It is early afternoon when the adventurers reach the streets of Helix, the rainfall having lost much of its strength during their trek across the moor, now merely a gentle drizzle. In spite of the weather, the company members can see that the village square market is in full swing, a number of eager buyers walking among the booths. From somewhere within the din, the explorers can hear an enthusiastic voice call, ”Poitions and elixirs! Magical remedies for every need!”

To the east, the sounds of saws and hammers make a constant cacophony, the framework for The Foul Pheasant having been erected once again.

Barnabus leans over the stricken retainer and comforts him, "Ol Gib, you'll never be as good as new again, but this oughta staunch the internal bleeding."

Resisting the siren call of the potionmonger (for now), the barrow raider hastens to deliver their fell findings from the tombs new and old (to them) to their patron.

In his haste to present the snake statue to Mazzahs, the curate puts it together in the wrong order: midsection, head, and the snaky trunk. Not realizing his mistake, he beams, "Look, we got this right out of a sunken temple of Set! How about that!"

Then, he reaches into his bag and jostles it in such a fashion that the six figurines tumble out before him.

"Entombed within the chests of those precious to Set!" he exclaims.

He explains that they also pilfered some sacred writings.

"Must have gotten their tails in a twist--some horror show of a mummy stalked us, and..."

He wipes his eyes, unaware that in doing so he had cleared away a tear.

"Well, it got two of our own but we sent it packing!"

"Oh, and we found a hellmouth in the barrow maze itself (describe that secret chamber of Orcus for Mazzahs). For reasons I've yet to understand, we left some executioner's implements there, but we collected the other loathsome bits (present that which we had harvested from the secret room)."

Sniffling, he confesses that they were both baffled and disturbed by that chamber and another -- one with some ritualistic purpose (the one with dust-free jug) (the first one -- not the urn).

"See, we're not cultists, you know. Maybe that's where the death knights are made? We destroyed one later that was guarding this lidded urn that refused to leave the barrow. Why under the earth would a death knight have fought to the death over some obsidian urn? I'll never be able to wrap my head around that."

Gib is fully healed of all but his trauma.
21:21, Today: Barnabus rolled 7 using 1d6+1.  CLW for Gib.

As the sounds of the village reach his ears, Dax's face somehow becomes more grim than during his silent march from the barrows.

Entering the village, he headed toward the Mercenary Guild, even as he watched Barnabus stride towards Mazzahs' tower. Without looking back, he felt certain that Dryvyk would join him...perhaps the others for moral support.

"Thank you," Sir Dryvyk said to Barnabus after they'd taken Ol'Gib to the care of Brother Othar. "I look up to that hard old buzzard. He's taught me since I was a boy. My father knew what he was doing when he commissioned him as my Squire."

He spoke privately with Brother Othar to request sending out a solicitation for a page and other help for the camp. Andryr was coming along well, and there was every expectation that Ol'Gib would be back to his grumbling old self soon enough. But the attack on the camp had spooked them all enough that a few extra hands would make everyone feel more safe. More help for the aged senior squire would be good, camp fortifications and operations weren't something to be taken lightly... anymore.

The knight nodded grimly to Dax as they had an important but solemn duty to bring word to the Guild. Such was the risk of employment as a guild journeyman, being a glorified mercenary after all, but Searlait had been more than just a hireling. Hopefully there might be others available to help avenge her death...

As they made their way across town, Sir Dryvyk saw the new construction taking place. "That didn't take long. Filth and decadence never rest it would seem. I had hoped the fire would have been the end to the Pheasant." If only the people of Helix would support the Chapel of St. Ygg as much as they tolerated an establishment like the Foul Pheasant.

"Krothos could do something about that if he wished... my guess is that he's throwing money behind it." There was obvious venom in what the young knight had to say.

Malivoire followed along with Dax and Sir Dryvyk, feeling it his responsibility to see to the final arrangements for their fallen guards.  He wanted to discuss the mummy and its magical disappearance with Mazzahs, but that could wait.

The elf did not comment on Drykyk's opinions when it came to the 'Pheasant or the lord of the land.  He didn't necessarily disagree about the knight's assessment, particularly regarding Krothos, but he didn't want to get into a philosophical argument over the role of rulers versus the wants and needs of the populace. They were engaged in a solemn task and that deserved their focus.

"I wonder how we will be received at the Guild?" he mused aloud, his face troubled.  "I can't think we'd be considered good luck by many now."

When Barnabus, accompanied by Lampert, who assists with some of the retrievals from the tombs, arrives at the top of the spire, he finds Mazzahs deep in study, scratching notes on a parchment as he carefully studies the tune tablet delivered by Malivoire. Initially, even after the wizard greets his visitors, he seems mildly preoccupied, lost in his own contemplations.

At the arrival of the statue, he grows more attentive. Regarding the sculpture grimly, he extends a hand toward it, the pieces shifting back into their proper positions, before the entire piece vanished from sight in a flash of blue illumination. ”I will give the statue due examination to see if it may offer any insights, but I do not wish for something used for the veneration of the god of serpents and death to have a prominent place in my laboratory.”

