Chapter 1: A Shallow Grave of Sand

[Inferno]

Chapter 1: A Shallow Grave of Sand

Day One
The Great Eastern Desert, the World of Hyboria
13th day of the month of Yuluk, 1279th year of the Age of Aquilonia
Hours before dawn. Full moon, warm, clear, dry





You are lost in the desert!



Your heat-fevered minds reflect with regret and remorse how it all came to this.
You were crossing the Great Eastern Desert with a Zamoran caravan out of the city of Shadizar. You were pilgrims, wanderers, travelers, or caravan guards hired on to face the threat of the desert tribes of Zhuagir raiders.

The Great Eastern Desert.jpg (595.58 KiB) Viewed 6066 times

Halfway across the desert, a catastrophic sandstorm struck. It was as far-reaching as Koth's ambitions of empire, and as high as the heavens themselves.



In the maelstrom of chaos and death, wagons, beasts of burden and men were broken and scattered to the four winds. When the storm died, you seven found yourselves alive and together by chance or by fate. Some of you had met on the caravan trail, others were complete strangers. Your small group of survivors were:

• • Arthfael Griogarach: Dark, bald, tattooed Cimmerian Northman Druid
    
    Biblo Phyle: Literary, white-bearded Zamoran Southman Arcanist
    
    Garrin Locke: Noble, young Argosian Atlantean Paladin
    
    Goniza Devin: Enigmatic Atlantean Sorcerer Priest
    
    Gronda: Scarred, dark Zembabweian Savage Scout and Ex-Slave
    
    Loche: Mysterious Pict Savage Thief
    
    Roan, Son of Rune: Massive, red-maned Vanir Northman Barbarian

The caravan was nowhere in sight. The wind obliterated its tracks and reshaped the dunes into new patterns. The desert was unrecognizable. You were lost.



You traveled by night, by the light of the moon and of the infinite, uncaring stars. You headed southeast, the same direction as the caravan before the storm, toward Iranistan.

Days passed. You finished the last of your food. (please delete rations from your inventory)
Yet the end of the desert was nowhere in sight.

Today, the second night after your food ran out, you stumble across stone blocks emerging from a great dune. Investigation shows the sand is covering the ancient remains of a tall, stone wall. On the far side of the wall is a vast, ruined city, protruding above the sands like a corpse from a too-shallow grave.



Is it a mirage? A mad vision borne of delirium?

Sand covers most of the immense, sprawling ruins. Exposed blocks, toppled and cracked by the merciless passage of desolate eternities, are worn smooth on the sides that face the relentlessly blowing sands. The sheltered surfaces, however, show the eerie carvings and hieroglyphs of the ancients.



Wracked by hunger, you now stand at the edge of the brooding ruins of a city built before this desert was a desert. Before you, lay shattered ageless buildings, an enigmatic, colossal stone sphinx and, in the distance, three partially buried pyramids; one greater, two lesser.

All waiting patiently, as they have for aeons without number.




Actions? and welcome to the game.





Status:

• Arthfael Griogarach: Cimmerian Northman Druid 2: AC 6, HP 12/12, Spells: 4/4 1st lvl and 3/3 2nd lvl
  Biblo Phyle: Zamoran Southman Fighter/Magic-User/Cleric 1/1/1: AC 1, HP 7/7, Spells: 4/4 1st lvl
  Garrin Locke: Argosian Atlantean Paladin 1: AC 3, HP 11/11, Laying Hands: 1/1
  Goniza Devin: Atlantean Cleric/Magic-User 1/1: AC 2, HP 6/6, Spells: 4/4 1st lvl
  Gronda: Zembabweian Savage Ranger/Thief 1/2: AC 7, HP 16/16
  Loche: Pict Savage Thief 3: AC 6, HP 18/18
  Roan, Son of Rune: Vanir Northman Barbarian 1: AC 4, HP 12/12

Magic:

• Protection from Evil (Garrin): -2 to AC and +2 to saving throws against evil, in a 10 foot radius around Garrin.

Resources:

• Maps of the World of Hyboria
  Kingdoms of the Hyborian Age
  Races of Men of Hyboria
  The Story So Far

[Mant72]

Garrin Locke:

Garrin winced at the sand that chafed beneath his armor, but he did not voice his discomfort. He licked his dry, cracked lips and turned to take in his companions. "Who were these people? What gods did they kneel before? What were their motivations?" All answers to be sought later.

Again he licked his parched lips then broke the silence, "Even the most hale of men can only survive a handful of days without water. Might there be water there?" The sunburned paladin gestured a gauntleted hand to the broken ruins that spilled out before them.

[hedgeknight]

Weary but not wanting to show it, Roan, son of Rune, leaned on his spear and looked where Garrin gestured. The northern barbarian hated these sands, this hot burning wind, and even more the dryness in his throat, thinking not for the hundredth time of the cool mountain streams of his homeland. With a grunt and a nod, Roan says, "Better than to die in this forsaken wasteland. Lead on."

