Session Fourteen (Graveyard of Empires Summary)

24th of Enreldon,

Dear, dear diary,

I am writing another entry, meaning I am still alive though I have brushed right past death, or it would be more accurate to say that death has brushed right past me! I have just woken up in my companion’s town hall. To be honest, I have a very slight idea of how I have gotten here. My head is pounding, though not as much as last when I’ve written in you and there is some spilled liquid on my worn out, bloody and dirty clothes. And oh my goodness, what is this smell! AXEL!

What I remember more clearly would be the beginning of our second journey back down the dwarven tombs. For we had recovered the overseer keys, we did not hesitate to venture back into the depth of this mysterious, secret-filled, ancient, clean yet not clean, massive sepulchre.

We had made our way back to the rotating bridge chamber and, with our scotopia, made out a keyhole upon the pedestal in the center of the bridge as well as another...monstrously dwarven looking talking pedestal.

It seemed then to be producing some sort of heat. The usual humming sound appeared once again, and we heard it speak in a distant static voice:

“Stop!” It said, and “why?” I yelled.

“Only death awaits you on the path ahead,” it warned, and “Elaborate,” demanded Axel, the man who had once again become jovial ever since my last entry.

“Leave the secrets of the past to its slumber,” it had elaborated to Axel’s dissatisfaction.

Seeing as he had nothing better to do, no one to pester, and nothing to bash, our young paladin had decided to call upon his holy powers to determine the evilness of the speaking box before us. And, in fact, it was evil: one more reason besides its impreciseness to bash the thing.

“Perhaps you need something? Share the secrets with us and perhaps we can help you with this something,” I had proposed for I have been taught to never discriminate. Indeed, a gold coin is a gold coin.

“There is nothing I need. Leave with what you have stolen.”

The once again jovial man wondered out loud, “why are you here?”

“Duty bounds me.”

At this, there were no more words to be exchanged, but there was no way in all Curabell that we would leave without first trying to uncover the secret of this blasted oversized mausoleum.

Taking the initiative, we all tried our luck at shooting the dwarven creature down. Only Axel succeeded in hitting it. Perhaps the man’s long days of mental dormancy had given him strength. Oh, and Thorfus did hit it as well with his warriorness enough for an explanation.

The creature, dwarf, or automaton that we’ll call ‘thing’ did make good of his words to have us decorate the floors for millennia to come: it shot out a lightning bolt towards Axel. The man took it like a man and was only slightly damaged.

The juvenile paladin did not perform as well as he was also on the receiving end of a lightning bolt: he went, with a thud, to discuss with the floor, eyes closed and body unmoving. Fortunately for Galron, the illusionist had been nearby, and had stabilized him preventing his death.

Fully confident, Axel had tried again his luck with the bow, but his confidence might have been too overwhelming for not a single arrow had brushed the ‘thing’. Thorfus, on the other side, had been able to shoot it.

Kottar had always been amazed by strong warriors. Thorfus was nearly, I did write nearly, a role model for the boy. He had tried the same move as the dwarven warrior, but ended up damaging his weapon.

After then, it had been my turn. I had swiftly drawn back the string of my bow and knocked an arrow as effortlessly as it would have been to pluck the strings of a harp. The arrow had flown straight into the thing’s head damaging it significantly.

However, in this company, we all seem to have trouble managing confidence. That explains how my next shot had not hit the target.

Then, we had been taken by surprise by three electrified spheres perforating the ground and floating before us. Quite the enemy’s feast, I had thought. Indeed, we were electrocuted and, against our will, joined Galron in his examination of the floor. Not that I have not examined it enough already. The floor and I are quickly becoming best friends.

Before my mind faded into oblivion, I had a glimpse of the only remaining members of our company who still stood: my friend Faldspar, the kind and patient cleric, jovial Axel, and the warrior Thorfus.

I was perhaps only dreaming, but something about Thorfus’ victorious grin and bloody armour told me that the thing had been slaughtered, and that others on our path had been slaughtered after that. The recent news of a few heads lying around near the sewer’s entrance leaves me to wonder about his sanity.

