of iron keys. These keys allowed the party to get behind the iron doors on the lower level and they renewed their hope of finding Gerrilynn, Caitlynn, and/or the crown.

They explored a series of rooms containing sculptures, paintings, or amulets depicting a four-armed fanged baboon. This was scary and weird and provided a compelling thematic progression. And it was an effective “palate-cleanser” after the succession and password-and-puzzle obstacles th party had just overcome. The complete absence of monsters only added to the suspense that reached its climax when they reached the tomb of Nuromen.

Like the goblins, Nuromen did not immediately attack. Trapped in an undead state, he seemed eager to know how the living had fared in passing through his dungeons. He laughed as their arrows passed through him. White Bear listening in from the next room even though neither her PC nor her Gerrilynn’s henchmen were involved, urged the other players to “attack with magic weapons!” Wolfgang imbued his staff with a temporary enchantment and only when he landed a solid blow on Nuromen’s undead skull did the necromancer begin to fight in earnest, seizing Wolfgang in his chilling, life-draining grasp. Wolfgang shook free and retreated, while Vulpio charged into battle with his magic war hammer, shrugging off a blast of magical energy from Nuromen’s fingers. Nuromen crumpled under a blow from Vulpio’s hammer, and when the second blow landed, he crumbled to dust. Mardiuw and Kirito fought off and destroyed Nuromen’s entourage of zombies.

The party recovered treasure from Nuromen’s tomb, but no crown. And there was still no sign of Gerrilynn or Caitlynn. The party agreed that it was time to return to the surface.

Meanwhile . . . Gerrilynn and Csitlynn camped in the darkness of the treasure cavern, and over a day or so, ate their rations. In time, they began to consider the possibility that they would never be found, and would need to seek their own way out. Caitlynn’s torches and her tinder box had dried out. She lit a torch. Together they explored the cavern more thoroughly. They found one section where the stalactites and stalagmites had been cleared away. Masonry blocks framed a doorway. Just as Caitlynn discovered the handle on the stone slab that would open the secret door, a glistening, gelatinous cube slid down from the ceiling. Gerrilynn pulled her out of the way just in time. The pair retreated to higher ground and pelted it with rocks and arrows. It pursued them, and as it reached Caitlynn, she found its touch numbing, even partly paralyzing. Gerrilynn thrust the lit torch forward. The cube started to melt. Caitlynn broke off a chunk of the cube with a solid blow of her club. Gerrilynn held her torch to another part of the gelatinous mass and it broke down into a jelly and then a liquid. Sitting down to rest, the two women heard voices from the direction of the stream . . .

Wolfgang, Vulpio, and Mardiuw rose from the dark depths of the maze to the heady afternoon light of the Island of Lost Dreams. Chickie was waiting for them, eager for any news. Bruised, battered, and shaken, they refused to discuss whether they might be giving up their quest or any hope of finding Gerrilynn alive. The pixies who lived on the island gave them succor—nourishing food and easy slumber. They awakened mere hours later, much refreshed. Vulpio had a dream that he eagerly shared with Wolfgang. They should go into the stream. He didn’t believe Mardiuw would survive, but Wolfgang was an excellent swimmer and he, Vulpio would rather die than desert a friend. Wolfgang agreed and Chickie insisted that he woukd follow them. They planned for their risky venture, leaving their armour behind, and carrying small weapons.

Vulpio went first, then Chickie, then Wolfgang. Chickie was nearly swept past the landing site a d down into yet lower levels of the cavern, but Wolfgang risked his own life to save him. Safely on dry land, they saw a dim light in te cavern beyond . . . and also heard women shouting. . .

So the party was reunited at last. They passed through the secret door that Gerrilynn had discovered. Wolfgang and Vulpio recognized the statute of the multi-armed baboon but were initially disoriented with regards to how to get out. But they referred to their map and once they found the stairs up to the garden, they were able to find their way.

 In summary,

This is a great module, classic in form and subtle in its novelty.  It has a deep back story that will be appreciated not by the DM but by players who pay close attention. It's sized well.  The rooms and encounters are not stripped down to the essentials of the chain-of-keys-ad-passwords plot.  At th same time, with the possible exception of the wandering monster tables (which are generic Moldvay basic) there's no filler either-- the set encounters all belong in the lair of an evil wizard who should be long dead.

Maze of Nuromen (1 of 2)

Maze of Nuromen (now available as the Necropolis of Nuromen) is billed as a first-level adventure and involves the retrieval of an elven artefact from the ruins of the “Maze of Nuromen,” the lair of a long-dead wizard. As noted by 10-foot Pole, that set-up could be described as classic or cliché. While he praises the adventure, he suggests that it’s best for new players because they will not be put-off by its use of well-known elements. White Bear, an experienced if casual player, commented that this was one of her favorite adventures ever, that she really felt drawn into it and was thinking about it between sessions. Isa Girl Monkey, who has also been playing D&D for over five years also showed an enthusiasm while playing that she often keeps to herself. On the other hand, the other three players were children (11 years old) and thus relatively new to the game.

Because I have run this adventure, I’m writing this review as a play report, summarizing each of the five sessions, interspersed with advice on running the adventure and assessments of the product. Spoilers abound.

In the first session, the following PCs and NPCs entered the Maze of Nuromen through a steeply-sloped hole they’d found on the Island of Lost Dreams:

Wolfgang (PC- 3rd level druid)
Kirito (PC- 1st leverl ranger)
Gerrilynn (PC played by White Bear 3rd level cleric) with her henchmen Chickie (NPC 3rd level thief) and Caitlynn (NPC 1st level ranger).
Vulpio (PC played by Isa Girl Monkey) with his henchmen Mardiuw (NPC 1st level thief).

