93 rooms · levels 48–50
From out of nowhere you stumble upon a gigantic Stone Arch. It towers above you, made of granite cut in 4ft squares, mortared seamlessly. You marvel at the workmanship that might have wrought such a stupendous landmark.
A very noticeable sign is posted here.
The large boulders here make it difficult to get around, you definitely can't see around them. The shadow of a huge Arch seems to hug the boulders. If you have to climb around this much more, you're going to need a rest!
The scrub brush that manages to grow amongst these boulders is heartening. At least you know something is managing to eke out a living. You try not to stumble and catch your armor on the jagged rocks.
You are beginning to feel a slight upwards climb. The boulders don't seem to be thinning out any, and the way seems no less rocky. Far to the west you notice a more level ground. Good lord! You hope you can make it!
From here you can see a bit more, but the climb is making you weary. You can tell it's not much of a climb, only a little ways more. All around you are fields of boulders and rock. Off to the southeast you see an Arch.
Climbing this steep part of the scree is hard work! Just a little bit more and you will be able to rest. Just over the ledge here is a small flat area that looks like it will be a resting place.
What a grand sight! Looking east and southeast you see such a field of boulders that you can't imagine how they came to be here. Something off to the southeast catches your eye.
Here the ground is level. Off in the distance you can see a line of trees. Back toward the hills, from what you can tell, is a scree. You hope that nothing has taken shelter in the scree to ambush you!
You begin to wish you had thought to use a kerchief to keep the dust out of your nostrils and eyes. The wind seems to be picking up here...and it almost sounds like the drumming of hooves.
Although it's sparse, it looks like there is enough scrubweed to start a small fire. You just hope the wind doesn't blow it out. The gusts of wind make strange noises, almost like hooves pounding.
You nearly fall into a mostly-hidden crevice. It's much too deep and blocks the way north, you'll have to go back the way you came. The dust is confusing you, don't you wish you had a compass?
Here you can skirt a wide crevice that seems to lead west. You feel like you've been wandering around for hours. The noise is a din that hurts your ears. The tracks seem scuffled here, as if confused.
It's hard to tell where you're going. You almost wish you could call on the Gods for a giant broom to sweep away the dust. The plains seem to have no end.
Well? What can you say about a chasm? It's deep, it's dark, and it's dangerous. When you get to the bottom, tell me if it hurts.
Just ahead you see some dark shapes. Maybe you should wait here until the storm subsides, it makes you nervous to see those dark shapes shifting about. Looking back south, you can barely make out your trail.
This must be the Bedouin camp. The large gray tents blend in with the dust and scrub. The Bedouin Chieftain doesn't look too happy that you've found your way to his campsite. It looks as if he is more than ready to face you.
Inside the tent is much more bright and lively than the outside with gay yellow and red silks and linens draped around a small sleeping cot. The large plush pillows of greens, blues, and purples still feel warm. A small table is littered with the evening's repast, half-filled wine goblets and bowls of uneaten fruit. A large lidded-basket lies open, and something inside seems to be winking and shining. A silver-gilded cage housing a bright red and orange parrot that seems to be eyeing you suspiciously swings from the center-post. Beautiful candles of all hues perfume the air and cast dancing lights about the room.
You have to step around the small cooking fires, and dodge some small domesticated goats. The smell has certainly put you off your dinner for the time being anyway. East and west are more tents, you wonder what is in them.
The light airy roomy tent of the raiders is littered with some makeshift weapons and bits of armor. The raiders must have taken what little they have from their victims. You can sift through this junk, but it's just that, junk. The bedrolls are not too tidy, that could mean you caught them off guard, or it could mean they're slobs.
The beautiful piles of silk enchant you. You haven't seen any of the ladies wearing silks, so they must be for private indoor use only. Jewelry and perfumes are scattered about, probably because your intrusion has startled the ladies. They seem confused, but are organizing quickly. A Bedouin Lady is just as ready to defend her home as any man.
Off to the west you see the corral, and knowing any respectable Bedouin would keep his animals near the outer end of his camp, you realize you may have reached it. Some trampled cloth and bits of armor are all you see here.
You're making the horses nervous, get out!
