Pharris steps back into the main chamber at the rise of the swords, making sure she has her greatsword in the strong grip of both hands. Then she searches her memory for anything that may apply with this sort of evil magic.
She readies her sword to defend against the weapons attacking her.
Though he is quick to react, Laithe is unsure on how to attack or defend against the floating weapons. Holding his spear and shield at the ready, he stands next to Keildrithe, readying to defend himself as best he can. "Perhaps we should fall back to join with the others?" he suggests to the Hedilye.
Pharris holds tightly to her sword as she steps guardedly back into the room.
You also wonder whether the chill and unease that everyone seems to be feeling down here is purely natural, or whether it’s the result of a reaction to some spell effect, such as unhallow or desecrate.
Laithe waits, to see if the swords will do anything else … and they don’t disappoint. The floating blades begin moving, bobbing, weaving, spinning – before lashing out with sudden viciousness at the people within the room.
Three of the rusty blades attack Keildrithe, somewhat clumsily, but forcefully enough for two of them to wound the somewhat dumbfounded bard. His own sword and dagger also join in the attack on him, the sword hits, the dagger flies wide.
Another three ancient longswords attack Laithe, one bouncing off his armour, the other two missing completely. The other swords dart about the room, seeking targets.
Kajetan’s dagger flies at him seemingly of its own volition, but the attack is clumsy and it does not strike him.
Pharris' face shifts as the swords attack. Her thoughts on undeath magic roil and grip her mind in fear.
As Pharris steps into the room, she feels a tug at her greatsword, as if an invisible hand seeks to pluck it from her grip. She hangs on tightly, not letting the sword dance free ... but this does not stop the two daggers she carries pulling free from there sheaths and flying through the air to attack her. She swats them aside, no damage done.
"Definitely not good!" Nicholai mutters as he observes Pharris' own daggers rise from her belt to join the rest of the floating arsenal. He watches dumbfounded as the blades strike at their own owners. But the fact that Pharris daggers joined the others when she stepped back into the room, while his own still rests securely in their sheathes, is not lost on him.
"The room,... it's only in the room,..." He says softly, scanning the room for any sign of where the effect causing this came from.
"Everyone! Get out of the room! Into the tunnels! Whatever it is, it's only in the room!" He cries, searching his memory for anything he can do to help his friends.
Spot: 1d20+4=9, K: Arcana: 1d20+9=23, K:Religion: 1d20+7=25, Spellcraft: 1d20+9=27
"Everyone! Get out of the room! Into the tunnels! Whatever it is, it's only in the room!" He cries, searching his memory for anything he can do to help his friends.
Ducking and weaving under the multitude of deadly animated weapons attempting to decapitate him, Laithe is all to eager to agree with Nicolai's shouted command.
Staying close to Kaildrithe and trying to use his shield to offer them both some protection, he begins making his way to the tunnel entrance with as much haste as allowed without opening themselves up to a hail of attacks. "Let's move brother - I have no desire for our heads to be added to those skulls currently adorning the top of the headless statues - perhaps the last band to stray across this cursed tomb!"
"Let's move brother - I have no desire for our heads to be added to those skulls currently adorning the top of the headless statues - perhaps the last band to stray across this cursed tomb!"
Upon saying the words, Laithe is struck by a thought. "Perhaps it is the skulls atop the statues which are working the magic..." he mutters.
Still moving towards the tunnel entrance fending off what attacks he can, he shouts loud enough to be heard over the chaos "Nicolai! Kajetan! Use your magic to knock off the skulls! Perhaps they are powering the blades?"
The dumbstruck bard hangs on tenaciously to Alton's long dagger, despite being practically paralyzed with fear. He cries out in pain as his own sword and a few other blades slash at him and draw blood. "NO! Grandfather's blade!!!" Torn between his safety and his companions' calls for him to withdraw, and his devotion to the safe keeping of his family heirloom, the young Karand stumbles about indecisively for a moment, but his wounds and the imminent threat of more spectral attacks finally spur him into action. He decides to heed Nicolai's suggestion and follow Laithe out of the room, preparing to parry and dodge any other blade that might strike at him...
"I can't abandon grandfather's sword here!" wails Keildrithe disconsolately.