Most of these characters were close to levelling up and did so between sessions. A group of brand new 1st level characters would have a tough time—though admittedly we had no deaths at all over the five sessions.

As they entered the Maze, the party experienced their first near-death in the form a fast-moving underground stream cutting through room. Caitlynn was clumsy, slipped on a rock and was swept out of the room and into the darkness. Faithful Gerrilynn, stripped off her heavy armour and dove in after her. The others crossed the stream safely, and proceeded to explore the rest of the maze. Splitting the party—for the DM this is impossible to do perfectly. Even if you take each group into their room—the fact that you are bouncing between the two rooms lets everyone know that at least the others are alive. Nevertheless, this is kind of what we did, but with much airtime devoted to the main party. White Bear ran Gerriynn’s henchman Chickie so she wasn’t left out.

The party soon found themselves in what seemed to be the center of the Maze—an underground courtyard with two sets of metal doors—one bearing scenes of feasting and more feasting (or as I said “feasting and more feasting”) the other bearing scenes of “skeletons.” Suspecting reverse psychology, the party went for the “skeletons” door, but one of the gruesome faces on the door came to life and demanded a password. After many many attempts, the party, still fearing the “feast” door, exited through one of the prosaic wooden stores. They mapped well and after passing through some other rooms, found themselves in a huge fireplace that seemed to be shared with the feasting room. Kirito the ranger went through the fireplace to investigate. There was another room on the other side and Kirito caught whiff of a horrible stench—possibly the worst thing he’d ever smelled—and yet strangely familiar. Kirito covered his ears and slipped back into the kitchen, warning the others to do the same. Wolfgang understood. After they’d all moved a safe distance away, Wolfgang brought out his candles and everyone plugged their ears with wax and they returned to the feasting room, ready for battle.

Sure enough, the terrible half-women half-birds emerged from the rafters, their faces twisted in fury. As they circled, Wolfgang produced a small ball of flame and threw it at them, catching one and setting its greasy wings alight. Both monsters descended, and were met by the weapons of Vulpio and Kirito. With the others’ assistance, the harpies were destroyed.  

Underneath the harpies’ filth, the feasting room was lavishly furnished. The party filled their backpacks will gold and silver dinnerware and returned to the surface. They tended to their wounds and asked the elves whether maybe they’d heard anything from Gerrilynn and Caitlynn? No.  

Meanwhile . . . in the underground caverns . . .

After being dunked by the rushing stream and bounced against the walls of the winding tunnel, Caitlynn and Gerrilynn emerged in another cavern at least large enough to lift their heads above the water to breath and with banks wide and sandy enough that they could escape the stream’s current. As they dragged themselves from the water, calling out for each in the darkness, they heard voices, alien and menacing and the sound of footsteps echoing from all sides. The shock of being hit by something sharp, a spear or arrow from the darkness was almost a relief. Gerrilynn called out to Raud asking to halt their unseen assailants. After another volley of missiles, the attack ended. Caitlynn, judging by the direction from which the spears had come, felt her way across the stream and slew their transfixed enemies. Then the two adventurers collapsed into slumber.

The main party, accompanied by a new companion, Chrono the druid (PC-- 2nd level), continued to explore the Maze of Nuromen.  

One of the highlights was a large, overgrown garden. As a DM, I had some difficulty describing it—even though they were underground on an island, this garden grew in the sunlight and open air—on a shelf surrounded by a stone balustrade. Still, this place was very atmospheric—lots of strange plants with stinking fruits, twisting tiled path, and fountains with statues that spit and piss when someone steps on the wrong pressure plate. The monsters—fire beetles were something of an unnecessary distraction.

The party came upon another locked metal door. Wolfgang found a pickaxe and did his best to break the stone that framed the iron door, but was defeated. Chrono, feeling claustrophobic and nauseous, expressed his wish to return to the upper world. Chickie, who had been injured in the garden, also wished to escape the maze. The rest of the party escorted them to the room with stream and saw them safely across.

Meanwhile . . . Gerrilynn awakened and prayed for light to help her explore the cavern. She roused Caitlynn. They turned away from the stream and sought dryer ground. They followed a series of crooked tunnels into a large cavern with a box of jewellery in the middle. After testing that it wasn’t a trap or an illusion, they got closer and found among the other treasures, a silver and gold circlet that matched the elves’ description. Gerrilynn put the crown on her head and Caitlynn noticed an immediate change—the always compelling prophetess now seemed to take on an extra, elven layer of . . . charisma.

Pyramid of the Dragon: Aftermath

With the help of Blood Ruby Crucible, the party kenned the location of the Blood Ruby itself, first noting that it seemed to be moving through an area of light forest.  Further scrying showed that it was being carried by a strange beast with scaly red arms.  They deduced that this was Deng-Sheng, and went to find him at the mill pond.  Mustapha held Deng-Sheng magically transfixed and Bangqiu removed the pouch from around the boy's next-- sure enough it contained the Blood Ruby and Bangqiu claimed it as his own.  Mastopha released Deng-Sheng and, over the next hour, Deng-Sheng recovered from the magic of the Blood Ruby.

And all was happy in the Happy Valley, at least for a time. Bangqiu did not turn into a dragon creature, but he did begin having some strange dreams.  He convinced the others that they should travel to Khanbaliq in order to make a report on the progress of the castle-- and also so that he might research the powers of the Blood Ruby.

