"You know." Talar says after Tairin gives a history and religious lore lesson. "I would have been fine with just beating up some pickpockets and returning a gem. I know this is only the second thing we've really done together, but do you guys always fight these...unnatural, otherworldly threats?" He coils up the rope, patting Bjeorn on the shoulder with a smile. "Well I'll either die in glory or have some incredible stories when I'm an old man."
Talar nods to Yasala's suggestion. "Yes, let's leave the more dangerous areas for the future. We may decide to rest and recover our strength before venturing deeper, but we can map out other areas for now."
The party, having reached a consensus, elects to journey back through the part of the temple that they had not yet explored.
Avoiding the pit and what other dark encounters may reside within, they move then to the part of the temple which had been sealed by the iron door.
There, having entered that hallway they notice that the lights they use seem to dim considerably. Further, those with eyesight adapted well to the dark find that not even their canny senses can penetrate this mysterious darkness.
Despite these conditions they - nevertheless - press on.
The doorway leads to a hallway that is ten feet wide and as they walk the light seems to grow more and more dim, until they can barely see the ground about their feet, even with the magical light.
After a short period of time they observe that there is a dim, silvery glow ahead of them. They would not have noticed this light, but for the fact that the darkness was so pervasive that any light seems unusually bright.
The chamber suddenly opens in to a wide room.
They can barely make out the dimensions of the room in the strange, silvery light which surrounds them; it seems to be roughly fifty feet wide.
At the far side of the room is a strange thing; it looks like a statue of a man with clothing similar to that worn in ancient Yar-Ammon. The figure has his arms crossed over his breast and his face is stern, yet no malice seems to mark it.
Above the statue is a silver disk, you might assume it is the moon, but it may be coincidence.
If it is indeed a statue you would suspect it is cast from a unique stone, perhaps alabaster, or something similar, as it is far brighter than the rock which the temple is composed of.
You do not know wholly what the stone is, for as you stare at it you determine that the source of the silvery light seems to be emanating from the statue itself.
At the doorway where your party is currently standing you would guess you are roughly fifty feet from the statue itself. To the left and right of the statue are various clay jars with strange writing on them; you are not sure what is written on them from this distance, though.
Upon entering, Yasala starts a clockwise circuit of the room, making sure to not walk too close to the statue until Tairin or Talar inspect it. She carefully eyes the clay jars and the walls looking for any sign of danger or any entrances beyond the one they came through.
Upon entering, Yasala starts a clockwise circuit of the room, making sure to not walk too close to the statue until Tairin or Talar inspect it. She carefully eyes the clay jars and the walls looking for any sign of danger or any entrances beyond the one they came through.
As soon as Yasala enters the room the "statue" at the far side of the room turns and stares at her.
The expression on his face is still stern, yet there is a look on his face that conveys some measure of pleasure; as if he is pleased that someone had approached him.
This figure then speaks to Yasala -
"Greetings, child," he says with a deep and almost paternal voice.
"I have waited in this place, alone, for many years. You are the first to approach me and I shall not forget it," he adds.
His eyes narrow somewhat then.
"Dark forces plague this temple and you shall be tested in ways that may be beyond your power."
"If you move to deal vengeance to them who have profaned this place, I shall aid you."
After his brief speech to Yasala he says nothing else, as if waiting.
Yasala freezes as soon as the figure turns, and stands in awe as it begins to speak to her.
She nervously waits several paces inside the door as the others enter behind her. "Tairin? Talar? There is one here who might be better approached by one other than myself."
She then turns back to the figure again.
"Greetings. Our plan for those that have come before us is yet to be determined, as I am simply a tool working with those who are wiser and more knowledgeable than myself. I can assure you that at the least we have no intent to further profane this place or disrespect your presence. Please forgive me for any trespass, and I am sure that the ones that travel with me will wish to speak with you to share your knowledge."
"I am not interested in those who are wiser or more knowledgeable."
"I am a priest, child; I have enough wisdom and lore to last many lifetimes. Why should I desire to speak to others?"
"As for sharing information? There is little time for such things; danger is coming," he says with a stern tone.
