<Here is the thread for continuing Tier 4.>

Plathstream starts moving in, tapping on squares 4' in front of him as he moves. He tries heading slowly to the east to see what lies that way...

Going to test the squares along the perimeter of the room and then into the room. We're not in a hurry :-)

Silverglade will let Plathstream go first. No point in all of us getting caught in a trap.

Albricht stood back, allowing the nimble elf to advance. He scratched at his sun-bleached whiskers and eyed the architecture of the hall for some clue of any possible danger. His eyes, though lazy and often at odds with each other as to which direction they should be tracking, were sharp when it came to stonework... even the oddities of this pyramid.

OOC: Using special dwarf-powers of underground observation for pits and smashing walls and whatnots...

Over the course of the next hour, Plathstream and Albricht identify four separate floor tiles that appear to move a bit, all in a downward direction.  Through careful testing, they manage to map out a course for the party to travel from one side of the room to the other, without stepping on any of these suspicious tiles.

Often eccentric and even odd at times, Albricht proved to be highly competent and insightful when it counted. He stayed out of Plathstream's way and offered his expert advice in a constructive way. That the hall was so carefully trapped was of some concern to the shriveled old water-finder. But... he was convinced that risk begat treasure!

"Careful then lads," he grunted while pointing out the spots to avoid as he made his way to the end of the hall. Once past the traps, he continued to assist the tall elf in searching for other obstacles... and treasure!

"Nice work there", Sherborne adds as he carefully follows the path being pointed out.

Vsaati follows the path, avoiding the suspicious squares.

The eastern end of the room appears to have been closed off by large blocks of stone, quite unlike the walls throughout the rest of the room.  One of the stones is lifted about two feet above the floor, providing a space through which the party could proceed, although some might need to do so on their bellies.  Light shined through the opening reveals another space or room about ten feet beyond, and the map corroborates this.

Plathstream searches the area around the block of stone, seeing if there is anything that indicates a trip-wire or a mechanism that could cause the stone block to drop while crawling under it.

Plathstream spends some time searching, but finds no such thing.

Roak sighs. "Looks like a job for the halfling."

With a dagger in hand, Roak drops down and starts crawling through. He taps the ground in front of him, just in case, as he heads to the other side.

Albricht checked the surrounding rock, and searched for a broken fragment that he could knap with his warhammer to create a few stone wedges. He forwarded those to the halfling with a bit of instruction.  "Here lad, tap these into the cracks as you go. We don't need that rock to fall and separate us." He watched carefully to make sure Roak didn't kick something loose and collapse the stones upon him.

Roak looks at the wedges suspiciously but then shrugs and takes them, putting them on the floor as instructed at regular intervals.

While Roak constantly has the sense that the block might fall and crush him, it does not such thing.  He soon finds himself on the other side of the block, in what appears to be a continuation of the checkerboard-floored room, but after 10 to 15 feet, it is choked off with somewhat loosely-piled rubble.  Shining his light around, the pile reaches all of the way to the ceiling, but looks to be at its thinnest there.

Roak bends down and shouts to the others. "Seems safe. You can come through. More checkerboard tiles, though."

He continues to test the tiles as the others had before, tapping on them before stepping on them, getting far enough to let the others through.

Albricht sighed.

With a surprising limberness for one nearly as old as the desert itself, the old water-finder wriggled his way through the opening, pausing along the way to pick up the wedges Roak had mistakenly dropped to the floor. He tapped them into the cracks overhead, where the danger of more rocks falling was the obvious threat. Finally he emerged, grumbling and brushing himself off.

"I wonder what caused these to fall... Maybe we're not the first to venture in here?"

Muttering something about being too well born to crawl about like this, Silverglade follows to the next room.

Sherborne waits his turn and tries to crawl under after Silverglade, assuming he makes it.

Plathstream, for once, is the last to follow, ensuring that the others get through.

Roak continues to test the floor tiles in this much smaller section, but does not come up with others that seem to move.  The remainder of the parts makes its way into this space, choked with rubble on one end, with Plathstream bringing up the rear.

Are there any exits except the one choked with rubble? We search for secret doors.

Plathstream and the rest of the group search for secret doors, but don't find any.  It would appear that the only exit is filled with rubble, although they do find a small spot up near the top of the rubble pile that seems to provide access to a space beyond.

Roak, being light-weight, tries to climb up the pile a bit to see if he can see over.

Plathstream stands by the pile, great-sword drawn, ready to attack anything that might be lurking in the pile, just in case.

Albricht shuffled nervously about. "Seems obvious that these were traps of some fashion, and have either been set off or simply failed over time. Obviously not of dwarven quality..."

He carefully examined the exit point as Roak prepared to wriggle through, suspecting that there might be more rockfalls ahead.

Roak climbs up to look, and finds that he has a thorough impression of a space beyond the small hole, but also that it will require rather a lot of work to remove enough of the rubble to admit a body even as small as his.  He estimates that it will take 10 or twenty minutes of the entire party's work to clear enough of the rubble for the entire party to make it through into the space beyond.

Albricht set his warhammer and shield aside, rolled up the sleeves of the tattered robes that covered his chainmail, and began to heft rubble out of the way.

"The trick is..." he said with a grunt, "is not to sweat. Work steady, lift efficiently and ye'll not lose too much water." He lectured the others and gave tips and techniques on how to move the stone without over exerting themselves.

"Before the Great Fires, the dwarves of the desert... well, it wasn't desert back then. We were forced below ground to survive, and that's when we learned the importance of water. The green things never returned up there. Oh sure, there's a few places where water comes to the surface or collects when a rare rain comes through, but there's a sea of sand up there that used to be somewhat desolate, but at least produced life."

"Downward we delved lads, deeper and deeper, chasing the path of water. Where there was water, there was life... mushrooms, creatures, moss and the like... enough to live on, and for us to survive. Over time we grew shorter, better able to navigate small tunnels, our eyes adapted to see in darkness, and we learned to work the stone, the bones of the earth as we call it. A few clans remained near the surface, and we even ventured out to try and develop oases. The search for water has become more important than the search for gold and silver and precious gems."

And so it went while he worked, sharing the somewhat warped history as his sun-addled mind remembered it, but he spoke of it all in a way which seemed to indicate he'd been there... which to the long-lived elves seemed impossible of course, but it did make one wonder...

Vsaati regularly looks over her shoulder, making sure nothing can sneak up on them.

Sherborne moves to help with the removal.  While it was hard work he found a little solace and distraction in listening to the stories as told by the Dwarf.

Silverglade lends a hand, but makes sure that everyone knows that physical work is beneath him.

In the end, the rubble pile was larger than original estimates indicated, and almost half of an hour is required to create a hole wide enough for all of the party members to easily get through.

Once through, the room continues for another ten feet on the other side of the pile, then a narrow passage in the far wall appears, about two-and-a-half feet wide.  It looks to be wide enough to pass through, but definitely not wide enough to swing a sword in, and it turns to the right after several feet.

Silverglade draws his sword and holds it ready to stab, then pushes onwards.

Silverglade finds that the passage twists and turns, and eventually opens back out into an area ten feet wide and five feet deep, with a door at its end, which is closed. If anything, this area is even more dry than the rest of the pyramid.

Albricht edged through, keeping an eye out for places to pound in his stone wedges in order to keep the heavy stone from moving. He waited for the others and while he did, be began to examine the room they were in. He suspected another rockfall trap or some other sort of nastiness near the door. It was obvious that this hall hadn't been meant for frequent daily traffic.

Silverglade listens at the door.

Suspicious of everything here, as it was quite obvious that it had not been made by dwarven hands, Albricht finds several places that he feels the stone wedges will do some good.

Silerglade listens at the door, but can hear nothing from beyond it.  This might be at least partially due to the sound of Albricht hammering in stone wedges here and there.

Once Silverglade gives an all-clear, Plathstream opens the door!

Silverglade shortly indicates that he can hear nothing from beyond the door, and Plathstream opens it to reveal a room containing two sarcophagi.  Both gleam with golden highlights.  One sarcophagus is marked, "Alexander," and the other is marked, "Zenobia."  Surrounding the sarcophagi are a number of large wooden chests.  The room is littered with broken objects:  two smashed thrones, a broken chariot, smashed pottery, broken weapons, and torn clothing.  Piles of bones cover the floor.  On the walls is a mosaic showing famous events from the reign of King Alexander and Queen Zenobia.

Sherborne takes a peak into the room after it's opened.  "I wonder if their kingdom was only in this pyramid or if at one time this wasn't a desert and there was more to it."

"Wasn't always a desert. The Great Fires came through and burned so hot and so fast that it scorched the earth. Turned into a desert soon after. Gotta say, it used to be a lot prettier back then," Albricht explained absently as he eased into the room. Kings and Queens meant treasure... He looked around, but let Roak do his job, for surely if there was treasure here, there would be more traps!

The dwarf knelt to examine the piles of bones.

OOC: Can he tell what sort of bones these are? Animal? Humanoid? Were they graverobbers perhaps or maybe workmen who were walled in? Creepy!