In the course of their journey they met another group of adventures, led by a woman warrior who called herself Red Nar.  Red Nar made it clear that she knew the party had recovered the Blood Ruby and offered to trade for it, also threatening the party with the wrath of  Xuexing if they insisted on holding what clearly did not belong to them.  Bayan did not take well to this kind of talk and told Red Nar to go away.  The two groups parted ways with a few choice words.

The party spent several weeks in Khanbaliq.  Bayan gave a report to Beatriss, who was sequestered in the Women's Palace.  Tetsukichi visited his family in the Imperial City.  Bangqiu sought out and found a wu jen who could teach him more magic.

One fine day, the party encountered a woman who introduced herself as Bāhén.  She acknowledges that she was a compatriot of Red Nar-- but she hoped she might talk with them over some tea or a meal.  Everywhere they wished was fine with her.  Bayan, after some discussion and led the way to a noisy noodle shop.  "This is good," Bahen said. "So no one can hear us."

The conversation was awkward and pointed.  Bahen wanted to know why the party had refused to deal with Red Nar and was pleased when, after minimal equivocation they answered that while they had some fear of evil dragons such as Xuexing, they saw little value in trying to appease him.  They would rather have him hate them for being a threat than be loved for being weak.  Bahen explained that she had been sent by Red Nar to find them and steal the ruby.  She would report that she had failed and then Red Nar would plan an ambush.  Where would they like to be ambushed? 

"Why are you telling us this? Why should we trust you?"

 Bahen told the sad and predictable story of her village being destroyed and enslaved by mercenaries-- Red Nar and her band.  And she countered that it was not a matter of trust.  In choosing an ambush spot, they gave away nothing.  And they might gain the benefit the element of surprise-- or at least take it away from their enemies.

At last they named a bridge only a few miles from Khanbaliq.  Red Nar and her band would attack once the party crossed the bridge.

The party devoted little time to planning for the potential ambush.  They hired 5 guards and carefully arranged their formation in crossing the bridge. Bangiqu, using the Blood Ruby, scanned the area for any red dragons that they might press into service, but found none.

The ambushers acted as expected-- two men charged out from the thick foliage on the far side of the bridge, but were rebuffed by Bayan and Tetsukichi.  Arrows shot by archers hidden on the hillside opposite the bridge missed their targets.  The party responded forcefully-- with the warriors charging forward or shooting their own missiles.  And Mustapha summoned a black dragon from the clouds to attack the hidden archers, finding the one who favored red and blasting her with acid. 

Red Nar's band held their ground against the dragon as it descended on their leader-- and discovered that it was only an illusion, evaporating into black mist when blasted by a bolt of magical energy.  Tetsukichi & company took advantage of the temporary distraction.  The warriors and guardsmen overwhelmed Red Nar's warriors. The enchantress who had dispelled the illusionary dragon gave away her position and was hit by magic missiles from Bangqiu.  And Bahen showed where her loyalties lay, shooting arrows at Red Nar.

After firing a last attach at the party, Red Nar's enchantress transformed into a bird and took to the sky.  Mustapha pointed his wand at Red Nar and fireball engulfed her in flames.  Bahen caught in the fringes of its blast was knocked to the ground and did not get up.  The guardsmen overwhelmed one of Red's warriors.  As Bayan charged her horse at the other, an unseen assassin, sprung out and dragged Bayan to the ground.  Bangqiu and Al-Fitar rushed to her defense. Bayan  pulled herself up and killed the assassin herself.

Soon only one of Red Nar's band-- a strong warrior who seemed energized with unnatural speed. He landed three blows for every one that could be dealt by a normal man.  And when he realized that he would fall under sheer numbers and took to flight, his speed easily outstripped that of a horse.  A second fireball from Mustapho's wand did little more than singe his clothes. But then two glowing green missiles streaked down from the hillside-- and Bahen's hand-- and the bandit stumbled and skidded across the ground, dead.

The company congratulated each other and thanked Bahen for her help.  Badly wounded, she accepted their offers of succor and healing ointments, and even joined them in their relieved retreat to the safety of Khanbaliq.  She politely declined their invitation to join their company, promising that she valued their friendship and hoped that another time would come when they could assist each other.

Pyramid of the Dragon

Tetsukishi, Bayan, and the others stood guard for three days while Han and his associates skinned, butchered and processed the dragon. In the evenings, Han directed his servants to prepare dinner for "our noble and honorable protectors" while he told the newcomers about life in the Happy Valley and the surrounding region.  The Happy Valley was a pleasant place because the Barrier Mountains both captured the rainclouds blowing in from the east and blocked the cold dry winds from the north and west.  And the land was well-irrigated, its many rivers and streams carrying the excess water into the marshes to the south.

 

"And that's where the dragon people live."

 

The dragon people were savage, but cowardly, the remnant of the humans who'd served the snake lords eons ago.  There was a tribe of them who'd lived in a village surrounding the ruined pyramid where Narratch had made his lair.

 

"Wonder what they're doing now that he's gone . . ." Han mused, chewing on a hunk of smoked dragon.  "Wonder what treasure Narratch was hiding in that old pyramid. . ."

 

In response to the party's questions, Han explained that *Narmash* (the black/dead dragon was well known in that area), and that Xuexing the larger, meaner red dragon came from the remote heights of the Barrier Mountains.  He hoped that Xuexing was not planning to move into the ruined pyramid.

