Watching the bodies closely, Boland sees that some of them appear to move slightly – though whether they are moving of their own volition or it is a trick of the flickering candle light is difficult to tell.
Brash scans the room suspiciously looking for any sign of movement from the corpses, or anything else.
Brash strides into the room, and swings his flail at the nearest seated figure, hoping to take one down before they rise into movement if they are indeed animated.
Upon opening the door Harrigan at first covers his mouth again as the stench rolls out. He eyes the table full of living dead silently waiting for them to make a move, but to his surprise the tall human warrior is the first to move. Following his lead Harrigan takes the zombie across the table and brings his morningstar high over head to crush its skull.
Watching the bodies closely, Boland sees that some of them appear to move slightly – though whether they are moving of their own volition or it is a trick of the flickering candle light is difficult to tell.
Boland is about to voice a warning to the others when Brashen strides past and swings his flail powerfully at one of seated corpses. When Harrigan follows suit, he follows the dwarf into the room and readies a spell to throw at any of the corpses that might rise to threaten the two warriors.
'No, didnt know them, but for some reason took it upon ourselves to find and bury them.'
Brash casts Andolphas a sour look as he says this, then grunts as he removes the crossbow bolt sticking out of his chest, wiping away some blood on a rag pulled from his pocket.
"My dear glory-seeker friend," responds Andolphas with a sneer. "You may want to consider the pragmatic angle of our commitment to properly bury the Land family... doing so may be the only way to access the deepest secrets of the cairn... and I know how much you long for the chance to recover hidden treasure..."
Andolphas mutters a curse as he witnesses the grisly scene. "This blasphemy cannot be tolerated!"
The somber priest lifts his holy symbol as Brashen and Harrigan start attacking the corpses, but waits to see whether the latter fight back before attempting to channel the Dark-Eyed Lady's divine power.
Even with a cursory scan of the room Brashen notices that some of the corpses seem to make slight movements, small adjustments as if to hold a pose. Striding forward he smashes his flail into the head of the figure, caving in its skull. A foul soup of decaying brains and maggots oozes from the thing’s ruined head, and the force of the blow almost knocks it from its seat.
The mangled corpse turns its head, fixing Brashen momentarily with a dull stare from its remaining eye, then lurches back into a sitting position, resuming its former pose as best it can.
Harrigan jogs into the room after Brash and similarly assaults the nearest grizzly diner on the other side of the table. It makes no move to defend itself or avoid the blow , and there is a nasty breaking sound as the dwarf’s morning star cracks its skull (though to less dramatic effect than Brashen’s blow). Again, the animated corpse does not react except to try to maintain its pose.
Boland prepares to cast a spell, and Andolphas lifts his holy symbol.
Even with a cursory scan of the room Brashen notices that some of the corpses seem to make slight movements, small adjustments as if to hold a pose. Striding forward he smashes his flail into the head of the figure, caving in its skull. A foul soup of decaying brains and maggots oozes from the thing’s ruined head, and the force of the blow almost knocks it from its seat.
The mangled corpse turns its head, fixing Brashen momentarily with a dull stare from its remaining eye, then lurches back into a sitting position, resuming its former pose as best it can.
Harrigan jogs into the room after Brash and similarly assaults the nearest grizzly diner on the other side of the table. It makes no move to defend itself or avoid the blow and there is a nasty breaking sound as the dwarf’s morning star cracks its skull (though to less dramatic effect than Brashen’s blow). Again, the animated corpse does not react except to try to maintain its pose.
Seeing the two corpses struck by Brash and Harrigan give obvious signs that they are animated, Boland poises to let fly his spell. However, when the corpse makes no move to retaliate he hesitates, not wanting to waste a spell on them unless they pose a direct threat.
"Why don't they attack?" he wonders out loud, confused. "Why would someone go to the trouble of raising the dead only to have them sit around in a sick mockery of life?"
Brash braces himself for retaliation from the zombie he struck, and he too is quite surprised when the expected blow does not come.
'Im no expert on the subject, but undead usually follow the orders of their creator dont they? Maybe these have been ordered to sit here, and will do so until told otherwise... which is why we should finish them quickly before master decides to come to dinner.'
