There only seemed to be one direction to go with the clash of the titanic evils to the south, and that was OUT. It would seem a small atonement, saving a soul or two from the catacombs, for having led one or two there to their deaths -- were Barnabus to believe he was in need of any atonement.

Instead he congratulates himself for resisting the pull of the gargoyle's arm, for tug at his soul, it surely does. He consoles himself that maybe his fellows would be amenable to a spot of mining on the way back...

Exit the tombs.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:12, Fri 16 June 2023.

Stepping out of the newly-discovered tunnel, into the familiar one, Dax remarks, "I would have expected to hear the sounds of battle! Did one of those abominations destroy the other so quickly?"

Shifting the weight of the dead dwarf on his shoulder, he adds, "Barnabus has it right. Let's return to Helix and speak to Mazzahs and Othar. And Safherd can make arrangements for Keelgo as she sees fit."

"Agreed," Malivoire nodded briskly.  Witnessing one battle between Varghoulis and a demon from the netherworlds was enough for any one elf.  He had no need to stick around and watch another!  Besides, they needed to warn the town about the battle.  The balrog had fled there after its defeat by the undead lord.  Perhaps this latest demon would do the same.

"At least we weren't in the middle ah it." the dwarf comments as they march along.

Within the long, east-west corridor which the adventurers have vacated, Varghoulis, last warlord of the northern moors, strides westward, pausing only to kick aside the remains of the demon which litter the passageway. His pace is purposeful, relenting only when he reaches the easternmost of the curtained alcoves. There, he halts, pulling the curtain open. Then, after a silent pause, he sinks to his knees.

He places his gauntleted hand on the bones on the floor, his deathly voice breaking the hush which has fallen over the hall. ”Sister,” he says, ”You have been driven away. Callously banished by the servant of a false death god. You…are beyond my reach now.”

There is a long quiet before he speaks again. ”I will find the one who exiled you. You will be avenged. This, I vow.”

As they hastily make their way back to catacombs’ entrance chamber, the adventurers find the corridors they traverse strangely still, the crypts almost giving the impression of being entirely vacant.

”I will see that he receives a proper burial in Helix,” Safherd says of Keelgo as they walk, ”I am most appreciative for the kindness you have shown me. With the Outriders gone, I don’t know what I will do next. I had assumed I would remain indentured for years to come.”

Arriving at the high ceilinged entrance room, the company members see, lying directly beneath the opening in the ceiling, what appears to be the severed leg of an extremely large frog, one at least the size of a human. Nearby, the recently placed siege ladder has been liberally splashed with blood.

Barnabus takes a look at Sir.

"Hey, you still have that death wish, don't you? You go up first, followed by Dax. The rest of us will have the good sense to wait for your 'all clear.'"

Encouragingly, he adds that if he's hesitant, he still has the "blessing of Impurax" upon him.

"NOT AGAIN!" The Knight may have uttered a few choice paths as he rushed up the ladder, but having slammed the visor of his helmet down, the words could be confused for prayerful orations.


OOC: Up and out and moving off the mark. Looking for camp allies.

Sir Dryvyk surges up the siege ladder, tensed for what may await him above. Reaching the chamber overhead he sights the remains of a frogling, one of the amphibious humanoids given to raids throughout the Duchy. Charging outside to the campsite, he finds…

…the hirelings, along with Ol Gib and Ranger, gathered at the camp. Nohvi Cain is wrapping a bandage on Jiedrol Karsk’s forearm. Ol Gib and Ocai Hanezen are each cleaning blades while Trisrel Yante circulates nearby, retrieving arrows. Ranger barks excitedly at Sir Dryvyk’s appearance and rushes up to the paladin, tail wagging.

Around the periphery of the camp, Sir Dryvyk sees the remains of seven more froglings.

”We had a spot of trouble, Sir,” Hanezen reports, ”Nothing we couldn’t manage.”

The knight ruffed the guard hound affectionately, very relieved to see the camp, mostly, as they'd left it.

"I'm relieved! Our last foray found us returning to an even more gruesome scene. Looks like the Guild has provided us with some great men. Well done Hanezen. Is everyone well?"

