A peek behind the curtain: I spent a couple of days contemplating the implications of the end of last week’s chapter. Strictly by the Tales of Argosa rulebook, the Rift DDM effect would summon something well beyond Maelen and Vessa’s ability to handle. If they stayed and fought whatever-manifested-from-the-Veil, they would all die. If they fled, it would feast on Alric and kill him, despite him passing his Death Save. Was I ready for either of those two outcomes?
To be clear: I’m fine with character death, and if I wasn’t then I should be playing a different game. Also, there is some symmetry to Alric dying to the same DDM effect that killed (we assume) Hadren Kelthorn. Yet it also felt like an unusually cruel twist of the dice, having Alric survive the final, frenzied attack from the skinless terror boss only to be killed by a creature that spontaneously appears and then disappears.
What I settled on was to force a different, specific creature to manifest rather than roll on the Rift table: another skinless terror. This foe is still dangerous to two PCs (especially Maelen, who is at 9 of 20 hp) and will prevent Alric from receiving stabilizing treatment until they defeat it, but death is not a foregone conclusion, nor even likely. It’s pulling my punch as a GM, which might frustrate some readers. It’s a solo game, though, so the most important factor is that I’m comfortable with the decision, which I am. I still wanted to acknowledge the “GM call” as controversial, and one others might not make.
With that said, we’re back in combat and it’s Maelen’s turn to roll initiative. She rolls a 3. Since neither the new skinless terror nor Maelen have yet initiated a melee attack, I’m going to give Vessa a clean shot with her bow. She rolls a 12+4=16 and hits, doing 4+3=7 damage to its (rolling 3d8) 12 hit points, dropping it to 5 hp.
Can Maelen finish it off? She approaches and hits but rolls minimum damage. Still, this new creature is at a mere 2 hp (before it regenerates, that is).
It’s the skinless terror’s turn with its two bite attacks. It hits with one of them, doing 5 damage and dropping Maelen to a mere 4 hp. It also regenerates 6 hit points of its own and is now at 8 hp.
Vessa’s initiative roll is huge and will likely determine whether the terror or Maelen dies. She rolls… a 4! Whew. Maelen will strike first and rolls a nat-17. Her 9 total damage crushes the new threat, and then she quickly picks up a torch to burn the thing. Vessa, meanwhile, will rush to stabilize Alric.
Disaster averted.
I’ll do quick Short Rest rolls for the ensuring minutes after combat. I’ll say that Alric can’t regain hit points beyond 1 in this short time, but he passes both Will saves so I’ll give him both Spells back. He can attempt Mend Flesh later (if he dares!). Maelen, meanwhile, passes one save and will regain half her hit points, leaving her at 12 of 20 hp. Her uses of Adaptable and Supplies, though, are spent. Vessa is once again unhurt, so doesn’t need to roll.
Whew! Okay, into the narrative we go…
XXI.
Duskmarch 24, Goldday, Year 731.
Vessa hated—absolutely loathed—feeling helpless. Her bow work, her knife drills, her stealth, even the smoke bombs she brewed by hand, every skill she’d learned was meant for one purpose: to keep helplessness at bay. So too, she admitted in the darkest recesses of her mind, lotus leaf, drink, and whores were also tools, ways of distracting her from her thoughts when nothing threatened her. Vessa Velthorn had trained a lifetime to either act or numb, but never, ever, to feel helpless and do nothing.
The skinless, frenzied thing that launched itself upon Maelen had moved faster than she could nock an arrow and fire. Once upon her friend, it bit and clawed and bore Maelen to the ground like a rabid dog, moving so quickly that her friend could do nothing but scream. Vessa already had an arrow drawn, but no clear shot. She swore and panicked, a tear forming in one eye as she watched her friend being killed. Helpless.
Then Alric—brave, stupid Alric—charged forward with his torch before she could scream for him to stop. He was too unskilled to hit the thing, but waving the flames near the many-mouthed aberration was enough. It paused in its frenzy, its grotesque head clacking a wide maw of sharp teeth at him. He stepped back, realizing his peril.
