"I'm good taking a closer look. With our current situation, any help is a boon. Maybe there's a dwarven hermit still worshipping here?" Mordan will slowly walk up to the door, praying to Iomedae for safety and her blessing. He then begins a short prayer to Torag, asking for assistance and forgiveness for trespassing into his domain in the search for safety before trying to open the door.
With the door open, Mordan will cautiously enter softly calling out "Hello? Be not afraid, we are from Kenabres above. We were trapped in these caverns during the... fighting. We could use any assistance or succor a worshipper of Torag could provide. Hello?"
With a little effort Elder Greylocke manages to drag the heavy door open. The air is dank and stale, as you enter the temple you feel an unnatural chill run down your spine. Something is wrong in here.
A stone bench lines the southern wall of this chamber. At the far side of the room, a basin of water sits a top a stone pedestal. A stone door engraved with an image of a hammer stands to the north.
Treasure
The basin contains two doses of holy water.
After the room is deemed safe Anevia limps into the antechamber of the abandoned temple. Something else flashes across her face for a moment. A fleeting though of something.
The realization that this building is an abandoned temple to a lawful good deity stirs Anevia's memories of her wife, Irabeth. Anevia grows despondent, but tries to conceal her sudden depression by complaining that her leg is bothering her more than usual and that she needs to rest on the bench for a bit.
”Oh thank the gods a seat…” Practically collapsing onto the stone bench she sumps against the wall clearly exhausted. ”I’m not sure how much father I can walk like this.”
Hargus mutters loud enough to have his voice echo about the ante chamber. ”Anevia and Aravashnial are slowing us down, perhaps it’s time that we split up. A few of us could certainly move ahead." Adding again as an after thought "and maybe even get some help.” Implying that perhaps it's best to leave her behind and abandon her to her fate.
Anevia explodes, "Oh slowing you down! You fat pompous idiot, you sweating like a pig to keep up and that's with two good legs. You wouldn't last five minutes out there without these fine people protecting you."
She forces herself up to her feet “I’m not surprised that a man afraid to acknowledge his own faith feels off put in a forgotten temple like this! Of course though, a man like you who’s too ashamed of of his faith is as bad as any demon worshiping cultist!”
Horgus is a bit taken aback by her outburst, but then contemptuously remarks, unused to have people stand up to him or heaven forbid raise their voice to him!
“Oh the irony of being chided by someone who is known to consort with thieves. Perhaps I keep my faith more personal then you but I can’t believe your arrogance to compare me to th-those monsters! Demons killed my family, if not for a brave crusader I would have died too! To compare me to those that worship those abominations to too far Anevia!”
Anevia falls into black, silent anger at this, her eyes narrowing. Drawing upon some inner reserves to resist escalating the argument any further. She returns to her seat on the bench staring daggers at the fat man, almost daring him to try and sit on the bench.
"Hahahahahaha," Sam laughs at Hargus' suggestion. "Screw that. Sir Enoch would have carried these two by himself if..." The gunslinger stops and makes a pained face. "...in any case, I'm not leaving these two alone until we're safely back on the surface," They say.
Sam takes a look at the stone door, pushing it open to check what's on the other side - desperate for a distraction from agonizing thoughts.
Elder Greylocke turns back at the squabblers, his face burning with anger. "You will SIT and be CIVIL in a house of worship! Need I remind you both we are possibly miles underground with a city besieged by demons above us. Your homes could be scorched, your loved ones desecrated, and the world as we know it on its way to the Abyss. This is NOT the time for fighting amongst ourselves.” Mordan clears his throat, and voice softens. ”We all want the same thing. None of us want Kenabres gone, the crusaders scattered and herded like cattle. We all want to get back up and fight, however we personally are best suited. Not all of us were God-made to swing a sword, not all of us were God-gifted with their divine might. Yet we all have strengths that can serve the greater need here, and none of us has the right to fault anothers task.” Mordan gives a slight smile to break up the mood. ”There are plenty of real demons to fight, we don’t need to create our own.”
