After another half hour of slogging through the mire, the group steps out into a small clearing. Poking up from the murk before of a crumbling foundation of crumbling and slimy bricks, a cracked and faded sign swings upon a moss-covered post. It reads Barrel-Aging Caves.
Within the foundation a pile of debris clogs up a 5-foot indent in the ground that looks like it might have been an old stairwell. A few feet away, a muddy corpse lies face down in the murk.
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Mexus raises an eyebrow at the corpse, and then shudders. "Be careful, all. There's no telling if the dead will stay dead here." With that, Mexus takes a moment to look about the area, looking for small details that might tell more about what has happened here, though he's careful to remain more than five yards away from the corpse.
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After carefully looking over the scene, Mexus says, "We should confirm that the deceased died from the wounds, and that he wasn't bitten by a ghoul. Once we've done that, it looks like we'll have to clear that rubble off the entrance to the cave there in that depression. Hopefully no one has taken the time to trap it."
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Honus accepts the coins from Mexus with a simple nod, and deposits them into an empty pouch. After time passes and they finally arrive at the barrel caves, he merely gives the clearing a once-over before slowly circling its perimeter. He stares intently into the surrounding trees, sword clutched in hand, checking for signs of anyone or anything that may have come, gone, or is actively lurking.
Assuming nothing leaps out at him in a literal sense, he turns his focus to the mud covered corpse beside the cave entrance. Approaching with caution, sword ready to swing, he nudges the leg with his boot, takes a half step closer, and wedges his toes under a hip bone to roll it onto its side.
The body is pretty ghastly to look at. It's not quite as rigid as a board, but Honus has difficulty shifting it onto its back as the arms and legs are stiff and inflexible. The man's face and exposed flesh once he's on his back are dark as if bruised, and a noxious cloud of flies and gnats erupt from the corpse to swirl like metallic blue smoke in the air above it.
Worse yet, a horde of maggots have clearly been hard at work, and the man's flesh seems to almost writhe from their movements beneath his putrid skin. The smell is ghastly, and green and black fluid leaks from his nostrils, mouth, ears and eyes.
The corpse is clad in rough leather armor, which clearly did little to stop the deep gashes and odd shaped wounds that mark the body.
Alahazra steps up and lowers herself to one knee by Honus' side, looking closely at the corpse, the back of her wrist pressed to her nose. It doesn't take long for her to look up at Honus then back to the others.
"This man died of wounds similar to Jessup back at Railford. He's probably infected with ghoul fever. Depending on when he actually died, he could rise as a ghoul at any moment."
Alahazra lacks a blade of sufficient length with which to execute Mexus' command. She stands, backing away carefully, and instead nods to Honus.
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Honus watches with concern as Alahazra examines and diagnoses the corpse. When Mexus calls for its head, and Alahazra confirms the necessary action, he positions himself aptly and shrugs his shoulders loose.
"Stand back," he states solemnly.
Taking the hilt in both hands, Honus swings up in a high arc and continues the momentum to slice through the putrid flesh below.
The head comes free with a sickening crunch, and rolls a foot away, the ruined eyes staring up at the sky.
Alahazra nods. "That should take care of him. Though - after all this is taken care of - we should make sure Dalard sends men to collect the corpse and give it a proper burial."
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Honus balls up a thick tangle of soggy moss and runs it across his blade a few times. It serves to get most of the mess off, then he holds it out flat to let the rain cleanse it further. He punctuates the ritual with a sharp flick of the blade, as he has been known to do so many times in the past, and finally stows it away for what he hopes will be at least the remainder of the day.
Unlikely, though. Given how the day has progressed, I'm sure to have it in hand again, shortly. At least its mostly clean for now. I really need a cloth to carry with me as I travel. That was never something Uncle Bristol taught me, though he often said that the path to adventure is cobbled with lessons. Ha! I should tell that one to Fahim.
Shock strikes Honus as he thinks.
I haven't been keeping track of all this! I had plenty of time to record in my journal over these past weeks, but completely forgot. Things had been so slow and monotonous until we reached Railford. I will have to make a point of it next opportunity I have. No time right now, though.
Stepping over to the pick that he dropped as they entered the clearing, he grabs it up in one hand by the very end of its handle and lets it swing as he strides up to the cave entrance. He stops at the edge, resting the head of the pick on the stone surface and planting one boot beside it. He looks upon the pile of rock with exasperation.
"This pile could be twenty feet deep, for all we know. It might take us hours or even days to uncover, and if we suddenly break through, there are likely to be ghouls waiting for us on the other side, given our recent luck."
