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"Gentlemen, although the cannibals are ... dead, and we may leisurely stroll into this ... cavern, if we were hard pressed to ... escape, our egress would be severely hampered by this .... vegetation. What say you if we ... enlarge this entrance in case of a swift .... retreat? I have not yet descended, but already I feel ... uneasy underground."
The thirty-foot-long, root-covered crack extends deep into the Gloomspire. Numerous gnarled tree roots creep down the sides of the shaft, a few of them hanging almost to the muddy floor. Dozens of shallow niches are set at irregular intervals down each of the four walls of the shaft. Though some are empty, most of the recesses hold squat, four-foot-tall stone idols of leering, horned fiends.
This shaft doesn't prove a problem for the enterprising adventurers, however, as they spend three long hours excavating the earth, stone and undergrowth. The first sign that the shaft is trapped is when Finarin's pick strikes a pivot behind one of these idols. All of the idols crash noisily to the ground below, completely missing the adventurers who are above them. Clearly, this was meant to be triggered by some kind of pressure plate below and not a pick from above.
The party eventually makes their way down to the rubble-strewn floor. A door to the south is the only exit from the room.
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Cyrus shrugs as the group looks at the gnarly tomb entrance.
"Don't ask me why, but I expected something different. Hey Ibid, good news for you. Seems you aren't the only one who goes around dropping tombs. Think digging this one up will jog some more memories?"
After the young man's comment is spoken, Ibid slings his longbow across his shoulders and turns to step away from the group, muttering some unheard string of curses under his breath. For a few long minutes Ibid stands away from the others, careful to keep his gaze averted from his friends.
If I could trade places with your father and be the one buried in that tomb, Ibid thinks to himself, grinding his teeth painfully together. That is a price I would gladly pay.
I was supposed to be the one who died that day anyway, the old man think, releasing a heavy sigh, seconds later removing his hat and drawing its sleeve across his face hoping to feign wiping sweat from his brow.
After the work is underway, clearing the gnarled roots and vines from the tombs entrance, the old man returns and begins striking the living tangle with the pickaxe. With each strike of the steel-point, stabbing violently into the roots, the anger and frustrations brimming up within the old man shows plainly on his face.
At the bottom of the path, standing on the rubble-strewn floor, the old man looks over the door for traps or signs of ill intent.
The companions move carefully through the door and down the corridor beyond. As they approach the far door, a strange sense of vertigo assails them. At one point, the door appears father away the more they walk. Suddenly, it seems, it is before them. They notice a strange aroma from beyond, but finding no traps and discovering that the door is unlocked, they move forwards.
The sickly sweet smell of rotting meat fills this perfectly square, low-ceilinged chamber. The east wall features a large bas-relief carving portraying a wide-eyed hag devouring her own hands.
As Gunari moves into the room, he is struck by the bas-relief carving - and it appears struck by him. Its eyes suddenly lock upon the warpriest's own. Her icy stare is almost impossible to break, but Gunari eventually looks away. Regardless, the hag continues to star at the brave priest of Cayden Cailean.
Propped up on the southwest corner of the room is a rotting, festering corpse of a barbarian. Other than its pallid decaying flesh, it is identical to the cannibals you fought recently above.
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As the group clears the ground around the entrance, Cyrus can't help but notice Ibid's digging technique and slightly red eyes. Pangs of guilt hit him in the chest as he considers his harsh words.
He's not the one who lost his dad in that collapse. What's he so upset about? He tries to screw his anger back up to its previous levels. It seemed lately being angry was easier than anything else. He wanted to be angry. Feeling guilty for saying something harsh was only getting in the way.
Now angry that he was having trouble staying angry, Cyrus moves to a different side of the opening, and unintentionally begins to mimic Ibid's frustrated digging.
Cyrus swallows hard in an effort to hide his rising fear and trepidation as the move into the tomb. Paranoia begins to set in on the edges of his mind, and it seems he sees a trap under every tile, and in every doorway. With shaking hands, he slowly makes his way through the room, inspecting every crack, and expecting the floor to fall out from under him as a poison dart shoots at him from across the room.
As Cyrus starts to pat down the room for secret doors, traps, treasure and whatever else it might yield (anything but the stinking corpse, right?), Miro approaches the carving of the hag.
About ten feet from the bas-relief, Miro is filled with the urge to eat the corpse in the corner of the room. He takes a step towards it, slavering like the barbarians they defeated earlier. He shakes the sensation however, and the disturbing hunger within him subsides.
Cyrus notes nothing unusual about the room (other than the corpse). Staying well away from the bas-relief, the companions feel confident that all to be found has been found. The door to the south is untrapped and unlocked.
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Once they have descended into Gloomspire, Amaranti uses another charge from the wand on Kaisharga. Carefully the two enter the room, and by Miro's warning avoid the bas-relief.
"Magic makes people eat people? Not a nice place, maybe best hurry onward"
Amaranti takes a position at the door, while Kaisharga goes to study the corpse.
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Gunari shivers when he sees all of this. "This could drive a man to drink..." he mutters, well aware of the irony of his statement.