She nervously waits several paces inside the door as the others enter behind her. "Tairin? Talar? There is one here who might be better approached by one other than myself."
She then turns back to the figure again.
As you watch the responses it becomes clear that this is no statue, but a man - or else a statue which seems to have come to life. Yet whatever it is, his flesh seems to continue to glow with the strange, silvery light.
She nervously waits several paces inside the door as the others enter behind her. "Tairin? Talar? There is one here who might be better approached by one other than myself."
She then turns back to the figure again.
"With your permission, may I enter and explore your chamber?"
The man casts a glance around the small room. At your current place by the door you - and all your companions - can easily see all that is in the chamber.
You - and your companions - could easily see what is around you, except what is within the large jars; though you can all see what is writ upon them, though you may not be able to understand them with ease.
"If you wish to linger, that is your choice. But the longer you delay the more dangerous it may be for you."
He frowns, and his benign tone and expression seems to be mellowing.
"I have asked you if you would bring vengeance; will you do so?" he presses.
Yasala looks back at the rest of the group hesitantly. "It seems that he wishes to parley with me now that the conversation has begun, so please let me know if there is anything that you want me to ask."
She then turns back to the priest figure and responds to his question. "We do wish to assist in purging this place of the darkness that is present. What form would your vengeance need to take so that we might help towards that goal?"
Yasala looks back at the rest of the group hesitantly. "It seems that he wishes to parley with me now that the conversation has begun, so please let me know if there is anything that you want me to ask."
She then turns back to the priest figure and responds to his question. "We do wish to assist in purging this place of the darkness that is present. What form would your vengeance need to take so that we might help towards that goal?"
"There is only one form for vengeance," he says somewhat cryptically.
"Yet there is little time to decide... they are coming," he adds with an ominous tone.
Standing ready to fight or flee Bjoern listens to the other talk.
"What do they say?"
"I am Ankhtifi Dedi of The Kingdom and you have many to impart vengeance upon," he says with a frown.
"Those cultist dogs have been at war with the infidel defilers. They bring their bloodshed to this very temple and have slain each other in kind in recent days; either deserve vengeance."
"You have been duped by a thief and a harlot to take the head of a man who you do not know; his death shall lead to yours if you achieve the task. For her deception she, too, deserves vengeance."
"Slavers have taken your kin and ride free as the wind under the sun; vengeance whispers to your blood."
"Demons claim to be faithful to the Old Gods yet are guised in the faces of men; their blasphemy deserves vengeance."
"Men beneath your rank mock and abuse your title and station; their tone alone deserves vengeance."
"Undeath sneers at the living and roams the land unchecked, their existence a mockery of life itself; their affront to life deserves vengeance."
He cocks his head and stares at Yasala. His words were long, and those who can understand him suspect that he was not speaking to Yasala alone.
"There are so many evils that roam the world, child; who among shall be the receptacle for your vengeance?"
"But you must choose quickly - even now they have entered the valley."
As the statue speaks to Yasala, and of not wishing to speak to wiser heads, Patenemheb focuses on trying to ascertain more detail of this priest and on his warning.
And to contain his anger at the demon-led blasphemies the priest speaks of against the Old Gods.
As he does so, he whispers to the others next to him, in a cold tone:
"So, we have indeed been misled. Retribution does indeed weigh heavily, but as the priest says, there are other matters that require attention. Our attention."
"So, we have indeed been misled. Retribution does indeed weigh heavily, but as the priest says, there are other matters that require attention. Our attention."
It is not actually a statue; you assumed it was given that it didn't move and is shining a silvery, bright light.
It is, in fact, a man - or at least, a man that is shining with some sort of inner light. You do not know if this being is a spirit or some kind of supernatural being, but if he is being sincere then the priest is extremely long-lived; easily more than a hundred years.
His accent suggest that he is, indeed, speaking an ancient dialect of your people, so this would seem consistent with the age. Yet if he was indeed that old, how could he survive? There is nothing in the chamber that would allow him to survive; no comforts, nor evidence of food.
