Skaal moves around outside, gathering berries, eggs and frogs for later consumption. The party settles in to rest outside the mound. They will recover their strength first, and then go back inside to penetrate the two sarcophagi. Severin binds wounds and tends aches as best he can, fixing poultices and teas from the herbs in the area, and soon our heroes bed down under the stars. Only whoever is on watch remains awake, tending their fire. When dawn creeps in to the east, Tempe adds a few twigs and a log, and watches the flames climb slowly up the wood. She glances at the entrance to the mound and yawns, then stretches. She stands up, performing a few mental exercises to sharpen her edge, and then starts to cook breakfast. The others stir, and soon enough everyone is strapping on weapons, tying boot straps, and stretching fatigued muscles. The wounds that they have previously suffered are somewhat healed, and Skaal touches up the worst with a cure light wounds.
Then they return to the passages within the ancient burial mound. Before they attack the first sarcophagus itself, they search around, making sure that there are no hidden passages or alcoves from which more undead might leap. Then Grom moves over and searches the sarcophagus for traps. “Aha!” he exclaims. “There is a poisoned needle trap here.”
“Can you disable it?” asks Romdar.
“Let’s find out,” the half-orc replies. He pulls out his thief’s tools and gets to work. After a few moments, he grunts in dismay. “It’s tricky,” he admits. His fingers dance at the end of slender sticks of metal as he fiddles with the trap. He mutters to himself; then there is a snapping sound. “Got it!” he cries. “Snapped the needle off.”
“Open it, then,” says Barouk.
Grom tries to lift the lid, grunts, “It’s heavy,” and struggles for a minute to no avail. He shakes his head. “We’re going to have to get three or four of us on this thing to move it,” he says.
“Let’s make sure the other sarcophagus is safe first,” suggests Skaal. The party nods collective agreement to this, and Grom checks for traps on it.
“This one is clean,” he announces. He and Severin together try to muscle the lid open.
“Aw, no,” says Grom.
“What is it?” asks Kifla.
The half-orc holds up his hand. The back of it has a small bead of blood on it. “I missed a trap,” he laments. “Another poisoned needle. I can feel it burning.” Grom leans against the wall and sweats as the poison begins working its way through his system.
Severin, meanwhile, shows a surprising facility with traps as he moves over and disables the needle with some thief’s tools of his own.
“Are you going to be all right?” Kifla asks.
Grom nods wordlessly.
The party works together, and slowly they manage to open the two sarcophagi. Each one stinks faintly of old decay, but the remains in them are clearly hundreds of years old. Most of what remains is bones, though some tatters of hair and flesh are there.
And they are buried with treasure.
One of the corpses, in addition to some fancy jewelry, wears a breastplate of impressive quality and fancy workmanship. It also holds a ceremonial, jeweled greatsword. The other body has the rusted and pitted remains of fancy armor, some jewelry and a longspear.
Kifla casts detect magic. “That’s magical!” she exclaims after a few moments, pointing at the spear. She claps her hands together in glee.
The party gathers up their loot and then exits the cold barrow. “Let’s get moving,” Grom urges. “My folk need help with those goblins. The others nod, and the party resumes their northward march through the Deadgrass Lands. For a time, the land gradually slopes downwards, and our heroes are forced to traverse a waist-deep swamp. They grumble about it, but slog along. Skaal grumbles and almost stumbles. Suddenly his eyes widen. He looks around wildly.
“LEECHES!” he bellows.
Leeches the size of small dogs. And they are already attached to him, to Tempe, to Romdar, to Barouk and to Zelda! And though the rest of them only have one on each of them, Tempe has two attached to her already!
Our heroes go into a frenzy of motion, stabbing, pulling, screaming and yelling. Now that they know the leeches are there, they can feel a strange numbness in the parts of their bodies that have the leeches attached to them. Kifla summons a celestial porpoise to attack the leeches, while Tempe finds- to her dismay- that the leeches on her are essentially mindless, and thus are not subject to her mental attacks! Grom manages to tear one of them off of her, though, and she smiles in gratitude at him. Romdar can’t seem to get free of one; as some are cast off by other party members, they seem to find their way to him! He cuts and kills, but there seems to always be one on him, sucking out his strength, leaving him weaker and weaker...
Everyone is stabbing, grabbing... more leeches die. Skaal skewers the one sucking his blood with his sickle. Kifla’s porpoise smashes one to pieces. Zelda cuts one. Severin stabs one and it bursts like a balloon filled with blood. Finally, the last leech dies as the porpoise smashes it with its nose. The bog is full of blood.
“That is so gross,” Zelda says, swaying on her feet. She has lost a lot of blood. So have Tempe and Romdar.
“Let’s get out of here,” groans Grom.
As quickly as they are able, the party hurries across the boggy area to the high ground on the other side. It still takes half an hour, but by double-timing it, they manage to get out shortly before dark. They inspect each other: no leeches.
They rest.
