After months of dungeon delving, monster fighting, and near death experiences, you have arrived at the tower of The Rune-Lords, the rulers of Undermountain. Once a former adventuring party, they succumbed to planar influences and made deals with extraplanar beings in an attempt to seize control of Undermountain from its previous master, Halaster the Mad Mage. They succeeded, killing Halaster and locking his essence away in a chamber deep in Undermountain, guarded by powerful demons bound to serve whoever rules Undermountain. The Rune-Lords have harnessed the residual magic left over from Halaster’s ruinous experiments, enhancing their already formidable abilities to a height almost unheard of to be achieved by mortals. Still, you must face them, for the good of the whole sword coast.
You stand in the antechamber of what seems to be a throne room, with the door you interred from set into the southern wall. In the center of the room is a raised dais, upon which stands a sculpture of the Rune-Lords. The elemental brute known as Durmok, Master of the Primal; Next to them is the horrid fiend called Gleebulz, Master of the Divine; And standing in the middle is the twisted abomination known as Lurkym, Master of the Arcane. Along the northern wall is a pair of huge adamantine doors, which presumably lead to the final chamber. Strangely, a full-length mirror is tucked away in the southeast corner. It seems odd, out of place, the gleaming surface clashing with the rough, dark stone of the room. From beyond the door, you hear the sound of…is that music? And laughing? In addition, thunks accompany the rhythm of the music, as if an elephant was dancing.
What do you do?
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Hi, I'm Raccoon_Master,The Rocket Raccoon/Trashcan Tactician (as appointed by Drummer). Pronouns They/Them/Theirs.
My Characters: Brorminthe Crusher; Discoverythe Keeper; Theathe Scoundrel; Jorvirthe Weaver; Threlan,the Speaker; Zolyathe Inspired; Penley the Devourer;
As per usual, Wripers is quick to sniff about. With his sharp eyes and sharper nose, he quickly walks about the room, sniffing various things and making a noise reminiscent of a purring cat. Whether this is him being genuinely curious or there being a method to his particular low-IQ brand of madness, the party more than likely still doesn't know. At the very least, they may have come to understand the meanings behind his various grunts, growls, and gurgle.
Amari expresses her suspicion of the mirror. "If you're willing to take my word for it, friends, you're all looking marvelous. No need to confirm that with a glance in the mirror."
After studying the Rune-Lord sculptures for a bit and taking in the sounds from beyond the door, she offers to do a bit of reconaissance. "Shall I see what sort of party is taking place in there? A short walk in the ethereal realm might allow me to do so."
"I am made for war," Ruin says. "What is one more battle?"
The automaton spends 5 sorcery points to create a magical ward around himself (Bastion of Law). Then he casts aid at 5th level, targeting himself, Amari, and Wrippers (improves max HP and current HP by 20 for 8 hours). He then casts armor of agathys, also at 5th level.
(Also, just as a precaution since a fair number of powerful undead have resistance to cold damage, I'm going to spend a sorcery point to change the damage type on Armor of Agathys from Cold to Thunder).
"Hey, I didn't make these things for parties." Amelia grins, patting her arcane cannons, "That's the next model I'll be making once we kick their butts."
Wripers sniffs around the chamber, his senses sharp and keen from many long months of dungeon-delving. He comes to inspect the mirror. Something seems odd about. He stares deep into the glass and then...Amari calls to the rest of the group, warning them of her suspicions of the mirror.
The statues which Amari and the others inspect is interesting. The three rune-lords stand atop a pedestal, each of their statues made of a different material.
The statue in the back is the largest, towering almost twenty feet tall. It is a depiction of Durnok, the Primal Master. A giant wreathed in the power of flames and storms, crackling lightning, the statue has been hewed from a glowing crystal, the sculpted wings of fire stretching out from Durnok's shoulder blades. The statue has a bestial aspect about it, the monster's blade of flame clutched in taloned hands, as the statue bears its long fangs.
