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<blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 7078313" data-attributes="member: 143"><p>Chapter 18</p><p></p><p>Quellan had no difficulty admitting to himself that he was afraid. Introspection was a skill that was strongly encouraged within the clergy of Hosrenu, and his particular circumstances had made him especially aware of his own perceptions. And there was plenty of reason to be concerned, he thought. Starfinder’s notes had indicated that the Eth’barat trafficked in magic from the Outer Planes, including summoned guardians. He didn’t know if that badger had been such or if it had just been an unfortunate beast that had become tainted by the power that resided here. He wasn’t sure which scenario he preferred; either was quite disquieting.</p><p></p><p>So he had no difficulty acknowledging his fear, but he made a strong effort to conceal it from his companions. Not out of any sense of bravado; Quellan resisted any behavior that struck him as “orcish.” But he felt like he had to project an air of stability to protect the group from the discord that seemed to be threatening their common cause. He had always preferred to avoid conflict, but here their ability to pull together as a team might be a matter of survival.</p><p></p><p>He was reminded of that in a stark manner as they made their way into the interior of the ancient shrine. He was in the lead, the light from a fresh torch pushing back the darkness, but they’d barely managed ten steps past the entrance he was greeted with a familiar smell. He stopped. The torchlight revealed that the passage opened onto a larger room ahead, but he couldn’t make out any details of what might be inside.</p><p></p><p>“Ugh, what’s that stink?” Glori asked.</p><p></p><p>Quellan knew the answer, but he let Kosk answer. “Death,” the dwarf said.</p><p></p><p>The smell grew stronger as they approached the room. The source of it was revealed when the light extended into the chamber.</p><p></p><p>Death was right, the cleric thought. The bodies—six of them, he counted—were scattered through the room. They were all hacked up, a gory mess, and he might not have been able to identify them if the old woman hadn’t warned them to look out for bugbears. They were imposing even in death, bigger even than the half-orc. Some of them still held bloody weapons in their hands, suggesting that they might have managed a few hits against whoever or whatever had killed them.</p><p></p><p>“What is it?” Glori asked. “What’s there?”</p><p></p><p>At the bard’s prompt Quellan stepped forward and to the side, clearing the entry so the others could see. Glori sucked in a startled breath as she took in the scene. Bredan looked pale, and Quellan wondered if he had ever seen death, violent death, up close like this before. Kosk took a more practical approach, prodding at the nearest body with his staff. That one had finally succumbed just a few steps from the entry, leaving behind a trail of blood that extended halfway across the room.</p><p></p><p>“What killed them?” Bredan asked. No one had an answer, but Quellan couldn’t shake a feeling that there was something wrong here, a sinister mystery he couldn’t quite identify.</p><p></p><p>Tearing his attention from the dead bugbears, the cleric examined the rest of the room. The place was oddly shaped, with angular walls that collectively formed a rough hexagon. The passage entered on one of the points. There was another similar passage on the far side of the room, though the torchlight didn’t extend far enough for him to see where it led.</p><p></p><p>More remarkable were the faces embedded in the walls. They were stone carvings, four of them, though a scatter of rubble under an uneven patch of wall suggested that there might have once been five. The stone faces were each about two feet high and only bore the vaguest features. But they were all subtly different, and as Quellan studied them he realized that they had been crafted to each represent a different emotional state, from joy and sadness to pain and anger. He idly wondered what the fifth one had depicted.</p><p></p><p>Kosk had finished his examination of the first dead bugbear and started forward into the room. “Careful,” Quellan said.</p><p></p><p>The dwarf shrugged. “If we aren’t going to turn back then the only way left is forward,” he said. But it was clear that he too was wary of the place, and he placed each foot carefully as he circled the chamber. The others followed him in, just as slowly.</p><p></p><p>“Those faces… they’re creepy,” Bredan said.</p><p></p><p>Glori gave one a closer look. “They just look like solid stone.” She reached out as if to touch it—the carving showing the drooping face of sadness—but then turned back to the corpses clustered in the middle of the room.</p><p></p><p>“No bugs,” Bredan said suddenly.</p><p></p><p>The smith’s words stirred an awareness in Quellan’s mind—he was right, the room was devoid of the crawling and flying vermin that should have accompanied this much death. And for that matter, while the bodies did stink, the stench should have been much worse given the confined space and the length of time they’d been here, assuming the old woman’s account had been accurate. It was as if the decay that naturally followed death was being held at bay here in this place.