The young knight glanced over at Ol'Gib with a questioning look. You got this? he silently asked his squire.

"Let's prepare to strike camp, turns out we've kicked the ant pile again."

Sir Dryvyk returned to the ladder to let the others know the situation was in hand and to help them surface.

"Glad to hear all is well...for once!"  Dax mutters as he stoops to pick up the corpse of Keelgo, which he had dropped as he prepared to sprint up the stairs.

He avoids Safherd's eyes as he ascends, in case she is miffed at his treatment of her deceased comrade-in-arms.

Barnabus turns a speculative eye on the froglings reposing peacefully about the campsite. Might Mazzahs appreciate their delivery for research purposes? He should have surreptitiously snatched that limb at the bottom of the ladder. There did always seem to be a wayward limb down there to greet them upon their exit.

It'll take some time to break down camp. That other barrow is just over there with its rich veins of ore. Barnabus turns a speculative eye towards the sky. If there's enough daylight, they could get in a spot of mining before they returned. It would be what Battist would have wanted after all.

If there are hours, Barnabus will conscript a few miners to get busy while the camp is broken down, etc.

If not, back to Helix.

"I would say you are free to do whatever you'd like now.  Exciting and scary all at the same time, I'll bet.  But plenty of time to think it over in town," Malivoire answered Safherd with a reassuring grin. "We're usually looking for help ourselves, and there are other opportunities no doubt."

That the froglings had attacked the camp was probably not much of a surprise - it was bound to have happened sooner or later our on the moor.  But the elven mage was pleased to see how well the camp guards had handled the threat.  "Well done indeed," he congratulated those who had stayed topside.  "Knowing people of your competence are up here guarding our exit gives us the confidence we need to keep delving below."

If Barnabus wandered off to the ex-barrow during the striking of camp, Malivoire followed to observe and keep watch, lest the priest get into trouble by himself and have no allies at hand.  When the troupe was ready to head for Helix, he fell in line and turned his thoughts to a bed and some wine at the inn.

OOC: In terms of time, the sun is somewhat low in the western sky. The adventurers would estimate that is roughly an hour before dusk.

Sir Dryvyk gathered the camp crew together to get the details of the frogling attack. He made sure everyone was well and any necessary bandages were applied to clean wounds. He retrieved his purse and spurs from Ynes and proceeded to pass out a gold piece to each of those who'd defended the camp, thanking each and giving inspiring words of encouragement. The Knight also tipped Lampert as well.

What's that add up to LL? 5gp? Did I miss any of the hirelings?

Glancing at the skyline, he wondered aloud, "I don't know if we ought to travel at night through the moors... but we've also narrowly escaped a fell foe whom we've narrowly managed to avoid several times now. Maybe it's better to take our chances on the way to Helix than sticking around here. We've strength in numbers certainly, especially if Safherd and her companion go with us. What are your thoughts Dax? Gib? Anyone?"

"We can't go around being afraid of the dark," Barnabus twits. "Come now, I need a few of you (and Ishmael) to help with the mining, and then we'll be on our way back to Helix. This is unfinished business I don't intend to leave unfinished for another hour."

"We've already pulled up the ladder. Now push something over the entrance..."

Grab a couple of hirelings (+Ishmael) and then return to Helix in the early evening.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:43, Mon 19 June 2023.

Jiedrol Karsk, Safherd, and Ol Gib set to moving a sizable piece of broken stone in front of the opening into the catacombs’ entrance chamber.

Keeping watch on the nearby expanse of barrows, Trisrel Yante asks the nearby adventurers, ”What is it that the priest is so eager to retrieve from that place? Is it safe to descend into it again?”

With Ocai Hanezen and Nohvi Cein in tow, Barnabus and Ishmael descend again into the destroyed barrow that once held Set’s faithful. In the intervening hours which the party has spent within the catacombs, the thick veil of smoke which filled wide crater has largely lifted, only a thin gray haze still visible within the ruins of the former tomb.

