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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Shemeska" data-source="post: 2813255" data-attributes="member: 11697">The excavated hillside stood out against the grassy surface of the other mounds, especially as the hunks of uprooted sod and piles of brown earth and stones were in stark contrast to the pale, winter-bleached brown patina of the Great Dale, and the inch of snow that covered the unmolested ground. Some twenty feet down into the hard-packed, frozen soil of the barrow though, the earthen wound of spilled grave dirt opened to reveal the underlying archway and sealed entry into the stone mastaba obscured below.    The original exploratory trench leading from the surface of the barrow down to the sealed doorway had been widened and expanded over the past hour, owing to the tireless labor of the Thayan’s undead servants. The animated corpses trudged back and forth wordlessly, digging up the soil, loading it into baskets, and hauling them out to dispose of their contents.    “You have to admit.” Odesseron said, looking down at the now exposed surface of the door. “They constructed the tomb of their god and his priests well. The runes and pictures painted into the plaster over the stone are still legible.”    Velkyn raised an eyebrow and looked at the necromancer. “Doesn’t that worry you though? If it’s that pristine, they’re likely to still have any original defenses against tomb robbers intact. Glyphs? Symbols? That sort of joy to our line of work.”    Odesseron shrugged. “Well there obviously aren’t any on the main door into the tomb.”    “You already checked?”    “No need.” He replied curtly. “The zombies, or the one apprentice I sent in afterwards to watch over them, would have already triggered any such gifts to heretics and infidels such as ourselves.”    Velkyn held his tongue. The red wizard displayed a callous disregard to his apprentices, and as he continued to provide examples of that in practice, it was grating more and more on the half-drow. While he was more or less a necromancer himself, though not to the obscene levels of specialization, and exclusion of other schools of magic, that the Thayan was, he came from a distinctly different background and a distinctly less hostile master/apprentice relationship.    “Once we open the tomb it seems like a good idea at least to probe it with the undead.” Velkyn said. “We can send them ahead of us to avoid risking any of ourselves.”    If the Thayan noticed the other wizard’s subtle head motion towards the apprentices, he gave no acknowledgement of it. But their conversation was largely over anyways, as soon the zombies had fully excavated a sufficiently wide entrance down to the tomb’s sealed entry. A moment later, as soon as the undead laborers had moved out of the way, Velkyn, Victor and Inva approached the door alongside Odesseron.The doorway itself was flush with the archway of stone that bordered it, sealed over with a thick layer of smooth plaster. In places the stone or plaster seal was chipped or eroded by the freeze-thaw cycle of the millennia, but such weathering was the exception rather than the rule. By and large, the stone was crisp as the day it had been cut and transported to the site, and the elaborate paintings and words on the plaster seal were still vivid and legible, if faded in places.    Legible of course if one spoke whatever ancient dialect of Untheric script sprawled across it as part artform and part graveplate.    “Speak Untheric?” Velkyn asked the red wizard.    “Not a drop of it.” He replied. “It’s a dying language even in Unther, the written script at least, and there was never any reason for me to bother learning it. And this is so ancient I doubt a scribe in what’s left of that nation would be able to garner more than the general idea of any given piece.”    As the two wizards proceeded to mildly bicker over the meaning of the script, and the utility of magic in deciphering it, Inva stepped forward and glanced over the text. It was bizarre compared to the Thorass alphabet, or even the letters of Espruar, and it was distinctly different from any of the planar alphabets. Still though, Inva had seen it before, and she was familiar enough with the modern variant of the script to work out its general themes within the context of the accompanying artwork.    “Well don’t you think it might be important for us to have some clue as to who might actually be buried here?” Velkyn said.    “We’re going to be breaking the door down shortly one way or the other.” Odesseron said with a shrug.    “Without waiting to study the door and use whatever means we might have to decipher it?” The half-drow asked. “We might not speak it, but there are ways around that if you’re willing to stand the cold out here a bit longer. The barrows aren’t going anywhere.”    “It doesn’t matter as much to me to read it and cherry pick among the mounds.” Odesseron retorted. “You may be after one thing in specific, but I’m here to gather whatever of worth I can manage to isolate. We’ve already uncovered one tomb entrance, so I’ve little reason to leave it sealed and go dig up the door to another.”    Running her fingers over the chisel marks of the cuneiform script cut into the plaster, Inva muttered something under her breath in Abyssal as her tail tip lashed back and forth in subtle irritation. But as long as they were bickering, they weren’t putting hammers to the door and she had a chance to try to piece together some meaning from it.    