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Ghaernan: Attacks: It can spray a stream of infested maggots at enemies within 20'. It has a minor resistance to cold, fire, and acid
After descending deeper into the earth, the party made their way down a long, claustrophobic corridor where the walls seemed to press in with age and silence. The air was damp, heavy, and still—undisturbed for what felt like centuries. At the end of the passage stood a solid stone door, marked only by dust and time. With weapons ready and nerves taut, the group opened it. The door groaned inward, revealing an octagonal chamber. The party stepped through from the northern side, noting immediately that three other doors stood on the east, south, and west walls, each identical in form—heavy, ancient, and closed. But their attention was immediately drawn to the center of the room, where a statue of striking craftsmanship stood atop a slightly raised platform. It was a beautiful woman, carved from deep red stone, her expression serene and severe in equal measure. Her hands gripped a towering ranseur, its haft resting on the floor, blade pointed to the ceiling as if in eternal vigilance. The chamber’s grandeur was spoiled by thick cakes of slime that spread across the floor in irregular, mucous-like trails—wet, glistening, and marked with the drag patterns of something heavy and soft. That something now sat across the chamber from them. A large, larvae-like creature, bloated and pale, writhed in the slime. Its body was segmented and grotesquely fattened, its slick hide pulsing slightly with each movement. Small, malformed limbs twitched uselessly at its sides, and its head—if it could be called that—flicked toward the intruders with slow menace, milky eyes blinking out of sync. The stink of damp decay and soured flesh filled the air as the thing shifted. It had seen them.
DC 25 Knowledge (history):
This is a statue of the Runelord Alaznist DC 14 Knowledge (planes):
This is an "abyssal larvae" ask questions based on your roll. Round 1 Caius <== Up!
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Nothing is found in the old kitchen. Down the hall, those rooms have nothing of interest, except at the end, where 6 skeletons are quickly dispatched. I believe this leaves you with only the steps at the far SW to go down, or to go back to the King.
The party rests near the magical pool with curative waters.
The additional damage is all that it takes to finish off the swarm of scorpions.
Round 4 Caius <== Up!
Round 4 Caius <== Up!
According to the d41 I rolled above, you take 21 points of DEX damage! But, just for you, let's call it...
Gundar needs to be making his own fortitude saves against the venom from these scorpions, as well as the 9HP of damage. The scorpions swarm is much reduced, thanks to Khalid's efforts, but it is still strong enough to warrant the consideration of all, and still strong enough to attack Caius and Gundar! Caius and Gundar:
DC 13 Fort Save:
Failure means suffer Round 3 Ghaernan <== Up! Round 4 Caius <== Up!
As Caius struggled to keep his footing, swaying under the dizzying haze of venom and the endless crawling sensation, the swarm of centipedes shifted. The writhing mass moved with a collective intelligence, flowing like liquid pain, surging slightly outward from Caius’s legs and boots—and spilling into Gundar. The dwarf let out a sharp growl as the first wave of chitinous bodies clambered over his boots, up his greaves, and onto his torso. In seconds, he too was enveloped, the swarm climbing high over his shoulders, nibbling and stinging at the vulnerable seams in his armor with endless determination. Bites raked along his neck and under his arms, finding purchase where skin met steel. Stings pierced the gaps at his elbows and collar, and Gundar winced as the sharp, hot pangs of dozens of venomous fangs took hold. Both he and Caius now stood in the midst of it—a living storm of poison and pain, their arms swatting, twisting, trying in vain to shake loose the mass of creatures that now writhed across their bodies. The centipedes didn’t hesitate.
Caius and Gundar:
DC 13 Fort Save:
Failure means suffer Round 2 Ghaernan <== Up! Round 3 Caius <== Up!
Round 2 Caius <== Up!
