Mortepierre
First Post
There we go at long last! Sorry again for the delay folks. I wish to thank all those who kept this thread from fading to page 4 and beyond, and who encouraged me to continue posting updates. This SH is yours as much as it is mine for without loyal readers, an author is nothing.
Oh and, Pogre & Herremann, don’t think for a minute that I didn’t notice your frequent advertising of my SH in other threads. It is much appreciated <bows>
The Rogues Gallery has been updated as well, including a spoiler for those who want to know what was really going on in the Vault.
People (DMs & players alike) who have gone through this module on their own will no doubt have noticed that I made no mention of one specific ‘encounter’ (the glass room, to be precise). That’s because, of all the things in the Vault, that’s the one I modified the least for my campaign. Yes, my players dealt successfully with it (thanks to Pelrind) but, no, I won’t tell that story here. Why? Because I don’t want to spoil the fun of players whose DM is planning to use this module in the future. I hope their version of the Vault proves as challenging for you as it was for my players!
And now, onward with the last part of Chapter 1 (bear with me, it’s a long one!)
1.5 Hell Hath no Fury..:
While Musadoc was dealing with the monster in a most unexpected manner, Kalveig – finally freed of the confusion the beast had cursed him with – quickly appraised the situation. Rushing to Siubhan’s side, he focused his faith and called upon the greatest gift of the Path of the Martyr, transferring her wounds onto himself. He couldn’t repeat the operation with the other two given how taxing it was on his body but, now that the priestess had regained consciousness, she could see to them herself.
He still lent her his help to amplify the effect of her healing touch upon Pelrind. As for Eirak, they managed to stabilize him but were unable to provide additional help.
By the time Musadoc returned with joyful news, Pelrind and Siubhan were fully healed while Eirak was still unconscious, and Kalveig was beginning to feel weak due to loss of blood.
They greeted him with a mixture of incredulity and astonishment. This young halfling’s resourcefulness didn’t cease to amaze them!
Still, they weren’t any closer to finding a way out and, even with Siubhan’s help, their two main warriors were in bad shape. That’s when Pelrind reminded them that they had yet to try the stone pool at Rontra’s chapel.
Retreating to the first part of the vault (and bringing the calisil along), they carried Eirak and Kalveig to the chapel and, following Pelrind’s instructions, Musadoc placed the orb of light in its alcove.
After a few seconds, a deep humming noise started to emanate from the statue of the goddess. It faded quickly enough but was replaced by two other sounds. First, a gurgling one - coming from the jug - and then a hissing one from the metallic rod.
Still stuck at the entrance (24), Pelrind gave a slight smile of satisfaction. “As I suspected..”
The jug began to disgorge a steady stream of water that quickly filled the top of the basin while the rod turned to red and then to white as it heated rapidly. The combination of the two induced a change in the mud. From dry, it slowly turned viscous again.
“Now, strip them to the skin and lower them into the mud. Just be careful to keep their heads above it so that they can breathe.”
“Strip them? You mean.. as in ‘completely naked’?” Siubhan looked up and blushed.
Pelrind rolled his eyes.
Humans and their prudery..
“You can leave them in loincloth.. if you deem it appropriate for decency’s sake.” He shrugged. “As long as those parts of their bodies that have sustained injuries are covered by the mud, it should suffice.”
“But most of these are open wounds. Won’t the mud mingling with their blood make things worse?”
“A wise query and one I should have anticipated from a healer.” Pelrind bowed his head slightly in recognition of her thoroughness. “The answer, however, is: no. Actually, the mud - if it acts as I anticipate it will - should cover their wounds and act as both a healing salve and an insulating layer. It will harden, and by the time it peels off their wounds should have closed.”
Reassured, Siubhan returned to the task at hand, helped by the halfling. First, they took care of Kalveig and then began to undress Eirak. As they were removing his shirt, however, they discovered a detail that gave them pause.
Cursing his inability to enter the room for the hundredth time, Pelrind turned to Musadoc for an explanation. “Well, what is it now?”
“The dwarf.. he has been branded on the left shoulder.”
“A mark? Describe it to me, please.”
Musadoc frowned before answering. “It’s the Broken Claw...” (25)
The 3 companions remained silent for awhile, each weighing the implications of this unexpected discovery.
“I say it doesn’t matter. Let the past stay buried. We should only concern ourselves with what he has done till we met. He fought at our side and suffered, same as any of us. That’s the only thing that should count.” The young priestess’ voice sounded defiant, almost challenging them to prove her wrong.
“Well, I never could understand your human concept of ‘justice’ anyway” was the elf’s only comment.
Musadoc’s answer was a simple nod. To the halfling, no shameful mark could ever be more painful to bear than what he had glimpsed for a few seconds in the eyes of the dwarf just before the latter was buried by the earth-creature. If Eirak could find the strength to live with that burden, then he had already been punished more than enough. Still there was one other matter to consider. “Should we tell Kalveig?”
“No.”
Surprised by the finality of her tone, the halfling and the elf stared at the priestess interrogatively.
She sighed. “Look, we all know the two of them aren’t exactly ‘getting along’ as it is. Informing Kalveig at this point would only make matters worse. If Eirak had wanted us to know about the brand, he would have told us by now. We uncovered his secret only because he is currently both unconscious and defenseless. In a sense, we violated his privacy. That’s why we have to keep that knowledge to ourselves. And, by the way, this raises another issue. I am not so sure we have the right to use the mud on him.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, this pool was meant for worshippers of Rontra, correct? I think he made it crystal clear he wasn’t one of them.”
“So?”
“So, what right do we have to force him to use it?”
It was Pelrind’s turn to sigh, but in annoyance. “Your companion serves Morwyn and yet you didn’t balk at making him benefit from it. What’s so different about Eirak?”
“You fail to understand. Brother Kalveig may serve the White Lady but he believes in the whole pantheon.”
“And so does the dwarf! Do you seriously think anyone could hate a goddess with such passion and not believe in her? Besides, it’s not like we have a choice. We’re stuck in here and the only possible way out is through the tunnels left by the Burrower. We’ll need our best warriors if we are to stand a chance to succeed. That means we need Eirak!”
Siubhan thought about it for a minute before giving up. “You are probably right.. but it doesn’t sit well with my conscience. The defining factor of a true worshipper is his free will, after all.”
“Duly noted, lady. Now, please proceed.”
The priestess was mildly annoyed by Pelrind’s paternal tone of voice but complied nonetheless. The dwarf was lowered into the mud, next to Kalveig. The two of them were placed with their back to the outer border of the stone pool, their arms stretched over it in order to prevent them from sinking down further.
Musadoc turned to Pelrind. “How long do you reckon they’ll have to stay in there?”
“Hmm.. hard to say. No more than half a day, I would think. If it took longer than that, it would be rather impractical considering humankind’s notorious lack of patience. Er.. no offense intended, lady.”
“None taken, sir elf. I was taught that if our lives are short, they burn all the brighter for it.” She smiled at him and her face betrayed neither displeasure nor irony.
Pelrind gazed at her in wonder. He hadn’t expected a human woman - and a rather young one at that - to display such poetic wisdom. He was beginning to understand the fascination some of his kind felt for this - to them - often bewildering race.
**
After a few hours had passed, both Eirak and Kalveig began to stir - which their companions interpreted as a good sign. They helped them out of the pool and marveled at the fact that their bodies seemed much healthier than before. However, this joyful news was counterbalanced by the fact that Eirak’s skin was now the same color as the mud.
Needless to say, the dwarf was far from pleased. Not only was he - in his opinion - owing his recovery to a goddess he would rather spit upon than worship, but he was probably cursed as well!
Since Pelrind had previously demonstrated advanced knowledge of all matters pertaining to the earth, they asked for his expert opinion. The latter examined Eirak for a full minute, sometimes rubbing his fingers on his skin, sometimes knocking lightly on it with his staff, before giving his conclusions.
“Well, the good news is that - unless I am mistaken (26) - your skin has apparently been calcified without losing any of its flexibility. The bad news is that I have no idea of how long this condition will last. In the meantime, if I were you, I would enjoy the added security that derives from it.”
This caused Eirak to curse - yet again - but, since the only apparent way to get rid of it was to be skinned alive, he finally relented and settled for a steady stream of menacing grumbles interspersed with imaginative insults. Given this was fast becoming a habit of his, his companions simply chose to ignore it as best as they could...
**
They returned to the spot where they had been ambushed by the man-bug, and were immediately faced with a difficult choice. Did they try to follow the old tunnel or the newer one through which the monster had surprised them?
“I say go for the new one” said Musadoc. “At the very least, we know it must still be open since it came out of it”.
“On the contrary, my friend, I would argue that the oldest is also the safest” commented Pelrind.
“Why?”
“Because if it hasn’t collapsed by now, chances are that it won’t. At least, not while we’re inside.”
“Not to sound superstitious, but could the both o’ ye stop talkin’ ‘bout caves-in?” moaned Eirak from the rear.
The halfling ignored him. Though he liked the elf, he was determined to put his mining skills to good use in order to improve their odds of surviving this underground foray. “Nonsense. Time has nothing to do with it, at least not with tunnels such as these which were never properly shored up to begin with. I would add that the older the passageway, the higher the chance of encountering natural hazards such as an accumulation of explosive or lethal gas.”
“The soft chalk of my intuition crumbles against your diamond-hard yet-flawed logic.”
“Explosive gas? Now, wait a darn minute here. Nobody said anythin’ ‘bout gas before!” Eirak’s voice sounded decidedly apprehensive.
“Flawed?! In what way?”
“Do you concur that the biggest threat to our safety, right now, is the possibility of running into another Burrower?”
Musadoc couldn’t help but nod.
“Good. Then, let me inform you of a little something you may not be aware of. These creatures never use the same tunnel twice. Their bulk would mean an immediate collapse. Oh, I dare say that it wouldn’t impede them much but they prefer to dig their way through solid ground rather than be buried under it every ten seconds. Their tunnels can crisscross - in fact, they frequently do - but they almost never overlap. Thus, by following the oldest of the two, we lessen the risk of hostile encounters.”
Eirak groaned as he pictured the ceiling coming down on them.
Siubhan stifled a laugh while Kalveig coughed a few times to bring the debate to a halt. “Gentlemen, this is all very interesting, but we ought to take a decision. Let me remind you that time is of the essence here. The more we delay, the less supplies - not to mention breathable air - we have at our disposal. Musadoc, while I respect your experience, it’s clear that Pelrind knows more about the perils we’re likely to face. Thus, for now, I suggest we follow his instructions.”
The halfling was clearly not thrilled by the proposal but yielded gracefully, though he still insisted on giving everyone a few tips about recognizing the early signs of potentially dangerous situations.
**
They followed the rough hewn tunnel for a hundred feet before it opened into (the western side of) a large subterranean cave. An underground river was running through the cavern from its slightly raised southern end, and disappearing into a hole in the northern wall. An odd smell tinged the air. A small log bridge spanned the water. A flickering campfire was visible near the eastern end of the cave, and the sound of a battle could be heard as weird shadows danced a macabre ballet on the walls.
Musadoc, who was opening the way, turned to Kalveig and shrugged helplessly, indicating he was unsure about what to do.
“If there is a fight, there are surely innocents to protect. Let’s go!” was his answer as he unslung his shield and readied it. At his command, the companions broke into a quick run toward the bridge. They would never forget the scene that greeted them...
**
Another tunnel, larger than those dug by the Undrathar, opened into the eastern wall. A small barricade made of wooden logs had been erected in front of it and the campfire they had sighted burnt right next to it.