They rest and rest and rest, for two days and one night. Barouk and Zelda come down with a rash and a fever; Skaal diagnoses it as the red ache, a disease that may have been carried by the leeches. Skaal and Severin do their best to tend their sick friends. The party, far from fully recovered, continues to rest. Four more days and nights of rest... finally, although both Romdar and Zelda are still not fully recovered from their encounter with the leeches, at least Barouk has thrown off the red ache.
The party moves on across the Deadgrass Lands. In the distance, they can see the mountains; smoke rises from Bleak’s Maw, that terrible mount of evil. That’s the reason that there are Deadgrass Lands at all, thinks Zelda. The ash falls from Bleak’s Maw killed all the more wholesome vegetation that used to live in this area during the Time of the Tarrasques, when the five tarrasques ran rampant over Forinthia. It is hard to believe that was less than three centuries ago!
The party moves along. There is a little vegetation of other sorts here and there; doubtless it grows up quickly between ash falls in a given area, only to be wiped out again when Bleak’s Maw speaks, broods Skaal. At about noon, the party passes into a wide canopy of large, quick-growing trees.
Just inside, something attacks from above.
Grom senses it at the last minute and whips his sword out. It is a blob of living sap, dripping malignantly at him from above- the size of a man! He stabs it with his sword, but it is so sticky that he barely wrenches his blade free! “Look out!” he cries.
Barouk hurls a handful of shuriken at the blob. Plop, plop! Where they hit, they stick, but they also cause it to leak some kind of clear fluid. He moves towards Kifla, throwing more shuriken as he goes.
Zelda, emulating him, fires her bow. Arrows plop into the living sap; she cannot tell if they are hurting it or not. She shrugs. As long as she might be having an effect, she might as well keep it up. It does look like Barouk’s first couple of shuriken hurt it, so why not?
The living sap strikes with a pseudopod, smacking Grom a ringing blow to the head. When it withdraws its pseudopod, it takes a remarkable amount of Grom’s hair with it, tearing it out by the roots. Grom howls in pain and smashes his lantern on the blob, covering it in oil. He pulls out his tinderbox and strikes a spark.
WHOOSH!
The sap thing bursts into a sizzling flame. It starts to make a loud squeal. Severin leaps in and slashes at it with his greatsword, damaging it further, but he, too, can barely keep ahold of his weapon. “It’s sticky!” he shouts. “Be careful when you strike it!”
A burning pseudopod strikes him. With a yell, Severin finds himself drawn towards the burning creature. He kicks the pseudopod and then pushes off against it, tearing himself free and leaving a layer of skin and flesh behind.
The living sap is burning rather merrily, making a bunch of sizzles and squeals, but it is still going. I don’t think it likes fire! Romdar thinks gleefully, and jumps in close to cast burning hands on it. The squealing, sizzling and smoking on increase, and the flames leap higher for a moment. The air is filled with a smell like burning maple syrup. Kifla shouts, “Yes, that’s it! Use fire!” She hurls a torch into the mix, adding fuel to the fire. The blob writhes and squeals, extending pseudopods in all directions, then tries to escape the fire by flowing back up one of the trees. It makes it 15’ before it stops and begins to spatter down to the ground in flaming pieces.
“It’s dead,” Skaal announces with finality.
“Ow,” Grom groans, sitting down. His scalp is a bloody mess, as is Severin. “Do you have any healing?”
Skaal goes to work, but can only do so much. Glancing up, he says, “We should move on. The tree is on fire.”
The party moves on.
***
3 p.m.
Bleak’s Maw is spewing out considerably more ash and smoke than our heroes have seen before, at least from this close distance. “I wonder if there’s going to be an ash fall,” mutters Severin.
“There isn’t much we can do about it, if there is,” Skaal says.
“What would happen if we were caught in an ash fall?” wonders Kifla. ]
“I’m not sure,” the druid replies. “But I doubt that it would be pleasant.”
They make camp early, making a point of choosing a location with a reasonable amount of overhang. As they are gathering what firewood they can find, they notice a figure coming towards them across the Deadgrass Lands. “It looks like a human, from the size of it,” says Romdar.
“Maybe he’s friendly,” Kifla hopes.
The man hails them from about 30’ away. “Hello,” he calls. “I am a traveling herald. May I share your fire?”
The man wears armor and wields a falchion. “You look like a warrior, not a herald,” remarks Barouk.
“Well, I am both,” the man admits. “My name is Cooper.”
“Well, Cooper, so long as you mean us no harm, you may join us,” the dwarf replies.
The man walks forward, keeping his hands in view. He helps the party finish setting up their camp and pulls out some food to contribute to dinner.
“So what are you a herald of?” asks Kifla. “Does it have anything to do with that flashing in the distance?”
“Kind of,” Cooper smiles. That gets everyone’s attention. “I’m here to announce that the old emperor, Prayzose, is dead, and that there is a new emperor- Emperor Thrush.”
Our heroes digest this. “I hope you understand, that is a little bit unbelievable,” Romdar says.
“Yeah, I mean, how could the Emperor die?” Kifla says. “He’s practically a living god!”
