Chapter 24: Domain of the Dead

[Urson]

Zahra
Zahra smiles, seeing her companions are awake again. She nods to Torix. If we intend to finish this quest, we need far more than we have.

We continue to encounter death and destruction, and continue to survive by a hair's breadth. Are we in over our heads? I would hate to abandon this potential treasure trove- but we seem to be dying by inches here. Should we quit now, and count ourselves lucky to be alive?

[Yrkoon]

Cruloc

Cruloc is stunned by the death of the hulking Easterner. Mighty Kiri - wielder of occult magicks and brute strength. He had thought him nigh invincible. And what is to become of his Grandfather? Has his spirit departed with that of his slain descendant? Despite himself, the barbarian would utter a word of condolence to the ethereal and strangely odorless old man.

After a moment lost to despondency, he retrieves the valuables which Kiri had collected from the hidden compartment in the statue.

"We leave. We move quietly through the forest, hunting when and where we can. To the fort we must return. Our strength and supplies are insufficient to the current task," he adds, nodding at Torix. "Our Pict will surely know how to help us avoid his less welcoming countrymen. At Tuscelan, we gather our strength and new companions. We are outmatched here." Cruloc speaks intently. "When whoring, we use this," grabbing his crotch. "In these environs," tapping his head, "survivors use this. Ignoring good sense has brought us to our present situation."

"The treasures which have lain here since the mountains were young will not grow legs and leave. We will revisit this place to fill our pockets, by Crom!"

[hedgeknight]

Dahinna

Wiping the crumbs from her mouth, the Zamoran stands and begins arranging her gear. "I've been ready to leave since we descended into this hell hole. I just hate leaving our companions behind," she says, her voice dropping lower when she looks at the bodies of Kiri and Grigor.

[ravenn4544]

Amethu, now conscious for some small time, is keen enough to understand the discussion..."Leave, you say? Leave our quest unfulfilled? Why let a setback delay our entire journey? How much time will it take - and dangers to be faced - returning through the forest?"

Spells updated. I'll expend CLWs to get everyone back up to full as we rest here.

[Yrkoon]

Cruloc

"Aye. Dangers await in all directions, brave Magus." The barbarian points toward the ceiling, the surface, and the sky. "But food is that way, and no horrors down here compare to death by starvation. Our path leads inevitably to the forest. Will you stay here to feast on these dry bones?" A kick from his boot sends a broken skull skittering across the stone floor. "Or," motioning toward the corpses of Kiri and Grigor, "will you gnaw on those which still hold flesh?"

"Not even a climber of your skill could make the descent along the narrow path outside the spore room with a cadaver on your back, Dahinna. You or anyone else who tried would join them in death at the bottom of the abyss, if there be one. I beheld the Angel of Death collect the spirits of the Khambujan and the gypsy priest. They are gone. What remains are merely empty vessels."

[Inferno]

The Caverns of Thracia, Pictland, the World of Hyboria
Day Fifteen. Morning? 25th day of the month of Qrot, 1280th year of the Age of Aquilonia







Standing over the bodies of their dead friends, beset on all sides by the hungry darkness and the howling winds, the surviving explorers of Thracia hotly debate their dire situation, and their next fateful steps!


Replies? Actions?! (And feel free to roll dice for CLWs, Raven)


Map:

One square = 10 feet.





PC Status:

Amethu: Verulian Grand Magus Cleric/Magic-User 4/3: Move: 9", AC: 4, HP: 2/17, Spells: 8/8 1st lvl, 5/5 2nd lvl
Cruloc: Cimmerian Northman Barbarian 4: Move: 12", AC: 4, HP: 24/54
Dahinna: Zamoran Southwoman Thief 5: Move: 12", AC: 4, HP: 2/25
Torix: Pict Savage Barbarian 4: Move: 12", AC: 2, HP: 20/38, Unsettled
Zahra: Verulian Amazon Fighter 4: Move: 12", AC: 3, HP: 23/29, Unsettled, Glowing Sword

PC Magic:

None currently

Player Resources:

The Struggle To Survive (the story so far)
Mysteries Strange and Deadly (player clues and notes)
An Age Undreamed Of (maps and realms of the World of Hyboria)

[Urson]

Zahra
I think it's settled, then. We head for the surface, and mourn our dead.