Roak looks at Albricht. "How is this my job? Everyone looks at the halfling and says, 'hey, he's short, why don't you let him poke his nose in dangerous places?' Harrumph. I think I'm standing guard by the door."

Plathstream smirks and then moves over to the sarcophagus of Alexander. "Sherborne, prepare to strike anything that attacks me if it springs from the sarcophagus."

Silverglade examines the mosaic, looking for any clues about this place, while waiting for the thief to check the sarcophagi and crates for traps.

Sherborne readies his hammer and his holy symbol in case something jumps out at them.

Albricht's examination of the bones shows that they seem to be human.  They're too long to be dwarf of halfling bones, and not slender enough to be elf bones.  Another look around yields some cat bones (small cats and some very large ones), plus bones of a few larger four-legged creatures (some with solid hooves, and some with split hooves).

Silverglade examines the mosaics and finds images of Alexander and Zenobia holding court in some fairly large building, people dressed in loin cloths and/or short white kilts working in green fields, one army destroying another in a place with palm trees and multi-colored birds, Zenobia and Alexander standing before statues of the three deities already encountered, and so on.

"It's Hrrrumph lad, emphasis on the 'rrr'. You just said you have a toothache in your tailbone." Albricht let the touchy little halfling have his way, content that he'd been able to correct Roak's attempt at a dwarven idiom, as butchered as it had been.

Using his warhammer, Albricht pushed through the bones a bit, scattering them and supposing that it might create difficulty for a necromatic entity to arise if its parts were strewn about.

"Buried with his critters and farmhands it appears. I wonder if they were dead first," the dwarf observed with a gruesome expression.

"Well, I guess that leaves only one thing then Plathstream, pop'it open and let's see what loot ye've discovered!"

Plathstream nods and opens Alexander's sarcophagus.

The lid of the sarcophagus comes open surprisingly easily, and turns out to be nothing other than wood painted to look like gold.  Inside, Plathstream finds the mummified body of what appears to be a human, crowned and robed, although the crown is fairly obvious as a fake.

Glancing about the room, both Albricht and Vsaati are also noticing that the supposed riches here are fakes: gold and silver painted coins, paste gems, and so on.

Plathstream points out the fake gold to everyone in the party, then goes about opening the other sarcophagus belonging to "Zenobia."

Silverglade investigates the crates around the sarcophagi.

"hmmm, fake gold?  Makes one wonder if this is a ruse to fool would be thieves? Seems like a lot of trouble otherwise." Sherborne keeps an eye on the remains just in case they do animate.

Plathstream finds another mummified human in the second sarcophagus, similarly adorned, cheaply, and unmoving.  Silverglade finds that all of the supposedly expensive or precious objects in the crates and chests are fakes or cheap knock-offs.

Albricht stomped and fumed. "Fakes. Fakes! FAKES?" To a dwarf, metals were nigh sacred, like the heart of a ripened fruit the stones bore up their precious ore. The old water-finder kicked at the sarcophagus lid.

"Well that was a disappointment!" He snarled. "HRRRUMPH!"

Then he suddenly paused. Bending over at the waist, he peered to see if there might be a crack or crevice beneath.

"Stand back lads!" he puffed. And then he started to heave at the box. "Lets. Have a... Look. Beneath...!"

The weight of the old, dry wood and the desiccated body inside prove no match for the dwarf's ire as he grabs the sarcophagus and flips it like an angry gamer at a dinner table.

Sadly, there is nothing of apparent value below it.
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:55, Thu 16 Mar 2017.

Plathstream gently moves the other sarcophagus out of the way as well and otherwise thoroughly searches the area.

If he finds nothing, he turns to the others. "Thoroughly search the perimeter for other exits or secrets."

Plathstream also finds nothing under the other sarcophagus.  A search of the perimeter of the room turns up the two secret doors noted on the map that the party already has, one to the north, and one to the south.

Silverglade will listen at the southern secret door.

Silverglade listens carefully, but hears nothing.

Silverglade walks across the room and listens at the north door.

Plathstream waits to hear what Silverglade can sense at the northern door.

Much like the southern door, Silverglade hears nothing from beyond the northern door.

"North it is then," says Silverglade, opening that door.

Plathstream nods, drawing his blade and moving up to see what is beyond the door with Silverglade.

Silverglade opens the secret door to reveal a passage that goes 20 feet to the north, then turns to the left.  After taking appropriate precautions and moving up, it can be seen that the passage travels another 40 feet, then ends.  At the end of the passage, there is a door on the left.

Sherborne follows along weapon at the ready.

Albricht made his way forward, doing his best to note anything that would indicate a collapsing floor or a rockfall in the ceiling. He didn't expect that there wouldn't be more traps, since someone went to a lot of trouble to create them in the hall leading to this hidden location.

"Careful lads..." he uttered quietly. He glanced back the way they'd come to make sure their escape wasn't being closed. With a chill running down his spine, he decided to wedge the door to the room with the sarcophagi, just to make sure it couldn't slam shut behind them.

Plathstream walks down the hall, tapping the floor carefully with his greatsword as he walks, until the party reaches the far door, where he listens at it.

Were it not so deadly serious, some of the party members might find Plathstreams's tapping everywhere as he walked somewhat amusingly similar to the movements of a hunched-over, old, blind human.  The hush of the sepulcher is only broken by the faintly metallic tapping, leather on stone scuffing, and the quiet rasp of Albricht's voice.  No further traps are found as the party approaches the door after the turn.

Plathstream listens at the door...

...but hears nothing.

Plathstream then opens the door!

The door opens to reveal a room that is 30 feet by 30 feet, with a 10 foot by 10 foot protrusion in the southeast corner.  The walls of this room are plain stone.  An oblong box mad from stone slabs lies in the center of the room.  Written in several languages on the side of the box are the words "May the curse of darkness destroy all who dare desecrate my resting place."  The box is 3 feet high, 7 feet long, and 3 feet wide.

"Uh, I wouldn't be too confident in my skills to push whatever this is away.  On the one hand, facing dangers has it's rewards.  But that reward might be a lovely trip up the rainbow bridge to Valhalla."  Sherborne muses about it while subconsciously thumbing his holy symbol.

Silverglade fishes around in his backpack for a while, before dragging out a vial of water. "Couldn't we just peek in there?" he asks.

While the others considered the stone box, Albricht carefully examined the protrusion into the room. Fearing there may be some sort of trigger between the opening of the lid and whatever the anomalous architecture concealed, he gave it a thorough going-over.

OOC: Checking for a sliding wall or unexplained cracks, crevices, etc.

Plathstream stands back, waiting to see what Albricht turns up from his inquiry.

Albricht's search yields no hidden, concealed, sliding, or otherwise moving parts of that section of the room.

Plathstream approaches the oblong box, examining it for traps, catches or the like. If he finds nothing, he opens it.

Plathstream finds nothing that looks like a trap on the stone box, pushes the lid aside, and reveals a wooden sarcophagus inside, which is quite plain, and has deep scratches on the edges of the lid.

Plathstream waves the others over. "Prepare to attack anything that leaps out of that box," he says.

Then, when the others are in place, his own sword in his left hand, he opens the box with his right.

Roak, for his part, gets his dagger ready to throw...

Sherborne steps back a little with his sling and also ready to drop that in case his holy symbol becomes relevant.

Albricht was about to examine the claw marks when Plathstream decided to open the box! Stepping back, the dwarf raised his crossbow to the ready, moving a bit to his left in order to not put the impulsive elf in the crossfire. He sighted down the bolt and steeled himself for another of the giant rodents they'd fought in a similar situation.

Plathstream finishes moving the lid of the sarcophagus aside, and quickly finds that he is aided in this from something inside of it.  A wasted form, with a crown on its head, long and gnarled hair, and the shreds of what was likely once a rich robe still clinging limply to its near-skeletal body, rises from the box.  Her hands are clawed, her eyes dead, and her shriek inhuman.  She immediately moves to attack.

17:56, Today: Dungeon Master rolled 6 using 1d6.  Player's Initiative.
17:56, Today: Dungeon Master rolled 5 using 1d6.  Monsters' Initiative.

<Kill it quick, guys.>

Plathstream's swing is a bit off-balance...

Hit AC 8 for 11 damage.
21:45, Today: Plathstream rolled 11 using 1d10+1.  Damage just in case.
21:45, Today: Plathstream rolled 11 using 1d20+1.  Slash the thing.

Roak lets fly with a dagger...

Hit AC 4 for 3 damage.
21:47, Today: Roak The Quick rolled 3 using 1d4+1.  Damage.
21:47, Today: Roak The Quick rolled 15 using 1d20+2.  Throw at thing.

Sherborne lets the stone fly.

21:49, Today: Sherborne rolled 1 using 1d4.  damage.
21:48, Today: Sherborne rolled 16 using 1d20.  Attack.  hits AC2

Vsaati lets her own stone fly.

