Drosk steps past Grukk and kneels next to Roldare, grasping the man's shoulder in a comforting grip. "Of course we'll bring yer sister back to ye, and bring ye both back to Kassen. Ye have my word on it, by Torag's Hammer and Forge," the dwarf priest solemnly swears as he looks into Roldare's eyes, attempting to convey a sense of peace to the troubled man.
"But we'll need yer help, Roldare," Drosk continues calmly. "We'll need to know what traps there are, an' anything else ye know about the layout o' the Crypt. An' we'll need ye to hold this room as our safe redoubt, should we need a place to rest an' recuperate as we battle those who stand between us and yer sister."
"Now," Drosk says, taking a deep breath as he continues to hold Roldare's gaze and silently hoping that he's not about to send the man back into a fit of hysterics. "What can ye tell us about this 'Voice o' Death'?"
As fascinating as Bolkin found the plight of the cobbler, he was more interested in what Telperion was listening for down the hall. "You know what, if we find your sister, we'll see what we can do," he quickly added before leaving him and Drosk to their negotiations.
His interest was piqued even more when he heard the elf's warnings. "Well, whatever's waiting behind that door can wait a little longer. We should take this chance to prepare ourselves before going in further."
Raven takes the crossbow from Grukk. She'll cast detect magic on it later. For now, she presses the cobbler for more information about the dead villagers.
"Hey,..." then remembering what Drosk called him, "Roldare. Who else came up here with you? Was any of my family with you?"
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Telperion moved from foot to foot, impatient for the attention of Raven and the others. He understood that the cobbler needed some help, but he was feeling more than a bit nervous about the sound he'd heard.
"Something is...scratching..." he offered weakly. The nervous elf kept glancing back over his shoulder to the west.
Roldare shakes in Drosk's grip, but seems to become a bit more lucid. "That sounds like a Chosen. They do know how to pick 'em, don't they," he says with a forced chuckle. He closes his eyes. "I... I cannot recall much. The voice... The voice... It is like the others, but clad in ancient mail... a skeleton who leads them," he says, his eyes flicking open and getting a glazed look. A tightening of Drosk's grip brings him to his senses.
"Traps," he continues. "Th-this was my first time, you know." Another laugh that sounds more like a hard exhalation. "There's... the shield... the shield and the keys, many keys, only one is right. And... Swimming. You must swim at some point. The lower levels are flooded, but I don't think it was there?" he spends a moment deep in thought. "I'm sorry I can't be any helper," he says in a cracking voice.
He then looks to Raven, his voice starting low but gradually building in speed and intensity "Th-the others... It was Dmira, and me, and the Kir boy, one of Prasst's helper's and the one from the woodcutters guild and it wasn't one of yours if they had been there I probably wouldn't be the only one alive!" He begins to hyperventilate and it isn't until Drosk gets the man to look him in the eye that he calms down again.
"I'm sorry," he says. "The Vargidans just aren't the type the mayor usually trusts for this."
Hearing the name, it strikes Bolkin that one of the bodies, as badly clawed as its face was, was that of Golfond Kir, a fellow guardsman. Gifted in body, if not in mind after a mule's kick to the head as a child, he recalls that the familiar, husky figure was not in the town's only watchtower as he usually was the day they left.
And apparently that station will now be manned by another soul.
Raven can't suppress a smirk at the cobbler's last comment. Perhaps it was meant as an insult, but prepping a crypt for a simulated adventure seemed like a job suitable for more ... mundane townspeople.
His other words, however, would haunt her longer. As she follows Telperion and the others to the door he was so spooked by, she wonders if gifted people have a greater responsibility to use their gifts to protect others. She shakes her head as if it would shake off her thoughts. Later. Right now, I've got to focus.
Listening to the others handle the cobbler's wild-eyed talk, Garik felt a bit of anger to whoever obviously started a kind of uncalled for mess in the town's yearly pilgrimage. The dwarf felt a kind of injustice akin to what he and his father suffered under Kurmog.
Garik's admiration of Drosk's integrity on the other hand is reinforced by how the young cleric assuaged Roldare's panicky behavior.
"Aye! Dontcha be doubtin' us, sir! We'll deal with whoever started this uncalled for mess!", the young barbarian can't help but add to Drosk's assurance, self-consciously wondering if his appearance might further unhinge the cobbler.
Garik pulls out his light mace again to join his already out mornningstar. "We'll start with that scratchin' whatever you heard, Telp! They be doubtin' now messin' with our town!"
