Our intrepid group of DnD players and my good self enjoyed another excellent session of roleplaying last Friday evening, which included the usual laughs, cunning plans, unusual combat tactics, the occasional disagreement and some of us getting to use some new sparkly dice. A splendid time was had by all!
As recorded in the Year of the Guiding Star, in the Librarium Eternum
And so it was that the adventurers, hearts emboldened and hands steady upon their weapons, pressed forth into the gloom-ridden depths beneath the ruined Tresendar Manor. Shadows clung to the damp stone like forgotten whispers, and the air reeked of old decay and damp rot, as if the very walls bore witness to the suffering of those who had languished here before.
The Cellar of Secrets
Reunited once more, the rogue Dapps Plateforge rejoined his companions, showing no ill effects from his extended dalliance with strong dwarven ale. With cautious steps, they entered the cellar, their keen eyes scanning the dim-lit chamber where time itself seemed to hesitate.
*
A great cistern of still, murky water dominated the chamber’s western side, its surface broken only by the occasional ripple, as though something unseen lurked beneath. The scent of brined meat and old flour wafted from barrels stacked against the walls, a meager trove of Redbrand provisions. Ever the opportunist, Dapps helped himself to a refill of ale, while others took stock of rations that might yet prove useful in the trials ahead.
*
It was the Cleric Hebbiwyt, ever curious and attuned to the unseen, who noticed the glint of something just below the cistern’s surface. Without hesitation, he plunged into the frigid depths, hands searching until they grasped the telltale texture of leather. Emerging with a water-tight satchel, he found within it treasures both practical and enigmatic—a potion of healing, a potion of invisibility, a sum of fifty gold pieces, and a fresh set of travel clothes, untouched by time.
“Somebody had an escape plan,” Selrach murmured, suspicion lacing his words.
*
*
The Mournful Hallway and the Treacherous Pit
Their path led them through a heavy door to the north, opening upon a long corridor where dust lay thick upon the flagstones, undisturbed save for faint traces of hurried footfalls. Carvings of faux columns stretched along the walls, their craftsmanship mocking grandeur lost to time, while at the far end, great double doors of tarnished copper bore the image of a weeping angel.
*
Yet this path was not unguarded by the cruel hand of fate. Beneath what seemed to be solid flooring, treachery lay hidden—a pit trap, its false stones poised to crumble beneath unwary feet. Keen eyes spotted the deception in time, and Dapps, sure-footed as ever, skirted the danger along a narrow ledge, securing a rope to aid the others. One by one, they crossed, wary but unscathed, and pressed on toward the chamber beyond.
*
The Guardians of the Dead
Beyond the copper-plated doors lay a crypt of the long-forgotten dead. Three stone sarcophagi stood in grim vigilance, each guarded by a skeletal warrior clad in rusted mail. False columns shaped like ancient oaks framed the chamber, as if the very trees of old sought to shelter the souls within.
*
As the adventurers entered, the dead stirred. The skeletons rose, their hollow eye sockets burning with unnatural light, and with the groan of brittle bones, they seized rusted blades and turned upon the intruders. Yet, curiously, their wrath was not unfocused. They paid no heed to Logan, Selrach, or Hebbiwyt—instead, they fell upon the two dwarves alone, striking with relentless fury.
*
Blades clashed and spells flared in the dim light. The melee was brutal, a storm of steel and shattered bone, yet the tide only turned when the adventurers realized the truth—the skeletons sought only those who did not wear the Redbrand cloaks. With this knowledge, they fought with renewed cunning, the battle culminating in the destruction of the undead guardians.
*
Victory was theirs. As the dust settled and broken bone lay scattered at their feet, the party shared the spoils of war, tending to wounds with what magic and medicine they possessed. Yet there was no time for rest. Beyond the crypt, more secrets awaited.
The Forgotten Prisoners
Pressing deeper into the darkness, they came upon a chamber of sorrow—a prison, carved into the depths of this forsaken place. Cells lined the walls, their iron bars rusted but still strong. Within, they found two wretched souls, their faces pale with hunger and fear.
*
The first, a woman, her clothes tattered yet her spirit unbroken, named herself Mirna Dendrar. She clutched the arm of a boy, no more than thirteen, who met the adventurers with weary but wary eyes. Nars, her son, remained close to her side, both bound by cruel iron collars.
*
“My husband,” Mirna spoke, her voice thick with grief, “stood against the Redbrands… and they killed him for it. They took him from us and made sure no other soul dared defy them.”
*
Though freed from their bonds, the prisoners offered little beyond their gratitude. They had never met the master of these dungeons, only that he was a wizard of some power. Others had come before them, prisoners taken and stripped of their belongings—some slain, some sold, and some, Mirna whispered with haunted eyes, sent to a castle not far from here.
*
Yet, as the adventurers listened, one among them stood apart, his gaze locked upon the decrepit stone walls. Selrach’s breath caught in his throat, for there, etched in a desperate hand, was a name—Mailix.
His brother’s name.
The weight of memory and loss fell upon him, the years folding inward. His brother, long missing, long thought lost to fate’s cruel hand, had been here. Had he escaped? Had he been taken? Or had he met his end in this accursed place?
*
The revelation sent a shiver through him, a shadow of old wounds reopened. What lay ahead was no longer merely a mission of coin or conquest. Now, it was doubly personal.
*
The Road Ahead
With prisoners soon to be freed, with secrets unearthed and ghosts of the past awakened, the adventurers steeled themselves for what was yet to come. Somewhere beyond these cursed halls, the architect of the Redbrands’ terror awaited. Glasstaff, the wizard behind the shadows, was near.
*
And so, they pressed forward, deeper into the labyrinth of treachery, where magic, malice, and fate wove an unseen tapestry, binding them all in the threads of a story yet unfinished.
Would they find vengeance? Redemption? Or only more sorrow in the darkness?
The answer lay ahead.
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