The centipede swarm didn’t need to chase Caius—
The mass of writhing bodies continued to churn around his legs, climbing over one another in a relentless tide that pulsed and shifted with hive-minded precision. Though his armor held firm in most places, it did little to stop the assault. Tiny mandibles probed at every gap—the creases behind his knees, the edges beneath his breastplate, the seams of his gauntlets and gorget. Dozens of centipedes slithered into those narrow spaces, their bodies cold and slick against his skin, their bites like tiny, burning needles. Caius swatted instinctively, his breaths growing shallow as the swarm covered him. The shifting movement of their bodies made it hard to focus—his senses overwhelmed by the sensation of crawling legs, the endless scraping, the endless motion. Then came the venom. A dull ache crept into his muscles, quickly building into a wave of weakness. His vision blurred at the edges. He staggered a step, lightheaded, a cold sweat breaking across his skin as the poison took hold. The swarm showed no sign of relenting.
Caius:
DC 13 Reflex Save:
Failure means suffer Round 1 Ghaernan <== Up! Round 1 Caius <== Up!
Khalid's throw misses, but the splash damage hits the swarm.
Curious, Caius stepped forward toward the largest of the brick ovens built into the curved wall, his hand resting on the rusted iron grate at its front. The metal groaned as he pulled it open, flaking with corrosion and soot. As the party’s light spilled into the dark space within, it revealed not ash, not firewood… but movement. A writhing, chittering mass of glossy segmented bodies twisted over one another in a tangled, living carpet. Dozens—no, hundreds—of centipedes, each several inches long and glistening with moisture, reacted instantly to the sudden intrusion. With a horrifying burst of motion, the swarm exploded outward, pouring over the edge of the oven like a living tide of claws and mandibles. Before anyone could react, the horde of vermin rushed directly into Ardan, skittering up his legs, across his armor, into every exposed seam. The swarm moved like a single mind, enveloping him in a churning mass of chitin, fangs, and venom. Their lantern light danced across the walls as the room erupted in chaos.
Initiative:
Round 1 Caius <== Up!
From 10' up, Verilich is unable to see inside the oven, except for the areas closest to the front.
Khalid paused at the edge of the hallway, eyes narrowing at the secret door they’d just uncovered. He tilted his head, considering it for a moment, then looked to the others. “Let’s mark it,” he said, tapping the frame with his knuckle. “We'll come back once we’ve finished sweeping the right-hand path. I don’t want anything behind us when we go deeper.” The group nodded in agreement, falling back into formation as they turned west. They entered a large, rectangular chamber, arranged mostly north to south. The air here was still, thick with dust and the faint scent of rot and mildew. It was clear this place had once served a purpose—rows of crumbling bed frames, rotted footlockers, and collapsed benches made it easy to guess that these had once been guard barracks. Now, only ruin remained. To the south, a set of stone steps descended into darkness, the stairwell yawning like an open throat. Where it led, none could say—not yet. Instead, they turned north, following the path through a series of unremarkable rooms, each one more empty and time-worn than the last. Dust thickened, footprints marked their passage, but nothing stirred. At last, they reached a door, its frame bowed slightly with age. Beyond it, they stepped into a familiar space—the cell room where they had first encountered the sinspawn, now quiet once more. Retracing their steps, the group cut back toward the southeast, aiming to uncover the last corners of this level. Their path brought them to a new chamber, and this one opened with more grandeur than most—a wide, half-circle room, its curved wall lined with giant brick ovens, long cold. Beneath the ovens, blackened pits and iron spits for roasting still remained, some warped and sagging with age. The air carried the scent of old soot and long-dead fire. This had once been a great kitchen—one meant to feed many. Now, only shadows dined here. DC 20 Perception: You hear a strange rustling sound coming from the southernmost of the brick ovens.
Welcome back!
Ghaernan: Carrying more than two shards can cause additional problems. A character who carries three or more shards of the Shattered Star becomes sickened by the competing magical effects. A character becomes staggered with four shards, nauseated with five, stunned with six, and unconscious with seven. These effects can be negated for 1 minute if the character succeeds at a DC 20 Will save, but immediately manifest if the character continues to carry multiple shards beyond that minute.
Ghaernan: Alaznist was the last Thassilonian runelord of wrath who ruled for many years over her realm of Bakrakhan. She was a specialist in wrath magic, now called evocation.
Ghaernan: The "crown" from the bag is a bracer of armor +2, but it's only half of the pair. It won't function as is, it takes two.
