In the chill, pre-dawn gloom the group are awakened by a gentle rapping on the door of the private room, and a voice calling quietly, "Time to wake, it lacks but an hour of dawn."

For some the waking is easier than for others, depending on how much they had drunk the evening before, and how deeply they had slept.  But, before long all are awake and making their way through the mist-shrouded streets of Bard's Gate, which are already fairly busy, in spite of the hour.

Out of the North Gate and away to the temple of Freya, where the priestesses, wrapped in pale, hooded cloaks await them around a simple wooden altar where a body lays, wrapped in white linen.

Velia, the halfling leader of this temple stands with the others, leaning heavily on her stick.  "We have prepared a place in the bosom of the Goddess for your friend, Fergus." and she gestures towards a hole in the ground, easily large enough to hold Fergus, and as deep as he was tall.  "I prayed to Her last night, and she spoke to me.  She will welcome his soul into her realm, and his body will nourish the crops in the fields, for such is our way."

"His funeral will start soon, but first we must know, which of you will speak of his life, before we place him in the ground, and which of you will speak of its ending as we fill the grave?"

Arkan yawned and stretched as he startled awake, then grimaced as he became aware again of the throbbing inside his head. He knew he was drinking too much the night before, but he had allowed himself to get caught up in the revelries. He finally had to excuse himself from the others and stagger over to the room to slump into bed, not even bothering to change into his sleeping clothes.

Luckily, being used to waking very early he had managed to awaken and study his spellbook as quickly as he could earlier, before dozing off again in a chair, only to be awoken again by the rapping on the door.

He followed the others to the temple of Freya after washing up quickly, the cool water on his face coming as a relief and helping ease the throbbing in his head.

He listened to Velia make her statement at the temple, glancing at Fregus's body and the hole where he was to be buried. Arkan kept his silence after Velia spoke; the others had known Fergus better and it was only proper they should be the ones to speak of his life and make the final farewells.

"Erista?" Eilieen quietly inquires.  "Well you knew Fergus, and for longer at least than I," she continues.  The pre-dawn mist and damp well-supports her mood today, and if she feels this miserable, Erista must be worse.

She eyes the hole with a faint air of distress.  It is not her way, and to watch her friend lie still while dirt is thrown upon him...but no, it is for Fergus, not her.  And she will not argue against his wishes, the wishes of his church.

Erista nods.  "I.. I would like to," she affirms, stepping forward.  "There's people far more qualified than I am, but they're not here, so if nobody else wants it more, I would like to speak of his life."

Velia nods at Erista and smiles comfortingly.  "It is good that he has a friend who will speak for his life.  But who will speak for his death."  Her eyes travel from one member of the group to another, searching their faces for some sign that one of them would be prepared to describe how he had fallen, and what it meant to them, and to others.

Behind her, the other priestesses start to sing quietly...

There are no words that any of the party can understand, but somehow the song conveys sorrow to those who hear it.

Colwyn sniffs loudly, and mutters, "I's bein' 'avin' a cold.  An' maybe some dust in me eye."

"Eye."

Uttering a single syllable, which so happened to be a single word as well, as chance would have it, Bilfro steps forward.

On second thought, however, he might have said "Aye" rather than "Eye".

Perhaps even "I", which in this context makes somewhat more sense, as long as he offers to speak of Fergus' death.

You never can tell with Bilfro.

Aarnr, Eilieen considers, might be best to speak of Fergus' death.  Certainly he'd give a splendid perspective, from a heroic perspective.  Similarly Oswald.  But after a long moment, and a mutter from Bilfro - Aye?  Probably that - she sees none will step forward.

"If there are no objections," the priestess quietly states, "I will speak of his death."

Bilfro looks at Eilieen as if she just boogalooed over his grave, spreading fresh bovine fertilizer in the process, even if he have to turn around to do so.

Standing quietly, Ozzy had been trying to decide if he wanted to speak of Fergus's life or of his death.

Then Erista had jumped in to offer to talk about the former.  And before he could make his own offer, Bilfro had stepped forward with an offer to describe the big man's death.  Leaving Ozzy with nothing to say on the matter.

And then, shortly after, Eilieen does the same.

And the Freyan priestesses are providing a musical accompaniment, so Ozzy really has nothing left to do.  Hopefully there will be a chance for Fergus's other companions to say a few words.

Velia bows her head and stands in silence, and when she lifts it again, she starts to speak.

"All life is a circle.  From its beginning we move through it, leaving our mark on this world, and at its end we return to the earth to nourish new life.  And the Goddess watches over us at every stage, guiding and defending us all."

"The world can be harsh, but She is our guardian, in Life and in Death.  Those who follow her teachings are never really gone, even though their life is ended.  Their body returns to the world, but their soul rises to dwell in Her hall, under Her love and protection."

"So it is with Fergus, who has departed this life and moved on.  And though we are sad that his life has ended, there is joy in the knowledge that he is with Her in death.  For that is Her way."

A pause, and then Velia says, "And now we listen in silence, while his friend tells us of this man's life.  Speak to us of his days in this world, and of the deeds that made him who he was, that we might know the man who we are sending to dwell with the Goddess."  And she lifts her walking stick, before thumping it down on the ground...

Aarnr's up and about his daily remonstration with Bowbe (shouting quietly, mindful of his grandmother's wishes), when the call comes.  Dawn, he assumes, must be the one who cleans the rooms here, and while he himself is always ready to spring into action, he supposes decadent folks might need the full hour.  Leaving them to it, he partakes of a light breakfast and a few beers to stand him in good stead for the funeral service.

Mindful of earlier warnings, Aarnr does not volunteer to speak, smiling and nodding at Eilieen to show he remembered, and is certainly looking forward to the highlights of what was a brief but eventful and glorious career as a monster-slayer.

The hole in the ground does not look at all welcoming, but the priest vows to be respectful of Fergus's wishes and restrains himself from correcting the halfling priestess as she makes many factual mistakes.  Circle indeed !  And that call for silence is a worry, though perhaps the thumping of the staff indicates it's time for musical accompaniment to go with the silence.  Aarnr raises a questioning brow at Ozzie.

Arkan stood solemnly as Velia spoke.

He admitted he looked forward to hearing Erista speak of Fergus's life, and Bilfro or Eileen of how he died, morbid as it might sound, for with their words it would be as if he still lived among them, for another brief moment in time.

It is as our elders taught, mortals are doomed to live but a heartbeat in this world, it is our deeds that make us eternal. Arkan mused.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:51, Sun 11 Oct 2015.

Colwyn moves off to one side and leans up against a tree.  From here he should still be able to hear the eulogies and the sermon.  He watches Erista, waiting for her to start talking about Fergus' life.

Then he notices Bilfro.  The party's resident loon (though a likeable enough one) has also moved aside, and is doing... something...  "Is 'e makin' a spell or summat?" the rogue mutters as he watches the mage gesticulating wildly and silently mouthing words.  And then it hits him: he's rehearsing his speech.

By the looks of things it will be an exciting one.  Perhaps he plans to describe the battle with the giant in an epic masterpiece?

Erista stands solemnly, listening to Velia speak, nodding slow acceptance of the words.  When the staff thumps against the ground, and silence descends, she looks up, realizing that, indeed, that thing she had volunteered for was supposed to be happening.

She takes a few steps forward, and turns so that she's facing everyone.  "Fergus..."  With a sniffle, she wipes a hand across her eyes, and takes a breath.  "Fergus was a good friend, a good son... he was a good person.  He left his home to protect people, to make the world better and safer.  He... he shouldn't have died for someone who was--"  She stops again, shaking her head, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment, and taking in another long, shaky breath.  "Sorry.  I only knew Fergus for a little while, but I think I loved him, a little bit.  He was easy to love.  He cared about everybody.  He was a terrible liar.  He stood by Aarnr's side, wished he could sing like Ozzy, wanted to help Bilfro, worried about Colwyn, and admired Eilieen.  He was warm and strong and, and, solid, and without him, the world is colder and darker than it was before."

Turning away, towards the altar, she tips her head up to look at the shrouded corpse.  "I'm sorry, Fergus.  Thank you for everything you taught me.  We'll miss you."

Vella nods as Erista finishes her eulogy.  "He bore the love of the Goddess in his heart, and used it to shape the world around him.  There is no finer thing to say about a worshipper of Freya."

Then she bows her head, "Only those who dwell in the next world live forever.  For one who walks this world, life eternal is an abomination.  The truly devoted know when their time is ended, and embrace that end gladly, that they may move on to rest at Her side."

"Thus it was with Fergus.  He battled things which marred the world, and gave his life willingly.  Who will speak of his death and its meaning?"

And the walking stick thumps against the earth again...

As the thumbing of the stick once more occur
Bilfro the Halfing Giant did so stir
and stepped forward to turn to face
the others gathered in this holy place.

Next he motion to his friend Ossy.
to rally one more to his solo posse,
also motioned to the gathered choir
before tugging at his attire.

He cleared his throat a little
where he stood, looking rather brittle,
and then he slowly did inhale,
his face shaded by solemn veil.

As he stood there, filled with honour,
he began to sing, in the voice of tenor,
about his friend who had just passed
into the unknown beyond so vast.


(to the tune of Auld Lang Syne,
should be sung this song divine)

"Thy name was Fergus Andarson,
thou went out into the world;
whilst thou wast but a farmers son,
thou didst fly with wings unfurled.

    Thou hied so free about the land,
    we fought foul fiends and more;
    we didst walk down many a road,
    in those friendship days of yore.

Thy heart twas large, thy soul twas braw,
and nay harsh words did thee spill;
Thou showed us all what kindness is
all through thy own goodwill.

    Thou rushed into the fray anon,
    to halt the giant's tore;
    Thou died a hero, saving us,
    in those glory days of yore.

Now doth thou sleep, my fallen friend,
and thou rest so silently;
but songs'll be sung and poems writ;
thou shall live eternally.

    Though Fergus fell, we shan't forget
    those grand old days of yore.
    We'll carry thee in our hearts,
    till we all meet up once more."


As silence came upon his voice
a tear fell, but not by choice,
and he look down upon his feet
before retreating, quite discreet.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:31, Tue 13 Oct 2015.

Arkan listened to the eulogies of both Erista and Bilfro solemnly, head bowed. When they finished he looked to each in turn and said, "That was beautiful. Fergus was indeed lucky to count you among his friend."

"Thus we know what Fergus meant to his friends." Vella pronounces, smiling, "He was a friend, a companion, a protector, an object of great affection.  All of these things, and more, made him fit to join the Goddess in Her hall, Sessrymnir."  The singing stops, and the priestesses move to surround Fergus' body.

"His heart was joyful, and his arm strong
And all that is sacred to the Goddess
Was sacred to him.
Mourn not, though Fergus has departed.
For he sees us all from Freya's table.
He knows of the love of his friends,
And how it will endure.
He knows that his example will inspire them,
And that they will strive each day
To be worthy of his friendship.
So we bury Fergus in the earth, firm in our Faith,
That his soul will dwell, for ever, in Sessrymnir."

"In Freya's name."

As the prayer finishes, the farmer's body is lifted, still wrapped in its linen shroud and carried towards the hole.  A board lays next to the hole, with three ropes threaded beneath it.  The body is laid on the board, and the priestesses use the ropes to lower it into the grave...

Aarnr is somewhat disappointed, having hoped for a detailed and gratuitously bloody rendering of the exact manner of Fergus's demise.  Where was the mention of his friend's powerful axe blow that nearly severed the giant's leg ?  Or the ferocious swing of the giant's club that dashed his brains out ?  But before the priest can correct the record, he is silenced by the grim horror of the corpse being lowered into the fell grave beneath the earth.  Aarnr's lips tighten in disapproval, but he holds his tongue.

The ropes are pulled clear, and the priestesses return to their wordless song, now standing near the grave itself...

Their leader raises her eyes to the sky and calls out, "Freya!  Welcome the soul of your son, Fergus Andarson, into sacred Sessrymnir.  Guard well his remains, and permit not the dark things of the earth to take possession of his mortal shell, but let it return to the soil whence it drew life and nourishment."

"Fergus shall be mourned by his friends, and missed by his kin, though they will all gain solace in the knowledge that he lived a good life, and was true to the ways of your teachings.  Brave and generous to the end of his days in this mortal world."

"Thus we beseech you, Freya... take him into your home, and grant him an eternal rest at your hearth.  So be it!"

And on the final words, the mound of soil next to the grave starts to move, sliding slowly across the ground and flowing into the grave to conceal the shrouded body...

Following Bilfro's impassioned song, there comes a speech from the priestesses.  Eilieen remains silent, her head bowed, her head a-swarm with prayers and lamentations.  Down Fergus goes, down into the depths of the earth.  She shivers, once; but the ideas of the priestesses of Freya strike a chord with her.  Fergus is no longer here, no longer in his body.  If they feel he should nourish the earth and its peoples...well, he protected them in his life.

Fergus would most certainly approve.

Finally the earth moves itself to cover her friend, a loamy blanket bringing his body to its final rest.  And Eilieen looks up at Vella.  "May we stay with him a while?  Say some words of our own?"

With his grandmother's words in mind, Aarnr does not pray, sensing that perhaps the impassioned swearing, insults and threats required to move Bowbe are out of place here and now.  Indeed, it is all he can do not to immediately attack the animate mound of earth.  As he watches in horror and disgust, it seems to him as if the very ground has become the open maw of some dreadful beast that slowly but inexorably closes around the corpse of his friend, stealing it away to be food for insects and vermin.

Yet the priest is determined to stand vigil, as if by his presence he can ward off corruption, at least for a little time.

"Is it appropriate to place tokens in the grave ?" he asks the halfling priestess roughly, choosing his words carefully, but unable and unwilling to tear his eyes away, but remembering the ceremony for Nameless.

As the dust pours onto Feargus's body Arkan curiously wonders if indeed it is a divine power that moves the soil, or if it is a spell cast by the clergy. He can attempt to find out, but does not make a move. It would not be proper, after all.

"You are welcome to stay as long as you like." Velia confirms, with a gentle smile, "We will be working over there, should you need anything."  She points a little to one side of the temple, where a small grove of trees stands, the branches sagging beneath the weight of the apples which hang from them.

There are several large baskets stacked beneath the trees.

"The land is good.  I think Fergus' body will be treated kindly by it."

The priestess bows, and signals to her followers, who start to move away, towards the apple trees.  "Once again, I am sorry for the loss of your friend, and I can only assure you that the Goddess blesses her followers, in this life, and the next."

"Our thanks for your generosity lady Velia." Arkan said to the priestess with a warm smile.

"I do not believe we shall be staying long though." He added, glancing at Erista, Eileen and Bilfro, wondering if they wanted to spend more time reminiscing about Feargus, or if the place was starting to hold painful memories of his loss for them.

Arkan absently pulled at the black glove on his right hand with his left, clenching the right one into a fist as he tightened the garment, and repeated the motion with the other glove. It had become an old habit the longer he had spent time on the road, and oft meant he was a little uneasy about something.

In this particular case, the brush with mortality of a companion made him realize again the reality of the dangers they faced. They had yet to enter the dungeon, and already one of their own had lost his life.

The omens did not seem to be in their favor, much less the odds.

The halfling priestess seems about to follow her comrades away from the grave, but then steps towards Aarnr, and peers up at him.  "Tokens, and other things that mightmark affection for your fallen friend, can be placed on the grave, or even buried just below the surface.  I only ask that you remember that Fergus was one of ours, and leave nothing that would desecrate his grave or this holy place, or befoul his memory."

"I am sure that I can trust you all though." Velia finishes with a smile.

"And now I must attend to my other duties."

"Our thanks again, Lady Velina."  Eilieen bows.  "We shall certainly not desecrate the grave nor your sacred grounds."  She holds the bow until the priestess leaves, then moves to the mound of earth.  Such a curious method of honoring the dead...and yet, not without its merits, when viewed from the perspective of Freya and her priestesses.

Dropping into a crouch, she stirs the loam with her fingers, almost pensively.  "Ah, Fergus," Eilieen whispers.  "A short time I knew you, and yet it almost seemed as if there had been times before.  Other lives, perhaps.  Perhaps even upon other worlds, a myriad of them.  Like as not you are remembered there as you are here: with fond respect and affection for the kind, strong heart you bore."  She bows her head, fingers plucking a small pebble from the grave.  "A keepsake, for me - a memory of the times I recall, and the worlds I do not."

A song comes to her then, a song she heard once in a dream, it seems.  Eilieen closes her eyes, hums quietly, then quietly sings - without skill or expertise, but redolent with emotion.

"Be Thou my Vision, O Lord of my heart;
Naught be all else to me, save that thou art
Thou my best thought, by day or by night,
Waking or sleeping, Thy presence my light."

She isn't certain what it means, but in her heart, it sounds like Fergus.

"In other worlds," she whispers, rising and stepping away from the grave.  "Perhaps we shall meet again."

The priest nods at Velina's words, lip quirking at the suggestion he might desecrate either the resting place or memory of the fallen warrior, but holding his tongue, as Fergus would have wished.

Joining Eilieen at the side of the grave, Aarnr draws his sword and kneels, working silently as the priestess says her farewells to push back a few inches of dirt into which he places his precious blade.

"It served me faithfully in life," he speaks to his friend, "may it now ward thee in death and keep thee safe from whatever perils may assail thy mortal remains while thy valiant spirits roams free."

Brushing the soil back and patting it down, the priest stands, fingers resting on the owlbear feather and Wyvaat fang in his pouch, eyes narrowing as he looks to the heavens and, thankfully, silently threatens Bowbe to take froggin' good care of Fergus should his spirit e'er need aid.

With a low growl, Aarnr turns away from the grave.

Seeing that others are honouring Fergus, each in their own way, Colwyn moves forward to kneel by the grave.  He draws one of his several knives (but not the silvered one) and buries it, together with a few coppers for Fergus to spend on ale, under a few inches of soil.

"We's goin' ter be missin' yer mate." he mutters, and then adds quickly, "But not so much as we's wantin' yer ter be comin' back ter visit."

Then he pushes himself to his feet, stands a moment in silent thought, and finally turns his back and steps away.

Arkan nods approvingly as he sees the other's pay homage to their fallen companion in various ways. He considers adding an item or weapon of his own, but reconsiders. He had not known the fallen Fergus for long, only a day or so at most, though during that short time the strapping young man had proved himself a worthy warrior.

It would be more fitting to honor him in other ways, such as being a worthy addition to his former party and aiding them well in their endeavors.

One by one, Fergus companions pay their respects, while dark clouds gather above them.  Colwyn looks up at the sky, and grumbles about bad omens and, more simply, about getting wet.

"P'r'aps as 'ow we should be 'eadin' back ter the pub, afore the rain's startin'.  Be gettin' a bit of grub, an summat ter drink while we waits the weather out." he says, almost hopefully.  "We can be talkin' 'bout ol' Fergus just as well in the warm and the dry as in the rain.  Wha'd'yer say?"

Eilieen stares up into the dark skies above.  Rain would obscure tears, but such things are honest, and not worth shame.  Not for her, at least; for Aarnr, perhaps Arkan and Colwyn, maybe they could be.  But leave such decisions to their owners.  For herself?

"Wise words, Colwyn.  I believe Fergus would also approve; he appreciated a good meal and a warm room, himself."

Moving to stand beside Erista, the priestess places her hand upon her friend's shoulder.  "Will you come with us, Erista?  Or do you wish more time, here?"

Erista reaches up to rest her hand on top of Eileen's. "No, Colwyn's right. And Fergus'd be awfully upset at the thought of us standing out in the cold." Looking up at the priestess, she smiles. "That was really beautiful."

The priest had been seriously considering striking out for Rappan Athuk, but the prospect of food and drink is tempting enough.  With Erista looking out for Eilieen, Aarnr takes it upon himself to ensure that Bilfro is not left behind.  Indeed, the wizard seems to have fallen into a reverie, undoubtedly because he's run out of words, having used them all up - that one speech alone would have sorely strained Aarnr's entire vocabulary.

Arms inside the folds of his cloak Arkan followed the others. Some food did sound nice about now, he only had drinks the night before and no breakfast this morning.

He gazed at the sky above at Colwyn's words, and his brow furrows at the clouds. It had last been stormy when they fought the giant, and Arkan was not one to dismiss an ill omen too quickly.

"Yes, getting into shelter is a good idea. As as some food and a warm fire," he says to the others quietly.

The group make their way back into the city, where the streets are becoming more crowded.  Somewhere a bell is tolling, the sound carrying over the rooftops, beneath a sky where leaden clouds hang almost motionless.

