Raven nodded her head to Garik's words. "Yeah, Telp. There could be truth to that saying after all. I'm sure this guy would've been better off if he'd had some friends with him," she joked.
Grukk thought to himself about other possibilities and spoke forth, "Well we're heading off to a crypt right? Maybe something happened there and this guy just couldn't make it the full journey back." Grukk walked over to the fancy scabbard and picked it up looking at the designs on it to find where the man may have come from.
Raven hasn't the faintest clue what could have caused the bite marks, in large part due to the advanced state of decomposition. As Drosk's examination bears out, the man has been dead for two or three months, and the dwarf thinks it was likely some sort of poison.
Bolkin notes the man's clothes, while not noble finery, are definitely of a fine sort not worn by Kassenites. Checking the other belongings, he notes the short sword is well-balanced, razor sharp, and overall a very fine weapon. The coin pouch is reasonably full, the coins appearing newly minted and bearing the likeness of Forest Marshall Gavirk, the nominal leader of Nirmathas.
"Ha! That looks like a fine weapon, Bolkin! You can use it if you want to. Am fine with me Hackers and Pounders." Garik notes the fine craftmanship of the short sword.
"Hey Drosk! D'ya think this weapon would pass yer uncle's standards?" as the dwarf barbarian looks intently at the weapon.
"Be me eyes it would impress your uncle!"
Bolkin shrugged as he swung the weapon around with minor apathy. "Nah, light weapons like this don't really do it for me, even if it is really well-made." He threw the blade in the air and caught it. He wasn't an expert in weapons like the Dwarves were, but he could tell it was very well-balanced, moreso than the usual stuff the town guard used. Regardless, the flail he used was designed for utility as well as function, which he preferred over a weapon made primarily for cuts and stabs.
"As it is, this weapon is more suited for someone with a quick hand and a good eye for where to use it, or at least someone who wants an easy-to-control weapon while he's swinging and hacking everywhere." With that, Bolkin put the blade back in its scabbard and held it out for someone else to take. "At any rate, I doubt this guy will mind us using it, and we can decide what to do with it when we get back to town."
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“May I see it, please?” Telperion asked, taking the scabbard from Bolkin. He drew the blade, tested its edge and weight, crouching and thrusting and trying a few swings.
“Actually, the Mierani elves have an entire fighting style devoted to weapons such as these. The weapon and style evolved with the rangers of the northern Mierani, who used it as a machete as well as a fighting implement in their tours of that land. Of course, it acted as a signifier of exurban origin for any wielder, much as a pitchfork might do in Korvosa. In fact, there is a very humorous story involving a…” He trailed off as he realized that some of the others were listening and some were not. His mental calculations of why each may have reacted the way they did took long enough to create a silence too awkward for the resumption of his tale. “I can carry this, if you want” he said quietly, holding the blade and scabbard awkwardly out to the group.
Raven stood from the body. "I don't know how long he's been here, but long enough that I've got no idea what attacked him. I can't even count the teeth in the bite."
Raven had no interest in the short sword, but she did want to hear more of Telperion's story. She didn't know what "exurban" meant, and she hoped it would be clearer by the end of the story. By the time it was obvious he wasn't going to resume the story, it would've been too awkward to ask what "exurban" meant. Besides, Telperion is so tactless, he might have answered in some way that would make her look foolish. 'Oh, it's a term I learned when I was 6...' or 'I purposely chose a simpler synonym for such-and-such' or something.
The group leaves the unfortunate corpse behind. With the Gray Lake behind them, the trail starts to get less pleasant and more hazardous. They head ever deeper into the Fangwood, through a twisting maze of trees and confusing ravines. As the trail tops a small rise, a broad valley spreads out before it, the opposite side of which looks like a writhing serpent. Yet between the two lies a steep hill sloping down into the valley.