 

The party agreed that they should travel to the ruined pyramid themselves, assess themselves and claim Narratch's treasure.  Han told them to follow the red river through the swamp and that once they reached the mudflats, they'd be able to see the low, pointed hill of the pyramid from miles away.

 

Tetsukichi, Bayan, and the others found the pyramid of the dragon.  The pyramid itself was still largely intact.  While the surrounding buildings lay in near complete ruin, they seemed to serve as a home to the "dragon people" whom Han had described.  There was also a dragon-- the red one named Xuexing who had killed Narratch.  The party watched  from a safe distance, watching the dragon people entering and leaving the pyramid through its apex, with those exiting burdened by treasure that they lay before Xuexing.  The dragon sifted through the piles of coins, becoming progressively impatient.

The party moved through the outskirts of the ruins and scouted the opposite side of the pyramid.  Wisps of smoke emerging from about halfway up marked a potential entrance.  They crawled into an irregularly-shaped chamber, seemingly the result of a cave-in, but with a tunnel connecting it into a well-formed chamber that must have been constructed by expert masons.  This chamber was filled with the skeletons of huge reptilian creatures that sprang to life. 

 

Bayan directed Hue-an to retreat the way they had come while she, Tetsukichi, and Al-Fitar held off the skeleton snakes.   Finding a bottle-point in the caved-in area, the three warriors isolated and fought the undead snakes one by one, and then climbed back out of the pyramid.  Here they found that Hue-an and Mustapha had been discovered and attacked, and nearly overwhelmed by the Dragon People. The sudden arrival of Bayan, Tetsukichi, and Al-Fitar decisively turned the tide of the battle.

 

And attracted the attention of Xuexing.  The red dragon was in fact impressed by the newcomers' valor and courage.  He wanted their assistance finding something and would pay them well.  The Dragon People had proved their incompetence.  To make his point, he killed and ate the Dragon People's witch doctor, spitting out the man's organs-- that's what they were expected to find-- a ruby about the size and color of the man's heart.  "I think you will agree that I have the power to pay you well for your assistance?"

 

The party agreed.  At their request and Xuexing's command, the Dragon People took Hue-an back to one of the huts to nurse her back to health, with the understanding that her life was worth ten of their own.

 

The remaining party members-- Bayan, Tetsukich, Al-Fitar, and Mustapha-- descended into the pyramid through the top, climbing down a deep shaft to a large chamber at ground level. 

 

Exploring the pyramid, they found that it was dedicated to the four elements.  They freed a trapped air elemental, and found a pool of remarkably clear, bubbling water.  They also found Bangqiu. 

 

Bangqiu explained that the people of Happy Valley had become worried when they didn't return from scouting the remains of the dragon.  Bangqiu had joined a search party that encountered Han on his way back from the dragon butchering site.  Han had given Bangqiu and the search party directions to the pyramid.  Bangqiu had arrived to find the village completely deserted.  No dragon, no dragon people.  He found Hue-an and had left the other members of the search party.  And now he was ready to help look for the Bloody Heart Ruby.

 

In time, the party found a large, watery natural cavern, accessed through a breach in that part of the pyramid dedicated to fire.  Based on their experiences with other parts of the Pyramid, they had expected to encounter a Fire Elemental in that area, but found its binding circle had already been branched.  They found the Fire Elemental inside the watery cavern, bound inside a new binding circle.  The Elemental negotiated for its release, in exchange for an explanation of what it knew about the Bloody Heart Ruby-- including why both dragons were so interested in having it.  As the Elemental had explained to its captor Narratch the Black, the gem allowed its possessor to exert control over red dragons.  Finally the Elemental explained that the Blood Ruby crucible-- a small lantern with an ever-burning flame-- would assist them in locating the Blood Ruby itself.

 

The party explored the rest of the cavern.  Al-Fitar lost two fingers to floating green slime.  And they found Narratch's reassure, including the Blood Ruby Crucible.

 

They exited the Pyramid and returned to the Happy Valley.  Han was happily selling off dragon parts.  The Emperor's engineers had nearly settled on a building site for Beatriss's Keep.  But there was a little problem.  People had seen a strange dragon man in the forest.  And Deng-Sheng the miller's son was missing.

Dragon Fight

Based on their recent agreement and subsequent events, the Emperor proposed that Beatriss might like to build her fortress closer to Khanbaliq. She agreed. A scouting party comprising Imperial architects and Beatriss’s friends and associates, including Tetsukichi, Al-Fitar, Mustapha, and Bayan traveled together to the Happy Valley, about a day’s ride west of Khanbaliq. They settled in the environs of the small village there and began to survey likely building sites.

One day, an alarming roar broke the sleepy silence of the Happy Valley afternoon. The sound, loud as the cry of an attacking army—was coming from the sky. A dragon, gleaming black, and larger than the similar dragon Tetsukichi had encountered in Sakatha's Palace, was swooping down toward the village, and screaming. The roar echoing throughout the valley came from another, much larger dragon, red in color, and soaring over the black. As the black neared the earth, it raised its head and flapped its wings, returning to the sky. The red adjusted its own course and caught the black, slashing it with its claws. The black heaved a stream of noxious fluid from its mouth into the red’s face, using this opportunity to slither out of the red’s grasp and continue its desperate flight. The red soon recovered. The people below watched the red pursue the black over the forest south of the village. Gaining on the black, it exhumed a torrent of fire and black plummeted to the earth. The red circled the place where its enemy had fallen and then flew away towards the marshes to the southwest.

