The night passes uneventfully, as nothing really threatens the safety of such veteran adventurers, and besides, the Tomb is in a remote location so no human traffic. In the morning, after your feast, you head over to the entrance of the Tomb.
Hassan is the first into the Tomb, vanishing from sight and moving ahead of the slower, more heavily-armored members of the party. He keeps an eye out for undue danger and creeps quietly. His hands hover near the sheaths for his serrated swords.
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As the group approaches the entrance to the tomb Trip slows. "We're not in any hurry yet. Let's search for tracks from the previous team and be sure that there aren't any nasty traps ahead."
"The first three lines of the parchment seem to be for getting here. Maybe the next four explain something about safely entering?"
16th day of Sarenith of current year
8:00 am
The party approaches the entrance of the Tomb. A masterfully wrought iron relief of a medusa’s head, ten feet in diameter, decorates the stone wall between the two nearest towers. A circular hole about an inch and a half in diameter sits at the back of the sculpture’s open mouth. Medusa head image
Hassan's keen eyes detect that the medusa's mouth appears to match the funerary baton given to you by Clarissa. Detecting no traps, he inserts the funerary baton into the mouth. A loud metallic “click” sounds and the metal covering the medusa’s eyes slides back, exposing eyes made of polished white marble, with painted black pupils glaring menacingly. Thankfully, Hassan does not turn to stone. It appears you can rotate the baton.
Barnabus gobbles up the contents of the feast with much gusto, not caring for displaying any sense of manners. Hell, he was going into a trap-laden undead filled tomb, where his next day may be his last, so others' opinions mean little to him. After the meal and some burps and gas passing, he pulls out Grendel, his shiny dwarven waraxe, and straps on his steel shield. He then lumbers forward toward the tomb. When Issi and her mate start checking for traps and the such, he mutters, "Try not get yerself or us killed, now...". While he waits for the duo to do their thing, he looks for enemies from the flanks. He tends to stay 15-20' away from the trap-disablers. After all, he just met these folk. They could be really awful at their jobs, so why should he suffer for their incompetence.
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Trip follows along beside Barnabus. When he hears him mutter he chuckles, "I'd hate to have to raise someone before we even get into the tomb. I don't keep that spell ready anyway. Waste of preparation since we'd have to back out to let the raised recover strength." He scans along the walls as they approach, looking for any broken areas.
Shrugging, Hassan sees little choice other than to experiment with rotating the baton.
Hassan rotates the funerary baton, turning the medusa's eyes in their metal sockets. When the eyes are crossed, the medusa’s jaws gape open and a cold blue light shines forth, engulfing Hassan and Issi.
Barnabus and Trip are taken aback when suddenly, before they can even react, Hassan and Issi are lifted off their feet and sucked into the yawning mouth, gasps of surprise escaping their mouths, before shrinking and spiraling down to nothingness as the iron face seems to swallow the couple whole! The medusa's jaws continue open.
While it was an unsettling sight, based on your Sense Motive and high perception, you realize you did not hear screams of pain or anguish from Hassan and Issi before they disappeared through the mouth.
"Well, didn't expect that...so what do you think happened to them, Brother?" "Like Issi said, it's on another plane, so maybe this is the way in. Pretty dramatic if ye ask me. Well, Brother, let's go in before it closes." Barnabus and the cleric step into the blue light. "And away, we go!"
After bring sucked through the medusa's mouth, the next sensation you feel is darkness as you each wake up alone in a confined space. Issi and Trip remain calm and each cast light to illuminate their surroundings and reveal what Blackrock and Hassan's darkvision already know: you each wake up in a coffin with limited air supply!
The dwarf is undeterred by the situation and with one heave of his muscles, he pushes the lid of the coffin open easily! It takes Hassan two tries before he can breathe again. Miraculously, the frail Issi also manages to escape in solely two tries, summoning inner strength she did not know she had. The cleric also takes two tries to pry the coffin lid open!
