"Was this hammer magical?" Radag grips the hammer then tosses it up into a spin and catches it again. "Certainly well made, but is it soul crushingly well made?"
Brogol's eyes widen as the axe registers as magical. "Cast yer spell on Radag's sword, Master Bookman, an' between tha two o' us, wer should be able ta take it down."
"May want to hold your spells until we are face to face with it. Just in case I change my mind."
"I'll need to touch it. If you change your mind, we can always go home again. I do suggest we continue quickly on if we win, the spell is powerful, but short-lived."
Dashil follows the others, moodily. "Aduard's right, let's clear the top before we head down. Don't want to get caught when we're retreating."
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After making your preparations, the group returns to the prison grounds. The structure seems almost restive as you approach the front door.
The group quickly makes its way to the old infirmary. Each of you braces yourself as Radag moves to the front of the line, opening the door and slowly making his way into the room.
Once the group reaches the center of the room, a loud, piercing shriek erupts from the surroundings, the same as the last time. The same twisted, nearly skeletal ghost of a broken prisoner rises up from the rubble, in the same spot it appeared yesterday.
Initiative:
1st: Brogol
2nd: poltergeist
3rd: Dashil, Radag, Aduard
Pushing past Radag, Brogol skirts the wall, circling around the phantom, hand axe in hand. When he gets the corner, the apprentice lunges forward, swinging the axe over his head with an awkward yell.
"HNnngaar out're her!"
Knowing what was coming, Radag is able to steel his nerves and faces the apparition.
Brogol maneuvers around behind the poltergeist, and lands a severe blow in the middle of ghost's torso.
The creature emits another shriek, and turns his attention on the half-orc. Suddenly, a cloud of debris rises from the floor and flies at Brogol's face.
The attack results in a small cut on his face.
1st: Brogol
2nd: poltergeist
3rd: Dashil, Radag, Aduard
Radag shakes his sword at Adhuard, delaying his engagement with the geist until his blade is enchanted with the magical energy capable of harming the undead's incorporeal form. "Your spell, lend it 'ere."
Once (or if) the spell is cast Radag steps to the side and swings the huge blade with a strange stance as an anchor. The stance allows Radag to adjust rapidly to the poltergeists unnatural shifting defense, almost like Radag knew it was going to react that way.
Rolling his eyes, Aduard zips through a chant, fingers twisting like a willow's branches in the wind. A few moments later his left hand glows blue. The old wizard touches the sword and the glow leaps the distance like a spark, lighting up the sword with faintly glowing blue runes.
"Go." exclaims Aduard, clapping the big man on the shoulder.
Shifting across from Radag, Brogol swings away again with the axe, hoping to send the spirit to rest before any (permanent) harm is done. The axe is easy to use and cuts quick and accurate, Brogol finds - to his delight.
After being imbued with the magical energy from Aduard's spell, Radag's sword manages to cleave the apparition in two, dissipating its skeletal form. Several bits of debris that were flying around the room fall to the ground.
After searching through the debris, you are able to find several useful items amid the rubble:
- 2 fully stocked healer's kits
- 3 vials of antitoxin
- 2 vials of antiplague
- 3 doses of bloodblock
- 3 doses of smelling salts
- 2 vials of soothe syrup, and
- 4 potions of cure light wounds
"We can search later. Keep going, while the spell still runs!" Despite his demands for speed, Aduard carefully checks through his spellbook.
"That's the spirit! Brogol, get the door...... Get it? Spirit." Radag chuckles.
Brogol laughs, more a wheezing snort, than a guffaw, and heads to the eastern door. "Good'un, Master Irefist."
Crouching, the boy gives the door a once-over before twisting the knob.
A huge stone furnace dominates this room, large enough for a child to climb inside. An ancient fire has burned away the entire east wall of the room, providing a panoramic, if eerie, view of the lake beyond. That same lake has gradually expanded into the room, flooding its eastern half.
As you come further into the room, you notice a soot-caked copper plaque over the furnace entrance that reads "Ember Maw."
