Cricket's crossbow bolt narrowly misses Ulki! As Uhe falls back, Gig begins to perform and channel the elements. Brijetta blasts Ulki with metal, while Mal raises her shield while she stands up and tends to her own wounds.
"The important thing was that I had an onion on my belt, which was the style at the time," Alkepsur says to Gig. "They didn't have any white onions, because of the war. The only thing you could get was those big yellow ones..." As she drones on, she slashes at the bard again.
"Shameful! Simply shameful! Who throws metal shards? You should forge them into real weapon, as Torag intended!" Ferghaz chides Brijetta, his judgment quite painful!
Ulki hacks and slashes at Mal again, but the druid blocks with her shield!
Heldin raises their holy symbol and calls on Magrim to heal Brijetta.
"But, I've never liked yellow onions!"
A stunned Gig continues to perform and shoots a metal blast at Ulki.
for
HP 20/36
AC 18
Fort +10, Ref +8, Will +5
Hero points: 1
Infused regents: 2
Effects:
"Oh, thank you!" Brijetta says in surprise as Heldin heals her.
"Is this enough of a weapon for you?" she asks as she sends shards of metal toward Ferghaz, all of the splinters surrounding her flying in a burst of metal.
Uhe just stares at the conversation laddened combatants with a bit of confusion.
Onions?
The Investigator considers what to do about Onions...
Looking a bit perplexed still, the Investigator disregards his attack notion and Strides 20' closer to the Onion knight and yells at it!
What are you yammering on about!
Onions!
Mal clasps her hands together and concentrates. "I don't know much 'bout ghosts, but I know healin' don't heal 'em!"
"Annoying old people..." He mumbles as he reloads and shoots again, trying to get rid of Ulki.
This time, Cricket’s crossbow bolt tears right through Ulki’s neck! The warrior’s spirit instantly dissipates! Brijetta blasts Ferghaz thrice, causing his spirit to vanish as well. Gig batters Alkepsur, then Mal’s healing spell finishes destabilizing the historian’s spirit.
The crypt falls silent as the three ghosts have been vanquished! Helbin sighs with relief. ”Whew! Is everybody alright?”
Uhe takes off his glasses, cleans them and replaces them.
The dust in this place is appalling!
"I feel that was very disrespectful of our part... we had to do it, but still rubs me in the wrong way."
"I know what you mean, Cricket. Weren't those heroes of the past?" Gig wrings his hands. "They weren't exactly what I was imagining. Did you hear what they said about goblins?"
"Well d'you reckon a ghost is really them? Or just an angry, kinda' racist reflection? Seriously, I'm askin'."
"But err... either way, we should take a gander at the inscriptions they were bringin' up, right?"
"Those would be in the lower crypt. This way," Heldin says, gesturing for you to follow them down a sloping passage.
Niches with several shelves line almost every vertical surface of the lower crypt, which holds hundreds of ossuaries, urns, and several sarcophagi. A wide ceremonial space for funeral services is flanked by stone altars and curved walls painted with fading scenes of Highhelm as it appeared around 4000 AR. However, haphazard splashes of vibrant paint mar some of these images, several urns have shattered on the floor, and unflattering graffiti is carved in jagged script over various funerary inscriptions.
As you move to inspect the vandalism, a creature suddenly emerges from one of the inscriptions along the north wall! It appears to be a cackling, serpentine being with an elongated crocodilian face, luminous eyes, and arms that vanish at the elbows into swirling clouds of runes before reforming into solid talons. It grins at you malevolently.
Gig attempts to identify the creature, while calling out to his friends some encouragement and channeling the elements.
Gig recognizes the creature as a protean known as an akizendri. Akizendris gnaw at sources of knowledge and lore, gleefully corrupting and altering them to vex scholars and sages across the planes with contradictions and untruths. Akizendris amuse themselves by rearranging or deleting texts, placing insulting acrostics in poetic verses, and penning crude insults upon title pages.
Beings of pure chaos, proteans ever-shifting anatomies make them resistant to precision damage. They are weak to lawful damage.