The clay jars behind him remind you of the sorts of items used to bury goods for those who have died and live in the afterlife; it is a common belief of your people to store goods and gear in their tombs so that as the spirit of the dead travels to the afterlife so, too, will the "spirits" of their material possessions.
It is also possible that this being may be a spirit; yet if he is, he does not seem to realize it himself. Though, to be fair, he has not said otherwise.
One thing is certain; you believe he is speaking with sincerity about an approaching danger. How soon it will arrive you do not know; but he certainly believes it is coming soon...
Patenemheb stares at the figure, not even trying to hide his fascination and curiosity, and continues whispering to those next to him.
"I am uncertain if he be flesh or spirit. He must be centuries old indeed. Regardless, he spoke of many targets of just vengeance, the need to select a vessel for vengeance from our ranks, and of evil foes who have already reached the valley."
He turns to Yasala.
"We need to decide our course of action, and swiftly, as enemies approach. The wise one approves of you. Should you wish to be a vessel for righteous vengeance, I believe that would be a fine choice."
Feeling a bit lost after deciding to cease working as a smuggler, Yasala has been looking for a purpose. Joining up with the group gave her a reason to act and people to work with, but the offer to take up a mantle and have a defined goal is tempting, even if it is just temporary. Ankhtifi Dedi's words resonate in her, but she is worried that it might cause her to lose her new position as a member of this group if the others do not agree. As soon as Paten voices approval of Dedi's words, she steps forward.
"I will be your vessel. I will bring vengeance to those that deserve it."
In a flash of realisation, Patenemheb understands that the offer is not just for a single figure, but for the group.
"I would gladly accept aid in vengeance against our many foes.", he speaks clearly in Yar-Ammonite.
In Sushranite, he says to the others:
"If ye wish his aid in vengeance, say so, and say so swiftly."
"Slavers have taken your kin and ride free as the wind under the sun; vengeance whispers to your blood."
Talar clenches his fist. "Vengeance is a luxury, one that I am willing to cast aside in pursuit of my goals." He says flatly. He glances at the others. "But certainly not one I will ignore if given." He bows his head to the 'statue'.
"Bjoern, the figure of Ankhtifi Dedi speaks of vengeance, the many evils in this world including traitors, liars, demons, and the undead, and keeps asking whom among us wish to be vessels for vengeance. Myself and Yasala have accepted his offer. What say you?"
Bjoern listens to the words of Paten and shrugs for a moment.
"I do not know. Are you sure to do so? A spirit of vengeance. This might have bad effects."
He has been locked away in here for a long time, gauging by the lock and trap set in place. Why and who would do this?
Tairin who had listened to the exchange in her native tongue between Yasala and the ancient Ankhtifi Dedi and then to the low-voiced discourse among her companions was a little disturbed with the notion of being a hand of Vengeance in a eternal promise to a powerful being. What if we fail to act with vengeance and choose mercy instead if they repent? What of our promise then? The gods or otherworldly beings seldom showed such consideration or empathy; especially vengeful beings. What would become of them if they didn't obey or fulfill the promise made this day, exactly and with extreme measures? That some of her companions agreed with such haste did not sit well with her; yet she knew that time was not on their side as even now allies/riders were approaching the Moon temple to meet with Osan and his captain. Least her fears regarding Sabiha's treachery and deception concerning Osan had been confirmed by this Ankhtifi Dedi. Tairin was not adverse to killing if it was the best and cleanest choice, yet the only one? She was not a sanctified assassin - none of them were; even Yasala did not appear to be one in the very short time they had known her.
"I do not know. Are you sure to do so? A spirit of vengeance. This might have bad effects."
Tairin looked to her bodyguard and she silently applauded Bjoern's prudence in this matter. In Susrhanite, she answered quietly, although she had a sneaking suspicion that Ankhtifi Dedi may understand other tongues apart from his native one.
"This ancient being speaks of only one kind of vengeance and we all understand that to be death. If we stay our hand in a killing blow, show mercy upon a repentant, will our promise be stained and will this being's vengeance then fall upon our heads? I do not like making such promises to powerful beings. We do not understand what this will ultimately mean for us."
