Ptolus: Midwood - "The Dark Waters of Moss Pond"

[Whizbang Dustyboots]

"Shiny object here and what appears to be fallen bodies over there. All the while the skeletons flee for a few seconds more," Emmerson mulls. "I say we find out what the shiny object is, then go towards the fallen bodies. Over there we can fight the skeletons when they return."

Curiosity piqued, Ragglus steps to the ruined sarcophagus to look at the mysterious shiny object.

This sarcophagus has seemingly been smashed long ago. The bones of the skeleton are rotten splinters. The chainmail shirt the skeleton presumably once wore is now little more than disconnected chunks of rusted metal. There is no owl-faced helmet visible.

Tucked in amidst the debris appear to be broken pieces of mirror.

"Bah, nothing," Ragglus mutters, brushing aside the aged armor and debris to get a better glimpse at the broken pieces.

"Seems likely that whoever built this place wouldn't have left the valuables right out in the entry hall," Hazel says, as she takes two steps further into the passageway. "We should keep moving, dispatch those skeletons before they run into some friends."

She listens for any hint of returning foes.

"Might be a good idea to check out that heap they ran 'round, first," Bufer says, squinting in the flickering torchlight at the prone shape on the floor. "If it's bodies like Emus suspects, it'd be good to know what made 'em. There might be fouler things afoot'n ambulatory corpses."

Bufer glances over at the party's other gnome, and chews his lip thoughtfully.

"I'm still all for leavin' post haste," he says after a moment, "but if we're set on continuing this fool's errand, 'less he objects, I'm gonna suggest we send Tosh up ahead to get the lay of the land, as it were."

"I can do that, just keep the torch back about 30 feet or so." Tosh moves quickly and silently up to the heaps on the floor, hoping the darkvision kicks in before he gets jumped by anything in the dark.

There is no sign of the skeletons as Tosh reaches the third set of pillars.

A group of small reptilian humanoids lay huddled between the pillars, three close together, a fourth further off. All have been hacked to death, long ago. The bodies look to have frozen sometime after death.

Just beyond the pillars is the fourth and final set of alcoves. Beyond it, stairs ascend into the barrow mound.

Back at the second set of alcoves, the broken mirror pieces seem to, indeed, be just broken pieces of mirror.

Tosh turns and signals for the others to move up to the dead kobolds on the floor, then slips a bit further down the passage to the fourth alcove, glancing occasionally up the stairs for movement.

"Guys, if you don't mind," Tock says, "I'd like to stick with these poor kobolds for a bit. Maybe say a few words. I met a kobold fiddler once who taught me about their religious beliefs."

"I kin respect what yer trying to do, son, but it's more than they woulda done fer you," says Emus. "But go ahead; I'll wait with ya."

Tock kneels over the bodies, straightening their clothes and muttering quietly.

"A broken mirror?" Emmerson ponders. "Who would put ... or why would a mirror be placed in the sarcophagus? Say, are any of the statues missing one of it's mirror eyes?"

Ragglus looks to see if any of the statues missing any of their mirrored eyes as he makes his way back to the majority of the group, but none of the statues in the alcoves seem to be missing their mirrored eyes.

"Yes, well, these elves I was educating you all about," Renraw says. "What did I call them? These Hounds are clearly very reverential of mirrors, so how fascinating that we should find one here, broken. Mightn't it be possible that the broken mirror was what put the verve in those ossified wretches to begin with? I understand disruption of the sarcophagus would be the most obvious cause for necrotic ambulation, but perhaps there is an underlying enchantment. I am a wizard, after all. I do know what I'm talking about. How much magic do the rest of you know? Not much, between you. What is it? Stop looking at me that way. I've been to university."

Meanwhile, Tosh moves ahead of the rest of the party. The stairs ascend 40 feet to a landing. What is up there, Tosh cannot see.

Tosh briefly searches the final alcoves and the first few steps for anything out of the ordinary: The alcoves are like all the others: Two statues of owl-headed men with swords, two sarcophagi, both open, the skeletons that had been inside them somewhere north of the party in the darkness.

Tosh moves cautiously up the stairs with the intent of getting to the point where his eyes are at floor level of the passage or room at the top, so he can get the lay of the area without being within reach of anyone or anything standing at the top.

The next room is an octagon, 45 feet wide and 45 feet deep. There are 15-foot wide staircases on the northwest, north and northeast walls, rising further into the mound.

There are four columns in the middle of the room, along with what look like rotting, well-chewed animal carcasses. There is also the faint air of old feces.

Tosh turns and gives a whisper down the stairs that the rest should come on up. Then while there's still no torchlight to interfere, he moves quickly to the base of the northeast stair and looks up, then the north stair, and then the northwest, doing the same thing, before returning to the top of the south stair and waiting for the rest to join him.

Emmerson catches what Renraw says, and it strikes him as odd.

"Renraw," Emmerson looks the wizard in the eye, his expression clearly readable on the flickering torch-light. "This party is based completely on trust. I trust their blades, their senses and their abilities."

He points at Renraw.

"I trust your knowledge and your power. And I trust your sense not to get us into more trouble than we can handle.

"So, why are you lying to us?"

The wizard's face becomes flushed.

"Er, that is ... uh ... did you say 'lying?' 'Lying' is a very strong word, wouldn't you say? Maybe just 'guessing incorrectly?' I'm just spit-balling, here. The Hounds, it's not that they don't exist, per se. They could exist, I mean, theoretically. It's not as though I'm just trying to appear smart to everyone to justify my place in the party, it really isn't that. Why would I do that? I mean, honestly, and what place do YOU have questioning MY motives, anyway? Aren't you the one that let loose those calamitous calcium contestants on us back there? And then FAILED to dispatch them?"

"If that trap wasn't triggered on the way in, I am very sure that it would have sprung on the way out," Emmerson responds. "And we may have been injured or weakened and thus, unable to fight past it. My hit wasn't effective? Sure. And so it was your attack. Nothing is certain in combat.

"You have a place of value in this group, do not question that. But if you do not know what the markings or runes say, do not attempt to weave a tale just to amuse us. That sort of game could very well end with us being the old hacked up corpses the next party of unwary adventurers find."

From the top of the stairs, Tosh clears his throat quietly.

"Mind your voice, I may have heard something. No point in announcing our presence unnecessarily."

With a final glare at Renraw, Emmerson moves quietly up the stairs, followed by the rest of the party.

Hazel follows Tosh's warning to keep the torch back, waiting to follow until after the gnome has disappeared into the darkness. She pauses at the kobolds' bodies, expecting to feel satisfaction -- after all, Da always called 'em "thieving vermin" -- but finds herself instead eyeing the bodies with a more pragmatic concern.

"Can anyone tell what kind of weapons killed 'em? Or how long ago they died?" She glances ahead, hoping Tosh hasn't found trouble, adding quietly, "Or if their killer's looking for more prey?"

"Schmothing schmis schmertain schmin schmombat," the wizard mutters under his breath. "This isn't over between us, Grant," he whispers, very careful not to be heard by anyone in the group as he sulks up the stairs.

Tucker sticks with the group, but his mind is still on the bodies.

"Is it really cold enough in here for those bodies to have frozen?" he asks, quietly. "Yes, it's winter, but a barrow like this would be insulated from the weather like a root cellar. There could be snow piled high outside and a warm body would still decay before it froze. And if it did get cold enough in here at some point, we'd still feel the cold now. There's a chill in the air, but I'd hardly call it freezing."

"Actually, Gallaway, it's right around freezing," Renraw lectures the deputy. "Remember there's an open tunnel mouth and if it's hovering around freezing this far in during the day, it's significantly colder at night. Maybe it would be better if you kept your mouth shut like the gnome suggested and leave the theorizing to those of us more equipped."

"Watch yourself, seed counter, lest a stone in the ceiling gets loose and bonks you on the head," Tucker snaps back.

Ignoring the admonition, Renraw is struck with a sudden inspiration. Stepping over to Emus, the wizard pulls him aside.

"Look here, dwarf," he whispers in Dwarven. "These stairs are very high, 30 feet or so. If we have to make an expeditious retreat, a spot of grease at the top of the stairs would have a good chance at incapacitating anyone following. Do you catch my meaning?"

The dwarf strokes his chin whiskers, blinking.

"If we're forced to run, stay behind with me a short moment so I can lay the trap. Then we'll hightail it for the exit. Is this acceptable?"

"Heh heh! Sure I kin help with that."

Turning back to the pile of kobold bodies, Emus mumbles something to Tock and grabs his arm to push him forward. Tock, having completed his business, and not wanting the dwarf to tell the others what he was up to, complies.

