(work in progress)

Last time, the party had taken on a group of bandits in an alleyway. There was a note on one of the corpses, suggesting that they are being watched…

As the party heads toward the Adventurer's Guild, the party is under the skeptical gaze of the crowd. Nearing the guild itself, the guards approach the party.

“Please state where you've been, to be covered in so much blood.” One guardsman demands.

“We've been mugged,”

“We can take you to the bodies,”

“We've done nuffin' wrong.” The party remarks over one another.

The guard seems satisfied, “We've had some trouble here lately, your story checks out. Proceed.”

The party slinks forth into the vast grandeur of the Adventurer's Guild. Having already done all of the necessary shopping, the party decides to beeline straight to the dungeon.

The Hallway of Heroes is the entrance to the dungeon, a dimly lit passage made from large blocks of quarried stone. Passing through, the faint chatter from adventurers is heard as the other parties are strategizing their descent.

The Grand Labyrinth of Tristram

There is a large room hosting a portal to either side, flanked by guards. The party heads toward the portal on the right, but Hargle waddles obliviously to the one on the left. Awkwardly, the party changes course and follows the stumpy dwarf.

The portal is about ten feet wide, so the party holds hands and crosses into the first floor together.

Passing through, the party feels as though a thin veil passes over them, and the light from the previous room fades away entirely. Walking down the passage, one can hardly see more than a few feet ahead. Despite this, they notice some stones in the floor that stick out like a sore thumb.

They all look at the stone and know it seems like a trap. The floor seems like it will fall away with the slightest pressure. Hargle, having one seen something similar in a fairy toothpaste ad once, decides to [misty step] and transports himself about 30 feet forward.

Heywood, confident he can clear the floor with one clean jump, gets a running start. At the critical moment he leaps, but trips slightly on his own foot, but lands just barely on the disrupted stone. The floor gives way with incredible noise and knocks Heywood backward into a small pit. In fact, he lands directly on a trap door, which opens, and he holds on carefully with his fingers. Hargle panics at the sight of his struggling companion, runs to the trapdoor, and accidentally steps on his fingers. As a result, Heywood screams in pain and falls further into the trapdoor.

Martyr plants his face in his palms for a moment, then continues to scale across the pit. He sticks his Rod toward Heywood, helping him out of the pit, and the party continues further down the corridor.

Soon, there is a small room with a series of oddly shaped blocks stacked upon one another. They are in the shape of a square, a circle, and a triangle. There seems to be a sort of pattern to it, and there is a door that is sealed off with steel bars.

Hargle and Heywood look at the predicament, strike a thinker pose, and come up with absolutely nothing intelligent nor useful.

Martyr approaches the door and the iron bars, he sees a sort of pattern carved just past the bars. The shapes carved are in the shape of a triangle, a circle, and a square.

Still confounded, Hargle sits down and closes his eyes, trying to hone into the revelations. Hargle hears a faint buzzing sounds and a voice in Moldish about a “mailbox” that isn't set up yet.

The party walks toward the blocks, touches them, and nothing happens.

Hargle suggests that everyone does a handstand, since the blocks will then be the proper order.

Despite the absurdity of this, the rest of the party follows along since there was nothing better to attempt.

To their surprise, the bars on the door give way and reveal the entrance. Not risking closing the entrance again, Hargle immediately kicks his feet in the air and [misty step] teleports past the bars.

Martyr and Heywood awkwardly attempt to walk on their hands toward the door, both manage to perform the feat without issue.

Passing through the door there is more corridor, though something seems to be off… the party quickly notices that there are long slits in the walls along the corridor, through these slits there is a glint of large blades.

Heywood throws a small stone down the hall, it clinks off the stonework but doesn't seem to disturb the mechanism. Stepping on a stone just before the first slit, it triggers the mechanism and the blades swing back and forth in sequence. The party waits for a few minutes for it to stop… but it doesn't.

Hargle thinks for a second, then realizes what needs to be done. Spreading arms wide and turning his eyes to the ceiling, he shrinks down into a small sort of roach. Now far more dexterous, the roach bolts across the corridor and reaches the other side with little difficulty.

Heywood sizes up the corridor and decides that he can jump most of the way across without issue, but will need to simply dodge the blades the rest of the way. Putting this plan into action, he waits for an opportunity and gets in sync with the rhythm of the blades. Seeing an opportunity, he leaps spectacularly through the air, lands deftly on his feet, and the blade in front of him only cuts the tip of his nose hair. He then manages to dodge the next two axes decently well, but one grazes a small chunk of flesh from his shoulder.

Martyr, lastly, looks on in absolute horror. He kisses his rosary delicately, feels slightly more confident, and faces the corridor. He steps past the first three axes flawlessly without a scratch, on the fourth he narrowly gets grazed by the axe, but he isn't phased due to his ritual. He continues to narrowly dodge past the remaining axes until he joins the other party members.