There are a few more tents here, but they look like one-man tents. You don't understand how one little grouping of tents can keep so much dust at bay. At least the roaring of the wind covers your noise, but then, it covers all noise
You're standing at the northeastern end of the camp. The lines of the trees off in the distance look a bit closer from here, but the dust blowing across the plains prevents you from determining the distance. Blech! You hate dust.
Whoa! Too bad you didn't come here while the ladies were dressing! You could have peeked into their tent, not that you're a Peeping Tom of course.
Fighting to keep the dust out of your eyes, you try to find someplace to rest that isn't so windy. You see some looming gray shapes west that looks like it could be ideal, perhaps there is shelter there. Here is part of what looks like a carefully concealed trail, it's hard to tell if it's the wind or not, but you hear the sound of hoof beats.
It is beginning to make you nervous to be so out in the open without any shelter, but then, you're not likely to be surprised by an ambush either. You can't really hear or see much over the wind, but it looks like nearby, where the rhythmic sound is coming from, are some large gray shapes.
These are definitely some tracks! They seem to be more clear going east. It looks mostly like hoof-prints, but there are several human footprints too. If the wind would let up you might be able to see what is east, looks like a small dwelling, maybe you should go see.
Fresh water! You can hardly believe your luck! Maybe this well is the reason why the Bedouins camp near here. The well itself is rather smallish with small stones mortared together in a rounded square. The covering looks like a small mosque, probably to keep the dust from out of the water during the windstorms. You notice a tiny water sprite peeking over the edge of the well. She looks rather harmless, albeit mischievous. While you're not an expert at sprite-lore, you can guess if you harm her, the well could dry up.
It's getting to be more and more difficult to not be so confused about the directions you are going. You can see some windswept tracks, but you aren't able to tell which way they came from or went to. You can hear an almost rhythmic sound, but it seems to come from all around you.
Swirling gusts of wind make it hard to be sure you're going in the right direction, and the droning sound it makes seems to be covering another, more rhythmic sound that can barely be heard.
You neatly avoid tripping over some heavy scrub-bushes and dodge some rather large and annoying tumble-weeds. Looking down you see that you are walking on some sparse grass and peering north you can definitely make out some large trees. Whew! You can be sure you have been walking around for hours.
Here the grass is less patchy and more green. You can feel the cool breezes from the trees in the north. South of here the dust moves in great clouds that seem to prevent much of your ability to judge the distance you travel.
This is where the Plains meet the Forest. The grass is soft and smells sweet to you. Large drifts of dust bank up against the saplings and shrubs. Off to the south come the sounds of droning winds, and you have to cover your eyes to keep the dust out. A small path leading east invites you for a walk.
All around are the busy sounds of forest creatures. The small path you are on looks for the most part unused. To the west, looking through the trees you see a dark cloudy area. Further to the east is more trees and the path bends out of sight.
The trees grow close together here, you are unable to actually stray from this path much more than a couple of feet. West is more forest and quite a bit of noise! To the north the trees seem much more thick and taller. The path is well worn here, but looks unused. A large crow seems to scream at you from a silver birch tree. You hope that isn't an omen.
The path bends here west to south. The trees seem to press in towards the path and you could almost feel they were trying to keep you back. It's hard to see here... the tall trees are blocking nearly all of the light. You can't tell what it is, but something is watching you from behind the trees and bushes. Make that several somethings.
This twisty little north-east path is a little wider here. You can hear growls and shufflings in the forest all around you. Up above is such a cacophony of bird chirps, screams, whistles, and squawks that you begin to feel like you are in an aviary. A small raspberry bush is drooping with berries, if you don't get pricked by the thorns you could feast on fresh fruit.
Here the small path breaks off to both the north and the west creating a small clearing. While the trees give way, combined with the bushes they create almost a wall to keep you from straying very far. You have not been the first to rest here, the remains of past shared-campfires and small stones have been set in a circle here. A crow swoops down cawing loudly at you. Even though you can feel their presence, the forest creatures remain for the most part, well hidden.
To the south is a small clearing and to the east more of this same twisty trail. All manner of forest-life is scampering about in the trees and brush on both sides of the path, but you are unable to see very much. Far overhead what looks like a hawk is soaring, seeming to watch your every move.
