@CogsAndSpanners It's strange. Usually, bone-deep weariness of the sort that brought me trudging up to this inn brings dreamless sleep.

But not this time. There is a lake, and a crisp fall breeze that scatters fallen leaves across the dirt path that winds along its edge. There are the occasional animal noises in the woods on the other side of the path, but none of them sound terribly hostile as long as they're left to their business.

@CogsAndSpanners Well. This is awkward.

No, I don't owe the old man money but honestly, that would almost be preferable.

"So," the old farmer says while I'm trying to come up with something to say that isn't going to sound stupid, "you know that stable didn't clean itself. Nor did m'roof patch itself. Nor m'cattle take themselves out t'pasture."

I know. I know. I didn't mean to ditch on the job he'd offered but... something else came up.

@beefgnawpolis You jolt awake. The room's still dark. You hear a chittering above & fire up the gas lamp on the bedside table.

The farmer hangs from the ceiling. He's skeletal, with sinew hanging from the bone - like the fortune teller's card!

He skitters toward you, clawing & hissing: "M'STABLE! M'ROOF! M'CATTLE!"

Your sword's by the desk in the corner. You could dive for it, but may get slashed. You could shield yourself with the book you clutch, but it may get damaged.

What do you do?

@CogsAndSpanners There are no glyphs in any known alphabet that can spell the very loud noise that comes out of my mouth. If I'd run across this thing while fully awake, armed, and armored, that would be one thing... but waking up to find it dancing on the ceiling is another thing entirely.

I fall out of bed, landing on my rear on the floor and scooting away as fast as my legs will allow--and as far as the walls will allow, still clutching the book like a shield.

@beefgnawpolis The thing swipes you with its long, skeletal fingers. The book takes the brunt of the damage -- a long slash across its front cover. It's knocked from your hands and lands open on the floor.

Amid the alien writings, you can make out letters in red: "OUCH!"

You've lost your only defense! But your sword is much nearer at hand now, and the strange ghoul seems mightily thrown off balance...

What do you do?

@CogsAndSpanners Sorry, book. The best I can do for you right now is to kick you under the desk while I flail my way towards my sword.

Now at least marginally more awake and aware of my surroundings, I am fairly sure this thing is not in fact the poor farmer I left hanging all those years ago. Still, I can't help feeling a little guilty... ah well. I'll worry about that later. For now, I have a monster to kill and then an inkeeper to complain to.

@beefgnawpolis You get your sword in your grip. The ghoul stumbles right into the swords' tip.

It looks down at where it's been stabbed. Wriggles to try to get loose. And tears itself right open. Its guts tumble out and it collapses in a heap to the floor.

Er... a job well done, you guess?

With the immediate danger dealt with, you notice this room simply... FEELS wrong. Something about the wallpaper, maybe? Or where the bed is positioned?

What do you do next?

@CogsAndSpanners That was... unexpectedly easy?

I almost have my finger on what seems off about the room when I remember the book. Fortunately, the desk shielded it from flying critter guts. The bit of floor where I have to kneel to get the book out was not so lucky. Ugh.

I retrieve the book and stand up, flipping pages to see if I can find one that's readable. Yeah... there's definitely something weird about that wallpaper...

@beefgnawpolis

Flipping through the book, you make out a message embedded across many pages:

"WALLPAPER LOOKS WEIRD? YEP. THAT'S RIGHT. YOU'RE IN THE NETHER-REALM, KID. EVERYTHING HERE'S A SAD PERVERSION OF THE REAL WORLD.

BUT DO JUST LIKE I SAY AND YOU'LL FIND A GAUNTLET THAT CAN UNDO DEATH!

GET YOUR SWORD AT THE READY.

AND STEP INTO THE HALL."

You've read the book's instructions. Now what do you do?

@CogsAndSpanners A gauntlet that can undo death. Sounds fishy, but it's as good a way to pass the time as any when you're trapped in what is at best a nightmare and at worst... well, some kind of horrible parallel universe.

I strap on my pack, in case I find myself faced with a task that needs more hands than I can spare with one full of sword and the other full of book, step over the pile of dead monster bits, and open the door.

@beefgnawpolis The door opens out not into a hall, but a graveyard. One other person is here -- a woman with a veil over her face, standing eerily still before a grave. Tears streak what little you can see of her face.

By some arcane mechanism beyond your comprehension, you feel immediately like you know why she is crying.

So tell me: why is she crying?

@CogsAndSpanners A cold, crawly feeling creeps up my spine, because I know beyond all doubt that she is crying over her own grave.

Look. I've been doing the adventuring thing for a while now, long enough to know that "undead" does not necessarily mean "will drink your blood and/or nibble on your brain". It USUALLY means that, but not always. Hell, a couple of them have been downright friendly.

This one doesn't appear immediately murderous, but she doesn't seem to be in a good mood either...

