Act 2 Scene 4: "Descent into Darkness" (Game Thread)

[TristenC]

The dry air blasted past the white-haired elf in a rush as he fell... His heart lept with a sensation somewhere between abject terror and exhilaration. Throwing his limbs wide, the wind caught his body with a cushioned lurch and stealing what little air remained in his lungs. Cross gasped a hearty breath as the sky itself carried him harmlessly over the dusty canyon.

A joyous sound escaped from him as he soared through the air. You move well! the raven called within his mind. Finally you can fly! No more cages, we can be Free! The pair glided effortlessly, far above the hard-baked clay below. Your old flock... they were no good for you. They could not protect you. They could not fly. A pang of loss struck in the violet-eyed mage's heart, but only briefly so. The thrill.. it was like nothing he had ever experienced...

We must keep our strength. Come! Time for the tasties! Fenrir reeled down towards the ridges of earth, pulling up in time to sweep a graceful arc and light on one of the tall wooden posts lining the canyon. Carefully, Cross did his best to mimic the movements of his familiar. The sudden landing jolted him as he practically fell feet-first onto a similar perch. Flailing his limbs wildly, he somehow miraculously kept his balance.

Fenrir spared but a glance before digging into the feast before him. Snapping up a juicy morsel, the raven sent the strong sensation of satisfaction through the bond. Cocking his white crown, Cross peered down at the luxurious meal spread before him. It was fresh... ripe even... just the perfect amount of baking from the hot sun... White feathers shook as Cross' beak stabbed deep into the blonde-headed halfling hanging from the shackles below him. Wrenching, he tore a stringy bit of intestine free; the moist tidbit dangling from his bloody clutches. Amusement came through the bond as Fenrir watched the six-foot tall avian. Who ever heard of a white-headed raven... His squawk turned into a cackle, and Cross joined in; their dissonant cries echoing throughout the valley of death... the fresh bodies of his erstwhile companions dangling lifelessly in the breeze... yes... there would be plenty of feasting for quite some time...

===

Blood...
Blood mingled with sweat stung at Pytor's eyes as he dragged himself up from the gritty floor. The hard-baked adobe scraped his hands and knees as he gained his feet... they had come again... this time in the middle of the night... There had been no warning from above. Whoever had been on watch at the time... they had been overcome. He tried not to think about who it might have been, there was too much to deal with right now... Brusquely he shoved the still-dying goblin off of his shoulders.

The... thing had lept on him in his sleep, straddling his back and trying to choke him with it's sinewy clawed hands. He felt tenderly at the back of his head, where the needle-sharp teeth had tried to chew through his skull. stupid creature. he thought idly. His skull was much too tough a nut to crack.

The feel of a hammer in his hand centered him in the world through the disparate whimpers and snarls and crunching sounds around him... Dragging his sleeve across his eyes, he wiped the messy mixture away with the arm that still held the bloody short-sword that had finished the beast. His vision cleared barely enough to see blurred shapes moving about nearby. Pytor charged at the nearest pair, flailing wildly at the greenish figure overbearing one of his friends. His hammer landed true, crushing the monstrous skull with a satisfying squelch.

The body lay limp against the stairway as he moved to help the person pinned beneath it. The body was lighter, unencumbered by armor, and definitely feminine... Smearing the ruddy liquid away from his eyes he tried to identify the figure. Cleared eyes fell on a ruined face, raked repeatedly by rows upon of those spike-like teeth. His stomach lurched as he lay the blonde-headed robed figure back.

A sudden scream of pain jerked his attention away and a scene from nightmare filled his vision... the bodies of his allies lay broken and strewn about, and a trio of the Goblyns were tugging at the remaining limbs of the dusky-hued fighter woman, as if they were competing over a wish-bone. His sister beat ineffectually at them with the ruined stump of her right arm, the vital fluid smearing their faces and exciting their hunger! Headlong he charged at the assailants, only obliquely aware of the noise of more coming down the stairs.

A heavy weight slammed into him from behind, throwing the blacksmith off balance and bearing him to the hard ground. The cru-crunch of teeth gnawing bone echoed in his own skull as the creature chewed hungrily on the bloody patch of scalp. He watched helpless as the others began to tear his sister apart before him, the sickening popping, squelching sound of dislocating limbs tearing free drowned out by tortured screams...