The statue in the front is the most beautiful of the three, a carved depiction of an angel. But, the image is marred by the stalk which grow out of the angels shoulders, each with an un-blinking eye on the end. In addition, cloven hooves replace the feet of the statue, and curling rams horns sit atop its smooth, bald head. This is the marble statue of Gleebulz, the Divine Master.
The third statue is the most interesting. It appears to be made of a rusting metal, a 12 foot tall mechanical humanoid similar to if an elf and a dragon-born had a baby, with the addition of dragon wings, a flaming barbed tail. It carries a curved sword.
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Hi, I'm Raccoon_Master,The Rocket Raccoon/Trashcan Tactician (as appointed by Drummer). Pronouns They/Them/Theirs.
My Characters: Brorminthe Crusher; Discoverythe Keeper; Theathe Scoundrel; Jorvirthe Weaver; Threlan,the Speaker; Zolyathe Inspired; Penley the Devourer;
Amari keeps one eye on Wripers as he patrols the room. Only slightly under her breath, she comments, "An asset and liability in one tidy, scaly red package..."
Sensing a sudden but familiar increase in her battle readiness, the green-eyed wood elf nods at the warforged. "Thank you, Ruin."
She then turns her attention to the tabaxi. "Köttur Kass, what do you think?"
Kass, lost in thought as he took in the clues around them, looks up as he hears his name. "Hmm? Oh, this? This reminds me of a case I had, back in Neverwinter - high profile murder investigation, a search of the victim's house revealed statues a little like these. We're going to need to be prepared - we weren't that day, and it cost us dearly." While he reminisces, he'll tap out a little staccato beat on the pommel of his scimitar, and use his innate gift of storytelling (and a casting of Motivational Speech) to give everyone else a bit of a bump of confidence.
Amari disappears into the ethereal plane, and is astonished by what she sees. Thin silver threads of smoke form a tangled web, ebbing and flowing as if the strands are breathing. The web forms a sort of cage around the room which you believe to be the final chamber. No, not a cage, a barrier. She couldn't possibly get through on this plane, but peeking through the threads, she sees a triangular room. A circular dais is in the middle, and the three corners each are dominated by a towering thing. In one corner is an ancient tree, in another a carved pillar, and the third is a column of roiling light and shadow.
Amari notices all around her a multitude of grey, floating wisps. Spirits of the dead. They slowly turn towards her, intrigued by the arrival of a newcomer, and drift towards you. A sense of dread builds in Amari's stomach.
Wripers stares at the mirror, wondering about the kobold looking back at him. Suddenly, a figure appears in the glass. A haggard man dressed in the robes of a mage, carrying a dragon headed rod, looks at Wripers, and speaks in his mind. His voice is akin to Alex Brightman as Beetlejuice on broadway. "Ahh! Someone has finally penetrated the depths of this place. Well, tell me, inquisitive soul, what's your name?" the man cocks his head to the side, a crazed smile playing on his lips. "And why don't you call over your companions too. It's been so very long since I last spoke to well, anyone."
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Hi, I'm Raccoon_Master,The Rocket Raccoon/Trashcan Tactician (as appointed by Drummer). Pronouns They/Them/Theirs.
My Characters: Brorminthe Crusher; Discoverythe Keeper; Theathe Scoundrel; Jorvirthe Weaver; Threlan,the Speaker; Zolyathe Inspired; Penley the Devourer;
Spirits of dead, harbingers of dread; unwilling to sleep, a false life do they keep.
The words of an old rhyme run quickly through Amari's mind as she sheds the ethereal and resumes her material form in the antechamber. "I fear our presence here is no secret, friends," she announces, but her attention is immediately directed toward the voice emanating from the mirror.
Kass sees Wriper's agitation and goes to investigate. "Well now, what have we here? Who are you, my friend? And I'd advise you to be brief in your answers; my little friend here is not known for his patience."
Evelyn walks up to the Mirror, examining the man who appeared in it with her golden eye.
”now, who is this? Some lost soul, a magical construct, or someone who could help us? I do hope the ladder, not seeking out a fight right now, need to conserve that energy for whatever is on the other side of that door. Speaking of which…” Evelyn looks through the door, using the Eye of Vecna’s vision that allows her to see through walls.