</p><p></p><p>Kosk finished his circuit of the room and returned to the bodies in the center. He grabbed hold of one by its armor, and with a grunt of effort lifted it up off the ground. Neither he nor any of the others spotted the gleaming axe that was pinned under its torso, and when Glori said, “Hey, over here,” he released the dead bugbear and went over to where she was bent over another of the corpses.</p><p></p><p>“What is it?” Bredan asked.</p><p></p><p>“This one’s belt buckle. Silver, solid silver. Might be worth twenty, thirty golds.”</p><p></p><p>Kosk frowned, “We shouldn’t be worried about loot, we should be worried about what killed these bastards.”</p><p></p><p>“We can worry about both things simultaneously,” Glori said, cutting the buckle free with her knife and tucking it into her belt pouch.</p><p></p><p>“There’s nothing else here,” Bredan said. “It’s almost like…”</p><p></p><p>He trailed off, but Quellan prodded. “What? What’s it like?”</p><p></p><p>The smith swallowed. “It’s almost like they hacked each other to pieces.”</p><p></p><p>“We should be moving on,” Kosk said. But when the dwarf turned he just stood there, staring at the four stone faces. Some of them were damaged, Quellan saw, chipped as if someone had tried to do to them what had happened to the mysterious missing fifth face.</p><p></p><p>Seized by a sudden premonition, Quellan stepped back to the entry. As he passed through the transition between the room and the passage he felt something, a faint tingle on his skin, just a slight pressure holding him back. It wasn’t enough to stop him, but he felt a cold feeling of dread in his guts as he turned to see the others all looking at him.</p><p></p><p>“What’s the matter, Quellan?” Glori asked.</p><p></p><p>“Try to leave,” he said to them. “Either that doorway, or this one.”</p><p></p><p>Kosk walked over to the far passage with purpose, but he came to a sudden stop right on the edge of the room. “I… I can’t,” he said. “I want to go, I just… I can’t take that extra step.”</p><p></p><p>Bredan and Glori went over to join Quellan at the entrance. “I can’t either,” Glori said. Her words were echoed on Bredan’s face. “Maybe you can drag us out,” the smith suggested. “Or knock us out…”</p><p></p><p>“I don’t think there’s time for that,” Kosk said as he came back toward them. The dwarf’s expression was a hard grimace, and he clutched his staff with fingers that were white with tension.</p><p></p><p>“What’s going on?” Glori said. “What’s happening?” Whatever the monk was feeling, she clearly was feeling it too as her eyes flicked back and forth wildly, darting from the stone faces to those of her companions.</p><p></p><p>“Ask them,” Bredan said, nodding toward the dead bugbears.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Lazybones, post: 7078313, member: 143"] Chapter 18 Quellan had no difficulty admitting to himself that he was afraid. Introspection was a skill that was strongly encouraged within the clergy of Hosrenu, and his particular circumstances had made him especially aware of his own perceptions. And there was plenty of reason to be concerned, he thought. Starfinder’s notes had indicated that the Eth’barat trafficked in magic from the Outer Planes, including summoned guardians. He didn’t know if that badger had been such or if it had just been an unfortunate beast that had become tainted by the power that resided here. He wasn’t sure which scenario he preferred; either was quite disquieting. So he had no difficulty acknowledging his fear, but he made a strong effort to conceal it from his companions. Not out of any sense of bravado; Quellan resisted any behavior that struck him as “orcish.” But he felt like he had to project an air of stability to protect the group from the discord that seemed to be threatening their common cause. He had always preferred to avoid conflict, but here their ability to pull together as a team might be a matter of survival. He was reminded of that in a stark manner as they made their way into the interior of the ancient shrine. He was in the lead, the light from a fresh torch pushing back the darkness, but they’d barely managed ten steps past the entrance he was greeted with a familiar smell. He stopped. The torchlight revealed that the passage opened onto a larger room ahead, but he couldn’t make out any details of what might be inside. “Ugh, what’s that stink?” Glori asked. Quellan knew the answer, but he let Kosk answer. “Death,” the dwarf said. The smell grew stronger as they approached the room. The source of it was revealed when the light extended into the chamber. Death was right, the cleric thought. The bodies—six of them, he counted—were scattered through the room. They were all hacked up, a gory mess, and he might not have been able to identify them if the old woman hadn’t warned them to look out for bugbears. They were imposing even in death, bigger even than the half-orc. Some of them still held bloody weapons in their hands, suggesting that they might have managed a few hits against whoever or whatever had killed them. “What is it?” Glori asked. “What’s there?” At the bard’s