Chapter 8: A Cure For Worts

GM: There are two doorways and the western archway you entered from. One in the middle of the eastern wall and another in the northern corner of west wall. There is a gap at the top of the waterwheel (northwest corner) that you might be able to squeeze through. The water flowing into this room causes the wheel to spin up from your perspective. The walls do not reach the vaulted glass ceiling, and if they were climbed you could gain access to other areas.
Marcel: I go out the eastern doorway.
GM: You walk across the room dividing the sea of frogs and open the stone door. The next room is very small and is covered a spongy yellow fungus. There are two doors here. One eastern door the matches the one you just opened, and one southern door that has a green crust covering the edges.
Marcel: I quietly walk across the room, trying not to piss off the yellow fungus over to the eastern door
GM: As soon as your foot makes contact with the fungus covering the floor, it pops with an intense burst causing a wave of sound to nearly lift you off the ground. The disturbed floor now quivers and is extrude a yellow pus.
Marcel: (Can I determine the effect my ignited Sunblade would have on the fungus?)
GM: Your blade would cut the fungus and the fire will burn away some of the discharge. You feel this pop effect takes a while to reset after being triggered. This might be some kind of predatory species that tries to knockout its prey and dissolve it with the discharge.
Marcel: Is the discharge avoidable without me burning it away?
GM: It will likely leave some marks on your boots, but is otherwise a low threat. This trap was likely not meant for humans.
Marcel: I briskly trudge across to my destination.
GM: You hurry through the next stone door and find yourself in a long hallway that is angled to the right. Between you and the archway at the end is a path with leafy vines in both sides. The foliage extends a few feet from the stone walls and sways gently without wind. You can see that the walls of the room beyond extend much higher than the previous areas.
After taking a moment and admiring the plant life you realize the leaves and stems come together to form faces. The same woman’s face over and over, gently smiling and gazing into nothing.
Marcel: Can I tell if the plant is sentient or not?
GM: The faces closest to you seem to react to your presence and silently coo at you; some making kissing faces to you. You aren’t sure if they are intelligent or simply enchanted.
Roll arcana or spell craft to see if you can learn more.
Marcel: 16
GM: You deduce that these plant faces are being affected by an outside magic force. These plants were grown under the influence of a powerful magic effect which caused them to only imitate a human appearance.
Marcel: Can I tell if vines will try to grab me if I go through?
GM: You get the distinct impression that they want to kiss you.
Marcel: I use my fire gem on the vines
GM: After flashing your ruby, each face in the hall is immolated from the inside. Small columns of fire erupt from each mouth and every eye. As the torched faces dim, the embers emit an eerie glow; the woman’s face withers by the dozen.
Marcel: I proceed through the archway.
GM: The next room is completely enclosed by the vaulted, stone ceiling and the walls only source of light being what spills in from the previous hallway. Your eyes have trouble adjusting to the darkness and you can hardly make out what is in here. There are a few figures spaced apart in the room, that you can assume are statues. There is a faint, pulsing outline of a doorway on the opposite end of this pitch.
Marcel: I cast Dancing Lights
GM: Four orbs of shining light spin into existence and dance capriciously through the air. The new light illuminates the figures revealing them to be statues covered in withered, grey roots. The statues are cracked and worn and their once fine details have eroded into smooth enigma. The statues stand in unique, conspicuous poses, each atop a dais only a few feet in height.
The floors are cracked, black soapstone from which dry vines with papery leaves creep. The room is long with an odd shape; especially the convex wall in the northeast corner. On that wall is the stone door whose outline you noticed in the dark. There is a darkness in the southeast that your lights can’t erase. The stygian void makes the area appear like the curved wall and the southern wall never meet.
Marcel: I investigate the darkness in the Southeast corner of the room.
GM: As you cross through the room, passing the statues, you find yourself at the precipice of darkness. The shadows form a wall like a haze, allowing only a little precious light to shine a few feet ahead.
You hear a growl emit from the darkness. You think something is threatening you not to get closer. Your froggy familiar fidgets in your robes.
While staring into the abyss you hear movement behind you. The nearest statue has left its pedestal and is slowly coming inching towards you. Growling continues in the darkness.
What do you do?