Harrigan covers his nose and mouth as the maggot soup pours out of the skulls. "This right here," he points, "is the sickest thing I've seen in my life and I reckon I've been kicking around three times as long as any of you lot." Holding his breath for the moment, the dwarf begins pounding skulls swinging his morningstar two-handed like a bat.
When he pauses to breathe through a hand over his mouth, he adds in, "I suppose this sick bastard either has too many of these rotting servants to make use of at one time or maybe he's got some kind of revenge fantasy going on here. Either way, we can't have 'em following us up."
Knowledge check 12+
Knowledge check 15+
Assuming that these are zombies under the direct control of a necromancer (whether mage or priest), Brashen’s theory would hold true – if they have been commanded to sit, they will continue to sit, not fighting back. If these were uncontrolled zombies, it is still possible they might try to follow the last order given to them, but more likely they would attack – although virtually mindless, the animating spirit within most zombies seems to have some instinctual hatred of the living, and uncontrolled zombies normally try to attack the living.
Knowledge check 20+
Andolphas arches a brow when the corpses do not retaliate after being struck by Harrigan and Brashen. "Harrigan is right," murmurs the cleric, as he expands on the dwarf's explanation .
Andolphas then begins to recite a prayer for the souls of the damned, so that the Dark-Eyed Lady may guide them back to their proper place in the Great Beyond. He shoulders his shield, then walks forward and plunges his short spear spear into the defenceless abominations as he does so, while holding the Lady's symbol over them with the other . The priest nearly gags every time his spear sinks into the rotting flesh and bits of brain and guts squirt out...
Andolphas arches a brow when the corpses do not retaliate after being struck by Harrigan and Brashen. "Harrigan is right," murmurs the cleric, as he expands on the dwarf's explanation .
Andolphas then begins to recite a prayer for the souls of the damned, so that the Dark-Eyed Lady may guide them back to their proper place in the Great Beyond. He shoulders his shield, then walks forward and plunges his short spear spear into the defenceless abominations as he does so, while holding the Lady's symbol over them with the other . The priest nearly gags every time his spear sinks into the rotting flesh and bits of brain and guts squirt out...
Boland arrives at the same conclusion as the others. Crinckling his nose in disgust, he grips his quarterstaff tightly and joins in the disgusting, messy work.
Trying not to gag, Brash continues to bash and batter the seated undead.
It is messy, gory, stomach turning work, but the zombies don’t fight back, and within a few minutes they have all been reduced to pulped, unmoving corpses strewn about the floor of the chamber – along with much gore.
Once the stomach-churning work is done, an even more pallid-looking than usual Andolphas--who seems like he is about to vomit--growls his displeasure through clenched teeth. "This deranged necromancer must pay for this blasphemy... with his life. And I shall not bless his soul when he finally goes..."
The raven-haired cleric avoids looking at the carnage at his feet as he takes a few steps towards the door at the base of the steps. He then gives the portal a few thumps with the butt of his spear.
In the room beyond, ten chairs surround an oblong dining table situated parallel to the door. Along the north wall, a wide staircase leads to an upper floor. A wooden door below the stairs presumably leads to some slim understair chamber. Two doors line the south wall. A sagging antique shelf dominates the west wall, looking like it might collapse at any moment.
At the completion of the grisly task, Boland is looking decidedly green. He glances around the room looking as much for a quick exit from the gory scene as for a likely way to proceed.
"Where to from here?" he asks the others.
When Andolphas moves over to the underneath the stairs, he faces that direction and prepares for trouble.
Andolphas hears nothing. Hitting the door firmly with the butt of his spear proves that the door both opens inwards and is unlatched. It opens into a small, dark, dusty closet under the stairs, a space which holds a few additional dining chairs and eight tall copper candle stands clustered in one corner.
"My dear glory-seeker friend," responds Andolphas with a sneer. "You may want to consider the pragmatic angle of our commitment to properly bury the Land family... doing so may be the only way to access the deepest secrets of the cairn... and I know how much you long for the chance to recover hidden treasure..."