According to the map, the Crypt lies at the bottom. The day has grown increasingly cold, and even though it's late afternoon the overcast sky and tangle of trees makes everything just dark enough to be foreboding.
"Should we bury him? Telperion asked, uncertain what the rites might be for such an occasion.
"Aye, I think we should bury 'im. Regardless of who he was, the poor soul deserves better than to be left out to rot by the lakeshore. There should be enough stones around to build a cairn for 'im." Drosk responds to Telperion's query.
Drosk carefully moves the body away from the lakeshore and begins piling rocks around it. Soon, with the help of his companions, a cairn is erected and Drosk administers last rites over the body, praying for Torag to see that the man's soul reaches its proper place in the afterlife.
Drosk heaves a great sigh as he studies the steep slope to be negotiated to reach the entrance to the Crypt. The dwarf priest retrieves a length of rope from his pack and turns to the others. "I ain't exactly as nimble as a mountain goat at th' best o' times, and especially not with all this armor an' gear on. I've got one length o' rope here ; anyone got any more that we could knot together to reach the bottom?"
Bolkin noticed Drosk's predicament and, at the Dwarf's request, produced an additional length of rope from his backpack. "This is the only one I've got for you, but you can use it if need be." He glanced at the path they were going to be taking. Bolkin himself could make it with little trouble if he focused, but he figured that Drosk may have some problems even with the rope. "Maybe someone could give you support on the way down? I'd volunteer but there's probably someone here more apt than I." Bolkin shrugged as he continued, "Or, you know, take off your armor. Unless you expect wolves to start raining down from up high, I don't see why you need to be wearing it all the time. Just saying."
With that, Bolkin began to carefully negotiate his way down, carefully watching his step so he didn't go tumbling down. Unlike Drosk, his own armor wasn't too cumbersome for him to keep his balance. He made sure not to go too far ahead of the others, but he still wanted to keep an appreciable lead.
The idea of roping himself didn't appeal to Grukk very much. Looking down though he couldn't help but feel a little worried about Drosk though openly admitting the chance of him falling. "I'll stand behind you Drosk, you know, catch you if you try and go toppling on us. Anyways if you go down who will Prasst rely on to eventually take his spot."
Grukk took up a spot behind the tied off Drosk as they went down prepared to help him keep his balance down the winding path.
Garik looks at the considerable height of the steep hill that leads to the valley below and on to the crypt. Though the dwarf barbarian is confident that he could negotiate the way down, he surmises that the situation still demands prudence.
"Does anyone still need a rope? Got me one but won't be using it and just be crawlin' down like a vermin amongst the roots and tangled shrubberies down. And if ye be needin' assistance down, be willin' to help ya."
Raven helps collect rocks for Drosk's cairn for the dead man. At the steep hill, she watches as Telperion heads down, and she figures she can make it the same as he can. She follows him down as everyone else makes preparations to help Drosk down. There were enough people helping him out, but she still felt that it would be slower to follow him than to go before him.
"Maybe someone could give you support on the way down? I'd volunteer but there's probably someone here more apt than I." Bolkin shrugged as he continued, "Or, you know, take off your armor. Unless you expect wolves to start raining down from up high, I don't see why you need to be wearing it all the time. Just saying."
"Aye, lad, ye've got a point," Drosk agrees with Bolkin. The dwarf priest doffs his armor (surreptitiuosly casting a worried glance or two toward the sky as he does so).
Stowing his armor and shield on the back of his pack, Drosk carefully makes his way down the slope with Grukk's assistance, praying for Torag's guidance as he does so.
Once at the bottom, Drosk thanks Grukk for his help and re-dons his armor.
With ample caution and the eerie-yet-safe weather prevailing, the group manages to make it to the bottom of the hill safe and sound. With the worst of the landscape behind them, the ritual is, hopefully, nearing completion. The group sets off towards the location on the map. It's about an hour's march through the still-thick woods, the day's light nearly completely gone now.
