Dartalis pulls out his weathered and aging spellbook and leafs through the pages as he studies new spells. Afterwards he rests in meditative silence.
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"Back the way we came, past the tiled floor that appeared well trodden, were some cavern passages. It is not far and may be a place where we will not be disturbed. I propose we go back there."
Dartalis looks at the others and raises an eyebrow. "It is as I feared. The creature is a demon, though I am unsure of what type. I know some spells that will help us defeat it, but I need rest to prepare them." Dartalis nods to Joneth. "I understand your eagerness, paladin, and I do not blame you. You must feel the evil flowing from this place as I do, but preparation is the key to a battle like this."
"I have learned about such creatures, if it is what I think." Dartalis looks again at the creature, focusing his vision and studying the details. Knowledge Arcana Check
"Good point, Koryn. I, for one, am weary and could use some rest. I need to study my spells, as well. Would anyone mind if we took a night's rest somewhere nearby?"
Dartalis whispers, "I think we have found at least one of the sources of evil in this place."
5 + Will 5 = 10
From a distance, Dartalis follows Marcus down the hall, fighting back a feeling of impending danger. One hand lingers on his spell component pouch, while the other nervously strokes the fur of his rat familiar, Nicodemus.
"Then for the sake of goodness, we should cleanse it."
"This place is foul. It attracts vile creatures and I can feel the evil grow as we go deeper." A gleam flashes in Dartalis' eyes as he whispers to himself, "perhaps I will find powerful magic here."
Dartalis lets his flaming sphere fade out, then he smiles at the others. "It's good to have friends with swift blades and sharp spears."
Dartalis fixes his gaze on the creatures attacking his friends and begins to recite and repeat the words of a spell, tracing arcane runes in the air and sprinkling bits of tallow, brimstone, and powdered iron. "Ethumen flamu nosteri, mithus miri esparu." The words begin quietly, but the cadence rises as the spell nears its climax.
Dartalis looks around the cavern. "What would a big cat be doing down here, I wonder?"
Dartalis keeps his everburning torch as high as he can under the low ceiling to privide as much light as possible to the rogue.
Dartalis follows the rogue and litorian into the room holding his sleeve over his nose. "So this is where the smell is coming from."
Dartalis nods to Marcus, his eyes reflecting a measure of respect. "Good catch, Mouse. I certainly would have missed that."
Dartalis bows his head in respect. "Forgive us our disturbance of your rest, Ancient One. I thought perhaps you held some secret that would help us rid this place of evil."
"Well said, Maestro Ulven."
"I have no intention of desecrating this tomb, good Litorian," says Dartalis. "But I must learn what is here and why it is not affected by the taint in this place. Perhaps that knowledge can help us." Dartalis raises an eyebrow as he adds, "It may also be that the sleeper resting in this place would want us to use whatever remains here to rid this place of that taint, for if its strength fails, the sleeper here could one day succomb to evil as well. It would be a worthy use of whatever remains here and may give eternal peace to the sleeper."
"Well spoken, Sir Joneth. I think I would like to take a closer look before we move on." Dartalis walks around the coffin, examining the details, looking for any words written in a language he knows.
Dartalis laughs at Ulven's words. "I'm not sure I want to know about that one. It's good these tunnels are clear though."
Dartalis looks at the side tunnels then to Ulven and Marcus. "It might be wise to make sure those tunnels are clear before we move further. We wouldn't want anything creeping up behind us."
"Or perhaps his nose is damaged from too many bar brawls."
Dartalis follows Joneth. Stopping at the bottom, he allows his eyes to adjust to the dim light and pulls out his everburning torch.
"I like that idea, very much."
"Don't one of you magickers have some sort of protection from stink spell you could whip up?" Dartalis smiles. "Unfortunately not, my friend, though now I wish I did."
Dartalis watches quietly as the others explore the room, impressed by the way the newcomers integrate so easily. We are lucky to have stumbled upon these brave people, he thinks. They seem to be true professionals. Nevertheless, his hand hovers nervously near his spell component pouch.
"Koryn identified this as a place of worship for the cult of Orcus through the carvings on the wall. He knows much about religions. "Also, there were words carved in stone that I translated from the Abyssal tongue. I will share them with you, though they are vile. "The carving read: Where for the glory of the Horned One does the true essence lie? Not in the skin, that tattered rag that clothes us; strip it away. Not in the flesh, mere meat to rot to nothing; let the worms feast upon it. Not in the brain, for thought is fleeting, ever changing; crack the
Not in breath, that most fragile of sighs so easily stolen; drown it in tears and pain. Not in the belly, that furnace of power, for it so easily turns; dissolve it in acids of its own creation. Not in the seed of man and woman, the agent but not the source of the
Not in the bones, the final dancing relic of the dead; crush them to dust and let the wind take them. Where then does the true spark hide?"
Dartalis nods to each of the newcomers. "If our paladin trusts you, then I trust you. Given the undead monstrosity we ran into in the main mausoleum, I for one would be glad for more help." Smiling, Dartalis adds, "It's good to meet you all."
