The morning sun poured through the windows of the Sleeping Dragon Inn, its golden rays casting a warm glow over the dining hall where the group had gathered for breakfast. The hearty smell of fresh-baked bread, sizzling bacon, and savory stews filled the air, and the clinking of silverware was accompanied by the occasional chuckle or murmur of conversation. Some of the group, now fully refreshed from the trials of the previous day, leaned back in their chairs with contented sighs, savoring every bite as though they had earned it. Gundar, especially, seemed to appreciate his meal, his hearty laughter filling the room as he praised the quality of the food.
Caius, still not fully recovered from the fever that had plagued him, looked considerably more spry than the day before. His movements were no longer stiff, and the usual fire in his molten eyes had returned, though the past night's rest had done little to erase the weariness he still felt in his bones. The fever had broken due to the magical ale served at Heidmarch Manor, and though his body still felt a little sluggish, the lingering aches were far more manageable. He sat at the table, eating more slowly than usual, but with the strength and vigor of someone who had weathered a storm and emerged into the light of a new day.
Meanwhile, Ghaernan seemed a touch more contemplative, staring out the window as his thoughts drifted back to the ceremony the night before. The words of the oath still echoed in his mind, the gravity of their meaning settling deeper now that he had become part of something greater than himself. As much as he had embraced the idea of being a Pathfinder, the weight of responsibility now rested upon his shoulders, and it was something he couldn't simply brush aside. His thoughts occasionally flicked to the journey ahead and the unknown challenges that awaited the group. Was he truly ready to face whatever lay beyond? Would their talents, their strength, be enough?
The group, refreshed and ready, gathered their belongings after a quick check of their gear. True to her word, Venture Captain Heidmarch had arranged for Andel Gesseran to meet them at the Sleeping Dragon Inn, and from there, he guided them to the docks. The salty tang of the sea air was a welcome change after the stuffy confines of the Inn, and the sun’s warmth on their faces was a pleasant contrast to the chill of the previous day's encounters.
Andel had already secured an eight-man crewboat, its hull gleaming in the morning light. The boat was stocked with provisions—jugs of water, wineskins filled with the mead from the Linnorm Kings, lanterns, oil, and lengths of rope and ten-foot poles—everything the group might need for their journey into the heart of this mystery. Even the smallest details had been accounted for, from the sturdy oars to the extra blankets, should the journey take longer than expected. Sheila’s foresight in arranging these supplies was a testament to her experience and the care she took in ensuring the group’s success.
With no time to waste, the group loaded their gear onto the boat. The journey had started off slow as they navigated the unfamiliar waters, and the muscles they had barely realized existed protested at first as they took turns manning the oars. It took roughly thirty minutes, but the group worked in tandem, some of them taking on more of the heavy lifting, others keeping an eye out for anything unusual on the horizon.
Eventually, the towering silhouette of the Irespan came into view—its massive, ancient pillars stretching high above them, casting long shadows across the water. This particular section of the Irespan was known as "the Crow," and it loomed over the party like a silent sentinel, the shadows of the past lingering within its stone walls. Verilich, ever vigilant although not overly graceful in the air, soared high above the boat, his wings cutting through the bright sky as he scouted ahead, using his keen senses to guide them toward their destination.
The boat veered towards a narrow inlet in the massive stone structure, a hidden entryway long forgotten by most, but likely once designed for water traffic to move goods in and out of this ancient edifice. Verilich’s sharp eyes, from his vantage point above, guided them with expert precision, ensuring they avoided any potential dangers hidden just beneath the water's surface.
As the boat glided closer to the inlet, the heat of the sun now fully embracing the group, there was a quiet anticipation in the air. The day was bright, the water calm, and yet the looming shadows of the Irespan cast an unsettling feeling over the crew. They were about to enter the unknown once again, and this time, it felt different. The stakes were higher. The risks, more dangerous.
