Since leaving the town he'd hoped for the group to start bonding. It should have been opportunity for one of his goofy smiles. But Artie stairs southward for a long time while the others discuss the possibility of resting. He can feel his muscles burning and knows the others are equally spent.
She's waiting down there. Hope's dyin' like a rotted limb.
He heaves a sigh a broad and tall as the watery chamber and points back the way they arrived. "We go back. Get some sleep. No sense heading down there with us feelin' less than sharp. We might make things worse for the girl."
He shoulders his shield and begins plodding back towards where they'd left the young priest. His cast is glum but his shoulders are tight with anxiety. "I'll take first watch."
Laird, sensing Artemis' anxious state, tries to put a hand on the barbarian's arm, Its not wrong to rest. It will be safer for us all to take the time. The young summoner nods, mostly to himself, as though to convince himself of the words.
As the group approaches their resting spot LAird idly rubs the rune on his forehead and offers small smile to Woodruff, See you in the morning.
Forest claps Artemis on the shoulder. "You get some rest, I'm still fresh. I did only just get here after all."
Woodruff nods with a smile and then fades away leaving his armor and clothing behind.
Having finally reached the point of exhaustion- for the most part- the group retreats back upstairs and heads back around through the crypt until reaching the safe room where they left Roldare, the traumatized cobbler whose sister was taken by the undead.
Roldare bolts upright and answers the door immediately, bombarding the group with "security" questions before unlocking the door... and even then, he doesn't seem to believe that the heroes of Kassen aren't "just more walking bones, trying to fool me!"
Some time later, he finally opens the door.
"You're real! You're really them! Unless- unless the bones that walk and talk have a new trick! You can't fool me! Where's Dimira?! Where have you taken, her, you-" He stops himself suddenly. "Oh- oh, it's you! You're back! And... young Laird! You're alive! I thought the bones had taken you! Wait, did... did I already see you? Did I not?" He slaps Laird cheerily on the shoulder, but his eyes go wide when he looks at Sariel. "...Who're you?"
Sariel simply shrugs and pushes his way into the room, where he finds a good seat and plunks down without a word. He seems terribly exhausted.
Roldare pays him no more mind, turning his attentions back to the party. "I cleaned! You'll see! Clean enough to eat your dinner off of! ...You brought dinner, right? I was hoping for some mutton. Mutton- oh, it's Dimira's favorite... Wait, where is she? Have you not found her yet?" That seems to be his cue to collapse into sobs and retreat to the nearest pile of boards and debris, where he practically buries himself.
Not much has changed for him, then, it seems.
My stomach rumbles.
I just about grumble.
Hatred and hunger,
Hand and hand.
"Food would be good. Unless we want to suck the marrow out of the undead, its rations. Unless someone has an alternative. We could have eaten frog, I guess..."
Laird will connect with Roldare and make a passing attempt to console him before rest. He produces a ration for himself, Does anyone need one?
Artie sighs heavily at Laird’s words as he knows they ring true.
He eventually agrees to Forest's offer and shrugs out of his armor. "Wake me for next watch." He rests his shield alongside his pack and undoes the tie string. He placed his food stuffs alongside Laird's offerings. "I have a few days rations here. Bread and dried deer meats mostly. Ya can have whats ya needs..."
In time he finds his sleep amid nightmares of blood and laughter and screams. He nearly laps out of his skin when he's woken next...
oh boy
I've got some food too, if anyone needs it...dried beef, dried vegetables, some crackers... Pulling out her clay mug, she fills it with water, then crumbles a few handfuls of her trail rations into it. With a look of concentration, she mutters a few words of Gnomish and stares at the cup with deep concentration...and after several moments, the water inside begins to bubble and steam, turning the dried contents into a thick stew. If anyone else wants something hot, let me know.
After her mug is emptied, she magically cleans it, then spreads her bedroll and blanket out and snuggles down into them. Wake me for the last watch, she mumbles; within seconds she's asleep, clearly more tired than she'd been willing to admit.
Dried meat.
Dried bread.
Dried vegetables.
Life sucks.
Doreen borrows meat from Artemis and bread and vegetables from Calia. She swallows that wonderful meal down with some water, then curls up in her own bedroll.
"Wake me whenever."
When Woodruff disappears Forest drops Jenna's bow with a wooden clatter and jumps back into the wall he had been leaning against. "Wha...wh-where...how?!" He had heard elves could blend effortlessly into the forest even when you were looking right at them, but that was something else entirely. At a loss, he plops down in front of the door, rubbing the back of his head where he knocked it against the wall and staring wide-eyed at where Woodruff had been. He calms down eventually, kicks off his boots so his feet might be dry, at least for a little while, and takes a post outside the door.