They reach the tavern just as the first heavy drops of rain start to fall, causing street traders to cover their wares and huddle in whatever shelter they can find.  Within minutes the windows of The Farmer's Son, which is empty at this time of day (save for itinerant adventurers) are being rattled by a downpour  which almost seems to present a danger of shattering the thick, leaded panes.

The barkeep, a man in his forties, not the woman who had been working the previous evening glances at the windows and laughs, "That ought to bring a few folk in, just for the shelter.  And once they're in, they're likely to reckon that it'd be a shame not to buy some ale."

He looks down at the floor behind the bar, and asks, "Is this yours?" and he lifts the giant's head up onto the counter.

"Only you should be careful not to lose it."

"Yeah," Erista agrees, with a small sigh.  "Be a shame to lose that.  It's got a lot of smell left in it."

"Be a bigger shame not to buy some ale, though," she acknowledges.

"We should nail the creature's ears to the city gates as a warning," Aarnr muses, "then boil the head until the flesh falls away so we can display the skull."

"Or not," he adds, just in case this is not the sort of thing that polite people do.

"We cannot leave it here," he reconsiders.  "These ... folk would feel obligated to rename this tavern to The Giant's Head, and for the sake of Fergus that I will not allow.  The Farmer's Son it shall remain."

The foul weather seems appropriate, as does the stentorian bell.  "Ye think that is for Fergus ?  Or perhaps Sir Galdean ?  How do they treat the remains of an honoured Justicar ?  Those ... knights spoke of interring him in a hall," the priest sounds uncertain of his recollection.  Burying people inside buildings so that they are forevermore trod upon by the feet of the living above does not seem at all likely.

Gazing at the giant's head, Colwyn suppresses a shudder.  The monster had been horrible.  Quite the most frightening and brutal thing he had ever seen.  Which was saying something, considering that the rogue had Aarnr for comparison.

Acknowledging Erisata's comment, Colwyn nods, "Aye, I's reckonin' as 'ow we's all deservin' a drop of ale, an' maybe's a spot of somethin' fer brekkie."

"'ow's 'bout it mate?  What's yer 'avin' ter offer ter folks as 'as just been ter see their mate gettin' buried?" he asks the barkeep, who replies, "Fresh bread, and leftovers from last evening that I can warm up for you.  Maybe some kippers, I'll need to check the pantry."

Aarnr's question about the bell, and the burial practices of the Justicars, brings a reply from the barkeep as he starts serving drinks.

"Can't say for sure, there's a few places in the city that have bells like that.  Could be any one of them.  As for the Justicars... the way I heard it, they lay the bodies of their fallen on shelves cut into the walls in the crypts under their temple hall, then seal them in.  Nobody walks on them.  The crypts must be big - I heard that the Muirites have lost a lot of knights in battle down the centuries."

Arkan gazes at the giants ugly head and says, "That's not a bad idea Aarnr. Such a grisly trophy would ward away lesser creatures that might seek to attack the town, and thus help keep it safe." He shurgs and adds to the innkeeper, "Or you could hollow it out and keep it as a drinking mug. Would be a good attraction to your inn."

Taking a seat at an empty table Arkan gestures to his companions to join him. "Fresh bread sounds quite nice right now, even if it's with last nights leftovers. I hope they have some meat remaining." He says, his stomach rumbling slightly.

Eilieen returns to the inn in silence, walking beside Erista through the dull grey of the morning.  The rain, when it comes, is entirely appropriate and expected.  For a long moment she pauses at the door, staring up into the weeping sky, then follows the group inside.

The giant's bloody face garners a grimace from her, and she eschews commentary; the less said about that creature the better.

"I am with you, Erista," she begins, seating herself.  "Though I would rather partake of wine with my fresh bread.  Any vegetables will also be welcome," she assures the innkeeper.  Her features sour slightly as she considers Colwyn's rather on-point judgement of the Justicars, and how Fergus gave up his life.  No, Eilieen firmly reminds herself.  Not for them, but for the people whose lives the giant threatened.

Drinks are served, and food too (which is just as the barkeep described it, though there are, indeed, kippers available for those who want them).  The group settle down for their breakfast.

A short while after they start their repast, though, they are interrupted by a young woman clad in bright mail and a sword-emblazoned surcoat which closely resembles that worn by the recently deceased Sir Galdean.  Like that worthy, she has a sword sheathed at her hip, and she carries a helm under one arm.  Her long blonde hair is tightly bound into a braid.


She sees the the giant's head, still on the counter, and the group of adventurers, and approaches them, politely clearing her throat.

"Please excuse the intrusion," she says, in refined tones, "but do I have the honour of addressing the group who recently assisted one of the Justicars of Muir in finding an honourable death?"

Arkan looked up from his meal at the sound of the woman's voice. He looked the young woman up and down, eyes lingering on her surcoat and sheathed sword.

"Indeed you do my lady, you have that honor. It was us who escorted the late Sir Galdean to his most honorable end." He said with a careful smile, wondering what she wanted from them, and if she was a relative of the late Sir Galdean, aside from being an apparent member of the Justicar Order herself.

Aarnr did indeed want kippers.  With the fresh bread slathered in butter ... well, fish butties were on a short list of aspects of decadent civilisation of which he heartily approved.

The arrival of the knight and her pointed questions on top of such a magnificent meal go a long way to cheering the priest up, though he leaves it to Arkan to discover if she too has a wish to end her life in mortal combat with some huge and bestial creature.  One can always hope ...
This message was last edited by the player at 06:31, Sat 14 Nov 2015.

The knight bows her head, and smiles.  "Thank Muir I have found you!" she declares, "I am Kallana, a Junior Knight, and I have been sent to find you.  Messengers have been sent across the whole city, seeking your immediate aid in ending a sinister plot which threatens the very city.  Will you come with me to the Hall to speak with the High Justicar?"

Arkan raised an eyebrow pointedly at the woman's comment, and chewed a morsel of meat thoughtfully as he considered what she had said.

"A sinister plot you say? Pray tell us what plot this might be Lady Kallana, if you are able, and why would the Order require the help of outsiders? Surely the Order has a capable military arm, as Sir Galdean's prowess implied." Arkan inquired of the woman.

---

ooc: Sense Motive: 03 :P

While Arkan has his suspicions, Aarnr too is concerned.  How in Bowbe's froggin' name did these pround Justicars discover his as yet unvoiced intention to return to Bard's Gate at the head of a barbarian horde and raze the city to the ground (sparing only selected eating and drinking establishments) ?!!  Or ... perhaps this knight speaks of another sinister plot !  The thought that someone might beat him to it ...

"Because of that," he explains shortly to Arkan, pointing at the now ripe Giant's head.  "Of course we will come," the priest reassures the shiny young woman, nodding vigorously to encourage the others.  "We shall bring the Giant's remains with us."

"The order" replies Kallana, "does, indeed, have many capable warriors.  Unfortunately many of them are currently working to drive orcish raiders out of the southern part of the Stonehearts, where they too present a threat to the city.  Of the knights who remain, scarce one in ten has experience dealing with... "

She looks around, and when she continues speaking, it is in hushed tones, despite the tavern being almost deserted, "... with undead.  In addition, we have a lack of mages, or other users of magic, who might be required to blast these vile creatures back to their graves.  You are bold adventurers, who are doubtless adept at fighting such blasphemies, and you, in all likelihood, boast a number of spell users among your number."

She raises her voice to a more conversational level again, "The High Justicar will explain more, including what recompense you can expect to receive for your services."

"Ah, I see. That does sound like a matter of rather urgency and importance." Arkan replies to Kallana. "As my companion here said, we would be glad to talk to the High Justicar further regarding this matter." Arkan gestures towards Aarnr and the rest of the party.

Privately he is concerned; undead in numbers large enough to threaten the very city? What devilry could be at work here? He reaches into a pouch and deposits a few coppers on the table for the innkeeper, as payment for his food, prepared to leave when the others are ready.

Undead.  The priest doesn't hear much after that, his eyes narrowing, somehow making him seem more menacing and on the cusp of sudden violence than usual. "Yes," he replies shortly once he realises that Kallena has stopped talking.

Unsure as to the etiquette, Aarnr pulls a handful of gold coins from his pouch (he much prefers the colour of the copper ones, so is keeping hold of those) and drops them on the counter.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:43, Tue 17 Nov 2015.

Eilieen is inclined to dismiss the knight at first - their recent experiences with her order and Colwyn's slant on them have put a sour taste in her mouth she'd rather wash away with distance.  But, as with Aarnr, a single point captures her attention.  Unusually, it is the same point.

Undead.

"Indeed," the priestess murmurs, slowly rising to her feet.  Silently, she collects her spear and gear and prepares to follow.

"Oh!  Yes," Erista says, brightly, as the full(er) story is delivered.  "We're just the people.  We actually just defeated something that was very nearly a lich last week, I'm sure we can handle whatever's troubling you here."

Colwyn almost chokes on his drink.

Poor Fergus is barely cold, following their agreement to help one of these knights, and here they sit, declaring their intent to deal with an issue that the whole order considers a threat that they can't handle.

But he recognises the look in the eyes of Aarnr and Eilieen, and knows its meaning: fanatic!  Though, to be fair, his mind actually uses the term crazy mad bastid what's goin' ter be dyin' soon, but it means the same thing.

He briefly considers volunteering to stay here and mind the horses, until he remembers that they don't own any.  Instead he asks for more information.

"Where's these undeads bein' then?"  With any luck, they're hundreds of miles away...

"They lurk in the crypts, beneath the hall of the Order."

"Oh... bugger."

Aarnr, meanwhile, casts a small mound of gold onto the counter, sending the barkeep into a paroxysm of coughing.  When has recovered enough to speak again, he says, "That looks to be enough." and quickly scoops the coin into a wooden box behind the counter, giving the barbarian priest a  half dozen coppers in change...

Kallana smiles grimly at Erista, "It is as we suspected.  You are experts at this kind of thing.  That is good."
This message was last edited by the player at 20:03, Fri 20 Nov 2015.

Arkan raises a pointed eyebrow as the lady knight mentions the location of the undead menace. "Well...someone forgot their daily sprinkling of holy water down there." He remarks wryly.

Pulling the hood of his dark cloak upon his face Arkan stands and puts on his similar colored gloves, pulling them on tightly and flexing his fist as he does so. "Do you have any idea of the exact number of the dead? I assume all the reanimated corpses still weild the arms and armor they were buried with?"

With a shake of her head, Kallana replies, "I cannot say for certain.  This morning a group of knights descended into the crypts to inter Sir Galdean, and they were attacked.  The High Justicar will be able to provide you with more detailed information, since the problem was reported directly to him.  I was on watch duty at the gate of the compound, and so could not attend the funeral."

"As soon as I came off watch, I was given the duty of finding you.  I did not witness the incident in the crypt, and little information was given to myself and the other messengers, in the interest of starting the search as quickly as possible."

She shrugs her shoulders helplessly.  "You must question the High Justicar if you require further information."
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:35, Sun 22 Nov 2015.

Aarnr is pleased with the coppers the Innkeep gifts him with, nodding his gratitude, and not just out of politeness, though the tale that Kallena weaves is grim indeed.

That the slain fellows of brave Sir Galdean who undoubtedly likewise perished fighting all manner of ravening beasts should have their corpses raised to a foul mockery of life, animated by evil spirits in thrall to the demon-prince Orcus is not to be countenanced.

"It matters not," the priest informs Arkan sagely, "be every foul lich and ghoul in the Palace of Bones be unleashed upon us, we shall destroy them or die in the attempt.  We must rid this frog ... this city of this plague so that Fergus and Sir Galdean may rest undisturbed."

Colwyn sighs, and pinches the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger.  He knows this group well enough by now to know that he's going to end up down in the crypt, hunting creatures of horror and madness.  Almost certainly this very day.

Probably before lunch.

It's as simple as that, he might as well accept it, and hope there's something worth stealing.

"If'n we's bein' doin' this, then I's needin' ter fetch me some gear.  Only I weren't takin' swords an' bows an' arrers ter no funeral, so I were 'idin' them in a place what'd be safe."

"We shall await your return, Colwyn," Eilieen reassures him, with no idea that he might rather be using the opportunity to run the other way (he won't, but it possibly has passed through his mind).  In some ways, she's as myopic as Aarnr.  "And, Sir Arkan, I believe Aarnr and I can supply the requisite holy water."  She smiles thinly.  Undead...something about which all Zadasthans can agree.

Though there's one bothersome thing.  "Attacked...interring Sir Galdean?  Curious.  I would think that a crypt of your order would be sanctified."  Which brings up Colwyn's own reservations regarding the order of just yesterday.

Thus, the priestess sidles up next to her gloomy thieving friend.  "Colwyn," she quietly begins.  "I have some reservations about this situation.  I trust your eyes and ears - can you keep them open?"

Asking Colwyn to be suspicious seems a tad redundant, but it never hurts to stress the point.  And have him be aware that any quasi-paranoid observations he makes will not be ignored.

Colwyn chuckles.  "They'll 'ave ter be killin' me ter stop me keepin' them open." he adds, looking around the room.  Monody, not even Ozzy or Bilfro, has suggested that this might be a bad idea.

And even people that he always considered to have wiser heads on their shoulders seem to be happy to do this.  Galdean had gotten Fergus killed because he wanted to try and clear his own name in death.  And now Fergus' comrades in arms are going out of their way to aid the knights who taught Galdean everything he knew...

"Twixt yerself an' me, Eilieen, I's thinkin' as 'ow this can only end badly."

He stands up and makes his way towards the door leading to the yard behind the tavern.

Kallana nods her head, "I am unsure how it could have happened, but prayers and wards that should have kept the crypt secure appear to have failed.  This will need to be investigated, and a priest sent for to re-sanctify the crypt.  But in the mean time, the undead will need to be destroyed."

"I begin to feel similarly, Colwyn, though I cannot ignore undead."  Eilieen drums her fingers against her thigh for an instant.  "I am well-pleased to hear you will be keeping watch," she murmurs as the man slouches off in search of his gear.

Returning her attention to the 'knight', she nods her head, her voice rising to a more normal level (normal for her, not Aarnr, so it's still painless).  "Best that an investigation proceeds.  Should we discover aught to demonstrate why this has transpired, certainly we will report it...after removing the problem, if possible."  She tries to think of a clever thing to say that might ferret out more information and fails miserably; Colwyn is the ferret, not her (though Erista has ferret-ish qualities herself).

"Do you have any suspicions as to how this might have occurred?" she tries.

Kallana sighs, "Not I.  The High Justicar questioned those who reported the situation, and may be able to tell you more.  For my part, I am a messenger, no more.  As soon as your friend returns, I will take you to see the High Justicar."

A frown settles over her features, and she admits, "Certainly we have enemies, too numerous to count in fact... but if suspicion has fallen upon any specific group then nobody has informed me."

"If a man is thy enemy then thou fight until he or ye are dead," Aarnr helpfully provides the Knight-Messenger with the solution to her Order's problems as he shoulders his pack.  For a moment a puzzled frown crosses his brow, then is lifted as the priest recalls that his sword is now buried with Fergus to ward the farmer from the perils of death, leaving him with but his axe with which to rid the world of these restless dead that haunt the Knights crypts.  Once this deed is done, he will have to dispatch the small folk to purchase him a replacement from the brigands and robbers that keep shop in this den of thieves.

"This High Justicar ... he is thy chief ?" Aarnr asks idly, thinking that when he returns to this town to raze it, perhaps first he might challenge the fellow for the right to lead.  If Sir Gilead is any example, then he would be pleased to have the knights at his command in the battles to come.

"Do you have any idea how many dead members of your order were interred there, lady Kallana?" Arkan quizzed the Justicar, as they waited for Colwyn to return with his equipment.

"Just this morning we buried a companion of our own who fell in battle alongside Sir Galdean. He was buried in the graveyard of the temple nearby with the blessings of the temple priests and elder. Since this restless dead problem appears to be plaguing just the Justicar crypts, maybe word should be sent to these priests for their aid in restoring the seals and ensuring the dead rest in peace, after we are done." he added to Kallana. Arkan knew involving another faith was a tricky business, but from his knowledge of matters arcane he knew the clerical magic of priests of any faith could be useful against the living dead. It also would not hurt the town if the different faiths attempted to work together in defending the townsfolk from evil.

Aarnr's wise words bring a nod from Kallana, and a faint smile touches her lips as she replies, "Sadly not all enemies dare show their faces.  Some hide behind masks of friendly seeming, and use the most vile of sorceries to strike at us from hiding.  When we discover them, then the High Justicar, who is indeed our leader, will command us to destroy them, but they can do much damage in the mean time."

And the questions from Arkan also bring a response.  "It is not easy to gain aid from another faith.  Too often do they ask a payment which is difficult for us to make, if not impossible.  The decision to ask for such aid lays solely with the High Justicar."

"The crypts have been in use since shortly after the hall was constructed.  The Roll of the Honoured Dead holds at least two hundred names, but whether or not all of them have risen I cannot say."

Colwyn re-enters the tavern, his pack slung over his shoulder and sword and quiver at his belt, while his bow is carried in his left hand.

"I's bein' ready as I's ever goin' ter be." he pronounces.

Kallana rises, and leads the way out into the streets, where the crowds grow ever more numerous as the morning progresses...

It is but a short walk to the Hall.  On the steps of the fortified stone structure stand a dozen or so Justicars.  "High Justicar!" calls Kallana, "I have found them."  She drops to one knee and bows her head as a knight who looks older even than Galdean turns from a group of his peers and looks at the newcomers.  He clears his throat and calls a greeting, "Well met, travellers.  Do you come to our aid?"

The thought that your enemy might not stand before you waving his sword and uttering awful threats while you did much the same is not one that has struck Aarnr before, but he dismisses the matter as yet another nail in the coffin of civilised society.  As are coffins themselves.

Though the revelation that priests might charge for the services of their gods angers him.  "These priests are worse than shopkeeps," he proclaims, "for they sell something that was but gifted to them."  He shakes his head at such evils.

Luckily Colwyn returns before Aarnr can expand upon his theory ...

The priest of Bowbe is much impressed by the High Justicar ... that a knight has lived to see such years speaks much of his prowess in battle and the favour of the gods.  Indeed, it is kind of him to allow others to face the threat of the undead - even the doughty Sir Galdean claimed the place of honour in the contest with the giant.  "Aye, we do !"  Aarnr rises to the moment, pledging his axe to the cause.  "These vile undead that corrupt thy halls are an abomination that we cannot allow to go unchallenged !"

Eilieen shoots Colwyn a significant look at the thiefclever, strategic skirmisher returns with his gear.  "She doesn't have information," Zadastha's priestess whispers.  "We shall have to ask the High Justicar."  Suspicion mounts.  "There could be up to two hundred of the dead," she continues without great cheer.

"That...might be a touch beyond myself and Aarnr to lay to rest, but we shall see."

Onward, then.

Finally the group reaches the High Justicar.  Aarnr seems ready to pledge their assistance, which creates no issue for Eilieen (yet).  "Perhaps," she throws in, "you might give us all of the information you can."  The priestess hopes Colwyn is paying attention; the ferret-faced man has a way of...ferretting...out the facts and asking the pointed questions.

Sometimes from an obscure direction, like the flanks.

Arkan walks quietly with the others to the Hall, avoiding the crowd when possible and mulling over what Kallana had said. Two hundred names meant two hundred potential walking corpses. Not good news by any stretch.

Upon reaching their destination Arkan inclines his head to the High Justicar (at least Arkan assumes it is him) and replies, "I concur with my companion. The dead must be put to rest, lest they overwhelm the living in this city."

The High Justicar beckons the party into the Hall, out of earshot of eavesdroppers and lollygaggers.

Once inside, he starts to explain, "A trio of knights descended into the crypt shortly before dawn today to ensure that all was prepared for the funeral of Sir Galdean.  Shortly thereafter they were driven out by numerous vile creatures which clawed and bit at them.  All three are currently being attended by healers of our order, who are endeavouring to ensure that the wounds do not carry some dreadful curse or affliction."

"From the description of their appearance, and of the foul charnel stench that attended them, I would say that these creatures were, in all likelihood, ghouls.  And I believe that our own efforts to expand the crypt may have, inadvertently, allowed them access."

"Perhaps the sound of our excavations attracted their attention, and they decided to investigate."

Aarnr listens carefully to the High Justicar's words.

