"What was done?" Kaldwell asked, keeping his voice as soothing as possible. "Why do you think you deserve this?"
"Are you sure she is gone for good? Maybe she could come back?"
Mourning Choir only sobs harder. "Nooooo. Mortalsssss do not come back! They are not Ssstorykin. Why isss it the othersss gained powersss when they consssssumed her but all I got wasssss this pain and ssssorrow and ssssufferring. Do they not dessserve a fate as terrible assss mine?" She continues thrashing about, now with a streak of anger in addition to grief.
"Wait .... did you kill her and eat her?" Delroy asks, taking a half step back.
Well, that took an expected turn... I wonder if she'll try the same for us
Yattle doesn't rush to judgment, but their voice is still noticeably cooler when they ask, "What gave you the right to devour her? Merely that you could?"
"We jusssst wanted to leave. Not that it did any good. We dessserve no better than thisss cramped, broken down world. It wasss all for naught. I wisssh it could be different, but it cannot. Thisss isss all I can do now." Mourning Choir picks up her dirge once more.
"Maybe there's a possibility you could redeem yourself." Delroy tells the winged serpent.
"There's another mortal trapped here that is in need of rescue."
"Would you be willing to help us?"
Perhaps it would allievate your sorrow?
"Helping sssome other mortal will do nothing to bring Sssonnorae back or to eassse my pain. I mussst ssstay here and continue to sssing ssso all who hear will remember her."
As far as Eirnar can tell, Mourning Choir is just in a deep state of grief. He sees none of the telltale signs of a curse or some lingering spell. Her sadness just seems very human.
"Nevertheless, we search for tokens that will enable us to secure the freedom of a mortal brought here unwillingly. Would you consent to help us?" Delroy asks the snake.
Seeing as the half-orc apparently ignored her statement that she needed to stay here rather than go out and help, Mourning Choir did likewise and continued to sing, ignoring his question.
"Who were the others who joined you in your mistake? Do they remember Sonorae as you do?"
Helping mortal is easy, we simply need a token, you can remain and after we rescue the mortal, we can return your token. Eirnar diplomatically suggests.
”Perhaps...some kind of action could be taken to atone. The souls of the dead are not gone, and the gods do watch. If we were to help perform an act of repentance, would that help ease your suffering?”
"Mortal souls do not vanish. Sometimes they are reborn, sometimes they remain in the next world. Either way, atonement might be possible," Kaldwell supported the argument.
For a moment, Mourning Choir looks to be in too much grief to respond. As Eirnar rattles on and on about mortals and tokens her eyes starts to glaze over until Kaldwell manages to step in a draw her attention back. Slowly her tears cease to fall as she begins nodding. "Maybe.... I do not know how the other Conssspiratorsss think of Sssonorae or even if they do at all. I ssssussspect it wasss only I who wassss poisssoned like sssso." She definitely sounds a bit bitter at that remark. "But I no longer have the Bard'ssss Heart. I threw it up not long after I came here, but it wassss too late; I wasss already infected. The Barrow King tried to take the burden from me, but it jussst poisssoned him asss well. He guardsss the sssoulsss of the dead on the issssland in the Demon'ssss Lake." She nods at the bridge behind her to the island beyond. "But hissss compassssion isssss only for the dead. He ragessss againsssst the living, blaming them for thisss sssstate. He attacksss all but mournersssss who approach." Still sniffing a little, she moves to the side a little ways so as to give you clear line to the old, rickety bridge. "If you sssseek the tokenssss, you will have to get it from him."
"By the way....you wouldn't have happened to see any giant birds in the neighborhood, have you?" Delroy asks.
"Eirnar there seems to think that a giant bird stole my shadow."
"The only bird that I know of is Embor Comessss-By-Night. He makessss his nessssst somewhere in this fen, though I know not where or why. Mosssst avoid the mud and ssstench, but perhapssss it isss a ssside effect of hisss madnessss. He hasss not come by thisss area in quite ssssome time, not sssince I ssstarted calling myssself Mourning Choir, and I do not leave here."
The Bard's Heart, huh?
Yattle sucks in their lips in thought and begins casually rooting through Eirnar's bag.
"Was Bernaditi of the Midnight Circus one of the ones who ate your friend?" Yattle pulls out the Songsmith's Kiss. "The tokens are her, right?"