Cricket zips his mouth as Gig is surprised about the ancestors views about goblins, specially after Mal agrees. Cricket was ancient and he knew pretty well what orcs and goblins were capable of and, most importantly, he'd heard the stories of his kind. He does not believe they have changed at all, despite the recent appearances, but he would allow himself to be fooled and pretend he was as gullible as the young. He'd not be mean or disrespectful to them in the least, for he wasn't this kind of person, but if and when they show their true colors, his crossbow would be ready.
"They still are heroes." Cricket replies.
---
"What is that thing?" Cricket asks, alarmed. He doesn't wait for an answer though, figuring that whatever it was, it was bad.
Cricket's shot is off the mark. As the ranger falls back, the protean slithers through the air towards Gig, biting at the bard!
At the same time, three bits of the graffiti on the inscriptions animate, slithering across the walls and onto urns near your party. They try to splatter Brijetta, Mal, and Uhe with paint! Mal and Uhe get hit in the face with paint balls!
Critical Failure: As failure, but the creature is also confused for 1 round.
Mal take the paint full in the face with a yelp. "Aww it's in my eyes, and my hair!"
She wipes the goop out of her eyes, hurling something rather more destructive than paint back at the graffiti!
Admiring each delicate block of chiseled stone that bravely paved their steps, Uhe marveled at the ceremonial space, but the Investigator dose lift his spectacles a bit to Glare at the malicious vandalism!
Who would do such....ahhh, it's in my eye! Time out! Time out! Oh, mercy! My eye!
The much ado about nothing dwarf rubs vigorously at his impeded vision!
Pink is my favorite color....but not in mine eyes!
The Investigator turns his pink eye toward the protein!
Quite angst at this predicament, Uhe takes out his scorpion whip.
HP 36/36
AC 18
Fort +10, Ref +8, Will +5
Hero points: 1
Infused regents: 2
Effects:
Brijetta can't help giggling for a moment as she sees the paint splatter, but she knows that whatever's happening is almost as bad as the ghosts were. As always, the forge spirits come to her call, surrounding her in a whirl of sparks and the sounds of hammers hitting metal.
She blasts the protean with fire, then pulls the metal around her quickly into a spray at the malevolent inkblots.
"Ah, mercy me!" Gig is hit by the protean and tries to pull himself together.
The bard manages to keep it together, so he keeps up a litany of advice about the chaotic creature. Sharing what he knows in a little rhyme.
He also slashes a chunk of metal at the creature.
for
Cricket quietly reloads his crossbow and fires again.
Uhe blinks rapidly.
Being only 4'1", I tend to miss things being suggested at myself with such certainty and obviousness attached to it.
The painted pink dwarf glares at the protean!
The protean cackles and ignores Uhe's glare! Brijetta's initial blast misses, but she hits both the protean and one of the animated graffiti with her shard strike. Mal's electricity wreaks havoc as well, but the protean snarls as its anatomy shifts to become resistant to electricity! Gig blasts the protean with metal, then Cricket fires a crossbow bolt into the being's serpentine body!
Badly wounded, the protean flies past you, moving up the passageway out of the lower crypt in an attempt to flee! The animated graffiti fires more paint, and this time Brijetta takes several painful splatters to the face!
Cricket rushes after the protean, reloading as he goes. He takes aim, but then pauses as he considers if they need to kill the creature. Cricket never really liked to shoot someone in the back, specially when he wasn't sure they'd come back to become an enemy in the future.
He shoots and misses. He sighs, no really disappointed.
Gig practically dances after the protean. He's hopping mad! "How dare you deface those monuments!"
Once he is in range, he fires another shot at the protean.
and
The protean cackles and ignores Uhe's glare!
The dwarf sighs.
Reminds me ov me ex-wife.
The Investigator's blue (teary?) eyes turn to regard the blasted paint tosses.
The semi-excited, but still a bit emotionally hurt dwarf Strikes with his scorpion whip!
Uhe seems like a new dwarf! He glares at the paint!
Mal doesn't chase after the protean, just focusing on stopping the graffiti from wreaking more havoc. With err... havoc.
HP 18/36
AC 18
Fort +10, Ref +8, Will +5
Hero points: 1
Infused regents: 2
Effects:
Brijetta blinks furiously, wiping away the ink from her eyes as she tries to gather herself. Not worrying about the fleeing foe, she lashes out at the remaining blots. "Stop hurting me!"