Marcel: I take a sideways step to the left and gripping onto my immovable rod (as it is my evocation implement), sending an energy ray of acid towards the statue
GM: Your ray blasts the stone and vine statue and melts away one of its arms. The animated art falls to its knees and starts to crawl, futilely.
One other statue has begun to move towards you. It waves its arms in a crossing motion, as if trying to dissuade you from something. The growling becomes louder.
Marcel: I bolt out of the room
GM: Which way? Stone door or back where you came past the statues?
Marcel: Back to the way I came so I can re-evaluate the situation.
GM: As you run back to the hall of immolated the crawling statue tries to grab your ankles, but it fails having only one hand.
Your dancing lights follow you into the lit garden hall leaving the statues in the dark.
Marcel: Believing that the statue was wanting to warn me away from a danger, I slowly peer back into the room. I send my lights as far as they can go so that I can inspect the room to make sure that something isn't going to shred me to ribbons if I go back in there.
GM: The light of your motes extends as far as you can reach, illuminating about half of the room closest to you. You see the two statues who have not yet animated still on their pedestals. After a moment of deafening silence, you hear the shattering of stone and then the clattering of it upon the ground, and then again ending with the hissing of air passing through a tight space that slowly peters out.
What do you do?
Marcel: I look for a stone along the ground. About the size of a softball or so.
GM: You find a suitable sized rock tangled in the burned vines. You wrench it free.
Marcel: I cast light on the rock and toss it towards the source of the shattering stone.
GM: You throw the shining rubble hard into the darkness beyond your lights. It hurtles through the air and collides with the curved wall at the back. The stone shatters and sends glowing debris scattered across the floor. The supernatural darkness from moments before is missing, and the statues that moved to the corner have been destroyed and scattered as well. All that remains in the mysterious corner is a crack in the southern wall that had been obscured by the deep shadows.
Marcel: I slowly approach where the supernatural darkness was.
GM: You creep forward and your dancing lights follow suit. The curved wall continues into the corner but never meets the southern wall, forming a short hallway that leads nowhere. The formerly obscured corner is now completely empty with no evidence that anything had ever been there except for a crack in the stone. The crack starts on the floor and crawls up the southern wall. About four feet up the wall the crack widens into a gap only a few inches wide. Through the gap you can see a glimpse of starry void.
Marcel: I inspect the void, while remembering vaguely what happened last time, I am on guard.
GM: You inhale and hold a deep breath as you peek through the gap. You see the starry leviathan swimming through the cosmic nothingness separated from you by only about a foot of stone. Is it the same that you witnessed before? How big is it really? Is there really any way for you to know? Somewhere between you and the 'stars' a dark stain swims through space, only noticeable by the absence of the light it blocks you from the leviathan. It shrinks slowly, giving you the impression that it is moving away from you.
Your vantage point is limited and you are unable to see much else.
Marcel: I go towards the door, quickly before the leviathan pays me any more attention.
GM: The door is unlocked and opens into the round room with the rotating light where shadows become pits. There is the door to the north that leads to where you fought the vapor phantoms and the door to the east that leads back towards Crucem.
Marcel: I head back towards Crucem
GM: After carefully trodding through the rotunda as you have done before, you find yourself back where you began. The blue half-dragon witnesses you re-enter the room as looks somewhat surprised or at least a little taken aback. “You’ve always come through the black door,” she mutters. “What has changed?” She sniffs lightly towards you, but keeps a respectful distance.
The doors are the same as always. North to the rhyming serpent mosaic starting the path to Chronia. Northeast to the incomprehensible stairs and the wedding beyond.
Marcel: "Sometimes this maze has mercy" I say as I walk past Crucem towards to northeast
GM: As you pass her, Crucem takes a step back away from you and follows you with her gaze. You catch a glimpse of a flash of white at her waist peeking through her black and blue gown.
~She knows~ You hear a small voice croak in your mind. The petrified frog stirs inside your robe.
The room composed of gravity defying stairways lays before you. From your memory you believe you can navigate to the door that leads towards the wedding, but you know there is another door that you haven’t been through before. The pile of bodies at the bottom of the pit below you have grown since last, you’ve seen it. Some invisible creature seems to be feasting on the buffet.
Marcel: I continue cautiously towards the door that leads towards the wedding.
GM: Up and under the unreal steps, you find yourself at the curious reception of the time-halted wedding. Here you see the peacock butler, Zycorious, waiting to receive guests. He sees you enter the door way but waits an uncomfortably long time to greet you.
