Original Link (now dead) - http://zone.msn.com/asheronscall/ASHEgreviousvault.asp
The Grievous Vault
Trask leaned heavily on the haft of his spear as he slowly sank to one knee amid the bone chips covering the chamber floor. Looking around, he tried to catch his breath and assess the party's status. Nikabrik had slumped against the wall nearby, fatigued from the battle as well, but otherwise unharmed. Near the entrance stood Mot, ever vigilant, arrow nocked, but bow relaxed, standing watch over them all. It hadn't been their most difficult battle since entering the Grievous Vault, only a skeleton captain, his two lieutenants, and about a dozen lesser skeletons. Still, a dagger thrust between the ribs was fatal, regardless of the skill of the opponent. They were fortunate to have suffered only a few superficial injuries.
"Well, that about does it for this level. The only place to go is further down. Are you two ready?" Mot inquired.
"Do you think we can handle it? On my first scouting trip those guards we fought were only skeleton warriors, not liches. So far we've been fortunate in that we've only had to face these abominations singly. What if there is a large vault down there with more than one of them?" Trask replied.
"Shhhh" Nikabrik interjected in a low voice, "I hear something." The room immediately went silent. Nik may have been the youngest of the three, but his skills were never questioned by the others.
"GARRRRRGHHHH!! Is there nothing to challenge me in this accursed place!!!" A voice shouted out in the halls, accompanied by a great deal of stomping and door banging. The three in the room looked at each other and began snickering uncontrollably.
"No, you're so ugly you scared them all away!" Nikabrik shouted down the hall.
"Nik? Where are you?" Imaginos bellowed.
"Well, if you'd ever be on time you'd know." Nik retorted, snickering.
Mot went out into the hall and led Imaginos into the chamber. "Now we're ready to face the lower levels!" he said, a big smile upon his face.
The group headed out of the chamber, further down into the bowels of the evil place. The next room was dimly lit by torches and an eerie green glow seemed to come from runes etched into the walls. As the party entered the room, the lich guard on the walkway raised his crossbow, only to be crushed by the charging attack of the foursome. It didn't have time to cry out before it was sent to its final rest. Examining the room, they found a lever in one corner and a pit in another. After much discussion, they decided that the three fighters would drop to the floor from the elevated pathway and investigate the room while Mot covered them from above. Trask leaped nimbly down by the lever and began examining it. Imaginos, despite his bulk, landed softly next to Trask, sword drawn. Nik jumped down next to the open pit, unaware that the edges were corroded with age. As he landed, the edge gave way and he plummeted to the bottom. Trask and Imaginos exchanged a single grim look, then leapt after him. It didn't matter what was down there, they weren't about to abandon a friend. Mot followed a split second later.
Imaginos' battle cry echoed through the pit as he landed by the lesser mu-miyah beating the crumpled form of Nikabrik. The other two adventurers never even had time to draw their weapons before the fiend was utterly destroyed by the warrior's furious onslaught.
"Nik, speak to me buddy!" Imaginos urged as he knelt by his young friend, gently propping him up against the wall.
Nikabrik moaned weakly, " . . . do me a favor . . . "
"Anything" Imaginos answered, a single tear welling up in his eye.
"Quit breathing on me if you insist on eating those garlic and cheese sandwiches you big oaf!" Nik chided with a feeble grin.
"Why you little, ungrateful--" Imaginos sputtered to the background laughter of the others. Yet he was smiling all the while he helped Nik to his feet.
"Are you able to continue Nikabrik?" Mot asked as he noticed the young man's limp.
"I'll be fine" Nik replied with a grimace.
The adventurers surveyed their surroundings. The were in a large room, dimly lit by the sickly green glow from runes gouged into the walls, similar to the ones in the room above. Multiple passageways led from the room, and an exit portal glowed in the corner.
"Hey a scroll!" Trask said as he crossed the room to pick it up.
"Trask! No!" Mot shouted. The upper levels had been sparingly seeded with traps and this scroll was too obviously placed not to be bait. "It's a tra--" Mot was cut off as a searing jet of green acid exploded from the wall toward the scout. However, Mot's warning had been enough. Trask dropped to the floor and spun out of the way -- but just barely.
"Thanks Mot. I owe you another one." Trask grinned as he wiped acid splatters from his armor with mu-miyah wrappings. "Shall we continue on, perhaps a bit more cautiously?"
They continued, more carefully now. Mot mapped the dungeon and provided cover fire as the three warriors dispatched every evil undead they encountered, from skeletons to greater mu-miyahs. Finally, they came to the central chamber. Trask scouted ahead and discovered a lich lord and his servants performing some foul ritual on a poor tortured soul. Quietly he retreated to the group and reported his findings. The group fell back to the main room and each adventurer pulled out their magical conduit of choice. Soft chanting filled the room as magical power gathered and settled temporarily on the heroes and their items.
Now, fully prepared for combat, the warriors crept back to the central chamber and launched themselves into the room, as if shot from a bow. Working methodically, Mot and Nik quickly dispatched a lesser mu-miyah while Trask engaged a greater mu-miyah and Imaginos charged the lich lord. Mot swiveled and finished off Trask's opponent with a well-placed shot, freeing him and Nik to help Imaginos. The two charged the lich lord from behind, scoring repeatedly on its undefended back while Imaginos furiously parried the attacks launched at him by the vile fiend. Silence descended upon the room as the undead lord crumpled to the ground in a cloud of dust.
As the others caught their breath, Mot crossed the room to the altar where the figure of the tortured soul was bound. He bent over to check on its condition when the figure exploded off the altar, rocking him back with a flurry of blows. Mot lay on the floor where he landed, his bow a good ten paces away, the newly-formed undead standing over him. Looking up he realized the end was coming. He didn't even have time to call for help. Fortunately for him, he didn't need to. In the blink of an eye, Imaginos and Trask were between him and the proto-lich, shielding him from its attack and viciously counter-attacking. Nik pulled him back and began to bandage his wounds. It was over quickly, the poor tortured soul finally put to rest. The friends wordlessly and wearily traced their path back to the exit portal. It was time for them to rest as well.
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