===

Pyros scrambled along in the darkness... well, almost-darkness... His infravision barely outlined the edges of the narrow passage deep inside the structure... The earth was cool here, and all the same temperature, hardly registering at all... He could light a torch, but the cramped rectangular tunnel was barely wide enough for even his slight frame to crawl down... that was why they chose him. That was why his friends needed him...

Well... he had been less chosen than volunteering... and less volunteering, he supposed, than simply shrugging his pack off and barreling headlong into the secret tunnel! He chuckled to himself a moment at the look on Elsa's face... the surprise was stark but hadn't lasted more than an instant before she gave him that “oh of course you're running off to do something fun at the drop of a hat without asking anyone else for so much as a by-your-leave.” Honestly... it was a wonder how any of them got anything done without him around.... come to think of it, maybe they didn't?

Still, the slippery Kender slithered down the hard-baked clay passage. Once the entrance had been found sealed up with no exit they had begun to panic. Of course he had been the one to find the new way out, through which he squirmed now with the faintest hissss like a python on a walk. It was fun pretending to be a snake! He would have to do this more often. They really had wanted him to go... why they hardly tried to stop him at all! If that wasn't a sure sign, nothing was.

His shoulders brushed the edges of the tunnel, hmm... it must be getting smaller... that was a good sign... right? A strange scraping sound followed him up the tunnel from behind... it sounded suspiciously like a stone grinding down the passage after him... Yep... that was what a stone sliding sounded like.... that was probably not good.... Picking up the pace, Pyros pushed and pressed and pulled himself along, cramming tighter and tighter into the narrowing space.

A moment later he felt rather than saw the end as his head bumped against solid adobe. Aha! Finally, the end! Feeling around exuberantly, he searched in the pitch darkness. There had to be another hidden door here, that's what tunnels did, they had doors at both ends, otherwise what a waste! A tunnel without a door would just be a hole, why would anyone build a dead-end hole? It was just silly. Smooth, hard clay met his fingers and the corners of the passage bore no seam nor crease nor crevice of any kind.

There just had to be a trick to it. He tried knocking about for hollow spots as the block behind began to press against his feet. Bracing himself he pushed back against it with all of his might. Maybe it was magic! He began babbling all of the magical mumbo-jumbo he had ever heard any of the elves or clerics or mages mutter.. He even tried one of Mira's songs, strangled though it was as the block folded him up into an almost squatting ball. His last thought, as his bones and joints began grinding together, was Elsa... what kind of a look would she have on her face now...

===

Jerry clutched the golden circlet in her hands; the pointed peaks digging into the flesh of her palms nearly hard enough to draw blood... She shivered in the cold cavern deep beneath the canyon, utterly alone. The rasping of her labored breath echoed almost unnaturally in the intricately faceted walls, yet she strained her hearing for any hint of sound aside. The others had scattered once they found the crown, fleeing a terrible horde of undead descending upon them in an instant... a horde led by her father...

Shaking despite herself, she cursed the thread that brought her here. The cries of the others being hunted and... and found throughout the labyrinthine passages eroded her nerves like a waterfall on stone. A rustling sound, like the scraping of cloth over dry parchment, came from somewhere behind her. Whirling she turned to an empty, dead-end passage... silence greeted her for a long moment... until a crumbling bit of stone above tumbled down.

Hurling herself away from the wall she whipped around to find the figure of a humanoid clutching to the side of the natural wall near its peak. A pale visage, twisted in hatred and hunger regarded her. Robed in grave-clothes, torn and filthy, the grotesque abomination that had once been her father grinned; pointed teeth soaked in crimson... Hmmm.... what have we here... the creature mused, lips smacking with already thickening blood. Ah! Come closer, daughter, it crooned with a sinister tone.

Making a break for the exit, the cleric took hardly two steps before the fledgling vampire dropped directly into her path. A stabbing pain entered her hand as she gripped the . The Crown! Hastily she donned the cold metal, clutching it to her head desperately. The figure paused, seemingly confused, but only for the briefest moment. A slow grin crossed those wretched features, and it spoke with a raspy voice. Some little trinket meant to protect you from me...? The thing took a step forward as the Mystaran shuffled a step back.