@beefgnawpolis An unlucky step -- a twig cracks beneath your feet. The woman looks up from her grave and, in a thick accent, calls out:

"What're you lookin' at?"

@CogsAndSpanners Oh crap. Well, she still doesn't seem to be in a hurry to gnaw my face off, but...

"Sorry!" I call back. I almost wave--with the hand with the sword in it--and then think better of that. "I didn't mean to disturb you, just... passing through."

@beefgnawpolis She notices the book you're carrying and rolls her eyes:

"THAT thing again? How'd it lure you down here? Told you some story about a gauntlet, did it?"

@CogsAndSpanners Well. Good news: this one does indeed seem to fall into the "not immediately hostile" category of undead. Bad news... either she or the book is lying to me.

"...Something like that, yes ma'am," I reply, as I squint down at the closed book. Obviously it's not going to produce a response I can understand until I get a chance to open it, but nevertheless I find myself thinking /Explain/ at it very hard.

@beefgnawpolis The book shakes violently in your hands. You drop it. Its pages flip in the wind & you make out the following:

"SHE'S A CYNIC, BUT I PROMISE YOU THE GAUNTLET EXISTS.

SOME OF MY PREVIOUS EXPEDITIONS HAVE, ER... GONE POORLY & SHE'S BEEN WITNESS TO THEM.

BUT I KNOW WHAT WENT WRONG BEFORE.

ONLY THE UNDEAD CAN OPEN THE GATE TO THE MAUSOLEUM THE GAUNTLET IS HOUSED IN.

YOU'LL HAVE TO CONVINCE THIS WOMAN TO HELP US.

The woman stares at you, eyebrow raised.

@CogsAndSpanners Not for the first time today, and likely not for the last, I find myself wishing I had just slept on the damn floor.

At a loss for anything else to say to her, I read her the book's latest message. All of it. Word for word.

"Look," I say to her when I've finished that, "I just wanted to find a bed for the night and this whole day has just been..." I gesture broadly, yet vaguely. "I sure didn't plan on any of this but well... here we are. So, uh... about that mausoleum...?"

@beefgnawpolis She grins.

"Tell you what. I'll give you entry to the mausoleum. But you're going to need to give me something first. You see, it's been so long since I've felt warm, living lips against my cold dead ones..."

She purses her chapped blue lips. A maggot darts out of her mouth.

"Just a little peck, sweets?"

@CogsAndSpanners This is... less than optimal. It could be worse, though. A lot worse.

Just a peck. Sure. Okay. I can do that. I won't like it. I don't like ANY of this. But given the choice between possibly being trapped in a terrible nether realm forever or planting a quick smooch on an undead lady...

Still, even though I have never found myself in a situation quite like this, as I steel myself and pucker up, somehow on some level I am dead certain it's never "just a peck."

@beefgnawpolis She runs a cold hand along your cheek as you lean in...

The kiss lasts barely an instant. But as your lips brush, your mind floods with images, impressions.

Her life.

She was a student of the planar arts. A set of tricky equations confounded her.

Her efforts to solve it were thwarted by pneumonia.

She weeps for the equations she never got to solve, the discoveries she never got to make.

You part. She smiles: "Was it good for you too?"

@CogsAndSpanners I stand there for an embarrassingly long time, wide-eyed and trying to remember how to make words come out of my mouth.

What finally comes out is: "I'm so sorry." For a life cut tragically short, yes, but--to be honest I know next to nothing about that field, but a mind like hers leaving the world of the living surely left a deep, deep void.

Before, I wasn't sure what use I might have for a gauntlet that can undo death, but now...

@beefgnawpolis "Well, a deal's a deal." she says, beckoning you towards a mausoleum on the other side of the graveyard. "C'mon."

The mausoleum is shut up tight. She lifts a hand to the door. It begins to shake, just ever so slightly. She pauses, pulling her hand away, and turns to you.

"Just checking. This gauntlet. Let's say it DID exist. What is it you want it for?"

@CogsAndSpanners "Honestly..." I shrug. "I didn't want it at all, not really. Mostly I just wanted to do whatever quest I have to do to not be stuck here forever and be done with it..."

I sigh. I don't want to get her hopes up, but... "I... I don't know how this works, if I'll even be able to get back here, but if I did get the gauntlet and I could come back and... would you want to, uh... to go back?"

@beefgnawpolis She stares at you: "More than anything. But I'm not getting my hopes up."

She places a hand to the mausoleum door and it pops open. She steps back, allowing you entrance.

Inside, you see walls lined with flaming torches and a polished oak casket.

What you don't see is any certain way to proceed...

@CogsAndSpanners The way forward may not be obvious, but I've been adventuring long enough to know that it's here somewhere, and likely hidden in plain sight. I also know the chance of it being boobytrapped in some way is greater than zero.

If I can't figure it out on my own, the book will probably have something to say... but first, I decide to take a look at that casket. A very careful look.

