The City of Kaer Maga sits in the heart of Varisia, a vast stone hexagon of unknown origin perched high atop the cliffs of the Storval Rise. This cyclopean structure has existed for greater than 10,000 years and today it is a city of wonder, of intrigues and of mysteries.
Carved on the cliff face below the city are numerous representations of gigantic bodies and faces, though who these titanic carvings actually represent is a matter of some conjecture - the vanished runelords of ancient Thassilon, forgotten kings, dead gods, or someone else. Some of these massive sculptures lead into the Undercity, a dizzying network of caverns, tunnels and chambers, both natural and man-made, that riddle the cliffs beneath Kaer Maga.
One of the most famous entrances to the Undercity lies in the mouth of one of the giant faces known as the Unnamed King, and opens onto a series of ancient catacombs where the honoured dead of Kaer Maga are interred. From their cathedral in the Bottoms district of the city above, the clergy of Pharasma oversee the Godsmouth Ossuary, the most prestigious place in Kaer Maga to be buried - and the Pharasmins charge a hefty price for the honour.
For generations, Kaer Maga’s wealthy and powerful have been laid to rest in the Godsmouth Ossuary, thus far, their repose seems to be peaceful. Furthermore there seems to be no limit to the number of bodies that can be stored there – the Ossuary has existed for thousands of years, before the founding of the current city, and has yet to run out of room.
The Cathedral of Pharasma is a place of worship that truly never sleeps…for death itself does not sleep. Yet whilst the acolytes and lower clergy of the Church work tirelessly through the long night, it is unusual for the higher priestesses to be awake at a later hour. Tonight, in a small side chapel dedicated to a long dead saint, the severity of a certain situation mandates that the higher clergy meet in secret.
“Sister Nerissia, it is a late hour, pray tell us why you would have us here, in this somewhat cold crypt, rather than resting for tomorrow’s ceremonies”
Standing and turning to greet the two robed priestesses who have quietly entered the chapel, the waiting priestess smiles a thin smile and gestures at a nearby table, “Sister Thorn, Sister Rashael, thank you for coming…please take a seat”. Pouring a small goblet of wine for each of them, “I will get straight to the point…this concerns the matter of the missing bodies in the Ossuary…”
Sister Nerissia pauses, looking for a reaction from her fellow priestesses and when none is forthcoming, she continues, “There are some who say that this matter is no bad thing, that it may indeed be a solution to our overcrowding problem…I say to those people that you have lost your way…that our role is to aid our wards passage into the next life and to safeguard the vessels of their souls”, Sipping from her wine, “There is enough evidence to suggest that the bodies are being taken to the lower levels…for what purposes I could not say although I have my fears…as should you, my Sisters”.
The taller of the two other priestesses ventures a question, “What would you have us do Sister Nerissia? We do not enter the lower crypts and would, I fear, be poorly prepared for anything that may be down there…I have read accounts of attempts to chart the lower levels”, she winces, “they have never gone well”.
“Sister Thorn”, Sister Nerissia looks pointedly at her fellow Priestess, “I believe it is time that we relaxed our restrictions on entry into the Ossuary…and believe me, I do not suggest this lightly”.
The third priestess nods in agreement, “It is a sad day when we need to consider this, but I am compelled to agree…But who?”
“This is a matter that I have thought on for the last few weeks and I have, I believe, identified a group that can be trusted…and more importantly if it goes poorly, will not be missed”, reaching into her robes, Sister Nerissia brings forth three wrapped scrolls, “these are the summons to be sent to this group, please see to it that they arrive safely in the appropriate hands”.
“There is nothing more to be said on this matter, please ensure these messages are delivered and, my Sisters?”, Sister Nerissia smiles coldly, “Need I remind you of the implications of the City hearing that we are ‘losing’ their beloved forbearers?”. The two lower priestesses nod in acknowledgment of the severity of the situation and depart the chapel as quietly and as reverentially as when they had entered.
Sporting a completely white coat and unusually pale skin, Graham walks into the temple carefully holding his lucerne in both of his hands with a middle smile on his face. The temple was never a place to request things done by time. It was either day or night, and this struck him as most peculiar. Arriving at the temple was interesting as well, on account of there being no one present to receive him.
This unnerved Graham, but instead of leaving he simply wandered around, staying rather aware of his surroundings. The situation seemed uneasy, and different. His hair raised on his neck, and he was kind of anticipating something but in a delightful manner, couldn't imagine what it was. "If anyone's there, do be kind, and reveal yourself." he asks as he continuously circles the room.
The Bottoms, Kaer Maga - a short while ago...
By the fifth round of drinks, both Aston Sabroque and Abigail Dinesti are more than a little tipsy.
"Wait," Abby asks after a moment, "can you even get drunk? How does that even work?"
The dhampir swirls the frothy liquid around in his cup and grins. "If not, dearest daughter, then I've gotten bloody good at faking it. Now, if you're done questioning the meaning of life... bottoms up."
