Characters 

• Malik – Fighter 1 – a Thalazian blade master, with a spiffing helmet decoration. 
• Jassan Al` Nadir – Cleric 1 – A Dervish gentleman posing as a trader, known for dark whispers. 

Introduced later: 

• Cleitus – Magic-user 1 – a thin young man with a fascination for the moribund.

Retainers 

Antiphus – Niarchos – Melanthios – Oeagnus – Brutus the Wardog 

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When we last left off, the PCs had just routed the strange crimson-skinned beastmen of the jungle. At the beginning of the session our hero discovered they hadn’t packed enough rations. A serious discussion took place about whether a journey back to town should be made. They agreed that they would continue onwards and try to gather some food. They only found a few measly berries on their march however, much to their chagrin.  

By the late afternoon they had walked many miles. Several acres of vineyard became visible in the distance. A  wooden trellis was ripe with thick vines, and several figures in togas walked amongst the fields, carrying baskets at the hip. A child ran around, which surely indicated the safety of this farm. In the center of the acreage was a domed marble building, twenty or so feet tall, columned and open to the air. The party approached one of the workers, hailing them and asking if they sold rations. 

This figure was a woman named Versuvia, a woman with severe features who told them she was enslaved to the master of this field; the cruel Pralan. She had nothing to sell because she owned nothing. She wore manacles and many scars, her face, tired and withdrawn. She threw them her bushel of grapes, saying she did not care if they stole from her master. The party took these and enquired about this Pralan the cruel. The reply sent shivers down the players’ spines, for Pralan is a Cyclops of giant stature. He sells his wine to the villas of the land. Be wary of his games, Vesuvia told them, for Pralan is as cunning as he is cruel.

The party desired to vacate this area immediately. 

As they walked away, the child they had spied earlier ran over to them and asked if they were going to save her from this awful place. Vesuvia placed a hand upon the child’s shoulder, and told her that these were no heroes. The party marched east so long as there was light. As they set up their camp they saw a tall gorge to the south-east, and high atop its cliffs, something shimmered in the fading light. Perhaps this was the tomb they sought.

The party made their tents and set up a series of watches. Rain lashed heavily on their heads. The fires of Pralan’s camp in the distance glistened like cat eyes. In the morning, they gathered their camp and marched towards the gorge. 

As they grew within five hundred yards of the cliffs, they could see that the glistening light on the cliff wall was coming from a ledge holding a large nest. In the distance they saw a bedraggled man running toward them, he wore leather armour and carried a sack, he was running as fast as his legs could carry him, and kept peering back over his shoulder. Apparently he hadn’t seen the party, so they lay in wait for him behind some trees. When he came into distance the party leap upon him, holding him down as he writhed like a gator in a net. 

“Please, please, let me go.” He begged. His sack contained sixty electrum pieces, which were quickly pilfered. The party intimidated this man, whose name was Octavius. He told them that there was a great treasure in a saddlebag up in the nest, with much of its coinage having scattered down among the many horse carcasses. He begged to be let go, for the sake of his children, but his request was declined. Malik took Octavius’ family sword, drove it into the ground with his hammer, then hog tied Octavius to it. The poor man was to be ‘bait’ for whatever creature nested upon the cliff. Then the PCs proceeded towards the gorge. 

They moved very carefully, very slowly. Once they were close they saw a horse carcass dangling from the edge of the nest, its saddlebags filled with treasure which shimmered in the morning light. The nest was full of man sized figures, chirping furiously. At the base of the cliff there were horse skeletons, and many, many coins. Being quick-footed, the party scrambled for coins, stuffing them into sacks, whilst Malik kept watch. In all, they gathered up three hundred and twenty electrum pieces in twenty minutes. Then Malik heard the booming blows of wings echoing through the chasm. 

“Run!” 

As they did, a huge griffon came swooping over the gorge, its deathly screech close at the party’s nape. 

“There, a crevasse! Into the hole, lads!” The party charged towards the crag, but poor Melanthios was sundered by the claws of that powerful, winged beast. His shrill screams were all that the party heard as they dashed into the crack in the cliff face. There, they waited, hour upon hour, in quaking fear, while the griffon devoured poor Octavius. Finally, the velvet quilt of nightfall shrouded with cover. With two waxing moons high overhead, and a tent worn as a hood, the party crawled away. 

