On a lark, I fictionalized (as best I could given the constraints of Twitter) a walkthrough of the legendary Tomb of Horrors, just composing it on the fly via Tweets.  I guess I was itching to play some D&D.

Maybe it’ll remind you of some of your gaming sessions.  Certainly if you’ve played through Tomb of Horrors, you’ll recognize some references here.  🙂

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Hoddypeak staggered into the village today, babbling about a lost tomb and a demi-lich. His comrades are missing. I’ll organize a search.

We tracked Hoddypeak’s party to a grassy hillock covered in strange standing stones. They’d excavated three buried doors in the hill.

Two are traps, leading to deadfalls. Benders fell to a rigged collapse in one of them. The third opens onto a hall that leads into the hill. This must be the tomb Hoddypeak mentioned.

The air here feels strange, greasy. The hill hides something foul, I fear.

We think Hoddypeak’s group entered the tomb and remains there still. We’ll enter it ourselves tomorrow. May St. Cuthbert watch over us.

We entered with the dawn, but the sun’s light does not penetrate into the darkness and mist of this hall. Spiked pits honeycomb the floor.

Runes in the floor scribe the dreaded name: ACERERAK, and also give a warning. We try to scoff. Our mirth is hollow. We know the name.

There’s no sign of the lost men.

The hall ends in a large sculpture of a devil’s face, its mouth open in a scream. Inside the mouth: darkness like pitch.

Gord places his quarterstaff within the mouth and what touches the darkness is destroyed utterly. The misty door to our left is ominous.

Commune shows that it, too, is a trap. Everywhere there are traps. And there is no way forward. I suggest turning back but am overruled.

Gord located a door disguised by a wall mosaic. I am afflicted with dread. I feel if we open it, we will not return. None heed me.

Roaky is dead to the four-armed gargoyle, his blood another gory mosiac spattered on the walls of this dark place. No sign of the lost men.

This tomb is a Hell, a mouth that eats those who come. I would flee but none would join me, and I fear to be alone here, even for a moment.

The traps are endless, the riddles maddening. Bigby has fallen. We are only four now. No one speaks. There is nothing to be said.

I feel eyes on us always, and the ancient stones whisper dire promises. The images on the walls must show one of the Hells. They must.

We have reached a dark chapel. I am trembling.I admonished him to touch nothing. Cuthbert knows I did. A chest trapped with a lightning bolt took Gord.

The energy from the bolt popped his eyes from his skull. The stink of burned flesh lingers in the air. Everything is trapped. Everything.

I sag into one of the pews. I cannot stop shaking. We are now three.

The mummy was a diversion, but a deadly one. Dorg fell under its fists. Only Ycore and I remain. She has found a secret door.

She demands we continue. To honor our fallen friends, she says. I say that living honors them best. She will not relent. We continue.

Ycore is gone. A rod teleported her away or disintegrated her. It doesn’t matter. I am alone in the dark. The eyes, his eyes, are on me.

Keys I bear fit into the floor. The ground shudders, and I watch a chamber rise, a grave giving up its dead.

Mithril walls, treasure uncountable, and…a skull. The evil here puts me on my knees. I touch the skull. “I’m sorry,” I say.

It rises. Gems glitter in its eyes — the eyes!. Diamonds comprise its teeth. And within many of them, I see….I see….

Fonkin’s lost party, their souls trapped by the demi-lich in the gems, fuel for his undying existence. I am transfixed by the eyes.

Acererak howls, his voice like a storm. Dust swirls in the chamber, Coins are scattered. Power intensifies. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

I feel a pull, a thread being drawn from the cloth of my being. My soul slipping the house of flesh to serve Acererak. The gem flares.

I am alone. Forevermore.