[Zhym]

The Cimmerian druid Arthfael—bald, dark-skinned, and tattooed with symbols of mystical portent from head to toe—regards the ruins rising from the sand. He says nothing. Few words have passed his lips since the sandstorm. For a druid to allow those in his company to fall victim to a storm was deeply shameful. What was there to say after such a thing? So he spoke little, except for the words needed to create water each day. His companions may be lost in the desert because of his failure, but they would not die of thirst while he lived. Of this he could make certain.

He turns to Garrin and nods.

[Grognardsw]

Biblo Phyle, arcanist

"Curse Set and these damnable sands!"

Wiping sweat from brow and beard, Biblo pauses to stare in fascination at the looming behemoths of the lost city before him. His discomfort forgotten, the sage with a sword moves in to examine the ancient carvings and glyphs.

"They have a Stygian look to them..." he mutters thoughts aloud. "But not as dark and depraved."

Biblo attempts to make out the writings based on his knowledge of the Stygian language.

[dmw71]

Loche, of average size and appearance, runs his fingers through the dark stubble of his goatee. "It mak's sense tae check oot they buildings foremaist," he says with a thick accent. He doesn't offer, but anyone that happens to be looking at him gets the impression that he's eager to set off -- and lead. His hands fall to the hilt of one of his four bone daggers.

"Let's gang," he continues, sweat beginning to soak the leather armor he's wearing.

Translations:
"It makes sense to check out those buildings first."
"Let's go."

[ken-do-nim]

Garrin Locke:

Garrin winced at the sand that chafed beneath his armor, but he did not voice his discomfort. He licked his dry, cracked lips and turned to take in his companions. "Who were these people? What gods did they kneel before? What were their motivations?" All answers to be sought later.

Again he licked his parched lips then broke the silence, "Even the most hale of men can only survive a handful of days without water. Might there be water there?" The sunburned paladin gestured a gauntleted hand to the broken ruins that spilled out before them.

Goniza Devin

Goniza turns to his fellow Atlantean and says, "I doubt it. If we do find some food or drink, I'd be happy to purify it. Let's make a circuit around these pyramids and see if there are any openings."

Goniza goes around the perimeters of the 3 pyramids, with any who choose to accompany him. How many openings does he find?

[Mant72]

Garrin Locke:

Garrin nods his head at Goniza's suggestion and accompanies the mage-priest during his exploration. While walking the perimeter, he adds, "One might assume that these structures we see are the tallest of this necropolis buried in this sea of sand, no?"

[OGRE MAGE]

Gronda
Savage Ranger/Thief

The snarling dark-skinned former slave girl looks somewhat out of place within this group of mighty warriors and scholarly spell slingers. The young woman is not much for the men's eyes to behold, either. Her mop of long dark hair flies around wildly in the desert winds, causing her to look even more wild and slightly crazed. Fortunately for her, the thick hair works as a helpful shield that prevents some of the blowing sand from entering the larger gaps of her strange looking, bone covered, leather armor. She keeps her obsidian tipped spear tightly gripped in one hand, just waiting for one of these males to attack her.

She recognizes the tattooed "creator of water" from the caravan, with his skin even more covered in ink than her own. She wonders if his "art" was forced upon him like hers was or if he was a willing recipient. She trusts the metal covered man for some reason and really likes the look of the other huge brute, obviously a northerner and maybe the only one looking more out of place here than herself. She thinks that someday she could grab him, and take him, but that will have to wait for another time.

For now, she follows along with the others, knowing full well that she will not survive this horrid, dry place alone. She is no stranger to the dust and wind, but prefers the wet shores of the Southern Sea to this sandy wasteland. It would seem that her tragic and luckless life has just dealt her another cruel blow and she wonders if any of them will survive this sudden turn of fate.

She says nothing unless spoken to, and even then her words are short and sharp, indicating that she is not yet comfortable with her place in this group.

She nods her head at the paladin as they circle the structures.

[dmw71]

Before you, lay shattered ageless buildings, an enigmatic, colossal stone sphinx and, in the distance, three partially buried pyramids; one greater, two lesser.

Loche eyes Goniza curiously. "It doesn't mak' sense tae bypass a' thae buildings, or th' sphinx, tae gang a' thay wey tae they distant pyramids," he says. "You kin if yi'll waant, bit a'm starting mah search 'ere."

Unable to control his impulse to lead, Loche begins to move to the nearest building, approaching with more caution the nearer he draws.

Translation:
"It doesn't make sense to bypass all these buildings, or the sphinx, to go all they way to those distant pyramids."

"You can if you want, but I'm starting my search here."