Looking to the illuminated Ankhtifi Dedi, she spoke up in Yar-Ammonite, finding certain pleasure in communicating in her native tongue, "Respectfully, as vessels of vengeance, are we not permitted to show any mercy to those who seek forgiveness or wish to change their ways? If we show mercy, will we break our oath to you this day and then find ourselves on the sword edge of your vengeance? I am no trained assassin and I wish to lead my life by my command and in the manner I see fit. I must know what the cost will be if we make this promise to you and fail to succeed your every expectation. Only then can I make a choice for myself and those under my care."
The figure does not look at Tairin, yet he seems to be answering her question in a general way.
"Blessings to those who deliver vengeance are all I offer, and you know many that deserve vengeance..."
His eyes are lit with a sardonic light.
"Shall you be merciful? Chose that path, if you will, but I shall not bless that decision if you make that choice."
"Those who desire blessings for vengeance, give me your weapons and I shall bless them and you."
"Choose swiftly your path; time is short..."
Tairin's ire had risen upon the being's cursory reply and ignoring her presence, yet she was not displeased with the notion of not being punished if she were to show mercy of a kind. Looking to Bjoern, she translated Ankhtifi Dedi's words, "If we wish to exact vengeance we can and shall be rewarded by his blessing. If we do not, instead choosing mercy, we shall not be punished nor will be receive the blessing in that moment. I shall give him my weapon and I urge that you do, also, although if you do not, I shall not be angry with you. The decision is yours and it appears we must make it at once, Choose, Bear, and let this be done with, one way or another." Tairin gave the Northman a small smile of reassurance for they had travelled together from the start and this was each person's choice and she would not demand he do as she would.
Tairin removed the scorpion whip from her belt and politely and dutifully held it out to Ankhtifi Dedi; hoping this choice would not be her undoing.
Yasala grinned as she saw the others begin to give their pledges and their weapons. At least I'm not alone in this. I was worried that I would lose them if they thought me too impulsive.
She hefts her sword and steps forward, taking up her sword horizontally and offering it to the figure.
The man takes the weapons offered to him and, with his finger, traces a thin, crescent shape on the hilt of each weapon.
As you look down you can see a glittering, moon-like symbol shine with a sudden, silver, shimmer before it fades away as if it was never there.
The feeling of your weapon in your hand after you retrieved it is a strange one; it feels different, somehow, though you cannot define what it is that is different about it. Only your hands seem to sense that something about it has changed, even if your eyes cannot see it.
As he returns the final weapon he stands back from you and folds his arms over his chest and his gaze lifts to stare into the darkness.
Even as you notice this, you realize that the silver gleam which seemed to illuminate the room has faded and that, as it does, the light which you carried seems to grow to the normal radiance.
Shaking your head you stare at the wall in front of you; at the statue, the clay jars which flanked it... all of it is now gone.
In the dim glow of your magical light you can only make out a smooth black wall and a pile of dust on the floor. Where the priest stood there is naught but a small, stone pedestal with what looks like the feet of an ancient statue which had faded into the ages over centuries of time.
Shaking your head as one mazed, you doubt your sanity at what you had seen - or thought you saw - and only the fact that all seemed to have had the same vision makes you believe it was something more potent which affected you.
As you glance about you at your companions and then the empty chamber you consider your next option when a sudden whisper slides through your subconscious.
"They are coming..."
As you ponder the meaning - and the origin - of these words, you suddenly hear a sound echoing through the stony passages behind you.
It throbs in your ears and being like a heavy, pounding drum; the noise reverberating through the temple to even this chamber.
Suddenly, the sound is punctuated by something you can understand far easier...
"Help! Help!"
Yasala spins at the whisper, and tenses as she hears the drum. "Nothing has tripped the alarm I put on the entrance. Whatever this is originated inside as opposed to coming from outside the ruin." She begins to stride towards the chamber's entrance to prepare for whatever is coming when she hears the call for help.
"Was that Samir? If so we need to move before we lose an ally!" She hesitates at the entrance and looks back at the others, giving them a second to respond before moving up the stairs.
Bjoern listens to Tairin´s words and nods.
"As you do, so do I!"
Sheathing his long steel blade he draws his old gladius, his best friend from the fighting pits.