"SPIRITS!!!" yells the bard at the top of his lungs, once he reaches Nicolai's side. "Know ye that we be foes of the Artonite Inquisition, and that many among us, myself included, are followers of the old gods! To whom do you swear allegiance? Why torment us thus? What dark curse hath bound you to this place, and how might we release your restless souls? SPEAK!!!"
At Laithes shout, Nicholai snaps out of his indecision, and reaches his hand out as Keildrithe shouts his demand for the spirits to speak. He holds his hand out, but freezes, waiting to see if the bard is answered,...
"He's right, let's go everyone, quickly come on!"
Kajetan stands stock still in fear and awe as his own dagger plunges towards him, only managing to stumble backwards in time to avoid it out of reflex rather than anything else.
He racks his brain for any information of use.
*Knowledge (Arcana): +14 (+4 Int, 7 ranks, +3 Skill Focus Feat)
*Knowledge (Planes) : +11 (+4 Int, 7 ranks)
*Knowledge (History) : +11 (+4 Int, 7 ranks)
*Knowledge (Religion) : +7 (+4 Int, 3 ranks)
*Knowledge (Local) : +5 (+4 Int, 1 rank)
*Knowledge (Dungeoneering) : +5 (+4 Int, 1 rank)
Finally he makes a decision, and weaving his hands cast disrupt undead at the skull with the glowing eyes before stumbling out of the room.
Ranged touch attack The ray only effects undead creatures.
Nicolai and Kajetan, without further information, its difficult to tell exactly what is happening here … although this seems very much like it could be a haunting or the work of some sort of undead spirits, it could also very well be some type of magical trap utilising magic similar to an animate objects spell. Now that you are analysing the situation, you also wonder if the chill and slight sense of dread or wrongness that you all feel down here is entirely natural, or whether it might be a reaction to some sort of spell or curse similar to an unhallow or desecrate effect.
Keildrithe holds tightly to Alton’s dagger as he and Laithe withdraw into the possible safety of the passageway, both men barely managing to avoid being cut further as the rusty blades and even Keildrithe’s own weapons thrust and cut at them.
As soon as they leave the room, running past Pharris and Kajetan into the corridor, Keildrithe feels the tug at Alton’s dagger cease.
Kajetan points his finger at one of the skulls, but as he does so, his floating dagger cuts painfully into his outstretched arm , and the attack causes the ray he fires from his finger to shear past the skull with no discernable effect. The mage stumbles back into the corridor, his dagger barely missing him in a second attack as he retreats.
"Kaj!" Nicholai shouts from his perch atop his floating disk as the mage is wounded by his own dagger.
As LAithe and Keildrithe slide past him to the dubious safety of the tunnel, he shoves his hand forward as if grasping at something, an intense frown and look of concentration on his face. A ghostly image of his own hand leaves his outstretched arm, and moves unerringly towards the nearest statue. When the ghostly hand reaches the statue, Nicholai makes a grabbing motion, and the ghostly appendage copies his movements, grasping the skull in it's transparent fingers, and lifting it off of the statue's neck. NIcholai slowly draws his arm back, and up, and the ghostly hand follows suite, drifting away from the statue and lifting the skull up closer to the ceiling.
"Let's see how you like it!" The dandy mutters, and opens his hand. The magical appendage does the same, and the skull falls to the floor,...
Pharris withdraws back out the chamber, keeping her greatsword held high and ready. She keeps herself between the entrance and the others.
"Maybe this is cursed. Cursed from a different age but this all feels wrong to me."
Nicolai’s magic takes effect, and the nearest skull rises up into the air at his unspoken command, floating higher than the swords that flit and fly around it … then he lets it drop.
The old, yellowed skull smashes onto the stone floor, chips of bone and teeth flying in all directions. Two small spheres – apparently beads of red glass or something similar – fall from the eyesockets and smash apart on the floor.
One of the flying swords drops to the ground.
The rest of the floating blades fly quickly towards the entrance to the passageway, where the adventurers huddle just within, their backs to the darkness behind them. The swords and daggers cut and parry at the air, forming a whirling barrier of blades … but they do not leave the chamber.
:)
One of the old, rusty swords fell, Keildrithe’s grandfather’s sword still whirls through the air.
Kajetan stands dazed for a moment at the pace of action before he gathers his wits and starts to retrieve his crossbow from his back. He peers nervously over his shoulder into the dark tunnel behind him as his hands fumble with the straps.
