In a flurry of well orchestrated attacks, the breeding pair of flies is dispatched. A quick survey of the rest of the cavern finds nothing else unusual. The door to church is found to be closed, but unlocked. No traps or other shenanigans are in evidence.
Aglamore waits for one of the warriors to lead the way.
Ruarc opens the door to the temple after Joao declares it free of traps. If there is nothing apparently dangerous in view he will begin to search the small structure.
Rakeesh slowly makes a cicuit of the temple exterior looking closely for any signs of continued habitation, either by vermin or other, more intelligent creatures.
Ruarc eases the door open to reveal a small entry room. A stone bench lines the southern wall of this chamber. At the far side of the room, there is a basin of water sitting atop a stone pedestal. A closed stone door engraved with an image of a hammer stands to the north.
Outside in the chamber, Rakeesh's circuit of the chamber reveals nothing else of interest and the reset of the party move into it.
"So an abandoned temple to Torag," Anevia says, her normally upbeat voice subdued. [b]"I guess all good things must fade." You notice that her limp is more pronounced as she walks towards the temple. Reaching its outer wall, she awkwardly sits down, leaning her back against it and closing her eyes. "I think I'm going to need a rest the leg a little bit. All that walking hasn't done it any favours and it's hurting me something fierce. Maybe Torag will lend me a little strength to go on."
Horgus gives her a disgusted look that is missed, but he doesn't leave it at that. "Take as much time as you need. In fact, considering how much you an the elf are slowing us down, maybe we should split up. A party of able bodied individuals could be to the surface and back in less time than it will take us all to make it at this rate."
Anevia's eyes snap open and they glitter with anger, "Even this place isn't enough to move you Gwerm? Can you feel nothing? I don't know why I'm even surprised. A man too afraid to acknowledge is own faith could never be moved by a forgotten temple such as this. Being ashamed of one's faith is as bad as worshiping demons, as far as I'm concerned."
Horgus' face is a study in shock and surprise before it slowly darkens into a towering rage, "So it was you! I knew it! I will not stand here and lectured by some good for nothing base-born thief. You can rot for all I care." He stalks off to one side of the chamber muttering to himself.
Anevia seems about to say something, but instead turns away and settles into dark, sullen anger.
Ruarc looks at the adults behaving like children and decides to ignore them. He begins a thorough search of the temple, hoping to find something of use to have justified their killing the flies.
"None are to be left behind," Rakeesh stated flatly as he stepped between the bickering pair. "This is a good spot to take our rest and recover our spirits. The pains may be greater than merely physical." Rakeesh turned his eyes to the ceiling, as though he could see through the dozens of feet of rock and earth. "That was no small thing we witnessed..."
He joined Anevia and offered her a hand to help ease her to the floor. "Do not be troubled, lady. I will see you to the surface, even if I must carry you there."
Aglamore will also consider the interactions between the two. He nods approvingly when Rakeesh moves to support Anevia, so he goes to speak with Horgus.
"Lord Horgus," he says in a reasonable tone, "You are anxious to return to the surface, as are we all. But our survival was no mere happenstance. So miraculous was it that it no man can ponder it and doubt that the gods saved us for some particular purpose. They saved you, Lord Horgus, for some higher purpose, and they saved Anevia. You and I may never know what that purpose was, but I give thanks to all those gods of good will for the chance to learn it."
"What folly it would be to abandon any one of those the gods found precious enough to save amidst total disaster! Bear up, my lord, and accept that mortal men were not made to know all things. Anevia's worth will be proved in time. As will all of ours."
"Come now, the will of Iomedae has led us to this lost temple. And what other lord of the heavens would have a temple here in the dark but Torag? The hand of the heavens is clear in this opportunity. Let us rise and enter, giving thanks and seeking shelter and counsel."
Pytros listens to Aglamore speaking of the gods as if they looked out for them personally with a bit of a raised eyebrow. "Perhaps we happened to be in the right place at the appropriate time. Hundreds - thousands, maybe - are probably dead or dying in the city above us. I'm sure that many of them were men and women of faith, just as you are. What gives us the right to live on? You look at coincidence and see divine intervention; I look at them and see a set of unrelated facts. I know that you have been granted spells from the gods, and I will never deny their power. But I truly doubt that Iomedae had the time or attention to lead this specific group," he gestures at all of them, "to this specific spot at this specific time."
