Inizii -- Logs

The shimmering, moaning wall of negative force begins to crackle, the spirits seeming to groan their protest, until the greenish glow dims, the spirit wall evaporating into nothingness, leaving simply the bone walls blocking each stair.

Kyrel nods. "Didn't think that one would last too long. The bone wall is still a problem, though."

Silniya eyes it curiously. "Well, we could try and break through it?" Turning to Kyrel, "Unless you have a spell that would blast it in."

Derleth looks at it critically. "Ah c'd try an dispel it...nae guarantee it woul' work, though."

Kyrel says, "No, there never is a guarantee, and he's a stronger mage than either of us. Blasting it I could do, but it'd make a mess of anything behind it."

The werewoman shrugs. "Getting rid of any nasty surprises that lurk behind?"

Kyrel says, "Or any pleasant ones, as well. Still, it might be easiest to do that. But... let's try dispelling it first. I'd prefer to reserve the blasting spells for mobile opponents."

Derleth nods, clasping his medallion and holding out a hand, his fingers outstretched towards the bone wall. "Lliara, grant me the power to send this creation back to the Weave..." he murmurs. Oddly, his accent disappears when praying to his patron Goddess. Magic crackles in the air faintly, but Derleth is immediately aware, as is soon obvious to all, that the attempt was repelled by the more powerful structure.

Kyrel frowns. "Not good. I suppose the two of you could carry us up before the flight spells wear off."

Azler pauses, looking more carefully from his vantage point on the balcony. "Hey. There aren't arms on my side." He smirks a little, and starts down the left side steps.

Derleth arches an eyebrow. "Mebbe twould be easier t'bash t' pieces from that side, then..."

The Ilmaterian continues down the stairs, disappearing behind the wall. "It may take me a minute or two; this thing looks thick." The sound of his morning star crashing against the back fills the air moments later, the bones clacking as they strike against one another.

After over a minute of pounding, a hole is breached through the boney structure, Azler's morning star poking through the shattered hole. It doesn't take much longer before he's cleared out a good five foot swath - all that's left of that section is powder, bone, and twitching skeletal limbs.

Kyrel says, "So... let's see what's upstairs."

Azler nods, and turns. "Who had the torch?"

Kyrel gestures with the magic torch he carries. "That'd be me."

Derleth moves and picks up the lightstone, its own enchantment yet burning.

The Ilmaterian nods, and holds his morning star, the light spell glowing upon it, at ready. Silniya, still in her hybrid half-wolf form, has her blades bared, and takes the rear position. "Up we go."

Derleth looks around at the others. "Ah vote, that when we find out where we are, we call in th' cavalry. This battle's nae yet finished, and who knows how many yet we might face."

Kyrel agrees. "Aye. But for now, let's make sure anyone here doesn't escape."

Derleth hmms, something occurring to him then. "Azler, did ye check th' mage's body?"

The other cleric nods. "Aye, there were some things on him, two rings and an amulet. Yet, I didn't feel right taking it, until I had one of you inspect it."

Derleth nods. "Sound reasoning, aye."

Kyrel says, "Especially with a necromancer..." He steps past the still twitching bones gingerly. The four start up the stairs. When Azler is nearly half way up, Derleth and Kyrel behind him, there's the faint sound of skittering, followed by the distinctly unpleasant sensation of pain. Torchlight picks out small flickers of white, running about the steps, trying to get under stepping feet. All three on the stairs feel sharp stabbing pains. The cause quickly becomes apparent; mouse skeletons have come out of tiny nooks along the stairway, with leather straps supporting a single caltrop each. They scurry over boots, finding no feet to jump beneath now.

Kyrel swears in Elvish, swiping at the annoying little creatures. "Of all the... someone has a very nasty sense of humor."

Derleth winces. "Ah'd ne'er ha' thought o' a necromancer bein' so damn cunnin'."

Azler swears under his breath, and brings down the Morning star, splintering a step, and missing the little bony mouse that skitters out of the way. "Perhaps turning these would be appropriate..."

Derleth growls, brandishing his medallion. "Flee before Lliara's light, vermin!" he snarls.

The mice are simply turned to dust and loose bone, and the caltrops bounce briefly before coming to rest.

Derleth smiles lightly. "Mebbe I should open a shop. "Undead Rat Exterminator."

Kyrel staggers. "Uh-oh... Better get those things swept off the steps. I think they were poisoned..."

