As soon as Heldar bolts past, looking as if he'd... heh... seen a ghost, Rosalia decides she'd better get down there and see what all the fuss was!
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Giving half a moment's pause to judge the distance, Rosalia swings herself down below with a quick twist of her waist, landing comfortably on the ground with a dull thud and the half-crouched poise of a cat about to pounce.
"Well, that explains Heldar," she mutters, ducking behind Shaggar as he raises his axe up high and using him as cover from any retaliation. Her eyes and blade flash with a surge of energy, a pale blue light encompassing the sword's exterior.
Rosalia is more than able to sneak behind the wraith, and she then lunges upwards, trying to pierce through the thing's sides... although adjusting her blade's trajectory to deal with a target who isn't quite there somewhat dulls the effect.
"Does anyone know what this damn thing is?" Rosalia asks into the fracas as she brings her blade back. "I think our resident know-it-alls just bolted!"
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"Does anyone know what this damn thing is?" Rosalia asks into the fracas as she brings her blade back. "I think our resident know-it-alls just bolted!"
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"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! We're all going to die screaming!"
Lyrian panics and scrambles up the ladder, shoving his way past Rosalia in his haste to get out of the terrifying structure and into the open.
Were Shaggar facing a fleshy foe, his axe would indeed have cleaved it in perfect twain. As it is, the axe sweeps right through the figure-- severing it, but the ghostly form seals back together in the wake of the axe. A bit more of its ethereal body seems to unravel from its edge, though.
The spirit wheels on Shaggar, eyes blazing.
Rosalia throws herself down into the cellar! The spell-sword nimbly maneuvers in the cramped cellar to surround the transparent spirit. Her blade stabs into the ethereal form, magical energy coruscating through the man's outline.
Upstairs, with only a panicked Heldar to see... the corpse on the floor drags another few inches to the trap-door... and falls through the opening, as it is too small to successfully block the opening. Thump! The burnt-and-dessicated body falls to the ground where Shaggar had been standing scant seconds before.
The vague figures seem even more distressed and agitated by this, wailing despairingly.
-"shut the door, shut it--"
-"Can't! Nothing!"
-"HIDE!"
-"Yessss... hide... unseen..."
Abruptly, a cloud of fine, sandy dust kicks up around the scared Heldar. He can no longer see the figures, or indeed, anything beyond five feet from himself.
Lyrian darts up the ladder, screaming, convinced that overpowering death is all that waits here. He emerges into the cloud of choking dust, and cannot see much past his own nose. He runs into a wall, feels that he is in a corner, and continues to freak out-- indeed, flapping his arms like a chicken.
>>>...Javi is up!
...Officer
...Heldar (panicked, round 2)
...Shaggar
...Rosalia
...Soldiers
...Lyrian (panicked, round 2)
Javi grins widely at the combined onslaught of Shaggar and Rosalia, ”Black sands, woman! But you’ve got some surprises!”
His humor is cut short when the corpse falls to the ground behind him, ”Uh… should we be concerned about that?” Apparently too impatient to hear the answer, Javi tries to pin the thing to the floor with his scimitar.
"I DID shout down here that the corpse is moving," Rosalia shoots back, "and there's a couple of g&!-d#*n ghosts up there too. Not as big as this one here though!"
Javi: you stab the (new) corpse! It doesn't really seem to resist. Yarr, you have it pinned to the ground! It's much easier when they don't dodge, after all.
The ghost whips around, eyes blazing at its foes.
Unfortunately for Javi, its anger seems to have fixated for the moment on Javi and his corpse-stabbing ways? Again that spectral, transparent hand reaches out for Javi's bright, tasty little soul.
Once again, Javi is simply too fast! He ducks beneath the grasping hand, nimble as a feather on a breeze.
Unearthly terror still gripping his soul, Heldar runs blindly in the swirling cloud of sand. He gets five feet then slams into the table under which that corpse that Javi just stabbed used to be curled under. In a panic, Heldar huddles under the table.
On the plus side, Heldar, nobody except Lyrian can see you like this? And he's got problems of his own.
Initiative:
Javi
Officer
Heldar (panicked, round 2)
>>>...Shaggar
...Rosalia
...Soldiers
...Lyrian (panicked, round 2)
The gnoll's ears flatten against his skull. His voice (in Osiriani) comes amid a snarl. "You were wronged, shade. But not by any here. Now you are dead and fighting those who've done you no ill. When were you wronged and by whom? Vengeance may yet be yours. I respect your sacrifice, but you will be destroyed unless you retreat." Shaggar brings the axe across in a scything sideways blow, attempting to disembowel the ghostly creature. He checks his swing and reverses his strike, slashing at the haunt's entrails a second time.
The specter seems to flinch back from the powerful swings of Shaggar's axe, and tattered wisps of its being drift away with each blow, but it still seems fairly solid.
