”Quite interesting. These documents...we should hold on to them. Should there be a territorial dispute or some other misunderstanding, this would mean an avenue of recourse besides violence. And the holy texts.” Eluvias continued, looking at their Paladin comrade. ”Her life’s work would make a fine addition to the museum. It would truly showcase our victory here, and how such unpleasant religious worship is not welcome in our territory. Though I fear that it might invite trouble from fanatical thieves.”
|
Impasha looks with obvious distaste through the blackmail journal of the cult leader, alternately grimacing and sighing to herself, and finally giving up after 5 or 6 pages.
"Sordid and cruel, as one might expect." she mutters. She glances up at the others and shrugs slightly. "Do with them as you wish. They'd be best burned, but its not my place to tell you what to do. I only hope mischief doesn't come of keeping them. Profiting from the fruits of this evil woman's schemes..." She stops herself, gives a shake of her head, and lets it go.
When the subject of the Norgorberite texts comes up, she seems utterly uninterested in reading them, and only allows herself to frown a bit at the idea of moving them as trophies to the 'museum'.
"I have yet to see any so-called holy texts of Norgorber that were anything but cynical, squalid and mean-spirited. I don't think they'll lend much distinction to your collection."
But again, she does nothing to stop the texts from being collected and taken.
With combat started and finished swifter than usual, even by this group's standards, Amadeen saunters over to the texts and rifles through them, her keen eyes seeking any interesting details.
"We are *definitely* keeping the collection of information. As Eluvias points out, it could save us unnecessary bloodshed. As for the books... Impasha, you might be happier to know that most Norgorber followers would find these texts a work of heresy. Keeping them intact may annoy them greatly. Regardless, I'm inclined to keep them under lock and key in the museum, and use it as a trap for cultists in the future."
|
|
Impasha, you might be happier to know that most Norgorber followers would find these texts a work of heresy. Keeping them intact may annoy them greatly."
Impasha shrugs. "All their texts are heresy." she says simply. "Only someone who worships murder and blackmail would find the distinctions worthy of concern."
One wall of this chamber is fitted with arrow slits, looking south toward a large room with a distinctive green glow. A barred wooden door leads to the room beyond the arrow slits
"That's a fair view, Impasha. I'm not too bothered. If no cultists show up, we have a bunch of unholy texts that they'll never get their hands on. If they *do* show up, well, there will soon be fewer cultists.", she finishes with a grin.
"Thorneholme is new and the domain of which we three and a few others have the self-appointed jobs of looking after. Light on regulation, heavy on stomping enemies."
************
"Hold a moment, and have a look before we all rush forward."
Amadeen peers down the corridor, hoping to spot something useful.
The corridor seems largely empty.
"Looks clear. Anyone else see anything?"
|
|
"Thorneholme is new and the domain of which we three and a few others have the self-appointed jobs of looking after. Light on regulation, heavy on stomping enemies."
"Self-appointed..." repeats Impasha carefully. She glances about at the others, then nods to herself. "Well. I hope once we are finished here I can take advantage of your hospitality before resuming my journey south. I fear my warhorse Orlando must be lost, I'll need to purchase another. And I wouldn't mind a bath and a decent meal and a good night's sleep."
"I also feel that I owe the three of you a debt for saving me. If there is some service I can do for you, you have only to name it."
As she finishes saying this, Impasha arrives at the hallway and sees the eerie green light glimmering through the arrow slits. She stops and looks more carefully, tensing a bit and pulling out her shield again. "What is that?" she says quietly.
"Journey south? Bah! What's ter rush? We could use a strong sword arm like yer's plunder--er, explorin' ter new kingdom."
"You could remain in the Kingdom. We have dealt with bandits, cultists, wild monsters, etc, etc. People are safer and all that. You want in on keeping that the case here?"
”Kingdom is a generous word.” Eluvias said. ”It’s more of a town, a trading post, farms, and outlying rural industries. Merchants, farmers and other commoners huddling together out of the very real fear of what is in the dark. And with us in charge because if we weren’t here to protect them then they’d have died several times over. But I think we are slowly getting to the point where they will be able to protect themselves without us. More or less. Still, every sword is welcome.”
|
|
”Kingdom is a generous word.” Eluvias said. ”It’s more of a town, a trading post, farms, and outlying rural industries. Merchants, farmers and other commoners huddling together out of the very real fear of what is in the dark. And with us in charge because if we weren’t here to protect them then they’d have died several times over. But I think we are slowly getting to the point where they will be able to protect themselves without us. More or less. Still, every sword is welcome.”