"So if we make sufficient noise we could attract the foul creatures to us ?" he surmises, nodding to Ozzie as he considers his blood brother could be instrumental in this regard.  Ghouls the priest dislikes particularly ... skeletons and zombies are mere mindless corpses and seek out life mucb like moths drawn to a flame, whereas  ghouls know precisely their hunger for the taste of corrupted flesh.

"Ghouls...the cannibals of the dead." Arkan muses out loud, as he listens to the High Justicar's words. Arkan has heard of the creatures, but never had the misfortune to face them in battle. In his travels to this land though he has come across encounters with the living dead though, and thus considers himself ready for what they might face.

"It is fortunate then at least, that the dead in your crypt have not arisen as I had feared earlier. Do you have any inkling as to the number of these ghouls we will find down there?" Arkan queries the High Justicar curiously.

Colwyn's heart sinks a little lower, and a chilly hand seems to take hold of his soul.

The foul undead have come in from elsewhere, which means there might be an entrance to the crypt, somewhere below the hall, with a whole city of the things on the other side of it.

The next moment, the High Justicar seems to confirm his fears...

"I cannot say for certain how many there are.  The three knights who encountered them estimated that they saw at least twenty.  But they have, probably, entered the crypt from somewhere else - perhaps a tangled skein of tunnels and burrows lies beneath our feet," he explains, with a frown, "and it is impossible to estimate how many may dwell in such a lair.  I can only say that you must be prepared to flee if their numbers prove too great, to return later, after we have had time to muster sufficient force to deal with them.  I have already dispatched messengers to recall Justicars who are away from the city, but it may take several days for those knights to gather here."

"And you are correct, Sirrah, I do not believe for one moment that you will face resurrected Justicars."

Flee ... the old man must be talking about someone else, for Aarnr has never heard that word used in relation to himself.  Because of him, certainly ...

Though another concern strikes the priest.  "Perhaps we could find the opening and barricade it somehow ... stop the fobb ... the ghouls from escaping us," he suggests to Ozzie.  "Then, when the knights get here, they can surround them to cut off any other path down which they might flee," now there's the proper usage, "while we carve our way in from the other side."

Aarnr seems quite pleased to have come up with such an elaborate and watertight plan on the spur of the moment.

"Cannibals indeed," Eilieen murmurs, with a small nod to Arkan.  Pursing her lips, she ponders Aarnr's plan.  It seems workable.  "Twenty ghouls...with likely more."  Her eyes narrow.  Fergus.  Buried, yet vulnerable.  Only safe because of the holy ground.  "We must root out this infestation."

She's almost shaking with fury at the thought.

But caution rears its head; leave the rage to Aarnr, she reminds herself.  Be wise.  "We shall proceed warily, I think.  I would not have any of us brought low by such filth."  This said with another small nod, now in Colwyn's direction.

Erista gives Eilieen a curious look.  Did she just call Colwyn `filth'?  Probably not, she decides.

"Twenty is more than I was hoping," she admits, fingering one of her sling stones nervously.  "But, maybe less than I was afraid it might be.  Um, Mister Justicar?  Is there a map of your actual crypt area?"

Like Aarnr, Arkan didn't really appreciate the advice of fleeing before the enemy, though he began to understand that they were being sent in as a scouting party until the Justicar's could mount a strong enough force to enter and reclaim the tombs. Either that or they were being sent in as bait to test the strength of the ghouls.

"We will enter, and if we start to get overwhelmed by the enemy we can strategically withdraw, and consider other options, such as reinforcements. We will not allow this threat to escape and imperil the city." Arkan said to the High Justicar.

The High Justicar ponders for a moment, and then, "Yes.  Yes, I believe there may be a sketch of the crypt.  It is very old, made when the crypt was first constructed, but I think that it is still accurate in all major respects."

"Kallana will take you to the door of the crypt, and I will meet you there shortly, with the map."

And with that he hurries away, into the depths of the hall...

Kallana clears her throat.  "If you will follow me please?"  She passes through a doorway which leads into a large chamber, hung with tapestries depicting knight wearing the uniforms of the Justicars of Muir, usually depicted standing, in postures of triumph, over their fallen enemies.  The group pass an altar of sorts, surmounted by a carving of a hand holding an upraised sword, large enough for a giant.  Both sword and hand have been painted red.  A pair of large books lay on the altar, closed and chained in place, with ornate locks which cause Colwyn's fingers to itch as he passes them.

And finally they reach an unassuming door, bolted and barred, which Kallana explains to them is the entrance to the crypt.  "Beyond lays a steep staircase, treacherous in the winter months, when water seeps through the stone walls, which leads down to the crypt."

"The High Justicar will meet you here, as soon as he is able to find your map:"

Arkan nods at the High Justicar then turns to follow Kallana. As he walks he admits to himself that a map of the crypts would indeed be a good idea. It would save them time, and if they did end up getting chased by a large number of hungry ghouls through the crypts they could use the map to figure out the shortest escape route, or the best location to setup an ambush of their own.

"Good idea, about the map," he says to Erista, smiling at the halfling woman.

When they reached the barred door Arkan looks at it with some foreboding. Not all of them might make it back out alive, if what he had heard of ghouls was even half true.

"I don't suppose you could call upon your patron and bless our weapons to be more effective against ghouls, could you?" He asks Kallana as they wait, hoping the Justicar has access to the higher secrets of her divine-oriented order that would allow her to access such powers.

Aarnr is contemptuous of any form of writing and considers maps no more worthy of his trust than any other scratching on paper.  Words can be twisted and bent, drawings can be false... how can anyone judge the truth of such unless one can look the speaker in the eye and take his measure ?

Nor is the priest willing to accept the blessings for battle from any other god than his own, for those gifts are too easily given, whereas those from Bowbe must be fought for and earned ... though he will not begrudge Arkan or any other such if it comforts them.  It is a matter for consideration, though ... perhaps that might appease his grandmother if he were to demand Bowbe's assistance for his companions as well as himself.  Certainly they have all proven themselves worthy.  Perhaps ...

... but a thought for another time.  For now the barred door is before them and all that remains is for the High Justicar to return that they might at last dare the stair to embrace the perils beyond !

Kallana frowns slightly before replying, "You must ask the High Justicar, and the decision will rest solely with him.  Not all members of the order have the necessary knowledge to bestow such blessings."

"Many, including myself, are simple warriors who revere Muir, and are faithful to Her church.  A few are holy knights, able to call upon Her for miracles and blessings, while the High Justicar is a warrior priest, who has been in Her service for more than a quarter century."

"First he served as a warrior, much like myself, and later he took the Oaths and became a priest."

Further explanation is forestalled by the return of the High Justicar himself, bearing a roll of parchment, which he unfurls to reveal a map, aged and damaged by time and water.

"This is a map of the crypt."  He indicates the lower right hand corner.  "We have been working to expand the chapel, here, so it is possible that the ghouls broke in there."

Next he points to a large room on the left hand side.  "The West Hall is where our brothers were attacked, and were Galdean's body may yet lie, awaiting inhumation."

"Two directions," Eilieen whispers.  "We risk being attacked from behind.  Or our retreat being cut off."  She purses her lips thoughtfully.  "Would it be possible to station men in the entry hallway?" she inquires after a moment.  "In order to give warning if the creatures swarm through the room of swords?"

Arkan pondered the map, impressed with it's quality. "Yes, it would probably not be wise to split up upon entering, it would be easier for the foul things to swarm us." He said to Eileen.

Reaching a black gloved hand he pointed a finger at the lower right corner of the map, tapping it lightly onto the parchment. "I suspect this is indeed where they entered, drawn by the sounds of excavation. Then, the smell of a fresh corpse likely drew them towards the burial chamber where Sir Galdeans body lies." Or whatever was left of it, if anything, Arkan surmised privately, as he reached a hand to point at  the west hall upon the map.

"I think the creatures last location would be this point, near the body. We should move there quickly and try to drive them away from there and recover the body, or perhaps destroy the creatures if possible. Thereafter the way will be open for your people to move in and plug up the initial breach." He said, looking at the High Justicar.

"I do not suppose you can call upon your arts and bless our weapons and armor, so that we might be more effective against these ghouls?" Arkan added to the High Justicar.

To be fair, Aarnr does his best, peering at the proffered map, but the incomprehensible scratchings and meaningless lines do naught but confuse him ...

Eileen's words seem well-meant, but bear the unmistakable taint of strategy.  "Ye find me some of the creatures and I will deal with them !" he avows, boldly and loudly.

Shaking his head to drive the demons of thought and reason away, the priest considers Arkan's suggestion.

"We could use the giant's head as bait ?" he thinks he sees what Arkan is getting at.  "Get as many of the foul creatures in one place as possible before we attack them ?"

The High Justicar nods at Eilieen's suggestion, "Of course.  I can have a few of my brethren waiting near the stairs, ready to call out should anything attempt to approach you from the rear."

"And yes, I can bless some of your weapons, at least."

As he prepares to provide the blessing, he signals for Kallana to go and fetch some men to guard against flanking maneuvers.

Then he circulates around the group, murmuring prayers to Muir.  As he finishes, he says, "I can not guarantee that the prayers will work for all of you.  Since you do not all worship Muir, she may withhold her blessing in some cases."

Behind him four knights appear, with Kallana who, at a nod from the High Justicar, proceeds to unbolt the door, and lift the bars.

The portal swings open, to reveal a damp stairway, leading down into the depths below.  A chill draught blows from the stair, carrying with it a faint whiff of decay...

Crescent Fall comes out of it's back mounted sheath, the hilt gripped by Arkan's black gloved hand. He presents the blade to the High Justicar to bless, and nods his thanks.

As the portal opens he wrinkles his nose at the smell of decay, then proceeds to let someone else take point before following them inside. "If the crypts are without light I hope someone has a torch, if not I can provide light with a spell," he says to the others.

As usual, Aarnr is one step ahead of everyone else ... if only literally.  The priest leaves the blessings to those who need them to begin his descent of the stairs, heavy axe in hand, more than eager to start hacking away at the ghoulish problem.  The lack of light isn't a problem at first, though as he descends deeper, the priest realises that the foul creatures might find refuge in the darkness and calls upon Bowbe to grant him light that he can uncover them and bring about their doom.

"Bowbe !" Aarnr licks his lips, relishing the chance to cut loose, "thou filthy base-court, spleeny, pox-marked, wayward, dismal-dreamin', mewlin', muddy-mettled clotpole !  Give me some froggin' light down here that I might rid these fobbin' halls of all the cockered, bat-fowlin', artless, full-gorged, quailin' cullionly, puckin', spur-galled haggards !!"

Colwyn thinks for a moment, and then holds his bow out to be blessed.  It maskes sense, as far as he's concerned, to stay out of reach of anything that wants to kill him and eat his flesh.  Perfect sense.

He nods his head to the High Justicar - a thanks for the blessing of Muir - though in all honesty, he can't detect any difference in the weapon.  Still, best not to seem ungrateful, just in case Muir decides to change her mind.

Aarnr's voice echoes up from the depths, causing Kallana to blush brightly and turn her face away from the doorway.  Colwyn gives her his best smile, by way of encouragement, as the four knights pass her and start down the stairs.

Down below, Aarnr finds himself in a chamber which, in the light burning brightly on his axe, appears to be deserted.  The walls are covered by bas reliefs, depicting an army of knights, both male and female, led by a woman who stand taller than all of them, and wields a sword which is wreathed in flame.  Lines emanate from the blade, and a horde of goblins cower before the woman, as there flexh burns where the lines touch them.

Near the top of the walls is a broad stone strip, covered with lines of "chicken scratches"...

The four Justicars of Muir step into the room from the stairs, eyeing their surroundings carefully.  The presence of a wild barbarian priest, carrying a blazingly bright axe, seems to do little to reassure them...

"My thanks," states Eilieen in reply to the gift of aid; the priestess eschews the blessing herself, though; as a priestess, she holds confidence in her own goddess.  To accept this kind of aid would be a slap in the face to Zadastha.

Instead, she hurries down behind Aarnr, intent on not leaving the Bowbe's bombastic priest alone in facing whatever awaits below.  In the darkness.  The foul-scented darkness, reeking of rot.

Her nose crinkles as she descends.

"Quite the crypt," she whispers, studying the wall-carvings under the light of Arnrr's axe (his axe?  Really?  She shakes her head).  Impressive, indeed.  Though perhaps the crypts in the Temple of Zadastha were of similar make; Eilieen never visited, due to the vast amount of carrying-on taking place in the less-than-silent darkness.

The carvings would probably be of a different sort, in any case.

Pausing, Eilieen cocks her head, listening intently - once Aarnr is finished, of course.

OOC - 15 for Listen, yay! 

Erista steps up besides Colwyn, holding her sling up for blessings, hoping that Muir doesn't have anything against halflings.

"I've got a lantern," she answers Arkan.  "And I can provide light with a spell.  But it.. sounds like Aarnr's got it."  She starts down the stairs rather more cautiously, her sling in one hand, and a small handful of stones ready in the other.

Arkan walks just behind Colwyn, the point of his blade aimed downwards and to the side in a cautious stance as he climbs down the stairs.

He gazes at the reliefs, impressed by their quality. The woman leading them  no doubt represents one of the Justicars, wielding a holy blade and calling upon her deity to smite the wicked goblins.

"A sword like that would be pretty useful at the moment," he muses out loud. "I take it we are headed to the main chamber up north where Sir Galdean's remains are lying?" Arkan asks the others.

"I thinks as 'e was sayin' the ghouls was jumpin' them in the West 'all, an that'd be were Galdean's corpse'd be." Colwyn says, equally loudly, correcting Arkan.

He studies the relief for a moment, then calls out to one of the knights, "Is that sword bein' round anywhere, only we can be usin' it?"

The Justicar looks a little uncomfortable as he replies, "That is the sword, Fjamaggadis, the Holy Flame, and it is being borne by the Goddess herself, as she leads the souls of the First Justicars into battle against the goblin hordes of the Underworld."

"So no, it is not, 'being around anywhere.'  It is the weapon of the Goddess."

Colwyn at least has the decency to look embarrassed...

Aarnr very much approves of the Justicar's explanation of the wall carvings.  The continuation of earthly battles well into the afterlife, in the company of a godess who isn't afraid to get her own hands dirty certainly stikes a chord.  Clearly the followers of Muir have very much in common with those of Bowbe, as Sir Galdean's example portended.

Still, admiring the architecture isn't going to kill any ghouls.  Sniffing the dank air, the priest eyes both openings before making up his mind and proceeding westward, glowing axe held up to light his way.

"Ah yes, that's what I meant." Arkan replies to Colwyn. "Sir Galdean's body will be a temptation to the foul creatures, and if we get the jump on them while they are so gathered we should be able to overcome them without losing any of our own." He adds in a lower voice as they move onwards.

A pity about the sword, they could have used such a powerful weapon in this desperate situation. Still, Aarnr's ferocity ought to make up in part for it, and the Justicar's accompanying them will hopefully boost their own numbers to match those of the ghouls and give them a chance.

Aarnr, though he knows it not, leads the way into a chamber marked on the map as the "Room of Swords".  The Justicars, per their orders, do not follow, but stand guard at the stairs, alert for intruding ghouls.

The source of the room's name soon becomes apparent.  There are niches cut into the walls, in four rows, each of them holding a coffin, and in the stone above each niche is carved an image of a sword, laying horizontally, with what appears to be the name of the coffin's occupant marked on the blade.

Three arches open into Stygian blackness, to the north, west and south, and a foul stench emanates from the latter opening.

"There's bein' nigh on thirty coffins in 'ere." Colwyn whispers, after a quick look around the room, "I's 'opin' as none of the folk what's layin' in them is bein' awake."

More puzzling scratchings do not entice Aarnr to tarry, though Colwyn's suggestion that the Knights might be sleeping down here in their wooden boxes is mildly disturbing.

The stench to the south IS tempting, but the priest nevertheless continues on westward, guided by Bowbe and the light of his axe.

"Well, here we go." Arkan mutters, glancing about and wrinkling his nose at the stench.

He strains his ears and eyes, trying to detect any movement, keeping his blade drawn and gripped in both hand, pointed down at the ground, while trying to remain at the edge of the light and within the shadows as much as possible, and thus moves further back from Aarnr and his light emnating axe.

Listen: 09, Spot: 21, Hide: 13, Move Silently: 17

Onward, to the west, they move.  Aarnr's keen barbaric instincts lead the way, and his equally keen barbaric axe lights it...

The West Hall is larger than the previous chambers, and the northernmost end is shrouded in shadow.  The walls have more of the niches, though the names here are carved in the stone without the embellishment of the swords.

Some of the niches are empty, and a coffin lays on a trestle table in the middle of the room, surrounded by bunches of crocus and dahlia.  Bronze c.andlesticks stand among the flowers, the candles as yet unlit.

In the south-west corner is a small alcove, holding a statue of the goddess Muir, her sword held before her in salute to the fallen Justicars interred here...

OOC - Glad to know some people can spot, hide, and move silently, Arkan.

IC -

"Fresh flowers," Eilieen whispers.  "And a statue of the goddess.  I find it less-than-likely we will discover aught of horror in this room, but..."  Her eyes narrow.  "I see little from within that darkness, ahead."  She points to the northernmost area.  "Perhaps if we leave through the door - the map shows a second - we can investigate and assure nothing lurks before continuing into the...."

She consults the map.

"Room of whispers."  Eilieen's nose wrinkles as she makes a swift moue of irritation, but she holds her tongue.  That these knights have oddly dramatic names, well, that is her business.  Pot, kettle, all of that.

To be sure, she considers, better that than the names of the rooms back at my own temple....

Another moue, this one of embarrassment.

Aarnr is almost disappointed that the coffin (presumably containing the mangled mortal remains of Sir Galdean) is not surrounded by foul undead that he might confront, though he swiftly responds to Eilieen's wise suggestion and approaches the shadows to the north, axe still held out before him, but now in a much more business-like¹ manner.

"If thou fobbin' craven, marrow-suckin', bloodless, creepin', dismal-dank, clapper-clawed, maggot-pies do cower and hide, know that thy certain doom is upon ye !" he warns any undead who might lurk.

¹ though actually not much like a shop-keep at all

Arkan gazed at the coffin, a bit surprised to not find it swarmed by ravenous ghouls. This could either mean the creatures had retreated (unlikely) or were biding their time for more choice meat to come to them so that they might have a grand feast (far more likely!)

His eyes darted towards the shadows surrounding the area, and saw something unsettling. "There!" He stabbed a finger towards the north end of the room which was shrouded in gloom. "Beware everyone. I saw something that appeared like eyes," Arkan added more softly, before making a small pattern in the air before him with a finger and uttering archaic words in an arcane tongue:

ᚪᚾᚳᛁᚾᚷ ᛁᚷᚻᛏᛋ

Spheres of light flared at his command, and with a flick of a finger Arkan sent the conjured luminscence into the gloom towards the north. "Let me banish the shadows in which they seek refuge, and let the enemy reveal itself." He said, before gripping his battleblade in two hands and adopting a ready stance.

Keeping out of everyone's lights, Erista pads quietly along with the group, stones in one hand, sling in the other.  At Arkan's exclamation, she slips one from the former into the latter.

A globe of light darts towards the northern end of the room, dimly illuminating more of the niches and coffins.

But something is clearly amiss there.

A few coffins lay broken on the floor.  And there are creatures crouched over them caskets.  Vile creatures, with filthy pallid skin stretched taught over their bones, claws, pointed teeth, and gleaming red eyes.

For a moment, as the light exposes them, they remain hunched in silence... and then one howls, and is joined by the other three.  They cast aside trinkets and jewels that they seem to have been removing from the coffins, and start to lope forward, clawed hands outstretched and slavering jaws gaping...

OOC: Yay!  Initiative rolls and stuff please.  :)

"Fiends!"  Well, 'ghouls', Eilieen silently corrects herself as Arkan's fleeting sphere floods light across the ugly truth.  But ghouls, fiends, whichever hardly matters to the young priestess.  Her personal training focused extensively upon healing...and the destruction of the risen dead.

Whether that training will bear fruit remains to be seen.

Sweeping forward, spear in one hand, the priestess raises her holy symbol with confidence.  "Zadastha's Heart," she whispers, then her voice rises.  "Turn your baleful gaze upon these soulless creatures of un-life!"  And rosy light blooms again about the symbol as a scent of lavender touches the air, but the comforting warmth lasts only an heartbeat.  Then the gentle glow burns hot, flaring into a furious, fulminating flame.