Laird won't volunteer for watch but will take one it direct to...
The rations may be bland and weak in flavor, but the sustenance is welcome in any case. Roldare is as odd as ever, but responds well to Laird's attempts to talk, though he diverges off into tangents frequently- either about his missing sister or about "those awful rattling bones!"
The night passes... mostly uneventfully. The tiny piglet, Proudsnout, seems oddly distant from his master Sariel, who says almost nothing before falling asleep; his slumber is hardly restful, as he tosses and turns, murmuring in his sleep as if fighting off a terrible nightmare. The pig instead moves to the other party members and sticks close to them.
Roldare stays out of the way for the most part, though his madness has not completely abated. Thankfully, he keeps his outbursts to a minimum, allowing the party to sleep more or less fitfully.
- - - -
- - - -
In the morning, the young Heroes of Kassen awaken and begin their preparations for this second- and hopefully final- expedition into the Crypt's lower levels in search of the missing Dimira... and, perhaps, answers as to what evil has corrupted this once-sacred place.
Calia had risen early at a touch on her shoulder; as everyone else slept, she settled in for the watch. Conjuring a crude cup, she withdrew her coffee pot from her bag and filled it, setting a hand on its side and murmuring a chant as the water began to steam within. I love magic, she thought with a smile as she sipped at the magically heated brew, occasionally turning to switch her view between the doors.
As she brews the coffee, Proudsnout begins to tuck in next to her, huddling against her side and nudging her arm with his snout. What is it, bud? she whispers softly, patting his bristly head. You're usually stuck to Sariel like glue... And then she remembers the strange look in Sariel's eyes after the skeleton attacks yesterday, and glances over to see the young farmhand tossing and turning in his bedroll.
Is he just picking up on the rest of our stress, especially Sariel's...or is something different? Something that only Proudsnout can recognize? And at the thought, another memory from their time in the crypt surfaces - the giant frogs she had somehow, inexplicably, talked out of their room and up to the surface. Maybe it'll work one more time... She gives a couple of test snorts, then looks Proudsnout in the eyes.
*Ok, bud, maybe you know...is something...wrong with Sariel? Your friend?* At least, that's the words that go through her mind; what comes out is nothing but a series of grunts and snuffles.
Laird takes a minute to settle his mind and to call forth Woodruff from his home plane, the angelkin materializing from beyond. Laird nods at his friend and finishes getting ready.
Forest can practically count the number of times he'd opened his eyes and not been able to see trees. This was one of those times. Being greeted by a damp, dimly lit stone ceiling wasn't the way he wanted to start the day. He doesn't sleep well after his uneventful watch, haunted by dreams of bloody skeletons appearing out of air and wearing Woodruff's armor. He also couldn't find anywhere to hang his hammock, which didn't help. People should be buried under trees, not miles below rocks. None of this would be happening in the forest. And I'd have rabbit stew for breakfast. And a fire. And dry boots. And I'd know what time it is. The real weight of the situation has firmly set in with sleep. None of this was amusing anymore. He pulls on his chain shirt and, after ensuring it is dry, sheaths his sword and ties the scabbard to his belt. Fangwood still had plenty of food to offer if you knew where to look, so Forest never carried rations on his person and borrows bread and cheese from the others. Hard bread. Hard cheese. Better than beetle shells.
Forest eyes Sariel while he prepares for the day. Something was wrong with him. Maybe the same thing affecting Roldare. "This place is..." He trails off, considering his words, not wanting to start any hysterics. "I think there is a sickness here. Roldare, Damien, Jenna, and now Sariel. I know some first aid, more than some, but I can't do anything to heal the mind. We should try and finish with this cave today. As quickly as we can. If anyone starts to feel strange, speak up. Some say the deeper you go..." His words falter again. "Sariel should stay here with Roldare."
- - - -
After Forest suggests that Sariel should stay behind, the paladin at first objects, and starts to stomp angrily toward the woodsman before something seems to come over him. Sariel then slinks back to the wall and says, "No, you're right. Something's wrong with me. It's not safe if I go with you... I'll stay with Roldare for now. Just be careful, all of you."
*It happened when he...when he almost died, didn't it? I knew something was funny about him, and he's been out of sorts all day...* Calia suddenly eyes the pig with slight suspicion. *Wait...his destiny? What destiny? And what do you mean he can't hear you? ...You're not just his pet, are you? There's something...different about you two.*
We will be careful, Sariel...you two stay careful too. Couldn't think of any better gents to hold the fort. Calia reaches up to pat the farm boy's forearm hanging at his side. Mind keeping watch of my stuff? There's some coffee still in the pot if you want some, and more trail rations in my bag's side pockets if you guys need them, too. You can even use my blanket if you want. She finishes with a smile barely concealing her concern and turns to the others.