:)
Keildrithe ponders his options, whispering the following to his companions: "Maybe if we retreat down the tunnel for a while, whatever is animating or wielding these weapons will put them down again... perhaps giving us a chance to retrieve them on our way back? I really want that sword back -- it was my grandfather's..."
The tunnel behind you is some ten feet wide and a similar height. It has a paved stone floor, and uneven, stacked rocks line the walls, although they have fallen away in places to reveal bare earth and the fine roots of plants above. The packed earth ceiling is supported by ancient looking timber beams. The tunnel heads west, but curves away to the north.
"Dropping the skull, or possibly the crystals being dislodged by that action, seems to be what caused that sword to fall. Let's see if we can duplicate the experiment, shall we?" Nicholai says with a smirk. But his forehead is creased slightly as he maintains his concentration.
"What odds do you give on this one being the skull holding your grandfather's sword? And how much money have you got to back it up?" The dandy asks lightly, his voice showing none of the strain on his face.
He reaches out his hand again, and the ghostly copy of it moves towards the next skull,...
Pharris quickly changes weapon and notches an arrow to her strung bow. "Let's see if this works."
The elven archer takes a shot, doing as the arrow flies.
Pharris quickly changes weapon and notches an arrow to her strung bow. "Let's see if this works."
The elven archer takes a shot, 1d20+7 doing 1d8 as the arrow flies.
Laithe breathes a sigh of relief as the blades halt at the corridor entrance. He is further elated seeing one of the blades crash to the floor as a result of the skull being smashed.
With no magic left to aid in the destruction of the remainin skulls, he follows Pharris' lead and reaches pulls out his sling. Scooping up a piece of rubble from the corridor floor he loads it and sends the rock spinning towards one of the skulls.
"What odds do you give on this one being the skull holding your grandfather's sword? And how much money have you got to back it up?" The dandy asks lightly, his voice showing none of the strain on his face.
"How about we immortalize you in your very own ode... should you succeed, of course." Keildrithe flashes a quick grin back at the dandy.
"How about we immortalize you in your very own ode... should you succeed, of course." Keildrithe flashes a quick grin back at the dandy.
"Done!" Nicholai quips back with a grin. But he does not move his head or seem to blink as his ghostly hand moves to it's next target,...
Nicolai’s magic hand picks up and smashes another skull, and one of the rusty swords guarding the doorway fall to the ground. Pharris shoots through the resulting gap in the wall of blades, her well-aimed arrow striking one of the skulls with enough force to knock it from the clay shoulders. The red glass beads within the eye sockets smash on the floor and another of the ancient blades drops.
Laithe’s stone takes out another skull (and another sword) and Nicolai causes yet another sword to drop with his mage hand – but now he can move it no further without re-entering the chamber. There are seven skulls left, and seven old longswords twist and whirl at the doorway, along with Keildrithe’s blade and assorted daggers.
NIcholai pulls his arm back, and the ghostly hand retreats back to the tunnel with the rest of them.
"Give me one of the coins," He says, the strain of maintaining the simple cantrip beginning to show on his face. He takes the proferred glowing coins, and his ghostly hand picks it up and carries it into the room until it is almost at the limit of the spells range.
"Okay!" Nicholai says hoarsely, sweat forming on his brow. "Now you have better light for a shot at the skulls, sorry I can't do anything about the blades being in your way."
"Oh, and no rush, but concentrating on a spell is like flexing a muscle. It's easy to do, but you can't hold it forever." He adds wryly. "This is the best I can do, unless you want to risk getting carved up trying toget nearer to the other skulls?"
Pharris looks around for a large skull close to where Keildrithe was last stood inside the chamber. Then she fires an arrow at it.
"Thanks for the light," smiles the elf maiden at Nicolai.
"Your welcome." Nicholai smiles back at the grinning Elvin goddess. And his ghostly hand dips dangerously low before he pulls it back up with a frown of concentration. He keeps his attention focused on the magic apparition after that, but there is a ghost of a smile on his lips as Pharris sights and draws her bow,...
"Your welcome." Nicholai smiles back at the grinning Elvin goddess. And his ghostly hand dips dangerously low before he pulls it back up with a frown of concentration. He keeps his attention focused on the magic apparition after that, but there is a ghost of a smile on his lips as Pharris sights and draws her bow,...
