Trapmaster: The Over-Under

The Over-Under Mira sighed as she slathered on the last of the warding gel. The opening looked quite dusty, and the gel was certain to pick it up as she squeezed through. Getting her clothes clean afterward would prove a bother…  No lock or handle graces the iron door slightly too small for the frame. Light from beyond leaks through a space of almost an inch between jamb and door around the entire perimeter, interrupted in five spots on...

Trapmaster: The Woodpile

The Woodpile Reaching out to grab the handle of the axe, Mira sighed and thought to herself, “This is why I left the farm. I never did much enjoy morning chores…”  A 35-ft.-long tree trunk rests on the ground in the middle of a 15-ft.-by-55-ft. chamber, a whirring saw-blade spinning four feet above the felled timber. A woodbin just inside the door holds twelve split pieces of wood. A similar bin on the far side of the room...

Trapmaster: The Hands of Time

The Hands of Time Mira cursed as a gobbet of molten iron landed on her shoulder. A partner would have made the riddle of the clock easy to bypass. As it was, her only course had been to spike the pendulum. She thought the sweat on her brow beaded from concentration as she picked the lock, but looking up, she realized it was from the heat of the iron spike that was now red hot and flexing under the pressure of the axe-shaped pendulum. Breaking...

Trapmaster: Spike-Eating Pit Trap

Spike-Eating Pit Trap Brushing the flakes of rust from her hands, Mira reached into her pouch and withdrew a wooden spike. Glad now that she had paid the druids of the grove to enchant it, the young rogue carefully tapped it into the seam of the pit trap ahead, ignoring the statues of horrific creatures awaiting her at the end of the corridor… At the far end of the 10-ft-wide corridor, six stone monsters flank a door, the heads of each of the...

Trapmaster: Path of the Barefoot Mariner

Mira smiled fondly at the inscription inscribed onto the leather flap on her tool pouch as she returned the magnifying glass: Grand-daughter, may these tools grant you the blessings they once brought me, though the paths you seek to walk are dark and fraught with ancient perils. The traps you encounter will most definitely be of the old school. —Gavin Setting aside the ship-in-the-bottle, the young tomb robber sat down in the corridor and began...


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