22:57, Today: Vsaati rolled 3 using 1d4.  Dam.
22:57, Today: Vsaati rolled 10 using 1d20+3.  Attack.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:58, Sat 25 Mar 2017.

"Pyrite Pony Pebbles!" the dwarf exclaimed when the creature began to claw its way out of the coffin. He snapped off a shot with his crossbow

OOC: Sry for the delay.
Crossbow Attack, Damage: Albricht Burghammer rolled 11,1 - Hit AC8?

Sherborne and Roak's ranged attacks both hit squarely, but fail to do any kind of damage.


<Elboc, Lanliss, and Silverglade are up for actions this round, stil.>

Silverglade throws his vial of holy water at the creature, but his aim isn't all it might be.

21:39, Today: Silverglade rolled 11 using 1d20+1. Throw holy water attack.

Lanliss looses an arrow, hitting the creature solidly, but doing no damage.

<07:08, Today: Dungeon Master, on behalf of Lanliss, rolled 15 using 1d20+1.  Attack Roll.>

Seeing this, Elboc switches to using a Magic Missile spell, doing damage to the loathsome thing for the first time.

<07:09, Today: Dungeon Master, on behalf of Elboc Ice Eyes, rolled 3 using 1d6+1.  Spell Damage.>

Seeing that Plathstream was the closest to it, the creature claws at Plathstream, scoring a hit with horrifying results.  The noble elf instantly withers and falls, unmoving.

07:11, Today: Dungeon Master rolled 16 using 1d20.  Attack Roll.
07:15, Today: Dungeon Master, on behalf of Plathstream, rolled 6 using 1d20.  Save vs Death Ray.

The party has the initiative, and may act first in the next round. (Except for Plathstream, who is dead.)

07:17, Today: Dungeon Master rolled 4 using 1d6.  Monsters' Initiative.
07:17, Today: Dungeon Master rolled 6 using 1d6.  Player's Initiative.
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:18, Tue 28 Mar 2017.

Seeing his arrow hit its mark Lanliss' worst fears are comfirmed - it has no effect on the monster. Well, he assumed they were his worst fears, until he saw Plathstream wither and die before his eyes.

"By the Gods! Retreat! Unless someone brought a hoard of magic weapons to combat that thing!"

Ode to the Fallen: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eGPuSQN2t3o

The deeply-tanned face of the slightly sun-addled dwarf turned nearly as white as that of the dying elf as the life was sucked out of him! Aside from the sudden shock at what had just happened, there was a pang of sorrow and even more deeply perhaps... regret. Albricht had to admit that Plathstream was a brave sort of lad. This wasn't the first time he'd been struck down by a foe, but it appeared as if this might be the last. The dwarf dropped his crossbow and let it slide to his side on its sling, realizing his hands were trembling. They tended to do that when he was suffering from the effects of going too long without drinking the Nectar of the Prune, but that wasn't the cause this time. This time, it was a mixture of shock, loss and... fear.

Realizing that they had brought to light some terrible thing that had wanted to be left alone, its box even having warned them along those lines, Albricht decided to acknowledge the common elf-wisdom of Lanliss... and run! But he couldn't leave without a momento of the brave elf who had, time after time, kicked open doors and pried open sarcophagi. He rushed over and grabbed Plathstream's weapons, the bright longsword and the mace of Usimagaras.

"May Usi-mushgrass accept ye into His halls lad," Albricht prayed briefly as he bolted toward the door! As he ran, he tossed the well-crafted longsword to Silverglade. "FALL BACK LADS!"

"I don't think I am pushing this back on holiness this time."  Sherborne runs back with the others.  Looking toward Albricht he adds, "Mind if I take that mace?  I will hold it off if that becomes necessary."

Albricht, though a bit odd at times, was no fool. If anyone would be able to hold off a creature of the Netherrealms long enough for them to escape, it would be the holy. He handed the mace to Sherborne on his way past.

"May your God guide yer swing!"

As everyone run Sherborne takes up the rear and if the unholy appears that it will get to within melee range, he will turn and fight and try to hold it off as long as possible.

Silverglade's uncle's cousin's nephew has pretensions of being from a noble lineage. As such, Silverglade sees himself as the natural leader of this group, and so does his best to lead the retreat, running for the exit as quickly as he can. He will, however, use his new sword on the creature if it gets too close.

Roak looks in abject shock as Plathstream buys it. He then springs backward with all due haste out of the door...

As Elboc brings up the rear, Sherborne just manages to slam the door as the creature gets to the group.  It can be heard scrabbling at the door, trying to pry it open, but Sherborne manages to hold it fast shut.

Plathstream Roak glares at the door. "Well, I hate to be aggressive, but if we don't kill that thing, it will kill more of us. I say we take it down. Who has magic weapons?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:23, Thu 30 Mar 2017.

Sherborne continues holding the door.  "Well, I am not sure that's the wisest thing since just one touch from the thing seems to mean instant death."

"As I understand it Albricht picked up the magic weapons. How typical of a dwarf to grab the nearest shiny bauble, while...ah, I can't even joke at the moment."

The door continues to thump and rattle, the sounds of determined clawing coming from its other side.

Roak sighs. "We may not have a choice. I say we get ready."

"I have three flasks of oil in my bags if someone has a way of lighting it.  But someone will have to dig that out for me as I don't think I want to let go of this door just yet.  I don't know how long I will hold out though."  Sherborne continues to hold the door while the others decide to either get ready to fight or run.

Roune very happlily finds the oil. He stands back. "If this even works."

He grabs all Sherborne's oil and prepares to light the first flask.

Albricht slowed, looking back to see why his companions weren't following him any longer.

When he saw the group reforming in an effort to take on the creature!

"Now's not the time lads! One touch and you die!"

But they didn't seem to be listening!

"Hrrrumph!"

Pulling a flask of his own oil, he readied to throw it. His stance was more for flight however than fight!

OOC: If this doesn't work, we better run!

Silverglade inspects his new sword, feeling the balance. He then prepares to use it against the creature when the door opens.

<Say when.>

Sherborne waits for a moment when the pull on the door seems stronger and tries to kick it back and just that moment in an attempt to get the creature off balance.  Whether or not that succeeds he steps to the side to allow the oil to get tossed.  If the creature is still in melee range, he swings at it with the new mace from the side.  No matter what he tries to keep the creature focused on him.

Sherborne manages to get the thing a bit off balance, forces the door, and ducks to the side.

<I'm giving you guys the initiative, due to good planning.  Everyone with oil or other thrown/ranged weapons, give me your hit rolls, then we'll deal with other combat.>

Albricht, nervous about this plan, threw the bottle of oil at the door! But having been shaken by the manifestation of something undead, evil and powerful, and the death of a companion, his toss was premature and nowhere near the mark!

Oil Toss: Albricht Burghammer rolled 4

Roak whips his flaming oil in the direction of the fell being...

Likely miss.
13:02, Today: Roak The Quick rolled 9 using 1d20+2.  Thrown oil flask.

Having quickly snaffled one of Sherborne's flasks of oil, having none himself ("What do you expect me to do? Fart in its general direction?"), Lanliss lights it with the others and throws it when the monster appears. Fortunately, his innate elven dexterity ends itself to the situation.

23:29, Today: Lanliss rolled 16 using 1d20+1.  attack roll.

Albricht and Roak both manage to narrowly miss Sherborne, hitting the door and the door frame, respectively.  Lanliss hits the thing squarely in the chest, and the burning oil immediately spreads down its body, engulfing it in flames, doing some major damage, to be sure.  Unfortunately, it's still coming at you.  On the plus side, the door and its frame are quickly covered in flame as well,  making it painful to impossible for the thing to get out of the room.

Sherborne believes that he still has a couple of seconds in which he could land a blow with his mace, but will risk catching on fire if he delays much longer than that.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:16, Sat 01 Apr 2017.

Sherborne misses badly.  Perhaps he is getting used to a mace vs. a hammer?  As soon as his blow goes wide he backs off to at least let the creature burn and force it to come through the fire to approach the party.

18:38, Today: Sherborne rolled 4 using 1d20+2 ((2)).

Elboc's own flask of oil similarly goes wide, landing ant Sherborne's feet and forcing the cleric to dance backward after his blow failed to land.

20:36, Today: Dungeon Master, on behalf of Elboc Ice Eyes, rolled 6 using 1d20.  Attack Roll.

<We're waiting on Vsaati and Silverglade at this point.>
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:38, Sun 02 Apr 2017.

Silverglade hasn't got the feel of his new sword yet, and almost hits the dwarf rather than the creature.

20:13, Today: Silverglade rolled 7 using 1d20+2. To hit (sword).

Vsaati takes one of Sherborne's flasks of oil and attempts to hurl the clumsy thing at the creature, with similar results to most of the rest of her companions, then grabs at Sherborne to drag him back from the growing inferno.

07:30, Today: Dungeon Master, on behalf of Vsaati, rolled 6 using 1d20+3.  Attack Roll.

