My regular Dungeons & Dragons group is playing through Tomb of Annihilation, and I am very excited to be doing so. For this campaign, I am playing a Fallen Aasimar Cleric of the Grave Domain named Wyfingrem. Her family is renowned among her people as Resurrectionists. With the world stricken by a Death Curse that has prevented resurrection, Wyfingrem and an odd assortment of adventurers have answered the call from a mysterious benefactor to find the root cause of the curse and destroy it. Each day, Wyfingrem journals her experiences as a way to feel close to people, especially those dearest to her heart.

Day 57 (continued)

My dearest love,

We finished our frustrating and largely circuitous debate over where to begin with the mirror prison that held Dimo captive. In the end, we decided to choose a cell randomly, settling on number nine.

Zilditch, whose bravery continues to vastly outstrip his diminutive stature, speaks the requests aloud, but when nothing happens, we decide to try speaking the name of Khomara Blackfire. This also yielded no results, so the goblin archer stepped boldly to the mirror, and placing his hand upon its enigmatic glass surface, spoke the request once more.

The mirror resumed the familiar dull complexion once again as Zilditch seemed to fight the encroachment from some sort of unseen and perhaps psychic attack. Moments later one of the four-armed stone gargoyle fiends leaped from its mysterious beyond! We all drew arms and brought powerful incantations to our lips, but it was Walter who first stepped to the foe, whispering dark curses. Oh, how the monster howled at that! It retreated in desperation, but with nowhere to run, we had it cornered.

Toni wedged her small frame past me and others and hurled a blackened ray of crackling energy at the creature, and it struck true, causing the gargoyle to noticeably shrivel in stature. Despite this, it regained its courage and began trying to wedge its massive form into the narrow confines of the corridor, completely undeterred by the missiles of eldritch energy hurled at it by Al’Variean or the thrusts from Zilditch’s magical trident.

Pure chaos erupted in the corridor as the construct wildly flung itself upon us. While many blows landed, its weakened status from my acolyte’s spell spared anyone from serious harm. I sent tones of necrotic damage undulating toward the creature, and they, along with a combination of coordinated attacks, felled the monster.

After we regained our composure, Walter volunteered to make the next request of the mirror. Recalling how Zilditch seemed to be assaulted by something when he did the same, I channeled some of our Gods’ blessings into him to help ward off whatever it might have been.

Walter requested cell number 6. After the mirror briefly resumed its shiny veneer, it spat out a new figure, a female Drow. She wrapped Walter in her arms as she expressed her gratitude for finally being free of the mirror prison.

I asked her name and if she had seen Dimo while trapped. She offered her name as Tladi Xolbrya, but alas, she informed us that those incarcerated within the trap are unable to see any other cells. After she made a few strange references, we asked her if she knows the date and she referenced one some 300 years in the past!

The horror of such a thought! To be trapped in stasis for years unending as the world marches on without you. Meanwhile, unbeknownst to you, your family and friends, and perhaps your entire community, ages, dies, and disappears.

While I shudder deeply at such a scenario, and my pity for Tladi is considerable as she attempts to reconcile what this means for her place in this world, the more sickening realization is that of the abomination known as Withers.

As the self-proclaimed Architect of every trap within this accursed collection of corridors and rooms, that means he has trod this plane, his very existence sowing constant insults upon the Gods of Life and Death, for at least three hundred years. And no doubt many more than that!

I cannot lie that this realization struck me like a savage blow to my soul. I recoiled, sickened to my core by this, but that quickly gave way to shame and guilt. I am ashamed that I let this creature Withers slip through my fingers. While I still feel the love and support of The Most Divine Ones coursing through my very essence, I feel as if I cannot meet their gaze due to the crushing weight of remorse I carry for my failure.

More than ever, I know I must destroy the cause of the Death Curse. Not just for you, my dearest love, but to be able to feel truly worthy of the many gifts our God continue to bestow upon me in their unyielding wisdom and divine intelligence.

I swear it now before you and one everyone I hold dear, once the Death Curse is lifted, I will dedicate my life to tracking down the lich known as Withers the Architect, and see that his body is purified in the holy fire of the Gods of Life and Death. By my hand, his soul will be dragged down into the blackest, most agonizing hole in Gods of Death’s realm for an eternity of earned punishment!

For the moment, however, our attention and energies remain focused on rescuing our friend, the stout lizardman Dimo. And at that, Walter once again made a choice, settling on cell number 4. This time a minotaur was expunged from the mirror. While he brandished a mighty ax like those of the undead minotaur we fought earlier, and he immediately assumed a menacing stance, he did not attack. Rather, he began speaking to Walter in a tongue I could not comprehend. Fortunately, Walter seemed to speak the same language, and after a quick parlay, the minotaur’s demeanor softened somewhat.