It might be easy for an observer to mistake the two for friends, comrades, or perhaps a couple, but the truth- known only to the most seasoned regulars of Kaer Maga's pubs and taverns- is that they are father and daughter, despite the fact that the daughter appears to have a few years in age over her sire. She is, after all, a mostly-normal human, while her father is the spawn of a vampire and a human mother, blessed with a considerably extended youth akin to that of the elven-folk.
Deep into their drinks, neither Aston nor Abigail notices when a robed woman approaches their table, her stern demeanor and well-groomed garments an ill fit for this sleazy dive. After a moment of silent hovering over Aston's seat, the woman coughs loudly enough to get the dhampir's attention.
"You happen to be interrupting a family dinner, Miss," Aston grumbles over his shoulder, but when he turns to look, he pales- well, as much as a half-undead can pale, anyway. "Oh, ah... Sister Rashael. Terribly sorry, my dear." He sits up straighter and gives Abigail an apologetic look. "Perhaps we should meet again this time next week," he quietly suggest. Abigail takes one look at the Pharasmin priestess and understands; this is her father's job, after all, even if she does not know the whole truth of his duties. An adventurer herself, she understands well the need for occasional secrecy.
"You're picking up the tab, Dad," Abigail says, jabbing her father in the arm as she rises from her seat. "I'll get the next one. Don't get yourself killed out there, old man." With that, she adjusts the clasp of her hooded cloak and withdraws from the tavern.
Aston Sabroque sighs, then plasters on a smile and looks up at Sister Rashael. "Well, then... how do you do, Sister?" The look on her face tells the story better than words ever could, and Aston is well aware he's made himself troublesome to track down as of late. The priestess shoves a letter into his hands, then stands back to watch him open it up and read it. After doing so, Aston's jaw sets firmly, and he re-folds the letter and sticks it into his coat. "I suppose this means my vacation is over, then?"
- - - -
The Chapel of St. Joan, sometime shortly thereafter...
"If anyone's there, do be kind, and reveal yourself."
"I always hate being the first to arrive," Aston Sabroque says as he enters through the chapel doors, just in time to hear the white-clad man's words. "It always does feel awkward, doesn't it?"
Visually, he strikes quite a contrast to Graham, dressed in a dark duster over similarly drab studded armor. Despite the stark color scheme of his gear, the dhampir has a friendly demeanor and a somewhat debonair quality to his appearance, his long hair well-groomed and chin clean-shaven. A dagger hangs at either hip, above a light mace on the left and a morningstar on the right, and a light crossbow is strapped to his back. While none of his weaponry strikes quite the same strong impression as Graham's lucerne hammer, he is no less bristling with deadly instruments.
"Aston Sabroque," the dhampir says, bowing slightly with a flourish of the arms. "A servant of the Lady of Graves, much as I imagine you are. I also imagine that we have been summoned here for the same purpose- good to see another able body on the case, especially one whose complexion every bit as pasty as my own." He snickers to himself before holding up a hand. "I jest, of course. And who might you be, my sharp-dressed friend?"
The storm said “Go to Kaer Maga the wind speaks there.” And it was right; this is truly lovely. The wind moves here like I’ve never seen; maybe it’s the Storval Rise, maybe it’s the shape of the city, it coud even be the ancient architecture. Whatever it is; it has brought the blessing of Hei Feng .
Taicho, his cloak wrapped tightly about him, his pack high on his shoulder. His nose almost touching the ground one minute, watching as a field mouse pushes against the wind , the next moment his neck stretching out as he watches a piece of paper bend and twist as it tumbles up the narrow street. He had been in Kaer Maga a couple of days following signs of the wind that the storm had told him about.
I wonder what the name of the wind is in Varisian or Shoanti, this is quite a lovely town, I feel almost at home here, much like the Shackles.
Taicho sees a large black feather, probably from a rook or a crow, fly off a rooftop, hop and skip, blows across the street and follow a white clad figure into a large ornate building that appears to be a temple. Taicho scurries across the road and follows the white clad figure and the large black feather in to the doorway before the door closes.
Taicho steps into the room just as the door closes, the feather had stopped there waiting for Taicho as the wind had commanded it. Taicho quickly bent over and snatched up the feather.
you will make a fine addition to my collection
He then turned his attention to the room, in enough time to hear the white clad figure proclaim "If anyone's there, do be kind, and reveal yourself." Taicho repeated the last portion. In almost the same pitch and accent.
and reveal yourself
Tilting his head moving his mouth around as if trying to taste the words; he repeats the quote, this time the pitch was spot on but the accent still off a little.
and reveal yourself
He tilts his head the other way for a moment and repeats the quote a third time, this imitation was perfect.
and reveal yourself
He then bows to the white clad figure and in a deep baritone voice absent of any inflection he says
Thank you for your words
Then looking up he gives a Tengu smile and says in a Shackles caw
I be’s Taicho, wroight? Who moight you's be?
then turning to the well groomed dark clothed man he says in a soft tenor,
a pleasure to meet you also
then in a reasonable imitation of Aston's own voice
"Aston Sabroque,"
then softly, back in the Shackles caw, more to himself, smiling
I's'l needs ta woirks on 'at one's wroight.
