DM Salsa Presents: The Rise of the Runelords (Inactive)

Game Master AdamWarnock

Horatio simply nods, taking a deep breath and rolling his shoulders. "Let's begin."

I'm just going to assume that Noro turned that last one to dust.

The Boneyard

The last skeleton goes down with a clatter after Noro's fist shattered it's skull. Inside there are a few stone sarcophagi. Two of them have been opened and near one of them lies a black garment that looks like it has several patches missing.

Savah's

"Right then. First thing to do is to..." Savah begins explaining and working through several drills with Pavanna and Horatio. She gently corrects the flaws in both their forms, and once the two get it right, she has them do it again, and again, slowly burning every movement into their memory.

"Good! Very Good! Inna few years, we'll make a swordsman of ye yet." she says to Horatio after what seems like the thousandth time doing one of the more difficult drills. Turning to Pavanna, she asks, "I'm guessing by yer grab an' yer preference fer the longsword, most o' yer training is with Iomedaeans?"

Noro goes over to the garment. retrieving it, What do we have here?

Noro holds it up to see if it is possibly a burial robe or religious item.

does this mean Noro could be.... A Magical Garment Girl?

Olivius takes note of the stairs and places himself at the top of them with his Bardishe at the ready in case anything that was unfriendly and down wanted really badly to be up.

Asuriel waits until she is sure her battle curse has faded before she moves on. She studies the fallen bones and is completely taken aback from what she has seen.

Why are there undead creatures in here? What happened to the goblins? What of Father Tobyn...

She walks over to the garment Noro holds up and looks it over briefly. "I don't beleive I've ever seen a burial garment quite like this before I'm afraid. Hold on to it and we can take it back to Naffer and ask him if this is something he's familiar with."

Asuriel surveys the area and says, "Hold on, let me see if there is anything else is amiss in here..."

Asuriel casts Detect Magic, looking for signs of trouble or things out of place.

Regardless of what she finds, she places her hand on Olivius's shoulder as casts Guidance on him. She whispers softly, "Let the Dawnflower help guide your path into the darkness."

Asuriel looks down the steps from behind Olivius.

Perception: 1d20 ⇒ 18

Hmmm. Noro in pink, never would have imagined it.

After a moment or two of no movement from the bones, he lets his axe arm relax a bit. He begins looking over bodies and in the crypt for signs of what could have caused this.

"Risen dead....something bigger than goblins is goin on, without a doubt."

Olivia's nods gravely at Thirzin's comment. I don't like this either. When the dead walk, bad things happen.

Jusht gives me another chance for me to smack em down again Noro jokes but she does understand the seriousness of the situation.

Oops forgot I linked with Thizzles... Let me add that snippit in.

A (delayed) gash tears open along Asuriel's right arm. While she was prepared for it, she never quiet is able to take the pain quietly. A brief gasp escapes her lips before she clamps them shut. She squeezes her eyes shut and looks down at her arm. She takes a step back and takes a deep breath and says, "Ok, are we going down now? We need to ensure this place has been cleansed of these ... vile things."

Meanwhile a warmth floods the dwarf which quickly accelerates the healing process and closes the gash on his arm.

Thizrin +5HP, Asuriel -5HP. @6/11

When Savah starts questioning Pavanna, Horatio takes a moment to catch his breath. His left arm aches from the weight of the shield, and after repeating the drills, his right wrist is making an unnerving clicking sound when he rolls it. He wipes his forehead on his sleeve, wishing he had an ale to relieve the dryness in his throat. This was thirsty work.

Father never worked me this hard, he thinks idly, sitting down and resting his elbows on his knees, stretching out his aching back. His eyes close briefly as the memory surfaces.

The blade jabbed at him, quicker than his eye could follow. He tried to skip out of the way, but his feet tangled together and he fell, his body hitting the old cobblestones and knocking the wind from his lungs.
"Alessandro, that's enough." His mother's voice, calm but firm. His father turned, saw her, and sighed, his broad shoulders visibly slumping before he looked back at his son.
A skinny boy of twelve, Horatio had pulled himself up on his hands, but still sat, staring at the ground. His father's second-best rapier, an old, battered thing with a point like the wrong end of a pencil, and far too heavy for his arm, lay a foot away, where it had landed in his fall.
"You've been at this three hours. It's getting late. Bring him inside."
Alessandro looked back, squinting into the setting sun. He stared at his wife a few long seconds, before finally relenting and helping his son to his feet. Horatio kept his eyes on the ground, even when his father pressed the rapier back into his hand.
"You're not hurt, are you?" The boy shook his head, and his father nodded in relief. "I just want to make sure you can look after yourself, son," the man sighed, squeezing the boy's shoulder. "There's bad people in this town. The Impers don't much care who their bindings affect, and the Moths will rob you blind as soon as look at you."
"The Varisians aren't that bad, Dad," Horatio muttered. Sneaking a glance, he saw his father's face darken.
"We'll speak of that another time," the tall man muttered, looking back into the sun. "That's enough practice for one day. Why don't you go play with that infernal instrument for a while? Your mother should have dinner ready soon."