The creature, shrieking, moves into the flames and is engulfed as it advances, large portions of its unliving flesh burning away.  Despite this, it continues to come on, taking a swing at Sherborne, and connecting with horrible results.

07:33, Today: Dungeon Master rolled 18 using 1d20.  Attack Roll.

<Sherborne, you are now 1st level, and your XP count is 750.  Level drain is rough.>

<It is now the party's turn.  The creature is greatly weakened, but still a threat.>

Sherborne, despite the clear weakening, strikes back with a determined blow.

09:54, Today: Sherborne rolled 5 using 1d6+2.  Mace Damage.
09:51, Today: Sherborne rolled 22 using 1d20+2.  Mace attack against creature. Nat 20, not sure if that means anything in basic or not.

There is no save against that? I thought I saw a save for Plath but maybe that was for something else.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:59, Mon 03 Apr 2017.

Roak is scared to death. He flings his flaming oil wildly as he backpedals.

Attack, nat 1 and move away. I'd kill for a re-roll token or Benny or something.
14:45, Today: Roak The Quick rolled 3 using 1d20+2.  Flaming oil at thing.

Silverglade clouts the thing about the head with his magic sword.

23:00, Today: Silverglade rolled 17 using 1d20+2.  To hit (sword).
23:00, Today: Silverglade rolled 4 using 1d8+2. Damage (sword).

Assuming she can get her hands on another flaming oil flask, Vsaati will attack again... while trying to maintain a reasonable distance.

20:33, Today: Vsaati rolled 21 using 1d20+3.  To hit.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:34, Tue 04 Apr 2017.

With the sudden and extreme precision of Sherborne's strike, the horrid creature is rocked back on its heels, and Silverglade's well-placed blow serves to finish it off.  Roak's mis-placed throw lands at the thing's feet, and the oil that spreads there catches fire as the still-burning body collapses into the slick puddle.  The jeweled crown clatters to the floor and rolls a bit before stopping, the little bit of burning oil on it guttering out in mere moments.  A bone-white scepter falls from the tattered clothing of the burning corpse, also rolling a short distance away, but not itself on fire.

Seeing this, Vsaati holds back and manages to not throw the flask of oil that would have assuredly hit the thing.

<Sherborne:  We often had a house rule, in the old days, that a natural 20 would do double damage.  I'm good with that here, as well, but it will have to be a two-way street.>
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:58, Tue 04 Apr 2017.

Albricht approached Sherborne with a skin of precious water. The haunted look in his own eyes was almost as disturbing as that of the cleric's own. "Lad! You look like you've aged a decade... here drink some water."

He lifted a bit of his ragged desert robes across his nose and mouth to keep out some of the thick smoke that was filling the tunnel. "Get below it! Stay low and you'll breathe easier!" Albricht admonished his companions.

"Well, what have we gotten for ourselves but another dead elf and a spooked cleric? Sorry I wasn't more help lads, but without some silvered or enchanted weapons and armor, we're certainly not going to have much success against these fell guardians! Hrrrumph!"

The demeanor of the sun-bleached old codger seemed to have softened as he took on the tone and posture of a caring grandfather who was offering advice and consolation to a pack of youngsters just stung by having lost a game of goblin-ball.

Sherborne takes the water.  "Thanks.  I couldn't very well let a creature like that survive especially since there was help.  We are not quite done here either.  As much as I hate to say it, we need to destroy poor Plathstream's body too.  I fear he might rise to the undead as well if we don't."  Sherborne sips the water satisfied it was the right call even with the cost.

Roak winces and nods. "Afraid you're right. Let's bind his body for now and then, after we clear that room, we can burn it in there to keep the smoke inside."

It was a grim task, but one that the old water-finder knew was the right course of action. "I remember back to the Grim Rising of '31... we not only burned the bodies of our dead, but we ground their bones and ashes with stone and then mixed it all into mortar which was used to build the Devrak Cairn. That was a troublesome time lads. Lost a few years of my own during that outbreak... Well, let's be about it then."

Making a wide berth around the destroyed corpse, the dwarf re-entered the room, holding his hammer at the ready just in case Plathstream tried anything unnatural.

Silverglade will investigate the sceptre and crown, to see if they look dangerous/magical/valuable.

"And all for a drink of water...

...This is no place to die."

Lanliss shakes his head at their predicament, knowing the only way is onward.

Under Silverglade's practiced eye, both the crown and scepter seem to be valuable, and there is just the hint of a possibility that the scepter might be magical.

Roak nods. "Grab 'em and let's get them out. We need to burn Plathstream but quick."

If nobody argues, Plathstream's body is moved into the room and set alight, and then the door shut to keep the smoke out of the halls.

After that, the party looks at directions to go...

"Ahem lad, don'tcha want to check the coffin? It would be disrespectful to Plathstream if he died and we just left loot behind. That monster was likely guarding something!"

Albricht said this gently Roak, in the manner of a wizened grandfather, after all, the little fellow had just witnessed something rather terrible.

Roak turns to Albricht, snorting. "What? You haven't checked it already? Do I have to do EVERYTHING now?" He rolls his eyes, rolls up to the coffin and looks inside for any goodies.

Roak's search of the coffin yields only a few very old scraps of tattered cloth.

Roak nods. "There you go. Revised plan, then: let's go ahead and put Plathstream in the coffin and burn him there. Agreed?"

"Hrrumph!" Albricht snorted. He was chagrined that his advice hadn't turned out to be worthwhile. Though it was excellent... his tutorship of these youngsters always was, even if it was not well received... sometimes.

He lent his wiry muscles to the task of heaving the body of their fallen comrade into the coffin, but the old water-finder was quick to take a peek himself inside the box, just in case.

It was a somber time. "Would it be appropriate to say some words?" Albricht asked the other elves in the party.

Silverglade picks up the crown, and more tentatively, the sceptre. He then says some words in Elvish over Plathstream's body.

Sherborne also adds a blessing as the group gets ready to cleanse the room.  He helps move Plathstream to the coffin once it's finished being searched.

Albricht's supposedly surreptitious search comes up with nothing else new, and having been satisfied that there was nothing else in the room to be found or of value, the group place Plathstream's corpse to rest in the wooden coffin, and prepare to set it alight.

Vsaati, with tears warbling in her eyes, utters her tribute.  "Later, dude."

Roak nods to Silverglade. "You do the honors and light him up, Silverglade."

Silverglade takes one of the party's torches and touches it to the wood surrounding Plathstream before stepping back.

The wood is so old and incredibly dry that it lights almost immediately.  The flames swiftly begin to crawl over they body, and an acrid smoke begins to fill the room.

Roak waves the others out of the room quickly and slams the door shut behind the party when everyone left.

"All right, we ready to move on?"

The party has one more secret door to explore... The other secret door in the prior room, I believe.

Making their way back to the safety of the main chamber, Albricht considered their situation.

"The Queen wasn't resting in peace now was she? Do we think the King'll be any less lively? How's our oil supply? I'm about out. We're now down a man too and our healer's lookin' pretty pale... Have any of you elves any magic unspent?"

The questions were a grim reminder from a very grizzled veteran of many an outing gone wrong.

"Certain things may be better to let lie, at least for now lads... but if you think we can face another of those things, I'll do my best to support ya, but let's not bumble in if we're not ready."

Roak pats his backpack. "I've got two vials of oil myself. And we do have magic weapons."

"I'd have magic in my pockets, scrolls stuffed with lockets, potions in my pelt... if I were an elf."

"Talking of magic, we should check Plathstream's magic book, so that we don't lose his spells."

Roak pulls out Plathstream's pack. "All right here. Took it off him before we finished laying him to rest."

Sherborne does a last look over of the burned remains to make sure it's all ash.

Sherborne finds that the fire was not hot enough to burn the bones, but that the rest of the body has been thoroughly burned to ash.

"We should probably get moving as soon ash possible."

"Hopefully that's good enough."  Sherborne does take a moment to crush the bones with his mace before proceeding out.

<Where to now?>

We head to the other secret door to the south, opposite the secret passageway and tomb we just explored. Roak will listen at the door.

Roak listens at the door, but it is a slient... as a tomb.

Putting Plathstream's spellbook away for later reading, Silverglade draws his sword and readies his shield. "I'm ready," he says, nodding at the door.

Sherborne pulls out his mace and readies himself.

"This reminds me of hunting sand-diggers... mean little buggers that jump out at ya when provoked. Tear your face right off! I supposed I'd rather face the 'diggers than another creature like the Queen though!"

Albricht made ready, though he wasn't exactly sure what he might do if another such being should attack them!

Roak looks back at the others, his hands on his hips. "Don't get cocky, people. Someone else is going to have to be master door-opener now."

He stands back, bowing, allowing SOMEBODY to open the door.

Silverglade does the honours, opening the door to reveal...

The secret door opens to reveal a passage that heads directly forward (south), travels for 20 feet, then turns sharply to the right (west).  The floor is covered in undisturbed dust and cobwebs lurk in the corners.

Is there any sign of a door down the western hallway?

<Do you move down to look?>

Silverglade will lead the way down the corridor.

