"Hey, without getting into the gory details of this Aceraack, suffice it to say he had some pretty powerful arcane rituals set up, tying into various planes like the Shadowfell..."
Barel stands there as unobtrusively as possible.
Thom delivers a comprehensive lecture on the group's discoveries so far, accompanied by diagrams.
Lanthair tries to discern more of the group's motivations to aid the others in negotiations.
Lanthair sees nothing out of the ordinary about the newcomers. They seem sincere, if battle-weary to him. His scrutiny is observed.
"Look, this is a bad place. Bad things happen. Our normal policy is shoot first, speak with dead later."
"My mistress the Raven Queen has shrouded us with a deathly pallor to allow us to pass unaccosted by the less intelligent undead. This allows us to focus all of our attention to ridding this place of the magics that seek to subvert her divine mandate for temporal power. Aceraack may or may not be dead but someone remains that is using Aceraack's tools to continue his unholy work. Our steps have been guided here by the Raven Queen herself for the sole purpose of destroying the necromancers responsible and restoring the natural order life and death to these undead abominations."
History =
Init =
"Fine words. It sounds convincing, but then it would."
Njall looks as if he'd like to believe Tavar, but long and bitter experience makes him unable to do so.
Tavar
Arishat tries to remember anything about Skull City, while talking to the strangers. "You know, if you won't accept that we could possibly be allies when we tell the truth about what we're doing, then we're going to have problems doing anything but fight. We intend stopping this scheme, whoever is behind it. You might not care about it, or you might even want it stopped, in which case we can at least ignore each others presence even if we can't work together. Otherwise, well... Before I say anything else, we've told you what we're doing. Why don't you tell us what you're doing here?"
Arishat is entirely in her element here as she turns all her leadership skills and force of personality on the threatening group.
"We are the Skullbreakers."
Njall unbends enough to say that much.
"Make of the title what you will. Our aims may be similar at least."
"Skullbreakers, eh? Hmmm, ya know, I think I have heard of of your organization. It seems you folks like to..."
There is no stopping Thom as he expounds his theories on the magic involved in the eldritch engines, their possible use in the plans of the demilich, the history of Skull City and the liklihood of convergant interests being for the best. He is convincing, if tedious. As his captive audience starts to fidget slightly, the wizard takes note that they are probably an adventuring party much like their own.
"I doubt you've heard of us." Njall strives to sound polite.
"How about you just shut up?" Kobhein, the barbarian scratches his thigh and looks deeply bored. "Before I decide to kill you anyway."
"Given that Acererak's symbol was a skull, I assume you adopted the name Skullbreakers to signify opposition to him. Your confidence I can certainly respect."
Njall nods.
"We'll risk it. We can offer you a haven for a time if you're interested."
Thom looks around the desolate ruined landscape, "I suspect safe havens are few and far between here. What did you have in mind?"
"Acererak's mouth." Njall smiles grimly and points at the giant skull. "We get visitors, but very few of them and nothing we can't handle."
Really...sounds like you have explored that area before, correct? What did you find in there?"
"Exploring that hellhole is the thing we Skullbreakers have in common. We all tried and failed."
Myshal the warlock speaks for the first time. She nods at Tavar, acknowledging their common deva heritage. "In many lifetimes I have fought Acererak and always failed."
As she speaks, the Skullbreakers guide the party carefully over the teeth of the great Skull, stopping, turning, pausing to touch parts of the wall and ensuring safe passage. At length, the entire group find themselves in surprisingly homely surroundings. Apart from the black marble decor, it could be a comfortable inn anywhere in the known worlds, with the usual adventurous clientele. Usual, bar the warded doors and the look that everyone here shares of people attempting to live with what they would rather forget.
"Welcome to the Haven."
"Well." Arishat sounds rather more pleased than usual. "This is unexpectedly nice."
Thom smirks at Arishat, "Yeah, a real home away from home!" He turns to their 'hosts', "So, this place is safe to rest in for the evening?"
"You can rest as long as you want to. It's the safest place in Skull City."
Barel pulls out his cask of liquid gold ale and shares it all around.
"Perhaps we should add this to the Travel Brochure for our return trip."
Njall drinks deep from the offered flask. "Good fellowship to us all, then."
Wiping his mouth, he visibly relaxes in the safety of the Haven.
"It was a rough welcome, but we've lost too many not to be wary. Since the cataclysm six months ago, the undead and the necromancers have gone crazy. Crazier."
"Cataclysm, you say? Do tell, I am all ears."
"How many of you are there in Skull City?"
Lynore watches from the shadows.
"Only a handful of us. Twenty or so. We came to find out if the rumours that Acererak had risen and rebuilt the tomb were true. They were."
Njall downs another drink.
"He came back and reactivated everything, but worse than before. We all arrived separately in different groups. Testing ourselves, testing him. The Skullbreakers you see here are the lucky ones. We got out. But there's not one who will return there."
"The next thing that happened was the wards. Great black things in the sky, crackling and siphoning power. Couple of weeks later, the wards vanished, pulled who knows where and the City collapsed. Most of the necromancers fled and a lot of the intelligent undead. What's left are the ones intent on plunder and the other ones who think Acererak's some kind of god and if they placate him long enough, he'll come back. Pretty story, isn't it?"
"Huh. I was sure this would turn out to be the work of some imitator. What does it take to stop him for good?" Arishat looks around. "That's a rhetorical question, by the way." She takes a small sip of ale. "It seems like every generation ends up having to kill him off again. Again. Anyway, what sort of things might we be facing if we have a go at breaking into his main site here?"
"One thing's certain. Mogahdam's in there somewhere. He built the place and a few others like it. He's madder than his master."
Would the ritual we used last time activate if our new friends turned on us? I think it was shadow hound or something like that.
Njall gratefully accepts the offers of help with watches.
"Nice to see you've got a sense of reality," he comments.
Contrary to the expectations of some of the party, the group rests undisturbed. At dawn, Njall comes to you with a map of sorts.
"I don't know what your plans are, but this may help a bit. This is the layout of the tomb as far as we know it. Pieced together from reports. I can't guarantee anything about this. All I know for certain is that first hallway has been destroyed. I'm also sure I'm never going back in there again."
"Thank you for your hospitality, Master Njall. I hope when we return we'll have good news for all of you." Arishat looks around at her companions. "Shall we be off, then?"
"Yeah, so now the next question is where to? Or is there only one way in?"
"Just the one. It's always been enough."