Andolphas hears nothing. Hitting the door firmly with the butt of his spear proves that the door both opens inwards and is unlatched. It opens into a small, dark, dusty closet under the stairs, a space which holds a few additional dining chairs and eight tall copper candle stands clustered in one corner.
"Nothing of interest here," mutters Andolphas as he peers into the crawl space. He returns to the entrance to the morbid dining chamber and retrieves the lantern he had left near the threshold. "Where to from here... up, or through one of the side doors? I suspect we will find our blaspheming necromancer in the upper reaches of the tower."
Harrigan did indeed take notice of Andolphas' mention of a hidden cairn and treasure, but he promptly tucked that away for later. No sense distracting from or causing a disruption in the middle of the current objective, which appeared deadly enough without any distractions.
"Gods, let's get out of here." He gets down to work with the door on the right hand side of the south wall.
Listen
Search
Disable Device
Open Locks
There is no noise from beyond the door and it is neither trapped nor locked.
It opens out into an unlit, simply furnished kitchen – a few benches, a cold fireplace, some racks and pegs holding battered pots and pans, a cupboard that houses some chipped plates and cutlery, a large black kettle and a water barrel. The other door from the dining room leads into this room as well, and a third narrow door from this chamber opens into a pantry containing a large wheel of cheese, a somewhat moldy load of bread, several strips of stringy cured meat, and some pots of spices and dried food.
Brash tries his best to wipe splattered gore off his sleeve, his face in a scowl. When the others are ready to move on he heads up the stairs after Harrigan
"Let me go first, but stay close this time."
All seems quiet as you mount the stairs…
The stairs wind up to a massive bedchamber that fills an entire floor of the observatory tower. Wan moonlight filtering in from the tall, narrow windows ringing the chamber catches motes of dust in the calm air. A fine bed with plump red linen sheets squats upon a dais along the southeast cradle of the tower’s arc. A nightstand next to the bed holds a wax-choked candlestick and a black book bound with brown and red leather.
At the midpoint of the eastern wall a strange form stands rigid atop a short wooden stool, as tall as a halfling and clothed in a fine black suit and tophat. Clean bandages wrap every inch of the apparent sentry’s skin. A pair of ash-tinted spectacles rests upon a long skinny nose. The diminutive dandy holds a silver platter as if presenting a meal, and upon the tray rests the freshly preserved severed head of a middle-aged human woman. A platinum coin sits upon her out-stretched, purple tongue.
A messy desk rests against the opposite wall, piled high with loose papers. An apparatus holding four long tubes filled with coloured liquid peeks out from the clutter. Beside the desk is a narrow bookcase haphazardly crammed with various tomes. Small doors on the north and west walls appear to lead to small closets.
A life-sized white stone statue of a thin human man with outstretched angelic wings and a beatific look upon his idealized face looms large in the northwest arc of the tower wall. The angel holds a sword in one hand and cradles a harp with the other arm. The presentation conjures up thoughts of mausoleum peaks or the graves of important men. There appears to be some sort of lettering etched into the short pedestal that is the statue’s base.
Light filters down a wide set of stairs along the wall that wind up to a higher level of the tower, along with the faint strains of off-key singing and a noise reminiscent of sawing.
Boland takes the lantern off Andolphas and follows him and the others up the stairway. When he enters the room, he looks upon it with a mixture of disgust and interest. The bookshelf, open tome and apparatus hold interest for him, but the strange servent and severed head quickly reminds him of the perverted nature of the towers owner, and the very present danger he presents.
Boland studies the bandage wrapped servant and the severed head it holds, trying to work out what exactly it is and what level of threat it presents.
It’s hard to tell, given the information at hand (basically what you can see). The suited, bandage wrapped figure is roughly the height and build of a Halfling, but between the clothing, bandages and eye-glasses it is very hard to be certain – it could be any humanoid of a similar size, perhaps a gnome, goblin, or even a human child.
The bandages and rigid pose may suggest mummification (although the wrappings are very fresh and clean looking); if it is a mummy, it’s difficult to tell whether it might be dead or undead.