prompt Quellan stepped forward and to the side, clearing the entry so the others could see. Glori sucked in a startled breath as she took in the scene. Bredan looked pale, and Quellan wondered if he had ever seen death, violent death, up close like this before. Kosk took a more practical approach, prodding at the nearest body with his staff. That one had finally succumbed just a few steps from the entry, leaving behind a trail of blood that extended halfway across the room. “What killed them?” Bredan asked. No one had an answer, but Quellan couldn’t shake a feeling that there was something wrong here, a sinister mystery he couldn’t quite identify. Tearing his attention from the dead bugbears, the cleric examined the rest of the room. The place was oddly shaped, with angular walls that collectively formed a rough hexagon. The passage entered on one of the points. There was another similar passage on the far side of the room, though the torchlight didn’t extend far enough for him to see where it led. More remarkable were the faces embedded in the walls. They were stone carvings, four of them, though a scatter of rubble under an uneven patch of wall suggested that there might have once been five. The stone faces were each about two feet high and only bore the vaguest features. But they were all subtly different, and as Quellan studied them he realized that they had been crafted to each represent a different emotional state, from joy and sadness to pain and anger. He idly wondered what the fifth one had depicted. Kosk had finished his examination of the first dead bugbear and started forward into the room. “Careful,” Quellan said. The dwarf shrugged. “If we aren’t going to turn back then the only way left is forward,” he said. But it was clear that he too was wary of the place, and he placed each foot carefully as he circled the chamber. The others followed him in, just as slowly. “Those faces… they’re creepy,” Bredan said. Glori gave one a closer look. “They just look like solid stone.” She reached out as if to touch it—the carving showing the drooping face of sadness—but then turned back to the corpses clustered in the middle of the room. “No bugs,” Bredan said suddenly. The smith’s words stirred an awareness in Quellan’s mind—he was right, the room was devoid of the crawling and flying vermin that should have accompanied this much death. And for that matter, while the bodies did stink, the stench should have been much worse given the confined space and the length of time they’d been here, assuming the old woman’s account had been accurate. It was as if the decay that naturally followed death was being held at bay here in this place. Kosk finished his circuit of the room and returned to the bodies in the center. He grabbed hold of one by its armor, and with a grunt of effort lifted it up off the ground. Neither he nor any of the others spotted the gleaming axe that was pinned under its torso, and when Glori said, “Hey, over here,” he released the dead bugbear and went over to where she was bent over another of the corpses. “What is it?” Bredan asked. “This one’s belt buckle. Silver, solid silver. Might be worth twenty, thirty golds.” Kosk frowned, “We shouldn’t be worried about loot, we should be worried about what killed these bastards.” “We can worry about both things simultaneously,” Glori said, cutting the buckle free with her knife and tucking it into her belt pouch. “There’s nothing else here,” Bredan said. “It’s almost like…” He trailed off, but Quellan prodded. “What? What’s it like?” The smith swallowed. “It’s almost like they hacked each other to pieces.” “We should be moving on,” Kosk said. But when the dwarf turned he just stood there, staring at the four stone faces. Some of them were damaged, Quellan saw, chipped as if someone had tried to do to them what had happened to the mysterious missing fifth face. Seized by a sudden premonition, Quellan stepped back to the entry. As he passed through the transition between the room and the passage he felt something, a faint tingle on his skin, just a slight pressure holding him back. It wasn’t enough to stop him, but he felt a cold feeling of dread in his guts as he turned to see the others all looking at him. “What’s the matter, Quellan?” Glori asked. “Try to leave,” he said to them. “Either that doorway, or this one.” Kosk walked over to the far passage with purpose, but he came to a sudden stop right on the edge of the room. “I… I can’t,” he said. “I want to go, I just… I can’t take that extra step.” Bredan and Glori went over to join Quellan at the entrance. “I can’t either,” Glori said. Her words were echoed on Bredan’s face. “Maybe you can drag us out,” the smith suggested. “Or knock us out…” “I don’t think there’s time for that,” Kosk said as he came back toward them. The dwarf’s expression was a hard grimace, and he clutched his staff with fingers that were white with tension. “What’s going on?” Glori said. “What’s happening?” Whatever the monk was feeling, she clearly was feeling it too as her eyes flicked back and forth wildly, darting from the stone faces to those of her companions. “Ask them,” Bredan said, nodding toward the dead bugbears. [/QUOTE]
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