Perception:
Initiative:
The hairs on Dashil's neck rise as she sniffs the distinctive smell of burning human flesh.
"That furnace - it's haunted! Get back, NOW!"
She withdraws from the area of the furnace. "Any ideas on how to dispel this one?"
Aduard desperately jumped back, tripping in his haste and then half-scuttling half-rolling backwards.
"Didn't we read in those notes there was a prisoner cremated alive here at least once? If that's the motive that powers this Haunt, we'd need to retrieve and dispose of the remains." Aduard looks grim "Burned alive. Regardless of crime, common sense dictates that executions be done humanely and swiftly. The afterlife is justice enough, revenge torture is dangerous."
"Didn't we read in those notes there was a prisoner cremated alive here at least once? If that's the motive that powers this Haunt, we'd need to retrieve and dispose of the remains." Aduard looks grim "Burned alive. Regardless of crime, common sense dictates that executions be done humanely and swiftly. The afterlife is justice enough, revenge torture is dangerous."
Dashil says nothing. She personally hunted down and unpleasantly killed the bandits who sacked that village - she can't remember its name, now. Or doesn't want to.
She shudders briefly. In the dark, they were helpless against her rage; and she took full advantage. Some of her memories... no wonder she sleeps so poorly, most nights.
Anyway, time to move on. "Protective magic, that's what we need. Can you ward off flame?"
Brogol gathers his cloak and with a swoop backs out the doorway, shutting it as he goes. Placing his ear against the door, he listens for the sounds of crackling fire while the others talk, only stopping to interject after Dashil asks about magic.
"Aye got nothing ta ward us. Perhaps wer should leave this room closed off an come back if wer find tha remains of Benjen Eraska were tha man's name, tha prisoner was burned alive in there."
"Unless his remains are still in tha furnace, in which case wer need to reexamine yer hypothesis, Master Bookman."
Sighing, Brogol recalls a bit more of the man's past, pulled from the apprentice's excellent memory. "He liked strawberries an' injured his leg in a riding accident."
Radag closes the door just as soon as everyone had retreated behind it. Then as the others discuss three issue, Radag looks and retrieves some fabric scraps to handle a potentially burning hot metal door handle, just in case they plan to head back in.
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"Warding? Not readily to hand. Hmmm - if cremated, then his remains are likely ash in this very device - if not the device itself. There's a spell I used to use to clean the dust out of my office. I might be able to use it on the ash within." he shrugs "Obviously I didn't prepare a cleaning spell for this particular mission."
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Dashil mutters curses under her breath as it becomes clear Aduard can't assist. "OK. It's on me then. Again." This is the closest she gets to volunteering.
Running both hands through her blue hair, she ties it in a loose ponytail, out of the way; and lifts a fervent prayer to her Goddess, who answers. A nimbus of cool light shimmers around her.
Dawnflower, I don't deserve you. I do know that.
Focus. Taking a deep breath, she looks at the others. "Don't get in the way unless it's clear I've failed."
With that, she steps back in to the room, looking for the remains of the ever-memorable Benjen Eraska.
"I'll be damned if I let you go in there alone." Radag follows after Dashil, though he is looking more for trouble and looking to immediately break the furnace to pieces as opposed to looking for wherever the burned body of some nobody was.
Radag speeds up to furnace and swings his Bookman enchanted blade at the core of the furnace construct.
Greatsword, magic:
Brogol hovers at the door, nervously wringing his hands, ready to jump in and grab the charred corpse of one of his companions, if it should come to that.
"Brogol - if the furnace should reactivate, be a good chap and throw in one of these Haunt Siphons before they die, would you?"
Dashil braces herself, then rushes back into the room with the furnace, Radag close on her heels. As she approaches, the face of the furnace seems to animate into a leering skull-like visage made of metal and bars. It roars just as Dashil dodges the bars and dives into the interior of the thing. Radag takes a swing at the image, but his sword just clangs off the metal body of the furnace. The image roars again, and a fiery tongue lashes out to strike at Radag.
fire damage
Brogol runs into the room fumbling through his belt pouch as he goes. Pulling the haunt siphon from the pack, he hopes he's within range and begins to twist the top...