Rosalia, you're up!
****
While the ghost is distracted by Shaggar's mighty blow, Rosalia takes the opportunity to supercharge her own weapon. Her blade, still dancing with blue energy, suddenly flashes bright red, and then settles into a deep purple light as the two sources of power mingle. She lifts her gladius, summoning forth a tiny mote of electricity at the very tip of the weapon that dissolves into the steel; and then, suddenly, the blade's purple light crackles and sparks with inner lightning.
With two quick strikes through the air, the electricity is discharged into the spectre with a dull crack.
Lyrian hides in the sand, trying to press himself into a shallow depression where the horrifying things won't find him.
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The powerful swings of Shaggar's enchanted axe have done a great deal to disrupt the ghost's form. Rosalia's charged blade adds a... certain spark to the proceedings as well , and the ghost screams in wordless, hate-filled agony.
Though he's taken enough punishment to have killed him thrice over in life, the spectral figure remains, although he is markedly more transparent than when the battle started.
Upstairs, Heldar and Lyrian are huddling in a corner of the ruined building, with the sand swirling all around them making it impossible to see more than each other. Were their minds currently fully their own, they might take comfort from having an ally near; as it is, everything is blanked beneath the whiteness of terror. The voices of the two other figures seem to have gone silent.
>>...Javi
...Officer
...Heldar (panicked, round 3)
...Shaggar
...Rosalia
...Soldiers
...Lyrian (panicked, round 3)
Javi continues to pin the skin to the ground. "Give him hell, guys!"
The ghostly figure turns its full attention on Shaggar, eyes flickering like witchfire in the darkness of the cellar.
This time the ethereal hand reaches out for Shaggar, as if the spirit was made only angrier by the logic of the gnoll's words.
The translucent hand reaches Shaggar's chest-- slides through the leather as if it were not there-- and buries deep into his heart.
Shaggar-- the breath feels sucked from your lungs; your body suddenly aches with the weight of years. It's as if you've developed two decades worth of aches and pains in the space of two seconds. After the fight, you'll find your fur streaked with white, your hands more gnarled...
The ghost laughs wildly.
*
Upstairs, it remains a bad day to be Heldar. He huddles in a ball, pulling his robe over his face against the swirling, blinding sand.
*****
Rosalia lifts her sword high again, but something residual on the blade - coalescing negative energy, perhaps - reduces its conductivity to null. Only the faintest of sparks crackle along its blade, leaving the magus to frown darkly. Perhaps it's a curse, for her subsequent sword-strike is pathetic as well...
She clicks her tongue in frustration. "G$& d&+mit!"
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The gnoll howls as youth is siphoned from his frame and speckles of white suddenly dot his muzzle. "So be it, shade! We will see who the sands claim first." Shaggar renews his attack furiously, carving into the ghost with a series of diagonal slashes.
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Some part of Lyrian's mind tries to reassert a modicum of control. The other, more panicked parts beat that part like it was late on the rent. The usually-lucky archaeologist continues to gibber into the dust and seek shelter.
Rosalia misses, but Shaggar not so-- the ghostly figure withers away before the gnoll's blistering attack, his mouth open on a last, silent scream.
In the absence of the sounds of combat, the cellar is suddenly ringingly quiet. Save for the fact that Javi has an (unmoving) corpse stabbed to the floor, things are pretty much as they were when you entered.
Upstairs, Heldar and Lyrian feel the fear fading away in another ten seconds. The sand cloud, however, remains, swirling fiercely.
Shaggar chuffs in relief and lowers his axe. He'd heard ghost stories as a pup, but this was the first time he'd faced the reality of such a horror. His lack of credible knowledge angered him more than the white hairs sprouting from his suddenly older knuckles. The gnoll resolves to study these creatures when he can.
In the meantime, he vents his irritation by thoroughly searching the corpses and busting into every container in the room looking for valuables and the body of the ghostly guardsman.
Rosalia allows herself a brief moment of respite upon sheathing her gladius with a light sigh. "I'll try and find where those two ran off to," she murmurs, watching Shaggar's brutal efficiency for a few seconds before hefting herself up the ladder and wandering around the top half of the complex looking for Lyrian and Heldar.
When she finds the two of them - no doubt huddled up into a foetal position somewhere - she smirks and offers her hand to them. "C'mon, scaredy-cats. The biiiig scaaary ghoooost is gone now!"
The sand keeps raging even as Rosalia sticks her head up and finds the others. Heldar and Lyrian shake off the fear and clear their throats.
Shaggar tears through the cellar like a gnoll-y swath of destruction. The barrels and crates contain mostly food and, dessicated to the point of inedibility, with drifting sand having crept into many of the containers. Other barrels contain a variety of mundane supplies, everything from rope to tools to canvas. There's a barrel of sloshing liquid, tightly sealed with a waxed cork.