He waits for a moment, then continues. "But you are right that we should enter and give ourselves a respite. Hopefully we can find some supplies down in the temple as well."
Aglamore listens respectfully to Pytros.
"Mortals are not chosen for faith alone, my friend, nor for goodness," he says. "Only the gods can see all the pieces on the field. As a general may from time to time marshal weaker forces when greater units are needed elsewhere, so the gods may use our poor efforts for their own devices. You surely don't believe that mighty Terendelev threw blessed scales to everyone? Or that his scales bore their powers before that moment?"
"It is easy to believe we are but one amidst millions. It is harder to bear knowing the eyes of the gods are upon you. Time is not to the gods what it is to us mortals, and blessed Iomedae has all the time in the universe if she chooses it to be so. I say not that we were saved for any great purpose, but for some purpose at least, I have no doubt whatsoever."
"I do not know if it was by the machinations of the gods, or the whimsy of chance... perhaps it does not matter. We are alive, and largely unharmed. We are blessed with power by a creature of great nobility and benevolence. We owe it to Terendelev, at the very least, to make his final act of charity meaningful."
Rakeesh turns back to Anevia. "Is all now well with you, lady?"
Ruarc nods in acknowledgement of Joao's suggestion. Though he continues his search of the interior. "After," is all he says.
Inside the temple
Joao and Ruarc search the outer chamber thoroughly and find that though a thick layer of dust covers everything, the water in the basin remains crystal clear. Easing the door to the next room open, the pair reveal a narrow room lined with stone benches. The air is cold and stale, and thick layers of dust cover the floor, benches, and a large altar to Torag at the far end of the room. The dust also lies thickly on a figure slumped forward on the bench before the alter. Little can be seen other than it wears a moth eaten hooded cloak.
Outside
Anevia looks up at Rakeesh with gratitude. "I'll survive. This place just turned my thoughts towards those I hold dear. I Have little hope of their safety above and I can't help but let despair creep in. My leg does hurt, but if we must press on, I will bear the pain."
Unexpectantly, Aravashnial speaks up, "I wouldn't worry overmuch. Irabeth’s too stubborn to die from something as trivial as a demonic invasion."
Anevia barks a laugh, seeming a little more at ease.
Horgus listens to Aglamore and gives a snort at his implication of Anevia's merit. "Oh I don't doubt that there are uses for a sneak thief from time to time, but I'll have to see the condition of my estate before I asses the Gods' involvement in this mess. For now, I'll be happy if you are able to bring me the surface safely. If you must bring everyone else along, then so be it."
Anevia :16/17 - Helpful
Aravashnial: 20/36 - Helpful
Horgus: 18/18 - Friendly
Ruarc will step into the next room, not trying to be quiet, and see if the presumable corpse moves or does anything. If not, he will continue his search of the temple until he's covered the whole thing. "The water in the basin is likely magically pure, and may hold additional blessings. Would someone with the appropriate knowledge check it out please?"
Rakeesh claps a reassuring hand upon Anevia's shoulder. "We will take some time to recover our strength. Be at your ease."
Rakeesh stands and moves to the main chamber to join Ruarc.
Aglamore is concerned by the cloaked figure slumped before the altar. He approaches warily, his spear at the ready, trying to get a better look.
The figure does not respond at your approach. As you near, you can see that a thick layer of dust covers the form completely. You also see that a fine warhammer lies discarded to one side of the alter.
Aglamore examines the figure carefully. Is it a man or a dwarf? Alive, dead or in between?
If convinced that it is safe, he sets aside the spear and comes closer to examine for clues. He will probably want to bury the dead, or build a cairn.
Some men are superstitious around the dead, but Pytros is not one of them. He takes a place next to Aglamore in order to inspect the covered figure. "Most likely a long-dead guardian. Shall we?" He grabs the corner of the cloak and pulls it aside.
Some men are superstitious around the dead, but Pytros is not one of them. He takes a place next to Aglamore in order to inspect the covered figure. "Most likely a long-dead guardian. Shall we?" He grabs the corner of the cloak and pulls it aside.
