The light from the torches was a blessing in Theoval’s eyes as they ran. Estalvier may not have need for light to guide her way, and Godrun’s eyes might be adapted for life in the mines, but Theoval was most definitely in the dark without it.
They were descending into a dungeon on the outskirts of the wilds. The first two floors had been picked over many times before, and held little more than wild beasts who had taken up residence in the unnatural caves that the Ancients had seen to provide them. The third floor had been filled with traps, and his ankle was still smarting from where it had been snapped like a toothpick by a swinging blade, worn blunt as a hammer by time. Godrun had patched him up in no time, as always, but it always stung for a while afterwards.
This floor, the fourth, was proving to be problematic. It stank, and the air was heavy and damp; the floor littered with organic rubbish which had, by all accounts, been rotting into mush for years before their arrival. Oh, and they were being pursued by a horde of gleefully shrieking goblins. That was probably the worst thing, after the smell.
Godrun was out in the lead, his sturdy legs pumping. Theoval could never understand how the cleric managed to keep such a pace under all that armour, but at least he wasn’t slowing him down. Leaping over a fallen piece of rotting wood - chest, clock, or piano, it was so well-rotted and so quickly gone he could not identify it - he and Estalvier rounded the corner after the Dwarf and found the ground suddenly disappearing beneath their feet.
This was it. They had run into a pit trap, and now the most reknowned bard this side of the Shifting Dunes would become a skeleton on a dozen spikes, offering no more amusement than a cautionary tale from adventurers who looked where they were stepping; no more mystery than leaving them to wonder what sort of a dolt allowed themselves to be spitted by such an obvious trap.
A bruising impact took him on the shoulder, and then another to his rump. The world turned, the torchlight a streak as he instinctively threw out his arms to try and stop the tumble. A knock to the left shoulder, the hip. Something cracked on his jaw, and he bit his beautiful tongue, and then… nothing. He felt the ground scrape to a halt beneath him, and blinking through the stars that danced about his eyes, he peered around at the darkness. Behind him, he saw his torch guttering on the ground and, bruised shoulder protesting, he dragged his hand over to the handle and picked it up. The light fell on the base of a flight of stairs - stairs he must have just fallen down. They seemed to taunt him in the flickering light, and through the dull buzzing in his ears, he heard them speaking to him.
“…not following.”
Estalvier’s voice. Musical but lifeless, like a worn-out lute. Theoval pulled himself to his knees and peered up the stairs. There were an awful lot of them, he mused. He was quite brave to have managed to fall down so many.
Estalvier and Godrun were stood halfway up, looking upwards. Godrun had his mace unsheathed - a polished whorl of three different metals as a head, that reminded Theoval of crashing waves on the cliffs. Estalvier was cradling a green flame in one of her cold hands.
“Why aren’t they following?” she whispered loudly to Godrun. Fear twisted like an eel for a second inside of Theoval, before he made the only logical decision - they were talking about him, and hadn’t seen him fall. Maybe he could pass this off after all.
“I’m here!” he said, his voice perhaps a little strained from the impact but otherwise a suitable timbre for the bravery he had. “I got ahead to see what we’re up against!”.
Godrun glanced down to him. “Oh good, you’re not hurt again. I guess you landed on your head, then?”. So much for passing this off.
“What’s down there?”. Estalvier was looking down at him with those pitiless, dark eyes. Wide eyes. Wider than normal. Was this what fear looked like on her?
Theoval looked around. The room was small, and unfurnished. There were four doors, leading in different directions. The walls were stone and, blessedly, there were more torches on the walls. Theoval moved to light them, forcing himself not to leap at them like a man desperately escaping a sinking ship.
“Nothing much, really. Some doors, and some more torches.” he replied, his voice quieter than he had intended.
The others joined him at the foot of the stairs and peered around. Above, the sound of the Goblins receded, the glow of their torches fading into darkness.
“There must be something down here that they don’t like.”. Godrun’s voice was low. “Maybe this floor will be the one to reveal some goods? If the Goblins haven’t been down here, then there won’t be much else that would’ve.”
“True.” Estalvier replied, eyeing each doorway with concern. “Which way should we go?”
“This way”, Godrun replied. “The stones are better laid in the doorway, it has the best chance of not coming down on us if you go trying to detonate whatever we see in here!”
He started striding forwards, and we stepped through into a long corridor. On either side, the doors opened into long-abandoned rooms. Piles of mite-infested wood powder may have been beds. The hopeful optimist in Theoval said they may have been for gnomes, but he knew there was a simpler answer. He couldn’t imagine what it must have felt like to be down here as a child. Why would anyone keep children four stories below ground?
Something moved behind him. He whirled, and peered into the fading gloom beyond his torchlight, but there was nothing there.
He turned to catch up to the others. As he stepped up behind them, he heard something again. This time he voiced his concerns. “There’s something behind us!” he hissed. They stopped and turned, holding their torches aloft to light the corridor. A scuttling sound echoed quietly to them as something fled the light.
“Do you see anything Esta?” he asked in an urgent whisper. Estalvier’s eyes were the keenest, and if anything lurked in the darkness beyond, she would know. “Esta?”. He turned to see her squinting down the corridor, her face an immovable mask of concentration. Then the reply came.