Well, Aston thinks as the tengu appears, interesting. Seems we've a linguist of some sort in our party.
"I thought I saw a tengu on my way in," Aston says, and raises a hand in greeting. "Taicho, was it? Well met, sir. Your imitation is fair. Just roll that 'r' in 'Sabroque' a shade more, and it'll be perfect. Pray tell, what manner of skills might you bring to the table on this little... well, whatever it turns out to be? Where is our hostess, anyway? I had not imagined our fair Sister Nerissia to be anything other than punctual. If she keeps us waiting too long, I fear I might have to start searching this Chapel for a bloody snack bar."
Aston immediately regrets his choice of words and tries hard not to imagine the nape of a fair maiden's neck when he says "snack bar." He can hardly help it- it's programmed into him.
two humans... bloody snack bar? A human and a used-to-be-human no that's not right
Taicho bows doffing his straw conical hat and in a deep baritone voice responds
I am Taicho, warpriest of Hei Feng.
his voice changing to a Shackles caw
I's'a born in tha Shackles a hexeater by trade, wroights
then in a really good imitation of Aston's voice
Now a collector of feathers, leaves and paper
he then un-pockets the leaf, crumples invitation and large black feather he had been watching the wind blow around, when he displays the nick-knacks he also displays his large sharp claws, smiling. Pocketing the feather and leaf he holds up the crumpled invitation and asks in the deep baritone
were you gentleman also invited?
The man smiles as the 2 come out of hiding, grinning softly. "How delightful. A diverse pallet of people, how enticing... And an imitator no less." he says as he turns to the 2 of them. "I assure you, my friend, that my paleness is impart to only rarely being outside, let alone outside in my hood. Pharasman's seem more preoccupied guarding their inner crypts and temples, than putting anyone at the front door..." he points out with a shrug. "I can't blame them though. So very few folk are actually interested in the dead. Although, I'm quite excited, even if I don't show it." he says in a soft voice, and barely moving around as he talks, aside from setting his Lucerne straight up.
"Perhaps we should search the chapel?" he asks as he begins to walk down the corridor. "Seems reasonable... yes." he mumbles as he begins to walk.
Taichio, pocketing his invitation, repeats Graham
Seems reasonable...yes
then nodding for Aston to follow, Taohio toddles along after Graham, keeping a keen eye out for anything interesting.
Aston waves his written invitation about in answer to Taicho, then joins them in looking about the Chapel for any sign of their hostess.
"Oh, dear priestess?" Aston calls out. To Taicho and Graham, he adds in a quieter tone: "Normally, I am all for theatrics and making a dramatic entrance, but the letter did indicate that time was of the essence, did it not? If the Sister does not show herself soon, I fear some foul play might have prevented her appearance. Not to sound too alarmist, of course- forgive this poor dhampir his occasional paranoia."
Graham's head turns slowly at the mention of being a Dhampir and slows his walk to eventually be beside Aston as he uses his Lucerne for an oversized walking stick. A Dhampir, then? Ah, so your paleness isn't just due to being a shut-in like me. I've never met one of your kind, but then, it is ironic for one such as you to be in a temple of Pharasma, as well. How curious." he says with raised brow and a soft smile.
not a used to be human but an almost human, three of us, odd number
imitating Graham's
How curious
Taicho looks at the two men to see any difference between the two, paler skin slightly sharper teeth, but they both look like mammals to the uneducated bird, then in the soft tenor voice with a slight Tian Xia accent he says
Not too curious, Pharasma god of deaf correct? shall we proceed?
The Cathedral to Pharasma in Kaer Maga is an imposing gothic structure and dominates the skyline in the Bottoms District. It looms over a large square where, during the day, residents of the city set up impromptu markets selling supposedly divine trinkets to bereaved families. The Pharasmin Church ignores this trade so long as marketeers remain respectful to the worshippers, the clergy and the clientele of the Cathedral; of course, there are also the persistent rumours that the Church demands a slice of any profit made within the market.
During the night however, this square is typically bereft of activity for this is not an area of the Botttoms where one would choose to carouse or socialise…anyone approaching the Cathedral could easily be observed by someone looking through any one of the multitude of Cathedral windows overlooking the square. Tonight, such a person is sat quietly at a high arched window, anticipating the arrival of three invited guests to the Cathedral. Sipping at a wine, Sister Nerissia watches and waits…
Aston and Graham were obvious choices and, if I know them well enough, should be waiting at the Chapel already.
Noting the arrival of her third guest…a distracted shamble of exotic armour and clothing scurrying across the square, Sister Nerissia, not for the first time, has a moment of doubt.
Are things truly that perilous that we should allow outsiders into our most sacred places? Desperate times, desperate measures...and to only be able to reach out to three...
Placing her goblet on a table, Sister Nerissia stands, straightens her robes, gathers her thoughts and makes her way from her rooms to the Chapel of Saint Joan.
A side door in the Chapel opens silently and a tall woman dressed in the simple garb of a Pharasmin Priestess enters. She nods curtly at you before standing at the front of the shrine, facing the effigy of an armoured lady who you assume must be Saint Joan. The Priestess holds a rectangular chest, the contents tinkling like glass against glass as she walks.
