"It wants us to go down," the cleric grins, pleased with the invitation.

As their descent is prepared, he studies the frescoes, aged and worn as they were, for some clue as to their themes. Death, yes, but what's to be said about it? Something new? Some form I don't even begin to recognize? His grin widens.

OOC Descend in single-file marching order after Dax gives the signal.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:32, Mon 15 Nov 2021.

Once he is confident that the chamber is not occupied by denizens, dead or otherwise, Dax will return his sword to its scabbard.

While Ishmael strings a new rope into the pulley system, Dax calls to Searlait to join them. "If you watch Ishmael use this thing to send us down, then you should be able to use it to bring us back up!"

Once Ishmael pronounces the contraption ready, Dax will bare his blade again as he takes he prepares to be lowered down. Just before moving down, he tosses his torch into the room below, "I want both hands free."

Grugar watched as the nimble half-elf descended below. As soon as the ranger set foot at the bottom, the half-orc reached out and grabbed the rope with both hands. He knew his descent wasn't going to be nearly as graceful. He needed both hands to handle his weight with his heavy armor, but as soon as his boots touched the ground, he drew his sword and joined Dax in examining their surroundings.

Searlait obediently comes forward, watching closely as Ishmael operates the block and tackle, asking the dwarf a pair of pointed questions to make certain that she understands the mechanism’s operation.

”I’ll make certain that there’s always someone stationed here when you’re below,” she tells the adventurers, ”and I’ll ensure that the others understand how the pulley works, so whoever is present can bring you up quickly.”

One by one, the adventurers descend into the gloom below. Once he has reached the lower chamber, Lampert is quick to light a torch and lift it aloft. The one that he holds, along with Dax Moonblade’s, push back the deepest of the shadows with an amber colored, flickering illumination. A chill slowly takes hold of the explorers.

Barnabus moves to the faded frescoes, seeing that they depict a somber burial procession, bearing a body toward an open barrow.

As the last of the company reaches the room, they are each aware of a movement of the cold air, a brief breeze that carries with it a soft sound, like a gentle exhalation, or a sigh. The pressure in each of the adventurers’ ears increases for a moment, then relaxes. All becomes still.

The western wall is a collection of rubble, an expanse of broken stone that has long buried whatever might have lay beyond it. The only exit from the dusty chamber is a corridor leading eastward, which is primarily swallowed in darkness.



Through the shadows that crowd the gray stone hallway, the adventurers can see that two adjoining corridors, spaced evenly apart, lead northward from the passageway. On the corridor’s southern wall a pair of doors, separated by ten feet, are dimly visible. Both are fashioned from dark timbers and closed.

Before he had slipped down the rope, Barnabus had scrutinized the body. Was it just anybody's body? It couldn't have been. It had to have been somebody's body, the body of a real somebody.

This busybody would like to know, he smiles to himself.


"Not only have we been expected, we have been wanted," he says softly. Like the others, he surveys the new egresses from the empty chamber: two northern and one eastern corridor, along with two southern doors.

He considers before suggesting, "A peek down north one and two. But doors, always doors, first and foremost. Must see what's behind them."

Sir Dryvyk adjusted his shield after the descent and drew his sword. His was to be a protectorate of the party, placing himself between them and the evil of this place. He glanced at Dax and awaited the ranger's approval before advancing slowly beyond the doors to position himself where he could intercept anything coming at them from the edge of the darkness cast by the torchlight.

Move right between the two doors. I'm assuming someone will inspect/pick/open or - if all else fails - kick one or both open!

Upon reaching the floor below, Dax slowly turns, sword at the ready, as he takes in the room while he waits for the rest of the group to join him.

Once two more of the group is safely ensconced on the lower level, the ranger picks up his sputtering torch and blows on it gently, enticing the flame to burn strongly.

He takes a position near the tunnel heading east as he waits for the full group to assemble.

"Agreed," the ranger acknowledges, glad to hear a voice, even that of the odd cleric, in this place.

Once all are in place, he slowly leads, sword blade resting on his right shoulder, torch in his left hand. He glances lets the light of the torch shine down the first corridor, and if nothing is noticed, the second corridor, and further east.

He then hands the torch to Lampert and takes a position between the two doors, gesturing to the first, he says, "This one first."

Malivoire breathed a soft sigh of relief as he touched down on the stone of the lower chamber, happy that he suffered no slip and fall on the process.  None would have mistaken the mage for the strong, athletic type, but Malivoire was slight even for an elf.  Nevertheless, he arrived with no mishap to join the others in the partially collapsed chamber.

While Dax briefly explores the features just outside the room Malivoire glanced at the frescoes over Barnabus' shoulder.  He wondered who the deceased was, what life of importance they'd lived in their ancient time.  And whether they still lay restless in this stone prison beneath the earth.

When the way was determined to be safe and the decision made to try the first door on the right, Malivoire positioned himself according to their agreed-upon order and readied a red-fletched dart just in case.

"Awlright you lot, quit yer clanking." Ishmael says, stepping towards the door.  "Let me look." he says as he inspects the door.

Ishmael finds no evidence of traps on the door itself or in its immediate vicinity. It is unlocked.