But despite the tension, the party moved forward together, the camaraderie they had forged over the past days offering them strength as they sailed into the shadow of the ancient Irespan, prepared for whatever mysteries and dangers awaited them within.
"Trap seeker up!" Caius says in muted tones from the prow of the row boat.
As they head to the boat, Gundar will walk next to Andel, Say laddie, ye seem ta like ta write a lot? Well I'm not so good with tha written word. An' I am knowin' we are supposed ta be reportin' what we found. Iffen I tell ye what I found out, could ye write me words down fer me and this way I can give it to Lady Venture Captain Shelia? What say ye laddie?
As they head to the boat, Gundar will walk next to Andel, Say laddie, ye seem ta like ta write a lot? Well I'm not so good with tha written word. An' I am knowin' we are supposed ta be reportin' what we found. Iffen I tell ye what I found out, could ye write me words down fer me and this way I can give it to Lady Venture Captain Shelia? What say ye laddie?
Andel chuckles, "absolutely. Can you at least take some sketches of the maps to go with it as well?"
Caius glances up at Verilich, soaring above them, the Wyvaran’s wings cutting a precise path through the sky. "He’s got the right of it, scouting ahead," Caius mutters, more to himself than to the others. "No sense charging in blind."
Caius will peer about the stone structure and inlet for any signs that we are being watched and other possible points of ingress.
As the group nears the towering mass of the Irespan's piling known as the Crow, the morning fog clings to the water's surface like a fleeting shroud, gradually dissipating under the warming rays of the sun. The rhythmic splash of oars cutting through the water echoes faintly against the ancient stone walls as Khalid and Caius pull the boat steadily forward, their muscles straining with the effort. The creak of wood and the occasional murmur of conversation from the others in the boat blend into the natural ambiance of the harbor.
Ahead, the looming archway at water level comes into view, its tall lancet shape framing a dark opening that beckons them forward. The intricate craftsmanship of the arch hints at the long-forgotten civilization that constructed this monolithic structure. As the boat glides beneath the arch, the group is greeted by the sight of a chamber partially submerged in seawater. What was once a stepped terrace has become a shallow basin, its steps now hidden beneath the gently rippling surface of the sea. The water here is calm but carries the faint tang of brine and decay.
Tied off to heavy stones on the topmost step, three rowboats rock gently in place, their age and condition suggesting recent but frequent use. Above, the ceiling rises impossibly high, a gaping shaft reaching nearly to the summit of the Crow itself. The interplay of light and shadow from the high opening to the west creates an ethereal quality in the chamber, illuminating the ancient stone with a dim, diffused glow.
At the western end of the chamber, a small alcove comes into view, its floor blackened with the stains of countless campfires. The charred remains of past occupants' meals and tools are scattered across the ground, signs of transient use. Beyond the alcove, the back wall has crumbled away, revealing a dark passage leading deeper into the structure. The jagged edges of the broken wall seem almost like teeth, framing the unknown beyond.
The boat slows as it nears the terrace, the group instinctively scanning the chamber for any signs of danger or movement. The silence here is profound, broken only by the rhythmic drip of water from the oars and the faint whisper of the sea. Verilich hovers above, his keen eyes fixed on the interior as he signals to the others, ensuring their approach remains steady and controlled.
As the boat draws alongside the terrace, the group exchanges glances, the gravity of their task settling over them like a palpable weight. The faint scent of smoke lingers in the air, a reminder of the others who have passed this way and the potential dangers that may lie ahead. Their journey into the Crow has begun.
Caius notices a good amount of guano on the ground, indications that bats, or birds, have been using the chamber as a habitat for some time.
Caius, give me a Will save as well.
"Guano," he mutters, his voice low and deliberate. "Plenty of it, too. Birds or bats have made this place their roost. Could be nothing... or could mean we’re not alone down here. Best keep your eyes on the shadows above, not just the path ahead."
