"This can be not good. We should go since no necromancer will live down a dirty well, will he?"
He waits never one to decide what the others may do, simply voicing his opinion is more than he usually does in his close-lipped fashion.
Res glances back at Andrej. "Yes, I agree. Pulling that rope in that filthy water most likely will not end well. Let us proceed after these muddy tracks." He turns his attention back to the hallway now illuminated by the light of his greatsword.
Leandro bows to the group. "As you wish. I will accompany the light-bringer in case more of those things are about." Waving his hand towards the abandoned pile of muddy bandages, he joins Tybalt at the entry to the next corridor and grips Thorn prepared for quick use.
"Ready."
The dark corridor winds around a corner and widens into a long, narrow chamber lined on either side by ancient burial niches. From the light of Res's spell, you can make out crumbling wooden coffins on shelves lining the walls on both sides. Your companions cast long shadows in the light shed by the greatsword, your shadows stretching out before you and falling upon the dusty resting places. The chamber is eerily silent, and the far end is only shadow - well beyond the glow of your light source.
"I mislike disturbing the home of the dead," Leandro murmurs into the heavy shadow, "But we must go forward." He does so, staying within range of the light so he can see a bit ahead.
The magus slowly follows his sword out and ready for those dangerous shadows. "Leandro - you have the wrong work then. This land is filled with such, so we vistani travel the roads and tracks away from this...........dead air," Andrzej waves his hand around.
"We're just ensuring the dead rest, not dance a jig to a pipers tune." Tybalt reassures the handsome Leandro, whilst he moves into the chamber. "We should probably spread out slightly as we advance."
He makes sure to have his own lantern out to get a bit more light into the area as he looks around.
Not to be outdone, a reddish flickering light appears along the blade as the magus casts a cantrip on his scimitar.
Looking around now, he steps to one side and waves the sword at a corner.
Leandro gives Andrzej a sympathetic nod. "I can understand that, given the nature of this place. You and your people would like my homeland, I think. And you are, of course, correct, noble Tybalt. It's just... these places make me sad."
Res follows slightly behind, his greatsword raised high, poised to strike and to cast his light as far as possible. Itching for a fight after being denied in the other room, his eyes dart around looking for possible threats.
"I've never seen the expression, 'quiet as a tomb' actually in play before."
You make your way slowly through the oppressive darkness of the crypt. The added light of Andrzej's spell and Tybalt's lantern extends the range of illumination, but the shadows remain just beyond. As your light falls upon the deceased resting in the burial niches, you observe that they are in varied conditions: some niches contain undamaged sarcophagi while others contain mere shards of casket under desiccated skeletons. In the utter silence of the long chamber, your footfalls reverberate and echo in an unsettling manner.
The chamber extends over one hundred feet in length before you encounter the far wall with a stone archway leading into a corridor beyond. The corridor bends away to the left, leading into darkness.
"Let me test for magic," whispers the magus so as not to break the silence and echoes too much.
You detect no magic.
Tybalt smiles at Anuqua's humour, as he walks forwards into the crypt area. The disturbed tombs and pervasive stench of death that hangs heavy amongst dusty room slow his movement as the paranoia grows inside him. Finally he gets to the archway and looks through, before carefully walking into the corridor.
The dark corridor bends to the left and continues some 20 feet before it meets a T-shape intersection. To the right, the corridor quickly ends at a heavy wooden door. To the left, it continues into darkness, beyond the range of your light sources. The silence remains unbroken, and there is no relief from the fetid, stagnant air.
Res follows behind Tubal keeping his lighted sword above and to
the right of his head. He looks down the hallway but can't make anything out but a door to the right. He continues down the hall following the foot steps in the dust. Pausing at the door, he stoops down to see them more carefully.
After a moment of study he stands back up and says, "The foot steps go past the door, I think we should check it out first before continuing. I don't want to be ambushed from behind. What do you all think?"
"That's a good idea, though mayst they have reason to not approach it? I'll examine it for traps & unlock it." Tybalt agrees moving forwards carefully getting out his pick-lock set as he crouches before the door.
Andrzej waits nearby with his scimitar at the ready and keeps concentrating on the magic as they move through the archway. Then he steps back around the corner as Tybalt begins to check the door, the magus acts as a lookout for anything coming up behind.
The door would pull open into the corridor.
Tybalt examines the heavy door, still sturdy although of considerable age. The thick wood has been reinforced by an iron frame. Tybalt finds no traps, but does observe that it is locked. With his fine tools, he fishes into the keyhole and carefully engages the tumblers. A faint click indicates the door has been unlocked successfully.
Carefully he opens the door, bringing a light up so he can see into the room.
"They mustn't have come here often. I wonder what it houses? A bath." He quips softly, trying to dissipate the tension and put mental armour up as he looks inside.