Initiative: 15.
Action: Move toward Ghouls, Turn Undead.
Turn Undead: 13, meaning max level affected of 5.
Turn 'Damage': Not great, 11 levels affected.

...side note: Ghouls being two hit dice, Eilieen being 4th level, I think I'm edging out of the 'Turn' territory and into 'Ash', but I'm not sure.

This message was last edited by the player at 13:52, Wed 06 Jan 2016.

Aarnr bellows in delight as Arkan's spell reveals the cowering wretches.  All other distractions the priest casts aside as he strides towards the creatures, axe gripped tight in his gnarled fingers, jaw wide open as he tries to outdo their howls with his own roar !

Arkan gazed in wonderment at as Eileen conjured the glow around her holy symbol, and the whiff of lavender tickled his nose. He had little experience with clerical magic, but had read tales of it's potency, especially during the lost days of old when priest kings ruled a powerful empire, maintaining control with the blessings of their gods and the might of their spells.

He took a hand off his sword and made a arcane gesture of warding, chanting a few words of power once more in a low yet firm voice:

ᛋᚻᛁᛖᛚᛞ

Unilke Aarnr and even Eilieen, Erista sees no reason to get any closer to the things.  Staying quietly in her spot, she whips a stone out, sending it flying between Aarnr's legs and into the ghoul he's swinging his sword at.

Colwyn nocks an arrow and raises his bow towards the slavering creatures.

A brief pause to take aim, followed by a much longer string of colourful vituperation as the bowstring snaps, and the rogue is reduced to dropping the bow, and reaching for his sword.

"I's bleedin' 'atin' ghoulls." he mutters as his blade clears the sheath.

(NPCd)

Ozzy takes a couple of steps back from the approaching undead, unslings his lute, and strikes a chord.  He raises his voice, and starts to sing...

"Life it seems will fade away
Drifting further everyday
Getting lost within myself
Nothing matters no one else
I have lost the will to live
Simply nothing more to give
There is nothing more for me
Need the end to set me free"

Almost immediately, his companions start to feel their spirits being buoyed by the music as it fills the air of the dark chamber.

Being very, very careful, Bilfro looks around very, very carefully, taking everything around him in, in a very, very careful fashion.  Aarnr.  Air.  Arkan.  Astral.  Ceiling.  Colwyn.  Dark.  Doorway.  Dust.  Eilieen.  Erista.  Floor.  Ghouls.  Hermonious.  Light.  Odysseus.  Oswald.  Shadows.  Statue.  Walls.

He blinks.  He frowns.  He rewinds.  Walls.  Statue.  Shadows.  Oswald.  Odysseus.  Light.  Hermonious.  Ghouls.

Ghouls.

Ghouls.

GHOULS.

The ghouls rush forward, and Ozzy moves backwards and starts to sing.  His voice seems to carry a warmth which lessens the damp chill of the chamber and fortifies his companions.

Aarnr, meanwhile, takes a more direct approach.  He moves to meet the largest of the ghouls head on, and his axe bites deep into its tough flesh, spilling its foul ichor upon the floor.  The hideous creature roars in pain and outrage, and staggers back a couple of paces.

Behind Aarnr, Eilieen utters a prayer to Zadastha, and the chamber is filled with a blazing incandescence which limns sharp black shadows on every surface.  Three of the ghouls shriek as smoke pours, briefly, from widening cracks in their skin.  And then, in three burst of flame, they are gone, leaving only a foul stench of burned hair and flesh, and three mounds of ash...  The final ghoul, Aarnr's opponent, turns and flees back towards the northern end of the chamber...

Colwyn casts aside his useless bow and draws his sword, even as he realises that he's fast running out of things to fight.

Ahead of him Erista hits the fleeing ghoul in the back of the knee with a well placed sling stone.  The monster stumbles and falls, but immediately rolls to its feet to continue its flight.

Arkan casts a spell of protection upon himself, seeing too late that it might be of little use in this particular battle.  Still, with the noise made by the vile undead horrors, the next fight might not be long in coming.

And Bilfro, cautious as ever, reaches for his own blade, newly acquired from Fergus, only after very, very careful consideration of the situation...

OOC: Zadastha, goddess of love and thermonuclear weapons.

And next round everybody gets a +1 on hit and damage rolls, thanks to Ozzy.

Combatant                Init
Oswald Osbourne           18
Aarnr Foultongue          16
Eilieen                   15
Colwyn Akbar              13
Erista                    12
Ghouls                    12   AC=14
Arkan                      9
Bilfro Gabbins             4

Characters' Apparent Health
Aarnr Foultongue: Good
Arkan:            Good
Bilfro Gabbins:   Good
Colwyn Akbar:     Good
Eilieen:          Good
Erista:           Good
Oswald Osbourne:  Good

This message was last edited by the GM at 17:16, Sun 10 Jan 2016.

"Well done Eileen." Arkan says with a grin to the priestess, as she single-handedly takes out the ghouls. Staring at the smouldering piles of ash that were slavering undead only moments ago, he dares to think they will all make it out from the crypts in one piece.

Movement from the corner of his eye catches his attention and he shouts to the others, "There! One of them is getting away," while pointing at the retreating ghoul with a finger.

Arkan cautiously begins moving in the direction the ghoul dashed, not wanting to be swarmed by it's 'friends', if any yet remained in the other chamber.

---

ooc: Full Round Action: Move 60 feet towards northern chamber. Will attempt to remain with the other PCs however.

"My thanks, Arkan!"  Eilieen draws herself up to her unimpressive height, flicking an errant lock of silvery hair from before her visage.  A sudden urge to scream 'Consume the flames of Zadastha, unholy ones!' seizes her, but she crams it, kicking and struggling, back into the depths of her mind.  "Ghouls...I pity their past."

No pity for their present, though.

It seems Aarnr and Erista have sorely injured the last one, fleeing as it is.  Arkan begins his pursuit, and, buoyed by success and Oswald's singing, Eilieen moves after him.  "Let us see these -" a number of words pass through her head, she chooses the least offensive leaving the rest for Aarnr "- vile beasts off!"

OOC - Sure, I'll bite.  :)  Keeping up with Arkan, holy symbol in off-hand for further nuking.

With carnage in his eyes, Aarnr takes a step towards the injured ghoul ... and then Eilieen's voice rings out in the dank chamber and the rest of the creatures are consumed utterly by the light.

Slowly the priest turns, looming large and terrible in he ruddy light of his bloodied axe.  For long moments he regards the priestess of Zadastha ... then nods slowly and with great approval.

"Froggin brilliant !" he snarls.

As Erista's sling stone brings the remaining creature to the floor (if on a purely temporary basis) and Arkan and Eilieen join the pursuit, Aarnr looks around for a moment, an almost pensive look coming over his face as he realises he's not actually leading the charge ... then he's lumbering forwards, picking up speed as he joins the pursuit !

Colwyn moves forward more cautiously, pausing to retrieve his bow.  At the northern end of the chamber, illuminated by Aarnr's axe, the ghoul is scrabbling and scraping at the wall.

It even climbs up into one of the empty niches, gibbering pitifully, and appears to be trying to dig its way through the back wall of it.

The rogue notices the coffins that the vile creatures had broken open, and starts to give them a wide berth.  Then a thought strikes him like one of Erista's sling stones, and he moves closer to one of them.  Crouching, he peers at the newly exhumed corpse, and scratches at his cheek.

She should have been concerned with Aarnr's twisted visage when he turned her way.  She wasn't.  Aarnr, Eilieen knows, might seem territorial when it comes to defeating his foes, but he also staunchly supports any compatriots who bring down the enemy.  And these are undead, vile and unworthy in his eyes.  Small wonder he approves.

That he offers such approbation, like Arkan?  These are the rewards for which Eilieen reaches, not gold nor position in her Church.

"The beast will turn upon us!" she calls out as the light reveals the trapped ghoul.  "Fear of Zadastha will hold it only so long, and when we attack it will fight!"  Any pity in her is for what the ghoul once might have been, not for the fearful creature it is now.  "Destroy it swiftly, and release it from this unending torment!"

Turning, she faces away to watch the shadows about the doorways.  "I shall guard our backs from any others seeking to attack us unaware!"

OOC - Held action; if any other ghouls or undead come running in, Eilieen will stuff a Turn Undead down their throats.

...from a distance, because ew.

The priest nods but once and quickly at Eilieen's counsel, fairly leaping towards the snivelling ghoul in his eagerness to bring destruction down upon it.

One step ... is all he manages, though as his toe catches on the edge of a raised flagstone and he crashes to the ground, axe flying from his fingers.

The words that follow are in his native tongue and sadly completely incomprehensible to anyone not local to that small damp patch of The Vastness from whence the priest hails ... but all indications are that he's not completely happy.  The slamming of his fists against the offending flagstone are a clue.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:56, Fri 15 Jan 2016.

Erista waits a moment to see if Aarnr is going to get up, but since he seems to have decided that that particular flagstone is the most dangerous thing in the room, she leaves him to it and flicks another rock at the scrabbling ghoul.  If she has any compunctions about hitting it from behind, she keeps them carefully tucked away, allowing herself the luxury of giving the leather an extra couple of twirls and extending her arm fully for a more forceful shot.

In the light of the darkness darkly passing into the light, Bilfro's eyes light up and a dark smile grows.  With a light touch he darkly draws the blade into the light, previously hidden in the darkness of the scabbard.

Light on is foot he darken new areas as he with dark intentions plunges the light blade towards the dark creature before him, without making light of the situation.

(NPCd)

Arkan moves forward cautiously, following the ghoul.  Eilieen's warning gives him pause though, as do Colwyn's actions.  Sure that his companions can deal with the undead horror, he stops for a moment to watch.

What is the rogue up to?

Ozzy continues singing as he follows the others forward.  The ghoul comes into view, cringing at the northern end of the chamber, its face averted from the approaching heroes, save for brief glances in their direction.

Eilieen speaks a warning that the vile creature is still dangerous and, remarkably, Aarnr seems to heed her advice.  It is not, at least, the ghoul which lays him low, but his own misstep.  He stumbles and sprawls prone on the flagstones, his axe sliding from his grip and skittering away across the floor.

The Zadasthan priestess, meanwhile halts her own advance and stands ready to defend against attacks from the right flank, or from the rear.

A short distance from the fallen Aarnr, Colwyn gazes, mystified, at the disturbed coffins, the corpses, and the scattered items.  Something, some small detail of the scene, does not feel right.  If only he could put his finger on it...

The ghoul, still crammed into the wall niche, twists its head and catches sight of Aarnr sprawled on the floor.  It bares its teeth in a hideous grin and starts to squirm out of the opening.

Another stone from Erista's sling discourages the creature slightly, but only for as long as it takes to snarl at its tormentors.  Then it gets clear of the opening, and staggers hesitantly towards Aarnr as foul black liquid oozes from its injuries...

Arkan stops and looks, puzzled, at Colwyn.

And Bilfro hurries forward, drawing the sword Valkyria, gifted to Fergus by Shandril, the priestess of Freya at Fairhill, and taken up by Bilfro upon his friend's death.

For a moment that's all that happens... and then the weapon flares, its blade shining bright as day in the crypt.  The mage thrusts clumsily as the ghoul raises an arm to shield its eyes, and the sword bites deep into its flesh.  With a scream of pain, the ghoul drops to the floor, unmoving, with one foul diseased hand resting on Aarnr's arm... 

OOC: Last ghoul is dead, and nobody hurt.  ^{_{Curses!  Foiled again.  I would have gotten away with it too, if it wasn't for you meddling adventurers and your pesky weapons.}}

"Was anyone injured?" Eilieen calls out, not so much concerned about noise now.  The cacophony has seemed endless: roars of battle rage, screaming, eruptions of power...

...large weapons clattering on stone...

"Besides the ghouls," she amends after a moment, knowing full-well that to leave the question hanging thus invites some kind of clever (or less-clever) rebuttal.  Pausing, the priestess ponders her perceptive pal.  "Colwyn?"  Her gaze turns back to watch the doors.  "Is there aught amiss?"

OOC -  Yes, still on watch.  You won't easily get us!

"There's bein' summat that's not bein' right... " Colwyn explains, a little vaguely, "but I's bein' buggered if'n I's knowin' what it's bein'."

He closes his left eye, the blue one, and peers at the scene with his green right one.  Then he switches, closing the green and looking with the blue.  Finally he stands up and circles the open coffins.

"Summat ain't bein' right." he repeats...

As he raises his head just in time to see Bilfro slay the last of the ghouls in a blinding flash of light, Aarnr briefly wonders if perhaps he hit his head a bit hard when he went down, for surely any victory that doesn't have himself wading through the dismembered corpses of the foe is the stuff of mere fancy ...

... but no, it seems he is sprawled upon unpleasantly cold slabs of stone, with a sore toe and no axe ...

"Away with thy flaccid hand, thou grave-born, caluminous, leaden-footed, earth-vexing blindworm !" the priest roars, rolling away from the creature's questing fingers to snatch up his axe, which he swings in an attempt to sever the offending limb.

... after which the priest looks concernedly at his own hand, expecting the worst.  "We may have to chop it off," he suggests, "lest the ghoul's foul touch does cause it to fester and rot."

Arkan gazed approvingly at the final creature's (that they could see anyway!) demise, but then once more turns his attention towards what Colwyn has discovered.

"I would not let our guard down completely, Colwyn is correct, something stranger than the walking dead is at work here." Arkan said to the others, gesturing them over to the open coffins.

Pointing at the strewn corpses he says, "Do you see? They are not despoiled, despite ghouls being renowned as the cannibals of the dead. Why would this be? Some blessing of Muir that watches over the dead bodies even in their repast, or something more sinister?" He glances at Eileen pointedly, wondering if her clerical lore might hold some answers.

He would include Aarnr but he did seem to be lacking in the lore department, going by his latest remark about chopping off his own hand.

Colwyn snaps his fingers.

"That's bein' it!  They 'asn't been eatin' the corpses.  What'd be makin' the buggers be ignorin' grub an' rootin' through the other stuff what's in the coffins?  That's not bein' normal."

The rogue shrugs.  "I's meanin' as 'ow they've gone ter all that trouble, openin' up coffins, an' then they 'asn't been doin' what ghouls is bein' famed fer doin'."

There is a loud clang, as Aarnr's axe severs the dead ghoul's wrist and strikes sparks from the stone floor.

Erista gives Bilbo a thumbs up, for helping her finish off the last ghoul. After searching her memory for any useful religious lore on Colwyn's concerns, she ventures, "Maybe they got full? Halflings are," she acknowledges, "Kind of known for eating, too, but we don't do it all the time."

"Perhaps these are no ghouls but grave-robbing Halflings in disguise ?"  Aarnr rises from the floor, axe held up in one hand as he uses the divine light it sheds to critically examine the other for signs of blackening, rot, or generally looking a bit on the evil side.  "Tall Halflings," he amends his suggestion.

Lowering his axe, he squats down besides the nearby ghoul-corpse, looking for any sign that it might have been live not undead before it was slain by Bilfro.  Pools of blood would be a dead giveaway.

"Me swerd, 'twas glowen.  'Twas til I slayn Þe foul beeste!"

Bilfro looks at Erista and gives her the thumbs up in response.

"An nou, hit doest nat.  Dost Ʒe fadome what Þis telleth?"

He looks expectantly at the others, holding the blade up in front of him, an eager smile spreading across his features, at least those in the face.

Aarnr's examination of the ghoul reveals, rather than honest blood, only a vile blackish suppuration oozing from its severed wrist.  It's skin has the feel of old, dried leather.  It appears that the creature has not been truly alive for quite some time.

Bilfro tries to explain what happened when he wielded Valkyria in combat.  Judging by the expression on Colwyn's face the attempt is not altogether successful...

Erista and Arkan, meanwhile, are more concerned with the behaviour of the ghouls during that interval between true life and true death.  Their behaviour does not seem consistent with that normally attributed to ghouls.  They have ignored dead flesh, in favour of poring over the goods buried with the dead knights.

Moving closer, Ozzy frowns as he examines the exhumed bodies and the scattered loot.  "What does this remind me of?" he wonders, aloud.

The frown deepens, and suddenly vanishes as the halfling bard smiles.

"An old tale.  A certain ruler of a far away land, a necromancer if there is any truth in the story, sent ghouls to search the tombs of fallen enemies for a lost treasure."

Aarnr does not doubt the veracity of his blood brother's tale, yet still he is puzzled.  Rising from what he has determined is most certainly the remains of foul undead, he turns to Ozzie.

"But what treasure could lie with these dead knights that such creatures would seek ?"

"Speak on, Oswald," Eilieen urges, still watching the other means of entry.  "I would hear everything we can of this, to better understand the confusion."  It's true, that ghouls not to consume seems nonsensical.  And these creatures are ancient and withered, not 'fresh' undead.

So to speak, and if the undead can truly be considered so.

Bilfro's explanation offers naught but confusion.  Par for the course, really, though in a different manner.

Erista listens to Bilfro, and nods, grinning. "Yeah," she replies. "I think so. For one thing, it means you should keep that out and see if it happens again," she says with a chuckle. "Don't get too excited til we know more about it, though. I found this ring a while ago that lets me understand languages, but it turns out it's just one language. So Valkyria might just not like that ghoul," she cautions.

"So, Ozzy, are you thinking these are those ghouls? Or just that maybe somebody is controlling them, too?"

For a change, Aarnr is on safe ground with Necromancers, who, being considered rather worse than the foul undead they create, are definitely on Bowbe's Naughty List and therefore the lopping off of their heads, any other body parts and/or generally inconveniencing them as much as possible is a religious duty.

"I'd have thought froggin' necromancers and fobbin' ghouls both wanted the same thing - the bodies, not the arms and armour in which they were interred, or any grave-gifts placed there with them," the priest explains his confusion.

"If we leave one unharmed," Aarnr grits his teeth, not liking that idea at all, "perhaps we can drive it back to its master."  Thankfully he spares you a description of what happens next, but the broad grin is a clue.

 "Perhaps they seek something buried with the corpses, such as a weapon or an heirloom. That would make sense considering what Ozzy recalls of the legend of the necromancer." Arkan said, after pondering for a long moment.

Turning to Erista he added, " Erista, can you detect for any emanations of magic among this crypt the ghoul was scrabbling at, and perhaps over the general area? I suspect there might be something there that it was after."

"The tale is a very old one, and the necromancer was the ruler of a kingdom called Zhund, which long ago sank under the ocean, or got buried by the sands of some desert, or was destroyed by a volcano, or earthquakes, or an invading army, depending on where you hear the story." Ozzy replies, "I think its more likely to be some other necromancer with his own goal, just using the same plan."

"The one in the story was looking for a crown that once belonged to a god, and would make him as strong as a god himself.  So I'm hoping it's some other necromancer with a smaller ambition."

He eyes some of the scattered trinkets and treasures suspiciously.

"The last thing these people need is gods fighting each other in the streets of their city."

"Mine would win," Aarnr announces with more smug surety than any real need to affirm his faith.

Stealing grave-goods.  Not as if the dead need them, of course, though obviously one should only steal from people one doesn't like.  He'd be violently upset should anyone disturb Fergus in his rest, though would happily ransack the barrow of some long dead king.  Even a recently dead one if he could have had a hand in that happenstance.

"Probably after that frog ... flamne-shrouded blade that was in those carvings," the priest surmises, spending all his specificity on the weapon leaving naught for the bas relief.

Erista looks up at Arkan, and nods.  "That's really clever," she says, admiringly.  "Of course I can.  偵查 魔法!"

She starts peering around the room.

For a few moments Bilfro stands there waving his sword about, making odds buzzing and humming noises.

"I liked it when it did that.  Not the reason why it did it, but that it did it."

His word are aimed at no one and everyone.  He starts to walk around the room, holding the sword upright to the side and in front of his head.

Then he makes a loud, sudden noise, as if sneezing.

"Mavi eşek maymun muz yeşil kabuğu yankıları pişirin!"

A long, complicated sneeze.

After it finishes he inhales deeply before he starts to trot about the room again.

Ozzy shrugs, but it turns into a shudder.  For some reason the idea of wizards using dark magics to disturb the rest of the deceased has always troubled him.

Colwyn nods sagely at Aarnr's words, "Yeah, yer god'd be winnin', but I reckons as 'ow 'e'd be 'avin more sense 'an ter be doin' a job like that 'isself.  'e'd be sendin some of 'is people ter do it, then 'e'd be takin' the good stuff off'f them, after the fightin' were bein' over."

