Dei Penates

Initial Adventures 04

Suddenly, Darkness

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Last time, on the D&D channel, our brave heroes had been contracted to remove the vile undead from an abandoned temple, thousands of years old. After fighting numerous foes and rescuing a baby dragon from a cave-in, they are nearing the completion of their task.

Current Party:

  • Marquis, half-elf ranger
  • Harriet, dwarven wizard
  • Kyata, human fighter
  • Rob, human runeblade
  • Sam, human thief
  • Quip, human swashbuckler

We rejoin the adventure with Marquis and Samieth clamped like limpets onto a thirty-foot pillar in the middle of a draughty stone chamber. The ranger had just thrown a bag full of coins directly onto Quip’s bruised noggin, and now the sissy swashbuckler collapsed to the floor, unconscious. Scampering back down like the brachiating mammals they are, the rogue and the ranger joined the others in staring down at the insensate man.

“We should leave him here – he will only slow us down, and it is as safe here as anywhere else,” the half-elf said, anxious to finish clearing the ruin while daylight still lit the forest above. “When he wakes he should not have trouble finding us again.”

Pausing only to retrieve the bags of money that had been left in the slumbering swashbuckler’s concussed care, the party set off again, five-strong once more. Well, two-okay and three-sort-of-banged-up-a-bit, anyway. The north-west corner of the temple was the first stop of the afternoon, and after a cursory trap-test by the thief a hasty ear was pressed to the cold stone. An odd scraping sounded intermittently from the other side of the door, and wet pulpy sounds like meat being hit with a hammer occasionally joined in.

Believing that another fungus creature may be in the room beyond, Marquis wrapped an arrow in a oil-soaked rag and lit it. She nodded to Kyata, who swung open the door. A pile of rubbish lay in one corner, along with what looked like humanoid body parts. Two zombies were sifting through it, fighting over a disembodied head, and two complete skeletons lay in another corner. Vindicated, though slightly misled on the exact details, the ranger let fly with her flame-wreathed flight, striking one of the struggling zombies in the back. Swiftly drawing another arrow from her quiver, she sighted along the shaft and released it just as the rotting corpse straightened up and turned to face the party. It moaned an unearthly, sepulchral cry, and the other dropped the head it had been snuffling at and sniffed the air in the direction of the fresh meat, its eyes milky orbs of grave-rot and blindness.

Samieth appeared inside the cavernous chamber, sword at the ready. A swift thrust towards one of the skeletons was foiled as it rolled partly to one side and raised itself to its knees. Startled, the rogue only just dodged out of the way as the animated remains swung a bony claw towards him. The other fleshless shell had also risen from the floor, and it too clawed at the man. Sam dodged this one more easily than the last, settling back into the rhythm of battle. Behind him, the towering fighter exploded into action, throwing herself forwards and slashing into the un-arrowed zombie’s torso. Though everyone crowded into the small room, the next minute was spent in a furious dance of blades, bony claws, rotten arms and blasts of magical force in which nobody was even scratched.

Eventually though, the tireless undead began to wear down their living foes, with a straight-arm punch delivered right into Marquis’ face. Her lip split and her mouth filled with blood, the half-elf fought back with renewed passion. A wayward blast from Harriet’s stubby fingers disrupted the staggering cadaver for long enough for the ranger’s longsword to slice a terrible gash across its middle. The cut gaped open, the rancid flesh flapping loosely above what once was a man’s waist. A second burst from the dwarf hurled the animate carcass into the wall beside it, cracking its skull and jellying its limbs, just as Marquis swung forwards with what would have been the finishing blow.

Meanwhile, the skeletons had focused their attention onto Sam. After a few quick feints, a claw to the ribcage, and a brief backhanded swipe from Kyata, the rogue hammered the pommel of his borrowed shortsword into the skull of one of the skeletons. The skull cracked under the force of the blow, splintering inwards and catching itself around the flared end of the handle. The rest of the bones clattered to the floor, and the thief took advantage of the distraction to quickly roll past the second skeleton to try and distract the second zombie, which was faring little better. Forced into a one-on-one with Kyata, the best it could do was to flail ineffectually at the steel plates that encased her while being slowly hacked to pieces by the huge sword she wielded. A well-timed blast from Harriet impacted this walking cadaver also, momentarily stunning it. A moment was all the fearsome fighter needed, and she swung her greatsword in an impressive U-shape that neatly severed all of her adversary’s rotting limbs, leaving the head and torso to bounce with a squelch off the stone floor.