Kaldwell looked at Yattle in surprise at that idea. He'd assumed that the tokens were simply named for her, but if they were putting a person back together...maybe she was still alive? In stories such things were possible, after all.
Yattle pulls out the Songsmith's Kiss, a garnet and gold pendant in the shape of a tongue, to show it to Mourning Choir.
"Mine wassss, yesss. I would assssume the othersss were assss well, but it wasss all a mad sssscramble. Bernaditi isss one of the Conspiratorsss along with Bramblessson, Marzalee, Balimar, the Ticktock Man, the Nightpeddler, Zassssrion, and mysssself."
The group bids farewell to Mourning Choir and approaches the rickety bridge to the island. Fortunately for Lokhir, Kaldwell, and Delroy, the bridge seems to be sturdier than it looks and bears their weight, albeit with some rather ominous-sounding creaks. The water you pass over is dark and sluggish with nary a sign of life in it. From the water, the island rises quickly with a short, steep slope before flattening out. As you approach the other side of the bridge, flickering, colored fireflies scatter in all directions. Beyond the light undergrowth lies a maze of leaning gravestones. In the center, two white candles stand burning atop a weathered stone sarcophagus.
Kaldwell hands over the next dose of chilled, cinnamon coffee before he checked the area. The candles looked important - but looks could deceiving, and there was always the chance that it was a lure. The Storykin didn't seem to be automatically deceitful or deceptive but it was always worth checking.
Eirnar similarly looks it over while detecting magic and mundanely.
Eirnar succeeds
Kaldwell succeeds
Lokhir succeeds
Init: Round 1
- Yattle, Eirnar
- Barrow King
- Delroy, Lokhir
- The Haunt
- Kaldwell
Kaldwell and Eirnar approach the sarcophagus attempting to identify the non-magical candles. As they start to rack their vast stores of accumulated knowledge, however, they're distracted by movement behind the the stone structure followed by the bright light of magic that the stone had blocked. Slowly rising before them is the rotting form of a long-dead warrior. In places his flesh has fallen from his skin to reveal the skeleton below and the eyes are but empty sockets, glaring with an angry red glow. "Youuuuu. This is your fault! Your kind's carelessness and cruelty is why the spirits of the dead cannot find peace! Now you come here, to this graveyard I have made for them like you own the place? How dare you! Who do you think you are!?!" In a fit of rage he lifts his greatsword in one hand and viciously swings it across the top of the sarcophagus, sending the two candles flying off. The wet mud extinguishes the light even as it prevents them from going too far.
It's at this point that Kaldwell, Eirnar, and even Lokhir recognize the candles for what they are: votive candles. Lighting a pair of votive candles will soothe the spirits of the restless dead. Given all the souls you have thus far seen floating about, surely the fact that they've been extinguished does not bode well for the group. Though what shape this haunting may take has yet to be seen.
Eirnar thinks " Well, I don't particularly want to be in the range of the haunt, my ancestors can let them rest."
Eirnar channels to destoy the haunt, and any other undead in the viscinity. He then swiftly issues an Inspiring Prediction that his allies will succeed at their next actions.
- Yattle, Eirnar
- Barrow King
- Delroy, Lokhir
- The Haunt
- Kaldwell
The Barrow King snarls in annoyance. "You think that will be enough to turn away these souls? They want their vegance for being kept from a peaceful afterlife!" As he speaks, the souls continue to float towards him.
Eirnar predicts Fell deeds awake: fire and slaughter! The dead may come, but we will beat them back with our own fire spirit!
”We have no quarrel with you, yet.” Lokhir stayed, even has his blade began to glow softly.
Kaldwell slips into his Kirin Style as the strange creature gets ready to fight. He glances at the tattoos down his arm and notices one might be useful here, but waits a moment. "We have no desire to fight, brave guardian. We respect the dead and their rest. For who are the living but those who must know they shall one day rest with the dead?" He gestured to himself. "I may still have a heart which beats, but there are many who would say I am closer to the grave than anywhere else," the old warrior added dryly.
There was a solid chance that the spirit was simply mad with rage, or impossible to turn aside in its wrath. But Kaldwell usually felt a fight that had been avoided was a fighter that had done well. There were, of course, exceptions.
The souls dive down into the earth and there's a soft rumbling. A moment later arms shoot up out of the ground to try to grasp at Eirnar and Kaldwell. Though Kaldwell is easily able to bat away the arms, the far less physical Eirnar is grabbed until his necklace glows briefly and crumbles away.
