The eerie silence that dominates the winding corridors of the tombs persists as the adventurers make their way back to the chamber they entered the complex from, the shadowed room with the frescoes depicting a burial procession and the rope and pulley above.

Along the way, the company collects the polished skulls from the table, along with the banners that adorn the walls of that room. They also retrieve the urns they had previously discovered, but left behind. Nothing harasses them as they backtrack through the stone hallways, almost as though the tombs themselves are content to allow them their retreat. Only a single shriek, unearthly and hollow, echoes from somewhere far to the south as they draw close to the place of entrance.

Moments after reaching the frescoed chamber with the collapsed wall, a voice calls down softly from above. ”That you lot down there? Back from exploring?” It is Searlait, the guard hired from the Mercenary Guild.

Regrettably, the cleric had decided, later than some of the others, that play time was over. He had no idea how much time he had spent at his play and anticipated looking to the sky above for an answer.

Barnabus returns the call from above with one of his own, "Yes, down here is that lot looking to come back up. One has joined our lot: ebony skin with iron bands and flesh of gold and silver!"

We might have neglected to add the bless damage bonus to the total done to the ooze. If so, it was hit three times for an additional 3 points of damage. It's also likely that we might have been forgetting about about the +1 to hit for firing ranged weapons at close range (page 54 of LL -- up to 15 feet for darts).

"Send the platform down, Searlait. We've some items to haul up as well as us."

Dax will guard the entrance to the room until everything and everyone is above ground, before joining them.

Ishmael looked up at the shadowy figure outlined against the brightness above.  He breathed a long quiet sigh, releasing the tension that they have almost made it back out.  He waited quietly, and helps to load people and goods onto the ferry.

Searlait acts promptly to lower the platform. As adventurers and the newly acquired treasures are in loaded onto it, she and Kraomar work the pulley to bring them up to the columned room above. Ol Gib is quick to organize the party’s discoveries in the northeastern corner of the chamber. As the company members reach the surface they can see, through the entrance to the tomb, the light of dawn washing over the misty expanse of the Barrowmoor.

”Mostly quiet,” Kraomar reports to his employers, ”A few froglings turned up, looking to see if there was something they could steal. We drove them off easily enough.”

Malivoire held on to his anxiety a bit longer than Ishmael, not relaxing until the lot of them had been raised aboard the platform and stood in the relative safety of their camp on the surface.  Then he released a pent-up breath and finally calmed himself.  He thanked Ol' Gib and the mercenaries for safeguarding their return.

"Do we head back to town then, to report our findings and restock?" he asked of the group.  Apparently the light of dawn had significantly emboldened the fledgling mage, even after such a short time removed from the catacombs.

In wonderment, Barnabus beholds the dawn unfolding before them upon the contours of the Barrowmoor. Had they wiled away day and night in the playground below? His heads swims with the revelation.


Moonfaced, the mystic produces a broad smile in assent to the wizard's plan.

Dax, you are healed back to max.
18:39, Today: Barnabus rolled 6 using 1d6+1.  CL for Dax.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 02:33, Fri 15 Apr 2022.

"Good work, all of you!"

As Barnabus' spell heals Dax's minor wounds, he nods in thanks to the cleric.

”I’ve killed more of those creatures than I’d care to count,” Searlait tells Dax, ”They and the lizard folk that live on the moor are especially fond of raiding the caravans bound to and from Ironguard Motte. Guarding them’s how I’ve made much of my living over the past few seasons.”

She glances over at the chest, urns, and other items the adventurers collected. ”You don’t mind me saying so, I’ve been in Helix long enough to see a few groups of tomb robbers set out for the barrows. Most don’t return. Those that do usually have some coin, but no more than a bagful. Nothing like what you’ve been able to find. I’m afraid to ask what you had to face down there to win it.”

”There was quite a bit to be fearful of down there,” Lampert volunteers, ”but they were all quite brave, ma’am. Every one.”

Dax chuckles, "You were just as brave Lampert, if not more so! After all you are not dressed in mail and carrying a sword, and yet you experienced every thing that we did!"

"A lot of walking dead, more than I imagined existed before coming here. And only a small portion of what is likely down there, given the size of the catacombs. We left many corridors and doors unexplored!

As to what we found, some is easy enough to identify, some we don't know what it is for, and some," the ranger points to the chest, "we have yet to open!

Should we open it now?" he asks, looking at the others.

Still grinning beatifically, Barnabus turns to face Searlait and slips into hyperverbal mode:

"They did not merely walk, no, no, they stomped together in lock step formation, as if they had been marching together so for millennia before and after they had died! Undead legionnaires! The chains of duty so strong that mere death cannot not break them asunder! And, and, four of them, skeletons these were, had sapphires embedded in the broad sweep of their foreheads, resplendent sapphires -- skeletons resplendently bedizened with jewels. Just splendid!"

"But," the priest of decay continues, his grin only now beginning to fade, "I fear a malign yet seductive influence behind this necromancy. It spoke to us in sighs and whispers and creaks and groans and the rattling of chains."

