Session 5

Once more:

Party:
Rattlebones (Sorcerer 1)

The Plumage of Spring (Sorcerer 1)

The Meek Sun (Thief 1)

The Eyes of True Men (Fighting-man 1)

Slough (Halfling 1) [Retainer]

The Last Walker (Fighting-man 1) [Retainer]

With a pitiful amount of obvious cash left, the party sought more hirelings and could only get the attentions of another stranger: a grey-haired Ulfire elder (a rare thing), who with just a look could parse the thoughts of Plumage of Spring and repeat each back to her verbatim. He was on what he called his Last Walk, and would follow for a pittance. And so they called him Walker or Last Walker.

Elsewhere, in a canoe under the shadow of a stilt hut, Meek Sun conferred with a smuggler who she had identified by Robber Code. Suspecting further treachery she offered only scuffed gems and expected to haggle—only to find that with one gem she could pay off half the party’s debt. Palms sweating, she doubted this and took the gem back (the daggers both thieves had out made peace the only option).

The smuggler told of the hash route that flowed north, and how wealth came in many forms; gold, silver, gems, hash, lotus, slaves. And most importantly, food and power. He said he had contacts to the west, only a day’s travel away, and that should she want work for the fast and brave come find him again. She paid for the service and returned to the party with a head full of plots. Her fellow Grey outlander picked up on this, and they two packed double rations and tested the calluses of their feet for running.

On the fifth day they went in the morning along a now well-known trail, for no monster bothered them and the hill rose up impassively as it always had. They set up a rope guide down the trapped ramp-staircase instead of braving the caves again, and under dimming sunlight they saw a verminous worm of the swamp crawl too close to the headless statues littering the room and be struck and die. Testing it they found a poisoned needle clearly shot from a statue’s torso and so hustled out south.

Deeper in the vaults they chose a leftward path and came to a room stripped of all decoration and features, full of choking, smothering fumes that made torches burn low and with dull fire. They retreated and headed into a narrow passage lined in alcoves, each with a fountain carved in teeming monstrous cornucopia.

In that stillness the flapping of wings came from the darkened ceiling and the party turned to face whatever dived out into the light: winged, membranous things with wicked proboscises and the stink of old blood! One was cut out the air immediately, and the flurry filled the air. Blows were traded and torches waved, The Eyes of True Men’s exposed neck proved a fine target for one of the beasts, who stuck him and immediately began draining blood before its body was sliced from its head and the whole mess pulled and stomped onto the flagstones. With the bloodsuckers taken care of attention turned to the fountains; each full of stagnant, scummy water.

Hesitation annoyed The Eyes, who stuck his full arm into a fountain to fish around; aside from a foul miasma it was mundane water with shifting coins settled at the bottom. He pulled up a fistful of silver but gold was suspected, and one by one the torch was passed over each fountain to see how the light glinted. In the furthest fountain something strange was found: an ampoule of thick, colloidal metal, playing like stars in the torchlight. They stashed it away and left the fountains for others to dredge through.

Peeking back into the room of choking air they saw no monsters or corpses, called it a hazard but not undue risk, and closed the door again. It seemed they had bested the worst of those vaults, but no treasure was forthcoming. They would have to delve deeper, flee, or hope clearing a floor would satisfy their debts. Meek Sun kept her knowledge to herself but said to probe a room or two down.

So they headed out, and upon nearing the staircase room they found themselves surrounded at spearpoint by large-eyed humanoids almost covered in shaggy white hair. No communication was possible, the mutants had their own language or disdained speech, but Last Walker dove into the mind of one and learned:

They were scouts from below;
This was some kind of sunken tower;
They did not look favorably on the party, but sought treasure.

A common point established, Eyes of True Men offered out his handful of wet cash. The mutants took interest and took the coins. For a moment there was wordless cooperation and pointing south back to the fountains; and the two groups separated without conflict. Plumage of Spring hoarsely asked again what kind of place was this, with mutants and temples to the Old Ones?

They headed north and down into deeper darkness. Heading straight to the first door and hearing nothing they found a tile labyrinth on the floor inside; they spent time examining what it may mean before coming to notice that a group of ten were watching them from the doorway. Grey men all, dressed in the known style of the settlement and with swords and spears. They were to secure the vaults and keep an eye on the party—and collect any treasures. The party handed over what coins were left and there was much annoyance at being suspected for treachery they had discussed amongst themselves. Those ten would return to the surface and wait for the party’s return.

More rooms turned up no treasure but a dozen war-masks in petrified wood, carved to look as like the horrific Spawn in protean formless emergence. Feeling pressure, the party ascended a level and returned to the caves, descending the handmade stair into deeper warrens. Meek Sun elected south to follow a faint glow—to a cave full of organic growth, luminous mushrooms and moss sprouting on the walls and floor. A cracked and splintered coffer stood amidst drag marks and thick growth—and in that unearthly light glinted broken glass and bone strung along a line, a warning trap.

The alarm was cut and quietly let down, but the chest proved broken and overgrown enough to warrant smashing open. The noise brought three huge insects with bioluminescent cysts, who feasted on the mushrooms and bristled at the party’s intrusion.

The treasure inside poured out: hundreds of silver coins, a bright sphere embossed all around with imposing piscine humanoids, an amulet of unearthly metal with artificial symbols and a snapped chain. Coins so numerous they couldn’t hope to carry all loading every possible space, the party refused to push on and retreated. All glory and gold, no loss in sight.