Bolkin yielded to Garik's enthusiasm, taking his spot just behind the dwarf. he nodded at the others to signify he was ready as he muttered under his breath, "We'll teach 'em what the people of Kassen are capable of."
Before heading out, Drosk gathers the other party members and Roldare together and invokes Torag's blessing:
"Torag Forgefather, creator of all that is just and good, watch over these good folk and give us the strength to destroy the vile abominations that infest noble Kassen's tomb. Grant Roldare the courage and clarity to guard our refuge, and keep Dmira safe until we can return her to her brother. By your Holy Forge, amen."
At the end of Drosk's ceremony Roldare gives a broad smile, momentarily looking more like the shoemaker the group knew in town and not like the wretch he currently is.
"Hold," he says, turning to rifle through some sacks in the corner. "You'll likely need these more than I will," he says, standing up and handing two potions labeled 'Healing' to the party.
"I'd help with whatever's in that room," Grukk says as the rest of the group approaches the door, "But I think we need more than a cobbler guarding our resting place. I'll stay with him. Holler if you need me!" With that, the half-orc steps back into the room and closes the door.
As the group opens the door, they hear a muffled, "So, up for a game of cards?"
-
Bolkin and Garik move through the door and into a smaller chamber, almost empty except for the giant beetle attempting to shove a limp form into the corner. Its legs click on the floor as it turns to regard the fighter and the dwarf, only taking a moment to click its mandibles menacingly and face the intruders on its territory.
Beetle
Bolkin
Drosk
Garik
Raven
Telperion
Init, Round 1:
>21 Telperion
20 Drosk
16 Raven
16 Beetle
11 Garik
08 Bolkin
There are stairs leading down in the southwest corner, and another door opens to the south.
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Telperion was already moving as the the chitinous beast turned toward the intruders. "Thorax at abdomen!" he shouted to his compatriots, content this would help.
He inhaled deeply as he sprinted to the southeast corner of the room raising his thin blade above his head. He turned on one foot, exhaled, and brought his rapier down on the creature.
The blade slid through the shell, right between the thorax and abdomen. Telperion smiled with satisfaction, but he began to waver as the creature continued to twitch and snap.
Round One:
Warhammer and shield in hand, Drosk steps by Raven, Garik, and Bolkin. With a mighty swing the dwarf priest brings his hammer down toward the giant beetle's carapace.
Raven realizes she doesn't have time to load the crossbow, so she moves in and attacks with her spear.
Telperion's sword sticks into the bug before it even senses just what's happened. Drosk's hammer strikes the front end of the creature, part of the shell giving a sickening crack under the weight of the blow.
Bewildered, it doesn't even notice as it turns and Raven's strike glances off its hard shell. Suddenly it lifts itself up on its hind legs and sprays a viscous goo towards Drosk and those still near the door, a cone of vile, burning substance landing on them.
Garik unprepared to finding a large beetle instead of some adventure-tale-inspired nemesis, stood gaping; a precious moment of hesitance that cost the young dwarf barbarian receiving head-on some form of burning goo from the creature along with the others who at least had some sense to hurt the creature first.
Fully aware now of the creature, Garik moves towards the creature and swings his morningstar hard at the creature's head.
"Sorry ye blasted beast! Be considerin' ye as messin' with our town!"
Drosk splutters and spits as the caustic viscous goo covers his face.
"By Torag that's spicy!" Drosk roars in surprise and pain. "Quick Garik! Help me squash this bug so we can add some o' that to th' next batch o' stew!" the stout priest adds, trying to maintain a sense of levity as he brings his warhammer down again toward the giant beetle's carapace.
The surprise of encountering a beetle so large fascinated Bolkin for long enough that he was unable to avoid the corrosive bile aimed in his direction. Searing pain shot through his right arm as the caustic goo splashed all over it.
None of this deterred Bolkin from joining the fray, however. Indeed, he realized his wits and talent were needed more than ever. "Seems we've got enough guys beating on it already," he deduced to himself as he made a large stride toward the monster, scooping up a large handful of cobweb as he did so. "What this situation needs is the ol' Bolkster's finesse!" As he finished this thought, he instinctively tossed the mass of tangled web and dust toward what he assumed to be the beady eyes of the creature.
"Yes! Right in the eyes!" Bolkin cheered to himself as the creature reeled slightly due to the new-found disturbance in its ability to see. "Alright everyone, take it down!"
Garik's morningstar makes a slight cracking sound as it comes into contact with the edge of the beetle's carapace, but the blow leaves the creature unharmed.