"Lemme take a looksee," Bufer says as he draws up beside Hazel. "If there's one thing a Potentloins knows his way around, it's a gash."

He glances up at Hazel with a mischievous grin.

"On account of all the time we've spent in battle, I mean," he adds innocently.

Chuckling to himself, Bufer kneels down to inspect the corpse of the nearest kobold.

Hazel smiles at Bufer, holding back a laugh.

"Be my guest - looks like sword damage to me, but this one," she gestures with the torch toward the body away from the main group, "seems to be missing an organ or something."

Bufer pauses and looks over at Tock, his expression suddenly dour and pensive.

"This isn't apt to disturb anything you're doing, is it lad? My people generally don't hold with kobolds, but far be it from me to befoul anybody's death rites."

"The kobolds are a pious people in their own way, but they believe the have no use for their bodies after their deaths, finally able to rest from their ceaseless toil," Tock says. "Examine away, and mayhap we can bring some justice to these poor fallen souls."

Bufer watches Tock for a moment, thoughtfully, as if seeing him for the first time. He nods once, then turns his attention to the kobolds.

"Hmm. And the prize goes to the lady who guessed sword damage," he says as he examines the corpses. "These poor buggers were all hacked to death, like by the swords those skeletons were carryin', or ones just like 'em. If I were a bettin' gnome, I'd say they're our culprits."

Bufer frowns deeply as his eyes dart from one corpse to another, then leans in closer to the one closest to him, squinting as he prods at it gently with his fingertips.

"Now that's odd. You see this? These three here, the ones in the leather, they've all got some sort of odd cyst growin' in their torsos." He shakes his head, the creases of his knotted brow deepening. "In, not on, mind you. It's like somethin' is growin' right inside of 'em."

Bufer sighs heavily, and looks up gravely at Hazel and Tock as he gets to his feet.

"If this is some kind of affliction," he says, "it's like none I ever seen afore. Which means I got absolutely no idea how catching it might be."

He glances back down at the corpses, pressing his lips into a tight, thin line.

"In fact, we might all well be comin' down with it right now."

Hazel takes a quick step back.

"Very reassuring, Bufer. Let's catch up with the others. If we're lucky, we can all die at swordpoint before the chest-worms get us."

She gives the gnome a wry gin and sets off toward the stairs.

 

[Whizbang Dustyboots]

The group ascends to the octagonal room.

Whatever purpose this room might have once served, it was now filled with long-rotting animal carcasses, along with very large (and dry) droppings and the faint smell of urine. Brown fur could be found on four columns near the center of the room, which look as though something large rubbed up against them.

The four columns here were carved with strange patterns and were hollow near the top, and had cut-out sections letting one see in.

"Wonnerful," Ragglus growls, breathing out his nose more heavily than in. "It's a big-arsed demon's earth-closet. I'll kill that Fibber ..."

His curiosity getting the better from him, Emmerson approaches the closest column and examines it, peering inside the column through the openings. Renraw attempts to jostle the larger man out of the way, but has to satisfy himself by examining the column from the far side. Tosh stands on tip-toe, peeking inside the open portions of the column.

It appears to have some sort of smooth cup formed just below the cut-out area. A long-dried -- ancient, even -- residue stains the inside of the cup.

"Blood, maybe?" Tosh ventures. "A place of ritual or some such. I suppose we could fill them up and see what happens... "

Bufer shoots the other gnome a withering look.

"... or not."

Meanwhile, Hazel examines the fur and the droppings, hoping to identify the creatures that left them behind - and whether the carcasses were supper for the beasts, or the beasts themselves.

"Smell's not that bad, Rags," she says. "Least it isn't fresh."

"I'm betting Fibber never made it this far," says Tosh. "He grabbed the helm from the broken casket and ran. Might have been the smart move, but then nobody ever accused me of being real smart."

"Maybe a bear," Hazel muses softly. "No ... not a bear ... something like a bear. And big. Real big."

"I'd like to find out what it is. We don't need something unnatural running around these woods," Emus responds quietly. "And we still ain't found those dang skeletons. They's bad news for this area, also."

"Word to the wise," Bufer says to the others. "If something big and bear-like do decide to turn up, I'm not gonna be able to make it turn the way I did those skeletons."

He glances over at Emus as the dwarf opens his mouth to protest.

"Not arguin' the point, Emus. Just wanna make sure everyone knows what they're gettin' into. Undead soldiers I'm good for, but big hairy beasty things, not so much. We pick a fight with somethin' like that, we're committed to finish it, one way or the other.

"Now, that having been said, Hazel, you think you might be able to track it?"

"Hmm, gimme a bit o' time to look. This isn't exactly my natural habitat." Hazel brings the torch near the floor and begins a sweeping search for tracks in the octagonal chamber. She briefly raises her head to look at the dwarf. "Any chance you've some special underground know-how that could help, Emus?"

"Eh, if the bear knows how to set up traps involving moving blocks of stone, I might be able to help out. Otherwise, I ain't spent enough time worryin' 'bout such things," Emus replies. "'Sides, I'm all fer just raising the biggest ruckus you ever did hear, and drawin' that critter out to us. If it's a natural type of beast, it will just run further away, and then we can get back to takin' care of them skeletons."

"I might have heard something up there," Tosh points toward the northwest stairway. "If we're finished here, and no one objects, I'll give it a look see?"

"That noise yeh heard is probably them skeletons. Once Bufer's spell on 'em wears off, they's like to be heading back this way," Emus says. "I don't wanna fight them on the stairs where they'll have the higher ground. We should either wait for them here, or head up soon and find a good place to take 'em on. We might find that bear, too."

"Whoever chiseled these pillars was a miserable sculptor," Renraw whines as he turns away from the column he was studying. "There is not a single trace of anything even remotely identifiable here. The only thing I can figure is that they were carved with eyes closed. Or that the sculptor had no hands. Or was otherwise touched in the head, or a dwarf."

He notices that people seem to have stopped paying attention to him.

"We should move up the stairs, gnome first."

"Blood or not, I would wager that it had dried long before either men or dwarf walked around here."

Emmerson flexes his fingers, wiping the traces off his fingertips.

"Up the stairs makes best sense, Emus. I'll follow our scout."

The sound of jingling chain shirts and bone toes clicking on stone flooring echoes down the north stairway, and grows steadily louder.

 

[Whizbang Dustyboots]

"Incoming skeletons. Might I suggest standing them off from the south so our exit is handy?" Tosh hurries over to the top of the south stairs, with his rapier at hand.

Ragglus takes a position near the columns, shield up and gripping his flail tight.

"Help me find the one I've burned," Renraw bellows. "We're going to pulverize it!"

Emus stands off to the left of Ragglus, preparing to charge the first bag of bones that reaches the fighter and those that stand with him.

"All right, boys and boylike females, I happen to know a tune that'll really get your blood going," Tock says, dropping to his knees and raises his arms. A beautiful banjo appears, glowing faintly with magical power. Tock adjusts the tuning and does a couple of runs up the scale. "THOSE KOBOLDS WILL BE AVENGED!"

The bard begins a rousing claw-hammered banjo tune entitled "Bone Smashing Breakdown" from behind the combatants.

"About time those sacks of bone returned," Emmerson mutters as he equips his shield and warhammer and stands to the right of Ragglus, preparing for the fight, his foot tapping to the beat of Tock's playing.

Hazel takes a position to Emmerson's right, hoping to outflank any skeletons moving in that direction. She slides the torch on the floor behind her and grips her battleaxe in both hands.

Jumping up and down behind the melee combatants, Renraw tries to identify the skeleton he splashed with acid, his club in his hand.

The skeletons step down into the room, initially three abreast as they leave the north stairs, but then spreading out to four across as they shuffle across the room towards the intruders, swords at the ready, the torchlight flickering off the ornamental gold accenting the feather designs on their helmets.

They shoulder through the columns and cross the space toward the adventurers. With a scream, Emus bursts from the group of adventurers, his greatclub clutched in both fists. There is an explosion of bone and armor as he destroys the skeleton he charges.

Tucker takes a small step to the left, so his flail won't catch on a column, and swings at the center of the skeletons' line. It's a solid hit, scattering the skeletons bones across the floor in a clatter.

Emmerson swings at a skeleton with all his strength, but his blow glances off the skeleton's armor, sounding out a puff of rust.

"Renraw will never let me live this down," Emmerson mutters.

The skeleton lashes back at him, its sword bouncing off his scale mail.

"At least we're on equal footing, hellspawn!"

Ragglus does no better than the paladin, his flail whistling through empty air.

Hazel swings her axe with both hands at the nearest skeleton, but misses. It turns towards her in response, lashing out with its pitted long sword, slashing her cruelly. The sword digs in deeply.

