"Archives?"
Raseri turns to Carnadine, the word rolls uneasily off her tongue. Curiosity and wisdom overcome her growing ire. She wanted dearly to call down thunder and lightning on the fey's heads, but queer things were at work here. Better to not tempt the fateless into twisting her fate.
"Are there tales and legends there," she asks as the light from her eyes and hammer fade. Her tone of voice is much younger than the one she had been using. She looks young, even under her well maintained arms and armor, young enough to only just now be considered an adult.
"Perhaps." Carnadine replies as a genuine smile broadens to welcome her to join him.
"Hmmmmmm," Kjeta scratches her head. "Let me try one more thing first."
She chants another prayer to Ninkash, with her tankard raised high.
Once Deimus came out, Hrungnir asked ”So...what happened in there? Saw ye with the oracle and ‘e said something...?”
Once Deimus came out, Hrungnir asked ”So...what happened in there? Saw ye with the oracle and ‘e said something...?”
Deimus steps out of the Sanctum, then hesitates and asks the Oracle: "I thank you, Oracle, for this gift, but, tzk, I must ask you another favour. We're trying to understand what is going on. We tzhink it has to do with an ancient compact between the fey and the city. We have come here to conszult the temple's archive. Could you grant us access to the temple's memorvy?"
Deimus looks to Hrungnir: "I have been bleszsed, touched by the Holy... I have witnessed Rava's mystery. I am changedz."
Lexi watched the Gearforged exit the room and heard him make his proclamation, and knew that she had absolutely NO intention of ever entering that room.
The Oracle nods "We archive and disseminate the future here, not the past. But we also archive bones...there is a way..." he picks up one of the many small clay discs from nearby, some of which are currently smoldering. He hands it to you and you note it has a spiral pattern, like a spring, engraved. "...with this technology. Bring a trusted ally of flesh to our graveyards, and find the cairn of the centaur Ogolai, once high priest of the Margreve Forest...let them breathe the fumes of the Requiem clay and speak with the dead." he states simply.
As Kjeta calls down the powers of Ninkash, a golden fluid fountains forth in the space between the barbican stones. The holy ale coats the invisible twisting fey path with a purifying aura, and you see the ghosts of a score of dwarves, their rage over the spilled brew assaulting the magic until it vanishes from sight. They cheer praise to Ninkash before likewise dissolving back to nothing.
The path, it seems, is clear.
"Oh bother. The little gremlins dismantled our shadow knot." the first one says.
"Well then, I suppose we should take the initiative?" the other responds.
"We have the high ground after all."
The 2 fey suddenly duck behind their merlons, out of sight. The group of guard grin wildly, cheering all dwarf-kind...they draw their swords with a look of wrath and hungry vengeance. "I think you have the honor of leading the assault, but I would gladly send my men ahead if you prefer...they are quite eager..."
"Hold them for a moment. Beyond taking the walls and making fools of some of us, what have they done? Something more is happening. I came to find out, and that has not changed, though the blessings of Kjeta's goddess have proved lucky for us. Besides, if they have any ill intent, they shall find lightning striking them from the sky as your men come up from below," Raseri tells the captain before turning and walking up the stairs, her maul still held like a walking staff. Once she reaches the top, she turns to the closest guard.
"You do not know the fey tongue, so I shall speak with this one. Who is the one that leads you? I would speak with him." Her voice is firm and even, but the look in her eyes brooks no questions.
Carnadine with his shield ready accompanies Raseri to ensure that she does not wantonly start violence, or at least that is his intent. However successful that might be.
While walking up the stairs, his measure of respect of the dwarf has increased ten fold with her defeat of the fey magic. First, the brew. Then, this. A very powerful indivual.
”So...no books? To a graveyard?” Hrungnir sounded absolutely perplexed. ”I suppose it is to be expected from an Oracle. Ye did well, laddie.” He finished. He was a dwarf of action, who saw the world as problems and solutions. There was no point worrying about what wasn’t as it should be. Instead it was best to only care what could be done.