Bolkin's cobwebs go straight over the beetle's compound eyes, causing it to tilt forward and start shaking itself and attempting to reach its 'face' with its forward appendages.
Init, Round 2:
>21 Telperion
20 Drosk
16 Raven
16 Beetle
11 Garik
08 Bolkin
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Telperion stood up straight in surprise as the creature spewed its goo at his friends. He blinked twice as he watched the others try to deal with the mess.
"Huh. That's interesting" he mumbled to himself, and turned back to the creature with a new appreciation. As it scrabbled at its eyes, he searched for another weak spot in its anatomy and struck once again with his rapier.
The beetle emits a shrill shriek as Telperion's blade slides neatly into the exposed area between its body sections. It collapses to the floor, something vital apparently having been struck.
The form the beetle was attempting to roll into the corner seems to be another of the freshly dead, likely another villager.
Drosk's joke drew a smile from Raven. "Yeah, that can be our thing. We'll eat everything we kill. We'll have to go back and collect some of those bones. They'll add flavor to the broth."
Drosk's joke drew a smile from Raven. "Yeah, that can be our thing. We'll eat everything we kill. We'll have to go back and collect some of those bones. They'll add flavor to the broth."
"Don't know if that'd be a good idea lass. Them bones're so old they'd make th' broth all chalky," Drosk responds to Raven's comment, continuing the macabre humor.
"Torag Forgefather, please mend the wounds of these brave souls," Drosk prays, channeling a burst of diivine radiance that washes over the companions to assuage the burns caused by the giant beetle's caustic spittle.
The dwarf priest moves to inspect the body that the beetle was worrying. "Can anyone identify this poor soul?" he asks aloud.
At Drosk's request, Bolkin leaned down to get a closer look at the body. The body wasn't immediately recognizable, but he did do his best to search for any identifying characteristics.
Raven's inspection of the crossbow shows it to be masterwork, but non-magical.
Drosk and Bolkin's examination of the villager turns up nothing about his identity, though it's safe to assume he's a Kassenite given he's only been dead for a day or two. Just like those in the entrance foyer, he has been badly maimed by skeletal claws and, judging by the worst of the wounds, cut down while running.
Anyone moving towards the door notices that it seems warm, and listening closely reveals the crackling of a fire. Opening the door reveals that the room is filled with a harsh, oily smoke.
Conversely, peeking down the stairs reveals a corridor with a low ceiling that abruptly hits another set of stairs heading up.
"Why would there be an untended fire here in the Crypt?" Drosk wonders aloud as a coughing Telperion swiftly closes the door to the smoke-filled room. "An' why would it be puttin' out such harsh, oily smoke? Seems pretty strange to me."
"You know, Torag's blessed me with the ability to summon water, maybe I could use that to douse the fire an' we could check it out?" the dwarf priest suggests.
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"Why would there be an untended fire here in the Crypt?" Drosk wonders aloud...
Telperion looked forlorn as he acknowledged the dwarf's query. "That does seem strange" he admitted, his curiosity rising along with his gorge. He began a sigh of acquiescence, but the inhalation caused him to start coughing again. He moved sheepishly to open the door for Drosk, trying to muffle his wheezing with his sword arm.
"I dunno, Drosk," Bolkin interjected as he remembered one of the lessons he'd briefly paid attention to during his time as a guard, "If there's burning oil in there, wouldn't it be a bad idea to try to put it out with water? I mean, that's what I was told." Bolkin mused to himself about if there was another way to put out the fire, but none of his ideas was within his immediate means as a fighter.
Eventually, he just shrugged and continued, "Then again, it might not be oil at all, in which case water would work just fine. Maybe we should find out before we choose a course of action." Bolkin then proceeded to hold his breath and peer through the smoke to see if he could spot anything, but he could barely make anything out past his own watering eyes.
A consensus reached, the group presses on into the room. Bolkin tries to peer through the smoke, but his watering eyes don't reveal anything more than the room's basic layout.
There's a fire pit in the center of the chamber, the remains of a small fire likely lit by the villagers burning unattended and letting off a plume of smoke. Some of them were likely resting here, as there are various bits of gear and sleeping bags in the room - but curiously, they've all been piled on the fire and are slowly burning away. The sight of another corpse at the bottom of the pile, and some bones scattered around, is disturbing if not unexpected.
Some of the smoke rises through a chimney directly above the fire, but most of it remains to choke the room.
