Session #40 (part II)
Session #40
Part Two: In which the monolithic entrance to the Necropolis is discovered.
The Fearless Manticore Killers and their dwarven companions fell into a staggered line as they marched, still being led by Ratchis, but Kazrack and Belear followed close behind, with Martin the Green flanked by Helrahd and Kirla. Jeremy came up behind him. Beorth was marching at the rear with Captain Adalar and the three brothers.
They could all feel the fine black dust like miniscule shards of black glass stinging their nostrils and ripping the back of their throats raw. Even in the little moonlight there was, everyone’s hair and clothes seemed to glisten black. They were all covered by a thin layer of the inhospitable stuff.
The tall columns of stone were wreathed in the darkness of the shadows of the others, making a web eerie moonlight that they had to at time walk through.
“You know if I were laying an ambush here I would use illusions to conceal men…or wights,” Martin said, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck rise. The temperature had dropped considerably and he could see his own breath in the blueness of night.
“I don’t think they have laid an ambush here,” Kazrack said, looking back.
“Unless they hid behind those rocks,” Jeremy said, a little too loudly. Up ahead Ratchis stopped and looked back, and the dwarves all looked at the blonde human then at each other, and suddenly the sound of their boots crunching in the ash was punctuated with grumblings. Ratchis scowled and continued.
Jeremy seemed to take no notice of any of it.
“Unless they were using mundane means of concealment,” Kazrack whispered by way of some form of explanation for his comment, wanting to get the last word in.
“Like, what? Hiding behind rocks?” Jeremy said, sarcastically.
Derek chuckled.
“I wonder if this place was made during the Mountain Wars?” Martin mused aloud, changing the subject. (1)
“In a war? You think a war made this?” Jeremy gestured in a round motion with the torch he carried over his head, sending wild shadows over the nearby dwarves.
“Yes, perhaps through some great magic, or perhaps it was the work of Hurgun,’ Martin replied. (2)
“So you think magic made all this,” Jeremy asked again, remaining skeptical.
“I don’t know,” Martin retreated from his assertion his lack of confidence undermining his readily apparent intellectual superiority over Jeremy. His attitude became sharp and defensive, “You can’t say this is exactly a normal place.”
“No kidding,” Derek said softy, smiling. Martin wrinkled his upper lip in anger and slowed his pace to allow Beorth to catch up.
Jeremy looked at Derek and snickered.
They had marched for about three miles, when Ratchis looked up to notice that they had not moved much more than a quarter mile away from the ridge that marked this bizarre land’s edge. They had doubled-back on their tracks in long winding trails. The tall stone columns were scattered in a very disorienting way, especially in the dark. He looked back over the group and could see exhaustion on their faces, even though the dwarves would never admit it. The sudden cold snap, breathing in the ash, the whole day of marching and the battle of the day before all weighed heavily on their shoulders.
“We have to go back,” Ratchis announced. “We are too tired and weak to continue.”
“Heh. Figures,” Blodnoth coughed into his hand.
It was agreed, and making their way back to the edge took relatively no time at all. They had to use ropes to help the dwarves (and Martin) get up the other side of the ridge incline. It was very steep and covered in the ash.
They made camp. Ratchis dug a big fire pit and lined it with some of the ash, but the few scrubby trees that were in the area did not provide much wood, and the group had carried about enough tinder to last another three days.
The half-orc also used the last of his prepared healing spells to help Jeremy and Kazrack with some wounds that still ailed them. He did the same for himself, softly calling to his beloved goddess.
Kazrack and Belear fell to discussing what spells they might prepare in the morn. “Should we not invite D’naar to join us in this discussion?” Kazrack asked the other two dwarven priests.
Captain Adalar scowled, but Belear merely shook his bowed head. “He received blessings from his own god. He can keep his own counsel.”