Kjeta bellows with joy at her success, pumping her fist in the air. "PRAISE NINKASH, Mother-F*^&ers!! She's The Ale For What Ails Ya!"
At Raseri's suggestion, Kjeta nods, "I'm fine with giving them the benefit of the doubt."
Turning to the guards and to Carnadine, "Any of you understand whatever language they're speaking?"
If yes, she encourages that person to come along, otherwise she walks beside Ras and Carnadine, ready to treat with the fae, if possible...or subdue them, if needed.
At Kjeta's request one of the guard turns to another and asks somewhat jokingly "Bastard?"
Stepping forward, the man doffs his leather cap to reveal subtly pointed ears...an elfmarked to be sure. "Yeah, I couldn't hear every word but they're speaking my mother's tongue...Elven..." he trades his longspear for a shortsword from one his mates, throwing the sheathe to the cobbles and twisting it in a circle flourish to warm up "...I'll come with ya."
After Raseri 'encourages' them to speak she does get a response, a funny accent mockingly imitating the common tongue "HelLo, hOw arE You? HEllo, hoW ArE yOu?" as a pair of arrows screech down...one not quite from the merlon you expected.
The mocking elfs arrow skitters off the cobblestone just next to Raseri's toes.
The hidden attacker's arrow pierced the elfmarked hard, however one of the nearby quickly covering him with his own shield and they both run forward to the barbican door "*cough* ...g@&&&~nit...I'm fine, lets gut those sacks of s&+%..."
Both of the fey back behind their crenelations again, going god knows where.
Fey
Guard
Ras, Carn, Kjet <----UP
As the two men moved to leave the building, lexi made her way back out the way she came in as well.
Turning to Carnadine, she shrugs, "I admire your intent, but this is what we found last night too. The damned keg-spillers are more interested in fighting than talking. Fortunately, Ninkash speaks both languages."
She steps forward to assess her options.
Deimus nods at Hrungnir: "Yes, not bad, considering... We need to find the graveyard then.
"Unfortunate for them." Carnadine replies to the ale-zealot. He puts his shield emblazoned gules, a skull argent between himself and potential arrows and draws his silvered, hand-and-a-half sword. He continues to climb with purpose gently pushing past the brew-disciple on the stairs. Considering the Thordottir rushes toward melee, the knight would be on her heels.
Mid stride, the noble dhampir calls out to the fey, "You have loosed arrows upon a Knight Incorporeal. I demand justice by combat. Surrender and apologize, or face cold iron."
The graveyard is just adjacent to main buildings of the temple complex. It is much larger than you thought, and they have seemingly devised many clever ways to pack remains into the space available. Each plot is only about 2 ft square and labeled with a shallow brass inscription. The older ones are not as shiny in the moonlight...it takes a good hour or so to find the one labeled 'Ogolai' ().
Running up the stairs, its hard to tell what effect Carnadine's words have, if any. Although the arrows seem to lighten up after he speaks.
After about 5 stories up, you are starting to really...really hate stairs. It also seems to be getting colder as you go.
Sweat beading on her brow, Kjeta nonetheless pushes on, sipping a bit of ale as she climbs.
The wounded guard, the fey's peacock fletched arrow still deep in his shoulder, presses onward in his duty...
...he grunts hard with each bloody step, his resolve simply incredible.
Lexi slid up next to the pair and made herself known to them, then asked what they were looking for. Like the shadow she is, she flitted back into the darkness to find the grave.
Search though she might, Lexi has no luck quickly finding the gravestone. Eventually, the gave is discovered and the Requiem Clay is drawn out.
Half way up, knight's training kicks in. Frequent running in full splint armor pays dividends. The ale-mistress's blessings provide an extra lift keeping him away from a stitch in his side and dry heaves.
Carnadine keeps pounding up the stairs.
As you near the top, you hear a slight whimper...then a low growl. A cool breeze wafts down the stair as if it were fresh from an iced peak.