Ten minutes later, the pair of wizards were still chattering, and shortly thereafter, they noticed that Inva was talking.    “Blah blah blah… don’t violate this tomb… blah blah blah… praise Nergal…” Inva began, tracing her index finger across the main blocks of script.    “You can translate Untheric?” Odesseron asked skeptically.    “Sort of…” Inva said with a shrug, still paying more attention to the cuneiform than to who was asking her questions. “Just enough to get an rough idea of what it’s talking about.”    “Where on Toril were you from again?” Velkyn quipped    Inva just smiled and didn’t answer the question.    “So what does it say?” Odesseron asked.    “I’ll get to that if you’ll let me.” She said, slowly motioning with her tail like a third hand for him to be patient. “And don’t rip the door down till I’m done, if you don’t too terribly mind.”    The red wizard held up his own hands in polite contrition.    “It’s someone important, or at least somewhat so.” Inva went on to explain. “This is hazy about if they were considered royalty or not, but whoever they were, they held a position of honor in the eyes of Nergal.”    “So possibly priesthood? Possibly a relative of the royal family?” Velkyn said.    “Seems reasonable.” Odesseron admitted.    “And there’s some sort of warning here as well…” Inva added.    “There are no overt traps upon the door itself.” Odesseron said. “I’ve already looked for anything that might be triggered magically, to say nothing of having had no such ill effects of touching the door, or being in close proximity to it.”    Upon overhearing his comments, Odesseron’s apprentices collectively shuddered. If their master had his way, they were going to be among the first people into the tomb, probing it for wards at the very least, and possibly having to subdue any tomb guardians. The senior red wizard was using the barrow mounds as much to sate his own greed as he was using it as a brutal trial by fire for their education.    “What sort of warning?” Velkyn asked.    “I’m getting to that.” Inva replied. “But I think we’re out of luck…”    “Oh?” The half-drow questioned.    “It’s saying something about performing specific rituals and saying specific prayers.” Inva explained.    “Damn it.” Odesseron muttered. “It’s not a door that was ever meant to be opened.”    “Yeah.” Inva said. “There’s something worked into the magic of the mounds that probably would have allowed for priests to enter without disturbing any wardings or opening the doors after they had been sealed. Something about passage as ‘unto the breath of Nergal’, but it’s all in metaphor, and I’m not familiar with the religion, just some of the language. So the easy way in isn’t an option.”    “Exactly.” Odesseron said. “Unless we’re willing to leave, study Untheric religion for a decade, and potentially freeze out here in the snow while we unravel just what each thread of magic drifting through the individual mounds does in a larger context, we’re not going to be getting in the easy way.”    “Well,” Velkyn said. “There’s still the direct way, but it’s unlikely to be easy if it activates the tomb’s guardians. I’d have hoped to prevent that.”    “Which there will be.” Inva said. “There’s a line here about someone resting under the watchful eyes of the honored dead and those bound into service to Nergal. Something like that.”    “That ever so lovely succubus is in there somewhere…” Phaedra remarked. “Sodding Tanar’ri.”    “Undead won’t be a problem.” Victor said with a smile, briefly lifting his holy symbol to his lips and kissing it. “Between myself and that priest of Kossuth you know…”    The thayan didn’t reply. His bluff was in the past, and it scarcely mattered now. He could accept their barbs for the moment because he needed them. His apprentices were talented, but eventually they and he would run out of spells if they attempted to plunder the barrows by themselves.    “In any event, once we’re inside we should expect more of the same of what we’ve seen over the last few nights.” Victor said. “On top of that, bound demons seem something specific to some of the mounds, including this one. I’d prefer to simply dispose of guardian undead myself.”    Victor turned to look at Odesseron, then Velkyn, and finally the thayan’s apprentices.    “But if you must show off, or feel you can use them.” The cleric added. “Taking control of any undead inside is an option. Not –my- option mind you, but knock yourself out I suppose.”    Odesseron nodded and gave the door one last look, more to judge its strength, and where to direct his servants to rip it apart, batter it down, or push it inwards more so than for any interest in the writing upon its face.    “Hold on, before you go taking down the door.” Velkyn said. “I think we should make certain just what we’ll be doing inside here.”    “Percentages, yes…” Odesseron nodded contritely. “It is on your side of the original dividing line.”    “We’re only interested in one particular object however.” Velkyn stated. “So in the interest of further cooperation, we’re willing to increase your percentage if you work with us towards finding out where this object is and how to get into the mound that it’s in.”    “We discussed this earlier today.” Inva said, giving a very quick glance over to Marcus.    