[hedgeknight]

Dahinna

"Then lead on. I'll gladly follow. Quest or no quest, Cruloc is right. We stay, we die; it's as simple as that."

[ravenn4544]

Amethu girded against setback to fulfill his quest is also not without the savvy to understand overwhelming dissent. "Let us ascend as you say. But in the light of the sun let us pause and take stock of our situation before agreeing to depart these hard found lands outright."

[Yrkoon]

Cruloc

Cruloc gathers from the fallen Khambujan and Zamoran whatever things will aid his survival and those which will fetch a high price with traders. Cimmerian honour dictates that he share these items equally with the party.

"Let us rest in the forest above the city until we are fighting fit. Dangers lurk there, but Torix and I will be in our element. We will hunt and fashion torches. Events over the coming days will determine what path to take thereafter."

[Inferno]

The Caverns of Thracia, Pictland, the World of Hyboria
Day Fifteen. Evening. 25th day of the month of Qrot, 1280th year of the Age of Aquilonia







And so, the surviving adventurers escape the ageless, brooding ruins of Thracia with their lives. They flee bearing treasures, the memory of their fallen companions, and the hope that they might one day return to the lost city of eternity.

The End?





PC Status:

Amethu: Verulian Grand Magus Cleric/Magic-User 4/3: Move: 9", AC: 4, HP: 2/17, Spells: 8/8 1st lvl, 5/5 2nd lvl
Cruloc: Cimmerian Northman Barbarian 4: Move: 12", AC: 4, HP: 24/54
Dahinna: Zamoran Southwoman Thief 5: Move: 12", AC: 4, HP: 2/25
Torix: Pict Savage Barbarian 4: Move: 12", AC: 2, HP: 20/38
Zahra: Verulian Amazon Fighter 4: Move: 12", AC: 3, HP: 23/29

PC Magic:

None currently

Player Resources:

The Struggle To Survive (the story so far)
Mysteries Strange and Deadly (player clues and notes)
An Age Undreamed Of (maps and realms of the World of Hyboria)

[Inferno]

The Ruins of Thracia, Pictland, the World of Hyboria
Day Fifteen. Evening. 25th day of the month of Qrot, 1280th year of the Age of Aquilonia






Having escaped the lost city of the ancients, the survivors of the doomed expedition retreat to the forest west of the cliffs' edge as the shadows of dusk deepen all around them. There still looms the unnatural silence of this domain of the dead. No song of bird nor sound of insect is heard in these primal territories far from the civilization of Men.

Beneath the darkening trees they collapse, overtaken by their life and death struggle of mind, body and soul. Cruloc and Torix tend to their wounds. Then the adventurers set the watch and sleep deeply through the night.

Their vivid dreams are haunted by dire memories of what horrors they witnessed in the mythic Underworld of a bygone age. In their nightmares they descend once more into the darkness, madness and death of lost Thracia...



"We have no memory. Thracia is a graveyard and we are her Dead."



"There is nothing for you in the Underworld except Death! Come forth that we may impart Its blessings upon you!"



"Blood and souls for my lord Thanatos!"



"I am Death and I hail from Hell."



"My brothers are the dead, and they are without number."



"Thanatos will avenge me."



"And here in His Underworld, you shall suffer torments beyond imagining."



"A curse is now upon you all."



"None can escape the vengeance of the God of Death."



"Remember me in your agony."



After having slept for what felt like a year, they awaken at dawn; death and horror still fresh within beleaguered memory.

They find that Zahra died in the night, finally succumbing to her many wounds... or perhaps to the curse that was laid upon them all by the unholy death-worshippers of Thanatos.


Actions? Plans for the day? (Overnight healing is accounted for, and Amethu may memorize new spells)


Map:

The adventurers' camp is due west of the red X.