This speech seems to make an impression on Impasha. She nods thoughtfully.
"An island of law and justice in this part of the world... that seems like a worthy goal." she says. "The Echo Wood has a reputation as a place where the opposite is the case."
She thinks a moment, then actually looks up at the ceiling as if listening for something.
"Perhaps all this has happened for a reason..." she says quietly.
"At least come back with us to see Thorneholme. It's a damn sight more welcoming than when the Stag Lord ran bandit raids out of the keep!"
"Anyhow, let's get moving. Corridor looks clear."
|
|
"At least come back with us to see Thorneholme. It's a damn sight more welcoming than when the Stag Lord ran bandit raids out of the keep!"
Impasha holds Amadeen's eye for a moment, then smiles and nods once in assent.
"Anyhow, let's get moving. Corridor looks clear."
Impasha seems to be all business again now. She casts another look back at the eerie green light coming through the arrow slits, and narrows her gaze, still obviously wondering what it is. But she backs away from the doorway nonetheless.
"That crypt was just back over there..." she says, pointing back to the north, then walking in that direction.
Looking through the arrow slits Impasha sees a large emerald green crystal emitting the light. The crystal protrudes from the western wall of this room. Stairs lead up from the central portion of the room to an iron gate to the south and a reinforced wooden door to the north. Four arrow slits to the north look out over the room. Next to the east wall, narrow stone steps descend deeper into the dungeon.
It dawns on Impasha where the cultists took her and where she now stands. The fabled Emerald Spire which lies in the Echo Woods. It's a mysterious green spire which stands in a clearing and goes deep, deep beneath the surface. No one has ever found the bottom of this dungeon.
An ancient stone door opens into a dusty old crypt. Five stone sepulchers sit in the chamber’s northern and center portions. Each is carved with an effigy of a masked man or woman. To the south, one large sepulcher lies, its lid secured with iron bands.
|
|
An ancient stone door opens into a dusty old crypt. Five stone sepulchers sit in the chamber’s northern and center portions. Each is carved with an effigy of a masked man or woman. To the south, one large sepulcher lies, its lid secured with iron bands.
"The honored dead." says Impasha, in a voice heavy with sarcasm.
She looks about the room carefully for anyone who might be hidden in the shadows.
She turns to her comrades and speaks in a low voice. "I can think of only two reasons to put iron bands on a tomb. To keep thieves out -- or to keep something in."
"Good thinking there. Let's make sure that the dead are resting easy."
Amadeen looks carefully from the door, seeking references - and magic.
Amadeen recognises the coat of arms of House Tynal a now extinct house of nobles.
"House Tynal, long run out of heirs..."
"That reminds me! Impasha, to clarify, we did earn a charter from the Lord Mayor of Restov and their backing for founding our kingdom. Actually had to bring back a spire token, like this. We'll push down into the Emerald Spire for a while longer, then back to Thorneholme!"
Amadeen shows Impasha the spire transport token that they recently acquired.
"I'm going to wander in there and have a quick look around. Just to see what happens."
Amadeen duly begins to wander among the tombs, seeing if a new angle reveals anything.
|
|
"Judging from their effigies, House Tynal may have been involved with this cult as well." Impasha observes casually as she follows Amadeen into the crypt. "No doubt the house failed when they cheated and murdered each other into oblivion."
She makes her way slowly to the iron bound sarcophagus. She lays a gauntleted hand on the stone and stares down intently.
"Welp, I guess this is the plan..." Johund steps inside the crypt as well.
Impasha picks up a moderate aura of evil from the sarcophagus. Nothing reacts as the group moves through the room.
”Such is normally the case. It is beyond me why more cultures do not practice cremation. Let’s get on with it.”
"Let's get ready to smash it!", says Amadeen, withdrawing from the coffin.
"I work best a little bit back. Just a little though, otherwise my hexes don't work so well.", she finishes with a wink.
As Impasha starts removing the iron bands and making noise you can hear something inside start to move in response to the stimulus. As the last band comes free you can see the flesh of this walking corpse is rotting and putrid, its body skeletal in places and its eye sockets glowing with red light.
