SESSION 321: The Dreaming Caldera Pt.3: Stone Cold Crazy
Carla and Bimbles recognized an imminent defeat and called for a tactical retreat into the pavilion and down the steps to hopefully get beyond the reach of the gigantic tyrannical trio….
Day 771 Continued(Underworld): And so, once more, they had descended into the lightless pit. Down ancient black stairs carved into the volcanic rock they were at a cross-roads.
The dungeon was a seemingly natural cavern chambers made of seamless black volcanic glass. Too many 90 degree angles to occur naturally; its architecture defies conventional wisdom of construction. 12’ ceilings, no natural light sources.
To the west were double-doors of iron-reinforced wood.
The east offered a corridor and south was an archway that lead to a black glass bridge in a gapping chamber of acidic odour.
“I take the door, definitely the door”, was Bunny’s contribution.
“Perhaps after we check the corridor was Bimbles’s counter.
The east end was dead.
They returned and were about to go to the door when they remembered the dead goblin up the stairs. Maybe he had loot. He did. An interesting gauntlet with three red fingers. Our gang were not afforded too much time to think about it as a very large and very angry demonic bull covered in thick armoured plates came to the crossroad from the bridge.
A gorgon, crap!
It wasted no time blasting the first of two petrifying breath attacks upon our twits trapped on the steps. Remember there were three giant beings just outside the pavilion at the top of the stairwell. They showed their fortitude with the first blast but the second took its toll. Nara and Charles were now statues. After the second blast the hobos were able to maneuver around the demon-bull and get their chopping in. Dolec and Bimbles faced it head on as the rest of the gang worked the angles. They got it down without further calamity. The pay, after gutting, was not worth the gore and time two pitiful gems that may turn out to simply be kidney stones. If only we had a dwarf with us.
After grabbing a break they pressed on through the door to the east (after a quick picking). This revealed a corridor that lead to a series of ever increasingly hot staging rooms, filled with dopey folk that only responded to talk about the music. In the third and final chamber was the catalyst for a bit of a grand thrall melee. The Heckling was found here a bird-faced runt with a strangely hairy chest that he took some pride in.
He/it was busy posing, and looting, the mixed folk in this chamber he gave simple directions “Braaa wait your turns over there. I will get you stuff so enough. HeHe” to our lot not giving any real consideration. The dwarfy weirdo seemed to be prepping (stealing from) and then assigning tasks these slaves. Something structured was going on but our gang seem to drop clues like birds drop shit, falling never to be seen again every few minutes. The heckling eventually caught on and the jig was up. He sent his legion at our dorks. They slaughtered the sub-humans with abandon while subduing the humans for later interview. When the dust settled the only non-human still breathing in the chamber was Saff. This was to our Ribbit-Queen’s satisfaction. The saved humans could not offer much other than acknowledging that the Heckling had beguiled them and now they were here, wherever that is. They were directed to hunker down, “We will return for you after we have completed our heroic mission”, pledged Lester.
“Works for us. Best of luck”.
Returning to the glossy black dungeon corridor the went further into another chamber the Pentagonal crossroads.
Chittering goblin voices and the rhythmic “thunk” of a butcher knife are audible from outside the door.
Four doors connect to a pentagon shaped-room with 60’ ceilings. Ichor- stained wagon tracks criss-cross the floor. Billowy deposits of white feathers accumulate in the corners. There were four goblinoids working away, huddled in a corner, hacking apart a pile of chickens, fastidiously separating the parts into discrete piles. They ignored our hobos but our sports have a zero tolerance for beastmen, well except Brett & Jermaine of course.
Three doors to choose from.
East.
Another corridor with two door along its path.
They went long.
Welcome to the knackers. The chamber was absurdly hot and lead to a laddered landing in the acidic bridge chamber. Immense iron kettles gurgled over hot coal beds. The northern wall hosted an overstuffed shelf full of pots and jars with opaque, viscous fluids. A blood splattered cutting board and a wet pile of unidentifiable animal tissue cover a table along the southern wall. Four sooty bugbears stirred pots and hacked apart an orc corpse. They seemed to be rendering down their/ the (?) victims into a goo. They were killed with prejudice immediately. After a quick pan and scan Lester acted impulsively. The paladin threw down the Red Prophet’s homing rat. With a spark of mystical energy the dead thing sprung to life. The rat ran like a lightning bolt back down the corridor to the west.
Folks ran after it.
The rat wiggled under the unopened door.
Our hobos followed.
Opening the door unleashed an oppressive wave of hot animal stench. Footfalls were muffled by inches of squishing, compacted filth. A vast chamber of gaping darkness; then surging suddenly into the light: a crashing wave of 1000 screaming chickens.
A poultry wave rolled over the gang. Inter-mixed within the birds were a half-dozen 6’ tall prehistoric-like dire chickens. These things demanded flesh but not in a cannibal like way. Hobo flesh was on the menu.
Game on.
Well sorta, they were still just chickens but from a time long forgotten.
The flock peeled through to points behind and the dire chickens met dire straits.
But!
“For crying out loud! Where is my rat!?!”, screamed out our normally stoic paladin.
The A-Team: Bunny, Carla, Bimbles, Saffron, Charles, Dolec Da, Nara & Lester
ROLECALL
Carla the Green High Priestess of TMB (C10) 363590 xp +10% <400001> CRT 1d12/III
Scars: permanent loss left index finger and scarring on arm
Bimbles the High Priest of GSS (C10) 327825 xp +5% <400001> CRT 1d12/III
+2 save to poison and internal body things; Double eat (gotta feed my baybay)
Bunny the Thief! (T10) 319435 xp <400001> +10% CRT 1d24/II
Light wound: permanent loss of pinky finger, off hand
The Henchmen
Saffron the Mad Fairy Queen of Ribbits (FY8*) 201739 xp <200001> CRT 1d10/III
Moderate wound: Scar on abdomen
Lasting injury: -1 STR, mashed guts
Nara the Nearly Naked Purple Swami Girl (PS7) 116268 xp +5% <125000> CRT 1d16/II
Wraith Drained: -1 CON
Charles in Charge the Myrmidon (F6) 89866 <120000> +10% CRT 1d20/IV
Franz the Grave Return (Lawful; XXXX) Sword
Critical Wound: Punctured lung (-2 CON)
Mostly DEAD. (-1 CON)
Dolec Da the Hero (F7) 74855 xp +10% <120000> CRT 1d20/IV
Missing five teeth
Lester Flanders the Guardian of Oceana (P6) 52155 xp <95000> +5% CRT 1d16/IV
RESERVES
Elapsed Campaign Time
743b days at beginning of session (Boris & Friends just outside of Liwil)
765a (Bunny Group Newville) Busy until 779
724d (Ding-We Gang Lake of Abominations/ Liwil)
Join us for session Three-Hundred-and-Twenty-Two when we ask the questions:
Is something going on down here?
Could we have been more…?
Which way did Lester’s rat go?
Did anyone see anything during the chicken frenzy?
Tale of the Tape
Nara and Charles sailed down the petrification river, see ya later!
KILLS
Angry Gorgon
Orc
Orange Bugbear
Gnolls (3)
Skunk Goblins (4)
Dire Chickens (6)
Sooty Chef Bugbears (4)
LOOT
8 sp
Gems (2): small ruby 10 gp, flawed diamond 50 gp
Glove with three red fingers
Inscribed arrowhead
The Hecklings not empty sack