The air tingles with magic as Erista starts searching the chamber for signs of enchantment, and Bilfro starts... doing something.

As he gazes about at the chamber, waiting for Erista to announce if she had discovered anything, Arkan starts as Bilfro performs his complicated sneeze. It almost appears as if the strange man is speaking (or sneezing!) a tongue of magic, but with Bilfro nothing is for certain.

Hearing Aarnr speak Arkan turns to the zealous warrior-priest and replies solemnly, "As the Justicars informed us, the blade is mythological in nature Aarnr. We will not find it here, unfortunately. It would serve any one of us well"

Stroking his chin and considering what Ozzy had told them of the tale of the necromancer, Arkan racks his mind in case he recalls anything of such a legend or such an artifact as the crown. Though he comes from another land matters of magic and artifacts often have a way of transcending such mundane boundaries, becoming instead part of a global mythology.

---

Spot: 13-Trying to spot anything interesting in the area
Knowledge (Arcana): 22; Knowledge (History): 12-Trying to recall any interesting information about the legend of the necromancer and/or the crown

The priest's eyes narrow at Colwyn's suggestion that Bowbe might have more sense, but is distracted before he can teach the rogue a lesson in the blunter truths of theology.

"Powerful and magical blades are always buried with the most froggin' important person for miles around," the priest informs Arkan.  "The knights must have some hall down here where all the bravest of their dead are interred.  That's where we'll find it."  He doesn't so much ignore the small matter that this blade might not exist as run the oxen and cart back and forth over it.

Erista peers around the room carefully, listening to the others discuss religion curiously as she does.  "Well, there's apparently nobody important buried in here," she declares when she's done.  "That'd probably be that Inner Vault.  Almost any place that has an inner vault," she looks at Colwyn knowingly, "That's where the good stuff is.  If I ever have an Inner Vault, I'm going to label it `Gardens' on all the maps.  But either way, that's also where the chapel is, and that's where they were digging, so I think that's where we were going anyway."

"In a vault," Aarnr nods in complete agreement with whatever it was Erista just said.  "Which way is that then ?"  The priest will growl a warning if anyone attempts to show him the incomprehensible parchment with scratchings on it, as that's obviously not in any way useful or relevant to the task at hand.

If nobody knows, then he's confident.  And that he can find it, as well.

Keeping far away from Bilfro and his sword, currently waving around, Eilieen continues to watch the doors for signs of further ghouls...or worse.  Where there are ghouls, darker things might lurk.  She leaves the discussion of theology to Aarnr (a terrible but necessary truth).

She does, however, know how to read a map and has a decent memory.  One arm rises to point at the far door, leading to the room of swords.  "There.  The Antechamber lies in that direction, and the Vault is past it.  Pausing, she purses her lips.  "Any blade we find would not do well in my own hands - I will leave that to others."

The priest nods to acknowledge Eilieen's enthusiasm.  "I like these knights," he decides.  "I'll not take their blades from them."

With his glowing axe in hand, the priest leads off in the direction indicated ...

Erista seems to discover that there is no amazingly awesome Sword of the Goddess interred with the deceased knights in the West Hall.  A brief discussion occurs, during which Colwyn tries not to meet Aarnr's gaze (not too difficult, considering the rogue's ocular alignment, or lack thereof), and then Aarnr takes the lead and heads for the Inner Vault.

Senses honed by a hundred generations of his people having dwelt in the trackless bogs of his homeland have reached the pinnacle of keenness in Aarnr, and in no time at all, the group find themselves in the chamber marked on the map as The Room of Whispers.

Their surroundings are familiar - the usual arrangement of stone shelves and coffins, but there is no sign that the ghouls have disturbed the occupants of this room yet...

Eilieen struggles valiantly (and fails) not to roll her eyes.  "Aarnr," she quietly states, "the Room of Swords is THAT one," the priestess notes, pointing 'south' (mapwise).  "We should press in that direction, to find the East Hall and Inner Vault."

There comes a short pause, then the carrot.  "No doubt that is where the bulk of the Ghouls may be found," Zadastha's priestess casually notes.  It's not...quite as off-hand as her normal leading statements; there's a hint of an edge in this one.  In fact, her fingertips itch at the thought, and her free hand again rises to grasp her holy symbol.

Undead...

Her eyes sparkling slightly - oddly reminiscent of Aarnr enraged, though in a slightly more adorable fashion* - the priestess waves toward the doorway in question.

* PinkFuschia, possibly, rather than blood-red

The priest looks on with reverence as Eilieen rolls her eyes ... a sight not unknown to his people, particularly amongst certain shamans, who are celebrated for the gift of prophecy, bestowed upon them by their god (and who also, by sheer coincidence, partake extensively of hallucinogenic herbage and are considered far too holy to be allowed out on on their own).  The sparkling of the eyes is a dead give away too (albeit the colour more reminiscent of soft furnishings than the bright red of arterial blood).

"Bowbe's presence is froggin' strong in this one !" Aarnr announces.  Raising his axe to acknowledge the words of the priestess, Aarnr turns about and heads off in the direction that may well be South.

Arkan follows behind Aarnr and Eileen, sword held in both hands with the blade pointed downwards. His eyes peer watchfully through his hood, alert for any danger.

"Keep it down folks, we don't want to alert the vile things to our presence," he said in a low voice. Arkan's conjured sorcerous shield of protection has worn off and he is now concerned about getting jumped, or getting anywhere near the creatures lest he get swarmed.

He can only hope Eileen will be able to take the undead with the same potency she had shown earlier.

"Why not ?" Aarnr is puzzled by Arkan's suggestion. "Let them fear our coming !"

Colwyn frowns at the noise the group are making.  It's only a matter of time before anything that hadn't already heard the screams, yells, and general din of battle detects the sounds of movement in the echoing crypt.

Through the stone chambers of the crypt they travel, following Aarnr's unfailing direction sense (nudged, as it is, by Eilieen's calm voice).

And they end up in what is, by Colwyn's reckoning, the Antechamber.  The coffins here have all been torn open but, once again, the remains themselves have not been damaged.  At least they shouldn't be far from the Inner Vault.

There are carvings on the walls here, hard to make out in the gloom.  Colwyn mutters, "We's needin' more bleedin' light.  I's not seein' what these is bein'."

Alarmingly Bilfro obliges, as the blade of Valkyria starts to glow once more...

"That's not bein' good."

Arkan thought to reply to Aarnr that the dead likely felt no fear, save perhaps when confronted with a Cleric's power, as Eileen had just demonstrated. Then realizing it would not be a good idea to argue with Aarnr, (and realizing also that any ghouls running at Aarnr would be one less running at him!) he remained silent.

Still, the warrior-mage was concerned about entering into a dangerous confrontation without any protection. Sheathing Crescent Fall for a moment he reached for the scroll case upon his belt, quickly withdrawing a furled parchment from within. Unfurling it Arkan gazed at the runes inscribed there-upon, written in his own neat handwriting, and chanted the words softly.

ᛗᚪᚷᛖ ᚪᚱᛗᚩᚱ

A soft glow surrounded him for a brief moment, then vanished as it suffused into him. Quickly he reached back to his sheath and drew his battleblade again, ready for whatever might come forth, just in time to see Bilfro's magic sword start glowing.

"I'm not sure that is a good sign..." Arkan said, glancing at the glowing sword.

Is it such a terrible thing that Eilieen puffs a touch with pride at Aarnr's compliment?  After a moment, of course; it takes her that long to parse.  Aarnr does, after all, hardly ever speak in glowing terms of his own deity....  But if compliment it is, it seems likely to be close to his best.

Compliments are scarce these days, and far more valued than they ever were in her Temple. "Eilieen, you're looking so beautiful today."  "Eilieen, you smell so good today."  "Eilieen, you..."  Urgh.  Cutting off a chain of thought that usually ends with the sharp memories of another priest suffering an aggrieved beating, Zadastha's priestess pads along with the others, following the light of Aarnr's axe.

Bilfro's blade - formerly Fergus' - joins it.

"On the contrary," Eilieen whispers.  Some might call it a hiss, but not to her face.  Her free hand grips her holy symbol as a not-described-as-feral smile cuts across her sharp features.  "It is very good, a very good sign."

Undead - near, and ready for the furnace of Zadastha's rage against their heartless unlives*.

OOC - basically getting ready to start with the nuclear warfare.

* OOC - It occurs that Eilieen is beginning to sound like a particularly vicious incarnation of English-dub Sailor Moon.  This was unintended, I assure.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:34, Tue 09 Feb 2016.

Erista steps quietly back to the edge of the light, gripping a rock tightly in one hand, and finding herself uncomfortably uncertain of whether she's hiding from the ghouls, or...

...no, no, of course it's the ghouls.  Eilieen is so nice; that smile must just look wrong in the weird lighting.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:25, Mon 08 Feb 2016.

While once Aarnr might have paused, suffering the light of his axe to provide the illumination that Colwyn seeks, that would only have been to avoid getting yelled at.  But now, with what the priest might best and admiringly describe as a hellion at his side, death and destruction brook no delays.

Eagerly Aarnr advances towards the inner chamber with Eilieen ...

"On the contrary, my dear Arkan, it is a good sign, because now we know something not good is near..ish, of sorts, which is good to know and the sign itself is, I propose, if you look at it objectively, which is actually not possible for us, but that is beside the point in this case, neither good nor bad and we can also establish that it certainly is not evil, since it is in itself passive and non-sentient, at least as far as we know, although one have to concede that what we know far surpasses that which we do know about this sort of thing, meaning that what we do not know is in itself a knowledge although it is a knowledge that we do not know something, which in turn is the first step on the often rather long and frequently slippery, in a metaphorical sense, road or path, that in the end leads to wisdom, or at least in the general direction thereof."

Bilfro stops talking and inhales deeply for a nigh impossible amount of time, looking somewhat faint.

"That's the short of it, at any rate.  I can elaborate, if you want?"

Thus fully recovered he looks about hopefully, eager to explain.  Awaiting an answer he waves his sword about, making those odd noises again.

Realising that, in all the discussion about what the ghouls are up to, he has forgotten to replace his bow string, Colwyn moves as far from the eastern end of the room and holds his shortsword ready.

He looks around, wondering where Erista has vanished to, and then, in spite of the imminent threat, he chuckles.  The halfling woman is good at keeping out of sight.

Not that there's much of an imminent threat.  Surely Eilieen will simply annihilate any undead stupid enough to come within range of her holy light.  Nothing to worry about there.

"Err, indeed Bilfro." Arkan replies to the bearded man in the pointy hat, glancing askance at him with a raised eyebrow. "Although, are you sure the glow means undead are nearby? Perhaps the sword was meant to combat other ills?" He adds, not sure about the swords properties. He didn't even know it could detect danger as it appeared to be doing.

Rather a useful property, though the sword in the relief they saw earlier was likely even more useful, as Arkan was sure their burly companion Aarnr would concur with.

There is a  sudden loud howling from what most of the group know is the direction of the Inner Vault, as Aarnr and Eilieen advance.  And the, unexpectedly, laughter.  And a voice, deep and sonorous, calling out...

"Servants of Orcus!  Our god will grant you the strength to destroy these fools who would interfere in His work!  Tear them asunder and take their flesh as your reward!"

The howling starts to sound almost like jeering cries, and shapes begin to move in the gloom, loping into the East Hall...

OOC: A fight!  Hurrah!  Initiative rolls and all that please.

Erista seems nervous.  Understandable, in the face of such utter evil.  "Fear not, Erista," Eilieen mutters.  Her fingers holding her goddess' symbol twitch.  "We shall route these...abominations."  The word is a good one; it simply rolls off her tongue.

Then comes the proclamation of the enemy.

Servants...of Orcus?

Orcus?

Fairly sputtering with fury, Eilieen raises her holy symbol and spear, ready for whatever comes.  "Ware!" she cries.  "Whomever directs this vileness may seek to protect their servants from the Goddess' holy light!"

And besides, it seems pointless to hurl that power into the face of what might not be the vile undead.  Thus does Eilieen pause momentarily, waiting for some confirmation that what faces them indeed lacks life.

OOC - Holding action.  If they turn out to look like undead, will commence with the zorching (hopefully).  If not, doggie time (more information to follow depending on GM commentary)!

Erista moves forward, staying to the side and keeping to the shadows.

Arkan's eyes widened at hearing the dread voice and evil laughter coming from within the inner vault.

"Beware! These creatures are being led by an evil being, a sorcerer or a cleric of some power no doubt." He said to the others, bringing his sword up in a defensive position and adopting a ready stance for the coming battle.

---

The voice from the depths of the crypt has much the same effect on Aarnr as it does upon the priestess.

"Orcus ?!!!  Thou moldy, elf-skinned, fishified, scale-sided, pox-marked scut !  Thy reeky blood will stain these stones !"

Arkan's call to battle¹ is well and truly heeded by the priest as he rushes forward, axe held purposefully, keen to destroy the foe !


OOC: ¹ to Aarnr's an exhortation to 'beware' is not so much a warning as an opportunity ...
This message was last edited by the player at 05:21, Sat 13 Feb 2016.

"Positively positive, my dear Arkan, it is quite elementary," answers Bilfro with a smile.  The smile turns into a grimace as the words are shouted by their for the moment unseen enemy.

"ORCUS, THOU FOUL, SELF-IMPORTANT PLONKER OF A CHAOS MAGGOT!" he howls at the top of his lungs, his voice breaking into higher frequency, as if challenging the demon lord himself to appear.

On impulse, Colwyn draws his dagger, the one with the silvered blade, and holds it ready in his off-hand.  Things could be about to become very unpleasant.

The figures begin to come out of the twin arches at the eastern end of the room, some upright like men and some on all fours, but all of them howling like crazed dogs.  Most certainly ghouls.  A lot of them.

"Bugger!"

Ozzy grins and howls in response to the ghouls as he stays well back and starts to pluck at his lute.  Music fills the air, a driving rhythm that blends with the halfling's howls and transmutes them, so that they become the opening words of a song...

The ghouls, for they are indeed ghouls, flow out of the three arches at the eastern end of the room, howling, gibbering and snarling.

From beyond the arches, the same voice sounds again, urging the ghouls onward, "Forward minions, in the name of Orcus, our Prince!" 

Cursing under his breath, Colwyn moves to one side and waits, close to Ozzy.  The bard's words might mean the difference in this battle, and Colwyn intends to ensure that the halfling doesn't have his throat torn out...

Smashing into the vanguard of the ghouls, Aarnr swings his axe wildly, but the ghouls, with the cunning of their kind, evade the blow and swarm over the savage priest.  Filth encrusted claws scrape at the man's flesh, drawing blood from deep scratches...

And behind the ghouls, at the far end of the two short, arched tunnels, there is a sudden red glow in the air, which seems to push the undead to greater effort.

Bilfro, the sword Valkyria blazing brighter as the ghouls enter the chamber, takes a few moments to curse the enemy.  Unlike Aarnr, though, he holds his ground, waiting to see what deviltry is at hand.

Arkan also waits, and as one of the ghouls attacking Aarnr is pushed away from the man, the outlander brings his heavy sword down in a vicious diagonal cut which cleaves the creature from shoulder to gut and drops it to the floor in two pieces...

At the back of the room, Ozzy's song fills the air, warming the hearts of his companions and driving out the chill which seems to be carried by the vast horde of undead which are streaming into the chamber...

And Eilieen waits.  These things are undead.  Abominations.  The enemy of all life and warmth.  And there are a lot of them.  She utters a prayer to the Goddess, and a few of the vile creatures falter, but they do not burn this time...

OOC: Well, that all seems to be going splendidly.  For the ghouls.

But next round everybody gets a +1 on hit and damage rolls, thanks to Ozzy.

Combatant                Init
Erista                    24
Colwyn Akbar              22
Aarnr Foultongue          16
Ghouls                    16   AC=14
Temple of Doom Cleric     15   AC=??
Bilfro Gabbins            15
Arkan                     14
Oswald Osbourne           11
Eilieen                    6

Characters' Apparent Health
Aarnr Foultongue: Good
Arkan:            Good
Bilfro Gabbins:   Good
Colwyn Akbar:     Good
Eilieen:          Good
Erista:           Good
Oswald Osbourne:  Good

This message was last edited by the GM at 05:31, Sat 20 Feb 2016.

No effect; her prayer, seemingly, has no effect.

Disbelief becomes fury, and Eilieen strides forward to where the beleaguered barbarian battles against the horde of the un-living, Arkan beside him.  The mage cleaves one of the mob asunder with his burning blade, and Eilieen holds her holy symbol high, lavender light erupting from its silvery sheen.

"Effluent of your master's pathetic dreams!  Spiritual drainage of his miserable carcass!  Zadastha's holy eye is upon you, and even* in this putrescent state she loves you still!  But that love is for what once was, not what is - and so, begone!"

* I seriously had to struggle not to write e'en, here.

OOC - Turn undead.

'Attack' roll: 12.
'Damage' roll: 12.

As he cuts down one of the foul creatures, Arkan uses the momentum from his blow to carry him forward towards another, intending to do the same to it. But Aarnr's plight in the corner of his eye distracts him and his swing goes wide.

"Aarnr! Come stand with me, back to back!" Arkan calls out to the priest, moving carefully towards the burly man while keeping his blade up in a defensive posture as he does so.

---

Attack: 08

Enraged beyond measure by the ghoul's effrontery (and with the bleeding wounds to prove it) the priest heeds neither Eilieen's brave attempt at deriding the creatures, nor Arkan's wise strategic advice.  As a howl escapes his throat, the god settles upon his priest's shoulders and ...

... Aarnr's eyes blaze with madness as he slams his axe into the ghoul.

Colwyn eyes the ghouls with concern.  A quick, approximate head count reveals that there are at least a dozen of them, possibly two dozen, in this room alone.  With who knows how many in the area beyond the evil arches.

"Bugger.  I's really wishin' I were fixin' me bow afore this were 'appenin'."

Blades in hand, he edges forward, keeping as far from the centre as it's possible to get while still standing in the same room as his companions...

With a daftly deft move, Bilfro sheaths his glow-stick sword and pulls out the wee crossbow, more or less aims in the mostly general direction of the oncoming horde of the walking dead.

'Yaaargh!' says he.

'Twang!' says ye crossbow.

'Whee!' says the bolting piece of quarrelsome wood with a pointy end, or no doubt would if it only could.

Erista moves into the gloom at the base of a pillar, while the air is filled with the clashing of steel, and a thoroughly unsettling cacophony of howls... and those are just from Aarnr.

All unknowing, Colwyn almost mirrors her movement on the opposite side of the hall, though the rogue is a little way behind the halfling, and hasn't yet reached the refuge provided by the pillars.

Beyond the pillars, in the open space between them and the arches at the eastern end of the chamber, Aarnr howls and begins to foam at the mouth as his axe beheads one ghoul, then swings back to smash the ribs of a second.  Unfortunately there seem to be a lot more where they came from... 

Ghouls swarm over Aarnr, clawing and biting at him. 

A little way off, Bilfro sees that his ally is in danger.  He raises his crossbow, and one of Aarnr's assailants is suddenly sporting a quarrel through its chest.

And from beyond the arches, the enemy raises his voice again, speaking in a strange tongue.  "Dageroch dra.  Benech dra.  Chov Orcus tathlutik govodchi tonak!" 

Arkan, his instructions to the barbarian priest seemingly unheard, finds himself facing a brace of ghouls.  The monstrous creatures bite and slash at him, and soon Arkan is bleeding from a deep gash in his cheek.    He retaliates, but the ghoul throws itself backwards and avoids the heavy blade...

Ozzy meanwhile, still in the western portion of the chamber continues his song, his voice and the music of the lute carrying throughout the chamber, and beyond...

Eilieen raises her symbol of Zadastha again and utters a few brief words, commanding the ghouls to leave her presence.  The howling of the undead turns to shrieks, as the chamber is bathed in the holy light of the Goddess' love.  Two of the ghouls flee in terror, back through the arches,  Twice that number burn and crumble to ash, including the two that Arkan had faced.

There is a loud cracking sound from the arches, and a sound like the beating of a great drum, and light flows from the middle arch.  Flickering and red, as if from a fire...

OOC: Eight ghouls left, plus the mysterious Speaker Beyond the Arches, and whatever mischief he is cooking up.

Next round everybody still gets a +1 on hit and damage rolls, thanks to Ozzy.