A group of three small - about 4 ft. tall - humanoids (a fourth was lying on the ground, in a pool of blood) were struggling against two animated skeletons!
The humanoids had a mottled, greenish, gray skin that seemed somewhat greasy. Their head featured wide set eyes, big pointy ears, and a protrusive mug which opened into a mouth filled with jagged teeth. They wore studded leather but went barefoot. Two were armed with shield and shortspear. They were trying to keep the undeads at a distance while the third was frantically feeding wood to the fire, as if keeping it burning was of paramount importance.
The skeletons were humanoid-looking, probably even human. They had a strange coloration. Neither the ivory-white of bones bleached by the sun, nor the earth-brown of freshly exhumed corpses. Rusty-red would have been the closest equivalent. Not uniformly so, but enough that it was the predominant tinge.
Their finger bones had been sharpened into claws and their teeth filed to insure that any bite-attack would result in serious injuries to their opponents.
Something - it was hard to tell what exactly - had been placed inside their ribcage. From a distance, it looked like wet old rags. That only added to their ghastly appearance, as it would have been quite easy to mistake them for tattered lungs!
**
Kalveig was leading the charge over the bridge. As he neared the mêlée, he saw one of the humanoids fail to dodge an attack. When the undead’s teeth dug into his flesh, his skin turned a lighter shade of gray and his body froze, as if his muscles refused to respond anymore.
“Nethersleep-bite!” Kalveig hoped the others had heard and understood the implications. Silently, he berated himself for not having reviewed them with his companions before. He was so used to fighting alongside other Faithful Sons that he had completely forgotten to make sure his current brothers in arms were aware of a few basic things (27).
The monster didn’t lose time. It threw the poor creature to the ground and started to tear into him, frenzied with - apparently - hunger. Great chunks of flesh were torn from its still living victim and gobbled with alacrity. The humanoid died rapidly, of course, though whether of shock or massive loss of blood Kalveig would never know. What he did know was that no living being should have to endure such agony. Thus, when his flail connected with the skeleton’s spine, it wasn’t just duty that guided his hand but also righteous anger.
The undead was lifted clear from the grisly remains of its feast and thrown back a good 5 feet, its ribcage half-shattered. If it noticed the damage, it didn’t give any indication of it. Instead, it simply crouched like an animal and then launched itself at Kalveig with the silent fury that only the Twice-Born (28) can display.
Meanwhile, Musadoc and Eirak had flanked the other skeleton and were taking turns hitting it, helping each other keep it at a safe distance. As for Pelrind and Siubhan, they stood clear of the battle, ready to help in case things went wrong.
The last two humanoids used the distraction to flee in the large tunnel, screaming in a language that none of the companions was familiar with. It didn’t take a genius to understand the general meaning though. Intruders had shown up and the surviving sentinels were sounding the alarm.
**
So far, the fight was going better than anticipated. Kalveig had managed to fend off all of the skeleton’s attacks, all the while inflicting decent damage thanks to his flail. It was time to finish it, after which he could help the others destroy the second one (29).
His next blow made the skull of his opponent burst into a thousand pieces. The undead’s remains crumbled to the cavern’s floor in a heap of bones. But, as the holy warrior was about to step over them, they suddenly leapt from the ground and reassembled in front of him, with no trace of previous damage! Green flames flickered for an instant in the skeleton’s orbits before it renewed its attack.
“Hellborn!” (30) was the only thing Kalveig had time to scream before he had to concentrate on defending himself again.
**
For a while, Siubhan had believed the warriors would be able to deal with the menace without her help. As a priestess of the White Lady, undeads represented the very antithesis of what she stood for: parasites who fed on humanity. Ever since her novitiate, she had hoped fervently that she would never run into any. Back then, the grim descriptions of veteran Matriarchs had given her nightmares on more than one occasion!
Now, however, it seemed the nightmare had turned into reality. Against monsters spawned by the Pit (31), she knew she was the group’s best weapon. She may not have been a servant of Mormekar, but the faith that sustained her was just as inimical to them, if a bit less destructive.
Brandishing her holy symbol, she called upon her goddess. “Morwyn, Queen of Heaven, let your light shine upon these desecrated shells that they may return to the peace they were denied!”
Her teardrop-shaped pendant emitted a powerful burst of blue light that washed over the combatants, leaving them unscathed. Leaving them all unscathed, that is! She had failed to affect the undeads. The evil power that animated them was apparently stronger than her faith...
**
Pelrind could recognize a dangerous situation when he saw one. At his side, the priestess was still reeling from shock over her failure. She was useless for now. So, it was up to him to make a difference.
Stepping forward, he positioned himself where he had a clear view of the fight. Summoning arcane energies to his hands, he yelled a warning. “Kal, at my command, back off!”
The holy warrior nodded once to indicate he had heard, and shifted to a defensive stance.
“Now!”
Kalveig jumped backwards at the same time as Pelrind unleashed a cone of flames that caught the skeleton squarely. As the monster contorted itself in pain, the warrior stepped forward again and finished it with a powerful blow to the pelvis. Alas, once more, the bones rebuilt themselves almost instantly. Sighing, Pelrind prepared himself to flank it and was about to ready his staff when a shout from Kalveig stopped him.
“Look! They are vulnerable to fire!”
Indeed, while the undead had regenerated as before, the area of its body that had been damaged by the elf’s spell had failed to rejuvenate.
Pelrind grinned like a cat as he stepped back, calling upon his fire-spell again.
**
Eirak, having heard the exchange, hit upon a plan to get rid of his own adversary.
“Lad, try to put yerself in-between this bag o’ bones and the fire and, when I give ye the signal, kneel.”
Musadoc looked at him in confusion until understanding dawned on his face. He nodded and started to position himself according to the dwarf’s directives.
With the halfling in place, the dwarf suddenly bull rushed the skeleton while screaming “Down ye go!”
The undead, surprised, was caught off balance by the attack. The more than 200 lbs. of solid dwarvenhood barreling along pushed him back, over Musadoc, and right into the middle of the campfire where it crashed in a shower of sparks.
Eirak didn’t stop there. Throwing his shield over the skeleton, he jumped with both feet on it, pinning the burning carcass down while fire cleansed it of its evil taint. As he was standing in the middle of the flames, his mud-enhanced skin started to crack and, suddenly, fell off in bits and pieces, exposing him to the full fury of the blaze. It seemed he had been cleansed too! (32)
**
While the dwarf was finishing off their enemy, Musadoc rushed to help Kalveig and Pelrind. The two of them had inflicted some permanent damage but not enough to end the battle yet. Actually, the human was trying to reach the oil flasks in his backpack, Pelrind’s spells having proved efficient but not as devastating as they had hoped. However, with the undead constantly pressing them hard, Kalveig had been unable to spare the time. Now, with the halfling stepping into the fight, he was finally able to withdraw long enough to gather what he needed.
After that, it didn’t take long before the last skeleton was doused in burning oil and destroyed once and for all. The Battle of Underbridge was finally over (33).
**
While Siubhan was bandaging Eirak’s wounds, the other searched the cavern. They found another rough-looking tunnel departing from its northeastern end, close to the river’s siphon. According to Pelrind, the skeletons’ tracks came from there; not exactly the best enticement to check it out!
Kalveig was examining the corpses of the two dead humanoids. “Gobbers? I wonder what they’re doing in here. They have no communities in this area that I know of.”
“Nah, them buggers are boggers (34). Look at their head. See that bone ridge goin’ from the back o’ their skull to the forefront? That’s their mark, a’right. Fought enough o’ them in me days on the Wild Coast border to be sure. Trust me.” Eirak spat on one, a mark of his contempt.
The holy warrior frowned but refrained from making a comment. It wouldn’t do to start a dispute at this point. They needed cohesion, not another argument. Still, there would come a day...
Next, he turned to what was left of the undeads. The one he had helped destroy was in too bad a shape to determine anything useful, but the one ‘roasted alive’ by Eirak could perhaps still reveal a few things. He waited till the others were all busy elsewhere and then shifted through the remains with a dagger. What he found was disturbing enough that he decided not to inform his companions right away. The ‘old rags’ he had spied earlier had been in fact hessian crudely stitched to the ribs, with an opening left right where the throat would have been. In essence, whatever the skeletons ‘ate’ would fall within the ‘bag’, allowing it to be ‘collected’ later on...
“Kalveig?”
“Hmm?” He turned around quickly, screening his grisly discovery with his body. Musadoc was standing at the entrance of the larger tunnel, pointing at the walls and beckoning him over. He stood up and joined him.
“This is definitely man-made. Well, bogger-made rather, it would seem. And it’s not recent either. I would say.. oh, a few decades old. No more than half a century though.”
“Could it have been done at the time Baron Paytro sealed the Vault?”
“Quite possibly, although I fail to see the link. I doubt a human nobleman would have hired boggers, unless-”
“.. unless he needed them for some dirty work that had to be kept secret, aye” concluded Kalveig. “Perhaps Pelrind’s hypothesis was correct, after all.”
“Why, thank you for the vote of confidence!” The elf had crept up behind them as they were talking and was now seemingly in a huff.
Oh, for the love of..! Am I surrounded by children!?
Seeing that Kalveig was barely restraining a grimace, Pelrind burst out laughing. “Peace, noble leader! T’was just a jest, I assure you.” He lowered his voice and pointed surreptitiously towards Eirak. “Given our grumpy friend has grown less.. ah.. vocal in his criticisms lately, I thought you may have missed the ceaseless frustration.” He winked once and resumed the search.
Musadoc chuckled and, despite himself, Kalveig joined him. These folks were sometimes downright annoying but he had to admit they had a few redeeming qualities...
**
A thorough investigation of the cavern revealed little else. There was a small fissure in the ceiling through which the thin smoke of the fire escaped but, without specialized equipment, they had no hope of either enlarging or even reaching it.
The hole (in the northern wall) through which the subterranean river was flowing out was only two feet high and nearly filled to the brim, thus leaving too little breathing space to walk or swim.
Apart from the tunnel they had taken to reach this point, there were only two other ways out: the Burrower-dug tunnel in the northeastern corner, and the bogger-dug tunnel in the eastern wall. Of the two, the second seemed the most viable for the simply reason that if the humanoids had dug their way in, then it stood to reason that they had to begin somewhere outside.
The group adopted a wedge-shaped formation, Kalveig at the point with Eirak and Musadoc flanking him, followed by Pelrind and finally Siubhan. Cautiously, they started down the gallery.
**
The companions encountered several secondary caverns along the way, some serving as barracks, others as dormitories, but didn’t meet anyone.. till they reached another large cavern lit by several torches, probably some type of communal area. Another tunnel could be seen at the rear, near which huddled a few female boggers, apparently awaiting an order.
A large group of bogger warriors, some 15 strong, were standing in the middle of the cave, two ranks deep. The first rank was equipped with shortspears and shields, while the second rank was holding javelins at the ready. A rather big male, longsword drawn, was standing behind them. By the tattoos decorating his face, it was clear he was their leader (though the simple fact that he was behind his troops should have been indication enough..).
Boggers and adventurers faced each others, both uncertain about how best to proceed.
The elf was the first to act. Using Kalveig’s body to hide, he quickly muttered a few arcane syllables and focused his attention on the bogger chieftain. The latter blinked a few times, as if clearing his thoughts and then looked at the trespassers again but with slightly less hostility than before. Taking this as a sign that his spell had taken hold, Pelrind began to walk slowly toward the boggers, both hands open and extended in front of him to show he meant no harm. As he passed his companions, he whispered. “Whatever you do, try not to act in a hostile manner.”
