Seeing Barnabus rushing past toward the exit, Malivoire decided following the priest (and Ishmael, who had come past earlier) was the prudent thing to do.  To check up on them and help as needed.  So the elf turned and hastened after Barnabus, keeping a watchful eye.

Ishmael rubs his hand, trying to restore the warmth.  He searches for any fragments that might still be large enough to hold value as the strange priest runs by.

Searlait, who is on duty at the pulley, begins lowering the rope as soon as she hears Barnabus approaching. ”More trouble down there?” the mercenary calls, a concerned frown on her face. She waves down to Malivoire as the mage draws near.

The sapphire, which has grown progressively colder, begins to burn Barnabus’ hand, the icy reach of whatever arcane force fills it reaching the priest through his gauntlet, rattling in his fist like an angered insect struggling for freedom.

16:13, Today: Labyrinth Lord rolled 2 using 1d4.  Jewel Damage.

Ishmael is able to collect most of the fragments of the shattered sapphire, placing them all within a pouch.

Andryr stations himself outside of the chamber where the melee occurred, keeping watch for anything that might approach the party’s location.

Inside, the adventurers can see that another headless tomb robber now sits slumped beside the first victim of the undead. His head rests against the northern wall, apparently discarded before it could be placed on the shelf alongside the other grisly trophies.

The tomb robber’s corpse, clad in a bloodied, green striped tunic, clutches a leather bag in one hand.

With one gauntlet gripping the jewel and the other his symbol, Barnabus performs a minor prayer to bolster his vitality as he transports the volatile necromantic focus to the surface.


Snapping, Barnabus answers, "Speed not questions." What did the mercenary think they would find "down there" but trouble?

21:24, Today: Barnabus rolled 2 using 1d6+1.  CLW for B.

Dax relieves the headless body of the leather bag and dumps it out on the shelf to examine its contents.

He will also search the room as best he can. Looking to Dryvyk and the others in the room, he says, "The others running off like that is dangerous. Do we follow them or wait here?"

Ishmael returns to party, assisting with the search.

Malivoire waved back at Searlait, then called up a more expansive instruction than Barnabus.  "He's carrying something dangerous.  Pull him up as fast as you can, then have everyone stand clear!"

The elven mage stood his ground, observing as best he could from below to see how the priest's experiment turned out.

Searlait gives the cleric a flat look when he responds sharply, muttering something under her breath that cannot be heard below. She begins to lower the rope, but when Malivoire speaks up, the mage’s words serve to hurry her efforts. As the rope reaches the floor of the lower chamber, Searlait calls to Kraomar and Gib for help, warning them that Barnabus is carrying something dangerous.

As soon as the priest takes hold, the mercenary begins to haul him up.

OOC: Barnabus, please give me a Saving Throw vs. Spells.

”It may be best that we remain here. So that they may easily find us on their return,” Ynes suggests.

”If they do not come back promptly, then we should follow.”

Three objects tumble out of the bag onto the table.

Two are what appear to be jars, fashioned from brass and inscribed with runes. Each jar is roughly a foot tall when set upright. The lid of one of the jars is forged to resemble the head of a bird, like a falcon. The other lid is made in the likeness of the head of a frog.

The third item is a mask, made from bone. The expression on the stoic face that is depicted is one of cold command, a series of runes etched in a neat line along its forehead.

Still clutching his prize, Barnabus gazes heavenward, trusting that his ascension will be both swift and resolute.

14:19, Today: Barnabus rolled 20 using 1d20+3.  Save vs. Spells.

"Agreed, Ynes."

Looking at the objects from the pouch, he looks to the others, "Do you recognise any of these? I certainly don't!"

Entering the room just as the gathered adventurers have begun to examine the contents of the ill fated tomb robber’s sack, Lander says, ”I am no expert on funerary customs, but I believe that each of the jars are what are known as canoptic jars. They are vessels that are used to store the organs of dead persons that undergo certain religious or arcane rituals after their death, usually aimed at ensuring their possible resurrection at some future time.”

“The mask is a death mask. A funeral decoration usually included in the burial of an individual of importance.”

Kraomar and Gib become visible over the lip of the opening in the ceiling as Searlait begins to pull Barnabus up to the surface. Both the hireling and the squire have weapons drawn, uncertain of what danger approaches.

Ice begins to form on Barnabus’ gauntlet and armored forearm, the pain inflicted by the supernatural cold slowly yielding to numbness, the sensations in the priest’s hand and arm beginning to fade away completely. Barnabus is only aware of the sapphire’s ongoing movement within his palm by virtue of the sounds of it vibrating against the metal of his armor.

Within what seems an eternity for the cleric, the border of the opening to the surface comes into reach.

12:57, Today: Labyrinth Lord rolled 4 using 1d8.  Jewel Damage.

Barnabus, please provide me with another Saving Throw vs. Spells

With the egress to the surface just ahead, Barnabus's will wavers and he proves unable to resist the necromantic force of the malefic gem. Through the power of his shoulder alone, he attempts to jerk his arm towards the opening in order to send the jewel away from him and beyond the barrow. Should his mouth work, he implores those above to remove the gem if his earlier effort had failed.

14:13, Today: Barnabus rolled 7 using 1d20+3.  2nd save vs. Spells.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:23, Fri 22 July 2022.

Malivoire waited anxiously below, staring up at the edges of sky that rimmed the shadowed figure of Barnabus as he was lifted out of the crypt.  He sincerely hoped the priest had not done something too foolhardy to withstand.