He considers the collection of small statues quietly. ”These denote the servants of a high priest or priestess of Set, buried with them to serve them in the underworld.” He looks to Barnabus with a deeply concerned frown. ”This mummy. Who did it slay? And what became of it? Were you able to destroy it?”

Talk of the portal does nothing to calm the wizard’s agitation. Nodding slowly, he says, ”Whatever instinct led you to leave those weapons where they were was a sound one. Many such implements dedicated to the service of Orcus demand the spilling of blood once they are grasped, regardless of whether it comes from friend or foe. The one that takes them up is slowly driven into a murderous frenzy, unable to release the weapon until it is satiated.”

“The portal. It would be best if you sought out Brother Othar and asked him for holy water. Dousing the portal with it should disrupt its power and cause it to close. You could cleanse the weapons you found in the same manner. But be wary when you do so. It is possible that those who created the portal will sense that it has been closed.”

“Nonetheless, it must be destroyed. And soon. It is a conduit to infernal powers.”

He listens to Barnabus description of the room with the basin. ”It sounds as if what you found was a place of scrying. The basin, once filled with water, likely functions as a looking glass through which you may be able to see elsewhere. I would take care in using it however. We know nothing of those who brought it into being and what their intentions were.”

“The urn…although I could not say for certain without examining it myself, I suspect it is a prison. That some manner of fell being is held within it. Perhaps the undead knight wished to set what was within it loose? Or it might have been acting purely out of curiosity, drawn to the container by what it could sense of its power. The fact that it has been left alone by the other denizens of the maze leads me to believe that whatever it holds is dangerous. If you were able to leave the tombs with it, it is something that should be destroyed. Or, barring that, placed far away from those who might investigate it.”

He looks over the mouldering books. ”These may hold knowledge that would prove beneficial in understanding the conflict in the Barrowmaze.” He waves his hand over the items taken from the shrine of Orcus, causing them to become wreathed in a blue glow. ”I will see if these offer any insights as well.”

The wizard steps over to the window that faces southward, peering out at the mist covered swampland. ”I am concerned. There seem to be many things active and awakening within the catacombs. Above all, I wish to ensure that the people of the Duchy, as well as those beyond its borders, are kept safe from the workings of the undead. Were you able to explore many of the areas that Gamdar mapped out for you?”

Osen, guildmaster of the Mercenary Guild, receives the news that Dax, Malivoire, and Sir Dryvyk bring him soberly. ”Searlait was a good soldier. She served in the armies of the north before coming to Helix. Helped stave off the orc invasion two winters ago. She’d hoped to save up some gold from her work here. Open a stable back where she was born. She loved horses.”

“If you’re able to bring her back, I’ll see she receives a proper burial and blessing. She was well liked here. Many looked up to her.”

He is silent for a moment, then adds, ”Thank you for telling me. Some who we work for think of us as expendable. Forgotten as soon as our usefulness has passed. There are some of our number who have died whose fate I didn’t learn of until many seasons later. Their patrons don’t bother to inform us of what became of them. I’m grateful that you held Searlait in high regard.”
This message was last edited by the player at 15:49, Thu 06 Apr 2023.

"She was anything but expendable. She fought to the end against a creature that all of us combined could do no better than to cause it to retreat.

Please send word to me, when the funeral will be held, I would like to pay my respects.

And if she has family that depended on her, I would contribute to their fund."

Sir Dryvyk nodded and echoed the sentiments shared by Dax. "My squire survived, though barely. He's getting patched up right now by Brother Othar and his acolytes. He's not been too chatty as riding in a cart while in the arms of death isn't really conducive to conversation. He'll probably hate me for this, but I would volunteer him to come round and relate the tale of what happened. We're certainly curious."

The knight was thoughtful a moment before sharing something further with the Guildmaster. "Unlike others who've undertaken to explore the Barrowmoors, we've a greater motivation than the gathering of treasures probably best left undisturbed. The evil which stirs in yonder swamp has been growing and is restless. Of course my own Order would strive to keep this from proceeding unchecked, but my companions as well share in the desire to see these evils restrained and even destroyed. We must recruit where we can and hire where we cannot. Knowing this, please keep us informed if you have other guild members who would wish to join our employ. Knowing there are certainly dangers, but rewards greater than the glint of gold to be had as well..."

”I will send word to her family today,” the guildmaster says, ”When they have responded, I will be sure to seek you out.”

Ynes, who had accompanied her fellow adventurers to the guild, had remained quiet at first, but now spoke. ”I would contribute to their welfare as well, should they have need of it. Searlait was a brave soul,” she says.

Owen nods gratefully. ”I’m glad to hear that your squire escaped death, Sir. If he would be willing to share the tale of what happened, I would wish to hear it.”

