Conquering the Barbarian Altanis: Session 160

January 5, 2026

Adventurers

Character	Race	Class	Description
Thorm	Dwarf	Fighter level 4 / thief level 5	Ashen hair, beard, and eyes. Left his own clan due to financial trouble.
Ambros	Human	Cleric level 6	Follower of Aniu, Lord of Time.
Ignaeus	Elf	Fighter level 4 / magic-user level 5	A slightly weathered looking elf with dull blonde hair and chiseled features. Seeks wealth and knowledge.
Foxglove	Human	Thief level 6	A willowy human, long hair ties in a pony tail, looks a bit dangerous and dainty at the same time.
Tikatu	Human	Druid level 3	A dirty little man with dark and dirty skin, wearing loincloth with no back. “What will be, will be” is his favourite aphorism.
Amari	Human	Ranger level 1	Black hair that shines blue. Scarred like a gladiator.
Kho Rimbo	Human	Magic-user level 3	A knife throwing wizard extraordinaire. Covered in ritual knife scars. Cuts himself whilst casting. Prone to being sarcastic.

Sunstrong 15th, Spiritday

Adventurers roamed around the eight-sided chamber tilled with alternating obsidian and redstone slabs. An altar carved of black marble dominated the south side of the chamber. Subtle runes adorned its smooth surface.

Chamber had three egress points—doors to the north and west, and tunnel to the east. It was from the latter that the party had arrived from, crawling over damp, loose soil. Ignaeus and Thorm forced the west doors open.

A ten by ten chamber, nay an alcove, filled with damp soil. Loose ground was almost the same as the one in the tunnel to the east. Ignaeus stepped forth and vanished. Ambros exhaled and followed.

Other adventurers followed as well. Even Hazard, their torchboy, followed. Courage or cowardice? Either way, eight of them in total found themselves in a twenty by twenty chamber with low ceiling.

They stood on damp, loose soil. Walls and ceiling were bereft of anything interesting. Everything was completely featureless. A single alcove housing a blackened skull was the only noticeable thing.

Ignaeus investigated the alcove and skull while others sought secret passageways and openings. Ambros, standing in the center, holding his Gold Gavel of Justice, observed how everyone sank a bit into the ground. All the commotion had moved the soil.

Minutes turned into turns as adventurers desperately tried to figure out how to escape their predicament. Foxglove remembered a lyre he had recovered from the hands of a dead man earlier today. He took it out and played a discordant tune.

Skull flashed with emerald green light. Its eyes sparked green as the lyre played. Music turned into words, whispered effortlessly. Each person heard the words speak in their native tongue.

“Your presence here constitutes your agreement to the Tests. Choose your measure: Test by Strife, or Test by Wit?”

“Wit!”

“Hey, wit hasn't served us well so far!”

But it was too late, for the lyre sang its next tune.

“Answer me this and free you shall be.

Think well, for the wrong answer means you remain here with me.

A tormented soul sought to escape the House of Pain but was not privy to the password.

The spirit observed a few other souls who managed to escape.

When the first soul knocked to be let out, the door-wight hissed “twelve,” the soul answered, “six.”

When the second soul knocked, the door-wight spit, “six,” the soul answered, “three.”

The tormented soul saw a pattern, so it approached the exit and knocked to be let out.

The door-wight coughed, “ten,” the poor soul answered, “five.”

It was unable to escape the House of Pain.

Why?”

Adventurers sat in silence for the first half an hour.

They were stupefied.

Some of them were cursing algebra.

But they did not allow desperation to take them over.

They ruminated.

They calculated.

They discussed.

And then Foxglove got it.

And then they discussed how to answer.

For presenting the answer in the wrong way might mean certain doom.

And Foxglove played the lyre and spoke thus:

“Three. The word six has three letters in it.”

And flashed as tune screamed BAH!

Soil vomited a leather bag.

Adventures looked at it cautiously.

And then they found themselves stuffed in a ten by ten chamber.

They jumped out with further delay and slammed the doors shut.

Alive and kicking, they kicked down north doors, marched through long corridor with damaged statues, and reach the terminus with doors on west, north, and east walls.

