In this  First Edition Pathfinder session recap of our Age of Worms campaign, the party faces deadly challenges inside the Heart of the Labyrinth, battles their former ally Kaldir Stormrage, and narrowly escapes the grasp of the infernal devil Pyraxus. Plus, a tense meeting with Elric Toplo uncovers dark truths about the Ebon Triad and the looming Age of Worms. #TTRPG #Pathfinder

---

Cal Volsung stood at the edge of a nightmare, his hands trembling as the theyrium cocoon whispered promises of power. Its foul essence slithered through his veins, twisting muscle and sinew, turning him into something else. His skin darkened, the edges of his vision swam, and he saw his hands become long, spidery things—drow hands. The curse clung to him tighter than a drowning man’s grip, and no matter how hard he fought, it was there. Oh, he staggered back out of the cocoon’s reach, sure. But the sickness inside him lingered, a poison worming its way into his soul. The others stood in a circle, silent, knowing what they knew but not wanting to say it: Cal was marked. And no one knew if that mark could be erased.

The Heart of the Labyrinth, that wicked engine of doom, sat dead and cold at the chamber’s center. Its once-thundering pulses had gone silent, and for a heartbeat, it felt like the whole world held its breath. Then the air grew heavy, thick as bad dreams. Shadows stretched, slithering up the walls like oil slicks. And that’s when they heard it—a low, rolling chuckle that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once.

It was Pyraxus.

His voice slithered through the air, mocking them, wrapping around their throats like a noose. “You think you’ve won? This maze—my maze—isn’t just gears and stone. It’s flesh and bone. And you? You’re inside me.” His laughter filled every crack, every shadow. The temperature dropped, and the walls seemed to inch closer, like the whole labyrinth was swallowing them whole.

Kaldir Stormrage, the half-dragon berserker, gritted his teeth as the voice wormed its way into his mind. Pyraxus whispered promises sweet as honey and dark as tar—power, brotherhood, purpose. Kaldir, already hanging by a thread, felt that thread snap. His eyes glazed over, and his scales took on a dull, infernal sheen. When he opened his mouth, it wasn’t a man’s roar—it was the guttural bellow of a devil.

The fight was brutal. The party threw everything they had at their former ally, but Kaldir fought like a wild storm, fists and flames battering them with the fury of a god gone mad. They shouted his name and begged him to fight the corruption, but it was like shouting into a storm—he couldn’t hear them. And in the end, they had no choice. Their blades found flesh, and Kaldir fell, his monstrous body hitting the ground with a dull, final thud.

That’s when Pyraxus’ voice came again, dripping with glee. “You think killing him freed him? No, no, his soul is mine now. You only saved him from one prison just to toss him into another.”

Before the party could catch their breath, the treasure hoard at the heart of the Labyrinth began to move. Gold coins lifted into the air like a swarm of angry wasps. Gems glittered with a dark, hateful light as they spun into a storm of metal and malice. The hoard came alive, and it wanted blood.

It was chaos—coins cutting through flesh like razors, gems smashing into armor with bone-shattering force. The party fought tooth and nail to survive the storm, but it was like trying to hold back the tide. They couldn’t win, not like this. Their only hope was the Clockwork Gate at the far end of the chamber, the portal flickering like a candle on the edge of going out.

With trembling hands and racing hearts, they worked together, each second feeling like an hour, assembling the gate piece by piece. And all the while, Pyraxus was in their heads, whispering doubts and fears, filling their minds with images of failure. One wrong move, one missed bolt, and they’d be trapped in the labyrinth forever.

Just as the storm of treasure closed in for the kill, the gate roared to life with a mechanical clatter. They leapt through, one by one, hearts in their throats, as Pyraxus unleashed one final illusion—a blaze of hellfire and chaos, the walls crumbling, the air turning to poison. But the heroes knew it wasn’t real. They had to know. They clenched their eyes shut, gritted their teeth, and stepped through the gate—one last leap of faith.