Ooooh... or to harm me, perhaps? it asked, mockingly. Another advancing step mirrored by her own retreat. Jerry wracked her memory for what she was to do... but the only thing she could recollect was that the old gypsy-spirit had said she would need it... to lay her father to rest... but... How?! Hmm? Will it summon a bolt of lightning? A scorching tunnel of dragon's fire... eh? Is it to BLAST me into oblivion with the power of holy light? Hmm? Speak up, girl! Answer your father! the creature demanded, sarcastically.

Ooooh, I see... little Jerry-berry hasn't been able to figure it out, yet... Shaking his head sadly, he spoke again. Or.... is it that she didn't vet her information very well...? her father tsk-tskd disappointedly. Trusting bad information is worse than finding none at all... I'm sure i've taught you that... Jerry's back thumped against the damp cavern wall as the vampire took yet another step closer. Pity... I had always hoped you would turn out to be a bright girl... Snarling the undead creature fell upon the cornered half-elf with an almost demonic fervor...

===

Mira waved back at the meager applause of the crowd. It wasn't that they didn't appreciate her or her music... they did well enough when they paid attention. But tonight they were distracted... some kind of bargain was going down, she could always tell... In Thel Jeers, there was always some shady deal being done in tavern corners... and knowing what could be quite profitable... or quite deadly depending on the players. Gathering her lute and her coin cup, not a bad haul for a weeknight really, she headed back to the room she shared with the pretty blonde...

It was a pity Elsa hadn't been able to come tonight, but acting as cleric to her small village was a responsibility she took seriously, and it really was too far for the halfling to come just for a one-night performance if she wanted to be back for the morning. Elsa's homeworld, she still marveled at that sometimes, was just as nice as she had promised... no war in this kingdom.. no dragons in the sky, that she knew of... no laws against her being who or what she was... but all places had dives, she supposed... Taking the iron key from her bodice, she unlocked the door and entered; setting her instrument and coin aside. Sabrina lay tangled in the covers of the bed, much as she had when Mira had left.

With a small sigh, the bard poured wash-water in the basin and wetted a cloth before squeezing it to merely damp. She moved to sit beside her apprentice on the bed. Heat rolled off the girl in waves, some kind of sickness... it had been plaguing her for weeks now; coming and going and lingering longer each time... Reaching out a hand, she nearly recoiled from the fever on the girl's brow. She was burning completely!

Peeling away the blanket, the redhead found the other girl's night shift sticking tightly to her lithe form soaked with sweat. Drenching the rag, she returned with basin and all and began wiping her down to help cool her. A second rag, soaked thorugh, she lay across the pretty one-time waitresses' forehead as she rinsed down her friend's collar and shoulders, arms and... and so forth... She tried sheepishly not to think of where she was touching as she tended the girl... she... it wasn't that way... it never had been... but... She found herself flush with heat as well...

Oh gods... it must be catching... she realized as her own skin began to prickle with heat. Forgetting about herself for the moment, she continued to tend Sabrina, wiping down last her legs and feet... There, on the girls ankle, a trio of scrapes stood red and angry with infection... had she... had she been hurt? It didn't look new, but it certainly looked infected somehow... Abruptly it came to her... their last moments in that terrifying land, constantly hunted... as they scrambled through the dense forest, the creatures were close behind... they grasped and clutched at their hems and arms... snapped and clawed at their ankles, trying to drag them off into the trees one-by-one... separate them from each other... only together could they survive, but... but one must have scratched...

Her heart sank as she silently knew what it must be... the curse... not only had sweet Sabrina been infected by it... but they had brought it... here...

===

The final shift ends, Pytor with eyes red from keeping watch through the wee hours of the morning and the restless nightmares. Adran sits studying his spellbook nearby the warrior as dawn breaks over the canyon. With their watch ended, the pair return to the interior of the Ziggurat when Artanis emerges to relieve them. He receives the magical 'eyes' from the elf and sets to temporary watch while the group plans.