When you escape your coffins, you are all in the same chamber. This octagonal chamber is made of fine, polished white marble. The domed ceiling peaks twenty-five feet overhead, decorated with frescoes of people in billowing robes, hands joined, looking down with pity on those below. Braziers along the base of the dome filled with flickering flames faintly illuminate the chamber. Twelve carved stone sarcophagi (eight of which now lie open) lie beneath the dome, surrounding a large carving on the floor of a leering medusa’s face.
As you each step out of the sarcophagi, you notice that the lid of each sarcophagus is carved with your name, year of birth, and the current year as your year of death! At the foot of each sarcophagus is a 9-inch-long funerary baton, similar to that provided by Clarissa, but made of polished brown stone instead of white marble.
There does not appear to be an exit to this room, although there is a large block of stone blocking the path north.
As creepy as this experience was, it was not Hassan's first experience escaping from a coffin. Such types of initiations were common among the Red Mantis. Still, he wonders what might happen if more than twelve people decided to enter the Tomb at once.
This stunt did little to prevent the group from entering, nor would it do much to prevent any properly prepared group. It just showed one thing: The builders of this team were majorly showy. A#~!#@#s.
Hassan's voice comes from nowhere, as he is invisible. "Now that that's over with," he says, "I suppose we should continue on?"
"Mind if I see what's in the next room, while you guys get your panties out of their bunch?"
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Once Trip is free from 'his' coffin, he smirks at the nameplate on the cover. "A bit premature I think. I don't think Desna is done with me quite yet."
He picks up the brown baton and examines it while looking around the room. "Another key perhaps? But why multiple? I think we each should take the key by our own coffin. Sometimes these things are significant."
Stepping out his sarcophagi, Barnabas grunts, "The creator of this Tomb is one sick dramatic puppy." Upon hearing Hassan's voice but not seeing him, Blackrock snickers, "That's going to take some time getting used to just hearing your voice. By the way, given that thick stone block to the north, unless phasing is one of yer tricks, you ain't going nowhere. There must be a way to open it from inside this room." The dwarf listens to the cleric and takes the funerary baton and begins to search the mosaic of the medusa on the floor in the center of the room.
Hassan shrugs and tries to open the door manually.
Barnabus studies the mosaic of the scowling medusa on the floor. It is identical to one on the door through which you entered the Tomb, just a larger version of it. It is 15 feet wide and made of iron. On the edges of the iron disc, at each of the four compass points, is a circular hole.
The funerary batons fit in the circular holes, leaving handholds sticking out.
"Uh, OK." shrugs Hassan. He isn't totally sure what's going on, but it seems like the others have a solid idea of what's happening. When it becomes apparent that you're supposed to use the batons as levers in order to rotate the entire floor, he becomes slightly hesitant. Still, it doesn't seem as if there's much else to be done, and he pushes with all his strength.
After getting a good grip on the handholds and coordinating their movements, the party sans Issi calmly strains and turns the medusa’s scowling face 90 degrees. At that time, an audible CLICK is heard, the floor opens, and the stone block to the north is lowered into the ground permitting passage.
With the way ahead opened, Hassan moves forward, telling his compatriots to wait a minute or so for him to return. He goes to check out the next room, perhaps farther.
16th day of Sarenith of current year
8:10 am
Hassan opens the door to the mausoleum where you currently are and he steps outside to a surreal sight. There is a cool breeze and it is
eternally night; a full moon in a cloudless, star-flooded sky provides the only illumination, despite the fact that you know it's a little past 8:00 am. 200' north he can make out the details of a granite building, flanked to the east and west by smaller dome shaped buildings. There is only open space between your current location and any other structures. A cobbled road also heads north flanked on the sides by tombstones, shrubs, and weeds.
Invisible, Hassan heads north, as there are no other curiosities that he can see. 75' later, his keen eyes notice the following: Several tombstones on the western side of the path here have been crushed and shattered in a wide swath. The back of an ancient carriage is visible through the overgrown weeds and shrubs at the far end of the array of destruction.
Barnabus steps out of the mausoleum and looks up. "Well, there's something you don't see every day...guess this place is cursed. So I guess we wait here for Hassan to come back or to scream?! Fine by me." The dwarf grunts and puts his back against the stone mausoleum, holding Grendel and his shield close. "So Red, how'd you end up with an ex-assassin as your bestie? There must be a story to that."
