Amidst the revelry at the conclusion of Garan Fest-- in
between questions to Vlad from well-wishers and hangers-on about how it felt to
be the new champion and what it was going to do next—Vlad gathered his
companions around him to discuss: what are we going to do next?
Among various competing priorities (Circe and Mark had heard
about a wizard who was looking for students, Sir Henry feared that something
was amiss in the land of Whitkey, the druids had called Chrono to seek his help
in finding that special-prophecy boy Valu) the scent of low-hanging gold pieces
beckoned. Garan’s tomb looked like it
could be broken into and according to the tanner’s book, Garan had been buried
with his treasure.
So as the party continued, the adventurers pushed aside their
ale mugs to cleared their minds (or perhaps drowned any rational fears with a
last drought of liquid courage) and set off into the night.
They hiked back to the tomb under torchlight, singing and
arguing to distract each other from the weird shadows in the canyon. Mark the Magicuser read the magic runes above
the tomb: “Mother Night Welcomes Garan Lord of Battle and Conquest.” Again, not exactly “Good words, honorable deeds.”
Vlad expressed some misgivings about the mantle draped round
his shoulders, and his new association with this ancient warrior of ambiguous
character. It felt good to feel like a
conqueror, but it also felt a little strange.
Chrono, sensitive to Vlad’s ambivalence tried to assist Vlad in removing
the mantle—and for his trouble received an unequivocal punch in the face. Ok, that settled it.
Sir Henry, meanwhile discovered that the door to the tomb—to
no one’s great surprise, open with only a slight push. There was a spiral staircase carved in the
rock, spiraling down (and deosil—“clockwise, for those familiar with newfangled
timekeeping devices”.)
At the bottom of the stairs they passed through rooms
painted with murals celebrating Garan’s many bloody conquests. He wore the same mantle now worn by Vlad
except for one detail. While the mantle
worn by Vlad bore the embroidered insignia of the “Golden Helm of Garan,” the
mantle worn by Garan in the murals showed a black skull on a white shield.
The party passed into a circular room dominated by a stone
statue of Garan in the center of the room and with six stone knights standing
in alcoves spaced around the wall. As
the party entered the room, the eyes of Garan’s statue glowed red and statues
came to life. Vlad felt emboldened and
in another way uncomfortable, it was something about his mantle or the insignia
on his mantle, he picked at the gold thread.
And then the sis stone knights came to life and
attacked. Three of the statues charged
at Vlad. Vlad readied his shield and Sir
Henry sprung into action, striking one of the statues with his sword,
shattering its arm. Chrono readied his
quarter staff and engaged one of the other statues. Another statue bore down on Thoric. Circe retreated, hiding under a shroud of
magical darkness. Mark stayed behind the
well-armored warriors and when the moment was right, cast a magic missile at
one of the statues attacking Vlad, reducing it to a pile of rubble.
Thanks to his plate mail and the assistance of his
companions, Vlad sustained a rain of blows from stone swords, with little
injury. Sir Henry noticed that the
insignia of Vlad’s mantle was emitting smoke, seemingly more and more as the
statues were destroyed. When Thoric
received a grievous blow from a stone sword, McDowell and Sir Henry crowded in
front of the statue and covered his retreat.
Then there was a burst of flame in which Vlad’s face glowed red. The
Golden Helm was gone—the black skull of Garan was revealed underneath. Vlad
yelled a battle cry and the remaining statue kneeled before him.
Chrono tended to Thoric’s wounds while the rest of the party
searched the room. McDowell found a
secret door and another spiral staircase leading down. As the party regathered, so did the
statues—the chunks of stone, quivered and rolled together, reassembling into
six stone knights, all kneeling before their master, Vlad.
The party descended the staircase. The statues did not follow Vlad, but once he
was out of sight they rose their feet, drew their swords approached the other
members of the party—not in a good way.
The rest of the party crowded down the stairs. The statues did not pursue.
At the bottom of the stairs, they found Garan’s burial
chamber. There was a
sarcophagus—open—and soon a horrific undead thing rose out of it—seemingly
Garan himself by the black skull painted on his plate mail. The wight’s scabbard was empty and it charged
at Vlad—“Give it to me!” Vlad pulled out
his sword and landed a blow that would have decapitated a mortal creature—and
remembered all of his grandfather’s lessons about how to fight the living dead.
Sir Henry knew, The Sword of Whitkey leapt into his hand and
he charged forward to go toe-toe with dead Garan. Chrono joining him, swinging his
shillelagh. This gave Vlad the
opportunity to back away, cast his sword aside and ready a silver bolt in his
crossbow. Mark and Circe threw magic
missiles at the evil spirit as it charged after Vlad. A silvered bolt from Vlad’s crossbow hit it
in the face. Howling in anger or pain it pressed forward. The Sword of Whitkey, glowing in Sir Henry’s
capable hands bit through the Garan’s armor.
Vlad stumbled backwards, still holding his crossbow. As the monster pounced on him, Vlad put
another crossbow bolt through Garan’s plate mail, granting he creature a second
death.
Thoric and McDowell pried the silver, gold, and jewels out
of Garan’s sarcophagus. Sir Henry
devised a way to distribute the treasure and after satisfying themselves that
there was no other way out of the burial chamber, the party returned to the
surface. The stone knights kneeled
before Vlad and allowed them to pass freely.
Back in Garanton, the party got a few strange looks from straggling
revelrs, but no one quite found words to question them.
At dawn, the party left for Hommlet. As they had heard, there was a wizard there,
one Burne, who had learned of certain magical pools in the caverns under a
ruined Moathouse outside the village. He
wanted to share the power of the pools with apprentices, but the guards he had
stationed at the moathouse said that things were getting weird—purple-back
spiders, eerie noise, green slime on the walls and ceiling that dissolved
metal-- and they refused to patrol the lower levels. Burne hoped some ambitious young magicians
and their associated might see the advantage of helping him secure access to
the pools.