Arrived within striking distance of the first warriors, he stopped and bowed with a flourish. “Oh great and noble leader, would you be so kind as to step forward for a minute or two? There is something I wish to discuss with you.”
The big bogger looked at him in perplexity, furrowing his brow as he attempted to make sense of the elaborate sentence. After a few seconds, he gave up and formulated the most complex answer he was capable of. “Uh?”
Pelrind sighed mentally.
Lords of the Rocks and the Trees, allow me to meet ONE intelligent person before I pass away!
He flashed a dazzling smile at the boss and tried again, talking as slowly as possible. “Me.. want.. talk.. to.. you.”
The face of the bogger brightened in understanding. He walked through the ranks of his underlings - who were clearly amazed at the sight - and came to stand in front of the elf.
“Me Chad’hakk. Me chief!” He thumped his chest to underscore his words.
“I bet you are.. er.. I mean, why yes! Big chief Chad’hakk!” Pelrind bowed again, obsequiously this time.
The bogger puffed out his chest, relishing the thought that even the mighty elves were aware of who he was.
Seeing that his ruse worked, Pelrind continued. “Us travelers. Us no want fight big chief Chad’hakk.”
The boss nodded his agreement eagerly. He wasn’t too keen about starting a fight either!
“Us killed walking bones. Them bad. Them no hurt you again.”
That particular statement caused Chad’hakk’s eyes to almost bulge out. The strangers had defeated the Deathless Ones?!? Suddenly, the odds of his warriors winning against them seemed a lot less in their favor. Not only that but one of them was apparently..
Pelrind caught the surprise in the eyes of his interlocutor but also the fear that followed. However, when he turned to follow his gaze, he was taken aback by the fact that, of all his companions, it was Siubhan that seemed to positively terrify the chieftain.
“She wicca-boss?” the gobber asked, trembling.
Quick to capitalize on something he hadn’t expected, Pelrind nodded. “Yes, she boss. She big wicca. Powerful magic!”
The chieftain turned pale and threw himself on the ground, groveling before the priestess. He switched to a language they didn’t understand but, from the sound of it, it was clearly an apology of some sort, and an abject one at that.
Siubhan looked at Pelrind in puzzlement. The latter winked at her and tapped on Chad’hakk’s shoulder.
“Psst. She wants you go and no return. Never return! Understood?”
The big gobber nodded enthusiastically, as if very happy to get off so lightly. Quickly, he stood up, barked a few orders at his minions and they all fled down the other tunnel.
The others looked at Pelrind, flabbergasted. It was Eirak who translated their amazement into words. “Wha’ the heck just happened?!?”
Pelrind smirked. “That, my friend, is what I call diplomacy.”
**
The companions searched the bogger warren but, apart from a few valuables obviously pilfered from the Vault, didn’t find anything interesting. Next, they followed the tunnel the boggers had taken and emerged in a secluded clearing about a quarter mile east of Weston.
Now satisfied that they had an escape route at their disposal, they returned to the cavern where they had fought the undeads and took the other, rougher tunnel. They traveled about a hundred feet before reaching a Y-shaped intersection.
Taking right, they soon came upon a circular cavern whose thick smell nearly overwhelmed them. Clearly the nest of a large creature, dust and debris covered the floor. The western portion of the chamber held a pool of water fed by underground currents in which several bogger corpses were decomposing. Refuse and filth seemed to occupy another corner. No signs of cook fires or humanoid habitation were evident.
While the others were looking for anything suspicious, Siubhan stood near the pool, examining the rotting bodies. Finally, she called for Musadoc.
“Yes lady?”
“Do you think the river that feeds that pool could be the same one that the villagers use?”
“Hmm, let me take my bearings for a minute” The halfling turned around several times, as if trying to determine which direction he was facing, then threw some dirt into the pool and watched it closely as it disappeared, dragged by the underground stream.
“Yes, I think it is possible. There are many instances of subterranean rivers rising to the surface. And, of course, the reverse holds true.”
“Then I think we have cleared up the mystery of the disease that has plagued the villagers for years.”
“But.. how do you explain the Baron didn’t catch it?”
“Wasn’t there a well in the manor’s courtyard?”
The halfling struggled to remember. “Eh, that’s right! There was. And, if I am not mistaken, it must lie behind our current position-”
“.. which would mean he had access to unpolluted water!”
They grinned simultaneously and then began removing the corpses from the pool.
**
The only Burrower’s ‘mementoes’ they uncovered were a few gold bars and a tarnished silver ring. As far as Pelrind could tell, it had been the lair of a solitary monster and an infrequently used one at that. Once the halfling and the priestess finished cleaning the pool, the companions assembled and returned to the intersection, this time taking left.
A hundred and fifty feet further, they emerged into the Vault again, though on the other side of a cave-in, probably the last one they had encountered.
They were in a corridor that ended in a T-shaped intersection some 60 feet ahead. Two secondary hallways opened to their left. The second one looked like it had collapsed, so they checked the first.
The door to the room it led to had been smashed open. It appeared to have once been a resting area or a meeting place, as several decrepit chairs and small tables were toppled to the floor. It was hard to see the room in a pleasant fashion, however, as the stench of decay hung thickly in the air. Viscera and human remains were smeared across the walls, and piles of torn clothes and bones covered the floor.
Siubhan had to rush out, suddenly filled with an irresistible urge to vomit. Musadoc accompanied her, ostensibly to make certain she would be alright but, in truth, was feeling rather nauseous himself. They were soon followed by Eirak and Kalveig. Pelrind had requested to be left alone to be able to read potential tracks more easily.
The elf joined them 5 minutes later. For the first time since they had met, he was grim-faced, with no hint of mirth in his eyes. “This is.. was.. the lair of the two skeletons we defeated. Apparently, they dragged what was left of their victims here before.. well, you know. Most of the remains are those of boggers but I also found several humans. That fact leads me to believe that those two were responsible - one way or another - for the disappearances Mayor Varnsen reported. There is, however, something else which I find worrying. I found a third set of tracks - shoes, not feet – which belong to someone who regularly visited this place. For what purpose, though, I cannot say.”
“I think I know..” declared Kalveig. As the others turned to him, he gritted his teeth and explained what he had found when he searched the body of the second undead.
“And it didn’t occur to you to share that specific piece of info with us?” Pelrind’s voice was heavy with reproach.. and he wasn’t joking this time. “We could be facing a necromancer!”
“In retrospect, I should have.. but I was trying to protect.. I mean, prevent-”
“You meant to protect me because you felt I wouldn’t react well to the news, isn’t it?” Siubhan’s tone conveyed both disappointment and remorse. The former because he apparently still thought of her only as his charge rather than as a full companion; the latter because she now understood that - for her sake - he sometimes reacted in ways that could prove detrimental to the group.
She took him by the hand and led him a short distance away to talk in private. When she spoke, her voice was gentle and pleading. “I know it is your duty to protect me, but you cannot shelter me from my own life. As a healer, I will have to witness terrible suffering and pain. It is only by experiencing these that I will be able to bring relief to others. Denying that something exists never made it go away. Please, allow me to fulfill my calling, just as the Lady allows you to fulfill yours. Will you do that for me?”
He nodded, tears welling in his eyes. That surprised her. She had expected denial, or even outright refusal, but tears? A little troubled, she hugged him, guided by her instinct (35). He froze under her tender ministration. She felt it and let go, wondering what dark corner of his past had come back to haunt him. Silently, she vowed to find out one day.. but not before she had earned his trust.
They came back to the group and Siubhan bowed formally to the others. “Please accept our apologies. Kalveig only thought he acted in my best interest. It won’t happen again. Let us return to the task at hand and speak no more of it.”
Pelrind coughed. “Well, alright then. No time to waste. The tracks lead down the corridor. I suggest we follow them.. cautiously.”
Nodding their assent, the companions set off again.
**
At the intersection, the passage continued left for about 20 feet before turning right. To the right, it went on for some 40 feet before turning left. However, the floor in that direction seemed odd, as if the stone was alive, and an unusual rushing sound filled the air. Upon closer inspection, they discovered that it wasn’t made of stone but glass! An underground stream was visible through it, its strong current causing the noise.
They quickly determined that anything too heavy would break the glass. Whoever fell through would be carried away by the river to an unknown location; clearly a risky proposal at best!
Musadoc volunteered to cross since he was the lightest of the team. They tied a rope around his waist and watched breathlessly as he moved slowly to the other side. Luckily, he made it easily. Once there, he informed them that the corridor ended in a door beyond the corner. He untied the rope and went to check it, after promising to return at the slightest hint of trouble.
He came back 5 minutes later and crossed back. The door led to an old laboratory filled with a variety of alchemical instruments and, possibly, some exotic components used for spells. Since it wasn’t his area of expertise, he had avoided touching anything remotely suspect.
**
Taking left beyond the intersection, the group reached a long hallway that ended in a room, some distance away. One door was visible to the right, about halfway through, and two to the left.
They inspected the various entrances. All but one led to rooms dedicated to exhibits (probably trophies gathered by previous Barons). Some had been ransacked, some not. Those that hadn’t were still protected by a variety of magical riddles, so they avoided them for the time being. The last door opened in what had once been a comfortable meeting room. However, any items of value or decoration had been viciously destroyed, and there was a carrion smell in the air. A single door had been left ajar at the back. It led to an ornate antechamber, as did the tracks.
A lush carpet adorned its floor. Large bookcases filled two walls and desks with oil lamps occupied the corners. A large leather chair sat near the door. The statue of a scholarly-looking man - who appeared to be reading a scroll - was in the farthest corner, beside a narrow passageway leading deeper into the Vault.
A quick search of the desks revealed two old scrolls and a vial labeled ‘health renewal’. They entrusted them to Siubhan for safekeeping and continued. As they passed the statue, it spoke in a ghostly yet loud voice.
“Know your adversary before battle. Enemies can often be summed up by answering these three questions: One, what is their chief desire? Two, what are they willing to do to gain this desire? Three, what do they fear? When you know your enemy, you can be best prepared for battle!”
Eirak swore. If anyone was waiting beyond, this unexpected piece of advice had just ruined their chances of surprise. He rushed down the passageway, followed by the others.
**
It seemed her groom had finally arrived! Hurriedly, she willed her clothes and skin to change. It wouldn’t do for him to catch her like that. After all, on her wedding day, a girl has to look her best.
Still, her sisters had always told her that discretion was the better part of valor. Whispering the ancient words of power they had taught her, she wove a spirit-shield around herself and then waited for her beloved.
**
Eirak charged down a passage some 20 feet long. There was another door at its end. Light shone beneath it. He kicked it open brutally and entered a large rectangular chamber 30 ft. across and 70 ft. wide. There were four statues, one in each corner, all of - again - scholarly-looking individuals. At the back of the room, a corridor led elsewhere. Oil lamps suspended to the walls illuminated the area. Facing him, about 20 feet away, stood a lone young woman in a wedding dress, looking demure.
Surprised, he stopped - a bit embarrassed by his thunderous entrance - while his companions fanned out slowly behind him.
The ‘bride’ gazed at them expectantly, as if searching for someone in particular.
The adventurers exchanged bewildered looks. Finally, Kalveig spoke up. “Lady Amelia? Is that you?”