Bayan and Tesukichi agreed that they should seek out the place where the dragon fell. Together with Al-Fitar, Mustopha, and H., a novice priestess from Khanbaliq, they set off into the forest, marking the place where they’d seen smoke rising over the treetops. The thick undergrowth made their passage through the forest slow. When they came to a stream that seemed to flow generally in the direction they wished to go, they followed its course.

After an hour or so, they came to a small clearing and the ruins of a mill. A young man was there, standing in the mill pond, washing his blood-stained clothing. Bayan questioned the young man. His name was Deng-Sheng, he had seen the black dragon fall and had been showered with its blood. He pointed toward where the party could find the dragon, but did not want to go with them.

While suspicious of Deng-Sheng, the party did not press him further. They followed his directions and soon found the smoldering corpse of the black dragon. They walked around it, and found coins and even a gem strewn on the ground. Getting closer to the dragon, they examined its body and found a pouch in its gullet with more treasure. As it was close to dark, the party decided they would camp overnight in the forest. They found an area of soft grown some distance away from the dragon. They watched as a flock of small winged creatures with leathery wings landed on the body of the dragon, stabbing it with their long beaks.

There was some noise in the forest—loud noises of men shouting, hacking through the bushes, and half-dragging, half-driving a horse and cart. The party hid from the men. The noise also attracted the attention of the creatures feeding on the dragon. About a half dozen of them swarmed and attacked the men. The adventurers rushed to their rescue, and soon managed to kill or chase away all of the flying vermin, including those still scavenging the dead dragon.

The men with the cart were led by Han—well-known in Happy Valley as the one resident merchant. He thanked the adventurers for their protection, and explained that he had come to butcher the dragon and prepare its parts for sale to scholars, shamans, and magicians—“But only, of course, after my lords have first taken the choicest parts for themselves and for his Imperial Majesty, the Great Khan.”

Vlad and the Portal Under the Stars

For years, people had been asked why old Matopher wasn’t dead yet. His diet consisted mainly of hard cider. He’d lost most of his teeth and his body had been wasting away. One night when it looked like his time had finally come, he gathered his brood and told them a story about the standing stones on the plain south of the trading post.

No, this had nothing to do with the White Queen. This was before he found out anything about the White Queen. This was about the night a doorway appeared beneath the central standing stone. He stared at the door for hours and then opened it into what appeared to be a treasure vault. In the dim light of his torch, everything sparkled and shone—including the spears that were hurled at him from out of the darkness. He’d often wondered, what if he had been braver, what if he had been stronger, what if he had been better armed. . .

Most of his children shook their heads and told grandpa to calm down. But Vlad and Mihir listened, especially when Matopher told them he’d been watching the stars, and they were edging closer to the same configuration that night in the spring of his youth . . .

Vlad and Mihir listened to their dying grandfather’s story and decided to seek out the adventure he described. They camped out by the standing stones for a couple nights, waiting impatiently for the proper alignment of the stars. When the portal appeared, they entered what seemed to be a tomb, rife with magical traps to ward off grave-robbers. After taking a few knocks and jabs, the cousins stopped to collect a suit of the fine, black-lacquered scale mail that Matopher had spoken of. Vlad judged it to be functionally inferior to his own plate mail, but he assisted Mihir in putting it on. Passing from chamber to another, they encountered a giant, horned snake, which first spoke to them before attacking. They fought back, but were confounded by the serpent’s tough scales, barely wounding the monsters while they were jabbed again and again by quick jabs of its long fangs. Mihir battered it with the magic staff he’d taken from Lareth. The staff shattered with an explosion, throwing the snake against the opposite wall. Though battered and stunned, when it coiled up to resume its attack, the two cousins fled for their lives. They led the snake in a chase through the tomb, and into a two-story hall dominated by a fire-shooting statue. Dollops of flaming oil slipped off Mihir’s new armor and onto the stone floor, arresting the snake. A second burst of oil hit the snake and it was consumed by the fire. After a rest, Vlad and Mihir decided that they would continue to explore the tomb.

In another, dimly glowing chamber, they encountered a half-dozen living statue, fashioned of transparent crystal. They gathered around Mihir, seemingly fascinated by the torch he was carrying. Holding the torch out from his body, Mihir led the crystal people out of the chamber, with Vlad following behind. They descended into the lower level of the tomb, and here discovered a much larger group of living statues, these made of clay, and much more martial in temperament. Their leader stood up from his throne and seemed to order an attack—the statues raised their spears and marched toward the intruders. Mihir tossed his torch toward the clay soldiers. The crystal people, chasing the light, met the brunt of the clay soldiers attack. Vlad raised his crossbow and shot a crossbow bolt at the clay king. His second shot misfired. Mihir recommended retreated. Although the crystal people’s powerful fists were capable of shattering a clay soldier with a single blow, they were being overwhelmed by numbers. Also, there was the issue of light . . .

Vlad and Mihir fumbled their way through the long passage to the stairs. As they climbed the stairs, they heard the clay soldiers marching behind them. At the top of the stairs, Vlad and Mihir paused in the dimly-glowing room where they’d met the crystal people and lit another torch. As the clay soldiers people reached the stop of the stairs, Vlad and Mihir once again took to flight, this time heading for exit from the tomb. They didn’t look back until they were once again outside, their lungs stinging with the chilly night air. The stars had changed and the portal was gone-- once again the standing stones framed only the Alyan night sky. They had recovered little treasure, only the strange suit of black armor that proved to their grandfather he hadn’t been dreaming when he first saw it fifty years before.