Hearing the roar of the pistol Oliver braces himself for the attack, only relaxing as the fly lies dead before Valtyra's feet.
When Greylocke walks up to the temple Oliver considers: Perhaps this wasn't the best of ideas, but follows the older man once again blade ready.
The sudden outburst from his companions startle Oliver and soon anger takes hold. "Be quiet," he hisses, "we don't know what is stil out there or in here for that matter."
Having come out of her own mind she sees the temple of Torag and lets out an astonished gasp and run to the doors "Oh the temple of my god Torag, how did this happen" Once Greylocke opens the door she rushes in to see if there is any sign of life. "To think I would come across this temple way down here." Ginger looks to the two who are arguing and frowns. She goes to Anevia's side and sits next to her "You look tired my lady have you had anything water to drink? Or something to eat?" She takes her pack of and pulls out some dwarven rations and gives her some. "Here have something to eat and drink." She hands Anevia a water skin too. "If need be you can lean on me to walk or I can even carry you." She gives the lady a smile.
Haroon opens his mouth and holds up a finger as though he were about to say something amidst the squabbles, but thinks better of it and says nothing. He gathers up the holy water as best he can and then focuses his arcane sight once again, finding some solace in the search for magic, distracting him as it does from the perils of human interaction.
Valtyra looks to the two people squabbling before wiping the fly guts of the blade of her long spear. Walking over she looks at both people before saying anything to them. The look she gives them conveys the danger they are in and the need for them to try to get along for the moment, so that they can reach the surface without hopefully anyone dying.
"I understand that you are both frustrated with the situation, neither of you wishes to be here. But yelling at each other will not help either of you. I would rather you try to ignore each other for the moment so that we don't attract the attention of another enemy."
She then goes back to check around the area to make sure that they haven't attracted more enemies.
"Do what you will clearly my advice isn't needed. AND DOT EXPECT MY HELP" With that explosive out bust he storms out of the temple to cool off for a while. Anyone looking can tell he's stay near the door in case of trouble.
Anevia thanks ginger for the offer but declines, she can carry her own weight if not any more then that.
As Sam opens the heavy door slowly she reveals broken stone benches line this narrow room. The air is cold and stale, and thick layers of dust cover the floor, benches, and a large altar at the far end of the room.
On one of the benches a hooded figure of a being remains perfectly still bent over as if in prayer, the dust as think on it as the rest of the chamber.
Sam is a suspicious soul by nature, and seeing the stooped figure there, completely covered in dust, it seems pretty obvious that its some kind of corpse. It's the nature of the body that gives the gunslinger an uneasy feeling.
Sam draws the pistol, calling back to the others. "So...there's a body in here. Pretty sure it isn't alive - whether its completely dead or not is still up for debate."
Haroon moves forward to peer over Sam's shoulder, but is careful not to touch or jostle the hot-headed squire.
If it is the restless dead, I might be able to detect whatever magic animates it.
Hearing Sam, Ginger gives the lady another smile then gets up and heads over to the young lad, she then peeks around Haroon and Sam to look in at the dead body. "I wonder what killed all these poor soulds, rather sad if you ask me." She stares more at the hooded figure to see if it is a dwarf.
The room remains completely still the dust an even carpet over the floor and benches. The alter at the end of the chamber is damaged but intact. Nothing has moved in here for years.
Mordan will cautiously enter the shrine, shield in front and sword at the ready. "I'm certainly hoping it's simply the builder of this place, moved on to a greater place."
"That's another thing that freaks me out about this place - somebody built the damn thing who knows how far below the earth, away from any other worshipers, and if that guy is the one who did it, then I'm guessing he died alone and trapped down here." Sam shakes their head. "I'd have lost my damned mind. Ah, well. Anybody have a dagger I can borrow?"
I can't detect a damned thing Haroon hisses, clearly frustrated. But, well, it is a dwarven temple. They tend to live underground, right Ginger? Makes sense that their temple would be down here, so at least there's that.