He opens his eyes, though his thoughts take a while to come back to the present. Ten years, and he'd barely improved from the skinny boy who tripped over his own feet. I got lucky before. That's all.

"Good! Very Good! Inna few years, we'll make a swordsman of ye yet." she says to Horatio after what seems like the thousandth time doing one of the more difficult drills. Turning to Pavanna, she asks, "I'm guessing by yer [garb] an' yer preference fer the longsword, most o' yer training is with Iomedaeans?"

Busy taking a hasty gulp from her canteen and mopping her brow, Pavanna nods her initial answer to Savah’s query. She’s used to this kind of practice, of course, but that only limits how wearing and hot a prolonged session can be. After she lowers her canteen and gasps down an equally heavy draught of air, she turns a rueful smile on the armourer. One hand offers the canteen to Horatio while her attention stays on Savah. “I know it shows in my style, too. I’ve spent most of my life in one temple or another, and between Mother’s training and the veterans who came back from the Worldwound, I’ve had a good grounding with the long blade. I’m told I have the dexterity and ‘sense of point’ for the rapier, but it’s just never seemed to fit my hand properly.”

Saroune bristled with the thought of more undead in the crypts. She wasn't particularly disturbed by necromancy; it was the fact that whoever had created the skeletons had desecrated the tombs of holy men. The school was considered necessary pragmatism at the Acadamae, this seemed more like willful vandalism.

Saroune glanced around, trying to see if she could spot a clue the others had missed.

Perception: 1d20 ⇒ 9

Finding nothing, Saroune produced a sunrod and activated it. It's bright, alchemical light filled the tomb.

"If we hurry, perhaps we could catch the person that created the skeletons," she offered.

Good idea. When youall are done snooping take that light and toss it down the stairs. If Thirzin would be so kind as to take point at that time, I'll follow just behind.
Olivius is in battle mode once again. His mind has shut out most emotion and is focused on the task at hand. He seems a little impatient as a result.

Noro looks at the armored battle wagons...What am I, chopped liver? I hate Liver. Noro will proceed with Olives unless he forces her back.

Olivius chuckles, an example of his imperfect battle dicipline. More like a sledge hammer. I asked Thirzin because he has a shield out and ready. If you want to run face-first into undead, be my guest. I'll be right behind you, waiting to pull you out of the s**t.

The chamber's lit, there's no more undead here.

Asuriel pauses and looks back at the sarcophogus. "Wait a moment. The sarcophagus over there has been opened. It shouldn't have been opened. I don't know if those old bones could open one, but even if they could, why are they opening it?"

Thirzin walks over to check and see if there's still a body in the sarcophagus or if it's empty.

For a moment, he looks from his arm to the lass's, nodding in appreciation but seeming much more focused on the task at hand, trying to determine if there's visible desecration or signs of why there are undead here.

Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (6) + 7 = 13
Religion: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (16) + 7 = 23

"None of this is making sense. The dead don't just rise cause of a feelin'. There's always a reasonin' to it. Someone behind it, or at least a clue."

"Hey, what's this?" Ping says quietly as curiosity takes over. She picks up the garment, a long, black robe, and begins to mutter to herself as she studies it.

After several moments of intense study, Ping's eyes widen and she lets out a yelp as she drops the garment and scurries back several feet before her heel catches on the floor and she falls in a tumble.

"I-i-i think I f-f-f-found our clue."

Asuriel picks up the same magic as Ping and pales slightly. Turning back to the group she says, "We need to inform Father Zantus and Sheriff Hemlock of this immediately. Someone has disturbed his sarcophagus, it's completely empty! And there is a very faint aura of necromancy coming from that garment. Well. There was, it appears to have just now faded when Ping held it. This is beyond simple goblins now, I'm sure of it. "

She makes her way to the door holding her bloody arm down at her side so that it doesn't attack any attention. She pauses and looks back at the group, "Are you pressing on or heading downstairs first? Should we not inform the proper authorities before proceeding?"