“Hey, watch where you swing that thing! Someone could get hurt,” the thief protested from the other side of the dismembered corpse.

“Not to worry little man, I very careful.”

As Samieth vacated the space in front of him, Rob stepped calmly forward and brought his falchion sweeping down, crackling through the air in an great overhand blow. The etched sigil on the blade sparked to life as it bit into the last skeleton’s shoulder, sending thousands of volts searing through the magic that animated the calcified corpse. Massively overloaded, the arcane framework shattered, hurling chunks of cartilage and bits of bone across the room to bounce off ceilings and walls.

Surveying the room and finding nothing of interest, the party moved to the door in the north wall. Another circular corridor awaited them, and a brief search turned up only tiny fragments of bone. A quick examination brought up two competing theories as to their origins – either a rat or a small fish could have died in here. Considering that the only source of water was the long-dry fountain, it was more likely to once have been a rat.

Quip was dreaming pleasant dreams. All of a sudden, they turned slightly strange. A thousand fleshless rats swarmed up his legs and covered his body. They didn’t bite or scratch, just covered him from head to toe. Then one of them did bite him. The rest swarmed down his body and started chewing on his feet, each one vanishing as soon as it took a mousy mouthful. When they were all gone, his dream continued as if nothing had ever happened.

Back in the other room, Kyata stood carefully to the side of the other door and stretched out a hand to touch the handle. As expected, the square of floor in front of the false door sprouted a gaping hole. The fighter peered down into it, then shrugged and followed the others back out the door they had entered through.

Rob checked his map. “By the looks of it, there should be rooms here and here – so we should check along all of this passageway,” he said, pointing to a long looping passage in the northwest of the ruin. “We didn’t find any doors the last time we were there, so this time we should go over every inch.”

Eventually the runeblade’s suspicions were confirmed, and a door discovered. Marking the edges with chalk, Samieth checked it carefully for any traps of either the hidden blade or falling floor types. “I can’t find anything, do you think you could-”

Marquis kicked in the door, holding her sword high. Once a place of silent prayer, the room now gathered dust and cobwebs. A single miniscule spider ran up the wall next to the door. The wizard extended a hand and casually blasted it into a greenish smear.

“Was that really necessary?” the ranger asked, frowning.

“We were told to clear the whole ruin, weren’t we?” Harriet replied innocently.

Sifting through the cobwebbed corners revealed no hidden treasure, so the party left to check the corresponding room on the other side of the ruin. They backtracked through the southern corridors, carefully avoiding the room with the low ceiling. A determined search revealed the door on this side of the maze, and it opened to reveal a heaped pile of gold, gems, and odd-looking weapons. His eyes wide, Rob started towards it. As he stepped forward, the treasure faded away to almost complete transparency, then back to almost-solidity again. It continued on like this as the party watched, never quite becoming solid enough to touch – though irritated hands and swords were swung through it with some regularity.

Harriet concentrated for a moment, and her eyes glowed briefly with white fire. “This whole room reeks of illusion magic. Right powerful it is, too – this was the work of no novice.” Everyone else busied themselves with searching the room, looking for clues as to the illusion’s source or just for miscellaneous items that may have been left behind; they found neither.

Long after the others had abandoned their search, Marquis was still scouring the walls with a fiery glare from mere inches away. “Something is not right here. Illusions are tools of distraction, of misdirection – there must be something that we have missed.” A stone block with a single chipped corner drew her attention, and her ire. With nothing else to explain the empty room, she retrieved her crowbar from her pack and set about removing the block from the wall. “Is there anything unusual about this block?” she asked the wizard, handing over the large brick. “Anything at all?”

Harriet checked the heavy stone as carefully as she could, but could find nothing amiss. The ranger was peering into the earthy hollow left by the block when the dwarf nudged her. “There’s nothing wrong with it – it’s healthy limestone with remarkably little weathering, considering how long it’s been down here.” Hearing this, Kyata turned from the room and started wandering slowly away, trusting that the others would follow soon enough.

“And nothing lies behind it but the earth itself,” the half-elf replied dispiritedly. “It seems as though this room has no purpose after all.” She shook her head. “Come, the centre of the maze awaits us still.”

As they were near the room with the low ceiling, Samieth decided to check that his rope-work was still good. He had the others wait, and crawled into the middle of the room to see to the iron rod. It still held firm against the immeasurable weight of the stone ceiling, so he called to the others and motioned them through.