The boat bumps gently against the stone terrace as Khalid and Caius ship their oars, and the group begins the careful process of clambering out. The damp stone underfoot is slick with brine, and the faint scent of salt and decay lingers in the chamber. Water drips from the boat and their boots as they step onto the terrace, the sound echoing softly in the cavernous space.
The scene before them speaks of abandonment and hasty departures. Rubble from the collapsed wall has been pushed outward, forming uneven piles that spill into the chamber. The jagged edges of stone contrast with the smooth, worn surfaces of the ancient terrace, creating a chaotic tableau of disorder against the otherwise precise lines of Thassilonian craftsmanship.
Here and there, traces of recent habitation catch the group's eyes—a broken clay pot half-submerged in a shallow pool, scraps of fabric torn and tangled among the rubble, and a scattering of discarded tools and refuse. A single, muddy boot leans precariously against a rock, as if forgotten in someone's rush to leave. Yet despite these signs of life, the chamber itself is eerily silent, the stillness broken only by the occasional drip of water from the high ceilings above.
Along the terrace, the group notices another rowboat tied securely to a heavy stone anchor. Unlike the derelict items scattered about, this boat appears to be in good repair, its hull sound and its oars resting neatly within. The presence of such a well-maintained vessel hints at recent activity and raises questions about its owner and purpose.
The air is cool and damp, heavy with the weight of history and the faint whisper of the sea beyond. The group instinctively scans the room for threats, their eyes lingering on the dark passage revealed by the collapsed wall. The jagged opening gapes like a wound in the stone, inviting them deeper into the Crow's ancient and labyrinthine depths.
As the group fans out to take stock of their surroundings, the odd piece of discarded clothing or equipment serves as a reminder that this place was used not long ago. Yet now it feels empty, as if abandoned in haste. Verilich's wings stir the air as he hovers nearby, his keen gaze scanning the shadows for movement.
The faint creak of leather and clink of gear accompany the group as they ready themselves to move forward. The passage ahead looms dark and foreboding, a promise of both danger and discovery. With the rowboat secured and their nerves steeled, they prepare to press onward into the unknown.
Khalid will activate the light from his shiny new Wayfinder, ensuring light in the darkness beyond.
This is way better than torches. I'm going to like these pathfinders.
For the room Khalid is moving into:
Caius strides forward to stand beside Khalid and view the next chamber.
"As many as a a dozen beings were camped here."
Verilich would fly into the room and stealthfully take up a position against the far wall attempting to find hidden attackers.
Verilich spots the same things Caius did. And can try the Survival check, if desired.
"Seems safe to move in and look around gentlemen."
To the south, just beyond the main passageway, the group spots a small chamber whose purpose becomes immediately apparent. A vile stench wafts out, thick and cloying, making even the open air seem suddenly oppressive. The acrid smell of human waste lingers heavily, and dark stains on the floor near the entrance confirm that this room has been used as a privy in the not too distant past. The sight alone is enough to elicit grimaces and muffled curses from the group, as the reeking air seems to crawl out into the corridor.
In the dim light, the southeast corner of the chamber reveals a sorrowful sight: the rotten remains of a small dog, huddled and forgotten. Its decay has progressed to the point of bare bones and tufts of matted fur, adding a putrid undertone to the already overwhelming odor. Flies buzz lazily around the carcass, their incessant drone punctuating the grim stillness.
From their vantage point, it is clear that this small chamber served its singular, unpleasant purpose. Whatever travelers or squatters last passed through left behind only filth and decay, making it a place few would willingly enter.
"Unless someone wants to rummage through the literal pile of s$$% there, I guess we are headed up."
As the group ascends the narrow steps leading north, the soft glow of Khalid’s wayfinder pushes back the encroaching darkness, its magical light casting long, flickering shadows across the walls. The chamber ahead comes into view—a small landing nestled between two gracefully curving staircases that rise and descend to parts unknown. The muted sound of their boots on stone echoes faintly in the still air.
