Victor shrugs as his outfit returns to it’s normal splendor ”I never said it was a good plan on it’s own. Simply that it was a tool to be used. I could also disguise myself as one of them if I got a good look. But there are linguistic issues with that plan.” he explains, sitting with his back against a rock as they converse ”I could probably pull off an ogre for an extended period if REALLY needed. But something tells me that it would be stressful. Plus I can’t really do a disguise without a reference point. Like for instance...” he trails off as he stands, the same transformation sweeping up his form and leaving him looking like a mirror’d copy of Sulan, complete with clothing.
”I could do a convincing appearance as anyone in this group, since I’ve had some time to look you over. These can last as long as I need them to thanks to a little magical aid I’ve got. That said, as for other tricks, other than those swords I can conjure I’ve got little to apply to this situation. There is only so much a man can do outnumbered 5 to 1.” he finishes as he dispels the apparent illusion and slumps back into his seat ”So now that I’ve revealed my metaphorical bag of tricks, what could each of you do that could be helpful?”
The farmer-priest frowns at Arven, but knows the lad has been doing well. What excitement he feels now is best cherished, for it might cushion the memories of what's still to come.
"Erastil has bestowed upon me some of his blessings and when we get into the thick of it, weave spells of healing and support. And, of course, my bow."
Gwen holds her spear overhead with one hand and gives it a twirl. "I'm pretty good with a spear. I've got this crossbow, but I'm no marksman. I'm not a real woodsman, but I've spent plenty of time outdoors. I can get around. "
Sulan looks around the cave entrance and finds a small but noticeable number of humanoid tracks. The humanoid tracks are of both Medium and Small size, and it looks like each of them wears something on their feet that isn't as hard as a shoe or a boot, but also not just barefoot. A cloth wrapping, perhaps? Sulan also finds a small scrap of cloth, caught on a nearby branch. The cloth is black, and smells awful, like sweaty feet slathered in foot-perfume.
"I don't know who these people are, but I don't think they're the gillmen and they're definitely not ogres. Which may be good. We may be able to gain them as allies against the Gillmen, or if not, we might be able to frame them for the raid."
"Maybe they are escaped slaves themselves. They might be able to give us valuable information about the gillman and their guards."
"There are certainly few reasons not to pursue the inquiry. Though we shouldn't take too much time if we can." Victor points out as he dusts himself off and gets ready for another climb "The longer we take the more the risk grows that we or our ship get found."
"This cave is quite hidden, so I think they are escaped slaves. We should track them down and see if we can help each other." Murob weighs in, reaching for the scrap of cloth that Sulan found to examine it.
The scrap of cloth has no identifying features beyond its smell. It is slightly damp. It is the least interesting shade of gray imaginable, and blends in perfectly with the stone.
"Gillmen tend to swim, a lot, no? Putting one and one together, you'd expect this odorous artifact to belong to a land dweller, which makes it more likely that the person is indeed a slave. Regardless, I doubt we'll have the good fortune of said person coming in right now to pray or contemplate at this whatever it is. Best keep our eyes open in case this sign," and Ehiz points at the rune, "is some sort of rallying cry for a slave rebellion."
"It might just be a hole that they hide in. If there's anyone down there, they probably won't be friendly."
It's not just a hole. Though Jim and Arven stay behind (they're both a little claustrophobic) once the party hops down into the hole and begins to explore it, it starts to become clear that there's definitely more to it.
For one thing, a few dozen meters down, the naturally-formed stone cavern turns into stairs cut into the rock. The steps are slightly too small for a human foot to fit comfortably (let alone Sulan's huge orcish feet) but they're not so small that it's impossible to traverse or that it just turns into a slide.
After about 150 feet, the stairs end, the ground flattens out and it opens into a passageway. The passageway (and, in fact, the stairs) are completely dark. The passageway is small, made of roughly-hewn stone, and has about a seven-foot ceiling. At the end of the ten-foot-long passageway is a door carved into the stone.
The door is closed and locked, and there is no obvious mechanism to open it. There isn't even a handle, nor an obvious seam in the middle of the door. Runic script covers the arched top portion of the door from floor to ceiling and back to floor again, although it isn't in a language that any of you recognize or know how to read.