An archway of stone is set into the side of a small hill in the center of the valley. Moss has overgrown many of the details, but one is still quite clear. The keystone of the arch is carved with a flame symbol with a stylized rune in the middle. Beyond the archway is a darkened tunnel that leads to a pair of massive wooden doors, one of which is slightly ajar.
A pair of horses and a trio of ponies lie slaughtered next to the archway, each corpse still tied to a post set into the ground nearby. A swarm of flies hangs lazily in the air above them.
The sight of the slaughtered beasts had taken Bolkin aback somewhat, but he composed himself fairly quickly. "Man," he commented, "this little adventure is just getting more and more grim, isn't it?" Weapon at the ready, he inched his way toward the carcasses. He stopped a fair distance away, just close enough to get a better view of the scene. The darkness wasn't helping his vision any, however.
"I wonder who'd do something like this..." As he said this, his mind already went to work trying to think about if there had been any bands of raiders or other such unpleasant people in the area. Being in the town guard, these sorts of things could have been likely brought to his attention previously.
The slaughtered animals with the darkening sky above do indeed added much grimness to the crypt’s entrance as the group arrived. Garik did not really mean anything seriously about his conversation with Drosk about the undead earlier. The dwarf barbarian was just really curious about how his weapons can be effective on different kinds of undead.
But seeing the depressing sight right now welcoming them with that archway with a carved flame symbol and knowing it is The Crypt, and that slightly ajar massive wooden doors, darkening sky above…..”Well, all we need is some howling from a distance again and we’re all set for those creepy tales from Ustalav!”
Garik holding his waraxe on one hand joins Bolkin’s investigation of the slaughtered horses and ponies; hoping that just like the unfortunate man they built a cairn for earlier by the lake was just a victim of the wilderness and not of the undead kind.
”Grim, indeed. Me dwarven eyes’ll help you, Bolkin”
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Telperion’s gorge rose slightly at sight of the slaughtered horses, but he kept himself from vomiting. Bolkin and Garik were right, this expedition was becoming grimmer.
But the archway, darkened tunnel and slightly open door began to absorb more and more of Telperion’s attention. It was like a magnet for his mind. Who had been riding the horses? Did whoever killed the horses go this way? Did they leave a trip wire behind them? Who opened the crypt’s door? Had it been trapped? Is it trapped now? Were there other markings on the stones under the moss of the archway?
“Alright, calm down” he said to himself, but out loud, such that it might have been seen as a response to either Garik or Bolkin. He took a slow, deep breath in through his nose and then crept over to the arch. There he listened down the tunnel and through the doorway for any sounds. As he listened, he motioned for a bit of quiet from the others, while his eyes scanned the archway and the tunnel for any signs of danger.
Arriving at the crypt reminded Raven of the prank they suffered in the woods. She looks around to see if they're being observed.
When Telperion speaks up, she concurs. "Yeah, are they even real? It may be another prank." She walks over to the corpses and gives a light kick to a couple of them, knowing that touching an illusion can sometimes reveal it for what it is.
Drosk's breath puffs with exertion as he approaches the Crypt behind the others. The priest's face is aghast at the sight of the slaughtered animals.
"Who'd 'ave done such a thing?" Drosk asks in hushed tones. "Bolkin, didn't ye say that some o' the folks from Kassen come out here an' disarm traps in the Crypt before the 'Chosen Ones' arrive? Could these be their animals? Anyone recognize any o' the animals or the gear on 'em?"
Drosk moves over to help Raven inspect the animals' remains, attempting to discern how they died and looking for any distinguishing characteristics that could link them to Kassen.
Drosk's conjecture is indeed correct - in fact, Bolkin recognizes the horse, a fine animal that had, before it's demise, belong to a cobbler in town. The ponies were of Kassen stock as well, so it's clear wherever the folks are, they are currently without mounts.
