DreamLyrics™ Play-by-Post Forums Fun & Games ETD: Escape the Dream Episode III: The Sixfold Seal

You approach the three blue-white torches carefully and hold a hand near one.

There is heat.

Not scorching, not wild, but real enough that your fingers feel it. The flame is an odd color, more moonlit than firelit, but it gives warmth like ordinary fire.

When you bring one of the stubby candles near it, the wick catches.

The candle flame burns smaller and more normally than the torch, yellow-orange rather than blue-white.

So yes.

You have found flame.

Or at least a way to carry some away.

The torches themselves, however, are firmly fixed to the wall. The brackets do not shift, and the flames seem bound to the Game Room. Taking a lit candle seems much more practical than trying to take a torch.

You then examine the white knight with the mirror-bright shield.

It is one of the white knight pieces on the board, carved like a ceremonial horse and rider. The shield on its side is definitely real: polished, round, reflective, and very much like the shield shown in the Bright Corridor painting.

The shield is attached, but not permanently. There is a seam, a clasp, and a small catch that looks as though it could release.

When you test it gently, the catch does not open.

Not yet.

The knight gives the faintest little tremor, as if aware of your attention.

Your latest attempt at insight does not reveal any clever new trick about sacrificing the knight, moving it to the edge of the board, or getting it captured.

But your earlier understanding of the painting remains clear: this room is not about stealing the shield first.

The painting showed a white chess piece triumphant before a black king.

The black king here is not shattered, burned, or fought.

It is waiting to be defeated.

The room still feels like it wants one decisive chess move.

The shield is probably not the move.

The shield is probably the prize.

Blow the candle out for now, will relight it when I leave.

"Bishop C4 to F7" If nothing happens I will push. "Checkmate!"

You blow out the candle for now. The wick gives a tiny curl of smoke, but remains ready to be relit from one of the blue-white torches when you leave.

Then you turn back to the board.

“Bishop C4 to F7.”

For a moment, nothing moves.

Then the white bishop glides.

It does not scrape across the stone. It moves smoothly, silently, almost ceremonially, sliding along the diagonal from c4 to f7.

The black pawn on f7 vanishes beneath it with a small sound like a chess piece being set down on a wooden table.

You add, with appropriate emphasis:

“Checkmate!”

The word echoes through the Game Room.

For one breath, the whole chamber is still.

Then the black king trembles.

A deep note sounds from somewhere beneath the board — low, final, and resonant. The black king bows its crowned head.

One of the three blue-white torches flares high.

Then the front of the black king opens like a tiny door, revealing an obsidian key resting inside.

At the same time, the polished shield on the white knight loosens with a soft metallic click.

The white knight turns its carved head toward you by the smallest possible amount.

It is difficult to say whether this is approval.

But it is very easy to say that the shield is now free.

Obsidian Key acquired.

Mirror Shield available.

The Game Room has yielded.

Collect key, shield and light the candle keeping a careful alertness for draughts. Return to the main room. Is it that easy??

When you do things in the right order, it's that easy. Where to next?

I need a lens before the labyrinth and don't know yet about the smoke tunnel, so the choice would seem to be Bright Corridor or Silent Crypt. I'll head for the latter as I don't want to lose my flame or have to lug these combustables further than I have to.

Your reasoning seems practical.

The lens is still missing.

The Bright Corridor probably wants the mirror shield, which you now have.

But the Silent Crypt wants fire, and you have already gathered fuel. Better to use it before you end up carrying half a broken study through the entire dungeon.

Before leaving the Game Room, you relight one of the stubby candles from the blue-white torch. The candle flame catches normally, burning small and yellow-orange despite the strange color of the torch that lit it.

You take the lit candle carefully, along with the satchel of kindling and the mirror shield, and return to the central chamber.

The southwest passage waits beneath the painting of a hearth-fire driving pale figures back into their coffins. The 4 tile remains set firmly beneath it. The hidden door stands open.

Beyond is a short, cold passage descending into darkness.

The air smells of dust, stone, and old ashes.

As you enter, the candle flame bends slightly away from the room ahead, as if reluctant.

The passage opens into a circular crypt.

Seven stone sarcophagi stand around the walls. Some are carved with stern, sleeping faces. Some are plain. One has a cracked lid. Another is wrapped in rusted chains that look decorative rather than useful, which is not especially comforting.