At the first edge of darkness, Gwen lights a torch, then holds it aloft to light their way.
"Is this magic or craft?" Gwen reaches out to touch the stone, feeling for a seam or crack.
The man, who had been quietly trudging along with the group for several hours, finally moves up and examines the script and door. He mumbles something under his breath, moving his hands over the carved words, and then checks out the runic script again.
"Peculiar runes. Anyone know what they mean?" Victor asks as he studies them closely and ponders how to open this seamless door "Reminds me of something that a teacher of mine talked about once, the doors in his temple were covered in magical runes and would only respond to the will to be opened." he quietly mused as he lightly ran his fingers over the door, trying to remember how Dsahn had mentioned you would activate them.
"Hmph. 'No Tresspassin' maybe?" Sulan chuckles. I'm no miner, but I can tell you that this is way bigger than I imagined. Carvin' a tunnel like this out of livin' rock can't be easy. It woulda taken a lotta guys a lotta time. Or magic and whatnot."
"This is indeed impressive stonecraft - both this door blocking our way and the passage we have walked so far." Murob runs her finger lightly across the stone of the door, closing her eyes.
"I once heard a story about a clan of dwarves who could mould the stone like soft clay. They would create wondrous architecture, all sweeping curves and intricate floral designs. The secret was their old women. You had to be at least a grandmother to qualify, and you had to be able to sing. Day and night they sang to the stone until it melted and ran like wax, then the men would come to shape it."
She opens her eyes and turns to the rest of the group. "I'm sure it's just a story."
It appears to be crafted by hand. It is not smooth enough for stone shape to be the culprit.
Murob detects magic, but isn't able to determine exactly what kind of spell it might be. However, she can sense an abjuration aura.
"If you be an ally, speak The Shadow Count's blessings and enter a home for the betrayed."
His "blessing" likely refers to his method of worship, which is meditating in complete darkness, reflecting on those you wish to betray, or those who have betrayed you.
"Hm. This door is magicked. One spell holds it closed, although that one can be dispelled or circumvented with another spell. But there are others to raise the alarm in case of trespassers. This is not the refuge of simple escaped slaves, but something else entirely."
She turns to Fa'Zakar. "Can you decipher those runes? Perhaps they hold a hint."
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Fa'zakar looks at the runes, and after his mutterings he exclaims, "Ah, Of course! Yes, if you transcribe these letters to the ancient Ubangi script, then juxtapose the palindromic signatures, it reads, 'If you be an ally, speak The Shadow Count's blessings and enter a home for the betrayed.' I wonder who the Shadow Count is?"
This question leads to a discussion between Murob and Fa'zakar on the esoteric origins of the name, eventually leading them to realize that the moniker "Shadow Count" and the symbol carved above the portal refer to the holy symbol and an alternate name for a fey Eldest known as Count Ranalc, a Chaotic Neutral demigod of shadows, exiles, and betrayal.
Slapping Murob on the shoulder, Fa'za explains to the rest of the group that this "blessing" likely refers to his method of worship, which is meditating in complete darkness, reflecting on those you wish to betray, or those who have betrayed you. "Put out the light, please. I have an idea!"
When it is dark, he says aloud, "I was betrayed by Dru Colin, an apprentice in the temple where I spent my youth."
As Fa'Zakar speaks, a voice emanates from the doorway. With his comprehend languages spell, he can understand it to be saying: "And what fate would you have visited upon your betrayer?"
Gwen shifts in dark, sand scraping gently under her soles.
"Shadow Count? That sounds ominous," mutters the priest when the lights go out. It is clear that the Andoran has no clue who this 'Shadow Count' might be.
"Shadow Count? That sounds ominous,"
"Lotsa religions choose names to try and make their god sound tough. But darkness ain't a big deal. Even on the surface it's dark half the time!"
"This is gettin' more than a little creepy. Can I relight the torch?"
After the voice speaks, Fa'zakar responds, "I would have him bound to his choice - never able to leave the temple he caused me to never be able to enter again."
The voice responds - "Then welcome, חָבֵר" Fa'Zakar's comprehend spell runs out, but in the complete darkness you can hear the door sliding over to the side with a rumble.