As the blacksmith and mage return to the rest of the party, they find the others beginning to stir from their slumber...


===========
It is now Friday, March 7th, 736 BC (Barovian Calendar)

-The Ziggurat seems to have provided adequate shelter for the night and concealment from anything... hunting...
-It seems Adrastia’s information regarding the creatures has been confirmed

Casters pick your spells for the day please


1st watch: Cross, and Artanis
2nd Watch: Mira, Elsa and Adrestia
3rd Watch: Pytor and Adran

[Chris1234]

Jerry tries to focus on the image of the crown and pulls out some writing stuffs and sketches it. Anyone trying to interrupt gets a distant, " Give me a few moments, please."

[Jenara]

"Sabrine! No... No.." Mira wakes with a start, lifting her head from the pack that lay under the streams of red flying at random angles from her head, "No offence, but I HATE This place, its awful." Reaching for her spellbook, the familar feel of the cover helping to dispel the dream as she shifts closer to Elsa. "I won't ask, but if you want to share, I'm willing to listen." While the words are directed at the Cleric she fixes her gaze on each person in turn.

Sitting in silence she flips through the spellbook, firstly finding the spell to understand the scroll before being able to summon sticky webs.

[Nocturno]

Pyros wakes with a start legs pushing in the air. Arms pushing to the sides. Panting hard. "Why? WHY? Why only one door... that makes no sense! Why bother hiding it... if it GOES NOWHERE!!" Shaking his head. "That is so frustrating! ARRRRGH." He then looks around at the others. "Why so glum chums?"

============///=========================

Cross wakes up gagging, spitting, and coughing. He looks around stopping on Elsa. He will rush over to her and embrace her in a very uncharacteristic display of emotion. "You, you are all here!" He looks around suddenly very conscious of his actions. He pulls back, then a single word. "Fenrir!" A look washes over his face. "Friend, did you have a restful night?"

[TristenC]

Jerry takes out her pen and parchment and begins trying to hastily sketch whatever she can remember of the crown... as she does so, a strange... surety comes over her... an almost primeval instinct for how to move the instrument... though she had never had any formal teaching, her hand moved with a skillful confidence almost altogether alien to the task at hand... For a moment, the young half-elf feels herself floating above her body, almost watching it work obsessively below... the figure of her own back hunched over the paper blocks the work from view, but her ally watches on below, astonished at what he sees.

Merrick stares, startled at the page then back at her face by turns. Almost as quickly as it began, the work is finished. Weightlessness seizes the 'floating' jerry, pulling her down into her body like some titanic undertow in the sea of storms... Ink still damp and settling into the sheet, the Mystaran gazes on the creation... a masterful work of art depicting a crested crown with three prominent gems... identical in even the most minor detail to the ones in her dream... I... Merrick swallows hard. I never knew... that you were such an artist... and to do something with this level of detail in... in moments... he stares, astonished at her. If I hadn't seen it with my eyes, I'd not believe it. It was almost impossible...


Elsa wakes abruptly with a wordless cry of warning. Looking around she notes the others only long enough to recognize they were alive and well. Throwing her arms around the hips of her redheaded friend nearby, she buries her nexk against Mira's side; head at her belly. Slow tears leak from the cleric's eyes, but she shakes her head somberly at the Bard's offer. Even paying careful attention from such proximity, she hardly hears the whispered i'm so sorry...

Hardly a moment later, Pyros rouses with sound and fury; railing against the injustice of... of a door-less hallway? A breath later Cross rushes over to half-tackle the halfling in an impromptu and uncharacteristic display of emotion and relief. Elsa stares wide-eyed, first at the platinum haired mage then Mira, before patting him awkwardly on the back and muttering, There there... it.. they were just dreams... they don't mean anything...

Cross collects himself enough to look at the others, then reaches out to his companion through the bond. Fenrir replies scant moments later. You wake... good. Things move in the night, but not near... your nest was high and well hidden from their eyes, that makes it a good nest. Next we must find one that none can reach even if they spy it... Your rest was unstable, like a thin branch in the wind... Light is here... the predators will see more. We cannot wait long...


