" Oi Oi, last thing we need is someone bringing airs about themselves. Be careful all of you, the last thing I want is having to make new friends, Wrathe if you and Ssilax can confer what ever the relief is, great. I'd rather spend time slogging through a sewer then be here. " Daxniss finishes, idly spinning her quarterstaff while wondering what else might be coming their way.
Wrathe asks Argon if he might borrow a flask of oil, as he moves to retrieve his torch, then starts the gruesome task of employing his master's staff to drag the bodies into a large pile for burning.
It would hopefully put these poor souls to rest, eliminate the smell (helping the others to triangulate the sewage smell), and destroy them for further necromantic defilements.
As he works prestidigitation magics erase the staining and stench from rotting body.
"As soon as we're close enough to actually get a good look at it. Kinda hard from down here. The sooner we can up there, the better. That at least looks like a way out. Unlike anything else we have come across," the dragonkin says, looking around the chamber. He has moved over to stand almost underneath the ledge, waiting to get up to look at the relief.
"I'm guessing the smell is coming from behind the doors. Unless there is a crack somewhere letting the smell in. Just be cautious, and stay within eyesight, Dorian." Ssilax cautions. He looks back over at Wrathe, wondering what he is doing. Shrugging his shoulders, he doesn't say anything. Given all the noise they have made, he doubt the scent of burning, rotting flesh would drawn anymore attention.
"If your worried about them being used as reinforcements, just smash the spine and major limbs," Ssilax offers. Since none of the bodies where screaming, the dragonkin didn't consider whether or not their souls might have not passed on or not. He was fairly certain if they're souls hadn't moved on, the group of friends would have seen some evidence. "To bad I'm out of Holy Water at the moment," Ssilax mutters to himself.
Argon comes back from his little jaunt, with Daxniss, and the agrees to set his grappling hook to work. He goes to a spot below the door and swings it around like a sling, then lets go to let is sail up into the air.
Argon, hearing Wrathe's request after the fact, hands him a flask of oil.
Wrathe heeds Ssilax' advice and smashes the bones before setting them alight, dousing his torch and returning it to his satchel.
Between the oily smoke and the cleaning magics, he was a few potted plants and throw rug away from moving in.
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Argon's attempt at catching the ledge with the grappling hook fails, since the hook went straight up in the air and then straight back down again, narrowly missing him.
Wrathe finds there is no shortage of bones. There is only the one recent rotting corpse, but many more fleshless ones in the pile of bones that occupy this end of the room. It takes some time to gather up a large pile.
Dorian searches along the west wall and finds himself approaching the southwest corner of the chamber, and the smell of bodily waste is getting stronger. He had passed a ladder with rotten rungs, maybe twenty feet long. He sees something milling about, and realizes it is another skeleton - one that notices him at the same time and starts moving toward him quickly.
Standing close to Argon, Ssilax had watched the grappling hook sail up. The dragonkin scrambles out of the way as the hook succumbs to gravity's siren call. Looking at Argon, Ssilax cautiously walks back towards his friend.
"I'm going out on a limb here, but I think you missed," the young Theurge says dryly. "Could I try? I've never thrown a grappling hook before. It seems a kinda of exciting to be honest. Besides, I'm sure you'll get it with your second shot." A bright smile flashes across his scaled snout for a heartbeat. He slides off his heavy backpack so that it wouldn't interfere with his attempt. He holds out a clawed hand for the rope and hook. "I don't like feeling useless, which is precisely how I am feeling at the moment." A faint grin plays on his snout.
The end of the dragonkin's snout twitches as the scent of burning rotten flesh hits his nostrils. Ssilax shudders slightly as a memory tries to surface. Keeping focused on the hook, Ssilax has his back turned, the sight of the fire firmly behind him.
"I hope Dorian doesn't run into any trouble. I can't believe I forgot to learn a spell that would heal him. Especially since he has been living with us for that last two years." Ssilax says with a shake of his head. The young Theurge was still annoyed that he had not learned a spell of inflicting wounds that would heal the half-living monk.