Hazel bites back a scream when the blade cuts into her. She's felt this blazing pain once before, when childish inattention buried an axe blade in her calf, but Da's not here to carry her to Mother Bridger's this time.

With a scream, Renraw swings his club at the skeleton attacking Hazel. Unfortunately, his eyes were closed, and the club swings through empty air.

Emus looks back on the others, shattered bones all around him, one of his feet on the skeleton's chainmail shirt. The helmet rolls until it hits the base of a column, where it stops, with a protracted ringing.

"More misses here than a gnome at a swing party!" Tock yells, strumming furiously. "Get on it, people! FOR THE KOBOLDS!"

Ignoring the skeleton that just struck him, Emmerson swings his warhammer at the one that hit Hazel.

"Third time's the charm."

Renraw breathes heavily through his nose, the smell of Hazel's blood sickening him. He stumbles away from the fight, preparing to cast a spell to cover the party's retreat if the battle goes against them.

"HAZEL!" Bufer races past the wizard, praying frantically to his god, while clutching his gold nugget amulet and reaching out with a hand toward the ranger. The healing energy pours into Hazel's body, and there is the painful, yet wonderful feeling of feeling her wound knitting back together instantly.

"You wanted noise for the bear and blood for the pillars?" Tucker snaps. "Seems this fight is providing both. Now let's finish off these rattle-traps. Hey, Seed-counter! I think this one's got your acid on it."

Tucker turns slightly, lashing out with his shield, and striking the skeleton with a clatter of bones.

The skeleton's jaw works with a silent scream of pain, and it turns back from Emmerson to launch a vicious cut at Tucker's head. The slash slips past the top of Tucker's shield, drawing blood from a cut delivered to unprotected skin on his neck.

"YEEEEEEEEEEEEE-HAAAAAAAA!"

Emus crashes back into the midst of the group, into the other skeleton, his greatclub coming down on the skeleton's helmet and slamming down through the body, arms and legs and ribs scattering everywhere. When he's done, the dented helmet bounces down the staircase behind them and the rusty armor at his feet contain a handful of unbroken ribs and vertebrae.

"Thanks awfully!" Hazel gasps to Bufer, pulling the gnome cleric and herself away from the fray, even as she double-checks and find her wound has closed.

Ragglus tests the handle of his flail by tapping it on his head to make sure it's a real weapon, and not some phantom weapon he's just imagining he's holding that doesn't actually work. Satisfied, he swings once more. The flail connects with a clatter and the last skeleton collapses, its bones scattering into the shadows of the octagonal room.

 

[Whizbang Dustyboots]

"Great job, everyone," Renraw brays. "What a team! Just a superb, superb effort! Now to find the treasure and bugger out of this abominable inhumation."

He motions to a still somewhat shell-shocked Tosh to move up the stairs.

"Quickly, now, get to it. We'll follow."

"Very nicely done, large people," the gnome says quietly, moving toward the northwest stairwell. He listens carefully. Satisfied the noise of battle has not brought any other inhabitants of the cairn, he returns to the octagonal room, ignoring Renraw's glare.

"Might I assume that since the dearly departed were so recently trying to relieve our gizzards from our guts that searching the remains may not fall into the category of grave-robbery?" He asks, looking up at Emmerson.

"Search away, Tosh," the paladin says, putting away his weapon. "Traps are not considered 'dearly departed.'"

He picks up one of the owl-faced helmets.

The seven formerly animated skeletons each possessed in unlife a decorated half-helm, an antique long sword and antique chain shirt. While none of them is in exemplary condition, they have held up surprisingly well over the course of, at least, centuries.

"Seems that most of this stuff might fetch a few silver if we were to lug it back with us," Tosh says, finishing his examination of the skeletons.

Therurt Glangirn in Maidensbridge is forbidden to make new weapons and armor -- the baron has rented that exclusive right to a smithy in Middleborough -- but the dwarf does a good business in restoring and reselling older gear.

"If we're going to continue on, I suggest just leaving it here at the top of the stairs and picking it up on our way out," Tosh continues. "No sense having it drag us down, and it's not like it's the crown jewels or anything. We also might think of checking to make sure everyone's OK? Need a bandage, Tucker?"

Before the deputy can answer, Renraw claps his hands together, attempting to take command of the situation once more.

"Er, yes, quite. Everyone all right, then? Good, good," Renraw says. "Might I suggest we send someone to pile the booty at the bottom of the main stairs? If we leave it here, it may be forfeit if we find ourselves in a hurry to leave. With the goods at the bottom, I'll have a chance to lay my quite ingenious grease trap, which could buy us enough time to gather the stuff and escape. The trap could utilize these other stairs, but they do not appear tall enough to do sufficient damage to the kind of powerful assailant or assailants from which we would find ourselves fleeing.

"It would be a mistake not to listen to me. I assure you I've thought it through."

"So if, say, a bear the size of an outhouse is chasing us, it would be better that we pick up the booty at the foot of these stairs so the bear can slip in the grease and fall 30 feet down the stairs upon us as we're gathering things?" Tosh asks. "For what it's worth, you may be right. But that would be more up to you big folk, seeing as how one of those pig-stickers would be enough to slow me down to a crawl."

"Really, gnome, if you'll just slow down and think it out, you'll realize the truth," Renraw replies. "Leaving it down there, we have a better chance of collecting it on the fly than we would up here. I'm not suggesting we leave it directly at the foot of the stairs so the creature falls atop us. But we've a better shot at grabbing it and running from a wounded bear than one at full health.

"I'm only considering the good of the party. It would truly be a shame to leave here with absolutely nothing."

Renraw delivers a harsh glare in Tock's direction.

"As far as I'm concerned, the noble kobolds were avenged," Tock says piously. "Were we to find further monstrosities, of course, I would do my best to help, but I feel my mission here is done. We should just distribute the wealth of the bones evenly, except for my small performer's fee."

As the others argue about the booty, Bufer examines Hazel's leg to make sure it has healed properly, muttering and shaking his head to himself about his own foolish impulsiveness. Satisfied she is unharmed, he looks up to give her a reassuring smile, then turns to the bleeding Tucker.

"Hey, Gallaway, kneel down here a second, would you? Lemme get a look at that wound." He unwinds a spool of linen from a leather satchel, preparing a bandage for the deputy.

 

[Whizbang Dustyboots]

"What, this? It's merely a flesh wound! Barely a scratch; why, I've had worse while shaving and I," Tucker takes his hand away from the gash on his neck and, seeing his palm completely red, kneels. "Yeah, OK, why don't I just do that?"

Tosh carefully mounts the stairs, which rise another thirty feet into the barrow mound.

The room at the top is 25 feet wide and 45 feet long and smells heavily of urine and musk. A hole has been visibly clawed through the rocks on the northwest wall of the room by something with massive claws.

Two statues face each other in this hall, one of an owl-headed man kneeling in fealty before the other figure. All that remains of the other figure are sandaled feet and a hint of a robe on the floor. The rest has been broken off ages ago and the rest of the statue is gone, with no hint as to its whereabouts.

The hindbrain kicks in and Tosh's first instinct is to leave, gooseflesh and all. But, it would be remiss of him to leave a potential threat behind without any investigation at all. Summoning up all his courage and skill, he moves to the right wall, hoping the shadows are deeper there to hide him, and moves as silently as he can toward the opposite end of the room and the gouged-out hole.

The tunnel is narrow, and has clearly been clawed into existence, first through stone walls, then through soft soil beyond. But the earth does not smell wet here: This is not a recent dig, and the earth is dry as it winds out of sight, lightless.

But what it does smell like, to the sensitive gnomish nose, is fur and musk and sweat and feces and urine.

There is a low groaning noise somewhere down the tunnel and the sound of something large shifting followed by the unmistakable sound -- and smell -- of something very large releasing a loud blast of flatulence.

Tosh is satisfied that his stealth is successful enough to give the area in the room a decent search by darkvision, avoiding the mouth of the excavation as much as possible.

Meanwhile, the others consider the spoils of war.

"I'd like to keep one of the long swords, if that's all right with you folks," Emmerson says. "I figure Therurt would be delighted to put it back in shape. In the meantime, I think Renraw's idea is a good one. I'll move the gear out of here and place it over the second alcove's casket lids. Easy to grab if we have to run past them."

"It is?" Renraw blurts. "I mean, of course it is!"

"By the by, would it make sense to find and light a torch here?" Emmerson ignores the wizard and continues. "Because I'll need either a torch bearer to help me get to the second alcove or else the heavy lifting has to be done by someone with darkvision."

"Hmm, all right," Bufer murmurs. "Let's see, here."