Here the path is mostly two ruts, as if someone has drawn a cart through here. To the east is a clearing, and to the west it's dark and foreboding. The air here is nasty smelling, and you can't quite place your finger on what it smells like. You jump back in surprise as a serpent bursts from the foliage and crosses the path, disappearing into the trees.
How dreadful! The sounds around you are becoming less friendly, and more ominous. You sense that you are being watched, and even less thrilling, that you are expected! Now would be a good time to be sitting at your favorite tavern, lifting full mugs, and listening to bards sing of someone else on a path much like this very one, instead of being here.
North of here are colossal gates that look to be closed. West the forest looks a bit lighter. Here the very trees seem to be reaching out to grab you and pull you from the path. You hear the cry of a hawk overhead as it circles you, as if it is following you, or alerting someone to your advancement.
These colossal gates are of stout ironwood, bound by iron. On either side of the gates set back in small vestibules are a gargoyle, probably to frighten off any would-be attackers. As you give each gargoyle a once-over, you notice that they seem to be watching you also! They are armed and their fangs look pretty menacing. To the south looks gargoyle-free, perhaps a nice walk in the woods sounds real nice about now.
Standing inside the gates to the fortress grounds you find yourself awed at the simplicity of its structure. It is solid and well fortified by the forest it is enveloped by. You doubt it could have been seen from afar because the trees are so close-set and tall. The gate is made of the finest ironwood you have ever seen, and at either side are large portions of stone that look like small shelters, although you see no way in. Looking around you see a narrow bailey that surrounds the keep, and to the north, the keep itself
You stand before the door to Lothowyn Keep. All sounds quiet save for some rather muffled growls and screeches, which seem to be coming from inside. The brass lanterns are lit on either side of the door, so someone must be home, but your knock brings no one. The door doesn't seem to be locked. To the south are some colossal gates, and beyond that, over the gates and walls you see a thick forest. Above you, a hawk spirals lazily, and disappears over the keep.
You stand in a large hall which leads on to the north or the east. The Shield of Lothowyn hangs over the archway, and tapestries with scenes of past glories in the name of Sir Lothowyn line the walls. A small alcove to your right has a rack of clean weapons and another with outer-wear used when outdoors. The Keep looks clean and well kept.
As you pass beneath the Shield of Lothowyn, it seems to shake imperceptibly. The tapestries here show battles of frightened and brave men fighting large black spiders that seem to be covered in a silvery frost. Large hounds that are black as night leap upon the spiders, ripping their limbs. South is the door of the Keep and north is what looks like the end of the hall.
The hall goes south from here to the door to the Keep, leading outside. It also leads off to the west. There are suits of armor along this brief turn in the hallway, and a rather large picture here of a man in his early 30's that you take to be Sir Lothowyn standing with another gentleman. The second man in the picture is rather tallish and has a hawk perched on his shoulder.
This short hall ends in a set of stairs to the west leading up. To the east the hall turns south. Someone has kept that hallway lit although you have yet to meet anyone. You can hear a definite growling to the west. A tapestry here by this light is of a fine man dressed in Hunters Green leading a pack of noble dogs black as night.
You almost miss the two doors here because you were more concerned with the stairs. Both doors lead to bedrooms, but you hear nothing. The beautiful flagstone floor here is scuffed a bit as if someone was recently here. You see that the upstairs is lit as well as both rooms. To the east, the hallway continues.
This is the bedroom of someone's beloved. It's soft and feminine and the fine lace on the bed itself and framing the windows indicates refined tastes. The windows look out over the forest and are smallish brass windows set with diamond shaped rose-colored glass. The sun shining through them gives the room a rosy glow. The bed is large and soft looking covered in fine lace and silk bedding, looking recently slept in. The wardrobe is open as if someone had hastily been looking for some dressing clothes and forgot to close it.
This must be a guest bedroom. It is clean and well kept, although it hasn't been used. It is neither feminine nor masculine, it remains an androgynous guest room. The wardrobe stands closed, and the bed is neatly made. A picture on the wall shows the Keep from the front gate. You notice a detail you had not noticed on your way in, there is a large Hawk on the stone over the door.
As you pause on this first landing between the first and second floor of the keep, you try to determine where that growling is coming from. It seems to be coming from the second floor, but it echoes through the halls and is difficult to pinpoint. The landing is squarish and a single lantern here hangs under a beautiful portrait of the Lady Lothowyn.
