It is, perhaps, not unexpected that the flame within the circle animates, into two separate "creatures" that neither acknowledge Caius' inquiry, or appear ready to parlay. They charge at Caius, but rebound when they reach the inner edge of the circle, and are hemmed within.
The two flames hissed and recoiled within the confines of the ancient circle, their forms stretching into vaguely humanoid shapes before snapping back like whips against an invisible barrier. The shimmering runes flared faintly where they struck, holding firm.
Seeing no immediate path forward here—and with Caius now fully restored thanks to Gundar’s wand—the group resumed their methodical advance, once more adhering to their practiced right-hand rule.
They withdrew from the elemental prison and turned south, following the corridor only a short distance before noting a door on their right. After a brief check, it was opened.
Beyond lay a rectangular chamber, roughly twenty by thirty feet, its air stale but undisturbed. At first glance, the room appeared empty—bare stone walls, a dust-coated floor, and silence.
But as they stepped farther inside, the southern end revealed more.
An alcove stretched across the southern half of the chamber, but it was partially obscured by a hanging curtain of fine steel chains. The chains were woven together into a dense red mesh, their surfaces oxidized into a deep, flaky rust from long years of exposure. The curtain hung from ceiling to floor, creating the illusion of a simple barrier—yet as one of the party stepped within ten feet, it became clear the “alcove” was in fact a second chamber entirely, concealed behind the chain veil.
Beyond the curtain, the stone walls were scarred with crude charcoal inscriptions. Jagged lines, frantic symbols, looping phrases—written in uneven strokes by an unsteady hand. Some appeared to be words. Others were nonsense.
The chains swayed faintly, though no wind stirred.
The deeper half of the room waited beyond the rusted veil.
The rusted chain curtain began to sway.
At first, it was subtle—just the faintest tremor in the links, a soft metallic whisper as the beads shifted against one another. Then the movement grew more deliberate. The chains parted slowly from within, pushed outward by something heavy and soft.
With a wet, dragging sound, the first beast forced its way through.
Its body sagged and reformed with each movement, a bloated mass of pallid, melting flesh, its surface rippling like fat over boiling broth. A distorted face pushed outward from the front of its form—eyes sunken and lidless, mouth hanging wide with broken, uneven teeth. Its arms ended in blackened, claw-like talons, slick with some infernal ooze.
It did not walk so much as lurch, dragging itself forward in a slow, inexorable crawl.
The chains rattled again—
—and a second creature followed.
This one emerged lower, almost oozing beneath the curtain before heaving its upper mass upright. It gave a low, bubbling groan, its flesh puckering and shifting as half-formed features surfaced and dissolved again across its surface. Where its chest should have been, faint brands pulsed like dying embers beneath translucent skin.
Both creatures turned toward the party as one.
There was no roar. No battle cry.
Only the heavy, sucking sound of infernal flesh sliding across stone as they began to advance.
Round 1
Khalid<== Up!
Caius<== Up!
Verilich<== Up!
L
Ghaernan
Gundar
--------------
Khalid will move in and attack the closer one.
Verilich launches into the air to give him the high ground and flies to the nearest target to strike with a claw strike attempting to stun the target.
DC 16 if it hits or stun
Caius moves into the room and strikes the creature to the north.
20/x3 P
Khalid's attack fails to connect, and Verilich's barely misses, but Caius struck true, and despite the damage not being as effective as he thought it should be due, the disgusting creature slumped to the floor, lifeless.
It's companion, struck twice in succession at Verilich...
... its second attack slashed across Verilich's chest.
Round 1
Ghaernan <== Up!
Gundar <== Up!
Round 2
Khalid<== Up!
Caius<== Up!
Verilich<== Up!
L
Ghaernan
Gundar
Verilich will flurry with his 3 section staff while hovering above.
Verilich's first attack fails to connect, and his second does considerably less damage then expected. The creature continues to threaten him.
Caius steps closer to the next enemy and strikes.
20/x3 P
Despite the creature's supernatural nature causing the blow to be less effective than expected, Caius' blow finishes the creature.
