Tomb of Horrors (Greyhawk)
Keith Francis Strohm
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Kaerion Whitehart was once a mighty paladin, but sins of the past have cast him far from the light. Together with an elf mercenary, he now survives by the might of his sword alone.
In exchange for a hefty purse, the two friends agree to accompany a band of patriots into a tomb haunted by fear and legend. They soon find the mission growing beyond their control. As warring factions vie for the ultimate prize of a long-dead wizard, Kaerion finds himself caught between death and redemption.
self-discipline took over just as Durgoth’s will was about to break. An easy calm stole over him. He opened his mouth again, and this time the words spilled out, sibilant as asps. There was a moment of stillness as his voice echoed in the vast hall. The cleric feared that he had made a mistake in reciting the ritual—until he felt a presence in his mind as horrifying as it was intangible. He resisted a shudder as Tharizdun’s power flowed through him, a vast wave of darkness that threatened to
Even the most grievously wounded held their sobbing tongues. The cleric rose wearily to his feet, not remembering the moment he had fallen to his knees, and stared at the misshapen creature. It twitched twice more in the silent room before giving a great shudder. When at last it turned its gruesome face to survey the hall, Durgoth could see that its eyeless sockets held a darkness more absolute than night. “Golem,” he nearly shouted, “whom do you serve?” Far more quickly than he had thought
throwing an arm across his face. The others must not have been as quick, for he heard their cursing continue. Blinking the last of the pulsing circles from his vision, Kaerion peered at the wall once again—and was surprised to find that the full-length painting of the jackal-headed human had disappeared, replaced by the uneven expanse of a rocky tunnel. He could see that, like the tunnel that lead from the gargoyle room to this one, the passage before them rapidly shrank down to a crawlway.
strikes. He fell back, unable to muster an effective defense against the evil creature’s tremendous strength and speed. At that moment, twin bolts of energy flew from the open doorway, catching the creature in the face. It screeched once and turned to face this new threat. Grievously wounded, Kaerion withdrew, confident that the flares and flashes of arcane energy he saw emanating from the doorway would keep the gargoyle busy for the moment. Reaching a sure hand into a pouch at his belt, Kaerion
already fixed an arrow to his bow. The half-elf’s search revealed nothing unusual about this portal. Conveying her discovery with a simple sign, the bard opened the door. Kaerion could see that the room beyond was simply appointed with tapestries along the walls. As the party moved in for a better look, it soon became clear that the room had been used mainly for storage. Dented urns and chipped vases littered the floor of the room, while four rotting sofas and several garish, throne-like chairs