With Kumanda following closely behind her, Caladwhen moves slowly but gracefully about the passage ways. Passing the statue, Caladwhen gives it a brief look and nods as though confirming a hunch. Speaking in an absent minded fashion, Cala reports to anyone listening "The goblins perceive Lamashtu to be masculine, a father figure of sorts, but they worship the demon queen as I had suspected."
Approaching the bone pit, Caladwhen appears oddly fascinated, even welcoming the sight. Approaching the pile of bones, she looks to the goblin in dirty white clothing and speaks to him in an ancient tongue.
Leaning over, Caladwhen hovers her hand over the base of the pit. As she slowly moves her hand, a few of the bones appear to rattle and vibrate as her hand nears them, as if wanting to come to life. Looking back at the goblin, she smiles morosely and adds "There just might be a small army here."
Talon suddenly gets a furious look on his face and throws up his hand as if it was burned
After a brief battle Talon gains control and subjects Rygat to his dominance You have power, but that does not allow you to control me. Remember that.
Talon wipes the sweat off his brow, looking around at the curious and confused looks of the others faces
Sindran growls in frustration as he finds absolutely nothing. He looks at the blue slime. He prods the blue slime. He attempts to get a small piece of the blue slime, throws it a few feet back and then sets fire to it.
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Flammable...? Well, in the end, it burns. But this is no fuel.
The flames flicker oddly though; indicating a draft in the room!
Using the burning slime as a stubborn sort of candle, you trace it to a small, no, tiny hole in the base of the southern wall!
When you peek into the hole, you discover a room of sorts, 4 feet down the tiny hole.
It's impossible to squeeze through to learn more.
Would that room contain the object of Zikomo's prophecy..?
Sindran remains crouched down on the floor and presses his hand against the hole. Beginning a guttural chant, he forces his will into the stone, demanding it shape itself into what he wants.
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Today, a lime encrusted human skeleton leans against the south wall clutching a heavy leather bound book. However, the whispering voices in the room, the fleeting spirits at the edge of vision and the gnawing feeling in your gut make it clear that the last hours of this man's life were ...quite eventful.
The massive tome in his left hand, titled “The Dirges of Apollyon”, is perhaps the last surviving copy of its kind upon this mortal plane.
It details the long history of the “Sons of the Pale Horseman”, and recounts their efforts to transform this world into a daemon’s playground. Minute shadows dance around the pages of the book, making the words seem to writhe before your eyes.
The skeleton's right hand rests upon an exquisite jewel, still glittering amongst the muck - an emerald, the size of a cat.
Walking through the newly formed stone entry way, Caladwhen nods approvingly "Nicely done Sindran."
Fascinated by the tome, Caladwhen leafs through it with a greed only satiated by the acquisition of knowledge. "This tome is ancient, and possibly one of a kind. Give me some time with it, I'll see if I can turn up anything useful from it."
Turning her attention towards the emerald, Caladwhen attempts to surmise its value.
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You cast detect magic...And instantly, the giant emerald emits a blinding, even overwhelming, artifact-level aura, of both evil and divination.
The onslaught of magical power even delivers a ghostly vision to your mind...
When the end came for the Sons of the Pale Horseman, it came quickly. Certainly the cultist Rinehart Kappelbrenner was caught unprepared. As his brethren charged towards the futile fight with the King and his knights, Rinehart instead ran. He knew the fight could not be won. He had already seen the daemon prince Vetra-Kali slain by King Markadian. He knew he was doomed. But always a clever lad, Rinehart had a plan. He grabbed two potions of gaseous form, a small pack containing personal effects, food and water and one of the three emeralds.
His plan was to drink a potion of gaseous form, retreat to a small chamber in the lower caverns he had discovered years ago, and there wait out this slaughter. After the invaders were gone then he could escape and unite with other survivors…if there were any. When he'd be the one to return the Eye of Vigilance to the priesthood, he had no doubt they would hail him as a hero of the order!
It was a magnificent plan, and at first, it seemed to be working flawlessly. Rinehart managed to escape to the lower caverns, drank the potion and made it into the concealed cavern. He reverted to solid form and used the Eye to survey the destruction wrought upon the Horn. .
It was then he noticed a terrible flaw in his plan...One of the potions of gaseous form had been smashed! Its contents had leaked out and the potion was ruined. He was trapped - in this tiny chamber...