As the creature drops to lifelessness, a disembodied voice comes from behind the beaded curtain. The voice speaks in a tongue not known to all of you:
Ghaernan Round 1 Actions
Amidst the opening of lethal combat as Khalid, Verelich, and Caius rush to engage the sickening fiends, the Bard cautiously advances to the edge of the chamber, just enough to reflect upon the crude charcoal inscriptions through his still-heightened capacities...
From the Linguistics Skill Rules: You can decipher writing in an unfamiliar language or a message written in an incomplete or archaic form. The base DC is 20 for the simplest messages, 25 for standard texts, and 30 or higher for intricate, exotic, or very old writing. If the check succeeds, you understand the general content of a piece of writing about one page long (or the equivalent).
Ghaernan translates the ominous scrawls upon the chamber's wall as he deciphers them, combat raging just ahead...
"The markings would seem to state - “In ash and iron, I mark this place. It is the Domain of the Suzerain of Little Erebus.”
"Perhaps these are the Suzerain's minions...?"
Ghaernan Round 2 Actions
The Bard holds fast as his companions finish the disgusting creatures. Realizing that the disembodied voice speaks in a tongue unknown to him (and assuming he can now go in Round 2, with both creatures defeated), Ghaernan attempts an initial response in Common, Draconic, and Undercommon:
"I do not grasp your words. Do you understand any of mine?"
The voice responds in Common, "fine, fine, you silly mortals, and your need to stick to such a simple language. I was impressed with the way you handled those two. I have tasks that need accomplished, and you lot seem the right ones to do them. Will you gain the approval of the Suzerain of Little Erebus? I can offer you positions within my kingdom, and riches galore"
”Perhaps you’re right, o voice from beyond the rusted chains, but I’d conclude not nearly so silly as those disgusting “immortals” so readily slain by my companions, and which seemed incapable of any language whatsoever. Still, ending such as them was not so onerous a task; what others need accomplished, and what are the rewards for their accomplishment?”
If needed, to convey the Bard’s “sincerity” of interest to the voice…
The rusted chain curtain sways again — though nothing visible stands behind it.
For a moment there is only silence.
Then a voice emerges.
It is silky, smooth as oil poured over iron… yet beneath it lies the faintest rasp of something eternally parched.
“Ahhh… mighty slayers of my… misguided attendants.”
The voice seems to come from everywhere behind the curtain — and nowhere in particular.
“You have demonstrated admirable efficiency. Strength. Initiative. Qualities I value… deeply.”
A soft metallic chime as the chains shift slightly.
“I find myself… inconvenienced.”
A pause. A breath that is not truly a breath.
“There is one below, who calls himself 'Lord Baz.'" The name is spoken with faint disdain. “An accuser. A meddler. A creature of petty authority and inflated station.”
The temperature in the room seems to drop by a degree.
“He has overstepped. He occupies territory that is not his to command. Worse… he has imprisoned two of my loyal servants. Faithful souls. Lemures of excellent disposition.”
A faint scraping sound, as if something unseen shifts weight.
“I require correction.”
The tone sharpens — just slightly.
“You will descend. You will destroy Lord Baz. You will release my followers from their unjust confinement. And in so doing, you will earn my… favor.”
The chains whisper again.
“Refuse… and this domain may prove less hospitable than you have thus far experienced.”
A soft chuckle follows — cultured, confident, utterly certain of its own importance.
“Well? Heroes. Rescuing domains is exactly what heroes do!”
Khalid asks Ghaernan, "What assurances do we have this creature will keep its word once freed, and not simply try to kill us as a reward? Perhaps as a measure of good faith he could tell us more about this Lord Baz, and King Zuuga too while he's at it."
"Who is this pretender Zuuga? How many false lords does this place have?"
Ghaernan pauses to consider Khalid's question a brief moment, while silently assessing the Suzerain's own sincerity and what lore he might know of these "lemures"...
The Suzerein seems sincere, at least his voice does.
Insofar as lemures you just fought a couple.
Khalid asks Ghaernan, "What assurances do we have this creature will keep its word once freed, and not simply try to kill us as a reward? Perhaps as a measure of good faith he could tell us more about this Lord Baz, and King Zuuga too while he's at it."