Ok, once more into the breach, she begins with the same concerned smile, sighing slightly. There were two ways we haven't gone yet from that first room, south and west. My vote's to go around in a circle - go round the bend in that south hallway, see what's past it. Setting her bag against the wall, she checks her sash, pats the long knife at her side, and moves toward the door. Come on - we're burning daylight! If it's even daytime...
Forest taps one of the blunt arrows against the door a few times. "I have a weapon with which to break the world. We are ready. And, I think, almost done. This place can't be that much bigger." The last bit he grumbles to himself more than anyone else.
- - - -
Having collected themselves and prepared for this final leg of their perilous adventure, the party sets out and returns to the lower level of the Crypt. Coming once more to the crossroads at the bottom of the stairs, they follow Calia's advice and head into the south hallway, rounding the bend in the hallway.
The short passageway ends in a small chamber dominated on its far side by a a silver fountain quietly burbling with perfectly clear water. An inscription above the fountain reads, "Kassen's legacy lives on with his people. Drink, and be refreshed."
One gets a sense that there is a purity to this place- as if it is the one place in the Crypt that has yet to be corrupted. Even the grime and mold found along the walls in every other chamber is curiously absent here.
Approaching the fountain with reverence, Calia peers into the fountain, marveling at the small pool's clarity. There was a calm to this room, like no other room in this place...it was the most inviting thing she'd seen since leaving Kassen. Maybe the most inviting thing she'd ever seen. But what if it's a trick? Well, only one way to find out. Conjuring a small, rough cup, its dull grey material out of place against the shine of the silver fountain, she scoops up some of the water and raises it high in a toast. To coming of age, then, she pipes in a high, slightly nervous tone, tipping her cup back and drinking deep.
Laird watches with apprehension as the gnome drinks...
-Posted with Wayfinder
Stone-filtered water was usually good to drink. As long as the bone soup in the wheel room didn't feed this fountain. The cleanliness of the chamber sets Forest to wondering. Is the whole crypt supposed to be this clean? How could so much corruption seep in in such a short amount of time?
The water is incredibly refreshing and clean; in addition, Calia feels completely revitalized after drinking it. Forest does not, however, find anything else of note in the room.
Laird exhales loudly as he sees the gnome better for drinking the water. At the revelation that it has such wonderful restorative properties the summoner moves towards the water, We should all drink just in case yeah?
Do drink, please, Calia responds, staring wide-eyed at the fountain. I feel...better than I've ever felt.
Forest approaches the fountain but does not drink. I feel fine. Better not to waste it on myself. "When we come back to retrieve Sariel and Roldare we can bring them here to drink. Maybe it will help them."
Gifts are rarely given,
In the spirit of giving.
Always look for the hook,
And hope it isn't in your back.
Doreen examines the water curiously, though she neither touches it nor tries to take any.
"Divine gifts are fickle. It never pays to be greedy. That's a good way to get turned into a frog by the gods."
"To the west then." These twisting, narrow, low-ceiling passages did not make for good archery. He can't see over Artemis or Woodruff so he takes up the rear guard.
Laird keeps himself in front of Forest, gesturing to Woodruff to lead that way.
Taking up her place in the center of the group, Calia still shudders a bit from the sheer energy and liveliness of the drink she'd had...but the others were right, she knew. Her own drink had been merely to test and make sure the water wasn't dangerous - it wouldn't do to waste it, if it was limited somehow in quantity or power. I only hope we can stop whatever's happening before that fountain gets corrupted somehow...it's amazing it's still so pure as it is, with what's happened to the rest of this place.
You're right, Forest. If Sariel and Roldare aren't better when we root out what's happened here, we'll bring them to that fountain to drink. I can't see how it wouldn't help them, at least some.
Having decided- perhaps wisely- not to drink any more of the blessed water just yet, the group heads back to the crossroads and this time takes the western branch, the only one not yet explored.
The corridor opens up into a winding catacomb. The walls are skillfully carved with deep recesses where bodies might have once lain. All that remains now are cobwebs, dust, and the tattered remains of ancient clothing. The stench of rotten flesh is overpowering here, but the source of this vile odor is not readily apparent.
Hsst...hold up! Calia whispers fiercely, swinging her knife out to block the others while she directs her dancing light with her shield hand. There's something up there...something moving. There's shadows, footsteps, breathing.... Do we try and get past whatever it is or go and see if they want to dance?
I don't really see us sneaking past? We have to assume a fight yes?