Making their way across the uneven, rubble strewn floor, the small group crosses to what was once the burial place of the mummies, the streaks of gold and platinum embedded in the western wall becoming visible. The scent of the marsh competes with the lingering smell of smoke for dominance of the space. Long shadows are draped over the former crypt.

A few paces from the deposits, Ishmael and Barnabus both notice a dull metal canister, as large as a human’s forearm, thin tendrils of black smoke escaping from one end of it.

Prone more to actions than words, Ocai Hanezen strides over to one of the larger clumps of gold, sparks flying as he begins to chip at it with strong blows.

"Hidden treasure," gasps the junior demolitionist upon sighting the black canister, having missed it the first time they had inspected his (now deceased) master's handiwork.

He pitches his voice an octave higher than the usual: "Oh, last Lord of the Northern Wastes, special delivery!"

Explaining to Ishmael that he had yet to complete his training, he points to the package of delights and instructs Ocai to "hold off" until the boom box has been removed, not wanting to follow in Battist's footsteps.

A note of uncertainty creeps into his voice, "It is safe to move, isn't it, Ishmael?"
This message was last edited by the player at 20:55, Mon 19 June 2023.

The dwarf smiled warmly at the top of the stairs like a weight lifted, many thought that dwarves loved living in holes in the ground.  And while the earth was often a comforting companion, he knew quite a few dwarves that had taken to stargazing.  In anycase, being free of the darkness of the barrows, he was glad to see the sun, even filtered.

Ishmael followed the priest, and sighed deeply at the top of the pit, and started his way down, as he did enjoy the craft of mining and it would make a pleasant diversion, on the other hand there was ale waiting to be drunk back in Helix.

Taking one look at the canister, he grunted.  "No, i'taint."  and turned with a bit of haste back towards the rim.  "Ocai, Nohvi, iffin yer smart, you'll follow." his pace quickens.  "The ore'll still be here tomorrow, or it won't."

The two men-at-arms need no further explanation than Ishmael’s admonition. The pair hasten to follow the dwarf out of the barrow, climbing up the rope behind him back to the surface.

With a hangdog expression, Barnabus lopes after the rest of them, planning, without delay, to hire another tutor in the art of demolition.

Back to Helix.

”What’re they doin’?” Scipio asked, taking a bite of his apple as he stared at the north end of the hamlet with a frown. He didn’t have time for foolishness this morning. He had to get a load of dried peat over to Helix and then bring a shipment of cut stone back to Bogtown before nightfall. Before the card game at The Toasty Troll. He’d been on a streak of luck of late and didn’t want to leave coin that could be his unclaimed.

Beside him, Gulgram stroked his beard and shook his bald head. ”Buggered if I know,” the dwarf said, ”Krik said they were there before first light. Just standing at the edge of town, like so.”

The lizard men, perhaps two dozen all told, stood in two lines, stiff and at attention, in the same manner as Duke Ironguard’s soldiers, a spear at each one’s side. One of the reptilian humanoids had scales that were more blue than green, a feathered headdress on his head. Presumably, he was the leader. As word of the gathering had reached the homes and businesses of Bogtown, more and more people had moved into the muddy streets to gawk at the lizard men.

”Well, I don’t give a goblin’s nose hairs about whatever it is they think they’re up to,” Scipio grumbled, spitting on the ground, ”They’re blocking the road north! Some of us has business to see to!”

Suddenly, the lizard man in the headdress stepped forward. Speaking in a strong, hissing voice, he delivered a speech that lasted for several minutes, his tone stern, perhaps even aggressive, his words apparently those of his native tongue. When he was finished, he rapped the butt of his spear twice on the ground, staring intently at the gathered villagers as if expecting a response.

”Anyone know what he said?” Urnst Gunter asked from the porch of the tavern. The murmuring which followed confirmed that the lizard man’s meaning was lost on everyone.

Scipio snorted impatiently. ”Damned swamp dwellers,” he growled. Taking his half eaten apple, he hauled back and hurled it, the fruit traveling in a swift, straight line before hitting the lizard man who had spoken directly between the eyes.

”There,” Scipio told Gulgram, ”Let’s see what he thinks about that.”
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:39, Tue 20 June 2023.