"This had better not get much tighter. I am not stripping down to my skivvies..."
Her rant trails off.
"Can anyone else hear that?" she whispers. "Is that just an echo, or is it someone talking?"
Narnel blushes and chuckles to himself...
Elie in her skivvies...now that would be worth seeing!
Perception:
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At Elinor's question the group listens and then hear what she is talking about. Someone is whispering a prayer or a poem ahead. The recitation is nearly monotonous and the words are too diffuse to be understood.
You are chilled by more than the air blowing at your back. What sort of obscenity could live on the other side of those creatures you faced? Could live and chooses to live!?!
Narnel whispers...
I am ready to take a shot at whatever that is.
Wind at her back and unable to hear clearly Larayn is ready.
"Narnel, are you enough of a spelk to slip past me and sneak up and see what's going on?"
Elinor whispers back and presses herself against the tunnel trying to make room for the slender elf between her breastplate and the opposite wall.
Narnel nods, and bashfully squeezes between Elinor's breastplate and the wall, blushing noticeably as he regains his composure and stealthily moves forward down the hall.
Stealth:
Perception:
Does it sound like incantations to me?
Knowledge arcana
Spellcraft
Anything I could recognize?
The group can make out the returning elf as he draws into the light of the sunrod.
Ok, the tunnel continues on for 250 feet, and it also continues to narrow as it does. By the time I reached the end, it was no more than 5 feet tall, and I was bent over double. However, it does open into a large chamber bathed in absolute darkness. I did not advance. The sound that you hear is actually the wind blowing through some very cleverily designed holes with flaps that together make the sound of unintelligible chanting. I suggest that we move close and squeeze through.
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The tunnel is as Narnel describes, long and increasingly snug. Bryndyn nearly cannot make it. The space ends with carved flutes and boles of intricate workmanship carved into the top of the door frame, this is combined with stoppers which all combine to create the sound of murmuring powered by the air current the flows down the tunnel from your backs.. Bryndyn and Elinor both have the passing thought that not only does it sound like language, it sounds remarkably like the tongue they share.
And then suddenly you are in another area, a wide rough hewn room. The floor is level, but the walls are not. Lining the walls to the left are cubbies, nooks that appear to have been chipped from the wall. To the right there is a stair case that leads down as well as an opening (a window?) to the left of it, but along the same wall. In front of the stairs there are 2 dessicated, skeletal really corpses, holding spears and wearing some ancient sort of cloak. The air is very dry, and aside from the dead (they do look rather like Bryndyn'd people come to mention it!) there is nothing on the floor.
As she crawls behind him Elinor admires the way Narnel's tight leather trousers stretch over his tight...umm, no, let's not go there, we're kind of busy saving the world.
"Now come the draugr I ken."
Elinor sighs resignedly and stalks towards the staircase with her warhammer in hand. If the skeletons [i]don't/i] animate, she'll peer out the window before looking down the stairs.
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Byndyn's immediate instinct seems to be off. The room appears to be just what it appears to be.
The cubbies are covered in dust, as is everything else here, but there is something beneath the dust. Whatever it is must be VERY old.
The caution towards the skeletons is also apparently misplaced (at least for the moment) They appear neqarly mummified. Where flesh should be it is dry and ropey. There is no sign of violence to either of them.
Looking through the window reveals the place below, where the stairs descend to. Another irregularly shaped room. A large stone table or dominates the room. There also appears to be a hole or slight well, to the one end of the stone table and to the side, another skeletal or mummified body.
Harlynn shuffles his feet closely behind the person directly in front of him, frantically attempting to grab the cloak or something to aid his passage.
"Can either of you uncanny types scent the foist of magic?"
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Bryndyn ignores the question about magic as he can't help in that regard. He does take a step towards Elinor, however.
"This place is dead. There is nothing here. Three are no worms, or spiders, or any other insects. And these skeletons may not be a threat to our body, but perhaps a threat to our souls. Lizardmen do not bury their dead beneath the cold rock. For a respect member of the community, we would all partake in consuming a portion of his or her body so that we may be blessed with their essence. A hero, or leader will have a pyre so that his wisdom will spread throughout the community. Any remains from either are given to the woods so that our woods and streams may draw nurishment and begin the cycle alive anew. Even the lowest criminal will be given to nature. To find these here is blasphemous.