Drosk and Raven look over the bodies. The dwarf is sure they've been dead for about two days, slain by crude weapons, or perhaps claws, but Raven is reasonably sure that whatever killed them is not natural.
Bolkin and Garik's investigation for clues unveils a strange sight - a bony, humanoid leg protrudes out from under the bulk of the horse.
The animals were, judging by the number of saddlebags and other storage, loaded for bear before whatever happened happened. One of the sacks remaining contains a few items - two day's worth of rations, a quiver of 10 arrows that are, upon examination, blunted, and two pints of lamp oil.
Telperion approaches the entrance, which is as trap-free as he can ascertain, and as he does so the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He peeks in, and his mind being what it is, the first thing he focuses on is a mural of Kassen, the man, directly opposite him on the far wall, at the end of a long chamber with risen platforms on each side. It takes him a split second to realize there are bodies in the center of the room.
It seems a gruesome battle took place here, with two bodies slumped over each other in the middle and surrounded by fallen heaps of human bones. As if the view isn't bad enough, a low, keening wail echoes from somewhere beyond the chamber.
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Telperion's heart began to race, but he kept his gaze on the room until he was sure nothing was moving. Then he turned back to his companions and began talking, fast and nervous.
"There is a large chamber beyond the doors, and two bodies lie among piles of human bones. I heard some sort of wail coming from deeper inside the crypt." He tried to swallow but noticed that his mouth was very dry. "Two horses, and three ponies. Two bodies inside. There might be more survivors. I think we should go in."
Telperion quickly counted the saddles on the slaughtered animals, trying to figure the numbers of riders, hoping one or more of the ponies simply carried supplies.
"Does that leg have a really nice shoe on it? Maybe it's the cobbler's?" Raven proposed blankly. She tried to smirk, but her face remained impassive as the reality of the situation sunk in.
The blackening skies heralded the sight of the dark though the stentch heralded something more like bile. Grukk did not want to stay and find out how the horses died and tried to look inside the arch after Telp. As Grukk passed the group he whispered to them all. "Forget horses, lets make this quick. Keep voices down in case of something else around."
As Grukk got closer to the arch and Telperion, he drew his dagger in his off hand steeling his senses in case something lurked in the shadows.
The realization that these were people they had known from the village caused Bolkin a good deal of concern. "Something tells me he's not going to be cobbling any more shoes," Bolkin responded to Raven's remark. "Something seems to have gone awry here. At least, I'm sure we'd have noticed if this kind of slaughter happened every year."
Bolkin quickly readied his flail as he followed the others to the door, staying slightly back so as not to trip something before the others could spot it. He continued speaking in a low voice, "At any rate, it looks like our little 'quest' just turned serious. Keep your guard up, everyone."
Once he caught up with Grukk and Telperion, he maneuvered himself between them to get a better view of the interior, keeping an eye out for any signs of movement.
Bolkin and Garik's investigation for clues unveils a strange sight - a bony, humanoid leg protrudes out from under the bulk of the horse.
"Ok, before we go in, do you, guys want ta be seein' what this be dead horse lying upon?', Garik points to the bony, humanoid leg sticking out beneath the dead horse.
"If we be goin' in now. Got me some torches here 'n be lightin' one now for those who got no nighteyes."
"Now what did Drosk say about the undeads earlier? Hackers for zombies or oozeys? Pounders for skeletons and the likes?", Garik mulls for a while what weapons to bring inside and then his gaze falls upon the bony thing beneath the horse . . . . . .
"Well, pounders then!" And so saying exchanges his waraxe for his morningstar while still holding his light mace on his left hand. "Ok, I'm ready guys. Telp's right. Might be someone still be needin' savin' from whatever did this to their mounts. I hope that wailin' ya heard, Telp, is the one that's need savin'"
When Raven realizes she's the last one still standing at the horse corpses, she snaps out of her stupor. She hurries down the tunnel to catch up with the rest, hoping nobody in her family was dumb enough to take part in preparing the crypt. She casts mage armor on herself as everyone congregates at the door, preparing to enter.