“Believe me,” Cooper says confidently. “If you had met this man, the new emperor, you’d understand. He is... amazing. He is the foremost swordsman of our age.”
“Huh,” Zelda grunts disbelievingly. “I still don’t believe it.”
“Well, that’s okay. I don’t have to convince people, just to spread the word.”
“Why you?” asks Severin.
“He hired a bunch of us.”
“Just to wander around and tell people that he’s the new emperor?” Zelda sounds amused.
Cooper just smiles. “You’ll see,” he predicts. “That flashing in the distance? What else could that be, but the sign of great change?”
***
The party rests, then moves on. The ash is starting to fall. They hurry along. Soon they come upon a clearing. Within it is a small thorp of four sod and mud huts clustered together. A small creek runs behind the huts, providing water. Gardens of vegetables struggle to survive the foul soil, and a flock of scrawny chickens is scratching for bugs or seeds. A number of people are outside, farming or gathering in laundry. Severin moves in and starts a conversation with some of the villagers. “We’re adventurers headed north to help deal with some goblin troubles,” he tells them.
“Adventurers, eh?” replies one of the peasants. He introduces himself as Tahl, and offers the group shelter for the duration of the ash fall. “You don’t want to be outside in this,” he tells them. “We wouldn’t turn a thief out in an ash fall.”
***
Several days pass in tiny community as the ash falls. Our heroes get to know the villagers fairly well. There are a total of 17 people here. They are simple farmers, for the most part, though their leader- Simon, an old man who has seen 70 years- is something of a philosopher. The others consist of four men (Tahl, Kevin, Trevin and Jeffrey), their wives (Lois, Tellindra, Liabelle and Herretta) and their children, a mess of lads and lasses that is very difficult to keep straight (boys: Tahl Jr, Alentis, Dexter; girls: Shadra, Nellyse, Chanticleer, Rinva, Leanna).
The folk are friendly and have plenty to eat. They have seen ash storms before, sometimes lasting for a week or more. Generally, afterwards, the area is a mess, and often strange, dangerous things appear is the wake of the ash rain- demonic forces loyal to Bleak. In fact, Simon warns our heroes about “ash zombies,” which he claims suck the heat from their victims.
But when the ash fall is finally over, our heroes thank them for their hospitality and take their leave. Adventure awaits them. They do not wish to overstay their welcome, nor do they any longer have any need to stay.
The landscape is starkly different. The waves of deadgrass are covered in thick drifts of black ash. The air smells of brimstone and foulness. Many plants are dead, and even some trees have fallen. Our heroes shudder to think of what it must be like to be caught in the ash.
Cooper has accompanied the party. His next stop, after all, is to be the same valley where they are headed, though he plans on first going to the city of Brindol. But, as our heroes well know, another sword can make the difference between life and death.
As they proceed along, a wind rises, stirring the ash. Our heroes pull cloaks across their faces and squint as the black ash swirls everywhere.
And something starts to form.
“What the...?” Barouk exclaims in surprise.
A veritable palace forms before them, composed of fragile-looking ash. They can see a gate leading into a courtyard, and within the courtyard is a palace- but it seems ready to blow away in the wind. Neither wood nor stone are in evidence; the entire structure seems composed of grey ash.
“Uh, I don’t know about this,” Romdar says cautiously.
“Hello?” calls Barouk.
There is a faint scream. Then, “Help me!” Not everyone hears it; but both Cooper and Barouk sprint into the courtyard. The rest hang back for a moment, but when nothing immediately ambushes the monk and fighter, they follow them in to the courtyard. Directly ahead of them is the palace, constructed entirely of ash. Four towers, about 50’ high, adorn the corners of the place. There is a subtle asymmetry to the building that troubles the eye. A pair of burnt trees, their shapes captured in ash, flank the obsidian flagstones that lead up to the entrance
“Where did the scream come from?” asks Kifla.
“I don’t know,” Barouk growls, looking around warily.
Suddenly there is a clang! from behind them, like the sound of metal, but from the ashen gate. The party whirls.
The gate has shut, and now is gone, replaced by ashen wall.
”It’s a trap!” cries Zelda.
Abruptly, villainous laughter echoes out from the top of the palace. A dark figure appears on the top balcony of the northeast tower. It is a humanoid goat of some kind, with fur as black as coal. Its horns curl chaotically over its head. It is naked except for a thin black robe. “Greetings!” it cries at the party in Forinthian, in a very manly, masculine voice. “Welcome to the Ashen Palace of Bleak! I am His mouth. I speak his words, and all that I eat is a sacrifice to His glory. Here we will celebrate the triumph of the Black Sun. Please, make yourselves at home; we will feast soon enough.” The figure chuckles. “Unless, of course, you can find your way out. Pass in, and up, and down, and out! Pass the test of Bleak, and you will rewarded! Fail and you will be devoured!”
With that, the figure retreats into its tower.
Our heroes exchange a glance.
“I guess we don’t have much choice,” says Romdar grimly.
Next Time: Into the Ashen Palace of Bleak!