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"You killed my friend. I will eat you," Ruarc states calmly as he sets to chopping up the necromancer. His thickly corded muscles propel Justice forward in a diagonal upward slash across the dwarf's torso, followed by a pommel bash on the backswing.
Shocked at the abrupt collapse of Rakeesh, Aglamore and Ruarc bring their weapons to bear with deadly precision. The mad-eyed dwarf wails in anguish as Aglamore's spear drives deep. The noise lasts a mere heartbeat before and vicious two-handed blow from Ruarc splits the wizard from groin to sternum, silencing his cries forever.
Aglamore is slow to accept the inevitable. He tries to find a pulse in his companion and prays over Rakeesh's body. Only when those things avail him nothing does he stand and glare at the dwarf's body, poised on the edge of violence.
With a deep, shuddering sigh, the priest collects himself. "Help me build a cairn over him," he says. "We cannot leave him as he is and we cannot bury him, so we must build a cairn."
He performs rites for the dead. He takes nothing of Rakeesh's except the precious silver dragon's scale.
When that's done, he rolls the dwarf for possessions, having no compunction about looting the unrighteous dead.
Ruarc is still breathing hard when he reaches down to pick up the dwarf's corpse by the neck. "May you meet your just reward in the next plane, sinner," he growls lifting the necromancer close to his mouth and eyes. Slowly at first but then faster cords of wispy blue-white energy begin to stream from the corpse and into Ruarc's eyes and mouth. As they do so, the burnt crispy parts of his exposed skin begin to heal rapidly.
After a minute or so, it is finished. Ruarc's posture relaxes into a languid slouch. He grins, tossing the corpse to the floor. "Wanna burn that now Aggie? Can't have it coming back as another undead." he giggles to Aglamore, walking over and putting his hand on the cleric's shoulder. "You know, you're a really nice guy. Consecrating that temple and all," Ruarc continues in a rambling non sequitur.
Death.
As a soldier, Pytros has seen a fair amount of death and killing. Much of it came at his hand. Occasionally, death came to someone under his command. With Marcus's death at the hands of the tiefling assassin, it came close to his heart. While any soldier hopes to avoid death for as long as possible for himself and his allies, each soldier also knows that it cannot be forestalled forever. He accepted the reality long ago that he would most likely be killed in battle; by treating his life as already forfeit, he had saved it numerous times.
This was different. Rakeesh, known to Pytros for all of a few hours, was a man of belief and principle. He died in combat, but not protecting anyone or for any cause. His death did not matter in the grand scheme, as they would have killed the necromancer and destroyed the skeletons. His death was not a sacrifice. It was a waste.
Pytros quietly moves to help Aglamore build a cairn of stones for the paladin's corpse. Even as little that spirituality means to him personally, he accepts the emotional and moral responsibility to give the corpse some final dignity. He picks up a rock laying in the corner and puts it in place, adding it to the pile that the group has built. "May he find peace," Pytros mutters, mostly to himself.
"Don't worry friends. Rakeesh died seeking vengeance against evil. That is the way of our lord. He's probably with Ragathiel already in the planes beyond, continuing his eternal battle against the dark forces of the universe."
Ruarc releases Aglamore's shoulder and wanders over to place his own stone on the cairn. "Fight well brother." he says, still swaying on his feet. A single tear drips down his cheek from under the visor of his helm.
Pytros does not interrupt Ruarc, though he does think that the man's vision for the afterlife sounds burdensome. "If one becomes a slave to a higher power in death, what reward is that? If my death serves to place me in unthinking servitude to the gods, I intend to live." He scowls a bit, trying to bite his tongue. "I apologize. I don't intend to disparage your faith, nor his. I may not have known him for long, but he seemed a good man who lived his life with conviction. If eternity in the service of the gods is what he wishes for himself, more power to him."