Walter conveyed to us that the minotaur’s master is also imprisoned within the mirror, and it has demanded our assistance in releasing her. As we are also attempting to rescue someone, we decided to feign acquiescence to the beast’s demands and inquired about cell three of the mirror.

While we did not see anything exit the mirror, Walter was suddenly slammed from behind by an invisible force. Sir McManly instantly raced to his aid, swinging his ax wildly but not seeming to connect with anything. Zilditch disappeared from sight, and while we could not track his movement, we surmised he had found a higher degree of success than Sir McManly as we observed a glob of acid splash against an unseen object.

Al’Variean was next to action, waving one arm broadly as he rushed past me. Instantly, both Walter and the minotaur were limned with some sort of purple flames. Curiously, they did not seem to cause either of them any harm, and I am unclear about their purpose. Perhaps a buff of some sort? This dark elf’s innate abilities are perhaps the most foreign to me of any among our small group.

Toni also rushed past me to engage but seemed to suddenly run headlong into an invisible force and was driven back. The corridor had become quite clogged as everyone sprang into action, making it difficult to process everything occurring, but through the tangle of bodies, I espied Walter clearly turning purple as if his airflow were being constricted. Worried that his life was in grave danger, I drew upon my own Gods-given abilities and spoke forth a word of divine healing in the man’s direction. I saw some color return to his complexion but knew it would not be enough.

The Gods of Life and Death most have heard my unspoken but desperate pleas as the minotaur, who had been casually observing the battle up to that point, ended his inaction. He lifted his ax and chopped mightily at the invisible foe. Whatever the beast did was effective too as Walter was instantly released from the unseen grasp and crashed to the floor. And just like that, the conflict was over.

Seemingly undeterred and unimpressed by the threat of whatever we had freed from the mirror, the minotaur simply picked up Walter from the ground, and plopped him back in front of the trap with a grunt and a gesture toward it.

This time Walter selects cell number five and, eternal blessings to the Gods of Life and Death, Dimo is freed!

We peppered Dimo with questions about his health and state, but overall, he appeared to be in good physical and mental health. Our party was whole again, but before we could depart, the minotaur spoke to Walter again. I did not need to comprehend its words to glean the message. He wanted us to continue choosing cell slots until his master was returned to him.

Now that Dimo was free, and there was less urgency surrounding our situation, we took the opportunity to interrogate the minotaur using Walter as our proxy. We learned his master is someone named Lucana, and she is known as a Guardian of Napaka. Napaka is (was?) a queen of Omu.

We decided honoring the minotaur’s request, especially since it was crucial to defeating the invisible creature and saving Walter’s life, was the right and proper thing to do. In addition, with the ever-present threat of death and dismemberment hanging over our collective heads, engaging in unnecessary battles, particularly with a foe as potent as this, is unwise.

Cell number two is the next option. To our shock, it is the red-robed wizard Zagmira! She with half a face and who double-crossed us when we entered this tomb of horrors! The wicked woman, recognizing Walter, cursed and began to cast a spell but Walter was faster on the draw, and suddenly the wizard’s movements were halted as if she were frozen in stasis.

Toni does not hesitate a beat, and steps forward to deliver godly-sanctioned justice upon the lich-serving wench! Casting forth a spray of multi-colored energy, the vessel of sacrilege was destroyed. A well-deserved ending for the awful woman. Going forward, the Gods of Life and Death no doubt will cascade their blessed energies upon my acolyte. To think she went from having no soul to now being a living, breathing conduit of judgment most divine speaks truly to the limitless wisdom and power of our Divine Guardians!

Despite her reprehensible proclivities, one cannot deny wizards of all stripes and followings often come into possession of potent magics. We found on Zagmira’s body her spellbook, which Al’Variean takes into his possession, some parchment, and a personal journal written in some sort of code. As the others turned back to the task of freeing Lucana, I knelt before the wizard’s corpse and whisper a prayer of warding upon it to prevent that fiend Acererak or some other foul creature from reanimating it.

The mirror next released a quite frightened-looking Chultan. On our next attempt, a bird burst forth and began flapping furiously down the corridor, but Sir McManly, wary of anything escaping the prison without proper interrogation, struck it from the air with his ax. He then gave the feathers from its corpse to Dimo for the barbarian’s magnificent hat.

At last, the woman known as Lucana, the Guardian of Queen Napaka, stepped from the mirror. Once she is oriented, we tell her of the date and ask what she knows of the Nine Gods of Chult. The woman appeared exceedingly confused by our questions, and rather than answer she simply asked after the whereabouts of her queen.

While we do not know of this Queen Napaka, based on the contextual clues revealed in our conversation and the dress of Lucana and her minotaur protector, we have our suspicions. Likely her queen is the figure with the scepter who had been laid to rest in the sarcophagus we discovered within the hidden room with the brightly shining orb.