The head seems very fresh, or at least well preserved. Above the stump of the neck, stained by dried blood, the flesh is still plump and only slightly pale. The eyes are open but vacant. Given the smell of blood and rot that drifts up from below, it is hard to tell whether this severed head (or for that matter its bandaged holder) is rotten. Of course, various spells (in particular gentle repose) as well as various alchemical solutions can preserve dead flesh quite nicely.
After confering quietly with Andolphas, Boland can shed little light on potential dangers in the room. He none-the-less eyes the strange mummy-like creature warily.
"Proceed carefully" he whispers quietly to those in front of him. "I can't see any obvious dangers but I don't like the look of this room."
The humming and sawing sound from above filters down the stairs causing Boland to frown. "Maybe he doesn't know we're here..."
"Off-key singing... and sawing... in a deranged necromancer's tower... this can't be good," murmurs Andolphas. "I think we should head straight upstairs and put an end to this madness."
"What about those vials over there? What is that embalming fluid or something else?"
Brashs hefts his flail impatiently, or perhaps nervously.
'So what are we doing? I like the idea of heading straight upstairs and putting some steel into this bastards head, though this room gives me the creeps...'
"What about those vials over there? What is that embalming fluid or something else?"
"Possibly" Boland replies uncertainly. "I really couldn't say without further study..."
Turning to Andolphas and Brashen he nods in agreeance with their sentiment.
"I agree, we need to put an end to this. Just be ready for any surprises this room might yield".
Boland cannot help but cast his eye over the items in the room as he approaches them, looking for anything of interest.
Brash also tries to move as quietly as he can, though grimaces as he hears Bolands heavy footfalls infront of him.
Brash also tries to move as quietly as he can, though grimaces as he hears Bolands heavy footfalls infront of him.
Brashen heads towards the stairs, trying to move quietly, but his wounds are more serious than he is letting on and he stumbles briefly, his shield slapping loudly against his armour.
Boland meanwhile trails behind, looking intently at the shelf and desk … and does not notice a sheet of parchment that has fallen to the floor, tripping on it and stumbling noisily into the desk, sending a stack of loose papers sliding to the floor and rattling the apparatus that holds the liquid-filled glass tubes.
The singing and sawing noise from above stops abruptly. There is a moment of intense silence as everyone stands still …
The items on the shelf and desk that so captured Boland’s attention include – on the shelves, various books, many of them old and tattered, a number of them bearing titles on the spines such as The Necrology of the Wight and Minor Religions and Sects of the Southlands, suggesting that the general topics are necromancy and cults. Here and there amongst the books are various knick-knacks and fetishes such as a polished skull, a lump of dull crystal, a mummified hand, and a bookend carved into the likeness of a scantily clad lady entertaining a horned devil.
The desk is mainly covered with loose papers, letters, sheets of parchment and scrolls, many of them cluttered with cramped writing. Boland notices the name ‘Filge’ at the top of one of the pages – it look’s like a letter – before the stack it rests atop slides to the floor. Rocks and bones are used here and there as paper-weights. A metal holder contains four 6-inch long glass tubes containing liquid of different colours and consistencies and sealed at the tops with rubber sheaths. Every so often, something within one or another of the tubes seems to move or shift slightly, but it might just be a trick of the eye. A handwritten label fixed to the holder reads ‘Necroturgons.’
Boland meanwhile trails behind, looking intently at the shelf and desk … and does not notice a sheet of parchment that has fallen to the floor, tripping on it and stumbling noisily into the desk, sending a stack of loose papers sliding to the floor and rattling the apparatus that holds the liquid-filled glass tubes.
The singing and sawing noise from above stops abruptly. There is a moment of intense silence as everyone stands still
Boland curses inwardly at his clumsiness as his interest in the contents of the room cause him to neglect to look where he is stepping. He face reddens with embarrasment at his stumble and when the humming from upstairs stops he freezes, not daring to move and make further noise. He does however call to mind his readied spells and watches the stairs intently for any sign of the necromancers approach.
Harrigan growls at the commotion and breaks the tense silence by barking, "He doesn't get one more second to prepare. Let's go, now!" So saying he begins charging up the stairs.
Brash winces as his shield clatters against his armour. 'So much for doing this quietly.'
He follows Harrigan up the stairs at a run.