He leaves the pick balanced on its head and pulls his foot back to stand up straight. Half cocking his head, he turns toward Mexus.
"Well, you uncovered the sign to the caves earlier. Now it's time uncover the cave itself."
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Mexus smiles a toothy grin in return and replies, "Sir Gisborne, I have neither the mystical nor physical might to do most of this heavy lifting, but what assistance I can offer is yours. And while you are right that there may be ghouls awaiting us on the other side, I somehow doubt that the entrance is blocked by more than a few feet of rock."
Fahim, Mexus, and Honus begin using the picks they were given in Railford, and soon they have made a serious dent in the rocky rubble at their feet. The ground is treacherous; several times large rocks slide suddenly as everything shifts, causing the entire area to shudder precariously. Gradually you reveal what appears to be the ruins of a stairwell descending into the depths, wooden shafts and shattered steps mingled with the stones.
Honus reaches down and grasps a particularly large rock, and heaves it free. In doing so, he uncovers a man's arm that emerges from the rubble from roughly the shoulder up. The arm is pallid and horrifically bruised, tinged green as if by death, and in that moment when the three of you stare at it in shock, it suddenly begins to writhe and claw at the rocks, frantic and splintering its long nails across the surface.
The powerful thrashing of the corpses - or man - causes a terrifying groan to sound as the entire mess of collapsed rubble, stones, and broken wooden spars jerks, shudders, and suddenly collapses into the darkness below.
Fahim and Mexus are able to throw themselves clear as the rubble collapses, but Honus is unable to react in time, and falls into the depths with the thrashing corpse.
Fahim
Ghoul
Mexus
Alahazra
Honus
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"By the gods, Honus, NOOOOOO!" Fahim screams as he rushes to the edge of the pit.
to see down into the pit.
"Stay away from him you spawn of the djinn! I will not let a fiend like you steal such a noble soul."
With that proclamation, Fahim lets a knife slide down from him sleeve and into his hand, which he then deftly throws at the injured ghoul.
"Quick, someone set up a rope line for me to swing down into the pit!"
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Mexus charges back towards the gaping fissure, stopping short just shy of the craggy edge. As his tail reaches out behind him for balance, he peers down into the chasm. ”It’s not moving!”, Mexus cries with a slight sense of victory in his voice. Though the excitement in his voice quickly turns to dread as he assesses Honus with his own eyes. ”Oh no. Oh no! Honus isn’t moving either. Alahazra, do something! Save him! Who has a rope? Does anyone have a rope?!”
Alahazra stares, wide eyed, down at the wreckage of Honus' broken body, and with a curse turns to descend the first ten feet of the broken rubble, her pack slung over her shoulder.
Realizing it's taking her too much time, she bites her generous lower lip, glances down at the rubble, then leaps to fall the last ten feet into the dark.
She lands sure-footed on a slab of rock, wobbles once, and then quickly kneels by Honus' side, drawing forth her last precious scroll of Cure Light Wounds.
When the crimson light recedes, Honus is breathing easy, but clearly still unconscious. Alahazra looks up at the others as they stand around the pit looking down. "He's not going to wake any time soon. I'm going to need an hour to work on him. With a little luck, I'll be able to heal him just enough to get him back up."
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The deep red glow of light envelops Honus while Alahazra reads from the scroll. His chest rises with gasp of breath, and his eyes show white as they roll back in his head. Once complete, the light does not wink out, but recedes slowly as if being absorbed into his body. His chest lowers with a long exhale and his lids flutter closed once more.
Alahazra studies Honus for another long second, then looks back up at Fahim and Mexus. "Eventually. Yes. If we could but rest for eight hours, he would heal by himself." She looks into the darkness that extends before her. "But we don't have the time. I'm going to try and revive him. I just need an hour. Maybe two."
At that point a low, desolate moan floats out from the darkness from the cavern into which Alahazra and Honus have falle. She quickly snaps her gaze back down. "Gentlemen? A little help?"
Mexus
Fahim
Alahazra
Enemy
Honus (unconcious)
Fahim and Mexus slowly and carefully climb down the ruinous shaft to where Alahazra has slowly risen to her feet, her blind eyes trained on the darkness that stretches out before them.
The collapsed stairwell opens to a half dozen broad stone steps that lead down into to what looks like a large, natural cavern whose depths are shrouded in darkness. Water laps at the base step, and in the faint light the comes from above the group can barely make out two large, irregular columns twenty to twenty five feet away from them, at the very limits of their vision.