After a short prayer to the Saint, the Priestess turns towards the assembled group and begins in a low voice that nonetheless carries in the quiet chapel, "Allow me to introduce myself to those who I have not met before, I am Sister Nerissia of the Church of Pharasma. You must be wondering why you have been called here at this late hour and I will not keep you in suspense as to the reasons. For generations, Kaer Maga's wealthy and powerful have been laid to rest in the Godsmouth Ossuary, and thus far, their rest seemed to be peaceful. The ossuary has existed for thousands of years, long before the founding of the city itself. There seems to be no limit to the number of bodies that can be stored here and yet..."
Sister Nerissia looks pained as she continues, "Bodies are missing from the Godsmouth Ossuary. You may or may not know that the ossuary is forbidden to all but the clergy and honored dead; even mourners are restricted to the ossuary's entrance or the cathedral; not even the Duskwardens, who safely lead visitors through the Undercity via the Halflight Path are allowed to enter the sacred vaults. But now...there have been increased reports of undead roaming the Undercity and this has led us to believe that the source of the problem lies in the sealed levels below the main crypts.”
“The vessels of the departed are being stolen from the Ossuary and, I fear, are being subject to Necromancy. This cannot be allowed. It stands to reason that none of the clergy here are above suspicion, so I have assembled a capable group of outside help.”
Looking at each of you, “You are that help…you are known to this Church through prior dealings or through your reputation.”
“There is a sealed door in the Ossuary leading further beneath Kaer Maga, it is my belief that whoever or whatever is stealing the remains has come from there. It will be your job to enter that door and to discover the source of the thefts."
"I will stress one last time, your silence about this matter after tonight is of the utmost importance. If you need incentive, we are offering a generous fee: 500 gold coins to divide amongst yourselves. In addition, any valuables you find therein will be yours to keep, so long as they are not sacred to the church. Should word escape of this matter... well, it won't will it?"
She sets down the chest and begins removing vials of liquid, each stoppered and labeled. She pairs them off, one vial of clear liquid to one vial of blue liquid. "To ensure your success, we are prepared to give each of you a vial of holy water blessed by the goddess and a potion to heal wounds.", she says before pulling out a long chime of silvery metal and hands it to Aston, "Mr Sabroque, I shall entrust you with the chime of opening- this chime may be sounded five times and five times only to open sealed doors in the complex below the Ossuary. Be advised that you should keep one in reserve in order to return to the Cathedral- we will not open the doors again, no matter how insistently it is knocked upon."
She looks at the assembled group, "Are these terms agreeable?"
Your search around the Chapel of St Joan before Sister Nerissia's arrival doesn't reveal anything untoward...
Graham is obviously pleased with the turn of events. "So then we're here to deal with grave robbers, then? I'm flattered that I would be called..." he says placing a hand to his chest before letting his Lucerne rest on the ground. "The terms are very agreeable, Priestess. Though a question does come to mind, if you may? Was there anything particular about the people who's bodies have been stolen?" he asks with a twinge of curiosity.
Sister Nerissia sighs, a degree of frustration at the mystery that has confronted her these last months, "The only common feature is that they were dead Graham...we have lost those who were freshly interred and those who we have watched over for up to a century...we have lost the rich...we have lost paupers whose internment has been paid for by the city...the lack of any common thread, forces me to think that necromancy may be at work here..."
"A pity. A vendetta of sorts would have made tracking them down all the easier. If such is the case, my lady, then it seems we are heading deep into the Ossuary to purge ourselves of this heathen, then? This is most reasonable a request." he says as he places the holy water vial with his other one. "Is there anyone of particular academic note that may wish ire upon the church?" he asks.
Accepting the two vials offered nodding in thanks; Taicho listens carefully, when the discussion permits he inquires, quoting Sister Herissia in a perfect imitation, except an octave higher, sounding like a man doing a woman's voice in falsetto.
any valuables you find therein will be yours to keep
Stopping speaking he tilts his head, clears his throat and repeats himself, this time at the right octave, imitating perfectly.
any valuables you find therein will be yours to keep
then adding in the Shackles caw
True?
Prior to Sister Nerissia's arrival...
Aston nods to Graham, smiling slightly. "Yes, the irony of a vampire's spawn being brought up by a priest of Pharasma is not lost on me. I was shown a great mercy. Curious, indeed, but a curiosity I am forever thankful for."
- - - -
And upon Sister Nerissia's arrival...
Aston bows his head politely at the priestess' arrival. "A pleasure, Sister," he says. "And thank you for the vials, though I fear this healing potion will do me more harm than good, considering my... unusual state of being. Regardless, I shall keep it at hand, in the event that one of my comrades should require such aid."
Aston is pleasantly surprised by Graham's train of thought. No simple fighting man, that one.
