D&D 5E (IC) Fitz's Folly

[FitzTheRuke]

The pathetic creature that had been inside the armoured encasement could not possibly be alive. It was more like some horribly tortured zombie. As horrified as Chrysagon was by the thing, he felt that he would be doing it a favour to put it down.

 

[Prickly Pear]

Chrysagon let the flail finish the creature.

 

[FitzTheRuke]

A ghostly cry called across the room from somewhere among some junk on one of the tables. A feminine voice said, "Farewell to Seward, Ranger of Chiaonth, bearer of the Yellow Banner. Mercifully does he find his final end. But what of our bargain? Will the Starfallen be carried anew or shall I, too, meet a sad end in the Tomb of the Nine?"

 

[Prickly Pear]

To the sound of the voice, Chrysagon turned around quickly. Adrenaline still flowing through his veins from the fight, he was ready for the next attack but no new enemies could be seen. The rest of the group also turned towards the voice and Chrysagon shouted Who's there? Who is speaking of the Yellow Banner?
He walked over to the table, flail ready, and tried to determine where the voice came from. He remembered that they had seen a few yellow banners around Omu. A couple where at their landing site and another was in the nearby camp, right? He could not recall what Harb had said about them but he believed the Yellow Banner was another group that seek to find the cure. What had happened to them?

OOC: I searched the thread for "yellow banner" and found five posts. I hope that I got it right. Perception, Investigation and/or History checks: 1D20+0 = [5]+0 = 5. Chrysagon has no clue!

 

[FitzTheRuke]

Chrysagon could not have forgotten the abandoned campsite hidden in the ruins of Omu, but in spite of it being only a few days ago that they had arrived in the lost city, it seemed like an eternity ago. The details were already fuzzy in his mind, but he was sure that Harb had mentioned them. Yes, they would have been potential allies: fellow adventurers seeking a solution to the Death Curse. This one, Seward, had met a terrible fate.

"I am the Starfallen, left here among poor Seward's stolen belongings." answered the voice.

Chrysagon looked to a table, on which were some tools belonging to the dwarves, a few ropes, a torn backpack, and a lantern that was tipped on its side. In spite of having no oil (which should have spilled with the lantern on its side), the lantern glowed softly through the forge-smog.

OOC: Starfallen is a Ghost Lantern. There is also two 50' lengths of silk rope. Weed has Seward's arrows to give to Imogen. His bow was burnt, and anything metal he had (armour, swords, pots) were forged into his encasement, poor fellow.

 

[Kobold Stew]

"Well that was horrible," says Miss Imogen, conscious that she had brought them down here. "But if nothing else we have put these being to rest."

She looks at the equipment on the table, and the apparently talking lantern. "Are you alright, Starfallen? Do you want someone to carry you?" She looks to Chrysagon and the others. "Can we help her?"

She thanks Weed and adds Seward's arrows to her quiver, pausing to note the fletchings as she does so. They all match.

 

[FitzTheRuke]

"If you would bear me away from this foul place," came the voice from the lantern, "I would be greatly in your debt. I can feel my spirit fading. There is some... force eroding my memory. Seward had promised me to end it. Before tragedy befell him and his company."

 

[Kobold Stew]

"I think we are here to combat the force you are feeling, and it is our hope to end it," says Miss Imogen. "But before we do, we will be going closer to it. Would that be okay? Would you want come with us? Indeed, you might be sensitive to its eminations, and perhaps could lead us in the direction that we seek."

She does not mention that as far as she is aware they are trapped in the tomb, which sealed its doors behind them as they came in.

 

[FitzTheRuke]

"It would be better to be carried while I fade away than to be left among the forgotten. Or worse, to be found by the foul hands of creatures such as these, to be thrust into their fires and added among their grotesqueries." she answered Imogen, desperate to not be left behind.

 

[Neurotic]

"The stories of intelligent items are always cautionary, Crysagon, be careful with it lest it control you." whispers Myrral as the paladin passes him by