Sighing, she says "you're no fun." before returning to the others and saying "The red wizard is down there in a cell. he's not very talkative."
"Fascinating." Tarn says stepping through the arch with an almost unconscious duck to avoid the odd black substance. As he explores the prison, he takes a closer look at the skeleton, looking for any sign of how the poor soul may have died.
"Loremaster's grace...the bones are covered with tiny bite marks, as if the poor creature had its flesh stripped away by hundreds of tiny creatures." Tarn says, his breath hissing with concern as he pockets the magnifying glass and looks about the room for any sign of the small creatures that appear to have inflicted the damage.
Tarn, you find no trail of the tiny creatures, whatever they were. At the same time, you realize they could not possibly have escaped through the walls...the masonry is too perfect, the seams too tight. There is no mortar even for a creature to burrow through.
As soon as you step through the archway, the black mass that had retreated to the far end of the chamber rushes back to fill the space again. However, just before this 'door' closes, you notice back in the entrance chamber with the dais another party of adventurers! They are adorned with modern armor and carry the sigil of the Zulkir.
The group quickly rushes a woman to the ground (a druid, you think) while a half-orc brutally stabs her in the neck 3 times. She catches your eyes just as the black mass refills the gap, and her mouth was open as if to shout something...but was never heard.
You blink and the only thing that can be seen in that direction is the black, gently undulating mass blocking the way...
|
”This is most disturbing. Assassins, sent to ensure that when we complete our task that we never speak of it? Or perhaps cultists.” Lindaer mused. ”Given that this creature cut us off from each other, I assume that they are not denizens of this place. Regardless, I will see if I can get this cell open. If the Wizard within lives, he may have answers.”
Falko, it certainly does, in fact just as easily as you might turn the handle on an ordinary door. But to your surprise, the entrance chamber which just less than a second ago held the woman in dire circumstance now appears completely empty and untouched...as if they were never there.
Lindaer, after moving the sharply cut little crystal out of one opening and sliding it into another you hear a *crack* like a twig being snapped. The bars on the cell slide away into the surrounding walls under the power of some unknown force, leaving you free to examine the robed figure.
With the tightly meshed cell bars out of the way, you get a better look at him...or her? The robes are very old and faded, and the figure's hood is lowered making it still difficult to see its face. Likewise its hands are locked in a meditative pose and the long flowing cuffs cover any skin. It sure doesn't appear to be breathing...
At the slightest touch, the body falls apart like a stack of potatoes, the fleshy little corpse bundles rolling out of the old robes onto the floor. The flesh on the face has been wholesale removed, as well as the tissue on the arms all the way up to the elbows. The ragged ends of visible skin show a series of black dots identical to those on the patients you observed back in Mulmaster.
Also spilling forth from the corpse is a curious piece of tile marked with a transmutative rune.
Daryl watches the events unfold with a great deal of confusion. It seems as though time is being manipulated somehow. We must get to the bottom of this.
Medicine untrained
Hearing Falko's shout Tarn rushes out of the cell and into the bigger chamber with the others. Seeing nothing beyond the archway, he gives the barbarian a closer look but then shrugs, accepting that the human saw something.
"Perhaps we should check the other archways in case they were able to duck back behind these curious void curtains?"
Looking to Falko he gestures toward the other arches. "Which one did you see them appear from?" He says and then walks over and again pokes the surface of whichever arch Falko points out. But this time he first draws his rapier and stands ready in case there's trouble beyond.
Daryl, the discoloration of the flesh actually suggests starvation. The embedded parasites might have happened post-mortem.
Tarn, poking around at the other black masses, nothing happens...they do not move away the manner the cleared archway has, nor budge at all.
But as Lindaer finishes his prayer something disturbs the peaceful supplication...a ghostly hissing as faces emerge from the masonry. Faces suggestive of malice incarnate...eight shadowy wraiths grasp out at the necks of the party, drawing heat and life into their negative forms...
Initiative:
The ghost's head detached and for a moment it smiled as the smokey vapors trailing off its neck reached back for the form of its body. For what could a force of negative energy care about such corporeal concerns as the location of a head? However, it underestimated the dark magics within the blade...and the smile on its maw faded as its form likewise evaporated.
Hearing the shouts of his comrades, Tarn backtracks toward the cells. Arriving next to Falko he stops and waits to see if any of the creature can actually pass through the bars to escape the cells.
Szasa begins moving as the wraiths threatened the group. Selecting her targets, she moved west 15' and north 5', insuring to get all 3 of her targets within range. Gesturing at yellow, lightning bursts out and slams into him. She then points at white and green, and the lightning arcs from yellow to both of them arcing above Szasa as it moves towards green.
As the lightning corroscates through her targets, Szasa flies away, allowing the sonic boom to wash over all three of her chosen foes.
The intuition of the electricity snakes through the gaps in the bars, catching all three of the advancing wraiths in their spectral forms. However, just as much of the arcane energy seems to simply pass straight through them as scorch their ghostly forms...
Spiderfin moves toward the entrance through which they entered. He wondered if the wraiths were just the punishment of these prisoners. Prisoners themselves of the clouds of negative energy that blocked their escape. So, he suddenly felt like he just stepped in a hornet's nest.
Daryl gives a quick glance to Lindaer for his quick intervention, then steps into the hall where he can get a better idea of the situation... just in time to see Lady Szasa send forth a blinding fork of lightning.
He summons forth his Guardian of Faith, then shouts out to the vengeful spirits.
"Why do you attack us? Who are you? Can we do anything to help ease your torment of undeath"?