Tike Myson was the last to step through. As the portal swallowed him, he glanced back over his shoulder one final time. Pyraxus stood at the center of the storm, a devil made of shadows and fire, bound to a prison of his own making. And then, the gate slammed shut, leaving the Labyrinth—and its infernal master—behind.

---

A Meeting with Elric Toplo

The heroes barely had time to catch their breath before the summons came. Elric Toplo wanted to see them, an old friend of Alfie Bud and a scholar of dark things best left buried. When they arrived at his estate, they were met by Pollard, a wiry old butler whose eyes held too many secrets. He led them through the grand foyer, past ancient suits of armor and faded banners from battles long forgotten. There, among the relics of another time, hung a painting—two boys kicking a soccer ball across a sunlit field. Alfie and Elric, once friends, before the world grew dark around them.

Elric met them in the parlor, a room that smelled of old books and pipe smoke. He was a thin man, his frail frame wrapped in a scholar’s robes, but there was steel in his eyes. When he spoke, it was with the quiet authority of someone who knew too much. And what he knew now was the stuff of nightmares.

Green worms. The kind that don’t just kill you—they take you. They burrow into your flesh, into your mind, turning you into something else. Something worse. And these weren’t just mindless undead; no, these creatures were part of something bigger. They were pieces of Kyuss Descimus, a necromancer who dreamed of godhood and damn near got there. Elric told them how the worms spread like a disease, each one a piece of Kyuss’ mind, each one whispering his will. And the Ebon Triad—they were working to free him. The prophecies were already in motion, gears turning in the shadows, and if the heroes didn’t stop it, the Age of Worms would come.

---

GM Notes

Running this session was a little like trying to balance on a knife’s edge. It had moments where everything clicked into place like clockwork gears, and others where I could feel things slipping, no matter how tightly I tried to grip the narrative. Here’s where the session shined, and where it didn’t.

What I Liked About The Session

• The Kaldir encounter – a shot at salvation that slipped through their fingers.
  I wanted to give the players a real chance to avoid having to fight Kaldir, their ally-turned-berserker. The encounter wasn’t just a hack-and-slash; it was a puzzle wrapped in tragedy. They had different ways to pull him back from the edge—through persuasion, tactics, or skill checks designed to disrupt the mental grip of Pyraxus. Unfortunately, the dice turned cold on them at the worst moment. Still, that’s the kind of heartbreak I love in a game: the players had the tools, the opportunities, but fate had other plans. A gut-wrenching failure makes for a better story than an easy victory any day.
• The Escape Protocol – skill checks done right.
  Here’s the thing: I’ve got one player whose PC is built to absolutely destroy skill checks—high bonuses stacked across Knowledge and various proficiencies. And yeah, that tends to leave the others twiddling their thumbs when those moments arise. But the Clockwork Gate sequence forced everyone into the spotlight. Sure, Mr. Skill Master got his moment to shine, but this wasn’t just his show. Every player had a role to play; the clock was ticking, the pressure was on, and success was a team effort. That tension, where everyone contributes meaningfully? That’s the gold standard I aim for.

What I Didn’t Like

• The Elric Toplo info dump – when sticking to the script goes sideways.
  Here’s where I dropped the ball. I leaned too hard on the published material, which ended up biting me. The whole idea was for Elric Toplo to provide critical intel on the green worms and the Ebon Triad, but my Skill PC had already aced some big rolls earlier, uncovering most of that lore. By the time they met Elric, it felt like a rerun—info they already knew but wrapped in a fancier package. I should have improvised—pivoted off-script and given Elric something new to add, a breadcrumb that wouldn’t spoil future events but still rewarded the players for their patience in getting to that point. Lesson learned: just because it’s written doesn’t mean it can’t be rewritten on the fly. Keep it fresh, keep it dynamic, or risk having those high-stakes moments fall flat.