It has not occurred to him that there is always a malignancy to necromancy.

With a trace of the forlorn, he finishes, "I don't think we can yet speak its language."

Yes, open the chest and count the loot now and then back to the hospitality of Helix.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 01:34, Tue 19 Apr 2022.

The elven mage blushed a bit at the praise heaped upon them, despite the anxious moments he'd suffered during some of their encounters below.  Blushed and perhaps puffed up just a bit.

"Yes, no sense in lugging that chest back if it holds nothing more than rocks.  Let's take a look now," Malivoire agreed.

One of the urns taken from the angry spirit’s room holds 48 gold pieces. Tucked within the coins is a thick glass vial filled with a clear liquid.

The second urn holds a total of 32 platinum coins and a pair of rubies which Ishmael estimates to be worth 25 gold pieces each.

The chest holds a total of 352 gold pieces, along with a longsword in a dark leather scabbard, a pair of black leather gloves, an ivory wand carved with the symbol of an arrow, and a round steel shield that appears entirely unblemished.

A series of trilling bird calls reach the camp from somewhere nearby, the gray mist lessening, but not dissipating, as the sky grows brighter.

Dax listens to the birds for a moment.

If they sound unnatural to him, he will say, "Something odd about those birds, beware it might be a signal of bandits...or worse!"

Otherwise, the ranger's eyes widen as each treasure is revealed. "A veritable treasure hoard! And some items that might hold some magicks! I say we pack up and head straight to Mazzahs tower and see if he cannot tell us more of these items."

Barnabus snickers, "Then I will command one of them to clear away the last of the mist."

"The rest," he finishes, with a spreading of his arms and upturning of his palms, "I will leave to you."

Of course, he's delighted with the coins and the gems and the curios -- all of it. He decides to do his part to help identify the items and sips from the vial of clear liquid after having suggested that Grugar try out the longsword and shield. Ishmael, he thinks, might want to see about those black gloves.

Malivoire looked closely at the wand with a mix of wonder and desire in his eyes, and he decided to gently handle the item while inspecting it.  Once finished he placed it carefully back inside the chest.

"I agree with Dax.  We should take these items to Mazzahs in the hope that he can confirm any magics that might lay upon them.  I'm afraid such divination is beyond my powers."

Searlait, Kraomar, Lampert, and Sir Dryvyk’s squire begin discussing how best to distribute the burdens that need to be brought back to Helix.

As they agree on a plan, Searlait addresses the adventurers. ”Tamson had said that he would come to the camp around dawn, to see that all was well with us. I’m certain he can guide us back to the village.”

Malivoire finds the wand remarkably light, recognizing that it could be manipulated with ease. Its surface is entirely smooth, no doubt the result of meticulous craftsmanship.

Barnabus takes a sip of the liquid. It is cold with the taste of fresh water from a mountain stream. A moment after imbibing that small amount, the priest’s body takes on a translucent appearance, such that those nearby can see through him. In the morning light, he has the look of a lingering ghost , a spirit that wanders at night that has not yet found its way back to its place of rest.

Nearby, the gathering hears the voice of Tamson, the guide, hailing the camp as he draws near.

The dwarf grouses a bit, as he cleans his blood off of his armor.  He remains content to let the others pack up the bounty for distribution once in saver environs.  Of course, the dwarf was careful to take note of every coin and bauble, just to make sure everything ends up square.  He was no expert on magic, but was certain more than some of what they found was worth more than what might be on first glance.  "I'm looking forward ta a bit of warmth, hearty food and a stiff drink." he says.  "...or three." he follows with softly.

Dax nodded at the dwarf, "You're not the only one, Ishmael. It will be extremely pleasant to spend some time in the company of the living!"

Sir Dryvyk spoke quietly with Ol' Gib, apart from the others, as they considered the haul of treasures from the depths below. The young knight was concerned about the goings-on above ground and was getting his report from the old squire.

"You've set up a wonderful camp here, even began to fortify it a bit, but it seems as though the party has decided to return briefly to Muzzah's Tower. I should like to have you accompany us. Once there, perhaps we'll have you help us recruit a bit more help. There are things down there..." he trailed off, but made a holy gesture of warding. "We'll be back here soon enough, and your preparations will not have gone in vain."

~~~

Rejoining the party, he turned to face in the direction the call had come from, glancing over at Ol' Gib with an inquiring look if this was a prearranged signal.

The squire gives the knight an affirming nod. Soon, the familiar figure of Tamson, the company’s guide, becomes visible. ”I am glad to see each of you well,” he tells the adventurers when he reaches the camp. He readily sets to work alongside the others in helping to load the cart.

Soon, the expedition is underway, carefully navigating the wide marsh as they travel back to Helix. The initial leg of the journey is slow. Even in full daylight, the mist covered moor is treacherous. But by mid morning, the terrain has grown firmer, and well before the sun has reached its zenith, the welcome sight of the village appears on the horizon.