Kazrack reluctantly agreed, his eyes resting momentarily of his half-breed friend speaking with Beorth about the positioning of the tents. The half-orc’s visage was made more menacing and ugly in the harsh shadows of the fire.
After everyone had eaten, the adventurers began to bed down for the night. There was already a frost covering the ridge they had made camp on, but none could be seen collecting on the ash. Ratchis and Beorth took the first watch along with the three dwarven brothers, who circled the camp very enthusiastically.
This watch went by without event, and Martin awoke for the latter half of it, only needing two hours of sleep a night. (3)
Martin studied his books while he watched with the second shift, Derek, Jeremy, Kirla, Blodnath and Baervard.
In the deadest and darkest part of the night, soon after the moon set there came a sudden and sharp sound from out across the land of the black stone columns. It was a repeated cracking as if pices of wood or something similar was being smashed against each other. Even when the smashing stopped, its echoed carried on for long moments, and when it died there would be a long pause and then it began again.
“What is that?” Jeremy hissed.
“Someone’s making an awful lot of noise,” Derek said sardonically. Martin looked around nervously.
The sound did not seem to come nearer or move further away.
“It does not approach, but should we wake the others?” She looked to Martin, who shrugged his shoulders.
“No,” Blodnath said. “No reason to yet.”
Martin and Jeremy nodded. The sound came again several more times, and then after nearly an hour’s time of on and off again, it stopped and was not heard again.
The sun had not yet risen when Belear awoke for the third watch, telling the others to go to sleep as he awoke Kazrack and Helrahd. Captain Adalar woke of his own volition. Martin sat up and watched with them at all, not having so much as yawned all night.
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Isilem, 9th of Prem, 565 H.E.
When the sun did rise, the camp was already bustling and being broken down. The unusual cold of the night gave way to unusual rise in temperature, and soon all the dwarves were scratching under their beards, where sweat collected. Everyone rolled up their woolen and fur cloaks and strapped them to their packs.
They began by following their own trail back into the labyrinth of columns, but crossing where they could see it deeper in the dead area, as they could now see clearly how they had wandered aimlessly through the ash. Now in the bright light it seemed so clear how to get further into this barren land, but in the darkness of night, the place was much more disorienting.
Disorienting it was still, but Ratchis and Derek soon found the trail of the zombies, which soon re-joined with that of the wight, and they all moved deeper into the maze of spikes and columns. The trail led them in a zigzagging pattern, turning in long curves and then moving in as straight a line as possible. The single wight trail often left the trenches dragged into the ash by the shuffling zombies, but always returned.
The heat began to become unbearable, as the sun seemed to be cruelly pointing out the weary adventurers, as the black ash rose up in great clouds, and infiltrated every nook and cranny of their clothing and equipment. They could feel their lungs and nostrils burning raw from inhaling the stuff.
Derek stopped for a drink of water from his skin. He felt light headed, and it hurt to breath. Jeremy began to cough, and Kazrack and the dwarves were all wheezing. (5) Tears streamed down Ratchis’ face for ash kept blowing into his eyes. A weakness was coming over all of them from the heat and from breathing the ash. Beorth seemed the least affected, but even he gasped at times. Following the boy’s lead, even one stop and began to drink and wipe their faces.
“This is a horrible place,” Martin said.
“It’s likely to get worse before it gets better,” Ratchis said. “Everyone drink up. We have to keep going. I think I can see where the trail is going, and the columns looks different in that direction.”
Helrahd grunted, “You know we are kicking up so much of this stuff that anyone could see us a mile away or more.” As dry as everyone’s mouth was, Helrahd still found some mucus to hack up and spit out into the ash.
“There is nothing we can do about it,” said Kazrack.
They continued to follow Ratchis after their too brief rest, and the trail the undead left behind led to a odd series of columns. Here the columns were tall and tapered to nearly a point, and they were very close together, so much so that some seemed to create a narrower corridor, only fifteen feet at its widest. It was possible to squeeze between these spires, but not with ease as the ash was piled high around them.