As Silverglade moves forward to the corner, he pauses to look ahead.  The corridor continues for another 30 feet before terminating.  Before the end of the passage, there is a door on the right (north), and in the flickering torchlight it appears to be closed.

Roak listens at the door.

Knowing what the party encountered in the mirror image of this room, Roak tries especially hard to hear the sound of any noise.  After some moments of straining to hear, he almost thinks that he can make out the sound of wind howling across a hole, but it seems incredibly faint and distant, and it is gone almost as soon as he identifies it.

Roak relays this to the others. "No idea at all what that means, but it at least makes me curious. Silverglade, after you."

After making sure that the others are ready, Silverglade flings the door open then jumps back, sword ready.

The door opens to reveal a room that would be 30 feet by 30 feet, except for the odd, 10 foot by 10 foot, floor-to-ceiling protrusion in the northeast corner.  The walls of this room are bare.  In the center of the room is an oblong box made from stone slabs.  Suddenly, rising out of the stone box is a translucent, ghost-like figure.  The pale figure has glowing red eyes, and a large, dark mouth.  The thing immediately begins a rising, keening wail that sets the hair on end, and the volume quickly rises to the point of pain as it rushes toward the door.

10:44, Today: Dungeon Master rolled 3 using 1d6.  Party's Initiative.

10:44, Today: Dungeon Master rolled 1 using 1d6.  Monster's Initiative.

<Your move.  Declare your actions.>
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:46, Sun 23 Apr 2017.

Pretty sure that he has nothing that will touch a ghost, Roak backs away from this monstrosity, pulling out a dagger in a vain hope that this will help.

"This is what I was afra- erm... concerned about!!!" The dwarf yelped as he saw the ghostly figure rise from the coffin box. He shuffled behind his better armed companions, and began stuffing bits of bread into his large ears. "WHAT?"

Vsaati looks over her shoulder, making sure nothing is sneaking up.

"Oh for crying out loud!" moans Lanliss, "Whatever happened to orcs and goblins and things you could hack to pieces with a good blade?"

Having nothing to combat the entity Lanliss brings out his Earplugs of Elvenkind (small non-magical wax/cloth bungs) and jams them in his ears.

"Perhaps you should close the door?"  Sherborne readies his mace.

Silverglade tries to slam the door shut, but readies himself for their enemy to walk through the door.

Silverglade manages to quickly and firmly shut the door, and in the moments that follow the sound dies down and disappears.

Roak strokes his chin. "All right, kids, what do we need to do to beat that thing? I'm guessing our spellcasters need to memorize the right spells, am I right?"

"Let's find somewhere to rest and share the spell in poor Plathstream's spell book," says Silverglade.

"I ain't afraid of no... or something."

"Hrrrumph! Me neither!" panted the dwarf in agreement with Vsaati. But he was surely making no effort to march back through that door!

"That it didn't chase us is good news, but I've got nothin'. Not even my Dance of Three Smacks and a Whack. I once had a hammer that'd whollop the ethereal, but it got destroyed by a big ol' landshark shaman about a millennium and a half ago... The thrice-cursed-and-spat-upon, toothy mumbler cast it into some netherblivion after it got knocked out of my hands and before I could get it gathered back up! My only solace is that I ended up gutting said sand fish with a shard of desert-glass..."

Reaching inside of his faded and sun-bleached tunic, Albricht produced a very worn piece of whitish substance hung around his neck by length of rawhide. It might have been a tooth, it had the general shape of a shark tooth, but was so time-warn that it was difficult to distinguish it from simply a peculiarly shaped bit of polished stone.

He snorted as he replaced the memento, "but I ain't havin' it now, so ghosties have little to fear from me..."

Roak proposes retreating back to the room with the two secret doors and resting there.

"Aye Roak, my spells need a little work as well..." Albricht rubbed a thumb across some of the nicks in the face of his warhammer which needed filing. "I'll take first watch."

<Consensus on staying the night in that place?>

"That sounds like a plan to me."  Sherborne follows along and prepares to rest.

Yes, it sounds good. To learn new spells from Plathstream's spell book, do we need to spend a night learnging Read Magic, then inscribe that, then another learning the new spell?

<Silverglade: Yes.  You cast Read Magic, and then read his spellbook and write those spells into your own spellbook.  It can be accomplished in a night.>

The party spends the night in this place, and dream of the open sky now temporarily lost to them.

The sleeping period passes without incident.  The other elves that want to rise in the morning and memorize Read Magic, then copy the spells out of Plathstream's spellbook.  Just as they are finishing, sounds of something approaching from the direction of the entry to this room are heard.  Moments later, a human in clerical vestments appears, entering through the western door.

<Cue Elder Voran...>

Which spells were in the spellbook?

A middle-aged human staggers into the room. He looks somewhat familiar to the others in the group, who recognize him from the caravan that you were in those long days ago. He looks a bit worse for wear--after all, a man wearing metal armor like he is would not have fared particularly well in the desert.

He slumps against the wall. "Water! Good people, well-met in the name of Law and Good! Could I beg a bit of water from you?"

"Do we actually have any?  I might have been able to make some at one point but I have apparently lost that ability.  Oh, it's you.  Nice to meet you again." Sherborne is still a little out of it now that he's had a chance to reflect a little.

<I've got a message in to the player to see if we can come up with the list of spells that were in the spellbook.  If I don't get an answer soon, I'll just make up and post a list.>

Albricht blinked.

His had been the first watch, and had gone without incident. When he was awakened by the others, hearing a shuffling approach, he gripped his warhammer and expected some bizarre creature had found them where they'd laid up. Instead of some spiked monstrosity with multiple arms and tentacled hands that could suck the water right out of a person... they were surprised by a somewhat familiar face!

The sun-baked dwarf raised a gnarled hand and scratched absently at his wiry white whiskers. "Well, well, another lost survivor. Makes me glad to know we weren't the only ones!"

He shuffled over, his movements stiff and slow as his circulation and aged joints had not yet been limbered up after his rest. He rummaged around in his worn pack, looking through the dwindling dregs of the supplies the tall warrior-women had given them. He found a valuable waterskin and provided it to the parched human.

"Go easy on it... there ain't much and we do be needin' to find more soon." His glance at the others was somewhat ominous, letting them know supplies were running low.

Or it might have just been the effect of his wandering eye in the torchlight.

"I wish monsters bled water."

The man took a very small sip and handed the waterskin back to the the dwarf. "Thank you. And good to see you again--Sherborne, was it? Another cleric, if I recall. I am happy to assist all of you. Are you looking for supplies and the like further down, or..."

"Welcome," says Silverglade, holding out his hand. "New allies are always welcome in this accursed place.

Voran takes Silverglade's hand. "Well met."

He looks at the others. "So, what are you doing here?"

<Role-play?>

Roak proceeds to tell the newcomer in some detail about their journey to date. He then adds, "Our biggest problem is how to deal with a ghost in another room back up that way before we head down further into the pyramid."

Voran nods solemnly. "Well, it seems to me magic missiles and magic weapons are your best hope."

He wracks his brain to see what he knows of such ghosts...

"We're looking for water, which is downward, I know this, it is not to be questioned. The rest of this," Albricht gestured around him, "is interactive tourism. We seem to be losing elves left and right down here, so survival is an issue. The warrior-women have tasked us to visit their outpost deeper down... and I'm hoping we find a smithy there. We've got an extra set of armor that I could alter to fit, if we found a heatsource and an anvil. Getting things clean up around here and sorted out seems to be the order of the day as we work our way down."

The dwarf coughed a bit, rubbing his freckled nose with a gnarled finger. "What have you seen or heard so far? Assuming you've made it this deep means we've done an adequate job up top!" The dwarf oddly contorted himself as if there was a sudden itch between his broad shoulders. Only after he finally gave up did anyone realize he was attempting to pat himself on the back.

"Perhaps," suggest Silverglade, "we should return to the ghost's lair. We elves now know a spell capable of hurting it, and somebody could borrow the magic sword that Plathstream bravely wielded until his death. Who knows what treasures that room holds."

Voran nods. "I do agree. Is the magic sword the only magic weapon you have? If so, Silverglade, you must bear it."

"Well, I got this mace too.  It seemed to do some good against the last one." Sherborne muses still a bit shaken from the last one as he holds the mace looking at it.

"We are losing elves left and right, because elves put themselves in the line of danger."

Although Lanliss said no more, the implication was obvious. He had spent his time this morning learning a new spell from the book of the unfortunate Plathstream, knowing a magic missile was their best weapon against the foul ghost. Still, it was something of a relief to see a new ally approach.

"Well met, Voran. We need all the arms we can find."

<Let me know when you guys are ready to head out, and where you're going.>

The party, with new ally in tow, heads back to face the ghostly figure again and blast it to bits with magic missiles!

"You lads cast your spells, I'll save my magic for finding water. Meanwhile, I suppose I'll man the door and offer strategic advice. Some of you could do with a little constructive critiquing..."