"You say that but do nothing to bring these spirits any peace. Look how they grasp at you but not me. They want their vengeance on the living. If giving you to them will bring them even a small semblance of rest, I will gladly do it!"
Eirnar says Go away foul undead!
As he channels them down once more.
Yattle snaps their fingers and one of the candles reignites.
Haunt:
The Barrow King only growls as another wave of positive energy washes over him. The arms continue to wave even as large chunks of them start to fall off. They look close to disintegrating entirely. "See what I mean? All you care about is yourselves. You have no problem hurting anything and everything to get what you want." He moves up to Eirnar and Kaldwell, swinging his greatsword at the man hurting his precious undead. However, in his haste, he misses his foe.
Meanwhile, unnoticed by any, one of the candles lights up again.
I typically don't concern myself with the destruction of undead. Our ancestors should rest, not toil...
Lokhir didn’t even deign to respond. Rather he circled around the undead and stabbed it in the back. He considered it a lesson in manners.
Delroy studies Barrow King as a swift action, then slips his flail out of his belt, moves next to it, and sweeps its legs out from underneath it.
(fatigued-coffee)
Haunt: 32
As Lokhir and Delroy move forward, the grasping arms attempt to stop them in their tracks. While Lokhir manages to avoid their grasp, Delroy is caught. Though luckily he didn't need to move any further inwards to strike at his foe.
As Lokhir moves to flanking, the Barrow King tracks the elf's movement. Anticipating his goal, he swings his greatsword at the man, landing a devastating blow.
Despite the blow, Lokhir's blade is true and he strikes back his own attack versus the undead warrior. Taking advantage of his enemy's distraction and even despite the arms holding him in place, he manages to trip the Barrow King!
Enraged at the audacity of these living creatures to attack one being that actually cared about them, the undead arms attempt once more to grasp and pull everybody in their reach to them. Thanks to his magics, Eirnar is too slippery for them, but his allies do not fair as well.
Yattle continues to drift around the fray, igniting the other candle with an arched brow.
"I'm more accustomed to immortals than immortal souls - will that calm down your dead?"
Despite being grappled, and the with his life hanging by a thread, Lokhir continued to attack. Because failing to end the fight now seemed to be the quickest way to having this become his grave.
Grunting, Kaldwell first willed the card he had been saving - the Beating - to activate.
Next, he activated his Kirin Strike abilities against the Barrow King.
Then he tries to break free of the grapple.
As Yattle lights the second candle, the undead arms slow and stop moving. The haunt has been neutralized but not destroyed. Once the candles burn down, hopefully an event that will occur once you are all far from here, the restless dead will continue their tirade against the living. Eirnar, Kaldwell, and Lokhir get the impression that only consecrating the ground under the sarcophagus will truly destroy the haunt.
Kaldwell activates his tattoo, which glows and seems to infuse the now-still arms with a brief golden light.
Barely clinging to life, Lokhir lashed out again with strength born out of desperation.
Lokhir's wounds begin to slowly close, as Eirnar takes the damage for him.
Eirnar steps back and plants his feet in the now undead free ground, activating his boots. He then reaches out and touches Lokhir, warding him from further injury with a shell of succor.
Grinning as the card activated, and the Haunt vanished, Kaldwell took a swing at the rising Barrow King before really trying to take the undead to task. It was a lot harder to feel sympathy for the undead, and the old fighter decided to see what could be done.
Kaldwell strikes at the prone foe, landing some blows but missing others. But it's only when the Barrow King tries to stand and everybody lays into him that the undead warrior falls, still with a sneer on his face. "See, just like all the rest. You care nothing for the dead. Be thankful that I will show more mercy than you did when Zassrion slays you all and your souls are trapped here for all eternity." With those final words, he falls still.
On the Barrow King, after several minutes of concentrating, Lokhir is able to identify
- Brass dragonhide breastplate with fire resistance 10
- Potion of water walk
- Elixir of fire breath x2
- Greatsword
- Mwk throwing axe
- 46 gp
"Anything that looks like a token? I'd very much prefer not to let Zassrion trap my soul for all eternity."
"Anybody know if that thing is going to get back up again?" Delroy asks.
"I wonder if it was a living storykin that became undead or if it was just created as undead."