Azler smirks, and nods to himself. "Well then, Up we..." He turns, peering curiously at Kyrel. "What of you, mage?"

Kyrel says, "I... don't feel too good. My legs are going numb."

Derleth curses. "Get him down below, man. Let me treat th' poison." He fumbles through his things for his healer's kit for the herbs and tools necessary.

Azler swears darkly, and carefully moves down the steps to the mage. Hanging his weapon on his belt, he places hands under the mage's arms. "Here we go," He starts to lift, stepping carefully, to avoid the poisoned little barbs.

Azler gives a sigh, "And, me without a divination to cure poison... I hadn't expected going out on this expedition..."

Derleth winces as he carefully moves down to the floor, his own feet hurt by the caltrops. "Ah still might b' able t' help, wi'out prayers... Azler, ye take yer boots off as well...ah'll deal with yer foot wound once ah'm done wi' Ky.""

Azler nods towards Derleth. "I'm schooled in the healing arts, magical and non, as well, friend." Silniya, sheathing a sword, helps the priest carry down Kyrel.

Derleth kicks away the bones so there's a flat, safe space to lay Kyrel down. The mage is set down, and Azler removes the damaged boot, brushing away bits of rodent skeleton. Derleth grimaces, grinding some herbs together with a mortar and pestle, and adding a little water to create a thin paste...and then applying it to the wound. He frowns, looking at the wound, and then Kyrel. "There's nae way to tell iff'n it helped...but at least he's getting nae worse. Least ah kin help him walk okay 'gain."

Kyrel is sitting slumped against the wall. "Seems to have stabilized, at least. I wonder what was on those things..."

Azler then sits down, and begins unlacing his own boot, grimacing at the spot, and shaking his head. Silniya, meanwhile, is sniffing the stairs suspiciously, hunting for any further traps involving the undead.

Derleth says, "Nothin fatal, surprisin'ly." He bandages Kyrel's foot and then replaces the boot, before sitting down and pulling off his own. "Ah hate caltrops...a most dastardly yet quite effective weapon..."

Azler glances towards Derleth, "Shall we fix one another up, then?"

Derleth chuckles. "Cannae say nae t' such a kind offer." The two clerics quickly repair the damage to each other's feet. "There," The Ilmaterian says, slipping his boot on. "Good to go."

Kyrel stays seated, resting while the others are bandaged, then slowly gets up. "That was definitely unpleasant."

Silniya glances back. "Stairs seem relatively clear. I've searched high and low. Let's not test the other stairs; they're likely booby trapped as well."

After carefully navigating the stairs, the four surround Lord Grim's corpse; even in death it seems very well preserved, except for the bony claw. And, as Azler reported, on either hand shine rings, and an amulet hangs from the man's neck; some fang from a beast, encased in gold.

Silniya glances expectantly at Kyrel. "Can you tell what the items do?"

Kyrel murmurs, "Not by looking at them..." as he pulls off one of the rings and looks at it carefully.

Derleth says, "Let's hope naether of them gave 'im 'is charmin' personality."

Kyrel tries the second ring, since the first seems to be plain gold and unadorned. This one holds a green gemstone, and arcane script runs along the interior. Kyrel says, "Interesting..." He reads the inscription softly, his voice hissing in the Draconic tongue. "Although ye may not see it, the shield be there." He translates for the others.

Derleth, seeing as he could provide no insight on the magic items, keeps a close eye on the doors atop the balcony, wary from Ky's earlier indication that a demon or half-demon might be lurking about. He blinks as Kyrel speaks draconic. "That sounds lak a snake with a throat problem."

Kyrel grins. "Well, that's what it says. Maybe a ring of protection."

"Mayhap we should just pocket them, and wait until we can identify them later?" Silniya offers.

Kyrel nods. "I've got one detect magic spell left, and I don't want to use it until we've got everything together."

Azler shrugs, and holds out his hands. "Allow me, then, I'll pocket them for the time being."

Kyrel nods. "Might as well. We'll see what else we find up here." He hands the rings to the cleric. "So. Which door shall we start with?"

Derleth grunts. "We might be lingering under the Lady's favor. Ye'd think iff'n anyone else knew we wert here, they would ha' attacked us by now."

Azler looks around idly. "Shall we work left to right?"

Kyrel shrugs. "Works for me."

Silniya glances toward Derleth. "That reminds me... We have a cleanup to do."

Derleth uhs? to Silniya. "Cleanup?"

She nods. "The apprentice."