“The Barrowmoor is a place of terror. All here have heard the tales. We know the dead walk freely there. But I’ve a certainty that there are those among us, like Searlait, who won’t be turned aside by the dangers it holds. You stay at the Strumpet when you’re here in Helix, yes? I will send any who might be interested there to speak with you.”

When the wizard sends the serpentine statue to the cornfield, Barnabus resists the impulse to flinch and only laments that "there, over there in the corner, wouldn't have been so prominent a place for it."

With the names, Searlait and Kraomar, on the tip of his tongue, they spring forth freely from there when Mazzahs asks for them almost as if they had taken flight of their own volition.

"We caught up with the mummy on the moors as it walked towards Helix. It seemed more magician than mummy. It plucked a steel golem out of its robes. It broke a staff in two and teleported away when we threatened to overwhelm it. Where it is now, I could not say. Maybe we could use that scrying basin to find out?"


"No, no, no," Barnabus responds, disappointment heavy upon him. "It was to have been a focused foray but we got pulled in every which way. First by the newly breached barrow of set and the three ghasts within. That encounter cost us our web, without which we must raid very carefully."

His brow furrows with determination.

"Next time. We also found a map off of some goblins that pinpoints a secret door in that area. Maybe even Gamdar was unaware of it."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:05, Fri 07 Apr 2023.

Mazzahs pauses at the description of the mummy’s escape. ”In this region, the only faith that has practiced mummification is that of Set. It was reserved for only the most powerful of his followers; priests, warriors, and necromancers. And a select few of their servants. It was done for only one reason: so that those who worshipped the god in life would go on to perform his bidding in death.”

“Many of the most powerful of these undead were gifted with the means to escape danger. Many arcane historians from the east, where the cult has been a great scourge, have surmised that such mummies were apt to return to their place of burial. Their sarcophagus. The faithful of Set would work charms into such resting places which would allow the undead to be restored and rejuvenated upon returning there. That is likely where your monster fled.”

“I trust the golem was destroyed?”

The wizard frowns, briefly considering the mention of the goblins. ”When you return to the Barrowmaze, you might investigate this hidden portal first. I need not tell you that goblins, while occasionally foolhardy, are cunning enough to avoid obvious risks to their lives, such as tombs filled with the undead. If they were there, it was in search of something that was probably of great value. Something that they likely did not even fully understand the purpose of.”

Barnabus couldn't agree more.

"Assuredly! Almost totally assuredly! It barreled off blindly towards the barrows where, dollars to doughnuts, it blundered into some tomb or other and pulped the tomb dwellers until it was beaten down."

"What else possibly could have happened? Nothing else, that's what I say," he assures his patron.

"That's the rub, ain't it? There are so many firsts. First close the portal. First hunt down the mummy's tomb. First finish exploring Gamdar's map. First find the goblin's special spot."

He considers.

"The hellmouth should be closed first, don't you think?"

The dwarf keeps mostly quiet, the talk of gods and demons and death mean little to him.  He is just here to get rich, though he's beginning to suspect there might be safer ways to do it.

Mazzahs chuckles. ”Quote so. I ask too much of you. In the midst of my research, I allow my own priorities to shift from moment to moment, depending on the thread I am following.”

“If you have any suspicion of the mummy’s resting place, you should find it and destroy the accused thing first. If left alone, it will venture forth again, to no good purpose.”

“Once that is seen to, the conduit to the abyss should be closed. It provides the means for Orcus’ followers to speak with their demonic masters, and this should not be left alone. But, I suspect that its use has lessened in the wake of Lord Varghoulis’ arrival. So it is not as imperative.”

“Time is also on our side with regard to the goblins. They will not realize for some time that their compatriots are not returning and when they do, another band will need to work up the courage to follow in their lost predecessors’ footsteps. That will not happen quickly. Even so, we don’t want them to capture whatever it was they were seeking. It will doubtlessly lead only to chaos.”

He nods. ”You are already aware of the need for exploration. The more that is discovered, the more that is learned.”

“If the urn remains when you next return, it may be safe to leave it. It would seem it possesses certain protections against being claimed. Those may be sufficient. Left to its corner of the maze, it may cause no harm.”

The wizard frowns as he considers the report of the golem. ”So we do not know what became of the mummy’s protector. That is disquieting. There are any number of things it could have stumbled onto during its flight, not the least of which were the undead. We can only hope that whatever became of it, it did not cause any further harm.”

Barnabus cringes at the wizard's frown. He had brushed aside the curate's assurances as if they were yesterday's ashes.

Unbowed, he tries again, "Ah, don't be such a worrywart, Mazzahs. You carry on like we're constantly one misstep away from ... from W*O*R*L*D A*N*N*I*H*I*L*A*T*I*O*N."

"The world's still here and our steps are more careful than ever!"

He smiles brightly.

"I wonder what else that mummy has up its wraps? I guess we'll find out."

"You know, a scroll of burning hands wouldn't go amiss..."

Off to Othar.