She held out an old leather-bound tome in both hands for Marak. "For your scholarly pursuits." she said with a smile uncharacteristic to those who didn't know her well.
Marak looks puzzled at first by the display of the sword to Muchorak, even perhaps a bit amused. At the presentation of the tome from Kallie, he appears flabbergasted.
"I... Uh, thank you. Thank you very much! This is most thoughtful of you." he stammers, as he sneaks a peek between the covers and his eyes widen. "Most thoughtful, indeed!"
He keeps trying to sneak peeks at the book while walking, and ends up having to discipline himself and put the book in his pack, so as not to risk walking off a cliff in his distraction...
Of course, I don't have any of the RotR stuff, so I'll have no idea what cool things Marak will be reading!
Marak arrives with his shiny new magic backpack, which hangs limply off of his shoulder, filled with, uh, very little.
He smiles at the sight of his companions, and mutters a small prayer to Nethys to lead them to new knowledge, gripping his two-faced holy symbol as he does so.
Marak will pick up a healing belt and the darkwood shield mentioned in the OOC thread. If he's got the incense of meditation, he'll determine that it won't sell for but a fraction of it's worth, and save it to sell in a larger city, later.
Marak walks with purpose, hand on his coin, until he acquires two of the three items he's been looking for, and verifies that the mithral shirt is not available. He brusquely ignores anyone hawking anything else and leaves as soon as his purchases are complete.
He'll spend what remains of the day cleaning his gear and inventorying his items in preparation for the next days raid on Thistletop, and then examining some of the Thassilonian scripts that he wrote down earlier in the privacy of his room, coming down for evening meal.
Marak listens intently to the description of the Runelord of Wrath, even taking out some paper and jotting down notes. Otherwise, barring the involuntary widening of his eyes at the size of the town's reward for dealing with the menace beneath the surface, he remains quiet.
Once the underground pool appears to have been purged of it's fell power, his mood brightens, and he hauls the bones left in the cells to the surface to bury them outside of town (in burlap sacks, to keep them from the view of curious villagers who might react poorly to their visible deformities). He purchases a few cloves of garlic, which he mashes up into water, and pours the punguent concoction over the overturned earth. If anyone asks, he'll claim that it has a religious significance, but it's really just to discourage stray dogs from digging up the bones... Drawing upon his temple training, he'll invoke rites of his own patron, Nethys, as it was the foul use of magic that led to their fates, and also call upon the guidance of Desna, a more commonly worshipped local diety, to these lost souls, to lead them to their eternal rest.
This will occupy him until near sundown, and when he re-unites with the others, he expresses an interest in moving on the goblins of Thistletop the next morning, if some sort of boat can be arranged to ferry them to the island near dawn.
In the room of floating objects, IIRC, there was a dead raven, a book (which Marak has), a wand and a scroll (both of which Kalliciel has). And some maggots, which, like the dead raven, nobody much wanted...
Marak sleeps fitfully, starting awake at the sounds of other patrons moving about, or the wind gently rocking the tavern sign outside on it's rusty fastenings. When he does sleep, visions of mishapen creatures, made from the bodies of men, but with faces twisted in inhuman expression, lurch out of tunnels that have never seen the light of day, tunnels that he can't seem to find his way out of...
When the light of dawn peeks through the shutters, he abandons any attempt at a good night's sleep and plods gracelessly downstairs to pick at a breakfast of biscuits and gravy, with water on the side, as he finds himself unable to bear the sight or smell of eggs or meat.
While his hair has been slicked back and his clothing appears clean, the sagging skin below his bloodshot eyes puts the lie to his rested appearance.
As Kalliciel sits down next to him, Marak makes an attempt at smiling, but it comes out as a bit of a scowl.
"I am unfamiliar with this town and it's people, and so the thought of drinking and eating in the presence of so many who, for all that I know, may have been in some way aware of the horrors that we saw today, or perhaps even in league with them, leaves me uneasy."
At the sight of Roman's attack of nausea, he gets up, "And it's certainly possible that a cultist may have attempted to poison us."
He leaves to make sure that Roman is merely suffering from an excess of libations, and not the effects of something more sinister, gripping the handle of his dagger and moving gracelessly through the other patrons, suspecting that anyone present could be an agent of the imagined enemies in his mind...
Marak will make a heal check on Roman, and probably spend the night half-sleeping sitting up in his chain shirt, waiting for assassins while awake, and dreaming of shambling mismatched creatures made from different people while asleep. He's had a nasty attack of paranoia!