Khalid looks very hard at the statue and spots nothing special. Verilich checks out the secret door, which is somewhat broken and hanging off its hinges. Behind it, he finds a rough cave/tunnel that leads to... somewhere.
DC 25 Knowledge (history): The statue depicts the Runelord Alaznist. She was the Runelord of Wrath.
Ghaernan's rock strikes hard, and the cave fisher falls to the ground, lifeless. Upon checking the small bag around the creature's leg, you find 12 polished rocks and 23 small teeth (no value), and a second "crown" like the one the mite leader was wearing.
Caius and Verilich: Being as "perceptive" as you both are, you also notice that the creature has a small leather pouch tied to one of its legs.
The corridor widened, and the party emerged into a vast, damp grotto, the air suddenly thick with humidity and the scent of wet stone. The ceiling soared forty feet above, vanishing into shadows broken only by the flickering edges of their light. To the north, a row of thick brick columns rose like ancient tree trunks, supporting the chamber’s weight with crumbling stoicism. The walls glistened with condensation, and the sound of slow-dripping water echoed faintly through the chamber. At the southern end, the floor lifted into a broad, low dais, its edges softened by age and erosion. There, gleaming slick with moss and mold, stood a statue of a beautiful woman, carved in arresting detail. Her expression was serene, but her stance was firm, one hand clutching a tall, stylized ranseur, its blade catching the light like the edge of a whisper. But even as the group took in the grandeur of the space, a sharp clicking echoed from above. From the rough stone wall, halfway between ceiling and floor, a crab-like monstrosity the size of a man scuttled into view. Its glossy exoskeleton shimmered with moisture, and its massive pincers clacked open and shut in rhythmic threat. It moved with unnatural ease across the vertical surface, its many legs clinging effortlessly to the rock, as if gravity held no sway over it. The creature paused only a moment—then began to descend, its pincers raised, its eyeless face fixed in unnatural stillness. It was coming straight for them.
DC 10 Perception:
You spot an aging and falling apart secret door behind the statue on the dais to the south DC 12 Knowledge(nature):
This is a "cave fisher." Initiative:
Round 1 Caius <== Up!
The party easily manages to kill the sin spawn using ranged weapons.
Ghaernan:
As Kahlid moves into the creatures view and speaks to it, its visage becomes one of hate, and it flies into a rage. It begins beating on the bars, and the floor, and running around in angry circles, and then back to the bars, trying to reach Khalid and tear him limb from limb.
Khalid stepped down the worn stone hallway, his boots echoing softly in the silence left behind by Verilich’s flight. The heavy air carried with it the scent of rust, mildew, and something older—dank stone and long-forgotten suffering. He moved cautiously past the crumbling torture devices, sweeping his gaze toward the eastern cells lining the wall. The southern cell was dark and choked with dust, its floor coated in a thick layer of debris and crumbled masonry. Nothing stirred within. But as he turned his gaze to the northern cell, something caught his eye. At first, it seemed a trick of shadow—a hunched shape half-hidden near the back of the cell. But then it shifted. A shiver of motion revealed a twisted, hairless figure, its pale skin stretched tight over an emaciated frame. It lurched forward slightly, moving on back-bent, canine legs that gave it an unnatural, beast-like gait. Its face was the worst of it—a hideous, wide mouth, toothy and wet, flanked on either side by tiny, malformed arms, each ending in three clawed fingers that twitched with slow, deliberate rhythm. It did not snarl. It did not speak. It simply stared through the rusted bars at Khalid, unblinking. Something in its stillness suggested awareness. And something in its form suggested hunger. DC 12 Knowledge(dungeoneering): This is a sinspawn.