“Welcome back, good sir. I hope you find yourself at- oh dear. This cannot do,” he says with a squeal. He steps to your side to inspect the tear in your star-stitched robe. “My dearest apologies, but I cannot permit any entrance to one who is so... disheveled,” he blinks. “Have a good day.”
Marcel: I attempt to just go past the bird.
GM: You easily bypass Zycorious because, after all, he is just a bird. “My word!” He squawks and bristles his feathers while making no attempt to stop you. His beautiful tail fans in a wondrous arc as you step around him.
The doors to the next room are already open and lead into a sort of hallway where a number of rooms each open into each other. First on your right is the empty area where you found the golden key; a closed door is on the opposite side of this area. Second on the right is a banquet area; each table is covered in blackened, rotten food except for a pristine white wedding cake topped with cherries, figurines of a man and woman, and a tiny swan.
The first room to your left was once a dance hall but is still filled with guests; black charred figures mingle along the ground. Each step marks the ground with black ash. Above them float a small group of pale figures cradled in a halo of diaphanous, golden gossamer. Neither the dark or pale figures interact with the opposite group, or you for that matter.
The second room on the right is the center of the wedding; where the bride and groom stand locked in time just before a kiss. You were not unable to pass this room on your own before, but made it through once with assistance from Crucem though you died shortly thereafter.
In the center of all this sits the little ghost of Tycho Wort. Knees to chest against the northern wall he looks at you with cautious anticipation. It has been some time since you promised the boy you would help his mother.
Marcel: I lock eyes with Tycho for a moment, whispering an apology under my breath before I venture into the room where his mother stands frozen in time.
GM: Edging into the round, time-frozen room you push against time like you are wading upriver. You are able to make it as far to the group of frozen spectators at the steps below the raised couple. The smile at the bride and groom and bear some resemblance to one or the other; perhaps family.
Suddenly the petrified frog begins to fight its way out of your pocket. Crawling inside your clothes and up your chest, it ends up at your shoulder and tumbles down your sleeve completely unimpeded by the magic surrounding you. The tiger-eye toad bounces on the ground before regaining balance and looking up at you with its gemstone eyes. It seems to clear its throat, before you hear it’s voice in your mind once more.
‘We are to grant you passage,’ it says in a tiny voice. ‘Please, stand close.’ In an instance you feel the pressure that covered you disappear and be replaced by a stuffy aura like the air in the pools where you first met the demon Carnifex.
You have free reign to move about while with your toad, but it seems those around you do not. You see clearly the archway on the opposite side of the room.
GM: The toad begins to hop around the center dais of the room where the couple is standing. It stops and looks at you again. ‘Please keep up,’ it transmits to your mind.
You are able to peek into the next room and see some modest lighting and the edge of a table. You remember dying there before when you and Crucem where overcame by the auburn wisps.
Marcel: I bring my attention back towards my familiar and follow his lead.
GM: The small, shiny toad leads you across the ceremony to the room beyond. There you find yourself in a large irregular shaped room. Directly in front of you stands a long table covered in wrapped presents piled into small peaks. A swan floats in a river enchanted into the tabletop that loops around the miniature mountains of gifts. It honks and ruffles its wings at your presence, but otherwise continues its path along the water.
The northern wall to your immediate left features a single closed door, and the open area to your right is littered with toys. Wooden blocks and dolls reveal that this room was likely a play area for small children. Rotting hides of unknown creatures are pinned to the walls and fill the room with a musty scent. In the southwest and southeast most corners of this room are two doorways. The door to the southeast yawns gently, quivering slightly at the light breeze passing through from the dark room beyond.
As you were scanning the room the toad had begun scaling your leg into your clothes. It’s little voice murmurs in your mind once more, ‘Our offer has been upheld. Now you must fulfill your agreement.’
Marcel: "Calm down demon. You'll have your dead lich soon." I say as I make my way towards the door to the southeast.
GM: As you reach towards the gaping door to push it open a bony hand protrudes from the shadows within clasping the edge of the wooden door, opening it inwards. You are forced to take a step back to avoid the fleshless woman who is emerging from beyond. She wears a black cassock over her skeletal frame embroidered with violet and indigo filigree. The cloth is worn thin and frays at the hem. Her skull is decorated with jet inlays around her eyes and forehead beneath a wire frame of tattered cloth that must have once been a regal headdress.