Wights are humanoids who rise as undead due to necromancy, a violent death, or an extremely malevolent personality. In some cases, a wight arises when an evil undead spirit permanently bonds with a corpse, often the corpse of a slain warrior. They are barely recognizable to those who knew them in life; their flesh is twisted by evil and undeath, the eyes burn with hatred, and the teeth become beast-like. In some ways, a wight bridges the gap between a ghoul and a spectre—a warped animated corpse whose touch steals living energy.
Wights can drain the life force from creatures they touch and if they kill them doing this the person rises as an undead.
Amadeen
Undead
Eluvias
Johund
Impasha
Amadeen looks on and calls out:
"Wight! Don't let it touch you!"
A soft but very audible cackling leaves her lips, as she does her best to undo the wight's chances of touching.
Amadeen looks on and calls out "Wight! Don't let it touch you!"
A soft but very audible cackling leaves her lips, as she does her best to undo the wight's chances of touching.
The wight intakes the stale air around it in a shriek and it's clawed hands and feat strike out at a withering speed. Johund and Impasha are both protected by their heavy armour but the abomination lands a solid blow with it's flat palm against Eluvias's sternum threatening to knock the wind out of his lungs.
Eluvias
Johund
Impasha
Amadeen
Wight -3 Stunning Fist
Seeing Eluvias struck, Amadeen quickly weaves the strands of luck around the magus to help ward off further strikes, all while laughing and laughing.
The witch can cause fate to twist so that it benefits a creature within 30 feet for 1 round. Whenever that creature is targeted by an effect that requires an attack roll, including weapon attacks, the attacker must roll twice and take the worse result.
At 8th level and 16th level, the duration of this hex is extended by 1 round. A witch cannot use this ability on herself. Hexes that affect the fortune hex, such as cackle, also affect protective luck.
Eluvias took the blow. It didn’t truly hurt so much as it was cold. As if though he had been hit by a howling gale in the depth of winter. He froze, momentarily unable to move.
|
|
Although she'd been expecting something like this, it takes Impasha a moment to dodge the wild swing of the filthy undead creature and get her footing again. But only a moment. The dagger is dropped, the sword flashes out and she lifts it above her head so that the tip nearly touches the ceiling of the crypt.
"In the name of Life and Light, I end your torment!" she cries out, then brings the blade swinging down.
Johund stabs one dagger into each of the undead thing's eye sockets.
Eluvias took the blow. It didn’t truly hurt so much as it was cold. As if though he had been hit by a howling gale in the depth of winter. He froze, momentarily unable to move.
Johund stabs one dagger into each of the undead thing's eye sockets.
Although she'd been expecting something like this, it takes Impasha a moment to dodge the wild swing of the filthy undead creature and get her footing again. But only a moment. The dagger is dropped, the sword flashes out and she lifts it above her head so that the tip nearly touches the ceiling of the crypt.
"In the name of Life and Light, I end your torment!" she cries out, then brings the blade swinging down. With two daggers pinning it in place Impasha cleaves it in twain...
|
|
After helping destroy the undead horror, Impasha looks around quickly to make sure everyone is all right. She sees Eluvias staggering on his feet and immediately puts away her sword and shield and lays a hand upon his arm.
"Are you all right?" she says, looking him over quickly for any sort of major wound.
Seeing the undead go down, Amadeen immediately ceases laughing and takes the opportunity to step into the room. She walks up to Eluvias, and with a gesture, a slender wand slides into her waiting hand.
She asks:
"Do you need a tap of curing? Or wait a bit longer?"
As she asks, she glances behind Eluvias to the figure of the fallen one, to see if anything draws her eye.
”I’m...I’m fine. It just took me by surprise. That’s all.” Eluvias said, getting his bearings. ”That could have ended poorly for me. Thank you.”
"We watch each other's backs around here. Otherwise, we end up like that poor sod.", Amadeen replies, cheerfully pointing at the skeleton.
"He's fine! Ain't dat right, Eluvias!" Johund claps a meaty hand on the elf's shoulder. "We been through worse'n that afore breakfast! Now, what was this tart guardin'...."
Johund begins to rummage through the sarcophagus, heedless of traps and curses.
|
|
”I’m...I’m fine. It just took me by surprise. That’s all.” Eluvias said, getting his bearings. ”That could have ended poorly for me. Thank you.”
Impasha nods. "A lucky swing." she says. "Could have happened too any of us."
"We watch each other's backs around here. Otherwise, we end up like that poor sod.", Amadeen replies, cheerfully pointing at the skeleton.