At Inikai's query, Marak's brow furrows. He had been lost in thought the entire evening, sitting aside so as not to dampen others enthusiasm for the evening, but it did concern him that this town lay over a wellspring of evil, and the town leadership, [i]if they didn't already know about it,[i] were not exactly beating the bushes to address the situation.
Then again, perhaps he was just being paranoid. These small-town folk hardly seemed the type to engage in Chelaxian-esque machinations and intrigues...
He continues eating bread, dipping it in gravy, making up for his lack of strong drink by eating with a will, as if he had not spent the day seeing creatures that seemed to have come from Zon-Kuthon's own nightmares.
"The innkeeper said that she'd have a meal ready for me when I was done with my soak, perhaps she'll have a spare plate for you as well." Marak replies to Roman's question. His eyes linger on the red-dyed leather armor ('Or is it dyed?' He wonders. 'Perhaps cut from some beast with a naturally red hide, such as a Fire Pelt?'). "Is there some story behind such a bold taste in armor?" he asks, gesturing with his left hand. "Does the coloration or design have some significance of which I am unaware?" He is smiling, as if he is dancing around a topic.
He has also pointedly shifted his position to turn his right arm, tattooed with brilliant green Thassilonian runes, to face away from his companions, even if everyone has already seen the runes in action.
Hailing from Absalom, Marak is no stranger to public baths, even if he's used to *larger* ones, with attendents fetching wine and fresh towels and seperate areas for warm, hot and cool water lounging about.
He grimaces at the wooden tub, wondering what sort of grime and slime adheres to it's surface, but, at this point, he doesn't care enough to worry about it and settles down for a soak, massaging an arm not yet accustomed to toting a heavy shield around all day long.
"Mayor's office," Marak mutters to himself as he trudges into the inn where he began this day. Returning to his room to drop off his backpack, shrug off his chain shirt, and the toss the ranseur on the bed (which now seems to weigh about as much as a yearling colt to his exhausted arm), he comes downstairs long enough to inquire whereabouts in Sandpoint he could procure a hot bath and a cold meal.
Muchorak's words to Ilsoari prompts Marak to add, "There are also the bones of victims, possibly centuries old, that should be brought up into the sun and buried with proper respect. I think the last thing Sandpoint needs at this stage is unhappy spirits..."
Marak regains his composure and adds another two coppers worth, "It would seem that the pool is fueled by blood, and likely has limited power. As gruesome as it sounds, perhaps we should attempt to drain it by using blood to 'burn it out.' The blood of chickens perhaps, or I could simply use blood from my own arm, rather than kill animals. It also may be of some benefit to make sure that those who sent us here, Ilsoari and Father Zanthus and perhaps the Mayor, are aware of this location and what was done here, so that they can be on the lookout for anyone else attempting to come down here and revive these practices..."
Is Marak under some sort of compulsion to reveal the information he 'figured out' in the above spoiler text? It seems to be terribly contrary to what 'makes sense,' in that it makes more sense to *not* use the totally evil monster-creating Runewell, and certainly not to feed more blood into it (chicken or otherwise), and even less sensible to bring other townsfolk down here and show them how to work it (and risk any town leader type who already knew about it being able to order us not to destroy it)!
If he actually did figure this out, and not as some sort of compulsion, his response to the others will be;
"I have had the most disquieting notion, and I wonder if perhaps this vile pool is somehow influencing my mind. It seemed to me that, since the well was fueled by blood, that I should try to 'use it up,' using perhaps the blood of chickens, draining it of power. I even had the notion that perhaps the town's leadership should be allowed to see it in use before we destroyed it, which, upon retrospect, seems a horrible idea, since I'd rather no one above know how to operate such a monstrous thing!"
If he's compelled, he'll relate the 'suggestion' faithfully.
Marak again speaks the words to see magical auras, and checks over the room, including the items Inikai has already located, while assisting in his search.
"It does indeed make little sense for their to be a scriptorum here, and no scripts..."
"But perhaps, with the demons death, our task here is finally done? I believe that we have left no room unchecked, at this point, leaving us only to somehow remove the threat of the tainted waters, and to bury those left so long dead here."
"I suspect the backpack to have some sort of transformative magics, whether upon itself or upon items it carries, to make them lighter and easier to carry, perhaps, although, in this place, we have indeed encountered many less benign transformative magics, as Kallie seems to have taken to heart." Marak's knack for pontification is stymied and he admits grudgingly, "I am unsure what sort of magics lie within the boots."