Haroon follows Greylock into the room, keeping a safe distance of roughly 20 feet behind the paladin.
Ginger pulls out her war hammer as she too walks in while responding to Haroon, "that is correct Haroon we do build way under ground. But what puzzles me is that we have yet to run into any live dwarves down here. This place would be busy with them," she takes a pause for dramatic effect. "And there would no stinking large insects running about. Ginger walks up to the cloaked figure and kind of goes down sitting on the heels of her feet and looks up to see the face, her hands still on the hammer just incase. "I don't like the feel of this, feels unnatural." Ginger says softly like she is afraid of waking the dead.
Haroon pats his cold-iron dagger then looks at Sam. Why do you need it?
Valtyra watches as four of the party members walk into the temple while she stays outside and keeps and eye on the three wounded.
As Ginger crouches in front of the form it's sudden movement catches you off guard!
Order
Sam
Haroon
Oliver
Ginger
Undead
Elder Greylocke
Valtyra
Suprise Round
The creature swipes a clawed hand at Ginger as she raises to her feet.
[ooc]Map updated!
Whatever Sam's reply to Haroon was going to be was lost when the body took a swipe at the dwarf woman. The gunslinger responded in kind by blowing a hole through it at point blank range.
Haroon's eyes widen in astonished fear before he conjures another blob of acid and moves into a position where Ginger does not block his line of attack before he whips it at the animated corpse.
Valtyra hears the noise in the other room and moves to the door to look in to see what has happened. Seeing the creature swipe at Ginger she looks back to the wounded, trying to decide if she should stay out here and make sure the wounded are protected or if she should help the other four inside.
Sam
Sam fires her pistol, the shot echoing loudly in the stone chamber. The bullet impact with a solid thump but does little damage.
Haroon
Harron lobs an orb of acid narrowly missing the fiend.
Oliver
Oliver rushes into the room, his sword in hand.
Ginger Stand in shock at the creature. Delay
Undead
“Desecration…” Its voice is a low growl dry and raspy. It lurches towards Sam and Haroon, clawing at them.
Elder Greylocke
Greylocke feels the blood drain from his face at the rasping sounds from the undead. Delay
Valtyra
Valtyra looks about unable to decide if the people in to room with the undead need more help or if her charge may come under attack. Apart from the undead near the alter she sees no other danger.
Round 1
Round 2 Go
Sam swears as the monster lashes out and clips the gunslinger in the neck, leaving a nasty looking scratch there. They take a step, but hold off on firing their pistol - instead, the scale tucked in their glove crackles with energy, before an arrow of light appears in Sam's hand, before its thrown at the ghoulish monster.
Groaning in pain Ginger then swings her hammer, power attacking, as hard as she can at the creature's head, "I don't like getting swiped at by the bloody dead!"
Mordan takes a step back, the sudden lurch by the dead creature catching him by surprise. Gritting his teeth, he brings his sword down upon the foul monster. "Back to the restful sleep, evil one. You need not plague the living any more."
Haroon clutches at the gash in his belly where the skeletal claws raked him, grunting in pain as he hunches over. He steps back, wary of the fiend and hurls a flask of the holy water recovered from the entryway.
As he attacks, he wracks his brain for information on the restless dead and what this might be.
It's a lot easier to read about these things than come face to face with them... he chokes out through clenched teeth, clearly holding panic at bay.
Ginger
Ginger's hammer brings a surprisingly quick end to the undead dwarf crushing its skull and sending it bouncing across the floor.
However, the remains of another dwarf crawl out from around the alter...
Elder Greylocke
The old paladin's blade catches the skeleton rattling as it scores the ribs of the creature.
Sam
The glowing arrow from Sam arcs across the air, striking the skeleton and putting a sudden stop to its ill conceived assault.
Haroon Holds off on the holy water, but recognizes the creatures.