"Let there be vengeance!"
Talar raises his brows at the weapon, suspicions not fully abated by his trust in Tairin. I had only just sworn of vengeance and now fully immerse myself in it once more. Do I lie, or just change my colors easily? His thoughts are interrupted by the cry for help. He notches two arrows and turns with a fierce scowl, ready to fight but waiting to follow behind the others.
With Bjoern following her lead, Tairin gave a pleased nod toward him and accepted her blessed weapon from Ankhtifi Dedi; feeling the vibration/resonance through her hands as she held it.
As suddenly as he spoke, the ancient priest was gone and her magical lights returned to their normal sheen. The whispered warning penetrated her senses as did Yasala's words regarding her magical alarm not sounding at the entrance. Something is, or was, already inside this temple, her heated mind concluded! It was in that precise moment that her magical lights winked out of existence; the spell coming to an end. She murmured in urgent Yar-Ammonite, "Nawwar" and gestured with her free hand and four new dancing light orbs began to glow and expand and fill the space of the previous ones.
The cry for help roused her as did Yasala's mention of Samir. She watched the Azimban ranger spring into action. Gesturing for her magical lights to move before them, to the stairs and up, Tairin looked down to see Sabra was alright before following the others toward the sound of the cry; her blessed scorpion whip in hand. "Move as shrewdly as you can for we do not know what enemy awaits us above," she instructed in low Susrahnite.
Seeing the others begin to move, Yasala takes a firm grip on her sword and begins mounting the stairs in the wake of Tairin's orbs of light. She moves as quickly as she can while still trying to remain silent.
In reply to the concerns about mercy, Patenemheb states:
"While there is a place for mercy, we are faced with numerous foes who do not deserve it, or are likely to ask for it in good faith. Not to mention demons, the undead, or other horrors from beyond. My conscience is clear on this matter."
When the cry for help is heard, Patenemheb says:
"May the strange feel of weapon in hand mean an easier battle ahead. For battle is upon us."
He moves towards the scream, falling into position swiftly and with certainty.
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The party hurries up the stairs as quickly and stealthily as they can.
There, peering around the corner holding a torch, is Samir as he stares down at them as they advance.
”Hurry my friends; there is trouble,” he says with a tense voice.
Leading the advancing company forward they see Osan and his remaining men standing nervously by the entrance to the temple.
Samir hands Osan the torch and the man takes it and keeps it away from the entrance, hoping to disguise their presence.
Outside in the dusty valley roughly two-hundred feet from the path leading to the temple a grouping of dark robed figures waits ominously. Some of them hold torches in their hands, another holds a small, hide drum and is pounding a slow, steady rhythm on it. Several of them are holding those members of Osan's guards who had fled the temple earlier after they were overwhelmed by the fear.
You believe you see thirty of them before you and one of them is pointing at the temple, though it is not clear if he can see you or not, and he is speaking with a harsh, angry voice.
”The blood of infidels we offer you, Yadar, our dark master!”
With that he lifts an evil looking khopesh and with a single stroke beheads the first guard who lets out a hideous shriek as the blade falls. The blade takes several strokes to fully sever the neck of the other man, however.
Samir glances at you.
”Clearly they belong to some dark cult of Yadar.”
”Knife work in that cursed temple against such odds…” he shakes his head at the idea, even as the thought of the dark creature in the depths remains recalled yet not spoken of.
”Come, then; if we are to die, let it be bringing death to them rather than crouching in the shadows?” he presses, as if hoping that the others would agree.
At this, the man with the khopesh lifts it up and points the blade at the temple.
”Damnation – I think they have seen us!” Samir growls as his fingers tighten on the hilt of his blade.
”What shall we do?” he asks the others as the cultists begin to advance grimly.
"It makes more sense to defend here where they cannot surround us and overwhelm us with numbers. Come let's see what we can do to thin them out before they arrive."
Yasala sets her sword aside, draws her bow, and lets loose.
Lifting his gladius to the leader Bjoern moves forward, shield at the ready.
[ooc]Move action to get closer, delay for standard.[/B]
"Cultists of Yadar." Talar hisses between his teeth.