For his part, Victor’s brother didn’t say a word. He’d bickered somewhat over the percentages, especially with Inva and Phaedra, thinking that they were giving away too much to the red wizard in exchange for his aid. And with the tiefling and the… whatever she was… looking in his direction, he wasn’t going to argue in public, especially in front of the Thayan.    “Oh?” Odesseron questioned.    “We’ll give you a full half share even though this tomb is on our side of the line.” Velkyn said. “We think that’s more than fair, and the increased cooperation reduces the risk to both of us.”    “And in the end, we’ll both be walking away better for this.” Inva said. “We’re not from anywhere near Thay, so frankly we don’t care if you set yourself up as Tharchon or Zulkir with whatever you get out of this little treasure hunt. We’re not involved in the least.”    “We’re not competitors.” Velkyn said. “So keep that in mind today, and afterwards as well. We can both benefit from this.”    Odesseron smiled and nodded. “Understood.”    Velkyn rubbed his hands together. “That said, go ahead and take down the doors.”    The thayan turned and belted out an order to several of his apprentices, then stepped back to the very edge of where he could still get a clean look. He was taking no chances with his personal safety based on what they knew about the mounds, and what they had already seen over the previous few nights. The ancient untherites had no intention of allowing their dead to be disturbed.    Taking the same precautions, the others likewise stepped back and prepared themselves for whatever might occur when the tomb was opened.    “Break the seal.” Odesseron ordered. “Open the doors and let’s see what we shall see.”***    The hiss of stirring air, the sudden release of thousands of years of positive pressure echoed through the length of the tomb, all but a moment separated from the explosion and shudder of the seal being ripped from its moorings. Light, for a few scant feet into the depths, touched upon stone that had known nothing but the dark, suffocating grasp of burial for so many long years, like the kiss of Nergal himself. Air compressed and the shock wave of the barrow’s violation shuddered back like a crack of thunder, rattling through the invisible threads of magic girding the passages, the empty sockets of warriors sacrificed to forever remain at their posts, and then to within a few steps of the sarcophagi of the honored dead themselves.    Thirty feet distant from the undisturbed burial chamber of Damqi-ilishu, architect and high craftsman to the family of Nergal’s beloved, a pair of eyes twitched beneath their lids, and lips parted and cast away their chrysalis of dust. In the darkness, within the iron hard boundary of the painted circle, within the depression that was her bowl of scripture and nails, a maze of words, invocations and pain, her open prison, Ingella of Torremor opened her eyes and licked at the air.    “The seal is broken…” She whispered softly, tasting the influx of scent and emotion carried by the intruding breeze.    The tomb robbers had paused in that moment after ripping open the doors, stepping to the threshold and peering in, but not yet crossing the boundary. She could taste the concern and caution of mortals lifting their lamps and staring into her sanctum, her hated-honored protectorate. She could taste the overwhelming greed of another like wine to her lips, the fear of others like bloody flesh to savor, and then the resentment and fury of another like a ripe bit of fruit at the end of a meal.    One of them stepped across the boundary.    “They have crossed the line…”    One of the unliving.    “Instruct me Severesthifek. What do you wish me to do?”    Flame and fury sparked and blossomed in her mind as the Balor gave its answer: Find freedom. Find release. Find blood. And then find me.    I will obey. I will enjoy…    Ingella smiled with purpose and preamble in the moment before the first of the wards was triggered.***    The first break in the seal came from the hit of a heavy, blunt sledge carried by one of Odesseron’s zombie ogres. There was a sharp crack and the subsequent crumble of stone falling inwards, and then the immediate release of pressurized air from within. It was cold and stale as it washed out over them, blowing their hair, raising goose bumps across their flesh, and serving as a gentle beckon towards them into the barrow’s interior.    Several more blows and the door crumbled completely, letting daylight flood into the first ten feet of a downward sloping passage into the interior of the barrow. Tiny icicles of nitre hung from the ceiling were the barest bits of rainwater had leached through the stone over the years, but otherwise the stone was bare and unadorned. No decoration, no guardians, no suggestion of danger.    That however, was moments before the first of the undead stepped into the passage and was crushed by the sudden and lethal descent of a several ton pillar of stone from the ceiling. The passage was not completely blocked, but the ogre and one of the hobgoblins had been reduced to inanimate pulp splattered liberally across the threshold.    “No –apparent- traps.” Velkyn said with a sigh. “Joy…”    “Well…” Phaedra said grimly. “Nice to know that we’re welcome.”</blockquote>

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