"Grave robbery... how disgusting. I am sure this will not surprise you, Sister, but I find your terms very agreeable indeed." He almost says aloud that he would have done this service for the Church for free, but on second thought, that 500 GP could go a long way- not just for him, but for Abby. "Should it indeed prove to be some miscreant with a grudge against your temple committing these heresies, shall we aim to capture, or kill?" Either option sounds fine to Aston- normally, he would prefer to keep the villain alive for interrogation and then leave him or her in the hands of the proper authorities, but this was an offense against Pharasma, disturbing the dead in such a way.
"Given the circumstances, I do believe we keep what we find, and kill anything that's within, wouldn't you say?" he asks simply. "Then again anything behind that seal is either dead or hostile at this point, anyway." he says with a shrug. "It won't be the first time I've bludgeoned a trespasser to death." he says with a hardy chuckle. With a lengthy sigh after that, he lifts and stamps his Lucerne quick. "Frankly speaking I leave the judging part to Pharasma herself."
Taicho listens carefully to Aston and Graham as they respond and explain, smiling he nods and croaks in Tian Xia
death is just the beginning
then in his shackles caw he says with a smile
Well's blokes Where's da we's start, wroight?
Her message delivered, Sister Nerissia smiles at the assembled group. The smile, whilst not cold, makes it clear that the Priestess has uncertainty in her mind...
Were this Magnimar or elsewhere, I would only call on the faithful of Pharasma...but this is Kaer Maga...I will have to work with the tools we have...
Responding to Taicho's echoing words, "Yours to keep indeed...unless it is of Pharasmin origin...any relics of our faith should be returned to us"
After agreeing that death and Pharasma shall be the final arbiter in this instance, Sister Nerissia continues, "It has been forbidden for many centuries for even the clergy to enter the lower crypts...if there ever were maps, they have long since passed from record. This much I can tell you from what we were able to deduce from the last unfortunate grave robber whom we discovered escaping from the lower crypts...there are many levels below the hallowed places where we inter the vessels of the departed...not all are inhabited but those which are, are not friendly places, the man told us stories of undead, of demons and worse. I wish I could be more specific but the poor fellow was not lucid for long before his wounds overcame him"
"I am prepared to escort you to the entrance to the Ossuary now however if you need time to prepare, I am willing to wait for no more than one day..." the cold, business like manner has certainly returned to Sister Nerissia's demeanour.
Graham smiles again, nodding towards the tengu. "I would very much like to go to the entrance, as I'm completely prepared as we are. I've no funds to spare for more commodities, though I must ask, Sister Nerissia, on behalf of our Dhampir friend; Would you care to exchange the curative potion with that of a harming one, for his sake?" he asks, giving the man a somewhat rivalistic look.
"He'll likely be on the front lines with me, and, if that happens, he would do well to be capable of being healed properly, yes? I imagine such a simple exchange could be done in a matter of a day, but this is trade, and not selling. It would be a grand convenience for us." he says with a gesture towards himself.
"Though worst comes to worse, he'll end up another body in the ossuary, and our mission would be jeapordized." he says with a soft smile, which apparently doesn't break for anything.
"The undead I can contend with," Aston says confidently. "I have been trained to face such foes. Demons, however, could be a wee bit above my pay grade at present, so let us hope we do not bump into anything quite like that down there."
He is almost touched by Graham's concern. Almost. Indeed, this is a complication he has to consider every time he goes into the field. "I'm more of a ranged fighter, to tell you the truth, though I'd like to think I can hold my own when I must. I'll try not to get between that hammer of yours and our enemies, if I can help it."
such apposing forces, white black, living unliving, Pharasma Hei Feng, hammer and ranged; the lord of storms will be pleased
Taicho carfully approaches Sister Nerissia and picks a loose hair from her clothing, waving it so she sees he has it he puts it in his pocket and says in a simple baritone voice
next storm I will pray for you. I am ready to enter the crypt
He then turns to his companions and then toward the sister,saying in his shackles caw
Three's a bloody odd number; Hammer, crossbow, claws its a soddin' trifecta, wroight, shall we's be goin'?
Realising her oversight, Sister Nerissia almost blushes...but that would be an untoward display of emotion for a high ranking priestess of Pharasma..."I apologise Aston - we do have such supplies but, as you might imagine, we keep them very secure. I shall return in thirty minutes with something more aligned with your...condition". True to her word, she takes slightly less than the allotted hour and exchanges out the vial for a stoneware tube, "Don't mix them up..."
Once she is satisfied that you are ready..."This way please", Sister Nerissia directs, leading you out of a rear chapel within the cathedral to the edge of the great chasm overlooking the lands of Varisia below. From the high position on the Storval Rise, you can see the twinkling lights of farming settlements and villages many miles south of Kaer Maga. "Watch your step" she cautions as she leads you down the narrow, twisting cliffside path that passes directly into the mouth of the massive carved face known as the Unnamed King.
As she leads you down the path, Sister Nerissia turns and talks in a low voice to the Dhampir.
The priestess continues, “A number of years ago one of our priests, a Chelish man who went by the name of Svilennius Tripe somehow found ancient tomes from an ancient heretical sect of Pharasma known as the Chymists of Life in Death. These tomes dealt with the creation of undead through alchemical rather than magical means; providing the sect a supposed loophole around Pharasma's prohibition against the creation and use of undead creatures."