He tried slipping through the gap and even resorted to shouting, hoping a comrade would hear him. After a day of futile effort he knew he was doomed. He lasted for weeks; Water dripped into the cave and he had a small store of food. He even had illumination via the light cantrip. His pack contained a prized holy book “The Dirges of Apollyon” and ink and quill, and besides re-reading it several times, he spent his time observing everything that was done by the Victor. Through the eye, he saw how the Seal was made - and in that moment, Rinehart Kappelbrenner had a dreadful epiphany.
Some might say a vision this powerful and this terrible must have come directly from the Pale Horseman himself - or perhaps it was simply a singular moment of genius by one of the most humble servants of this wicked temple. But, whatever the reason, Rinehart knew what must be done to call forth his master back to the prime material plane. The seal was not as perfect as the Victor intended it to be. There was a way to break it - And he was the only one who knew how.
On the back pages of the “Dirges” he recorded this epiphany, his vision, his ritual. And then, cackling madly to himself in smug satisfaction, he committed his soul into the arms of death and took his own life.
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The emerald alone is worth some 20k, but its true function -made clear through Rineheart's dream- is more useful than mere money.
When the jewel is steeped in the blood of a sentient creature, it reveals its true nature. The Eye of Vigilance was the magical focus used to create the Horn of Abaddon in the first place and so it is connected to every square inch of the structure. The bearer of this jewel may scry the Horn of Abaddon just as if he possessed a crystal ball.
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The book
This rarest of tomes is made utterly unique by the last page of text within. This book makes plain the ritual necessary to call Vetra-Kali back to the mortal realms, detailed here...
Aerent continues to explore areas of the cave that he has not yet seen.
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'The Victor' is the honorary title bestowed upon King Markadian I - the douchebag who banned the Asmodean faith all those years ago, and crusaded against evil throughout all of Andoran. You'll find more references to him in the gazetteer.
C13 is the room Sindran found.
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Stunned by the unexpected power of the gem, Caladwhen gasps and rears her head up as the intense light from the jewel nearly blinds her. Her own eyes averted from the Eye of Vigilance, the normally stoic elven woman appears dazed, panting rapidly, her eyes staring blankly as though seeing something far beyond the mortal plane.
After a moment, her breathing begins to slow and regulate, and gradually she begins to blink as though waking from a great slumber. Moving her hands to the side of her head to massage her temples, she moans painfully and speaks weakly "Damnit, I do detest divination magic... it was never my strong suit."
Standing up, Caladwhen looks to the gem in her hand, and then to the ancient tome. Immediately, she finds a page as though she was quite familiar with it, and scans it quickly. Looking up from the page, Caladwhen reports her findings "Well, I have good news and bad news. The good news is, I know how we can break the seal," pausing a moment, Caladwhen finally sighs dejectedly and adds "the bad news is that it's going to take quite a bit of time and effort."
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C10 - Empty Cavern
An empty, nondescript, wet cavern. The crossroads isn't suitable for a lair and the hard rock makes digging pits impossible without magic. It is a nice "back door" to the Goblin village, though.
C11 - Strange Fish
This is another wet cavern with a pool of water at its rear. The pool however has a faint glow to it, and is surprisingly clear! The pool contains some weird pale blue blind cave fish with delicate, thread like spines on their fins.
Harvesting the venom is not difficult if you know it's in the spines and use a net. However, reaching for a fish by hand is an eeeexcellent way to get stung (DC15 reflex save avoids)
Death-Angel Spine Venom
Type poison, injury;
Save Fortitude DC 15
Frequency 1/round for 2 rounds
Initial Effect 1d3 Con damage;
Secondary Effectunconsciousness for 1d3 hours;
Cure 1 save
Cost 150 gp/dose.
C14 - Empty Cavern.
Nondescript, not too wet. Another fine place for some guardian beast's lair.
Talon jumps towards Cala protectively when she gasps, but upon realizing what's happening he steps back to keep from interfering. He listens to her with his hands folded, then looks displeased at the end "That is extraordinarily difficult. The 222 days of prayers are tedious, but the sacrifices will be hard" he glances around darkly at the party "I suggest we get a member of Zadaria's group. We can make it look like an accident"
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Supplication of darkness
I call upon thee, Vetra-Kali, for you will listen. You may be blind in rage, but turn your ears and hear me speak. Bringer of plagues, I invoke you. I pray for absolution - In the darkness we are aware of our life, our failure. Postpone your judgement until the day the riders will hold theirs. We belong to the darkness and to the darkness we will return. I close my eyes and embrace the darkness.