In the center of the room is a bronze fire pit.

It contains only old gray ash.

The hearth-fire painting comes back to mind with perfect clarity: not a spark, not a candle, but a proper fire with fuel beneath it.

The candle in your hand gives just enough light to make the shadows move.

Or perhaps the shadows are moving on their own.

From one of the sarcophagi comes a dry scraping sound.

Then another.

Then a slow, hollow knock from inside a third.

The lids do not fly open. Nothing attacks.

But pale fingers curl around the edge of one stone coffin, and a skull-faced figure slowly begins to sit up, as if waking from a very long and very inconvenient nap.

Another stirs. Then another. They do not seem fast. They do not seem pleased.

And, most importantly, their empty eye sockets turn toward the little candle flame with unmistakable distaste.

I evaluate whether I have time to place my kindling combustables into the fire pit, light them then add more wood pices to catch fire before the undead stir.

If I am doubtful I will back away and maybe prepare better now I know what faces me ahead.

You take a moment to judge the room.

The undead are stirring, yes. But they are not lunging.

They move slowly, with the dry stiffness of things that have not had to hurry for a very long time. One pale figure has only managed to sit halfway up in its sarcophagus. Another has one arm over the edge, fingers flexing against the stone. A third turns its skull-like face toward you, then toward the candle, and recoils slightly from the flame.

The little candle is not nothing. In fact, it may be enough to keep them cautious. So long as you hold it carefully and keep the flame between yourself and the crypt’s occupants, you suspect they would be reluctant to come too close.

But the candle is small. Its light is narrow. Its protection would require constant attention.

It might let you move through the room. It would not make searching the sarcophagi, examining the walls, or turning your back on anything especially pleasant.

The bronze fire pit sits in the center of the crypt, exactly where the hearth-fire appeared in the painting. The old ash inside would make a decent bed for new flame. Your kindling is dry. The curled parchment and splintered wood should catch quickly from the candle, and the larger broken chair legs and shelf pieces can go on after.

A real fire there would change the room. Not just light it. Claim it.

You think the candle can buy you time. The hearth-fire would give you control.

As you step closer to the pit, the waking dead follow the candle with their empty eyes.

One reaches a little farther over the edge of its coffin.

The candle flame flickers.

The undead pause.

The message from the painting feels more certain than ever.

Fire first.

Then everything else.

Light the fire! Smaller kindling first, then some smaller pieces, light the kindling. Add more pieces as I have time

And try to keep an eye out for anything likely to get close, use candle if needed or a burning wood piece if I achieve one and need it as a deterrent.

First the curled parchment scraps and the driest splinters go into the old ash at the bottom of the bronze fire pit. Then the smallest pieces of broken furniture. Then a few larger fragments, angled so that air can move between them.

Around the crypt, the waking dead continue to stir.

One pale figure has both hands on the edge of its sarcophagus now. Another has dragged itself half upright. A third turns its skull-like face toward you and opens its jaw in a dry, silent protest.

You keep the candle between yourself and them. That matters. Each time the little flame shifts toward one of the undead, it hesitates, recoiling just enough to give you another moment.

You touch the candle to the paper. The parchment blackens. A thin orange line crawls along its edge. The splinters catch. The flame grows.

One of the dead things stretches a hand toward the pit, then snatches it back as the fire takes hold.

You add more small pieces. The flames climb.

You add a broken chair leg. The fire crackles loudly in the bronze bowl, throwing warm light across the crypt walls. Shadows leap and twist behind the sarcophagi.

The effect is immediate. The undead retreat.

Not destroyed. Not burned. Not defeated in battle. Repelled.

The skull-faced figure nearest you lowers itself back into its coffin, one hand raised against the firelight. Another withdraws with a dry scrape of bone against stone. A third pulls its lid halfway closed, then pauses as if checking whether you are still watching.

You add another piece of wood. The hearth-fire burns steadily now. The whole crypt changes.

The cold, creeping pressure in the room breaks. The pale figures remain present, but they no longer advance. One by one, they sink back into their sarcophagi, their movements stiff and resentful.

The painting was right. The fire is not just light. It is a boundary. It gives you the room.

After a few moments, all is still except for the crackle of the flames and the occasional irritated creak from inside one of the coffins.

The bronze fire pit burns in the center of the Silent Crypt.

You are free to search. (Roll 1d20!)