Against the eastern wall, three stone chests stand in a solemn row, their heavy lids propped open as if waiting. Even at a glance, the craftsmanship of the chests is undeniable, the carvings along their edges hinting at an ancient origin. However, what truly draws the eye—and gives pause—is the peculiar yellow powder dusting the floor around the chests, forming an almost unnatural halo. The faint motes of powder seem to shimmer subtly in the light, a quiet warning of danger yet to be understood.
For those with darkvision, the room’s stark details extend further into the dim reaches. To the north, the landing narrows into another set of descending steps, leading deeper into the unseen recesses of the Crow. The air is thick with an eerie stillness, broken only by the faint hum of Khalid’s light and the quiet shuffling of the group as they take in their surroundings. The oppressive weight of the Irespan above seems to press down more keenly here, as if the ancient stones hold their breath, waiting.
"Hmm, that looks like some interesting powder. I think I'll collect some for future study. Maybe on the way out."
Ghaernan’s mind continues to wander during the short voyage out to the Crow, his thoughts drifting once more to his brilliant evening at the Triodea with Kasadei following the ceremony. It was hopefully the first of many performances involving her lovely and formidable presence, one which attracts him all the more to her, with the Venture Lieutenant’s duality of existence, dedication to purpose, and willingness to make him earn her personal and professional respect, which he admits he certainly returns. Definitely her secret and more to guard here, he reflects…
The Bard soon turns his thoughts to the gravity of the mission at hand, however, he and his companions’ first as a full Pathfinder team, given the revelation of the “shards.” The weight of responsibility, indeed, far beyond his artistic care for the superlative qualities of his performances, and perhaps even his devotion to mastery of The Word and The Way, when considering what the ancient shards’ resurfacing might portend in this age.
Once disembarked from the boat, Ghaernan follows the Pathfinders’ front line at a small distance, preferring to keep a stone wall close at-hand. He also unlimbers his shortbow and nocks an arrow from the slender quiver at his thigh, holding the wooden shaft in place by one finger and tension against the string, leaving his other hand free to either draw or focus the release of the bardic magicks within him…
Verilich descends the curving steps, his taloned feet silent against the ancient stone as he navigates deeper into the Crow's depths. The air grows cooler and heavier with each step, carrying with it the weight of forgotten centuries. As the passage opens into a vast hall, his breath catches, his keen eyes drinking in the expanse before him.
Towering pillars rise in a perfect row along the center of the chamber, their surfaces intricately carved with ancient Thassilonian script and symbols, their edges as sharp and precise as the day they were hewn. The magnitude of the space is breathtaking, the ceiling soaring high above like a cathedral lost to time. Faint traces of murals adorn the walls—epic depictions of pilgrims and giants striding across an intact Irespan, the figures frozen mid-step as if marching through eternity. The pigments, though faded with age, retain their vibrancy, whispering of an era when Thassilon’s grandeur had yet to crumble.
At the far end of the hall, a low rostrum commands the space. The stubs of ancient votive candles line its edge, their wax cracked and brittle with the weight of centuries. Two of the stubs lie toppled, resting haphazardly against the rostrum’s base. Every detail of the room exudes a sense of meticulous craftsmanship and solemn purpose, the stonework so exact that the joints between blocks are nearly imperceptible. It is a marvel of engineering, a testament to the precision and ambition of those long-lost hands that shaped this place.
Despite the age and decay, the room’s sheer scale and artistry leave Verilich awed. The weight of history presses down on him, an unspoken reminder of the ancient power and purpose that once thrived here. Yet, for now, the room is silent, filled only with the still majesty of this forgotten hall.
Interpreting Khakid's "on the way out" to mean steer clear of the powder for now, Caius will stay along the wall to his left and make his way to the far stairs. He will observe the stairs for any traps or structural fault as he begins the descent.
Caius finds no traps and such, with Verilich ahead of him, one would hope that Verilich would have communicated them if he found them, or perhaps Verilich was killed by them outright.