"Khalid, unless I'm mistaken, I think the Suzerain is asking us to liberate two of his followers, rather than himself. As a master of lemures, a minor type of devil, I surmise that the Suzerain is a more powerful type of devil, and thus sincere in keeping to at least the letter of its word in any agreement struck."
"It seems the destruction of this "Lord Baz" is also part of the request, and I agree the Suzerain should be highly incentivized to prepare us in good faith for any conflict against Baz. As to your Zuuga reference...well, you brought that crazed little mite king up..." :-)
"Well it seems King Zuuga's 'realm' doesn't extend this deep, so perhaps we should go back and close that chapter before moving deeper. I'm sure Verilich is eager to complete that task."
"Then we can see about this Lord Baz. Though I have no desire for a position in anyones kingdom, riches galore could by further expanded upon and may be worth our time."
The voice continues, "well, if there is another false sovereign running around down here, then I'm going to need you to clear that up too. I can't have any pretenders to challenge my authority, now can I?"
”I’m not certain that Zuuga is so much a false sovereign, as he is the last, insane survivor of a colony of tiny mites, far above you, who asked us to search for his pet beast - which we inadvertently killed when it attacked us unprovoked. I rather pity him…”
”Tell us more of how to defeat this Baz creature if you can, Suzerain, and the riches that await us, for our heroes’ quest lies somewhere ahead, it would seem…”
If needed…
"Your ability to destroy my minions so easily tells me that you will have no trouble with Baz, or its minions. Weapons of silver, or goodness, are your best option. Fire will have no effect, nor poison. Acid and cold attacks will largely be shrugged off by Baz. Much the same is true of his minions."
Heading south, there is a room on the left (East) that you can see into. Two Lemures inside spot the group and attack, but are quickly taken down by the group.
This room appears to have once been an ancient alchemical laboratory, but most of the equipment here has been smashed.
Across the hall (west), behind a closed door, the group encounters a "Clockwork Servant." A 3 legged construct rises up to fight the group. The group beats it down, and at some point it receives so much damage that it shuts itself down, and starts to repair itself.
A search of the room finds:
A brass crank with a pearl-inlaid handle—this crank is worth 100 gp
A set of masterwork smith’s tools made of mithral worth 500 gp.
Continuing south, the corridor turns to the east, and comes to a set of steps that descend into the darkness.
"Ahh, very interesting! This was once an alchemical laboratory specifically outfitted to distill and enhance potions—particularly potions that enhanced and bolstered the physical body in strange ways. What a shame it's destroyed, I could've learned a lot here!"
Ghaernan listens and emphatically concurs with Khalid's sentiments on the destruction of the ancient laboratory, its secrets lost to them.
"It will prove interesting to find this Baz creature, which seems a devil like the Suzerain and his minions, to hear him describe its vulnerabilities. Perhaps this one will know more of the shard we seek; let us discover what lies ahead and below..."
"Agree, though I note that our strengths and equipment do not seem to align well with these creatures vulnerabilities. Let's see if we can find anything up here to make our job easier before heading down to face this new threat,"
”That’s certainly true, Khalid, and we could prove ill-prepared against more powerful specimens. Your suggestion is well-considered; there was an alternative passage from the statue chamber, I recall…”
The party retraced their steps through the winding tunnels and broken halls, ascending once more to the domain of King Zuuga.
As they entered the pillar-lined chamber, the mite king was already there upon his makeshift throne of debris, the oversized bracer still perched crookedly upon his head.
The moment he spotted them, he leapt to his feet in delight, tiny claws clapping together excitedly.
"Heroes! Glorious heroes return!" he chirped in nasal Undercommon, practically vibrating with anticipation.
He scampered forward a step, eyes wide and gleaming with manic hope.
"You have found him, yes? My beautiful, magnificent Clickylegs?"
He leaned in eagerly, trembling with expectation.
"Tell Zuuga—where is my beloved pet?"
Verilich steps forward gently carrying Clickylegs body and brings it to the mite king. Lays the body on the ground and then gestures towards Ghaernan to complete the trade for the bracer.
