"Hey kid. Welcome to the gang. Name's Dashil - just Dashil. It's OK to stare, but I don't welcome questions."
Esta blushes and looks away. She mumbles an apology, tensing up as the woman moves to lay a hand on her shoulder; she relaxes when she feels the familiar sensation on healing magic, looking back up at Dashil with a somewhat awkward smile. "Thanks." Another healer? That'll be handy.
"Looks like you aren't built for combat, so let's try to keep you out of it, hm?"
Esta nods, and this time smiles in earnest. "Yes please."
Moving back into the hallway as the others banter behind her, Esta slips into the room near Kendra to take a quick look around before they continue on to the west hallway.
Aduard leads the way on a brisk sweep of the area.
As Esta moves past, Kendra glances down at the pistol still clenched in her hand. "My father taught me many things," she explains. "It wasn't much help against the incorporeal dead."
She holsters the gun. "We do need to find the Splatterman, but that was no ordinary spirit. The way it reacted to Brogol's axe. I think that was the Lopper."
Aduard's spell shows nothing remaining in the oubliette or the room that contains it, but when he and Esta reach the side room off the hall, he detects the presence of undead auras.
This guardroom contains a single large table with two chairs astride it and a single sagging cot pushed up against the eastern wall. Several battered cabinets line the northern wall, with a few arrows and bits of chainmail lying scattered on the floor nearby, yet the most eerie sight are the three fractured skulls sitting on the table next to a heavy hammer. It looks as if someone has arranged the fragments of the skulls in some sort of pattern, as if an attempt had been made to construct a fourth skull from the broken fragments of the trio on the table. The leathery body of a long-dead dwarf, his wiry red hair and beard still strangely vibrant in death, lies slumped on the ground behind the table.
Glaring down, knowingly Radag readies his weapon to charge any spirit that might materialize, How much longer do I have this spell on my weapon Bookman? I see dead people. Well, one dead dwarf and three, and questionably a fourth, skulls in here.
Dashil looks around the room, carefully, her eyes glowing with a faint but clearly visible aura.
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"A few minutes, Irefist. There's undead here. I see no reason to preserve these bodies. Feel free to hit them before they wake up." Aduard suggests.
"Stockl - Mrs Hawkren said there were five key spirits; the Lopper - who we just fought, the Piper of Illmarsh - I assume that was the one you piped at, the Splatter Man, Father Charlatan and the Mosswater Marauder. The notes Dashil and I went through said he smashed his wife's head with a hammer, and was obsessed with rebuilding it . Brogol, you found his hammer you found in the confiscated property cupboard . Who has said hammer now?"
Radag points at Dashil, Dashil has it. She took the blasted thing after the fight with the Piper. Turning his gesture from accusation to beckoning Radag adds, Hurry now, let's have it out and so we can lay this sinner to rest for good.
Dashil narrows her eyes. "Not the dwarf - the skulls on the table." She sniffs, and thinks for a couple of seconds.
"Pretty sure I know what this is. And-" she rummages in her pack for a moment "-pretty sure we've got the remedy, too." She brandishes the hammer.
Drawing his greataxe, Brogol looks to the table. "Smash 'em!" he yells, his voice cracking with adrenaline.
Ready for the skulls to fly at him and bite, or shoot flame, or something, the apprentice monster-hunter grips his weapon tightly and watches the skulls for any signs of strangeness.
Confused, Esta takes a few steps back from the room as the group discusses the situation. She looks between all of them as they talk, trying to keep up but failing. She wondered when she would finally catch up with everything.
"Um... can someone tell me wha' th' hammer has t' do with anythin'?" she asks, eyeing the skulls warily from the hallway.
Aduard, ever the lecturer, responded. "The Mosswater Marauder used this hammer to murder a number of people. Smashed in their heads. There's a number of items like this, each linked to a Prisoner. Typically they assist with defeating said undead, but carry terrible curses. The Piper's pipe, for example, all but killed Stockl when he used it. On the other hand without it we might not have survived the fight without casualties."
Dashil shakes her head briskly, cutting Aduard short. "More importantly, I've seen these before - they're a type of undead known as 'beheaded,' floating sentinels reanimated by dark magic. They should have risen and attacked us by now. But don't get your hopes up: that's just a sign that they're being controlled by something else. And no, before you ask - I've no idea what. Nothing else in here registers."
She closes her eyes and breathes a deep, world-weary sigh. "Ustalav. Seriously, Kendra, your father couldn't have chosen to live somewhere normal, like normal people?!"