Vessa should have shot it then, but terror had filled her, helplessness paralyzing her limbs. Before she could loose her arrow, it had leapt upon Alric with just as much mindless, frantic hunger as it had Maelen. Something dark sprayed wide, pattering across Vessa’s cheek as the mage went down in a gurgling scream, a mere three strides in front of her. Alric’s staff and torch clattered to the stone, and Vessa’s eyes widened in horror. The creature atop him continued attacking in a mindless rage.
What happened next would haunt Vessa’s nightmares. As Maelen and Alric lay dying, the skinless thing spasmed, split, and tore itself open. Vessa stepped back in horror as something climbed free from within the monstrosity. What crawled out was a smaller copy of the first: red-slicked muscle, exposed organs, an eyeless head, and that impossible mouth of teeth. The first aberration slumped atop Alric, gore and viscera spilling everywhere as if… unspooling. The new monster snuffled and sniffed the air, teeth clacking.
Vessa’s arrow punched into its torso, sinking to the fletching. A teakettle shriek and it turned towards her, crouching and ready to pounce. She fumbled for a second arrow but knew it wouldn’t be in time.
A blood-soaked Maelen loomed from the darkness, eyes wild and spiked mace raised overhead. With a furious shout, she brought the weapon down upon the smaller creature with a sickening, squelching crunch. It struggled to rise and she kicked it from the pile of organs that was its mother, then swung again. This time the blow landed with a wet, collapsing crunch, and the thing came apart, losing all shape. Red, pink, and purple tissue, all seemingly disconnected, flopped to either side of the black mace, unrecognizable as anything humanoid. Then Maelen staggered and fell to one knee, groaning.
Vessa dropped her bow and rushed to Alric. Without conscious thought, she pushed the viscera from him, staining her arms to the elbow in dark ichor. Her eyes searched for some sign of life from the young man. There was so much blood. How much was his and how much from the skinless terror?
Alric coughed weakly, froth on his lips. She saw a wicked bite in his neck, a huge chunk of meat gone, then another on his chest, the robes ripped away as if the thing had bitten through cloth and meat all in one gulp. Vomit rose in her throat. These were mortal wounds. She listened at his chest: No heartbeat.
“Get up!” she yelled into his face, tears blurring her vision. “Alric, damn you! Get up!”
The mage groaned. His eyes fluttered open, unable to focus.
“GET UP!” she screamed, a finger’s width from his bloody face.
“Vessa?” he whispered weakly, then coughed more blood.
“Use your magic, Alric!” she pleaded. “You’re dying! Heal yourself!” she’d grabbed him by what remained of his robe and was shaking him as she spoke. “You hear me?”
His eyes rolled. “Can’t…” he groaned. “Can’t… use…”
“Your magic!” she yelled. His eyes focused again on her face. “You have to use your magic!”
He seemed to sigh then, going limp. In a flash of panic, she thought he’d given up and died in that moment, but she saw his lips moving, whispering something she couldn’t quite make out.
Wouldn’t a failed Spellcheck by Alric be a kick in the pants here? Thankfully, he needs a 16 or lower on a d20 and rolls exactly 16. Whew. Let’s first resolve the Mend Flesh effect and then check for DDM. Alric heals 1d6+2 hit points: 7! Nice. That puts him at 8 hp.
How about the Dark & Dangerous Magic roll? He’s reset his counter to 1 after losing his heartbeat, so rolls a d8 and gets… 7. Alric’s DDM number rises to 2 for the next check, but he’s safe from Orthuun’s corruption for now.
It’s worth noting that Magic Users in Tales of Argosa can’t cast the same spell more times in a day than their Int modifier, which in Alric’s case is 2. Even if he refreshes his lost spell “slot,” he can only use Mend Flesh one more time in the Starless Rift (since I’m assuming they won’t sleep down here with the skinless terrors!).
And with that, the party has (barely) survived their first Boss monster. That Boss template is no joke, man. One question now: Does the chamber contain any loot? I’ll pose a simple Fate question here, and with the Chaos Factor of 7, that means a 75% of a yes. I roll 43. Yes indeed.
I can’t see the skinless terrors being oriented towards treasure, but I can see the dismembered, half-eaten corpses of other victims here. Who would have been down here before the party, however? Not Hadren Kelthorn or his cultists, so it must be some of the esoteric order that entombed the artifacts in the first place and sealed themselves in the earth. I’m going to do some work in the background to figure out who this order was, and then we’ll say that—like in Thornmere Hold—a few members were left here to guard the Starless Rift’s secrets, and ultimately died at their post, this time torn apart by skinless terrors.
