Let's Go Steal a Dungeon (MotBM IC/Campaign Log)

MAZE OF THE BLUE MEDUSA​

DRAMATIS PERSONAE
Alabaster Rime, played by @Wiwaxia
Lyriae Quicksilver, played by @esotericPrognosticator
Sarnai, played by @swirlingflight
Liron Amanodel, played by @thegrimsqueaker
Stella Kirschmesser, played by @missoyashirou

PROLOGUE
​

Lord Gideon Avaraptus spared no expense on security. His vaults were guarded by keen-eyed men with keener blades, sealed with wondrous locks purchased from gnomish artificers, and built on foundations of solid stone.

The painting might have been in a leaky shack on the beach for all that it slowed you down.

A few well-placed bribes, some filched blueprints, and two hours' work on a foggy night were all it took. By the time the enchantments wore off you were well away from his manse; by the time the city watch took up the alarm, you were hauling on muffled oars and watching the lights of Carcemar recede over the bay. Now, in your safe house in a sleepy fishing town, some miles from anywhere anyone might be looking, you take a moment to admire your prize.



False Chanterelle. No one thinks deeply on it. Most modern critics dismiss it as puerile and amateurish. Its history is mostly notable for the impossibility of establishing anything concrete. Though it has certainly existed for a very long time, its origin, artist, school, and even time period are frustrating unknowns. Yet through the quirk of mortal minds that causes us to covet the rare and unique, it has become fantastically expensive.

Priceless, some might say, but that figure of speech will not prevent numerous interested parties from rewarding you handsomely for its "rediscovery." Nor will Lord Gideon’s creditors be pleased he has lost it, but the other contents of the vaults and cells beneath his estate removed any scruples you might have had about sealing his doom.

The rays of a [d8 for phase...] waning crescent moon spill in through the window. Rumor has it that the painting's subtle hues can only be properly appreciated by moonlight; how much credit you give this rumor typically depends on whether you have darkvision. In the dim, colorless light, it is easy at first to mistake the movement for a shadow passing across the wall -- a night bird or a windblown leaf.

Then you hear the voice, and realize that the woman in the painting has turned to look at you. Her whisper echoes strangely, not just in the safehouse room but in whatever unfathomable space lies beyond the canvas. "Please. Help me."

 

"Uh." Lyriae takes a step back from the canvas. "How is she doing that? She doesn't even have a head," she adds, mostly to herself. "Wizard-y people? Anybody? What the fuck?"

(important note: Lyriae has this terrible accent that's like the unholy offspring of Glaswegian and Thick Northern English. I am not rendering it phonetically for the sake of everyone's sanity, but it is important to keep in mind.)

 

"Oh good," Alabaster says, "I was worried only I heard that."

 

"I heard it, and see it," Sanrai confirms, fixing a smile on her face. "At least this didn't happen back in his estate, but... Liron, dear, didn't you check the vault for enchantments before we left?"

 

"Is... Is this a normal thing? Is this some sort of magicky-folk paintin'?" Stella asked, at first backing away from the words. Weird stuff sometimes, magic. People had funny places of putting it, including in naked lady pictures. Still, you'd think they'd be making the naked lady do more than just be... Sad about things? Who wants that kind of thing anyway, that's just weird. "Would answerin' it help? Or is that not how magic-paintin'-people work?"

 

"Oh, that's interesting," Liron said. "And yes, I checked and disabled all the wards that would cause problems. I've done some research on security spells, but nothing I've heard of could cause this. It's just not how those spells work."

 

"Has it been so long?" The voice is only a whisper, but it carries to every corner of the room. As she moves, you can see that the painted woman does have a head: the pool of blackness is no shadow but her hair, flowing and wild. "Yet you are right. The painting is the ward, or near enough. The prison gate opens only rarely, only a crack. I do not have much time."

 

"Uh... wizard," Alabaster says, fumbling for their coconspirator's name, "what if it's not a security spell? Like a vision or something instead?"

 

"Hold up, magic-people," says Lyriae, extending a hand in Alabaster's direction but not looking over at them. "You can bicker about whether it's real or what exact fucking incantation was used or whatever later. Did no one else hear her say she doesn't have much time? Lady," she addresses the painting, "whaddaya mean, help you? Spring you outta there? How? Who are you? Better talk fast."

 

The woman pauses. "My name... my name is Ashen Chanterelle. There are two gates to my prison. One gate opens onto the material plane, on certain nights when the moon is in the sky and the stars are right. Touch the painting and you may enter or leave.
The other gate opens into the Maze of the Medusa. Her treasury, gallery, and gaol older than kingdoms. No force in any world can open it while there is a prisoner in these cursed chains. I do not know what became of the last one, but she took me long ago." Chanterelle bows her head. "For pity's sake if not for riches, gentle lady. The Maze is yours to plunder. Only set me free."

 

"How does that work? I mean, I've heard of objects like mirrors being used as gateways, and of course getting trapped in one has been used as a horror story for as long as those spells have been around. But there's nothing about them being used as jails, and all the theory about anyone trapped in them suggests the subject would be in stasis and immobile, if not outright unconscious." Liron seemed to light up at the possibility of dealing with weird magic. "I wonder if there are more of these out there? I hope there are, since that would make researching this much easier."

 

While Lirion is pondering, Alabaster steps up and experimentally pokes the painting.

 

"This painting is older than any records know. We don't even know what's preserving it. But ancient magic...?" Sanrai echoes, shaking her head. "People have checked it for ages. Why would it be different now?"

 

"Maybe Chanterelle thinks we're strong?" Stella asked, confusedly. It didn't seem right, locking some naked woman in a painting. Or locking lots of people in paintings, so your... Other picture didn't open? The way this worked made little sense to Stella. "I mean, we took the painting in the first place, so maybe that's a good sign we'd be good at taking her back out. Maybe the riches too."

 

The dragonborn interrupts the party's speculation by vanishing, dwindling in an instant like a deflated balloon to a speck and then out of view altogether.

No... not quite. There's another figure in the painting now.

Spoiler: Alabaster

The sickly vivid colors warp and bulge out of the painting, filling your field of vision. When you blink, they clear.
A woman struggles to her feet in front of you, her expression full of warring hope and dread. Her chains of black metal are suspended from a ring set in the stone ceiling. Beyond her is a wooden door.

 

Lyriae swears, then crouches in front of the canvas. "Gods-damn fucking overcurious—Alabaster! Can you see a way out?" She pauses. "For that matter, what does it look like in there?"

 

"Oh good, a data point!" Liron begins taking notes on the painting, the flash of light and their now disappeared colleague on a sheet of parchment kept in easy reach for documenting any strange occurrences. "A few more artifacts like this and I can get something published and reapply for my research grant!"

 

((can alabaster hear what people are saying outside the painting?))

 

"Mentioning this data point would get us all caught," Sanrai chides, leaning next to Lyriae to help look for more changes. She sighs. "It's a shame. The professor would love to hear about this, I'm sure..."

 

Stella yelped in panic, pretty ungraceful for such a large and beefy woman. Immediately, she went for her pack, grabbing the length of rope. "We just can't let them jump into the painting like that!" She shouted, almost tossing the mass of rope directly at the painting before stopping herself. "Wait, no, I don't know if Alabaster can make lassos or what..." She looked to the rest of the group as well as the room, trying to find some sort of hearty-looking fixture or furniture to tie the rope onto.