“I can’t see.”
“What?”
“I can’t see beyond the light.”
“Me neither.” came Godrun’s voice.
Theoval was struggling to comprehend this. These two were always mocking him for needing a torch, and he had always quietly relied on their superb eyes to get them through when they didn’t have one, and now they’re saying they can’t do it?
“We should move.” said Esta, fear putting her musical voice into a minor key. The three of them began hurriedly moving away from the noise in the dark. Behind them, the scuttling began again.
“It’s chasing us!” Theoval whispered. They stopped and span, readying themselves to swing on it as it came at them, but nothing came. The scuttling stopped, just beyond the edge of the darkness. And then, the darkness began to creep forwards.
Theoval stared aghast at his torch as the light seemed to flicker and wane. The fire burnt on merrily, but the circle of light around them was shrinking, shrinking. The skittering began again, something creeping closer in the darkness.
“I can’t see it!” came Esta’s panicked voice, a chord of worry plucking on Theoval’s frayed nerves. “Godrun, I can’t see it!”
“Lux!” came Godrun’s voice, commanding as ever. The end of his mace flared into brilliant luminescence, the light driving the shadows, and whatever lurked in them, back. Hope kindled in Theoval’s heart, but it was short lived. No sooner had the shadows been driven back, than the light from Godrun’s mace stared to wane again.
“We have to run.” Godrun’s eyes were on his mace, and though he seemed as steady as ever, his shoulders were heaving along with his quick breathing. “Run! Now!”
They ran. Theoval’s torch led the way, the light barely illuminating 10ft. ahead of him. Through doors, round corners, ever onwards into the dark. Behind him, Esta screamed, and the paper-thin need to stop drifted into the shredding cogs of his need to run, and run, until he saw daylight again. Then, as he threw open a heavy door, he knew that something was there. In the darkness beyond, there was something there, watching him. His feet froze to the ground, his legs were chunks of ice, useless for running. Why did he ever think he would be able to run?
Pain lanced through his head - a flash of terror so sharp that it lanced right through his being. He staggered back, and turned to see Godrun behind him, frantically trying to rekindle his mace. “Lux! Lux!!” he was muttering, shaking it as though there were some loose piece inside which was stopping it from working. From the doorway came a voiceless whisper, like the wind that claws at the window in the darkness of the night, and Theoval’s torch hissed out, the smouldering glow of the ember illuminating the wisp of smoke for the briefest of moments before the darkness clamped down on them like a plunge into cold water. Behind them, in the dark, Ester screamed again.
Today’s Monster Monday comes from my promise to
to write about one of my horror monsters for D&D!Well Kathy, here it is!
The Shadowstalker
Shadowstalkers are nightmarish creatures from the Shadowfell, which are drawn unerringly towards any who are afraid in the dark. It is not known where they emerge from, but many an adventurer lost in the darkness may find their senses failing them, their torches guttering low, and their minds assaulted with maddening fear of knowing that something lurks for them in the darkness beyond their vision.
Nobody knows what a Shadowstalker looks like, or why they stalk those who find themselves lost in the dark. Nobody has ever seen one, and yet, the maddened ramblings of those that survive their encounter with one all match - the stalking fear, the fading lights, and the pressing darkness. It is true what they say, after all; We are not afraid of the dark, but of what might be in it.
Using a Shadowstalker
Shadowstalkers are a complex monster to run. They shouldn’t be added to random encounter tables, and they are never found on the surface - only within places where darkness is all-pervasive, and the dawn never rises. They are well-suited to dark dungeons, and can be the only threat on an entire floor quite easily. They are very much a thematic and plot-driving monster, rather than a square-off combat encounter. The intent behind them is that they are nigh-invulnerable, except from Radiant damage, making them terrifying to many adventurers. They also tend to focus solely on one character - it is worth innocuously determining fears from the party to see who is afraid of the dark, if anyone, and focus on them.
The real kicker of this is the way that Nightmare in the Dark works. This is when the Shadowstalker actually reaches it’s victim, and can touch them - something most parties will be actively avoiding as much as possible! As soon as they realise that this monster drains stats and not hitpoints, they will rightly fear it. And then you can roleplay that fear! But it’s the paranioa which follows which will really make for some roleplay moments. The Shadowstalker disappears, and the victim gains long-term madness, which is mechanically pretty scary. However, the roleplay aspect of this is that the party will know something intangible was coming for them, and that when they took down Dwrmun, the monster disappeared and Dwrmun started acting strangely. This means that the monster will be gone, but the party will be worrying about them for the longest time!
You can also use this for failed checks - fail a perception roll at night? There’s something scuttling in the dark. Flashbacks to the horror can be roleplayed magnificently!
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I enjoyed the story!
I will have to use this monstie sometime!
Might be cool to work up a rollable table of “Shadoestalker Actions.” Aliens the RPG does this with their creatures, and the randomness really adds to the unsettling nature of the beasts.
Great story! I loved it. Now I’m thinking how to use a Shadowstalker in my family game.