Her jaw hinges open as her words echo into the room, the bones making no attempt to waggle in sync to her syllables. "Who are you? What business do you have at this wedding?" Her jaw snaps shut abruptly with an audible clack.
Marcel: "Oh! I'm sorry! I thought I was the only one here not frozen! I am just merely a passerby seeing what is going on here. Who might you be?"
GM: “I am Sophronia Wort, a holy spirit that inhabits these poor bones. I was sent to this prison on a mission to return the Angelfish to heaven, but have become trapped in this wedding.” Her jaw clacks shut again.
Marcel: "The Angelfish? May I ask what that is?"
GM: “The Angelfish is a manifestation of pure goodness. One must speak its secret name in its presence to return it to its rightful home in the place beyond,” she clacks again.
Marcel: "Ah! What a noble sounding quest! May I ask what's in that room? I'm looking for someone at this wedding."
GM: “Within awaits the Black Night. He who has bound me to this place,” clack.
She swivels her head to view something behind you. “Momma,” you hear the quiet voice of the ghostly child, Tyko.
The skeletal woman’s jaw opens and closes without a word. If she had a face, you would expect it to have shown hesitation. It opens once more, “Tyko. Go to your room, honey. It’s late.” Clack.
Marcel: "Is there any negotiation with this 'Black Night'? Your son has been looking all over this maze for you. I'd like to help."
GM: “The knight will attack the living on sight. Turn back, lest ye be slain.”, she says. Her jaw hangs open in silence. After a long, awkward silence just before you would begin to speak, she continues, “I do not know this child.” Clack.
Marcel: "But you just acknowledged him... By name... You do know him and he appears to recognize you."
GM: “Such nonsense,” Sophronia says. “Do not tally. Go forth, slay the Angelfish and save us all before it is too late”. Clack.
Marcel: "Why does a powerful lich need the help of a mortal anyways? It seems like it would be a rather trivial task for someone as powerful as you."
GM: You hear a noise come from Sophronia that sounds like someone clicking their tongue in annoyance, despite the fact she lacks all of the requisite organs to do so. “A terrible accusation to levy against a woman of the cloth. What are your true intentions at this wedding? Party crashers are not welcome.” Clack.
Roll sense motive.
Marcel: 16
GM: You feel like she is trying to just get you to leave, but you don’t know why. You believe little of what she has said, if any, has been true.
Marcel: "You seem eager to rid of me Sophronia. Why might that be?"
GM: Sophronia’s bunches her shoulders and lets them drop; you hear the disembodied sounds of sighing. “Tyko!” She lifts a leg beneath her cassock and stomps twice; the sound of it booms disproportionately as echoes continue to ring the room. The unexplored door on the opposite edge of the room snaps open by a foot and a wretched creature peeks out.
The small, hairless, human-like being wears an identical outfit as the ghost-boy you are familiar with, but it is about two sizes too small. Its skin is dark and leathery, pulled taut over its boney frame. It wheezes and spits out a dry, “Mother?”
“Please escort our visitor away.”
The wretch spills out of the door completely, wheezing with delight. It falls forward onto its hands and begins to crawl towards you. You hear the spirit Tyko begin to whimper.
Marcel: I attempt to lash out at the lich, drawing my blade, and uttering the word to ignite it
GM: ‘Sunshine’, you draw your enchanted blade that bursts with daylight and devours every shadow from the room. The imp Tyko staggers and the nearby swan trumpets in fear, but Sophronia makes no movement as you bring your sword down upon her.
Your burning blade drops into Sophronia, causing her dusty cassock to catch fire and her bones to collapse into a pile in the floor. Her wire headdress snaps when it collides with the floor.
As her skeletal figure falls away, you see the ghost of a woman fill into the same space. She wears a dark garment similar to the one now burning, and stands slightly taller than the skeleton had. She appears to be middle aged and has long dark hair pulled tight into a bun. Her pale skin glows the same soft light as the ghost of Tyko, except where the jet stones are embedded around her eyes.
“Why would you do that? We are only trying to help.” She speaks in Sophronia’s voice.
The ghoulish Tyko lunges at you with long pointed nails and attempts to attack you, but you parry him with your sword.
