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One Shot in the Dark - The Crypt

Updated: Nov 29, 2022

One Shot in the Dark was created by Jon of the Tale of the Manticore podcast. You can get your copy of the game on DriveThruRPG. Jon is on Twitter, and you can visit the TotM blog and Podbean page to listen to his amazing dark fantasy/D&D actual play podcast.

 

Galadhri led the party down the corridor, holding a candle aloft. Charis called out a warning, but too late. A spike trap activated, catching Galadhri in the arm. He cried out, falling to the ground. Morrigan quickly determined the wound will need care or a healing spell to be useful again. Galadhri refuses, saying they may need her healing powers before they finish their quest. Morrigan's faith demanded she not push her healing on an unwilling person, so, despite her desires to the contrary, she bound the arm as best she could and hoped it would still be usable when it healed.

Ahead, the party spots an open room full of bright sunlight ahead, and their hearts soar with the prospect of a way out of this evil place. As they grow closer, Belig holds up a hand to stop the party and kicks a loose cobble. The stone skips along the icy floor until it vanishes. Belig points out that the passage has collapsed, leaving 10 feet of chasm between them and the bright room.


“As I feared,” the dwarf mumbled. “Passage has collapsed. We won’t be crossing this way.”

In the next room, Morrigan is confronted by a shadowy presence—an unholy symbol of Drogthenes, the Cannibal Lord. The power of the symbol lashes out at her, trying to overcome her divine light. After a tense exchange of holy words of power, a light manifests from Morrigan's eyes and she raises her divine symbol higher. The light pulses from the golden relic and pushes the shadowy power back into the horrible symbol, shattering it into dozens of pieces.


Morrigan sagged against a pillar, breathing deeply. The others allowed her to catch her breath before continuing down another corridor.

As the party continues north, deeper into the crypt, they hear wails, like the wind howling through the mountains. At first, the adventurers think that it is just the wind. But soon, they begin to hear words, then whole sentences drifting along the corridor. No one or thing is visible, but the presence of the dead is tangible.


Morrigan shivers, feeling the pain and torture the souls-that-moan experienced in the very air of the crypt. On either side of the narrow hallway are small alcoves, containing skeletons—whether past victims or the long dead, she did not know.

Following the corridor around, the party stumbles into an ancient vault. Most of the contents are long gone or turned to rot, however, on a pedestal in the middle of the room they discover a strange mask. Galadhri takes the mask, claiming it is a relic of a prehistoric elfkin group of magic-users, possessing the power to alter reality.


“This will be quite the find when I turn it in at the Prehistory Ministry back home,” he said, awe giving his normally sedate voice an excited tone.

The corridor from the vault led into a long disused chapel. The altar appeared to have been desecrated with human blood, but the party was relieved to not find half-eaten corpses as they had on the floor above.


Charis found a gilded box on a pedestal and attempted to open it, she succeeded but not without taking a blast of steaming air to the face, burning her still raw skin. In the box she found a potion, which Galadhri identified as a potion of heroism. Charis gave the potion to Belig.


Also within she found a Holy Relic. Morrigan identified it as belonging to St. Delaxia, the Flame Bearer. It was shaped to resemble a small torch with rubies and yellow tourmaline serving as the flames.


“Keep it, Morrigan,” Charis said. “I don’t go in for the religious stuff like you do.”


“Thank you, Charis,” the cleric replied, bowing her head and gripping the relic tightly in her hand.


The cleric felt the power surging within the relic immediately, and the knowledge that her faith's great hero would be with her gave her comfort she did not know she needed.

Morrigan and Galadhri both froze in the corridor, both signaling the others to stop..


"You feel it too?" Galadhri asked, his voice a whisper.


"I do. Darkness."


"We should prepare ourselves. Charis, come here." Galadhri reached into his satchel and passed Charis a bottle containing a bright red liquid. "Drink. You've taken a beating down here."


Charis downed the potion without question and shivered as the healing draught seeped into every extremity, bone, and muscle. She stretched, and sighed happily as pain and aches faded quickly.