Another horrific groan emanates from the darkness, along with splashing. Something - or somethings - are clearly headed toward them, emerging from the gloom.
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Mexus’s heart begins to race. He quickly whispers an incantation, ”Da mihi auteum arma de daemoni …”, and makes a series of warding gestures before him, while exerting a sizeable effort of will. For the briefest of moments, the air shimmers around him and an encompassing indigo nimbus a few inches from his body appears in the shape of a translucent suit of plated armor, complete with a horned great helm, winged pauldrons, and overlapping plates down his tail. Then, as quickly as the image appears, it simply vanishes. Mexus turns towards the sounds with his jaw clenched and peers into the darkness, his eyes searching out what menace is approaching.
Your best guess is that they'll be climbing the steps to attack you the next round.
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The horrific groans seem to hit Fahim like a spell, paralyzing him where he stands at the bottom of the pit.
Is this how the fabled Abdula felt as he dangled above Cimeies' Pit of Endless Night; a slowly fraying rope the only thing separating him from eternal torment? Perhaps, but without fear there cannot be valor. Even if he were afraid, Abdula had the courage to let go of his rope as he swung for the Pit's edge. Had he remained motionless, he would have surely suffered a fate worse than death. If I want the fame of Abdula, then I must also have his mettle.
Fahim squares his shoulders and moves to the front of the group, standing between them and the approaching horde. He pulls a bomb shell from his satchel and, like a gunslinger, leaves his left hand hovering over his bag, ready to pull out components at a moment's notice. Fahim stares down maw of the black cavern, his personal Pit of Endless Night, and licks his lips in grim anticipation.
The darkness finally reveals its horrific secret. Forms manifest in the depths of the gloom, and grow ever clearer as they wade toward the stairwell, arms extended, skeletal claws making slow grabbing gestures as they head for the living.
For these three corpses clearly died long ago. Their clothing is rotten, their flesh sagging and putrefying, and their eyes are sunken and filmed over. Their mouths gum eagerly as they splash closer, gaining speed as they draw near, and at the very last they surge forward, rushing toward the steps, pitiful moans erupting from their ruined gullets.
Alahazra stares, blind eyes wide, and then looks to Fahim. If he waits until they're within their field of light, it will be too late to toss more than one bomb.
Mind made up, she grabs a torch from Honus' backpack, and then caresses the torch for a brief moment until it curls into flame. Then, before her nerve can fail her, she strides down the steps and into the water, which rises to her waist. Moving forward, torch held high, she looks over her shoulder to Fahim, and calls back, "Throw, Fahim! Throw, as soon as you can!"
In a matter of moments the light from her torch falls upon the approaching figures, who's moans become frantic as they orient on her.
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The light falls over the monsters like a bulls-eye, giving Fahim all he needs to find his target.
"Bless you and your light, Alharaza," calls Fahim as he finishes preparing his bomb. He then lets it loose, the hopes of the group rising and falling with this toss.
to hit the center zombie's touch AC.
with 1 falling short and 2 through 8 rotating around the target clockwise.
and 5 splash damage to anyone in the adjacent squares. Ref DC 15 to save for half of splash damage.
Alharaza, get behind me! I use my last bomb when they get closer."
The bomb sales over the zombie's head, and hits the water behind them. It goes off with a convulsive boom, sending up a geyser of water and burning oil which washes over the rear zombie. Patches of oil stick to its rotting flesh, continuing to burn, but the undead monster seems oblivious to the damage.
After Mexus and Fahim go, Alahazra glances back at the party, her eyes narrow in panic, and then with a cry she begins forging a path through the water toward the left, swimming with her arms as she strides deeper into the dark.
Two of the zombies groan, their heads following her path as she disappears into the cavern, torch held high, moving barely fifteen feet a round. They turn to her, and begin slowly giving chase.
The zombie from the rear, however, continues to approach the steps, flames dying down on its body.
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Fahim wades into the water to close the gap, getting within twenty feet of the zombies, and then hurls his last bomb, crossing his fingers as he does so.
to hit the center zombie’s touch AC.
with 1 falling short and 2 through 8 rotating around the target clockwise.
and 5 splash damage to anyone in the adjacent squares. Ref DC 15 to save for half of splash damage.
Fahim then gets this throwing knives ready to deal with the one zombie not giving chase to Alharaza, assuming it survives the splash damage from the bomb in its already singed state.