A few miles from the gorge the party ran into an unlikely fellow; Cleitus and his hound Brutus. A Wizard from the west. Introductions were made and they decided they would journey together, towards the tomb of Gunther Wyrmslayer. Tally ho!

After a little march, the party could see a wood, and at the center of this woodland was the dreary crest of a tumulus. Jackpot! So off they went to find a camping spot. 

During the night however, Malik was surprised by a figure who approached the camp. He was tall and dark, with long hair and beard, dressed in a fine white robe. This strange man talked of a temple being established to the east. The temple worships Traz’gozan; a god of flesh and blood, who walks amongst mortals. A place where there would be no need for armour, weapon, or coin, for there would be only pleasure. A place where one could bask amongst beautiful women and make love to the daughters of kings. In the periphery of the camp, Malik saw at least six figures in white robes, wearing black masks. He nodded and agreed that this place sounded marvelous. He woke his companions who also nodded along to the proselytising madman. They gave him some alms and he left in search of would-be believers. Jassan the cleric had never heard of this god Traz’gozan, but noted the pronunciation sounded Infernal. 

“Let us never go east.” 

In the morning, the party marched towards the tumulus, avoiding a large area covered with thick web. The tumulus had no life growing on it at all. In its center was an open doorway. 

They found the tomb’s stone door cracked open. On the ground, a beastman lay face-down in the mud, dead.

The party formed a marching order of (F-B):  Malik + Antifus | Niarchos with lantern | Cleitus + Jassan + Brutus | Oeagnus. 

Down thirty feet of steep steps, there was a square chamber with four pillars in the center. Each pillar had a carving of Gunther Wyrmslayer, his eyes containing lush rubies. There were doorways north, east, and west. Cleitus tested the gemstones with his mirror, finding that they frosted over the glass. The party wouldn’t be touching any of those. Dirty footprints diverged east and west. 

The gang moved east first. To their surprise, they saw a stone chamber with five mummified maidens dancing and swirling in a circle. Although they danced heartily, neither their bodies nor their flowing dresses made even a faint sound. The mummified maidens paid them no heed, and the party quickly moved backwards. 

Next, they went west, found a locked door, and then a chamber with a large marble statue of a sage-like figure. The statue was facing a sarcophagus. Malik and a retainer opened it, and saw within a pale, sunken figure with a radiant gold necklace atop its rotting toga. Jassan moved to the lip of the casket and poured oil all over this corpse. The monster opened its glowing eyes and almost rendedt out his heart with two lightning fast slashes from its razor sharp claws. Malik tried to slam the shaft of his shovel into the creature’s breast, but it caught the blow and laughed mockingly. Niarchos threw a burning torch onto the beast, and it went up in a pillar of flame. Cleitus wrapped Jassan’s wound with a bandage, but he was severely hurt. It would take him days to recover. Malik placed the gold chain around the cleric’s neck as a form of encouragement. 

The party then went into another eastern corridor, and saw a large statue of Gunther. As they proceeded, a plate in the floor was activated, and the statue lunged forward, slashing at Oeagnus with a giant copper blade. It missed by an inch. 

Next, the party moved north. Following the boot tracks they entered a set of double doors. An axe-trap swung down, almost slicing into Malik. Inside, there were two filthy men, napping in their bedrolls. Cleitus talked to them with his beastly dog tight on its chain. He stole their coin, then informed them that they now had the privilege of working for him. 

South it was then, through another set of double-doors where a barren chamber had only a skeleton upon the floor. It pointed ominously towards the doorway. 

Then the party went north, and saw a large pillared tomb, with another statue of Gunther before the entrance. This statue looked different, and after a little inspection it was noted that it had a mechanical mouth. The two dirty thieves used this moment to dash away into the darkness. 

The party remained, pondering whether to chase the two ruffians or enter the pillared archway; for beyond the pillars, high atop a dias, wreathed in a cowl, lay the corpse of Gunter Wyrmslayer, a shining sword upon his breast. 

What will they do next time?

Player’s maps below, including Malik’s dungeon map: