The morning sun cast long shadows across Helix as Bancroft made his way through the town’s winding streets, his mind turning over an intriguing conversation from the previous evening. He had encountered a small goblin wizard—scarred and bearing himself with the cold authority of one who had gazed beyond death’s veil—who spoke of an animated serpent trapped near the rats’ nest in the shadowmaze.
“An animated snake, you say?” Bancroft had mused, his farmer’s practicality already working through the possibilities. “Made of brass and steel?”
The goblin’s eyes had gleamed with avarice. “Indeed. My minions were forced to retreat before its mechanical fury, but perhaps your group might succeed where they… tactically withdrew.”
Now, as Bancroft gathered his companions at their usual meeting spot, he shared the goblin’s intelligence with characteristic optimism. “I’ve got that strong wooden chest with the good lock that I bought for storing valuables,” he explained to the assembled group. “Seems to me an animated snake could be safely contained within, then sold to Mazzah for a tidy profit.”
Riyou, still bearing the acid scars from their recent mimic encounter, raised an eyebrow. “You want to capture a mechanical snake? In a box?”
“Sylvanus teaches us that all creatures can be contained if you use the right approach,” Bancroft replied with the confidence of a man who had never met a problem he couldn’t solve with sufficient application of common sense.
Kafeelia hefted her warhammer thoughtfully. “I’ve survived this long by avoiding notice, but this plan… it has a certain directness to it.”
Irulan, ever the warrior, simply nodded. “If it’s made of metal, it can be broken. Or at least grabbed.”
Luxsley, still carrying his Sacred Toad pamphlets, added with evangelical fervor, “The Sacred Toad teaches us that all serpents are sacred! Perhaps we should commune with it first?”
“We’ll commune with it from inside a locked chest,” Riyou said dryly, checking her lockpicks. “Much safer that way.”
The journey to the shadowmaze passed without incident, though each member of the party remained alert for the dangers they had learned to expect. The memory of Druidly’s loss still hung over them, a constant reminder that the barrowmaze claimed its due from all who dared its depths.
When they reached the chamber with the ancient statues, now carpeted with the corpses of rats from the goblin wizard’s methodical extermination, Bancroft positioned his chest near the secret door while his companions took their places.
“Remember,” he said, hefting the wooden container, “Irulan grabs, I stuff, everyone else stays clear. Simple as plowing a field.”
Riyou approached the concealed mechanism with the professional caution of one who had learned to respect the shadowmaze’s traps. Her skilled fingers found the hidden catch, and the secret door swung open to reveal—
“Gah!” Riyou squealed, leaping backward as the clockwork cobra struck like lightning from its hiding place behind the door. Its brass coils gleamed in the torchlight, jeweled eyes fixed on her with mechanical malevolence.
But Irulan was ready. The half-orc warrior’s reflexes, honed by countless battles, served her well as she lunged forward and seized the serpent just behind its articulated head. The construct writhed in her grip with surprising strength, its metal coils seeking purchase on her armored forearms.
“Got it!” she grunted, wrestling with the mechanical creature as it tried to bring its venomous fangs to bear. “Bancroft, the chest!”
The cleric of Sylvanus moved with the same methodical efficiency he brought to all tasks, opening the wooden container and holding it ready. “Right then, in you go, you brass beauty.”
Together, they managed to stuff the writhing construct into the chest, Bancroft slamming the lid shut and turning the key with a satisfying click. The muffled sounds of the cobra striking against the wooden walls echoed from within, but the container held firm.
“Well,” Bancroft said with satisfaction, “that was easier than I expected. Sylvanus favors the prepared mind.”
The journey back toward Helix began with high spirits and visions of profit dancing in their heads. Mazzah was known to pay well for unusual magical constructs, and a clockwork cobra would surely command a premium price. They had made it perhaps halfway back to town when disaster struck.
A sharp hissing sound, followed by the acrid smell of burning wood, announced that their captive had found a way to express its displeasure. Smoke began to curl from the chest’s edges as the cobra’s acidic venom ate through the wooden walls.
“It’s burning through!” Riyou shouted, pointing at the growing hole in the container’s side. “The thing’s got acid!”
