Read session 0 here
Read session 1 here
Read session 2 here

Toolbox

Rules: Tales of Argosa RPG from Pickpocket Press
Setting and stuff: Piper’s Quay and the Secrets of Wrym Cove, and several other publications by Roan Studios.
Oracle: The Bones dice and Deck of Signs Cards by Pickpocket Press.

Further into the cave.

Question. Can Maricia get her lantern to light again? Yes.

Maricia perched at the edge of the drop, boots swinging above the yawning dark. She held her lantern up, its glass cold and lifeless, and beckoned Melodie closer.
“Bring your torch in, will you? Let’s see if I can coax this thing back to life.”

She turned the lantern in her hands, inspecting its innards with a sigh.
“Wick’s gone. Should’ve checked before we stepped into the caves—rookie mistake.”

Fingers dipped into her coat pockets, rifling through bits of twine, chalk, and a crumpled note from someone long forgotten.
“Aha! Spare wick. Knew I packed one.”

To Melodie, the silence stretched like a held breath. But in truth, it was barely two minutes before Maricia had the new wick seated, the flint struck, and the lantern flaring back to life—its glow casting long shadows across the stone and the stories waiting in the dark.

Maricia lifts her lantern high above the abyss, its gentle glow unveiling the ruins of the shattered cave. Before them yawns a sheer descent—twenty feet of darkness—a silent chasm daring them onward through gloom and uncertainty.

Still nursing the sting of two botched descents, Melodie thrust her torch into Juliette’s hands.
“Hold this. I’m climbing down.”

Before either Juliette or Maricia could protest, she was already over the edge—boots scraping stone, braid trailing behind like a fuse lit too soon.

Melodie rolls a Dex check, she needs to roll 13 or less, this time she rolls 12, success.

This time, she made it. No slips, no curses—just the quiet triumph of reaching solid ground with breath intact and pride slightly soothed.

Juliette blinked as the torch was shoved into her hands, its heat licking at her gloves.
“Wait—Melodie!” she called, but the name barely echoed before Melodie vanished over the edge.

Maricia groaned, already half-rising.
“Of course she did,” she muttered, brushing soot from her sleeve. “Third time’s the charm, I suppose.”

Juliette leaned over the drop, torchlight flickering against the stone.
“She’s moving well… no swearing yet. That’s promising.”

Maricia settled back down with a sigh.
“If she makes it without a bruise, I’ll eat my map case.”

A beat passed. Then, from below:
“Made it!” Melodie’s voice rang out, triumphant and breathless.

Juliette grinned.
“Better start seasoning that map case.”

Juliette followed next, her descent smooth and practiced.

Juliette makes a dex check, rolling a cool 3, great success.

She touched down beside Melodie with a quiet nod, barely a scuff on her boots.

Maricia rolls 18 for her dex check, she makes it down but…

Maricia was less fortunate.

Halfway down, the cliff face groaned—a brittle sound, like old bones shifting. Pebbles skittered past her boots.
“Not now,” she muttered, gripping tighter.

But the rock betrayed her. A chunk gave way beneath her hand, and instinct took over. She let go, dropping the last five or six feet in a controlled tumble.

She landed hard, knees bent, breath sharp—but upright.

Then the ledge beneath them shuddered.

A low rumble rolled through the stone, and dust plumed around their feet. Cracks spidered outward like veins, and the edge began to crumble, inch by inch, toward the void.

Melodie took a step back.
“Uh… we might want to move. Now.”

The ledge groaned beneath their boots, shedding stone like old skin. Eight feet below, the fractured floor of a forgotten chamber beckoned—solid, shadowed, and just close enough to risk.

The three companions jump off, each make their dex check, Melodie and Juliette get a Great Success, Maricia passes but just.

Melodie didn’t wait. With a wild leap and limbs flailing like a startled crow, she landed well clear of the danger zone, skidding to a halt in a puff of dust.
“Ta-da!” she called, breathless, already brushing grit from her sleeves.

Juliette followed with precision. Still clutching Melodie’s torch, she dropped with feline grace, tucking into a roll that carried her safely beyond the reach of falling debris. The torch flared as she came to a stop, casting dancing light across the cracked stone.

Maricia was last. She landed solidly—but the ledge above wasn’t done with her. Pebbles rained down, followed by chunks of stone that thudded around her boots. She ducked instinctively, one hand shielding her lantern.
“Close,” she muttered, eyes scanning the ceiling. “Too close.”

Behind them, the ledge gave a final shudder and collapsed in earnest, sealing their way back with a roar of dust and rubble.

The chamber floor was nothing but damp stone floor and rubble—broken stone, dust, and the occasional echo of falling debris. Maricia didn’t linger. As fresh chunks rained down around her, she darted toward the others, shielding her lantern with one arm.

Ahead, a narrow ledge jutted from the far wall, just beyond a short but treacherous gap. Above it, a steep slope climbed toward a closed door, half-swallowed by shadow.

They have little option but to jump. Each makes a DEX check
Melodie rolls 2, Great Success
Juliette rolls 9, Success
Maricia rolls 13, Success.

Melodie didn’t hesitate. With a burst of confidence and a running leap, she cleared the gap and landed light. Her momentum carried her up the slope in a scramble of boots and grit, reaching the door with a triumphant grin.