Heading east led them to dead end with foul monster that fled Ambros's divinity—a spider-like abomination capable of turning incorporeal. Chief Justice turned it once again. Brave adventurers boxed it in, preventing it to escape.

Thorm, wielding a magical blade, cut it down. That did take some time though. Tikatu, courageous pygmy and door blocker, was bitten several times. Hellish insect pumped him full with venom. But little pygmy did not give in and crawled to safety.

Thorm cut off the creature's appendages and finished it by thrusting the sword through its deformed elven head. Kho Rimbo orchestrated butchering that followed. He was fully intent of bringing as much of this creature as possible to his Master, Old Crus.

“Come on, lets not go out just yet. We are all healthy and strong. Let's check just one more room!”

Thorm the Adventurer convinced others to push on.

Lords of Luck reward guts with glory.

Adventurers moved through two chambers to the west. Then they followed the corridor south, into a wider corridor. Peeking down the open archway revealed little except that there was a rather long passageway ahead of them. Two opening emanated sickly green light, now quite familiar to the party.

“Let's check those doors we passed.”

Forcing them open revealed an empty chambers, some twenty by thirty feet. South doors were hanging ajar. Adventurers approached, with Thorm at the lead.

His keen senses kicked in, and he saw shadows moving. He jumped to his right, barely dodging the exploding doors. Large, seven feet tall, featherless bipedal monstrosity with large sharp claws, and massive axe-like beak towered over the dwarf.

Ignaeus and Thorm wounded the animal. Elf wounded it once more, and then attacked with the flat side of the blade. He successfully subdued the creature—hoping that alive specimen would impress Crus. Then Thorm killed it by accident.

Another, even larger, animal jumped out of the chamber. This time Amari contributed too. But it was yet again Thorm whom had killed the beast. He slashed across, and then vertically, cutting its head in two neat halves.

Investigating the chamber revealed animals' nest with thirty five gold pieces, one hundred and thirty one silver pieces, four sealed crystal vials with thick copper brown liquid, and one bone ring.

Thorm put on the ring.

Kho Rimbo once again orchestrated the butchering. Packing various monster parts took some time, but was done nonetheless.

“Now, let's head back to Ironburg!”

Sunstrong 17th, Waterday

Adventurers arrived into the miners' thorp on the evening of Sunstrong 17th. There were less men than usual. Hog's Head Inn was empty. Ambros and Ignaeus looked at each other wearily.

Kho Rimbo was too consumed with his geas to care. He took all the rotting monster parts and carried them off to Old Crus, some half an hour of hiking from the thorp. Amari accompanied him.

This time they did not have to wait long for Old Crus to open the doors. Not because he got any faster, but because his current student, Heinrik, opened them. Conversation was as slow and as miserly as usual.

Kho Rimbo boasted and boasted. Old Crus was very unimpressed. But he appreciated the monster parts greatly. At least the arachnid ones. Bird he did not care about—they are not Woelands natives, and therefore are of no interest to him.

“Am I free of the geas now?”

“What geas?”

“The geas you had put on me?”

“There was never any geas? That was all you?”

Kho Rimbo stood there, mute and dumbfound.

“Will... will you teach me other spells as we agreed?”

“Yes, of course. But you can always get more more monster parts if you wish.”

While Kho Rimbo was doing his thing with Old Crus, Ambros, Ignaeus, Foxglove, and Thorm were learning what was wrong in Ironburg.

Stroud Granger, the innkeeper, stammered:

“I-I-I would n-not like to insult you. B-but it all started with y-your friend Kho Rimbo. After he left Lord Kyle had miners rounded up. Then he ordered three of them to be brutally flogged.”

He gulped audibly before continuing:

“Including Darvin the Foreman, who is most outspoken about miserable work conditions. Following that, the miners have holed up in the mines and are boycotting further work. They refuse to return to Ironburg until the drunk tyrant has been removed.”

He sobbed audibly:

“There is no one drinking anymore. No one eating. You are my only customers. My best customers! Will you please stay here!”

Ambros leaned back in his chair. Gold Gavel of Justice was in his hands. “Kho. Rimbo. Kho. Rimbo.” he uttered, gazing into the distance.