Cursing of the light
Oh darkest Abaddon, I call you. Grant me your merciful embrace and blot out our sight, because we can stand the sight of creation no longer. Absorb all light - the genesis of this agonizing life, which defiles your countenance. Out of ever-silent darkness the first light was born, and the ever-silent darkness will devour it once again. In this cursed bright hour, I invoke you, and curse the light, and this seal which binds you, Vetra-Kali-Eats-The-Eyes.
In the name of Abaddon - I curse you.
In the name of the riders - I curse you.
In the name of the three eyed prince - I curse you!
Call across the void
He who is named Vetra-Kali, Eater of Eyes, Creator of the Tears of Achlys, Bringer of Plagues and Suffering, Highest of the Leucodaemons, archdeacon of the Pale Rider, hear my prayer. I send my call across the empty void, to Abaddon. Here I persevere for your return. Raise your head! Follow my call! Blind you may be, but my voice guides you on your way through the maelstrom of the void. Return home my lord. Emerge from the silence! Enter the mortal plane, to devour the mortals. Feast upon their scarlet red and their decay through your gifts. Recur and with you your gift to this world - the Tears of Achlys.
Vetra-Kali! Hear my call!
Aerent shakes his head, "I don't think any of the Seventh would fulfill the ritual, Talon. The first sacrifice has to be "one of our own blood" and based on who the author was, I'm guessing it has to be one of the Sons of the Pale Horseman. Maybe there are some still hiding in Farholde? We can get our people looking into it. The second is a worshipper of Sarenrae, not too hard to find. If nothing else, we'll kidnap a nun or something. The third is like the first - one of the Victor's descendants... hopefully he bedded a few serving girls before leaving Farholde and we can find one of his bastards still living in town."
He smiles grimly, "But don't worry, I'm sure we'll get a chance to deal with our erstwhile allies."
Looking around the caves, he says, "Anyway, we can't even think about starting the ritual until we find the rest of the eye gems. Obviously there is more to the Horn than just these caves. I think it's time we explored outside for another entrance."
Talon nods "Luckily we have over three months between each sacrifice so we have plenty of time to get our next sacrifice."
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"I think it's time we explored outside for another entrance."
heading outside with you, Oret and Talon accidentally bump into eachother in C5.
Caught off balance, Oret stumbles into the east wall.
Aerent blinks in surprise, then grins at Oret, "Excellent find, my friend. Now we don't have to worry about avoiding that overgrown bush wandering around outside. Shall we?"
Oret looks askance at Aerent, his mistrust of humans getting the better of him. "Friend? We are but daggers on Thorn's belt, no more friends than they."
Aerent shrugs slightly as he puts his head into the opening and peers upward. His elation at the discovery of the staircase is almost palpable, and even Oret's rebuke washes over him without dampening his excitement. Calling back over his shoulder, "Eh, say what you want, I know you like me. Even Talon came around - it only took me nearly dying for him to see how much he would miss me."
Aerent begins walking up the steps, moving slowly so he can examine them for any traps that might still be active. Over his shoulder, he says, "By the way, I liked that dagger analogy. Almost poetic."
Talon growls "Don't flatter yourself, I was angry that a pathetic idol of a man would be the end of you. I didn't want him to feel any glory for what he had done"
Aerent turns his head and winks at Talon, then looks at Oret, "See, I told you he likes me."
Talon growls again and lets it go, but it's a little odd for him. Normally he'd fake being so gruff and end up grinning in the end, but he seems unusually upset today
"By the way, I liked that dagger analogy. Almost poetic."
Rolling her eyes, Caladwhen sneers and mutters "I, however, did not. Oret, never compare me to a mere tool of the Cardinal. It's insulting. Thorn will be dead from old age long before I even get my first wrinkle or gray hair; his life is fleeting and meaningless when set against mine own."
Walking between Talon and Aerent, Caladwhen sighs impatiently and plainly adds "Now, can we all dispense with the posturing gentlemen? I have a terrible headache, and I just don't have the patience for it." Approaching the door, Caladwhen examines it more closely.
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Soon, Aerent's grin disappears, since the staircase seems to go nowhere but up, and if there's one thing Full Plate doesn't do, it's "up". Add the inherent heat and moisture of the surroundings, and climbing the stairs is now officially a tiresome test of claustrophobia and constitution.
