And, where are you going? I'd be most interested to find a place of safety once we leave here.
"Fine. How about if we need to take something, we'll pay you a fair value?"
"Done," Marin said.
And, where are you going? I'd be most interested to find a place of safety once we leave here.
"Don't know yet. As far south as we can get."
Steave starts searching the shop for anything culty.
Cautious searching, which soon sees the looters' patience fading into exasperated looks, Steave found a hidden catch on the underside of a cluttered shelf. With a simple press and turn the entire shelf swings open. Beyond Steave finds a narrow, winding flight of stairs descending into the ground.
Steave readies his shield and heads downstairs.
Steave readies his shield and heads downstairs.
The stairs opened in short order to a damp, musty cellar. Packed earth formed the walls and floor. Dozens of gourds hung from the ceiling beams. A sludge of rotting plant matter covered the floor. Against one wall, a wooden table holding a strange apparatus that looked like a clockwork snake with sic arms and the torso of a woman stood. Each of her hands bore a small sword. A corked bottle stood before the woman. A chest covered with runes that glinted in the dark stood beneath the table. A goat's face surrounded by a star hung from the wall, painted on a large slab of wood above and behind the tableau.
Galin examines the symbol and shakes his head, That's a sign of Baphomet. There were cultists here, most likely.
If there were cultists here, it's possible they had some connection to the mongrelfolk beneath the city. We should investigate further. Perhaps they had some connection with the attack as well.
"Hrm. Good findin', Steave. Any takers for cleansin' this place? Like, right now?"
Abelard is coldly furious that such a nest could have existed beneath this shop and no one knew. Too many cultists, too much evil carried out by otherwise respectable types. Like the self-styled 'Magister' who had burned out his eyes.
Using several gallons of conjured water, Abelard does his best to wipe away the painted symbol on the wall.
Theran hefts his hammer. "Anybody know why I shouldn't crush this cursed machine?" He holds ready to smash the clockwork demon, but pauses for a second. His eyes focus differently.
Theran began his spell as Abelard approached the sign of Baphomet to wipe it clean and the face sprang to life: "Ahh...I hope you are among Imedae's slaves... I would hate to think of mere peasants wasting such a personal greeting from Lord Baphomet."
A violet light rose from the star, flaring and sparking for a pregnant moment and the air filled with brimstone-scented smoke.
Galin coughs from the smoke, but is generally unaffected by it. He waves his hand in front of his face, rasping slightly, Everyone okay?
Yridhrennor grows I'll from the foul-smelling reek. I think I will be OK
Ya, your last four bed fellows smelled worse than this, elf!
The diviner scowls at his familiar but does nothing to swat him away.
Abelard coughs and waves his hands, trying to disperse the smoke; to no avail. He is briefly overcome by waves of nausea as he inhales the brimstone-scented vapour and it takes him a few minutes of coughing and retching before he recovers.
Once he does recover, he applies himself to the work of removing the icons of evil.
Steave coughs and coughs to expel the demonic gas from his lungs. Eyes watering, he croaks, "I guess that confirms demonic cultist activity. Before we cleanse this place with fire and water, Yridhrennor, what can you make of the symbology? Is it worth opening the chest in here? Is there any magic in here? After all the questions, Steave recovers and starts looking around the basement.
Theran's eyes water, but he holds off from retching. Once this is done he smashes the stinking idol.
Steave coughs and coughs to expel the demonic gas from his lungs. Eyes watering, he croaks, "I guess that confirms demonic cultist activity. Before we cleanse this place with fire and water, Yridhrennor, what can you make of the symbology? Is it worth opening the chest in here? Is there any magic in here? After all the questions, Steave recovers and starts looking around the basement.
Steave doesn't detect any evil or spot anything hidden.
Yridhrennor recognizes the sign as Baphomet's and the statue as a marilith, a most puissant spawn of the Abyss. In particularly archaic works which tried to systematize the workings of the Abyss, scholars termed it the fifth type, or class. It was once thought that only four existed, with the fifth being recently slain and marilith then understood as a personal name. The discovery of a fragment of the Black Scrolls of Ahm helped prove otherwise, by calling the fifth type marilith in their own tongue. It seems that previous informants, cultist and demon alike, had misled the scholars who questioned them. Less refined authorities informally referred to the marilith as hissing demons.