The door opens with a soft scrape. Beyond the doorway is a twenty by twenty foot room which is unadorned with any manner of decoration. Debris litters the stone floor; primarily fragments of pottery and wood. In the center of the southern wall of the vacant chamber is another door, which is banded with rusted iron and closed. Aside from the door the adventurers just entered from, it appears to be the only exit.

On the western wall hangs a skeleton. Fragments of padded armor cling to its frame and the flaking remains of a pair of leather boots cover its feet. On the floor beneath it lies a small, metal headed hammer, clearly intended for use as a tool rather than a weapon. The skeleton’s jaw is open as if in a silent scream. A dagger with a bone handle protrudes from the skeleton’s mouth, the point of the blade having been stabbed into the stone wall, the weapon keeping the skeleton suspended.

Save for the crackle of the company’s own torches, the chamber is quiet.

Barnabus crosses the room to the western wall where he appraises the skeleton pinned to the wall, "Not in accord with any known burial practices. Clearly, the work of some scapegrace of a junior undertaker having himself a lark. We'll put a stop to that, we will, will."

He cackles to himself, his cackling accompanying the crackling of the company's torches.

Then he unpins the skeleton from the wall and stows the bones in a small sack.

He stands still after finishing his work.

"Next door. Not this banded door. The other one."

Gwendolyn keeps pace with the others once down into the tunnelways. Her bow stays ready with a nocked arrow on standby while her eyes search through the flickering shadows for nearby dangers. She stays ready to support the melee fighters with her arrows should the need arise.

Dryvyk picked up the hammer, looked it over a bit and handed it to Lampert. "This might be useful, better hang on to it."

He then returned to his spot between the doors and let the dwarf go about his business once more.

Owing to his position in their marching order Malivoire didn't get a good look at the room, but what he saw was enough to give the elf pause.  Who was strong enough to drive a dagger into the wall and pin a body there?  The mage shuddered, and then grew even more disturbed as Barnabus removed the skeleton from the wall and then disassembled the remains for storage in a sack.

"Barnabus, what are you doing?" he asked, a horrified look on his face.

Once Ishmael opens the door, Dax steps through, sword at the ready.

His eyes are drawn to the skeleton with the dagger jammed through its mouth into the stone wall. As Barnabus speaks in his incomprehensible manner and starts to pack the bones into a sack, Dax picks up the boots.

He rubs at the leather to see if they are actually falling apart or if there is just something covering the leather.


[Language unknown: Isanul pa houstilin, staer ledi'role on er!] the ranger comments quietly as he pushes around the debris on the floor with his boot, looking for anything or interest.

"For a potter's field," is all Barnabus says for an answer.

The skeleton is brittle enough that Barnabus is able to collect most of the bones for later burial, save for the skull. The dagger which was used to pin the dead man’s head to the wall will not budge, despite the priest’s best efforts to free it. Even attempts to shift the weapon in an effort to loosen it yields nothing. The knife does not move at all.

Dax finds that the dead man’s boots are heavily cracked, but might be salvageable with the attention of a skilled leather worker. The foot gear does appear to have been quite sturdily made. Dax notes that the boots are very similar in appearance to those issued to the men-at-arms who protect Ironguard Motte.

Outside of the room, from somewhere within the dense darkness that fills the eastern corridor, there comes a brief metallic noise, the clinking of moving chains. It is audible only for a moment before the pervasive silence reasserts itself.

"Should see about those chains before those chains see about us," the journeyman gravedigger observes. "Might be behind that second door."

Grugar scratched his chin as he watched the cleric. His words and actions were confusing to the half-orc. He was about to step forward to see if he could help remove the dagger from the wall when the sound of rattling chains grabbed his attention. "For once, I agree with the strange man." He adjusted his sword and shield in preparation and headed out of the room to the next door.

The dwarf remained outside the room near the door as everyone rushed in to see what they could see.  "You lot make too much noise." he whispered fervently. Then mutters softly [Language unknown: "Inlaetng unni str wiltioiouera.  Ho son enc uswhos ntehatany ilha ul i ure heil."] He steps noiselessly a few paces further down the east corridor and strained to hear more from where the chains made their presence known.

At the sound of the chains coming from outside the room, Dax dropped the worn boots and took up a position near the door, peering out into the hall.

"We should move as a group," he says to those still in the room, and gave a little shake of his head at those that gave up on travelling in formation after a single room!

Sir Dryvyk nodded to Barnabus and made ready to take on the chained horror which would inevitably meet its doom at his hand...

"Prepare yourselves! Lampert stay steady with the light!"

After Barnabus' failed attempt to remove the dagger Malivoire moved near and sniffed.  "Dark magic," he muttered, then moved away again.  The sound of rattling chains from the corridor beyond had snagged his attention, and chilled his spine.

He nodded at Dax's wise words - his old friend was right.  They must stay disciplined down in the crypts or all could easily be lost.  As the group prepared to face the unknown creeper in the shadows, he fell into place amidst the others.

Lampert nods in response to the knight’s instructions, holding his torch well above his head as the party approaches the adjacent door.