Derleth scratches his chin. "Well, ah'd nae say that the apprentice be the most worrisome at th' moment...th' Talonites be the power b'hind his threat. We'll worry about Grim's lackey later."

Azler looks at the left door, examining it closely, before putting his hand on the knob. "He wouldn't have trapped this door, would he?"

Kyrel says, "I wouldn't count on that. Anyone who'd make animated mouse skeletons with poisoned caltrops on them could do almost anything."

Derleth looks wryly at Azler. "Th' man has a point." He sighs. "What ah wouldnae give now fer a light-fingers. Ah'd even take a priest o' Mask.."

Silniya glances amid the faces. "Then, either we smash in the door, or leave them?"

Kyrel says, "My guess would be that two of them are traps and the third is the real door..."

Azler takes his hand off the door knob again, now looking worried. "Perhaps, Derleth, you'd care to do the honours?"

Derleth says, "Smash them, Sil. We still ha' the find the Talonites, an I doubt we'll find em back th' other way." He nods and swings his flail, striking at the area around the doorknob of the first door.

The well decorated and carved wood with its ornate doorknob was obviously not built to withstand blows. The knob simply breaks off, and the door, unhindered by lock or trap, simply swings open. Light from a mutli-colored lamp and candles, send a glow into the upstairs landing.

Derleth looks untrustfully at the rainbow glow. He squints into the room beyond.

Azler looks around Derleth. "I'd say that solved the problem. Although it feels a little drastic. In any case, shall we? Kyrel's not getting any better."

The room seems to have been Grim's study. Spacious, and cluttered with an assortment of curiousities, novelties, and somewhat disturbing collectables. Bookshelves ring the walls, a table and chair set to one side with a chessgame yet to be finished. A smaller table beside holds half-finished drinks and snacks.

Derleth smiles grimly. "Ye an Ky can go in and loot. Ah wan t' check the other doors, first. Sil, cover me, iff'n ye will?"

Near the back, a high leather bound chair rests before a large and well-covered oak desk. The multi-colored lamp seems to play upon the prism hanging at one corner of the desk. A faint Click Snap Grind comes from one of the shelves.

Kyrel says, "I think we can wait to see what's behind them." He turns at the sound. "Wait a bit. What was that noise?"

Silniya nods, before glancing to Kyrel. "I think it best we at least snoop in his study. There could be a clue." Ears seem to turn in her hood. "I think it...came from one of the book cases."

Derleth grunts. "Ye three go in then. Ah'll cover our rear."

Kyrel steps slowly into the study, looking suspiciously at the walls and the glowing lamp and prism.

Silniya follows behind. As Kyrel inspects, he easily finds the source of the sound; an odd little contraption. Sitting on the shelf, is a small platform, on one side a clock, in the middle, what appears to be the animated skeleton of a squirrel, and on the other, a sandglass attached to the platform by a rotating hinge, only recently turned over. Judging by the size, it's likely to have an hour's worth of time in it. The clock's face is painted with only twelve numbers, its single hand unmoving now. The squirrel's skeletal paws are poised a centimeter from the sandglass.

Azler follows Kyrel in, looking thoughtfully at the chessgame. "Hmmmm. If he moves the queen there, then his opponent will have to ... No. That won't work."

Kyrel grins in relief. "Oh, clever. A squirrel skeleton programmed to operate an hour glass. Nothing dangerous."

Azler looks around at the traces of a convivial meeting. "I wonder who he was entertaining.

Kyrel says, "Indeed. Maybe that tiefling I saw?"

Silniya, thumbing across the book titles, shaking her head. At Kyrel's answer, she perks up. "Didn't the skeleton down stairs mention that the 'Wind of the Plague' was here?"

Derleth paces around outside, not trying to open the other doors without backup....he briefly considers using a spell to make himself invisible, in case of ambush, but decides not to, for now.

Kyrel nods. "That was my impression. Keep your eyes open, folks."

A soft thud, of wood meeting wood, drifts up from downstairs.

"Kyrel," Silniya opines, glancing around the room, "Shouldn't we inspect this place? Maybe another spell book will turn up, or he has some information on this whole deal."

Kyrel says, "Yes, but quickly. There's still noises happening."

A click, and the shuffle of leather scuffing wood can be heard. Several thuds follow in measured progression, becoming marginally louder.

The half-elf begins looking around the room, quickly but carefully checking the book titles while the werewolf looks through the desk. Silniya shuffles through the papers on it, then the drawers, and with a bark of triumph, holds up a leather-bound book. "I've found something."

