After some studying and some intelligent guesses you figure that the way through the door cannot be magical, but a test of one's personal conviction. The stone seems impervious to magic and physical force alike. The only think left is one's will.
"I *want* you to open?" Rosaline shrugged at the door and slammed her fist into it. Her personal conviction usually manifested trough displays of magical of physical force, which wasn't quite right for the moment. Still, one could try! Or fetch that silly troll - I bet his brainwashed conviction is enough.
With a shrug he merely stepped torward the wall walking torwards it and then into it like it wasnt going to be a solid tangible thing.
Rosaline and Asselus both fade into the hard stone of the wall. It's a disconcerting feeling to say the least. It's hard to describe hard stone scraping across your liver...
An eerie sight greets the eye as this large chamber is entered: row upon row of identical, life-size ice sculptures depicting a bent-backed old crone with a skull-like face standing in perfect ranks. A sense of woe seems to radiate from each statue, and dark arcs of power crackle across their surfaces and leap from sculpture to sculpture in the rows.
One of the statues (the second from the end in the northwestern corner of the last row) has been shattered, and shards of ice litter the floor around its base.
Halfway across the room, a packet of some kind lies on the floor. Each of the statues contains an exquisitely carved, tiny porcelain doll depicting a gnarled old woman at its core. It's worth noting that this mini figure is gone from the broken statue.
All this you observe in seconds. Then you are hit with a wave of negative energy!
"AH! More pitiful tricks!" Rosaline groans and considers her options for a moment.
"Let's see if this works." Rosaline lifts her spear and declares. "Let there be light!" And there was light ...
The statues crack and burst revealing the mini statues inside.
"Ah!" Rosaline exclaims as things seems to be working. In her excitement she neglects to resist the flow of negative energy, merely opening herself as a conduit to the positive energy plane instead. Marching up towards the middle of the hall, she continues to lash out at the statues with tendrils of light.
More statues burst into shards and the party continues forward.
Rosaline's positive bursts keep the party alive as you rush across the deadly room. On the other side is another set of identical white stone doors. You will your way through and find yourself at the bottom of a twisting stair.
The climb isn't long, but what you find takes your breath away. A natural fissure has formed in the ice of the waterfall here where it meets the stone of the cliff face, climbing to a height of one hundred sixty feet above your head. The rock face itself is broken by a series of shallow, natural terraces covered by only a few feet of ice. The ice is transparent enough to see the blackened corpses of hundreds of human warriors manacled to the cliff face. Many of the manacles hang empty or hold only the dismembered remnants of limbs. In some places, the ice has actually been chipped away to expose the rock wall, and the exposed manacles hang empty—their previous occupants conspicuously absent.
You must either climb the ice or fly up to the top to continue forward.
"Hmm." Rosaline surveys the wall. "Your carpet; would it fit all of us? Or maybe it could be used as a ferry ..." Rosaline remarks to Johnne then points to the empty manacles. "I don't think those left on their own - so someone probably resupplied on undead minions here. My guess at least ..."
I have a potion a magic one that will allow me to turn into a cloud vapor and move about, So I can cross that way if necessary.
He said frowning at the crevasse and all the warriors frozen in place. He was... curious how they got there for sure.
You recall that Baba Yaga chained the army of her rebellious daughter to the cliff face before diverting a river over it and freezing the whole thing solid.
"Loyal undead minions then, assuming such a thing applies ..." Rosaline muses as the group realizes what they are watching. "I think the witch that slipped past the giants are the most likely candidate. But we should keep our eyes open!"
As you begin to ascend ghostly arms reach from the wall and swipe at each of you!
They sap your strength like a wraith. (Rosaline take 8 str damage, Asselus takes 4)
"I could carry... one person," Charlotte volunteers, otherwise also flying up with the others.
"Speaking of the living-impaired ..." Rosaline grunts and tries to sidestep the grasping hands, with a so-so success ratio. With a wince she calls upon the light and steps up in the air and offers her hand to those still on the ground. "I think this is our cue to hurry!"
He grabbed his potion of gaseous form and moved a bit away from the wall and drank it, floating up out of reach of the arms.
As you ascend you get an odd feeling of vertical vertigo. You feel like you're falling, and yet rising. The spectral hands reach for you to no effect. It's almost like you don't exist anymore. That's just the beginning, however. Suddenly you taste the color purple with your ears and reality goes all fuzzy at the edges. Flowers dance a lively waltz around the corpses of melting snowmen and a ghost goat sits in a well apportioned parlor. It is dressed in a bath robe and slippers (both quite real). It looks at you and waves its hand... hoof. You slam into the ground, break through, and land again, bounce back up into a pool of honey, and get a tickle from an overly friendly octopus.
That's what you remember anyway. The next thing that makes sense in your life is the ice you find yourself upon (it's where you were headed, at the top of the wall you were ascending) and about half the people around you. The others, A man, a dwarf, and a teifling, you don't recall in the slightest.
Oh, and Percy. She's standing there with an impish grin on her face.