Impasha glances back at Amadeen and gives a weak smile. "True enough. I always wonder how someone ends up in this state... an undead horror like this. Some parting shot upon his corpse from his enemies? Some venal sin or compulsion that twists his soul and makes it linger even amid the rot? Or some choice of his own, gone awfully wrong?" She shakes her head sadly. She looks back down at the cloven, mangled body, all rags, bones and desiccated gristle. "I can't help but pity the wretch."
"He's fine! Ain't dat right, Eluvias!" Johund claps a meaty hand on the elf's shoulder. "We been through worse'n that afore breakfast! Now, what was this tart guardin'...."
Johund begins to rummage through the sarcophagus, heedless of traps and curses.
Impasha bends down and retrieves her dagger, checks the blade to see if it was bent or damaged by being employed as a crowbar, then stows it away. Then she looks over to Johund. "You enjoy this, don't you?" she asks, a little puzzled.
Johund finds nothing of value, the finery once worn by the creature are now tattered rags.
"I think we're good to push down, clear out a bit more of the Spire."
|
|
"This... this is the Emerald Spire, isn't it?" says Impasha tentatively. "When I saw that green light, I began to suspect it might be. So, are we underground now? In some sort of dungeon of the place?"
"When you all came in here, you didn't happen to come across a stable, did you? I'm wondering now if these bandits kept my horse. I know it's only a horse, but... well, Orlando and I have been through a lot together. I'd dearly love to see him again. I'm hoping he's not lost."
"Yup, we're in the Emerald Spire, infamous dungeon. Supposedly, no one has found the bottom level. I'm game for making us the first, though probably not on this run. We haven't spotted a stable but we'll keep an eye out!"
| 2 people marked this as a favorite. |
When you check the tunnel leading off the level you find it leads into the echo forest, nearby you find Orlando who they've actually taken care off. There's also a grey mule nearby...
----------------------------------------------------------------
As you descend to the next level, you catch a good whiff of a foul stench. An acrid, nauseating reek fills the air at the bottom of the stairs—amusky, reptilian stench.
You are sickened for ten rounds!
You recognize the source of this foul odour. The troglodyte is a feral, savage cave dweller. They are among the most populous denizens of the upper reaches of the endless caverns of the underworld, equally at home raiding the settlements of those who dwell above or below ground, yet for all their race’s fecundity and sprawl, as a whole they represent only a minor threat. At times, great leaders can draw legions of troglodytes to their command to create vast and deadly armies, but left to their own devices, troglodyte tribes are content to keep each other under control with numerous feuds, cannibalistic raids, and bitter civil wars.
The troglodyte is one of the oldest of intelligent races, and ruins found in some remote caverns testify to the fact that their empire was once among the largest in the world. At the dawn of time, the troglodyte civilization was generations ahead of other humanoid races while those races hid in caves and worshiped fire, the troglodytes raised vast cities of stone ziggurats and twisting canals, kept other races as slaves, and worshiped ancient and inhuman gods and demons. Yet as the other races evolved and grew increasingly civilized, they outstripped their onetime troglodyte oppressors. Today, the roles have changed—now it is the troglodyte that hides in caves and lives the life of a feral savage.
Religion is strong among troglodyte tribes, and their shamans and priests are universally the highest regarded members of a clan. A troglodyte chieftain is not always a cleric or druid, but those who do not have divine power are usually mere mouthpieces and puppet lords that answer to the beck and call of the local seer or shaman. Troglodytes generally worship one of the countless demon lords, particularly those of a reptilian or primeval shape and form or those whose Abyssal domains most closely resemble the tangled caverns troglodytes prefer. Troglodyte druids are usually neutral evil if they dwell with their own kind (and are universally feared and respected for the eerie command they have over beasts).
A typical troglodyte stands about 5 feet tall and weighs 150 pounds.
|
|
As she comes down the stairs, Impasha does her best not to complain, but it's clear she's fighting off the stench with only middling luck. She blinks a lot, covers her lower face with a gauntleted hand for a while, and finally resorts to breathing through her mouth.
"Well... something is down here..." she manages to cough out.
The stench assaulted Eluvias’ delicate elven senses. He turned to the wall, leaned against it, and proceeded to vomit. He immediately began to stagger back from whence they came.
”By the...eugh...give me a...min...” He barely managed to force out.