Below the Undercroft (Solo)
Below the Undercroft, Delve 15 - by Lilliaquil Villagers and caravans robbed, a band of local bandits and their families exiled, orcs, hobgoblins, kobolds, and possibly a necromancer and several funerals. At the center? A mysterious dungeon beneath a long dismantled church’s undercroft.
The village truly was on the frontier of civilization. May the gods lay it flat… after I have gone with Dalieliquin. Unfortunately that won’t be soon. The human priests did an admirable job of preparing and preserving my brother for travel, however, all the caravans that have been passing through the village are traveling in the wrong direction. A small band of adventurers and mercenaries gave me a price but I’m not convinced there are enough of them to keep us… me, safe. And I simply don’t have enough coin to match their offer.
Even though Barris lived his entire life a stone’s throw away from the village center, it was Gabriel’s funeral that drew the most attention. For some reason, even though he had only been here a short time, the villagers saw him as some paragon of virtue. With his death, perhaps they believe there’s nothing between them and the curse of the undercroft.
My best chance to acquire enough wealth to return home, lay beneath the cursed undercroft. Though taking it from filthy goblinoids made the task more palatable, it was still far too risky to attempt alone. I went to Dargo first. Fortunately Rockmound, Breccia and Caedwilla were with him at the barn in which he had taken up residence. They were pouring over his map, discussing where to go next. As I approached, Dargo quickly threw a canvas across the map and the rest tensed then relaxed when they realized it was me. Rockmound spoke, “Aye lass… we’re planning a return below. All our purses are light. And, despite our grave losses last time, our dwarven noses have caught the scent of riches. And that large, invisible chest must be down there somewhere.” I held my hand up to silence him. “I want to join you. I need more funds to return home and I don’t plan to start farming here in these lands.” Caedwilla squealed in joy and leapt from the mound of hay she was sprawled upon. “It will be good to have ya.” said Breccia.
And that’s when Denby called out for Dargo, announcing his approach from the field. “Well, now we’re dividing whatever, if anything, we come away with by six.” said Breccia. “Time for contracts.”
And so Breccia spent the night writing up contracts to ensure an equal division of coin, jewelry, precious stones and metals.
A couple of days later we were ready to venture down.
The first floor was empty, quiet, tomb-like. As though the recent forays had never happened. No sign of the giant insects. We descended the stairs to the place where Gabriel and Barris had died. No one and nothing disturbed our passage except the dungeon itself. A maze of stuck doors, stairs, trapdoors. Then the air started to smell musty and then moist. We entered a large cavern. At the extent of the lantern light we caught the reflection of water. A pool. Upon our approach, a head emerged from the water, green and scaly. I shone the light towards it and, with a splash, it disappeared, leaving behind a series of ripples. We skirted the pool and found a section that seemed to align with an area that Breccia and Rockmound had been before, when they had fallen into a pit. There was an iron door… locked. This was the first time we had encountered a locked door down below. Dargo failed to pick the lock. We retraced our steps and came to a series of doors and rooms. But nothing. Until we came to one door. A locked, wooden door. This time Dargo was able to pick the lock. Behind it, a bedchamber and three skeletal figures. A chill ran up my spine and then a sense of revulsion. Rockmound, Breccia and Denby leapt to the fore with Dargo watching behind us. Rockmound forced the skeletons back, invoking Moradin. Meanwhile, the others picked away at the creatures from across the room until the pale abominations crumbled to the ground.
Rockmound and Breccia whispered a prayer to Moradin. On a table at the far side of the room sat two coffers. I was wary of traps so I stood to the side while Dargo searched around the table and coffers. Rockmound pulled back a gaudy tapestry, triggering a volley of spears that tore through the fabric. One of the spears ripped through my shoulder, knocking me to the ground, and another struck Dargo in the side. I almost lost consciousness but Breccia was above me, clasping my hands. Warmth crept up my arms as his healing words caused my wound to seal. I instantly felt rejuvenated. Similarly Rockmound was tending to Dargo. We checked the area again and, when Dargo was satisfied, Dargo picked the locks on the coffers. Hundreds of gold coins. I smiled. Now, perhaps now I could return home. We gathered the coin and left. Nearby we found another locked door, this one of iron. I wanted to leave with the coin we had but the dwarves insisted that we see what was behind it.
I stood watch while Dargo picked the lock and opened the iron door with a squeal. Rockmound stopped Dargo from going in after seeing three urns sitting in the corner next to a spear. “When Thamos merely touched an urn like those, he died in agony. Stand back…” Shielding himself partially from the door, Rockmound hurled a hammer at the urns toppling two, followed by the familiar sound of coins tinkling to the cobbles. Another hammer toppled the third, more coins. We went in cautiously, and Dargo promptly stopped dead in his tracks with a thud. We all froze for a moment, thinking it was another trap. Then we realized a huge, invisible object stood in the center of the ten foot room. “The invisible chest.” Dargo started to poke and prod around the chest to get a sense for its dimensions. “Forget that for now. Hand me your sacks. There’s platinum over here.”
We filled our sacks and had room to spare. Platinum and gold. Denby hefted the spear that was in the corner. The tip was brilliant and sharp, and was adorned with markings on the shaft.
Three skeletons and two near fatalities… but it seemed our fortunes were turning. But where was everyone? No orcs or hobgoblins or the kobolds that had previously been guarding the huge, invisible chest. Dargo dusted the locking mechanism of the chest with chalk powder. After a few minutes he popped the lock on the chest. Thousands and thousands of coins… copper. Copper coins. A waste of time. Small value coins. Must certainly be payroll for the kobolds.
We decided to leave the copper and return to the village. Despite being cautious and having to retrace our path, up chutes, down chutes, up stairs, we exited the undercroft in good time.
In the moonlight I prodded the spear wound on my shoulder. The scar was nasty but there was no pain and I could move it freely.
Healthy. Healthy and rich.
Perhaps now I could return home.
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