The Curse of Grimdale's Tomb

The Last Templar

For many years my business took me all along the Southern Mountain Trade Route. From the farm of the MacMillan's to that of Pottsworth, from Celdis to Edel, I knew the road like the bank of my hand.

As a frequent traveler of the trail I also spent a fair bit of time clearing brush and fallen trees, digging out the random stuck wagon and filling in the inevitable ruts that developed in the high traffic areas. Once, while digging out a particularly stuck wagon, I discovered a particularly interested orb. What appeared to be an ancient relic from some order of Knights Templar! Alas, as soon as I picked it up it began to glow rather excitedly and then suddenly exploded, leaving me rather startled and even more intrigued.

I very often stayed the night when I would venture far to the south, often lodging at the Inn of the Seven stars or the Suds 'n Stones tavern. In passing I asked around of the Templars to a few of the regulars at the taverns and towns. While nobody seems to have a clue, word must have gotten around, for eventually a friend of mine mentioned the Templar in passing to the barmaid at the Suds, and although she had insisted to me on several previous occasions that she had never even heard of the brotherhood, as it turns out she must be as good of a liar as she is a barmaid! She hustled away from her shift to meet my cohort in the back room, where she informed him of another customer who actually claimed to be the last surviving member of the Templar! Not only this, but she sent him word that we were interested in speaking, and arranged a rendezvous just outside the inn the following morning at dawn.

I sat just outside the inn all night, having constructed a minor campsite for myself just a ways down the path where it ends beneath the sheer rock face of the mountains above. When the sun rose, sure enough a tall man clad in armor strode into the canyon. He told me of his missing brethren, and a lost castle filled with relics. Needless to say, he had my interest.

Now might be the time to reveal one important detail to you, the worthy reader of this tale. For you see, thus far I've stated my business took me far into the south hills, but, perhaps I should mention that this was mostly by necessity and not by choice. The Thain in the Shire and Marshall Diana of Ofcal would not take kindly to some of my, shall we say, creative business practices. So, nestled in the southern hills, along the shade of that overgrown trade route I found myself many lovely little "business opportunities" as the innocent and unsuspecting came strolling along.

I set about haranguing the Knight immediately and continued incessantly. I arranged for a team of savages to ambush him time and time again, and eventually from his armor dropped an orb exactly like the one I had found along the trail previously, only this one did not explode. His gauntlets were more shiny than anything else, but excellent fodder to sell to tourists in Darkhaven. The old fool charged straight at me as he neared his end, and in his fervor bashed into the rock wall of the canyon surrounding us and lo a secret cavern lie within! In his defeat he had found the hidden mountain castle of his ancestors after all, and cried some apologies to his father as he breathed his final sigh. I laughed over his corpse and set about entering the dark tunnel myself.

The Cave

The darkness of the cave was exceptionally thick, and I had to guide myself by touch along its walls to follow the tunnel within. After stumbling through the blackness however I found myself to have traversed a circle and ended up back at the cave entrance! I ventured back in determined to scour the place as closely as possible, surely there must be an exit to the deeper caverns somewhere. At last my fingers finally touched upon some iron and upon examination I believed I had found the remnants of a shackle that once held a torch. A torch! Of course! I set out to gather supplies as quick as I could.

In my time as a highwayman upon the trade route I had come to learn that nearly all things could be gotten along that path. Travelers carelessly dropped more than they realized, and I knew that when supplies were needed they were likely to be found with a mere bit of scrounging around in the dirt. I quickly came up with some implements I could use to craft a rudimentary torch. Back into the cavern I flew, and alighting a torch in each of the receptacles I had discovered I could finally explore the tunnel with its secrets fully illuminated.

As the light filled the tunnel, something else seemed to happen . . . and whether by magic or coincidence I cannot say. While I could find no exit in the dark, with the torches lit I easily entered into an alcove I could swear was not present previously. Within sat an altar that told me this was in fact the lost castle of the Templar that Danvier had sought.

Before venturing further, I recruited a small band of what other ruffians and scoundrels I could talk into risking their lives for some potential gold and gear, and perhaps a priceless relic or two. We found that five of us could fit within the small altar within the cavern and there we sat, wondering how to proceed. Perhaps because it had been years and years since any of the party had been to a religious service it took us quite awhile to remember what exactly is done at an altar. Eventually, the party of blasphemers paid homage to the gods of the Templar, and once again our little orb of occasional explosions shone its light and when it dimmed we found itself within a new space, but was it a castle or a tomb?

The Guardians

We found ourselves at the center of a chamber with four pathways leading off in cardinal directions. Two of the paths were occupied by beings of great stature, and our death brigade dove straight into them. We learned that they were each a weapons specialist. As it happened, we had walked straight into a minotaur who fancied himself "The Axeman of the Templar". He died quickly and was of little consequence, we took his axe and his cape for our own. Next, we faced a rather nasty lizard warrior, who called himself "The Claws of the Templar" and spat at us a disgusting acid. Nevertheless, we showed him no remorse and took his claws.