The burnt corpse contains nothing of interest, unless you like ash. The armor and weapons he bore are charred to the point of nearly being destroyed.
The corpse of, as Shaggar theorized, the priest, has the holy symbol already mentioned, and a backpack as well. Inside the backpack are the supplies common to well-prepared travelers: a mess kit, some candles, long-since-dehydrated food, rope, a holy text of the precepts of Pharasma (written in Osiriani), an empty waterskin, a journal, and a pouch of coins and gems.
The most recent entry details that Karmak and his friends took shelter from a fierce sandstorm in the ruined building, only to be attacked by unquiet spirits. Karmak was instrumental in dispersing the ghosts.
'...we have set the spirits to rest, as Pharasma bids. The storm yet rages, and we are much hurt. We will rest here a few days to recoup our strength. Solia especially took much damage from the ghost's hands, her armor doing nothing against its corrupting, aging touch.'
Javi pulls his blade from the corpse, taking a tentative step back and watching it for further movement. "Shaggar, once again you prove a useful companion. Remind me to stay in your good graces."
He picks up the journal, quickly leafing through it and tossing out any bits that might be useful to the group.
"Karmak, huh," he muses, his brows furrowing at the handwriting on the page, "... and if they dispersed the ghosts, what killed them?"
He looks over at Shaggar, "I'm thinking we move on... this place gets under my skin."
Dusting some sand off and getting back on his feet, Heldar approaches Rosalia - "That scream was too much to bear - even though I wante to remain with you, I could not... It took hold of my will and made me run" - the man comments with a serious tone - "Is everyone ok?" - he inquires, peering down the cellar.
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Shaggar nods, "Javi, I remind you to stay in my good graces." He gives the small thief a fang-filled smile and sniffs the sealed barrel.
"Smells of wine and..." he taps the side of the barrel with a claw, "there is a maker's mark of some sort here."
The bag of gems draw a grunt of approval. "It appears we're about 500 sovereigns richer."
"Karmak, huh," he muses, his brows furrowing at the handwriting on the page, "... and if they dispersed the ghosts, what killed them?"
He looks over at Shaggar, "I'm thinking we move on... this place gets under my skin."
Shaggar considers, "Maybe ghosts come back... which doesn't make me appreciate this pit any better. Let's go. You first - that way you can protect me from any other spirits." He follows the halfling heavily up the ladder, fatigued from his wounds.
You emerge into the whirling sting of tiny driving grains of sand, obscuring vision past more than five feet. Moving carefully and gingerly, you feel along the walls until you can see again, and are clear of the building. You hear no more voices, but a tense, fearful silence seems to pervade the desert past the small, persistent sandstorm.
"Shaggar's looked better," Rosalia shrugs, "but he should be alright. By the stars, what is with this sand?"
She does her best to emerge from the strange, localised sandstorm and find Shaggar and Javi again. "Find anything interesting below?"
"What's this?" the magus asks, sniffing the cask curiously. "Smells nice. Better than that piss-water served back at the Dung Beetle."
Rosalia steps back, looking helplessly at the localised storm. "I... I think we should leave. I don't like this place."
The gnoll emerges into the whipping sands, secures his keffiyeh, and drops his desert goggles into place. He pulls a battered rope from his gear, ties it around his waist, and tosses the rest of the coil to the next person in line. "Tie off, please." While the rest of the team readies for travel, Shaggar consults his battered compass, determined to set a course straight back to the camels and out of this (hopefully highly local) sandstorm.
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"Watch it, now!" Javi shouts over the howling sands as he follows Shaggar's orders, "I like the Beetle's piss water!"
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Coming to his senses, Lyrian spits sand out of his mouth and smiles. "Bring me my brown pants," he mutters.
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As Shaggar and Javi emerge from the cellar, Heldar greets them with a smile that turns into a concerned look when noticing the streaks of gry across the gnoll's mane - "What has happened? What have you uncovered about this haunting?" - he inquires, immediately approaching Shaggar more closely.
"You are hurt my friend, but will soon cease to be" - lifting his hand towards his companion, the effect is immediately visible. The man's hand begins to shine with a glow that quickly spreads and envelops Heldar. Then, as his hand lays gently upon Shaggar's shoulder, the warmth of life pours upon the gnoll, mending his wounded body.
"There" - he nods, the smile returned to his face - "Much better master Shaggar"
Looking around, it seems his other companions are unhurt, but he confirms it nonetheless - "Anyone else has been wounded in the exchange?" - lowering his head slightly he adds - "I should have been there. Apologies my friends"
Javi, after a quick eye-raising at Heldar's capabilities, crinkles his nose at Lyrian. "My nose is now wounded... what can do you for that?"
