This area appears to be sleeping quarters, with a handful of bunks and a few empty footlockers. Considering it's essentially a thieves' guild, it's not terribly surprising that no one wants to leave their stuff out. There is also a small circular well full of water in the middle of the northern half of the room. It's hard to see the bottom in the torchlight, but appears to go down about thirty feet or so. Nothing can be seen at the bottom.
Ulysses finds nothing of interest, but Melech discovers a loose stone under one of the bunk beds. Pulling it out, he finds a small space with a pendant inside. It radiates magic, and a quick scan by Nevai shows it to be an amulet of natural armor +1.
In the southern half of the room, there are four more pits like the water well, but they all appear to be empty of any liquids. A low, wheezy cough comes rising up from one of them.
Melech looks wide eyed at the others, rushes to the pits, and looks in.
Ulysses does the same.
Four stone wells fill much of this otherwise unremarkable half of the room. Disassembled mechanical remains lie scattered around plumbing connections in the southeast corner. You each rush to a pit and peer down.
Nevai hustles to the nearest pit, but sees nothing but a few feet of stagnant-looking water at the bottom. Ulysses looks into the other close pit, and there at the bottom, naked and battered, is the familiar form of Ptemenib, sitting with his back leaning against the pit wall.
The raven-like form of Qasin bursts into view in front of Ulysses and squawks in a fashion that sounds very eerily like a human cry of anguish. "Ptemenib!" she calls as she perches on the lip of the well. "Oh friend what have they done to you?"
Ptemenib smiles wearily up at them. "It is good to see your faces. But perhaps keep it down a bit, Qasin? Unless you are certain the entire hideout has been cleared."
Qasin clamps her beak shut and makes a small groaning noise. "Sorry," she whispers loudly, then turns to Ulysses. "He has no wings. How do we get him out?"
Melech almost misses what's at the bottom of his well at the cry from Qasin, but he managed to catch a form in the faint torchlight before the nosoi's racket.
At the bottom of his well lies the broken, bloody corpse of Ibrahim the Elder.
Oh, no.
Melech closes his eyes and gathers his will, then looks at Nevai. "I am so sorry, Nevai. Look." He steps back from the pit to allow Nevai to see for himself.
Ulysses looks up from Ptenemib's pit and sees Melech's distraught face. "What? What is it?"
Melech gives Ulysses a look and shakes his head. You will find out soon enough.
Nevai feels a tight, horrid little ball of something solid and cold in his gut as he moves uncertainly toward the bottom well. He stares down into the dim light for several seconds, refusing to let the light focus on the body below. He doesn't want to know who it is. But he already knows.
He knew the second he saw the white robe with the gold and silver trim. He knew the second Melech spoke.
He drops to his knees at the lip of the well and stares down at his father's broken body as his vision ripples and blurs. Perhaps Horus-Re has cursed him with blindness for getting Father killed. He knows this must be his fault as surely as he knows his own name. The idea that it could be the tears in his eyes is absolutely absurd.
Why? Why are you here? Why did they take you? Why did they kill you? It is not fair. It is not fair. I do not understand.
He can articulate none of this. The only noise he can make is a low, desperate croak.
Melech takes the haversack from Ulysses and pulls out the anytool and a spool of rope. He goes to work fashioning a grappling hook out of the anytool and attaching the rope to it. As he works, he catches Ulysses's gaze and nods toward Nevai.
Ulysses approaches Nevai. He takes a quick peek down the pit, though it is only to confirm what he already suspects. With the cleric on his knees, they are now approximately the same height, and Ulysses puts his hand on Nevai's shoulder. "I am sorry, dear boy. He was a good man." He doesn't know what else to say, so he awkwardly stands there.
Melech attaches the grappling hook to the lip of the pit , ensures that his ioun torch is active, and begins descending the rope.
Nevai stares down at the lifeless meat that used to house his father, unable to move.
Was.
Was.
Was.
Melech manages to climb down the rope without much incident. Ptemenib stands shakily to his feet, his brow furrowed in concern. "What happened? What is wrong?"
"The cleric," Qasin says quietly. "He is suffering. His father has begun the journey to the Spire."