Right, Pharasma forgive me for what I am about to say and do. Let's smash these things now and worry about what was controlling them later. We are short on time. Radag says hefting his sword into the air overhead and giving only a glance of consideration to the others to give them a last chance to object or join him before he sunsets one of the undead skulls
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As soon as Radag steps through the door...
The skulls rise from the table, eldritch energy spilling from their mouths and empty eye sockets.
A sobbing dwarf, face shrouded by a mane of filthy red hair, rises from the corpse on the ground, grasping a ghastly hammer. A spectral skull floats nearby him, its cranium laced with cracks and missing a knife-shaped shard of bone on the side.
Wielding the hammer that they located earlier in this haunted prison, Dashil strides into the room and into melee combat with the skulls.
"Um, th' bones..."
Esta is just about to point out that the shards are starting to move when a sharp pain sears through the base of her skull, causing her to flinch.
She watches in fear and confusion as the skulls rise from the table and another ghostly entity appears from the body on the floor.
Taking a deep breath, Esta casts Mage Armor on herself and prepares for what's to come with this new unknown.
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"Hnnng." Brogol grits his teeth as the headache pounds its way into his head. Drawing his haunt siphon, the boy prepares to unleash it on the sobbing dwarf.
The sobbing dwarf sweeps across the ground towards Radag.
"The hammer," he cries, voice pounding in your heads. "I can feel the hammer." The dwarf swings for the ranger's head. Although no physical damage is done, a ghostly bone shard drifts out of Radag's head and tries to fit into the skull that floats about the marauder.
Radag feels a sharp migraine-like pain where the ghostly hammer struck him.
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The aasimar flinches as if struck by an invisible enemy, staring wildly into the distance, at something only she can see, her expression haunted.
No. No. Nonononono!
Nobody must know. Ever. Ever evereverever.
Radag! He knows! He KNOWS! The Professor told him! You must end him!
Dashil blinks. It's all so clear. Everything is so, so clear. She grips the hammer firmly with one icy arm, glares at Radag (just on principle) - and then throws everything she has into a strike against the phantom dwarf.
She sneers at the phantom.
"Pathetic. Just pathetic. You wanted to use shame against me? Against ME?! You have no idea."
She lets the hammer fall to the ground.
"Almost sad, really. Don't pick it up, by the way."
Esta watches as Dashil goes from troubled to furious in a matter of seconds, swinging the hammer forcefully at the spirit.
As the aasimar drops the hammer to the ground, Esta, still a bit anxious but overall just tired of all this ghost nonsense in general, steps forward with her hand raised, fingers again twitching a pattern in the air as she mumbles to herself, bright green eyes fixed intently on the haunt.
Rushing past the doorway, Brogol squeezes along the wall, the boy's cloak trailing behind him, wisplike. Twisting the top on the vial, Brogol shoves the haunt siphon at the apparition. "Bugger, dwarf!"
Dashil's swing passes right through the ghostly dwarf, the hammer causing no physical or incorporeal damage.
Brogol's open siphon, however, takes drastic effect. As if pulled by a soundless wind, the dwarf's features stretch and warp as it is sucked into the tiny glass vial in the half-orc's hand. At the last moment, the dwarf pulls free, although it struggles to remain palpable.
The skulls on the table fly forward, although their snapping jaws are ineffectual against the party's armor. The final skull, hiding behind the others, releases an ear-piercing shriek.
Despite Esta's curse, the dwarf smashes into Dashil's head with its hammer, knocking a ghostly shard from her skull.
Citations?
Does Stockl still have Protection from Evil?
Dashil looks frustrated - and momentarily bewildered - as her attack has no effect whatsoever, even though it's charged with divine force.
What in the hells are we dealing with here?!
Finding no answer, she looks around. OK, what here can I take my grievances out on?
Spotting the flying skulls, she draws her morningstar and attacks the nearest one.
If violence isn't the answer, sometimes you need to change the question. And the nice thing about being an inquisitor is that you're generally in charge of deciding what the question is.
Radag finally brings down his enchanted sword in a reckless swing trying to smash one of the undead skulls.
Also, yes. Brogol is still under the effect of your spell.
Radag obliterates a floating skull with his swing, sending bone fragments scattering across the room. The dwarf clutches his head and screams in agony. His form twists and contorts before transforming into a thin, white smoke which quickly dissipates.