(Grandpa Matopher, by the way, was out of bed, and getting around as healthy as an old drunk could be.)

The Emperor's Atpyical Request

That night, as usual, the Emperor entertained a party of concubines. Considering the afternoon's events and her pact with the Emperor, Beatriss watched himnot like a bashful coquette, but like a tactician. What caught her attention even more than his appetites was the uncanny intuition of one concubine: a poised, commanding woman named Biyu. She seemed to know exactly when each woman should sing, when they should dance, when to bare themselves—and when one alone should yield to the Emperor while the others withdrew.

When Biyu half-mockingly invited Beatriss to share the feast, she addressed her by name, mispronouncing it in exactly the same way Jiaohu had done that morning.

After the Emperor succumbed to sleep, one woman remained beside him while the rest arranged cushions on the floor. Beatriss did not sleep. An hour passed. Then she saw Biyu quietly rise and slip from the chamber.

Beatriss's gaze shifted to the Emperor, ears straining to read the cadence of his breath, to judge how deeply he slept.

She had little time. Moments later, another woman entered the room. She looked like Bayan—but her movements were wrong. Too smooth. Too serpentine. She moved with an unnatural grace that was almost grotesque. And in her hand was a knife. Her eyes were fixed on the Emperor.

But she paused. She had seen Beatriss.

Their eyes locked.

Beatriss did not scream. She opened her mouth and loosed a battle cry that split the silence like a spear through silk. It was the sound she would make before striking a man dead.

The assassin charged—not at the Emperor, but at Beatriss—panicking, lashing out. Beatriss never flinched. Only at the last instant did she turn her head, and the blade meant for her face sliced across her temple instead.

The guards burst in just as the Emperor, already rising, lunged from the bed, reaching for "Bayan" as she vaulted out the window. Chaos erupted. Some guards surrounded the Emperor, others issued sharp commands to lock down the palace and apprehend Bayan. Beatriss, bleeding, sat upright. The Emperor tended to her wound himself. The rest of the women were gathered and questioned. The gardens were found empty. Biyu had vanished.

Bayan, however, was discovered fast asleep in her bed.

The Emperor’s advisors urged caution. But he relented. As Beatriss pointed out, if Bayan had crept into the Emperor's bedchamber, she wouldn't be carrying a knife. Bayan was given a chance to prove her innocence—by finding the true assassin. Especially if it was Biyu, who might be hiding in the Women’s Palace—a place the Emperor’s guards could not normally enter.

Within the harem, Biyu was known as quiet and discreet. No one seemed to know which room she used. After much coaxing, an elderly lady-in-waiting led Bayan through moonlit gardens, steamy bathing halls, and shadowed corridors to a small chamber. Bayan dismissed her and stepped inside alone.

There was a figure in the bed—a girl. A young woman. She had been strangled.

Bayan knocked on the neighboring door and roused a drowsy concubine to confirm the body was Biyu. She nodded, horrified. Bayan hushed her, thanked her, and sent her back to bed.

Then she waited.

After some time, another figure entered the room. Bayan’s own face. Her own body. Her own knife. 

Bayan didn’t speak. She attacked with a silent kick to the spine, followed by a flurry of blows. The false Bayan shrieked and bolted, her features warping, collapsing into the shape of a young woman. As cries echoed through the hall, Bayan warned the residents: "Stay inside. Anyone in the corridor risks death."

Locks clicked. Lights vanished.

The creature tried to strangle her. Its slender hands warped into barbed claws. Bayan drew her dagger and plunged it into the fiend’s side. It screamed, bled, and—cornered—begged for its life. It promised to surrender. To speak to the Emperor.

Bayan agreed.

The promise was false.

In the final struggle, Bayan slew the thing. It slumped, pale and grotesque—its body gray and formless, face collapsing like wet clay. She dragged it from the Women’s Palace. Guards helped carry it to the Imperial chambers, where the Emperor beheld it with his own eyes.

For the rest of the night, the Emperor slept alone.

The Emperor's Third Peculiar Request

Someone rubbing her face, first her cheeks and nose. And then her mouth. And then her eyes—

Beatriss blinked. Her head moved. The rest of her did not.

With sight returned the memory, the cold, bottomless gaze of basilisk.

Now, she was looking at a man kneeling over her: Cair, the wizard, his fingers smearing ointment all over her face, bringing it back to flesh

His hands moved to her chin, down over her neck, her shoulders . . .

“Stop!”

He dropped his hand. “If you say so.”

She looked down at herself. Her body ended in granite at the collarbones.

Around her was silk and light and laughter. A lavish room—pillows piled in corners, carved screens glowing with the warmth of morning sunlight. This had to be the Emperor’s palace. There, across the room, he lounged on a wide bed amid half-dressed concubines. Jiaohu sat beside him like a cat, sipping wine and watching everything.

Beatriss addressed the group. “Someone tell me what is going on?”

Jiaohu answered first, “It's too early for this! Why did you have to start with her mouth?”

The Emperor, half-laughed, but his happy surprise was obvious—he tossed aside his plate and rose from the bed. “It’s working! You must continue!”

Cair bowed. “Yes, it’s working.” He pointed to a chalk circle on the floor, “But if it pleases your imperial majesty . . .”

The Emperor frowned, but resumed his repose on the bed.