Somewhat dizzy from all the rounding, you are still able to realize someone has dumped a bucket of caltrops along the steps. The first step just a single spiked jack, the density quickly gets ridiculous.
And the bucket is just laying there too, like someone just kicked it over.
The elfmarked speaks up "*huff puff* Damnit...of course they spilled the caltrops. We're near the top...just around the next turn I'd wager. Take your time to draw weapons now...this spiral was built to make it hard for climbers to draw from the left." he demonstrates how the fortification can limit movement in that way. "Likely they've closed the portcullis but here's the key...we just need to get there without turning into a pin cushion." he pauses "...ehe. Too late for me I guess."
Slapping her forehead, Kjeta says, "Och, where are my manners? One moment."
She carefully removes the arrow (if it's still in there) and then calls forth a golden sudsy glow that covers his wounds. She then offers him (and anyone else who wants another) a drink from her blessed brew. "May you never thirst for ale."
Finally, she calls out one more prayer, and a second Holy Tankard Of Unusual Size clinks up against the one she's carrying.
Satisfied, she walks slowly through the caltrops.
The elfmarked winces as the arrow is drawn out, but the taste of the blessed brew makes it quickly forgotten. His eyes spin around in circles "Damn, thats crisp. Just what do you call this brew? We make it through this you'll be the talk of every tavern from 'ere to Ruby Sea."
Carnadine sheathes his sword and takes the key from the elfmarked. He turns to lead the assault. Shield emblazoned gules, a skull argent ready in front and above, in case of murder holes and other protections.
He either trusts his armored boots proof against the caltrops or steps cautiously through the carpet of metal.
The Ghost Knight crunches the caltrops under the heels of his steel boot like roaches.
Raseri lets out a hiss of pain as she plants a foot right on one of the caltrops. Her annoyance only grew as she realized her speed as slowed. Rather than let it slow her, she stops long enough to tear the caltrop from her foot and cast a healing spell on it.
The wound now mended, she takes up her maul in both hands and gets ready to smash anything that attacks her companions or the guards that lies around the bend.
Raseri butts past Carnadine, storming up the stairs...caltrops be damned. As she rounds the last turn, she meets a snarling snout of a familiar fey hound...sitting on its hinds with perfect posture before a locked portcullis and appearing quite perturbed. The hound open its great maw, spewing forth a stream of icy crystalline death down the spiral...
Raseri sees no sign of the fey beyond the light of her maul through the portculis, but then her human vision is not apt to pierce the darkness of moonlight.
Enemy
Carn/Ket/Ras/Guard <---UP
Raseri manages to keep the frost from stealing her breath this time by putting her shoulder to the blast of cold and plowing forward. Sparks of lightning dance over her as she recites the words of power to her spell and finishes it by swinging her maul up into the fey hound's jaw.
Carnadine watches the blast of frost pass like a curtain in front of him before he can turn the corner. He keeps moving to engage the fey hound. Wielding a key instead of his longsword, the ghost knight puts his shoulder against his shield and attempts to push the puppy 1) off its feet and 2) away from the portcullis and either 1) over a battlement or 2) down the stairs.
”Aye. Off to yon graveyard then. Can’t let the...dunno. Corpse wait?” ”Bloody southerners haven’t learned how to bloody just write things down? And they call this civilization?”
Deimus waxes melancholic as he ambles in front of the tombstone. Taken by what he reads, he often stops, reading the descriptions on them, thinking of the years, wondering what the city was like then, only to realize the others had proceeded much further and start after them.
"So many deathzs... Makes one wonder, no?" he says to the others.
"One of you has to take in the fumes from the tablets. Did you know these are made from mushrooms called 'Death's head?' Tzk. Sounds dire... But they are potent hallucinogens when smoked, and the clay treatment makes the smoking not as addictive as other ways of tzaking them. That's good news, yes? Szo, who's up? The two ov you perhaps?"
"I will decline."
Not able to reach the fae dog directly, Kjeta directs her flying tankard to swing for its noggin.
Meanwhile, she calls forth a hangover blast that she sends over Ras' shoulder.