Rakeesh blanches at the cavalier treatment of what may have been a sacred guardian. But, something about the room and the dust covered figure sets his spine tingling...
Everything seems to happen at once. Rakeesh grabs his holy symbol and sends out his heightened senses to feel for evil. He sees an aura flare around the seated figure just as Pytros pulls back its ratty cloak. to reveal a shrivelled and desiccated dwarven corpse. Its hands rest in its lap along with a rusty dagger. Deep gashes along the corpses arms and dusty bloodstains coat its lap.
With a creak, its head turns towards Pytros and a baleful light blooms in its empty eye sockets.
Surprise Round
19 Pytros
16 Ruarc
11 Enemy
10 Joao
9 Aglamore
9 Rakeesh
Surprise Init 11
The undead monster stands up.
XP 600
CE Medium undead
Init +6; Senses darkvision 60 ft.; Perception +5
Aura faithlessness (30 ft.)
DEFENSE
AC 19, touch 12, flat-footed 13 (+2 Dex, +3 natural, +4 chainmail)
hp 18/18
Fort +2, Ref +3, Will +4
DR 5/magic or silver; Immune undead traits
OFFENSE
Speed 30 ft.
Melee 2 claws +4 (1d4+1 plus disease)
"Undead!" Ruarc shouts, whirling at the creaking sound. He runs across the room and swings Justice at the creature, hoping to catch it before it can take its feet. His slash is absorbed harmlessly by the dessicated dwarf's chainmail. "It's a huecuva! Use silver or magic weapons. Watch the claws, they carry disease."
As Rakeesh entered the room, there was something... wrong. He could never have described the wrongness even if he had been given time to do so. There was simply a nucleus of cold and emptiness, like a glacier of black ice, right in front of him. Pytros grabbed the shroud to pull it aside...
"No, wait!" Rakeesh shouted as the the deathless abomination turned empty eyes on Pytros, and lashed out with its dessicated claws.
Filled with divine wrath, Rakeesh connects soundly with the vile creature, launching it backwards and severing whatever vile magics bound it to this unholy semblance of life.
Lowering his hands, Joao looked curiously at the fallen corpse, a bit surprised. "What was that?", he asked quietly. He had heard the description, but was more concerned about the "why" behind it. Clearly, there was more than he had anticipated in this place, and would have to plan accordingly.
"The price of apostasy..." Rakeesh breathes more easily as the wrongness in the room fades away. "Let us remove its foulness from this place." He brushed the dust from the warhammer. "This thing has corrupted these holy grounds for far to long."
"We ought to burn it, better safe than sorry." Ruarc kicks the corpse over onto its back, sneering at it. "Nice work Rakeesh. That was a mighty blow."
"We ought to cleanse this temple and say rites for the dead. It seems he was once a believer." says Brother Aglamore. "It is an act of piety. And we should scorn the regard of no gods at a time like this."
Aglamore kneels and prays for mercy for the soul of the departed. When he stands, he helps Ruarc move the body out of the temple for burning, then returns to do whatever he can to set Torag's temple to rights. He cleans it, sets up candles (his own, if none are available) and repeats whatever dwarven rites he knows, or failing that, ones appropriate to Iomedae, but in honor of the dwarven god.
Ruarc gladly assists brother Aglmaore, working in silence along side the human man. When it comes time to pray, he says nothing. Ragathiel would have no interest here. Vengeance on the evil was served, that is good enough for Him.
"I seek to honor the gods and cleanse this temple," says Aglamore to the others. "Help Ruarc and me, I pray you. It is a righteous act."
"If you believe it to be your spiritual duty," Rakeesh nodded. "Do not neglect your more corporeal responsibilities. Everyone should take some food and some rest before we continue forward."
Rakeesh dug a flint and steel out of his pack, and after a few minutes, managed to scrounge up enough refuse timber to get a small fire started. He retrieved a number of rations from his pack, laying out enough for everyone to eat their fill.
....
After a time, Rakeesh seats himself beside Anevia. "Tell me, who is it that waits for your return, on the surface?"