Kyrel looks at Silniya's find. "Ah. His spell books, I hope. Sounds like we're going to have company soon."

She sets it on the desk, and opens it, skimming the first page. "No... but, something that might be useful... His journal."

Azler moves up to the desk, and looks curiously at the prism on the desk, peering through it. "Hm. Interesting..."

After the last thud, the silence is interrupted by a tentative "Master?"

Kyrel frowns. "Derleth, is someone out there?"

A door slams, two floors down.

SIlniya looks up at the varying noises, then hefts the book. "Should we claim this as ours?"

Kyrel says, "I think we'll need to look at this later." He holds his magic bag open for Silniya to put inside. "It definitely sounds like we're going to have company."

"Master?" The voice sounds worried, now.

Silniya nods, and drops the book into his bag. She gives another glance about, then takes up her swords. "Then, let's greet them." She starts as her foot comes down beside the chair, and glances down at the sound of hollow wood. "Hello..."

An older man, neatly dressed, hair thinning on the top of his head, darts out from underneath the balcony and heads for the front door, pulling on the doorknobs in a frenzy.

Derleth creeps back to the door, making a hushing noise, and then closes the door.

Derleth quickly casts a spell...one that makes him appear superficially like Grim, clawed hand and all, and tries to imitate the wizard's voice. "Calm yourself, apprentice."

The man looks up. "Master? I am not Caeln, I ... " He stops, his eyes narrowing. "You sound wrong. Who are you?"

Derleth coughs, trying to sound in pain. "Who else do you think I could be?" he says brandishing the illusionary clawed hand. "

The man straightens up. "Sir, this is the house of Master Grim. I do not know who you are, or why you are pretending to be him, but I must advise you that this is a most dangerous prank. The Master will not be amused. And the mess ... oh my, do you know how much work you've caused?"

Derleth growls, still trying to salvage the disguise. "I don't care to be questioned after I've had some of my more valuable servants destroyed by a bunch of annoying adventurers." He tries to muster something that would sound like an angry Grim.

A single eyebrow is raised high in obvious disbelief. "Indeed, sir. Perhaps you would now identify yourself. The master is kinder to those who are not fractious."

Derleth sighs. This isn't his day for deception. "Fine." he says in his regular drawl, dispelling the illusion. "I'm Derleth of Lliara, I an' me friends have already killed yer bloody Master, an' ah suggest ye nae try my patience, or I'll send ye t' Gythaxis's embrace as well. Stand where ye are or I'll cut ye down from here."

Silniya kneels down, pushing the chair aside, and lets her clawed hands rove over the floor, before opening it up. "Well, this should be interesting..." She reaches down, running her hands over the shallow pocket, and, slipping her finger into a knothole, pulls up a false floor. "This is very strange. All this trouble to make a hiding place, and nothing's inside..."

Kyrel tries to ignore the byplay outside the room. "Hmmm. A false floor below another one, maybe?"

Azler places the prism down. "Or, something we can't see?"

Kyrel shrugs. "Maybe..." He puts his hand into the opening, running it around the inside of the secret hiding place. Finding nothing there, he reaches deeper in, poking at the apparently empty space. "Ah-hah. There is something in here. Feels like a book, too. We'll deal with this later as well."

Azler picks up the prism again...and fumbles, letting the item bounce off the desk, and land beside the trap door. He Ilmaterian peeks over the edge of the desk. "Sorry."

Kyrel glances up, a bit annoyed. "Don't break things. And please don't drop them on me."

Azler grunts in response. The prism seems to have a few odd markings along one side.

Kyrel says, "Wait a bit... this may be something he hid in plain sight." He picks up the prism and peers at the markings. "I wonder...."

As Kyrel inspects the prism, he glances down...and through the wavy glass, can spy what looks like a dark-bound book, at the bottom of the hole.

Kyrel says, "Ah-hah. There we are. Prism of Seeing, or something like that. A convenient way to study invisible spell books."

Silniya continues to peer into the hole. "I don't see anything... should we take that, too?"

Kyrel says, "Oh, most definitely. Here.." He hands the prism to Silniya. "Look through it like so..."

She peers through, and hms, nodding her head. "I see..." Stooping down, she collects the book, though to the others, she seems to be hefting nothing at all.

Kyrel says, "Stuff it in the bag..." She nods, and drops both the book and the prism into the wizard's sack.