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Telperion shrugged in response to Raven's question about the shoe, feeling exactly the way her face looked. He tried to smile some message of commiseration, but had no idea what expression his face offered. He felt scared, and sad for the townspeople, and...excited, he guessed, all at the same time.
The crypt opening kept drawing back his attention, and he hunkered down at Grukk's admonishment about noise. "He's right", Telperion thought.
When everyone was finished moving the horse corpse and lighting torches, he offered "I've spent some time studying traps and locks, and Holgast helped me quite a bit with my training. So, I'm willing to scout ahead where needed."
He mumbled the words a bit, his eyes still peering into the darkening crypt.
Bolkin and Garik's investigation for clues unveils a strange sight - a bony, humanoid leg protrudes out from under the bulk of the horse."Ok, before we go in, do you, guys want ta be seein' what this be dead horse lying upon?', Garik points to the bony, humanoid leg sticking out beneath the dead horse.
"Aye, Garik. Let me help ye there," Drosk offers, moving to assist Garik and Bolkin in moving the horse carcass. "Torag grant us strength!" Drosk prays as he touches Garik's shoulder, then Bolkin's, and finally his own chest, granting each of them a bit of the Forgefather's guidance .
[Garik] exchanges his waraxe for his morningstar while still holding his light mace on his left hand. "Ok, I'm ready guys. Telp's right. Might be someone still be needin' savin' from whatever did this to their mounts. I hope that wailin' ya heard, Telp, is the one that's need savin'"
"Good thinkin'," Drosk comments as he sees Garik draw both of his bludgeoning weapons. The dwarf priest hefts his warhammer and shield as he follows his companions into the Crypt, ready to call upon the powers granted by Torag Forgefather if any undead creatures attack.
With enough heaving and hoeing, Bolkin, Drosk, and Garik, with a little help from Torag, manage to somewhat inelegantly roll the horse over, causing a few disturbingly bone-crunching noises.
What lies underneath is a human skeleton, that has been quite apparently dead for much, much longer than they've been lying under the horse.
As near as Telperion and the rest can gather, four horses, four saddles, four people.
As the group approaches the crypt and flings open the doors, the torchlight illuminates the scene more vividly. Two torn corpses lie in the center of the room, fallen over their own sleeping bags, surrounded by shattered and scattered bones. Still more intact skeletons lie about the room as well. There are raised platforms on either side, one holding more packs and supplies.
Everybody hears a low, pitiful wailing, which after a moment everyone realizes sounds perfectly human in nature. Garik and Drosk, after a further moment, reach the conclusion that it's most probably coming from the east.
Garik dreaded what they would see inside. The dwarf was hoping that Telp might have been mistaken about the bodies he saw and that Raven's comment about the cobbler's shoes could hopefully still be applicable in its light-heartedness given that the Vargidan girl still thinks the dead horses might just be a prank.
But entering the crypt and seeing the carnage, the young barbarian could not deny the situation anymore.
"Something is deadly wrong here. This aint right. Not right at all."
Garik with both weapons ready, warily walks towards the bodies but passing it a bit to make room for the others while fighting off the dread he's feeling brought by that low, pitiful wailing in the distance which he guesses is coming from the east.
He gazes intensely on the corpses and the scattered bones around. "Oh dontcha be movin',dontcha dare move, you're dead, just stay dead, let the Lady take you to her Boneyard, ok?"
While the others were looking around the room, Bolkin decided to check out the corpses laying about in order to see he could identify them, as well as to gather clues about what happened. "Man," he thought to himself, "Wouldn't it be quite a story if there really were undead here? Could have just been raiders though."
"Gotta agree with you there," Bolkin responded to Garik as he examined the corpses. "At any rate, if they did come here to disarm the traps, they might not have had time to finish the job. Everyone keep an eye out."