"When his superiors discovered one of the banned books in his quarters, Svilennius was brought before an ecclesiastical tribunal. There he presented his newfound heretical views; that the church could use the undead to support its works, increasing its manpower and solving the problems of space within the ossuary at the same time. Needless to say, Svilennius' ideas fell on deaf ears. The shocked church elders stripped Svilennius of his ecclesiastical rank and excommunicated him, branding him a heretic."
“Svilennius disappeared from view and we thought him long dead…yet some of the undead that have been reported within the Undercity are, from the accounts we have received, different to those who have been raised by magical necromancy. If this is true, there is a chance that Svilennius yet lives and has managed to use his heretical knowledge to raise the dead.”
“If indeed you do find Svilennius somewhere within the ossuary he must be stopped and, Aston, I must insist any evidence linking him to our Church must be destroyed”
Her piece said, Sister Nerissia is silent awaiting affirmation from the churches strange ally.
As you enter the ossuary proper, you see that it is well lit with everburning torches, richly decorated, and amazingly clean. Several Pharasmin priests, robed and hooded, silently tend to the deceased. Sister Nerissia leads you through luxuriously appointed catacombs packed with bodies wrapped in the finest linens and reverently placed in countless stone niches lining the walls. You descend several stairways before coming to an area that obviously sees little use – most of the burial niches are empty and dusty, the air is musty and close, and silence reigns supreme.
In this unused portion of the crypts, Sister Nerissia stops before a wooden door, bound with steel bands. "This is the only known entrance to the sealed lower portions of the ossuary, once you enter, the door will be locked behind you. Do not be mistaken, you MUST save one use of the chime of opening to get back through this door when you are ready to leave." she points at the door as she says this. "The priests will not open the door for you. They have no way of seeing through the locked door to recognize you or determine whether something...else is trying to get through. If you lose the chime or use up its magic, you must find your own way out of the ossuary."
Sister Nerissia then goes to each one of you and touches you lightly on the left side of your face as she whispers, "The Lady of Graves bless and keep you safe." She then draws a large iron key from beneath her robes and inserts it into the door. She turns the key and the lock clicks loudly in the silence.
The door grinds open despite long years of disuse. Within, a stone spiral staircase descends into the earth...
"Ah, yes," Aston says, turning the tube over in his hands. "This will do quite nicely. Thank you, Sister. I once made that mistake myself- not a good day, that."
Upon arriving at the door, Aston sighs and looks at his two comrades. Graham seems an honest enough fellow- perhaps a bit intimidating, but a good man to have on his side in a fight. Taicho, the tengu, remains a mystery- though a wild card like that could prove useful as well. He knows little of the strange foreign god the tengu worships, and understands little of his curious speech patterns, but he finds himself feeling an odd attachment to this new fine-feathered friend.
Still, as the door inexorably draws open, revealing the staircase beyond, he can't help but feel a mite underprepared for what is to come.
too much order, no wonder death is near, the ultimate order is death, give me life and chaos any day
as they head toward the assignment Taicho looks around finally running ahead of the party and bending over picking up what looks to be a mouse skeleton in a nook off of the hall, Taicho giggles a little and puts it in his pocket with the hair from the priestess.
A mouse, he certainly did not belong here, so there is randomness here, allas the order killed him also, we shall give him a decent sending away during the next storm,
AS they approach the doors to the stairwell Taicho allows the priestess of order touch him and watches the wooden and steel door open, as the door opens causing a slight breaze and the dust to rise from the stairway Taicho claps and giggles and whispers in his soft tenor
the wind, even in deaths house he still moves when we invite him too
Taicho follows the not-man down the stairway keeping a keen eye out
As the door grinds slowly closed, your eyes adjust to the darkness within the small room that you find yourselves in....the light from Graham’s lantern illuminate the featureless walls... The first thing you notice is how dusty the floor and other flat surfaces are - that, and the profusion of cobwebs around the corners of the room suggest that you are the first travellers in this room for a VERY long time. Just to the left of the spiral staircase leading downwards, a wooden crate lies beneath a dusty tarpaulin.
Moments after the door clicks into a closed position, the glowing sigil of Pharasma appears on the hinges and handles of the door. For a brief moment, there is complete silence, punctuated only by the sound of your breathing.
It appears that there is but one exit from this room (other than the door through which you have just passed), down a narrow stone spiral staircase...
cobwebs, dust, I'm liking this place better already
as the door closes behind them and silence reigns supreme, Taicho reaches up and cast light on his straw hat, he stops for a moment and giggles, breaking the crypt-like silence, pointing at the cobwebs;in a flat baritone voice he says
so many shapes and sizes, do you wonder what spiders eat in here.
approaching the crate he removes the tarpaulin and drapes it across himself like a cloak, spinning about, then he begins to fold it up to place in his pack, ignoring the crate for a moment.