"We shall make an ocean of their blood." He responds to Samir. "Let them fall under our arrows as they approach. Quickly, move to bottleneck the entrance. If we can keep them from getting inside I can kill many as they lay trapped. Fight defensively, to stay alive." He rifles through his quiver, checking on the location of various arrows, at least half a dozen different kinds.
As the company watches the group below they are struck by the unusual decision to beat a drum during the killing. Odd that a mysterious cult would draw attention to itself by doing that...
Sabra suddenly pokes her head from the wrapping by Tairin and stares at the enemy before you as well and hisses in anger and seems as if she is trying to struggle out of the wrap holding her to Tairin.
Tiny Retcon:
Yasala grimaces as she hears the cultists speak of Yadar
Of the languages of the desert lands, Khazrajite and Khazistani are virtually identical, and Jairani and Zadjite at least similar enough to allow for some degree of understanding between its speakers. The language of Yar-
Ammon is distinct from all neighbouring lands. "
"Despicable cultists of Yadar near us. Show them scant mercy, or they will make you regret it. We should indeed bottleneck, and slay them at a distance. Silence that drummer!", Patenemheb notes darkly.
Patenemheb draws a shortbow that he has purchased on his travels, and seeks a foe to slay.
Yasala sets her sword aside, draws her bow, and lets loose...]
The shot arcs out and manages to hit the enemy with the drum, but he does not seem to react to it - or at least, you cannot see the damage you did impacting him very severely...
Sabra suddenly pokes her head from the wrapping by Tairin and stares at the enemy before you as well and hisses in anger and seems as if she is trying to struggle out of the wrap holding her to Tairin.
We will not escape the blights of Yadar! she mused, inwardly, irritably. They appear to have a bard, but so do we.
The drum beat sounded in the near distance. The angered kitten inside the shawl around her neck drew her attention in the moment. What has you so riled, little one? Tairin mused silently, watching the kitten's antics with curiosity.
After studying the antics of the cat, Tairin could not do much to aid her companions for she did not possess a weapon capable of injuring at great distance. Instead, she held her position behind the main line of her companions (keep herself away from the general sight of the cultists, using stealth) and subtly flicking her wrists, sent the four dancing orbs before them, to cover the area between them and the advancing cultists to aid her companions' sight line for their arrows.
Bjoern slowly moves to the top of the stairs and looks down.
With a smile he looks at the cultists.
"As long as we hold the stairs they will die and we will live!"
You almost missed it, but as you all received your blessing you happened to notice a subtle glow and look down. There, on head of your little Sabra, is the fading shimmer of the light of crescent moon.
You do not know how, but it seems your kitten elected to follow the designs of her mistress and have her "weapon" blessed as well.
But in this case, you believe the "weapon" is likely teeth and claws; if Sabra attacks an enemy the power of such an attack will be magnified even as your own will, and Sabra has the chance to strike multiple times an enemy during an attack...
Seeing you looking down at her, Sabra looks up at you and gives a little yawn and then snuggles in your shawl.
Talar narrows his eyes at the enemies off at a great distance. He grips his shortbow for a moment, a weapon that clearly has no business trying to pick off a target that far. Then he reaches for the long Susrhanite bow on his back, carefully stringing it.
-The blessing says picking a target is a standard action, so we'll only be able to attack every other round if we pick targets?
-I realized today that Urban in favored terrain includes "buildings, streets, and sewers" so I should have been using my terrain bonuses inside the temple (oh well, live and learn)...Curious then if where we are now also counts as Urban as long as I stay on the stairway?
As the arrow slammed into the drummer he seemed almost unphased by the attack; however, even as this happens you can see the masked man raise his hands and with that, his men seem to converge around the slain guards that lay at the feet of the man and the drummer.
They are tearing into the corpses and seem to be feasting on the remains.
A strange, hideous chanting begins to sound and coincide with the throb of the drum.
You now see that the men seem to be converging around the drummer and masked man.
You could theoretically shoot at that target again, but it would be difficult given that the press of bodies seem to present him with cover.
However, despite their strange behavior they have not advanced toward you yet.