Combatant                Init
Erista                    24
Colwyn Akbar              22
Aarnr Foultongue          16
Ghouls                    16   AC=14
Temple of Doom Cleric     15   AC=??
Bilfro Gabbins            15
Arkan                     14
Oswald Osbourne           11
Eilieen                    6

Characters' Apparent Health
Aarnr Foultongue: Good
Arkan:            Good
Bilfro Gabbins:   Good
Colwyn Akbar:     Good
Eilieen:          Good
Erista:           Good
Oswald Osbourne:  Good

Whether Aarnr is even aware of the destruction wrought by Eilieen, by the dread chantings of what must be a necromancer of more than usual foulness or the approaching conflagration, there is no sign ...

... save that the priest, bleeding from a dozen or so deep scratches inflicted by the filthy claws of the foe, continues to whirl his axe, hacking at the ghouls before him, roaring mightily all the while, his rage-fueled ire and carelessness for his own safety bringing him close enough to reap a wild harvest.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:46, Tue 23 Feb 2016.

Taking advantage of the terrifying sounds of Aarnr in his happy place, Erista tries to slip quietly forward.

Arkan grunts, more in irritation at his own inability to dodge the blow to his face than pain. He is about to retaliate with a powerful swing of his battleblade, when Eileen once more unleashes Zadastha's cleansing light, burning the dead things flanking him to smouldering ash.

"Well struck!" Arkan calls out joyfully to the priestess. The way ahead seems clear of enemies, albeit not of dread, to take down the one commanding these foul creatures. But Arkan cannot leave Aarnr to face the remaining horde by himself, and so the evil one will have to wait...for now.

Charging at the swarm clawing and biting at Aarnr, yet also keeping in mind to stay away from the warrior-priests zealous rage, Arkan jumps into the air and at the apex of his leap brings his heavy battleblade down onto the body of one of the ghouls, the entire weight of his body behind the two handed blow!

---

Colwyn spots a ghoul which seems to be trying to flamk Eilieen.  Moving in quickly, he stabs at it with his shortsword.  With a snarl, the ghoul sidesteps the blow.  Its eyes gleam as it regards the rogue with feral savagery.

"Bugger." Colwyn mutters, and backs away slowly.

Heartened by her success, Eilieen continues to move to support her beleaguered companions (though Erista seems to have vanished).  If she can but clear a path for her friends, they can reach this seeming priest of Orcus.  And once they reach him?

"Plague upon the love of the living!" she cries, holy symbol continuing to burn with its fearsome pink light.  "Face us!"  For this had she spent days of grueling training to focus the goddess' might through her willowish body.  For this she had put up with the insinuations of her teacher (and fellow students) day after day.  For this had she strode forth into the world to carry the name of the goddess, heartening the people and cowing the unlife.

"Know the truth of the goddess' care for those she protects, and for what you had once been!  Find an end, peaceful darkness, in her fulgent pyre!  She is the heart of love, and before that your empty endlessness is NOTHING!
This message was last edited by the player at 12:59, Mon 29 Feb 2016.

"Germantrio!"

Bilfro shouts things in some abstract tongue while reloading his crossbow.

"Sacredblue!"

He aims, he fires, he misses...

"Aw boo!"

That is one tale that won't be told for a thousand and one nights.

The battle continues...

Colwyn stabs at a ghoul in an attempt to protect Eilieen.  His attack misses, but his plan succeeds, in a way, as the stinking creature turns away from her, to stalk him instead...

Fortunately Aarnr is more successful.  Another ghoul falls before his deadly axe, it's head split like an overripe melon.  Then the blade swings back and rips one of the undead in two. 

There is a sudden increase in the illumination in the chamber, as something that blazes with the light of a bonfire comes out of one of the arches, moving very quickly.  Flames flicker and dance, and form writhing, twisting limbs.

The creature, for creature it is, laughs.  Then it rushes at Aarnr, but some sliver of self-preservation rooted deep within the savage priest causes him to dodge the thing's outstretched arms, though he does feel the heat from it as it passes close by...


Bilfro sends another crossbow bolt into the fray.  Luckily for everybody involved, he fails to hit anything.

The ghouls, few though they are now, continue to attack Aarnr.  One misses completely, and stumbles, sprawling, on the ground, as the big barbarian pushes it away.  The other fastens its filthy fangs onto Aarnr's arm.  The man howls and manages to shake it off, just as he shakes off the wave of nausea and tiredness that flows over him, seeming to leech the vitality from his muscles for a moment. 

Arkan, too, faces two ghouls.  Dirt-encrusted claws scrabble at his clothing, but as with Aarnr, it is the bite of one of the creatures that rips at his flesh and draws blood.  And, as with Aarnr, he shrugs off the paralysing effect of the bite. 

The ghoul is smashed to the ground as Arkan retaliates, his heavy sword slashing back and forth, in a deadly one-two stroke.  His follow-up attack on the second ghoul misses, as the vile undead horror scrabbles away across the ground. 

Not so fortunate, Colwyn goes down as the ghoul claws at him, and a terrible numbness spreads through his body.  The horrific creature crouches over him, slobbering as it sniffs the air.

And Eilieen calls out to the Goddess again, and for a moment a stillness hangs in the air, before the few remaining ghouls, including the one which threatens Colwyn, howl and flee the battleground... 


OOC: No ghouls left, just the mysterious Speaker Beyond the Arches, and the burning fiery thing that he made.

Next round everybody still gets a +1 on hit and damage rolls, thanks to Ozzy.

Combatant                Init
Erista                    24
Colwyn Akbar              22
Aarnr Foultongue          16
Temple of Doom Cleric     15   AC=??
Fire Creature             15   AC=??
Bilfro Gabbins            15
Arkan                     14
Oswald Osbourne           11
Eilieen                    6

Characters' Apparent Health
Aarnr Foultongue: Good
Arkan:            Good
Bilfro Gabbins:   Good
Colwyn Akbar:     Good - Paralysed.
Eilieen:          Good
Erista:           Good
Oswald Osbourne:  Good

As the ghouls flee from him, Aarnr bellows in triumph ... but then his shoulders slump, his body tired both from the effort of carrying his god and from whatever foulness imparted by the creature's talons that saps the spirit.

But in place of the battle-madness, understanding returns and the priest becomes aware once more of his surroundings and those around him.  With laboured breath he looks about, seeking to satisfy himself that his friends have also survived the fray, frowning with concern when he spots Colwyn lying upon the cold stone floor ...

... and then Aarnr sees the creature of flame, the same that he avoided but seconds ago, though that but the instincts of the beast that saved him.

Tired as he is, the priest's lips curl in a smile, and he raises his voice to demand recompence of Bowbe in return for the god's use of his body.

"BOWBE !  THOU SURLY PIGEON-LIVER'D, DOG-HEARTED, CLAPPER-CLAWED, BEEF-WITTED FOOT-LICKER !  THOU WILL SHIELD ME FROM THE FIRE, THOU MUDDY-METTLED, TOAD-SPOTTED WHORESON !"

His grin growing ever broader, the priest raises his axe, ignoring the trembling in his limbs and the bloody gashes from the ghoul's claws, stalking towards the burning fiery thing with certain intent.

Ignoring the pain from his minor wound with sheer willpower, Arkan steps over the twitching corpse of the ghoul he had downed, staring at the other that managed to scrabble away from his heavy blade. He makes to follow but Colwyn's predicament catches his eye and he pauses; before he can do much else Eileen calls upon Zadasta's power again and sends the remaining ghouls fleeing into the darkness.

But a new danger has taken form, one that might be deadlier than all the ghouls combined. A creature of fire, summoned from the pits of the hells perhaps, emerges from the arches and attacks Aarnr. Arkan peers at it, sifting through his memories of the arcane to try and recall if he has read about it before, during his training.

He knows that though the fire-demon might make for a tempting target, it's conjurer is the true threat. They cannot let it summon any more allies, and the way through the arches stands clear. Decision made he darts inside, seeking the Cleric of Orcus. Seeing movement Arkan moves towards it like silent death upon the wings of fate, his battle-blade slashing downwards from shoulder to stomach, intending to cut his enemy into twain!

---

Meh.  Dissatisfied, Eilieen allows herself a brief frown.  Fleeing ghouls are barely acceptable; far better to have them running in a three-quarter circle, aflame, before becoming ashes.  But it shall have to do, for the nonce*.

But Colwyn, now...

For the moment** she ignores the fiery threat - not easy - and instead leaps to succor Colwyn.  Kneeling at his side, Eilieen presses Zadastha's symbol against his chest.  "Lady, send the warmth of your love*** to melt the chill of fouled claws; return his quick feet and cunning hands!"

* actual meaning, not British slang

** see?

*** different warmth, not the nuclear sort

OOC - Remove Paralysis, HAH!  Take that, vile undead!  Again!
This message was last edited by the player at 13:10, Mon 29 Feb 2016.

Holding her breath, Erista cradles the rock in her sling as the fiery entity, and then the man, walk past her.  Then she gives the strip of leather a few quick whirls and lets the rock go, aiming high.  Of course, Erista always aims high, unless she wants to hit someone in the foot for some reason.

Still stick stubbornly to the totally crucial crossbow choice, Bilfro boldly bolts another awesome attack.  Quickly quaffing quarrel endangers encountered enemy, hopefully he hits.  Running rescue rhymes.

Reasoning, not unreasonably, that the fire creature may be magical in nature, Ozzy pauses in his song.  Just long enough to yell the words of a spell, before picking up the driving beat again...

With the sudden change in the number (and type) of foes, things may be about to take a turn for the better for our bold adventurers...

Erista, having successfully sneaked around behind the enemy cleric, sees that the man is distracted by the rapidly approaching Arkan.  She takes good advantage of the situation, and slams a sling stone into the back of the enemy priest's head.  Sadly he is wearing a helmet, but it does make a very satisfying, and loud, clanging noise...

In the other chamber, Colwyn can only lay on the floor in silence as Eilieen calls on Zadastha to aid the rogue.

Words of rage are yelled, and Aarnr summons Bowbe's aid in defending against the fiery attacker, which lunges at him again.  A tendril of flame swings at him like a fist, and strikes him in the chest.  The priest barely notices. 

Bilfro, meanwhile, launches a crossbow bolt at the blazing monstrosity... and hits it, causing it to hiss and sputter at him.  Then he watches in dismay as the bolt catches fire and falls, burning, to the floor.

Arkan reaches the cleric, who meets him head on, swinging a massive hammer.  The weapon strikes Arkan on the hip, sending pain lancing through his leg.  The outlander responds with a blow from his heavy sword, but the cleric steps back, and just the tip of the blade cleaves through his mail and opens up a deep cut which runs diagonally across his ribs. 

Ozzy's spell seems to have little, if any, effect on his target...

Colwyn suddenly coughs, rolls over, and noisily throws up on the floor as Eilieen's prayers work their miraculous power upon him...

OOC: Next round everybody still gets a +1 on hit and damage rolls, thanks to Ozzy.

Combatant                Init
Erista                    24
Colwyn Akbar              22
Aarnr Foultongue          16
Temple of Doom Cleric     15   AC=16
Fire Creature             15   AC=15
Bilfro Gabbins            15
Arkan                     14
Oswald Osbourne           11
Eilieen                    6

Characters' Apparent Health
Aarnr Foultongue: Hurt
Arkan:            Hurt
Bilfro Gabbins:   Good
Colwyn Akbar:     Good
Eilieen:          Good
Erista:           Good
Oswald Osbourne:  Good

"FOR FNAFERLANG!!"

Bilfro, feeling the sweet taste of tasty victory on the very tip at the upper end of his tongue, and not the one attached to him in his gullet, calls out for the power out there that harkens to the harkening of their name.

He almost forgets to aim in the general direction of his enemies, that is how eager he is.

Though he is weary, Aarnr finds his spirits lifted by the stirring chords Ozzie wrings from his lute, and with a snarl the priest swings his axe ...


... Bilfro's raucus yell is enough even to distract so dedicated a combatant as Aarnr, and the sharp axehead whistles through the air a safe distance from the fiery foe as he turns his head wizardwards.

Sparing Bilfro a look that falls somewhere between disgust and encouragement, Aarnr raises his axe once more to fend off any blow that the fire creature may dare.

A hiss of pain escapes Arkan's lips at the evil cleric's blow, his wounded leg buckling as it goes numb, and his knee slams painfully into the stone floor as he falls to a knee in front of the cleric.

Trying his damnedest not to miss a beat, Arkan channels the momentum from his fall, pushing hard with his uninjured leg, rising and thrusting forward with his heavy blade.

"Ware the creature, it is an elemental being from the plane of fire!" Arkan calls out a warning to the others fighting the smouldering being conjured by the cleric.

---

Melee attack vs Cleric:Attack: 15; Damage: 16

Wiping one sleeve across his mouth, Colwyn groans and starts to push himself upright.  He flashes Eilieen a weak grin.  "Thanks.  That's bein' better.  What in the bloody 'ells is that?"  He points at the burning creature.

Then, after a quick look around the nearby floor, he snatches up his sword from where it lays.

Feeling a bit more confident now that there is definitely someone occupying the armored man's attention, and pretty sure he can't hear anything anyway after that ringing blow to his helmet, Erista lines up another stone and sends it after the first - but a little bit lower, aiming to hit him in the joint at his shoulder.

(NPCd)

After checking that Colwyn is all right, or as much so as possible considering what had just happened to him, Eilieen turns away at last.

There is a creature of living flame to deal with next.  An "elemental" Arkan had named it, shouting from beyond the arched tunnels.  The priestess raises her spear and thrusts at the burning form...

The conflict continues, albeit split into two separate battles...

Erista sends another sling stone whirling at the cleric's back, and is rewarded by a thump, and a grunt of pain.  The priest of Orcus steadies himself, and lifts his hammer once again.

Colwyn, having been cured of the numbing paralysis caused by the ghoul's touch, strives to make sense of the current state of the battle, which now seems to involve a completely different enemy.

An axe, driven by Aarnr's powerful muscles, slashes at that enemy, but the elemental creature dances aside, and the blow misses...

... as does a bolt from Bilfro's crossbow.  At least this one won't be consumed by flame.

The monster retaliates, striking s blow at Aarnr with the flickering appendage which seems to serve it as an arm.  But the priest's axe pulls back from his own missed attack and parries the burning extremity.

In the other room, there is a rapid flurry of attacks and parries from both Arkan and the dark priest.  Eventually the priest's maul finds an opening, knocks Arkan's sword aside, and slams into his ribs, knocking the wind out of him. 

Back in the East Hall, Ozzy continues to sing, while Eilieen moves up and thrusts her spear into the burning elemental, eliciting a hiss of rage and pain from it.

OOC: And again, next round everybody still gets a +1 on hit and damage rolls, thanks to Ozzy.

Combatant                Init
Erista                    24
Colwyn Akbar              22
Aarnr Foultongue          16
Temple of Doom Cleric     15   AC=16
Fire Ejenental            15   AC=15
Bilfro Gabbins            15
Arkan                     14
Oswald Osbourne           11
Eilieen                    6

Characters' Apparent Health
Aarnr Foultongue: Hurt
Arkan:            Severe
Bilfro Gabbins:   Good
Colwyn Akbar:     Good
Eilieen:          Good
Erista:           Good
Oswald Osbourne:  Good

The priest swings his axe again, and again grunts with the effort ... and again the edge slices past the creature's fiery form, though this time by but a hair's breadth.

And again, Aarnr glares at Bilfro, as if somehow blaming the wizard for not making the noise he had been expecting and allowing for.  Again.

The air escapes Arkan's mouth with a whoosh at the priests blow, and he feels his stomach and chest going numb, making it harder to draw in more breath to fuel his body for stronger blows of his own. Were it not for his spell of protection the blow would likely have pulverized his insides.

Arkan knows he needs to end this duel quickly, his magic cannot withstand such pounding for much longer.

"What is this Orcus that your serve evil one? What is your purpose in this place, what do you seek?" Arkan asks the evil cleric, hoping to distract him for a moment.

Without waiting for a reply the warrior-mage twirls and slashes high with his battle-blade, and then brings it back down as he snaps back into position with the power of momentum behind the blow.

Crescent Fall comes down like it's name, the sharp edge of the heavy sword aimed at the evil priests head!

---

Attack: 24; Damage: 11

Aarnr is injured, even if he does not show it.  Eilieen shifts, her spear moving from hand to hand, and reaches out.  "Goddess, I beg you to smile upon us and bestow your healing light upon this -" 

...so many possibilities...

"- sorely injured warrior," she finishes, resisting all possible temptation.  It is a holy prayer, after all.

OOC - Risking getting axed, Eilieen will use her 5' step or whatever it is :) to get in range of Aarnr and cast Cure Moderate Wounds.  17 Hp.  :D
This message was last edited by the player at 16:26, Thu 10 Mar 2016.

"FLABBERGASTED DROOLPILE OF SPITFIRE WORMFOOD STUFF!"

Using such foul language that his long since dead great great grandparents decides to not have children after all, Bilfro vanishes in a puff of smoke.

Not really.

Instead he tosses another little pointy stick in the approximate direction of the flaming beast of, uh, flames.

Erista sends another stone hurtling towards the vile cleric of Orcus, and she barely suppresses a shout of glee as the stone strikes hard enough to dislodge the man's helm and send it spinning across the flagstones.

Colwyn, meanwhile, edges cautiously towards the bright burning elemental, and he winces as the creature manages to evade another blow from Aarnr's axe, and retaliates with a strike of its flaming apendage. 

And then Bilfro fires his crossbow again.  The quarrel strikes the fire monster, and it hisses angrily, before exploding in a rapidly cooling cloud of flame... OOC - Bilfro's roll adjusted to include Ozzy's song bonus.

In the other chamber, the follower of Orcus staggers, as if drunk, though it should be noted that drunkenness seldom includes copious quantities of blood pouring from one ear.  He starts to turn, raising his maul for a killing blow, but Arkan is faster, and over twenty pounds of finest Raumathari steel, splits the priests skull like an over-ripe water melon...

Ozzy stops singing, his voice starting to sound hoarse.

With a prayer to Zadastha on her lips, Eilieen steps closer to Aarnr, and her fingertips brush lightly against his back, leaving a briefly shining likeness of a wreath of pink roses, which fades like the after-glow of a lightning flash. 

And suddenly, all is silent, save only the noise of laboured breathing...

OOC: So that's that then.  Everybody dead yet?  No?  Damn!

Characters' Apparent Health

Aarnr Foultongue: Good
Arkan:            Severe
Bilfro Gabbins:   Good
Colwyn Akbar:     Good
Eilieen:          Good
Erista:           Good
Oswald Osbourne:  Good

The enemy is finished.

Arkan stands tall for a moment, the cleric's blood dripping down the sublimely folded metal of Crescent Fall but then he staggers to one knee, using his sword to support his weight. Both his gloved hands grip the hilt and his hooded face is bowed as he catches his breath, and tries to suppress the surge of nausea and dizziness welling inside of him. He welcomes the pain from his wounds though, because the pain means he yet lives.

The faintest scent of roses whiffs at his nose, and he turns to see Eileen call upon her patron's power to heal Aarnr of his wounds.

"Lady Eileen, I could use some of your healing magics also." Arkan says finally to the priestess. He regrets showing weakness in public, even among allies, but there could be more enemies in the crypt still.

As the creature of flame is snuffed out (by means that are not readily apparent, and could obviously have naught to do with the feeding of the fire that Bilfro has been engaged in for some time now, albeit with small sticks of wood that are good for naught but kindling), Aarnr whirls around.  The priest is somewhat slower than is his wont, but e'en so, his keen, indeed beady eyes already seek the next target for his axe ...

The cloven skull is a good look on the priest of Orcus, and it seems that the foul necromancer struggled mightily, for though Arkan proved victorious, the young man has himself taken grievous hurts in the fight.  Still, to slay so mighty a foe in single combat is a worthy deed !

"Save thy prayers," Aarnr acknowledges Eilieen's healing of his own wounds with a grateful nod, "Bowbe owes this one ..."  With swift strides, the priest reaches Arkan's side, and with a firm, very firm, grasp upon his shoulder, importunes his god, his loud demands echoing around the chamber.

"BOWBE !  THOU SAUCY, PIGEON-LIVER'D, YEASTY, BOIL-BRAINED LEWDSTER !  THOU WILL AID THIS BEARDLESS, UNCHIN-SNOUTED RAMPALLION, THOU NOSELESS COD !!"

Colwyn's head snaps around at Arkan's cry for aid.  It seems that, while his companions had been battling ghouls and fire demons in here, Arkan had gone directly to the source of the creatures and put an end to the priest's mischief.