The crate beneath the tarpaulin is not marked with anything that would tell you it’s owner or it’s purpose. The lid of the crate has been nailed down although, over time, one of the corners has bowed slightly upwards…the nail long since decayed to a smear of rust.
The air in the room is stale…with dust forming small clouds where Taicho spun the ‘cloak’ around…and everything is so very quiet.
Following the group silently for a while and watching them with a vacant look on his face, Graham finally smiles as the doors open. "How delightfully ominous, priestess..." he says in a low tone. When presented with darkness, he points his Lucerne quickly between Taicho and the door, the full distance of the weapon presented with very little strain in the man's arms. "Friend, would you do me the favor of perhaps placing a glow upon my Lucerne?" he asks simply.
"As for our procedure, I can't see in the dark, but I wouldn't mind the the front if someone would atleast scout ahead for me." he says simply.
"I can most certainly do that," Aston offers to Graham, still smiling in amusement at Taicho's choice of new cloak. What a delightfully strange creature this tengu was proving to be. "So long as you do not mind my peering over your shoulder, I can at least alert you to any strangeness your own eyes fail to detect. Might I suggest Taicho bring up the rear, in case anything should attempt to ambush us from behind? I would appreciate if such a cowardly attack should fall upon those impressive talons of yours, my good bird."
Aston eyes the crate. "Any interest in opening this most conspicuous container, friends? I've a crowbar to aid in the process, should we choose to do so. Personally, I doubt there to be much of worth inside, but... as we are clearly the first to step into this room in quite some time, there's no telling what could be in there. Perhaps a brief peek inside might be in order?"
That would be fantastic." he says with a smile as he turns around to look at the man.
When he hears the concern about the crate, he stands beside it. "Ah, yes, well... there are solutions for that." he says as he stands a distance away, and raises his Lucerne completely over ahead at maximum possible distance with which to strike. "By all means, open it." he asks.
Peering into the crate through the upturned corner, it looks like something is packed up using old walnuts - a common method of filling up containers to keep the contents from shifting around in transit.
Walnuts. I do hope that doesn't mean rats snacking upon them... I do hate rats.
Aston takes a moment to withdraw the crowbar from his pack. Then, thinking a moment, he stands back as far as he can and raps upon the side of the crate with the crowbar, just to see if anything stirs.
For a few moments, nothing happens, then the walnuts begin to stir...
...and an arm reaches up out of the walnuts. A wooden hand stretches straight up. The fingers move, one joint at a time, from thumb to ring finger (it seems to only have four fingers, with no pinky, so no drinking tea in polite society). Then the entire hand flexes, first normally, then the entire hand reversing which is palm and which is back of the hand.
Next the hand rotates, first left until the thumb has gone around twice, then right, again twice. Then the forearm moves, up and down on it's elbow. Then the elbow rotates the forearm, 360 degrees. The arm then lowers.
The other arm then repeats the entire process.
Then a golem sits up, walnuts dribbling off it. The head tilts this way and that way, checking each range of motion. Then it rotates completely around, first to the right, then to the left.
The two hands grasp the edges of the crate, and the golem's body lifts into the air, rotating at the shoulders until the feet and legs are held up in the air. Each foot tilts up and down, back and forth, this time in tandem, before rotating twice in each direction. Then the knees go through the same test the elbows went through. Finally, the hips rotate and tilt, until the entire lower set of legs rotate around twice swiveling at the hip.
Then the golem pushes itself up and backflips onto the ground.
The golem rotates it's head around, taking in the entire area, it's glowing blue eyes fixate on Sykes, and his upheld and ready weapon.
It's left hand begins to click as it folds up and out, revealing a hole in the end of it's arm. A morningstar extends out of the opening, and is swung experimentally. Then the hand on the other arm cliks and folds back in multiple little clicking noises. Both hands end up forming a cowl over the forearm. Within the right arm, arcane energy wells up, and the arm points toward Sykes, crackling with arcane energy, a faint humming sound emits from the arm.
"TIK'KLIK" The noise comes from the golem's head and it stands there, it's stance somehow more aggressive than a second ago.
Seeing the strange thing happen, and watching the construct perform a feat of dexterity, Graham holds his attack off for a moment, if only because of the sheer unlikelihood that such a thing would occur. "You know. Of all of the things that I could expect to see in that box that would have made sense, this wasn't one of them!" he says as he puts his lucerne down behind him, holding it for extensive swings if they're needed. "Taicho! You enjoy strange things. What on earth is this?" he asks aloud.
"Tik'Klik." The golem's head nods, and the hum dies down, although it doesn't go away completely. The arm that crackles with arcane energy lowers as the lucern hammer moves out of attack position.
The morningstar retracts into it's arm, and the hand components unfold from around the arm, and the hand clicks and clacks back into place.
Keeping an eye on Sykes, as he still has the weapon at ready, the golem walks around the crate it crawled out of. It does so by twisting it's legs right until it's walking sideways while facing Sykes. Then the legs twist until it's walking backwards, then twist again to walk left. When it has the crate between it and the others, it reaches it's good hand into the walnuts and feels around. It pulls out a small bit of paper, then tosses it on the floor.