Treasure
This shrine was always humble, and little
treasure can be found within save for that on the huecuva's
body. A pouch on its belt contains two potions of cure light
wounds, and on one withered hand it wears a knotted gold
ring worth 125gp. The priest's masterwork warhammer
lies dusty on the ground, long forgotten.
Sam is still cursing up a storm as they press a hand to their neck, wincing and glaring at the undead's body. "Son of a- I'm bleeding, is it bad? It's got to be bad...are there any more?" The gunslinger asks, looking around.
Breathing hard, the elder paladin resheaths his sword, looking around at the rest of the group. "Is anyone hurt? I do have a healers kit, though I'm afraid it won't be able to magically bind anyones wounds."
First up, Sam
Next Haroon
Mordan manages to bind the wounds, bandaging where appropriate and ensuring the wounds are moderatly protected from infection.
Haroon waves off Elder Greylock as he tucks the flask of holy water back inside his cloak. Uh, I'm fine. Only a scratch, I'm sure. He backs away from the healer's ministrations and points to the skeletal remains that caused the wound. That was a Huecuva, the undead remains of a blaspheming cleric. Torag must have rejected that soul and cursed it to that rotting shell. The other one's an ordinaryskeleton, not that there's anything ordinary about the dead rising from the grave to attack the living. He shudders. Yes, much easier to read about than contend with. Still no harm in availing ourselves of what it left behind.
Crouching down gingerly, Haroon makes a quick inventory of the treasure. Hmmm, healing potion, healing potion, can't have too many of those. He hands the potions to Elder Greylocke and Valtyra. Ginger, that warhammer might do you some good, and I'm sure Torag wouldn't mind it being wielded by a living dwarf instead of cast off by an abomination. He then flips the ring to Sam. For safe keeping, eh? he offers with a tentative smile.
"Shiny," Sam comments on the ring, slipping it into a belt pouch. "So if this is a blaspheming priest, doesn't that mean this is a desecrated temple? Probably not a good idea to stick around it as is - who knows what'll drop in."
They look at the paladin, before starting to grumble. "Thanks, I guess...for patching me up." Sam seems slightly more comfortable around the old man than the others. They also grin at the dwarf. "That was gruesome, but awesome. I think Torag would approve. Not that I care to figure out what gods are thinking."
Mordan nods his head at Sam. "Agreed, staying is likely not a good idea. However, we should do something about both the body and the temple. At one point, this dwarf had enough devotion and faith to build a dwelling dedicated to his god. A small prayer over the body, and maybe a word or two from a believer near the altar?" He glances over at Ginger at the last comment, looking for a confirmation or denail of her stance on Torag. "I can certainly give the founder a proper send off, but I'd end up blessing this place in the name of Iomedae and that might cause some tension in the Heavens, if you catch my drift."
I think Torag made his thoughts on that one pretty clear when he sent it back to the boneyard Haroon offers with an uneasy grin. Still, a prayer probably wouldn't hurt. And we can use all the help we can get, he mutters.
But let's be quick about it, ok? And no more talk of leaving anyone behind, he finishes a bit louder, hoping that Hargus can overhear.
"Desecrated by that foul abomination... Is there a way we could cleanse the foul taint that fills these halls?"
She looks to the dwarf. "In times as dark as these, small matter like cleansing a temple means even more. Its not as though rushing headlong to the surface would make a difference either."
"Yes this place would make a very comfortable hold out, who know what other dark vermin wander these caverns. If we cleanse this place then surly we could always come back here if the need arose."
Mordan will drag the bodies out of the temple, compose them near the cavern wall and say a brief prayer to Iomedae. "Lady of the Sword, Inherit this man's soul that it may find it's way back from the dark to Torag's Light. All mortal souls are tempted by doubt and sin, none should be judged solely upon succumbing to temptation. Varied are the temptaions of Hell, and the strongest of faith can find themselves failing to stand. Judgement of this souls falls to upon you, Lady of Valor. For Iomedae's Will, Amen."