“I don’t like the looks of this,” Gnybaro said, surveying the impending gloom of the deeper dungeon.
“What’s wrong? Do you see something?” asked Koram.
“It’s too quiet down here…wait, I think I hear something…sobbing,” replied the wily thief, looking a bit bewildered.
Cautiously the thief and fighter, along with Chalk the wizard and Valance the cleric crept along in the cold depths of the deep dungeon realm, and the sobbing sound grew louder.
The adventurers stopped and tried to plot out a few possible strategies. Certainly anything could happen down there, this was obviously some sort of trick. The consensus, of course, was to send Gnybaro ahead. With a smirk the slippery thief headed down the dungeon corridor and was soon lost in the darkness.
The other three explorers waited nervously as the thief crept away. Agonizing moments passed. Then a sneezing sound could be heard. Silence followed. The tension mounted. The thief wandered back, tears streaming down his eyes.
“What happened?” Chalk asked, surprised at Gnybaro’s weeping.
“Is there a giant onion down there? Did you get a few hits in?” asked Koram excitedly. Chalk looked at the fighter with a raised eyebrow.
“No!” wailed the wiry miscreant, “I crept down towards the crying and I saw Stork down there. He was using magic against some bubbling mass down there and there was this weird cloud of strange dust that came over me. Vistis the Blue Mage was sitting nearby on a stone, rocking back and forth, with both hands on his mask, just crying away.”
“What do you think it is?” Koram asked the wizard.
“I haven’t the faintest idea, but we are going to wait this one out. Sure, we want to get to the treasure down there, but I want to see how those two down there deal with that thing, whatever it is. Gnyb, can you sneak back down there and keep an eye on them from a safe distance?” Chalk replied.
“Certainly,” sniffled the weeping thief a bit reluctantly, “I just hope I don’t get caught in that weird cloud again.”
“Here, take this with you,” Valance said, offering a spider the size of a kitten to Gnybaro.
“Yeee!” exclaimed the thief, eyeing the wicked looking spider.
“What do I do with that?” he asked.
“You place it near those two down there and I can see through the spider’s eyes to monitor what is going on,” Valance said cheerfully, handing the spider over.
“I’ll take my chances on my own,” Gnybaro said with a shiver. He could almost swear he heard that horrible spider snicker just ever so slightly at him.
No. Enc.: 1d6 (1d4)
Armor Class: Always hit
Hit Dice: 4+1
Morale: Not applicable
Hoard Class: None
Literally a depressing type of mold, the Despair Mold is usually around 15-20 feet in diameter and is a sickly greenish yellow, with odd looking pustules and bubbles on its surface. If the Despair Mold is disturbed there is a 65% chance that one of these pustules will explode, releasing an almost mist-like dust that covers an area around 25 cubic feet. Anyone caught within this dusty mist must make a Saving Throw versus Poison or suffer from a debilitating despair and feeling of hopelessness. Continuing on with the adventure will seem pointless and oftentimes victims will sit down on the spot, which is usually on the mold itself. Any flesh coming into contact with the mold will suffer 1d4 points of damage per round as the mold feeds on the flesh of living creatures. Most attacks will hurt a Despair Mold, but if this horrific growth suffers 50% or more all the spores will spontaneously explode, creating a cloud of gloom that is 50 cubic feet in size. Saving throws made versus poison after this explosion are at -2 and those who fail will suffer the effects of a few spores popping for 1d6 days afterwards and be at -2 on Attack rolls as those affected will be trapped in a lingering malaise. These instant nihilists often grate on the nerves of their fellow adventurers, constantly stating how futile life is in a world full of monsters and evil gods and demons and the like.