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Stepping out into the graveyard, in the darkness when it should still be morning, Trip steps to one side and stops, scanning the area. "Traveled with a Paladin a while back. He was so focused on checking everywhere for evil before deciding on anything.... Could hardly see anything important if he didn't see an evil aura. But I wouldn't mind asking if he could see any evil here."
He reaches down to pick up a piece of debris on the ground, then casts his light cantrip on it.
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The dwarf grunts and puts his back against the stone mausoleum, holding Grendel and his shield close. "So Red, how'd you end up with an ex-assassin as your bestie? There must be a story to that."
"Oh, you'd know the story Barney. Girl on a job, Boy trying to kill girl's job. Boy fights girl. Girl wins. Spares boys life. Boy comes back later to help girl out of a tight spot, they kiss, get married and have seven dwarven babies with bright red beards." Issi leans languidly against the doorposts, but its easy for the experienced adventurers to see that shes poised to spring up at any moment.
"There's a couple of bits in that story that didn't happen - I'll let you figure out which." She says with a smile. "You like my hair then?"
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Trip listens to the pair conversing. The red haired elf looked young, as all elves usually did, but he was certain that she was older than he was by a few decades. She would probably look just as young long after he was buried and forgotten.... He reaches up and wipes a hand over his head, "Don't figure that question was directed at me, but your hair is rather striking. Just my opinion of course."
Jogging over to the wreckage, Hassan does a quick check of the carriage. Without wanting to interact with anything unless necessary (as it gives away his presence) he sees whether anything or anyone was once inside.
"Love ya hair, Red!" Barnabus gives her a jovial laugh. Realizing he has not heard from Hassan, the dwarf moves up, Grendel and shield in hand. When he sees the carriage in the shrubs, he moves to check it out.
The party reaches the scene of the crash (possibly?). As you take a look over the scene, it obvious that this open carriage hearse was once a very fine conveyance. However, time and the elements have taken their toll, and the once-rich wood is soft with decay. From afar, you can tell a crumbling coffin lies in the bed of the carriage, with the rotted leather straps that once held it fast lying beside it. The driver’s bench has two arrows embedded in its seatback.
”Watch my back, Brother, just in case some undead horror pops out...” Confidently, Barnabus moves up to coffin, shield and Grendel in hand, ready to smite.
As soon as Barnabas begins to approach the hearse, suddenly a vision engulfs all of you as you experience the following in your mind:
The carriage hearse barrels along a hard dirt road, drawn by four frothing, maddened horses driven forward by your frantic whipping. A quick glance over your shoulder tells you that your mounted pursuers are gaining ground in the hazy moonlight. “Aroden save us!” shouts a beardless old man sitting beside you as he desperately clings to the wooden seat. “We no longer serve fools, Parsimus,” you growl with irritation. “Best get that through your thick skull.” You glance behind again, this time to the bed of the hearse, where the fine silver coffin lurches dangerously, despite the five straps of stout leather securing it in place. “Forgive me, sister,” you think. “It was I who was the true fool.” You hear a dull thud as an arrow strikes the seatback. Another arrow sinks into Parsimus’s shoulder, knocking him from his seat to the hard ground below with a cry of pain. As a third projectile thuds into the carriage, you cry out to the starlit sky. “Asmodeus! Have you abandoned me?” With the cry still in your throat, a strange shimmer surrounds the hearse and the scene about you flickers and fades. The dirt road is suddenly replaced by a paved walkway, and the surrounding woodland by a graveyard. Startled by the sudden change, the horses shriek and careen to the left. As the carriage leaves the road, the shimmering bubble of energy that encompasses it crushes the tombstones in its path. Suddenly, the horses seem to smash into an invisible wall, and their cries of terror abruptly cease. You are propelled from your seat, hurtled through the air as you and the carriage crash to the ground. You feel bones break, and as your neck snaps with a nauseating crunch, you hear a sinister voice behind your ear, whispering with an intimacy that terrifies. “No, my puppet. I never forget a bargain.”
The vision itself seems to take at least a minute to play out, when in fact only a few seconds pass.