After the battle at the chasm, our fearless foursome caught their breaths and surveyed the expanse of sand and rock between their melee and the tower. The rising sun was just beginning to limn the edges of the cliff’s edge and the four-walled gray stone structure above it. By dawn light the tower seemed almost benign.
MORNING
Asphodel needed to spend a quiet hour of meditation in order to regain her strength for the coming challenges. Francois lay down beside her, snout resting on his forepaws watchfully, and Grignr took the opportunity to instruct Declan on the proper use of his borrowed short sword. The two circled, feinted and struck at each other, wearing a broad circle in the sandy ground. Once or twice, Grignr let Declan scratch his arm.
By the time the sun had crested the cliffside, Asphodel’s balance was restored and the adventurers were ready to proceed.
They walked steadily but warily, keeping the edge of the chasm far away from them as they went. There was no cover. At any moment, Grignr realized, a bolt or arrow could fly from the tall windows and strike them without warning.
None did. Nerve-addled and closer to the tower, the adventurers observed its stone walls– and the wooden structure that abutted the base — more closely. The tower rose from the brown rock of the promontory as gray and out of place as the strange stone markers along the path. Every level was ringed with windows, most of them straight like arrow slits, some of which appeared to gleam with glass. The rooftop was indeed airy and hollow, with high, open windows. Grignr wondered what kind of purpose it could serve.
A ramshackle wood scaffold leaned haphazardly against the foot of the tower. From a distance it was unclear whether the tower’s residents were trying to put the scaffolding up, or take it down.
Within 50 yards of the tower base, low, weathered stones were embedded in the sand. It was not the same gray color as the tower or the path markers, but the local sandy-brown stone of the coast and of Barkshead’s few stone buildings. Each was pitted by the salt air and blowing wind, showing many many years of wear. Once long ago, Asphodel noted, these stones might have marked out space for gardens.
WOOD AND SAND
The foursome reached the wooden scaffold, and still there was no sign of any inhabitants. The rooftop was indeed thatched, and there were enormous windows open to the elements. Declan gingerly tried the door. Unlocked! Grignr braced himself, axe at the ready, and burst through the slatted-wood door.
There was no movement but the scurry of rodents. In front of the party, dominating their attention, was an enormous doorway set into the base of the tower. Double-doors were dark wood banded with iron (Finally some defense! Grignr thought), iron that had been shaped and bolted into a familiar sigil: the vertical and horizontal lines of the marker-carvings. Over that had been painted a red serpent, though in more detail than the ones on the markers: this one had four feet, a barrel chest, and sinister spines on its head.
But most foreboding of all was the leather banner nailed above the doorway: a black leather hide with white skull and sickle painted on it — twin to the tattoo on the black-clad warrior’s chest.
In the rest of the wooden structure it was immediately clear that horses had once been stabled. This was a kind of cottage where a provisioner had once lived next to the horses. In a short search the adventurers found broken barrels, clean as if they once held water, and a broken cot and small chair that were many years old. By Asphodel’s assessment it had been decades since any horse was in the stables — but the place still smelled quite fragrant.
Suddenly a percussive thud came from the thatch above. Something had hit the top of the roof! A light crackling noise began, and the smell of quick-burning thatch told the adventurers that their time was short. After a quick discussion, Grignr pushed at the banded door — and it opened easily on greased hinges.
THE TOWER
Beyond the door, the adventurers saw a sandy-floored courtyard with an enormous stone staircase spiraling up through a 20′ foot high ceiling. Ringing the courtyard, about ten feet off the ground, was a wooden balcony. With a quick look inside the door — no one was there — Grignr led the other three through the door and under the balcony. Burning thatch was just beginning to collapse in front of the door when Grignr pushed it shut.
From the doorway, the adventurers could see that the narrow, railless balcony allowed access to arrow-slits that ringed the tower walls. Francois’ keen nose detected that smoke from the fire outside was just beginning to drift in through the windows that were hidden from view by the wood-slat floor directly above them. There were a few doors beneath the balcony leading to closed rooms off the courtyard, and a narrow wooden staircase to their right allowed access to the balcony itself.
As soon as Grignr led the group towards the wooden staircase, whistling noises sped past them! There were more kobolds atop the balcony, and one enormous, ugly greenish humanoid. Grignr’s mouth curled in a sneer and he hurled himself up the stairs towards the orc, battleaxe in hand.
Below, Asphodel and Declan hid behind the stairs as more darts whistled past. Francois lit up the stairs close on Grignr’s heels. In moments, Grignr and Francois had bested all four of the attackers. Black goo dripped from Grignr’s axe as he heaved great breaths. Francois snorted and spat, trying to clear the unwholesome stuff from his snout, as Asphodel and Declan looked on. Declan frowned as he hefted his sword and slipped it into its sheath.
Grignr and Francois returned to the sandy floor. The sand was grimy and oily, smelling of animal refuse and tar. The wooden walls under the balcony held three doors, and also a few glassless windows. No one was stirring, either on this level or — from the sound of it — the level above.
Behind the door on the right side of the spiral staircase, Asphodel discovered what was obviously an oubliette. Blech! Behind a door on the left was found several piles of rag bedding, each of which held small reddish scales.
Behind the last door, the adventurers found a working smithy. An enormous anvil, a forge-fire in the corner, extinguished, and several blades and tools that someone had been fixing, and recently. Grignr had a thought. One by one, he and Declan dropped the bladed weapons into the tempering barrel to keep them out of the hands of pursuers.
In the corner, one more find: a locked, barred door. Declan leaped to the task.