In the middle of the ruin two unexplored corridors led southwards, away from the flickering light of their torches. Marquis was limping slightly and nursing several wounds, so Samieth took point. He led them down the east passage, and at the second corner a door awaited them. The rogue checked the door for traps and, finding none, opened it. Or at least, that was the plan. He pushed and pulled, but neither yielded results. His attention was drawn to the horizontal hand-slot in the middle of the door, and he mumbled something under his breath. Placing both hands into the crack, he planted his feet firmly against the floor and tried to lift. When this drew no response from the giant slab, he braced himself again and heaved upwards with all of his strength. Still nothing.

Kyata coughed delicately. The rogue turned a sweating face in her direction, and after a while his stony expression brightened. He took back the torch he had handed to Rob, and with nary a word he turned back to the huge stone, a half-smile twitching on his lips. A single finger pressed lightly downwards, and the door rumbled quietly into the floor. He turned to grin at the tall fighter. As he did, an enormous gust of wind blew from inside the room, extinguishing both the rogue’s torch and the ranger’s lantern in a quavering instant.

Pure darkness softly ensnared their eyes in velvety nothingness.

Nameless primordial dread clawed up through their chests. The instinctive fear of the night, passed down through countless generations, sprung fully-fledged into the minds of human and elf alike. This was not the mere absence of light – the temple had lain empty for thousands of years, the bitter blackness roiling and stretching its time-forged hatred into every corner and crevice. Held back no longer by the flighty flicker of flame, it flowed silently forward to swallow the pitiful specks that had disturbed its baleful vigil.

Adrenalin coursed through the veins of those pitiful specks, and though their vision was gone (gone, gone forever, a silent primal voice whispered inside their heads), their other senses ran at fever pitch. Every sound they had dismissed before seemed to magnify a hundredfold – the expression “as quiet as the grave” was a lie. Their breathing thundered in their ears, as loud as the shouts and cries of pitched battle. The skittering at their feet had changed, and now slavered and chomped as though a thousand hounds from the very pits of hell snapped at their heels. Malice edged the dripping noise they had ignored since entering the ruin; the blood of demons could not make sounds more foul and filled with dark promise. It splashed into a shallow pool of bile, the only remnant of the ignorant invaders who last dared breathe here.

Now deathly still, the air began to smell ever so faintly. It was not so much a scent as the absence of all odour – the kind of atmosphere that existed at the beginning of the world. Ancient and bone-dry, it wreathed through their lungs, leeching moisture and life from their bodies. The crushing weight of four thousand empty years descended. What use was it all, really? Plunder the dungeon, receive a pittance instead of a reward, repeat. What is the use? their racial memories whispered.

A tiny glimmer of white heat flared for an instant. The shadows rushed in to smother it.

Many others, more worthy than you, have tried and failed. Why do you think you are special?

Another flash fizzled and died, consumed by the malignant murk.

Why continue on? Why not save the time and end it all? It’s better than you deserve…

This time, the oil caught the fading spark and burst into glorious flame. It speared through the tenebrous gloom, its orange radiance shining bright and strong and clean.

With trembling fingers, Marquis returned the flint to the pocket of her pack. Samieth relit his smoking brand and avoided everyone’s eyes. Kyata shook herself mentally, loosening her death-grip on the handle of her sword. Rob traced the runes on his falchion with a nervous fingertip, seeming to draw strength from the geometric patterns. Harriet blinked rapidly, readjusting her dwarven eyes to work in the light again, completely oblivious to the insidious terrors her companions had just entertained.

Quip rolled over in blissful unconsciousness.

Saying nothing, not even looking at each other, the adventurers searched the room quickly. Sam stared at the ceiling for a while, but there were no gaps or cracks through which the mighty wind could have blown, and it was the same height as those in many of the other rooms in the maze. Harriet concentrated, and her eyes blazed white again. Sensing no magical emanations, she shrugged and went back to searching manually.

When they were finished checking the empty room, the party stopped outside for a quick breather to try and recover some of their normal good humour. The terrors of the deepest dark were not easily shaken off, though, so after only a minute they moved on, hoping that time and distance would do what rest could not. The next door was cast from solid iron, and felt colder than the stone around it. That was just because it was metal, though – which conducts heat better than stone does. Nothing supernatural about it. No sir.

Sam checked the door thoroughly for traps. Rob reminded him of the other iron doors, and how the traps were in the wall behind the door. Sam checked the wall behind him thoroughly for traps. Finding none either time, he opened the door. What looked like the crumpled skeleton of a dog lay broken in one corner. A glint of metal shone from underneath it.