The man looks up, his eyes wide. "You've ... you have done what, sir? You're a bloody fool, Sir. And a right bastard to boot." His face twists into a worried sneer.

Derleth rolls his eyes, and grabs Grim's corpse, hauling it up over the railing for the man to see. "Fool, am I? He's the one that's dead. Unless ye wan' t' join him, ah suggest ye tell me everything ye know...starting with where the Talonites are holed up."

An audible sniff. "I see. And now you'll loot my Master's house, and then you'll despoil his body, and his daughter will have nothing left but the gutter. Sir, have done; impoverish the girl; I obviously cannot stop you. But some respect for the dead is hardly unheard of in the life of a cleric ..."

Derleth glares dangerously at the man. "Ah'm more respectful of men that d'nae attack me an mine wi' flaming skeletons, an plot with evil churches t' turn a city full of innocents inta a stagin' ground full of dead men an' women that are far more worthy of respect than yer master. Naew, are ye going to answer my questions, or do ah need t' fetch me werewolf compatriot t' nibble on yer liver a little first? Mind, man, yer master was not on the right side o' things here. Will you prove t' be likewise worthy of contempt by allowing Talona's church t' kill thousands?"

Silniya glances towards the door. "Derleth doesn't sound happy." Peering over at Kyrel. "So, do we take the clock, too? That's an interesting little thing."

The man raises his eyebrow again. "And never a thought for the reason why a man might be tied to his obligations, or why he might choose to guard his house from those who have obvious evil design on it. And never a thought for the staff who must bring order back to the wreckage louts leave behind. Very well. I shall tell you this; the master was so steeped in evil that he requested and I swore to him that his corpse would be cremated, when his time came, so that he might never serve unwillingly. And those ashes will go to the daughter he protected and whom you propose to impoverish."

Kyrel says, "Nah, that's a bit morbid for my taste. Let the daughter keep that. Besides, I think the squirrel's programming might overload if you stuffed it in a bag and jostled it around while it tried to keep time."

The werewoman shrugs her shoulders, in turn. "Fair enough."

Azler glances around the room. "Have we got what we need? Any reason to search the rest of the house?"

Kyrel has been listening to the conversation from outside. "We're here to stop an epidemic. The butler may be right about some things, and there's no reason to steal Grim's heirs blind if he's telling the truth. We've got what we came for, at least in part - let's check the rest of this part of the house and head back the way we came."

Derleth doesn't believe he's arguing ethics with Grim's butler, but he can't help but get angrier. "Ye can have yer master's body t' cremate....and ye can also have me word that we do not intent t' strip the place bare t' line our own pockets. Our intent, our single intent, is t' stop Talona's church, an all that stand wi' them. Your Master chose to oppose us, would nae negotiate, so we cut him down. And before ye speak of nae thoughts for this man's servants, be well aware that we did nae kill the poor girl down in the kitchen, louts though we might be, sirrah. Give me the information ah want: the location an intentions of Talona's get, an me an mine will leave this place."

Silniya glances to Kyrel curiously. "I didn't know the little man had it in him."

Kyrel says, "He's got unexpected depths, he does. Anything else in here?"

Azler glances about. "The books, but I doubt we should lug all those about."

Kyrel says, "They wouldn't all fit in my bag, either. Okay, let's head out. We've got his journal and, I believe, his spell book."

Grim's body, having slowly tilted, simply flops over on the floor again.

The other three push past the ruined door, and join the blustering cleric out on the balcony.

The man spreads his hands out by his side, pursing his lips narrowly. "The master who acted to protect his daughter, acted to protect his loyal servants. He gives the Church of Talona no weapon in his body; why give it the weapon of knowledge? So, sir, will you give this weapon to the church, or will you aid in the cremation? I have only a short time in which to complete the process; the church will not see it done."

Kyrel stops on hearing that last request. "Derleth? I think this is something we can do. It's a good idea anyway."

Derleth glares at the butler, and then turns around, taking out a flask of oil, and dumping it over Grim's corpse. Seeing the others come out, he grudgingly nods to them. "Someone 'elp me cremate Grim, iff'n ye could."

Silniya eyes the cleric curiously. "Well, I don't think we want to cremate the entire second floor with him."

The man looks up. "There is a much better place in the kitchen. And if I may now fetch the urn for the ashes? Honestly, some clerics. No respect.

Derleth clenches his fists, but says nothing. "Fine he says frustratedly. "Ye take care of it. Ah wash me hands o' it." His face is flushed, partly with anger, and partly from feeling that he's been made a fool of.