Ptemenib closes his eyes and nods. He turns to Melech. "I am not much of a climber on the best of days. I... may need help."
Melech nods. "I understand. Do you have the strength to climb on my back and hold on?"
"I think so," Ptemenib says, gripping the slayer's torso as firmly as he can.
Even with the extra 150 pounds of cleric on his back, Melech's climb is not significantly harder, though he finds he needs to take a breather when they finally scramble out of the hole. It's a good thing Ptemenib is a wisp of a man, or that may have been nearly impossible.
Nearby, Melech and Ptemenib can see a visibly shaking Nevai still half-collapsed at the edge of the well. He does not appear to have moved at all in the minutes it took to free the cleric.
Melech gives Ptenemib a quick once over.
"OH GODS HE'S DEAD!"
"Ptenemib, can you walk? Do you need healing?"
Melech asks Ulysses to attend to Ptenemib while he pulls the rope up and prepares to descend the other pit to retrieve Ibrahim's body.
Ulysses is still standing awkwardly next to Nevai, so he is somewhat relieved to have another task. He feels for the boy, but he has never been one for comforting others.
But Ptenemib is trained for this stuff! He leads the old man to Nevai's side and looks him over.
It's hard to assess the cleric's wounds precisely, but he has clearly been severely beaten, and the fall into the pit definitely left a couple hairline fractures and maybe a cracked rib. From what Melech and Ulysses can tell, there is no internal bleeding, but he's definitely in rough shape.
"I do not suppose you found my things along the way? I cannot heal my wounds without my holy symbol."
Ulysses pulls out the vestments and holy symbol from the large storage room with the horrible animated digestive system. "Are these yours?"
Melech descends the rope into the pit with Ibrahim's body.
Knowing how difficult carrying a lifeless body while also climbing will be, he loops the end of the rope around Ibrahim's shoulders and ties it across his chest. Then he climbs out, planning to pull the body up separately once he reaches the top.
You bring Ibrahim the Elder to the top of the well and gently lay him on the ground. His skin is slightly bloated--there was a thin layer of water at the bottom--and his neck is at a hideous angle; the severed spine presses against the bloated skin obscenely.
Clearly the fall killed him, though he has several bruises and cuts from pre-mortem wounds. Based on the injuries, it looks like he put up a hell of a fight and was beaten to unconsciousness. When he was thrown in the pit, he landed on his neck.
Nevai kneels next to his father and tries to close his lids, but his eyes are bulging out of his head, swollen from the water. Instead, he takes a kerchief to drape over the old man's face. He would like to say it is to maintain Father's dignity, but truth be told, those eyes horrify him. He cannot stand to look at him like that.
He crosses Ibrahim's arms over his chest. He does not trust himself to speak, so he recites a prayer to Anubis in his head, but he nearly screams when his addled brain can't remember the words.
Pleadingly he looks up to Ptemenib. "I..." he rasps, then swallows and tries again. "I do not remember the words... to Anubis... please..." He knows how he looks right now and he hates it. Horus would be ashamed of his begging.
Ptemenib takes his things gratefully, then squeezes Nevai's shoulder and nods. "Of course. Anubis has ever been friend to Pharasma."
Ptemenib stares for a long, silent moment at the shrouded form of Ibrahim the Elder before he begins a long, low incantation.
"To Anubis whose work is the care of the dead, I offer my praise.
O god of the graveyard, great god of the tomb,
Preserver of Osiris, counter of hearts, balancer against
The feather of Ma’at, you lead us into the Duat,
The life after life in which we may dwell in peace and plenty,
In which we may be reborn among those we have loved,
Our dearest ones in whose steps we hope to follow,
To whose arms we hope to return. O guardian and guide
Of souls, O foremost of the Western gods, Anubis
Who leads us into the Boneyard, who carries us
From world into world, Anubis who opens that sacred way,
Anubis who is ancient of name and ancient of might,
Speaker of spells and granter of breath, I honor you,
O friend of the departed; I thank you for your many gifts.
Bring now this soul to your side, and guard him
As he makes his way to the Spire."
Melech waits respectfully while Nevai and Ptemenib observe Ibrahim's last rites. Once done, he turns to Nevai. "Nevai, can you go on? I would like to finish looking around, maybe get some answers, but we have what we came for, so we can leave now if you would prefer."