PC Status:

Amethu: Verulian Grand Magus Cleric/Magic-User 4/3: Move: 9", AC: 4, HP: 4/17, Spells: 8/8 1st lvl, 5/5 2nd lvl
Cruloc: Cimmerian Northman Barbarian 4: Move: 12", AC: 4, HP: 26/54
Dahinna: Zamoran Southwoman Thief 5: Move: 12", AC: 4, HP: 4/25
Torix: Pict Savage Barbarian 4: Move: 12", AC: 2, HP: 22/38

PC Magic:

None currently

Player Resources:

The Struggle To Survive (the story so far)
Mysteries Strange and Deadly (player clues and notes)
An Age Undreamed Of (maps and realms of the World of Hyboria)

[jemmus]

The tattooed Pict Torix feels sad that the swordswoman Zahra died of wounds in her sleep. He himself wants to die of old age, or in battle. But not in the night from wounds, like a wounded animal. He doesn't have tools for digging a proper grave, and building a pyre and cremating could take a full day and night. So he hauls large stones to build a cairn over her. The Vanir bury their chiefs and kings with their weapons and treasure, I hear. Seems foolish to me. It just gives robbers a reason to rip up the gravel and leave the body for the vultures. No use burying Zahra's things with her, I'd say, if any of us can use them. The food we could sure use, unless we want to take the time to hunt game and dry meat. He eyes the fighter's long sword in its sheathe. The blade seemed strong and razor sharp when in action. But it glowed bright with accursed devilish wizardry.

[Yrkoon]

Cruloc

Cruloc now finds himself acquainted with a sensation hitherto unknown: fear.

In the rugged lexicon of the Cimmerians, there exists a word for it, yet it is typically reserved for the quivering horror written upon the faces of Picts, Aquilonians, and other interlopers who stand in battle against the ferocity of the children of Crom or flee howling from them. Yet the sombre shadows of yonder Underground City have crept stealthily into his heart, a great melancholy settling like damp mists within a valley, smothering the brashness with which he had once contemplated his own end. Apprehension stalks him, and a consciousness of his mortality now strokes his heart with icy fingers. In death, there is no glory—only a yawning abyss of nothingness.

“Glory to the Verulian lioness,” he rumbles irresolutely, gathering his legs under him to help Torix in the construction of the cairn. “Glory.”

He places Zahra’s items neatly on the ground beside the half-built mound, taking stock of what mayhap help them survive. After a moment's consideration, he adds “We lack food and torches, by Mitra.”

He begins fashioning makeshift torches. He does not have a hand axe, but will attempt to locate one either from among Zahra's possessions or from his companions.

*OoC* Cruloc favours healing and gathering what resources we can from the forest. If the party votes to head back to the fort, he will not protest. A decision to return forthwith to the Underground City will be met with much wailing and gnashing of teeth.

[jemmus]

Torix lends the Cruloc his flint hand axe. Though a hereditary enemy of the Picts, he's come to consider the Cimmerian a steady and reliable comrade in arms.

[Yrkoon]

Cruloc gratefully accepts the hand axe from Torix.

"Perhaps you could put that Pictish cunning to work and fashion some snares to catch us a meal, eh? These rations are drier than the Southern Wastes!"

[ravenn4544]

Amethu is quiet and still as he looks out over the ancient city. Death has proven to be the victor thus far. Perhaps it is not victory, but the cost that must be paid to uncover such ancient and hidden secrets. There is but only to continue...

He returns to the group to lend what aide he can. He exhausts all healing prayers he can bring to bear, yet the party remains weakened by the cult of death below.

CLW on Amethu:
Cure Light Wounds [1d8]=4

Cure Light Wounds [1d8]=1

Cure Light Wounds [1d8]=8

CLW on Dahinna:
Cure Light Wounds [1d8]=7

Cure Light Wounds [1d8]=8

[hedgeknight]

Dahinna

Dreams filled with horrors seen and unseen, the rogue is relieved to awaken from them. Every part of her body hurts as she rolls over to find Zahra's dead eyes staring at her. She stifles a gasp and instead reaches out to touch her cold companion. Tears spring from her tired eyes as Thanatos has claimed another of her group.
As she struggles to sit up, she feels a warmth, something magical, flow into her body. It pushes aside many of her aches and pains and closes wounds. She turns to see it is Amethu who has bestowed healing upon her. She gratefully pats his arm and then gets to her feet to help the others with Zahra.
Helping Cruloc fashion torches, her stomach grumbles and she asks, "What are we to do now? Do we have enough food and water to return to this forgotten city of doom?"