The party bursts into tears of joy at being alive, they hug each other with passion. Except Hargle, as he is a roach.

Next, there is a large empty room. Hargle jumps off the shoulder of Heywood.

Hargle changes back to his dwarven form, and coats himself in a layer of spores.

In the corner of the dim room, there is the shadowy form of a humanoid.

The party waddles up to the form with zero survival instinct. Heywood loudly proclaims, “We must investigate!” The party generally agrees.

The figure approaches as well, and in the faint torchlight a slender feminine leg appears in the light. The party is somewhat relieved that it appears to be a human. “Who goes there?” The figure asks.

“We be the heartbreakers!” Hargle proclaims, pumping a fist into the air. The figure comes fully into the torchlight, it appears to be an elf with bright orange hair. “What is happening? How the fuck are you here!” Heywood says, grasping his head in pain.

Bartimaeus steps forward with his lute, “Hello mi'lady, good evening, happenchance you come here often?”

“I'm pretty sure there is no escape from this place, we must all suffer this fate.” The elf says.

“Oh! There is a way out,” Heywood proclaims, pointing back the way they came, “But there are so many fucking axes! It sucks!”

Martyr looks concerned for the elf, “Are you okay, do you need help?”

“No. I'm not lost, there's just no way out.” Sternly replies the elf.

“Let's just go through that door.” Hargle says, pointing at the door they have not come from.

Heywood, coming entirely to his senses, produces a serious expression. “We should find a way out of this place.” He says, entirely without his typical flamboyant accent.

“What would we be calling ye?” Asks Hargle.

“… Whatever you would like, I guess.” The elf says.

“Whatever, lady.” Hargle says with a scoff. The elf seems content with this, thereby evermore going by the moniker of “lady” and being thus referred to as such. There is much merriment and rejoice.

Hargle uses his druidcraft, and senses electric clouds ahead. The elf senses that the astrological sign of the next room is Cancer, which isn't a desirable condition on the best of days.

Going toward the next room, there is a thick foul black slime that seems to drip down. Venturing further, it again leads to a dim room. Heywood is playing with the slime.

Hargle takes the black snot that Heywood is toying with, snorts a large glob of it, and he feels the burning of sulfur. Hargle is nearly unable to focus on anything around him, he attempts to tap back into the essence of Sheogorath. He doesn't feel his presence exactly, but he does feel a sense of ecstasy to some degree. He is rejuvenated, and his senses are thoroughly dulled

Walking further into the room, there are reliefs in the walls, it appears to be a catacombs. Lady, the elf, investigates one of the shelves of corpses.

Hargle looks upon the broken pillar in the center of the room, it appears to have been broken forcefully and not having been deteriorated. He then looks upon the skulls in the walls, and senses an eldritch vibe from it. It is a familiar evil, though he can't quite put a finger on it.

The party notices a bizarre shuffling sound coming from across the room, looking down they see several arms poking out from the catacomb walls.

Hargle knows they are skeletons.

BEGIN COMBAT

A skeleton approaches Heywood and rakes it's claws against him, inflicting a flesh wound. Lady is also attacked by a skeleton, inflicting a flesh wound.

Lady stabs the bones with a knife, it is greatly effective.

Heywood takes the mace from his back and swings it like a baseball bat through the head of the skeleton in front of him. He crushes part of the skull upon impact, he follows this up with a haymaker punch from his free hand and caves in the rest of the skull. The skeleton is vanquished, but Heywood keeps momentum, and slams his elbow into another nearby skeleton.

Hargle approaches a skeleton, lights his scimitar, and cleaves through it like butter. The pressure of the moist bones causes it to combust. Being the brightest object in the room, the remaining skeletons swarm toward Hargle. One scratches at Hargle but barely scratches the lichenous coating of the dwarf.

Lady stabs the bones with a knife, it is barely effective. Lady stabs the bones again, it is greatly effective.

Heywood pulls back his mace and brings it down onto one of the skeletons, the weight of it crushes through the foe. Heywood takes the momentum to spin around for another strike, but fails to make contact. Feeling a bit embarrassed, he jabs one of the skeletons in the jaw and breaks it off.

Hargle spores the jawless skeleton, it seems to whither until it is barely keeping upright. Turning to another skeleton, he tries to slash with the flaming scimitar, but utterly fails an is just an embarrassment.

More skeletons swarm the party, and deal no damage.

Lady runs for the far exit, a skeleton swipes at her but falls on its bum.

Heywood and Hargle ran to the exit.

“Talk about a close shave.” Barty says, having just now re-joined the party and not being the least bit out of breath.

There are several undead behind the party as they spill into a hallway. Barty runs as fast as his legs can take him, the faint jingle of the tiny bells on the shoes renew the spirits of the party.