Kyrel says, "C'mon, help me drag him downstairs..."

Silniya sheathes her weapons, and nods to Azler, who moves to the head of the body. Both lift, and start to carry the dead wizard down the steps.

The man walks back under the balcony, opening up what looks to be a wall panel. "Right, follow me. The Master had the oven built to accomodate his needs. After the cremation, I hope you will finish speedily so that I might secure the house and deliver the woeful news to the young mistress?"

Derleth doesn't speak, lurking behind the others as he tries to bring his outrage under control.

Kyrel says, "I think we have what we need already. We're not here to be burglars, just to get information."

Azler and Silniya move the corpse through the servant's door, and through the slim hallway. Kyrel follows, still talking to the servant. "If he's such a thoughtful fellow, how'd he get mixed up in this business in the first place....?"

That task accomplished, the four make their way back through the tunnel to the hole leading up into the cemetery. The torch casts light down the way, showing the opened holes where coffins rested, now only dismal, empty sockets.

The sound of digging and excavating tools can still be heard, coming from the other end of the tunnel.

Silniya glances at the others, then down the tunnel. "So, do we tie up this end, or...?"

Kyrel says, "I know where the Thieve's Guild is, so there's no reason to go up the tunnel to get there, even if the tunnel leads that far. Let's go far enough to make them think we tried, if it does, burn off my last lightning bolt, and then withdraw to the Temple until we can to renew our spells."

Derleth sighs, seeming to have lost much of his earlier starch. "As ye see fit, Kyrel. Let's hope we c'n at least d'lay the Talonites from acting with what damage we've done..."

The four move down the tunnel, the sound of picking growing louder. As they near the source, a skeleton comes into view...then another, and another, two more. They all wield pickaxes, chipping away at the walls, just beneath the ceiling.

Kyrel nods. "Working party. Shall we take them out?"

Derleth fingers his medallion. "Could just make 'em run."

Azler nods. "Allow me." He steps up, and raises his holy symbol. "By Ilmater's Tears, begone!"

The skeletons simply drop their picks, and begin fleeing down the tunnel.

Kyrel says, "Well, that's going to get someone's attention. Let's see where they go."

Heading down the tunnel further, a "What?" can be heard, reverberating off the walls. The digging's getting louder, and soon, magelight can be spotted, splashing the wall from a source around a corner up ahead.

Derleth glances back at Kyrel. "Ye're welcome t' just fry 'im from here."

Kyrel whispers back, "Around a corner? Let's move up until we can see what's happening, at least."

Derleth shrugs. "An it please thee."

Kyrel nods. "And put away our lights. Don't want to give ourselves away to them." He's already stuffed his continual flame torch into his bag of holding.

Moving further down, the bend in the tunnel can be seen much more clearly. The skeletons, most of them, seem to have just run straight into the wall. Around the corner steps a young man in dark robes.

Derleth shrugs. "The apprentice. Feel free t' cook 'is goose, Kyrel."

Kyrel says, "Seems a waste of a spell... he hasn't seen us yet. Maybe we can rush him?"

The mage makes a squawk, reaching out his hand. A raven flutters into view, landing on his shoulder. It glances down the dark hallway.

Derleth grimaces at the raven. "Nae time. Just get it done. We canna afford a drawn out battle."

Kyrel nods, and starts the spell. Blue-white bolts of ionized air erupt as the lightning bolt arcs down the hallway.

The white hot bolt zigzags down the corrider, and melts the surprised look off the mage's face, as his skin turns to blackened cinder. Twitching from the electricity, the burnt corpse falls to the ground, amid a shower of feathers. The sound of digging hasn't halted.

Kyrel says, "Let's go. Sounds like more skeletons around the corner."

Derleth snorts. "Good riddance. "

The four move around the blasted body, and peer about the corner. Not ten feet in, skeletons and zombies are steadily carving away at the earthen wall.

Derleth grunts. "Lets just take em down and get our rest."

Kyrel nods. "Looks like the tunnel doesn't go to the Guild anyway. Pity."

After dispatching the mindless miners, the four make it back to the Temple of Ilmater. Azler gives Kyrel the magical items he was carrying, and then heads inside. But on entering, the place seems deserted. Even the attendant seems to be gone. Azler puzzles a moment. "Odd."

Kyrel says, "Very odd. Where is everyone?"