Recalling the thief’s propensity for missing dangerous traps hidden near doors, everyone stood carefully out of the line of fire as Samieth strode into the room. Their suspicions were well-founded, as the rogue’s first step crumbled beneath him. Overbalanced, he fell forwards and dropped his torch. The malice of the darkness had dulled his reflexes, so his desperate grab for the bottom of the doorframe was too late. Rob dived forward to try and catch his companion, but the speed of the situation bested him, too.

A second’s pause, then a bone-jolting crunch.

A long and well-informed string of expletives rose from the ragged hole, displaying an impressive grasp of comparative anatomy.

This broke the tension that was still knotted tightly around and through the others, and they set about retrieving the swearing thief with renewed vigour.

“Are you okay, little man?” Kyata enquired of the cursing chasm.

“I could do with a massage,” Sam replied through clenched teeth.

“That not such a good idea. Last person I give massage, end up with broken back.”

A knotted rope uncoiled down the rough wall of the pit, Marquis holding the top end. Samieth, battered and bruised, grabbed the end of it and bent his strength to climbing up it. Everyone else hauled back on the other end, stopped intermittently by the knots catching on the lip of the hole, and pulled the hapless thief up out of the dirty pit.

“Well, that was fun. Who wants to go next?”

The runeblade stepped forward into the doorway and, clinging tightly to the frame, carefully straddled the stone to gauge the strength of the floor on the side of the pit. A tentative toe tested the torn cobblestones, and when they did not immediately fall away he pushed with more of his weight. The floor crunched downwards alarmingly, then after a brief pause the flagstone broke free of its mortar and bounced down into the pit. He swung back to the safety of the passage. “The floor’s not safe ‘round the edge. I wouldn’t trust the other side much neither.”

Marquis stepped forward, injured though she was. After a brief tussle with the knots, the rope was tied firmly around her waist. She stepped back, pressing against the wall of the corridor. Two swift strides and she leapt, landing with easy grace on the other side of the pit. The others tightened their grip on the rope, ready to pull her back if needed.

She advanced cautiously toward the pathetic-looking heap of bones, and carefully shifted them out of the way to grasp the shiny metal underneath it. Her hand closed around its sharp edges, and she extracted it slowly from its osseous prison. She held it in the light of her lantern, and found to her dismay that it was simply a twisted fragment of iron. Out of nowhere, the bony skull sitting near the top of the pile jumped up and fastened sharp teeth around the hand holding the scrap. The other bones sprang to attention, scrambling into place behind the head. It let go of the ranger’s hand and rattled threateningly, managing to make it sound almost like a growl.

Trying to staunch the wound with her other hand, Marquis backed away a few steps, then suddenly turned and ran for the edge of the pit. She launched herself towards the other side, but her injury made her less precise. Her desperate leap was too shallow, and it looked as if she wasn’t going to make it. Their senses heightened by the tension (well, except Quip), the other adventurers yanked the rope taut. The extra tension propelled her forward to sprawl across the front ranks, toppling her rescuers like poorly-constructed trilithons.

After they had picked themselves up and dusted themselves off, the party stared across the gap at the pacing skeletal hound. It stared back with empty sockets, then rattled another growl in their general direction. A grappling hook soared through the air to clatter behind the dog, then bounced and skittered into the skeleton’s hindquarters as Samieth gave a sharp yank. The hook had tangled around its legs and spine, and as the other adventurers gathered up the slack in the rope, a voice came from behind them.

“Hey guys, what happened to that bag of-”

CRUNCH

Silence.

The rope had snapped taut as the others jerked in surprise, and the back half of the dog was forcefully separated from the front. It flew through the air and hit Quip full in the face – for that was who the voice belonged to. He sagged against the wall, sliding gently down it; the pelvis had struck him right between the eyes and knocked him out cold again. The other bones clattered as he fell onto them.

The front half of the canine skeleton, meanwhile, was having troubles of its own. The force of the removal of its hindquarters had pulled it forwards, and with only two legs it was having trouble co-ordinating its movements. It slid towards the hole, teetering on the edge for a second before toppling in.

“All of this for a twisted scrap of metal,” Marquis said, battered and weary. “I feel we are being cheated. The finish cannot come soon enough.”