===
Jerry's sketch:

[Jenara]

"Ssshhh. Its only a dream, this place, it sucks hope, tears away any you may have." Kissing the blonde hair she strokes the soft strands gently, "Sabrine.. we... brought it.." The Bard begins to speak her voice breaking. "I can't, I just can't." She falls silent, there were no words.

"I should have asked her, do the people that live here get the same dreams? Are they immune or has the land driven out all hope? I met people, Marie, Sabrine, they had hope.. I need to ask, somehow I have to understand." She speaks silently NOT leting Elsa go as Cross hugs her, "All we have is hope, we have to hold onto it."

[Chris1234]

Jerry says, "Merrick, this is the crown in my dreams. Have you seen it, or its likeness, in picture or dream?" She pauses, somewhat out of sorts in equal proportions from the dream and the creative dispalcement. "I'm sorry! How are you? Did you have the nightmares?" She touches his face tenderly.

After listening to his replies, she reverts, with a nod to acnkowledge that she knows that he knows what she's doing, "The crown. From my dreams. Have you seen it, or its likeness, in picture or dream?"

Again, after his response, she relates, "I cannot draw like this. Not until now. Although the will was mine, something inluenced me to do, to be able to do this. Almost like..possession. But one thing; my father, as undead, the nightmare theme of my dream, warned me not to accept and trust unquestioningly. Not that I have a reputation for such." She kisses him, breifly and gently. "I do, really do, trust you. I meant the something feeding me the image of the crown. And the strange gypsy woman's direction to seek it in the first place. Both opposed by my dream-father's warning." She sighs and waits to see if Merrick is still with her.

======
Does the crown strike any resonance or inspire any recollection for Jerry?
e.g. Ancient History (18), Religion (14), Spellcraft (17) or wierdly, maybe Astrology (19)?
Jerry NWP [1d20] = 8

[mltillis]

Pytor found the last dream perplexing and more troubling than usual. He had come to expect nightmares each night. It had been little surprise that the vivacious bard Mira frequented his dreams untill now. “But why did I dream of Jerry this time?” The gypsy’s thoughts wander. “True, she is as desirable as Mira. But she is happily taken. Could this be a warning of something I must prevent? “ When he rose to take his shift at watch, Pytor took a moment to check on Jerry as she slept. The gentle rise of her chest reassured him that the Mystarran was well, snuggled up in her blanket against the cold of the stone structure. Quietly, he fetched his blanket and tucked it around her before heading up to take his turn at watch.

After his watch ends, Pytor chews on a trail ration and watches the others as they awaken from their slumbers. Packing away his gear, he asks. “Now that we’ve had a moment to catch our breath. What’s the plan?”

[TristenC]

Sabrine..? She was there too, in your dream? … Oh Mira... they're alll just... just stupid dreams... She'll be ok, and we will too. “Hope is our shield, friends our armor.” My gran-dam used to say that... It's true, you know?


Merrick nods, hollowly as he stares at the sketch. It is exact... even more so, if that were possible... details I didn't remember, but are nevertheless perfect... like the little carvings in the bass-relief between the gemstones... The half-elven man shrugs uncomfortably when she asks how he is. Nightmares... he almost releases the barest hint of sardonic mirth. Yes... yes, the nighmares... nearly every night of my life.. He mutters the last in a voice likely only she can hear. His next remark is emotionless, almost mechanical and reflexive in nature. I'm fine.

Jerry inquires about the crown itself, but her companion shakes his head, no obvious recognition to the skillfully crafted subject and his own memory. Likewise Jerry herself studies the sketch, but for all her studies and knowledge it is completely alien to her. The Mystaran continues her explanation, pausing to show affection to her companion. He responds in kind weakly and almost absentmindedly.

He nearly flinches when she goes on about trust, even with her assurances that he is not suspect. And yet you trust the dream- vampire's warning? Does that... those dreams... no, those perpetual horrors... they are lies! Every one of them lies! he grips her shoulders hard; clutching them painfully in an imploring grip that leaves the tendons of his hands standing high. They aren't true.... I... I know they are lies, you can't trust any of them. I wouldn't... I would never... lowering his voice to a whisper only she can hear. In every. Single. One. since we left Harmonia, you die... and... because of me... I... I kill you... in all of them, do you understand? Violet eyes search hers frantically , I am Not a Murderer!...

