This message was last edited by the player at 21:43, Thu 27 June 2019.

Llynea d'Jorasco "Resurrection? Ha-haha-haha-ha!" She laughed nervously. "Olladra no! though it would be nice to have some of the paying clients back...." She took up a light from the walls; a club shaped staff that emitted Continual Light from its rounded end. "Right this way, mind the stairs! I mean, of course you're safe; you're dragonmarked. There's no harm in being careful, right? Stay safe, watch your step! It's fine, we're fine." They started passing a few small tombs and sepulchres. "You, uhm, you can't save them all, right? These crypts go on for ages and ages."

Capshaw the Crier Doriah had noticed Capshaw eying the other halfling as they walked by. She wondered if they knew one another. But the other halfling had just bowed in his white robe and walked away. They'd gone down several sets of carved stone steps when Capshaw spoke up. "What's all that white stuff?" he was looking at a white web-work on the moist walls of the stairway. Nothing dangerous, Doriah knew, as her dragonmark had always faithfully given her a 'head's up' when danger reared its head.

Llynea d'Jorasco "Oh that's just nitre. I think it's pretty, you know in a sort of creepy way. Just stuff, underground stuff." She laughed again. Then when Capshaw exclaimed aloud at a face protruding from the wall she added quickly "Yeah! the stone heads are down here too! They must be everywhere! I have no idea how the giants must have carved them all. Or why!" She giggled. Doriah had seen the sculptured stone faces in the city above; remnants of a long ago past and carved by no-one knew. Down below the ground the appearance of such a feature was disconcerting, but she knew there was no harm.  "It's fine, we're fine."

'Not another necromancer!' Doriah's unguarded thought brought an unwelcome recollection. Fort Bones was farther away than it had ever been in her life, but the thought of that... man, and what he'd done... brought it back in a rush. Sgt. Sutherland Sutherland had answered the call, her message, he'd responded like a hero and like a hero, he'd perished. He blocked the Karrnathi skeleton's blow. She was concentrating on the fight, and thrust, then twisted and wrenched her sword through the monster's spine; snapping it in half. She imagined that would be the end of things, but Harker had done something and vanished. Kaminarr the necromancer spoke to her, but his words were barely audible over the thrilling feeling of danger that was coming from her dragonmark. Not even when the airships flew over the troops and mages flung fireballs from the upper decks had she felt such a caution. Around Sgt. Sutherland's head, body, and arms were circlets of blue, runes that were unreadable spinning around him. He  twitched unnaturally. The necromancer shouted: "You must shield yourself! I cannot save you now!" There was a flash and then Kaminarr the necromancer was gone as well. Doriah had not needed the necromancer's prompt, though. Training and her own instinct snapped her dragonmark gift into place: the Sentinel's Shield, a magic gifted her by lineage, fate, or luck. The circlets that had begun to spin around Doriah shattered, but there was no shield for Sutherland. He'd twitched again, as though in thrall of a fit, or perhaps dancing with an invisible partner to a cacophonous tune. He was screaming, tearing off his helmet and breastplate in agony. She saw his face, encircled with an eldritch energy. He choked, screamed, lurched, and then his body split open in spray of blood as Sutherland's own skeleton wrenched itself free of his meaty body. That scarlet gore-covered skeleton had attacked her, and it was the first that she slew on that march through hell that was her escape. The blood covered the floors of the halls, and the walls. She chopped and hewed through bone and sinew as one and then another of these crimson covered horrors assaulted her. Her blade was chipped, her armor gouged by the time that she'd killed the last of the scarlet skeletons; the last of her platoon, her own command. Bespattered by blood, head to foot crimson-bedecked in gore herself, tasting the blood, smelling it; she staggered through the gate of Fort Bones into the burning sun.

Capshaw the Crier Capshaw nudged her arm. Nothing dangerous, said her dragonmark. Her memory was of a different time, a different place. She remembered the strange machine the necromancer had built; the shape and color of that crystal that had come off of it. And she remembered that she was safely away from all of that. "Want some?" He offered her a bottle. "They keep wine down here with all the dead people. Médoc? It's from Aundair, and it's pretty good."