“Oh great, the killing zone,” Martin sighed sarcastically, imagining countless foes blocking off either end as they emerged from the shadows of the columns and from underneath the ash.
“Well, I guess we’re going to have to turn back then,” Kazrack said looking at the watch-mage with a smile.
Martin did not return the expression.
“It was a joke friend Martin,” Kazrack said, his face getting serious. “I thought that’d be obvious. It as meant as humor.”
“No fear,” Martin replied, and then added under his breath. “I knew I wasn’t that lucky.”
“We all need to remain extra alert,” Captain Adalar said. Golnar, Jolnar and Tolnar loaded their crossbows.
Kazrack clutched the bag of runes about his neck (4) and spoke out to one of the dwarven gods in his father’s tongue, “Krauchaar, give me strength to defeat our foes, crush their skulls and break their bones!”
The dwarf could feel the strength divinely awarded him surging through his muscles. He deftly swung his halberd over his shoulder. It hardly seemed to weigh a thing anymore.
Ratchis led the way down the corridor of pillars, followed by Kazrack, Belear and Beorth, who were then followed by Derek and Jeremy and Martin. The rest of the dwarves followed behind, with Captain Adalar and the three dwarven brothers taking the rear.
They had walked only a few dozen yards down the curving corridor, when Ratchis notices two of the spires sticking into the path.
There was something hanging on each of them.
The half-orc raised his hand and slowed his pace. Everyone followed suit.
The wind shifted and a foul rotting smell wafted overt them in that instant.
Beorth grimaced with anger when he saw what it was. Martin gasped.
The corpses of two decaying gnolls hung from the columns, their arms twisted back and tied to each other by the wrist with a long stretch of hide that was looped over the spire.
Without a speaking a word, Ratchis climbed up on of the spires and hacked through the hide with a hatchet. The gnoll body slid down in sickeningly snapping pile of bones, cartilage, and withered hide.
“What are you doing?” Kazrack called to Ratchis, as the ranger hopped back down into the ash.
“We need to take care of this,” Ratchis said, walking over towards the opposite column.
“Can’t this wait until the return trip?” Kazrack asked.
“I am not so much concerned with proper burial as I am worried about the necromancer using them against us,” Ratchis said, climbing up to cut down the other.
“I thought we killed the necromancer,” Adalar said, coming to the front to see what was going on.
“There could be another one,” Ratchis said, coming back down.
“We do not have time to properly deal with them,” Beorth said.
“Can’t we just burn them here?” Ratchis asked.
“Why alert our enemies who are no doubt nearby?” Kazrack said.
“It’s true,” Martin said. “We do not know how many different types of enemies we might find here. These gnolls seem in no way related to either the gnomes or the humans, it is possible that other factions or dangers are nearby. Thus, the cloud of ash we are creating and painfully breathing in might not be so unusual for someone to see from somewhere else; either way we have no choice. However, a fire might rouse some suspicions and we do have a choice about that.”
Everyone looked at Martin the Green with some surprise.
“Well spoken,” said Kazrack
“Let us leave them, we shall return to deal with them properly once we have dealt with the more immediate danger,” Beorth said. “Let us not disturb them even more by unduly touching them even more.”
The paladin had a look of disdain on his face, clearly not wanting to leave the bodies, but inwardly vowing that he would return for them.
The group continued moving, but Jeremy hung back, and soon was able to creep into a shadowy space between two columns, allowing the trailing dwarves to pass him. He then crept back to the two gnoll corpses and cleaved their heads off with his sword.
“Better safe than sorry,” he said aloud, as he wiped off his blade and hurried to rejoin the others before they noticed his absence.
Blodnath eyed him warily when he returned and the Neergaardian gave him a nervous wink.
They now began to find more pairs of rotting gnolls, each set in a greater state of decay than the last, about every six or eight columns. The final sets were merely bones and hair.
