Gaming

Wyz stabbed the skeleton next to him in the back and fled out the entrance of the barrow. Wizards have no business on the front lines of a fight and he was too smart to die. Let his minions face the skeletons. El Vis stepped up promptly, matching action to thought. His great sword struck the skeleton that Wyz had already stabbed and shattered it into bone fragments. Hannah fell after that, hit by an arrow from a skeleton further into the barrow.

One day of carousing quickly turned into two. Bancroft woke the next morning with his head lying on the dirt, a tuft of grass for a pillow. Despite the alcohol he felt surprisingly refreshed; a deeper sense of connection to the earth filled him. A night spent outside of town had done him good. The fog of alcohol blurred his memories of the prior night, but he had been separated from his companions earlier in the evening.

Somehow Druidly dodged the bandit’s blows long enough to put half a dozen of them into a magical sleep. Those left promptly returned the favor and he fell unconscious. While the bandit leader shouted, rats crept up from behind. He screamed as they swarmed him but lived long enough to flee toward the stairs, ordering his followers to keep Druidly inside the barrow. Gravelgnasher saw an opportunity and killed one bandit with an arrow to the forehead.

From the top of one barrow, a small green figure cursed and wrung his hands as he watched distant figures crawled around the entrance to another. “My book, my book. My book. Those bastards are going to steal my book!” Hanging from his belt were the implements of a wizard. Especially a new looking scroll case, ink jar, quill pen, rare items worth gold in a town the size of Helix.

Bancroft held the door closed until the sounds of fighting died down. It didn’t take long, just enough time for a quick prayer to Sylvanus to heal Gravelgnasher and relight some torches. The fighting had ended, but there were still rats outside from the sounds, just not trying to open the secret door. In the relative quiet, Bancroft heard a metallic clanking and scraping coming from further into the room, below the floor.

Bancroft and his friends returned to the barrowmaze and inspected two barrows to the far north. Each burial mound had a pair of bronze doors. One set was ornate, bearing symbols of Nergal that matched those on a freestanding pillar to the south; those doors resisted their attempts to open them. Careful inspection revealed a pentagram that could be shifted to reveal a keyhole, but they had no key and any attempts to force the doors resulted in magical repair.

Wyz paced back and forth in his room at the inn, keeping himself awake and annoying El Vis who was sharing the room. The book of magic haunted his dreams and waking thoughts alike. Who could say what secrets might lurk within? Yet, it was hardly safe to brave the barrowmaze alone. When the others were finally ready to return, they weren’t interested in going after the book. Instead, the barrow with the ooze was chosen for a return visit.

Bancroft stood atop the barrow and looked down upon the tilled earth with satisfaction. Weeks of effort to uncover a fresh barrow had finally paid off: the door had been uncovered, revealing a chamber with four sarcophagi and many giant centipedes. The initial expedition had slain several of the centipedes but not enough, so the entryway had been buried again to keep other parties away. Now it would be dug up, the thin coating of earth removed, the centipedes slain if they were lucky, and whatever treasures the sarcophagi held reclaimed.

Bancroft stood atop the barrow and watched his friends dig. Someone had borrowed his shovel and there were not enough to go around, so he kept watch. It was almost like watching crops grow — slow and steady. Occasionally a frog, scorpion, or skeleton wandered in the distance, but the dig continued until, at last, the clink of shovel on stone resounded: the diggers had uncovered a door. The sound attracted attention.

Wyz the smart goblin and a dozen of his closest friends lined up for the barrowmaze, enduring the cold rain. In point of fact, only two of them were very close, the rest were near strangers. But he’d been watching them; choosing them carefully, selecting those who seemed the most competent. One in particular, a dwarven cleric of Fortuna, seemed to have actual supernatural powers. The rest would do for cannon fodder.