Now you are at the top of the stairs, on the upper floor of the Keep. To the east are some doors that must lead to the bedroom of Sir Lord Lothowyn. The lamps are lit here, but the lack of windows gives it a more eerie feeling.
It was so quiet you didn't think anyone would be here. The room is very simple in taste, but magnificent in detail. The bed is of ironwood with the head and footboard revealing giant hawks. The bedposts are the heads of the same dark fierce hounds in the pictures you saw downstairs. There is a small stairway that leads up to who knows where in the northeast corner of the room. As you move towards the stairway, Lord Lothowyn becomes enraged that you have intruded on his privacy. He is noble of stature and his dark black hair shines with an almost blue in it, he draws his weapon and advances on you.
These small stairs are not lit and lead up to the roof. From the roof you can hear much scratching and screeching. Back down the stairs is Sir Lord Lothowyn's bedroom. The stairs are swept clean and so they must be used, the walls are not decorated, and the way is very narrow.
The air is filled with Hawks of all ages. To the left is a rather large aviary and to the right is a rather large man! This is where the Keep Austringer works from. Braydon is the Hawkkeeper and doesn't like his work disturbed, or for his hunting hawks to be uncomfortable. He knew you were coming long before anyone else, for he can speak the language of Hawk. A smallish wall surrounds the rooftop, you hope he doesn't manage to toss you over the side, it's a long ways down.
This is a short functional hall that connects the kitchen to the east with the hall to the west. You can smell the food most recently prepared, and it is definitely venison, probably hunted in the surrounding forest. Smaller rooms north and south of here lead to quarters probably held by servants.
The meal has been cleared from the table, but the smell lingers. It makes you hungry, more hungry than you have been in a long time. To the north is the kitchen, and at last, you hear something that can certainly be defined as a human sound, it is rather loud cursing.
This is the first mess you have seen in the whole of the Keep. There is flour and food everywhere! A portly if not strong looking man in a cook's apron straightens up, covered in flour and blood. It seems he had dropped some freshly butchered meat and the flour he was breading it in onto the floor. As he looks at you, a wicked smile crosses his face and he grabs for his meat cleaver. It's plain he's gone mad!
You stand in the yard of the Keep, also known as the bailey. Here the training of squires and animals is done. The ground is hard-packed dirt and little whiffs of dirt puff around your feet as you walk. To the east is the gate and to the west is a building of some kind. As you look up, you see several hawks landing on the roof, and for a brief instant, you think you see a face appear over the side.
Far to the east is the gate that keeps the forest from encroaching on the Keep. The high wall surrounding the keep is very plain. You stand in front of a door here that leads to a small building that runs along the west side of the keep. From inside you can hear growling and short loud barks. To the west, the bailey turns north around the keep.
The walls are lined with kennels. Behind the caged doors are fierce black hounds. You recognize them immediately as Shadow Hounds, the most ferocious hunting hounds in the Realms. They are well cared for and well groomed. They also appear to be very hungry. As you enter, they begin to bark all at one time, drowning out any noise save your heart pounding, as your blood races.
The room is spartan in furnishings, holding only a small bunk, a wardrobe, and a dressing table. A small trunk with tools of his trade sits at the foot of the bed. Standing here in the middle of the room, stands Glayvern, the Hound Master of Lothowyn Keep. He is dressed in Hunters Green and holds the leash of one of his mighty Shadow Hounds. It's a very strong and brave man that can train a Shadow Hound. As you stand there gawking, he lets the leash drop, and orders his Hound to "Attack!"
To the west is an exercise yard, and from the dung left in great heaps, it is a yard for dogs. Perhaps the great hunting dogs in the pictures in the hallways of the Keep, perhaps the ones you can hear baying to the east, in a small narrow building. North along the wall, are some archery targets, and a few squires practicing, it might be wise to not get in their way, they don't seem to be very good shots, but an arrow aimed or not still feels the same when it's lodged in your body.
As you sprint through the archery range here, narrowly avoiding near misses by the poor aim of the squires, you hear the distant screams of hawks. To the north is the stables, and to the south the sounds of dogs. The Keep stands tall and silent, as does the forest that surrounds the Keep. That little blond squire seems to be aiming for you!