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Mexus concentrates for a moment and mutters a now familiar incantation, as he again links a small portal between the watery chamber before them and a pressurized vat of concentrated acid somewhere in the sewer system under the capitol of Hell. As the indigo trans-dimensional aperture springs into existence in the air above one of the zombies tailing Alahazra, the expected concentrated jet of brimstone-scented vitriol begins to spray the undead hoard. As they slowly continue towards the quarry, Mexus continues to unleash his volley of acid.
Acid Dart 1
Acid Dart 2
Acid Dart 3
Acid Dart 4
Fahim's bomb collides with the lead zombie just before Alahazra takes off, a perfect shot that sends fiery liquid cascading over the other two. The lead zombie stumbles, and now horrifically wreathed in flames, continues to approach, barely able to stand.
One of the zombies chasing Alahazra groans as it succumbs to the successive blasts of acid. Its steps founder, its melted body trips, and then with a splash it collapses into the dark waters. Mexus turns his last dart upon the second, whose body has already been nearly destroyed by Fahim's body, and with one carefully placed shot drops it as well into the waters.
The sole remaining zombie finally reaches the steps. Alahazra starts making her way back, and Fahim and Mexus have one action at the top of the round before it attacks.
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Mexus steps back, trying to create as much distance as he can between the shambling dead flesh and himself. As he does, his tail pulls a dagger from its sheath on his belt and places it perfectly in his upturned right palm, cocked over his shoulder and ready to throw. For a second he takes aim at the creature, trying not to think about what it is, or what it’s trying to do, but merely seeing it at a target to be hit. And then he throws, hoping that his aim is true …
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"I don't have anything left to throw at it but my knives, and they don't seem to be doing much good. Anyone have any tricks left up their sleeve? I need to get Honus out of this pit before things get too hairy."
Fahim goes over to Honus to help him out of the pit, and away from the shambling zombie.
Mexus' dagger thunks into the zombie's frame, but does nothing to arrest its forward momentum. Fahim begins to desperately try to lift Honus, looking up at the steep climb he'll have to effect in order to escape, and just as everything's looking pretty darn grim Alahazra comes swimming silently up behind the zombie and reaches out with a fiery hand:
The zombie lets out one final groan, and collapses to the ground, immobile.
Alahazra climbs up onto the steps, exhausted, her clothing soaked, her eyes wide, and sits down with her back to the wall, just staring at the zombie and shivering. "That. Was too close."
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Mexus nods in agreement, ”Too close indeed, Madame Seer,” as his tail curls around the hilt of his throwing dagger and pulls it from the dead … corpse. ”I will keep an eye out for anything else coming from down here. Perhaps Sir Al-Khabyyr would be kind enough to keep watch on the clearing above, and then Madame Alahazra can best care here for Sir Gisborne … hopefully in peace.” Mexus then peers into the darkness, awaiting any signs of movement that might be another attack. As an afterthought, he adds to Alahazra, ”Let me know if you need more light to work down here … I can create it at will.”
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Fahim listens to Mexus' request, but instead of doing as he is asked, he slumps down on the ground at Honus' feet, exhausted from both exertion and excitement, taking the place the warrior once occupied on the ground.
"We need to rest. I can create another mutagen in about an hour, give or take a few minutes, but I won't be able to make anymore bombs until tomorrow morning. I have one extract essence left, which I can use in a number of ways. That, plus a few knives, are all I have left."
Fahim looks at the combat weary group.
"Brave Honus is nearly dead. Mexus doesn't look like he could open a portal bigger than the head of a pin. And you, Alharaza, don't have any healing left. We are at the end of our reserves until tomorrow."
Fahim then gazes into the endless dark of the cavern, jaw setting as he stares it down.
"But on the other hand we have men who may very well only have hours left to live, assuming they are alive at all." Fahim sighs as he leans back and rests his head on the wall. "So we must balance our lives against theirs. Do we wait, ensuring our safety and possibly costing them theirs? Or rush ahead, risking not only our lives and theirs, but the town's very livelihood as well?"
Fahim grunts as he lifts himself up to kneel in front of a large, flat piece of rumble that lays at the bottom of the cave in.
"I honestly don't have the answer. I'm not sure I can make that choice for anyone but myself. However, I do know that I can make a mutagen, and that we may need it, whatever we decide to do. So I will take the coward's way out and make the easy choice. I will choose not to choose. I will be here with my bottles, making my potion. Let me know what we've decided."
With those somber, defeated words, Fahim sets to preparing his dexterity mutagen over the next hour.