Forest only hears his own breath and Calia's light blinds him to anything further ahead. Breathing? He draws a second of his iron-tipped arrows, holding it in the same hand he holds the bow with for fast access to a followup shot. "Skeletons don't breath. Could be more members of the party the dead ring bearer was in. Either way, I'm not going first." Not for the first time Forest wishes he was taller. Artemis and Woodruff were so difficult to shoot around. At the end of the line and with no way to contribute till some space was vacated, he continues to watch the way they had came, not that he would be watching much of anything one Calia's light went round the corner. Stepping back till his back presses against Doreen he turns his head and and whispers in an overtly dramatic tone "You deal with the fleshy ones ahead, I'll make sure the frogs do not descend upon us from the rear. They say frogs are master tacticians."
As the party attempts to strategize, the shuffling sounds coming from the darkness grow nearer, and an unearthly moan creeps forth. Four figures lurch out of the shadows, their silhouettes grotesquely distorted. They appear to be human at first glance, but their undead nature is almost immediately apparent- as if the stench of rotten flesh was not enough. Huge, bulging, tumorous growths protrude almost at random from the shambling figures' bodies, trembling and weeping some sickly-looking black fluid.
The hungry dead quickly converge upon the party...
Roll Initiative!
At the sight of the bloated flesh and the stench permeating the corridors, Calia gasps - and just as quickly throws a smile onto her face. It seems they are looking for a tango, then! Well, then, be a shame to turn down a good dance together - we'd be just like Emmy Bates at the Archer's Day festival, huh, Artemis? Winking good-naturedly and bouncing on the balls of her feet, she draws her sword, its blade flashing in her floating lights - then rushes forward, tumbling between the zombie's legs and brandishing her weapon from behind its back. But as she disappears behind the shelf, it's clear her eyes are on the floor, the walls, the zombie's feet...anything but the face she's hoping isn't a familiar one.
"On second thought, I think the frogs have handled themselves. Excuse me." Forest presses himself against the damp stone wall and past the others when he hears Calia talk of dancing. He takes the left out of the hallway and past Artemis, sliding into the wall and throwing up a cloud of dust. "Augh! What are those?!" He reflexively looses an arrow at the abomination he can see. Nothing that looks like that could be friendly. The high-pitched twang of the bow echoes off the walls of the chamber.
Woodruff surges forward to take on the creature standing near Calia...
Laird moves in behind his eidolon and uses the moment to cast mage armor upon himself.
Death crawls.
It burbles and spits/
Death comes.
Be prepared for it.
Even Doreen, queen of the creepy, finds herself stepping back at the sight of these things.
Well, honestly, the smell. The sight isn't so bad. Combine it with the smell and even witches feel their stomach roll.
Doreen draws a card, blowing across it to transfer a curse to one of the nasties.
miss
hits
hits
The first moments of the skirmish go in favor of the party. With Calia's words boosting their confidence, both Forest and Woodruff land hearty blows against their targets, who nearly fall, only the wicked necromancy animating the bodies keeping them from falling. The zombies continue to lurch forward, however.
Seeing that the others seem to have their targets handled, Artemis slips past Forest to cut off the zombie lurching toward them from behind. He swings his greatclub at the zombie, but the enormous weapon catches on the narrow hallway and throws off what would have been a very powerful blow. Doreen, moving in just close enough to see the zombie between Calia and Woodruff, once again uses one of her mysterious hex powers to bring misfortune down on the undead creature, and it seems to be effective.
- - - -
The two zombies in the north hallway attack. One creeps forward and attacks Calia, while the other turns on its attacker, Woodruff, and takes a swing at him. Calia is nimble enough to avoid her attacker, but Woodruff is a much larger target and is raked by the zombie's rotten, claw-like fingers.
Another zombie, approaching the melee from the northern hall, sees Forest and hungrily approaches him; however, it moves too slow to make an attack against him.
The last zombie finds itself a seemingly-easy target in the form of the off-balance Artemis, but the young man dodges its swipe.
What are those tumors? Why are they growing? Where is the additional mass coming from? These are just a few of the questions that pass through Forest's mind. Forest had seen similar growths on various plants, usually a fungus that sprayed its spores to the wind when disturbed. "Do not kill them, the tumours will explode! We need to draw them out!" Unfortunately, they were pretty invested at this point. Forest draws his sword awkwardly with his left hand so as not to drop his bow, trying to catch his zombie with a vertical cut as the sword slides from the leather wrapped wooden sheath. It was a parting strike, Forest slides to the right and presses his back to the wall, hiding from the torrent of something he is sure is coming, if his strike did damage.
Woodruff grunts but remains undeterred in trying to destroy the creatures...
Laird winces at the blow that he sees Woodruff take, the eidolon's pain transmitting along their shared bond. Sensing that there is little he can do in the moment, Laird waits where he is...