The exercise yard is hard packed dirt, like the rest of the bailey. This is where the Hound Master brings his dogs for a workout. These two don't seem to have had enough exercise! As you try not to slip on dung, you keep your back to the gate, hoping they will fall back enough so you can get out.
Some horses stand here frightened by the sudden commotion within the bailey. They nicker at your smell, unaccustomed to your presence. To the west is the stables, and to the south you see some squires with frightful aim shooting arrows at targets set up along the wall. Looking up at the Keep you see a shadow in one of the windows, but it passes as quickly as it appeared.
The stalls are filled with some fine hunting horses. The tack is well kept and well oiled. The smell of oiled leather and straw nearly overwhelm you. A small kerosene lantern hangs near the door here and casts enough light to see by. A young man currying the horses stops what he is doing and approaches you. He is the Ostler of the Keep, the one who cares for horses. You step forward to meet him, and notice what you took for a friendly grin is actually a grimace. He grabs a pitchfork from the straw, and raises it.
This room is warded with magic. You can feel it. The walls are lined with shelves of books and the windows are shuttered fast, and nailed shut. The desk seems to be moving, as you move your lantern closer, you realize that the movement is hundreds of worms. They are eating the paper of the books. Horrified, you look about, as if for the first time, you see the shelves of the library are teeming with them. The ward placed on the door must be to keep this evil in.
The ruts here are not too deep, but you are determined not to twist your ankle by stepping in them, so you keep to the center of the path. Bushes press in on both sides snagging at your cloak and scratching your arms. You sense unrest to the west as you follow the path. To the north of here, a small crevice in the ground appears, and leads into blackness.
The sounds of forest animals are not nearby, they are from the east and south but not the west. You shiver as a cold feeling crosses your soul. The smell of something rotting washes over you in waves, and you take a moment to settle yourself, after all, you are not unarmed.
Here you stand in a small clearing, in a perfect circle. There are stones set at the four points of north, east, west, and south. On each stone is a rune of warding, probably to keep something in or out of the clearing. The ground is lined with graves, some fresh, some not, but none of them are marked. Unmarked graves mean restless souls, you decide it's best to go back the way you came.
You stand in a dark crevice, teeth chattering. You suddenly notice it's so cold here. It had been cool on the path, but that was the shade so you hadn't really noticed, but this is different, it's downright freezing! As you peer down into the darkness, you feel the drafts of cold air pushing at you. A bit of webbing is stuck to your cloak, it must have hitched a ride when you were squeezing in to the crevice.
The walls are covered with webs and webbed pods. YUCK! You can't believe your luck, spiders! You HATE spiders! Especially in the dark. To the east you can't see anything, but you can hear the clicking of spider-feet. The floor here is littered with bones, and many of them are human. One of the pods is squirming, and you can make out the shape of several small spiders in it. You hope it doesn't hatch while you are here.
You are surrounded by dozens of large black spiders. They are covered in a silvery frost. The cold makes sudden sense to you now, for you are in the caves of hoarfrost spiders. The clicking of their spider legs makes your hair stand on end. The one nearest you is four feet high. His eight legs all end in sharp curved scythe-like razors. His head must be as big as yours and as he opens his mouth, frosty air bursts forth, burning you with freezing hoarfrost. You could scream, but you doubt it would be as loud as your heart.
The Monarch Hoarfrost Spider is the largest spider you've ever seen. She nearly fills the room. All about are drained corpses of animals and man. Her body radiates coldness, and you feel fear as you face her. She seems to smile a spider-smile as she closes in on you.
You try to maneuver your way around the large boulders with slow progress. Off to the south you catch a brief flash of gold in the air, and then it is gone, you hear a sound like thunder that makes your heart stop beating. Too bad you can't find a trail here, the ground is too rocky.
There is a faint musky smell here, as if a large, territorial animal had urinated to mark off its territory. You can look around you seeing only large boulders and some small scraggly trees. Off to the south you see a sudden flash of gold, followed by a flash of gold farther off. It moves too fast to see what it is, but it is followed by a thunderous sound.
As you rest in the shadow of the huge boulder, you hear an almost feline purring, then a soft padding to the east. Again, that loud thunder sound as if a storm were raging, but you see no clouds in the sky.