Ptemenib politely declines Ulysses' offer of wand healing. Now that he has his holy symbol, he bathes the party in positive energy.
Ptemenib, looking much healtheir now, nods. "Much better. As to your question, Melech, you may have got what you came for, but I would be remiss in my duty if I did not confront the leader of these masked strangers and try to get some answers. They have overtaken the Silver Chain and seem to rule over the remaining members with fear, but they are not themselves Silver Chain. They appear to be a cult of some sort, from what little I have overheard. I need answers."
He gives a grave nod toward Nevai. "And I think some of you may wish justice, in whatever form that may take. I have a few spells left to aid in that regard."
Nevai stands slowly and pulls out his mace, gripping it with white knuckles. "Yes," he says in a voice that is not quite a whisper, "let us find their leader and have a conversation."
Melech looks down at Ibrahim, then up at Nevai. "We cannot leave him here." He looks to the northern room, where he remembers seeing bunks. That'll do. "Nevai, with your permission, I will move him to one of those bunks." He then picks up the man as respectfully as he can manage and moves him to one of the bunks.
That done, he waves Ulysses over to help him check out the northeast doors.
Ulysses realizes he drank his last shield extract too soon. Nothing for it now. At least the mutagen is still active; it muddles his mind but makes him preternaturally quick.
+2 traps
Nevai says nothing, but he also does not stand in Melech's way. He turns away from his father's body, unable to bear the sight any longer.
Qasin shudders and lands on Ptemenib's shoulder, then vanishes from sight with a near-whispered keen of shared sorrow. For his part, the cleric puts on his tattered, bloody vestments--better than the near birthday suit he was just sporting, anyway--and nods to the others.
As the party makes ready to step into the next room, the revelations in this one makes the place feel strangely portentous, as if the rescue of Ptemenib and the tragic discovery of Father Ibrahim is merely the calm before a very strange and deadly storm.
With that near-electric sensation in their blood, they step through the door into the room beyond. No locks or traps harry their passage.
Inside, finely crafted antique furniture from many different periods crowds the chamber, and the smell of rich food hangs in the air. Books and charts crowd one cedar table, while a half-finished banquet of fruit and roasted meats sits on another. A living area with a bed and other furniture fills the southern portion of the room.
Four figures in gold funerary masks stand waiting, weapons drawn. Yet, none of them move toward the party. One of them, a tall, muscular man in studded leather armor and wielding a kukri and a strange khopesh with a blade of soft, mottled pink, has a particularly ornate headdress. He points the kukri in the party's direction and speaks, his voice slightly muffled by the funerary mask.
"Who are you that invades my home? What do you want? The cleric?" He shrugs. "You have him. I only imprisoned him because he was stalking one of my men. I have no use for him. If that is why you are here, take him and leave. I have neither the time nor interest in fighting."
Melech studies #1 as the others speak, his fist tightening around the hilt of his falchion.
Ulysses takes a hesitant step forward. "We also have no interest in fighting... if you are Silver Chain. It seems there is some sort of cult infiltrating the Silver Chain, with the goal of expediting the spread of the undead. If you represent that cult, I'm afraid fighting is an inevitability. If you do not, joining forces to eradicate the undead is a mutual interest. We seek assistance in blocking the tunnels leading to the Necropolis so the undead may not use them."
The man in the more ornate mask--the leader, you would presume, since he's the only one who has spoken thus far--tilts his head slightly toward one of the other masked figures, then back to the gnome. "Er. Cult? What cult?"
Nevai doesn't trust himself to speak for a moment, his knuckles nearly bone-white from his grip on the mace.
Finally he manages a near-whisper that shakes with rage. "Liar. Killer."
When he turns to Melech and Ulysses he says almost pleadingly, "No more killing. No more death. I have had enough of it. I want to bring him in the right way. Please."
Apparently realizing he didn't fool anyone, the leader shrugs. "Boring conversation anyway." He points again at the party with the kukri. "Kill them."