[hedgeknight]

"Who would build such monuments out in the middle of nowhere? Fools? Crazed stargazers?" Roan muses as he approaches the pyramids. He occasionally glances at the savage girl, and makes a point to stay away from the Cimmerian and Atlantean spellcasters. He keeps the Pict and the Zamoran on his left, watching them closely because everyone knows Picts and Zamorans can't be trusted.

[Zhym]

Arthfael closes his eyes and shakes his head sadly. The survivors of the sandstorm have only just discovered the ruins and already people are bickering. Ruins or pyramids? Staying at the ruins are the Pict scum and the smart one. Everyone else is going around to the pyramids. He has to make a decision.

He hates decisions.

The druid kneels down and sticks a meaty paw into the hot sands of the desert. He brings a handful of sand toward his face as if about to drink from a dusty tan stream. As the sand flows between his fingers, he mutters something low and unintelligible to himself—or to the sands.

Eventually, he brushes his hands off and stands. Patches of sand clings to his lower legs, stuck there by sweat. He steps to the side of the smart man and the Pict scum and plants the butt of his spear in the sand, punctuating his decision: the ruins are here; so is he.

[Inferno]

Day One
The Great Eastern Desert, the World of Hyboria
13th day of the month of Yuluk, 1279th year of the Age of Aquilonia
Hours before dawn. Full moon, warm, clear, dry





The empty-bellied, desperate men and woman divide, moving in and around the mysterious dead city of the ancients.



It is a vast, timeless necropolis that has weathered the ravages of eternity.

pylon.jpg (187.32 KiB) Viewed 5964 times

The proud kingdoms of Aquilonia, Koth and Nemedia would be humbled by the unimaginable scale of this achievement. With each step deeper, the silent city keeps giving unrelenting testimony that this lost civilization had mastered architecture, astronomy, art, mathematics, engineering and science at a level beyond that of legendary Atlantis.



Arthfael, Biblo and Loche enter the nearest ruins (1). The Pict gets a lantern alight, casting yellow light and writhing black shadows. The grim, starving heroes cautiously tread past cyclopean stone colossi emerging out from the sands; sentinels standing guard against time without end.



One prominent, towering idol had fallen against the ruinous devastation of infinity.



Its two severed feet remained intact upon a pedestal whose exposed top Biblo could decipher. It read:

• • 'My name is Xuthalhotep, pharaoh of pharaohs!
    Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!'

Pronounced 'zoo-THAL-ho-tep,' Biblo the libromancer had never before heard this name.

Holding a candle near the carved walls, learned Biblo scrutinizes the proto-Stygian hieroglyphs of the ancients.



In time, he can decipher a small fraction of the dead language of the carven cuneiforms, and of the epic pageant of history depicted. Biblo reads that this city was built by what appears to be Men. It was the heart of a mighty, inland empire, far older and greater than the lost Empire of Acheron. This enigmatic realm once encompassed what is now Stygia, the Great Eastern Desert, Shem, Darfar, Kush and beyond. Its glory and grandeur reigned supreme for thousands of years in an Age when the bricks of Atlantis were yet unbaked, and this desert was a lush paradise.

The builders of this eternal city, the ancient ancestors of Stygia, seemingly share with that mysterious dreaming kingdom an unwholesome alliance with death, tombs and temples for the dead. Their extinct culture was steeped in complex, arcane rituals, magick and necromancy.



Enough carvings and hieroglyphs to fill the grand library of Nemedia remain unread.

Arthfael's, Biblo's and Loche's search of the immense labyrinth of ruins has yet to turn up food, water, or any living thing. But they still had far to go.

The sun will soon rise and with it, the murderous temperatures of this unforgiving wasteland. For days, the heroes had rested during the stifling heat of sunlight; drinking Arthfael's water in the shade of makeshift shelters built by the Vanir barbarian, Roan.

Meanwhile, Garrin, Goniza, Gronda and Roan (2) continue their long approach to the distant pyramids, making poor time on the soft sand as they follow the buried stone wall around the ruins. They soon determine the gargantuan stone sphinx to be 70 feet tall and 250 feet long. But they had sorely misjudged the incredible scale of the pyramids, and therefore the distance to them. As they drew closer it slowly began to dawn on them, the incomprehensible magnitude of the center pyramid. It might possibly be the largest man-made structure on Earth.



From a distance it seems all three monolithic monuments are partially consumed by the rapacious sands. If they once had entrances at ground level, those portals might now be entombed deep beneath tons of sand. But something atop the largest pyramid shines red with the light of the coming dawn.

That red light also illuminates something in the field of vision of Garrin and Gronda. A line in the sand that should not be. They approach to investigate. Goniza and Roan see it now also. Footprints. Along a north-south path. They must have been made since the harrowing sandstorm. More than one person, walking single file into, or out of, this Dead City of the Ancients!
Anyone in group 2 that has Tracking skills may roll against them.


Actions?