In good spirits they brought the profusion of coins to their minders, who came to share the cheer and several drags on a fragrant green cigar passed around. Torches were refreshed and the party descended again to finally determine the meaning of the vault statues. Unbothered they marched back to the room and found the Chanter leader dead as they had left him, and in better light saw that sear marks crisscrossed the walls and floor in profusion. An hour they grouped in contemplation, none seeing a pattern, until Eyes of True Men spotted true that by the angles present, all the sears must have come from a central point on the statue. He used the haft of his axe to demonstrate, and by so doing stepped too close to the statue.

A beam of pale red emitted between the statue’s two hands with a searing of air and a tearing sound, and struck the fighter directly in the back. Stricken he backed away and cursed the evil statue. Clever Meek Sun, having learned tricks of light, took the dead Quiet Breath’s obsidian mirror and inched closer herself, calling for the others to rush the statue as she caught its beam.

So they rushed as one, and by a slight angle the statue beam slipped under Meek Sun’s mirror and cut through her torso. She fell as the beam stopped, only for it to tear into life again and cut partway through Slough; but the time bought was enough, for the statue’s belly was hollow and slid aside in a second. Out poured gold, silver, and a strange wrapped bundle quickly snatched up.

Safely again out of range The Eyes of True Men lifted his companion up in his arms and saw her awake, and was glad. Last Walker turned his mind-reading on the statue, found nothing but the indifferent intelligence of stone, and called the matter done for. The bundle, revealed in light, appeared as a kind of necklace or bracelet of bubbles, each bubble made of steam somehow kept in solid form. This artifact puzzled the party, but they suspected its innumerable value and sought to replace it with mundane jewelry.

The dungeon had apparently drawn much attention that day, for when they made to leave the party stumbled into a band of ten rough-looking humans of mixed population and ragged aspect. Unfriendly they were, and demanded the party hand over their wealth as toll to leave that place.

It was not to be, for the loud arguing of price (The Eyes of True Men daring to raise his voice and haggle) brought on those half-dozen mutants, now soaked and stinking. The three groups were at an impasse, but the mutants attempted speech to the party and waved gathered coins high to catch the torchlight and made motions of thanks, and the party used their new bolstered numbers to set a turnabout—the robbers would be robbed, give up their plunder, and be free to pass on.

There was negotiation: the robbers would not give up wealth but would hand over the tools they had dredged up: a wicked wavy-bladed dagger and an ampoule of amber liquid, both with promised power.

So the deal was done, and so the party retreated with heavy loads and eyes toward every corner. Topside they told their minders to pull up the access rope, and to watch the hill’s side entrance for the place was live with intruders and of a depth unknown. Combined strength pushed a stone in front of the cave entrance to partially close it, and the minders returned back to The Judge with the party.

That evening the prudence of hiding treasures paid off, for after having been appropriated off their coinage and obvious jewelry there was silence around the tower. The bailiff instructed them to wait, for The Judge had taken to her scales and tablets. An hour passed, two, and upon the moon rising high to mark midnight a single oil lamp emerged to illuminate The Judge of Stones’ face. She brushed aside her veil and declared the party’s debt paid in coin and deed; the mutant Slough would not be set for death and the Ulfire man Quiet Breath was pardoned posthumously.

Last Walker spent his last psychic talent on this proclamation and knew it true, and knew more that The Judge had marked the party’s strength and cunning.

So they were released from their bond, and spent the night carousing among the living and reminiscing about the dead.

A week they spent in drink or study or preparation. Of the ampoules recovered they found one made the body discorporate into mist, and the other granted mind-reading abilities. Of the wavy-bladed dagger they found fine construction but no other secrets. Of the ring’s power they discovered by accident: Slough working in the flooded paddies found that he was standing atop water, and discretely moved to raised earth to avoid suspicion. Of the bracelet’s power the frustrated Plumage of Spring threw all her studies into and after sleepless days she discovered how it manifested a blade of force like a punch dagger for up to an hour each day.

Most of the work had been done in the drinking pit’s beaded corner, which had taken on the look of a nest or barracks with mats and spilled whiskey and the smell of close-packed sleepers. So come the day where the last silvers had been spent or bartered or lost, they gathered in that nest to plan their next move.

Again they hired Last Walker for a nominal fee (a drink).

The artifacts so far gathered made the treacherous job of fording rivers and streams trivial except for time; if they desired they could walk unbothered atop the great rivers of the swamp and pull along the others with a raft. Meek Sun told of the smuggling route and the camp to the west.

The map Rattlebones had translated was also pressing; if the sword-summoning necklace was one of three treasures, how deep down were the other two? Was the place a fane of the Old Ones? Would they uphold that vow made by Quiet Breath to gather power and destroy Chaos in the mountains?

High ideals gave way to the fact they had no money for food or vice and were unwilling to reveal they had hidden treasure. Again they trekked south and again came to the hill with avarice and violence.

Gains
1200 sp, 300 gp rhodium orb, 300gp mithril brooch, 60 gp, unknown artifact, dagger +1, potion of gaseous form, potion of ESP, 12 war masks

Book of The Dead

Boss - Abandoned in a temple

The Lurking Minion - Sacrificed for power

The Quiet Breath - Struck down by a ghoul

Rattlebones  - Killed by a vengeful acolyte