Though the protean escapes, you are able to destroy the strange animated graffiti with a concentrated effort. The wayward paint evaporates into nothingness.
With the battle over, you can survey the damage. Most of the vandalism bears the same irregular scrawling that you found in the park surrounding the crypt, indicating this was all the protean’s work. Heldin works quickly to document the damage, but they're relieved to have discovered what was riling the spirits. They thank you, gratefully accepting any help you provide in cleaning up the crypt, and they promise to be in touch soon about anything else they find.
***
The following day, you receive two deliveries. The first is a heartfelt letter from Heldin thanking you for their help. Heldin says they received high praise from their superiors as well as a thurible of revelation (enclosed with the package) that they believe you would make far better use of. The second delivery is an appreciative letter from several Tolorr clan members for helping at the crypt. Enclosed are a flask of holy water and a moderate ghost charge to “help with any other ghosts,” as well as an elaborate silver religious symbol of Torag worth 10 gp.
Uhe superstitious kicks around a few still paint cans (spilling ant existing paint inside, of course) about the place.
We've gotten on the run now!
Sheepishly taking out a handkerchief, the dwarf begins dabbing the freshly splashed paint.
Should be cleaned up in a jiffy!
Reading the letters the following morning (his arms sore), Uhe proudly announces the group's accomplishments.
...and we received the new copy of the coloring books to come out next month!
"Hopefully we won't find anymore ghosts," Brijetta says mostly to herself.
Hopefully the upcoming Family Festival will be much less dangerous than everything else suddenly seems to be in Highhelm. She doesn't ever remember having this many adventures when she was working on her jewelry at her forge. But she's sure they must be over and dealt with now.
"I'm working on some new skits about our adventures. It's going to take me a few days to sew appropriate outfits." Gig holds up some fabric samples to the group's clothes.
Chapter 2: Path of the Dagger
Your growing reputation in Highhelm earns you smiles and salutations wherever you go. As you are retiring to Zelgin's after a day of donwntime, one of the inn's regulars, a hunter named Elbert Glassgrinder, stops by to chat. He offers to buy you dinner and drinks at your leisure to discuss a sensitive matter. Once everyone’s gathered and served, he compliments your accomplishments so far before launching into his pitch.
“Dwarves: we live for the tales we’ll leave behind after we die. Now, of course,” he raises his mug as a toast, “we aren’t dead yet! No, but disgrace can leave as cruel a wound as any blade. Disgrace dealt me a lethal blow years ago, and while I’m here to make it right, I must apologize for my most recent dishonor: there’s no Elbert Glassgrinder. Never was.”
He places a clan dagger without a pommel gem on the table. “Born and raised as Krohan Veldollow, from a proud family in Clan Tolorr. About a decade ago, barely a beard to my name, I thought myself some grand adventurer. I didn’t just run off to raid tombs—family might have forgiven that. No, I wanted a legendary weapon, too, so I stole into Stonehall, sneaked up to High King Taargick’s statue, and nicked his clan dagger. I figured since no traps went off, the dagger had chosen me to perform great deeds!” Krohan shakes his head with chagrin. “Young me was a fool without equal.
“Anyway, young me traipsed about the Darklands for a bit before the dagger slipped from my grasp, fell down a narrow crevice, and disappeared beyond my skills to recover it. I sulked back home, admitted my misdeeds, and was cast from the clan. Well, only a few months ago, I felt something calling to me from across Absalom. What I found was a fragment!”
He places a jagged fragment of broken armor on the table. “Doesn’t look like much, but it sings with history—certainly did when I picked it up! A vision of Taargick himself appeared, taking me by the shoulder and pointing north to Highhelm before he faded.” He raises a hand solemnly. “Swear by Torag’s own anvil.
“Since I’ve been back, I’ve felt it: Taargick’s clan dagger, singing from the depths. I tried retracing my old steps, but fresh danger’s moved in. I know I can lead the way, but I can’t do it alone. So what say we recover one of Highhelm’s greatest relics together?”
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Cricket listens to Elbert, or Krohan, tell his tale, but he isn't convinced. "More than a century ago, I was hired to guide an elvish researcher across the Darklands. At some point, we were ambush by morlocks." Cricket shares.