Assuming the GM's guidance lets us retcon Verelich's actions appropriately, and Zuuga still spots us returning to let him know that we killed his beloved pet in order to then justify a violent response to his expected anger for the purpose of robbing him, the following would take place:
Previously discerning that Undercommon is a language derived from an ancient combination of Elven and even older tongues, Ghaernan again reflects upon his mastery of Elven to discern the mite's words...
Grasping the essence of the mite king’s meaning through his supernatural discernment, Ghaernan is moved by the sincere affection of the fellow toward his lost pet. The Bard quickly works through a response as simple and sincere as possible in return, searching for the right terms in his lexicon of Elven and older tongues, using some of the mite’s own Undercommon that he recognizes, in the hope that King Zuuga understands…
”Glorious heroes return sad. Beloved pet Clickylegs found heroes first, was hungry to eat bat-lizard-boy “Verelich”, and attacked. Heroes found Zuuga crown and bag only after fight, after beautiful Clickylegs death. Heroes sad to find this was magnificent Clickylegs. Verelich carried beloved pet back to Zuuga - together again.”
With his last words, Ghaernan steps away in sympathy, enabling Verelich to step forward as intended with the corpse and its treasures he has carried back from the catacombs below to its tiny fey master…
The **mite king froze** as Verilich laid the body down.
For a long moment, there was no sound in the chamber. No chirping. No movement. Even the ever-twitching claws of King Zuuga went still.
He stepped forward slowly—very slowly—his oversized bracer slipping slightly down over one eye as he stared at the fallen form of Clickylegs
A small, trembling hand reached out… and touched the creature’s chitin.
He recoiled at first, then leaned in again, pressing both hands against it as if willing it to move.
“No… no, no, no…” he whispered, voice suddenly small, fragile.
Then, just as suddenly—
He straightened.
His head tilted sharply to one side. Then the other. His breathing hitched—once—twice—
And then he burst into delighted laughter
“HA! HA! HA! GLORIOUS!” he cried, clapping wildly. “Heroes KILL Clickylegs! Strong! Brave! Clever!”
He scampered around the corpse, utterly energized, his grief twisting instantly into manic pride
“Clickylegs was too mighty! Too hungry! Too magnificent!” he declared, nodding emphatically. “Only greatest heroes could defeat Zuuga’s pet! This proves it! This proves everything!”
He spun back toward the party, eyes blazing with admiration.
“You are TRUE heroes! Zuuga chooses well! Zuuga always chooses well!”
Then, with sudden ceremony, he reached up, tugged the oversized bracer-crown from his head, and held it out—arms trembling with theatrical importance.
“Take! Take Zuuga’s royal treasure! Reward for slaying magnificent Clickylegs and returning him to Zuuga!”
He beamed up at them, utterly sincere.
“Now Clickylegs is greatest pet in afterlife!”
He nodded once, solemnly—
—and then immediately began humming to himself, already distracted, already somewhere else entirely.
Verilich, not understanding the meaning of his bard companion's overly honest message, happily will accept the bracer and wear it as a matching pair.
Then the heroes head downstairs to continue their right hand search, happy that they brought joy to the Mite King.
With the matter of King Zuuga—his lost tribe, and his beloved Clickylegs—settled in its own peculiar fashion, the party once more descended into the depths below.
They returned to the level they had been methodically clearing, passing again through the familiar corridors until they reached the central chamber with the ancient Thassilonian statue, its now ranseur-less form standing silent and watchful as ever.
They had noted before the western stairs descending further, but chose caution over curiosity. There was still more of this level to uncover.
Turning instead to the southern door, they opened it—only to find yet another set of stairs leading down. A brief pause. A shared look.
Not yet.
They withdrew and turned to the eastern door.
Beyond lay a somewhat triangular chamber, its angles uneven and unnatural, as if carved in haste or warped by time. Standing within were two figures—humanoid in shape, but wrong in every other respect.
Their flesh hung in waxy, sagging folds, almost liquid in appearance, draped loosely over twisted, under-formed bones, Their faces were slack, expressionless, their eyes dull and empty. Each held a crude spear, though neither moved as the party entered.
They simply stood. Waiting.