Seeing how tired and wounded the ranger was, Rob offered to enhance the protection of her armour to prevent further injury. An intricate pattern of geometric lines and shapes grew as he chalked, an invisible force gently repelling his hand as he finished. “This is not just a mark of protection – it’s a symbol of trust. I’ll take point.” The runeblade led his wounded companions towards the third and final door at the end of the passage.

The thief checked the door for traps, now more wary than ever. One more injury and he wouldn’t be getting back up in a hurry. His nimble fingers finding nothing, he nodded to Rob, who opened the door. The room on the other side was the largest they had yet seen, which meant only that it contained even more emptiness than the others. The runeblade’s shoulders sagged disappointedly, and as he turned to tell the rest of the party, something leapt onto him from the side, clawing and biting.

Razor-edged teeth sank deep into his shoulder, tearing at muscle and scraping bone. The vile creature leapt off again, and bared its bloodied fangs in a feral snarl. Its gaunt frame supported sickly purplish flesh, and it reeked of foul necromancy and carrion. Its arms ended in wicked-looking claws, and its eyes burned like hot coals in their sunken sockets. Hunched over, it shifted restlessly and looked for another opportunity to tear at exposed flesh.

The runeblade leant into the vile creature’s next lunge with his curved sword, letting its own momentum impale it on the keen edge. The thing howled in impotent rage as the arcane marks on the falchion burst into lightning sparks again, sending crackling electricity arcing into the deep gash in its chest. Panting, the ghoulish figure retreated a step.

Behind it, Kyata swept her greatsword low, aiming for the legs. The creature hissed and spun, dodging the slash and leering terribly at the tall fighter. It jumped at Rob again, flailing with both claws. He blocked them, one with his blade and the other with a forearm, but the monster was more concerned with where it could sink its teeth. Ducking under the bearded runeblade’s guard, it wrenched a mouthful of flesh from his leg with its needle-sharp fangs. Its vile poison raced through his blood, pumped by his own treacherous heart. Completely paralyzed, he could only watch as the creature leaned in to tear out his throat, the burning eyes dancing with malicious glee.

A bloody metal shape suddenly protruded from the middle of its forehead. The horrible expression still fixed on its face, the monster continued its lunge. It fell full-length on the frozen Rob, but did not attack. Inches from his own, the feral eyes slowly lost their otherworldly gleam. The end of a feathered shaft stuck out of the back of its skull. Marquis lowered her bow.

After the runeblade had recovered, the room was quickly relieved of its material possessions. A hefty bag of coins was slid back up the hallway to slam into poor Quip’s abused cranium, and a suit of banded mail lay in one corner, missing its helmet. Inside was mouldy padding and a discorporated skeleton, missing its head. Sam gathered up most of the suit and dragged it up the corridor to drop on Quip for safekeeping. Seeing the potential for comedic relief, the party spent a few minutes twisting the pelvis of the doggy skeleton into place around the swashbuckler’s own hips, and pounding the groin plate of the banded armour into a new helmet for him. While it was on his head.

When that was done, they trailed up the corridor and back down the other one. As she rounded the corner, Harriet caught the outline of a door in the wall between the two passages. She pointed this out to the others, but since at the front of the line Sam was already checking another door for traps they decided to go back for that after they had finished this passage. No mechanical death-devices were discovered, so Rob swung open the door to reveal a room that looked as if it once served as living quarters. A row of stone benches were built into the west wall, and the far wall had a small niche in it, similar to those in many present-day dwellings used for images of the resident’s patron spirit.

After a quick search the party tromped back out, Marquis muttering about empty rooms, and Harriet pausing to scrape up a few ancient wooden slivers from the niche. The next door was iron, and after listening carefully to its chilly solidness the rogue held up a cautioning finger. Muffled footsteps were audible on the other side of the metal. He thrust it open with a resounding CLANG, and the sight that greeted him was a zombie shambling towards him. Behind it, the room looked as if it were once a chapel of some kind, with rows of stone benches and a bare altar at the other end of the room.

Recalling the crumbling floor in the room opposite this one, Sam simply stood there and watched as the undead shuffled closer to the door. With a great cracking and grinding noise, the floor gave way beneath the slow-moving corpse. It fell into the pit below, and two more zombies poked heads up from behind the altar.

“Come and get me, big boys,” the rogue called, striking a provocative pose in the doorway. The other adventurers looked at him oddly and edged away slightly, but the undead were attracted by his sheer animal magnetism. Well, it really worked on anything with minimal cognitive capacity, but animal magnetism is a better name than things-with-low-intelligence magnetism. Anyway, the walking dead shambled towards him, an eager gleam in their gormless eyes. Their low groans somehow became edged with sensuality, and their aimless grasping at the air started to look more like purposeful groping. A little unnerved, Sam backed away from the pit. The zombies shuffled forwards, moaning excitedly, and those watching could have sworn that they did not simply fall into the hole, but actually jumped.