Then it pulls a pouch out of the walnuts, looks at it, and it's chest opens up like a drawer, and the pouch is dropped into the body. Then a small folded leather object is retrieved, and dropped into it's chest. It continues to reach into the walnuts and pull out items which, one after another, are dropped into it's apparently mostly hollow torso.
I doubt severely that this little thing is our body thief, Aston thinks, but it does seem remarkably well-armed...
"Apologies for the poor first impression," Aston says, nodding his head respectfully to the tiny golem as he watches it move. "Always best to err on the side of caution, of course. Can you speak, or is it just 'Tik'Klik' for you, then?" He keeps his manner as friendly as he can, and shows his hands in the hope that the creature will not be frightened into attacking.
Without making any overtly aggressive movements, Aston makes his way toward the slip of paper on the floor and moves to retrieve it. He glances over at Taicho, agreeing with Graham's assessment that if anyone would know what this creature is, it would be the curious tengu.
It doesn't seem too aggressive. Perhaps we might make an ally of this thing. Rather that than an enemy, at any rate. He examines the golem closely, looking for any sign that necromancy might have been involved in its creation.
Written in a well printed, but very age faded script that is archaic in it's wording.
From : Reville Golem Werks
To : Her Majesty, Queen Monif, Monarch of Taldane
Date : 8th of Rova, 3843
Greetings, and thank you for your purchase from RGW. Inside is a newly crafted Wood Golem. The Golem has a magically charged Amethyst crystal in it's chest. This Amethyst was created from the same raw crystal as the Amythest Amulet given to you when you ordered the golem. This will allow you to issue commands to the golem, and the golem will follow the orders of the person wearing this amulet. It cannot speak, but it understands Common, Dwarven, Draconic, Elven, and Orc. The amulet wearer can order it to obey orders of others, although if there is a conflict, the person who wears the amulet it is always obeyed first. If it is not given orders, it will remain still until given orders.
Your golem is immune to cold, although it can be frozen solid in ice, if it's left alone in one spot too long. If this happens, simply melt the ice without burning the golem, and it should resume working. It is not very smart, but it can stand watch, and has minimal weaponry for defense. Additionally, this particular model has been modified for repairing clockworks, and has a small toolset. Should you wish to provide it better tools, it is capable of incorporating them into itself. If it ever is damaged beyond repair, any tools or other incorporated items can be removed by prying open the access panels.
Please enjoy your golem, and please give the small gift we included with it, a fully kitted spell component pouch with our logo embroidered on it, to your lovely maidservant, for her use in her training.
The golem finishes unloading the crate, and holds up it's hand. The fingers split, and small tools and prys and pliars slide out, whirl around, and then retract in again.
Looking at Aston, the golem's eyes whirl slightly. "Tik'Klik. Klik Kik Tik'Klik!"
"Seems he's not hostile..." he says as he slightly relaxes himself. "Then again, I've no idea what to think of this matter, really." he points out. "What does the paper say?" he asks, quizzically.
Aston clears his throat and reads aloud:
"From : Reville Golem Werks
To : Her Majesty, Queen Monif, Monarch of Taldane
Date : 8th of Rova, 3843
Greetings, and thank you for your purchase from RGW. Inside is a newly crafted Wood Golem. The Golem has a magically charged Amethyst crystal in it's chest. This Amethyst was created from the same raw crystal as the Amythest Amulet given to you when you ordered the golem. This will allow you to issue commands to the golem, and the golem will follow the orders of the person wearing this amulet. It cannot speak, but it understands Common, Dwarven, Draconic, Elven, and Orc. The amulet wearer can order it to obey orders of others, although if there is a conflict, the person who wears the amulet it is always obeyed first. If it is not given orders, it will remain still until given orders.
Your golem is immune to cold, although it can be frozen solid in ice, if it's left alone in one spot too long. If this happens, simply melt the ice without burning the golem, and it should resume working. It is not very smart, but it can stand watch, and has minimal weaponry for defense. Additionally, this particular model has been modified for repairing clockworks, and has a small toolset. Should you wish to provide it better tools, it is capable of incorporating them into itself. If it ever is damaged beyond repair, any tools or other incorporated items can be removed by prying open the access panels.
Please enjoy your golem, and please give the small gift we included with it, a fully kitted spell component pouch with our logo embroidered on it, to your lovely maidservant, for her use in her training."
He refolds the paper. "Does not appear that the good Queen ever did receive her gift. Most unfortunate, that." He offers the paper to the golem. "Well, that is most unfortunate. It seems that you are in our care until such time as you can be returned to your... owner?" Aston frowns, realizing that such a prospect is unlikely at this juncture.
"Well, er, 'Tik'Klik,'" he says with a sigh. "What to do with you in the meantime? We've a mission of utmost importance, and a potentially dangerous tomb to explore, and must not dally. However, I do hate the thought of leaving you here with naught but your walnuts."
"If it's merely a wayward construct, we could always use it to check the rooms ahead, you know." he says matter'o'factly. "Better than one of us taking a hit like that, right?" he says with little regard for the construct's safety.