DM Ithuriel |
Despite the precise forms and patterns the guardian dances between it can only avoid the huge sword cleaving through the air around it for so long. Jake's swing catches it right between two of the three remaining arms and stone shatters exploding in an arc across the room. The remaining torso and legs remain intact for a few moments before crumbling to a pile of rubble with a fist sized opal resting on top.
2d6 ⇒ (4, 6) = 10 Whoo... One more point and your sword would have been broken as well. As is- no effect.
End of combat
Mordecai Shrykeson. |
Dropping his shield and his defensive stance, Mordecai brushes off three solitary beads of sweat from his brow and walks over to Jake, pulling out a small wooden wand as he does so.
"Well fought, sir." he states as he taps him with the wand and golden light surrounds him briefly.
Wand of Cure Light Wounds
Charge 1:1d8 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 1 = 6
Charge 2:1d8 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 1 = 5
Noamuth PFS |
"You take the stone, eh?" Noa says judgingly to Jake. "I'ma sit here a while. Just a bit...", she pants. "An' you know what? I'm gonna take some of that little statue. On the way out."
8 rounds of fatigued condition, if circumstances allow, Noa will spend them gathering her gear. She also examines the big polearm in the hands of the statue on the map.
"Belegorn, maybe something here we can use? Or you take my halberd? Or me your bow? I think I can draw that..."
Noamuth PFS |
Noa retrieves the lamp she put down, and then her halberd, unless Belegorn wants it. Then she looks around the room for worthy usable weapons. "If there are more of those, we'll want to break the museum's weapons, not our own...", she says, apparently unaware of the possible instrinsic value of the display weapons.
Marchello Aria PFS |
Does Marchello pick up any sign of the magic that he saw, casts Detect Magic. If not he'll close the door and go back in the room to assist in searching it.
Perception: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (16) + 10 = 26
Marchello Aria PFS |
Marchello slyly looks back at Jake, "I recall a couple of chunks of stone knocked off at the end of my mace as well" He shakes his head and then refocuses on the source of the energy.
Omrax the Bold |
"Well done indeed Sir Jake! I knew we would take it down. It was tougher than it looked. I have an extra morningstar if Sir Marchello or Sir Belegorn need a weapon rather than using their damaged ones. And of course there is this fine longsword the statue dropped - or is it too small for any to use?"
Noamuth PFS |
"Well done indeed Sir Jake! I knew we would take it down. It was tougher than it looked. I have an extra morningstar if Sir Marchello or Sir Belegorn need a weapon rather than using their damaged ones. And of course there is this fine longsword the statue dropped - or is it too small for any to use?"
"I'm not too proud to use a sword, but it'a be a shame, break a nice sword on another of the dancers. I'ma hoping we find a posed polearm or somethin'..."
Jake Hargrove |
Jake smiles at Marchello..
I did not hurt your feelings, did I, Marchello? I felt it was necessary to specifically thank Mordecai for the healing and Omrax for aiding me several times in combat to enhance my blows. Of course, it was well-fought by all!
Noamuth PFS |
Jake smiles at Marchello..
I did not hurt your feelings, did I, Marchello? I felt it was necessary to specifically thank Mordecai for the healing and Omrax for aiding me several times in combat to enhance my blows. Of course, it was well-fought by all!
"You too kind to me", Noa says cheerily from where she's trying to find weapons to, ah, borrow from the museum. "I miss with the halberd, I grab it so it can break me, the others have to heal me up, and then I sit and breathe deep. Now I'ma steal some wax statue's gimmick... In the ballad, it's gonna all be you guys."
Omrax the Bold |
"Aye thanks for the healing, Sir Mordecai. And Lady Noa, I hope you are able to find your halberd amidst the debris from the shattered statue. If none of you want to use the statue's sword, then I will offer to carry it. Which reminds me Sir Marchello, what was it you saw in the other room? I saw a flash of light and something about undead?"
Omrax starts detect evil and concentrates on the statue room and if nothing found, will move over to the doorway of the room Marchello opened and scan in there.
Marchello Aria PFS |
Marchello smiles wryly at Jake. "Feelings, no." Then looks away. Was he impulsive or brash? He'd never been accused of that before, in fact he'd come to rely on his quick instincts.
I don't think my mace is damaged.
"Thanks Omrax, but I think my mace made it through unscathed."
Jake Hargrove |
I agree, Mordecai. Let's move deeper. We should thoroughly examine this room for alternate hidden rooms or exits.
@DM Ithuriel: Are there any other obvious doors or hallways off of this room other than the one we came in and the small room with the dead body?
Pereception: 1d20 ⇒ 12
Noamuth PFS |
"I agree. We should search. The way in was hidden, so it may be a habit, to hide such things. And we are not rushing to the aid of anyone bleeding. It has been days; we can take minutes."
Perception roll 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (13) + 6 = 19
DM Ithuriel |
While some of them are indeed posed with weaponry, after a quick search it is apparent that none of the other statues in storage have functional weapons. The door to the scriptorium is the only exit leading further into the basement.