Disappointment spread over her face, swiftly replaced by anger. “So, my Paytro hasn’t come, has he? Instead, he sends me ignorant thugs. Very well, I know how to deal with the likes of you. Paytro will be sorry he betrayed me again!” And with those words, she started to incant.
“Durn, spellcaster! SPREAD OUT!” The cry hadn’t left his mouth that Eirak was charging again, hoping against all odds to reach her before she finished her spell.
Kalveig froze, caught between his desire to charge too and his unwillingness to leave Siubhan exposed to hostile spells. As for the priestess, she had begun casting a spell of her own.
Pelrind cursed inwardly their inability to solve any situation without resorting to a fight. It was too late to try the same trick he had used on the gobbers, so he settled for an attack that would - perhaps - break her concentration. His hands moved quickly as they traced the outline of a cube in the air, invoking the Earth’s power.
Musadoc was puzzled. He had seen for a few seconds a beautiful lady dressed for a wedding before she had turned into an ugly old crone wearing blood-spattered rags. He shook his head in case he was hallucinating but her aspect didn’t change back.
The temporary hesitation of several of the group’s members cost them dearly...
The dwarf had almost reached the woman when the latter pointed her hand at him and released a coruscating ray that struck him squarely in the chest. Instantly, Eirak’s strength left him and he stumbled to the floor, not 5 feet from her, weak as an axeling and crushed beneath the weight of his own equipment.
Priestess and elf finished their casting almost simultaneously. Siubhan’s spell outlined each of her allies briefly in silvery light, instilling courage into their hearts. At Pelrind’s feet, a fragment of the stone floor broke off and flew straight at the sorceress. Alas, it barely grazed her brow. Still, it was enough to draw her attention to him. She incanted again.
Watching the dwarf fall had helped Kalveig come to a decision. He left Siubhan’s side and rushed their adversary, yelling loudly in the hope that it would force her to concentrate on him.
Musadoc was about to imitate him when an enormous rat with sulfurous eyes popped out of nowhere behind Pelrind and bit him cruelly in the tendon. Again, he hesitated. Which friend to help?
Meanwhile, Kalveig arrived within striking distance of the woman. He opted for a low swipe, attempting to trip her with his flail. Amazingly, he missed! It was as if something invisible had deflected his weapon as it was about to come into contact. She turned to him and spat an arcane word that left him dazed.
Pelrind was trying to get rid of the infernal rat, but without any success. The beast was not only vicious but relentless, a lethal combination! He rolled on the floor, hoping that would be enough to shake it loose, but to no avail. The creature was dead set on hamstringing him. Suddenly, a shadow fell over him. As he looked up, he saw Musadoc, his pickaxe raised as if to strike his friend!
As the weapon’s deadly arc came to an end, the elf closed his eyes instinctively.. and felt the rat release its grip upon his leg at the same time as he heard a thud. When he looked again, he discovered Musadoc had pinned the beast to the floor with his pick. The creature was dissolving into a foul-smelling mist.
Elsewhere in the room, Eirak was doing his level best to unsling his backpack in a desperate attempt to reduce his load. Unable to go through even such a simple effort, he drew his dagger and began to cut the straps.
Kalveig shook off the spell that had stopped him in his tracks just in time to be hit point-blank by the same ray that had affected the dwarf earlier. The ray’s impact didn’t affect him as much as Eirak had been but it was enough to make him groan as his now weaker muscles readjusted to the weight of what he was carrying. He still managed to make an attack, which - again - was deflected. Things were definitely not looking good...
The last strap finally sheared, the bag slid off Eirak’s back. Feeling better, he lunged forward and grabbed the woman’s legs, trying to bring her down. Nimbly, she escaped his hold and struck him on the back of the head with her bare hand. The blow was so hard that his head was left throbbing. He couldn’t believe how strong she was!
“Anwyn, Bright Lady, guide your servant’s hands that they may strike down this witchspawn!” While the ‘bride’ had been busy with the dwarf and the human, Musadoc had crept up behind her and was now poised to deliver a powerful blow. Amazingly, as he hit her, his pickaxe burst momentarily into flames!
She was now surrounded, opponents flanking her on all sides (Pelrind having joined the mêlée). Yet, she wouldn’t give up. Screaming like a wild thing, she lashed out with hands and feet, clawing and kicking furiously.
Still, the outcome was inevitable. It took almost two minutes but she finally fell to the floor, vanquished. As her evil soul left her body, the latter reverted to its original appearance, that of an old, ugly, and filthy woman.
Eirak was panting. “Lads, I dunno what it was that we fought but if that was Lady Amelia, I’m in a mind to forgive the Baron for lockin’ her down here!”
“Puzzling. She was a spellcaster of some sort and able to disguise herself. For someone so old, her strength was nearly unbelievable, as was her agility. I wonder..”
“We will bring her back with us to Weston, Pelrind. Maybe the Mayor will be able to identify her? I sincerely hope it wasn’t the Lady Amelia though. That would make for a really awkward situation.” Kalveig sighed and then pointed to her left hand. “Say, she is wearing something. Could it be that elven ring we were told about?”
The elf kneeled and examined the item. “No, definitely not. It’s a simple copper ring set with a semi-precious gemstone. Nothing like the craftsmanship of my people.”
**
Elsewhere, not far from the Barony, two persons were leaning over a black cauldron, watching the elf’s face on the surface of the steamy liquid inside. They had witnessed the whole combat and they would remember each of their sister’s murderers. Vengeance would be theirs!
**
After pausing to catch their breath, the companions examined the corridor at the back of the chamber. A thin band of metal formed an archway over its entry, and ran the length of the hall three-feet above the floor, seeming to disappear into the door at the corridor’s far end. Upon closer inspection, it became evident that the strip of metal formed a circuit broken at regular intervals by 4 keyholes. The metal band originated to the right of the far door as a concave metal depression.
At Pelrind’s suggestion, each of the NeMoren’s heirs inserted his (or her) silver key into one of the keyholes and then the elf pressed the calisil into the circular indent.
A wave of power washed along the metal strip from the calisil, down the corridor, across the arch, and back up the corridor into the door. With an incredibly loud hum, the latter slowly retracted into the ceiling, revealing an octagonal-shaped room.
At its center, lay a grand sarcophagus. Strange runes covered the surface of the tomb, and a golden plaque that read Kragor NeMoren in Traladaran was visible at the foot of the structure. Around the chamber, they could see several locked chests, piles of coins, rich fabrics, tapestries, paintings, weapons, and a variety of other items. At long last, they had found the fabled treasure.
There was also a great lever on the wall, next to the entrance. According to instructions engraved around it, it could unlock the first door of the Vault. Apparently, the Baron hadn’t intended to lock them up forever after all...
As they moved around the room, examining the various items, Eirak spied something unusual at the top of the sarcophagus. Coming closer, he discovered that what he had first mistaken for a part of the carvings was in fact a weapon which had been cunningly concealed by making it look like an element of the exterior design of the tomb.
Freeing it of its hiding place, he gasped as he hefted a formidable-looking warhammer made of a metal that shone with a silvery gleam even in the dark. Runes he didn’t understand covered the length of the handle.
“It’s Terran, the sacred language of the Earth.”
Eirak was startled by Pelrind. He had been so fascinated by the weapon that he hadn’t noticed the elf until the latter spoke up.
“Can ye decipher it?”
“Yes, I think it’s the weapon’s name.” The elf’s voice sounded oddly solemn.
“Well?”
“It is called.. Nemesis.”
**********
(24) Remember the Forbiddance spell?
(25) In Drachenhold, soldiers who are discharged dishonorably are first branded on the left shoulder with a mark shaped like a broken dragon’s claw. This punishment carries more than a social stigma. Should they face a royal court of justice at some point of the future, they are automatically considered guilty as charged, no matter the crime or the evidence. Basically, if you wear one and don’t elect to become a hermit, don’t expect to live a long and happy life thereafter!
(26) Sadly, he was. Pelrind believed Eirak was benefiting from a Stoneskin spell. In truth, it was much less impressive. While designing the mud pool, I decided that though all races would be healed (once!) by it, dwarves would enjoy another (temporary) advantage: a Mudskin (the Earth equivalent of Barkskin) spell, as cast by a 9t-level spellcaster (+4 enhancement bonus to natural armor class for a duration of 90 minutes). Keep in mind that, at the time, I still had no idea what kind of characters my players would choose to play
(27) The three most ‘common’ undead powers are well-documented on this world, at least among the different churches. They make sure even novices understand what they can face and how best to avoid falling victim to it. Part of that training is to use as few words as possible to relay all the information needed. So, they came up with nicknames for the different ‘abilities’:
- paralysis = nethersleep
- stat drain = mosquito
- energy drain = soulthirst
In combat situation, whoever issues the first warning usually tries to add something to be as specific as possible with regard to the way the undead described uses its power. For instance, a shadow (who drains Str through a touch attack) would be described as ‘mosquito-touch’
(28) Twice-Born is one of the oldest nicknames attributed to undeads on this world, but not a very popular one anymore since the advent of the Great Church. Indeed, Church’s elders consider it blasphemous because it implies the forces of Evil are capable not only of destruction but of creation as well, which doesn’t sit too well with the current doctrine...
(29) Being equipped with piercing/slashing weapons, the dwarf and the halfling were a lot less effective in the damage-dealing department (though not for lack of trying!)
(30) In my campaign, corporeal undeads are seen as a corruption of the body, while incorporeal ones are viewed as a corruption of the soul. Since corruption in all its forms is associated with Hell (and the Abyss, to a lesser degree), the living deads are considered as ‘lesser fiends’.
Those described in the (various) MM are actually the most ‘basic’ undeads one can encounter. A great many of them enjoy additional powers (called ‘salient abilities’, something I picked up from the Ravenloft setting). Since they are more powerful than their ‘lesser kin’, they are regarded as favored by the powers of Hell. Adventurers thus aptly nicknamed them ‘Hellborn’.
Generally, when you hear that word being screamed by one of your companions, you know you’re in trouble...
(31) A common enough nickname for Hell
(32) In fact, the duration of the spell was just over but I thought it would look more melodramatic this way. Eirak’s player chose to interpret it as being ‘cured’ of Rontra’s curse and I admit it only added to the role-play of the entire experience
(33) That’s how my players named it afterwards. A rather fitting name, I must say
At the time, I had been more than a little disappointed by the poor performance of my skeletal near-immortal ghouls. All three fighters, benefiting from good Fortitude bonuses and decent AC, had managed to avoid being incapacitated by their paralyzing bite. Moreover, Eirak had been the only one sustaining more than minor injuries and only because he had stood in the fire long enough to finish off his opponent! All in all, the PC had an easy ride.
Retrospectively, though, I realize that it could just as easily have gone horribly wrong. A few failed Fort. saves and Pelrind/Siubhan would have been left alone to face the undeads. That would have spelled the group’s doom.
Methink the one thing that shifted the balance in their favor was their discovery, early on, of the skeletons’ only weakness: fire. Well, I can hardly blame my players for being lucky, now can I?
(34) Gobbers are the fourth race of the Children of the Tree (the other 3 being the dwarves, halflings, and humans). Long ago, a sizeable portion of their species was seduced by the Deceiver and turned to evil ways. Those renegades slowly mutated into boggers (think bigger, meaner specimens). The problem is that, while most people are aware of that tragic story, few know how to differentiate them (physically speaking). So, a lot of the current anti-gobber feelings are due to bogger raids which were blamed on their smaller cousins
(35) As noted in Siubhan’s description (in the Rogues Gallery), priestesses of Morwyn can use Sense Motive to link empathically to others, albeit only briefly
**********
Next chapter: Horror on the Hill!