"What is happening?  Is he all right?" the mage called up impatiently.

As Barnabus moves to heave the jewel away from him, and the tombs below, he feels his hand grow rigid, opening of its own accord as ice completely envelops his gauntlet. The sapphire, burning with light, lands on the edge of the opening to the catacombs, bouncing a few inches away from the cleric. Ol Gib and the hirelings reflexively step back, though Searlait is mindful to keep a firm hold on the rope.

The gem rattles on the stone floor as though it possesses a life of its own. Then, quite suddenly, it melts, burning away like a fragment of ice left to the blazing sun. Smoke rises from it, the fumes possessed of a strange blue-gray color which coalesce into a vaguely humanoid shape. The phantom howls, the sound sending a cold chill through all those that witness its appearance. Without pausing, the apparition wheels about and flies northward, rapidly escaping sight as it travels in the direction of Helix.

As it departs, the rime of ice that has covered Barnabus’ hand and arm begins to recede, the numbness in the limb fading. Kraomar reaches down, hauling the priest the rest of the way to the surface.

Below, Malivoire hears the spirit’s tortured cry clearly. Even those still within the chamber with the dead tomb robbers are able to perceive its echo.

”I think…I think so,” Searlait calls back to the mage, ”His arm is covered in ice, but it seems to be melting away.”

It only took Malivoire a second to consider, once the chills running down his spine from the gem's released soul had subsided.  "Keep him up there and stay vigilant.  I will gather the rest and we'll return here to come back up."  He nodded in thanks to Searlait.  "Good job getting him up there so quickly."

The elven mage then retraced his steps back to the execution room, where he explained quickly to the others what had happened to Barnabus (so far as he understood it, anyway).  "I think we should retreat back aboveground for now, at least until we better understand how much hard the priest has suffered.  Let's gather what we can from here and then retreat to safer ground."

Exhausted, Barnabus slumps at the lip of the portal and stares numbly at his arm. He doesn't attempt to move it. He doesn't think he should ask much of it until he has secured a cozy place by the fire for it.

After a spell, he rises, his right arm still hanging limply at his side. He turns to Searlait and wonders if he or the departed phantom should be thanking her. He decides he should thank her on behalf of them both--surely, whatever awaits the phantom in Helix must be better than indefinite imprisonment within the gem.

He feels the need for another conference with Mazzahs press upon him although they had conferred with him just the other day. While this foray into the barrow had proven rather scattershot, they had learned (and done, it must be admitted) much of significance.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:47, Wed 27 July 2022.

Dax shudders slightly, "The organs, you say! Lovely. Although I suppose I should not expect anything else in a massive barrow!"

The ranger puts the items back into the bag.

Looking around the room, he notes, "Barnabus would no doubt want to take those heads back, but I'm not carrying them out for him! Maybe he will be satisfied with some skeleton dust."

Dax cuts a piece of the former skeleton's robe and pushes some of the dust onto it, using another rag from the robe. He then folds and ties the make-shift pouch closed, places it in the leather bag, and then puts the bag into his pack.

He takes the time to wipe his blade with the rag, and to check his equipment, while he waits for Malivoire and Barnabus to return.

---

Edit: why are the obvious grammatical errors invisible when I first post?
This message was last edited by the player at 00:42, Sat 30 July 2022.

"I've no objection to returning to the sun." he dwarf adds.  "Especially if the cleric didn't make it." he voice doesn't sound like he would be disappointed either way.

"Agreed. We've waited long enough for the others to return, lets get back to camp and see what's happened to Barnabus."

If there are no objections, Dax will lead the remaining group to the elevator room and call for it to be lowered.

One at a time, Searlait dutifully brings each of the adventurers up to the surface. Kraomar and Ol’ Gib stand watch, wary of anything that might try to pursue the company as they seek to return to the surface. But below, within the high ceilinged chamber, all remains still. The tombs allow the visitors to depart without further peril.

Outside, the horizon takes on the gray-violet coloration of a fresh bruise, announcing the arrival of dusk on the Barrowmoor. Even more profoundly than in the daytime, a silence settles over the marshland, the fog which perpetually cloaks the landscape taking on a faint, eerie luminescence as the moon appears within the darkening sky. Ol’ Gib sets to work on putting fresh wood on the campfire, the brightly burning flames holding the looming shadows at bay as nightfall arrives.

Lampert takes it upon himself to remain at the door of the entrance chamber, keeping watch over the opening into the catacombs. At one point during the night, the torchbearer tenses upon hearing the muffled sounds of combat echoing from the corridors below. The clash, whatever its nature, is brief and the Barrowmaze remains still through the remainder of the evening.

Ol’ Gib puts together a tasty stew for supper. The squire, Kraomar and Searlait takes turns keeping watch over the camp as the adventurers rest. Searlait comes to attention almost an hour after Lampert hears the noises from below, her gaze drawn to rustling within a patch of reeds to the east. She alerts the other hirelings, including Andryr, directing them to the source of the noise. ”Froglings,” she tells the others, ”I’m certain of it.” Dryvyk’s dog, Ranger, growls in seeming agreement. The mercenary’s suspicion is never definitively confirmed, as whatever has drawn near to the camp elects to retreat, perhaps dissuaded form coming nearer by the number of armed persons present.

A haze dominates the Barrowmoor as dawn arrives. With it, Barnabus finds that all traces of the ice that encased his arm have vanished completely, the limb sore, but whole. Tamson arrives with first light and once the camp is broken down and the company’s possessions gathered, the guide leads the adventurers back across the lonely marshes to Helix.