After a few seconds of manipulation from Declan’s metal shims, the lock opened. Dark stone steps descended, and a clammy and cold wet-stone smell came up. Empty torch sconces followed the straight flight as it descended to a landing, and turned right. The adventurers agreed to return later, after a look at the rest of the tower. As a further precaution — this one against pursuit from below — they wrestled the enormous barrel of water and weapons, then the anvil, to block the door. Then they headed for the lofty stone staircase.
On the second level, the stone floors and wooden interior walls betrayed a century of neglect. Dust and dirt clung to the corners, and spiderwebs matted the joins between wood and stone. Light from a few windows — glass shattered and crazed –haloed each of the adventurer’s rising shadows of dust and dirt. Small things, long-term residents, chittered in corners and ran away faster than Francois could track. On the wood walls which reached all the way to the 12′ high ceiling, empty torch-sconces appeared long-unused. Whatever tenant lived here now, was not taking good care of the place.
Paths had been worn through the dust leading to all of the internal doors but one. Without getting too close, Grignr immediately sniffed another oubliette. This room, they realized, was situated directly above the first-floor midden. The adventurers carefully opened another door, and found piles of broken, mouldering wood furniture behind it.
Behind the third door was an old barracks-room. It held four stacks of bunks three beds high — but only one of the beds, at floor level, seemed to be in use. Unwashed linens and a bearskin covered the bed, and a pile of underwear was stuffed underneath. Beside it was a low table, under which Declan found a few small leather pouches; within one pouch were a handful of 6-sided gaming dice made from, Asphodel confirmed, human vertebrae. She blanched, and the team left quickly.
Unseen by the others, Declan pocketed the pouch of dice.
Behind the last door was a room bright-lit from several windows. The walls were lined with countertops and broken, worn kitchen implements, but as in the smithy below someone was trying to restore order: one corner had been cleaned off. A single sack of grain, and a moldy cheese, were all the evidence of current foodmaking — but the team discovered one interesting container: a dark wood barrel labeled, “MAREVAL IXI”.
A barrel of Mareval? Bold legends spoke in whispers about the wines of Mareval. Perhaps this untapped barrel held some of that northern city’s fine produce… It would be too heavy to carry, but all agreed that it should not be left in the tower when the adventurers departed. Madame Mortise would appreciate it.
Approaching the central staircase, the adventurers talked about their discoveries and wondered aloud about the age of the place. One with eyes to see might have noticed that some of the wood walls, while well-fashioned themselves, appeared to be fixed in place with loose bolts. The wear patterns on the centuries-old floor did not match the doors, and seemed to belong to a much larger room.
The third level was arranged similar to the first, only windowless. The others saw clearly in the dimness, but Declan squinted to pick up diffuse light from the lower and upper floors… then the sounds of skittering footsteps from above distracted everyone from further study. Wordlessly and warily, Grignr leading, they ascended the spiral staircase into the open room above.
Here was the last level the staircase reached. The enormous room was filled with light, a wide open grand space with inlaid stone designs in the floor. Before the adventurers could take their bearings, they were assaulted by a flight of darts and small stones. Incredibly, none hit. Grignr erupted from the stairwell, axe swinging, with Francois close behind.
Five kobold warriors ran at Grignr in a block, letting their blow-tubes clatter to the floor. Francois outflanked them and drew three away from the fray. Directly behind him came Declan, sword raised and swinging. Four kobolds reloaded their slings and took aim, striking Asphodel, who had just reached the landing, and Declan, with painful shots. Within moments the inlaid floor was spattered with kobold-gore as the warriors viciously lay into each other.
This melee took longer, and in the fray everyone was blooded. In the sudden silence, the floor littered with small, ugly lizard creatures, the adventurers caught their breaths and looked around. Declan injured, and Grignr, and Francois spitting and sneezing. Asphodel took herbs from a pocket and poulticed Declan’s cuts, then laid her hands on Grignr and concentrated. Her own wound was already tightly bound. Grignr felt the pain leave his side where the worst of his injuries had cut. He nodded, gratefully. Declan quietly cleaned the gore from his sword, occasionally glancing at Grignr.
With their needs tended, the weary foursome took better stock of the room. It was comfortable and spacious, by Grignr’s standards, and well-crafted, by Asphodel’s. The flush stone inlay on the floor formed an eight-pointed star worked in red marble, with central points at the cardinal directions. Above the paned, vertical-slit windows similar to
the others in the tower, this room held circular, paned windows high on the stone walls to east and west; wood walls floor to ceiling stood at north and south, and in the southeast corner a wrought-iron staircase led up.
The stone walls held decorative brass bolts from which thick tapestries had long ago been ripped. Some strings of linen still clung to the bolts. Two doors were set in the wood walls.
Behind the first door, on the north wall, the adventurers found a sitting-room with another round, paned window. The room had once been quite comfortable; a rusted, broken candelabra, a few mouldering velvet-cushioned chairs, and interior walls lined with bookshelves and cabinets. In one cabinet, Asphodel discovered a box of 20 tallow candles and two books. One book, bound in gray leather, was written in ancient Common runes, the history of a city called Calomondir. The other, red with silver lettering, the campaign history — with hand-drawn maps — of a famous Elven general, whose angular face glowered from the frontispiece. None of the adventurers had ever heard of him, nor of Calomondir. Asphodel pocketed these for later study, and wondered where the rest of the room’s books had gone.
Behind a door on the south wall was a makeshift bedroom: one of the bunks from downstairs had been laid against the stone wall. It too was covered with dirty linens and furs. Beside it, on a low table, sat a dwarf skull with a drippy and smelly tallow candle, unlit. Grignr sniffed it and wondered grimly what kind of tallow it was. The south-facing round window, paned like the others, had been covered over with a plain black cloth.
Emerging from their searches, the adventurers eyed the spiral staircase… and heard the muffled, rhythmic thuds of booted footsteps walking across the stone floor upstairs.
to be continued…