[Inferno]

The Ruins of Thracia, Pictland, the World of Hyboria
Day Sixteen. Dawn. 26th day of the month of Qrot, 1280th year of the Age of Aquilonia







Dawn slowly dims the stars and fills the sky with a fiery light.

Far from civilization, surrounded by hostile Picts, the four survivors of the Underworld set to work burying their dead and laboring to save their own fragile lives.

To that end, Amethu the sorcerer-priest summons ancient healing magic from Verulia's distant past.



(+13hp Amethu! +15hp Dahinna!)

Cruloc and Dahinna prepare to make torches but first they lay out their dead friends' possessions beside Zahra's burial cairn, taking careful stock of that which might help them avoid sharing her fate:

From Grigor's dead hand had been harvested:
His lucky, gypsy blade (Scimitar +2)
And from his pouches:
Hundreds of Ancient Atlantean coins of gold and silver carried for the group
3 days iron rations
3 torches

From Kiri's mountainous body was taken:
4 shimmering rubies and dozens of platinum Atlantean coins which he carried for the group, more riches than any of them had ever before seen!
2 skeleton keys taken from the corpse of a Thracia death worshipper
5 torches
Dozens of Hyborian coins of gold and silver
22 arrows
1 short bow
4 days iron rations
And the ancestral amulet carved in his grandfather's likeness

From Zahra's lifeless form, they find fearsome Verulian artifacts of warfare:
The fabled Sword of Xuthalhotep (Long Sword +2)
Her lioness motif shield (Large Shield +1)
The Thracian spear found within the amoebic horror (possibly magical?)
One candle
6 days iron rations
And dozens of Verulian coins of gold and silver

Cruloc asks Torix to set snares for wildlife, but fauna has neither been seen nor heard in these eerily silent territories near the Forbidden City of the Dead.

Cruloc reaches for Kiri's ancestral amulet when suddenly there is a footfall. In the unnatural stillness of their surroundings it seems nigh to deafening. The adventurers look up and see a gigantic figure standing at the edge of the camp! It is Kiri Khutan, returned from the grave!




Actions?!





PC Status:

Amethu: Verulian Grand Magus Cleric/Magic-User 4/3: Move: 9", AC: 4, HP: 17/17, Spells: 3/8 1st lvl, 5/5 2nd lvl
Cruloc: Cimmerian Northman Barbarian 4: Move: 12", AC: 4, HP: 26/54
Dahinna: Zamoran Southwoman Thief 5: Move: 12", AC: 4, HP: 19/25
Torix: Pict Savage Barbarian 4: Move: 12", AC: 2, HP: 22/38

PC Magic:

None currently

Player Resources:

The Struggle To Survive (the story so far)
Mysteries Strange and Deadly (player clues and notes)
An Age Undreamed Of (maps and realms of the World of Hyboria)

[Yrkoon]

Cruloc

Kiri?! He was cut down, but he stands regrown, as broad as an Eiglophian redwood, yet in a matter of hours rather than centuries! This transcendental hulk from the East, whisperer to the Dead, a man who is also a spider, able to freely cross the threshold between life and death? Cruloc’s breath catches in his throat as he stands momentarily dumbfounded at the reappearance of the inscrutable Kambujan.

About to take Grandfather’s amulet, Cruloc swiftly pulls his hand back, a flicker of guilt passes through him, reminiscent of the moment as a whelp he was caught red-handed, stealing apple cores from a boar’s trough. Beholding Kiri’s serene mastery over the veil separating this world and the next, the Cimmerian's nascent fear of death dissipates like cheap ale spilled upon a tavern floor, lost in the raucous revelry of a cathouse's dim-lit halls, where men gamble their souls for fleeting pleasures and forget the chill touch of the Reaper's hand.

“I wished to be Grandfather’s guardian. I no longer wish to slay him,” he announces.