Oh and, Pogre & Herremann, don’t think for a minute that I didn’t notice your frequent advertising of my SH in other threads. It is much appreciated <bows>
The Rogues Gallery has been updated as well, including a spoiler for those who want to know what was really going on in the Vault.
People (DMs & players alike) who have gone through this module on their own will no doubt have noticed that I made no mention of one specific ‘encounter’ (the glass room, to be precise). That’s because, of all the things in the Vault, that’s the one I modified the least for my campaign. Yes, my players dealt successfully with it (thanks to Pelrind) but, no, I won’t tell that story here. Why? Because I don’t want to spoil the fun of players whose DM is planning to use this module in the future. I hope their version of the Vault proves as challenging for you as it was for my players!
And now, onward with the last part of Chapter 1 (bear with me, it’s a long one!)
1.5 Hell Hath no Fury..:
While Musadoc was dealing with the monster in a most unexpected manner, Kalveig – finally freed of the confusion the beast had cursed him with – quickly appraised the situation. Rushing to Siubhan’s side, he focused his faith and called upon the greatest gift of the Path of the Martyr, transferring her wounds onto himself. He couldn’t repeat the operation with the other two given how taxing it was on his body but, now that the priestess had regained consciousness, she could see to them herself.
He still lent her his help to amplify the effect of her healing touch upon Pelrind. As for Eirak, they managed to stabilize him but were unable to provide additional help.
By the time Musadoc returned with joyful news, Pelrind and Siubhan were fully healed while Eirak was still unconscious, and Kalveig was beginning to feel weak due to loss of blood.
They greeted him with a mixture of incredulity and astonishment. This young halfling’s resourcefulness didn’t cease to amaze them!
Still, they weren’t any closer to finding a way out and, even with Siubhan’s help, their two main warriors were in bad shape. That’s when Pelrind reminded them that they had yet to try the stone pool at Rontra’s chapel.
Retreating to the first part of the vault (and bringing the calisil along), they carried Eirak and Kalveig to the chapel and, following Pelrind’s instructions, Musadoc placed the orb of light in its alcove.
After a few seconds, a deep humming noise started to emanate from the statue of the goddess. It faded quickly enough but was replaced by two other sounds. First, a gurgling one - coming from the jug - and then a hissing one from the metallic rod.
Still stuck at the entrance (24), Pelrind gave a slight smile of satisfaction. “As I suspected..”
The jug began to disgorge a steady stream of water that quickly filled the top of the basin while the rod turned to red and then to white as it heated rapidly. The combination of the two induced a change in the mud. From dry, it slowly turned viscous again.
“Now, strip them to the skin and lower them into the mud. Just be careful to keep their heads above it so that they can breathe.”
“Strip them? You mean.. as in ‘completely naked’?” Siubhan looked up and blushed.
Pelrind rolled his eyes.
Humans and their prudery..
“You can leave them in loincloth.. if you deem it appropriate for decency’s sake.” He shrugged. “As long as those parts of their bodies that have sustained injuries are covered by the mud, it should suffice.”
“But most of these are open wounds. Won’t the mud mingling with their blood make things worse?”
“A wise query and one I should have anticipated from a healer.” Pelrind bowed his head slightly in recognition of her thoroughness. “The answer, however, is: no. Actually, the mud - if it acts as I anticipate it will - should cover their wounds and act as both a healing salve and an insulating layer. It will harden, and by the time it peels off their wounds should have closed.”
Reassured, Siubhan returned to the task at hand, helped by the halfling. First, they took care of Kalveig and then began to undress Eirak. As they were removing his shirt, however, they discovered a detail that gave them pause.
Cursing his inability to enter the room for the hundredth time, Pelrind turned to Musadoc for an explanation. “Well, what is it now?”
“The dwarf.. he has been branded on the left shoulder.”
“A mark? Describe it to me, please.”
Musadoc frowned before answering. “It’s the Broken Claw...” (25)
The 3 companions remained silent for awhile, each weighing the implications of this unexpected discovery.
“I say it doesn’t matter. Let the past stay buried. We should only concern ourselves with what he has done till we met. He fought at our side and suffered, same as any of us. That’s the only thing that should count.” The young priestess’ voice sounded defiant, almost challenging them to prove her wrong.
“Well, I never could understand your human concept of ‘justice’ anyway” was the elf’s only comment.
Musadoc’s answer was a simple nod. To the halfling, no shameful mark could ever be more painful to bear than what he had glimpsed for a few seconds in the eyes of the dwarf just before the latter was buried by the earth-creature. If Eirak could find the strength to live with that burden, then he had already been punished more than enough. Still there was one other matter to consider. “Should we tell Kalveig?”
“No.”
Surprised by the finality of her tone, the halfling and the elf stared at the priestess interrogatively.
She sighed. “Look, we all know the two of them aren’t exactly ‘getting along’ as it is. Informing Kalveig at this point would only make matters worse. If Eirak had wanted us to know about the brand, he would have told us by now. We uncovered his secret only because he is currently both unconscious and defenseless. In a sense, we violated his privacy. That’s why we have to keep that knowledge to ourselves. And, by the way, this raises another issue. I am not so sure we have the right to use the mud on him.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, this pool was meant for worshippers of Rontra, correct? I think he made it crystal clear he wasn’t one of them.”
“So?”
“So, what right do we have to force him to use it?”
It was Pelrind’s turn to sigh, but in annoyance. “Your companion serves Morwyn and yet you didn’t balk at making him benefit from it. What’s so different about Eirak?”
“You fail to understand. Brother Kalveig may serve the White Lady but he believes in the whole pantheon.”
“And so does the dwarf! Do you seriously think anyone could hate a goddess with such passion and not believe in her? Besides, it’s not like we have a choice. We’re stuck in here and the only possible way out is through the tunnels left by the Burrower. We’ll need our best warriors if we are to stand a chance to succeed. That means we need Eirak!”
Siubhan thought about it for a minute before giving up. “You are probably right.. but it doesn’t sit well with my conscience. The defining factor of a true worshipper is his free will, after all.”
“Duly noted, lady. Now, please proceed.”
The priestess was mildly annoyed by Pelrind’s paternal tone of voice but complied nonetheless. The dwarf was lowered into the mud, next to Kalveig. The two of them were placed with their back to the outer border of the stone pool, their arms stretched over it in order to prevent them from sinking down further.
Musadoc turned to Pelrind. “How long do you reckon they’ll have to stay in there?”
“Hmm.. hard to say. No more than half a day, I would think. If it took longer than that, it would be rather impractical considering humankind’s notorious lack of patience. Er.. no offense intended, lady.”
“None taken, sir elf. I was taught that if our lives are short, they burn all the brighter for it.” She smiled at him and her face betrayed neither displeasure nor irony.
Pelrind gazed at her in wonder. He hadn’t expected a human woman - and a rather young one at that - to display such poetic wisdom. He was beginning to understand the fascination some of his kind felt for this - to them - often bewildering race.
**
After a few hours had passed, both Eirak and Kalveig began to stir - which their companions interpreted as a good sign. They helped them out of the pool and marveled at the fact that their bodies seemed much healthier than before. However, this joyful news was counterbalanced by the fact that Eirak’s skin was now the same color as the mud.
Needless to say, the dwarf was far from pleased. Not only was he - in his opinion - owing his recovery to a goddess he would rather spit upon than worship, but he was probably cursed as well!
Since Pelrind had previously demonstrated advanced knowledge of all matters pertaining to the earth, they asked for his expert opinion. The latter examined Eirak for a full minute, sometimes rubbing his fingers on his skin, sometimes knocking lightly on it with his staff, before giving his conclusions.
“Well, the good news is that - unless I am mistaken (26) - your skin has apparently been calcified without losing any of its flexibility. The bad news is that I have no idea of how long this condition will last. In the meantime, if I were you, I would enjoy the added security that derives from it.”
This caused Eirak to curse - yet again - but, since the only apparent way to get rid of it was to be skinned alive, he finally relented and settled for a steady stream of menacing grumbles interspersed with imaginative insults. Given this was fast becoming a habit of his, his companions simply chose to ignore it as best as they could...
**
They returned to the spot where they had been ambushed by the man-bug, and were immediately faced with a difficult choice. Did they try to follow the old tunnel or the newer one through which the monster had surprised them?
“I say go for the new one” said Musadoc. “At the very least, we know it must still be open since it came out of it”.
“On the contrary, my friend, I would argue that the oldest is also the safest” commented Pelrind.
“Why?”
“Because if it hasn’t collapsed by now, chances are that it won’t. At least, not while we’re inside.”
“Not to sound superstitious, but could the both o’ ye stop talkin’ ‘bout caves-in?” moaned Eirak from the rear.
The halfling ignored him. Though he liked the elf, he was determined to put his mining skills to good use in order to improve their odds of surviving this underground foray. “Nonsense. Time has nothing to do with it, at least not with tunnels such as these which were never properly shored up to begin with. I would add that the older the passageway, the higher the chance of encountering natural hazards such as an accumulation of explosive or lethal gas.”
“The soft chalk of my intuition crumbles against your diamond-hard yet-flawed logic.”
“Explosive gas? Now, wait a darn minute here. Nobody said anythin’ ‘bout gas before!” Eirak’s voice sounded decidedly apprehensive.
“Flawed?! In what way?”
“Do you concur that the biggest threat to our safety, right now, is the possibility of running into another Burrower?”
Musadoc couldn’t help but nod.
“Good. Then, let me inform you of a little something you may not be aware of. These creatures never use the same tunnel twice. Their bulk would mean an immediate collapse. Oh, I dare say that it wouldn’t impede them much but they prefer to dig their way through solid ground rather than be buried under it every ten seconds. Their tunnels can crisscross - in fact, they frequently do - but they almost never overlap. Thus, by following the oldest of the two, we lessen the risk of hostile encounters.”
Eirak groaned as he pictured the ceiling coming down on them.
Siubhan stifled a laugh while Kalveig coughed a few times to bring the debate to a halt. “Gentlemen, this is all very interesting, but we ought to take a decision. Let me remind you that time is of the essence here. The more we delay, the less supplies - not to mention breathable air - we have at our disposal. Musadoc, while I respect your experience, it’s clear that Pelrind knows more about the perils we’re likely to face. Thus, for now, I suggest we follow his instructions.”
The halfling was clearly not thrilled by the proposal but yielded gracefully, though he still insisted on giving everyone a few tips about recognizing the early signs of potentially dangerous situations.
**
They followed the rough hewn tunnel for a hundred feet before it opened into (the western side of) a large subterranean cave. An underground river was running through the cavern from its slightly raised southern end, and disappearing into a hole in the northern wall. An odd smell tinged the air. A small log bridge spanned the water. A flickering campfire was visible near the eastern end of the cave, and the sound of a battle could be heard as weird shadows danced a macabre ballet on the walls.
Musadoc, who was opening the way, turned to Kalveig and shrugged helplessly, indicating he was unsure about what to do.
“If there is a fight, there are surely innocents to protect. Let’s go!” was his answer as he unslung his shield and readied it. At his command, the companions broke into a quick run toward the bridge. They would never forget the scene that greeted them...
**
Another tunnel, larger than those dug by the Undrathar, opened into the eastern wall. A small barricade made of wooden logs had been erected in front of it and the campfire they had sighted burnt right next to it.