Albricht was unsure of the wisdom in attempting to smackify that which could not be smacked. His own warhammer, a trusty weapon - but nearly as worn as he himself was, didn't seem to have the Hrrrumph! it once did back when he was involved in the Gelatinous Uprising of Ya'ndur Ees. It was well enough though, these youngsters needed to learn the ropes anyway. After all, they could hardly expect an old water-finder to keep bailing them out time after time...

"Well, if I fall during this, then feel free to pick this up and continue."  Sherborne looks over the mace wondering if it will be enough or if this time the gods will call him home.

Once they reach the door, Silverglade prepares to cast magic missile, while wondering whether Plathstream's sword will serve him better than it did its previous owner.

Elboc stands ready, next to Silverglade, Magic Missile similarly ready to cast.

Roak stands well away from the door.

Voran steps up to the door. "Very well. I shall open it, then retreat."

And he does just that, yanking the door open and then retreating away while the others converge to attack the undead.

20:18, Today: Dungeon Master rolled 6 using 1d6.  Monster's Initiative.
20:18, Today: Dungeon Master rolled 1 using 1d6.  Party's Initiative.

The howling starts just as soon as the door is opened, and the party has no time to retreat in the face of the ear-rending sound.

All party members take 1 HP damage, and the PCs may now act.

Sherborne swings at the howling thing -

23:06, Today: Sherborne rolled 14 using 1d20+2.  Attack. hits AC4
23:08, Today: Sherborne rolled 6 using 1d6+2.  Damage.

Elder Voran moves back away from the door, leaving those equipped with magic to bring the fight.

Roak likewise moves back and away, further out than Voran.

Albricht stood, sun-bleached whiskers bristling, holding the door and ready to slam it shut again if things went poorly! While doing so he offered his usual on-going commentary on technique and general philosophy.

"Loosen up your grip a little Sherborne, and roll that right shoulder just a bit... it'll save you some energy."

Sherborne's swing connects solidly with the thing, despite it being more than a bit see-through, and tears a hefty clump of tattered wisps out of it's less-than-corporeal body.  The creature's enraged wailing ramps up just a bit, but not enough to do further damage at this point.

Elboc pops his head up, and lets fly with a Magic Missile, burning a largish hole in the middle of the ghostly being.


18:24, Today: Dungeon Master, on behalf of Elboc Ice Eyes, rolled 4 using 1d6+1.  Spell Damage.
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:25, Fri 12 May 2017.

Looking at the holes in the creature, Silverglade fires a Magic Missile at one of the parts of its "body" holding it together, hoping to tear it apart. He then raises his magic sword, ready to fight the monster further.

07:54, Today: Silverglade rolled 7 using 1d6+1. Magic missile damage.

Silverglade's spell, if anything, tears an even bigger hole in the screaming horror.  It hasn't quite been destroyed, but it would only take a couple more hits like that to end it.

"Not bad, not bad. Use your angles..."

Lanliss follows up the Magic Missile battering with one of his own.

23:07, Today: Lanliss rolled 3 using 1d6+1.  magic missile.

Lanliss' bolt of crackling force further tatters the already heavily damaged creature, leaving it one solid hit away from dissolution.

<Vsaati, Albricht, and Roak: are you guys going to do anything combative this round?>

"Bah! Silverglade's was better! It's all in your form Lanliss... lemme show you how lad!"

The wiry old dwarf quickly drew Plathstream's magical sword from Silverglade's belt and made a wild slash at the ghostie!

Attack hit AC0, for 8 damage!
Albricht Burghammer rolled 19,8

"HHRRRUMPH!" He yelled in triumph, waving the weapon around with a genuinely odd two-handed grip. "That's how its DONE! Find those angles, roll those shoulders, grip - it's all about the grip!"

Albricht's inspired, if somewhat startling, attack has the effect of shredding the shrieking figure into bits that dissolve into nothingness, ending the fight.

Voran moves up and claps Albricht on the back. "Well done, good dwarf! I think we all are a little worse for wear after that, but we emerged with our skins intact, at least. Come, let's head in."

He proceeds into the room to see if anything else jumps out at the party.

Grudgingly accepting that a dwarf has done something useful and even heroic, Silverglade moves into the room, looking for treasure.

Albricht handed the blade back to Silverglade and joined in the searching. "Sorry about that lad, I know there are entire tomes written in dwarvish about keeping one's hands off another man's weapon, but... well... my hammer's magic wore off a good century or so ago and I figured it might be a sort of good tribute to Plathstream, after all to strike down the ghost of the husband of the wight of the wife that struck him down, with his own sword!"

He paused a moment going over that one more time in his mind to make sure he'd gotten it all ordered correctly. "...wife of the ghost of the husband of the wight..." he muttered to himself.

Silverglade and Elder Voran enter the room to find that it conspicuously lacks ornamentation of any sort.  The only thing that appears to be in the room at all is a large stone box in the middle of the room.  The lid is about three finger-widths thick, and sits firmly atop the lower part of the box.  The box is just large enough to conceal something about the size and shape of a coffin inside.

Voran waves Albricht over. "You're a dwarf. See if you can find anything odd about this stone box. And we should search it for traps as well."

"That went about as well as could be expected."  Sherborne cautiously moves into the room and keeps a sharp eye on the only apparent item of interest where the apparition or whatever it was came from.

"Of course I am! But what gave it away?" the old dwarf asked the newcomer with a note of sarcasm.

He looked over the stone box carefully before scratching at a tuft of whiskers. "Well, this is odd... Look right there, see that? There's sort of a lighter spot right there? Yes, highly irregular. A dwarven stonesmith would have dyed such a flaw in a sarcophagus with some acid... Clearly this was built by amateurs!"

<Aside from nit-picking, Albricht notices nothing in the way of other unusual features or traps.>

"I suppose we'd better take a peeksie inside..." He glanced over at Roak to get the go-ahead after the trapsman had finished his task.

"Spread out around it then and we'll go off that-a-way with it..."

Voran nodded. "Silverglade, could you open it?"

Somewhat aghast at Albricht for snatching away the sword of the recently-fallen Plathstream, Lanliss can only then look on in an odd mixture of relief and dismay as the dwarf promptly smashes the wailing monster to pieces.

"A lucky shot, Shorty. Took the spirit and inspiration of a fallen elf to guide your aim..."

Apparently Lanliss is reluctant to concede anything. At the next sarcophagus he stands back until the all-clear is given, then offers to help remove the lid.

"We should be fine - Albricht Demon-Smiter will save us from any monsters..."

Silverglade grabs one end of the sarcophagus and heaves it over.

Albricht looked up at Lanliss, and for moment the wandering eye tracked parallel with the other as the dwarf seemed to search the flawless face of the elf. It seemed as if, briefly, there was a touch of clarity, even a grandfatherly concern behind the sun-touched dwarf's eyes... but it faded with a gruff, "Hrrrumph!"

"You're confusing me with one of my younger brothers, though I didn't know you knew any of them. Bronbricht was the Demon-smiter, though truth be known it was a smallish imp, and he barely more than a young rock-chewer himself. He was playing with our Da's mining hammer, smashing some things he'd swiped from the Loremaster's office. When he crushed that wand of summoning there was a puff of smoke and a loud pop! Bronny, he was scared but smacked that imp on the melon before it knew what was up! Our room smelled like rotten Cliffnester eggs for a week!"

"But whenever you're needin' advice on technique lad, such as there a moment ago, you know just to ask. Magic, weapons or hairy-cheeked ladies, my commentary is free... even for elves."

He joined Silverglade in pushing the lid off the stone box, just as it was about to tumble on its own after most of the work had already been accomplished.

"There! We did it!"

The stone lid crashes to the floor, party members being careful to jerk their feet away from it as it falls.  Peering inside, a wooden coffin is revealed, almost completely filling the space, and with the full-length figure of a regal human male in plate armor painted on its top.

Elder sighs. "Like a child's puzzle--layers within layers. Gentlemen, could you open this coffin as well?"

"Anyone care to plug their ears? I was meaning before Albricht speaks again, but I suppose it could counter any more banshee wailing too..."

Lanliss lends his muscle to opening the wooden coffin.

The wooden coffin lid is more easily removed than the stone lid.  When moved aside, it reveals a dead, well-preserved, but apparently inanimate human male wearing plate armor, a jeweled crown on his head, and a bared longsword on his chest.

Deciding that they'd come through enough to get to this stage, Lanliss took hold of the bared longsword and lifted it high.

"Forgive us brother," says Silverglade to the corpse as he begins investigating the armour.

Lanliss finds that the sword in still in extremely good condition, and that its balance is near-perfect.  So easily does the sword swing, that he suspects that it likely is of elven make, although close examination of the sword shows no maker's mark that he recognizes.

Much like the sword, Silverglade finds that the plate armor is in far better condition and he might have suspected, given that it has been enclosed with a body for so long.  The light, geometric engraving on the otherwise moderately-polished is still crisp and clear, and the whole suit is made with well-above-average skill.