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Indeed condemned to rest here, or abandoned by their kin here, neither option is comfortable one to think of, given Bryndyn's understanding.
The cubbies contain different things. Cups, and by proximity crude plates in one, rusted metal manacles in another, that one is empty, this one has corroded plates or brass, oblong, and maybe the size of a mans foot long, and half that wide. They are held together with wire. The next one has dye of some sort. It makes your fingers ochre and red. This one is empty. This one has a larger bowl in it.
The skeletons can be easily avoided. They look fairly brittle. The spears hafts are so dry it does not appear they will be of much use to either the living or the dead.
"Weel, maybe on the way back we should bring them with us. If I was deed, I'd want a passing stranger to burn me properly even if it was a century later."
Elinor sings a verse or two of something funereal as the alcoves are investigated, then lets it die away into a mournful whistling through her teeth.
"Onwards?"
If there is no dissent, she leads the way down the stairs, keeping an eye on her footing.
Oops.
Save =
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Proceeding to the bottom of the stairs, albiety with more caution, you see the scene closer that you observed from above. The emaciated figure is wearing the tatters of ornate robes, and holding a wicked looking knife in one hand. This figure lies between you and the stone table.
The table observed from above on closer inspection appears to restraints affixed to it, though there days of service are likley long past, and the table itself has grooves or rivlets carved into it, with a ridge around the outer edge, and though it sits at an angle there are carved bowls at both the high and low wnd of the table. Large bowls. Buckets might be a better description. The room itself is simple and not finished at all.
One the far side of the table (and the low end) there is a gaping hole in the ground. There do not appear to be any other exits from the room.
As you take a moment to take in this scene the creature on the floor jerks, twitches and rises up before you holding the dagger with menace.
Initiative
"Fash! Hammer it!"
Initiative:
Narnel draws an arrow, aiming at the nearest foe.
Moving with the group Larayn is ready .
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Harlynn reacts quickly and acid erupts from his finger tips and streaks toward the undead lizardfolk. The acid scorches it and the resultant smell is significantly less than pleasant!
Larayn, quick to be of use, moves forward and slashes with her scimitar, but misses by a wide mark.
Narnel looses an arrow.
The mummified abomination slashes the wicked knife at Larayn, but Serenrae protects her daughter, at least for the moment.
Seeing an opening Bryndyn rushes forward and hits and hits hard. His foe crumples to a heap.
"Canny, well lamped."
Elinor, keeping a careful eye on the body, moves so she is between the hole and the rest of the group. Things have a way of coming out of holes... She'll ready an action to strike the body if it rises again - if she can be positioned to get a look down the hole as well, so much the better.
"Do you think that's wor knife?"
No, I'll wait till it tries to get up, Bryndyn seems to have done a reasonable job on it. (Many thanks for giving me the option tho)
The unholy must be destroyed, By and for the Godess Larayn attempts to dust the bones in the room.
Attack
Damage
Anymore of these blasted beasts and I will summon the hellfires themselves to take care of them. I am tired of getting pushed on, rubbed up against, and stubbing my toe. Most importantly I am tired of the blasted dark. The next thing that jumps out at me BURNS Complains Harlynn obviously pushed past his comfort point.
On with it shall we?
Narnel patiently waits while the warriors attempt to finish off the dead or undead beast.
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And then the that which was dead stirs, again! Ancient bones supported by dry ropey sinew push up from the floor. He intones words that sound similar to the wind device you recently passed. He is unable to get to his feet though, as Bryndyn's deadly aim hits the thing solidly and sends it collapsing to the ground again, and not moving. It appears once again to be at rest.
From the hole by Elinor, nearly instantly there comes a scratching noise and it draws closer and closer.
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Bryndyn lets out a mini roar in pent up frustration as he hits the dead thing once again. And then, he hears draconic spoken and snarls.
Linquistics Check guessing on the plus...do I even need this?
He steps up, heaving his mace up once again.
Come forward and be accounted for Bryndyn hisses into the dark.
I speak draconic but just in case
Linguistics
Hmm sounds like someone is summoning something fiendish. Maybe I should show them how it's done. . Harlynn says in a hushed tone beneath the sound of his crackin knuckles.