A group of three small - about 4 ft. tall - humanoids (a fourth was lying on the ground, in a pool of blood) were struggling against two animated skeletons!
The humanoids had a mottled, greenish, gray skin that seemed somewhat greasy. Their head featured wide set eyes, big pointy ears, and a protrusive mug which opened into a mouth filled with jagged teeth. They wore studded leather but went barefoot. Two were armed with shield and shortspear. They were trying to keep the undeads at a distance while the third was frantically feeding wood to the fire, as if keeping it burning was of paramount importance.
The skeletons were humanoid-looking, probably even human. They had a strange coloration. Neither the ivory-white of bones bleached by the sun, nor the earth-brown of freshly exhumed corpses. Rusty-red would have been the closest equivalent. Not uniformly so, but enough that it was the predominant tinge.
Their finger bones had been sharpened into claws and their teeth filed to insure that any bite-attack would result in serious injuries to their opponents.
Something - it was hard to tell what exactly - had been placed inside their ribcage. From a distance, it looked like wet old rags. That only added to their ghastly appearance, as it would have been quite easy to mistake them for tattered lungs!
**
Kalveig was leading the charge over the bridge. As he neared the mêlée, he saw one of the humanoids fail to dodge an attack. When the undead’s teeth dug into his flesh, his skin turned a lighter shade of gray and his body froze, as if his muscles refused to respond anymore.
“Nethersleep-bite!” Kalveig hoped the others had heard and understood the implications. Silently, he berated himself for not having reviewed them with his companions before. He was so used to fighting alongside other Faithful Sons that he had completely forgotten to make sure his current brothers in arms were aware of a few basic things (27).
The monster didn’t lose time. It threw the poor creature to the ground and started to tear into him, frenzied with - apparently - hunger. Great chunks of flesh were torn from its still living victim and gobbled with alacrity. The humanoid died rapidly, of course, though whether of shock or massive loss of blood Kalveig would never know. What he did know was that no living being should have to endure such agony. Thus, when his flail connected with the skeleton’s spine, it wasn’t just duty that guided his hand but also righteous anger.
The undead was lifted clear from the grisly remains of its feast and thrown back a good 5 feet, its ribcage half-shattered. If it noticed the damage, it didn’t give any indication of it. Instead, it simply crouched like an animal and then launched itself at Kalveig with the silent fury that only the Twice-Born (28) can display.
Meanwhile, Musadoc and Eirak had flanked the other skeleton and were taking turns hitting it, helping each other keep it at a safe distance. As for Pelrind and Siubhan, they stood clear of the battle, ready to help in case things went wrong.
The last two humanoids used the distraction to flee in the large tunnel, screaming in a language that none of the companions was familiar with. It didn’t take a genius to understand the general meaning though. Intruders had shown up and the surviving sentinels were sounding the alarm.
**
So far, the fight was going better than anticipated. Kalveig had managed to fend off all of the skeleton’s attacks, all the while inflicting decent damage thanks to his flail. It was time to finish it, after which he could help the others destroy the second one (29).
His next blow made the skull of his opponent burst into a thousand pieces. The undead’s remains crumbled to the cavern’s floor in a heap of bones. But, as the holy warrior was about to step over them, they suddenly leapt from the ground and reassembled in front of him, with no trace of previous damage! Green flames flickered for an instant in the skeleton’s orbits before it renewed its attack.
“Hellborn!” (30) was the only thing Kalveig had time to scream before he had to concentrate on defending himself again.
**
For a while, Siubhan had believed the warriors would be able to deal with the menace without her help. As a priestess of the White Lady, undeads represented the very antithesis of what she stood for: parasites who fed on humanity. Ever since her novitiate, she had hoped fervently that she would never run into any. Back then, the grim descriptions of veteran Matriarchs had given her nightmares on more than one occasion!
Now, however, it seemed the nightmare had turned into reality. Against monsters spawned by the Pit (31), she knew she was the group’s best weapon. She may not have been a servant of Mormekar, but the faith that sustained her was just as inimical to them, if a bit less destructive.
Brandishing her holy symbol, she called upon her goddess. “Morwyn, Queen of Heaven, let your light shine upon these desecrated shells that they may return to the peace they were denied!”
Her teardrop-shaped pendant emitted a powerful burst of blue light that washed over the combatants, leaving them unscathed. Leaving them all unscathed, that is! She had failed to affect the undeads. The evil power that animated them was apparently stronger than her faith...
**
Pelrind could recognize a dangerous situation when he saw one. At his side, the priestess was still reeling from shock over her failure. She was useless for now. So, it was up to him to make a difference.
Stepping forward, he positioned himself where he had a clear view of the fight. Summoning arcane energies to his hands, he yelled a warning. “Kal, at my command, back off!”
The holy warrior nodded once to indicate he had heard, and shifted to a defensive stance.
“Now!”
Kalveig jumped backwards at the same time as Pelrind unleashed a cone of flames that caught the skeleton squarely. As the monster contorted itself in pain, the warrior stepped forward again and finished it with a powerful blow to the pelvis. Alas, once more, the bones rebuilt themselves almost instantly. Sighing, Pelrind prepared himself to flank it and was about to ready his staff when a shout from Kalveig stopped him.
“Look! They are vulnerable to fire!”
Indeed, while the undead had regenerated as before, the area of its body that had been damaged by the elf’s spell had failed to rejuvenate.
Pelrind grinned like a cat as he stepped back, calling upon his fire-spell again.
**
Eirak, having heard the exchange, hit upon a plan to get rid of his own adversary.
“Lad, try to put yerself in-between this bag o’ bones and the fire and, when I give ye the signal, kneel.”
Musadoc looked at him in confusion until understanding dawned on his face. He nodded and started to position himself according to the dwarf’s directives.
With the halfling in place, the dwarf suddenly bull rushed the skeleton while screaming “Down ye go!”
The undead, surprised, was caught off balance by the attack. The more than 200 lbs. of solid dwarvenhood barreling along pushed him back, over Musadoc, and right into the middle of the campfire where it crashed in a shower of sparks.
Eirak didn’t stop there. Throwing his shield over the skeleton, he jumped with both feet on it, pinning the burning carcass down while fire cleansed it of its evil taint. As he was standing in the middle of the flames, his mud-enhanced skin started to crack and, suddenly, fell off in bits and pieces, exposing him to the full fury of the blaze. It seemed he had been cleansed too! (32)
**
While the dwarf was finishing off their enemy, Musadoc rushed to help Kalveig and Pelrind. The two of them had inflicted some permanent damage but not enough to end the battle yet. Actually, the human was trying to reach the oil flasks in his backpack, Pelrind’s spells having proved efficient but not as devastating as they had hoped. However, with the undead constantly pressing them hard, Kalveig had been unable to spare the time. Now, with the halfling stepping into the fight, he was finally able to withdraw long enough to gather what he needed.
After that, it didn’t take long before the last skeleton was doused in burning oil and destroyed once and for all. The Battle of Underbridge was finally over (33).
**
While Siubhan was bandaging Eirak’s wounds, the other searched the cavern. They found another rough-looking tunnel departing from its northeastern end, close to the river’s siphon. According to Pelrind, the skeletons’ tracks came from there; not exactly the best enticement to check it out!
Kalveig was examining the corpses of the two dead humanoids. “Gobbers? I wonder what they’re doing in here. They have no communities in this area that I know of.”
“Nah, them buggers are boggers (34). Look at their head. See that bone ridge goin’ from the back o’ their skull to the forefront? That’s their mark, a’right. Fought enough o’ them in me days on the Wild Coast border to be sure. Trust me.” Eirak spat on one, a mark of his contempt.
The holy warrior frowned but refrained from making a comment. It wouldn’t do to start a dispute at this point. They needed cohesion, not another argument. Still, there would come a day...
Next, he turned to what was left of the undeads. The one he had helped destroy was in too bad a shape to determine anything useful, but the one ‘roasted alive’ by Eirak could perhaps still reveal a few things. He waited till the others were all busy elsewhere and then shifted through the remains with a dagger. What he found was disturbing enough that he decided not to inform his companions right away. The ‘old rags’ he had spied earlier had been in fact hessian crudely stitched to the ribs, with an opening left right where the throat would have been. In essence, whatever the skeletons ‘ate’ would fall within the ‘bag’, allowing it to be ‘collected’ later on...
“Kalveig?”
“Hmm?” He turned around quickly, screening his grisly discovery with his body. Musadoc was standing at the entrance of the larger tunnel, pointing at the walls and beckoning him over. He stood up and joined him.
“This is definitely man-made. Well, bogger-made rather, it would seem. And it’s not recent either. I would say.. oh, a few decades old. No more than half a century though.”
“Could it have been done at the time Baron Paytro sealed the Vault?”
“Quite possibly, although I fail to see the link. I doubt a human nobleman would have hired boggers, unless-”
“.. unless he needed them for some dirty work that had to be kept secret, aye” concluded Kalveig. “Perhaps Pelrind’s hypothesis was correct, after all.”
“Why, thank you for the vote of confidence!” The elf had crept up behind them as they were talking and was now seemingly in a huff.
Oh, for the love of..! Am I surrounded by children!?
Seeing that Kalveig was barely restraining a grimace, Pelrind burst out laughing. “Peace, noble leader! T’was just a jest, I assure you.” He lowered his voice and pointed surreptitiously towards Eirak. “Given our grumpy friend has grown less.. ah.. vocal in his criticisms lately, I thought you may have missed the ceaseless frustration.” He winked once and resumed the search.
Musadoc chuckled and, despite himself, Kalveig joined him. These folks were sometimes downright annoying but he had to admit they had a few redeeming qualities...
**
A thorough investigation of the cavern revealed little else. There was a small fissure in the ceiling through which the thin smoke of the fire escaped but, without specialized equipment, they had no hope of either enlarging or even reaching it.
The hole (in the northern wall) through which the subterranean river was flowing out was only two feet high and nearly filled to the brim, thus leaving too little breathing space to walk or swim.
Apart from the tunnel they had taken to reach this point, there were only two other ways out: the Burrower-dug tunnel in the northeastern corner, and the bogger-dug tunnel in the eastern wall. Of the two, the second seemed the most viable for the simply reason that if the humanoids had dug their way in, then it stood to reason that they had to begin somewhere outside.
The group adopted a wedge-shaped formation, Kalveig at the point with Eirak and Musadoc flanking him, followed by Pelrind and finally Siubhan. Cautiously, they started down the gallery.
**
The companions encountered several secondary caverns along the way, some serving as barracks, others as dormitories, but didn’t meet anyone.. till they reached another large cavern lit by several torches, probably some type of communal area. Another tunnel could be seen at the rear, near which huddled a few female boggers, apparently awaiting an order.
A large group of bogger warriors, some 15 strong, were standing in the middle of the cave, two ranks deep. The first rank was equipped with shortspears and shields, while the second rank was holding javelins at the ready. A rather big male, longsword drawn, was standing behind them. By the tattoos decorating his face, it was clear he was their leader (though the simple fact that he was behind his troops should have been indication enough..).
Boggers and adventurers faced each others, both uncertain about how best to proceed.
The elf was the first to act. Using Kalveig’s body to hide, he quickly muttered a few arcane syllables and focused his attention on the bogger chieftain. The latter blinked a few times, as if clearing his thoughts and then looked at the trespassers again but with slightly less hostility than before. Taking this as a sign that his spell had taken hold, Pelrind began to walk slowly toward the boggers, both hands open and extended in front of him to show he meant no harm. As he passed his companions, he whispered. “Whatever you do, try not to act in a hostile manner.”