Down which stairs? The crypt is only the one room with the stairs leading to the door. If anyone has spellcraft or Know(arcana), feel free to roll them.

That was my mistake. I thought the stairs marker led to a basement level.

Spellcraft: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4

Noro goes over to the garment. retrieving it, What do we have here?

Noro holds it up to see if it is possibly a burial robe or religious item.

I know its probably late now but can Noro smack Ping for taking that garment out of her hands? that was one of the first things she looked at when she got in there but it got missed. Noro never got an answer until Ping took it.

Sorry. Too many balls in the air, I sometimes (read, most of the time) drop them. Yes you can smack Ping. She's a PC so she doesn't get the Noro-no-punchy shield.
---
The garment is a robe that is black and worn. It looks like at one point there were several patches on it, but strangely not over where holes were. One thing Noro does know is that Sandpoint buries its dead in white linen clothes. This thing is just a step above burlap.

Ping gives Asuriel a quizzical look.

"Did you bring a shovel to dig a downstairs out with?"

So the map says STAIRS which is where we were all lining up. If there are no stairs, well, that changes things.

Sorry, the stairs lead down into the crypt. Kinda like one of those ballrooms where the main door in is half-way up the wall and has stairs leading down to the main floor. This is like that.

When Ping takes the robe. Hey there, ya little b&&@$. Noro smacks her practically knocking her on her butt.

Try ashkin firsht, you do that again... Noro stops short of giving a detailed description of cranial-rectum inversions.

she takes a few deep breaths. I'll be outshide if you need shomething punded on.

Noro heads outside while the brains talk.

Ping, being a gnome and a rather slight one at that, winds up on her back on the floor after Noro's love tap to the back of her head.

"Sorry miss, won't happen again." she replies softly as the room spins. After a minute, she sits up, rubbing where Noro had smacked her.

"Whu' jus' happened?" she asks through the waterfall of blue hair that now covers her face.

"Where'd my cap go?" the little gnome looks around, trying to find it.

Asuriel watches Noro roughly assert herself on Ping. She tries to interrupt and assist but before she can get over there Ping is on the floor. As Noro brushes past Asuriel she frowns at her and says quietly, "That wasn't necessary..."

She helps Ping up and helps her locate her cap. "Don't mind her, she can be a little brash it seems. Now then, shall we all be on our way to to the good Father and Sheriff?"

Heading outside Asuriel leads the party back to the cathedral and attempts to locate Father Zantus or Sheriff Hemlock, whichever she can find first.

Olivius hangs back a bit and falls in by Noro. He walks without comment, knowing that Noro will talk if she wants to.

Savah's

"Aye, that kinda blade's nae fer everyone. I've used 'em and longswords, but I prefer a right bastard when ye need ta lope goblin heads from goblin shoulders. Once met a ulfen girl that was a head taller'n me an' looked like one o' 'em valkyries that ye see on their ships sometimes. Had this beautiful blade, woulda sworn it was dwarven if I hadnae known better. Funny thing is, it had a clean guard."

Pavanna would know that Savah is refering to a bastard sword, or a hand-and-a-half if you're in more polite company. A few Iomedaeans use them, but that style blade is normally used by hellknights and other Chelish law-keepers. The style is also popular among the more muscle-bound of Taldor's noblemen. A clean guard refers to a cross-guard that lacks the rings that are found on Taldane and Chelish weapons. More than likely, the sword in question had a ricasso long enough to have leather wrapped around it to allow the wielder to use it more like a short spear than a sword.

Back at the Cathedral...

"That is grim news." Belor says after a long silence once the party has explained what had happened at the crypt.

"Indeed," agrees Father Zantus. "The two sarcophogi were Father Tobyn's and Nualia's, assuming I have everything straight. The others and I will do our best to consecrate the grounds again, but a Pharasmin priest, or three, would help me sleep much more easily."

"Done." Belor says. "The rest of you are free to go, unless you have any other questions."

Savah's

"Aye, that kinda blade's nae fer everyone. I've used 'em and longswords, but I prefer a right bastard when ye need ta lope goblin heads from goblin shoulders. Once met a ulfen girl that was a head taller'n me an' looked like one o' 'em valkyries that ye see on their ships sometimes. Had this beautiful blade, woulda sworn it was dwarven if I hadnae known better. Funny thing is, it had a clean guard."