The gnome priest casts about on the floor around him, and finally picks up a long, splintered femur bone from one of the fallen skeletons. He turns it from side to side, examining it, then nods to himself and digs into his spell pouch, withdrawing a small piece of phosphorescent moss.

Holding it and the femur up in front of him, he closes his eyes, breathes in deeply through his nose, and quietly offers up the prayer to Garl Glittergold.

Magical light from the bone illuminates the room about as well as another torch would. There is something strange about the way the shadows from the magical light and Hazel's torch jump around the room, but what exactly it is, none of the group can say.

"That's an easy spell," Renraw huffs.

"Probably not as fancy as them taught at your fancy college, I'll concede, but it'll do in a pinch," Bufer says as he hands the glowing femur up to Renraw. "Here you go, torch-bearer. You've got about 10 minutes before it goes dark again. Best you and Emmerson get a move-on."

"Light's with us, Renraw," the paladin says. "Could you take the swords while I carry the armor? I figure we can carry two each on every trip."

"Huh." Emus leans his greatclub against the nearest wall. He spreads his feet slightly and squats as though he's lifting something heavy and thrusts his arms out in front of him. "'Kay. Load me up."

Renraw looks at the glowing bone in his hand as though it's composed of live bees.

"How DARE you, sir!" he scoffs. "I'm no one's beast of burden! And ... and besides, I believe you'll find my hands are quite full with my staff here and my sack. I really couldn't trust the rest of you with my -- my sack and my things. I've food in here, for pity's sake! I'd leave you lot for a few moments and the dwarf would have done with it! No, find someone more able-bodied, anyway. I've a cold in my bones. It's the season, you know. I'm no good to the--"

As the wizard speaks, Bufer gently pries his sack and his club from his hand while Emus loads him up with swords.

"Well, all right," he concedes as he starts towards the stairs, "But I'm only going because it's so vital to my plan. A plan I daresay could be the critical, life-saving factor in..."

He trails off as the trio lumber down the steps.

"Why, Renraw, we may have found your calling!" Tock calls after him. "You're an excellent mule!"

Bufer waits until Renraw is out of sight, then opens the wizard's sack and begins rummaging around in it.

"He did say he had food in here, didn't he?" He looks up and around at the others. "Anyone else hungry?"

Everything is quiet as Bufer rifles through Renraw's pack and the others drop off the last of the chain mail, swords and helmets in a pile below the stairs.

"Nothin' in here but some stale bread and moldy cheese," Bufer mutters, wrinkling his nose at the offerings in Renraw's pack. He pulls out a stick of butter, turns it this way and that as he examines it, then shrugs and takes a bite.

He glances up and around at the others as they watch him with amusement, disgust, or some combination of the two. Oblivious, he offers the stick of butter out to them.

"Anybody want some?" he asks. "Plenty to go around!"

Hazel pulls out her water skin and takes a swig before tucking it back in her pack. She stretches her legs a bit, pleased to discover not even a scratch where the sword struck, just a rip in the leg of her breeches, easily mended at home. The gnome's a fine cleric, but watching him chew on a stick of butter is enough to make her queasy. Hazel shifts to lean against one of the pillars in the room to watch for Tosh's return -- and block out the sight of Bufer's repast.

Emus, Renraw and Emerson return from downstairs just in time to stop Bufer from finishing off the last of the butter.

"What? What, I brought this with me! Wait, wai--ah!"

Bufer grunts as the wizard and the paladin pry the remains of the butter away from him, and wipes the back of his hand across his lips. He spies Hazel leaning against the pillar on the opposite side of the room, pointedly facing away from him, and cocks an eyebrow.

"Oh, don't you look all disgusted over there, miss," he chuckles, and jerks a thumb over his shoulder. "If you think I'm bad, I don't envy you the first time you catch a glimpse of the dwarf chowin' down."

Renraw wonders how many times he could stab the gnome before the others stopped him. Eight or nine? Then he stops to wonder what types of objects he could stab him with, and which would be the easiest to use repeatedly. He also thinks about the blood and the pleasing splatters it would make. Would it be like his young cousin's finger paints? Do gnomes even bleed normally? he wonders.

Then he forgets which gnome he was angry with and begins daydreaming about the bear disemboweling Tosh, about the party leaving his body in the barrow, and about how he would have to practice faking sadness back in town.

Meanwhile, Tosh's inspection of the room finds nothing beyond the two statues -- one ruined, one otherwise -- the feces, dried urine and hair. Carefully peeking into the tunnel mouth, he sees it meanders too far, and twists too much, to see what the cave at the far end -- if there is, indeed a cave at the far end -- looks like, or what it contains.

Tosh decides that it's time to rejoin the others and recount his findings. After all, there are two more stairwells to consider. When Tosh returns from the upper chamber, Renraw meets him with a crazed grin.

 

[Whizbang Dustyboots]

"OK, listen up, there's something big up there, in a tunnel out of the room," Tosh says, recounting his findings. "I figure it's a big animal of sorts. If it's a meat eater, I don't particularly like the idea of having something like that roaming around these parts free. On the other hand, we have two more stairways to check out. So, what's your pleasure, folks?"

"We cain't look for more busted-up helmets if'n we're cowering over some bear," Emus drawls. "Plus, there might be other critters like these skeletons about. We should see if this bear's riled up or not before we take on anythin' else."

"Judging by the animal carcasses in this room, I'd say it's a meat-eater," Hazel says, "But that doesn't necessarily make it a threat to us. The bear's not 'riled up' right now. It hasn't shown any inclination to come after us, and we did just make a fair bit of noise dispatching these skeletons. Could be in hibernation. And I think we'd all be mighty riled if someone came along and tossed us outta our warm beds in midwinter.

"We best check the other staircases first. I have no issue with killing skeletons that attack us, but if you folks wanna go about killing a dumb animal that hasn't posed any threat to us, I'm gonna have to part company here. You show me it's evil and a threat to the town, that's one thing, but I'm not about to kill an animal just for it maybe being in the way of our profit."

"I'm with the lass," Bufer says. "Judging by the mess it left in the other room, it's been here awhile. If it was apt to make a nuisance of itself, I reckon it woulda done so long before now. Heck, it didn't even come far enough out of its den to eat those poor kob--"

Bufer breaks off suddenly, frowns, and looks thoughtfully over his shoulder as he remembers the odd cysts growing in the torsos of the kobold corpses.

"On second thought," he amends after a moment, "It might not be such a bad idea to take a peek at the beastie, after all."

"Now jes' hold on a second, girly!" Emus says, shouldering past Bufer to face Hazel. "I ain't saying that we should kill it! I'm jes' saying that we should check it out! I don't aim to go killin' somethin' jes because it snuffled at Tosh, here.

"Hell, I like a lot of them animals. They don't judge a dwarf or tell him where ta go, or what's right and what's wrong. They's got the same basic needs as the rest of us. Huntin'. Screwin'. Sleepin'. And a lot of 'em are furry and fuzzy and, well, jus' plain cute. Heh. The way they look at ya with big, brown eyes, why, it jes' makes ya wanna ... Ahem. That's all I'm sayin'."

Emus picks up his club and goes to wait for the others at the bottom of the stairway. He intently studies the path ahead, the stairs, the walls, his fingernails, anything but his fellow adventurers.

Renraw scrunches up his face in deep contemplation. After a long, overly-theatrical sigh, he speaks.

"Our path is clear to me, gentlemen. There is possibly a very large bear in that direction." He points to the stairs Tosh just descended.

"In this direction," he turns and gestures towards the other staircases, "There is possibly no bear."

He pauses for a moment and clears his throat.

"I generally try to choose whichever path affords me the least bear interaction possible."

Ragglus snorts and spits to the side.

"No profit in bear killin', if it is what that is."

"We know there is a bear there," Emmerson points. "That is, if there is only one bear. And we have no idea what is beyond those two stairways. I say we let the sleeping bear lie and go inspect the other places."

"Did anything look valuable in there with the beastie?" Tock asks. "Otherwise, I say we move to somewhere that might have something valuable. On the other hand, the bear might not be so big. Big to a gnome's eyes is often small to a real person's."

"You may want to retract that slur lest you find yourself with a steel enema, 'big man,'" Tosh says quietly. Everyone always agreed that the Bergins were a little creepy, and Tosh was no exception. "Accidents do occasionally happen in the dark. Besides, your mother wasn't complaining about any lack of 'reality' last night."

Tosh pointedly turns his back on the brash bard.

"So, I figure we go for one of the remaining stairs, aye?"