"I shouldn't like that either," says Aglamore, wiping his hands after constructing Rakeesh's cairn. "And I don't think that's what Ruarc meant. I prefer to think of Rakjeesh being privileged to live alongside the Celestial Host in the afterlife, serving or not as duty and conscience dictate. It is only the adherents of the dark gods who are bound in service after death."
"Come, let us be gone from this place."
A long, somber hour passes as the party lays Rakeesh to rest. Surprisingly, even Horgus helps in collecting and laying of the stones to make the paladin's cairn. After it is done, he seems to mouth some sort of silent benediction before turning away. Anevia's eyes follow the man knowingly, but she says nothing.
Their sad task completed the now diminished party sets out, following a path ever upwards. This part of the pathway shows signs of worked stone and in some of the steeper sections, iron pitons have been driven into the stone to serve as handholds. Still it makes for a strenuous climb, but it proves to be a short one and after 30 minutes the path levels out again and widens.
Laying strewn across the passage is the remains of a collapsed stone watchtower. Working over the ruins are a pair of monstrous human animal hybrids. Though details are difficult to see at this distance, you can tell that one has a terribly hunched back and the others hands end in talons and has a single horn jutting from one side of his head. The pair appear to be carefully picking up and moving stones around.
The hunchback catches sight of your party and draws the others attention with a few hand gestures. The pair stop what they are doing and watch you all cautiously.
"Pitlings,"Horgus grumbles. "Fantastic."
"Pitlings? Fantastic indeed,"Aravashnial adds with genuine enthusiasm.
Anevia :8/17 - Helpful
Aravashnial: 20/36 - Helpful
Horgus: 18/18 - Friendly
Aglamore prays for the grace and eloquence to help him do Iomedae's work.
"Well met. We are travelers from the city above. We mean you no harm. What do you do here?"
<-Dang!
Pytros cannot keep a look of slight revulsion from coming across his face. He tries to stifle it so as to not make a bad impression upon the pitlings. They appear worse than tieflings, if such a thing is possible, like misshapen morlocks. He hopes that they focus on Aglamore, and not him, because he will find it difficult to hide his feelings.
One of the pair approaches, as he nears you see that he has a face that melds the features of an attractive elven man,a goat, and a lizardfolk.
He calls out in a raspy voice, speaking oddly accented common, "If your intentions are ill, we ask you to move on and leave us in peace. If they are good, then perhaps you can help. As you can see, misfortune has befallen us. One of our companions is trapped in the ruins and we could use some aid in our rescue. We've cleared most of the rubble, but a large stone still blocks our way."
Stepping in quitely, Maeve whispers to Horgus. Pitlings? I don't think I have heard that term before.. oh wait, they are the remnants of the first crusaid that Aravashnial mentioned before.
Stepping forward, Maeve nods to the others.
I think they are telling the truth, I doubt that they could have known we were coming in time to create all of this rubble and it looks like they are trying to clear it. Holding up a hand to the odd raspy man, Maeve frowns, she had seen ugliness in her life, far more then she would like to admit and in a way she was touched by it. She knew that many things could be evil and yet be beautiful on the surface. Gods knew she had been judged plenty of times since her arrival to the city thanks to her scars and oddity. Forgive us, I don't think we expected to find anyone down here that wasn't trying to attack us. I'm Maeve, ah you mentioned that someone was trapped behind the rubble? Eyes scanning the rock, the woman frowns. Pytros, you seem to be very knowledgeable. Is there anything we could do with that rope we recovered to act as a pulley or something of the sort?
Pytros takes a look at the rock and tries to figure out some way to manipulate it with the tools at hand. Perhaps they could use a lever of some type, but he doesn't see anything that would suffice. "It looks to me as if manual labor is to be the only way." He strides up to the rock and brushes his hands off. "Shall we? Push on my count. None of us have the strength to do it alone, but we may be able to succeed if we act as one."
Pytros counts down and begins to push. He strains heavily, driving forward hard with his arms and shoulders. Despite his strength, the rock is far heavier than he estimated. His efforts have little effect.