"The dead or those that come after," replies the deadpan vistani. "Those were the words of my granmata. She always made that joke when the children couldn't sleep. Made us laugh after a few years of hearing it." Then Andrzej smiled at the memory.
"I could use a bath. It's been a while since I've had a bath that didn't include some sort of sanity-breaking event."
The heavy door heaves open with a tired groan. Your lights illuminate a small chamber of hewn stone. An ancient wooden shelf runs the length of the far wall, and is littered with macabre tools, rusted and cobwebbed with years of disuse: picks, saws, calipers - objects of particular and obscure use. A high, sturdy table occupies the center of the room, caked in layers of dust from a bygone age.
The room has no other doors and is unoccupied.
"Admittedly, I have a lack of knowledge regarding such tools, but my gut feeling is 'don't touch.'"
Andrzej turns back and pops his head around the corner to look in. "Burials require preparation of the corpses ...sometimes. This is such a room."
Res glances into the room, and acknowledges Andzej's observation. "I believe you are correct. There appears to be no threat here. Let's keep following our trail. Thank you Tybalt for checking." Res abruptly turns and begins following the tracks down the hall again.
Making sure to properly shut the door upon the burial preparation room, with a respectful nod of his head. Then he moves off down the corridor, following the path where there were actual tracks. He keeps his motion soft and fluid as the group head down the corridor.
Leandro winces at the contents of the room and follows Tybalt down the corridor.
Andrzej takes a moment to give the room a solemn nod, then turns after Leandro, closing the door. His boots click on the flagstones echoing despite his efforts to remain quiet.
He keeps one hand up to his nose at the stench of the air, "is this worse? Or am I imagining that?" he murmurs as much to Leandro as himself.
"Difficult to say," the paladin grimaces, "It has all smelled of death since we entered this place. Of course, before the smell was of rotting mud, so find a bright side if you can."
"And fish...you cannot forget the fish." Tybalt adds with a wry wink.
Returning to the corridor, the darkened passage runs some eighty feet in the opposite direction before turning to the right. Another heavy wooden door stands before you.
The footprints disturbing the dust on the floor continue through the door.
This is where Andrzej stops to examine the footprints some more, creating light so that he can check them in detail.
"Does one of you know what made these?"
Tybalt kneels down near the footprints and has a look around at then to try and ascertain what he can about the being that made them and how long ago it passed by.
"...multiple sets of footprints coming through this chamber. All are human-sized, and some were shod in shoes while others walked barefoot. Within the last few days, a set of shoe prints came in this way and left the way the came. The prints stand out because they appear to have been made by a pair of fine shoes worn by a lady."
The footprints in this corridor are consistent with that same pattern.
"Another door" grumbles Res. He presses his ear against the door and tries to hear something on the other side.
Res hears only silence on the other side of the door.
Andrzej prepares for another fight with the undead.
At best or something worse, a tomb, a curse or a festering disease ridden mist sent to poison him. But this is the Land of Mists.
Then the magus hefts his scimitar and twirls it once in preparation for the Dance.
Leandro couches Thorn under one arm, pointed towards the doorway, and makes a flourishing bow to Tybalt. "You'll do the honors, good sir?" He gestures towards the door, then takes a fighting grip on Thorn.
Res takes a step back, "I can't hear anything on the other side. Tybalt, do your thing. We're right behind you." Res raises his greatsword and readies a strike if something immediately threatens them through the door.
Tybalt bends down and examines the lock, getting the light just right he proceeds to try and open it. "Thanks for the encouragement fellows." He says softly.
As the door was unlocked, Tybalt is more than equal to the task of opening it.
The door opens with a heavy creek, from age rather than disuse. Beyond it, some antique candelabras dimly illuminate an ancient subterranean chapel dominated by a stained and scarred stone altar near the far wall. Shattered wooden benches crumble to dust on the stone floor. The sides and corners are veiled in shadow, making it difficult to discern any exits.
Compared to the rest of this crypt, this chapel seems eerily cold.
Leandro strides forward into the chapel, stopping past the door but clear of the doorway so others can enter. He pauses momentarily to examine the room before proceeding.
Res follows Leandro into the chapel and looks for a continuation of the tracks and also keeps an eye out for trouble.
The magus keeps up behind Res his scimitar out and tense for action, that will slowly bleed away.
You make your way into the chapel, your light sources splashing across profane symbols and ominous stains. Your companions cast long shadows into the surrounding darkness.
Without warning, two foul corpses jump from the shadows, one on each side of the room. They pounce upon Leandro and Res, their hollow eye sockets glowing red with malign intelligence.
vs Leandro
plus 1 energy drain on hit
vs Res
plus 1 energy drain on hit