The room with the statues had no exit other than the door Marchello opened. That room has a door straight ahead and another on the left.
The longsword is small. Completely slipped my mind.
I'm a little slow right now, but working on it. Tomorrow.
Noamuth PFS |
"Lets light what lamps we can as we go, or a portion, at least. You are all too brave to contemplate it, I'm sure, but we might have to leave in a hurry, or retreat for tactics."
Noa will check the oil supply of the wall lamps in the dancer's room, and try to arrange to light at least one, preferring the one to the south.
Omrax the Bold |
After checking the statue room, Omrax will take his sun rod and poke his head into the adjacent room to see what Marchello saw (and more?) with light and detecting evil if any.
Omrax the Bold |
"So where to now, Sir Jake?"
Omrax readies longsword and shield and follows Jake into the next room or hall as appropriate, sunrod still glowing for another 5+ hours.
Jake Hargrove |
This way looks as good as any.
Jake approaches the door to the left in the room that Marchello entered, with Omrax and the sunrod at his side. If the door is unlocked, Jake will open it.
DM Ithuriel |
Through the door the basement opens into a dark vaulted scriptorium. Bare wooden shelves hold small stacks of parchment with bottles of ink and quills neatly lined up beside them. Three desks with high stools are spaced around the room. Two of them have empty candelabras and dried bottles of ink. The candelabra on the third is buried in melted wax from multiple candles and holds a set of half burned ones. A handful of books and scrolls lie open scattered across the desk with an ink pot and quill in the clear space amid them.
The body in the corner has lost both legs below the knees and gobs of blood and flesh trail across the room where he dragged himself some distance before dying.
A small sign on the door leading straight ahead reads "Archives - Private."
Belegorn of Erastil |
Assuming nothing jumps out at us, Belegorn walks over to the table and leafs through the scrolls and books for anything of interest. Casting Read Magic if need be.
Perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (15) + 8 = 23
Marchello Aria PFS |
Marchello wipes his brow, and scans the room, raising the lantern in his left hand to illuminate things. He casts Detect Magic and begins to carefully examine the body in the corner, the the various papers that line the shelves.
Perception: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (8) + 10 = 18
He specifically looks to see if there might be something of a religious nature.
Knowledge (Religion): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (13) + 6 = 19
Noamuth PFS |
"I'm no expert", Noa allows, "But doesn't trail of dead guy usually point to source of danger?" Noa looks to where the dead one crawled from. Carefully.
Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (19) + 6 = 25
Omrax the Bold |
Assuming the guard is long past needing aid, Omrax also looks through the documents for anything of import or notes from the lady or guards regarding their actions or whereabouts.
"Very odd. I am surprised he made it this far...or why his attacker did not finish him. Or where his comrades are...surely they would not have willingly left him? Still I would have expected more stench for all the blood."
Omrax the Bold |
"Lady Noa, you could be right. Something definitely out of the ordinary for a museum basement. I still hold out hope that the remaining guards and lady did not meet similar ends. Although that hope fast diminishes and tells me we must press onward...but be ready for anything."
DM Ithuriel |
At first glance Belegorn notices a few things at the desk. The volumes scattered across the table focus on what little is known of pre-empire Osirion- before they made the rapid advances in technology and magic that later became the backbone of their empire, obscure texts on astronomy and outer planes. There are fresh notes in the margins of some texts, but it looks like they are written in a particularly ancient dialect of Osiriani.
That same hand has underlined references to Ralzeros the Overwatched, the mad wizard who built his observatory here thousands of years ago, and Kubburum Ishmedagan, an Osirion sorcerer of some power said to be infused with the power of the outer planes. (Aberrant bloodline)
While nosing around the dwarf spots a sheet of parchment that has fallen back between the wall and desk. It is full of notes in that same ancient dialect and well as sketches.
Linguistics DC 15 to make out what any of the notes say.
I'll get on to the rest of the room this evening.
Omrax the Bold |
Omrax continues to look through the papers for anything related to the Blakrose daughter's recent trip or trade documents involving foreign countries.
1d20 + 1 ⇒ (20) + 1 = 21 Perception
Noamuth PFS |
trying to aid another on that searching
"My mother once told me, the newest papers are on the top, the most important are one layer down. But she says a lot of thins..."
if that can help: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (10) + 6 = 16
DM Ithuriel |
Belegorn scans over the marginalia noting multiple fresh references to "the Dark Tapestry," "Dominions of the Black," and the "Outer Gate" in the texts spread across the table. Then he turns his attention to the sheet that had fallen between the desk and the wall.
In Osirion
...and there it was. The cylinder was in the tomb exactly as I had seen it in my dreams.
<There is a sketch inset here of a cylinder ringed in hieroglyphics and marked as 8 inches wide by 10 inches long.>
And as I picked it up I strangely thought back to Ralzeros' arch in my secret playroom from my childhood. I don't know why, but I am seized with the notion that the hieroglyphics on this relic match those of the arch. I see it as clearly in my mind's eye as if I were standing there now when I haven't thought of the place in more than twenty years and I am certain that the hollow space in apex of the arch would match this cylinder. I can't help but shake the feeling that what I have found is some kind of key to activate a greater artifact hidden beneath our home all these years. I must know. We leave in the morning.