Map:

The Lost City.jpg (411.85 KiB) Viewed 5964 times

The top of the map is South. Dotted line is your path coming from the NW. Movement rate on sand is halved.
Group 1: Arthfael, Biblo, Loche
Group 2: Garrin, Goniza, Gronda, Roan





Status:

• Arthfael Griogarach: Cimmerian Northman Druid 2: AC 6, HP 12/12, Spells: 4/4 1st lvl and 3/3 2nd lvl
  Biblo Phyle: Zamoran Southman Fighter/Magic-User/Cleric 1/1/1: AC 1, HP 7/7, Spells: 4/4 1st lvl
  Garrin Locke: Argosian Atlantean Paladin 1: AC 3, HP 11/11, Laying Hands: 1/1
  Goniza Devin: Atlantean Cleric/Magic-User 1/1: AC 2, HP 6/6, Spells: 4/4 1st lvl
  Gronda: Zembabweian Savage Ranger/Thief 1/2: AC 7, HP 17/17
  Loche: Pict Savage Thief 3: AC 5, HP 18/18
  Roan, Son of Rune: Vanir Northman Barbarian 1: AC 4, HP 12/12

Magic:

• Protection from Evil (Garrin): -2 to AC and +2 to saving throws against evil, in a 10 foot radius around Garrin.

Resources:

• Maps of the World of Hyboria
  Kingdoms of the Hyborian Age
  Races of Men of Hyboria
  The Story So Far

[hedgeknight]

Roan, Son of Rune

"Damn these wretched sands," Roan growls, squatting to get a better view of the tracks.

Tracking (90%): [1d100] = 86
DM: You'll have to decide any + or - % factors based on time and the # of footprints.

[dmw71]

"We'll be deid lang afore we hae a chance tae decipher a' thae runes," Loche grumbles, mimicking the activity of his empty stomach. "Let's quickly bygae thro' 'ere, keekin fur fairn or identifying ony got somehin threats, then continue oan."

"Either tae th' nearby sphinx, or tae huv a go tae catch up wi' th' ithers."

Translations:
"We'll be dead long before we have a chance to decipher all these runes."

"Let's quickly pass through here, looking for food or identifying any potential threats, then continue on."
"Either to the nearby sphinx, or to try to catch up with the others."

[Zhym]

Seeing the ruins, Arthfael is moved to speak. "The mightiest works of men are but castles of sand," he intones, as if reciting long-memorized verse. "All must fall against the tides of time."

He waits to see what the other two do.

[Mant72]

Garrin Locke:

The soldier of Mitra plants a knee in the sand beside Roan. He turns to the barbarian, gestures to the prints, and speaks, "Seems this city of the dead might not be so dead after all...Can you make anything of these?" His gaze is then pulled upward to the top of the largest pyramid, and he points, "Something atop shines red. Might it prove be an entryway?"

[OGRE MAGE]

Gronda watches the large Northman and mimics his movements as she also studies the tracks in the sand.

Tracking [1d100] = 48

She keeps an eye on the eerie red light atop the large structure and looks far ahead to where she thinks the path might be leading them to. Trying to spot whatever made the footprints, she squints as she looks for any movement near the structures or off on the horizon.

She knows that splitting the group is not generally considered a safe or smart prospect so, she is content to let the others catch up before moving ahead any further.

Absolutely amazed at the sheer size and mass of the huge structures, she finally speaks to the others.

There is an old saying in my home country on the shores of the South Sea.

And so castles made of sand, all fall into the sea, eventually.

She looks around again in every direction.

These monsters might be safe from that fate though, it seems.

[hedgeknight]

Garrin Locke:
The soldier of Mitra plants a knee in the sand beside Roan. He turns to the barbarian, gestures to the prints, and speaks, "Seems this city of the dead might not be so dead after all...Can you make anything of these?" His gaze is then pulled upward to the top of the largest pyramid, and he points, "Something atop shines red. Might it prove be an entryway?"

"I can track a man over rock and up a tree, but this," Roan grabs a handful of sand and lets it sift through his fingers, "this is hard on my eyes. Could be tracks here, then again, could be a sand serpent."
He then looks up at the top of the pyramid and nods to Garrin. "The eye of an angry god..." he whispers, and the soldier of Mitra notices the barbarian involuntarily reach for his belt...and then jerk his hand back suddenly.

Hearing Gronda quoting an old saying from her own country, Roan grunts and nods. "Truth! And the gods will bring it all to ruin one day."

[ken-do-nim]

Roan, Son of Rune

"Damn these wretched sands," Roan growls, squatting to get a better view of the tracks.

Tracking (90%): [1d100] = 86
DM: You'll have to decide any + or - % factors based on time and the # of footprints.

Goniza says to Roan, "Assuming you can follow these tracks, would we want to follow where they've gone ... or where they've been?"