Verilich swept forward through the eastern corridor. The air was heavier here—cold, stale, and touched with the faint coppery scent of old rust and older pain. The chamber beyond was broad and low-ceilinged, shaped like a stone pit carved into the bones of the ruin. From the north, a narrow set of worn stairs descended into the room, their edges rounded by centuries of passage. At the western wall, a massive stone door stood shut, its surface veined with cracks but still imposing—its hinges thick and green with age. To the east, the corridor Verilich had just flown through split the line of cell doors, each made of rusty iron bars. The cells beyond were little more than shadows—empty, or perhaps not quite empty enough. Scattered across the floor, Verilich saw the remains of torture instruments, long since abandoned. A stretched wooden rack lay half-collapsed near the center, its frame cracked and the turning wheel missing. Iron maidens gaped open like the maws of silent sentinels, their inner spikes dulled by time and rust. Chains hung limply from the walls, some still bearing ancient, crumbling leather manacles or pitted shackles fused shut by corrosion. The room spoke of cruelty long past, its horrors not banished, but simply forgotten. Dust lay thick over everything, disturbed now only by the slow beat of Verilich’s wings. His presence stirred the silence, but nothing stirred back—
A place once built for screams, now long emptied of breath.
Having gathered samples and closely examined the pool, the party paused in reverent silence, letting the cool, clear water ripple gently in the light. The potion Khalid collected shimmered faintly at first—but already the glow had begun to dull, the enchantment leaching away slowly with each passing minute. Ghaernan, his eyes alight with the deeper rhythm of the Word and the Way, circled the fountain with flowing grace, reciting soft mantras and gesturing with open hands. As he studied the tiled vortex at the pool’s base, a dozen threads of meaning began to weave together into a more complete understanding. From his deep knowledge of planar lore, Ghaernan realized the pool may represent a stable point of transplanar influence, a nexus between the Material Plane and one or more subtle threads of the Positive Energy Plane—but filtered through a more refined, focused structure. This is not raw positive energy, but structured conjuration magic, likely interwoven with restorative divine principles—the sort associated with lesser restoration. The effect is deliberately bounded, both spatially and temporally. The healing magic suffuses the pool, but once removed, it begins to decay—not unlike planar energies drawn too far from their source. Ghaernan discerns that the “once-per-day” limit on healing may be the result of resonance, wherein the magical essence of a creature interacts with the pool only once before becoming 'attuned' and rejected by the matrix until the next dawn. Meanwhile, Caius, peering into the water, sees no object at the center—no stone, no device, no idol. But the design of the tiles themselves—that spiraling, swirling pattern—has the hypnotic repetition of a glyph-lattice, common in Thassilonian-era spellbinding. The runework is hidden in artistry, but unmistakable to the trained eye. Ghaernan's knowledge of engineering confirms that the pool and its drainage design are not meant to contain water in a traditional sense, but to focus and hold divine charge. There is no inlet or outlet visible—this is not a natural spring, but a purpose-built magical construct. His mind racing through ancient tales and obscure architectural lore, Ghaernan also considers several possibilities: The fountain could be a fragment of a greater artifact, its master source long lost or buried deeper beneath the ruins. It may be tied to a forgotten guardian spirit or dormant outsider, now absent but still influencing the material plane through sympathetic magic. Alternatively, it may be sustained by the lingering will of a powerful spellcaster, a creator’s final gift etched into the very stone. Most interestingly, Ghaernan cannot rule out the possibility that the pool is self-renewing—not through automation or machinery, but through an ancient ritualized binding, perhaps interacting subtly with the ley lines that run beneath the Irespan piling itself. In this theory, the pool is essentially a well, not of water, but of slowly recharging planar essence—constrained and filtered to promote healing and restoration without drawing the attention of greater powers. The implications for further study are vast. If stabilized and understood, such a pool could aid wounded Pathfinders, cure diseases, or even act as a limited convergence point for planar experiments. But if disturbed—or worse, corrupted—it could also become a vector for wild magic, uncontrolled summoning, or worse. For now, it remains a marvel of magical craftsmanship, lost to time but not yet gone. A treasure not of gold, but of knowledge and potential.
Now that he has it into a vial, Khalid (and Ghaernan) are better able to distinguish the nature of the waters. They believe that the potion in those bottles combines a cure light wounds (for 1d8+3) and lesser restoration. However, they can also discern that once removed from the fountain the water immediately started to lose its enchantment and that after 8 hours, the potion will be useless. Also, in a curious hitch, a person can only benefit from this potion once per day.
GM Stuff:
The water tastes cool and refreshing.
