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<blockquote data-quote="reddist" data-source="post: 2967945" data-attributes="member: 5212"><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'">Cyridon and Theros again confer on their course of action for dealing with the inscribed clues on the altars and statues. They spend an hour or so preparing their spells and praying to their gods while Balderk and I break camp. The Halfling sleeps though all this. I finally kick him awake as we prepare deal with the first statue, that of Amantir. He sits upright, blinking in the morning sun, yawns and stretches. Finally he gathers the bits and pieces that have fallen from his pockets in his sleep and stands to join us.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'">Cyridon approaches the statue, once again checking on the celestial runes emblazoned on the altar, then stands a respectful distance away from the statue and begins muttering in his strange, cold, spidery prayer language. He addresses the statue directly, pointing his finger at it, and as his voice grows in volume, the statue begins to shudder, shaking off dust and debris. It pivots to the side, revealing a spiraling stone staircase descending into darkness, deep under the shrine.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'">Below we find a single square room with thick heavy tapestries on all four walls. Three of tapestries portray the events in the life of a great man, depicting him as a judge, a warrior, and a favorite of gods and angels. The fourth is a crest, presumably of the man’s family.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'">It does not take us long to find secret doors hidden behind the three pictorial tapestries, though each comes with another riddle. The runes themselves are interesting; graceful curving celestial runes inlayed in platinum in the smooth white stone. Cyridon and Theros again huddle together to discuss these new clues, while Balderk examines the “warrior” tapestry in some detail. The man, or god?, fights against large, black, wolf-spider hybrids using a sword and shield.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'">Chath hangs from one of the tapestries, determined to pull it off the wall. All he does is bring dust down upon himself. They are well-made and grommeted to steel hangers embedded in the wall. The tapestries are going nowhere. I don’t bother pointing this out to him though, as his struggles will at least keep him occupied for a while.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'">Finally, Cyridon and Theros quit their conference and announce they can open these doors in a manner similar to that of moving the statue above. Each door requires another spell prayer from Cyridon. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'">The first door slides back and into the wall, revealing another large room lined with cots, tables, and chairs. The tables are littered with loose parchment, half-filled journals, and rolled scrolls. Stacked in a corner are four small wooden cases, each with five crystal vials still filled with clear water. The cases are unmarked, but we all recognize them as vials of holy water… a blessing from Tyrmora in this swamp filled with skeletons and worse.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'">Some of the scrolls describe a series of spell prayers that Cyridon says he can make use of, but little else of any use. Some of the journals are still legible and we put these in a pack for later perusal.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'">The second room is much like the first, with cots, chairs, and tables. In this one there is also a case with five crystal vials, but the liquid in these a pearlescent sky-blue. Cyridon identifies these as healing potions, and we each take one. I place mine in a pouch on my belt.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'">Going through the scrolls and papers scattered about turns up another handful Cyridon wants to keep, and soon his pockets and pack are overflowing with rolled-up parchment. Theros seems increasingly frustrated that none of the spells or prayers described on these scrolls is of any use to him. None are of any use to me either, but I’m not getting all worked up about it. Here, I’m more in line with Chath’s thinking… where are the chests and footlockers?</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'">Where are the corpses? </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'">In that sense, I’m very glad there are no skeletons down here. Compared to the filth and desecration above, these rooms seem down-right holy.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'">The third room holds a few more surprises. Four cots, four suits of chainmail on stands, each with surcoats with symbols that Cyridon has taught us as Torm’s, and four swords hanging from wall racks. A fifth cot and set of gear sets apart, without the layer of dust and verdigris that the other four have… a suit of silvered chainmail and a scabbarded sword lie on top an oaken chest with metal bands.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'">Balderk reaches for the hilt of the sword, but just as his hand draws near he stiffens and crumples… I rush to him but am unable to keep him from crashing to the floor, his armor crunching and flail bouncing away. Cyridon and Theros come to his aid, and I look for blood on his fingers or a needle in the sword hilt, anything that might explain his sudden collapse.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'">As I regard the sword hilt, there is a … <em>flicker</em>… suddenly Balderk is wearing the chainmail and grips the sword tightly in his hand, its blade lying across his chest. His own chainmail is in a pile next to him.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'">Balderk struggles to sit up, looking at Cyridon. Bluntly, he asks <span style="color: Blue">Where did these gods go? Amantir and Torm?</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'"><span style="color: DimGray">They waned as any gods will, should their followers stop worshipping. Gods never truly die, though. They simply, fade.</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'">Balderk then claims<span style="color: Blue"> I spoke to Torm. Almantir is dead. I found myself on a plain, battling those wolf-spiders with Torm. Almantir lay dead at our feet. This war wages across the planes, and Torm has chosen me to aid in this struggle. We must find a rod, which lies in the tomb of Alaric.</span></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'">This, of course, elicits a barrage of questions from Theros, Cyridon, and myself. Chath seems more interesting in trying to find a false bottom in the chest. He takes out a small pile of scrolls, cloths, and odds and ends, crawls inside, and starts knocking on the sides. I am tempted to shut it and lock it.