He eyes the two stairwells thoughtfully, and rather than go for the center one, he decides to go a bit further right and check out the northeast stairwell. Once again, the quiet gnome slips up into the darkness, just far enough to get a floor's level view of the area.

The staircase rises 20 feet before emptying out in a long, straight corridor, extending beyond the 60 feet Tosh's darkvision allows him to see.

There is a dampness on the walls, floor and ceiling of this corridor -- not enough to actually make the corridor slippery, but it reflects slightly in the torchlight glimmering up the staircase from below. A soft watery echo periodically pings from the northeast.

Moving at a safe quiet quarter speed, the gnome slips up into the corridor and moves forward. Tosh only has to move a few feet further before he can see that the tunnel opens into a room. From his distant vantage point, he can see something low laying across the middle of the room, perhaps a dias, perhaps a large basin. From this angle, nothing else is visible.

Not seeing any light, nor hearing any sound but an occasional drip, Tosh slips up to the mouth of the next room, peering around with darkvision.

It is a strangely shaped room, with the tunnel entrance being on the right side of the longest wall, of which there are five. The walls to the left and right are the shortest, and then two long walls on the north and east sides complete the sloppy pentagon.

In the center of the room is a raised stone rim. A pool of liquid is held within the large pentagonal basin, still rippling slightly from the last drip to hit its surface. The liquid is dark and a little fetid, but it is an almost perfect reflective surface, like a grimy liquid mirror.

Water drips from above here, from a carved bas-relief of storm clouds above. It appears that, once, the drips would come at a steady rate of flow, but now, whatever mechanism powered this reverse fountain have all but worn down, and drops only come fitfully from one or two nozzles.

There are no signs of life and the room appears to be empty of anything else.

 

[Whizbang Dustyboots]

Satisfied for the moment that the odd room is safe, Tosh turns on his heel and heads back to the others to report his findings.

"I think the room bears exploration. But how about I go ahead and see what is at the top of the center stair before we set out?"

"Go right ahead, friend Tosh," Emmerson says.

The gnome slips up the stairs, finding the largest room within this cairn at the top.

This room is massive, a 65-foot wide semicircle with the tunnel mouth angling out to meet the diameter of the semicircle. The room likewise arches upwards, the ribbed ceiling reaching a height of 30 feet in the middle of the room.

Debris at the top of the stairs suggests a great stone seal once stood here, locking off this room, but it was long ago shattered inwards.

Five alcoves, the size of the ones lining the Hall of Guardians, are equally spaced along the edge of the semicircular wall. Each statue depicts a robed figure holding a different mask to its face.

In the middle of the room, atop a tall stepped dais, rests a single ornate sarcophagus carved in the shape of an enormous nesting owl of singularly sinister aspect.

Tosh returns to the group and gives them their options.

"I believe that the big semi-circular room would likely be the place we're looking for, if indeed we're actually looking for something. I also think that, considering the previous sarcophagi, it's likely we'll find another bag of bones there.

"So, eaten by an animal, killed by the undead, or one from the mystery room? Personally, I'd like to go check out the room to the northeast with some light. Might be something interesting that darkvision doesn't reveal."

"I still think that we should head down the first tunnel, so's that we at least know what's down there instead of turning our backs to it," Emus says. "But we don't wanna split up, so if we decide to go down one of the other two tunnels, I don't care which one."

With a wordless whine, Renraw makes it known rather loudly that he'd like to go up the stairs with no bears, skeletons, or anything that might hurt him.

"As long as the bear's not a threat to the town or us, then we might as well let the damn thing sleep," Tucker agrees. "Or at least, have the sense not to expect to win when we're fighting it in its own bedroom. And despite what this gash on my neck might say, the skeletons we've seen so far haven't been too tough to take apart. I say we check out the storm room, then return for the larger semicircle."

"I'm not altogether convinced that bear-thingy isn't a threat, though," Bufer says. He quickly explains to the others about the weird cysts he found growing in the bodies of the three dead kobolds, and the organ that appeared to be missing from the body of the fourth. "Now that mighta been caused by some kinda malady they'd come down with, albeit one I done never seen before, in which case, I hope it isn't catching. Or, it mighta been the result of somethin' been done to 'em."

He nods towards the stairs that lead to the creature's den.

"Yonder animal might be the cause. Or, on the other hand, it might be the effect, if you catch my meanin'. Either way, I find it mighty odd that it done left those bodies alone long as it has, and I reckon it bears investigation."

"The bear does NOT bear investigation, gnome," Renraw snaps. "Not barely, not at all. If it IS spreading some type of disease, shouldn't we do what we can to avoid catching it? It only makes good sense to me."

Hazel shrugs.

"You all know how I feel about the bear. What say we check out the other two rooms first? If the bear does wake up, we'll hear it coming. Doesn't much matter to me which room we start with."

"We've got a bunch of sharp, pointy swords, now," Tucker says. "Why don't we hold off on the hallways for a bit and -- being entirely respectful of the fallen, of course -- take one of our newly won swords and go see what's inside those lumps on the kobolds' bodies?

"We cut one open and find nothing but tissue and water, then we leave the rest alone. But we give it a nick and some kind of crazy egg-laying bear-baby falls out, then maybe we'll have a better idea of what's waiting down the end of that burrow.

"In fact, while everyone grumbles back and forth about which door to take, I think I'll go do that. Either of you torch-bearers care to come with me?"

"So, you want to go back and possibly create a new threat between us and the running-away door?" Hazel firmly shakes her head. "That sounds like a bad idea to me."

"Cut open the cysts? What?" Tock goggles at Tucker and Bufer. "Are either of you a trained physic? Because I don't recall you going on at length about it at any point. I refuse to be a part of cutting open any innocent, fallen kobolds. Medical examination by Glittergoldian 'priest' is one thing, but hacking and slashing by way of bloodthirsty redneck deputies is another!

"I'm with Renraw on this one. Even if there is some sort of MAGICAL BEAR that GIVES PEOPLE DISEASES, that's not what we're here for. There's no treasure in that, right, Ragglus? Let's leave the living and the dead as they are, and see what, you know, inanimate objects we might find."

"Tock, I understand how you feel, but we could be looking at the beginnings of some kind of plague, here," Bufer says. "Even if it only affects kobold-kind, I should think it's worth lookin' at.

"Now, I'm not one 'a your fancy human physics, but my grandfather's sister's niece was the best gnomish healer ever did live, and I spent a goodly part of my childhood helpin' her tend to the sick and the dyin', so I know a thing or two about it.

"And while a rusty sword ain't exactly the right tool for the job," Bufer says, glancing up at Tucker, "if somebody thought to pack a knife, or a dagger, or the like, I could certainly take a look."

"Count me out. You want to play doctor and get your little head diseased, do it on your own time with other folks more suited to the task," the bard replies. "I'm going to go search that room. You folks can either come with me or let me take whatever's in there myself. You want to stay with Doc Asshigh, feel free. I'll be getting rich."

"I'm going the disease-free route, thank you," Renraw says, appearing by Tock's side as if by magic.

Ragglus nods at Tock's comments.

"Come back with'a set of priests n' magisters n' whatever some other time. They's ain't goin' nowhere."

Bufer's nostrils flare at "Doc Asshigh", but he quickly relaxes and lets a smile spread across his lips as he looks from Tock to Ragglus, and back again.

"Typical humans," he says, shaking his head, "always thinking with your purse or your pud. Fine, I can examine the corpses later. Let's go get rich, and return to town, and infect our friends and neighbors with the plague we may be carrying now, for all we know, but are so anxious to remain ignorant of. I'm sure they won't mind all the sickness and death, long as we come back with a shiny bauble, or two.

"Oh, and bard, if any of your innards happen to get spilled in the next few minutes, I hope for your sake you can manage to hold 'em in 'til we get back to Maidensbridge. Y'know, when you can get a real doctor to look at you."

"You speak like we have friends in the town," Tock says placatingly, "And don't worry, Doc, I know you're a real healer. I just don't think the rest of us have any business examining diseased corpses. Ragglus is right. Bring in other people better-suited to the task. I haven't learned a song yet that could cure disease."

Ragglus scowls a bit at being scolded.

"Whatever we're doin', let's do it. Sittin' here arguin' about pokin' dead folk while waitin' for bears or more o' them other dead folk that fights to come up on us ain't doin' no good. Someone decide." He sneers suddenly. "My pud has spoken."

"Seems to me that the most are in favor of going to the northeast," Tosh says quietly. "Anyone with a big scary sharp object and a torch want to lead the way?"

"If the kobolds are contagious, we are already infected," Emmerson says, unsheathing his warhammer and equipping his shield. "I see no reason to backtrack all the way there just to make sure. Let us go exploring up there. Afterwards, we can let the corpse examining to Ebuferpaly and decide if we are fit to return to town.