Pytros shudders when the undead creatures shuffles out from under the cloak. Fortunately, Rakeesh cuts it down before Pytros can even react. The skeletal creature collapses into a pile of bones quickly under the punishing, radiant assault. "Impressive," he notes. "I am glad that I am not your enemy. I presume your expression of faith will be as successful at the demons that surely flood the city above. I may not pledge much fealty to the gods, but I would be a fool to deny their power or that of those who serve them."
As Aglamore begins the process of consecrating the temple, Pytros finds himself at an utter loss. In all of his studies, he has looked at the issue of faith and divine magic as theoretical concepts. Hermea had no clerics to actually demonstrate that which they learned. In this place, buried a hundred feet under a doomed city, in a desecrated temple to Torag, Pytros has no idea what to do. "You will have to tell me what to do. I am not a man of faith," he explains to Aglamore.
As he follows instructions given to him by the cleric, he does a passable job of it. If a native of Hermea has any skill, it is that of following orders and instructions. He repeats the Celestial words, taught to him rotely by Aglamore. He notices that Aglamore doesn't speak the language with any fluency, instead miming the words just as Pytros has to. During one long period of walking in circles holding a candle - blessedly lacking incantations - he speaks to Aglamore. "Where did you study your faith, Brother? I don't think that you speak Celestial, so it must have been an informal ministry."
Aglamore smiles at Pytros. "Faith does not bring knowledge, nor knowledge, faith. We learn by doing, and by necessity, my friend. I, too, confess myself almost wholly ignorant of the deeper mysteries of the god of the forge, but acts of reverence are never mistaken by the good divinities. We shall clean this space, and light what candles we may, and pray for his good favor. Then we shall depart."
In response to the warrior's second question, Aglamore darkens momentarily. When he speaks, it is barely above a whisper. "I studied in the pits of Raliscrad. It was indeed most informal. I was taught my faith by far better men than I."
The priest busies himself putting the temple to rights and praying for the notice and approval of Torag. When he is done, he nods to the warriors. "It is done. I thank you. We may leave in your good time, gentlemen."
During the purification ceremony, Anevia tells Rakeesh about her wife Irabeth, a half-orc paladin of Iomedae and member of the Eagle watch, and of her past life as a small time bandit in the river kingdoms. Horgus, who is loitering nearby, makes a great show of not paying attention, but from his various snots and mutterings it is fairly obvious that he is listening. Aravashnial spends some of this down time to wash and rebind his ruined face.
Once the final prayers are said, you hear a faint sound as of a gong sounding deep within the earth. The greenish glow of the cavern seems to take on a golding hue and the air seems fresher and more wholesome. You have done a kindness to a God and you can't help but feel that Torag himself has taken notice.
"Our work here is done. We should continue onward, yes?" Despite all the ordeals they have faced thus far, Ruarc seems eager to continue. "If it becomes absolutely necessary we can fall back to the temple to rest and recuperate."
Pytros can actually feel the divine power coursing through his body. It is a foreign feeling to him. Every bit of his training and upbringing tell him to reject the magic, but he can immediately discern the tactical benefit. He settles for a feeling of mild anxiety.
"Let's get moving," he says. "Hopefully we're all well-rested and fed by now."
Leaving the temple, you continue up the pathway. It begins to climb sharply and you are soon puffing with exertion from the steep hike. This goes on for nearly an hour before the way opens up in front of you.
The flickering torchlight falls on great stone figures carved into the walls of this cavern. Each depicts a different crusader clad in armour and wielding weapons, but their carved stone features contain expressions of sadness.
Refreshed, Aglamore tags along somewhat behind, shepherding the non-combatants. He keeps up a vigilant watch for any surprises. He knows little of history nor of the statues, but he does describe them for the blind elf's benefit.
Ruarc stays near the group, just outside the area lit by their torches. He scans the darkness for threats, taking in the statues but not overly concerned with them for now. I wonder what horror lurks in this chamber, waiting to kill us.
Pytros scans over the statues quickly and quietly. His studies did not include historical lessons beyond the basics, though all of them were essentially about why and how all other civilizations before Hermea had failed. The statues of the crusaders are impressive, but he can't truly appreciate them much. "Why are these down here? Did the Crusades use these caverns at some point as shelter? I'm not familiar enough with this city to know if any of the catacombs are still in use."
"A monument? Or a mausoleum?" Rakeesh moves between the stone effigies.