"Here, allow me to aid you Pytros," Ruarc says, moving up next to the Hermean and lending his shoulder to the stone.
Horgus rolls his eyes as the party heads over to help the mongrelmen. "We're helping mole people now? My estate is probably in flames right now..."
None one takes the effort to reply and he soon is forced to scurry after the main group or be left alone in the dark.
The pair of mongrelmen throw their weight against the stone as well, but it still resists moving,
Anevia gives Horgus a meaningful look, which he takes pains to ignore. "Lord Gwerm," she says with exaggerated courtesy. "Is it not the duty of a Lord of the City to aid the less fortunate? Besides they might be able to help you get to your manor before it completely burns to the ground."
With a snort and a roll of his eyes, Horgus slowly removes his tattered and dusty jacket and placing it carefully to the side, he throws his weight agains the stone.
At his push, the stone topples away, revealing a small opening and the scratched and dusty face of another of the beastmen. With a cry of relief, the other two help him out and they share a brief moment of reunion.
"Well that wasn't so difficult," Horgus says, sliding back into his jacket, with a self-congratulatory look on his face.
The mongrelman who fist approached you turns back to the group, "I am know as Lann. You have done us a great kindness in helping to save Crel. You seem out of place in the depths. If you share your need, perhaps we could help in kind"
"We could use guides to the surface," suggests Aglamore. "And perhaps we could learn a bit more about who you are and how you came to be here?"
Crossing her arms, the scars show clearly. Maeve nods at Aglamore's word. Yes... I'm not sure if you felt the tremors, but there has been an attack on the surface. All of us.. Maeve waves her hand gesturing to the makeshift group of survivors, Fell, and it was by pure luck that we managed to survive. Sighing, Maeve peered at the man who was under the fallen stone. Is your friend all right? Digging into her pack, the young, haunted woman draws forth a wooden box with a large red cross painted on it. I have some knowledge of healing and could see about helping him.
While the woman waits for a response, Maeve, turns and regards Horgus. She did not like the man, but she hated being taken for granted and thus far the noble had show himself to have been surprisingly useful despite his outward appearance. It was ironic in a way because Maeve had lived for so long being judged by how she appeared. Well done Horgus.. I.. did not think you had it in you, my compliments.
Ruarc stands by after the stone is removed, observing impassively. He allows those with more patience for words to explain the group's situation. In the meantime, he keeps watch for any further ambushes or threats that might emerge while they are conversing.
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Pytros examines the piteous pitlings up close. Between the hunchback, claws, and misshapen horn, their apparent leader is unpleasant to look at. While Aglamore and Maeve speak kindly to Lann, Pytros simply watches and does not interact. He reaches into his shirt to check on his most valuable possession: the book of notes belonging to his mentor. He pages through it idly, looking for any insight as to how exposure to Abyssal energies may have changed the creatures here. He can't help but wonder if this was a wild version of the controlled evolution techniques that he and Marcus had uncovered in the tome written in Draconic and Abyssal.
Lann listens thoughtfully and after a minute, he nods to himself as if coming to a decision, "We can help and guide you at least as far as Neathholm. It's on the way and the mayor would want to speak to you. If there is battle in the city above, he needs to know. He could also tell you much above our people if that is something you wish to know.
With the trio of mongrels in the lead, you head out. Lann leads you through a series of winding tunnel that you would have almost certainly become lost in. Your progress is slowed by the damaged caused by the tremors of the demons' attack. More than once, you travel several minutes along a passage only to have it abruptly end in a collapse. After the third such incident, Lann looks frustrated and a little concerned.
"I am running out of options. Unfortunately, now we must pass through a cavern that I had hoped to avoid. for it has become the den of a spore-cougher fungus and it is very dangerous. With your help, I think that we should have no trouble defeating the beast."