Assured the stairs are safe, Caius proceeds to the top.
Ghaernan follows in trace of Caius and Khalid perhaps 15 feet, moving with as much stealth and perceptiveness as possible, and silently motions to Gundar that the descent ahead of him is clear...thus far...
Verilich moves with practiced silence, his wings outstretched just enough to lift him from the stone floor as he glides stealthily across the expanse of the ancient hall. The air is still and cool, carrying the faint scent of dust and stone that has lain undisturbed for countless ages. Each slow beat of his wings propels him through the forest of towering pillars, their immense height dwarfing him and lending a weighty reverence to the chamber.
As he passes between the massive columns, he feels the weight of the murals on the walls—Thassilonian pilgrims and giants etched in hues that remain vibrant despite the millennia. Their painted eyes seem to track his flight, silent witnesses to this intrusion into their sacred space. The craftsmanship of the pillars themselves draws his keen gaze, every line and symbol a perfect execution of ancient artistry, unmarred by time’s usual cruelty.
At the far end of the hall, the rostrum looms, its broken votive candles like the fallen remnants of forgotten prayers. Verilich's attention is drawn beyond it to the base of a stone stairwell. His taloned feet find the ground soundlessly as he lands, crouching in the shadow of the rostrum to observe his surroundings. The stairwell rises steeply, its carved steps showing the wear of countless feet that once climbed them, yet their edges remain crisp, the craftsmanship enduring.
The staircase ascends into the dark, vanishing at a landing some 20 feet above. The scale of the construction is imposing, the stairwell’s walls flanked by intricately chiseled reliefs of flowing script and geometric patterns. The stone underfoot feels cold, its chill seeping through to his claws, a reminder of the profound emptiness that now inhabits this ancient monument.
The silence is almost deafening, a void of sound that amplifies the soft whisper of his movements. Verilich pauses at the base of the stairs, glancing back at the immense hall he has crossed. The vastness of the place seems to breathe with its own presence, a solemn reminder of an age long past. Turning his sharp gaze upward into the dark passage, he steels himself, prepared to uncover what lies beyond the landing above.
As Ghaernan steps into the expansive hall, he moves with care, each footfall deliberate on the ancient stone floor. The immense pillars rise around him like silent sentinels, their sheer scale a reminder of the long-lost power that once thrived here. The cool air carries a faint, metallic tang, mingling with the scent of ancient stone and centuries-old dust. His sharp aasimar eyes trace the vibrant murals on the walls, the figures of Thassilonian pilgrims and towering giants seeming to march alongside him. Though vibrant, the murals exude a haunting permanence, their colors preserved as if defying the passage of time.
Behind him, Gundar follows, his dwarven stride steady and purposeful, the weight of his gear making the faintest of clinks. As his boots strike the floor, he seems almost to commune with the stone itself, his connection to the earth grounding him in this vast and imposing space. His darkvision reveals every detail with stark clarity—the careful craftsmanship of the pillars, the fine chisel marks on the murals, and the low rostrum at the far end of the room. His gaze narrows at the toppled votive candles, his cleric’s heart recognizing the desecration of what might once have been a sacred place.
Khalid, bearing the glow of his wayfinder like a beacon, moves with a hunter’s caution. The light plays off the smooth stone surfaces, revealing the precision of the hall’s construction. His sharp eyes scan the room for any signs of movement, his instincts attuned to the possibility of danger. The faint glow of his magical light highlights the intricate carvings on the walls and pillars, casting them in sharp relief. Every sound—his quiet steps, the faint scrape of Gundar’s boots, the almost imperceptible rustle of Ghaernan’s cloak—seems amplified in the heavy silence.
As the trio advances, they move as one, an unspoken understanding guiding their cautious progress. Ghaernan’s silent gesture toward Gundar is met with a nod, the dwarf’s eyes narrowing as he surveys the ascending steps on the far side of the room. Khalid’s grip tightens on his weapon, his every movement poised for swift action. The oppressive stillness of the hall seems to press down upon them, the vastness of the space making them feel small and insignificant against the backdrop of ancient grandeur.