Dog sits on his haunches, the femur sticking from his muzzle like an overly large cigar. The familiar wags his tail happily as he looks around at the group.
Time is precisely what Wrathe's prestidigitation magics require to scour the area of its stench, and as such he busies himself piling everything he can find, burning the rotting corpse first, and adding other dry bones to the blaze as he progresses.
Daxniss had started to wonder close to the eastern wall, wondering if the others had been able to find the source of the sewer of the sewage smell.
Muttering a curse to herself she stops when Dorian starts talking about spells. Saxniss turns around trying to srr what fine mess he had gotten himself into.
Argon dodges the falling grappling hook and lets Ssilax have a try. The theurge does better, but there doesn't seem to be much for it to grab onto.
Argon throws it a few more times, trying hard not to hit the doors.
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Daxniss goes off in the other direction from everyone else, and she can see the eastern wall at the edge of her vision. She can hear a faint trickle of water from somewhere near, but doesn't see where the sound is issuing from.
She hears sounds of the others but can only see what's happening within the glow of the torch and staff light, plus what is near her. She sees Wrathe building a pile of bones to burn, and Argon and Ssilax trying to get the grappling hook to catch. Finally it does catch, and you see Argon carefully testing the rope.
Dorian can't be seen from over there, until he runs into the circle of light, a skeleton on his heels.
Initiative: Group goes first. There is a skeleton in your midst, carrying a rusty longsword, about to attack anyone within reach.
Dorian noticed a black mark on the skeleton's sternum which is too symmetrical to be natural.
Wrathe's attention is grabbed by all of the tumult caused by iron impacting stone, and he turns to silently watch his companions' efforts.
He considers the ladder, laying on its side, but ignores it for now, as its rusted nature makes it untrustworthy. The remnants of the other ladder might be employed as well.
Perhaps pitons, but he carried none.
The wizard moves to see if it is possible to throw the grappling hook over the platform, and have one of them brace it from the other side to expedite the climbing.
"That continual torch, should it be removable, is likely valuable."
As is his norm, he extends his senses into the spectrum of magical as he looks up to the platform.
Turning his head he recognizes the danger that their dhampir is training behind them, and prepares himself to knock it's head off its bony neck.
"Well that worked about as well as I expected," Ssilax says with a chuckle as he hands the hook and rope back to Argon. He picks up his backpack and slides it back on while Argon prepares to throw again.
Turning to answer Wrathe, he spies Dorian running back into their midst. The monk calmly informs him that his magic was about to be needed. The sight of the sword welding skeleton running after the monk cemented that pointed.
"You really didn't have to go and collect the strays for us," the Theurge mentions to Dorian. Keeping an eye on the skeleton, Ssilax carefully takes a few steps out of the range of it's rusty blade.
Gathering up his will, the dragonkin begins casting once he is safe to do so.
Wandering into the fray wearing garb that provides as much protection as a wedding dress does not slow Wrathe from attempting to lay the skeleton low.
Generally his task was to keep the monsters busy with a series of wild and frenetic swings, and he does not miss the opportunity to miss.
Argon follows Wrathe, taking out his quarterstaff and making to strike the skeleton. He runs up to it and swings hard, with both hands.
However, his attack is wider than Wrathe's and his quarterstaff hits the ground hard.
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With Argon and Wrathe engaging the skeleton directly, and Ssilax from afar, the three have difficulty with the fast undead creature.
Dorian, seeing Ssilax's acid glob going wide, steps up and attempts to break its spine. "It followed me home!" he says.
He is successful, and two vertebrae go flying past Ssilax as the spine collapses and the negative energy powering the skeleton dissipates. It lies on the ground in pieces.
Argon had also noticed the symbol on its sternum, and says, "That looks familar..." pointing at it.
Wrathe takes a moment to draw the sternum, after getting close enough to determine how it was affixed to the creature (burned? etched? ink?), before returning his travel journal to his satchel, and returning to piling up skeletons for burning.
As he toils he looks for further evidence of the symbol on the other undead creatures they had fought, and the other skeletal remains as well.