OOC: geez. We're 15 posts in and I'm already having to account for the crazy stuff you guys can do that I haven't planned for. It's fine though.
"I was once a master of magic. I was renowned far and wide for my work, and took on many apprentices. Until one day, three villains came to my doorstep and usurped me. They bound my essence in this magic mirror. Eventually, the mirror found its way here. Please, you must help me!"
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Hi, I'm Raccoon_Master,The Rocket Raccoon/Trashcan Tactician (as appointed by Drummer). Pronouns They/Them/Theirs.
My Characters: Brorminthe Crusher; Discoverythe Keeper; Theathe Scoundrel; Jorvirthe Weaver; Threlan,the Speaker; Zolyathe Inspired; Penley the Devourer;
Wripers doesn't care. He's bored of people talking.
A combination of boredom and Wripers typically means hijinks abound. Curious about the big metal man, and if his head comes off, Wripers begins to climb the third statue...
[Athletics to climb: 22]
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After months of dungeon delving, monster fighting, and near death experiences, you have arrived at the tower of The Rune-Lords, the rulers of Undermountain. Once a former adventuring party, they succumbed to planar influences and made deals with extraplanar beings in an attempt to seize control of Undermountain from its previous master, Halaster the Mad Mage. They succeeded, killing Halaster and locking his essence away in a chamber deep in Undermountain, guarded by powerful demons bound to serve whoever rules Undermountain. The Rune-Lords have harnessed the residual magic left over from Halaster’s ruinous experiments, enhancing their already formidable abilities to a height almost unheard of to be achieved by mortals. Still, you must face them, for the good of the whole sword coast.
You stand in the antechamber of what seems to be a throne room, with the door you interred from set into the southern wall. In the center of the room is a raised dais, upon which stands a sculpture of the Rune-Lords. The elemental brute known as Durmok, Master of the Primal; Next to them is the horrid fiend called Gleebulz, Master of the Divine; And standing in the middle is the twisted abomination known as Lurkym, Master of the Arcane. Along the northern wall is a pair of huge adamantine doors, which presumably lead to the final chamber. Strangely, a full-length mirror is tucked away in the southeast corner. It seems odd, out of place, the gleaming surface clashing with the rough, dark stone of the room. From beyond the door, you hear the sound of…is that music? And laughing? In addition, thunks accompany the rhythm of the music, as if an elephant was dancing.
What do you do?
Hi, I'm Raccoon_Master, The Rocket Raccoon/Trashcan Tactician (as appointed by Drummer). Pronouns They/Them/Theirs.
My Characters: Brormin the Crusher; Discovery the Keeper; Thea the Scoundrel; Jorvir the Weaver; Threlan, the Speaker; Zolya the Inspired; Penley the Devourer;
DMing: Dark God's Dread; Raccoon's Strixhaven, Dungeon of The Dead Mage
Join the Anything but the OGL 2.0 Thread!
EXTENDED SIGNATUR
As per usual, Wripers is quick to sniff about. With his sharp eyes and sharper nose, he quickly walks about the room, sniffing various things and making a noise reminiscent of a purring cat. Whether this is him being genuinely curious or there being a method to his particular low-IQ brand of madness, the party more than likely still doesn't know. At the very least, they may have come to understand the meanings behind his various grunts, growls, and gurgle.
[Passive Perception okay?: 19]
Amari expresses her suspicion of the mirror. "If you're willing to take my word for it, friends, you're all looking marvelous. No need to confirm that with a glance in the mirror."
After studying the Rune-Lord sculptures for a bit and taking in the sounds from beyond the door, she offers to do a bit of reconaissance. "Shall I see what sort of party is taking place in there? A short walk in the ethereal realm might allow me to do so."
Evelyn looks around at her fellow adventurers, then to her shriveled left hand.
”is everyone ready for the fight of their lives? I think they might be beyond that door over there.” She points with the hand of Vecna to the door.