Cair spoke to Beatriss in a low whisper, warning her that once Cair's magic had taken its full effect, and Beatriss's natural flesh was restored, the Emperor intended to add her to his harem.  Cair had another idea-- the same one he had proposed to Bayan-- that they should join together in escaping Khanbaliq and Zhau-Dang altogether.  

"Bay-trees?" It was Jiaohu, calling from the bed. "Bay-trees, don't you want to be my sister?"

Cair stared at Beatriss. "See? We have to act quickly."

The Emperor, growing impatient, intruded on their hushed exchange. Cair quickly straightened and held up the now-empty jar.

“The ointment is exhausted, Your Majesty.”

"Come here, wūshī."

"Yes, your Majesty." Cair approached the bed cautiously, his eyes darting for a safe place to land, without finding one. Next followed a whispered argument between Cair and the Emperor—tense, clipped, and full of scraping bows.

“More can be made. Yes, of course, more can be made—just two days. Two days and I will have it ready.”

The Emperor relented, and shooed Cair out of the chamber.

Later that afternoon, the Emperor made his full intentions known to Beatriss.  Yes, he did want her as a mate, but more than his carnal pleasure, he was ambitious for another son. Not just any son, but the son whom a woman of such proven martial talents could bear for him.  He went on to discuss horse-breeding and the lessons of a visiting shaman from far-off Monravia who grew the most delicious snow peas . . .

Beatriss did not follow everything he said, but she did understand that the Emperor would consult his astrologers on the best time for her to conceive a son. If she cooperated, she could, after a year or so, leave Khanbaliq with the Emperor's blessings, and with his assistance in constructing her own small rural fortress.  The boy would stay in Khanbaliq and be taught to be a great general. The more immediate boon, of having her body fully restored to flesh and blood, was left unsaid. 

Beatriss, comparing this bargain to the never-forgotten rites of Madarua, agreed.

"Excellent!" The Emperor stood. "How shall we celebrate?"

The Emperor's Second Peculiar Request

Later that week, Beatriss and her companions returned to the Monastery of the Two-Fold Path, choosing a different route of entry. The air was thick with decay, and heavy rains had transformed parts of the ruined compound into swampy, unstable mire. In one collapsed chamber, half-filled with water and debris, they found deep clawed footprints—large, reptilian, and trailing up the crumbled wall. The message was clear: something ancient and monstrous had made this place its den.

They were not surprised to meet a dragon-like beast. They were surprised at the way it made their blood to look into its stony, languid eyes. 

The creature moved slowly, almost lazily—its lizard-like body armored in thick, stone-colored scales—but its eyes gleamed with alien stillness, dragging dread into the hearts of the living. The party tried to fight without looking directly at it, using peripheral glances and blind strikes.

On the broken stone steps, Beatriss slipped. For just a moment, her eyes met the creature’s.
She froze—a perfect statue, blade in hand, breath suspended forever.

The others fought on. Naron slashed at the beast’s flanks while Bayan darted in and out of reach, her strikes quick and desperate. Feng Feng, ever fearless, charged up the steps. But in the final moments, the dying basilisk thrashed violently, its claws latching onto Feng Feng’s robe and dragging him forward—face to face. He, too, turned to stone.

Jumay knelt beside Beatriss’s statue, lips moving in prayer, while Bayan stood trembling, trying to speak through clenched teeth.

“There’s another one,” Naron said, pointing down a corridor.
It was true. Another basilisk lurked just beyond.

They fled.

Back in the Imperial City, they delivered their grim news. The Emperor listened, thoughtful, and then gave a single command:

“Summon Cair.”

Cair, a foreign wizard long kept in “residence” at the palace, arrived with his companion Myrrha, a pale-robed priestess. The Emperor instructed them to assist in recovering and restoring the petrified warriors.

Cair accepted the task, saying little but watching Bayan closely.

Before they left, Bayan made a request: “We need mirrors. Polished ones.”

“To fight a basilisk,” she explained, “you don’t need to see it. It needs to see itself.”

---

The Second Basilisk

This time, their approach was surgical. The second basilisk appeared, just as expected. In perfect coordination, the group raised their mirrors—forcing the beast to meet its own reflection.

It solidified instantly. Stone stared back at them.

But when Cair attempted to restore Beatriss, his magic failed.

“The conditions aren’t right,” he muttered. “I need materials. I need coin. If we could just get them to the coast—my ship—”
“No,” Bayan interrupted, her voice steel. “You said you could do it. You lied. You won’t get another chance.”

Cair bowed his head—then began to cast again.

This time, not at the statue—but at himself.

---

Carrying the Fallen

Cair transformed, growing into a towering figure, muscles and robes swelling with arcane energy. He lifted Beatriss and Feng Feng with care, one in each arm, and carried them from the ruins. He did the same for the others, ferrying them out one by one.

When they reached the city, the guards refused to open the gates to a giant, no matter whose name he carried. So the party spent the night in a tavern outside the walls, Cair shrinking back to human form. A cart was hired at dawn.

---

A Statue in the Inner Palace

The Emperor ordered Feng Feng’s statue placed in a ceremonial courtyard, where scholars and officials could admire his “eternal watchfulness.”

Beatriss, however, was taken into the Emperor’s private quarters—a place where only the most trusted and powerful were allowed. She was displayed not merely as a fallen hero, but as a figure of fascination, mystery, and perhaps unspoken desire.

And at the base of the dais where she stood, sword still in hand, a lone warrior kept silent vigil—Bayan, dressed in red-accented armor, eyes never straying far from her mentor’s frozen face.