ROUND 1
BOLD may act.[color=green]
Cultist 1 (0 dmg)
Melech (51/57 hp)
Cultist 2 (0 dmg)
Ptemenib (0 dmg)
Ekram (0 dmg)
Cultist 3 (0 dmg)
Ulysses (42/42 hp, Dex Mutagen)
Cultist 4 (0 dmg)
Qasin (0 dmg)
Nevai (35/35 hp)
[/color]
Acting quickly, the first cultist darts forward toward Melech, drawing strands of Aether to his palm as he moves, and touches the slayer's shiny new armor, sending agonizing arcs of electricity through his body .
Melech grins at the idiot who wandered into falchion range, then illustrates the mistake with a slash across the chest.
Despite the fact that Melech made a seriously rookie mistake and put too much power behind the swing, leaving him overextended and at a ridiculously awkward angle, it doesn't matter because the cultist's short sword simply bounces off the slayer's armor harmlessly because what even is AC anymore with you.
The second cultist moves up to Ulysses and tries to do the same thing. Still trying to gather his wits enough to act, the cultist easily places his hand on the gnome. He also touches his chain shirt in such a way as to send the jolt of electricity through his vital organs, causing the gnome's heart to skip erratically for a second before getting back on track .
Since no one but allies have taken damage yet, Ptemenib deems it safe to send out a pulse of positive energy to heal Melech and Ulysses.
"Please be careful," he says over the sounds of battle. "I cannot do that many more times."
Ekram strides up to Ptemenib, past the convulsing gnome, and sweeps his legs with the khopesh. However, Ptemenib, despite his condition (which improves further with the burst of positive energy) the lithe cleric is shockingly spry, and ducks his legs away at the last second.
Seeing how much fun his friends were having, the third cultist runs up to Ulysses to pump the poor bastard full of more electricity, but he gets overexcited and his hand swings through air instead of hitting its intended target. Despite missing, the hand still crackles dangerously with blue-green energy.
ROUND 1
BOLD may act.[color=green]
Cultist 1 (0 dmg)
Melech (57/57 hp)
Cultist 2 (0 dmg)
Ptemenib (0 dmg)
Ekram (0 dmg)
Cultist 3 (0 dmg)
Ulysses (42/42 hp, Dex Mutagen)
Cultist 4 (0 dmg)
Qasin (0 dmg)
Nevai (35/35 hp)
[/color]
Ulysses steps away from the three cultists. He knows he won't be able to prep a bomb without taking a shot from the leader, but that's better than taking four shots. He braces himself for the attack, then tosses his bomb at #2, looking to maximize the splash (and hopefully disrupt #3's spell).
Ulysses shapes the bomb slightly so it strafes in a wide arc that's practically a line and just barely ducks Ekram's khopesh as he smacks #2 in the face with the bomb. It detonates and all three cultists take serious damage, though apparently the shaping of the blast caused all the tanglefoot chemical to spray out the sides and not forward at all; #2 is free of the muck, but #1 and #3 get enough on them to make movement difficult.
Qasin does bird things. It's a mystery.
ROUND 1
BOLD may act.[color=green]
Cultist 1 (8 dmg, entangled)
Melech (57/57 hp)
Cultist 2 (11 dmg)
Ptemenib (0 dmg)
Ekram (0 dmg)
Cultist 3 (8 dmg, entangled)
Ulysses (42/42 hp, Dex Mutagen)
Qasin (0 dmg)
Nevai (35/35 hp)
[/color]
Nevai looks at Melech and Ulysses with a look of both disappointment and resignation. He had genuinely hoped, but he's not surprised. Even if they will not heed his request, he will do what he must. He glances at the khopesh in Ekram's hand and steps up to the man, trying to bat it aside with his mace.
Nevai drops his mace and picks up the strange dusty pink-bladed khopesh, risking another reprisal from Ekram to do so. He appreciates the blade for a second and then stares the masked man in the face and says, "You dropped it. This is mine now."
Ekram, not expecting someone to try and snatch away his weapon, makes a clumsy swing with it at Nevai's mace hand but the blade is turned by the chainmail sleeve. The weapon skitters to the ground at their feet only to be picked up by the cleric. The dual-wielder is now just a... wielder.
The first cultist, not realizing he is basically just standing there waiting for his own death, swings at Melech again. His blade is turned harmlessly by the magical plate mail.
