Part MDCCLXXVI: Through the Forsaken Halls
Through the Forsaken Halls
Seventeenth Day of the First Month 293 AC
"Lead us to this dead priest and..." you smile coldly... "the crazy bitch. There is no need for you to fight to show your worth."
The Sellsword, or perhaps sell-quill from his posture and ink-stained fingers, slumps slightly in relief as he gingerly takes up the Wayfinder and peers at the whirls of arcane dust. He shows no wariness of the magic, small black eyes lighting up in understanding at once.
A mind sharper than his blade. You might have use for such a man, if he should prove himself dependable.
The shadows of the corridor seem to draw closer as you leave the war-room for the domain of the dead once more, deep pools of inky darkness gather in the corners, and from alcoves in the stone ancient skulls seem to leer in anticipation... or hunger. The mage-lantern Waymar carries ahead seems a frail spark against the gathering gloom, but nothing arises to bar your way, only dust and echoes.
"The tower above was once a temple of the Sarnori Sun God and King of Heaven after their reckoning," Malarys explains, his voice clear and unwavering. "Any dead things we fight here are likely to be born of darkness and silence, a defiance and blasphemy to the god that allowed his Sallosh to fall and their tombs to be defiled."
"And yet they would make pacts with those same defilers?" Waymar's asks, confused.
"One should not expect reason of the dead that rise unwittingly," the mage-lord shrugs "The madness that infects them makes them easily swayed to certain courses of action... so long as one is powerful enough to withstand their initial rage."
"Or it could simply be that this dead priest is bound," Maelor puts in.
"That seems unlike..." you stop suddenly as from up ahead you hear faint echoes almost lost in the sounds of your own footsteps. "Stop!" you whisper urgently. The sounds continue unabated.
"Could we already be catching up?" you ask your guide.
The man thinks for a moment then shakes his head. "Probably just more poor fools wandering around blind with no plan worth the name."
Though you had feared something more sinister, a quick flight reveals that he is right. "Throw down your arms and surrender!" you shout to the trio of crossbowmen, the power of elder dragons still in your voice, and to your relief they actually do.
The last thing you need is whatever else may be down here to be drawn in by the sounds of fighting however brief.
***
At last you come to a six-sided chamber left up by fluted ivory columns holding up a defaced fresco of celestial magnificence, thirty-five upright sarcophagi painted with the faces and vestments of ancient Sarnori assembled in mute stillness.
"There is nothing animate here," Malarys assures you a moment before you were going to check yourself.
"Not yet," Vee grumbles, giving the entire room a capricious look.
"She's over that way," the sellsword points to a narrow stone door off to the side of the chamber. One looks is enough to make it quite clear that it was once adorned with panels of some worth, now stripped by looters.
As you and the others quickly approach the door in question you can hear words, chanting coming from beyond, a woman's voice speaking the tongue of the Tall Men.
"It seems we have arrived in time for once," Malarys says with a cold smile. "Let us be done with this once and for all."
"How long do you think we have?" you ask, already considering what wards you could add to your already formidable protections.
"Possibly as long as a minute," comes the reply after a moment.
What do you do?
[] Write in battle plan
OOC: The priestess failed her first roll to call up the dead and you guys did not delay enough to allow her to make another, so now you get the first move.
Last edited:
