"Oh, I'm sorry my dear, I didn't see you back there. Apparently this fellow didn't either! HA!"
Ibrahim points at the one-armed zombie with his blade before striking to put him down for good.
Arcane Pool (Scimitar functions as +1): 7/10 rounds remaining
Petra grimly looses another arrow.
Ibrahim and Petra dispatch the last two zombies, sword and arrow carving through rotten flesh.
Say'ri swings mightily, but her blade is dulled by its mundane nature. The huecuva reaches for her throat, scratching under Say'ri's guard.
Y'all up
Petra nods in satisfaction as the dead fall, and turns on her heel to go confront the corrupt priest. "Anubis, devour these corruptions of the rest of the tomb..."
Again Petra's arrow finds its mark, severing the huecuva in two at the waist.
For now, in the immediate vicinity, Wati is quiet.
Combat Over!
Ben opens the temple door and says to you in a firm, but hushed voice: Quickly, come inside!
Sparing no more thought for the fallen abomination, Petra scans the street for any other undead that move, but sees nothing. "I will heal you inside, my friends."
She hurries to enter the tomb, giving Mirri a newly respectful look as she goes.
Mirri mirrors Petra's probing glances of the vicinity and nods at Ben's suggestion when no immediate threats are found. However, the Halfling stops for a brief moment to check the nearby bodies for valuables before scolding reminder from Ben prompts her to dart into the temple with a weak grin.
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Knowing Mirri and her insatiably acquisitive nature Say'ri stands guard while she riffles through pockets before escorting her in and shutting the door firmly behind her. She grasps her husband in a huge hug, equal parts happiness and relief before slumping against the wall and sliding down to the floor, looking exhausted.
Petra's look of respect turns to a disapproving exhale at the plundering, and she snifs before digging out her curative wand once more...
(A discreet tap to Say'ri's shoulder as she embraces her husband.)
"Are any else here wounded?" she says brusquely, looking to the other people taking shelter within the temple's walls.
Ibrahim joins the others in the temple, with his blade still drawn.
"Ben, it is good to see you are well, my friend. No doubt the temple needs you to stay and protect those seeking refuge here. As for the rest of us though, I think we need to mend our wounds and head back out into the city. I fear there are others who will be in need of our aid. Fear not, we will have your wife home in time for supper."
The swordsman smiles and takes an exaggerated bow.
Mirri does not find any valuables in the corpse pile, and soon learns why as she enters to hear Ben speaking with Say'ri.
I'm a fool--I feared for a moment that I'd lost you. Forgive me, I know you better than that. He hugs her close and she feels the salt crusted in his stubble from dried sweat, smells the familiar, metallic scent of blood flowing freely from the gash on his forehead. Ben gestures to the pile as Mirri enters.
They are churchgoers, friends, buried near with all the sanctified rights and customs. Their lives were full of love and contentment, and none had restless souls seeking to return to the land of the living. The fallen priests among them were buried long decades ago, bones blessed and sealed to prevent this fate. He casts his eyes to the floor, shaking his head.
This is no ghoul-led raid from the Necropolis. It is an uprising of the dead city-wide. Sebti herself is not capable of such a feat. Indeed, I know of no magic that could do such a thing.
At Ibrahim's words, he nods, and stands up tall and resolute. We will be safe here for the night, and I know there must be others in need. The Voices of the Spire are likely focusing their efforts on the Necropolis for now. But take care--there are worse things out there than zombies. I can feel it.
When Petra looks around the room at the dozen or so people taking refuge in the temple, it seems Ben has seen to their wounds (all but his own, that is).
The portly father that Mirri helped rescue runs to Mirri and throws himself at her feet. Thank the gods, you're alive! You are a true daughter of Wati, and I cannot repay you. The man's tears flow freely as he beckons his son closer, the latter of which approaches Mirri sheepishly, holding out a wrapped bundle to the halfling.
My name is Akil, this is my son, Jabari. I am good, but he is better. He made it with his own hands.
Inside the bundle is a loaf of bread, still warm.
I know not if my shop still stands, but you will never go hungry again as long as I have something to say about it. When this nonsense is sorted out, you will come to my shop and I will make you a spice cake so delicious, you will never again ponder what life has to offer.
Petra watches the effusive thanks of the baker to Mirri, grunting to herself, then turns to Ben. "I believe I know what is happening.
"In the last crypt we explored, there was an artifact missing-- stolen-- according to the guardian of that crypt. Though he himself was undead, he was honorable, strange as that may seem. The temple of Nethys had created him as a guardian for that artifact. There was a dire curse laid upon it, that should it be taken, all manner of evil might be loosed... and the dead walk. I fear that is what disturbs the rest of all in the city, now," Petra intones solemnly, her eyes worried.
Having missed Petra's previous and more appreciative look, Mirri offered a quiet, bashful thanks to the dwarven woman after receiving healing. The look the halfling had seen, following her attempted loot of the corpses, fell more in line with what Mirri had come to expect from the priestess. She continued look embarrassed, gazing at her feet while moving a pebble back and forth with one, while Ben explained where the bodies came from.
Mirri's mood began to brighten when she saw Ben and Say'ri embrace. Awww, that's cute! See Ben, told ya I'd bring 'er home safe!
This brightened mood turned quickly to wide-eyed shock as the baker and his son launched themselves at her, showing a level of reverence and heart-felt appreciation the halfling had never remotely experienced in her life. I, uh, well, yeah, thanks but they's really... she stammered while pointing back roughly in the direction of Say'ri and Ibrahim, uh, see they's really the hero-types, I'm jus' kinda here ta help. Still wide-eyed, Mirri smelled the warm bread and couldn't help but lick her lips while still taking in the strangeness of it all. Slowly reaching out her hands for the food, she again glanced back, this time squarely at Ben and Say'ri. She then turned back to the baker and his son with a bit more relaxed and self-assured expression. Jabari is it? she said to the son. Tell ya what, we's got a lot of mouths here ta feed, so why don't we spread that there bread out 'mongst everybody, 'kay? Looking back up at the father she adds in a faux whisper and a wink, but I'lls take ya up on that offer for spice cake once we's got this undead thing fixed!
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Say'ri looks up sharply as Ben and Petra put the dots together... "This is not good at all - we should head to the Necropolis gates - whatever we've seen here will only get worse if the undead breech the walls and break into the city proper!" Levering herself to her feet she approaches her husband and lowers her voice. "Ben, will you be alright? I don't want to leave you and the rest of the faithful here if its not going to be safe."
Ben's eyes grow wide at Petra's revelation. If an artifact is truly capable of such power, it should have stayed buried. Sebti should be notified, as soon as it is safe to do so. Perhaps in the morning...
At Say'ri's concerned question, he smiles, answering her quietly: Just as Horus sent you to me now, he watches over us. And with the coming of the dawn, his wisdom and guidance will keep us safe. We will stay here until then, and light the pyre at dawn's first light. As for you--the Necropolis is perilous at the best of times. Don't be too...heroic, Ben chuckles softly, struggling to find the appropriate last word. He leans in, taking her hands in his.
Meanwhile, Jabari nods shyly at Mirri's suggestion, reaches out a hand for her to hold, and makes his way around to each of the survivors, handing them a chunk of bread. Akil produces a bottle of cider, uncorks it, and, follows after his son. Lacking any receptacles to pour into, he offers the bottle to each person in turn.
To any who accept the food and drink, both are delicious, and a welcome respite from the horrors of the night.
"For my part, I'd prefer to see if anyone living inside the city still needs help, before going to the Necropolis to look for trouble. But I think it most important for us to stay together, so I'll go where the group goes."
Mirri nodded at Ibrahim's suggestion, but her expression made it clear the Halfling was not sure on a plan. Ya'll talked to that skeleton, did he say anythin' 'bout where the thief took that artifact thing? Mebbe we should find him?
Petra drank wordlessly, once, of the cider when it was passed around. Hospitality rituals were important.
"I fear that if we seek to help all in the city, the source of the disruption will only continue to grow in strength. One must strike at the head and not the feet. Until we know better where the head is, the Necropolis is the best place to begin... if only to tell the Pharasmans of the situation.
"The guardian did not know where the thief took the relic. But he did say the thief was a necromancer. It makes sense that a necromancer would go to where there are dead in near-countless number to raise and to control... the Necropolis."
She looks to the others, frowning. "I can move tonight. Time is of the essence. Do any feel that we need to wait until daylight?"
The road through midwife to the Necropolis is largely abandoned, with signs of discarded/broken belongings evidence of hasty flight.
Before you arrive at the gates, though, you happen upon a disturbing scene. A group of young men and women push a middle-aged man into the street from a broken-open shop door beneath a hand-painted sign that reads “Sun-Ripened Teas.” You can see and hear activity within the shop, but outside, four of the youths jeer and taunt the man.
You'll stay down if ya know what's good for ya! one says, quickly raising his hand as though he's going to strike the prone man. The shopkeep flinches, and the teen laughs loudly.
The magus strides forward confidently, content to leave his sword in its sheath. He smiles brightly to the shopkeep and nods his head.
"Good evening to you, sir. I am Ibrahim al Sahure, and these are my friends."
The swordsmen gestures to his well-armed companions.
"We are friends to the people of Wati, and have encountered more than a dozen brainless creatures terrorizing her citizens. It seems as though you are being threatened by brainless creatures of a different sort, I fear."
Ibrahim turns toward the perpetrators, and continues to speak in honeyed tones.
"Children, I understand that those who are frightened can act out on these feelings in a number of different ways. It seems your craven dispositions have manifested in terrorizing this poor man. This city has its hands full burying and re-burying the dead. This is no time for quarrel with your fellow man. Go home to your families. Check on them and make sure they are safe. And if they are, close and lock your doors and wait for this to pass. You are fortunate you have chanced to encounter myself and my comrades, rather than the hungry dead, for they would certainly offer you no quarter. Take what is being offered, for your own sakes, I beg."
As Ibrahim approaches, a few more of the street toughs emerge from the shop, drawing saps from their waistbands as they do so. None attack, though, and they all listen intently to the swordsman's words.
He's right, one of them says, and the others nod sheepishly in agreement. And besides, Bahtep's always been nice to me. Gave me free tea when I was small. C'mon, let's go. The youths spend a few moments cleaning up some of the mess they've made, and disperse without violence.
The shopkeep shakes Ibrahim's hand vigorously, and enters his shop.
Here, he says, pressing two packets into Ibrahim's hands, I don't have much, but maybe this can help you. Wati needs more people like you. May the gods bless you and keep you safe!
The party makes their way quickly and quietly through the rest of the district, arriving at the wall surrounding the necropolis.
Sturdy doors of iron and bronze stand in this high sandstone wall, barring entry to and egress from the city’s necropolis. Barred windows in the gates offer brief glimpses of what lies beyond.
A young acolyte of Pharasma (identifiable by the spiral sigil on her shield) and several town guards currently watch the necropolis gates, behind which a mob of undead creatures can be heard groaning and pounding on the metal. A glance through the doors’ windows reveals nearly a hundred skeletons, zombies, ghouls, and more gathered behind the gates, but for the time being at least, they are clearly unable to break through.
The young priestess in command ushers you closer as you approach.
You lot, what's your business here! This is no time to be wandering the streets!
Petra nods briefly to Ibrahim as they leave the youths making the right choice. "That was well-done. You have a tongue of gold," she grunts before hurrying on in the night, despising her short tread.
At the Necropolis, Petra nods once to the priestess. "As you serve Pharasma, I serve Anubis: the restless dead are the enemy of us both," she says solemnly. "But we may know something of why the horde rises. Who is in command here?"
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Say'ri bites her tongue when Ibrahim steps forward - although his method was much more kindly than hers would have been, they were undoubtedly effective. She contents herself with clasping his forearm as they move on.
Reaching the gate Say'ri finds a situation more to her understanding. "Acolyte!" Her voice cracks like a foremans whip. "I am Say'ri al-Bashere, Guardian of Horus and former member of the Necropolis guard. These are my companions in the great lottery - we are here to help hold the gate against the undead. There are too many already in the city to let the gate fall. Work whatever rituals and magic you have - we will defend you as needed!"
Mirri had stayed quiet and essentially unseen as Ibrahim deftly handled the shop-looters. As the group walked on, the Halfling approached the human. Hey, thanks for handlin' that nice like. Not so long ago I'd 'ave been part of some group like that. They's jus' scared kids and its good ta let 'em get their heads on straight.
Approaching the necropolis, Mirri instinctively kept to the shadows, mumbling something to no one in particular as she did. Those that could catch the look in her eyes before becoming nearly invisible saw clear concern and worry. The Halfling could hear the groaning on the other side of the doors.
Greetings, I'm Bal Themm, and I'm in command here, for the time being. And we'll take all the help we can get--it's nice to see some guards walking toward the gate instead of fleeing in the opposite direction. But we've got this location held, for now. Instead, there's something else you can help me wi--
The cleric's words are cutoff by the panicked cries of the guards nearest the gate, who throw down their weapons and run towards the living city. The source of their fear is a creature born of darkness, who manifests amongst the flickering torchlight. The dancing shadows coalesce into a grasping creature who, undeterred by physical barriers, makes its way towards Bal Themm.
The tendrils of darkness snake forward and punch through her armor, squeezing her heart. She drops to one knee, barely able to stand.
Party Up
Mirri
Petra
Say'ri
Ibrahim
Petra knows the creature to be a shadow, warped by the mysterious unknown magic.
Petra's face paled somewhat under her dark desert complexion. "A shadow!" she called. "One of the greater undead..." In her limited world experience, at any rate.
"It is like smoke. Without enchanted weapons, you can do nothing at all to it! Mirri, grab my wand- the healing magics will be painful to the creature, if you can use it as you did once before!"
"Strike well comrades! Mind its arms! It can reach you from a distance, and sap the very strength from your bones!"
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Say'ri pulled her flail clear on instinct as the creature materialised through the gate and breathed a short prayer to Horus when Petra enchanted it.
"Horus is with us!" A mental warning to Akhentepi keeps him from charging the creature as Say'ri rushes in with flail swinging.
As her flail hits a bright flash, as though the sun had momentarily shone in the middle of the night, lights the square and Say'ri strikes again, imbued with the speed of the Falcon.
Although hidden off to the side in case of trouble, Mirri briefly stared in shock as the shadow launched itself through the wall to attack Bal. Petra's quick, sharp instructions brought the Halfling back to action. She sprinted out to pick up the wand Petra had dropped, but stalled just after doing so. She gave the foe a puzzled look and then glanced over to one side. Are you like that?, she said softly.
Just as rapidly as she had stopped, Mirri was back in action, darting towards the undead ready to put the wand to use.
The shadow runs a dark tendril along Say'ri's arm as she advances . The cold penetrates her skin, but she continues, resolved to destroy her foe.
Say'ri swings the enchanted flail furiously, seeking to disperse the shade. Shadow stuff flies from her weapon and dissipates, but some of the creature still remains.
Ibrahim up
Remembering the fallen priests, Ibrahim enchants his blade again, before imbuing it with electricity. He swoops around and strikes at the creature's rear.
Arcane Pool, +1 scimitar: 10/10 rounds
Ibrahim's blade slices through the thick, fog-like shadow stuff and then releases a blast of energy, sending the creature back from whence it came.
Combat Over!
Bal staggers to her feet and raises her voice above the din. Where do you think you're going? Back to your posts!
At the sight of the vicious battle with the shadow, and their officer remaining despite her wound, the fleeing guards' resolve is bolstered for now, and they return to their posts.
Thank you, friends. Without you, all would have been lost. We hold for now, but as you can see, our need is great. Please, take this to the Grand Mausoleum with all haste.
She hands a sealed letter to Say'ri.
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Say'ri salutes the priestess, respecting her dedication and the obvious control she has over her men. "It will be done."
Without saying any more she turns and begins to stride down the street, heading directly to the Grand Mausoleum, although she moderates her pace for Petra and Mirri. Akhentepi, whose frustration she can feel, soars above, watching for danger.
Petra's fears of the dark thing they face are swiftly dissipated by their decisive victory, between flail and the stormburst of Ibrahim's weapon. Blinking, Petra retrieves her wand from Mirri with a quasi-apologetic shrug. "This was not needed after all. Praise Anubis. Well done, both of you.
"Say'ri, are you hurt? I saw it touch you. Do you feel weaker?" she asks, giving a quick nod to the priestess but hurrying after Say'ri without delay.
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Say'ri seems almost surprised by the question, but Petra can see her movements are slightly slower than they should be, now the adrenaline shock is wearing off.
"I think a little. It feels like I didn't sleep well - a bit tired. We need to get to the Grand Mausoleum though. I'll be better once I get a good nights sleep."
The battle over as quickly as it began, Mirri absently handed the wand back to Petra while staring intently at the spot the shadow was destroyed. As the group promptly turned to leave, the Halfling glanced one more time over to a spot along the far wall, before darting off with the rest towards the Grand Mausoleum.
Traveling together this time, Mirri leads the party on an indirect path towards the Grand Mausoleum, sticking to the back roads and alleys with which she is so familiar. As you get closer to your destination, something feels off. The hair on the back of Mirri's neck stands up, and Say'ri feels an impulse of warning from Akhentepi up above.
You turn the corner to see a grisly sight: a pack of undead, at leaset a dozen, feasting on human remains. The flesh of these walking corpses is rotting and putrid, their bodies skeletal in places and their eye sockets glowing with red light. Thin wisps of mist exhale from their noses and mouths as they turn and notice you, ready to pursue.
Petra has heard of such creatures before. They can only be wights, energy-draining undead who are cunning, ruthless, and create spawn to serve them. A group of this magnitude is too strong for you to fight.
Rules shamelessly stolen from another game I'm in
Obstacle 1: A massive pothole in the street, sign of some big disaster.
Leap across: Acrobatics DC 10
or
Blindly Forward: Ref. DC 15
Next up:
O2: Unexpected fence
Boost and a Hop, Climb DC 10
or
Bust on Through, Bull Rush vs CMD 20
O3
O4
O5
O6
Petra looks glum-faced at the giant pothole before her. Dwarven legs are not meant for such things.
Fortunately, Anubis is with her, and she manages to clear the pothole, perhaps spurred by her knowledge of the deadly pack of ghouls that pursues and the fate that waits at their claws.
"Keep going!" she tells the others.
Mirri appeared lost in thought en route to the Grand Mausoleum, but quickly re-focused when the threat came into sight. Get outta here! Jus' like the constable's chasin us! Err...jus' run! The Halfling darted off, her natural agility making up for her slower speed. She leapt across the pothole with ease, then vaulted over the fence, utterly bypassing Say'ri's aid.