As Talon slips around back and Tor and Taerine prepare to blast the grey matter of this grey... thing... back into it's own plane a gnome pops into the room. The Veil reacts violently. The walls, and the magic woven in them, reach in and try to expel the intruder with hands that look very much like wraith's. She sighs and snaps her fingers. You can feel her take the magic and twist it just so... and the whole thing unravels into utter chaos. Suddenly you taste the color purple with your ears and reality goes all fuzzy at the edges. Flowers dance a lively waltz around the corpses of melting snowmen and a ghost goat sits in a well apportioned parlor. It is dressed in a bath robe and slippers (both quite real). It looks at you and waves its hand... hoof. You slam into the ground, break through, and land again, bounce back up into a pool of honey, and get a tickle from an overly friendly octopus.
That's what you remember anyway. The next thing that makes sense in your life is the ice you find yourself upon (you're still in that same room) and about half the people around you. The others are a heavily armed woman and an elf. You have zero memory of them.
Oh, and Percy. She's standing there with an impish grin on her face.
The domed ceiling of this large, round room rises thirty feet overhead. Bars of ice block alcoves flanking a door to the north, as well as passages to the east and west. An elaborate ice throne sits within a raised alcove to the south, surveying the chamber. Heavy manacles are inset into the throne’s arms, back, and legs. Several more sets of manacles are spaced about the chamber’s walls, interspersed with various diabolical instruments of torture. A fifteen-foot-diameter cage of ice bars that extend from floor to ceiling dominates the center of the room.
Blood covers the floor and the remnants of a party not terribly dissimilar to yours (though not the same people, clearly) lie in several places along with the remains of many monsters.
"More witchery!" Taerine snaps. "Identify yourselves if you don't wish to be obliterated from this plane!"
She raises a hand, blue flames seeming to swirl around it and the rest of her body, and you realize the woman -- a stark figure, wearing the black mantle of Asmodeus' church, with red stitching to accent it -- is in fact human despite her silver diadem -- a ruby in the centerpiece -- looking almost like devil's horns.
Though attractive, she shows little sign of warmth, detracting from the overall presence. She holds herself confidently, seemingly unconcerned by the complete lack of obvious weaponry on her person.
Percy huffs like a put upon teenager. Witchery. You wish.
"No? Not Baba Yaga's tricks? Then what are you about, gnome?"
You know miss Percy.. you could have saved us a lot of trouble if you just teleported us to this part before we started.."
He muttered and frowned shaking his head. It felt like something one of his wives would have done. They would have probably smiled just as annoying cutely. He frowned at the others his fingers twitching just a moment, To summon the shadow or not to summon the shadow... always the question.
I would take some care with idle threats madam lest you have to try and act upon them and bad tings happen.
He said lowly studying her for a moment more before he slid past to inspect the grounds, the blood, the bodies...indeed the whole room to see if he could come to any understanding what had occured here.
"The Devil's Daughter makes no idle threats," Taerine responds.
Blasted gnome! Rosaline suppresses a long series of vocal curses and instead eases the tension by imagining herself smacking away Percy's silly grin with an squid. Hmh? Maybe it should have been an octopus... Evidently still a bit confused she gets to her feet supported by her heavy spear.
The scene of slaughter was not entirely unfamiliar. Only thing; it looks recent enough that we should have noticed... Deciding that that too must be a product of Percy's "trick", whatever it was, Rosaline sighed and turned her gaze at the newcomers. Or is that us? Err... Blasted gnome!!
Since only one of them had yet to speak she focused on that one. Wait. She's familiar... Hmm. Hell Knight? The moniker 'Devil's Daughter' did undoubtedly ring some bells...
"I am the Exalt of Radiance - we come to purge these tainted halls of their evil and wash away the Demon Lord's minions on a tide of light!" Rosaline declared. She was quite proud of the statement seeing as she had both managed to refrain from cursing Percy AND screaming in anger.
Rosaline's most striking feature are her semi-luminous eyes, surely a product of magic. She is of mixed breed, having inherited length from her elven side and broad shoulders from the human one.
Her indomitable figure is clad in mithral armour and a grey robe, both filled with script in celestial and images depicting light, stars and above all slaying of demons. A heavy headed spear rests in her grasp, tipped with some black metal, almost matching her own length. Seemingly well equipped for war with another shorter spear is holstered at her hip along with several other implements of violence. There is also a kite shield strapped to her back, arranged for easy access. Hopefully her other equipment must fit inside the pouch at her belt or the small satchel at her back.
Talon cautiously sits up, glancing about a is new surroundings, well actually the same surroundings, but additional individuals.
not giants, and not undead.
He is unsure at he moment as to what to make of these newcomers.
As he quietly strolls about the room, He takes notice of the blood, the creatures are defeated. That is good.
Listening to the exchange of words, his hand shifts the hilt of his blade ready to defend those that remained of his troupe.
eventually reaching the first felled creature he retrieves his shuriken, tucking them away.