She said nothing.
But everyone knew she would be the first to act—if anyone dared touch the statue without cause.

The Emperor's First Peculiar Request

The Emperor of Khanbaliq had grown restless, obsessed with acquiring a concubine from the lost city of Cynadicea—someone like the elusive Beatriss, but younger, rarer. (And, more to the point, willing to yield to his advances!) His latest favorite, Jiaohu, recently purchased from the Monastery of the Two-Fold Path, knew how to keep his attention. One evening, lounging at his side, she spoke with idle malice:

“They had another pale one, you know. Younger than her. Prettier, too. Strong thighs. But the monks are keeping her for someone... important.”

The Emperor sent gold, and messengers. But the monks only delivered girls of vague resemblance, none matching the description. It was clear now: they were hiding her.

So the Emperor turned back to Beatriss.

“If you can bring me this girl,” he said, “I will let you leave. You may build your castle in the south.”

Beatriss listened, suspicious, and said nothing until she had the full account. Jiaohu elaborated—there was a prisoner named Xing in the monastery’s lower cells, and Ciuciu was the name the other slaves gave to the pale girl. Xing would help, if approached with the correct password.

---

Beatriss gathered her team:

• Naron, a swordmaster who had bled beside her before
• Jumay, priest and spell-caster of quiet but deep power
• Feng Feng, a magician of shifting loyalties and sardonic insight
• And lastly, Bayan—once a servant, still barely more than an apprentice fighter, and utterly unproven, but eager to escape the confines of the place and test herself in a milleu where the criteria of success were more clear.

Bayan said little as they set out. She’d requested to come. Beatriss had allowed it. Now, on the eve of action, her breath was tight in her throat.

---

They entered through a crumbling postern gate on the ruined side of the monastery. Wind rustled through rotting beams. The floor shifted under their steps. Bayan stepped carefully, watching how the others moved. She kept her hand near her blade—just in case, though she wasn’t sure what she’d do with it.

They descended into a half-collapsed corridor, and there, amid the scent of fungus and decay, came their first danger: a bloated, tentacled compost creature, reeking and heaving as it dragged itself from a collapsed cistern.

Before Bayan could even breathe a warning, Beatriss charged, cutting it with swift, slashing arcs. It thrashed and struck her across the face with a heavy, adhesive tendril. Beatriss dropped, choking.

“Do something!” Jumay shouted.
Bayan froze—then remembered a flask tucked inside her sash. She fumbled it open, poured the acidic tincture over Beatriss’s mouth and jaw, dissolving the syrupy film. It worked.

Beatriss stood again, unsteady, and glanced at Bayan. No praise—just a nod. But Bayan would remember that nod.

---

In a nearby outbuilding, they encountered a cluster of monks—silent, robed, and hostile. No words. Just sudden, coordinated violence. Bayan backed against the wall, blade drawn but unused, while Naron and Beatriss cut the front line, and Jumay paralyzed the rest with a gesture and prayer.

When the battle ended, a woman peeked from a loft, covered in straw. She was thin, bruised, but alert.

“Are you friends of Jiaohu?” she asked.

Beatriss gave the password.

The woman was Xing, and she recognized Ciuciu’s name. She offered two paths: one through an overgrown garden, likely overrun with venomous vines; the other, deeper, through the lair of antmen. Beatriss chose the latter.

“Are we sure we need to go this way?” Bayan whispered, nervously eyeing the dark descent.
“No,” said Beatriss. “But I don’t want to die in a garden.”

---

The antmen tunnels were cramped and damp, carved from soft clay and overgrown with mold. Bayan trailed near Jumay, whispering questions.

“Do they see in the dark?”
“Yes.”
“Should we be whispering?”
“No.”

Suddenly, from the gloom ahead, three antmen emerged—eight-limbed, armored, with two shields and two blades each. One cast a net that caught Beatriss mid-sprint. She fell hard. The antmen surged forward.

Bayan’s first instinct was to run.

Instead, she crouched behind Jumay, clutching her sword. She watched Naron stand in the passage like a gatepost, parrying blow after blow, while Feng Feng blasted one creature with lightning. Beatriss cut herself free, rose, and together with Naron, finished the remaining two, and they crawled through the twisting tunnels, without direction, noticing that Xing was gone.

---

“Where’s Xing?” Bayan whispered.

No one answered. From behind them came a scream—and then a wet crunch.

“Was that—?”

“Yes,” Beatriss said flatly. “Keep moving.”They pressed onward through chambers of rot—half-organic, half-dug. One room pulsed with a humid, sour warmth. A mud chamber, slick and bubbling. Beatriss entered first and was immediately swarmed by massive white larvae, as thick as a man’s leg.

She shouted for retreat, slashing them away.

Bayan helped drag her out.

---

Wounded and weary, the party began their return. In a final subterranean chamber, they stumbled upon two crocodiles, locked in a lazy scuffle over a limp human shape. The beasts turned toward them—hungry for fresh prey. The party struck fast. Bayan, trembling, landed a single blow. It did not kill—but it felt real.

Afterward, they approached the body. It was hairless, featureless, nearly bloodless.

“Is that Xing?” Bayan asked.
“I don’t think anyone is,” Jumay replied.

---

They returned to Khanbaliq bruised and empty-handed. The Emperor was not pleased—but Beatriss’s report was thorough. Her commitment to return was clear.

And Bayan? She slept that night still wearing her sword belt, dreaming of tunnels, of breath she didn’t know she’d been holding, and of the quiet nod that said: You didn’t fail.