Dashil scrabbles hastily through the ash, heedless of the dust and mess. "Radag, get OUT of here! Kid, leave the damn siphon alone - we'll need it later! I've GOT this!"
Aduard spins to cover the rear as the others sprint into danger.
"Rrrahg! Watch out! Radag pulls back after taking a moment to realize his attempt to sunder the object failed to even scratch it. "Must need a damn haunted blade to harm a haunted object."
Dashil desperately searches through the ashes, but it unable to find the remains of the prisoner.
Brogol runs into the room, preparing a haunt siphon. Radag shouts out his warning.
The furnace begins to glow bright orange, and the face seems to grow more agitated. It lets loose with another roar when it sees the new target enter the room.
Another burst of flame shoots out of the furnace, this time aimed at Brogol!
The blast catches the half-orc square in the face!
With loud curses, exasperated by what she hears outside, Dashil searches, frantically, for the missing bones of the former prisoner.
Brogol howls with pain as the fire lashes across his face, immediately bringing blisters with it. Backing up, he's still the diligent servant, and resists the urge to twist the cap on the haunt siphon per Dashil's orders.
"Hurry yerselves!"
Hurriedly running her hands through the ashes, Dashil is finally able to find the last remains of Benjen Ereska. They feel hot to the touch, but not quite enough to burn.
Radag pads his shoulder to snuff the stubborn, burning flame.
"Good lord, boy, what've you done to yourself?" Aduard looks at Brogol with concern, whilst desperately trying to keep one eye on their rear.
Dashil almost drops the bones at their warmth. OK, think, think - water. I need water...
She's an inquisitor with power at her disposal. She can create water.
Raising her arms high above her head, she calls down a prayer from her Goddess: water bursts from above her, cascading onto the bones she's holding and drenching her. She hopes it's enough to cool them.
She tries not to think about what the ash/water mix is doing to her hair.
Dashil summons a gout of water, which causes a plume of steam to rise up from the bones, obscuring her vision. However, the deluge seems to do nothing to quench the heat deep in the bones of the former prisoner. Dashil gets the feeling that a much larger body of water is called for.
Brogol starts into the room, but then stops, indecisive as his hands grip the huant siphon tightly. His eyes catch the lakewater shimmering in the sunlight, spurring a thought. "Tha lake! Throw tha bones in tha lake!"
"Got it."
Casting what's left of her dignity to the winds (which, frankly, given she's covered in a slurry of ash and water, isn't much anyway and was never much to begin with) Dashil sprints out of the furnace and plunges into the icy waters of the lake. "Ah!" It's cold, soul-numbingly cold. If this doesn't chill the bones then nothing will.
"Seriously - gah! - if I survive haunts only to die from a chill, I will haunt somebody myself." She shivers, dripping wet from head to toe, sodden clothing sticking to her lean frame. "Probably idiots who didn't listen to me - did I stutter when I told you to stay out of it?"
She glares at Radag, and Brogol; and then sneezes.
"So" starts Aduard "Did that do it? The theory is sound... now In theory, there is no difference between theory and practice. But, in practice, there is."
"Whether it worked or not, we need to get the boys here patched up."
As Dashil runs from the furnace mouth, the spirit seems to sense what is about to happen. With an intense roar, the haunt shoots one last gout of flame at the aasimar's back.
However, the inquisitor is on mission, and manages to sprint out of the reach of the flames. She reaches the margins of the lake and plunges the bones into the chill water. A great gout of steam rises from the surface of the lake, obscuring the countryside from view. After a moment, the steam stops, and all grows quiet in the old furnace room.
"Right." Dashil glares at the surface of the water and then, dripping, drenched, she transfers her gaze to the two wounded. "Was there some bit of 'don't follow me in' that was too hard for the pair of you to understand?" She shakes her head, her sodden blue hair sticking wetly to her scalp.
"OK, let's get you healed up. But this is my last magic for today - after this, we're on our own resources. Such as they are."