Marilith are known as strategically-minded demons, often leading large hosts of lesser fiends. Demon lords often have a score or more of marilith retainers, but many refuse to swear even token allegiance to such beings and make their own way. The most notorious marilith, so far as crusaders are concerned, is Zuhra Aponavicius. She conquered Drezen and maintains it as her hold to this day.
The elf isn't sure that anything of value would be left, but thinks that the trap suggests the cultists had something they intended to keep about.
Despite a very thorough investigation, the crusaders find nothing beyond what they've already seen: the sign, the table, the chest beneath, and the marilith statuette.
What's in the chest?
What's in the chest?
The chest proved to contain only five Iomedaen icons and a note reading: "We don't need these anymore, but figured if you survived our surprise, it would be just plain rude to leave behind an empty chest for your troubles!"
Steave and Galin spotted a faint sheen on the icons, not at all the usual glint steel, as though they'd been carefully coated with something.
"Well, ain't it nice of them to leave sumthin' for our troubles..." Abelard drawls once the glint of something (poison, presumably) is pointed out to him.
"Shall we be goin'?"
"Maybe wash or destroy those icons, in case an innocent wants to handle them. And the demonic statuette has no reason to exist. Anyone want the honors to make kindling?" Steave asks ready to bootstomp them if no one else wants to do it.
When done, he's ready for the next cultist shop.
"Maybe wash or destroy those icons, in case an innocent wants to handle them. And the demonic statuette has no reason to exist. Anyone want the honors to make kindling?" Steave asks ready to bootstomp them if no one else wants to do it.
When done, he's ready for the next cultist shop.
Steave's boot easily crushes the marilith. It makes several satisfying cracks.
Ascending the hill to reach the Tower of Estrod, where most of Kenabres' inner wall remained in the way, proved a trying and lengthy process replete with backtracking where rubble blocked streets. But at last the Crusaders gained New Kenabres.
The Tower had seen better times. Days ago, it stood five stories high but now only two remained. Some terrific force had smashed the higher sections away, spilling their remains in a huge mound of rubble and leaving a jagged top open to the heavens. Despite the ruin of the tower's upper works, its door remained intact and shut.
Falfaerel....
Say no more, elf. I'm already on it. Falfaerel takes wing to scout.
Falfaerel....
Say no more, elf. I'm already on it. Falfaerel takes wing to scout.
Falfaerel discovers that the second story of the Tower of Estrod lacks a floor, retaining only a tangle of wooden beams that leave the ground floor largely open to the sky. Two rubble-filled pools flank a central walkway crossing from the door to an open area where a few shelves, a desk remain. A curving flight of stairs descends into the ground.
And nearer the door, four men sit on the floor with glaives close at hand. They don't seem aware of the Crusaders' approach.
The Raven shakes his head and flutters back to the heroes and reports what he saw.
Steave thanks the raven and whispers, "should we knock?"
Steave thanks the raven and whispers, "should we knock?"
Galin, Steave, and Theran round the side of the Tower of Estrod and begin their ascent of the rubble leaning against it. Galin moves easily along, but Steave and Theran have a hard go with their heavier armor. About halfway up, both choose the wrong stone to put their weight on and send it clattering. They nearly follow, making a fair racket as they save themselves from falling.
At once cries of alarm rise from within the tower, which soon resolve themselves into four voices chanting spells.
So climbs, DC 20. Actually you're going up the rubble so that's too high. Call it DC 15 to avoid slipping and losing time.
Ok, so there's an extra round of exposure for Galin and Steave. But they get up there.
Round 1 Stealth, DC 15
Guess we don't need the second round of stealth checks. Bummer.
(vision/darkvision to 30 ft only)
darkvision 60ft.
low-light vision
Average 15.6
bad guys win.
Surprise stuff:
Cultists cast protection from good on themselves.
Galin pulls his bow from his back and fires at the cultists,
Hearing the noise, Abelard kicks in the door. "I'm the one who knocks."
Assuming that the door gives way before him, he steps in. "Mornin' all - hope y'all aren't offended, but you overstayed and it's time for you to leave. As in, leave this plane of existence."
At hearing the kick to the door, Theran hops down to engage the rearmost cultist.
"He knocks, I smash"
Galin, Steave, and Theran all reach the top of the wall. But as they gain the heights, Steave and Theran both dislodge loose stones that clatter down and alert the cultists.
Steave follows Theran and attempts to slug a cultist.