Jantalar's Dungeon

The Sights and Sounds of Jantalar

These are some of the things we saw and heard while in Jantalar last year. The sounds are italicized. Some of the images are disturbing so you have been warned.

[Jantalar, Sewers]
The sewage flows steadily through this area, and many unidentifiable objects, covered with slime and sludge, bob gently as they float slowly past. An opening has been dug high in the southwest wall above the sewage line. Bright light pours in from the northwest, and a constant dripping can be heard to the southeast.

A kiramon worker clicks oddly and snaps its mandibles together.

You see Lord Gurbah Khaa, the Half-ogre Half-bull Centaur.
His age is impossible to determine. His long, white hair flows back into his mane, he has black eyes, and dark skin.
His lower body is covered with fine grey hair, and his hooves appear to be shod with mithril shoes. He is holding a heavy iron khopesh in his right hand and a massive ironbound shield in his left hand. He is wearing some leather gauntlets, some gleaming steel half plate, a huge burlap sack.

[Dungeon, Entry]
Smoky torches sit in wall sconces, shedding dim light over the rough-carved walls. The smell of the smoke, and other less pleasant scents, fills your nose and brings you close to gagging. A wooden door opens in the west wall, and a dark staircase leads down and to the northeast. You also see an oaken door.

A hideous scream echoes off the stone walls, followed by piteous wimpering.

[Dungeon, Cellblock]
Cells line the walls, although the torches do not provide enough light for you to see within them. Given the horrendous odors and occasional whimpering coming from the rooms, you are fairly certain that you do not want to see in, anyway. A heavy metal door in the south wall seems to lead further into the area, and a dark staircase climbs up out of sight.

[Dungeon, Cellblock]
The smell here is beyond bad. The walls are lined with cell doors, whose rusting bars flake onto the floor, the scent of oxidization mingling with the obvious smell of death. A bloated arm sticks out from between the bars on one door, attracting flies and other, less pleasant insects. A heavy metal door guards the north wall, opposite an ominous black door that sends shivers up your spine.

A woman's wail echoes through the area...and then falls suddenly silent.

The arm is an unwholesome grey color, and is bloated to twice its original size. As you draw close to examine it, it teeters on the ledge of the window it sticks through, as if it was not attached on the other side.

The crack of a whip cuts through the air, followed by a scream of pain.

[Dungeon, Torture Chamber]
A firepit of glowing coals sits in the center of the room, casting wicked shadows about the room. Manacles, collars, and chains dangle from the walls, and a pile of unpleasant instruments lies near the firepit. Hanging in the corner is the body of an elven woman, hemp rope cutting into the bruised flesh on her neck. A black door opens in the north wall, leading back out to the cellblock. You also see a warped wooden door.

"Moooommmmmyyy!!!" A child's wail slices the air like a knife.

Looking at the body...

A wave of nausea overtakes you for a moment. Bruises cover the woman's body, as if she had been cruelly beaten. Her fingers have been cut from her hands, and the tendons in her legs have been cut. As a final callous stroke, her neck was not broken in her hanging, leaving her to die slowly of strangulation.

A soft sobbing can be heard from somewhere.

[Dungeon, Isolation Chamber]
This room is deep underground. No sounds could reach this room save the ones from the torture chamber just outside, the screams and moans likely echoing off the rough stone of the walls. Manacles and shackles have been imbedded in the stone, the edges cruelly honed sharp. A warped wooden door provides the only exit from the hideous chamber.

Also in the room: the body of Lord Korm

You see Lord Korm Khorzanamdur the Dwarf.
He appears to be in his 20's, he has short, curly black hair, dark eyes, and dark skin.
His body is bruised and beaten to such a degree that you cannot tell at a glance what wounds you might be able to heal. His beard has been ripped out by the roots, and his nose has been shattered. Several of his teeth have been pulled from his mouth. Rope burns circle his neck, and a painful scar cuts across his face.
He is wearing a bloodstained loincloth, a black iron manacle on his left wrist, the shredded remains of what was once a golden doublet, and a rusted leg shackle.

This is what we fight.