At that point it had become apparent that two others had now occupied the remaining pathways within the chamber. We found these hallways to become more and more narrow, and within we found "The Hammer" and "The Deathdealer" of the Templar. We slaughtered them all. From one we received a small piece of metal with his weapons symbol upon it. We suspect there may be more of these to be found from the others, perhaps.

As if by magic, a trapdoor opened as soon as all four guardians ceased to be, and we stepped down into an even deeper level of this strange mountain stronghold. In this narrow hallway we were immediately confronted by possessed skeletons of long dead rangers. Fighting our way through this passage, we at once heard the sound of a large hidden mechanism engaging as we explored. Pondering that, we continued to clear the passage and eventually found its end at another downward passage to another level below. We spent some time exploring this level, and trying to deduce the source and effect of the mechanism we could hear grinding behind the stone.

We sent a scout down to the next level, and they immediately called out that they had become lost and disoriented. We took this concern seriously, and decided to regroup at this point. We sent a member back out to communicate with our camp, and had them send reinforcements into the tomb. They entered as we did at the altar, and quickly made their way to join us on the floor below. While we waited, we had found the trick of the hidden mechanism at work on his floor, and had moved into a room of relative safety here while our man below tried to gain his bearings and navigate the crypts below.

Within the lower crypts our scout reported ancient crypts of horrible ghouls and passages of filth and dirt, often enclosing him in his own terrifying tomb as he continuously maneuvered through the earth in any direction he could make headway. Eventually, he also noticed a magic about some rooms and following this thread he eventually made his way forward. He noted the flow of water and fought forward even when there seemed no path. We lost track of his exact actions at this point, as it seemed like forever he was lost in that forsaken earthworks, following his magical instincts, and digging into the earth, and following the natural course of gravity, but eventually he yelled loud enough we could hear from quite some distance above that he had reached a new chamber below.

How to follow him became a question, and one which ultimately had a very random solution. I shall reserve this secret for the band of thieves and bastards that learned it with me, but suffice to say that once again thanks to those blasted gods, we were able to quickly reconvene the party on the lowest level all in good health and spirits.

The Crypt of the King

Here was the final resting place of the King of the Templar. We found his corporeal form still sitting upon his throne, stoic and unresponsive. We had seemingly reached the end of our quest and yet, we had no loot and no spoils, and nothing to ransack and no one to rob.

We conducted a thorough examination of the crypt and its chambers. It seemed to be a mausoleum for more than just the King. Along a wall of metal mausoleum doors we found one that only the strongest of our party could budge. Upon doing so an ancient shaman came forth to inhabit the crypt and we prepared ourselves to meet him in battle.

Tolsmir Wolfsblood, elementalist of the Templar, was as worthy of a foe as I have ever faced. He fought us with all the expert trickery of a master Druid and summoned foul beasts to his aid. It took nearly all of our aptitudes to thwart his elemental magic, but at long last we had bested his fire and ice, defeated his earthen golems, and endured his electrical fiend, and his corpse sat at our feet lifeless. It seemed that we had released him from a curse of some sort, as his dying breath was a whisper about finally being released, and a worry about who shall now protect the king. It seems his servitude had ended at our hands, and we hoped this may have had an effect upon the stoic King at the far end of the crypt. From the corpse of Tolsmir we gathered a random smattering of items including a magical staff of ebony.

With our bodies beaten and bruised but our spirits raised by the loot in our bag we headed north toward the King himself. This time, with no further magic to protect him his pacifism gave way to a more physical defense. We faced Lord Grimdale Dragonknight, High King of the Templar in this crypt beneath crypts beneath the mountain, and as he swung his giant sword above my head I marveled at how I had ever come to find myself here to begin with. He fought as one would expect of a valorous knight, but ultimately could not withstand the onslaught of our blades and determination. We had his corpse on the ground faster than Tolsmir's and from it we claimed his silver armor and ring, and a curious jewel. Sadly, in a final act of defiance, Lord Grimdale had smashed his mighty sword upon the throne, and we lamented our poor luck in that regard.

There we sat, grave robbery complete, at what felt like the bottom of the world looking back at the trail of death that we had left in our wake as we hacked our way down and down and down to this fabled tomb. I remarked that we had bagged a king's armor, a shaman's magical staff and trinkets, as well as the weapons of the guardians, and that the other bits and bobs could likely be combined into some sort of trinket we could sell nevertheless. I thought back to the first odd orb I had found by accident while digging out a wagon rut along the trade route, I could never have imagined it would lead here, to this crypt of a long forgotten king.