Ozzy coughs, and walks past Colwyn, heading for the arch leading into the room where Arkan had fought his opponent single handed.  "A famous victory, Arkan!  I'll compose a song about it." he calls to the Outlander. 

At that, Colwyn starts to follow Ozzy, interested to see what the dark priest of Orcus might have had in the way of trinkets, baubles, and sundry valuables...
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:41, Sun 13 Mar 2016.

Eilieen breathes deeply for a long moment, then nods her head with a snap.  "Yes."  A moment later she winces as Aarnr's 'prayer' booms out through the room, echoing crazily from wall to wall.  Well, it might not have been the healing prayer Arkan wished for, but any port in a storm, she supposes.

Should he need more, she can offer.

"Be wary of ghouls!" she calls out to the brave 'explorers' as they forage deeper into the darkness, and hurries after them.  "Some may yet lurk about!"

Oooo, that thought makes her fingers itch.

Gazing at the dead priest of Orcus, she sniffs in disgust - at him, not the blood.  "Well struck, whomever felled this one," Eilieen states.

"He did it," Aarnr informs Eilieen of Arkan's prowess, not without a hint of jealousy. "I'll get the next one," the tells the young man, perhaps a little too insistently, though the thought that there might be more ghouls to chop into little pieces has his gaze wandering to the shadows beyond the arches.  Whatever the priestess has that causes that itch seems to be catching.

"Are thou feeling better ?" he asks Arkan hopefully.

Arkan stiffens both at Aarnr's loud yelling in his ear and then the surge of power that fills him at the warrior-priests words.

When the exhilaration leaves him he feels drained, yet the weakness and pain from his wounds is gone. In place, he feels like drawing his sword and killing something again!

"My thanks Aarnr, I feel quite alright now." Arkan replies to the priest with a smile. Turning to look at Ozzy's retreating back he says, "I look forward to hearing that song friend!"

Rubbing his side as if he cannot believe the wondrous healing, Arkan follows Ozzy and Colwyn, intent on seeing what the dead priest carried on his person. He still holds Crescent-Fall in one hand, blade pointed to the floor, in case of any more nasty surprises or ambushes.

Colwyn and Ozzy move up to the slain priest, and the former squints at the corpse critically.  "What's yer reckonin'?  I's thinkin' as Arkan's likely been improvin' this one's looks by splittin' them inter 'alfs."

Ozzy smiles, but says nothing, as he scribbles down a few notes - recording details which will later find their way into a song extolling Arkan's prowess as a slayer of dark priests of darker deities.

Between fallen giants, and slaughtered ghouls, the good people of Bard's Gate might very possibly owe this party of bold adventurers a debt of gratitude.

Colwyn bends over the body and starts to search it...

As Erista's Uncle Lio sometimes says, debts are nice, and gratitude is nice, but cash buys dinner.  With that in mind, she watches Colwyn work, observing, "Bet that hammer's worth something."

Though as his wife, Aunt Hilma, would often add, a little thanks costs nothing and buys much.
With that in mind, she spares a moment to grin up at Arkan.  "That was well done," she agrees.  "I'm glad you were here with us."

Since nobody has been bitten or clawed by any more fiendish undead, it might be safe to say that they've seen the last of them ... much to Aarnr's disappointment.  The priest distractedly waves away Arkan's thanks as he peers into the shadows, just in case.  "Thou earned it," he echoes Erista's congratulations.

"As did thou," he tells Eilieen.  "The sight of the grave-touched maggot-worms bursting into flame was very impressive."  He raises a brow, hoping for a bit of divine wisdom be imparted, some trade secret that might allow him to accomplish the same.

"Wonder how they got in ?" Aarnr muses.

"My thanks for your kind words Erista, though I could not have done it without your help." Arkan replies to the diminutive sorceress. "Without any of us none would have prevailed." He announces, further praising the team effort.

Lowering his guard a bit he looks curiously at the corpse again and ask Colwyn and Ozzy, "So, was he carrying anything interesting?"

Colwyn shakes his head.  "Nah...  'lessin' yer's wantin' that there big 'ammer, or 'is mail 'auberk.  Them's bein' no good ter me, an' even if they was, I wouldn' be takin' em' on account of 'ow 'e were bein' a priest of... yer know... 'im what rules in Rappan Athuk... an' I's not trustin' it ter not be cursed."

The rogue straightens up, "'sides them, 'e's got nothin'.  It's bein' almost like 'e were already robbed."

"Well done, Arkan!" Elieen calls after Aarnr spreads the word of the young mage's victory.  "And well done to those who battled the burning beast," she continues, pleased by how things have proceeded.  Some small injuries, nothing more, and easily washed away with the gentle touch of Zadastha...or Bowbe's more forceful one.  "As Arkan says, we all accomplished much here today."

She bows deeply to Aarnr, touched by his approbation.  "I spent time at the temple learning to better focus Zadastha's fury against the undead," Eilieen confesses.  "The goddess holds great sorrow for the souls of those wretches, lost to their undying state, but only fury for their cold, hungry shells."

A frown follows.  "A pity, Colwyn.  It would have been nice to discover some trinket we might find of use to purchase..."  Baths, warm rooms, fine food.  "...whatever one might desire," she finishes, sighing.  "Perhaps next time."

Turning in a circle, she eyes the dark corners of the room speculatively.  "We should likely search the entire crypt.  Aarnr is correct - they came here somehow, and I would know that answer."

Aarnr nods thoughtfully at Eilieen's words.  "Bowbe froggin' hates 'em," he confides, "an' moreso any small-codded, pukin' toad as would quicken a molderin' corpse."

"The tokens of evil should be consumed in fire," the priest agrees with Colwyn's assessment, but rather than stoking the flames himself, something the Knights would undoubtedly approve of in principle, were the conflagration not to be lit directly beneath their temple, he wisely suggests, "we'll leave that task to the Justicars."

As Zadastha's priestess eyes the dark corners, Aarnr strides towards them, glowing axe lighting his way, as his eyes hungrily sweeps the shadows, looking for more undead or any means by which they might have gained entrance to the crypt, for there more may lurk, o'er-ripe for the culling.

Erista shakes her head sadly at the lack of good loot, too.  "Maybe the Muirian's'll give us a reward afterall," she suggests hopefully.  With a shrug, she moves to the opening to the smaller room marked `Chapel', to see if that might be where they came from.

Aarnr leads the way past the fallen minion of Orcus, and into the chamber itself.  There are ornate carvings on the wall here, forming a frieze above the familiar rows of niches - common folk going about their everyday tasks, such as farming, fishing, building houses, and above them, on the ceiling, is a carving of Muir, watching over them all, the goddess' hand stretches out to the centre of the room, where it grips a narrow pillar, shaped to resemble a sword whose point touches the floor.

To the south is a doorway, and beyond it a dim, hellish red light shines.

Ozzy nods towards the red glow.  "That'll be the chapel, I reckon."

The chapel. if that is indeed what the room is, seems to be in a state of disrepair.  Only the west wall is of finished masonry, while the others are of rough unfinished stone.  The chamber seems to be larger than the map would indicate, and parts of the unfinished walls have been hollowed out.

It looks as though the High Justicar's explanation that the chapel is being expanded was accurate.

The one thing that doesn't fit is the circle of red light which burns in the centre of the floor.  Within the circle itself are glowing runes, glyphs and sigils, and approaching the circle causes a persons flesh to creep, and the hair on the back of their neck to stand erect.

Ozzy gives a long, low whistle.  "I don't think that should be here."

Being somewhat allergic to creeping flesh and rising hair, Eilieen keeps her distance from the unholy circle.  "Vileness of Orcus," she mutters, her tone sharp with anger.  "I comprehend Bowbe's hate," she looses as an aside to Aarnr.  Still holding her spear, but with holy symbol her principal weapon, the priestess slowly - almost daintily - shifts to one knee, studying the ugly sight before her.

There's no concern about her knee touching the filthy ground, for once; the circle is of principal import, and she's going to need to clean her clothing in any case.  "The purpose of this circle.  I wonder.  For summoning?  Transportation?  Is THIS how they arrived, rather than tunnelling?"

OOC - Going to try Knowledge: Religion.  Edit: Haha, 21, did all right for a change! 
This message was last edited by the player at 12:04, Thu 24 Mar 2016.

Aarnr isn't allergic to creeping flesh and rising hair.  In fact he's more of a carrier.  But the glowing rune-circle does look somewhat out of place in the Muir's ¹ crypt.  "As bad as guardsmen and lawyers," he agrees with Eilieen's assessment of the undead.

But the priest just shakes his head at the circle.  "Ye may well be right," he suggests to Eilieen, "I've neither heard or seen of such a thing.  Some sort of a door between here and there, then ?" he asks, making sure he's understood her correctly.  "Do ye think it opens both ways ?"



¹ just occurred to me - in this place all these ornate carvings are probably Muir-als

Cheeks still flushed from the heat of battle, the aggressive healing from Aarnr, and the praise at his combat performance, Arkan stops a few paces away from the ominous looking circle of crimson light in the chapel of Muir.

He feels his flesh crawling just being in close proximity to the blasphemous creation of obviously dark magic, and the hair rising on end on the back of his neck. Gripping his sword in two hands reflexively, he peers at the construct through slit eyes, trying to figure out what purpose it serves.

Eileen did make some good points, and was likely correct in the circle's purpose, but it never hurt to try to make sure.

---

Knowledge (The Planes): 25; Knowledge (Arcana): 16

Erista gives Ozzy an admiring look for his quick assessment of the glowing red circle.  "I think the biggest question is, did they somehow magic it here from the other side, or did somebody who can come down here without anybody wondering have to come down and put in this part?" she wonders aloud, giving it her own look-over.

OOC: With Knowledge: Arcana of 17.

"One of the Justicars is a froggin' pox-marked, dankish, scale-sided death-token ?"  Aarnr thinks he has the gist of what Erista is saying, eyeing the roof above vengefully.

"I don't know," Erista replies, quickly, thinking she has the gist of what Aarnr is saying.  "I just think it's a question worth thinking about."

The glowing sign on the floor, despite its fiery intensity, seems to chill the air close to it.  And there are whispering voices which seem to issue from it from time to time.  Close up, it can be seen that the markings have been cut into the floor, as if with a chisel.

Colwyn carefully crouches down near the circle and squints at it as the discussion goes on behind him.  "Them was bein' cut inter the stone.  I's reckonin' as Erista's bein' right... some bugger's been doin' this from this end."

Ozzy also approaches the circle, then makes a circuit around it, talking to himself as he does so... "Looks familiar, but what is it?  I know this, but I can't remember where from.  Is it... ?  No, that's not it."

He starts pacing back and forth, clicking his fingers and muttering furiously.  Eventually that stops too, and he falls into a sulky silence, glaring at the design on the floor.

"Perhaps we should throw a coin at it and see if anything happens." he finally suggests.

Still peering at the disturbing circle of sorcerous power Arkan states to the others in a low voice, "The symbols relate to traveling and portals to other places. The markings on the edges are used on objects to allow users to communicate over vast distances."

Shaking his head he looks the others in the eye and adds, "I do not know much else for sure. But possibly this...construct could lead us to the source of the ghoul infestation. Or allow us to communicate to it, somehow. But like Ozzy says perhaps we should test it first by tossing something into it."

"That one looks like a froggin' duck !"  Aarnr points triumphantly.  The priest has been staring intently at the runes for almost a few seconds before making his important discovery.

Everyone seems convinced that the mystic circle might allow travel, but seem too timid to even suggest what obviously needs be done, let alone risk such themselves.  Luckily Aarnr does not lack for courage.  Tact, personal hygiene, common sense, even, but not courage.

"Let us prise out the gleepin' clacker-clawed haggards an' show them their steamin', bat-foulin' entrails !" he says, almost poetically as he eagerly strides forward into the circle, his glowing axe raised ready to greet whatever he may befall.  "Come ye malmsy-nosed, mammerin' hordes of the nether hells !  Come an' be many times damned, ye quailin' pigeon-liver'd scuts !"

Eilieen studies...studies...perhaps studies too much, watching the circle.  She loses her awareness of the discussion around herself, only vaguely hearing the skirl of the voices in her ears.

Well, Aarnr's skirl.  Everyone else sounds like murmuring.

Then things come to a head, rapidly.  "Aarnr, NO!" she cries, lunging forward in an attempt to stop Bowbe's priest.  "That's a sign for Orcus!"  She doesn't bother pointing - instead, the frail priestess struggles to halt the big man's progress into the magical circle.

OOC - Going to actually make an attempt to stop Aarnr...which will prove ridiculous, given my stats and my normal rolls, but I have to try.

Colwyn is paying attention.  From the corner of his eye he catches sight of Aarnr striding forward, and his own reflexes cut in to handle the situation.  By the tim Eilieen attempts to stop the much larger priest, the rogue is almost out of the door...

Eilieen grabs at a bicep that's almost as big around as her waist, and Aarnr actually slows.  Then inertia wins the day, as Aarnr takes another step, and one foot touches the rune carved floor inside the circle.

For a moment which seems to last forever nothing happens.  Then for another moment.  And another... and then Aarnr takes another step.  Now he is fully within the circle, while Eilieen teeters on the brink.

Nothing continues to happen.

Colwyn stops in the doorway.

Aarnr frowns, looking down at the runes, pausing for but a moment before stamping his foot down hard.  "Nothin' froggin' happened !" he turns to complain, brow rising as he notices Eilieen clinging on to him.  "Perhaps we need a duck.  Any of ye got a duck ?"

"Fresh out," Erista says without hesitation.  "But that one," she points at another rune, that looks more like a butterfly, or perhaps a mask or a pair of women arguing, depending on your background, "I think is a scrying rune.  So they might be watching us.  And it might just only go one way, or they might have some way to control it from there, so they don't have to let us back through."  She grins up at Aarnr.  "It's probably not working because you're too scary," she explains.

"I think we should mess a couple of these up, and then go tell the Justicar what we found," she suggests.

"Oh, thank Zadastha," Eilieen gasps as Nothing Happens™.  Relief washes over her for a moment as she hangs off Aarnr's arm - a leaf on a tree limb, really - then the priestess pushes herself back and brushes off her clothing.  "A duck?  I..."  Nothing comes to mind, and she allows Erista to answer for her.

Erista, of course, does not disappoint.

A quick glance at the arguing women* and she frowns.  "Scrying.  Travelling.  Communication.  Orcus."  This said with a pointed finger at where the Arkan, Erista and she herself have indicated.  There's a long pause, and she heaves a sigh.  "Duck."  In before Aarnr complains.  Loudly.

"No need for a test now, Arkan."  A withering glance at Bowbe's priest follows.  "But I like your idea, Erista.  Ruin the circle, break the magic.  But not TOO enthusiastically," she hastens to add before anyone leaps forward.  "We want to examine the symbols later, determine their full purpose."

If possible.

* Temple background...
This message was last edited by the player at 17:42, Thu 31 Mar 2016.

The lack of ducks is disturbing, not only because Aarnr is now feeling a bit peckish himself, but the breaking of the circle does suggest other possibilities.

"The High Justicar seemed a bit on the decrepit side," the priest reminds Eilieen, while leaning down to stare closely at the runes, trying to spot the one that Zadastha's finest attributed to vile Orcus, thinking to destroy that one first.  "I doubt he could manage those stairs.  Wouldn't take much effort to prise these flags up so we could carry them back to show him."

Erista's point that the foe are watching  and listening is also a good one.  "Maybe we should back away and watch to see if anyone else comes through so we can fall upon them and slay them," he suggests with his usual volume.  "Or just break it and wait and see who comes down to fix it ?"  The prospect of the inside man is still an intriguing one.

Ozzy suddenly snaps his fingers.  "Magic!" he cries triumphantly, "I bet it needs magic to make it work, and if you don't know the right spell you can't make it do anything."

He leans closer to the design, squinting at it.  "Mind you, making it do something might not be a good idea.  What happens if we open it and Orcus himself comes through?  From the stories I've heard, we might not be able to deal with him yet."

Arkan was relieved nothing happened to Aarnr when he stepped into the circle. He listened carefully to the others, then nodded. "Yes, magic. The correct spell or ritual would be required to operate this construct. The cleric Erista and I killed probably had the spell memorized, or use a scroll to activate it before coming through. Or perhaps someone else activated it for him."

He stroked his chin then said, "I agree with Erista. Perhaps we should inform the Justicar and let them deal with it. Though maybe we should 'break' the construct, as Aarnr and Eileen say, just to ensure nothing else comes through while we go back up."

Colwyn pulls a roll of canvas, tied with a cord, from his pack.  It makes an uncharacteristically loud thump as he drops it on the floor.  "Got sumthin' 'ere what'll be doin' the trick." he announces, as he kneels down and starts untying the cord.

Then he spreads out the canvas to reveal a number of tools secured in loops and small pockets on the inside of the roll.  He selects a hammer and chisel from their places in the array of implements.

"'ere we is."

He runs a finger over the edge of the chisel and smiles.  "One of you priests wantin' ter be breakin' this 'ere circle of Orcus's?"

"OOO!  OOO!  ME!" Eilieen cries, leaping forward before stopping short and collecting herself.  Her hands brush down her dress, and she coughs quietly.  "Rather, I would certainly enjoy the honor of breaking this foulness' power, Sir Colwyn.  And...well reasoned, Oswald and Arkan."

Pausing, she cocks an eyebrow at Aarnr before heaving a sigh.  "I suppose...I suppose we might make it a group effort?  One to hold the chisel, the other to wield the hammer?  And to Colwyn the honor of the tools at use?"

Her fingers itching slightly, she studies the circle again, then points at the ancient sigil of Orcus.  "That might be an appropriate place to begin...but oh, it would be best to leave that for evidence.  Perhaps...Aarnr's duck requires a breaking."
This message was last edited by the player at 15:19, Tue 05 Apr 2016.

"Thou slew the unliving, thou have earned the right to bring ruin upon the plans of these hedge-pigs," Aarnr allows, even going so far as to step back outside the mystic circle, seeing as there's unfortunately no sign of further opportunites for such exertions.

"Though I would be most pleased if thou take thy hammer and chisel and froggin' despoil whichever of these scratching bears the mark of the hated demon !" the priest suggests, not unreasonably.

Colwyn hands the hammer and chisel to Eilieen, with a bow, and a small flourish.

"If it was me doin' it, I'd be chisellin' out Orcus, jus' so's I could be sayin' ter the next paladin what I were meetin' 'ow 'I were destroyin' Orcus.  Then I'd be doin' the duck, fer a laugh.  Maybe some others too, jus' ter be certain."

"An' maybe I'd be addin' somethin'... yer know... dirty or insultin'"

He thinks for a moment, then, "Only we's pushed fer time, so jus' be smashin' a few of them this time, an' think of summat ter add nex' time we's 'avin' the chance ter mess up a mark of evil."

Eilieen gingerly takes the tools, flushing slightly under the praise.  It's good to be wanted.  Well, she was wanted back at the temple, but here it's for what she has learned, and the power the goddess grants her.  "Very well," she agrees to the suggestions.  "I shall indeed begin with Orcus' vile symbol."  Her voice drops to a whisper.  "Thank you for this honor."

Thus saying, she kneels to set chisel to symbol.  There's a moment of scratching about as the priestess clumsily seeks a setting place, unfamiliar as she is with the tools.  Then she raises the hammer - not too high, it wouldn't do to miss - and begins the work.

"I shall...need to leave...the dirty and...insulting to you, Colwyn."  With that, she pauses to glance over her shoulder with a smile.  "My handwriting with these would be horrid."

Taken aback a bit by Eileen's enthusiasm, yet approving of it all the same, Arkan steps gingerly back from the circle in order to better allow the priestess to begin her work of destruction.

"Keep at it Eileen. We will keep a lookout just in case." Arkan encouraged the priestess, holding his sword over his shoulders and peering around as if he expects some ghoul to jump out of the shadows.

Handwriting.  The priest hadn't considered that there might be other forms of this mysterious thing called writing.  Footwriting perhaps ?  Nosewriting.  Aarnr shakes his head.  Just when he thinks he has an understanding of all the decadent ways of civilisation, some new and unnatural thing presents itself.

"Hit it harder," he helpfully suggests to Eilieen, though truth be told that is his answer to most problems.  "Imagine that the pox-ridden hell-lord is himself before ye."  Well, Aarnr would attack.  Most sane and rational persons would flee screaming.

Though he applauds Arkan's optimism, the priest fears that no matter how much noise they make there are no more filthy grave-risen creatures to re-inter.