"Wait. So there really are undead here? That skeleton under the horse wasn't one of the townspeople. At least not recently. And I doubt it was just lying there when they tied their horses. Be careful of the bones here!"
Raven casts detect magic when she gets inside the crypt, focusing on the bones. She tries to remember if undead emitted an aura, and if they still did while they were idle.
Drosk enters the crypt warily, warhammer and shield at the ready, his natural curiosity overcome by the scene of horrific carnage. Too shocked to speak, the dwarf priest steps forward to place himself protectively in front of Raven.
Bolkin's reputation as a gossip fails him in the face of the badly mauled bodies. Though possibly identifiable, he doesn't recognize them in their current state. His eyes shift off to the side, finding a still-intact skeleton to be slightly easier to look at.
Drosk and Telperion move forward, eyes scanning for threats (or curiosities) on the floor.
Grukk trudges past, hopping up on the raised platform and gently opening the door.
Garik's attempts to will the fallen to remain that way almost seem to work, until suddenly a cacophony of jangling bones and jagged phalanges scratching the floor adds to the sound of the baleful moaning.
Around the room, several of the piles of bones have begun to stand, no longer satisfied with the peace of death while the living are around.
AC: 16 / t 12 / ff 14
Saves: fort +0 ref +2 will +2
Skeletons:
Bolkin:
Drosk:
Garik:
Grukk:
Raven:
Telperion:
Surprise Round:
> 24 Raven
21 Telperion
16 Drosk
16 Garik
13 Skeleton
8 Grukk
3 Bolkin
Surprise Round:
Drosk's eyes widen in alarm as he sees the dead bones begin to rise. Thinking back to his training, the dwarf priest raises his hammer and intones, "By Torag's holy will, be ye at peace!"
With this command, the hammer-shaped birthmark on Drosk's cheek glows with a holy radiance that spreads out to engulf the rising skeletons.
Raven mutters to herself as she scans the field. "What did I say? 'Mind the skeletons.' That's what I said." She realizes Telperion and Garik are outnumbered on the west side, so she moves to aid them.
She strikes at the skeleton as it tries to stand, but her spear slides harmlessly through bony ribs.
”Oh crap!", Garik blurted out as his wishful thinking was rudely denied by the rising skeletons. ”Yer just as stubborn as hungry wolves eh?!"
The young dwarf barbarian steeling himself from the dread of an Ustalav-inspired situation, pounds his Morningstar down on the rising skeleton nearest him.
But at the same time, Drosk, the youthful dwarven cleric intoned the divine power of Torag and obliterated the rising undead Garik was pounding. Momentarily taken aback with the splendour of the young priest's power (as he sees the other skeletons in the room meet the same fate), Garik then moves straight toward the one skeleton at the end of the room that seems to have escaped Drosk's holy power.
The room ahead of him almost brought a tear to Grukk's eyes, "Water! Hurray!" The chance to rest shouldn't have appealed to him as they were in a place where he might have to live his eternal rest but after a long day he longed for it.
Grukk turns back at the the sudden commotion behind him and his eyes widen "Whats this?" Grukk let the door be and hopped down from the ledge landing with a hand to the ground and ready to strike the man once dead back. "Stay at rest!"
Going left-right up-down (skipping the one we know Tel kills)
Telperion's sword pops a vertebrae out of place, the skeleton stopping stark still for a moment before whatever animated it fails, its skull cracking on the floor as it falls from its half-risen position.
The room seems to heat a little as Drosk's invocation of Torag severs the link with whatever keeps the skeletons in the afterlife, causing three of them to spontaneously discombobulate, as if hammer-struck by an unseen force.
Garik closes with the remaining skeletons. As one starts to rise, he clobbers it with his morningstar, shattering the ribcage and causing it to teeter and return to the earth, figuratively and literally.
A single skeleton manages to claw its way up, staggering menacingly towards the barbarian.