The chest burst open with a splintering crash, and the clockwork cobra emerged like a brass demon, its jeweled eyes blazing with mechanical fury. It struck at the nearest target—Luxsley, who barely managed to dodge the venomous fangs.
“For the Sacred Toad!” the cultist cried, swinging his shovel at the serpent with more enthusiasm than skill.
The battle was brief but chaotic. Irulan managed to grab the cobra again, her warrior’s strength proving superior to its mechanical fury, while Bancroft struggled to stuff it back into the damaged chest.
“Use my shield!” Irulan called out, wrestling with the writhing construct. “Cover the hole!”
They managed to secure the cobra once more, using Irulan’s shield to replace the acid-damaged lid. But their makeshift prison proved no more effective than the original. Within minutes, the relentless construct had burned through another section of the chest, escaping once more into the wilderness.
This time, their pursuit proved futile. The clockwork cobra slithered away into the swamps with the fluid grace of its living cousins, disappearing among the reeds and murky water where even the most determined treasure hunters feared to follow.
“Well,” Bancroft said philosophically as they watched their profit vanish into the marsh, “Sylvanus teaches us that not every harvest yields grain. Sometimes you just get experience.”
“Expensive experience,” Riyou muttered, kicking at the remains of the ruined chest.
They made their way back to Helix with heavy hearts and empty pockets, the weight of another failed venture pressing upon them like the humid air of the swamps. But Riyou, ever resourceful, had one last card to play.
“I’ve got that tablet I’ve been working on,” she announced as they reached the town’s outskirts. “Maybe Mazzah will be interested in my… scholarly efforts.”
The tablet in question bore what could charitably be called writing, though its actual content consisted largely of insulting observations about various townsfolk rendered in Riyou’s distinctive scrawl. Still, desperate times called for creative solutions.
At Mazzah’s tower, the grumpy wizard took one look at the assembled group and scowled. “I’ll examine this privately,” he announced, gesturing for Riyou to follow him inside while the others waited in the street.
Half an hour later, Riyou emerged looking distinctly woozy, her usual sharp-eyed alertness replaced by a dreamy, unfocused expression. She clutched a small purse of coins with the careful attention of someone not entirely certain of their surroundings.
“How much?” Bancroft asked with concern, noting her condition.
“Fifteen gold,” she replied slowly, as if the words were traveling a great distance to reach her mouth. “He said my… insights… were illuminating.”
The coins divided evenly among the five of them, yielding three gold pieces each—a slim reward that barely covered their expenses, but enough to fund another expedition. In their current circumstances, they were reduced to counting every copper.
As Bancroft watched Riyou struggle to focus her eyes and maintain her balance, a deep concern settled in his chest. Whatever Mazzah had done to extract those “insights” from her tablet had clearly taken a toll on his friend. The cleric found himself offering silent prayers to Sylvanus, not for treasure or protection, but for the wellbeing of his companion. In that moment of genuine care for another’s suffering, he felt his connection to the nature god deepen—Sylvanus valued the natural order of things above all else, and the arcane ways of the wizard were anything but natural. The divine warmth that flowed through him was different from his usual spells, gentler but more profound, and Bancroft knew that his faith had grown stronger through his concern for Riyou’s welfare and his increased rejection of Mazzah’s arcane workings.
The next morning found them once again approaching the shadowmaze, this time with Kafeelia’s warhammer serving as their primary excavation tool. The dwarven fighter had suggested a promising barrow that showed signs of previous disturbance, and her weapon proved admirably suited to breaking through ancient stonework.
“Stand back,” Kafeelia warned, raising her hammer with the practiced ease of one who had learned to make every blow count. “I’ve survived this long by avoiding notice, but sometimes you have to make noise.”
The warhammer struck the sealed entrance with a resounding crash, sending chips of stone flying in all directions. A second blow opened a gap large enough to peer through, revealing the glint of water within.
“Flooded,” Bancroft observed, holding his torch up to the opening. “But that doesn’t mean it’s empty.”
They widened the breach until it was large enough to enter, then waded into the knee-deep water that filled the ancient chamber. The room opened up before them, larger than they had expected, with passages leading east and west. Both exits were blocked by rusted but still-functional portcullises, their iron bars disappearing into the murky water.
