Marcus grunts, "Thanks for the confidence", yet smiles and winks as he heads back upstairs with the group.
As they reach the front door he pulls out his thieves tools, casts detect magic, and goes about seeing if he couldn't disable the remaining trap.
Unable to disarm the magical trap, Marcus accidentally triggers it. Luckily, the bard expected such an outcome and easily leaps away from the yawning pit that appears where the rug used to be. After a minute, the pit vanishes, and the trap no longer appears to function.
---
The following day, the party sets out to find Hunclay's cave. Following the instructions in the wizard's summoning journal, they travel north along the old Devy Road.
A few miles from Belhaim, they notice buzzards circling the sky, in the direction of the cave entrance. The opening isn't far from the road, only a trek of a few hundred feet through the woods.
Marcus nods in agreement. "Nothing we learned about Hundclay indicates we'll find anything but horror in that cave." stopping for a moment, he grins suddenly. "But he WAS wealthy and I'd imagine his hidden cave will be where he hid the good stuff. Our agreement with the Baronness was for us to catalogue the wealth in his manor, this stuff should be fair game."
Frowning.
"If we can get to it."
Grargath eyes the buzzards warily, only spotting them now that the others pointed them out.
"Aye, I've got a bad feelin' about this," he mutters, feeling for his holstered battleaxe. "Though I'm feelin' better after a night's rest." He removes his weapon and carries it at his side, ready for whatever might greet them at the mouth of the cave.
The source of the buzzards' interest is obvious when you approach. Pieces of a body, little more than bones and ruined gear sit, lie scattered around the shore of a shallow pond butted up against a cliff.
A second body, a human man, sits near a narrow cavern, slumped as though resting.
"Figures." Marcus growls as he sees the bodies. His hand finds his whip and shakes it loose, buckler ready for whatever unspeakable horror they'd have to face next.
Grargath stares at the desecrated body with obvious disgust, before tearing himself away.
"Somethin' terrible," he quietly responds to Francis. The dwarf cautiously approaches the second body, searching for any signs of life.
"This is not the first thing I was hoping to see. Poor souls."
Unable to bring herself to inspect the corpses at a closer range, she studies the surrounding area instead.
As Grargath approaches the second body, the man's head tilts slightly to follow him. His chest rises and falls slowly, and he is dressed in a simple shirt and breeches. He might seem comfortable, but for the severe state of his legs. His pants are torn and bloody, revealing a number of deep bite wounds. Blood oozes from one particularly deep wound, pooling beneath him and trickling into the pond.
"Who...? Who...?" he whispers.
Marcus starts forward at the sight of the man being alive, if albeit barely, reaching for their healing wand to see if he couldn't stop that nasty leg wound from.bleeding out.
"What happened here?"
Grargath steps back in surprise, not actually expecting the man to still be alive. He gives Marcus and Francis room to attend to him.
"Jus' relax, we're here t' help," he says, feeling slightly ridiculous for telling someone half-dead to relax.
Marcus's magic heals the worst of the man's wounds. "Th-thank you," he stammers. "Saba and I, we worked for Balthus Hunclay. We wanted to check on his things, make sure they were safe. When we came off the road, that's when the wolves attacked."
"They chased us towards the cliffs," he explains. "Herding us, I suspect. They tore us apart as we ran. I made it to the cave, Saba wasn't so lucky." He winces. "I thought I'd be next, but they won't come towards the cave and I think I know why. The whispers."
The back of Cira's neck prickles uncomfortably as the man tells his story. Glancing around them, she focuses on listening, worried yet interested in what they've been told.
"I... don't hear anything," she says nervously. "But if it has anything to do with Hunclay, it won't be good."
Marcus grunts at the wounded man's story before looking around warily.
"Wolves and ... whispers? Sounds about right for anything to do with this fool wizard. Getting crushed was too good for him."
Grargath shakes his head, glancing at the picked apart body as the man mentions a Saba. He turns his attention back to the opening of the cave, battleaxe in hand.
"I don' hear anythin' either," he echoes. "An' tha' might be for th' best."
"It's a wonder this area survived with Hunclay and his antics all around it," Cira mutters, looking into the cave. "I suppose if we're going to do this, we might as well go now."
Grargath frowns at Francis' declaration, having secretly hoped the whispers were just a figment of the man's imagination.
"Cira's right. Let's get this done."
He readies his axe and shield, mentally checks the dagger is still holstered just in case, and heads into the cave.
Marcus sighs, puts away the wand and uncoils his whip.
"No time like the present, eh? Let's do this." looking to the wounded servant he mumbles, "Stay here, eh. Unless you want to chance a run back into town, but those wolves probably are still around."
Francis HP: 33/33 - AC: 16/10/16 Status:
Marcus HP: 33/33 - AC: 17/12/15 Status:
Grargath HP: 38/38 - AC: 18/12/16 Status:
Cira HP: 26/26 - AC: 12/12/10 Status:
________________________________
Neh-Thalggu Zombie - HP: 66/66 - AC: 14/11/12
"If it's all the same to you," the man explains. "I'll stay here for you to return. I'm not going back out there with those wolves."