"Don't look the hag in the eyes, that carving is... not right."
He then moves up to check out the corpse, casting Detect Magic and using his training in healing as best he can.
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"No wonder everyone around here is cannibalistic. What foul magic drives everyone around them to eat each other, and what purpose would that serve? Let's get this artifact and get out of here..."
Cyrus moves to open the door as soon as his companions are ready. As he does, he realizes the irony of the statement he just made.
"Wow, I hope its the magic in these carvings that is causing these people to go mad, and not the artifact we were sent to retrieve..."
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"Ibid, could you take some careful notes about this thing. Finarin, do you think we could use our picks and such to deface it, destroying the magic? Would that be safe? By the Light of the Starstone, I am just not comfortable leaving this alone like it is."
'I am sure that the Dark Archive will want to study this, but I don't really care. Not at all.'
The corpse has been infected by something other than death and decay. It is definitely best to leave it alone. Eating it would be way out of the question.
Poor Finarin cannot make heads nor tails of what might be going on.
He does note, however, that the eyes seem to be a separate effect. Something akin to a silent image spell. It occurs to the magus that the carving itself (and the illusion upon it) may just be a way to draw people in to the trap.
True to his supposition, Miro is able to approach the hag without suffering any further compulsion. He chips ever so slowly away at it until it is completely defaced. The effect is very eery, though, as the two illusory eyes still hang disembodied just inches from the smashed wall.
With nothing more to see or do in this room, avoiding the area near the destroyed hag carving, the adventurers move on to the next room. The door is both unlocked and untrapped, and the companions (Gunari first) step out into a very large hall.
This long, high-ceilinged hall is partially flooded with murky, stagnant water, and the sound of slowly dripping water echoes ominously throughout. A massive banyan tree has breached a large section of the south wall, and the tree’s enormous invasive roots now extend several feet into the hall. Long sheets of thick moss and other detritus cling to the twisted tree roots, forming a curtainlike barrier.
The water is stagnant and murky, and sits about three feet deep in most places. The masonry is cracked by the roots. Strange carvings abound, the most disturbing of which picture monstrous creatures in very normal situations (sleeping, walking, talking, hunting), but with mountains in the foreground being only a little larger than they are. Some mountains feature very regularly shaped honeycomb structures, filled with octagonal entrances. All of the carvings are impossibly uniform and smooth. Dwarven precision masonry has nothing on whoever (or whatever) created these.
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Cyrus moves into the room, single file behind his companions. As they file in, wading through the murky water, the hair on the back of his neck stands up. He just makes it into the doorway when he finally screw up the courage to say, "Something doesn't feel right in here. And that is saying something when you compare it to a carving that makes you want to eat dead people..."
He carefully scans the water, walls, and other parts of the room, shining the light from his wayfinder to fill all of the corners of the room.
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Gunari moves himself in He'll also use his wayfinder for light. He keeps his eyes open, and has his rapier and shield out, just in case.
"Miro, maybe you should catch a ride with Amaranti? The big man can probably carry you through this... looks like the water ends after a little while!"
'I really need a drink...'
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Need a boost friend Miro? When I joined this prestigious ... society I was under the impression that my many useful skills would be ... utilized better. I have now crawled through ruins ... with strange magic that I still do not fully comprehend. Conversed with scum well below my ... station. Fought countless fights on ... boats of all modes of transportation. Attacked by a ...cook. Daresay that title is far to ... praiseworthy for her. Now I watch my ... friends literally be eaten by their fellow ... humans, and here I am ... about to wade through this ... muck. I have spent a good deal of coin on this new ... armor, shipped from my homeland. Now I must submerse it in this .... filth. I cannot wait to hit something. Gunari, how good are you at ... cleaning armor? Care to assist me when we stop for a ... rest?" The elf assists his smaller companion, and continues to complain profusely as they proceed.
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Amaranti grabs Miro and lifts the halfling on his shoulders. "No need to keep nose in water, just hang tight in there. How is view up there?" Once Miro sits comfortably, the Garundi activates teh light in his wayfinder and starts wading into the water.
The big man can't help but smile on Finarin's complaints. "Pahtfinder business often dirty, can't be in noble houses all time. Amaranti likes dirty places more. As long they are not sea-ships"
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The old man follows the others into the strange room, and is seemingly dumbfounded by the odd tree and even eirier carvings. As his companions begin to wade carefully into the murky pool, Ibid rustles under his long, leather jacket and pulls forth his Wayfinder. Once the compass-looking device has begun to shed light around him, yet still unable to penetrate or illuminate the detritus laden water, the old man cautiously steps into the pool. As his feet sink beneath its murky surface, the water sends a tingling chill transversing up his spine and setting his teeth on edge.
The old man, now with a sense of heavy foreboding pressing down upon his shoulders, slips the longbow into his grasp and scans the room, paying especially close attention to the surface of the water.