Each step forward brings a renewed sense of awe and wariness. The room’s emptiness feels alive, as if it waits to reveal the secrets of its forgotten past. The group’s focus sharpens, their every sense attuned to the unseen, as they prepare to ascend further into the mysteries of the Irespan’s depths.
To the assemblage of companions, Verilich whispers loud enough only for his companions to hear, "It appears to be clear up to this point. As we journey further in, I just want to verify the plan we are all going to follow... If I find something interesting, then I can signal to the bard to investigate as a group. If I find something hostile, say a Tower Girl, what is our initial handling plan? Parley, apprehension, or termination?"
"The Tower Girls have no business here and have proven their ill intent. It would be best to move in fast and neutralize any we find. Greater things are afoot and they offer only hindrance."
"It seems strange that people clearly come here, but no one seems to progress into the halls. How can that be? Anyone have insight?"
"It seems strange that people clearly come here, but no one seems to progress into the halls. How can that be? Anyone have insight?"
[dice=Knowledge local (untrained)] d20+2
Ghaernan hears Verilich's whisper and shakes his head in self-reproach for not casting his Message spells. The Bard immediately does so with each of his companions while all are in sight, his hands and spiral of copper gleaming in the glow of Khalid's wayfinder, offering the following words:
"Apologies, friends; I should have cast these moments ago, and was only reminded now thanks to Verilich. Each of these spells will extend to a range of up to 120 feet and last 20 minutes, before which I'll renew them. So long as I'm the last to have spoken in an exchange, the Message remains available for you to silently signal me, and I'll pass the word to the others."
To the assemblage of companions, Verilich whispers loud enough only for his companions to hear, "It appears to be clear up to this point. As we journey further in, I just want to verify the plan we are all going to follow... If I find something interesting, then I can signal to the bard to investigate as a group. If I find something hostile, say a Tower Girl, what is our initial handling plan? Parley, apprehension, or termination?"
"The Tower Girls have no business here and have proven their ill intent. It would be best to move in fast and neutralize any we find. Greater things are afoot and they offer only hindrance."
"I do hope we find the right kinds of 'interesting' ahead to further investigate, which we can probably accomplish together most effectively. Reluctantly, I think I'd have to agree with Caius on our response to meeting up with confirmed hostiles, the Tower Girls in particular, who've already sent a 'kill squad' after us. Indecision can risk our lives, with the skills they've shown thus far. Just be careful if you can, Verilich, and not risk yourself overmuch before we can effectively reinforce you. Always hopeful for a chance to parley and avoid violence, though, in the absence of hostility."
"It seems strange that people clearly come here, but no one seems to progress into the halls. How can that be? Anyone have insight?"
[dice=Knowledge local (untrained)] d20+2
"Khalid, I was thinking the same as you spoke the words. It occurs to me that the chamber with the three open stone chests was also effectively a 'landing', with other staircases that both climbed and descended from there. We chose the latter; I'm wondering at this point, in the absence of descending tracks, if the Tower Girls' lair is only 'upstairs' from the landing? Otherwise very strange, indeed, that we would find none here down below...'
"It seems strange that people clearly come here, but no one seems to progress into the halls. How can that be? Anyone have insight?"
[dice=Knowledge local (untrained)] d20+2
It's more than just no tracks, there is no graffiti or trash or used consumables that would usually accompany investigations. I see no signs of any of that and we are still only several steps from the often used opening. Seems strange. I was just wondering if there were some rumors that kept people out.
@Khalid - There was a whole room used as a privy!!
"Well I will also remind folks that mission success could also include no run in with the Tower Girls as we are looking for a shard that may not have been disturbed from its ancient resting place. Of which, I sense that it is below our current position and south. So if we have to ascend, eventually we need to find our way lower than where we are. my initial thoughts are to avoid any Tower Girls that are not between us and the shard."