The Knight Incorporeal steps around the corner with an aura of death, throwing himself tightly between the hound and the wall...
...but the hound is well trained and doesn't scare so easily.
At first the massive hound just sniffs at Carnadine as he tries to push it downstairs, whimpering a little and confused of what to make of it.
The dhampir doesn't relent however, and soon his full body elongates and gets leverage on the top step, tipping the massive creature over and back on to the caltrops.
It whelps a very sad sound as one of the nasty jacks slips right up in between its metacarpal pad and claw. It lifts its leg off the ground, clearly hampered.
Stubbornly, the wounded animal resists any further attempts to change its post.
The merry sounds of dwarven drinking songs ring the dog's ears as the magical tankard clobbers it left and right. Kjeta tries to follow it up with a stream of radiant energy which finds a gap in the portcullis and streams into the night sky.
Raseri advances forward, her maul crackling with triboelectric energy as it crushes the wounded hounds shoulder...spreading the energy across its whole body.
"By the gods, look at the size of it! I've milked smaller cows..." the guard doesn't seem that frightened though, and is clearly a veteran...
...simply walking up and thrusting it straight in its heart. "Ahaha! Still got it, baby!"
The hound chomps down on the source of its wounded paw, nearly fitting Carnadine's whole head inside its great maw...
...the steamy slobber aroma wafting through the Knight's helm as it tries to wrench his head free.
Suddenly arrows stream through the bars of the portculis, threatening Carnadine at the lock...
They both get deflected by the bars however and skitter down the stairwell. The fey are visible for a split second before you see them scatter again down the walkway and into shadows...
Round 2:
Enemy
Carn/Ket/Ras/Guard <---UP
”Well. Guess I’ve done volunteered for this then by process of elimination. Fook. Well. Too late to turn back now, aye?”
Hrungnir smolders the little clay tablet, burning a rich orange glow in the darkness of night. The light dances on the name 'Ogolai' and as the rune master breathes the fumes, he feels his consciousness stretch across the astral plane...guided by some mechanical spider on the strands of time and space, or so it seems to him.
A ghostly green and white glow rises from the grave. A hoof clops onto the cold earth, then another. A human head rises...and rises higher atop an old, but exquisitely toned chest which finally rests atop the body of a horse.
The spirit of an ancient centaur stands before you all.
"...I've returned to Midgard, corpse of Aurgelmir...iron and gold of the dragons. *sigh* I know this place, it is not my forest...why have you summoned me, northerner?" Everyone can hear it speak, but it can only hear Hrungnir.
So, here's how the clay works...its a bit different than what the World Book has for it, mostly because I was trying to do it from memory and goofed up.
Anyways, the effect lasts 1 hour. You can ask it questions and it can not lie. However, with each question you must:
-Succeed at DC 14 Con Save vs addiction
-Take 2 nonlethal dmg
-Increase Save DC by 1 for next question
Addition is basically a -2 to most stuff and can be cured with remove disease or heal. You can also just do it through willpower by abstaining for 2 weeks at DC 20 wisdom.
Carnadine shakes off the fey hound, lucky to keep his head on his shoulders. He grits his teeth as adrenaline surges putting his shoulder against his shield again and attempting to knock the pooch prone and then push it over the battlements.
"Well Ulf, do you feel it?"
Raseri's question rings out clear, a note of laughter like the tinkling of a clear mountain brook rippling just underneath. Carnadine feels a cold tingle wash over him as his wounds heal. Some of the pain remains, but those aches are almost drowned out by the energy infusing the cleric's words.
She grins as she stares down the fey hound and circles around to put it between her and the portcullis.
"These fey use trickery and mock us. They leave a simple beast to stop us. Why do we not use its corpse to batter down the thin shield of that door?"
The shadows dance as Raseri spins the head of the maul in wide, sweeping arcs to build up its momentum before slamming into the flank of the fey beast. A deafening crack of thunder shakes the stones and pushes the hound back from the cleric as she readies another strike.
"Then let us see how how many of them we can make die!"