Azler shrugs. "I havn't the foggiest..." He rings a bell, on a side table. A minute passes, before a young priest rushes out. "Oh! Oh, sir Azler, you're back, we need all those who can help!"

Derleth wilts. "Grim acted faster n' we thought." he mumbles.

Kyrel says, "Grim didn't. His allies may have." He turns to the young acolyte. "We've dealt with some of the people behind this, but what's happened?"

Azler's demeanor gets even graver. The young priest looks up to Kyrel. "The City Watch, sir... Nearly every man's come under sickness. They're loosing their bowels horribly, they're getting nasty sores on their bodies..." He shakes his head. "Horrible."

Derleth blanches. "That's a horr'ble thing t' do to a man..."

The youngster continues. "Even some of the higher class folk, those in the Upper Ward, they're coming under..."

Kyrel frowns. "That's not good at all. Without the Watch... is there anyone who can provide backup? Militia, anyone, to provide order?"

The priest shrugs his shoulders, spreading his hands. "I don't know, really... There's never been a need for anything like that... I would ask if you wish to speak to anyone, but most everyone, even the High Healer is out, trying to aid in this epidemic... Some are knocking on the Nobles' doors, asking if they have any sick."

Kyrel paces, now. "Bad... very bad... are the other temples working on healing, as well?"

The youth chews his lip. "Not to be rude, sir, but, I came back for more supplies, ointments, all that... If you don't mind, I would like to be running..." Azler nods his head in turn. "I'll join you. Just let me wash my face..."

Derleth sighs. "There be nothing we can do, Kyrel...we might as well head back to our rooms and rest."

Kyrel nods. "We'd better, I think. And let's go through that journal, see what we can find out..."

Kyrel makes sure Azler and the acolyte both understand that they should be concerned about guards for the healing clerics, especially since two have already been killed, and then heads back to the Lliaran temple with Derleth and Silniya through the mild spring night, while Kiri entertains himself flitting about hunting bugs. He bids the others goodnight when they arrive, but then can't sleep himself, so he gets up again and pulls the journal out of his bag. Might as well see what's in this thing.

He starts by looking at the beginning, which turns out to be several years back, and flips forward until he gets closer to the present. The journal isn't in the best condition, some pages illegible either through damage or just from terrible handwriting, but he is able to find when the necromancer arrived in Selegaunt. And I still don't know his real name, unless it really was Grim. Ah, well. He starts to read.

Third Tenday, second day, Nightal.

Selegaunt; nice but a tad nippy in the winter, with a harsh seaborne wind. They gave me a nice, spacious house, well suited to my endeavours. I will devote the workroom in the basement to the preparation of my skeletons; good ventilation. And a room beyond it to animate them. Excellent lab, too.

But the first order has come; it's a simple excavation job that will not strain my conscience more than my scholarship ever did. The Wind, he styled himself pretentiously, as he presented me with those orders. How kind of them to send me one of the higher ranking members; I was certainly impressed. But he's excellent companionship, and a good chess player - had me in mate just the other night in a maneuver I'd never seen before. And he moves well, through the shadows. Never hurts to keep an eye on his hands though.

Kyrel flips through until he finds an entry that seems to indicate the fellow's arrival in Selegaunt. That's, what... five months ago. If they've been digging up bodies for that long, they'll have quite a horde.

Second Tenday, Fifth Day, Hammer.

The street toughs provided better skeletons than I'd feared; not too bright but stable enough. Even if Caeln had to show them how to hold the picks, and how to place the struts to keep the tunnel safe from collapse. Still, I'm looking forward to the warrior skeletons; it's been a long time since I've worked with those. They're hard to acquire, and tricky to work with, but very fascinating. I'm going to check the book tomorrow.

So all in all plenty to occupy the guard, what's left of them, during the Awakening. Or so the Wind devoutly assures me. Honestly, he gets more pretentious every time we meet. Now it's not just the Wind, it's the "Wind of the Plague." And the priest he brought along is the most arrogant powerful fool I've ever had to placate; even the devils I was taught under were less irritating, and certainly more intelligent. Some days I wish I had never heard of Selegaunt. That was a bargain ill-made, indeed, and may I never make a worse.

Kyrel flips through several pointless entries before he finds another mention of The Wind, nearly a month after the first one. He chuckles at the necromancer's comments on his colleagues. Arrogant assassins and devout but stupid priests. No surprises there, I don't think. I hope he says something about where these people hang out but... no, they seem to come to him. Unfortunate.... He continues looking through the book.