Llynea d'Jorasco "... And we can't be more pleased that you've come. Some of us not me, though, I never lost faith, thought you weren't coming. As though the Houses would ever, you know, not stick together. And then there's the shark epidemic... can you call it an epidemic? I mean you can't catch shark bite, but you can catch a shark, so ... Anyways we've been so swamped with that. Ha! 'Swamped with sharks!' And then things not working right..." She laughed almost constantly now. "It's fine, we're fine, we're fine. I mean no, we still can't resurrect. It's not working right. Alhaura did contact an expert about that, and so she's been consulting with him. They'll get it sorted out in no time! But there's such a lack of security; we need protection! Anyhow, here she is! Alhaura! This is Doriah d'Hevian of House Deneith! See?" she gestured effusively at Doriah. "And...."

Alhaura d'Jorasco "...And Capshaw the Crier. Well!" despite her quick response Alhaura seemed a bit surprised. She was standing before a large pedestal that had a large smooth stone upon it. A large dragonshard was mounted at the head and foot of the stone. The resurrection stone, Doriah realized it must be. There were a few others at the far end of the room, huddled over a work table. She stepped briskly to Doriah and took her hand in greeting. "Llynea, why don't you make sure that Capshaw gets a good dozen of those healing draghts we prepare--for his Tulita friends." She dropped her voice to a whisper as the two halflings moved away. "I don't want the others to hear us. I did contact House Deneith. They were most emphatic in their refusal to help us. They made it perfectly clear that they would send no-one. Morale is bad enough. Llyn is always halfway... I couldn't. But... you aren't here for the reason LLynea thinks you are, at least not in that capacity. Why are you here?"

This message was last edited by the GM at 15:37, Fri 05 July 2019.

Alhaura d'Jorasco "Malice? That's just ... great. Llynea, would you be so good as to awaken out consultant, dear. No worries, he's bound and I'm sure he'll be cooperative." Then to the others at the back of the room, she called, "Come here please, immediately-- we have a situation." The Jorasco responded, but she had no sway over the two Karrnathi skeletons. "I really hope that you're trying to put one over on me..." she said quietly to Doriah.

Llynea d'Jorasco "Mr. Kaminarr?" She patted the necromancer's face "Ser, please wake up." It seemed as long as she had something to do, Llynea could hold herself together.

Karl Kaminarr "Unnnn. I ... suppose I should haff expected zat." He attempted to move and noted his restraints."Und zis."

Capshaw the Crier Capshaw was examining the small contraption that Karl had carried. 'Rat-skulls' he'd said, and it looked like it. The skull was atop some metal rods and wires, and was able to bob up and down, and freely turn side to side. It rocked, and then went motionless when he held it up. "You have some peculiar hobbies," he said.

Llynea d'Jorasco "Just take it easy, you were Sleeping." She looked at his eyes, and checked his pulse. "The, um, the Lady from House Deneith said that you were a Wanted of Thronehold" She pursed her lips. "A war criminal."

Karl Kaminarr "Vell, dat's true. I am Vanted. But I did not do those things I am vanted for. I understand why zis voman might think I had, though. I vas present when her platoon vas killed. But zat vas not my doing. It vas that fool Harkonner." He wrestled with his anger. "But Harkonner is here, now! He's gathered enough minions to become a formidable force. "

Alhaura d'Jorasco "I put up some wards after the last time, but I really do not know how well they'll hold... She addressed the bound necromancer.  "We need you to promise not to attack anyone here." She rolled her eyes.  "Apparently this is how Deneith keeps the peace."

Capshaw the Crier "Hey, is it supposed to do that?" The skull had turned towards the opening in the far wall of the cavern and was bobbing on its own. "I'm not doing that."

Karl Kaminarr He nodded at the bobbing rat skull. "Harkonner has been collecting from the graves and tombs in Delera's Watch, above. I know he has ghouls. You vill vant my help; release me!"

Capshaw the Crier "But those knots are so good!" Capshaw looked at Doriah for instruction. "It's your call..."

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