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'"></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><span style="font-family: 'Century Gothic'">Balderk seems to have taken his geas to heart, and Theros and Cyridon accept it from a more inquisitive, scholarly stance. I’m withholding any commitment to god-saving until I get a decent meal, a bath, and my pay-out from our current job of exploring eldritch tombs. Which, I might pause to point out, has lead to several nearly lethal encounters with numerous skeletons, a shoulder-brush with a hungry dragon, being saddled with an annoying Halfling, and a notable <em>lack </em> of piles of gold and treasure.</span></span></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="reddist, post: 2967945, member: 5212"] [SIZE=3][FONT=Century Gothic]Cyridon and Theros again confer on their course of action for dealing with the inscribed clues on the altars and statues. They spend an hour or so preparing their spells and praying to their gods while Balderk and I break camp. The Halfling sleeps though all this. I finally kick him awake as we prepare deal with the first statue, that of Amantir. He sits upright, blinking in the morning sun, yawns and stretches. Finally he gathers the bits and pieces that have fallen from his pockets in his sleep and stands to join us. Cyridon approaches the statue, once again checking on the celestial runes emblazoned on the altar, then stands a respectful distance away from the statue and begins muttering in his strange, cold, spidery prayer language. He addresses the statue directly, pointing his finger at it, and as his voice grows in volume, the statue begins to shudder, shaking off dust and debris. It pivots to the side, revealing a spiraling stone staircase descending into darkness, deep under the shrine. Below we find a single square room with thick heavy tapestries on all four walls. Three of tapestries portray the events in the life of a great man, depicting him as a judge, a warrior, and a favorite of gods and angels. The fourth is a crest, presumably of the man’s family. It does not take us long to find secret doors hidden behind the three pictorial tapestries, though each comes with another riddle. The runes themselves are interesting; graceful curving celestial runes inlayed in platinum in the smooth white stone. Cyridon and Theros again huddle together to discuss these new clues, while Balderk examines the “warrior” tapestry in some detail. The man, or god?, fights against large, black, wolf-spider hybrids using a sword and shield. Chath hangs from one of the tapestries, determined to pull it off the wall. All he does is bring dust down upon himself. They are well-made and grommeted to steel hangers embedded in the wall. The tapestries are going nowhere. I don’t bother pointing this out to him though, as his struggles will at least keep him occupied for a while. Finally, Cyridon and Theros quit their conference and announce they can open these doors in a manner similar to that of moving the statue above. Each door requires another spell prayer from Cyridon. The first door slides back and into the wall, revealing another large room lined with cots, tables, and chairs. The tables are littered with loose parchment, half-filled journals, and rolled scrolls. Stacked in a corner are four small wooden cases, each with five crystal vials still filled with clear water. The cases are unmarked, but we all recognize them as vials of holy water… a blessing from Tyrmora in this swamp filled with skeletons and worse. Some of the scrolls describe a series of spell prayers that Cyridon says he can make use of, but little else of any use. Some of the journals are still legible and we put these in a pack for later perusal. The second room is much like the first, with cots, chairs, and tables. In this one there is also a case with five crystal vials, but the liquid in these a pearlescent sky-blue. Cyridon identifies these as healing potions, and we each take one. I place mine in a pouch on my belt. Going through the scrolls and papers scattered about turns up another handful Cyridon wants to keep, and soon his pockets and pack are overflowing with rolled-up parchment. Theros seems increasingly frustrated that none of the spells or prayers described on these scrolls is of any use to him. None are of any use to me either, but I’m not getting all worked up about it. Here, I’m more in line with Chath’s thinking… where are the chests and footlockers? Where are the corpses? In that sense, I’m very glad there are no skeletons down here. Compared to the filth and desecration above, these rooms seem down-right holy. The third room holds a few more surprises. Four cots, four suits of chainmail on stands, each with surcoats with symbols that Cyridon has taught us as Torm’s, and four swords hanging from wall racks. A fifth cot and set of gear sets apart, without the layer of dust and verdigris that the other four have… a suit of silvered chainmail and a scabbarded sword lie on top an oaken chest with metal bands. Balderk reaches for the hilt of the sword, but just as his hand draws near he stiffens and crumples… I rush to him but am unable to keep him from crashing to the floor, his armor crunching and flail bouncing away. Cyridon and Theros come to his aid, and I look for blood on his fingers or a needle in the sword hilt, anything that might explain his sudden collapse. As I regard the sword hilt, there is a … [I]flicker[/I]… suddenly Balderk is wearing the chainmail and grips the sword tightly in his hand, its blade lying across his chest. His own chainmail is in a pile next to him. Balderk struggles to sit up, looking at Cyridon. Bluntly, he asks [COLOR=Blue]Where did these gods go? Amantir and Torm?[/COLOR] [COLOR=DimGray]They waned as any gods will, should their followers stop worshipping. Gods never truly die, though. They simply, fade.[/COLOR] Balderk then claims[COLOR=Blue] I spoke to Torm. Almantir is dead. I found myself on a plain, battling those wolf-spiders with Torm. Almantir lay dead at our feet. This war wages across the planes, and Torm has chosen me to aid in this struggle. We must find a rod, which lies in the tomb of Alaric.[/COLOR] This, of course, elicits a barrage of questions from Theros, Cyridon, and myself. Chath seems more interesting in trying to find a false bottom in the chest. He takes out a small pile of scrolls, cloths, and odds and ends, crawls inside, and starts knocking on the sides. I am tempted to shut it and lock it. Balderk seems to have taken his geas to heart, and Theros and Cyridon accept it from a more inquisitive, scholarly stance. I’m withholding any commitment to god-saving until I get a decent meal, a bath, and my pay-out from our current job of exploring eldritch tombs. Which, I might pause to point out, has lead to several nearly lethal encounters with numerous skeletons, a shoulder-brush with a hungry dragon, being saddled with an annoying Halfling, and a notable [I]lack [/I] of piles of gold and treasure.[/FONT][/SIZE] [/QUOTE]
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