The undead seem to care little for the paladin's inquiries, or perhaps find his language unfamiliar...they might very well be of a wholly different age, like the rest of this place.
The undead seem to care little for the paladin's inquiries, or perhaps find his language unfamiliar...they might very well be of a wholly different age, like the rest of this place.
As Daryl's angelic spectral dragon materializes, Falko stands dumbfounded and at a loss for words or actions...though he feels a slight tinge of anger starting to take hold for some reason.
The wraiths in the eastern cells descend upon Lindaer, materializing through the very walls...
+DC 15 Con vs Life Drain (max hp reduced by this amount)
+DC 15 Con vs Life Drain (max hp reduced by this amount)
+DC 15 Con vs Life Drain (max hp reduced by this amount)
+DC 15 Con vs Life Drain (max hp reduced by this amount)
Others swarm Szasa in retaliation for her energetic assaults...
+DC 15 Con vs Life Drain (max hp reduced by this amount)
+DC 15 Con vs Life Drain (max hp reduced by this amount)
Finally the stunned Falko finds himself beset on both sides...
+DC 15 Con vs Life Drain (max hp reduced by this amount)
+DC 15 Con vs Life Drain (max hp reduced by this amount)
+DC 15 Con vs Life Drain (max hp reduced by this amount)
Seeing the wraiths slip past the bars Tarn's ears droop in disappointment. But when two of the undead come up and lash out at the surprised Falko, the little goblin growls and enters the fray.
"Come Falko! Awake from your stupor and let us put these fell souls back into the grave for good." He says stepping up along the wall, keeping a little distance between himself and the barbarian giving him more space to maneuver and slip his blade into the key places that hold the wraith to this existence.
The ghost seems truly surprised the little goblin's blade found its way through to the core of its undead essence, shrieking in pain as trails of ectoplasm dripped from the quick stab.
As the spectral assassin attempts to bind itself to Szasa's life essence, its suddenly thrown backwards as if an oceanic gale was summoned forth from somewhere, disappearing through the bars of the cell.
...hornet's nest. Probably avoidable." The wood elf strides down the cell block behind the goblin. With his left hand holding his staff, the hierophant calls a ball of flame into his right hand and throws it at the wraith that Tarn engaged.
Finlogan reemerges from his wild form with a fist full of fire, bringing the heat to the life stealing wisps. The plasma charge bores a hole through one, but only some of the singeing edges of its substance seem to creep into its ethereal dimension.
The Damaran warrior takes a...less complicated approach, simply wailing down on it with his gigantic enchanted weapon until it vaporizes entirely.
Lindaer 35/55
Szasa 72/121
Falko 142/175
Green 99/120
Yellow 108/120
White 91/120
Purple Unharmed
Red Unharmed
Orange Unharmed
Blue (defeated)
Cyan (defeated)
Daryl reaches out to cast some healing magic on Szasa.
Cure Wounds (3rd Level Slot).
He then moves to within the protection of his guardian.
"Come! Gather around me and my guardian. Make them come to us instead of splitting up and letting them flank us".
Szasa nods her thanks to Daryl as he mends her wounds.
The wraiths assaulting Lindaer follow him out of the strange cells...right into the undeniable righteousness of Daryl's guardian.
The first erupts in a blinding flash, the slightest of movements visible in the spectral dragon's form...the wraith hisses madly and almost dares its companion to enter as well, who does so cautiously before another educational brandish of divinity. Their pain in being smited driving them forward in anger against the holy warriors.
+need Con 15 save or same as max hp reduction
+need Con 15 save or same as max hp reduction
The wounded and angry spirits bore into the dragonborn like a drill, withering his muscles to a reduced form with a stench of the dead.
Nearby, the Lady Szasa was facing her own overwhelming attack...
+need Con 15 save or same as max hp reduction
The storm mistress becomes buried beneath a mass of black shadows and unearthly screams, until suddenly a shimmering globe bursts forth from beneath...warding her against all peril. But in a sinister move, one the wraiths managed to phase straight through her arcane barrier, grabbing her by the throat and draining the plumpness from her cheeks.
Finally to the north, Falko tried to shake off the engagement of another of the unrelenting torments...
+need Con 15 save or same as max hp reduction
...the barbarian laughing it off madly with wild eyes in his berserk fury, until the creature suddenly shifts straight through him, sucking away years of his life.
Szasa screams as the creature draws out her life essence.
"Fine, we'll do it your way." Szasa incants a spell, and nine orbs of light begin hovering around her head. She then gestures at Orange, and one of the orbs streaks towards it.
"Haha! Welcome to the fray my friend. Your maul shines with the glory of the gods." Tarn shouts as Falko fells the nearest wraith. "Let us strike another down and thin this wicked heard before they gain any further advantage on us." He adds sliding toward the wraith a few paces away. Once again the little goblins enchanted blade sinks deep and slices away at the ties and bindings that keep the spirit attached to the material plane. He then dances away from the wraiths reach.
Tarn uses the distraction of Szasa's wandering star mote to eviscerate the tendrils of undeath creeping through from the other side.
With his left hand holding his staff, the hierophant calls another ball of flame into his right hand and throws it at the isolated wraith.
|
|
Or
And
Standing side by side with Daryl, Lindaer considered his options. His miracles were generally focused on healing, and it was usually a bad idea to do so while fighting. In his experience it was best to neutralize the threats first and to then tend to the fallen. So he lashed out at one of the wraiths attacking his Paladin comrade. He hoped that together they would manage to bring down one of the creatures.