Ghaernan’s eyes narrowed as he studied them, his voice low but certain:
“Nupperibos… the lowest of the infernal hierarchy. Barely sentient, if at all. They are resistant to blade and flame alike—only silver or sanctified weapons will truly bite deep. Fire will avail us nothing, and they will not be swayed by fear or enchantment.”
At that, the creatures stirred.
The fight was brief.
Caius stepped in first, his greatsword carving a heavy arc that slammed into one of the creatures, its flesh splitting sluggishly under the blow.
Khalid followed, his strikes precise and efficient, hacking into the second as it lurched forward.
Verilich closed the distance in a blur, his blows landing in rapid succession, crushing bone beneath that sagging, unnatural flesh.
The nupperibos did not cry out. They did not react beyond the simplest instinct to attack.
They simply… fell.
Moments later, both lay in still heaps upon the stone, their forms already beginning to sag further into formlessness.
A quick search of the chamber revealed little—no treasure, no signs of higher intelligence—but in the northeastern corner, partially obscured by shadow, the party found yet another stairwell descending into darkness.
They stood now at a crossroads.
Behind them, the central chamber offered two known paths downward—
and here, a third descent beckoned.
The deeper mysteries of the ruin awaited.
The only question was:
Which path would they choose?
After only a brief exchange, the party made their decision.
The deeper path beckoned—and they would follow it.
Turning from the other stairways of the central complex, they committed to the eastern descent, their boots striking against the broad, ancient steps of Thassilonian stone. The air grew heavier as they descended, the weight of the structure above pressing down with unseen age.
At the base of the stairs, a corridor stretched off to the left, branching further into shadow, with the faint outline of a door at its far end. The path whispered of exploration…
—but the party pressed on.
Ahead lay yet another set of descending steps, dropping still deeper into the earth. To the right, however, a western passage opened—wide enough to move comfortably, its darkness less oppressive than the stair’s yawning plunge.
They chose the corridor.
It carried them forward only a short distance before opening into a broad chamber, its space defined by two massive stone pillars that stood like silent sentinels.
One rose to the north, its surface carved with a familiar and haunting image—a beautiful woman wielding a ranseur, her form elegant and severe, untouched by time in all but the finest details.
Opposite, to the south, the second pillar told a different story.
Seven figures stood there, robed and solemn, their faces worn smooth by the passage of centuries. Each held a single segment of a seven-pointed star, the pieces forming a pattern that suggested unity once, though now broken and faded.
Across the floor, between and around the pillars, were carved strange Thassilonian runes, etched deep into the stone. They formed no obvious pattern at first glance—yet there was a sense of purpose, of something ritualistic, as if this room had once been used for acts of power long forgotten.
To the west, the corridor continued onward into darkness.
The air here felt different.
Still. Waiting.
Ghaernan pauses in the waiting stillness, captivated by the massive stone pillars, their ancient carvings, and the strange Thassilonian runes surrounding them. The Bard reflects deeply upon his collected knowledge, and what lore he might know of their aggregate significance…
Ghaernan turns to the others, as the knowledge coalesces from his deductions...
"As I've observed earlier with this imagery, the northern pillar depicts Alaznist, the Runelord of Wrath. The southern pillar, interestingly, perhaps has greater relevance to our quest, as it depicts the seven original runelords, upon their sundering of the Shattered Star. The difference in the carvings' conditions are also noteworthy..."
Turning his mind to the strange Thassilonian runes, the Bard then sets abound deciphering their meaning, if possible...
power lie within the one or the many?"
Ghaernan again turns to the others upon completion of his investigation into the Thassilonian runes’ significance…
”It would seem the Runelord of Wrath has left us a question to reflect upon over the ages. I decipher the runes to approximate the question, ‘Does true power lie within the one or the many?’ I speculate that she would have confirmed the former, as the Runelord with personal dominion over these ancient catacombs, and that the condition of the imagery on the pillars, which would otherwise have been created in the same age, side-by-side, is meant to reinforce her assertion. Let’s see what other knowledge she holds that supports her answer…”
The Bard moves cautiously toward the beautiful, untouched image of her on the northern pillar, and begins a thorough search of its surface, structure, et al…