Arrived within striking distance of the first warriors, he stopped and bowed with a flourish. “Oh great and noble leader, would you be so kind as to step forward for a minute or two? There is something I wish to discuss with you.”
The big bogger looked at him in perplexity, furrowing his brow as he attempted to make sense of the elaborate sentence. After a few seconds, he gave up and formulated the most complex answer he was capable of. “Uh?”
Pelrind sighed mentally.
Lords of the Rocks and the Trees, allow me to meet ONE intelligent person before I pass away!
He flashed a dazzling smile at the boss and tried again, talking as slowly as possible. “Me.. want.. talk.. to.. you.”
The face of the bogger brightened in understanding. He walked through the ranks of his underlings - who were clearly amazed at the sight - and came to stand in front of the elf.
“Me Chad’hakk. Me chief!” He thumped his chest to underscore his words.
“I bet you are.. er.. I mean, why yes! Big chief Chad’hakk!” Pelrind bowed again, obsequiously this time.
The bogger puffed out his chest, relishing the thought that even the mighty elves were aware of who he was.
Seeing that his ruse worked, Pelrind continued. “Us travelers. Us no want fight big chief Chad’hakk.”
The boss nodded his agreement eagerly. He wasn’t too keen about starting a fight either!
“Us killed walking bones. Them bad. Them no hurt you again.”
That particular statement caused Chad’hakk’s eyes to almost bulge out. The strangers had defeated the Deathless Ones?!? Suddenly, the odds of his warriors winning against them seemed a lot less in their favor. Not only that but one of them was apparently..
Pelrind caught the surprise in the eyes of his interlocutor but also the fear that followed. However, when he turned to follow his gaze, he was taken aback by the fact that, of all his companions, it was Siubhan that seemed to positively terrify the chieftain.
“She wicca-boss?” the gobber asked, trembling.
Quick to capitalize on something he hadn’t expected, Pelrind nodded. “Yes, she boss. She big wicca. Powerful magic!”
The chieftain turned pale and threw himself on the ground, groveling before the priestess. He switched to a language they didn’t understand but, from the sound of it, it was clearly an apology of some sort, and an abject one at that.
Siubhan looked at Pelrind in puzzlement. The latter winked at her and tapped on Chad’hakk’s shoulder.
“Psst. She wants you go and no return. Never return! Understood?”
The big gobber nodded enthusiastically, as if very happy to get off so lightly. Quickly, he stood up, barked a few orders at his minions and they all fled down the other tunnel.
The others looked at Pelrind, flabbergasted. It was Eirak who translated their amazement into words. “Wha’ the heck just happened?!?”
Pelrind smirked. “That, my friend, is what I call diplomacy.”
**
The companions searched the bogger warren but, apart from a few valuables obviously pilfered from the Vault, didn’t find anything interesting. Next, they followed the tunnel the boggers had taken and emerged in a secluded clearing about a quarter mile east of Weston.
Now satisfied that they had an escape route at their disposal, they returned to the cavern where they had fought the undeads and took the other, rougher tunnel. They traveled about a hundred feet before reaching a Y-shaped intersection.
Taking right, they soon came upon a circular cavern whose thick smell nearly overwhelmed them. Clearly the nest of a large creature, dust and debris covered the floor. The western portion of the chamber held a pool of water fed by underground currents in which several bogger corpses were decomposing. Refuse and filth seemed to occupy another corner. No signs of cook fires or humanoid habitation were evident.
While the others were looking for anything suspicious, Siubhan stood near the pool, examining the rotting bodies. Finally, she called for Musadoc.
“Yes lady?”
“Do you think the river that feeds that pool could be the same one that the villagers use?”
“Hmm, let me take my bearings for a minute” The halfling turned around several times, as if trying to determine which direction he was facing, then threw some dirt into the pool and watched it closely as it disappeared, dragged by the underground stream.
“Yes, I think it is possible. There are many instances of subterranean rivers rising to the surface. And, of course, the reverse holds true.”
“Then I think we have cleared up the mystery of the disease that has plagued the villagers for years.”
“But.. how do you explain the Baron didn’t catch it?”
“Wasn’t there a well in the manor’s courtyard?”
The halfling struggled to remember. “Eh, that’s right! There was. And, if I am not mistaken, it must lie behind our current position-”
“.. which would mean he had access to unpolluted water!”
They grinned simultaneously and then began removing the corpses from the pool.
**
The only Burrower’s ‘mementoes’ they uncovered were a few gold bars and a tarnished silver ring. As far as Pelrind could tell, it had been the lair of a solitary monster and an infrequently used one at that. Once the halfling and the priestess finished cleaning the pool, the companions assembled and returned to the intersection, this time taking left.
A hundred and fifty feet further, they emerged into the Vault again, though on the other side of a cave-in, probably the last one they had encountered.
They were in a corridor that ended in a T-shaped intersection some 60 feet ahead. Two secondary hallways opened to their left. The second one looked like it had collapsed, so they checked the first.
The door to the room it led to had been smashed open. It appeared to have once been a resting area or a meeting place, as several decrepit chairs and small tables were toppled to the floor. It was hard to see the room in a pleasant fashion, however, as the stench of decay hung thickly in the air. Viscera and human remains were smeared across the walls, and piles of torn clothes and bones covered the floor.
Siubhan had to rush out, suddenly filled with an irresistible urge to vomit. Musadoc accompanied her, ostensibly to make certain she would be alright but, in truth, was feeling rather nauseous himself. They were soon followed by Eirak and Kalveig. Pelrind had requested to be left alone to be able to read potential tracks more easily.
The elf joined them 5 minutes later. For the first time since they had met, he was grim-faced, with no hint of mirth in his eyes. “This is.. was.. the lair of the two skeletons we defeated. Apparently, they dragged what was left of their victims here before.. well, you know. Most of the remains are those of boggers but I also found several humans. That fact leads me to believe that those two were responsible - one way or another - for the disappearances Mayor Varnsen reported. There is, however, something else which I find worrying. I found a third set of tracks - shoes, not feet – which belong to someone who regularly visited this place. For what purpose, though, I cannot say.”
“I think I know..” declared Kalveig. As the others turned to him, he gritted his teeth and explained what he had found when he searched the body of the second undead.
“And it didn’t occur to you to share that specific piece of info with us?” Pelrind’s voice was heavy with reproach.. and he wasn’t joking this time. “We could be facing a necromancer!”
“In retrospect, I should have.. but I was trying to protect.. I mean, prevent-”
“You meant to protect me because you felt I wouldn’t react well to the news, isn’t it?” Siubhan’s tone conveyed both disappointment and remorse. The former because he apparently still thought of her only as his charge rather than as a full companion; the latter because she now understood that - for her sake - he sometimes reacted in ways that could prove detrimental to the group.
She took him by the hand and led him a short distance away to talk in private. When she spoke, her voice was gentle and pleading. “I know it is your duty to protect me, but you cannot shelter me from my own life. As a healer, I will have to witness terrible suffering and pain. It is only by experiencing these that I will be able to bring relief to others. Denying that something exists never made it go away. Please, allow me to fulfill my calling, just as the Lady allows you to fulfill yours. Will you do that for me?”
He nodded, tears welling in his eyes. That surprised her. She had expected denial, or even outright refusal, but tears? A little troubled, she hugged him, guided by her instinct (35). He froze under her tender ministration. She felt it and let go, wondering what dark corner of his past had come back to haunt him. Silently, she vowed to find out one day.. but not before she had earned his trust.
They came back to the group and Siubhan bowed formally to the others. “Please accept our apologies. Kalveig only thought he acted in my best interest. It won’t happen again. Let us return to the task at hand and speak no more of it.”
Pelrind coughed. “Well, alright then. No time to waste. The tracks lead down the corridor. I suggest we follow them.. cautiously.”
Nodding their assent, the companions set off again.
**
At the intersection, the passage continued left for about 20 feet before turning right. To the right, it went on for some 40 feet before turning left. However, the floor in that direction seemed odd, as if the stone was alive, and an unusual rushing sound filled the air. Upon closer inspection, they discovered that it wasn’t made of stone but glass! An underground stream was visible through it, its strong current causing the noise.
They quickly determined that anything too heavy would break the glass. Whoever fell through would be carried away by the river to an unknown location; clearly a risky proposal at best!
Musadoc volunteered to cross since he was the lightest of the team. They tied a rope around his waist and watched breathlessly as he moved slowly to the other side. Luckily, he made it easily. Once there, he informed them that the corridor ended in a door beyond the corner. He untied the rope and went to check it, after promising to return at the slightest hint of trouble.
He came back 5 minutes later and crossed back. The door led to an old laboratory filled with a variety of alchemical instruments and, possibly, some exotic components used for spells. Since it wasn’t his area of expertise, he had avoided touching anything remotely suspect.
**
Taking left beyond the intersection, the group reached a long hallway that ended in a room, some distance away. One door was visible to the right, about halfway through, and two to the left.
They inspected the various entrances. All but one led to rooms dedicated to exhibits (probably trophies gathered by previous Barons). Some had been ransacked, some not. Those that hadn’t were still protected by a variety of magical riddles, so they avoided them for the time being. The last door opened in what had once been a comfortable meeting room. However, any items of value or decoration had been viciously destroyed, and there was a carrion smell in the air. A single door had been left ajar at the back. It led to an ornate antechamber, as did the tracks.
A lush carpet adorned its floor. Large bookcases filled two walls and desks with oil lamps occupied the corners. A large leather chair sat near the door. The statue of a scholarly-looking man - who appeared to be reading a scroll - was in the farthest corner, beside a narrow passageway leading deeper into the Vault.
A quick search of the desks revealed two old scrolls and a vial labeled ‘health renewal’. They entrusted them to Siubhan for safekeeping and continued. As they passed the statue, it spoke in a ghostly yet loud voice.
“Know your adversary before battle. Enemies can often be summed up by answering these three questions: One, what is their chief desire? Two, what are they willing to do to gain this desire? Three, what do they fear? When you know your enemy, you can be best prepared for battle!”
Eirak swore. If anyone was waiting beyond, this unexpected piece of advice had just ruined their chances of surprise. He rushed down the passageway, followed by the others.
**
It seemed her groom had finally arrived! Hurriedly, she willed her clothes and skin to change. It wouldn’t do for him to catch her like that. After all, on her wedding day, a girl has to look her best.
Still, her sisters had always told her that discretion was the better part of valor. Whispering the ancient words of power they had taught her, she wove a spirit-shield around herself and then waited for her beloved.
**
Eirak charged down a passage some 20 feet long. There was another door at its end. Light shone beneath it. He kicked it open brutally and entered a large rectangular chamber 30 ft. across and 70 ft. wide. There were four statues, one in each corner, all of - again - scholarly-looking individuals. At the back of the room, a corridor led elsewhere. Oil lamps suspended to the walls illuminated the area. Facing him, about 20 feet away, stood a lone young woman in a wedding dress, looking demure.
Surprised, he stopped - a bit embarrassed by his thunderous entrance - while his companions fanned out slowly behind him.
The ‘bride’ gazed at them expectantly, as if searching for someone in particular.
The adventurers exchanged bewildered looks. Finally, Kalveig spoke up. “Lady Amelia? Is that you?”
Disappointment spread over her face, swiftly replaced by anger. “So, my Paytro hasn’t come, has he? Instead, he sends me ignorant thugs. Very well, I know how to deal with the likes of you. Paytro will be sorry he betrayed me again!” And with those words, she started to incant.