Dartalis reels at the stench from the tunnel. Coughing, he covers his nose with his sleeves until he regains some propriety. "I agree with Koryn," he says with a cough. "We should check the other crypts. Then we will have cleared an area that we can rest in before going down, if needed. But, I am willing to go along with the desires of the group, whatever you choose to do."
Dartalis breathes a sigh of relief when the creature is destroyed. "I hate undead," he says, then nods to each of the others. "It's good we have an able team. I still have other spells prepared if you would like to keep searching tombs."
Dartalis watches Joneth's muscles bulge and his veins pop out like cords of thick rope while he attempts to open the coffin and fails. He also pulls a scroll of shield from his pack. He searches his mind for a spell and then begins casting and chanting. "Arenoth oneth utin!" Dartalis squeezes Joneth's arm and the magic flows into the paladin's body imparting magical strength to the holy warrior.
"Perhaps that will help you, Sir Joneth." Raising the scroll of shield to eye level, the wizard begins to read the strange magical language that echoes loudly through the room in unrememberable syllables.
"I will try to help you lift it as well."
Dartalis raises his everburning torch. The soft-green magical fire washes over the coffin with an eerie glow. Just before the coffin is opened, he walks over near Joneth and begins to cast a spell. "Desthiu imen erestu." After chanting the words, he gently touches the paladin. He then walks over to Marcus and chants, "Desthiu imen erestu," and gently touches him then backs up out of the range of their sword arcs.
Dartalis watches cuatiously as Marcus approches the Mausomleum. A dozen dangers breeze through his mind, but he feels reassured because the others are also nearby and because Marcus seems to move so deftly, mouse-like, toward the building. Dartalis searches his conciousness for the spells he has prepared, an act that not only helps him prepare, but also settles and calms his concern for his friend.
"The large one sounds as good as any. If we find an entrance to the underground, we can always come back to it after we have searched all of the mausoleums," says Dartalis. "I have a feeling the large one will contain an entrance to the underground, but they could, just as easily, all contain entrances. We will only know after we have searched them all."
Dartalis watches Marcus open the hatch from a short distance away, but close enough to cast a spell if needed.
"Let's go take a look at the tombstones. Grave inscriptions are like history books, but often overlooked because we fear the dead." "An exellent idea." Dartalis follows the paladin to the graves. Shocked to see Joneth's name on a gravestone, Dartalis looks for the names of the other party members.
"I fear you are right, my paladin friend. I need no magic to sense it. I feel it in the chill down my back and in the hairs standing on end." Dartalis shivers once, noticeably, then collects himself. "Perhaps we should check out the mausoleum, first? It may yield clues about this place." Dartalis nods at Joneth and Koryn then turns to Theledor and says, "I'm just glad that we came here with holy men at our side, for I have a suspicion that the dead do not rest easy in this cursed place."
"I have rarely heard more omimous words," Dartalis says, to the Mouse. But, as he speaks, excitement rushes through his veins. What magic will I find here in this cursed place? he wonders. "Where shall we begin?" Dartalis asks with a trembling voice, his feverish passion for magic kindled.
Dartalis follows the group into the tunnel, careful to let the armored warriors go in front of him. At Theledor's words, he holds his everburning torch up to let the light bathe the tunnel walls, still careful to leave one hand free for spellcasting. "How is that, friend elf?"
Dartalis puts his crossbow into his handy haversack and pulls out his everburning torch. After putting the haversack on his back, he holds the torch in his left hand, keeping his right hand free for spellcasting. He waits for word from the scout before following the others through the doors.
"The verse on the stone is written in the Abyssal tongue," Dartalis says to the group. "I will translate it, so all may know what it says, though the words are foul." Dartalis raises an eyebrow and begins to read. "Where for the glory of the Horned One does the true essence lie? Not in the skin, that tattered rag that clothes us; strip it away. Not in the flesh, mere meat to rot to nothing; let the worms feast upon it. Not in the brain, for thought is fleeting, ever changing; crack the
Not in breath, that most fragile of sighs so easily stolen; drown it in tears and pain. Not in the belly, that furnace of power, for it so easily turns; dissolve it in acids of its own creation. Not in the seed of man and woman, the agent but not the source of the
Not in the bones, the final dancing relic of the dead; crush them to dust and let the wind take them. Where then does the true spark hide?" Dartalis turns to the group. "There was another line, perhaps the answer to the riddle, but it has been chiseled away.
Staying well away from the entrance until it has been checked out by the armored warriors, Dartalis removes his haversack from his back and retrieves and loads his light crossbow. He then looks down at the spell component pouch on his waist, as if to assure himself that it is still there. A chill runs down his back at the sight of the building and adrenaline pumps through his veins. "This place is, indeed, foul," he remarks. Then he raises one eyebrow as he attempts to read the writing on the building.
Dartalis nods in agreement. "The building."
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