"The fight wasn't that complicated, but the elf ended up throwing a fire spell at some of the creatures, burning them to a crisp but also burning some Zugga mushrooms." He lets it sink before continuing. "When I regained my senses, I was tied and naked, my mouth tasting dirt and leather. To my utter shame, I was told that after inhaling the fumes of the mushrooms, I started to cackle and then bleat like a goat. I tried to eat my clothes and apparently found my own boots delicious. I was tied because my contractor was sure I was looking his mule in a disturbing way."
Cricket eats some bread before adding. "So, with no disrespect intended, but do you have any evidence of this wild tale besides your words? I'm old and I've lost many friends to the ravages of mind... and talking objects, visions and compulsions are clear signs someone with bats in the belfry."
"Alas, I don't know the source of my strange visions, nor how to share them with another," Krohan says. "But it began when I touched this armor fragment. You're welcome to examine it to see if you have a vision as well.
"I know I'm asking you to accept a lot of my tale on faith, friends. But I've seen you these past couple of weeks. You’ve shown you care about Highhelm and its people, and you’re friends of Clan Tolorr. I know I can trust you."
Gig is overwhelmed by the adventure and glory of the tale. "It'll pack my bag right now! We'll be the most famed explorers of Highhelm!"
Cricket's caution does cool him down a bit. "Well...I suppose that's right. Shouldn't go running into the Darklands without some proof."
Brijetta hesitantly reaches out to touch the fragment of armor, wondering if its spirits might still talk to her, even so many centuries after its forging was complete. She purposefully doesn't look around to see if anyone will try to stop her.
Nothing happens when Brijetta touches the armor.
Brijetta looks disappointed that the spirits of the armor don't want to talk to her. But maybe if they find another piece?
"I'll go with you," she says to Krohan.
Gig tries to determine if the armor is an authentic artefact.
"Anyone wants to fix up what they done wrong's doin' right by me! An' there's plenty of real visions don't come from shrooms!"
"...Do those Zuggas grow 'round here though?"
The style of the armor fragment dates back to the Quest for the Sky, but Gig can't determine any more details about it.
"Thanks, friends," Krohan says with a relieved sigh. "It’s about two days’ travel to get where I dropped the clan dagger. Based on what I can sense, it might be another day or two of travel beyond that, but we won’t know until we start exploring. You should pack for about 10 days.
“Those caves were pretty bare years ago, but the tunnels were thick with fungi when I scouted the area recently. Darklands fungi will eat you as often as you eat them—wasn’t going to risk it alone.
"And of course, you'll be compensated." He places a pouch heavy with coins on the table. “That’s an advance. That much again if we succeed and get back alive.” The pouch contains 11 gold pieces and 79 silver pieces minted from across the Inner Sea, plus a garnet worth 5 gp.
"And of course, you'll be compensated." He places a pouch heavy with coins on the table. “That’s an advance. That much again if we succeed and get back alive.”
Uhe suddenly perks up, the dwarf grabbing his pack.
Tomorrow morning? Oh, my! I be need'n socks, pants, a few stout shirts. The flannel, me be thinking. Boots! Me boots be at the shop! Oh, my!
The frantic dwarf runs off!
"Mushrooms are bad for you, Miss Mal." Cricket deflates the question.
"Right, right, Mister Krohan." He says. "If you are hiring my services, it matters not to me if you are sane or not. I'll guide you to where you want to go and back home in safety."
Seeing Cricket's approval, along with the apparent authenticity of the armor, reignites Gig's fervor. "I'll pack my finest puppets!"
"Well, perhaps the second-finest. This will be a rough journey, and I can't imagine when I'll have time to perform."
Brijetta suddenly looks a lot less happy with the idea that there might be mushrooms trying to eat her. And with the idea that she might have to try to eat them afterward. They definitely need enough food, and she makes sure to pack rations, loading them onto her augdunar, who she's decided to name Steady.
She sadly leaves her dress at home, fingering it for a few moments as she admires it once more. But it sounds like it would be much too dangerous to take with her.
"Only the really poisonous ones - we just went to a gormay mushroom joint!
"...Where I spose the mushrooms had turned all evil, an they were tryin' their ovine best to eat us... Huh..."