I’ll roll on two Treasure tables: Carry Loot B (which tends to have interesting items in addition to coin) and Trinkets & Curios (which is just fun). I roll 44 silver pieces, a whistle, and leather gloves with a pocket containing a lockpick of fine workmanship. I’m going to tweak that last one a bit, but otherwise that gives me some great details.
Weakly, his lips continued to move. Vessa sat back, giving him some space, tears now fully wetting her cheeks. She clasped her hands together in what could have been prayer if she had thought Oakton’s gods could hear her in this cursed place.
Alric’s wounds closed before her eyes. Only then did Vessa realize she’d been holding her breath. With a hiccupping cry of joy, she leaned forward, her face again near his.
“Alric? Alric!”
“I’m here,” he croaked, eyes still closed. “I’m here, Vessa. Thank you.”
Then he fell unconscious.
Vessa looked him over, swiping more viscera and clinging filth off him where she found it. He wasn’t fully healed. Far from it. His gaping wounds had become serious abrasions, and many of his smaller cuts remained. But he was breathing steadily, his chest rising and falling in even rhythm. She wiped a last tear from one eye, sniffed, and looked for Maelen.
Her friend was sitting against a column of rock, wrapping her own wounds in torn strips of cloth. When she saw Vessa peering at her she asked, her voice low, “How is he?”
“I think…” she sniffed, composing herself. “Fine. He used his magic at the end to heal himself. How– how are you?”
Maelen grunted. “I’ll live. That thing went for my torso, and the chain shirt stopped most of it.” She grimaced, tying off one strip. Vessa moved lightly to help her. Maelen relaxed against the stone and closed her eyes gratefully.
“Your shoulder’s bad,” she said. This cut is bleeding, and gods, you’re bruised everywhere.”
Maelen chuckled. “Must look like a losing pit fighter, eh? Maybe… maybe I need to take up the bow. Stop getting eaten by all these Orthuun lackeys.”
Vessa grinned briefly, and then her face became serious. “What were those things, Mae? Are there more of them, you think? I’ve never seen—” she swallowed, bile again threatening to rise. “I want to leave this place.”
Maelen opened her eyes and looked at her a long moment before she answered. “We need to find where they buried the artifacts. Then we leave anything Alric says is cursed, take the good stuff, and go home. Okay?”
She rubbed her bent nose and bit her lip. Her friend must have seen the despair in her face, because she placed a broad, calloused hand on her arm. Vessa met her gaze, her eyes again blurring with tears. Damn it all but she hated her tears.
“I don’t want to stay either, lass. And I don’t want to leave Oakton again for a long while once we’re home. Let the Prince’s knights and heroes fight Orthuun. I just want the coin and the chance to spend it. But we’re close, Vess! We get the loot here and we’re done.”
Vessa pursed her lips. She wanted to believe her friend, but there was part of her that didn’t think Maelen Marroson could leave a juicy score alone. She could almost picture the conversation, weeks from now, where Maelen pulls her into some new, dangerous adventure. It won’t be like last time, she could see future-Maelen’s mouth say, This is easy money, lass, and then we’re set for life. Would she get pulled into it all again? Probably, though she didn’t fully understand why. Vessa sighed.
“Okay,” she nodded. “But we need to leave this place and get home, Mae. We’re going to die here if we stay. Let’s find the treasure. But if there are more of those… things. We run, okay?”
“Fair enough,” Maelen grunted. With a pat on the arm, she groaned, struggling to rise. “For now, let’s leave the lad to rest and see what’s in this chamber. Maybe the loot’s right under our noses, eh?”
Cautiously—and with no small amount of terror—Vessa and Maelen crept through the large cavern and its irregular, natural columns of stone. What they found was simply rock and rubble, unlit and cold, with no sign of human occupation. Perhaps Alric had been wrong in his theory, that the same people who’d created Thornmere Hold had created this place, to house instruments of Orthuun’s power and those used to defeat him. It seemed as if the Starless Rift was merely a barren cavern complex, opened by magic and occupied by monstrosities.