Lucana and the minotaur are anxious to find their own answers, and so we bade them a good journey. The frightened-looking Chultan peasant decided to leave with them as our intent is only to delve deeper into this deadly place, but Tladi the Drow opted to remain.

As we were now finished with the magic mirror, we decided to investigate the door at the opposite end of the hallway with the figure possessing one skeletal hand painted upon it. Walter immediately recognized that his own skeletal hands mirrored that of the figure in the painting. He showed his hand to the door, and it responded by sliding open, revealing a room beyond it.

In the center of the room was a gigantic painting of humanoid figures running in fear from a black star floating menacingly in the sky. Deadly forks of black lightning burst forth from the star, striking down the humanoids as they flee.

Walter, Dimo, and Sir McManly entered the room. Walter and Dimo head around the south side of the painted wall while Sir McManly and I stepped around the north side. In an open space, we found a dais bearing a gold crown that was inset with a black opal. We suspected this is a trap and decided to leave it alone for now.

At the midpoint of the far wall beyond the painted one, we found another of the many portals in the guise of a face. This one was a green face of a devilish-looking entity. Its mouth was already open, but only impenetrable darkness lay within.

Suddenly we heard the grinding of stone as the doors to the room closed on us. Then the horrible sounds of some unknown creatures came wailing from the darkness within the green devil face before the monstrosities stepped out from the blackness. Their skin was grey and sickly looking and appeared stretched too thin across their bony frame. The most unsettling feature beyond their endless black eye sockets were their misshapen mouths, stretched impossibly long as if frozen in an internal moan of despair.

Zilditch is quick to nock and fire at the creatures as he retreated, but despite being far away from the creatures, he appeared to wither under some sort of unseen force. I recognized this as some sort of necrotic energy due to my attunement to the blessed rewards of both the Gods of Life and Death. Fortunately, for Sir McManly and me are naturally predisposed to resist the harmful effects of such attacks, but my immediate fear was for the others as their injuries from the energy had become quite severe.

Bolstered by our natural defenses, I called upon the blessings of the Gods to surround me with an aura of healing energy to sustain the others while Sir McManly waded in with ax of shield, destroying the horrors.

While Walter and I set about healing every one of the necrotic effects, the others discovered a door with an image upon it of the same man that was painted on the entrance. This version of him, however, was missing his arm from the elbow down.

I almost dare not speak to you about what occurred next, as the events are indeed all but unspeakable. Nevertheless, I know how important it is to journal the entirety of my journey so we might better understand how the Death Curse came to be, how it was destroyed, and most importantly, how to prevent it from manifesting again.

Walter Winchell, this odd but inquisitive man, without hesitating a breath, walked up to Sir McManly and bore his withered arm, requesting – if not insisting! – that it be severed at the elbow to mirror the figure in the painting.

Before I or any of the others could protest, Sir McManly boldly obliged, chopping free Walter’s arm! Horrified, I rushed to him, grasping his gushing appendage, and willed blessed healing into him. I managed to stop the bleeding and new skin regrew, covering the stump.

Seemingly unphased, Walter stepped past me and presented the remains of his arm to the painting. Once again, the doors accepted his offering and opened for us.

As many of us remain in severe shock following the assault of necrotic energies from the hideous creatures and Walter’s macabre sacrifice, we have decided a short rest is well in order. While we are doing so, I noticed a part of the wall in the corridor beyond this new door looked somewhat strange. After mentioning this to Sir McManly, he decided to investigate and indeed finds a secret room beyond it.

Waves of heat instantly burst from the room. It appears to be yet another mystical and confounding puzzle brought forth by this heinous place, as the room has within it images of volcanoes erupting and spewing forth fiery destruction.

A skeleton is embedded in the far wall of the tiny room, and it is holding a sconce with a red candle. Sir McManly shared with is that he had had a vision from beyond showing him once the candle was removed, lava began seeping from the room’s ceiling and flowing down its walls. Curious, he summoned a magical hand and urged it into the room to retrieve the candle. However, as soon as the hand reached the barrier between the secret chamber and the corridor, it disappeared.

Dino mentioned recalling a riddle that references drowning the fire, so he decided to spit on the candle to snuff it out. As the flame is extinguished, a shimmer rippled across the room, and then the door shut.

We are unsure what to make of this at the moment but ultimately decided it probably is not crucial to our quest. Having decided to move on, we return to the room with the pit containing the rusty mechanism and the tunnel that led to the room with the images of black dragons.

Our short rest has now ended, and so we are once again eager to get on the move, my dearest love. I say a fondest farewell to you for now, but know my love stretches across any distance or dimension to embrace you warmly. I miss you terribly, but I know the Gods of Life and Death will see to it that we are reunited. It is our fate, as how could it not be?

All my love…