Marcel: I swing my blade at the ghoul.
GM: It lets out an animalistic scream of pain. You sever the tendons in the ghoul’s right arm, and nearly remove the arm completely.
The spirit of Sophronia points a stiff finger to you and chants, “Stillness.”
Roll a will save to resist the spell. DC 16.
Marcel: 21
GM: You sense Sophronia’s enchantment begin to drape over you, but your own sovereign magic wells up from your center and pushes it away. Your amphibious familiar begins to chirp inside your pocket, clearly audible to the phantom lich. She appears to come to a realization as her expression fills with determination.
The ghoul rises from the ground and attempts another attack against you with a limp arm, but is too feeble and unable to make contact.
Marcel: I lash out again at the ghoul, attempting to finish the beast.
GM: On your second swing your sword sears through the imp’s shoulder and into its sternum. You withdraw your sword from the small creature as it droops you the floor, clutching itself. While the imp howls its final death cries, a white light begins to emanate from the ghost of Tyko Wort. The ghost boy begins to glow softly and his details begin to fade. “My mother,” Tyko says softly. “Please help her.” The light diminishes and Tyko disappears just as the imp exhales its final breath. Sophronia is stunned. “Tyko.” She whispers.
Marcel: I take the opportunity to attempt to release Sophronia from her undead form (and start searching for that phylactery)
GM: (How do you plan to ‘release’ her?) Marcel: (With my blade of course!)
GM: (Roll it!) Marcel: 5
GM: Sophronia is stunned at the final death of her child, yet she deftly dodges your fiery swing. Enthralled by the battle, she lashes out with her ghostly grip.
GM: The feel of her touch against your arm drains you. Your blood runs cold as the jet inlays around Sophronia’s spectral eyes dim to an even darker black. “Why couldn’t you have simply left?” Sophronia scowls, her voice drowning in contempt. Nearby, the swan honks frantically at the ongoing battle. Struggling to remove itself from the enchanted table, it knocks over several gift boxes as it jumps to the floor and attempts to flee.
Marcel: I swing back to save my pride.
GM: You swing your sword through Sophronia’s ghostly form, but she seems to waft around the blade like a knife through fog. “What reason do you have for even being here?” She stings with her words as well as her hands.
Marcel: I refocus myself. "It's a long story." And summon an inner aggression to help guide my blade.
GM: You begin to feel like something’s wrong as your burning blade once again phases through Sophronia. The Jet stones embedded around her eyes darken further to an unnatural black. “Then I am sure I do not wish to hear it...”
She swipes her hands at you once more, but this time you are prepared. You jump backwards in time to dodge her attack, and the sudden shift startles your froggy familiar causing it to chirp again. Hearing the animal for the first time, Sophronia cocks her head. “I see. So, it was He who sent you here.”
Marcel: I wind up a swing "Aye... Believe me when I say I wish I weren't trying to fight a lich" I say with a grunt and a shudder.
GM: There is a shimmer, however faint and faster than you can blink, but it’s there. The jet stones in Sophronia’s dismembered skull glint briefly just before your sword strikes. The flames lick up her form as your blade pushes her back. The toad begins to rustle and climb in your robe, “I do not understand?” It asks in its tiny voice, “Did you not oath to destroy her?” Magic radiates from Sophronia once again and the room begins to fill with a cloying darkness that spills from the next room. “He has promised you. Go on, fulfill your oath,” Sophronia raises her arms to summon more darkness. Roll. Reflex. Save.
Marcel: "Aye, toad, I did. I knew what I was getting myself into. Doesn't make the task any less pleasant."
GM: The blackness stretches along the floor and walls covering them almost entirely. As the darkness reaches the luminance of your flaming sword the aura splits around you, but slips beneath Sophronia’s skeleton and Tyko’s body. Continuing past you the darkness thins into small tendril that lazily wrap around and tug at the frantic swan in the corner.
Marcel: Supernatural darkness splitting off of my blazing blade, I strike out at Sophronia
GM: Sophronia is thrown against the wall and her body begins to fade as it dissolves into the darkness. "Beware the Butcher, Slayer. For even if you resolve your agreement... You were already cursed." She warns before disappearing completely.
"She is gone," the toad resettles into your clothes. "Quickly, destroy the phylactery before she returns."