"Hmm, I wonder if this is the necromancer's personal glyph, or a symbol used for necromancy." Ssilax taps the side of his snout as he thinks out loud.
Flipping through his memory, the young Theurge thinks of the symbol that the skeleton had about it.
"Wrathe, have you ever seen a symbol like the one on the skeleton before?" Ssilax asks of his friend.
"It appears to have been burned into the bone."
Wrathe looks up from his musings, considers the question, then looks closer at symbol, wondering if it is something he has seen in the past.
Ssilax relays what he remembers reading about the religion based around Norgorber, or the Reaper of Reputation, among his other titles. Between Wrathe and himself, they had a tremendous amount of knowledge hidden away in their young minds.
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Dorian kicks at the skeletal remains.
I think that I may have found the sewers source.
He looks to the rope and grappling hook, laying lazily on the floor by the wall.
I thought that you were going to a fix this, so we could check out that door, Argon?
He smiles as he lifts them. Dorian studies the wall a bit, before attempting to free climb it.
Wrathe pushes his burning torch into the pile of oily remains, stepping back before he loses his eyebrows.
He then moves into his proper position to ascend the rope in turn (take 10).
"Fix what? You don't like my rope?" laughs Argon at Dorian.
"I'll go up last."
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Dorian finds it relatively easy to climb up 7.5 feet of the wall, though the knotted rope looks much easier.
Below, not far from the climbing wall, a large bonfire consumes a myriad of bones large and small. Bones are not like wood, though, and do not feed the flames.
Wrathe pulls himself up the knotted rope and makes good progress.
Daxniss sees the others starting to ascend the far wall, but she hears a noise close to her. Something moved in the darkness.
Daxniss takes a number of steps back to the party, not turning her back to whatever was making the noise towards. Daxniss had no idea what else could be moving, it might be a skeleton it might not, rather than fight it with the others unaware she loos back towards the darkness.
" Something is moving around here... again. " She says while moving.
Having both his weighty pack, not to mention Dog, to hike up the rope, Ssilax waits for the faster moving of his companion to go first. He figures going before Argon would be the best. While he waits, the dragonkin double checks the harness he had made up for Dog out of his silk rope.
Ssilax couldn't wait to get up to the level of the doors. He was curious to get a better look at the relief that Wrathe had noticed earlier . Despite the danger that they might all be walking into, a hidden lair of a necromancer, the young Theurge was having trouble containing his excitement. 'Perhaps we'll be lucky and the one who raised the skeletons and gave them their orders is dead. It could happen," he thinks to himself.
The young caster's thoughts were interrupted by the sight of Daxniss back pedaling towards the others.
"What is with you and Dorian collecting strays?" Ssilax asks of Daxniss as he squints into the darkness.
Craning his head around, Wrathe makes sure that it was none of the ones he had burned and disabled.
"Perhaps you could safely lead it to the base of the rope so it can be dispatched from afar?"
He leaves such things to the others to determine, for he appeared to be less than useless when it came to meting out justice to skeletal constructs this day.
Wrathe turns on his heel to study the doors and the etchings upon them.
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Daxniss is a good hundred yards away from the others as she starts to move back. Shortly a short skeleton comes out of the darkness and starts running at her.
Moving backwards is not a very fast mode of locomotion. She can turn and run, probably at a similar speed as the skeleton, or she can keep going backward, and it will catch up to her soon. Or she could stand and fight.
Wrathe cannot see Daxniss, as she's too far away and has no light source.
Snarling a curse, she starts moving quickly, rather then trying to face the thing by herself, it struck her as odd as she sees the skeleton moving quickly after her she thought that would be moving slowly.
" Well I can't have a pet, or an animal and this one is rather interested in me. " She calls back to Ssliax her tone jovial. Her outward facade of calm is holding for now after all, appearances had to be upheld.
Wrathe solemnly shakes his head, pointing to the rogue's expected position, "I loaned my sling and stones."
Snapping his fingers he adds, "Though someone strong might be able to lift the rope once Daxniss braces herself upon it, to speed her climb."