He leads on a little further and soon, the tunnel opens into a circular cavern, roughly forty feet in diameter. Thick sheets of fungus grow in the cave, and several tunnels branch off. All of these save one in the north wall lead downward; the northern one leads upward. What appear to be two dead bodies lie on the ground in the middle of the cave,next to a strange heap of ropy green fungus.
"Pytros, what do you know of this manner of fungus? What about you Lann, can you tell us anything useful about it?" Ruarc asks, studying the cavern closely. Fungi. Doubtless servants of Cyth-V'sug. Ragathiel, lend us strength. The tall tiefling grips justice in one hand, and draws out his shield with a creak of leather straps. Better to start out safe than end up sorry.
Pytros keeps a fair distance away from the fungus. "I've studied plants in some detail, though the circumstances tended to be a bit more controlled. This 'spore-coughing fungus' you speak of, is it a plant or a sentient creature? Let me get a closer look." Cautiously, he strides towards the corpses and stops several paces away. His whip unfurls in caution as he prepares for the heap or the corpses to suddenly rise up and attack him.
Approaching a little closer, Pytros can't help to notice the fungus has several large slices in its side and seems deflated. It does not respond to his approach. From his closer vantage point, Pytros can also see that the dead men are dressed in tabards that identify them as crusaders of Iomedae.
Pytros points at the bodies. "Crusaders of Iomedae. Looks like Rakeesh wasn't the first crusader to die down here." He glances at Aglamore, a bit embarassed by his flippant approach towards the death of the crusaders; he offers a shrug of sorrow, noting to himself that he needs to approach the matter with more tact in the future.
"The fungus has been sliced apart. It doesn't look alive, but you can never be too careful with ambush predators. Hang on. Let me see if I can get a response." He uses his whip to disturb the fungus, gouging another slash through the plant.
"How long do you think they've been dead?" asks Aglamore.
Crusaders? Here? Frowning, Maeve steps forward hesitantly, but then remembers the dangers warned to her by Pytros and instead takes a hesitant step back. Considering something briefly, Maeve turns and looks towards the "pitlings" with a quizzical expression on her face. Are we near an entrance to the surface? I doubted any else could have survived a fall like the one that happened to us.
Seeing Pytros whip the fungus, and nothing happen. Ruarc walks casually up to the creature and the two corpses. First he sheathes Justice and puts away his shield. Then he begins to methodically search the bodies and the area around them.
Lann shrugs, "We're not particularly near to any exit to the city above. There have been others seen in the area, dressed like those two. Many in more in the last few weeks. They've made some sort of an alliance with another tribe of the underfolk. If these are crusaders, then much has changed since our people first began to dwell here. The tribe they have taken up with are known raiders and murderers."
Anevia limps after Ruarc to join him and Pytros at the battle site. "My partner is a crusader of Iomedae, I might know the fallen, if they are from the same garrison." Looking over the bodies, while Ruarc riffles through their pockets, she frowns. "Where are their swords? No follower of Iomedae would be caught without one. This pair seem to have fought with polearms and what's with the spiked gauntlets? Those are definitely not standard issue."
During his search Ruarc comes up with: a pair of masterwork chain shirts, 2 glaives, 2 spiked gauntlets, a potion , a scroll and 130gp worth of coins. Clenshed in the fist of the dead man with the scroll is a small symbol of a brass bull’s head with tiny red gemstone eyes (50gp).
"Ivory Labyrinth cultists," Ruarc says upon finding the symbol. He spits upon the corpses. "The same group that killed my father."
Ruarc turns back to Lann, "Are the other men like this and the tribe of murderers nearby? I am obligated to purge Golarion of such garbage."
At the mention of the Ivory Labyrinth, Brother Aglamore goes quiet, his emotions betrayed only by the whitening of his knuckles on the haft of his spear. He listens carefully to Ruarc and Lann, thinking of Corminoth Wolmer and the beautiful, alien Minagho.