"Let's go upstairs."

Bufer exchanges glances with Tosh and Emus, mutters something in Gnomish under his breath, and follows the party up the northeast stairs, chuckling and shaking his head all the while.

"What was that, Doc?" Tock calls back in perfect Gnomish.

 

[Whizbang Dustyboots]

The torchlight and magical illumination shine on the damp floor. Black mildew coats the cracks between the stones in the walls, floor and ceilings. The room is just as Tosh described it. Even with the light sources, the group cannot see what, if anything, is beneath the water in the large basin.

Renraw pokes the end of his club in the water, half from being idle, half to see if he disturbs anything.

The club doesn't have to be dipped in far before it touches bottom. When it comes up, it is covered in a dusty film. The muck on the surface of the water is briefly disturbed as the club is removed, giving a glimpse of a basin bottom that is also carved in a bas-relief. Swirling shapes carved in the stone, perhaps of waves or of strange sea creatures, are visible in the flickering torchlight before the murk closes over the clear space once more.

The spell on the bone finally expires soundlessly, the light contracting to a single bright point a second before vanishing.

Tosh looks about in the brighter illumination of the torch.

"Nothing? This simply will not do," he sighs. And with that, he begins a thorough search of the room. But in the lengthened shadows of the room, Tosh finds little, not even rat droppings, just ancient dust and layer upon layer of black mildew.

"Huh," says Bufer, as he looks up and around in the flickering torchlight, "my mistake. Now I can see why it was so damn pressing to come up here, rather than investigate the potential plague."

"Well, I'm sure that something dangerous will turn up, here," Emus grins. "And then we can take care of it when that bear decides to tear into us from behind!"

"Hey, Fancypants, I'll give you half a copper if you drink all that water," Tucker says, nudging Bufer with his elbow.

"Nobody here's got keener eyes than Tosh, right?" says Hazel. "If he says there's nothing here, then it's pointless to stand around and gab about it." Hazel starts heading back down the stairs, carrying her torch. "Might as well check out the next room."

The group mounts the stairs to the semi-circular room. By torchlight, they can see a few more details, specifically regarding the five statues. Each is 9 feet tall, and while they were painted centuries -- or more -- ago, the darkness has meant that most of the paint has remained intact.

Going from left to right, the five statues depict a robed man holding a screaming owl mask over his face, followed by a statue of a woman holding a two-handed curved sword before her face. The blade is so wide, it totally conceals her face. Then comes a statue of a robed man holding a perfectly smooth mirrored mask over his face. After that is a statue of a robed man holding both his hands over his face, concealing it entirely except for a pair of yellow eyes visible through the cracks in his fingers. The eyes appear to be some sort of precious or semi-precious stones. Finally, there is a statue of a robed woman holds an owl chick’s mask over her face.

Renraw awkwardly attempts to climb the fourth statue and knock the jeweled eyes out with the end of his club.

"Two coppers say the statue blasts him" Emmerson mutters to Ragglus.

Ragglus grunts in agreement.

"I bet the bear'll enjoy a cooked meal fer a change."

After a few clumsy taps, Renraw squeezes his legs tightly around the statue, grasps onto its fingers, and looks down on the rest of them, breathing heavily.

"That's fine then, I'll just take these gems for myself ... when I can ... pry them loose."

The gem eyes suddenly flash an icy blue and unearthly cold rips through Renraw, knocking him to the floor, convulsing in pain. His hands are encased in a thin layer of frost.

All around the group, nasty laughter booms, as though from the five unmoving statues.

"Cuh-cuh-curse you all, DO something!" Renraw spits, clutching at his wrists and rubbing his hands, unsuccessfully sloughing off the frost. "Wuh-whatever it is is luh-laughing at us. You'll be next if you don't do something!"

Seeing Renraw fall to the ground, Emus springs into action and walks past him. Greatclub at the ready, the dwarf looks for something that poses a danger, using his native knowledge of stonecraft. But there is nothing that Emus can spot that looks any odder than the rest of the statue.

"Well, when yer wrong yer wrong," Ragglus mutters as he spares a glance at Renraw trying to rub away the cold. Holding up his shield, flail still in hand, he prepares for whatever may come. "Oi! Wha'so funny?"

The statues lapse into silence as the echoes of the laughter die away.

"Renraw, if you want to survive this trip, you have to stop thinking with your wand," Emmerson scolds. "You are very lucky that that strange basin you poked a while ago did not zap you with something worse than this frost bolt."

Hazel glances around the mostly empty room.

"Seems there's nothing here to loot but the statues. Might be we should gather the swords and helms and head on home. Ought to have known any idea of Fibber's was bound to come to little profit." She shakes her head, already anticipating objections. "I know, I know, y'all want to go kill a bear, on the off chance it's got a bellyful of rare gems, and you," she waves her torch toward Bufer, "Want to go cut open some kobolds, in case we've all got a lungful of plague.

"So, which'll it be, gents?"

 

[Whizbang Dustyboots]

"I have a feeling we're missing something from this room," Emmerson says, nodding meaningfully toward the sarcophagus

"I thought we decided we weren't grave robbers," Hazel says, looking at the owl-shaped container. "And that one seems different from the ones near the entrance. Might be a real grave, might not, but if it is, that's grave robbing, and if it ain't, might be someone pretty angry about losing his skeleton guards."

"S-so ... cold ..."

"If we're openin' it, should w'cover our mugs?" Ragglus asks, glancing over his shoulder at the alcoves. "Far be it fer me not t'trust gigglin' statues, 'specially ones that know when they's gotta wizard crawlin' up their noses."

Tosh wanders over to the statue that did a job on Renraw. Something had to trigger that response, he thinks. Maybe if he searched it over real good, there might be a trigger in evidence. The flickering torchlight moves subtle shadows across the upper surfaces of the statue. Tosh can just barely see runes very lightly carved into its surface. It might be possible to carefully -- very carefully -- fill the runes in with grit from the statue and perhaps temporarily disable the trap. Maybe.

"Gnome!" Renraw, his teeth chattering, plead with Bufer. "I beseech thee, gnome. Heal me. Return my strength so that I may retain my usefulness to the group. Minister my wounds and you have my sacred troth that you will not regret it."

Bufer raises an eyebrow at the injured young wizard, then sighs and begins to dig his healer's kit out of his pack.

"If I'm to heal you, human," he says pointedly to Renraw, "It'll be on condition that, before you touch, poke, prod, examine or even look at anything else, you will ask my permission. Do we have an understanding, Kem?"

Bufer pauses as he opens his healer's kit, looks up at Renraw thoughtfully, and raises one index finger at him.

"Oh, one more thing," Bufer says with a wry grin. "From now on, you're to call me 'sir.'"

"Ah, just poke him with the torch, he'll be fine," Tucker says, rolling his eyes. "Any of you mystic types want to scan the sarcophagus, or should we just open it and get ambushed again?"

"That's it! I cuh-couldn't place it until now. When my young cousin was but an infant ... you, gnome, your cuh-countenance ... it bears a striking ruh-resemblance ... to what he used to ... evacuate when he'd got some bad applesauce in him." Renraw adjusts himself so that he's sitting more upright and winces when he tries to put a bit of weight on his arms. "But that's neither here nor there, is it? No, the r-real issue at hand is that we've now uncovered the party has a 'healer' who only does so on his own terms. Many of us here are aware of the patronizing t-teachings of your so-called divinity, gnome, but we 'foolish humans' n-never imagined they might actually impact us in this way. Leave me in pain, if you will, servant of Glittergold, but I'll not be made to bow and scrape to an asshigh. I'm not sure it's b-bodily possible to get that low."

The wizard turns his head to the group.

"The rest of you ... are you capable of learning from your own lapses? Or will you wait for this baseborn mongrel to decide when you've been foolish? Of course I'll be c-cautious when clambering up any forthcoming statuary, does anyone here doubt this? I prithee, do not s-sustain injury in this gnome's company ... those injuries will find themselves compounded with threats to thine own dignity."

And with that Renraw feebly makes his way to his feet.

"Here, give me the torch - I'LL poke him with it," Tucker says, thrusting his hand at Hazel.

"It seems we have a statue covered with runes of some sort," Tosh says as he begins gathering up loose statue detritus. "Probably the magical sort that protects the statue from being climbed upon by human wizards, I can't be sure. I can probably cover them temporarily. Hazel, would you happen to have any of that sticky applecake left? I can probably make up some goop from the erosion off the statue that'll stick in the runes. Provided, of course, it doesn't blast me too."

Hazel digs into a pocket and pulls out the crumpled cloth.

