THE TOWER OF ZAGIG, Part 1

May 21, 1999 GM: Kenneth Newquist

Meanwhile, the rest of the Blackrazors, who have relocated from Blue to their crude fort known as Swamphold, are bored and looking to adventure.

The last time that happened, they’d decided to explore the ruins of Greyhawk Castle. On that expedition they’d explored the castle’s Tower of War, and been disappointed by their haul. The place was crawling with orc-kin, but little real treasure.

This time around -- on the 1^st of Good-month, CY 588 -- they’re looking for something a bit more … challenging.

"If it’s an adventure you’re looking for," George Fillerman said, "then I suggest you explore the Tower of Zagig."

The Blackrazors swallowed -- and swallowed hard -- when they heard the guild sage’s recommendation.

"Isn’t that place … umm, cursed?" someone said.

"Well, yes," George replied. "But if you want to be technical, the entire thing is cursed, stained by the insanity of Zagig’s last days. In fact--"

The dwarven warrior Luc broke him off. "Tell us what we need to know George."

The sage blinked. He’d been with the Blackrazors for more than two years, ever since he had signed up with them after the so-called "Great Pen War" outside of Blue. After all that time, one would think that a simple scribe could get used to the guild’s crass and abusive exteriors. Apparently not, George thought, and then resumed.

"Ah, yes. Well, as I see it you have two options, the Tower of Magic and the Tower of Zagig. The Tower of Magic is supposed to house a number of powerful magical items, as well as a large array of, umm, yes, ah, cursed constructs. The Tower of Zagig is rumored to contain even great magical items, but has an even more impressive history. For it is in this tower that Zagig once imprisoned nine-powerful demigods."

"That’s where we’re going," Luc said definitively.

"Yes, that’s what I thought," George said, keeping his smile from the dwarf.

* * *

As the Luc and his fellow Blackrazors prepared to for their expedition, their master-of-arms, Gef Ironhold, was dealing with a little administrative work.

Ever since being hired by the guild’s Second Founders, Gef had been responsible for maintaining a new tradition -- the weapons testing of each new recruit.

Every new guild member, whether mage, thief, warrior and priest, was required to face Gef in melee combat so that the weaponsmaster could assess their skills.

It wasn’t a question of who would win, but of how quickly the new meat would fall. Much money had been won and lost in the guild in bets over how long a recruit would stand against Gef.

The average was about two rounds -- exceptional members made it to four. No one made it longer. The bouts were a time of celebration for the guild, as Blackrazors took breaks from their jobs and training to watch one of their soon-to-be friends beaten into the ground.

The human warrior Alaric had joined the guild just before one of its expeditions on behalf of the mysterious Altark, a ruler of a far-away land. With all of the chaos that the guild had been through lately, he’d never had a chance to face Gef.

The former Obsidian Bay city guardsman looked to remedy that situation.

The battle was short, but not as short as most -- Alaric lasted three rounds.

Shortly after that fight, Gef had a chance to train a second new recruit -- a summoner calling himself "Vaser."

"Vaser no like this," the bald, human mage said, nearly strangling familiar black cat Nightfall as he watched Alaric’s bout. "Vaser is mage. Vaser trained for many years in Keoland. Vaser apprentice of Velas, master mage, member of Royal Magi of Keoland … Vaser no fighter!"

Gef smiled, and motioned him forward.

Nightfall wormed out of Vaser’s hands and ran to the edge of the training field. Vaser hissed at the cat’s cowardness, and then half-shuffled toward Gef. The weaponmaster competently twirled his trademark quarter staff as Vaser slide a dart into his hand.

The mage despised hand-to-hand combat, which is why he always summoned creatures to do the messy work for him.

No such luck.

Vaser threw a dart, which amazingly enough hit the warrior. He hoped that the paralyizing poison on the dart would cripple Gef, but the weaponsmaster shrugged it off, and countered with two quick blows from his quarter staff.

Vaser dropped in a single round.

* * *

After the bouts, the Blackrazors left for the ruins of Greyhawk Castle. Their team was made up of:

• Luc, the dwarven warrior (and the expedition’s nominal leader)
• Vaser, the summoner
• Ragnar Blackmane, the barbarian warrior and priest of Kord
• Kannett, the human ranger from Geoff
• A Blackrazor redshirt thief, who had not yet earned his guild name.