ROUND 2
BOLD may act.[color=green]
Cultist 1 (8 dmg, entangled)
Melech (57/57 hp)
Cultist 2 (11 dmg)
Ptemenib (0 dmg)
Ekram (0 dmg)
Cultist 3 (8 dmg, entangled)
Ulysses (42/42 hp, Dex Mutagen)
Qasin (0 dmg)
Nevai (35/35 hp)
[/color]
Melech can't believe he missed a wide open opportunity and left himself open to a counter in the process. But he learned long ago how to channel his rage and frustration into his blade.
He also really doesn't like how Nevai has put himself in range of all four opponents. He doesn't expect Nevai to understand the finer details of martial combat, but that's just common sense. Nothing for it now, though; just need to put these cultists down fast.
He resets his feet and swings with his hips.
Melech's face twists into a half-grin, half-grimace as his blade passes through #1 and doesn't stop on its way to #2.
The cultist's midsection sprays a violent gout of blood as Melech's falchion hacks the man all the way in half, the blade barely slowing down as it shatters the spine and continues through viscera and organs out the other side. The cultist's scream dies in his throat as his torso lands on the stone floor with a sick wet thud. The man died of shock the second his spine was severed; he was literally dead before he even hit the ground.
Unfortunately his guts provided just enough resistance that Melech's swing loses its momentum by the time it strikes the second cultist, doing little more than bounce off an invisible barrier near the cultist's skin; a protective spell of some sort, apparently.
The second cultist screams profanities at Melech and launches into a new assault with his sword, apparently invigorated by his ally's death instead of horrified, but even with the slayer's compromised defenses after that horror show of a strike, the cultist's short sword misses horribly.
Ptemenib stands back, healing ready in case someone else goes down. He doesn't seem to have much in the way of spells at the ready.
Ekram, denied his favorite weapon, snarls and steps back, pulling the bow from his back and quickly firing an arrow at Nevai. It buries itself in the cleric's shoulder .
Shockingly, the third cultist manages to move into his boss's old space (provoking an AoO from Nevai)[/ooc] to slam his shortsword past the gnome's ridiculously high defenses and dig into his arm with the blade .
ROUND 2
BOLD may act.[color=green]
Cultist 1 (43 dmg, dead af)
Melech (57/57 hp)
Cultist 2 (11 dmg)
Ptemenib (0 dmg)
Ekram (0 dmg)
Cultist 3 (8 dmg, entangled)
Ulysses (38/42 hp, Dex Mutagen)
Qasin (0 dmg)
Nevai (27/35 hp)
[/color]
ROUND 2
BOLD may act.[color=green]
Cultist 1 (43 dmg, dead af)
Melech (57/57 hp)
Cultist 2 (11 dmg)
Ptemenib (0 dmg)
Ekram (8 dmg, entangled)
Cultist 3 (8 dmg, entangled)
Ulysses (42/42 hp, Dex Mutagen)
Qasin (0 dmg)
Nevai (27/35 hp)
[/color]
Ulysses steps back and tosses a bomb past Nevai at #2.
Cultist #2 takes the bomb to the face, blowing off chunks of flesh and caving a piece of his jaw in. The sticky resin of the tanglefoot bomb lodges the man in an awkward standing position while he steadily bleeds out. The other cultist manages to duck the worst of the splash, but he's already entangled so it's not like ducking that matters much.
Qasin remains hidden. From what you know of nosoi, this isn't surprising. They're not exactly warriors.
Not able to give chase to Ekram without taking an attack to his flank, Nevai turns his attention on #3 and swipes at him with the flat of the weird pink khopesh.
Despite Nevai whiffing on his target, things are unsurprisingly turning rapidly in the party's favor.
ROUND 3
BOLD may act.[color=green]
Cultist 1 (43 dmg, dead af)
Melech (57/57 hp)
Cultist 2 (27 dmg, unconscious and dying)
Ptemenib (0 dmg)
Ekram (8 dmg, entangled)
Cultist 3 (12 dmg, entangled)
Ulysses (42/42 hp, Dex Mutagen)
Qasin (0 dmg)
Nevai (27/35 hp)
[/color]