@beefgnawpolis It's a good thing you were careful. You barely avoid stepping on a pressure plate in the floor. Close one...

You run your hand over the casket. Hm. Looks like there's some faint writing on it:

"Look inside with empty hands,
no ingress shall appear.
But take a torch in hand, my friend,
your way will become clear.
The 1st & 2nd torch, of course,
have boobytraps most deadly.
The 3rd & 5th, I must admit,
aren't very much more friendly."

You look at the 5 torches in the wall. Hm.

@CogsAndSpanners Whew. That could have been ugly.

So... the first and second torches: definitely Bad. Third and fifth: very likely Also Bad. The fourth isn't mentioned. Well, that makes the choice pretty clear. ...or does it?

It would be just like a warped nether hellscape to throw a wrench into what should be a simple solution, so before I just grab for the fourth torch from the left, I check the torches and their sconces for any sneaky identifying marks.

@beefgnawpolis Another close call. The torches have notches marked into their bases -- I, II, III, IIII, IIIII.

And they're entirely out of order! The fourth is closest to you, followed by the third, fifth, first, and second.

Sneaky.

With this treachery uncovered, what do you do next?

@CogsAndSpanners I make a mental note: in the unlikely event that I ever actually meet the architect(s) behind this particular trap-rich environment, give them both a piece of my mind and a measure of praise for being so, uh... thorough.

There appear to be no other obvious tricks here, so I hold my breath, steel my nerves, and take the torch marked "IIII."

@beefgnawpolis As you remove the torch, the lid of the coffin opens with a loud SKREEEEEEK.

When you glance inside, you see... an empty coffin.

But as the torch's light is cast upon the coffin's inside, it's revealed as an illusion.

Inside, there is actually a tunnel leading down into darkness. Rusted metal rungs line the wall for you to climb down.

It looks like it'd be a long drop if you were to slip up... and who knows what's down there in the dark...

@CogsAndSpanners Ugh. I ~could~ drop the torch down in hopes of seeing how far down this thing goes, but if it's too deep (or if there's liquid at the bottom) I would be climbing in the dark...

Then again, trying to climb down metal rungs of dubious structural integrity with a torch in one hand could also be a serious problem...

Maybe if I just lean in a bit and reach down as far as I can with the torch could I see... something? Anything?

@beefgnawpolis If anything, the darkness seems deeper and darker the longer and harder you look.

The Mournful Woman calls to you from the doorway, where she's still standing: "Perhaps there's nothing down there at all yet. Perhaps it is a planar construct and must shape itself to the one who walks its paths."

You consider the possibility and look once more and suddenly you can see a path at the bottom.

What does it look like?

@CogsAndSpanners It would appear she's right about that, because the path at the bottom looks exactly the way I would expect a hidden path at the bottom of a shaft leading down from a coffin to look. Dark, gravelly, the occasional orphaned bone of uncertain origin, a narrow and shallow-looking dribble of a stream of what I hope is just water meandering along with the path.

It's still a longer way down than I'd like to fall, but at least there doesn't appear to be anything immediately lethal...

@beefgnawpolis Torch held loosely in hand, you clamber down the rungs into the passageway and are struck by a foul odor, even staler and muskier than the one that's met your nose up til now.

You set foot on the ground and that "water" you saw from above begins to collect around your shoe... and climb up your leg...

There, uh, seems to be rather a lot of it all of a sudden...

@CogsAndSpanners Oh no. No no no no. Not good. Well...it could be worse, I still have a leg, which at least means this probably isn't one of those weird acid goo monsters but...

In a perfect world, I would have a moment to consult the book to see what it has to say about this. This is not a perfect world. So instead, I flail my torch over the surface of the--whatever it is while trying to scoot as close to the wall as possible.

@beefgnawpolis The liquid hisses as your flame approaches. It leaps off your leg and coagulates into roughly the shape of a person.

"Whoa! Sorry! I was just greeting you in my traditional manner! Didn't realize it wouldn't be appreciated."

The liquid-person points at the book in your hand.

"Hey, what the hell you doing bringing THAT down here? This whole mausoleum place exists to keep that thing out!!" it says.

@CogsAndSpanners The adrenaline just sort of drains out of me, and I stagger back against the wall and take a moment to catch my breath.

"Okay," I finally wheeze, "I'm sorry, it's just there's a thousand and one different kinds of hostile creatures that do the exact thing you just did, maybe just... say 'hi' first? Or wave? Please warn a guy before you crawl up his leg, okay?"

Once again, I explain the whole ordeal thus far, from the fortune-teller's tent to the Mournful Woman.

@beefgnawpolis "A GAUNTLET? That's the silliest thing I've ever heard." the liquid person spouts.

"That book is the famous half-orc scoundrel Grod. He robbed the wrong guild of wizards and they transfigured him and his lover Lottie into a book and a quill... then cast them into separate realms that they might never be reunited and whole again."

The book quivers slightly in your hands...