"The haunting seems to have been... destroyed. Maybe?" Rosalia mostly just shrugs in response to Heldar's questioning, checking her gladius up close for any residual ectoplasmic damage. "With this sandstorm thing hanging around, I can't be sure. Shaggar was talking to it, though. The ghost, I mean."
"But... really," Rosalia shrugs yet again, "it's not as if this... thing is going to hurt anyone out here in the middle of nowhere, if there's some residual haunt left behind. Maybe we can send a bunch of rookie Pathfinders out here to check it out for us," she adds with a smirk. Her early days in the Society were filled with many incredibly boring go-and-fix-our-other-agents'-problems missions, and being able to inflict that kind of suffering onto the next generation of Pathfinders had its guilty pleasures. Schadenfreude was a wonderful thing...
"Oof," Javi shivers at the thought, continuing to shout over the sandstorm as he follows Shaggar's lead, "talk about cutting your teeth. Hopefully they don't end up like the last group."
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"Bring me my brown pants," he mutters.
You are a'healed!
Shaggar nods his thanks at the healing before answering the oracle's question. "We have seen that ghosts are dangerous... and waiting out a storm here is a bad choice. We also have a barrel of wine and other riches."
Javi, after a quick eye-raising at Heldar's capabilities, crinkles his nose at Lyrian. "My nose is now wounded... what can you do for that?"
The gnoll sloshes the small barrel, "Wine?"
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Using Shaggar's rope-guidance, you are able to make it back to your menagerie of animals without further incident, though at times you think you hear a despairing moaning behind you in the ruins.
The camels are incurious as to your explorationing. Hatyah is happy to see her packmate; Rook is like 'meh, pet me,' because Rook is a cat.
You are able to pick up your trail again, leaving the burnt guardpost well behind you.
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Rook gets lots of pets and chin-scritches, at least until he spontaneously decides that's enough and lightly nips Rosalia's hand and stalks off. Because cats.
Everyone seems well-pleased to put the guardpost behind them. The camels are mounted again, and with your pockets a little heavier with jingly things (and a shiny red rock) (and some booze) you set off again.
Rear ends and thighs are again very sore by the time dawn starts to lighten the east. As the sky pinkens, Shagggar points out a ridge of jagged stone some distance ahead, and the camels plod a little faster without much urging.
The rocks provide good shelter from prying eyes looking across the landscape, though not as much shade as the spot he scouted the day before. As before, Shaggar sets to work employing his knowledge of the desert to rig up crude shade, and to guide people on where best to lay their bedrolls, and so forth.
Food is eaten from packs again, tepid water drunk from waterskins. (Or maybe you get into the wine, IDK.)
"Hmmm, friends Javi and Shaggar, would you deem it acceptable if we tasted from the wine you have recovered? I mean, the peak of heat is not adequate, but at sundown there are few things more enjoyable than a glass of good wine" - Heldar pipes in at his companions in a jovial manner - "I just realized we never actually made a toast in commemoration of our joint-venture" - the man smiles broadly from under the shade of his protective cowl.
"Mnnngh." Rosalia tries to bury herself in her bedding, wishing this hellscape would come to an end. Wine would be nice... but not if it involved moving in the stinking heat.
You make yourselves comfortable, or as comfortable as can be on packed sand with lots of rocks in it. The sunrise over the desert remains a beautiful sight to those who appreciate such things (aka, not Rosalia)-- a pink-orange ball of fire rolling up over the sands, turning everything into rose-gold for a few minutes and promising roiling heat to come later in the day. But at least while you make camp, things are still cool.
A toast to surviving your first collective meeting with the undead?
Either way, Javi once more takes up watch, after having dozed since the guardpost and being therefore bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.
Javi, at one point during the worst of the mid-day heat, when your colleagues are fitfully sleeping, you see a shape moving in the sands several hundred feet away from the camp. It looks to be a scorpion the size of a man-- like the tangible, solid version of what you saw in the ankh building. You keep a wary eye out, but the scorpion scuttles out of sight and comes no closer to the makeshift camp.
It is the only thing that interrupts the boredom of your long, hot watch beneath the white-hot sky and sun. There are distant storm clouds far to the east. Sometimes you think you see titanic, vaguely humanoid figures wrestling in the shapes of the clouds.
Eventually the heat drops as the sun starts its slowwww slide into the west. The desert is again painted in soft shades of gold and pink and red as the shadows lengthen. Javi presumably nudges his colleagues awake once more.
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Before waking their companions, Heldar whispers to Javi - "My friend, I have a suggestion - why not wake our friends to a pleasant desert supper - we could set up a simple cloth with a few sparse something to eat and... A couple... Hmmm... Bowls of that wine? The weather is cooling somewhat, and I believe it would be a good way to greet their awakening"
The man then looks at the casket - "No chance it could be poisoned, right?