“Here,” Maelen hissed, snapping Vessa’s attention to focus. The warrior held her torch out in front of her and, at the edge of the wavering light, she saw the unmistakable shape of a boot. Two boots, in fact. It looked as if someone were lying on their back, feet outstretched, behind a boulder. Or at least it would have looked that way if there weren’t a wide, dark stain all around the legs and boots.
As quiet as a cat, Vessa prowled forward, Maelen behind with torch aloft. Her ears strained but heard nothing. She held her breath as she peered around the stone to find…
Carnage. The legs connected to a waist, but above that was ragged bone and gore. Nearby, another body lay on its side, missing head and one arm. A third corpse still had its head and limbs, but its armored chest lay open like a hollowed-out apple, chest plate gone and ribs splayed wide with the body’s once-torso empty. It was perhaps the grisliest scene Vessa had ever witnessed, including the massacre at Vastren Hollow days before or Hadren Kelthorn’s shocking ritual circle. Something—presumably the skinless horror they’d fought—had feasted on these bodies. No, not feasted… it had simply torn them asunder, without reason or pattern.
This time Vessa didn’t hold back her bile. She leaned over and vomited, bits of turkey and berries splashing the rocky floor.
She gagged until her stomach was empty. When she’d wiped her mouth and stood shakily, she found Maelen crouching over the bodies with her torch, rummaging through something. She glanced over her shoulder at Vessa.
“Priests of some kind,” Maelen said gruffly. “And killed not long ago. What does that mean? We should wake the lad. He might puzzle out something. But I did find this,” she hefted a coin purse that jangled in the silence. “There’s more to find. Go fetch the lad.”
She left, hurriedly and still coughing.
Vessa found Alric still unconscious, eyes closed and breathing evenly. She leaned down, ear to chest, listening for his heartbeat. Then, squinting, pressed her ear closer. Nothing.
No thump. No flutter. Nothing.
She sat up with alarm. “Alric!” she said sharply.
He gasped, eyes wide and confused. “What!?”
Vessa exhaled. “By the gods! I thought you were dead, Alric.”
“I’m okay,” he said blearily. “Just… give me a moment.”
She did, then prepared him for their discovery within the chamber. He swallowed, clearly uneasy, but nodded and said he’d follow her. Vessa helped him stand, and her hand lingered on his waist after he’d risen.
He looked from her hand to her face—haunted, hopeful.
She jerked away, heat flaring across her cheeks. By the Rootmother, she actually thought about kissing him then. What was wrong with her?
“This way,” she said hoarsely, and began walking.
They found Maelen standing over the shredded corpses. Alric gagged, but Vessa’s preparation had steeled him from the worst of it. He cleared his throat.
Maelen didn’t look at Alric as he approached. “Tell us what we’re looking at, lad. Who were these people?”
Vessa watched Alric rather than the mutilated corpses. He looked impossibly weary, pale, with dark shadows beneath each eye. Yet he also seemed… powerful, which was the best word Vessa could find. He radiated a confidence that simply hadn’t existed when she’d first met him. Then he’d presented as a naïve, young scribe with no understanding of how the world really worked. Now, with his dark robes, rune-carved staff, and the faint glow in his eyes, he looked almost like the storybooks’ mages …if the storybooks bothered to show the blood and torn robes too. Even still, Alric was becoming someone to be taken seriously, and perhaps feared. She wondered if that was where her urge to kiss him had assaulted her so suddenly.
“Hmmm,” he said eventually, the sound deep in his throat. “It’s peculiar. That one’s robes there,” he pointed with his torch. “Looks like perhaps he was a member of the Inkbinders Lodge. The cut isn’t dissimilar to mine, see? But that one,” he frowned. “Those garments look as if they’re from the the Order of the High Listener… The Watcher’s priests, from Skywarden Tower. That third one has armor, but from no knighthood I recognize. None of them have any insignia to their orders displayed. Why would that be? Different priesthoods, all down here together, bound to this place for the same reason. But why?” His frown deepened, and he gripped his staff harder.
“I found these,” Maelen said, raising her hand in the torchlight. Dangling from three leather cords were wooden whistles. “Each one had one around their neck, best I can tell.”