"I am made for war," Ruin says. "What is one more battle?"
The automaton spends 5 sorcery points to create a magical ward around himself (Bastion of Law). Then he casts aid at 5th level, targeting himself, Amari, and Wrippers (improves max HP and current HP by 20 for 8 hours). He then casts armor of agathys, also at 5th level.
(Also, just as a precaution since a fair number of powerful undead have resistance to cold damage, I'm going to spend a sorcery point to change the damage type on Armor of Agathys from Cold to Thunder).
"Hey, I didn't make these things for parties." Amelia grins, patting her arcane cannons, "That's the next model I'll be making once we kick their butts."
Wripers sniffs around the chamber, his senses sharp and keen from many long months of dungeon-delving. He comes to inspect the mirror. Something seems odd about. He stares deep into the glass and then...Amari calls to the rest of the group, warning them of her suspicions of the mirror.
The statues which Amari and the others inspect is interesting. The three rune-lords stand atop a pedestal, each of their statues made of a different material.
The statue in the back is the largest, towering almost twenty feet tall. It is a depiction of Durnok, the Primal Master. A giant wreathed in the power of flames and storms, crackling lightning, the statue has been hewed from a glowing crystal, the sculpted wings of fire stretching out from Durnok's shoulder blades. The statue has a bestial aspect about it, the monster's blade of flame clutched in taloned hands, as the statue bears its long fangs.
The statue in the front is the most beautiful of the three, a carved depiction of an angel. But, the image is marred by the stalk which grow out of the angels shoulders, each with an un-blinking eye on the end. In addition, cloven hooves replace the feet of the statue, and curling rams horns sit atop its smooth, bald head. This is the marble statue of Gleebulz, the Divine Master.
The third statue is the most interesting. It appears to be made of a rusting metal, a 12 foot tall mechanical humanoid similar to if an elf and a dragon-born had a baby, with the addition of dragon wings, a flaming barbed tail. It carries a curved sword.
Hi, I'm Raccoon_Master, The Rocket Raccoon/Trashcan Tactician (as appointed by Drummer). Pronouns They/Them/Theirs.
My Characters: Brormin the Crusher; Discovery the Keeper; Thea the Scoundrel; Jorvir the Weaver; Threlan, the Speaker; Zolya the Inspired; Penley the Devourer;
DMing: Dark God's Dread; Raccoon's Strixhaven, Dungeon of The Dead Mage
Join the Anything but the OGL 2.0 Thread!
EXTENDED SIGNATUR
Wripers wonders who the other kobold is in mirror... and how they got another hammer!
He wants to smash it... but Amari says something. Maybe she has food! He runs back to the rest.
Amari keeps one eye on Wripers as he patrols the room. Only slightly under her breath, she comments, "An asset and liability in one tidy, scaly red package..."
Sensing a sudden but familiar increase in her battle readiness, the green-eyed wood elf nods at the warforged. "Thank you, Ruin."
She then turns her attention to the tabaxi. "Köttur Kass, what do you think?"
Kass, lost in thought as he took in the clues around them, looks up as he hears his name. "Hmm? Oh, this? This reminds me of a case I had, back in Neverwinter - high profile murder investigation, a search of the victim's house revealed statues a little like these. We're going to need to be prepared - we weren't that day, and it cost us dearly." While he reminisces, he'll tap out a little staccato beat on the pommel of his scimitar, and use his innate gift of storytelling (and a casting of Motivational Speech) to give everyone else a bit of a bump of confidence.
Amari nods in agreement at Kass's words before announcing to the group, "I'll return in a moment..."
She then utters a few words in Elvish as she transmutes herself and disappears from view.
(DM: Amari then travels to a point that would allow her to see into the room beyond the antechamber)
Amari disappears? So no food. Disappointed, Wripers returns to the mirror. He looks reeeally hard, hoping to see the other kobold again...