It was Irulan who first spotted the movement beyond the eastern gate. “We’ve got company,” she announced, her hand moving instinctively to her sword hilt.
Half a dozen zombies pressed against the portcullis, their rotting hands reaching through the bars with mindless hunger. The undead creatures moaned and clawed at the iron barrier, but the ancient metalwork held firm against their assault.
“Right then,” Bancroft said, raising his holy symbol with the calm confidence of a farmer preparing to deal with troublesome livestock. “Sylvanus, grant me the power to cleanse this place of corruption.”
The divine energy that flowed through him was like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. Two of the zombies immediately fled from his presence, their undead forms unable to withstand the holy power. Three others simply dissolved, their corrupted flesh melting away like ice in summer heat, leaving only foul-smelling ichor that sank beneath the water’s surface.
But one zombie proved more resilient than its companions. The creature absorbed blow after blow from the party’s weapons, falling only to rise again moments later with the inexorable persistence of the truly dead. Each time they struck it down, it would stagger back to its feet, driven by whatever dark force animated its rotting corpse.
“This one’s tougher than the others,” Luxsley observed, swinging his shovel with religious fervor. “The Sacred Toad teaches us that some spirits cling more tightly to the mortal realm!”
The zombie’s persistence finally paid off when it managed to break through the weakened portcullis, the ancient iron giving way under its relentless assault. It swung at Kafeelia with bone-crushing force, but the dwarven fighter’s instincts served her well—she ducked under the blow and replied with a mighty swing of her warhammer.
The weapon connected with a wet crunch that should have ended any mortal creature, but the zombie simply staggered and began to rise once more.
“Enough of this,” Riyou muttered, drawing her bow with the precision of a former cultist who had learned to make every shot count. Her arrow took the creature between the eyes, the point punching through rotted skull and whatever passed for its brain. This time, it stayed down.
“Finally,” Bancroft said, lowering his holy symbol. “Sylvanus teaches us that persistence conquers all—even undeath, apparently.”
They followed the two fleeing zombies into the eastern chamber, wading through water that grew progressively fouler as they advanced. The room beyond proved disappointingly empty, containing little more than broken stone and the lingering stench of decay. The zombies cowered in the far corner, still driven to flee by Bancroft’s divine presence but trapped by the chamber’s walls.
“Well,” Irulan said, hefting her sword, “at least we can finish this without them fighting back.”
Bancroft raised his hand. “Wait. Let me try something first.” He approached Kafeelia, his holy symbol glowing with divine energy. “Sylvanus, bless this weapon with your cleansing power, that it might strike down the forces of corruption.”
The spell flickered and died, the divine energy dissipating without effect. Bancroft frowned, his farmer’s practicality warring with his religious faith. “Well, that’s unfortunate. Sometimes the gods have their own plans.”
“No matter,” Kafeelia said, raising her warhammer. “Steel and determination work just as well.”
But Bancroft wasn’t finished. Raising his holy symbol once more, he called upon Sylvanus with renewed fervor. “Grant me the power to turn these abominations from your sight!”
This time, the divine energy flowed true and strong. One of the cowering zombies simply crumbled to dust, its unholy animation finally severed. The other remained, pressed against the chamber’s far wall like a cornered animal.
“Just one left,” Riyou observed, nocking another arrow. “This shouldn’t take long.”
As they prepared to finish off the remaining undead, each member of the party reflected on how far they had come since their early, desperate flights from the shadowmaze’s horrors. They were still cautious, still respectful of the dangers that lurked in every shadow, but they had learned to work together with the efficiency of a well-oiled machine.
The last zombie awaited its fate in the flooded chamber, but for Bancroft and his companions, it represented something more than just another obstacle to overcome. It was proof that they were becoming the kind of adventurers who could face the shadowmaze’s challenges and emerge victorious—battered, perhaps, and certainly poorer than they had hoped, but alive and ready to delve deeper into the mysteries that lay beneath the earth.
The barrowmaze still held its secrets, and they would continue to seek them, one flooded chamber at a time.