Alric closed his eyes, lips moving almost imperceptibly. “Not magical implements,” he sighed, opening his eyes again. “Just whistles. Perhaps to sound a warning? Well, whatever the case, it seems that Hadren’s ritual to open the Rift unleashed those…” he swallowed hard. “Things we fought. I suspect if there are more wardens here, they’re also dead. Blast it all! I would have liked to speak to one of them. I have so many questions…” Alric’s voice trailed off, his gaze drifting. He shook his head. “Well. The only thing to do is find the answers here if we can. Are there other caverns you’ve found?”
Vessa blinked, wholly impressed. Not long ago, Alric had barely survived grievous wounds. He was still injured, using his staff to hold himself upright. Yet he showed more interest in pressing forward into the unknown horrors of the Starless Rift than Vessa, who hadn’t taken a single wound. She glanced at Maelen, who was studying Alric with an expression that showed she felt similarly.
“There’s a way blocked off by rubble, and another clear this direction,” Maelen said finally. “Follow me.”
Alric nodded and limped to follow. Vessa glanced at the corpses one last time as she stepped over them, grimacing.
The torchlight glinted off something near a severed arm in the shadows.
“Wait!” she hissed. Maelen and Alric stopped, turning to her.
Vessa knelt. The hand wore a fine leather glove, too fine for a place like this. Something gold glimmered from a hidden slit at the wrist. A secret pocket. Clever.
She eased out the object: a small golden key. She held it up in the torchlight for her companions to see.
Maelen grunted. “Huh. Good work, lass. Tucked into the glove, eh? Find the other arm. Maybe the bastard carried two.”
It took some searching, but they found the other hand. It also wore a fine leather glove, but seemingly no hidden pocket. “Just the one key,” she concluded, speaking her thought aloud.
“Now let’s find the lock it opens,” Maelen grinned, patting Vessa hard on the shoulder.
I’m simplifying the map somewhat from the original one on p.101 of the Adventure Framework Collection #1 by Pickpocket Press. If you’re following along at home, I’m essentially collapsing areas 3 and 6 and eliminating area 8. The party is traveling east on the map towards a chamber with two sinkholes in it (area 7). After that, they’ll reach the main Tomb of Saelith in area 10.
Is there anything happening here? I’ll Consult the Bones to see: The Twins of Fates are split Yes/No, but the Judgment die says Yes. The Fortune die, meanwhile, shows that scary Skull. Poor Alric, Maelen, and Vessa… the Starless Chamber sucks! In any case, I’ll roll a d20 on the Complications table in the Tales of Argosa Dungeon Generator: Water, “the area might be flooded, contains a pool, underground lake, well, fountain, broken pipes, etc.” Ohh… interesting! Looks like we have a bit of a hazard to navigate.
Oh, and earlier I rolled an Int(General Lore) for Alric to identify the corpses’ attire. His Great Success provided the information above.
Maelen led them, winding around natural stone columns to a corridor too narrow for two of them to walk abreast. This place had turned her around, and she couldn’t puzzle out which direction they moved, but ultimately decided that it didn’t matter. She felt confident she could find their rope by retracing their steps, which was enough.
Both Alric and Maelen’s torches were burning low, guttering and smoking, shedding less light than they’d done before. Vessa opened her mouth to ask about it but heard something.
“Do you hear that?” she asked.
Her companions froze, listening. Ahead, down the shadowed corridor, was the unmistakable sound of water dripping. Maelen jerked her chin in a gesture for them to follow, then moved forward. Alric went next, with Vessa in the rear. Shadows and stone pressed close, tightening around her chest like a fist. Her breath came too fast; she forced herself to swallow it down. She wanted badly to leave this place and never return.
Ahead, Maelen cursed.
“What is it?” Vessa whispered. No one answered, so she pressed forward, her own heartbeat pounding in her ears.
Once again, Vessa found herself on a small dais of rock, just wide enough for the three of them to stand uncrowded.
Beyond the lip of the rocky shelf, as far as the wavering torchlight could reach, was a smooth, black pool of water, so still it reflected their torchlight like a sheet of obsidian.
Two distant drips fell in uneven rhythm, loud in the cavern’s vast silence.
“Tell me you two can swim,” Maelen growled.
Her voice was not reassuring.
Next: Black Waters [with game notes]
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