The remaining floating skulls fall to the floor harmlessly.
Dropping the used haunt siphon, Brogol's eye is drawn immediately to the south wall. Approaching, head stooped, the boy pulls his cloakhood back, and ears swivelling in concentration, Brogol begins tracing the form of a door along the wall. "Hnng. Here - a cleverly hidden door."
Looking for traps and a lever, Brogol does what he can to open the door...
The door is sealed with a sturdy, well-crafted lock. Despite Brogol's efforts, he can't unlock it.
Dashil bends down and warily retrieves the insane dwarf's hammer. "This should make a decent lockpick."
"Ahem. These spells have little remaining power. We can return and pillage like conquering 'heroes' once the Splatter Man is dead. I've no desire to face him in my bath again." Aduard pushes onward, confident in his abilities.
I thought someone was making clever allusions to Lovecraft or something, and I was missing them!
Did anyone see that? I fell four undead in one swing of my blade! Hahaha! Radag cheers with a smile and straightened posture. The stories never lives up to the real thing.
Radag brags a bit while the others gather and ready themselves to move on.
After a few bangs, it becomes obvious that the hammer isn't doing more than damaging the lock. You'll likely need a key to get inside.
"Come on" Aduard calls tersely "He's not likely hiding in there, and in a few minutes Radag's Blade will be useless against wraiths, and we'll have to come back tomorrow."
Esta tries to hide a smile at Radag's boasting as she trots to catch up with Bookman.
As she reaches the west hallway, she stops before entering, thinking of all the very weird surprises they'd faced since entering the dungeons, and just how very useless she felt in a fight. She peeks down the hall, not wanting to enter herself until she was joined by the rest.
Oolong moves beside her and sits, tail twitching listlessly as he looks up at her. Looking down at him, she grins. "Wanna do some explorin'?"
The fox whines quietly in acknowledgement, jumping to his feet and hunkering down to move deftly down the hallway with keen eyes, sniffing around as he goes.
"Hnng." Brogol nods, stowing his lockpicks quickly. "Sorry, master Bookman." Wrapping his cloak tightly about himself, as if to ward off the elder's disapproval, Brogol makes his way down the hallway after Oolong, staying at the edge of his companions' torchlight.
Moving quietly in the near dark proves difficult; the boy slips on a damp flagstone, his cloak brushes the wall, sending a rustling down the hall. But Brogol's senses are primed; it is just enough light that the boy can pick out the contours in the floor clearly. The boy's hand, trailing alongside him as he walks, brushes the wall as if it is a lover, Brogol picking up every bump and nook that stretches alongside him.
"Your methodical approach is to be commended, Stockl. I regret the need for such speed. Charging in like this is almost certain to put us at a disadvantage." Bookman shrugged "In a minute the spell will wear off, and you can return to your more cautious approach."
Doors lead from the hallway to the north and south.
Grabbing the edge of his cloak, Brogol reaches up and tries to wipe the soot off the nameplate, hoping it will garner some information as to the occupants, former or otherwise.
Regardless of what he finds, Brogol looks for an opening mechanism, and barring that, kneels and withdraws his tools, and gets to work.
14 vs. traps
27 vs. traps
Oolong pulls slowly back from the bars that he was on his way through and sits next to Brogol, eyeing him quietly as he works.
Esta walks up quietly behind them, kneeling to give the fox a scratch behind his ears. "Good job," she mutters as she watches Brogol work on opening the portcullis.
As he works, Esta nudges Oolong and motions with her head towards the room to the north. Walking softly, she moves to the door, looking it over for traps before entering as Oolong moves at her side, staying alert for more enemies.
The northern door opens to a guard room similarly decorated to the others, with a table, a few chairs, and a pair of cots. A winch is affixed to the western wall.
Aduard stops inside the door, carefully orienting himself to look around the room. "Alright. Does that winch still work?" he asks, distracted.
The soot wipes away to reveal the name "Reaper's Hold".
Esta approaches the winch and looks it over, unable to tell anything about it one way or the other. "Guess there's only one way t' find out," she mutters as she grasps the handle, turning it over with every ounce of strength her small body can muster.
There you go Esta, put your back into it. Radag encourages Esta as she tries the handle. Wonder if we can use parts of this to open the broken one. What do you think Brog?
The mechanism squeals and creaks greatly, but it does work. The portcullis in the hallway raises slowly with Esta's turning. There is even a locking device to keep the portcullis in place.