Gunari's words echo ominously throughout the quiet cavern. The ripples in the water created by the Pathfinders' movement causes the reflections of the carvings to distort and warp. They begin to coalesce into even stranger things, a many-eyed column of flesh with tentacles at its base is a recurring image. The ripples even seems to form into a single image with a large, cyclopean eye at its center.
It is precious moments before the assembled realize that the gigantic eye is real and it is attacking them! They eye ploughs through the water with amazing speed to menace Gunari. Its iris opens revealing row after row of sharp, needle-like teeth. It is still attached to its ocular nerve, or so it appears as it arcs out of the water to reveal more "meat" beneath the eyeball than expected.
The thing's teeth puncture Gunari's neck and it latches on and begins to suckle on the wound, draining the poor man's vital fluid.
The companions will later come to realize that it was simply an enormous leech, and can't think for the life of themselves why they thought it was an eye in the first place.
Finarin's blade slices across the side of the eyeball, but it is his sneaky friend that draws the most ichor. Black fluids spray Cyrus's hand as his sickle draws a deep gash at the base of the thing's cornea.
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Ibid's feet push against the slick, submerged floor hidden beneath the dark waters, and the old man moves into a better position from which to fire. Five feet from where he started, Ibid draws back on the bow, forgetting the gripping chill of the water on his legs.
Ibid fires at the monstrosity, hoping to help save his friend.
The creature maintains its vice-like grip on Gunari's throat as Ibid's arrow embeds itself in its ocular nerve. Red blood joins the dark ichor pooling in the waters below the entwined combatants, but its strength seems undiminished.
The Garundi steps up and casually skewers the giant eye on the end of his lance. He tosses the unmoving thing back into the water where it sinks to the bottom, deflated.
As it climbs through the roots coating the wall, Kaisharga notices a scum-covered leather satchel that has been crammed in amongst the banyan’s roots. Someone retrieves the satchel and opens it. Within is a watertight scroll tube made of horn containing a scrap of parchment with a hastily scrawled note:
“We lost Gavreth, Kehm, and Nars in the Hall of the Flesh Eaters. Before he died, the wizard claimed the horror is a work of necromancy. I know it at least responded to holy water, so that means we should be able to—“
The rest of the note is smeared and illegible.
The satchel also contains a pair of sandals made of wyvern leather (which Finarin identifies to be a pair of sandals of quick reaction).
The north-eastern exit from this chamber is untrapped and unlocked. After a very thorough search, the companions are confident that (aside from some small and relatively harmless leeches in the water) there is nothing more in this room than roots, water and a dead eye.
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"Nice accuracy Amaranti! I would say you are a dead eye shot with that lance..."
"That note is interesting, I wonder what they were talking about specifically that responded to holy water?" Cyrus muses as he extricates himself from the disgusting water. He makes his way to the next door once him and his companions discover that there is nothing more to find in this room, and gets ready to enter. Once again, he prepares himself for what horrors might be beyond.
The group wipes the muck from their clothing and carefully places any vials of holy water they may have on the tops of their packs. When everyone is healed and ready, Miro peers into the chamber beyond.
This cathedral-like hall has a vaulted ceiling supported by eight square pillars. Dominating the middle of the hall is a huge mound of undulating gray-green flesh covered with weeping scarlet boils. The entire mass stinks of a weeks-old corpse.
The ceiling is 20 feet high near the walls and rises to 30 feet at the apex. The mass is roughly 20 feet in diameter and 10 feet tall, and it bears hundreds of jagged, poorly-healed scars that resemble bite marks to the trained eye.
In addition to the door at the north western side of the hall, there may have once been a passageway leading west on the southern portion of the western wall. This passage is now completely choked with rubble and small boulders, and would require extensive work and the right tools to excavate .
Perhaps most importantly, however, six foul, pale, emaciated creatures - clearly undead- feast upon the wobbly pile of flesh in the center of the room. Two of them have short legs, long arms and bony protrusions angling out of them, behaving almost like quadrupeds. The remaining four have more of a bluish tinge to their flesh and are proportioned much more like regular humanoids. The entire group recognize these latter creatures to be ghouls. All six, though, have sharp fangs and tear at the fleshy banquet in front of them with reckless abandon. As they devour their foul meal, they fail to notice the door to their dining hall has been opened.
The two almost-quadrupeds are festrogs. A festrog is an undead abomination spawned when a creature is killed by a massive release of negative energy (perhaps due to planar bleeding, the destruction of a potent artifact, or even certain magical attacks by powerful undead), and then mutilated by an outside force, such as the scavenging of wild animals.
Both creatures have undead traits.
Ghouls can cause paralysis when they succeed in biting or clawing their opponent.
Ghouls who succeed at a bite attack (only) can cause a nasty disease called ghoul fever.
Festrogs are adept at tripping opponents when they charge to attack.
If you attack a festrog with a slashing or piercing weapon, they can spray you with the puss from their hideous boils.
A festrog feeds off the flesh of its victims, gaining strength from their meat.
When they want to, festrogs can be exceptionally fast.
The undead do not even look up as the door opens. They will eventually take notice, so perhaps it is best if the companions make a preemptive strike...