"Ye think we should drag the corpse of that rank death-dabbler back to the knights ?" he ponders. "Both as proof of our prowess," he nods towards Arkan, acknowledging the young man's mighty victory, "and perhaps to unmask the one, or many, who fashioned this," he waves generally towards the circle.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:18, Sat 09 Apr 2016.

Eilieen starts work, using the hammer and chisel to mar the design on the floor.  As soon as she begins, the indistinct whispers that seem to emanate from the pattern change, becoming louder and more angry sounding.  The language is not known by anybody in the party, but the emotional content is unmistakable.

Whoever is speaking, and there seem to be a number of different voices, all sound enraged by her actions.

Then, at the point when the sigil that represents Orcus is all but gone, the voices stop suddenly, leaving the chamber in silence, except for the continuing noise of Eilieen'z vandalism.

Eventually she stands and brushes dust off her knees.

Colwyn takes his tools and replaces them in the correct places before rolling up his strip of canvas and starting to fasten the cord with a complicated knot.

Colwyn finishes tying his bundle of tools, and casts a critical eye over the now silent circle.

"Bloody good job." he congratulates Eilieen.  "Now we's only 'avin' ter be tellin' the Justicars as 'ow they's 'avin' a bleedin' traitor 'idin' among them.  That'll be int'restin'."

Arkan attempted to decipher the whispering as it grew louder, yet remained maddeningly out of focus as Eileen made quick work of the vile symbol of evil magic.

When her work is finished he nods approvingly, then is still when he hears what Colwyn says. "Do you really think so? Perhaps the enemy simply tunneled their way through, then crafted this construct to bring more of them here by way of a portal between distant places."

Shaking his head Arkan gently placed the tip of his unique sword onto the floor before him and held it upright with both gloved hands grasping the hilt as he talked.
"Paladin's, have the ability to see into the hearts of others, even their souls it is said.It would be near impossible for a traitor to hide in their very midst."

"There!"  Highly pleased - and straining to restrain blowing a raspberry at the dissipating whispers - Eilieen relinquishes the tools.  "Fine advice, Aarnr - hitting harder seemed to do the trick!"  Dusting off her knees, she watches Colwyn put the tools away (she might need them again in the future), the priestess nods agreement with both Colwyn and Aarnr.

"There are methods to hide one's true allegiance," she muses.  "Arkan, perhaps you know of some, being wise in the ways of sorcery.  Even divine prayers can obfuscate the truth of the matter, and certainly so for an agent of evil.  It is well-possible there lurks a traitor within the bosom of the knights."

There's a pause as she awaits the usual misunderstanding, then the priestess continues.  "My thanks, friends, for giving me this opportunity.  And for warding me as I did - evil has a way of popping up when its plans are to be disrupted.  Bring a ghoul?  Most assuredly - drop it at the feet of the knights, if necessary.  Explain the presence of a traitor?"

Her eyes narrow slightly, and she touches Colwyn on the shoulder in agreement.  "Int'restin' is one way of putting it.  I am most curious to hear their reaction.  Denial?  Witch-hunt?  Who can say?"

Aarnr shakes his head.  "The ghouls they already know of.  I could pile the corpses of those grave-touched fiends to the very roof of their hall and it would not surprise them."

"I will bring them the cloven-headed corpse of the rancid sewer-scum that Arkan slew.  Then the gorbellied traitor will quake and quail and so reveal himself !"

"I bet that that actually would," Erista says, on the topic of whether Aarnr coming up and piling ghouls to their ceiling would be a surprising thing or not.  She follows this thought with a shrug.  "I don't really know a lot about paladins, but it's always kind of been my impression that they do have to look, to see into your soul.  Maybe if we tell the high Justicar that he needs to look everyone over, that'll be all he needs."

The party leave the now broken design and start back through the crypt to report to the Justicars.  When they reach the foot of the stairs leading back up to the knights' hall, they find the Justicars who had been left there on guard, and a pair of dead ghouls.

"They came through there moments ago," explains one of the knights, indicating the entrance to the Room of Swords, "and tried to escape up the stairs.  And yes, I mean that they were trying to flee - they seemed to have little interest in fighting us.  We game them no choice in the matter, and no quarter."

The man shrugs, "Even when we blocked their escape, they made no real effort to force their way past us.  They seemed... listless."

Arkan nods in greeting to the Justicar's as they return to the foot of the stairs leading to the entryway to the knight's hall, and glances trepidly at the dead ghouls.

"Yes, that would be because we slew their leader, and scattered what remained of their forces in the area." Arkan replies to the knight solemnly.

He makes no mention of there possibly being a traitor in the midst of the Justicar's for now, but instead studies the faces of the knight's present, trying to gauge their reactions at the news.

Gesturing back the way they came Arkan adds, "We also destroyed a portal they used for transporting their forces here, or at least what we assume it was for."

That this pair slew ghouls is enough for Aarnr to accept they are innocent of opening the dark portal.  "This was the sheep-bitin', fen-sucked whoreson that led them," he smites the leg of the corpse over his shoulder.  "His presence befouled the resting place of thy glorious dead.  Would thou direct me to the midden heap that I may fling the toad-spotted villain upon it ?"

The sentries seem delighted at the news, at first, "This is indeed glad tidings - this vermin has been driven from our crypts, and their leader slain.  Long shall your deed be spoken of among our brothers and sisters in arms."

The mention of a portal, though, seems to dampen their spirits somewhat.  "They came in through a portal you say?  What was the nature of this aperture?  You should speak to the High Justicar at once, lest the opening still presents a danger."

The two knights stand aside, giving the party access to the stairs.

Eilieen lets the others take the fore with this discussion; their versions of the group's exploits are considerably more colourful than her own.  'We killed them again' can only take someone so far, and Oswald would no-doubt be disgusted with her brevity.  Arkan and Aarnr do a much better job.

But now...  "The High Justicar should come here," she stresses.  "He needs to see this himself.  Immediately."  There's a frisson of doubt in her, a concern that if they leave this place to speak with him, when they return the portal will have disappeared.

Or been made to disappear.

The sentry who has been doing the talking nods at Eilieen's suggestion.

"An excellent idea.  Best if you wait down here in case more ghouls survive yet, and attempt to escape into the city.  I'll wait with you, and Arvus here will go to fetch the High Justicar."

Arvus is younger than the other knight, and looks distinctly relieved as he turns to trot up the stairs...

The remaining Justicar looks at the corpse.  "Priest of Orcus?  His gear has that look about it.  And here... " and he uses the tip of his sword to drag a black iron medallion out from under the corpse's armour, being none-too-careful about how he does it, "... the sign of Orcus."

Aarnr's eyes narrow as the sword comes towards him ... but is perfectly happy for the Knight to stab the necromancer's corpse, and might even have joined in if he wasn't carrying the hedge-pig.

"The bat-fowlin', malmsy-nosed foot-licker seemed to have set the wart-necked grave-born to searchin' for somethin',"  the priest explains clearly and concisely.  "The fobbers weren't that interested in the bodies down there.  Do ye know what they'd have been lookin' for ?"

Eilieen studies the symbol, her expression similar to the time the group stopped at an inn and she found a slug in her salad.  "Zadastha avert," she mutters, touching her holy symbol.  "As Aarnr said, a priest.  He gave us some difficulty, even conjuring up a fiery spirit, but Arkan put paid to his misdeeds."

There's a small pause.

"With his sword," Zadastha's priestess helpfully clarifies.  Bending slightly, she studies the unholy medallion up close.  "I wonder what other secrets this body hides," she muses.  "Certainly his power was considerable.  Insufficient," she - again - clarifies, "but considerable."

Turning back, she faces into the crypt area and grounds her spear, content to allow the others the discussion with the knight.  For herself, she will take the man's suggestion and stand ready for any further appearance of undead.  Zadastha's power still courses within her, a slow, deep heartbeat pushing warmth through her body.

Any ghouls who creep into view will find that warm pulse become a pyroclastic flow.

"Searching you say?" the Justicar ponders for a few moments, "Many of our fellows have been interred with personal belongings, some of them valuable, so it could be one of those.  But beyond that I can't say.  Perhaps the High Justicar will be better able to tell you."

"As for this son of a diseased cur...  I am not surprised that he had power.  He was, after all, entrusted with a mission into the crypt below a stronghold of Muir."

"The lady is too humble, without her potent abilities we would not have survived." Arkan says, gesturing at Eileen with a smile.

As the Justicar prods the dead cleric's unholy symbol, Arkan looks at it, a dark shadow coming over his face. "Orcus...even in old Raumathar we have heard of the name. Our ancient foes, the daemonologists of the cursed empire of Narfell consorted with Orcus and his ilk, conjuring foul things from the hells with the dark bargains they made with the so called prince of daemons."

Turning his head he spits upon the corpse, a gesture rather unlike him. But it shows the hatred that boils up within as old memories and teachings are remembered. It is not altogether surprising to hear the name or come across his servant, Arkan knows Rappan Athuk served as a bastion to the foul cult of Orcus in these lands in ages long past. It would make sense some power beholden to the demon prince would yet remain in the blasted ruins; no what is disturbing is to find tendrils of the evil reaching all the way here, to Bard's Gate.

"Tell me sir Justicar, have you had any dealings with Orcus's servants before? Say, in recent times?" he queries the warrior before him.

The Justicar shakes his head.  "There have been no servants of Orcus in Bard's Gate, as far as I know, since their vile cult was driven out of Tsar centuries ago, and their hold in the lands between the Forest Kingdoms and the Inland Sea was broken.  This order of Justicars was founded to protect Bard's Gate, should the foulness of the demon lord return.  To be honest, though, most of our time, over the years, has been spent north of the city, watching for orcs and their kin crawling down from the Stoneheart Mountains."

"Over the long years a number of us have been moved to travel east, to the Dungeon of Graves itself.  None of them ever returned, and no word of their fate ever reached this hall."

The knight sighs, "If there has been a priest of Orcus here, then perhaps the cult is rising again on the shores of the Great Sea.  Dark times may soon be upon us."

After inclining her head to Arkan's kind words, Eilieen actually breaks into a small golf-clap as the mage spits on the priest's corpse, managing somehow to keep from hopping in place like an excited girl.  But she grows more solemn as the Justicar explains the history and current situation.  "The Dungeon of Graves.  Well.  Perhaps we shall learn of their fate, ourselves."

Perhaps through experience; an ominous thought.

"An' some small-codded toad-knocking pudder helped him !" Aarnr growls angrily, trying not to let the news of a chance to split further pates cheer him up unduly.  "That portal didn't froggin' make itself !"  Or so he's been told.

"Portal?  Where is this portal?" the High Justicar comes down the stairs, looking less than happy, "Arvus has told me that you reported finding one, but he could not provide further details."

"Take me to it.  I would see this thing with my own eyes."

Colwyn finds the lack of gratitude disconcerting, and makes sure that he remarks on it, a little sourly, "We was killin' all them there ghouls as well."

"Indeed.  I expected no less from those who had, so recently, slain a giant.  We do appreciate your efforts in defeating the undead, but their source is also of vital importance."

Arkan too finds the High Justicar's lack of social graces a bit off-putting, but he brushes aside his concerns; the High Justicar is likely rightfully worried about the possibility of another assault from within the sanctuary of the Justicars, and this time by an entire army of Orcus's foul minions.

"No doubt, if they were not looking for any relic or other item of importance, this does appear to be a scouting sortie. Though it could have been both I suppose." Arkan muses, stroking his chin as he peers at the High Justicar.

Gesturing back the way they came he adds, "We can take you to the sight of the portal, or what remains of it Sir Justicar. Lady Eileen here has made sure there will be no other foul servants of the demon prince transporting themselves here by occult means."

"Excellent!" the High Justicar proclaims, "Take me to it, by all means."

The group start to escort the knight through the crypt, and as they walk Colwyn edges closer to him and explains to him, "We were thinkin' as 'ow it might be somethin' in the way of a inside job, so ter be speakin'"  The rogue's hand, quite by coincidence, rests casually upon the hilt of his knife.

"An inside job?  I am not familiar with that term... "

"It's meanin' as one of yer own people's been makin' a way in fer the ghouls."

And at that moment they enter the chapel, with the portal carved into the floor.  The High Justicar studies the symbol, and his face twists into a tight lipped smile.  "Not one of us, I think.  One of the masons that were hired to work on expanding the chapel."

Eilieen studies the High Cleric somewhat skeptically for a long moment, then sighs.  "I suppose that makes more sense.  I have no idea if this is a...professional job or not, but if it is cleanly cut, it follows a mason did it rather than a knight moonlighting as a sculptor."

And here she had been hoping to discover a traitor, perhaps begin an inquisition...an image of her at the forefront, decked out in samite, her faithful houndsfellow party members ready to pounce upon the heretics...

"...shall love me and despair..." the Priestess mumbles, her eyes glazed, before shaking her head to clear it of the unpleasantly attractive vision.  "Rather, where are these masons now?  And can you tell us aught further about this abomination, my lord?"

In complete contrast, which is just his way, Aarnr is quite happy with the High Justicar's explanation for it means that the Knights, from whose stock doughty Sir Galdean sprung are not the whey-faced, false-hearted, nuthooks that paved the way for the necromancer's entrance.

Besides which, stonemasons were always a bit suspect, being entirely responsible for towns and cities amongst other less obvious travesties, and could probably do with a good culling to keep them on the straight and narrow.

Eilieen's considerations rather surprisingly lead to the priest giving some thought to the matter himself. "Thou don't think this is the first of these gods-blighted portals the dismal-dreamin' sheep-bitin' hedgepigs have froggin made ?" he seeks some clarification.

Colwyn winces.  Masons.

"Masons's like as not rollin' in gold, an' 'avin' a strong guild.  An' if'n yer wantin' them ter do any work fer yer in future, then yer doesn't want ter be upsettin' them, on account of 'ow they'll still be doin' the work fer yer, but they'll be chargin' a arm an' both legs ter be doin' it, an' probably yer ears as well."

The High Justicar nods at Colwyn's assessment, "Yes, that's correct.  We spoke to the Masons' Guild, who arranged for us to meet several of their members to discuss the work that was needed, and the price.  We contracted with one, a man named Feldon, and he arranged for the workers to come and do the job.  From their accents I would say that most of them were from Derindin, which I suppose is why Feldo was able to charge us less than his competitors."

Erista nods knowingly. "You get that sort of thing, hiring the lowest bidder," she advises. Then, in a fit of honesty, allows, "I mean, I haven't heard of a lot of infernal portal borne ghoul infestations, per se, but my cousin Lindsey said their cellar washed out the very next rain and she won't be paying Uncle Theo anytime soon."

With a small sigh, she goes on, "Of course, Uncle Theo says he told her it was the wrong side of the hill before they started, and now he won't come to anything if Lindsey's invited too...". Pausing, she realizes this is perhaps a bit off topic.  "So, you know, it can lead to all kinds of problems. Honestly, you're lucky you just got ghouls."

Regarding Erista with a serious expression, the knight says, "You are right, of course.  A more powerful cultist could have summoned more fell creatures to swarm through the hall.  Fortunately this vile symbol has been marred, and in my experience, it will be difficult to repair.  Especially now that we know of this little trick, and can be prepared for it."

"If we have artisans working on the premises in future, I shall order regular inspections of their work, and guards stationed near them at all times."

Ozzy's face lifts to look at the High Justicar.  "This Feldon.  Does he live here, in Bard's Gate?"

"Yes.  Yes, he does." the High Justicar of Muir responds with a nod.  "When we spoke to him, it was at his home, on Kinemarket Lane, near the East Gate.  Nice chap.  Offered us tea and everything.  Perhaps your party should speak to him?  It could, of course, be pure chance that his workers infested our crypt with undead, or it could be that Feldon put them up to it, so to speak."

Standing with folded arms near the others Arkan listens intently to all the High Justicar had to say about the masons. He is relieved none of the Justicars themselves are involved, otherwise things would have become rather messy.

"Yes, for a Justicar or any member of the Order of Muir to go and arrest a mason could result in problems down the line, especially if you want any more work done. We can pay this Feldon a surprise visit, and see what he has to say." Arkan says, glancing at the ruined circle of dark magic.

Stroking his chin with a hand he turns his head to regard the High Justicar and asks, "What if we find evidence this Feldon was involved? If we end up in a fight and are unable to take him alive, we could be arrested by the Bard's Gate militia."

Aarnr likes the way this is going, but before he can vow to deliver the severed head of this Feldon to the High Justicar personally, Arkan raises a perplexing objection.

"The authorities of this toad-infested, fen-sucked cesspit would take against us when we slay the snake in their midst ?"  He should be shocked, but this merely confirms his already very low opinion of guards and city-folk in general.

"If the pig-nuts are in league with the craven-crawlin', bat-fowlin' bladders, then they shall suffer the same fate !"  The priest states firmly.

"The Order stands in good stead in Bard's Gate, for we have done much to defend its citizens, and at great cost to ourselves." the High Justicar says, waving an arm in the general direction of the various chambers of the crypt.

"Many of the guilds would support us, and you, in whatever action was taken against Feldon, as long as there is evidence of his collusion with the followers of a demon god.  Under those circumstances, he would immediately be declared a traitor to the city, and condemned to death.  Demon worship is not tolerated here.  Indeed, a goodly number of the masons would likely not object to his death or arrest, what with Feldon being in direct competition with them for work."

"And if you have evidence, then the city guard will simply take you in for questioning.  At that point you could present the evidence to them, and they would examine it for themselves and you would be vindicated."

Arkan nods at the High Justicar's words, replying, "Evidence there is enough as you have seen with thine own eyes. Aside from the circle of dark magick here there is also the corpse of a priest of the daemon lord with the vile symbol of the cult still around it's neck. Then of-course we will also have the support and word of the order of Justicars itself yes?"

Hearing Aarnr speak with his traditional gusto Arkan quickly adds, "Forgive my easy to anger friend here. He would never harm an innocent denizen of the city, but his rage comes in mighty handy when dealing with evil doers."

At least that is what Arkan hopes is true; may they never have to put that theory to the test!

Evidence.  That's a tricky one.  Somehow that never came up during the conversations he had with the slave that taught him the common tongue.  Though to be fair, those discussions were liberally punctuated with swearing, shouting and a modicum of violence.  Learning a new language was very frustrating.  But at least now Aarnr was completely confident he'd mastered the volcanoes.

"Wouldn't a severed head be considered froggin' evidence ?" the priest inquires of Eilieen in an uncharacteristically low tone, glaring at anyone who looks as if they might be listening in.

Zadastha's priestess pats Erista's shoulder at the sad tale of her uncle's cellar.  "Family business.  Always a problem," she murmurs.  The priestess purses her lips, pausing.  "But good that no ghouls were involved," she quietly finishes as the Justicar continues.

Demon worship not tolerated here?  Demon worshippers condemned to death?  Eilieen fights the urge to clap her hands together and do a little dance on the spot, instead opting for a solemn nod.  It's not easy, but she manages despite the faint glitter in her eyes.

Arkan, fortunately, is on his toes (thus far, when has he not been?) and manages to smooth over any of Aarnr's faux pas.  Eilieen isn't in the mood for such, as at the moment she's at least in partial agreement with Aarnr.  It won't last, but will probably occur again...at times the two feel like a pair of swinging coconuts: sometimes they smack into each other with a violent crack, sometimes they travel in tandem.

And now, as their mage continues with the diplomacy, Bowbe's priest seeks guidance.  "Hm, no."  As much as she would like to agree (assuming Feldon is guilty of demon worship), in this case clarity is needed.  Quietly.  "Some kind of other proof - things about his house pointing to demon worship, a secret temple dug into his cellar, an unholy symbol hidden under his shirt or the like - will be necessary."  The Zadasthan raises her hand.  "I know, I know.  If he's a demon worshipper, such things are of less import than simply..."  For a long moment she studies Aarnr, then shrugs, unable to actually argue in this circumstance.  "...removing his head and waving it about like a banner as warning for people with similarly moronic ideas.  But for the lawkeepers of the city, we need to prove we didn't kill him for no reason."

Eilieen's explanation might beggar belief to one from the fens, but seems very much in keeping with his low opinion of civil authorities everywhere.  Nor is it any more likely that, as the High Justicar suggests, Aarnr would ever be helping the guard with their inquiries.

So, temples, symbols, demonic paraphernalia, possession of chisels that might be used to carve Dark Portals ... the priest reluctantly nods his acquiescence.

"Thou can find this hell-hated gorger's place of abode ?" he asks Colwyn hopefully.