Gradually he realizes the grip he has on her, and his hands unclench and recoil back as if he had brushed glowing steel from a forge. His mouth works soundlessly, the plea and apology plain in his eyes. Closing them tight, he turns his face away from hers, a single drop of liquid leaks from the corner of his eye.


In the night, Jerry had stirred fitfully as Pytor lay the extra blanket about her... thought with the nightmares, that was no surprise. As he joins the others, he poses the question. Adrestia looks to the others. Well, we have the rest of the canyon to search. There is an outlet just to the south of here, the path past the strange tree to the North which looks like it may split, and the path to the East just before we first turned to find all this. she gestures to the surrounding structure.


===
Mel i just have to ask... Trail rations or Tail rations? hehehe. Nocturno made a good one about that a while back.

Up is north
Canyon map incoming

[Chris1234]

After a quiet but meaningful exchange with Merrick and a too brief public display of affection, Jerry asks him whether he can replenish her Armour spell and whether his Regenerate Light Wounds needs replenishing.

Turning to Pytor, Jerry answers, "If possible I need to regain the remainder of my spells before we head out. There's also, I think, a cave or cavern just to the northwest of this pyramid. Should we explore that? Also, please, would you know anything of gypsykin, certainly female but not necessarily so, that can impart knowledge or advice, appearing as visions or perhaps in one's dreams?"

======
Is it a cave or cavern about 40' to the NW of the pyramid?

[mltillis]

At Merrick’s outburst, Pytor had secretly slipped his hammer from its loop. If there was one useful thing that he had learned in the tavern, it was how hard to hit a man to knock him senseless but not slay him. But if the mage begin to use his magic on the priestess, he may not have the option to stay his hand. Fortunately the moment passes and Merrick release Jerry from his grip. Relaxing, Pytor quietly returns the weapon to its place and breathes a sigh of relief and turns to his sister.

“So three paths North and East of us and one path Southeast… Either way, we’ll have the unknown to our backs and our front. But it may be wise to clear the one path to the south before exploring further north. However, I do share Lady Jerry’s concern about any cavern left unchecked."

Turning from his sister, Pytor smiles warmly at the priestess. “Of course, Lady Jerry. Take all the time that you need to prepare and protect yourself before we depart. Let me know if I can assist you in any way... As for knowledge from dreams and visions… Many a gypsy will claim to have “The Sight” particularly when coin is in hand. However a rare few do indeed possess it. The women of my family are some of those who do. But only those strong with the sight like my mother can send messages in visions and dreams, and then only after passing from the mortal coil.”

[Jenara]

"I hope so, this places tears at you. It scares me." Perking up at the words she nods, "You can tell me anything, when you are ready." She whispers quietly, keeping the Halfling close for now.

"I want to take another look at that letter." Extracting herself carefully from the Hafling she approaches the scroll, "Show me the words unseen, show me what they mean.." She sings softly, sprinking a pinch of salt in the air.

"That Gypsy I met, she must have had some sort of sight, she knew I was coming, she.. helped me. And then she was gone." Mira explains after reading the scroll once more.

[TristenC]

[ the space to the Northwest is merely an Alcove not a cave or Cavern. it is the area where Artanis hid the horses for the night.]

Mira casts her musical spell and her eyes glow briefly with a bluish light as the words become clear to her..

Screenshot_20190428-010743_Adobe Acrobat~2-494x269.jpg (48.2 KiB) Viewed 20924 times

====
Mira Casts Comprehend Languages

[Chris1234]

Understanding finally that the space to the northwest is not a cave, merely where Artanis hid the horses for the night, Jerry subsides on that one and offers round her sktech of the crown.
"This is a likeness of the crown that I am told i must seek. Do any of you know of this?"
Anfter a pause, and a nod to Pytor, she adds, "Or do any of you know of a gypsy lady that appears as a vision or possibly as a dream to talk about it?"

[TristenC]

[everyone who has had a nightmare with the crown in it (all but Pytor?) will recognize the crown from their dreams depicted quite exactly, but have no knowledge of it aside from what they have been told during the campaign]