Pavanna would know that Savah is refering to a bastard sword, or a hand-and-a-half if you're in more polite company. A few Iomedaeans use them, but that style blade is normally used by hellknights and other Chelish law-keepers. The style is also popular among the more muscle-bound of Taldor's noblemen. A clean guard refers to a cross-guard that lacks the rings that are found on Taldane and Chelish weapons. More than likely, the sword in question had a ricasso long enough to have leather wrapped around it to allow the wielder to use it more like a short spear than a sword.

Pavanna nods along. “That almost sounds like a Hellknight’s war-sword. I tried one once, but they’re meant more for folk with eight inches of height and six stone of muscle over lightweights like me — it threw off my balance so much that I ended up twisting myself in knots. Witness the power of non-proficiency penalties! That said, they do have intimidation value... and if the user does have the physique to use them properly, like that Ulfen lass, they can end a fight fast.” A memory flits across her mind, and she shivers a little. “Mother’s made good use of such blades more than once — I once saw her drive a half-sword* thrust with one right through a two-inch oak door.” And the Thrune agent behind it.

* ‘Half-sword’, short version: a close-quarters technique, where one hand is advanced onto the ricasso for better forward leverage.

"All this talk of swords, and I'm just a bow man," Horatio chuckles, a feeble attempt at humour. His breathing is slowly starting to even out, but the sagging in his shoulders and the tightness of his jaw suggest fatigue has set in much sooner than he'd care to admit.

Asuriel speaks up, "Father, was anything of importance enclosed along with the Tobyn's in the sarcophagus? Why would goblins summon undead to protect the site of a ... what was this? A break-in? Why?"

Turning back to Belor, "Is there anything further you would request of us on this matter sheriff?"

Noro walks quietly back to the cathedral.

she stays next to Olives, the look on her face says she wants to say something but she does not.

she glances toward Ping and Asuriel every so often.

Once at the Cathedral, Noro stays outside (or nearby) before Olivius goes in, she grabs his arm. Can we talk?

Olivius is momentarily torn. He wants to know more about the magic in the tattered robe, but he also doesn't want to brush off his unarmed combat teacher. Noro wins out. Besides, he can always ask Saroune about the magic later.

He falls back with Noro and waits until the rest have entered before giving her his attention.

Thirzin stands among the group, listening to the religious leader talk before he asks.

"Who was the last person down there before this..problem? Because I'm a'wondrin if this happened before or during the goblin assault, and that was just a distraction."

He also searches his knowledge to see how much he knows about the desecration, the undead, and the whole scene he witnessed.

Religion (undead bonus): 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (13) + 9 = 22

Olivius is momentarily torn. He wants to know more about the magic in the tattered robe, but he also doesn't want to brush off his unarmed combat teacher. Noro wins out. Besides, he can always ask Saroune about the magic later.

He falls back with Noro and waits until the rest have entered before giving her his attention.

Saroune waited until her friend's questions were answered before chiming in with her own. "I'm vaguely aware of who Father Tobyn was. Who was Nualia? Is it possible this vandalism was some old grudge? Why else desecrate a single tomb?"

When Salsasalsasalsa returns he can answer our questions. Just because he is busy doesn't mean this train needs to stop. Allllllll aboard!

Asuriel finishes her discussion with the priest and sheriff and motions for Thirzin and Saroune to follow her out the door. While she walks she looks over at affirms both of their suspicions, "I also believe there is something bigger at play here. To answer your question Saroune, Nualia was Father Tobyn's adopted daughter. She was..."

Asuriel stops walking for a second to think, pausing, and smiles, "She was a beautiful Aasimar and quite adored I believe. It was before my time, but I know that several members of the clergy and town speak kindly of her. As the story goes, they both were caught in the blaze that burned down the previous chapel late one night about five years ago. The new cathedral that just opened during the Swallowtail was built partially in their honor."

She finishes walking out the door and catches Noro and Olivius talking outside. "Am I interrupting? I didn't know you two weren't coming in with us, did you find something of importance out here?"

Asuriel looks to Noro and smirks. "Or are you just letting me handle all the churchy stuff"? Regardless, we should be set to move on. Anyone have any suggestions?

Let's just assume everyone meets up at the Dragon.

Hey you're busy with work, shoo! We'll be along there shortly right after Noro apologizes to Ping! :)