The pond in front of the cave entrance never gets deeper than four feet at the center—the creek that covers the cave floor is one foot deep, leaving six feet of head room above. The spring that feeds the creek trickles out of the rock face in the alcove to the west, and an increasingly shallow tunnel leads around the corner to the northwest.
The whispering is stronger here, a wet hiss that seems to reverberate through the skull. Around the corner, a more audible skittering noise can be heard.
The shallow water ends at the entrance to a large cave, the air within uncomfortably warm. Four chests sit at the far side from the entrance. The ceiling, studded with stalactites, is ten feet high above the floor.
The source of the noises is a creature from the nightmares of a madman. A hulking, crab-like form scuttles back and forth between the walls, swaying like a drunkard. Dozens of multi-faceted eyes cluster on its chitinous legs and around a tooth-rimmed hole in its center bulk, the mouth not unlike a lamprey. Finally, a series of blisters cover its back, each filled with crimson liquid, inside which floats a human brain.
Despite its terrifying form, something about the creature before you seems wrong. Perhaps it is the staggering gait or sluggish reactions, but as it lurches towards the party, it becomes clear: it is now undead, a ghoulish parody of whatever it once was.
Brain collectors are fearsome foes, capable of agile flight despite their bulk and boasting an array of spell-like abilities. They are resistant to non-magical damage and possess a venomous bite.
You are unsure if any of these abilities are retained in undeath.
Marcus is taken aback for a moment at the sight of the thing, muttering "What in all the gods names is that!"
Looking down at his whip, he decides that this beast probably will require a more ... choppy ... approach. And drops the length of leather and steel and draws his longsword, starting up a Taldam ballad about a brave group of plucky heroes taking on a defeating a horrible denizen of the hells.
close enough, whatever this thing is. Shame on the Baroness for letting her court wizard delve so deeply in evil.
Not for the first time the bard wished he could stab Hundley again, on principle.
|
"Whatever it was, it is a zombie now, foul corpse cursed with undeath. Use slashing weapons on them." Francis scowls down at his morningstar, which is nearly useless in this situation, then looks back up at the shambling corpse with fire in his eyes. "My morningstar won't do much, but fire will. Goddess, burn this abomination with your holy flames!" Francis shouts as his arms move in a mystic gesture and then reach up to grip his holy symbol. A small orb of flame appears in his hand, and he hurls it at the zombie.
Grargath stares in horror at the monstrosity in front of them, cursing Hunclay's name as he brandishes his axe.
"Th' sooner it's dead again, th' better!" The dwarf rushes forward and swings at the unholy abomination with all his might.
Cira blanches at the undead thing in front of them and throws her hand out, sending white-hot bolts of energy hurtling forward.
Francis HP: 33/33 - AC: 16/10/16 Status:
Marcus HP: 33/33 - AC: 17/12/15 Status:
Grargath HP: 6/38 - AC: 18/12/16 Status:
Cira HP: 26/26 - AC: 12/12/10 Status:
________________________________
Neh-Thalggu Zombie - HP: 45/66 - AC: 14/11/12 Status: Staggered
Cira and Francis's spells shower the monster in flames and magic missiles, but the creature doesn't react at all. It focuses all of its limited attention on Grargath. When the dwarf rushes in, it swings one monstrous claw towards him.
Grargath takes it on his shield—the impact breaks his arm. With his good arm, he hacks into the monster, slicing off its flesh. The zombie-thing then lurches forward and bites Grargath on his opposite shoulder, leaving behind a series of bloody holes.
At the snap of Grargath's arm, Cira flinches and takes a frightened step back, her heart pounding in her chest. But that fear quickly turns to anger as she breathes deep to steady herself, her fists clenched at her side. Glaring at the creature, her arms begin to glow and spark like the embers of a campfire, and as she raises her hands out in front of her, a bright orange and white orb of crackling, surging flame coalesces between her palms.
She glances up at the creature with a small smirk, her eyes flickering with the same fire, and thrusts her palms forward, emanating a searing beam of fire into the horror before them.
"Undead? Of course. Most of my spells won't hurt undead." Marcus growls in between verses of his harrowing song of demon slaying.
Lacking any useful magics to combat this undead abomination, the bard decides to depend on the cold iron of his longsword, wading into the melee with the beast, blade and buckler ready. As he reaches the beast he uses his magic to charge his blade before cutting at the monster.
Grargath cries out in pain as the monster savagely lays into him. Thankfully Francis' spell dulls some of the pain, but his arm still throbs as the dwarf briefly considers retreat.
An' leave Marcus with th' beast t' get slaughtered?
Grargath steps to the other side of the undead monster and, with a hard swing, cuts into the zombie again.
