As they exit the room Dietrich discussed the carvings the beast men left on the walls "it said that the key to the beast men's return was buried safely in here, and the best men seemed happy with that. Strange, yes?" Melas, apparently not listening, was focused on the damage the masked man had done to his weapon. "It's an excuse to buy a new one?" Hiram suggested.
"This is an heirloom; it has family bloodstains on
it." Melas retorted as the hunchbacked man took point down the narrow
passage, rapier out, with Hiram a few paces behind bearing a dramaturgically
generated illuminant. Dietrich, still sore troubled by his earlier injury, took
the rear, behind the Lady Floriane. The mystical glow revealed a trio of
shadowed, silvery gray figures hovering menacingly in the corridor, and Melas
halted to consider
Fortunate for him that he did, for it gave his half elven
vision a chance to detect the nigh-invisible strands of spider-silk that
stretched across the passage before blundering into them, and with a few
moments of shuffling the quartet was able to light the webbing, which went up
like dry lace and sent the bodies of our heroes unfortunate predecessors
crashing to the ground. Thump, thump, thump...THUMP. That last was the falling
of a most irate arachnid whose central body held the dimensions of a hunting hound.
A second after landing the thing leaped again, alighting on Melas' torso and
digging its mandibles into his neck!
With the strength-draining toxin coursing through him the
sybaritic son of the empire felt his knees but not his will buckle as he
fruitlessly tried to bring his sword into play. Hiram, forced to move back from
Melas' collapse, was likewise hindered, and Dietrich's attempts to leap closer
were blocked by both the narrow passage and Cybele's shoulders in a clumsy
collision. Amidst the confusion that lady sorceress did manage to unleash both
her serpentine soul and a blast of energy arcane, but neither Renee's venom nor
the mystical burst prevented the spider from biting again, pumping more of the
enervating venom into Cybele's newfound friend. In the end Melas was saved by
his own hand, as he finally worked his rapier into a position where a thrust
might avail him, and the spider, already reeling from Cybele's attack, was
skewered. There were several minutes of confusion as Melas was set aright and
pronounced himself well enough to stand as long as he had a wall for support.
They moved him into the small chamber past the spider's
webs, which contained the bodies of still more fallen tomb raiders, all months
if not years dead. Hiram was able to locate a pouch of pre-invasion gold coins,
while Dietrich's keen eyes spied a pearl of some quality under the dirt. Once
it was freed from the dust of the earth Hiram's sight, heightened at this
moment by the power of dramaturgy, declared to be enchanted. Hiram, his
youthful courage at last coming under some stress, stripped one of the corpses
of its leather doublet that he might have additional protections from the
threats that had nearly claimed two of his companions. Even with that he
recommended that they rest for the remainder of the evening, and as one voice
the group agreed to put this plan into action.
As they returned to the entrance Hiram saw the glow of magic
coming from one of the cat-men's belts, so this too was secured to be
researched by Cybele over the coming evening. In the long hall back to their
campsite sounds echoes from ahead - the snufflings of large beasts and the
sound of metal striking stone....
Undeterred by the noises ahead of them our four stalwart
heroes pressed on, knowing that doing so would mean spending the evening in the
company of the coach horses, which their coachman had brought into the room to
get them out of the storm. Still, such hardships must be taken with good grace,
and the quartet bedded down for the night, with Cybele, Hiram and their
coachman taking turns watching the entrances and tending the fire. The only
sign come morning of the room's earlier verminous intruders is the contented
sensation in the belly of Renee, the lady Floriane's reptilian familiar.
With the morning the storm had lessened to the traditional
north winter rain, and the coachman said that he should be able to get the
carriage back on the road in minimal time. Dietrich spoke for them all when he
told that worthy to not declare the repairs finished until he was certain, and
the companions took the additional time to explore the other passages out of
their campsite quarters. The coachman watched them head to the north with the
surety that comes from noble upbringing and valorous hearts, and a few moments
later heard a scream wrenched from the very puts of hell. The animals went
wild, defying his best attempts to calm them, and to the coachman was most
relieved when Hiram returned to assist him; the young gentleman was able to
sing a calming song, accompanying himself on his hurdy-gurdy (the very paragon
of instruments) that quickly restored the sense of equine equilibrium.
When the coachman plucked up the courage to ask what had
occurred, Hiram informed him that a sarcophagus in the northern room was topped
by a flying demon head, but that Dietrich had been able to skewer the thing
through the eye as it charged and pin it to the wall with his rapier, that the
others might make short work of it. If Hiram failed to mention how the demon's
scream had incapacitated him in unnatural terror, well, vanity is a fault not
know only in youth. Within a few moments the others had returned, informing
Hiram that the stone casket did indeed have hinges (a point of some debate
earlier) and that inside were both ashes and a ring of magical nature and
extraordinary craftsmanship, its circle depicting a hand wielding a quill pen.
With that the nobles headed down the southern passage, and a
few moments later Cybele emerged, asking in passing of the coachman were
familiar with a symbol of a face with two bleeding closed fists in place of
eyes. At his stammering certainty that no, he had never seen such a horrific
thing she headed deeper into the Tor, returning bearing a small sledge, crow
and spike recovered from the beast men's excavating equipment. Within a few
moments the sound Hiram singing again, the sorts of songs that dwarves and men
used when breaking up the stones for construction. Overlaid on that was the
sound of a hammer striking a spike and the spike striking of stone, followed
almost immediately by a loud exhalation of air and a yelp.
Whack - pffft! Ugh! Whack
- pffft! Ugh! "Lay some
cloaks down over it..." came Detrich's voice.
Whack - pffft! Ugh! Then
a brief pause, followed by Floriane exclaiming "that's it, someone else
can try."
Whack - pffft! Ugh! "That's
broken it. Who puts that many needles in a chest trap?" muttered Hiram.
"Inside there's just a huge supply of needles and
springs I expect..." came Melas' unmistakable baritone.
"No, it's another skull... and its circlet is
magical," came Cybele's whisper, carried through the stone of the Tor to
the coachman's sharp ears. With that the coachman figured the rest were things
he ought not hear, and he returned outside to finish repairs...
After a few seconds the noblemen returned, with Cybele
bearing a written description of the stone chest's lock, Hiram and Dietrich
carrying the chest's contents (not just the skull, with pearl eyes and an
enchanted generals circlet) and Melas looking only slightly the worse for wear
from the venom still in his system. Within short order the items of interest
were packed and made ready for their coachman to strap to the roof of his
vehicle that the noblemen might return to the road to Emirikol, bearing some treasure
and much mystery.
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