Nodding approvingly as he swishes his new sword back and forth, making sure not to come into contact with anyone non-Dwarf, Lanliss allows himself a small smile before taking a closer look.

"Excellent condition, exquisitely weighted, forged to perfection - obviously an elven blade. Here's hoping it carves up wailing monsters with ease, and also provides immunity to Dwarf breath."

"Who should have this armour?" asks Silverglade. "Whoever is going to be leading us into rooms, I suggest."

Vsaati leaps into the room with her sling cranked up to 11. "Onguard, vile spirit!  Vsaati has returned from guarding the rear to vanquish your foul self."

"It's already vanquished," say Silverglade. "But welcome back."

Albricht just shook his head in wonderment at how little Lanliss seemed to know about dwarves. "It's the Azer which have the dangerous breath, and they're not really dwarves, haven't been for a long time... honestly, whisker burn is a more serious problem if you get too cozy with them." The old water-finder's laugh sounded like a piece of sandal leather being rubbed along the stone walls of the pyramid.

As the others in the party were fluttering around trying out the King's possessions, Albricht took a closer look at the coffin to see if there might be something more hidden within.

While Albricht's attention to detail is quite acute, he finds nothing else of apparent value in the coffin, aside from the crown, which does sparkle in a most delightful way.

"Well somebody oughta look after this old trinket, with ghosts and the like hangin' about." Albricht dropped the sparkly crown into his pouch.

"Water's down lads... and we still need to find it!"

Voran nods as Albricht drops the crown in his sack. "This does the living far more good than the dead."

He looks about the room and searches the perimeter a bit more.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:35, Mon 22 May 2017.

"Hrrrumph!" Albricht agreed. "Hard to let good gold just sit down here un-admired. I think I can adjust this armor a bit to make it work, thankfully the King seems to have been built more like me than the rest of ye!"

It took a bit, but with the help of the others, Albricht was able to strap himself into the platemail. His gnarled and scarred body showed countless years of hard-fought battles and death-defying escapes. When he belted his ragged and threadbare robes over the top, it became a wonder the entire garment didn't just perish as so much dust! The dwarf held up his old chainmail, and again, there seemed to be more patches than original metal, with each link worn to near breaking.

"Been a good while since I wore plate, but if I'm going t'be opening doors, I'd best look the part!" He wriggled and did a few lunges to settle things into place.

"Well then! Where shall we be off?"
This message was last edited by the player at 20:50, Mon 22 May 2017.

"Where the orcs are green, and the treasure's real pretty."

The party takes turns on watch as they rest for a while.

Roak hops up. "We have one room that we haven't looted, that I know of. And then we have the shadows to deal with."

He leads the party back to the northern secret room, where the party loots the room.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:38, Fri 02 June 2017.

In total, the party comes up with one more very shiny gold crown, and a scepter made of ivory and chased with gold and platinum.  More careful examination of the scepter reveals some writing on it that only the elves in the party can read.  It reads:

"Hold Fast"

Feeling emboldened by this discovery of treasure, Roak suggests, "Now, maybe we tackle those shadows?"

Voran's eyes go a bit wide as the party tells him about these fell undead. "Oh dear. Well, as they approach, I could try to turn them. That might deter some of them and allow us to pick them off one by one."

<Let me know when you guys are ready to go.>

"Well, perhaps two of us together could have an effect, but some of these things are...fairly resistant to divine influence. But it's nice to have someone else of the cloth with us."

<ooc Something I didn't realize right away until it actually came time to turn something is that the mechanism for this is somewhat out of sorts with AD&D.  Instead of rolling 1D20 and comparing it to the table one rolls 2d6.  So at first when I saw that I only needed a 9 to turn something I was moderately pleased until I read the details.>

Silverglade stands back with an arrow nocked. Without spells or a magic weapon he doubts that he'll be able to contribute much to this fight.

Albricht glanced over the sceptre and was about to give his own interpretation of the writing when he saw the others start to scowl. Instead, he grunted something about resting and plodded off down the bone-dry tunnels in the direction of the room where they'd seen the shadows and had fed them the Gormies.

"Alright lads... Here we are. Is everyone ready?"

Voran pulls out his holy symbol and nods. "Lead the way."

Roak nods and leads the party to the room. He nods to Silverglade. "You want to open the door and get out of the way?"

Sherborne readies his mace.

Silverglade swings the door open, immediately leaping back to let those with magic weapons fight.

Albricht's weathered eyes scanned the room for movement of the obscure and silent kind. He held the newly discovered sword Silverglade had lent him at the ready!

Lanliss joins the excited throng, somewhat nonplussed, but with new magic sword ready in hand.

The whole group feels refreshed from the rest that they took, just recently completed, and seems glad of the chance to catch their collective breath. Squaring shoulders and tightening grips on weapons and holy symbols, they prepare for the next challenge...

Once back at the door of the shadows' room, Silverglade takes a deep breath before swinging the door open and then leaping back, the harsh otherworldly syllables of a spell already falling from his lips.

<I'll let Silverglade get the drop on them.  Go ahead an give me your damage, before combat starts.>

15:40, Today: Dungeon Master rolled 6 using 1d6.  Monster's Initiative.
15:40, Today: Dungeon Master rolled 4 using 1d6.  Party's Initiative.

Silverglade sends a bolt of power into the nearest shadow, before retiring behind those with the magic weapons to damage them further.
16:53, Today: Silverglade rolled 6 using 1d6+1. Magic missile damage.

Silverglade's arrow of magical force rips through the shadow in the front, doing some significant damage to it, but not destroying it.

Three of the shadows make it to the door and manage to attack before the party can react.  Fortunately, even the best of the strikes fails to damage any of the party members.  Equally unfortunately, the other two will be in the fight next round, unless they are destroyed first.


16:54, Today: Dungeon Master rolled 1 using 1d20.  Attack Roll.
16:54, Today: Dungeon Master rolled 15 using 1d20.  Attack Roll.
16:54, Today: Dungeon Master rolled 6 using 1d20.  Attack Roll.

<It's the party's turn.  What are you doing?>

Though Silverglade's sword looked somewhat strange and unwieldy in the hands of the dwarf, Albricht seemed to know how to handle it. He made a terrific slash at one of the shadowy beings, shouting, "For Silverglade and... uh... the other elf lot that recently passed!"

The swing swung him around in his new armor which was still a little stiff and clanky. It took him a moment to gather his bearings again while his companions made attempts of their own.

Sword +1 - Attack vs shadow critter!, Damage
Albricht Burghammer rolled 22,6
Hit AC-1 for 6 damage!

The strength of the magic suffuses Albricht's sword arm as the blade passes completely through the creature already damaged by Silverglade's spell, catching on and tearing the otherwise insubstantial being and shredding it into nothingness.

<That's one down.>

Sherborne attempts to hit the shadows but catches shadowless air.
Sherborne rolled 5 using 1d20+2.  Attack on Shadows.

Elboc lets loose with a Magic Missile, taking a largish portion of another shadow out.

08:20, Today: Dungeon Master, on behalf of Elboc Ice Eyes, rolled 6 using 1d6.  Spell Damage.

Seeing the successes around him buoys Lanliss, and he swings his new sword with all his might. Yet swinging through beings of little substance makes it hard to determine whether one had hit, or not.


14:46, Today: Lanliss rolled 13 using 1d20+4.  attack roll, sword.
14:46, Today: Lanliss rolled 7 using 1d8+4.  dmg.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:49, Wed 14 June 2017.

Even in the midst of his doubts, Lanliss is pleased by the sense that the blade of his sword bites into the otherwise insubstantial creature, which promptly dissolves into nothingness.

<Is anyone else going this round, or are we just going on to the next round with our three combatants with magic weapons in the front rank?>
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:34, Wed 14 June 2017.

Vsaati watches the rear, thus preventing any potential sneak attacks.

<I'll call that good enough to start the next round of combat.>

07:24, Today: Dungeon Master rolled 6 using 1d6.  Monster's Initiative.
07:24, Today: Dungeon Master rolled 2 using 1d6.  Party's Initiative.

The remaining two shadows reach the door, joining the one that was not destroyed in the first wave of combat.  All three attack, clawing at Albricht, Sherborne, and Lanliss, in that order.  Lanliss is the sole party member with which any of them makes contact, and while the physical injury seems quite small, he takes on a sickly, palid look as some of his vitality is sapped away.

07:27, Today: Dungeon Master rolled 3 using 1d20.  Attack Roll.
07:26, Today: Dungeon Master rolled 3 using 1d20.  Attack Roll.
07:27, Today: Dungeon Master rolled 19 using 1d20.  Attack Roll.
07:28, Today: Dungeon Master rolled 1 using 1d4.  Shadow Damage.
Lanliss also takes one point of Strength damage.


<It's the party's turn.  Give me your actions and rolls.>

Sherborne swings his mace at the shadows.

09:42, Today: Sherborne rolled 7 using 1d6+2.  Mace Damage.
09:41, Today: Sherborne rolled 14 using 1d20+2.  Attack on Shadows hits AC4.