Francis HP: 33/33 - AC: 16/10/16 Status:
Marcus HP: 33/33 - AC: 17/12/15 Status:
Grargath HP: 16/38 - AC: 18/12/16 Status:
Cira HP: 26/26 - AC: 12/12/10 Status:
________________________________
Neh-Thalggu Zombie - HP: 17/66 - AC: 14/11/12 Status: Staggered
Cira's fiery ray burns a rent across the beast, charring rotten flesh and boiling one of the blisters on the beast's back to the point of bursting, splattering the wall with red liquid and jellified brain.
Marcus's blade hacks into its side, spilling stinking guts to the floor, but the thing gurgles as if it doesn't notice the pain. It swings a massive claw into the bard's chest, knocking the wind from his lungs and breaking several ribs.
With the other claw, it snaps at Grargath, slicing through scale and flesh. Blackness engulfs the dwarf's vision as he collapses to the ground, his lifesblood slowly ebbing from his prone form.
Staggering from the hit, Marcus nevertheless steels his will and fights on, knowing retreat is not an option with the dwarf falling before this monstrocity.
Somehow maintaining his song, the bard grips his blade in both hands, commits his soul to Cayden, charges his blade and lashes out.
Cira's stomach drops as deadly claws rake across her companions, sending the dwarf to the ground. Letting out a choked cry of frustration, she steadies herself and blasts another beam of searing flame from her hands.
The dwarf falls to the ground, kept from the brink of death only by the cleric's timely healing. His eyes fill with fury at the beast, and Grargath, acting on adrenaline and rage, hacks into the beast's flesh.
Marcus's blade, charged with arcane power, slices through the creature's legs, dropping it to the floor with a groan. Cira follows the bard up with another well-placed beam of fire, burning a hole directly through the monster's head. The zombie shudders for a moment, and then stills with a final groan.
Grargath wearily sheathes his axe as the monster finally dies. He fishes in his pack for one of the potions they had picked up, and quickly downs it.
Still not feeling great, the dwarf takes a few steps back and tries to catch his breath as the adrenaline begins to leave his body.
"Tha' thing really packed a punch. I was almost a goner fer a moment there. Thanks, Francis." He runs a hand idly through his beard as he looks at the undead corpse, still wary of it even after Cira put a hole in its head.
As Grargath takes a much needed breather, the party has the opportunity to inspect the iron chests lined against the eastern wall. Three of the chests can be opened with one of the keys found on the ring in Hunclay's bedroom. Inside each are dozens of cloth pouches, each filled with a hundred coins: copper, silver, gold, and platinum.
The fourth chest is twice as large as the others and fitted with a beautifully-intricate clockwork lock. The only key that fits is the brass key the party found looped around dead Hunclay's neck.
Inside are four packets and a mithral scroll tube resting atop an exquisite darkwood case. The packets contain a fine black powder that doesn't seem to reflect any light.
The darkwood case contains a book and four papyrus scrolls. The scrolls are ancient and tattered, each covered in hieroglyphics. The tome is massive and bound in moldering black leather. Inside, the text is written densely in a language the party doesn't recognize. It also contains a number of complicated-looking star charts, maps of strange continents, and illustrations of nightmarish creatures.
"At least we found what we came for," Cira replies as she looks through the tome's contents. "Which means we can gather what looks important and head back." She gives the now-dead monster a sidelong glance and slips the tome into her bag.
"Ha!" Marcus barks out as the beast drops beneath his blade. "Another foul foe falls beneath the blade of Marcus!" he shouts, already composing a largely embellished ballad about this harrowing battle.
I will need to be longer. We'll have to had some poor monks with us to die horribly, for dramatic flair. I'll have them be mercenaries known for their scarlet tabards.
Then he gasps as his wounds make themselves known, but figures they weren't life threatening... yet. "Anyone need the wand yet?"
Looking over the loot Marcus casts Detect Magic as he looks.
"Hmm, looks nice."
Then looking around the group, "We agreed to catalogue the loot in his house. So... this stuff is all ours right?" he asks hopefully. Praying their goody-two-shoes group members wouldnt demand they turn this all in.
"Either way, let's find this magic powder or whatever and let that rogue woman free before we head back to the Baroness"
"After nearly goin' t' meet Torag, we're keepin' th coin," Grargath laughs, wincing at a pain in his side as he does. "As long as nothin' else is waitin' fer us, I'll be fine with some rest."
The dwarf observes the dust and the scroll the others pull out with interest, but can't offer much help on what they contain. Instead, he begins loading his pack with the pouches of coins that fill the other three chests.
"We agreed to catalogue the loot in his house. So... this stuff is all ours right?" he asks hopefully.
"You're certainly not wrong, Marcus," Cira says with a small smile as she watches the pair shovel coins into their packs. "I do think these old scrolls and the tome should go to the baroness, though." She closes the darkwood case containing the scrolls and slips it into her bag. "I doubt any of us can make sense of them, and they look a bit... foreboding."