After having delivered herself and Nisany, Syksy looks around as Vibenia explains the new puzzle. "How much you want to bet if you move one another moves too to keep it from being easy?"
"Maybe all four need to be moved at the same time." Vibenia replies.
Syksy nods, putting Nisany down she moves to a far pillar. "Ready to try when y'all are."
Zaijka moves to stand next to another of the statues, nodding to Sysky and Vibenia. "Ready," she chimes in simply, setting her shoulder to the stone.
Khardir inspects his damaged wooden shield as he stands near the doorway and idly says, "Eh... yeah, go ahead."
Vibenia stands up beside the statue she was inspecting, looking over to Bernard. "Everybody ready?"
Stone scrapes against stone as the statues are reoriented. Once every bowman is aiming at the centre, a clicking and whirring sound emanates from underneath. Then, a round section of the floor begins to slide down in wedges, creating a spiral stairway in the middle of the room.
The stairway opens onto a circular alcove looking out into a great domed chamber . Seven statues stand to the north, and seven more to the south—burly figures leaning on large hammers. They resemble dwarves clad in plated kilts, with hair and beards which flow upwards like flames. A single stone sarcophagus sits in the centre of this room, at the bottom of a series of four tiers descending in five-foot increments. A relief of Abadar's key has been carved on the lid of the sarcophagus, the gilding along its grooves faded with age, but mostly intact despite the passing of centuries.
Khardir carefully moves about the room, examining the sarcophagus and the statues with a fine touch.
"Hmm, I wonder why dwarf statues all of a sudden..." he mumbles as he gently traces over the wild beards. "But the sarcophagus is larger than a dwarf's."
Examining an item in this way requires him to spend 1 minute handling the item. If the item is a magic item, the occultist learns its properties and command word as if he had successfully examined the item using detect magic and succeeded at a Spellcraft check. This ability does not reveal whether the item is cursed unless the occultist’s class level is equal to or greater than the caster level of the item. If the item has any historical significance, the occultist learns one piece of information about its past (as determined by the GM). Finally, if the item was last used no longer than 1 day ago per the occultist’s class level, the occultist learns one piece of information about the last creature to use the item. This information might be a glimpse of the creature’s appearance, a brief vision of what it saw while using the item, or perhaps its emotional state when it last used the item. The GM determines what information is gained in this way. This functions like the psychometry occult skill unlock, but doesn’t require a skill check and can be used at will.
After snapping back to reality, you have the sudden feeling of being observed.
"Again, magic on the statues," Zaijka informs the group, leaning in to examine the auras more closely. "Transmutation, so transforming one thing into another." As she examines the magic, her familiar flies from her arm and inspects the faces closely. "A-a-zer," the raven croaks. "Fire people, sellers of goods, lovers of law."
Bernard awaits to one side, watching Khardir and Zaijka with calm patience.
"Will they animate if we open the sarcophagus? Can we destroy them first?"
"If they're actual guardians tasked to protect this place by Lady Tula, we might not want to do that." Vibenia suggests.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Syksy nods. "I would still like to proceed in the least grave-robbingist way possible still. Is there some sort of puzzle in this room as well?"
”Can we respectfully open the coffin?” Syksy suggests.
"I got an impression that the statues were placed here as guardians," says Khardir. "I think they're watching us. Probably will animate if we disturb anything."
”Crap.”
"So the question is, how do we show them we're not just grave robbers, and here for the greater good?" Vibenia wonders aloud. "Bernard, do you have anything with Abadar's holy symbol on it?"
"I do," says Bernard, pulling out a medallion that he normally keeps against his skin. "Tula, if she still watches over Belhaim and this crypt, would know that we're not mere graverobbers. We're here to stop a new foe, to follow in her footsteps."
He pauses, considering his medallion. "I have to believe she'd want us to acquire her weapons. As such, I see no reason to do whatever is necessary to acquire them."
So saying he moves to the sarcophagus. "Lady Tula, please forgive our trespasses. We're here for the people of Belhaim, and hope that your weapons will once more defend them from dragonkind."
And with that, he glances at his companions to ensure they're ready, and then shoves the lid open.
Khardir finds himself holding his breath, and lets it out with a single gust.
"All right, let's do this."
You hear a faint whisper, the mournful voice of a woman which stands out from the ambient whispers of the haunted crypt. "Arturic..."