Marak mutters an incantation and glances over the room for magical auras, before dismissing it and turning towards the other door that Roman has mentioned.
"I'd imagine that the Centaurs would be less than amused to hear that the followers of Lamashtu attribute their race to her glory..."
At Ali's query, Marak says, "Desecrating whatever forces lurk here may require a more lengthy ritual than we have time for right now, fierce one. We should concentrate on the evils we can face with spell and sword, for the time being, and arrange later to eliminate any future threat this pool may pose."
He snatches up the Lamashtan holy symbol and secures it in his backpack, muttering something about melting it down, to deny it's use to any others of that faith.
Seeing that Muchorak has secured the Quasit's valuables and the group is beginning to turn its attentions to the doors, Marak gathers up the ranseur he's been toting around and readies himself for any surprises that wait behind the door.
After verifying that the demon and the sinspawn are very dead, Marak Quan rises to his feet and grips the holy symbol on his neck tightly.
"Let evil and it's works be expunged, in this hour of it's defeat."
Channel Energy cures 9 hit points to everyone in the room who isn't dead.
A rush of power that feels like the heat of a furnace washes over everyone in the room, and injuries seem to burn away in it's wake.
After his previously underwhelming attempts at Channeling Energy, Marak seems quite pleased with the noticeable increase in divine favor. He can't stop himself from smiling in his excitement.
The green tattoos on Marak's arm continue to surge and flare as he grimly continues to hurl splashes of acid on each of the downed foes, to prevent any sort of regeneration from returning them to consciousness.
Marak sends his floating blade to strike at the next available Sinspawn, while moving five feet closer to wherever he needs to be to provide a flanking bonus.
Noticing the healing wounds on the fallen Sinspawn, Marak turns and disgorges a tiny gout of greenish acid into the brute, to attempt to stop it from returning to plague them anew.
Seeing that the Quasit has flown out of range of his allies, Marak gestures with his dagger and his longsword flies up and swings at it, but comes nowhere near the nimble little creature.
Marak remains in position to provide someone (preferably Roman) with a flanking bonus, while waving his dagger at the foe. His longsword sweeps over, mimicing the gesture, and slices into the Sinspawn that just clawed the rogue.
Marak's sword drifts through the air and slashes wildly at the Sinspawn between Roman and Inikai, landing a solid blow this time. Marak himself steps forward to flank one of the creatures, if possible, waving his dagger half-heartedly.
Once the way is clear, Marak takes a five foot step to get closer to Muchorak. He fumbles at his belt to produce one of the scrolls that Ilsoari gave them for this very encounter and when he can get within reach, he will activate the scroll upon Muchorak's primary weapon, aligning it towards Good.
"Quickly, enter the room and close the door behind us, so that it may not escape!" he hisses as he begins to move foward. "Anyone who wants to try the tanglefoot bag idea, this is the time..."
Move action to get into position, draw scroll as part of move action, standard action used to activate scroll of Align Weapon. Free action to be all bossy.
Marak updated, took extra hp as Human FC bonus and Extra Turning as 3rd level Feat.
Marak glances at the scroll and book that he's acquired to see if they have any special significance. He suspects that the scroll will be arcane, and more suitable for Kallie...
Marak summons the scroll as well with his power, as Kallie seems to have the wand well in hand. He'll then gesture and summon the apple back, leaving the raven floating there alone, with it's entourage of maggots.
Brushing the apple against his tunic to make sure that it is clean (and doesn't have any maggots attached to it), he'll sniff it once and if nothing smells amiss, will take a bite.
Using Hand of the Acolyte, Marak reaches magically out across the distance and summons the floating book towards himself.
"Some sort of transformative magics occupy this room, although they seem surprisingly feeble for the effects we are seeing. I would advise against stepping foot into the room, in any event."
Marak activates his detect magic ability, attempting to determine what sort of magic is present, since he's already sure that there is some magic here.
He is also very interested in the words and runes appearing and disappearing, and will spend the two rounds that it takes his detect magic to reach the intensity necessary for school identification looking for some sort of meaning or pattern.
"I am unsure. Given the presence of the shrine to Lamashtu we found earlier, I doubt it. It's conceivable that this place is so tainted by corrupt forces that the bodies of prisoners abandoned here simply became undead on their own. Any evil capable of creating such deliberately would also be able to control them, and have no need to put them in cages."
He shrugs, kicking over the last of the open hatches, to block the sight of the remains interred within. "But I am certainly no expert on such things. There may have indeed been some reasoning to these creatures being placed here, which we may never know."
It's not hard to see that Marak seems notably less distressed by the presence of undead than he was in the room with the torture implements...
Looking up after Kallie's words about cleansing the place, he nods. "Yes, I had already intended to return here later and conduct a proper burial for the remains we found in the prison area. These poor souls as well deserve better than to be left in the pits where they most likely died unremembered."
"But that will have to wait for another day. We must focus on the needs of the living first."
He will wait to see what effect Kallie's healing flames have on Muchorak's wounds before expending any of his own curing magics.
During this grim duty, Marak tries to determine if any of the zombies are recent, wearing relatively current clothing, etc. If there are people missing from the town above, having been brought down here and made undead, he would like to be able to discern this, for the sake of worried relatives.
He forces a smile for his small companion. "Thank you, Ali."
"Given what we've already learned about this place, and how it seems to turn men into monsters, I fear that they may not have been undead when they were put into the pit..." Marak says with a tight expression.
"We should at least check to see if anyone in these cages is still alive."
"I'll help Roman with these hatches, so that Muchorak can keep his weapons at the ready." Marak says, sheathing his formerly floating longsword, and bending down to help Roman. He stands at the opposite side from Roman so that front area is clear for people to take action.
"The creature we killed appears to have been a Goblin, at least, before it drank from the pool of water consecrated to Lamashtu and was warped into this form..."
Marak's bloody longsword hangs motionless in midair while he leans over and touches the carcass of the strange beast. He watches closely for any signs that the creatures wounds are healing...
Lore Keeper, take 10 Knowledge (whatever) check to see if he can determine anything about this creature.
DM Wellard wrote:
does anyone else think I have singularly unlucky in this dungeon so far
I don't want to jinx us, but these beasties do seem a bit underwhelming for a 2nd level group of our size.
Marak's magically weilding longsword slices deeply into the creature, taking advantage of it's focus on Muchorak. He shouts at it from beside Muchorak, banging his shield with the dagger in his hand, hoping to draw it's attention from the wounded fighter for a moment.
Marak moves to melee range with the creature, still attempting to not step on any of the boarded over areas, dagger and shield at the ready, while his levitating longsword takes another slash at the beast.
If Marak can move through friendly squares, he does so as necessary. I can never remember the rules on that...
As soon as he's got room to do so, Marak moves forward, avoiding stepping on the wooden trap doors, twenty feet towards the creature. His longsword once again slides from the sheath on his back and moves another 15 feet forward and attacks (if in range), while he casually drops the ranseur he is holding and draws his dagger (as part of his movement action).
Marak re-arctivates his detect magic SLA, since it's probably faded since he checked the sigil-marked doors.
"Indeed, and it appears to be magical. It might be prudent to stuff it in your basket and we can examine it when we have time later." Marak says. "Given the location, it's likely something that would have been useful to the people who frequented this place, such as a spell to divine the thoughts of one of their prisoners." he says, authoritatively.
"As far as I can tell, the three-armed fellow was indeed born that way, not surgically changed. But I can't really be sure. In any event, like the remains in the cells, whoever he was, he deserves a better burial than to be abandoned in this horrid place." Marak sounds less-than-thrilled with the conclusion. "As much as I would like to have never seen this place, it is clear that I will be compelled to return later to arrange more respectful final arrangements for these poor souls."
While Roman is examining the lock, Marak takes a moment to examine the three-armed skeleton.
Is it man-sized or larger? Does that arm attach on the left shoulder, right shoulder or somewhere else? He'll make a Heal (19) check and a Knowledge (arcana) (8) check to see if he can figure out whether this was a naturally occuring three-armed creature, or one that was surgically or magically modified.
In any event, whichever door is unlocked next, Marak wastes no time in opening it as well.
Marak addresses the air in a frustrated tone, "Or maybe we can bring down a local stableboy to open the doors for us. That would be much safer..." He doesn't bother to whisper, obviously. "Oh wait, we're supposed to be the brave adventurers. I forgot for a moment."
"Roman, whenever you are ready, feel free to unlock whichever of the doors you wish. I have divined no magical protections upon the doors or those seals, so any difficulties will be purely mechanical."
"I'll open the doors, so that Muchorak and Ali are not impeded by the action and their hand, or, uh, whatever are free." he stumbles over the last, somewhat spoiling his haughty delivery as he realizes at the last that Ali doesn't *have* any hands, in her current form...
Once Roman has unlocked one of the doors, and unless somebody else protests, Marak will stand to the side of it and pull it open, trying to leave room for others to take effective action in the confined space.
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