Pytros takes the opportunity to pin the cloak that they recovered earlier around his shoulders. It would help ward off the ill effects they would run into, and the others had agreed to his receiving it. He walks over to peer at the statuettes. "If followers of Baphomet have found a way to worm into the ranks of crusaders, their betrayal may doom entire companies of men. I am aware that many of the mercenary companies have had issues with the so-called Templars of the Ivory Labyrinth, but I have not heard of anything this dire before."
"Your father," Pytros asks Guard, "was killed by the members of the cult? Under what circumstances, might I ask?"
"Like me, he was an inquisitor. He dedicated his life to hunting them, and they cut him down in front of me. The first night the Storm King attacked Kenabres. Now I've dedicated my life to hunting them, and it seems things have come full circle."
At Joao's comment Horgus shrugs. Anevia looks worried, "I worry for my partner. If there are Baphomet cultists in the Iomedean crusaders, then she might be in danger. I would feel better if I knew she was ok."
Aravashnial grimaces, "Evidence of the Templars of the Ivory Labyrinth, interactions with the mole people of Kenebres and I can't see any of it. Of all the blasted luck."
Lann shrugs, "We're not particularly near to any exit to the city above. There have been others seen in the area, dressed like those two. Many in more in the last few weeks. They've made some sort of an alliance with another tribe of the underfolk. If these are crusaders, then much has changed since our people first began to dwell here. The tribe they have taken up with are known raiders and murderers."
"We should go speak with the leaders of these...underfolk." says Aglamore. "The city may need all the help it can get."
A short while later Lann and his companions lead you out of the tunnels, a small guard house stands beside the tunnel entrance and a pair of misshapen underfolk emerge, but after a couple of quiet words exchanged with Lann, they wave you on by.
The cavern opens up before you and you see that a small, dark lake ripples in the centre of this two hundred foot wide cavern, the walls and ceiling aglow with thick sheets of luminescent fungi. In the centre of the lake, over two dozen low stone buildings cluster on a rocky one-hundred-foot-wide island. Lights glow in the windows of the buildings, giving the settlement an almost welcoming look. Rafts made of mismatched planks of timber bob along the length of a crooked pier at the lake’s closest shore.
Lann waves a grand arm, "Welcome to Neathhome."
A short time later you find yourselves standing in a waiting room, while Lann gives his report to the Chieftain Suli, the leader of this tribe of mongrelmen. The wait is not a long one and soon Lann reemerges and ushers you into the Chieftain's meeting room.
Inside, a large bloated man with decidedly rodent like features sits behind a simple stone desk. He rises to his feet when you enter, "Welcome to Neathhome. Lann has told me you were instrumental in rescuing Crel. The city in in your debt. Now please, sit and tell me how you find yourselves in our caves. Lann has mentioned something about a battle in the city above."
Pytros examines Neathhome as they make entry into the underground village. He notes the strengths and weaknesses of the subterranean defenses. With a single point of entry, defenders can bottle up an incoming attack and take away any numerical advantage they might have. However, the hamlet would be vulnerable to gas-based magical attacks, or vulnerable to magic that could cause an earthquake or give attackers the ability to burrow through the stone. Its greatest defense is its location, and simply that hardly anyone in the city above might know that they were there.
Pytros takes the leadership role in explaining how they are there. He cuts Horgus off before he can speak, knowing that the nobleman's usefulness is borne of and limited to the funds that cannot be accessed here. Pytros bows slightly, knowing the value of showing respect to a potential ally. "Chieftain Suli, I am Pytros. Kenabres, the city above us, came under attack from the demon lord known as Khorramzadeh, the Storm King. The earth shook beneath us as he clashed with the silver dragon Terendelev. Demons poured upwards from beneath our feet, swarming the city and its defenses. One of them caused a collapse, into which the eight of us fell." He pauses a moment out of respect for the fallen Rakeesh. "We do not know who survives above, but we must return to aid it. We have been down here half a day. Chieftain, do you know any path up to the surface?"