The thunder sound appears to be coming from the large cat in front of you! It must be a Thundercat. You have heard tales of them ripping whole horses to shreds in a matter of minutes. You try to keep yourself between the cat and the nearest boulder. As it pads towards you snarling, you hear a soft padding above and behind you on the boulders.
Trying to avoid the large golden cats, you skirt boulders, and nearly fall, scrabbling madly on the rocks and brush for a sure hold. All around you are the sound of the Thundercats, screaming in rage, looking for you. You have run straight into the den of the Thundercats! A ferocious looking cat stares you down, her emerald-green eyes not blinking, and her whiskers twitching, trying to decide if you are lunch or dinner. As she steels herself to pounce, you watch in slow motion as her muscles ripple beneath her golden fur, coiling and bunching, almost like fluid.
The remains of Thundercat victims are scattered ankle-deep, and moving through them you shudder. Almost insanely, a song comes to mind that you had learned when you were very young, "thigh bone connected to the hip bone", etc. A loud feline scream slams reality home, and you whirl about to face the enemy. The fetid breath of the Thundercat closes about you, and you realize how close it had actually gotten while your mind wandered, you panic, and take up a fighting stance.
Trying to determine where the sound is coming from, you crouch down and cock your head, you hear lots of thundering, growling, snarling, and the padding of heavy feet. A flash of gold bounds over you to the boulder 12 yards west and leaps down behind it. Sweat runs in rivulets into your eyes. You have come too far to get out unscratched. Here you must take a stand and fight.
The thunder-sounds make the spot in your head behind your eyes hurt. Flashes of gold off to the north are becoming more frequent, but still so fast they are nearly indefinable. As you twist your head quickly to the left, a large shadow slips behind the boulders, accompanied by heavy footfalls. You hope that whatever it is, it doesn't move that fast in your direction.
As you step into the aviary, you are set upon by dozens of fierce hunting hawks, each taking aim at your eyes. They try to rip your weapons from your hands. Feathers fly as you let loose a stream of curses, blindly flailing at anything within reach.
As you advance cautiously, you listen for the sounds of clicking. The sides of the tunnel are the same as in the caves probably dug by the spiders. Your every footfall seems to echo back to you, sounding like 20 people here in the tunnels all around you. The sides of the tunnel are covered in a light frost, and you shiver in the cold dampness.
You pull your cloak around you for warmth, and tug your feet up as you feel them stick to the webbing on the ground. To stand still would be to freeze in place or become stuck fast to the ground. Your breath comes out in small puffs of fog. You hear the clicking sounds of the spiders echo down the tunnel, but you can't see very far in front of you.
The tunnel is sloping a bit upwards here and although you look about you, you are unable to see more than a swords-breadth away. The clicking sound seems to echo all about, but does seem more faint. You feel the earth above you tremble a bit, as though a dozen horses were running overhead. You rub your hands together to keep the circulation in them and wish you hadn't been so adventurous.
You hear some faint sounds to the north and up, almost like people. You are freezing down here, and the dampness is making you wheeze. Friendly or no, you'd rather face a group of people than walk through these dark tunnels anymore. Your labored breathing is echoed back at you tenfold, sounding like a dozen people are behind, in front of, and all around you.
At the end of this tunnel is a large wooden wall. It is smooth except for a small hole and a smaller keyhole. As you stand here freezing, you peer through the hole and sneeze as dust filters through. You can see nothing except more darkness, but you hear a strange sound, like paper rustling. Your eyes adjust a bit to the darkness in the new room, and it looks like a library. You must be behind one of the bookcases. The room seems to be wavering, but your eyes can't follow the movement.
A large drafting table is in the center of the room. A small stool that is brightly painted in primary colors sits before it on four legs. A very cluttered desk with pens and pencils, erasers and rulers, and two large lamps shining on several reams of paper butts up against the table. A large four-shelved bookcase filled with rpg and fantasy books, a dictionary, the ever-needed thesaurus, a deck of cards, and some catalogs sits directly beneath a large picture window that overlooks Lothowyn Keep. The window is cracked open, and someone has painted a large Thundercat leaping across it. The waste basket is filled with empty soda cans and crumpled paper.