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"That. Was too close."
"Hrrrn. What... was close? Did we fall into the cave?"
Honus feebly grips onto Fahim's shoulder and shakily gains his feet. Looking around at the shapes in the darkness, his pupils grow large but his eyes roll about, unable to focus on anything at all. He begins to lose balance and slumps to one side against the crumbled rock and debris from above, passing out once again.
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Mexus flashes what appears to be a genuine smile as he sees Honus stir, which quickly leaves as Honus begins to sway. ”Take it easy, Sir Gisborne. You have suffered significant injury. You need to rest now.” Mexus turns to address the other two. ”I believe that you are right, Sir Al-Khabyyr. We cannot hope to survive under the status quo. We need to rest and restock. Unfortunately, I doubt that we can make it back to the besieged town, nor are we particularly safe here. We need to find some modicum of safe haven, set up a watch schedule, and rest until we believe we have enough resources to move forward.”
Alahazra wipes her hair from her brow, gathering her strength. "I can tend to Honus and see if I can speed his recovery. I know that time is of the essence. But as a group we are near death. If we can but rest, I will regain my healing spells."
Concern flits across her face. "But I hope our delay won't prove too costly to Beecher and Railford. Perhaps we could press forward a little more and see if we can determine what happened here?" Alahazra looks deeper into the caves.
She sighs. "Let me tend to Honus, and then as a group we can decide whether to press on."
Working on Honus for an hour, she manages to help him regain 1 hp.
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Mexus shrugs, "The fact of the matter is that Beecher and Railford should not figure into our calculation at present. We simply do not have enough information regarding their situation to adequately gauge the potential reward for pressing on. And at present, we do know that if we continue forward without rest, we will likely die. We cannot help them at all if we are dead. So, there is no point in placing greater importance on their unknown condition than on our survival."
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After an hour or so of Alahazra nursing his wounds, Honus is awake and lucid, and the group recants the events following their initial breakthrough into the caves. He sours his face and stares at his bandages.
"Thank you, all, for keeping me safe. I am so sorry to have been this clumsy and put you into such immediate danger. I was impatient after having spent so much time digging away at mostly gravel, and when I moved that one last rock... I mean, I should have known better... The other large stones that were removed caused the ground to shift, so I really should have known it would eventually all break loose. And when we saw that arm, and how it was clawing at everything, I lost track of what we were doing and how dangerous it was to stand so close! Had I not fallen down here, we wouldn't be in this predicament. This really is my fault, and I cannot apologize enough. I'm ashamed that you had to risk your safety for me when one of the primary reasons I'm here is to protect the group of you, not the other way around. Thank you, again."
Honus cringes and clutches at his chest and then at one of the bandages on his arm. He sways a bit to one side, and then back to the other, but manages to stay seated where Alahazra positioned him.
"So now we need to decide what to do? Well, it doesn't appear that I will be much of a protector without significant rest. I know we are trying to rush to save Becher, but Mexus is correct in saying that we don't know his condition. We should hurry, but need to be wise about it. What good can we be to Becher or Railford if one these creatures bites or scratches us and infects us with their foul disease? No. Without healing, without bombs, without a strong sword arm, we are ill prepared to continue on."
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Mexus listens to Honus’s monologue, and responds soberly, ”There’s no point in blaming yourself. We were all trying to dig our way into this pit; it could have been any one of us that fell in the collapse. I’m just relieved that you didn’t die in the fall.” Mexus takes in the details of their location as he continues in a matter-of-fact tone, ”We can’t stay here, with an opening above and no cover from the arrows of the accursed blockade soldiers. The pool at the mouth of the cave seems to give us some protection from the shambling dead, or whatever else may be down here with us …” Mexus looks about for something, anything really, that might get the party out of line of site from the opening of the cave in, but still give them a view over the boggy pool, but keep them relatively dry as well.
"While I was leading the zombies away, I saw a dry alcove off to the left," says Alahazra. "Come. It's as good a place to rest as any."
So saying, she leads the group into water, and following the rough wall to the left, wades about fifty feet through ever shallower water until she steps up onto a dry alcove. A number of barrels bob in the water, and several stand on the dry stretch of rock that curls about the inside of the wall. Shoving the barrels into the water, there's enough room for the four of them to lay out and rest.
Eight hours pass as they sleep and rest, the only sound to be heard that of the ever constant dripping from the cavern's ceiling. Finally, when the group is recovered, Alahazra finishes her prayers and turns to the party.
"Who is in need of healing?"