Juliette and Maricia exchanged a glance—less reckless, more deliberate. Juliette hopped across first, torch held high, then turned to steady Maricia as she followed. Both climbed the slope with care, boots slipping slightly on loose stone but finding purchase.

At the top, the three stood before the door, breath mingling in the dust-heavy air. Behind them, the chamber settled into silence, the last stones falling like punctuation.

Question. Does the door open? Yes, misfortune.

Maricia tries the door—it opens, but only slightly. A grinding resistance holds it back, as if something heavy leans against it from the other side.

Maricia makes a Strength check. She rolls 12, Success.

She pushes harder. The hinges groan, ancient and reluctant, and the door creaks open just wide enough to reveal a sliver of the space beyond.

Dust billows out, thick and dry, carrying the scent of old stone and something faintly metallic. The room beyond is cloaked in shadow, its edges undefined, but the air feels… disturbed. Not fresh, not stale—just recently unsettled.

Maricia steps back instinctively.
“Something’s moved in there,” she says quietly.

Melodie peers through the gap, eyes narrowing.
“Moved… or waiting?”

Juliette raises the torch, its flame flickering as if uncertain.
“Either way, we’re not alone.”

The corridor beyond the door stretched ten feet wide, cloaked in dust and silence. The air was thick—not stale, but disturbed, as if something had shifted just moments before.

Maricia stepped through first, lantern held high. Its flame flickered unnaturally, casting long, uncertain shadows.
“Feels like someone just left,” she murmured.

Juliette scanned the walls, noting the faded carvings—sigils of loyalty, sacrifice, and binding.
“Gwyr didn’t just bury his dead,” she said quietly. “He conscripted them.”

Melodie’s torch caught something—a faint smear across the stone floor, like a dragged boot or the trailing edge of a cloak.
“Someone’s still down here,” she whispered. “Or what’s left of them.”

From deeper in the corridor came a sound—not footsteps, not breath, but the soft scrape of something tethered. A presence, half-formed, bound by duty and ritual. One of Gwyr’s soldiers, buried alive or sealed by rite, still guarding the tomb centuries later.

It didn’t speak. It didn’t rush. It simply moved—drawn by the light, the warmth, the trespass.

The corridor darkened as the Shade emerged—its form barely more than a ripple in the air, a distortion of light and memory. Bound to this place by Gwyr’s final command, it drifted forward with purpose, its presence heavy with ancient sorrow and rage.

Combat. Maricia has initiative.

Maricia stepped ahead, lantern casting a trembling glow. Her blade—etched with runes, tempered for the unnatural—was already in hand.

Melodie’s voice rang out behind her, clear and defiant.
“You’ve got this! You’re not alone!”
A pulse of magic shimmered around Maricia as Melodie’s Inspire Greatness took hold—courage blooming like fire in her chest.

Juliette held back, torch raised, eyes scanning for any sign of a second threat.
“Just the one,” she murmured. “But it’s enough.”

The Shade paused, as if recognizing the weapon Maricia held. Then it lunged.

The Shade surged from the corridor like a wound in the air—its form barely visible, a ripple of shadow and sorrow. Bound to Gwyr’s tomb, it shrieked as Maricia met its advance, her blade flashing with runic light.

Round 1

Shade, HD4 (16hp), AC12. Damage 1d8+1 and lose 1 str attribute point.

Maricia strikes first. She rolls 18, hits for 10 damage.
Shade rolls 3, a miss.

Maricia anticipated the strike, stepping into the Shade’s path and driving her sword deep into its shifting mass. The steel sang, and the creature shrieked—a sound like memory tearing. The sword carved through its essence, but it wasn’t finished.

The Shade lunged, spectral fingers reaching for Maricia’s throat. She twisted aside, the touch missing by inches, the air around her crackling with cold.

Round 2

Shade strikes first. rolls 13 + 4 =17, hits for 5 damage Plus maircia looses 1 pt of Strength.
Melodie uses her ‘Inspire Greatness’ trait.
Maricia rolls 13, a hit for 7 damage.

This time, the Shade was faster. It struck true—its touch seared through Maricia’s armor, draining and sapping her strength. She staggered, breath hitching, muscles trembling.

Behind her, Melodie raised her voice—not in panic, but in power.
“You are more than this shadow!” she cried, and magic surged through Maricia like a second wind. Inspire Greatness took hold, bolstering her resolve.

Maricia roared, driving her sword once more into the heart of the Shade. The remnant howled, its form unraveling like smoke in wind, and then it was gone.

Silence returned. The corridor, once disturbed, settled. But the air still held the echo of Gwyr’s cruelty—and the quiet triumph of those who dared to defy it.

As the Shade unraveled into smoke and silence, something remained.

Where its form had hovered, a patch of stone now shimmered faintly—etched with a sigil that hadn’t been there moments before. Maricia stepped closer, lantern raised. The symbol was carved into the floor itself, revealed only by the Shade’s passing: a spiral of blades encircling a hollow eye.

Juliette knelt beside it, brushing away dust.
“That’s not just a ward,” she murmured. “It’s a map fragment. Or a seal.”

Melodie tilted her head, eyes narrowing.
“Looks like the kind of thing you’d use to keep something in. Or mark where it sleeps.”

Maricia traced the outer ring with her gloved finger.
“Gwyr didn’t just bury his dead. He buried something else. Something he feared.”

To be continued.

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