"About half a slice left, I expect. Probably more honey clinging to the cloth than the cake at this point." She hands the bundle over to the gnome, giving him a broad smile. "If this works, maybe mum can sell her cake as protection against magical traps."

"Ah, a healer that refuses to heal and an unthinking murderer as muscle. It's a wonder the rest of us have lasted this long," Tock says as he puts himself between Renraw and Tucker. "I've long known the Gallaways to be craven gluttons, from my experiences with their women. But sadists? We'll, even in the shallow end of a pool there can be dangers, I suppose.

Tock switches to Gnomish.

"How's the trap dismantling going? I'd have for your kinsman to refuse to heal another of us."

"Aye, and if ever there was a Chandler born who could carry a tune, you wouldn't have to rifle through dead bodies' pockets under the pretext of prayer," Tucker shoots back.

"I find your lack of taste ... disturbing," Tock says in a monotone. "Still, were my music to be appreciated by a redneck fool, that is when I'd worry. And worry not about kobold traditions. They are a pious people and their monies are to be given back to the tribe. With so many kobold-haters around, I feared for the sanctity of the belief."

Tosh seems oblivious to the row going on behind him as he graciously takes the remainder of the pastry from Hazel.

"It'll have to do," he says. He begins mixing the honey with a bit of water and some grit, creating a sticky paste of sorts

"I have no idea," Tosh replies to Tock. "I find the thought of testing it to be slightly less disturbing than the implications of 'us' and 'them,' however."

Tosh carefully begins applying the paste to fill in the eroded runes. Mutters a prayer to the 53 Gods of Chance. But the gems glow suddenly once more, and there's a sizzling noise before the nasty laughter booms through the room again. Tosh snatches his hand away quickly, uncoated in frost, but pale with cold.

"Well, that puts end to that. Unless you folk were spoiling to open the sarcophagus there? Might be some kobolds in need of looting, er, last rites or something."

Tosh sits with his back to a statue-free wall and pulls out some linen to bandage his damaged hand.

"This bickering is pointless." Emmerson approaches Renraw. "I would heal you if I could, friend, but I'd have to admonish you the same way. We cannot afford to lose our collective strength, not this deep inside the barrow.

"I think trying to open this sarcophagus would be the height of folly, considering we have one injured wizard and one zapped rogue."

The paladin turns toward the sarcophagus, clutching his crucifix and prays for guidance.

Bufer looks from Renraw to Tock, and back again, then shrugs nonchalantly.

"No skin off my back if you value your Garl-damned 'dignity' more than your very life, Kem," he says. "I'll be sure to tell your loved -- well, any mildly interested parties, at any rate -- that you went to your grave with your pride intact. If you do happen to change your mind, though, me and my patronizing teachings will be over there. Let's hope nothin' breathes on you in the meantime."

Bufer glances up at Tock.

"And I guarantee you, Chandler, that if you ever had attempted to had congress with my mother as it were, she would have taken one good look at your 'instrument,' such as it be, and collapsed into giggles. It's true what they say about gnomes, after all: We're built like tripods."

With that, Bufer turns his back on them and walks over to crouch next to Tosh, and examine his frost-covered hands.

"Tsk," he says in Gnomish, as he takes over the bandage from Tosh. "Listen, lad, I know this looks bad, but I figure I've only got one good heal left in me. It's yours if you insist to me you need it, but we're a long way from this being done, and that boy's on death's door already. All things bein' equal, I'd like ta hold it in reserve, if you're apt to humor me."

"It's all right, Bufer," Tosh says. "I figure even with a bit of frostbite I have a better chance of getting out of here then the big'uns when the spit hits the fan. I'm not likely to try disarming any more traps, though, and you know what they say about hungry bears and th' like. All's I got to do is run faster than the other guy. Help the young'un."

"Well, not just yet," Bufer says, casting a sidelong glance at Renraw as he ties the bandage off at Tosh's right wrist, and begins tending to his other hand. "Boy needs some sense kicked into 'im, along with a strong dose of humility. That's Garl's will, I do believe. Whether it's by my hand or his own foolish stubbornness makes little difference."

Bufer cocks an eyebrow at Tosh.

"Besides," he says, "I think it's be really funny if I got him to call me 'sir', just once."

Curiosity gets the better of Tosh as he considers the other statues. Levering himself to his feet, he carefully inspects each one, avoiding touching them as he does so.

"It appears that our yellow-eyed adversary is the only one with the ability to defend itself," he says finally. "And apparently the only one with anything to defend. I've a feeling that if we leave them alone, they'll be inclined to do the same for us."

He eyes the sarcophagus critically.

"Of course, if another bag of bones hops out of there, I'm going to stay well out of its reach. I couldn't do it no harm anyways."

He moves off to the top of the stairwell and looks down into the darkness, flexing his injured hand a bit to get back the feeling, wincing all the while.

"Friends," Emmerson starts as he slowly backs away from the sarcophagus. "There is an evil presence inside the sarcophagus. Not only it still lives, but is keenly aware of our presence.

"I would not back away from a fight, but I do not know if we can face whatever is inside and survive. Also, I do not know if the 'guardian statue' will come to life to defend whatever dwells within the sarcophagus if we engage him in combat.

"What say you?"

"Did you happen to ask Lothian if the sarcophagus had anything valuable?" Renraw asks the paladin.

"Goll darnit! I told you kids that comin' in here was a right stupid thing to do!" Emus snaps. "Whatever's in this stone slab ain't hurtin' anyone as long as it's in there, an' it looks like it's jes' fine stayin' there. Sure it ain't natural, but we can't be responsible for lettin' it out if we can't keep it reined in."

"Emus has the right idea - best to leave well enough alone. We don't need to stir up a hornets' nest." Hazel glances at Renraw, then Tosh. "We've already seen they can sting."

She walks up to the statue, staying a respectful five feet back, and cranes her neck to look around it.

"If the magic uses the eyes to focus, then maybe a couple of us working together could topple the statue from behind while the others stay out of its line of sight. Of course, the statues might be part of whatever's keeping the evil trapped in its box, and then we'd feel mighty foolish the last few moments before we died."

"I would touch it, were I to do it over again," Tosh says loudly, startling the others. "How do you intend to topple it without touching it? With a rope, perhaps? You'll understand if I decide not to participate, won't you?"

"And what's to keep the entombed evil from opening its own sarcophagus the instant our backs are turned? Come on, leave the laughing statue alone. Luck and Lothian favor the bold." Tucker approaches the sarcophagus, unnerved by his own bravado. Being extra cautious, he comes upon it from the direction the owl isn't facing. Rather than push the lid off, leaving himself open to an easy attack from within, he attempts to pull it backwards, then pauses. "Lothian also favors the swift, so be ready to bolt."

Tucker feels a chill run down his spine as he realizes his back is to the now-silent statues. There is an air of waiting watchfulness in the darkened room.

"Evil as our host might be, he is still badly outnumbered, so we can hit him eight times to his one," Emmerson says, preparing his warhammer. "Renraw, I'd rather have you standing far from the sarcophagus and out of harm's way. Fire a spell, if you are able, but leave the hand-to-hand fighting to us.

"I am ready, Tucker."

"I'll protect the wizard, if no one else will," Tock announces, taking Renraw by the arm and walking with him toward the shattered seal, "If only to keep the asshighs from bringing up their mothers again."

"You needn't worry about me, Grant," Renraw coughs. "I'm this close to finding my own way out of here, anyway. Perhaps to find someone who'll heal me without requiring I service their ego."

Tosh draws his rapier as the two humans approach, Tock's remark about gnomish mothers clearly having stung.

"There's a very nice bit of shadow a bit down the stairs that should hide you both. Don't let me keep you, now, hurry along." He turns toward the group surrounding the sarcophagus, then turns back as though in an afterthought.

Tock puts Renraw behind him in the doorway and draws his bow and readies an arrow.

"Shadows can't hide this handsome face, rogue."

Hazel sighs and readies her battleaxe.

"Fools rush in ... "

Emus moves far enough away to charge if anything comes out of the sarcophagus.

Ragglus squints at the sarcophagus as he lifts his shield up just so that his eyes peek over the top, sticking with his theory from earlier.

Bufer grabs hold of the gold nugget hanging round his neck as he watches the Tucker intently as he makes to pop open the lid.

"Hey, anytime you feel the need to start servicing my ego there, Kem, you go right ahead," he tosses over his shoulder. "Just remember: Lots of spit, lots of tongue."

"Yes, you do the priesthood proud, don't you?" Renraw turns to Chandler, muttering. "I clearly just told him I would not be doing that. I'm not sure how I'm even to respond to that kind of 'banter.' Vulgarity for vulgarity' sake only. Crude even for a subhuman."

