The Middle of the Bottom: Campaign Diary

Someone clearly lived in this forsaken place. Someone powerful. But whatever, our planewalkers were determined to rob ‘em of everything that wasn’t nailed to the floor. Laden down with gold, swords, and some undeniably cursed wands, the adventurers floated straight over to the neighbouring room to see what they could nick next. There was no treasure here, though: just a huge machine that filled half the chamber, levers of bone sticking out from control panels of some pale, almost fleshy material.

They pondered its purpose for some time. What to do with the helmet attached to it? What might be in the large opaque egg at its centre? M’narr’s curiosity got the better of him again, but he channelled it to less reckless purposes, casting identify on the machine. Discovering the thing’s purpose – to permanently transfer a creature’s consciousness and soul into the construct held within the egg – was enough to satisfy M’narr’s curiosity this time. He quickly set the machine to overheat whatever was in the egg, and the trio moved on.

Back to the throne room, which had much better stuff to nick, including a massive black diamond that was surely a trap. The party weighed up its options for some time, M’narr putting his new wands to use. The diamond was magical, radiating conjuration and divination energies. Best leave it for now, they decided. Back up to the laboratory, where Ragados stole some embalming tools and 12-Bar purloined some herbs and an enchanted tooth while M’narr analysed the trapped secret panel. It was trapped with a double failsafe of death magic and flesh-eating gas. Best leave that for now too, they decided.

On through a room full of unnerving shadows to a corridor that appeared to be the “outer door” of the fortress. At its far end lay the void, a faltering forcefield dividing the two. Best leave that as well, don’t fancy that, they decided. By this point Ragados had cracked the trick to understanding Tcian Sumere’s layout in three dimensions; but his companions were too full of foreboding to much care. Where was this prisoner? And where was the high-up who called this place kip? Our heroes’d found treasure galore, but little in the way of chant or challenge. They floated next to a room containing a dark cauldron full of faces, and back then to some kind of vile temple or ossuary, but saw not a single creature living or undead. What was still hiding in this place, awaiting their arrival?

Ragados relaxed greatly upon finding an arcane arrangement of bones in Tcian Sumere’s dark temple – finally, the portal key out of this hellhole – but M’narr grew ever more agitated. Even looting the golden band off the temple’s goat-man statue couldn’t calm his nerves. Funny though, the band. 12-Bar was certain he’d seen it before.

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