As Bernard sets his weight against the lid and begins to push, the four statues closest to the entrance start to crack. The stone shells half crumble, half melt off the brazen skin beneath, the surrounding air rippling with heat. With flaming hair and gleaming eyes the colour of molten gold, the guardians bear a superficial semblance to dwarves, though they are quite obviously of the Beyond. Oddly uniform in appearance—as if cast from the same mould—you have trouble distinguishing them. They are clad in plated copper kilts, and heft their masterfully crafted warhammers with their faces set into dutiful scowls.
However, as they see the symbol of Abadar around Bernard's neck, they pause.
One of the azer, the one who Khardir inspected earlier, steps up. He speaks in a dry, crackling rasp, like hot air pushed through a bellows, his Taldane is archaic but understandable. "Go now, and do not return. This is your only warning."
He motions with his warhammer for emphasis, pointing at the exit.
”Uh...”
"They think we're here to steal, but the amulet looks like it gave them pause."
| 2 people marked this as a favorite. |
Trying to match her speech patterns to echo the azer's archaic Taldane, Zaijka squares her shoulders and speaks. "We mean thee and thy charge no dishonor - indeed, we beseech her help to defend our home from dragon-kind. Canst thou tell us where we may find such aid?"
The azer looks at Zaijka, his face impassive. "No one touches Sir Echtyr's tomb as long as we draw breath. Such is our vow. Unless you have the Lady's blessing to take up the Golden Knight's arms, you must seek elsewhere"
”... I thought we were looking for Lady Tula?” Syksy says out of the corner of her mouth to Vibenia.
"He might have been one of her band." Vibenia replies. Considering for a moment, the ranger walks over beside Bernard, resting her hand on the lid of the tomb. "We're here to protect the town that Lady Tula founded. All of Belhaim is in danger, it's for exactly an occasion such as this that she and Arturic sealed the very items that could save hundreds of lives."
Bernard keeps shifting around, trying to keep all four azer in view. "The Lady's blessing. She's long dead. Unless there's a way to demonstrate that once we've visited her tomb?"
Bernard raises his hands placatingly. Unless Vibenia's line of reasoning works, he says, "There was a chamber in the rooms above that we didn't explore - the far eastern alcove. Perhaps we can take a look in there first before pressing this issue."
Vibenia replies. Considering for a moment, the ranger walks over beside Bernard, resting her hand on the lid of the tomb. "We're here to protect the town that Lady Tula founded. All of Belhaim is in danger, it's for exactly an occasion such as this that she and Arturic sealed the very items that could save hundreds of lives."
The fiery creatures look to one another, exchanging a few words in their own crackling tongue.
"We understand your plight all too well," the lead azer says solemnly, turning back to face Vibenia. "Be that as it may, the oath that binds us goes beyond mere words. If you must fight us to protect your own, we shall bear you no grudge. Yet, we must adhere to our vows."
Bernard keeps shifting around, trying to keep all four azer in view. "The Lady's blessing. She's long dead. Unless there's a way to demonstrate that once we've visited her tomb?"
"Much time has passed since we began our vigil," the azer says in way of acknowledgement. His mask-like features do little to reveal his feelings on the matter.
There is a slight pause as the azer runs its fingers through its fiery mane, thoughtful. "The spirits are restless. We have felt it: something once dead stirs down below. We can promise you nothing, but perhaps you will find the Lady's favour by cleansing her resting place."
"Let us do that, then," says Khardir. "Perhaps her favor can win us the day."
"Alright, let's go cleanse this crypt." Vibenia says determinedly.
"Honored... A-a-zer," says Bernard, the tension still bleeding through his stiff formality, his attempt to copy the name as Zaijka's crow had said it sounding, at best, weird. "Can you tell us how to reach this lower level? We, ah, haven't had much luck finding any other shafts or stairways. I was thinking there might be a way down hidden within this tomb, but..."
He gives an apologetic shrug.
The azer points at the base of the stairs you just descended from, and then moves to one of the inanimate statues, reaching behind its back to operate a mechanism of some kind. As a result, the floor below the stairs unfolds into another stairway. A mouldy odour issues from the aperture.
"Lord Arturic was buried in the chambers below," says the azer, "along with others of his clan, but not the Lady herself. She lays out of our sight—we know nothing else of the tomb, save for our vigil. This is where we were summoned and bound."
As you approach the newly formed stairway, the disconcertingly stoic elemental guardians stay behind, watching you with their gleaming eyes.
There is moisture in the air as you descend further, with the smell of mould growing ever more present. The stone below grows slick with pale lichen, and droplets of condensed water drip from above. More worryingly, however, the ambient whispers permeating the crypt increase in volume, and the peristent chill in the air seems to have little to do with the wetness of your new subterranean surroundings. You can see your breath, flumes of vapour wafting ghostlike in the dimming illumination of Zaijka's magical light.