“This is very odd,” Martin wondered, wiping ashy and sweaty forehead with a dust cover kerchief. “Why are these here?”
“Perhaps the earliest ones were freshest,” Jeremy replied.
Martin the Green gave the swordsman a quizzical look, “But why are they here?”
“Maybe they needed to be prepared?” Jeremy speculated.
“Prepared for what? To become the undead?’ Kazrack interjected. “I think all you need to become a zombie or something is an evil heart.”
Ratchis snorted. “There is a clearing up ahead. Be prepared.”
The party began to move forward again, but Ratchis stopped them suddenly. He easily noted that a new set of tracks had enter the corridor from a slightly wider space between columns. It was dozens of booted feet that had been hurrying. The shaggy patterns in the ash around this track suggested that it had been living gnolls, and not more than a day ago.
He told the others what he had noted, and then led them to the clearing.
Here the columns of stone were even taller, and widened to create a large oblong space, about 200 feet long and about 150 feet wide. Near the center was black stone that seemed to emerge from the ash. They could not see how far back it reached, but it was nearly fifty feet wide and fifteen feet tall, and was flat on the top. The front of it looked like it had once been partially melted and raised shelf of stone about five feet up led to a recessed portion on the front, flanked by awkward steps that seemed to have been made of flowing magma and led to the flat surface atop. Where two large painted stone statutes of tall gnoll figures dressed in feathers stood waiting. The statues seemed weathered, and one was missing an arm, which must have once pointed down at the stone shelf. The way the stairways curved towards each other, giving the stone the rough appearance of a horned beetle.
On the shelf was the prone skeleton of some huge humanoid. Its bone white wrists were still held in shackles attached to chains that reached back into the five-foot recess.
However, what was most unnerving about this place was that the entire ‘clearing’ was not black with ash, but a washed gray of crushed shards of bone. There were all sorts of femurs, and skull fragments, and clavicles and pelvis and tons of unidentifiable shattered parts and powder.
“Maybe we’re not ready for Hurgun’s Maze yet,” Jeremy said, gulping dryly.
“You think?” Martin replied.
“What makes you think this is Hurgun’s Maze?” Kazrack asked, shocked by the suggestion.
“Well, he was a stone wizard, wasn’t he?” Jeremy gestured to the odd monolith.
“Stone, not bone,” Kazrack said, gesturing with his halberd to the ground before them.
“This is not an auspicious place to be battling a necromancer,” Martin said, running through worse-case scenarios in his head.
Beorth stepped to the front and gestured for the others to stand back. Most of the group hovered at the entrance, while Golnar, Tolnar and Jolnar turned to watch their backs at Captain Adalar’s direction.
The paladin of Anubis covered his eyes with his left hand and reached out with his right.
“Anubis grant me sight beyond sight to sense the emanations of dark powers in this place so we may put the dead to final and deserving rest in your name.”
Beorth reached out with his senses feeling them unite and become greater than the sum of their parts. It was as if he could see despite he was covering his eyes, but he could see more than he normally could. There was a dark shadow that passed over his heart when looked at the base of the stone, in a corner on the right beneath one of the stairways.
“Beorth, do you sense something?” Ratchis asked.
Beorth nodded and pointed. “Somehow it seems to be coming from beneath the ash and bone.
“Something’s coming,” Derek spoke up, his keen ears catching what all the others now heard, the sound of bones crunching under feet, coming from the right side of the stone.
Around the right side of the huge black stone came the shambling figures of four Gothanian soldiers in tattered armor and tunics. They wore empty scabbards on their sides, and their faces were rotting and ripped up. One seemed to have it skull have crushed, one eyeball resting like a gray jelly on his face. The four zombies moved towards the party, arms outstretched and moaning their eternal agony.
“Form a line!” Ratchis commanded, stepping forward and drawing his long sword. “Kazrack do not go too far. Martin watch the flank. I will not waste my divine blessing on these!”