The trip up was uneventful, but they were forced to fight off an orge ambush when they entered the castle’s central courtyard on the 4th of Good-month, CY 588. After a brief interrogation of the surviving ogres, the Blackrazors were able to learn that the door to the central tower -- the Tower of Zagig -- was unpassable, at least to their crude efforts. They were also able to terrify the humanoids into turning over their treasure, which consisted of some gold, silver, four gems, a potion (of clairvoyance) and some specialized weapon oil (of impact).

* * *

After dealing with the ogres -- whom they sent scurrying weaponless and naked into the wilderness with a stern message never to attack good folk again -- they tackled the tower. They found that its door was indeed locked, but it didn’t hold up against a simple knock spell.

Once in the room beyond, they found out why: the door was an illusion. When the last Blackrazor entered the tower, it was replaced by several steel bars. They decided to deal with them later, and ventured further into the Tower.

* * *

The hobgoblins they encountered a short time later didn’t stand a chance against the Blackrazors fast-and-furious assault. Neither did their crude stone wolf totem, which Ragnar smashed with two blows from his sword.

The attack didn’t go perfectly though -- when Ragnar had chased the hobgoblins into their altar room, he’d jumped over a large, worn carpet in the corridor leading into it. Luc didn’t realize this, and when the dwarf stepped onto the carpet he plummeted into a pit trap, the bottom of which was covered with a goey tar-like substance.

The dwarf howled in frustration and falling for the simple trap, and then decided to get rid of the tar. Knowing that his ring of fire resistance would protect him from normal flames, he doused oil over the tar still clinging to him, and then lit it.

Instead of melting away though, the tar suddenly hardened around him, trapping him in the pit. His howls as he realized he was even more trapped were greater than when he had fallen into the damn thing in the first place.

Meanwhile, the situation overhead had worsened. The hobgoblin fight had attracted the attention of several trolls, whom the other Blackrazors were barely able to repel. Once they had destroyed the regenerating horrors, the guild members turned their attention back to Luc.

The dwarf was suddenly very worried.

Ragnar and Kannett dropped into the pit, and stifled laughs as they saw Luc’s condition. The dwarf’s arms were frozen in potion over his head, as they’d been when he’d lit himself on fire. The tar had solidified into some sort of incredibly tough resin that the two warriors could not break. Instead, they decided to pry Luc and the solidified tar away from the floor. They did so, breaking off a chuck of stone as they did so. Back up at the top, Vaser was stroking Nightfall and nervously waiting for something else to attack him. When Ragnar climbed out of the trap, the cat hissed at him. "Hmmm, maybe we should throw cat in pit, teach him respect," Ragnar said.

Vaser’s eyes went wide as he reflexively turned his familiar away from the hulking warrior. "No you will not! Nightfall not go in trap! Vaser will be very mad! Vaser summon leeches to suck eyeballs from barbarian’s skull!"

Ragnar chuckled, made a face at the cat, and turned his attention back to the dwarf as the Blackrazors began debating what to do next.

"Hmmm. Vaser thinks we should crack off dwarf’s armor and cut off hair trapped in tar. Then dwarf be free."

When Luc realized that the rest of the Blackrazors were buying this idea -- and that if they did it they’d destroy his treasured plate mail of command, he shouted "No!"

"Even if you got me out of the armor," he said, trying to be as patient as he could, "I’m not walking through the rest of the dungeon naked. Why don’t you lay me down and concentrate on getting us past that gate! Then we can go back to Swamphold and get Sven or one of the others to get me out of this!"

The little lights Luc saw winking on in his companions eyes told him they’d go along with his idea.

* * *

The bars proved tougher than the Blackrazors -- even the combined strength of Ragnar, Alaric and Kannett was not enough to budge the bars. "Damn magical bars," Luc growled from the bottom of the stairs, where the Blackrazors had propped him while they worked.

"We’ll have to find another way out," Luc said. "Ragnar, carry me."

"Ok," the barbarian said happily.

* * *

It didn’t’ take them long to find the pool of water. It was about five feet and diameter, looked fairly deep, and had a fountain of water spewing into the air from its center.

