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 Tower Of Terror

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Number of posts : 761
Registration date : 2007-04-26

PostSubject: Tower Of Terror   Wed 30 Jun - 13:22:14

Tower Of Terror

We approached the small keep from the west, it seemed ruined and abandoned, but the walls stood strong and a tower on the southeast corner dominated the landscape. Naturally we needed someone tough, resourceful, quick witted and able to handle himself in a tight spot to scout the area, but I wasn’t going as I was still trying to make sure that there was more river water between the banks than in my lungs, so we sent Mr Smith instead.

He established immediately a major obstacle to our exploration: A bear complete with cubs had made her lair in the stables below the tower. I immediately suggested dressing Mr Smith as a small blond girl with a taste for porridge, but of course I got overruled… So we worked our way round downwind and I clambered up to the southern entrance once reached by wooden stairs, now only achieved by standing on Mr Smith’s puny and somewhat misshapen shoulders.

I managed to force my way through the rotted doors and with the aid of our trusty rope hauled up the thief and wizard. The interior of the tower had the air of a hotel room the morning after a stay by the beastie boys.* Our wizard was able to decipher the graffiti that confirmed orcs had visited the tower in the past. We spent some time forcing entry to the tower which was screened by a rusty portcullis.

*Older readers should insert Sex Pistols here. Really old readers, the Rolling Stones. Readers older than that should contact the Guinness book of records about their age

After considerable time and effort we broke through into the tower, discovering a dungeon cell in its base that contained only a skeleton. Up the stairs to the next level and we came upon the living quarters of the tower’s former owner. We also found scattered artefacts suggestive of an orc shaman, and in a secret priests’ hole containing the unfortunate lord and lady of the establishment, apparently suffocated as they hid from the orcs who took up residence here a hundred years ago.

We relieved the corpses of some gems and a magic sword that were creating unsightly clutter in their resting place and left them to their cramped tomb. Onward and upward we located a blast damaged room which showed clear evidence of a magically induced explosion that had shattered a crystal ball like object mounted on a tripod.

Castiron confirmed significant magical residue, and in a burned out desk we found more orcish scribblings talking of the conquest of the keep, the disappearance of its lord and the orc leader’s efforts to unlock the secrets of his doomstone.

We emerged at last onto the roof of the keep amid a swirl of angry rooks and Mr Smith spent several happy minutes encrusting himself in birds muck as he gathered up various coins and gems that the thrifty birds had gathered over the years. More usefully, he discovered a scroll case with yet more writings that alluded to a stone circle to the south. It also contained some details of a ritual to unlock a secret to the stones, sadly partly incomplete. These orcs were clearly some frustrated tribe of writers and no mistake.

The final topmost room of the tower had a roof trapdoor which we could not force, so thick was the matting of birds nests on top of it. Mr Smith was all in favour of burning our way through. I felt that it would be quicker to either:

a) Smear ourselves with honey and walk into the bear lair armed only with the still bleeding corpse of one of her cubs
b) Build a sign on the hillside Hollywood style saying ‘HERE WE ARE YOU ORC BASTARDS’ in letters 40’ high
c) Actually Mr Smith’s idea of creating a flaming beacon visible for miles at night/ column of smoke visible for miles by day was probably on a par with these.
We settled down to rest and contemplate how Mr Smith could be so stupid, and why the stone circle lay on the far side of the area of trees marked prominently on the halfling’s map as ‘Do Not Enter, Certain Death’ etc etc. Such is our lot.


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