Having fought creatures of flesh, bone, and various consistencies in between and lesser, the task of swinging a sword against a shadow was much more difficult than one would think. The grip and follow-through, being so important to the landing of a damaging slash or thrust, was a challenge when there was nothing of substance for feedback.

The wily old dwarf made a series of exotic slashes with the sword, looking like a bony boulder bobbing with the blade. So rarely did dwarves choose the weapon that the secret techniques were almost unknown outside the training grounds.

His sandals slapped on the stones as his footwork helped him into position and back out.

"Watch yourselves lads! We got'em riled!"

Sword +1 - Attack vs shadow critter!, Damage
Albricht Burghammer rolled 22,6
Hit AC-1 for 6 damage!

Albricht and Sherborne perform and expert over-and-under maneuver, destroying another of the less-than-tangible creatures.

Roak moves up to Lanlis. "Give me your sword so you can cast your spell and so I can attack it!"

<Crickets?  Lanliss?>

Sherborne attacks the nearest shadow.

09:24, Today: Sherborne rolled 4 using 1d6+2.  Mace Damage.
09:24, Today: Sherborne rolled 20 using 1d20+2.  Attack on Shadows.

Sherborne strikes true, damaging the creature, but not nearly enough to destroy it.  He had become so excited (or afriad) of the undead creatures that he was able to put on a burst of effort and get two attacks in before they could react.

<I'm just going to let it stand, but this is your second attack this round.>

Lanliss quickly tosses his sword to Roak, then lets loose with his own bolt of arcane power, damaging the creature most recently hit by Sherborne.


19:06, Today: Dungeon Master, on behalf of Lanliss, rolled 2 using 1d6.  Spell Damage.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:08, Tue 20 June 2017.

Roak springs forward with the sword, which looks like a claymore in his hands, and swings at the shadow, but his blow flies wide!

Miss.
13:22, Today: Roak The Quick rolled 8 using 1d20+2.  Attack the shadow with sword!!

"Good Gravel Halfling! Watch where you're pointing that thing!" Albricht bellowed as Roak's wild swing nearly collided with the old dwarf's head. "You nearly clipped my brows!"

Indeed a few of the long, wispy eyebrow hairs had been shortened, along with a few of their cousins growing out of the dwarf's large ears.

Roak snarls, "Keep flapping your lips and I'll chop those off, too!"

Does anyone else want to take an action before we move on to the next combat round?>

Elder hangs back, wishing he were more senior--recovering strength was not something his prayers could accomplish at this point and he hoped his companions would not feel permanent results of this combat...

Hanging back.

So fast are the desperate reactions of the party members, that they are able to attack again before the two remaining shadowy creatures.

07:31, Today: Dungeon Master rolled 3 using 1d6.  Monster's Initiative.
07:31, Today: Dungeon Master rolled 6 using 1d6.  Party's Initiative.

Roak, now genuinely annoyed, swings the magic sword with precision and slices into one of the fell undead!! "THAT's how it's done," he shouts, shooting the dwarf a look.

Natural 20, so auto-hit for 7 damage! (I got the modifier wrong, per Lanliss.)

11:33, Today: Roak The Quick rolled 6 using 1d8+2.  Damage!!
11:33, Today: Roak The Quick rolled 22 using 1d20+2.  Attack the shadow!!
This message was last edited by the player at 01:18, Thu 22 June 2017.

"By the Bedrock but that was a good strike!" Albricht congratulated Roak with an approving wag of his sun-bleached whiskers. "The duck, the bob, the weave and the cleave! Beautiful lad!"

"I hope all you elves are taking notes from yer less-lofty peers! Hrrrumph!"

"Now then young Roak, let me show ya another technique. I call this one Stone Hen Lays an Egg... First, ya hunker down like this, step, step - footwork is important, remember - and then up and around!" The sun-addled dwarf's newest onslaught was certainly unorthodox by the fencing standards of the taller folk in the party, but where the relation to Hens and Eggs came from was a guess to any of them. The bizarre combo seemed to be effective however as the enchanted blade ripped through one of the remaining entities!

Attack, Damage: Albricht Burghammer rolled 21,9

"Every dog has its day..."

Lanliss watched Roak and Albricht land telling blows, almost as good as one he would have landed himself had he had his sword. Oh well, next time.

Roak finishes destroying the shadow that Sherborne had hit, and Albricht almost manages the same feat on the sole remaining shadow.  Despite the mightiness of the grizzled warrior's blow, however, it is still hanging on, if only by a somewhat insubstantial thread.

And speaking of next times, Lanliss decided that was now. Snatching his sword back from Roak the elf decided it was his duty to slash away at the remaining shadow. Using a fantastical mixture of balletic grace and elven wrist-spinning artistry the warrior/mage gyrated forwards and so perplexed the abomination that it was quite incapable of reacting.

Whereupon he chopped its insubstantial 'ead orf.


11:12, Today: Lanliss rolled 22 using 1d20+4.  attack roll, sword.
11:12, Today: Lanliss rolled 11 using 1d20+4.  dmg.

"Notes are for music. Though both that and sword-play are arts to we elves..."

Thousands of years of unbearable smugness was a hard habit to break.

<We don't normally roll a d20 for damage, but your minimum damage would have done the job just as well, so I'll allow it for effect...>

Inspired by either the competition with the lesser races or a particularly opportune opening in the melee, Lanliss' flourish and chop is truly a thing of beauty.  The final shadow creature melts away into the nothingness from which it probably should never have emerged.

Looking about, the party now has time to note several things in the room.  This room contains several large tables.  Around the walls are a number of large jars and casks.  There is a bin in the northwest corner of the room.  The bodies of the eight brothers of Gorm that were sent here to their deaths are scattered about, bodies and faces frozen in wasted expressions of horror.

Roak yelps when Lanliss grabs the sword but shrugs and then goes to search the bodies of the fallen Brothers of Gorm for valuables or anything of interest.

Voran moves up and claps Albricht, Lanliss, Sliverglade and Sherborne on the back. "Well done! Very well done. That was a hard thing, gentlemen, but we won the day."

He then turns to Silverglade. "Could I persuade you, good elf, to go around the edges of the room and search for secret doors?"

"Well that could have been worse."  Sherborne starts to carefully look around at the casks and jars but doesn't open any of them just yet.

The dwarf blinked.

Then he glanced at Roak and cleared his throat, "Hrrumph!"

Then he gave a grudging nod to the flamboyant elf. "You learn quick lad. Nice slice."

Still surprised by the outcome of the encounter - especially with the dead Gormites scattered around the room - Albricht shuffled forward, handed Silverglade his sword, and began to snoop around.

"This is a foul place. Can those shades reform?" he asked Sherborne and the Elder.

"I doubt it.  These are pretty much mindless as I understand it.  Let's hope we don't run into any dark ones who actually remember who they were and are." Sherborne is noticeably uncomfortable with the thought.  <ooc I am not sure how much to assume Sherborne knows at this point but I would guess he would have reasonable knowledge of undead.>

Silverglade, happy to feel the heft of a magic sword once more, checks for any secret doors.

Two elves are better (even better) than one, so Lanliss joins Silverglade in searching for secret doors.

Voran agrees. "The danger of that is low, I think."

<Both Sherborne and Elder Voran are well aware that if the Brothers of Gorm had been turned into shadows, they would be here, near their bodies, which they are not, and that shadows do not tend to re-form.>

Lanliss and Silverglade do a circuit of the room, but find no secret or concealed doors.

What does Roak find?

Albricht scratched at his whiskers as he studied their map of this level of the structure. He wondered that there wasn't some sort of secret door hidden somewhere. Grumbling, he decided to poke around in the jars, casks and bins. His curiosity was piqued as to why the shadow beings were so protective of this room.

OOC: Can we tell what this room is? Is it another burial site? Any murals or anything on the walls?

Searching the bodies of the Brothers of Gorm, Roak finds the same things that the party has previously found: 8 gold masks, 8 longswords, 8 suits of human-sized chain mail armor, and 8 blue tabards.  All but the blue tabards could be worth some coin (and the masks a fair amount of that) to the right buyer.

Albricht searches the containers in the room and comes to the conclusion that this room had been used for embalming and mummification.  He has no idea why the shadows held to just this room.

Elder shrugs. "Good enough for me. Shall we proceed further down?"

Any other rooms on this level that we have not explored?

<Not that you know of...>

"It would seem that is the logical course of action," remarks Lanliss, absently rubbing his pointy ears...

Sherborne nods.  "Moving on seems to be pretty much our only real option, except going out to the desert without water."

Then, without further ado, the party moves to descend deeper into the complex...

Assuming that the only way down we know of is the trap door in the floor of the southeastern hallway on Group Map 3.

The party moves to the trap door, opens it, and finds a ladder going down.

< Action continues in Chapter 004 - Pyramid Tier 5 >

< Retconned, because I forgot about this, but Albricht found a potion vial (room #29) and a chest filled with 3000 GP when he searched. >