Laithe scoops up another stone, loads it into his sling and takes aim at one of the skulls 40ft away. He swings and let's fly, but the irregular stone flies wide.
"I could possibly venture out there and try and take out those far skulls?" he says, the uncertainty in his voice making it more of a question to the others than a statement. "In wolf form the blades may struggle to keep up with me."
"I could possibly venture out there and try and take out those far skulls?" he says, the uncertainty in his voice making it more of a question to the others than a statement. "In wolf form the blades may struggle to keep up with me."
"No point risking your life, brother. It seems we can do this without incurring further harm."
Taking his cue from the others, Keildrithe picks up a stone from the floor and lets it fly. One of the whirling blades bats it out of the air, to the side. "It's been a while since I've used one of these," mumbles the bard in embarrassment.
No way am I going to risk Kajetan shooting a crossbow bolt through the crowd of companions, there is a natural one just wanting to jump out at me. So Kajetan hovers at the back looking nervous and feeling useless.
No way am I going to risk Kajetan shooting a crossbow bolt through the crowd of companions, there is a natural one just wanting to jump out at me. So Kajetan hovers at the back looking nervous and feeling useless.
Pharris again finds a gap in the whirring blades, her second arrow knocks a skull from its perch, and another rusty sword falls to the ground, shattering on the stone floor. Laithe and Keildrithe’s hurled stones are less successful, being turned aside by the blades that batter impotently against a seeming invisible barrier at the chamber’s entrance.
With less than a dozen more shots (and perhaps a little help from further stones thrown by the druid and the bard – and certainly from Nicolai’s magic), Pharris manages to knock out the rest of the skulls. As the last ancient cranium falls, the red beads that it held breaking on the ground, so does the last ancient sword fall – and along with it, Keildrithe’s sword, and the daggers plucked from various belts and sheaths. Near silence returns to this cold, dark place, broken only by the breathing of the adventurers and the steady drip drip of water from above.
Nicholai brings his ghostly hand back to him, and catches the coin in his own hand as the image fades like the morning mist. Taking a deep breath to relax, he retrieves Keildrithe's sword, and presents it to the bard with a flourish and a grin.
"Well, that was fun!" He says dryly, dabbing fastidiously at his forehead with a handkerchief. "Shall we do it again?"
Nicholai brings his ghostly hand back to him, and catches the coin in his own hand as the image fades like the morning mist. Taking a deep breath to relax, he retrieves Keildrithe's sword, and presents it to the bard with a flourish and a grin.
"Well, that was fun!" He says dryly, dabbing fastidiously at his forehead with a handkerchief. "Shall we do it again?"
"You just want another chance to be immortalised in song" Laithe jests in response to Nicolai's question. "By my eye it was Pharris' skill with the bow that freed Keildrithe's sword and thus her right to claim a key part in his next ballad." He smiles at the group, before turning back to the room.
"Should we finish our search of this place and then pick a corridor?"
Nicholai laughs, it is a short, but true and infectious laugh, free of the usual manners and airs that the dandy usually puts on. He finishes, and assumes his usual look, sniffing with mock indignation at Laithe's statement. Although the laughter remains in his eyes.
"Well, of course I wish for the opportunity to be immortalized in song! Can you think of a better way to introduce yourself at a society function than to have your troubadour sing a ballad of your deeds? However, in this case your eye is correct. Our most eagle-eyed Pharris is the one whose shot rescued us from our predicament. I was but her humble light-bearer, magical though that light was. However, I can think of many worse things to be remembered for than as the torch-bearer for the hero whose mystical skill with the bow rescued her companions from dire peril of ancient magics! The Ballad of Pharrisong, yes I can hear it now,..."
Nicholai rambles on, a seemingly limitless supply of verbal rhetoric on the subject, until the others quite get the point that he is joking. In the meantime, as he waxes eloquent, he searches the room once more. Paying particular attention to the remnants of the shattered crystals from the skulls. He attempts to examine them, with Kajetan, and discusses the possibility of using either any undamaged ones, or their remains, in a future spell or magic item.
:
Pharris laughs out loud when the danger passes and enjoys the target practice. "Its not as difficult as the shot I took for the eagle. Now that was my best shot even though I didn't hit the bird, it was something to be proud of."
Eventually when the party can return to the chamber, Pharris collects the arrows and counts all she has left. "Ten arrows remaining. When we find a place to rest I'll need some more."