Belig drank from the Potion of Heroism they discovered in the vault, and his body began to thrum with might. Morrigan withdraws the relic of St. Delaxia, the gems of the torch blaze with a holy light and the power of the saint floods through her.

This last room was lit by a dimly glowing summoning circle. A wide swath of the magic circle was broken, and the ground around it was littered with desiccated corpses. In the center of the circle, twirling her black hair with long, clawed fingers was an impossibly beautiful woman. Her clothes were as black as her hair, and her reddish skin reflected the light of the summoning circle. She smiled, revealing razor sharp teeth. Her black eyes blazed red as she launched herself towards the party with an elated scream.


The succubus swiped her razor-sharp claws at Morrigan, but the cleric managed to duck the blow. The succubus attempted to enthrall Belig, seeing him as the greatest threat to her, but thanks to the heroic power flowing through him, he managed to resist the alluring gestures and pheromones emanating from the creature.

The party struck like a well oiled machine. Belig's hammer pounds into the succubus's shoulder, dropping the creature to her knees. The sound of the arm breaking echoes through the chamber. Morrigan, empowered by the holy relic she holds in her left hand, swings her mace, catching the creature across the midsection, snapping several ribs. Galadhri and Charis attack at the same time. Galadhri's Blast spell sends the succubus flying backwards and out of reach of Charis's daggers. The demonic figure stared at Morrigan, her dark eyes and bright lips teasing the cleric. Morrigan, recognized the Enthrall spell when she felt it, and easily resisted the demon's allure.

Belig, seizing the opportunity to end the fight, charges forward and brings his hammer down on the wounded succubus' head. The splattering of blood and bone reverberated through the chamber, and splattered on his silvered armor.


The demon screamed as a whoosh of dark energy rushed from her open maw, swirled about the room with the screams of many different voices. The horde of souls rushed around the room until they dissipated to nothing but uncomfortable shadows in the corners of the dark space.


Later...


The adventurers climbed the ladder to the surface, and were met by a group of townsfolk led by the barkeeper, Asim. The people lined the old mine shaft, torches and pitchforks, spears, and axes held at the ready.


“Is it done?” Asim asked.


“Indeed, it is,” Belig rumbled. “Did you know there was a succubus down there!?”


“A succubus, you say? And where is she now?”


“Dead.”


“You killed her?”


“That is what you desired, yes?” Morrigan spoke up, gripping the holy relic of St. Dyslexia. Its warmth flared, telling the cleric something was not right.


“You killed her!” Asim screamed. The sound sent a wave of power through the crowd, knocking many of the villagers over completely.


Morrigan, her hunch proven correct, holds her holy symbol and the relic of St. Delaxia in front of her. She began to chant in a voice not entirely her own, and the holy trinkets blazed with a brightness that caused the adventurers and the standing villagers to shield their eyes.


Asim begins to scream, but this time in pain, as the light launches itself forward and strikes him in the chest. His brown eyes bleed black, and long fangs drop from his upper gums as he bares his fangs.


“Back, dark creature,” Morrigan commands. The light flared brighter, and Asim’s dark shirt and apron began smoking.


“Go back, foul demon, to your own abode and leave these poor souls alone,” Morrigan’s voice echoed off the trees.


“This is not the last you’ve seen of me, puny mortals!” Asim roared.


A dark cloud enveloped the creature, shielding him from the light of Morrigan’s rebuke. It swirled, whipping the leaves off neary trees and causing the onlookers’ cloaks to ripple. Then, as quickly as it came, the whirlwind rushed off into the sky, quickly becoming nothing more than a dark speck on the horizon before disappearing completely.


“You…freed us?” one of the village women said, picking herself up from the ground. “That monster has had us enthralled for so long.”


“You are free now. I do not believe he will return here.” Morrigan replied, her voice her own again.


“Take these,” another villager said, handing the cleric two small, rough sacks. “It's a bit more than what the monster was offering. We thank you for your aid, and welcome you to our humble village anytime.”


 

Thanks for reading! This will be the final post for 2022! In the New Year, I'll be starting a new, modded Ironsworn campaign that I can't wait to share with you.




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