Finally, the stairway opens into a small antechamber , much like the ones before. However, here a layer of freezing, brackish water covers the floor, up to a foot. Khardir suspects a groundwater seepage is to blame—he smells minerals in the air, just under the more obvious odour of the mould growing at the waterline.
Another slab of stone blocks the entrance to the tomb, but is easily opened with Bassy's key. Beyond there is a larger, oval chamber , just as flooded as the previous room. A single stone sarcophagus, its lid carved to resemble a handsome Taldan aristocrat clad in robes, sits at the western end of the room. There is a coat of arms carved at the foot end of the stone coffin, depicting a crowing rooster above crossed spears. Four circular alcoves open into the room at the western end as well, each of which contains a less ornate stone sarcophagus.
The feeling of malevolence emanating from the chamber is palpable.
Setting Nisany down somewhere dry Syksy readies her sword as the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. ”Something in need of chopping, this I can deal with.”
Vibenia reloads her crossbow, training her weapon on the sarcophagus with a nod.
Khardir pauses and rubs his now-bald head, followed by his now-bald chin.
"Now this is odd... I remember, I saw something, in that vision... this fellow, the one on the sarcophagus. He was... a guardian? I saw Lady Tula's husband turning people to stone, leaving them here as guards to awaken later..."
"So looks like we have the right place." Vibenia says scanning the room.
Bernard cautiously examines the premises as well.
"Looks quiet to me... but anybody else sense that... what would you call it... evil? Like... something here really, really doesn't like us?"
If nobody stops him, Bernard will step through the brackish water with distaste, moving toward the central sarcophagus.
”Yeah, my hairs are on end.” Syksy grumbles as she flanks Bernard as he approaches the malignant sarcophagus.
"Wait! We still have my conjured helper here," Zaijka reminds the party, gesturing toward the figure next to her, visible only due to the lack of water where it stands. "It can open the sarcophagus for us - at least that way we can be more ready if something does come out of it."
”Ah, cool,”
"Go for it." Vibenia adds, keeping her eyes on the water.
"Go open the lid," Zaijka tells her unseen servant once everyone has a chance to get into their chosen position.
Zaijka's invisible servant moves into the chamber—only the merest ripple of the water's surface tells of its passing. After a while it returns, having been unable to finish its task. Nothing stirs in the tomb.
Bernard wades to the sarcophagus without issue, looking down at the nobleman's carved visage through his own misted breath. He is no warrior: slender and tall, and without any of the accoutrements of war one might expect to see on the monument to a dragonslayer. He is depicted in the prime of his youth, with curled locks of hair falling across his shoulders and without as much as a wrinkle marring his face. Something about his features, so calm and peaceful, is decidedly at odds with the oppressive presence which seems to permeate the sodden chamber. He looks almost like he is sleeping, his finely manicured hands crossed across his chest.
Suddenly, these immaterial fears are given form, as a sound can be heard from the alcoves to the north and the south—the lids of the sarcophagi scrape open as dead things crawl out of the partially opened sepulchres.
The corpses are surprisingly intact: their flesh, long preserved by the formerly dry air of the tomb, is now rotting, putrid, and dotted with mould under the tattered scraps of their funeral clothes, with yellowed bones showing through at places. Their empty eye sockets contain glowing motes of red light, which cast an insidious glare across the brackish water. A hateful rasp escapes through their desiccated lips as they start moving with unsettling alacrity towards Bernard.
Even more dire is the transferrable nature of the wight's curse: any humanoid that is slain by a wight becomes a wight itself, its body stirring into hateful unlife within a span of seconds. Only barely recognisable as the people they were, they immediately turn against even their family and closest friends.
"Wights!" shouts Khardir. [b]"Anyone who falls will become one of them!"
With only a slight gasp at the rise of the undead, Zaijka starts casting a spell, drawing the lines from her arms into a shimmering three-dimensional form in the air.
”Don’t die. Got it!” Sykes calls out as she marches toward the southern wight before it can go after anyone else.
Vibenia quickly moves into the middle of the room, setting her sights on the opposite wight while directing Dusk to support Syksy.
Dusk races into the crypt through the water to face the foul smelling monster.
| 2 people marked this as a favorite. |
Moving into the mucky water reaching up to her thighs, Nisany reaches out with the font of life energy within her, extending a link to protect Syksy, and instinctively bracing herself for the likely discomfort that would follow.
Bernard lets out a bellow as he clanks toward the northern wight as fast as he can, unleashing a whallop of a blow as he enters the doorway.