Upon conclusion of the conversation, Verilich will proceed forward with the Message communications re-established, scouting for the team.
The ancient stone stairwell seemed to stretch endlessly upward, winding its way through the hollowed interior of the Irespan's massive piling. The air grew colder with each step, carrying the faint scent of age-old dust and damp stone. The rhythmic sound of boots scuffing against the timeworn steps echoed eerily in the narrow space, only broken by the occasional muttered grumble from the group.
“Hundreds of steps, just to see more dust,” Gundar growled under his breath, his thick Dwarven accent tinged with a mixture of irritation and begrudging respect. “Who builds somethin’ like this, an’ why in the blasted planes did they make it so bloody tall?”
“Ah, but think of the artistry, Gundar,” Ghaernan’s voice, softer but laced with wry amusement, chimed in from a few steps behind. “A testament to Thassilonian grandeur—and their obsession with making everything inconvenient.”
Caius and Khalid, their footfalls steady, offered no complaints, though the strain of the climb showed in their controlled breathing. The sheer enormity of the stairs, carved with almost impossibly precise angles, hinted at the ancient hands—giant, perhaps—that had hewn them millennia ago. Khalid adjusted his grip on the hilt of his blade, the weight of readiness more taxing with each step.
Verilich, silent and intent, moved ahead of the group with the sure-footedness of a shadow. His Wyvaran wings twitched occasionally, though he resisted the urge to take flight in the narrow confines, knowing the noise might betray their advance.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the end of the stairwell came into view, a faint glimmer of light catching Verilich’s sharp eyes. He froze, motioning for the group to halt as he took in the room ahead. The landing opened into a wide space littered with the detritus of ages—shards of rubble, splinters of long-decayed furniture, and the corroded remains of weapons and armor. The faint flicker of light danced against the north wall, its source obscured around a corner to the right, to the south.
Verilich crept forward, every movement deliberate, his darkvision piercing the gloom. He paused at the threshold of the room, his keen senses warning him of something amiss. He turned to silently retreat and report to his companions, when suddenly, a voice rang out, cutting through the cold silence like a dagger.
“Unwelcome visitors in the domain of the Tower Girls...” The words echoed unnaturally, bouncing off the ancient stone walls, giving the voice an otherworldly quality. “You have one chance to leave peacefully. Ignore this warning, and you will not leave at all.”
The group behind him tensed as the chilling warning reached their ears, the darkness ahead now seeming far more oppressive. Verilich stopped mid-step, his form rigid as he considered his next move. The challenge had been issued, and the weight of the response now hung in the air.
Caius speaks to his companions in muted tones, "Do you think there is actually anyone there or is this some magical manifestation? The speech is peculiar and it is strange they would reveal themselves and lose the element of surprise. I say we continue onward unheeding of the voice. And do not answer, by Nethys!"
Verilich, please make 4 DC 20 Fly checks to make 180 degree turns going up these steps.
Alternately, make 16 DC 15 Fly checks to make 45 degree turns to get around those corners.
Please be sure and take a -6 if you are carrying more than a light load, and the -8 for being a "Clumsy" flyer per your race.
Also, if you choose to hover when you get to the top of the steps, please make a DC 15 Fly check, or you can land on the step at the top, or must do another DC 20 to do a 180 and head back down, or continue past the top of the steps with no check required.
I assume you aren't doing stealth, because if you were, that would halve your speed, as would flying upwards, and flying at that speed would ALSO require a bunch of DC 10 checks.
"Not surprising they saw my light if there are indeed people up there. Might be worth scaring off townies to give a warning. Let's hustle to the top of the stairs together and see what we see."
With a look for traps along the way ( ), Caius moves stealthily to the top of stairs, limned in the glow of Khalid's wayfinder.
"Tower Girls, sure enough. Three that I see."
Khalid will do the same, for practice.