As the others fanned out to examine the circular chamber, Ghaernan stepped forward, eyes narrowing as he regarded the still surface of the pool. There was something strange about it—something too perfect. He raised a hand and muttered a soft incantation under his breath, fingers tracing a practiced sigil in the air. A faint shimmer passed across his irises as his arcane sight opened. Instantly, the room bloomed into layered color and motion visible only to him—the weave of magic laid bare. The pool before him blazed with power. Raw, radiant threads of conjuration magic suffused the water, pulsing gently like a living heartbeat. Deeper still, nested within that aura, he saw the unmistakable glow of healing energies—bright, clear, and incredibly potent. The very liquid shimmered with arcane life, as though every drop had been steeped in restorative purpose. He took a slow breath, awed despite himself. This was no minor charm or faded enchantment. The strength of the magic was immense, far beyond the usual trinkets and wards found in the ruins above. Whatever this pool was, it had been created by a masterful hand…
With the room cleared of spiders and webs, the party took a moment to scan the space. A quick search revealed nothing of value—only more brittle cricket husks and sticky silken drapery. Falling back to their methodical pattern, they resumed their “right-hand rule”, turning toward the northwest passage that branched out between the pillars. The corridor twisted and wound through the stone like the inside of a coiled serpent, but the group pressed forward without hesitation. Their light chased shadows across rough-hewn walls as they advanced through the dark. At last, the passage opened into a circular chamber, perfectly round and strangely quiet. At its center sat a ten-foot-wide pool, its surface perfectly still. The water within was crystal clear, revealing the smooth tiled floor just six inches below the surface. A swirling pattern—like a painted vortex—decorated the bottom of the pool, its spiral design elegant and hypnotic, a stark contrast to the grime and filth of the surrounding dungeon. Aside from the pool, the room was completely empty. No webs, no bones, no signs of occupation. To their left, another exit led out, vanishing into shadow. The silence here was uncanny. And the water… too clean.
Alas, there is naught to be found in this room.
The party reassembled at the base of the spiral stairs, the stone beneath their boots damp with chill and time. Without a word, they pressed southward, back into the stone abyss. The corridor ahead was a choking veil of spiderwebs, thick and clinging, stretching from wall to wall and floor to ceiling. Progress slowed to a crawl as several of the party took to hacking at the webs, blades and staves slicing through the sticky sheets while others stood ready, watching the shadows for movement. Bit by bit, the passage opened before them. Eventually, they emerged into a broad hall lined with stone pillars. Between the columns hung dense curtains of webbing, fresher and tighter than those in the corridors—sticky and gleaming, stretched taut like newly spun silk. Dangling amidst the tangle were the carcasses of several albino crickets, each the size of a small dog. Their pale legs curled in death, their hollow shells glistening faintly, drained and brittle. Exits opened in each of the four corners of the hall, as well as one to the south, though all were partially veiled behind more webs. But before they could consider which path to take, movement stirred above. Three large spiders descended quickly from the webs, hissing and lunging with legs outstretched and fangs bared. The party responded instantly. Verilich struck the first mid-air with a snap of his sansetsukon, smashing it to the stone floor in a twitching heap. Caius met the second with a brutal upward swing of his greatsword, cleaving through chitin in a single motion. Khalid stepped forward, slashing his horsechopper across the last spider’s flank, and as it reeled, Ghaernan’s sling bullet slammed into its thorax, dropping it for good. Not a single fang found flesh. The fight was over before it had truly begun. The webs swayed gently in the aftermath.
All of these cells appear like they haven't had anything in them for a long, long, time.
The assault from the Pathfinders quickly overwhelms and kills the spiders. Three long cell block corridors extend out from a central guardroom, each hall featuring numerous iron cell doors. Only the hallway South of the stairwell is covered in webs, the three cell block halls are not.
Round 2 Ghaernan <== Up!
That second hit will strike and take down a spider!
Khalid knocks a second spider out of the fight.
Three more spiders come to the intersection, and towards the party. Round 1 Khalid <== Up! Round 2 Ghaernan <== Up!
The blow crushes the spider, but Verilich reports that he can hear more of them coming from further west, perhaps around the corners. |