“Watch the back,” Captain Adalar reminded his young charges. “Do not let anything through, and call us if you see anything!”
Derek threw his bow over his neck and shoulders and pulled his battle axe off his back, stepping up to join the forming line. Jeremy and Kazrack joined him, while Martin hustled over to the other side, checking to see if anything was coming from the other side. He was slightly ahead of the line.
“More are coming from the other side,” the watch-mage warned.
Beorth broke the line slightly, stepping forward to be even with Martin and taking a swing with his long sword at one of the zombie shoulders, who had nearly reached them, but he misjudged and missed. Derek stepped forward again, to support Beorth, but the chop of his axe was short as well. If the guttural moaning of the thing had not been constant, it would have seemed mocking.
Grunting Ratchis, joined the two humans and his blade did not miss is mark. A huge chunk of this first zombie’s arm fell into the bone, splattering near-liquid rotten flesh on the bones piled around. The crunching of bones beneath their boots accompanied all their movements.
Martin pulled a torch he always carried in his belt, and waving a hand incanted, Manus Incantati! He let go of the torch, but it floated in the air, supported by an invisible hand.
Jeremy stepped up and joined the forward moving line, but further on the left, waiting for more zombies to approach, while Kazrack slashed at the first zombie twice, cutting it into three flailing pieces that soon stopped moving.
“Thank you my lords and lady!” Kazrack cried out joyously in dwarven.
Another zombie reached the line and swung its calcified fists at Beorth, who duck and thrust with his sword. The blade entered the zombie point first, but seemed to have no effect.
More zombies approached, Derek swung his axe fiercely, having to jerk it back and forth to pull it out of the collarbone of the first to reach him, but the zombie did not fall.
Ratchis’ sword blow was blocked by the forearm of his foe, doing no damage, while Martin sent his now lit torch over to the closest approaching zombie.
Jeremy gritted his teeth and swung at a zombie’s neck with all his strength. The former soldier’s head tumbled off, and for a moment the zombie continued to flail its arms menacingly at the Neergaardian and then fell.
Another zombie fell to Kazrack’s pole-axe.
The dwarves set up a second line behind the party, readying to support them, except for Helrahd who stepped up and joined them with an axe in each hand. He spit in the direction of the zombies.
Now the entire party was locked in combat with the zombie soldiers, but their combat skill was enough to avoid the awkward flailing blows of the mindless creatures.
And suddenly there was a sound like a hissing roar. Atop of the black monolith, above the stone shelf with its chained skeleton, there appeared a gnoll, dressed in a robe of faded feathers, and a mask of flayed human skin. A nasty stench of death, even stronger than that of the zombies, wafted from him, and his fur looked mangy and falling off in large clumps. Red glowing eyes shone from beneath the mask of skin.
Not a second had passed when the skeleton in chains began to rattle and shake, as if trying to rise, as a cloud of dust rose from the corner where Beorth had sensed the presence of evil. The Gothanian lieutenant wight came burrowing out from under the ground frenzied. Its eyes shone red as well.
“Revenge,” it hissed, as it surveyed the party struggling with the zombified remains of his troops.
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Notes:
(1) The Mountain Wars lasted from 409 to 427 H.E. – when the Kingdom of Herman Land tried to annex Derome-Delem and met fierce resistance from allied dwarves, gnomes, elves and even halfings.
(2) Hurgun of the Stone was a geomancer of some renown, who was said to have constructed his stronghold at some kind of planar nexus. It is a place of power that the party has discovered several factions are searching for.
(3) Martin’s ring called “Lacan’s Demise” allows him to go without food, water or more than two hours of sleep.
(4) Called “Rune-throwers” dwarven priests use rune-stones as their holy symbol and as a form of divination.
(5) DM’s Note: All the characters were making Fortitude checks every hour or taking subdual damage from breathing in the caustic ash.