After a moment, Renraw realizes Tock is ignoring him as well.

"No offense, friend Tock, but I do hope you're not the only one to leave this place with something of value. I'd hate to think I wasted my time with these fools."

"Eyes front, ladies," Ragglus barks, still watching as Tucker opens the sarcophagus. "Cut the bickering; we've got somethin' evil to be ready for."

The stone lid scrapes back across the opening of the sarcophagus. By the flickering torchlight, Hazel notices that it appears to be filled with a large stone object and then the torch dims in her hand as the lid comes off, loudly slamming on the floor and Tucker grunts as he backs into solid stone.

The room is darker than it was, and colder, and then the darkness opens its eyes and screams, the sound like a dying child. The eyes are yellow and burning with anger. The creature spreads its wings, wider than a man is tall, still screaming through its black beak.

The other adventurers are dimly visible through the shadowy creature as it flies at Emmerson, black talons outstretched.

Through the shield, Emmerson feels his arm grow cold, but he jerks it back before any lasting harm is done. The return swing of his warhammer hits nothing -- it's difficult to see where the creature is in the dimmed light and given its translucency.

The sound of the creature's scream gets almost drowned out a moment as Emus races forward, howling, his greatclub whistling as it comes. The club strikes something, although the dwarf could not say what, exactly.

Hazel steps forward from her vantage point and swings her battleaxe at where she thinks the creature is, her blade striking home silently.

Tock lets an arrow fly, and it soars into one yellow eye of the beast, which screams even louder.

Ragglus lowers his shield and swings with his flail, the heads slamming one after another into the thing.

The thing's scream reaches an ear-splitting pitch and suddenly, at its loudest and highest point, stops altogether and the torchlight suddenly returns to its full brightness, seemingly almost blinding after the gloom of a moment before.

Tock's arrow drops to the ground with a clatter, the wood shaft pitted and ruined. Tosh is the first to notice that Emmerson's shield likewise bears the marks of the beast: Great black streaks where its claws scrabbled at the metal shield stain it now.

Of the beast itself, there is no sign. It's simply gone.

 

[Whizbang Dustyboots]

Hazel slowly turns in a circle, wondering if the creature has just slipped into one of the room's dark shadows. She peers up at the ceiling to check there, too, and conceals a shudder at the thought of the winged creature dropping down on them. Seeing nothing, she cautiously steps toward the open sarcophagus and look in without leaning over it, trying to catch a better glimpse of the object inside.

Muttering a blessing in Celestial, Emmerson drops his scarred shield to the ground.

"Well done, everyone," he says. "Father will be pleased to hear his son has a future as a meat-shield."

Bufer blinks in the sudden brightness and hesitantly looks around at the others.

"I'm sorry," he says, "But did we actually just win?"

"I'm not quite sure if holding a nugget in your little paw did much, but some of us at least seem to have won," Tock sneers.

"Tsk," Bufer mutters as he releases his hold on his fetish. "Unappreciated in my own time, that's what I am. Kem, you still with us? Haven't succumbed to your injuries or your own stubborn pride, yet?"

"I'm here," Renraw answers weakly. He pokes his head around the stairs and takes a few meek steps out into the room. "Pride still in tact, thank Io. If only one could say the same of your integrity. I'm still attempting to determine what kind of twisted morality could account for exposing someone so near death as I to the heinous evil to which we were just witness. Would you really rather I die than let me continue without calling you 'sir?' Or did you honestly expect me to prostrate myself before you?

"'Oh, wise gnome,'" the sarcasm drips through, "Truly you've taught me the folly of my ways.' I honestly only half-believed all the old stereotypes about you creatures. But you're teaching me to reexamine those doubts, aren't you?"

"Renraw, you may want to consider keeping an eye out on those stairs," Tosh says, looking up from inside of the sarcophagus. "That thing made enough noise to wake a bear."

In response, Tock fits a new arrow, watching down the hallway.

"Oh, yes, I'd love to watch the stairs for an angry bear," Renraw wheezes. "I'm in the perfect condition for that, or hadn't you noticed?"

He sees the brutes fooling about with the sarcophagus and once again cowers pathetically behind Tock.

Inside the sarcophagus is not a body or bodies, but a stone slab, carved with scenes of robed men served by larger, owl-headed warriors. As Hazel moves the torch, it becomes obvious that it's not one stone slab, but a series of them, stacked top each other, were kept inside an object that only appeared to be a coffin from the outside.

As Tosh peeks over the edge, he can see what appears to be a subtle hinge line around the edge of the top slab, and a small hole on the side that might be a keyhole.

Where the creature rested inside the "sarcophagus," they can't see -- it must have either laid very, very flat or somehow not taken up space with the lid on.

Tosh examines the inner lid and hinge line and keyhole, trying to discern whether or not he'll get another nasty surprise in meddling with it. The keyhole pulls him like an obsession, an itch that must be scratched, a challenge that must be met. But he's also quite aware that he's injured and a trap could well be the end of him. Patience and care is the order of the day here.

Feeling reasonably secure that there are no immediate threats to his safety, Tosh reaches into his backpack for a small folded leather case. He opens it carefully and looks critically at the "keyhole." He selects a couple of narrow implements with odd crooks and prongs and inserts them into the opening and probes about for resistance.

The ancient lock is built a little differently than modern ones, but once Tosh understands how, the lock scrapes open and the top slab is unlocked.

"There you go." The gnome thinks the shadow thing and lack of space for it to hide in and steps away from the slab, just in case. He slips his tools back into their case and draws his rapier. "If one of you folk wearing the tin cans would be so kind as to open that?"

"Want to do the honors, Tucker," Emmerson asks, picking up his scarred shield, "Or shall I?"

"Paladin, I think you should do it," Tock offers from the hallway. "The task requires someone literate."

Tucker nods to Emmerson.

"I'll do the lifting, you do the raining down of holy vengeance," Reassured that the Paladin's attempt to detect evil proved the box safe, Tucker begins to open the lid, then stops. "There were no traps on this thing, right?"

Tosh shrugs.

"I didn't see any."

Tucker finds the slab harder to open than he at first expected -- these stone hinges were shut before Aventus sank into the Southern Sea, before Lothian ascended to godhood, before the Tarsisian Empire was formed -- but with a grinding creak, the hinges turn and the slab opens, revealing a large antique mirror with a heavy decorative bronze frame inside.

Overcome by curiosity, Tock abandons Renraw to guard the hallway alone. The wizard whimpers before following a moment later.

"Hmmm. Many songs have been sung of magicians who use mirrors, or mirrors that are magical themselves," Tock says. "If one of the brutes could take that mirror out, we could all benefit from a closer study of it. I have a cousin that is very knowledgeable of these things. Between he, Renraw, and I, we should figure out what's going on here."

"Mirrored eyes in the entryway, a mirror mask on the statue over there and a big mirror in a box?" Tucker says. "Whoever built this place was more in love with their own reflection than even Tock."

"They probably had less reason, though," Tock replies. "kidding aside, Tucker, could you and Grant set it up here?"

"Wait. I imagine it'll take at least two to pull it out of there, and I think it might be wise to have a look in case whomever put it there didn't want it removed," Tosh says. "Hazel? The torch if you would."

"I'll proceed to the lifting after it's been checked," Emmerson says.

"Yes, well, as I said before, mirrors are often very important in the arcane," Renraw lectures, ignoring the physical labor going on. "Some wizards use them to scry. It requires powerful magic, but it's even possible to cast spells on different times and places viewed using a mirror."

Hazel stands behind Tosh to give him direct light for his search. Her gaze darts between the gnome's hands and the statue's eyes. Her axe is tucked back in its sheath so she has a free hand to grab the gnome if he springs a trap.

"There doesn't seem to be anything tricky about it," Tosh says. "But it's going to dreadfully heavy, with that frame. Go ahead and try to get it out of there."

"Ready when you are, Tucker," Emmerson puts away his warhammer and shield and grabs one end of the mirror. He gives it a small pull to size up how heavy it is.

The pair carefully lift the heavy mirror out of its stone box. The backing of the mirror is also solid bronze, and also decorated; it was clearly meant to be viewed both back and front.

Emmerson picks up the side that could be interpreted as the top, so lifts his side of the mirror higher and motions to Tucker to lower his.

"We can hold it upright with a bit of effort. Or do you folks want us to set it against the wall or on the floor?"

Ragglus' face falls as he looks on the mirror. Emus, coming down from his adrenaline rush, says what's on both their minds: "A looking glass? That ugly beast was guarding a looking glass? There's gotta be somethin' more interesting that that!"