First Tenday, Nineth day, Ches.

Ah, tis good to feel a lady's touch again; there's nothing so lonely as a widower who dreams of his lost wife, and wakes with empty arms in an overlarge and overempty bed. Ah, Aliniquin, forgive me! I vowed, I promised, I swore, I pledged my troth, and still I sent our Aquil away. Not, my love, for the embrace of a lady. Dearest, I cannot bear the thought of her death; to lose the last connection with you, my love - but look at me write in this diary, when I myself oversaw your cremation. That was a difficult vow you had me swear, love, and yet the temptation to raise you would have been so very strong. And against everything you believed.

And now the coming horrors, carefully orchestrated at the septagon, and the final catalyst - I do not know that I will survive, and without me she would be defenseless here, in the house they furnished. And she dwells now in the happy halls where first we met. But look at me, writing to a woman who has passed on. The ramblings of an old and worried man.

Kyrel sighs. He may really have not been such a bad sort. But he would have opposed us for his employers, or sponsors, or whatever they are. Now, if I can only find some reference to where this septagon is... and why do I have octagram written in the notes I made about that dream?

First Tenday, Seventh Day, Tarsakh.

Dead animals. They want dead animals. No humans, no warriors, no skill-ful bodies. Just animals. Roaming randomly through the marketplace. A brilliant plan; poison the food in the marketplace with disease, and then - only a few days later - destroy all the crops. Bah. Don't they realize what I can do?

So I resigned myself, and sent Caeln to procure the rodents and the vermin; he found a large nest of mice, and I kept a few back for my own defences. I don't think I am ready to rebel, after all; the priest may be arrogant but he has the full church behind him. And the Wind is beginning to scare me a little.

I found an excellent little pastry shop yesterday, just round the corner from the apothecary. They have these strudels, with this apple and cream filling. Delicious! I ordered a baker's dozen; best to eat while the oven is hot and the Talonites haven't won yet.

Kyrel sits bolt upright. Uh-oh. He rechecks the date on the entry. About a month ago. We've already seen the poisoned food in the market - of course, that's how they got the Watch. Probably cadging stuff from the vendors. Serves 'em right, but we don't need them all down at once. If they're planning to kill the crops next... crud. I wonder how fast we can get a message to TarlBren, and even if we can get the other villages nearby to believe us. He pauses and frowns. Hold on. The Watch has something like cholera, not what the folks in the market were getting. Maybe it's something else. Still seems like a remarkable orchestration, however they did it. He flips rapidly through the rest of the entries, thoughts of sleep forgotten in the urgency of this development.

First Tenday, Fourth Day, Mirtul.

The excavation team has done splendid work, and they've broached several warriors' graves. In fact, I've learnt a lot about animating warriors; testy things, they are. Sometimes they come up swinging, and Caeln got nicked a time or two before we learnt how to duck. But the army grows apace, and the priest is rubbing his hands with something approaching glee every time he comes to inspect them. Yesterday he bragged about the degree to which they're prepared, with their sacrifices lured, and confused, and everything set up in readiness, their vile plans waiting only for the final omens to be set in motion.

And today I discover that I am to be the first of their plans. In a few days time, the mice will invading the marketplace, under Caeln's direction. All the better to get out of this deathtrap with my skin intact, I hope. And with the animated crystal unicorn for my Alquin. Ah, soon, I will see her smile again. And that alone will be worth everything.

Kyrel pages through the last few entries. He didn't have a chance to mention us in it, there at the end, at least. Necromancers. Sure, let's kill thousands and despoil an entire city, as long as I get to play with interesting things like warrior bodies. He seems to have doted on the child and on his dead wife, though. Sounds almost Elven, she does, insisting that he not ... raise... oh, my. Maybe she was. I feel sorry for the kid, but what else could we do? Have to look her up when this is all over, and make sure she's taken care of. There aren't that many of us half-elven around.

The wizard stands up, slipping the journal into his bag after marking the important pages. Better get this news sent out immediately. If there's any chance of stopping this attack on the crops, it'd better be quick. He heads straight for the office of the High Priestess, hoping that if she's not awake, that at least someone will be there in the present emergency.

[Previous Log] [Index] [Next Log]

Last modified: 2001-Apr-19 23:10:57

All material on this site is
Copyright © 2001-2024 Reality Fault
unless specifically indicated on each document.
All Rights Reserved.
Administrated by Reality Fault Webmaster