Barrowmaze Session #16: The Moor from Ironwood Motte

The Barrowmaze campaign continues, with two players now, and six characters in the party of 2nd and 3rd level. The maze itself is still the focus, but the players have begun to ask about the wider world around. I have emphasized the Dolmenwood to the West, and hinted at a Skull Mountain to the North. Easterly, I have not decided but I may offer the Slumbering Ursine Dunes. I'd like to explore more of the maze, and I am waiting on a couple of projects due in the summer that I would enjoy running as well, the upcoming Forbidden Caverns, and Operation Unfathomable. Essentially, anything can happen, but I'm really enjoying this game! The homebrew rules work great and my friend mentioned he enjoys "grinding for gold and xp."

A confusing mash of whispers, half remembered lies and clumsy conspiracy made truth itself slippery as a bog eel.  The Company of the Crow set out to the big town of Ironwood Motte to scout out the route of rumored gold laden caravan only to discover they themselves as the conspirators.  So they scouted out the possibilities of banditry they themselves had hoped to incite.  The investigations were long and complicated, and finally they hired a guide to take them back to more familiar discomforts within the Barrowmoor.  

Approaching from the north, in the angled light of early fall, the muck and covered mounds were clear, though known landmarks were out of sight.  In the distance, large birds circled high and dove.  The Company decided to excavate the first mound they found, a toil that lasted most of the day, paused only to fight off the immense toads attracted to the slinging of filthy earth.  Finally, a white marble mausoleum was breached, but offered only mystery without reward.  Slender white marble columns interspersed excellently sculpted depictions of men of action, men-at-arms, an elf, a hobbit, even a centaur, flanks pierced with arrows, rearing before an unseen foe.  Beyond the row of tableau a bronze door denied further progress.  The verdigrised slab was held shut by a sophisticated mechanism in the shape of a scarab beetle.  No key fit this lock.  

It was late, and the group returned quickly to Ironwood Motte, where they caroused half-heartedly, more interested this week in the warriors’ fitness regimen offered by the local mercenary captain, Sgt. Box.  They were ready to spring their trap on the elusive bandit Vargas.