"Well Drosk. Methinks this is just a burning debris left unattended. Maybe ye could do yer summoning and rid us of this smoke"
Garik felt pity and anger at the sight of yet another apparently corpse of a villager. He hopes it's not Dimira's. The thought of bringing such a bad news to Roldare made the young dwarf so angry that he couldn't tell anymore if the tears from his eyes were from the smoke or the injustice of the situation.
The young barbarian tightens his grip on his weapons as he looks around the room, ready to pound on something dangerous to vent his anger on.
Raven follows the others into the smoky chamber.
"Well Drosk. Methinks this is just a burning debris left unattended. Maybe ye could do yer summoning and rid us of this smoke"
"Aye, Garik."
Drosk moves over to the pit while softly offering prayers to Torag, trying to get a good look at the burned body before attempting to douse the flames with the powers granted by the Forgefather.
Garik's eyes are no help as the tears boil over. Raven blinks most of her own back, taking in the room. It's likely this was intended as a resting place for visitors - a place to build a warm fire, safe from the elements and secure-able from whatever scuttling wildlife works its way into the tomb.
Something shiny near the fire catches her eyes - the head of a scorched key laying a foot or so away from the fire.
Drosk uses one of his armored hands to push aside some of the burning pile to get a better look at the victim. While he can't identify the badly burned corpse, he's sure the victim was a man and judging by sheer bulk, likely the forester Roldare mentioned. Caught between his gnarled hand and burned breast is a faintly glowing dagger.
Drosk summons plenty of water to dowse the fire, causing yet another rolling plume of smoke to fill the room, thickening the cloud as the ventilation proves insufficient.
Looking at it invokes a sinking feeling in the pit of the stomach - what was once a man is now a mere shadow of its former self, nothing more than hatred and malice towards living beings. At first it seems almost curious, but a literal flare of anger crosses its non-features as two burning, hollow embers light where its eyes should be.
As he summons water to douse the flames, Drosk reaches down to retrieve the glowing dagger from the grasp of the burned corpse.
Raven points out the key for somebody closer to pick up.
Bolkin, knowing what was about to come, was quick to hold his breath before the blast of smoke came in. He wasn't concerned about holding it too long, just long enough for the room to air out. While this action saved him from getting a lungful of smoke, it did little to help his eyes.
In between bouts of blinking the water from his eyes, Bolkin barely managed to make out the faint form on the other side of the room. "Look out!" he called as he instinctively jumped forward in front of Raven, clutching his flail in both hands, though he was unsure how much good it would do against the strange creature.
Init (Telperion)
Init (Enemy)
As Drosk doused the fire and the ensuing smoke billowed more to suffocate the group, Garik thought too late about what he and Drosk practically observe everyday in the forge whenever they dunk hot objects in the water and forgot to warn the others what might happen for a while.
"Ooops! Sorry Telp, forgot to tell you that might happen" as the dwarf barbarian sees the elf coughing anew. And as he looked closely at the elf and the smoke, Garik sees a shadowy figure with menacing red eyes which reminded him of the wolves they encountered in their first night out of Kassen but this time these eyes are obviously unnatural!
"Guys! Look out! Seems like the smoke's conjuring something like a shadowy figure with night wolf eyes!"
The young dwarf barbarian points out with his light mace to the figure for the rest to watch out for just in case they are unaware of the creature and he moves toward the figure with his upraised morningstar to unhesistantly attack it.
"May Torag guide me hand!"
Garik's weapon sails harmlessly past the creature, his blow poorly aimed in his haste.
Its gaze turns to him, and with a surprising, almost languid fluidity slaps a shadowy appendage across the dwarf's chest. Garik feels the muscles constrict and feels as though his heart misses a beat as chills wrack his body.
His arms start to feel heavy as his strength drains away from him.
Drosk
Raven
Initiative Order (Round 1)
Telperion (22)
Garik (22)
Raven (18)
Drosk (18)
Bolkin (15)
Shadow (12)
It's likely it won't follow beyond this room.
"It's a ghost! Run!" Telperion shrieks in a high-pitched voice.
An idea scrambled through Telperion's mind, "The dagger!" he shouted, squinting through the smoke towards Drosk.
Round One:
Drosk's eyes widen in horror as he sees the shadowy apparition before him, but the dwarf priest manages to maintain his composure. "Take this!" he hisses to Bolkin as he passes the glowing dagger to the guardsman.Raising his hammer before him in a warding gesture, he shouts, "By Torag's holy will, son of Kassen, be ye at peace!" at the shadowy apparition. With this command, the hammer-shaped birthmark on Drosk's cheek glows with a holy radiance that spreads out to engulf the spirit.