<Inset is a detailed drawing of a roughly circular gate designed to look like organic nodules of bone and tumorous growths swell from it deforming the symmetry. Hieroglyphics are engraved up the arch spaced between stone eyes looking in all directions. A note to the side indicates that it is 15 feet tall at its peak.>
***
Last night I dreamed of locusts, one endless swarm pouring out of the tomb of Kubburum Ishme-dagan and spreading out to devour the Inner Sea in all directions. I ran for the sea, but woke just as they overtook me. The dig was fantastically successful, but I am glad to be done with the place for now.
***
The dreams continue. I saw myself in the secret playroom again, but it was under the sea. The playroom was a cavern with the arch at the center. My cylinder was affixed to the apex of the gate as I imagine it should be and the surface area of its opening rippled with energy. As I watched something monstrous emerged from the arch, pulling itself through with tentacles as if against some great force. Three baleful red eyes breached the gate just as I felt a hand on my shoulder and awoke.
***
We arrive tomorrow and I cannot wait to learn if this ancient cylinder is truly a lost key to the gate or if I'm just going mad. My research to this point seems to indicate that the magic inherent in the hieroglyphics relates to abjuration and it does seem to have a protective field active at all times. That must explain how it has survived completely unscathed by the passage of so many centuries. However, there seems to be a divination effect that runs concurrent with the abjuration and I can't make out what it might mean. At the same time the device, for I am sure that must be what it is now, also has dormant effects tied into the other series of markings. Conjuration and transmutation if I understand the symbols correctly and as they are dormant I can't even hazard a guess as to what they might relate to for now. It does seem that the two series operate like a switch though. The protective field and divination series cannot run concurrent with the conjuration and transmutation. Moreover the secondary effects will have to draw on a greater power source to activate, presumably the gate itself. That should place the two in an arcane loop. If the cylinder were to crack while drawing in such power it could be catastrophic, likely destroying the gate along with it in the resulting explosion. Luckily the cylinder is in pristine condition so it shouldn't be a problem. Hopefully I will be able to find more in the scriptorium."
***
"It is both greater and worse than I had imagined. The gate appears to..."
Here there is a blot of ink and a wild scratching as if the writer had a seizure, quill in hand before it picks up again several lines down in a quavering hand and a far more ancient form of Osiriani.
"So many thousands of years and I am astounded at how ignorant humanity remains to their place in the multiverse. You are nothing but worms, insects scrabbling in the mud, but these eyes will see girl. Don't looked so shocked child- and you can stop that. I will have the whole body soon enough. It is mine now. I have been guiding you for weeks, but now the gate is calling me. You woke me and now I will help you see this world as it really is and others beyond. Far beyond. Once peeled open in the awakening I bless this shell with they will never settle back into that ignorant sleep again. Ahh. Your spike of terror is delicious, something I have not tasted in millennium, but even as I feel you unraveling at the first taste of the crawling chaos this shell begins to evolve. How convenient that a god raised the Outer Gate from the bottom of the sea with this city of yours while I slept. I would thank him before the Outer Gods devoured him, but I see in your thoughts that he has died too soon for the pleasure.
And now we are ready."
DM Ithuriel |
While Belegorn sorts through the texts and papers, Noamuth leans over the guards corpse to get an idea what exactly happened here. There is a broken lantern next to the body with oil spilled out in a pool around it and the body is slowly being consumed by fungal growth. Pale yellow shoots sprout from his ear and curl out of his nose and mouth and most of his body is covered in a fine layer of furry yellow growth.
More immediately, his legs appear to have been bitten off from the savagery of the wound. More distressingly some kind of acid later ate away the stumps of his legs and one arm before moving on trailing gore in its wake. So there is the trail of gore where he dragged himself here through one door and an acrid slime trail leaving his body and apparently passing under the other door leaving this room.
Noamuth PFS |
"Ay Dia Mia...", Noa mutters, turning an opened hand around her thumb, twice, in practiced meditation on Desna.
"Something bit off his legs.", she reports aloud. "Then he crawled through acid..? Or maybe, Acid crawled over him, and then Acid went that way? And now, he is growing molds. But he is in pool of oil from his lantern, so I'm thinking, we bury him in fire...?"
Unless some religious type stops her, Noa waits a moment, setting aside her arms and lamp, checking for overhanging priceless tapestries and such, and finally centering before she says, not really to the body, "I do not know your name. I do not know what killed you. But I will try to find out, unless I am killed first. You came to search, to help, as we now come after. I will avenge you, if I can. I wish your spirit fast travels, and peace, and consign your body to the flames."
(Last chance here to stop her... She'll stop if spoken to.)
She lights the pool of oil, and steps back toward her arms. Before taking them up, she prays softly, "Desna, help him cross your stars; to where he is bound."