Trying not to think of the symbolism of what he’d just unwittingly instigated, the thief peered down into the gaping chasm. The sound of heavy breathing echoed up the jagged walls, along with the occasional muffled groan. Shuddering from the implications, Sam jogged back to the suit of armour they’d left lying on top of Quip. Dragging it back to the pit, he found the others staring into the darkness, trying to make out what was happening in the gloom. “Clear the way, zombie crusher coming through!”

He rolled it over the lip and into the pit. The moaning stopped. The heavy breathing continued. “Someone give me some light, please?” the rogue asked.

Marquis detached the lantern from her belt and, standing as far as possible from the pit, handed it to the thief. He pointed it into the dimness at the bottom of the hole, took careful aim with the spear he’d found a few rooms back, and threw it downwards. A wet squelching noise ended the heavy breathing. He swung the door closed.

“Could we, uh, never speak of this again?” he queried. “If at all possible?”

The remainder of the corridor was traversed slowly, with everyone trying different things to try and forget what they had almost seen. The door at the end of it was completely clean, untouched by the centuries of dust and dirt. It swung open easily, and the room beyond was as clean as the door. Brilliant white limestone gleamed in the flickering light, each block pristine and untarnished. No scuff marks or scratches marred the floor, and the walls were as smooth as polished glass. The skittering at their feet, long since ignored, did not follow them into the room, and the ankle-high blue mist swirled unenthusiastically in the doorframe, hesitant about intruding upon the dazzling perfection. The party’s boots left no footprints – the immaculate stone seemed to absorb the dirt.

The whole room seemed to echo of age. Not the millennia-spanning spite of the dark places, but age all the same. The walls seemed to bear down upon the party, the weight of thousands of years behind them, crushing them into insignificance. However long the rest of the ruin had stood before they arrived, this room was immeasurably older. The taste of time dancing on their tongues, the party left the room in silence.

How old is the mysterious white room? What lies behind the secret door in the middle of the ruin? And how many more times can Quip be hit on the head before he dies or goes insane?

Tune in next week to find out!
Same D&D time, same D&D channel!


Achievement-Style Bonus XP

Achievement Character Type
Dead Weight (bag of coins) Marquis X
Flaming Fletching (fire arrow) Marquis I
Comedy of Errors (hit nothing) Everyone X
I Cast Magic Missile (force blast) Harriet K
Headbanger (shortsword pommel) Sam K
Quadriplegia (greatsword) Kyata K
Shocking Burst (electric-runed falchion) Rob K
Delicious Toes (slept through it) Quip X
The Admiral’s Revenge (found it) Kyata I
Analytical Cartography (map holes) Rob I
Arachnicide (so tiny) Harriet X
Faded Beauty (booby prize) Everyone X
Magic Senses Tingling! (illusion) Harriet I
Fishing For Chips (nothing there) Marquis X
Some Go Down (told you) Kyata X
Some Go Down (this one does) Sam X
Alone In The Dark (together) Everyone X
Nerves of Flint (and steel) Marquis X
They Came From Behind (dart trap) Rob I
Finder’s Fee (pit trap) Sam X
Dive Well (missed) Rob X
Skeletal Rearrangement (massage) Kyata X
Rope Trick (knot really) Marquis I
Edge-Finding Algorithm (pit trap) Rob I
Om Nom Nom (delicious hand) Marquis X
Long-Range Grapple (hooked) Sam I
Leap of Faith (almost failed) Marquis X
Woof Woof Werf? Yipe Yipe Yip Yip Yip (grappling hook) Everyone K
Teabagged (dog pelvis) Quip X
Graffiti Artist (protection rune) Rob I
Frozen Stiff (paralysis) Rob X
Trepanning (longbow) Marquis K
Dress-up Time! (new helmet) Quip X
Dwarven Aptitude (secret door) Harriet I
Disturbing Imagery (pit trap) Sam K
Silent Cartographer Rob M
Bonus Achievement – Summary Much? (5000 words) Zedric I
Type Meaning Bonus XP
P Penalty Varies
K Impressive Kill 5
I Good Idea 10
G Guard Duty 10
M Mapping Duty 10
C Character Development 20
X Misc Varies

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