“Durn, spellcaster! SPREAD OUT!” The cry hadn’t left his mouth that Eirak was charging again, hoping against all odds to reach her before she finished her spell.
Kalveig froze, caught between his desire to charge too and his unwillingness to leave Siubhan exposed to hostile spells. As for the priestess, she had begun casting a spell of her own.
Pelrind cursed inwardly their inability to solve any situation without resorting to a fight. It was too late to try the same trick he had used on the gobbers, so he settled for an attack that would - perhaps - break her concentration. His hands moved quickly as they traced the outline of a cube in the air, invoking the Earth’s power.
Musadoc was puzzled. He had seen for a few seconds a beautiful lady dressed for a wedding before she had turned into an ugly old crone wearing blood-spattered rags. He shook his head in case he was hallucinating but her aspect didn’t change back.
The temporary hesitation of several of the group’s members cost them dearly...
The dwarf had almost reached the woman when the latter pointed her hand at him and released a coruscating ray that struck him squarely in the chest. Instantly, Eirak’s strength left him and he stumbled to the floor, not 5 feet from her, weak as an axeling and crushed beneath the weight of his own equipment.
Priestess and elf finished their casting almost simultaneously. Siubhan’s spell outlined each of her allies briefly in silvery light, instilling courage into their hearts. At Pelrind’s feet, a fragment of the stone floor broke off and flew straight at the sorceress. Alas, it barely grazed her brow. Still, it was enough to draw her attention to him. She incanted again.
Watching the dwarf fall had helped Kalveig come to a decision. He left Siubhan’s side and rushed their adversary, yelling loudly in the hope that it would force her to concentrate on him.
Musadoc was about to imitate him when an enormous rat with sulfurous eyes popped out of nowhere behind Pelrind and bit him cruelly in the tendon. Again, he hesitated. Which friend to help?
Meanwhile, Kalveig arrived within striking distance of the woman. He opted for a low swipe, attempting to trip her with his flail. Amazingly, he missed! It was as if something invisible had deflected his weapon as it was about to come into contact. She turned to him and spat an arcane word that left him dazed.
Pelrind was trying to get rid of the infernal rat, but without any success. The beast was not only vicious but relentless, a lethal combination! He rolled on the floor, hoping that would be enough to shake it loose, but to no avail. The creature was dead set on hamstringing him. Suddenly, a shadow fell over him. As he looked up, he saw Musadoc, his pickaxe raised as if to strike his friend!
As the weapon’s deadly arc came to an end, the elf closed his eyes instinctively.. and felt the rat release its grip upon his leg at the same time as he heard a thud. When he looked again, he discovered Musadoc had pinned the beast to the floor with his pick. The creature was dissolving into a foul-smelling mist.
Elsewhere in the room, Eirak was doing his level best to unsling his backpack in a desperate attempt to reduce his load. Unable to go through even such a simple effort, he drew his dagger and began to cut the straps.
Kalveig shook off the spell that had stopped him in his tracks just in time to be hit point-blank by the same ray that had affected the dwarf earlier. The ray’s impact didn’t affect him as much as Eirak had been but it was enough to make him groan as his now weaker muscles readjusted to the weight of what he was carrying. He still managed to make an attack, which - again - was deflected. Things were definitely not looking good...
The last strap finally sheared, the bag slid off Eirak’s back. Feeling better, he lunged forward and grabbed the woman’s legs, trying to bring her down. Nimbly, she escaped his hold and struck him on the back of the head with her bare hand. The blow was so hard that his head was left throbbing. He couldn’t believe how strong she was!
“Anwyn, Bright Lady, guide your servant’s hands that they may strike down this witchspawn!” While the ‘bride’ had been busy with the dwarf and the human, Musadoc had crept up behind her and was now poised to deliver a powerful blow. Amazingly, as he hit her, his pickaxe burst momentarily into flames!
She was now surrounded, opponents flanking her on all sides (Pelrind having joined the mêlée). Yet, she wouldn’t give up. Screaming like a wild thing, she lashed out with hands and feet, clawing and kicking furiously.
Still, the outcome was inevitable. It took almost two minutes but she finally fell to the floor, vanquished. As her evil soul left her body, the latter reverted to its original appearance, that of an old, ugly, and filthy woman.
Eirak was panting. “Lads, I dunno what it was that we fought but if that was Lady Amelia, I’m in a mind to forgive the Baron for lockin’ her down here!”
“Puzzling. She was a spellcaster of some sort and able to disguise herself. For someone so old, her strength was nearly unbelievable, as was her agility. I wonder..”
“We will bring her back with us to Weston, Pelrind. Maybe the Mayor will be able to identify her? I sincerely hope it wasn’t the Lady Amelia though. That would make for a really awkward situation.” Kalveig sighed and then pointed to her left hand. “Say, she is wearing something. Could it be that elven ring we were told about?”
The elf kneeled and examined the item. “No, definitely not. It’s a simple copper ring set with a semi-precious gemstone. Nothing like the craftsmanship of my people.”
**
Elsewhere, not far from the Barony, two persons were leaning over a black cauldron, watching the elf’s face on the surface of the steamy liquid inside. They had witnessed the whole combat and they would remember each of their sister’s murderers. Vengeance would be theirs!
**
After pausing to catch their breath, the companions examined the corridor at the back of the chamber. A thin band of metal formed an archway over its entry, and ran the length of the hall three-feet above the floor, seeming to disappear into the door at the corridor’s far end. Upon closer inspection, it became evident that the strip of metal formed a circuit broken at regular intervals by 4 keyholes. The metal band originated to the right of the far door as a concave metal depression.
At Pelrind’s suggestion, each of the NeMoren’s heirs inserted his (or her) silver key into one of the keyholes and then the elf pressed the calisil into the circular indent.
A wave of power washed along the metal strip from the calisil, down the corridor, across the arch, and back up the corridor into the door. With an incredibly loud hum, the latter slowly retracted into the ceiling, revealing an octagonal-shaped room.
At its center, lay a grand sarcophagus. Strange runes covered the surface of the tomb, and a golden plaque that read Kragor NeMoren in Traladaran was visible at the foot of the structure. Around the chamber, they could see several locked chests, piles of coins, rich fabrics, tapestries, paintings, weapons, and a variety of other items. At long last, they had found the fabled treasure.
There was also a great lever on the wall, next to the entrance. According to instructions engraved around it, it could unlock the first door of the Vault. Apparently, the Baron hadn’t intended to lock them up forever after all...
As they moved around the room, examining the various items, Eirak spied something unusual at the top of the sarcophagus. Coming closer, he discovered that what he had first mistaken for a part of the carvings was in fact a weapon which had been cunningly concealed by making it look like an element of the exterior design of the tomb.
Freeing it of its hiding place, he gasped as he hefted a formidable-looking warhammer made of a metal that shone with a silvery gleam even in the dark. Runes he didn’t understand covered the length of the handle.
“It’s Terran, the sacred language of the Earth.”
Eirak was startled by Pelrind. He had been so fascinated by the weapon that he hadn’t noticed the elf until the latter spoke up.
“Can ye decipher it?”
“Yes, I think it’s the weapon’s name.” The elf’s voice sounded oddly solemn.
“Well?”
“It is called.. Nemesis.”
**********
(24) Remember the Forbiddance spell?
(25) In Drachenhold, soldiers who are discharged dishonorably are first branded on the left shoulder with a mark shaped like a broken dragon’s claw. This punishment carries more than a social stigma. Should they face a royal court of justice at some point of the future, they are automatically considered guilty as charged, no matter the crime or the evidence. Basically, if you wear one and don’t elect to become a hermit, don’t expect to live a long and happy life thereafter!
(26) Sadly, he was. Pelrind believed Eirak was benefiting from a Stoneskin spell. In truth, it was much less impressive. While designing the mud pool, I decided that though all races would be healed (once!) by it, dwarves would enjoy another (temporary) advantage: a Mudskin (the Earth equivalent of Barkskin) spell, as cast by a 9t-level spellcaster (+4 enhancement bonus to natural armor class for a duration of 90 minutes). Keep in mind that, at the time, I still had no idea what kind of characters my players would choose to play
(27) The three most ‘common’ undead powers are well-documented on this world, at least among the different churches. They make sure even novices understand what they can face and how best to avoid falling victim to it. Part of that training is to use as few words as possible to relay all the information needed. So, they came up with nicknames for the different ‘abilities’:
- paralysis = nethersleep
- stat drain = mosquito
- energy drain = soulthirst
In combat situation, whoever issues the first warning usually tries to add something to be as specific as possible with regard to the way the undead described uses its power. For instance, a shadow (who drains Str through a touch attack) would be described as ‘mosquito-touch’
(28) Twice-Born is one of the oldest nicknames attributed to undeads on this world, but not a very popular one anymore since the advent of the Great Church. Indeed, Church’s elders consider it blasphemous because it implies the forces of Evil are capable not only of destruction but of creation as well, which doesn’t sit too well with the current doctrine...
(29) Being equipped with piercing/slashing weapons, the dwarf and the halfling were a lot less effective in the damage-dealing department (though not for lack of trying!)
(30) In my campaign, corporeal undeads are seen as a corruption of the body, while incorporeal ones are viewed as a corruption of the soul. Since corruption in all its forms is associated with Hell (and the Abyss, to a lesser degree), the living deads are considered as ‘lesser fiends’.
Those described in the (various) MM are actually the most ‘basic’ undeads one can encounter. A great many of them enjoy additional powers (called ‘salient abilities’, something I picked up from the Ravenloft setting). Since they are more powerful than their ‘lesser kin’, they are regarded as favored by the powers of Hell. Adventurers thus aptly nicknamed them ‘Hellborn’.
Generally, when you hear that word being screamed by one of your companions, you know you’re in trouble...
(31) A common enough nickname for Hell
(32) In fact, the duration of the spell was just over but I thought it would look more melodramatic this way. Eirak’s player chose to interpret it as being ‘cured’ of Rontra’s curse and I admit it only added to the role-play of the entire experience
(33) That’s how my players named it afterwards. A rather fitting name, I must say
At the time, I had been more than a little disappointed by the poor performance of my skeletal near-immortal ghouls. All three fighters, benefiting from good Fortitude bonuses and decent AC, had managed to avoid being incapacitated by their paralyzing bite. Moreover, Eirak had been the only one sustaining more than minor injuries and only because he had stood in the fire long enough to finish off his opponent! All in all, the PC had an easy ride.
Retrospectively, though, I realize that it could just as easily have gone horribly wrong. A few failed Fort. saves and Pelrind/Siubhan would have been left alone to face the undeads. That would have spelled the group’s doom.
Methink the one thing that shifted the balance in their favor was their discovery, early on, of the skeletons’ only weakness: fire. Well, I can hardly blame my players for being lucky, now can I?
(34) Gobbers are the fourth race of the Children of the Tree (the other 3 being the dwarves, halflings, and humans). Long ago, a sizeable portion of their species was seduced by the Deceiver and turned to evil ways. Those renegades slowly mutated into boggers (think bigger, meaner specimens). The problem is that, while most people are aware of that tragic story, few know how to differentiate them (physically speaking). So, a lot of the current anti-gobber feelings are due to bogger raids which were blamed on their smaller cousins
(35) As noted in Siubhan’s description (in the Rogues Gallery), priestesses of Morwyn can use Sense Motive to link empathically to others, albeit only briefly
**********
Next chapter: Horror on the Hill!
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