[Perception: 28]
Amari disappears into the ethereal plane, and is astonished by what she sees. Thin silver threads of smoke form a tangled web, ebbing and flowing as if the strands are breathing. The web forms a sort of cage around the room which you believe to be the final chamber. No, not a cage, a barrier. She couldn't possibly get through on this plane, but peeking through the threads, she sees a triangular room. A circular dais is in the middle, and the three corners each are dominated by a towering thing. In one corner is an ancient tree, in another a carved pillar, and the third is a column of roiling light and shadow.
Amari notices all around her a multitude of grey, floating wisps. Spirits of the dead. They slowly turn towards her, intrigued by the arrival of a newcomer, and drift towards you. A sense of dread builds in Amari's stomach.
Wripers stares at the mirror, wondering about the kobold looking back at him. Suddenly, a figure appears in the glass. A haggard man dressed in the robes of a mage, carrying a dragon headed rod, looks at Wripers, and speaks in his mind. His voice is akin to Alex Brightman as Beetlejuice on broadway. "Ahh! Someone has finally penetrated the depths of this place. Well, tell me, inquisitive soul, what's your name?" the man cocks his head to the side, a crazed smile playing on his lips. "And why don't you call over your companions too. It's been so very long since I last spoke to well, anyone."
Hi, I'm Raccoon_Master, The Rocket Raccoon/Trashcan Tactician (as appointed by Drummer). Pronouns They/Them/Theirs.
My Characters: Brormin the Crusher; Discovery the Keeper; Thea the Scoundrel; Jorvir the Weaver; Threlan, the Speaker; Zolya the Inspired; Penley the Devourer;
DMing: Dark God's Dread; Raccoon's Strixhaven, Dungeon of The Dead Mage
Join the Anything but the OGL 2.0 Thread!
EXTENDED SIGNATUR
Spirits of dead, harbingers of dread; unwilling to sleep, a false life do they keep.
The words of an old rhyme run quickly through Amari's mind as she sheds the ethereal and resumes her material form in the antechamber. "I fear our presence here is no secret, friends," she announces, but her attention is immediately directed toward the voice emanating from the mirror.
Some old man speaking to Wripers? Wripers wants other kobold!
Go away old man! The little kobold says nothing profound, beyond a little reptilian squeal. He instead lifts his hand to "slap" old man away...
Kass sees Wriper's agitation and goes to investigate. "Well now, what have we here? Who are you, my friend? And I'd advise you to be brief in your answers; my little friend here is not known for his patience."
Evelyn walks up to the Mirror, examining the man who appeared in it with her golden eye.
”now, who is this? Some lost soul, a magical construct, or someone who could help us? I do hope the ladder, not seeking out a fight right now, need to conserve that energy for whatever is on the other side of that door. Speaking of which…” Evelyn looks through the door, using the Eye of Vecna’s vision that allows her to see through walls.
OOC: geez. We're 15 posts in and I'm already having to account for the crazy stuff you guys can do that I haven't planned for. It's fine though.
"I was once a master of magic. I was renowned far and wide for my work, and took on many apprentices. Until one day, three villains came to my doorstep and usurped me. They bound my essence in this magic mirror. Eventually, the mirror found its way here. Please, you must help me!"
Hi, I'm Raccoon_Master, The Rocket Raccoon/Trashcan Tactician (as appointed by Drummer). Pronouns They/Them/Theirs.
My Characters: Brormin the Crusher; Discovery the Keeper; Thea the Scoundrel; Jorvir the Weaver; Threlan, the Speaker; Zolya the Inspired; Penley the Devourer;
DMing: Dark God's Dread; Raccoon's Strixhaven, Dungeon of The Dead Mage
Join the Anything but the OGL 2.0 Thread!
EXTENDED SIGNATUR
Amari narrows her gaze at the master of magic within the mirror as softly speaks those familiar words of guidance to herself...
(Insight w/ guidance, as she attempts to discern the speaker's truthfulness and intent:36
Wripers doesn't care. He's bored of people talking.
A combination of boredom and Wripers typically means hijinks abound. Curious about the big metal man, and if his head comes off, Wripers begins to climb the third statue...
[Athletics to climb: 22]