On my wake, Axel told me about his successful hit on the ‘thing’, and how Ir’Alle and Faldspar ran around to keep the rest of us from bleeding to our doom. He told me about a zombie who was sneaking upon us before the ‘thing’ was killed. It fortunately fell after its master did.

A few other things happened while I was unconscious. Most of it, I am not aware of, but Faldspar did come back with another cube that he had retrieved from the zombie’s brain. Thorfus also returned with some zombie black fluid, or whatever he has in his ‘bag that stinks so bad’.

Perhaps I had been unconscious the whole time and had dreamed about all that happened after, but still I believe it is worth telling.

My conscious companions used the key. It was the key for rotating the bridge. We were left on the west platform or east, I do not remember, while they were now facing the north and south doors. Only Faldspar remained to watch over our bodies. The others manoeuvred carefully around the place with lanterns and Thorfus using continuously his stone sense to sense the stones for traps and all that tralala.

The doors were simple and dusty. Thorfus did sneeze, but did not discover anything else. They opened the door to the sight of a bluish hue in a faraway passage way. Fully equipped with stone sense and ten foot poles, they made their way closer and closer to the blue glow. It became clearer and clearer.

They then reached a strange chamber with stairs leading about ten feet above, and a statue of a dwarven lady.

Axel ingenuously discovered an ingenuous lightning trap: after the trap is activated, releasing a lightning bolt, the light dims and the place is safe from lightning. After twenty minutes, the light is clear again and the trap can once again be activated.

The images in my mind after they make their way into the room are unclear: images of female dwarves, a single sarcophagus, the blue light, and a ghostly apparition of a dwarven lady past her prime.

I had heard voices in my head: “Morga gharz altair, child of the silver throne and matron mother of the Altair family, warrior queen, master engineer, magus prime and lore keeper.”

In the end, the sarcophagus is despoiled and my companions flee back to the bridge room with a steel crown and a thick golden chain with a disk as a pendant, its hole being square shaped and ADCFG inscribed upon it.

Our bodies are then dragged back to the sewers, where the help of the goblins is requested to bring us back to the surface because we seemingly were too heavy even though my GGFGM had never before called me fat.

By that time, I was slipping in and out of consciousness.

I remember my companions having to go through a long conversation with the goblins to acquire their help, and a certain Malikor asking if we needed a place to rest...I mean, more than half our companions were unconcious...

...

After that, they ask why they had been made slaves.

Long after, they agree to help because as they say, Thorfus is thrustworthy. For a dwarf.

Then, I remember that our ascension had been interrupted by some flying arrows. I remember being taken away and poked by goblins for hours, while hearing shouts like “WE’RE ADVENTURERS”, “WHO GOES THERE?”, and “THATS A WARNING SHOT!” I also heard someone being shot and falling into water. It must have been Axel. He must have had one of a swim down the river of sewage because right now I wish I were not sharing a room with him. The stench is horrible, and I’m still wondering why he did not change out of his manure drenched clothes. In all honesty, poop is not my favorite scent.

I suspect they have fought brutally and not much in style to exit the sewers. In fact, stumbling dwarves and war cries like “FLEE YOU FOOL BEFORE THE WRATH OF THORFUS” is not exactly what I’d call in style, nor those flying heads decorating the sewer.

In any case, it was worthwhile since they brought back this arsenal of bows and swords, not that I’ll ever use short bows, because short bows aren’t made for perfectly proportional people like me. While being carried back towards the exit of the sewer, I heard my companions conversing with their remaining hostage. I learn later on that some Reynold, or Reinhold had hired some men to assassinate us. Being only a pawn, the hostage did not know much, but he was now our hire after getting threat as a down payment. He could find out more information on our attackers, who knows?

That it is, mostly all I can tell of our journey so far.

I truly wonder how we made our way back to the town hall with all these unconscious people to carry without being stopped for interrogation. It must have had something to do with them being acquainted with the guard Montrel.

As of now, we are all awake and healthy. It did take more time for the boy Kottar to wake up. The poor boy, it must have been a shock for him, all those shocking lightning bolts. In Galron’s case though, the paladin seems to be more shocked by a middle aged women’s rejection than some lightning bolt.

On this last note I will end my second entry. My companions plan to return to the dwarven undergrounds, and some rest is well needed.

Tarion, dear friend of floors, clean or unclean