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Daxniss comes running back, a small skeleton chasing her from about fifty feet back. Wrathe is clambering up to the top, while Dorian is on the wall about ten feet up, holding on with both hands.
Ssilax is busy getting Dog's harness tied on, and Argon, who was holding the rope, sees the situation, and can react. Ssilax and Daxniss can as well.
Argon takes out his sling, loads it, and flings a bullet at the skelly.
As the skelly keeps coming, Argon quickly drops his sling and pulls out his quarterstaff.
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The running skeleton is not fast enough to dodge the bullet, and it knocks the head off the thing. The body runs forward for several more steps, but is diverted, and it is leaning awkwardly as it runs itself into the ground and stops moving.
The rest of the group is able to climb the rope without much difficulty, except Dog who requires assistance. You have all your equipment.
You all stand on a platform about ten feet deep and twenty feet wide. From up here you can see the fire below, already reducing in effect, and the area around it lights up.
The doors are large, old, and made of wood with iron trim around the sides. Its hinges are on this side, and are partially rusted but otherwise look solid. There is a handle on this side of each door, but they do not appear to move. The wood on the door is finely carved, with scenes of murder and human sacrifices, and symbols of Norgorber throughout. Someone has done a fine but grisly job on this portal.
They only appeared to have one direction open to them, unless circling the room below provided other opportunities.
Wrathe moves to the magical torch to see if he could remove it from the wall, and prepares to pull the door open so the combatants would be unencumbered should there be a poor reception on the other side.
Waiting for all to be ready he counts, "1...2...3..."
And he pulls.
They could always pop the hinges if it was locked.
Taking a few moments to catch his breath after hosting Dog up, Ssilax stares at the carving upon the wooden doors. A slight frown tugs at his scaled snout as he looks at the imagery. Someone had put a deal of time and skill into the carvings. There was far too much detail in the pictures of sacrifice and slaughter to Norgorbor.
"It might be a better idea for Daxniss to examine the door first," Ssilax warns, still looking at the carvings.
Daxniss was about to say stop pulling things before she had a chance to look them over, although the chances at this point of something being trapped seemed rather low. " Yes Wrathe, I'd rather- " She cuts off as Wrathe reaches three and pulls, flinching as he does.
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Dorian tenses his muscles, preparing to launch himself at the bone menace. He relaxes as Argon makes quick work of it.
Ice blue eyes peering intently at the carvings, he attempts to find clues as to what may await them.
He turns back to Daxniss as she stops speaking.
He tenses his muscles for trouble...
Argon climbs up last, and looks around, staring intently at the disturbing carvings on the doors. He gathers up his rope and grappling hook and puts them carefully back in his pack.
"What a strange place. To have a door up a wall like this..." he thinks out loud (but not too loud).
As Wrathe moves to open the doors, he holds his staff in preparation.
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Wrathe is able to take the torch, with just a bit of vertigo as it is hanging over a long drop down. Magical emanations confirm the expectation that this light is a valuable Continual Flame torch, used by the wealthy, mostly.
He goes to open the door, but finds it won't move. Rather, he feels it move a bit, but something is stopping it from opening.
The group notices relatively cool air coming from below the doors.
Wrathe steps aside to let Daxniss ply her trade.
Hefting two light sources, his torch safely stowed back in his pack, he offers the continual light torch to another, so they can spread the illumination around.
Argon says to Wrathe, "Can it be put out? I would prefer it if we went dark while we opened this. Lights make us targets, visible from very far. If you can go as a night-seeing creature, we can all see in the dark. And what about the staff? Can you extinguish that, too?"
He takes the magic torch and puts his hand above it, to test how hot it is. His hand is so close that it would burn if a) it were a real torch, and b) he were a human. Finding it not hot at all to the touch, he shoves the end in his backpack, making sure it's covered by the extra cloak he carries.
Wrathe shifts into the form of a bugbear glancing at the staff in wonder, as Argon's question was interesting indeed.
"Each use of the staff uses up some of its energy, so to dismiss the light will require a use of that energy again to 're-ignite' it's illumination."
With that he extends his will into the staff, seeking to douse its light.