It's clear that the spiral stairway is going somewhere; you never pass the same rocks twice, there are no obvious magical effects and even the echoes of your footsteps vary, suggesting different natural surroundings (soil and solid rock have different reflective properties).
After a about 20(!) minutes of solid climbing, the air becomes less stale, even fresh; until with every step, the moisture and heat recede from the confined space, and finally some more...cultivated stonework appears. The climb never ends, though.
Only a few minutes later, you emerge on a landing. This room is empty and bare. There are two badly deteriorated skeletons inside broken worthless suits of what was once masterwork full-plate. The ruined armor is covered in symbols.
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"M..*rasp*..Mistress, a word *rasp*, if you please.."
Lars' wings are absolutely shot from the intense exercise.
Assuming Cala takes a moment to listen to her familiar's counsel...
The raven is too exhausted to make smug jokes - his advice is based on sincere concern. You may have finally housebroken the rowdy creature!
Oret easily reaches the top of the stairs and immediately begins searching the room for any hidden doors or items, trying not to pay any attention to the gasping and panting of his less-well-conditioned companions.
Sindran looks lost in thought while the others speak of tools and masters. He seems strangely contemplative, ignoring his surroundings in favor of whatever thoughts he's having.
Sindran would place himself at the very back of the group as they walk up the staircase. He mutters about getting some other form of portable mobility when he finally catches his breath at the top of the landing.
Absolutely exhausted by the time she reaches the top landing, Caladwhen sinks to her knees to catch her breath and wipe the sweat from her brow.
Looking to T'Larryo, Cala likewise is to tired for a witty retort and instead merely nods. Telepathically, she adds
Resolving to sit a moment to rest, Caladwhen folds her legs neatly to one side and sits leaning against the opposite arm. After a moment, she gathers the strength to get the Eye of Vigilance from her backpack, which she rather weakly produces. "I think from now on, I'm going to use the Eye. It has the power to scry the entire Horn, and I'd sooner risk a bad headache then have to make that climb or anything else equally arduous."
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1d20 + 2 ⇒ (13) + 2 = 15
The landing is a room 20ft wide(west-east) and 50ft long (north-south). The west wall is baroquely adorned with countless daemons tormenting and triumphing over mortals, foolish enough to oppose them. Prominent
In the middle of the west wall is an ornate archway with a door, depicting a many-armed, three-eyed monster sitting cross-legged.
The three eyes seem loose; upon Oret's closer investigation, they are revealed as buttons, that, if pressed simultaneously, unlock the doorway and allow you to proceed.
Talon finally reaches the top, swearing in Auran under his breath Should have been a way to just fly up here, this is ridiculous
"Let's rest for now," Sindran pants, leaning his head against the nearby wall, near one of the skeletons in old armor. His gaze trace the symbols on it.
His next words are stuttered as his lungs struggle to get enough air. "An hour or so to let us catch our breath and to scry what lies ahead. Caladwhen, shall I do the scrying instead? I recall you having an adverse reaction to its magic."
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"oooooh I find divination soooo terribly soppy. For instance :
''
Yich. Just Yich! *shivers* This school of magic makes me want to peck some random child's eyes out. Blerg. Ptoooei."
After either Cala or Sindran endures the blatantly inauthentic magic for an hour (success is automatic with their use magic device scores), the results are well worth the effort. I'm sure there's a crayon and a parchment, and skill available to account for this mapmaking.
"I've finished scrying the whole Horn," Sindran says, finally averting his eyes from the brilliant gem. "I have enough of an outline in my mind to navigate it. It's defensible and, it seems, abandoned. I've located the sanctum, but we should explore the whole of the Horn for the other eyes and whatever we can find. I've received no insight into the Horn's hidden secrets, so keep a look out while we move."
Sindran puts the gem into the secret compartment of his pathfinder pouch, storing it where it will be safe. "I'll keep this for now, if you don't mind, Caladwhen."
The half-orc stands and grimaces as his muscles protest the movement. He flexes his hands and places them above his stomach and heart, chanting. A red glow emanates from his palms, sending wild energy to restore him.
"We're on the third level of the Horn, which explains the walk up here."
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The spiral stairway starts in the caverns and ends in 3-12. There are no exits to level 1 and 2 in between, but you know now these levels are accessible from outside.
3-12 leads to 3-13, which has a spiral stairway (a mere 100ft) leading up to the Sanctum.
, two of which are in 3-13, and I'll tell you how they all look and where they are ASAP. That's something you'd have noticed while scrying.
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