She takes out her greatsword and examines iot for nicks and rust, while the searching continues. Sitting cross-legged with the sword in her lap and gently rasping the whetstone along the sword's edge, the maiden hums quietly one of the tunes she heard in Lichford.
Kajetan does not join in the humour, he looks nervous and feels naked with out the comforting feeling of stored spells in his mind. He clutches the crossbow so tightly that his knuckles turn white and his lips are thin as he clams his jaw shut.
He bends over the smashed skulls and inspects the glass beads, but is more distracted at looking down the dark tunnels, half expecting some creature from a nightmare to come bursting out of them.
Nicholai brings his ghostly hand back to him, and catches the coin in his own hand as the image fades like the morning mist. Taking a deep breath to relax, he retrieves Keildrithe's sword, and presents it to the bard with a flourish and a grin.
"Well, that was fun!" He says dryly, dabbing fastidiously at his forehead with a handkerchief. "Shall we do it again?"
"You just want another chance to be immortalised in song" Laithe jests in response to Nicolai's question. "By my eye it was Pharris' skill with the bow that freed Keildrithe's sword and thus her right to claim a key part in his next ballad." He smiles at the group, before turning back to the room.
"Should we finish our search of this place and then pick a corridor?"
"Thank you, Nicolai, Cympharrisong," says Keildrithe, exhaling deeply as his grandfather's sword is returned to him (Nicolai would notice that there is nothing particularly remarkable about the sword -- it just looks like a battered old blade). He inspects the blade quickly, making sure that whatever wielded it hasn't left some ghastly sign of its handling.
"But, the question is... to whom do I really owe the ballad now? I might agree to escort Pharris as her personal troubadour, but I can't promise that I would do the same for you, Nicolai... no offence intended, of course," says the bard with a smile. The smile quickly fades as his attention returns to the dark tunnel behind them, then to the red beads that Kajetan is handling.
"What do you make of them, Kajetan? Have you heard of such being used in arcane or unholy rituals before?"
Keildrithe cautiously re-enters the room to resume his search, inspecting the throne for any sigils or markings that might hint at the origins of its deceased inhabitants, and keeping an eye out for devices, levers or anything else that might hint at the existence of a secret door.
"Thank you, Nicolai, Cympharrisong," says Keildrithe,...
"But, the question is... to whom do I really owe the ballad now? I might agree to escort Pharris as her personal troubadour, but I can't promise that I would do the same for you, Nicolai... no offence intended, of course," says the bard with a smile. The smile quickly fades as his attention returns to the dark tunnel behind them, then to the red beads that Kajetan is handling.
"None taken." Nicholai responds with a raised eyebrow and a small smirk still lingering.
"This time the honor most assuredly was earned by the lovely Cympharrisong." He declares, bowing towards the elf maiden. "Teach it to me, and I shall sing of her prowess as well! Although likely not nearly as well as you." He adds wryly with a glance towards Keildrithe.
With the nervous energy wearing down, and the banter slowly dying with it, Nicholai turns serious and returns his attention to examining the remains of the red crystals with Kajetan.
The glass beads (all of them now smashed) that Kejetan examines were hollow, made of extremely thin glass, each with a twist of faded red dyed cloth within. Presumably they somehow acted as a trigger or medium for the floating swords, but they are likely useless and worthless now.
Keildrithe exams the chamber with a historian’s eye. This style of hill covered tomb is not so different to ones sometimes constructed by certain Karandic peoples and their distant Thuringian cousins, but there are subtle differences. In particular the overt use of skull and skeletal motifs are actually fairly uncommon in the burial practices of both peoples. Pre-Artonite Atuscans used skulls and skeletons a lot, but they did not construct hill-cairns, nor was an Atuscan civilization extant in this region prior to the Atuscan invasion of the last two centuries.
Something different then … examining the oddly shaped skulls Keildrithe is reminded of the near extinct race known as the Narog. The bard begins to grow excited … could this be a burial cairn of the Sya-Negan?
Keildrithe:
Meanwhile, Nicolai is searching the chamber. He finds nothing of particular interest until he reaches the rough-hewn stone throne at the far end of the chamber. There is a gap between the base of the throne and the floor at the rear .. .reaching his hand within, the mage discovers a hollow alcove in the floor. Within are six glazed clay bottles, each sealed with wax and marked with crude runic engravings.