Murob and Sulan, with their orcish vision in complete darkness see beyond the passage opens up into a wide cavern, although the range of their darkvision isn't enough to see very much of it.
You can all hear the soft sounds of conversation echoing off of stone walls, although the language is not something that you recognize.
"Are we uh, sure we wanna go in this place? I can't even see.." Victor asks nervously, muttering the last part.
"Stepping blind into a den of vengeful fey ain't the smartest move," Gwen agrees with Victor.
"I think a light now would be in order..." Fa'zakar replies. "The voices beyond may not be enemies, though, so let's not start an incident by accident..."
"There's a cavern of some sort ahead. Seems quite large."
Murob checks the floor in their immediate vicinity for tripping hazards while the others sort out a light. Should any of the light-sighted ones attempt to advance, she can guide them on a safe path - safe, at least, from obstacles.
"Alright. Erastil, show us the way." With that, and an intricate movement of his right hand, the priest conjures forth a magical light that radiates from the antler-like amulet that hangs around his neck. "I'm not sure how to feel about this, but there's no way back now I'd say."
Just in case, the priest readies his bow.
"The way back is that way," Gwen breathes as she stoops to relight her torch in Ehiz's conjured light.
Victor wordlessly stays close to Ehiz as they look forwards into the pitch black cave. Instead of words, his face speaks volumes of worry and fear in the mage-light as his eyes nervously dart from place to place in the darkness.
Armed with light (and also actual weapons), the group advances into the underground cavern. As they pass the threshold, the murmured conversation that can be heard from inside the chamber suddenly all stops. The group is left alone, at the center of a circular chamber whose walls aren't reached by Ehiz' light (although he can see some rooms along the walls right next to the door, with shadowed figures dancing within them).
After a few moments, a trio of masked, humanoid figures clad head-to-toe in wrappings and robes enter the radius of Ehiz' light. "מה אתה עושה פה? האם אתה משרת את מאסטרס רעלה?" shouts the one in the lead.
Ah, this was bringing back memories. Just like when they had met Yosiah, back when they didn't speak each other's language and had to get by with body language and pantomime.
"Dark folk." she whispers tersely to the others before turning towards the trio.
Her palms open, arms slightly away from her body in the universal gesture of "I am not holding weapons", Murob tries a greeting in every language she knows, including Arcadian.
"Hrm", responds Ehiz to Murob. There was little he could add to the discussion and whilst observing Murob doing her thing, the priest hoped the 'dark' part of their name wasn't an indicator of their moral inclinations and behavior.
Murob's linguistic efforts seem doomed until she tries Sylvan. Though the dark folk's response is broken, it at least seems to understand enough.
The lead dark folk points expansively to the group, responding in Sylvan. "Bir az tanıyırıq. Burada nə edirsiniz?"
"Ah! They speak some Sylvan. They ask what are we doing here." Murob translates to the others.
"Üzr istəyirik, əgər biz təqib etdik. Biz bu adada əsir saxlanılan insanları axtarırıq." She speaks to the trio, augmenting her words with hand gestures to better convey the situation.
Sulan watches the interplay with interest, even though he does not understand what is being said. But he keeps an eye out in case the small creatures plan to attack.
Fa'zakar also attempts to understand the creatures, testing a few dwarven and goblin phrases out on them...
A small crowd of other, smaller dark folk appear at the very edge of Ehiz' light, although apparently just to observe. Visible, there are perhaps 15 of them, although Murob and Sulan can see, in stark black-and-white, about 15 more. There are likely more beyond that. Still, the three taller ones speak for the whole assemblage.
"Su insanların çoxu qulları saxlayır. Biz deyil. Baxın orada," says the lead one. When Fa'Zakar speaks up, the one to his left cocks its head to the side and says, "Həzrət kimi danışır. Niyə?"
"That one talks like a pest. Why?"
"I thought fey could speak the languages of man. How else would they trick you into a bad bargain like in the stories?"
...
Victor coughs for a moment and speaks up in Sylvan "Əgər xahiş etsəniz, nə etdiniz?" Victor asks slowly and cautiously "Su insanlar sizə nədir? Dostlar və ya düşmənlər?"
Cautiously, the dark folk responds, "Biz su insanları sevmirik."