The fountain gave Ragnar an idea. "Why not throw Luc in fountain?" he asked.

Before Luc could utter the word "no", Ragnar picked him up and threw him into the fountain, were he promptly sank to the bottom and then winked out of existence with a flicker of blue light.

"Uh oh." Ragnar said, and then dove in after him.

* * *

Luc cursed in ways never heard by human ears as he sank into the fountain, saw his world flash blue, and then continued to sink. By the time he hit bottom, Ragnar had caught up with him. The barbarian took out a potion of water breathing and held it against Luc’s mouth. The dwarf sucked down the potion.

Ragnar -- who was wearing a helm of underwater action -- then grabbed Luc and dragged him to the surface. What they found there was a dimly lit room that held no sign of their friends. "Hmmm. We go in the water again, and maybe get back to friends," Ragnar said.

"Sure," Luc grumbled. "I’m wet, trapped in magical tar and can’t move. It can’t possibly get any worse."

There was a second flash of blue light. They swam back to the surface and found yet another fountain room, again with no sign of the Blackrazors. "Third time charm," Ragnar said, and threw Luc back into the water.

He was right -- they surfaced and found Alaric, Kannett, Vaser and the redshirt thief standing around looking confused.

"What were you thinking!" Luc said, finally able to catch his breath and truly yell at Ragnar. " ‘Throw the dwarf in the fountain’ That makes sense!" he said, barely able to refrain from uttering one of his clan’s age old curses on the barbarian.

"It seemed like a good idea a the time," Alaric said, defending Ragnar.

Luc just glowered at him. "Let’s go back to the bars again."

* * *

"Why don’t we just bend the bars?" Kanett asked.

Luc’s head throb with frustration. He could feels the waves of black chaos washing over him, tearing at his dwarven soul as surely as the Blackrazors had been intent on tearing away his armor. Normally he could hold their chaos in check, but now … now it was too much. Far too much.

"Ragnar, can you try and dispel this?"

"Ok," the barbarian shaman said happily. He summoned the power of Kord and focused the beast-god’s magic on the bars.

They didn’t waiver.

"Ok, we can’t bend the bars, we can’t dispel the bars, but what if we send something through the bars? Something small…"

All eyes focused on Vaser, who gripped Nightfall reflexively.

"You wanted to through Vaser’s familiar in pit! Get him all sticky like dwarf! He--" the page pointed at Ragnar -- "tried to hurt Nightfall! Now you want Nightfall’s help? Pah!"

Luc closed his eyes and concentrated.

"He wouldn’t have to go all the way to Swamphold or even Greyhawk. There are some dwarves here -- we met them on our last trip to the Tower of War. They can help us."

Vaser looked at the dwarf, then at Ragnar. "Ragnar must be nice to Nightfall."

Luc looked at the barbarian. "Well?"

"Ok. I will be nice to cat for rest of time in dungeon."

"Vaser will no send Nightfall. Too dangerous. Vaser will summon mighty hunting hound to retrieve dwarves!"

* * *

The dwarves laughed heartily when they returned to the gate and saw their fellow dwarf trapped in the tar, propped against the wall. "Well met Luc!" the lead dwarf said. "It’s Stillguar, and it’s been a long time."

"Yes," Luc said, "it has. We have a problem. We need you to get a message to our friends near Klaston -- we need them to come here and free me from this magical tar."

"I’m sure you do," the dwarf said, smiling widely. He was remembering back to his last encounter with Luc and the Blackrazors, when the upstarts had refused to pay his toll for admission to the Tower of War. Well know they would pay a toll -- and they’d in spades!

"We’ll run your little errand, but Swamphold is far from here. We’d lose money, leaving the Tower to retrieve your friends.

"We’ll pay you--"

"Yes, yes you will. Twenty thousand gold pieces, in the coin of your pleasing," he said.

Luc gawked momentarily, and then said, "we haven’t got that kind of reserves on us."

"Hmmm. Then you’d best search the dungeon, don’t you think?"

"What if you just magically chill the tar? That might weaken it enough to crack off. Could one of your clerics do that?"

"Yes … for 2,000 gold."

Luc sighed. "You have a deal." 

This page was last edited on 08/16/99 -- The Griffin's Crier -- hosted by www.nuketown.com