Since Caius is walking so slowly, Khalid will take out and consume his mutagen ascending the stairs. At the top, he will drink an extract.
This is probably a good opportunity to keep my mouth shut. "Charge" certainly won't help.
I like the taste of this mutagen, the extract needs a little something in the recipe though. Peppermint perhaps.
Caius and Khalid exchanged a brief glance, silently agreeing to move forward. Their footsteps, though measured, echoed faintly in the ancient stone passage. Caius crept ahead, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of his greatsword, every muscle tense with readiness. The light from Khalid's wayfinder threw long shadows ahead, the dim glow flickering off the cracked walls as they advanced.
Reaching the base of the steps, Caius motioned for Khalid to hold back before ascending, his movements slow and deliberate. The worn stone steps groaned slightly under his weight, betraying their ancient craftsmanship. He paused just below the top, leaning forward to peer into the chamber beyond.
At first, his eyes caught the faint outline of a figure crouched behind an overturned table—a human woman, her face partially obscured by the dim light. Her eyes locked onto his, widening with alarm and determination. Without hesitation, she hurled a lit torch down the hallway. The flaming missile arced through the air, landing in a flurry of sparks and rolling to a stop a short distance from Khalid and Caius.
Before Caius could fully react, another lit torch followed, thrown from deeper within the chamber, though the source of the second projectile remained hidden. Flames licked up the sides of the second torch as it clattered noisily against the stone.
A sharp, strange voice rang out again, its words laced with an unfamiliar accent that twisted the Common tongue into something both harsh and melodic: “You were warned! Leave now, or face the consequences!” The accent was peculiar, with lilting vowels and clipped consonants that seemed out of place in the Thassilonian halls, and though no longer echoing, it carried an unnatural cadence that made the words unsettling.
The tone carried unmistakable anger, underscored by an edge of desperation. The tension in the air thickened, the flickering torchlight casting the scene in a chaotic dance of shadow and flame.
Caius tightened his grip on his weapon, his gaze flicking back to Khalid and the rest of the group behind them. The ultimatum had been issued—what came next was in their hands.
Ghaernan <== Up
Gundar <== Up
Caius <== Up
Sasha
Nayven
Embyr
Verilich
Khalid
But it was the creature behind them that drew the most attention. Standing hunched over, its grotesque form was a horrifying blend of human and rodent. Its lanky, muscled frame bristled with coarse, gray fur, and a long, naked tail twitched behind it. The creature’s face bore the elongated snout and sharp, glistening teeth of a giant rat, but its yellowed, bloodshot eyes held a disturbingly human cunning. Clawed hands clutched a rusty short sword, its ragged edge belying the strength behind the grip.
Behind the trio, the room stretched deeper into shadowed mystery. A small cook fire crackled on the stone floor, casting flickering light onto the walls and ceiling. The faint aroma of charred meat and smoke drifted in the stale air. The chamber branched off into multiple directions, tantalizing glimpses of darkened hallways and hidden rooms beckoning further exploration.
The oppressive silence of the ancient structure was replaced by the crackle of the fire, the hiss of the creature, and the palpable tension as the group braced for the inevitable clash.
Ghaernan advances rapidly up the stairs at the sound of strange voices, his features set in grimness at their mention of the Tower Girls. The Bard moves briefly between Caius and Khalid, just enough to see around the corner and assess the threat that awaits, before the constrained space brings him to a halt immediately behind the two of them...
Recoiling at the hideous rat-like humanoid among the Tower Girls, but unable to discern anything of its origins, Ghaernan instinctively falls back upon the companions' plan, speaking rapidly in his Messages to Caius, Khalid, and Verilich, all of whom have spoken since the Bard's last words...
"Two Tower Girls and some hideous rat-like humanoid; sadly, we know where we stand with them. If you can each delay, perhaps in some words with them, I'll squeeze behind Caius and Khalid, launch a Sleep spell into their midst, and you three can immediately charge and take down anything left standing! Thoughts?"