Percy dismisses the comment that she could have teleported them here in the first place with a wave of the hand. What I am about is putting all my chicks in one basket. My sister and I have had a bit of a time trying to crack this place, so we decided to make several attempts in tandem. Parallel, if you will. Imbrex agreed and used some of his subtler magic to make it happen. Most of the teams we recruited ended rather suddenly. We lost two to the geyser (both paladins, the idiots), another four to the dragon and a whole team and a half against that brute downstairs. Most ended here though, as you can see. Here lay the corpses of those who made it this far and failed against the monsters here. This is as far as anyone has gotten so far. You are all that is left.
The bodies are a range of species and apparent professions from disparate regions, but all powerful if their gear is any indication. Nothing qualifies as an upgrade for youall, but it shows clearly the lengths to which the sisters and Percy's patron have gone to get this far.
"I also wish to purge these halls of something," Taerine notes, eying the woman up and down.
A formidable looking woman. I'll have to keep my eye on her. Perhaps she could be made interested in serving father, in time.
She looks around at Percy's words.
"Very well. Let's see whether we can continue to survive. We've also lost two of our original accompaniment, but hopefully we can avoid any more losses at this point."
Taerine begins peering around the room, to see if there are any differences between this one and the one she seemed to be in a few moments earlier.
"And I'm Charlotte Adellan," calls a voice from the ceiling, as an afterthought, "From the Society, and here to chronicle this whole ordeal. So don't try anything funny, or you'll wind up as a terrible cartoon."
"Hmph." Rosaline snorted and glared at Percy. She wasn't all too pleased to learn about the sisters 'contingencies' but things were as they were - and there was not much she could to to change that just now. Also doing better then the pair of paladins felt good, even if that thought was quickly followed by a pang of guilt. She quickly tried to stem the tide of annoyance with only moderate success. "Well then. Shall we complete this then?"
You shall. I hope. Good luck! Percy chirps. She then clicks her heels twice and disappears.
Taerine - This room is identical (with the notable exception of the slaughter) to the one you left. Examining the throne, you notice that one of the throne’s foot manacles has been removed. Each of the
throne’s chains has 27 links, while the ones on the walls
have only 26. There are five such chains still attached to
the throne of the original 6. This strikes you as oddly similar to the way that only one of the statues downstairs was smashed.
You all explore to the left (right on the map, area 13) and find that the corridor opens into a wide chamber outfitted as a dining room, with three round, wooden tables, shiny with frost, and several chairs. The walls hold bookcases, and a number of woven carpets—stiff with age and cold—cover the floor. Five doors line the far wall.
The furniture is ordinary, and the books—brittle with age and the cold—are discourses on mundane subjects of interest to the inhabitants of Irrisen 5 centuries ago. The ceiling of the outer chamber is 30 feet high.
The dwarf simply watches the proceedings as the two groups speak to each other.
Taerine notes the voice from the ceiling.
"Being turned into a cartoon should be the least worst of the fates that await us here," she notes absentmindedly as she looks around.
She'll try tugging on one of the chains, to see if it comes off easily.
"Perhaps something preceded us here?" she notes. "One statues smashed, one chain missing..."
"Talon, would you care to examine those doors, see if it's safe to discover what's on the other side?"
Talon nods, agreeing with the fire maiden's suggestion.
Talon takes a glance at all five doors, then starting with the left (top one on the map) Talon examines each door.
Talon moves to the doors and opens the first... nothing. The second... Nothing! The third contains the ghost of some kind of guard... the fourth...
Wait... Crap.
Four Dread Wraiths spring out of the walls at you! One rushes Talon, one rushes Rosaline, one rushes Tor, and the last rushes Asselus!
All four have no trouble reaching through your weapons and armor and gripping onto your heart like the memory of a lover lost. You feel them start to drain the strength from you even as their essence chills so much it burns your flesh.
Tor will convert his highest available spell into a mass cure critical wounds targeting myself, Rosaline and Talon and our 3 dread wraiths
Two of the wraiths ripple as the power washes over them, the other holds relatively steady. They all turn their heads and scream silently at you.
He was silently watching the newcomers hidden in the shadows (so he thought) when the poking of one of the newcomers upset some wraiths. He was caught almost by surprise as one of them veered straight for him, it had been a long time since something had noticed him when he was a part of the shadows. . .
"Bad move my friend."
He said to the wraith shivering even as it struck him. His blades lashed out and began their deadly dance.
-- (yayy negative level of course I failed the save that I had 85% chance of success)
Rosaline decides to counter the Dread Wraith's silent screams with one of her own, but loud! Calling upon the divine to smite and strike the ghostly creatures down she takes a proactive role and slams her spear into them.
HP 235/250; Burn (max 12)/non-lethal damage 3/51; Internal Buffer: 3/3
AC 36, touch 22, flat-footed 31; CMD 34
Fort +23, Ref +20, Will +15
Effects: Force Ward (17/17 temp hp); 10/150 stoneskin; magic vestment (40 hours; +5 enhancement, +2 over normal); +2 Dex and Con
Taerine retreats, having no desire to find herself in combat with these things. Gesturing, the cold blue flames around her seem to flare forward, then surge from her hand toward the nearest of the creatures, heat pouring off it as it sizzles past the strange newcomer's head.
Talon and Tor to act.
HP tracker:
1:129
2:
3:125
4: