The party members took some time to catch their breath. Air-wen
curled up into a huge cloudy ball and snoozed in one corner of the room. Siegfried
attuned to the Axe of the Bloodsworn as Alec took a few practice swings
with his mercurial greatsword. Theryn spent some time inspecting the
gem-encrusted mace, which he then strapped to his back, content to use his new
silvered serrated shortswords. Siegfried also worked his newfound axe through a series of
flourishes, to Varien’s growing discontent. Siegfried couldn’t help but notice,
and rub it in a little. “Now then, Varien, you do realize that blood magic, or
hemomancy if you will, is by no means necromancy, do you not?” Varien gave a disapproving eyeroll. “Just because you’re
correct doesn’t mean you’re right, Siegfried.” Before Siegfried could reply, he
continued, a dark look clouding his features. “Hemomancy is not necromancy, but
more importantly, I know that using tools created with hemomantic powers doesn’t
make you a necromancer. Just like if I hit someone in the face with an axe, it
doesn’t make me a lumberjack.” “Ah yes, but they do tend to throw you out of the logging camp
for that,” Siegfried said, waggling the skull-faced axe blade at the paladin. Then
he stopped, frowning, as he realized that he might have accidentally made
Varien’s point for him. “So, don’t worry your little green head, Siegfried,” Varien
said, tapping a gauntleted finger to his behelmed temple. The paladin got to
his feet and began to make a circuit of the chamber, checking the doors. “Locked,
locked, and locked,” he said, frowning. Siegfried sauntered over and activated his eldritch sight.
Sure enough, there was an aura of abjuration magic concentrated on the locking
mechanism of the doors. “Ah, a sort of arcane lock,” he said, rubbing his hands
together. “As it happens, I’ve a spell for that.” He cast dispel magic .
The aura faded, while the doors remained closed. Siegfried shouldered the door
open. He found himself standing in a 20-foot long chamber that contained eight
standing sarcophagi tucked into alcoves. “It is at this point that I will remind everyone that orcs
didn’t usually bury their mid-tier champions with an excess of magical weapons,
instead passing them on to heirs so that the next generation could wreak havoc
on the weak. Those magical weapons we found out in the main room were bait for
a trap, obviously, but for the dead, the real stuff is not being shared by
roommates in the afterlife.” “Thanks for the history lesson, Siegfried,” Varien said. “I
will point out that the only one robbing graves at this point is you.” Siegfried sighed. “Let us move on to the next chamber.” He
moved to the north chamber and found that another arcane lock protected the
doors. “Have any of the rest of you prepared dispel magic? I would have to have
to burn through all of my magical resources on such a mundane spell.” Theryn stepped up. “Tell me, Siegfried, does the spell in question
seal the door against all efforts, or does it merely make entry more difficult?”
“You raise an interesting point, Theryn,” Siegfried said, pulling out his
thieves’ tools. “I do believe it’s the latter, so if you’ll just give me a
second,” he knelt down to inspect the lock. There was a rush of wind and the scream of an eagle past
Siegfried’s head, and the doors crashed open beneath the forceful strength of
Theryn’s sandaled foot. “Er, thank you,” Siegfried said, dusting off his hands. He
looked into the chamber, which at first blush looked the same as the eastern
alcove. This time, however, there was a decoration on the far wall at the end of
the room – a stylized mask depicting an enraged orc’s face, hanging as if on a
hook.”
“Well, well!” Siegfried said, stepping forward. Theryn’s arm whipped out to stop his entry. “All is not as
it seems, Siegfried.” “How so?” Siegfried asked. Theryn pointed at the ground. “The floor of this chamber is
not like the others. Rather than flagstones, the floor here is a single piece
of stone, painted painstakingly to look like a tiled stone floor.” “I do believe you’re right, monk,” Siegfried said. “Good
eye.” He fished out a ball bearing from his pack and let it roll out onto the
floor. The ball bounced and then rolled normally, coming to a halt several feet
away in the centre of the room. Siegfried shrugged. “My eyes detect no magic,
save for that on our prize at the far end of the hall,” he pointed at the mask.
“Leave it to me,” Theryn said, and stepped forward warily. The moment the monk put weight on the stone floor, the floor
dropped away as the room tilted as if on a greased central axle. The stone
sarcophagi in their alcoves stood stock-still as the floor tilted a full 90
degrees. Theryn used his step of the wind ability to move on the nearly
vertical surface.” Siegfried watched as the ball bearing rolled off the edge of
the floor into a shallow pit below. His eldritch sight registered a flash of
teleportation magic as the ball disappeared before hitting the ground below. “Back the shadowfell up!” he instructed the monk. “There’s a
pit down here that takes you someplace horrid, I bet.” Theryn shrugged and hopped back towards terra firma. The trapped
room stood still for a moment, and then very slowly began to reset itself. Siegfried fished around for the portable ram and wedged it
into the space between the rotating wall and the edge of the main chamber.
There was a grinding sound as the room wedged itself stuck on the ram. “Varien,
put your weight on it!” Varien leaned on the portable ram, aided by Siegfried. The
stone floor made a grinding sound. “Now, Theryn!” Theryn didn’t need to be told twice. He dashed across the
floor and used the tip of his shortsword to pry the mask from its place on the wall.
Balancing it on his blade, he rushed back to solid ground. Siegfried let Varien
and Alec knock the ram out of position as he politely asked Theryn for the
mask, intent on casting an identify spell . “Ah, your basic Mask of the Orc, ” Siegfried said,
pondering the item. His magical interrogation of the piece revealed that while
wearing the mask, its user would gain darkvision out to 60 feet, know the
Orcish language, and gain some of the orc species’ more aggressive racial
features. “It’s a fine, ornately carved and decorated wooden mask, to
be sure,” Theryn said to Siegfried. “But what does it do?” Siegfried twirled the mask, a finger through one of the eye-holes.
“My dear Theryn, it turns the wearer into a vampire!” he said as he quickly
pressed the mask to the face of the surprised monk. Theryn staggered back, his hands gripping the mask, whose
features seemed to twist in the shadows. The monk struggled to calm himself as
he rode a rolling wave of aggressive emotion, but soon his stance was steadied,
and his breathing, though coming in heavy panting gasps, was even and regular. Siegfried smiled at Theryn. In Orcish, he said, “I love the
new look, Theryn. How’s the mask fit?” Theryn shrugged a reply, but his eyes glittered with
understanding. “Well then,” Siegfried said, hands on hips. “Now that our
wind walker speaks my native tongue, diplomacy might be an option!” “Might I remind you, you are literally robbing the graves we
are standing next to,” Varien said. ‘No, orcs do not say things like ‘grave robbing,’” Siegfried
said firmly. “We’ve been over this.” Internally, Theryn was revelling in his newfound ability to
understand Orcish that he missed Siegfried and Varien’s aside. He smiled,
feeling the mask shift with his facial muscles, and said, “Now I get to hear
Siegfried twice as much!” The words that came out of Theryn’s mouth, however, were not
in Common. “ Nor jiak ek ve daggog Siegfried armauk tek ,” he said in a
snarling baritone. “Oh, so you can speak Orcish as well as understand it?”
Siegfried said back to him in Orcish. Theryn nodded. “Now that I think about it, perhaps that mask would be
better worn by someone else,” Siegfried said, trying to pull the mask off
Theryn’s face. The mask wouldn’t budge.
“Uh oh,” Siegfried said. “Theryn, try to say something in Common for us, please?”
he asked the monk in Orcish. Theryn grimaced and drew one of his shortswords. “Nar
Udautas!” he said firmly. “”Not today?”” Siegfried replied in Common. To Theryn, Siegfried’s words were meaningless gibberish. “Vras gruiuk,” Theryn said, almost to himself. He
squared his shoulders. “ Lev uuk juukav kep iav par auk jiak gelnaj uuke avhe
exavra abiliavieuk,” he said. “Great, so we’ve got another orc in the party?” Alec asked. “Try saying something in Dwarvish, then?” Siegfried asked,
attempting to use his telepathic link to get his point across. “Jiak gueukuk avhiuk avhaumn iuk ij parav ro alnej niw,
iavuk magik iuk ij parav ro alnej,” Thryen shrugged. “I am so sorry,” Siegfried said, translating for the rest of
the party’s benefit. “Nalal onwarduk agh upwarduk,” Theryn said in a resigned
tone. “Quite,” Siegfried said. “Take out your pent-up aggression
on those doors to the west, please?” Theryn needed no urging. With a hearty roar, he bashed the
doors open, rendering the arcane lock moot. This chamber was much like the eastern and northern chambers
– lined with standing sarcophagi in little alcoves. The elements however had
taken their toll on the stone coffins – their stylized carved lids looked
battered and worn, covered in scaly growths of lichen, and were slowly crumbling. “We’ll handle this,” Bob said as he and Alec stepped into the
chamber, investigating. As they reached the far end of the chamber, something began
to ooze out of cracks in the sarcophagi nearest them. A viscous liquid, ochre
in colour, that immediately gave Bob a flashback to some of his darkest moments
in Wave Echo Cave. “Jellies!” he hissed. “They don’t respond well to lightning or slashing weapons,” Siegfried
reminded his companions. “You know what they do respond well to?” Alec said. “Magic
missile!” He cast the spell and three bolts of force arced over to impact on the
oozing creatures, which flinched. “You know what else works?” Bob snarled. “Fire!” He cast a
twinned firebolt spell that scorched the creatures’ semisolid bodies. Suddenly the sarcophagi behind them erupted in a flash of
broken stone. A rotten stench filled the chamber as half a dozen undead Orcs
pulled their undead bodies out from their ruined resting places, brandishing
rusted weapons as they moaned with unsated rage. The first zombie orc slashed at Alec with a pitted
battleaxe, opening a wound on the barbarian’s chest. The nearest zombie swung at Alec, missed widely, and slashed
off the rotting arm of one of his compatriots. A third zombie, however, managed
to strike Alec again. Theryn ducked a swinging axe from another undead Orc, and
danced out of the way of another’s attack. Bob felt the sting of a rusted axe as one of the Orcs
slashed him deeply. He staggered beneath the weight of the attack. “Well, this all seems very familiar,” Varien said as he pulled
out FIendsbane. He cast sacred flame and lit up one of the creatures in
a wreath of holy fire. The monster roared. Siegfried swung his new axe. “Let’s see what this weapon can
do,” he said, as he knocked one of the zombies prone with a flourish. He also
planted a flag of healing spirit near his injured allies. “Clear out the room so
we can fill it with fire!” he shouted to his companions. Theryn swung his bo staff and struck the nearest zombie orc,
stunning it. He moved to another zombie, cracking it over the head, and then
disengaged, retreating out of range. The first ochre jelly struck Bob with one of its pseudopods,
delivering a bludgeoning blow with an acidic edge. The second jelly did
likewise. Again, Bob staggered. Air-wen glided into the chamber and settled in for a whirlwind.
His attack buffeted the zombies but the creatures held their ground. Alec turned to protect his brother from the zombies,
unlimbering his mercurial greatsword as he concentrated on the zombies. He
cleaved one, but missed with his second attack. “Thank you, brother,” Bob said. “That gives me time to do
this!” He gripped his holy symbol and uttered a prayer of divine retribution
against the undead, turning them from vengeful zombies into frightened shells
of their former selves. He moved back towards the entrance of the room, sending
the zombies running in the opposite direction. Varien swung his sword at the nearest Orc zombie, smiting
it. He moved out of the way, ignoring the creature’s feeble attempt to engage
him. Siegfried smiled and unleashed a psychic blast that
knocked four of the zombies and both of the jellies flat against the far wall
of the chamber. One of the jellies heaved and burst into a wet stain on the
wall under the impact of the attack. Air-wen managed to withstand the psychic blast as well. Theryn unleashed an ensnaring strike against the orc before
him, but even as the vines sprouted, they began to wither and die as the zombie
turned on its heels, fixing the monk with a lopsided grin, so lopsided because
half of its jaw was hanging free. Theryn roared and knocked the zombie’s head
clean off with a follow-through swung. The creature’s bashed skull flew into
the abyss in the centre of the room and dropped out of view. The headless body
fell over. Alec backed out of the chamber as Bob dropped a fireball
in the far corner of the room. Instantly the room was set completely ablaze with
magical flames. Three of the creatures were turned into standing cinders,
collapsing in the fire, and the jelly was scorched into a screeching puck that shuddered
and died. Two zombies still stood. “Ding dong, you are on the side of wrong,” Bob said as he
called upon his sorcerous reserves to cast Toll the Dead on one of the zombies,
freezing it where it stood as the dolorous sound of hell’s bells rang out. Varien strode forward, slashing the shuddering zombie in
two. Turning, he struck the last zombie with a diagonal swing that he augmented
with a powerful smite that blew the creature apart. Silence descended on the chamber, broken only by Yeemik’s
polite applause. “Any treasure worth taking?” Varien said. “No,” Siegfried replied, poking a booted toe at the zombies’
worn weapons and shreds of armor. He smiled. “Well, that was a very effective
tactic, wouldn’t you say? Firebombing the undead and letting Varien take care
of the stragglers?” “Whatever tactic we use, we shall do it again and again
until every last undead in this temple has fallen,” Varien said grimly. “Well, then there are more this way,” Siegfried said.
“Where?” Varien said sharply. “Hey everybody, I found a secret staircase!” Yeemik shouted from
where he stood next to one of the statues that ringed the room. “There was a
lever behind this statue here.” “Good show, Yeemik!” Siegfried said. Theryn rushed forward, his bloodlust by no means sated. “Nalkriuk
wanavuk avo go firukav. No ni? Thon leav'uk gahhh!” He paused for a moment and
then attempted to remove the mask from his face. The mask held fast. Theryn shrugged. “Jiak don'av knol, jiak gueukuk jiak gelnaj
geav uukun avo avhiuk!” he declared as he strode into the narrow chamber, which
reeked of mold. “Welcome to my world,” Siegfried said in Orcish. The party marched down the narrow stairs, which were rough-hewn,
just like the walls on either side. They approached what appeared to be a dead
end, but Theryn’s newfound darkvision detected a seam in the wall in the shape
of a secret door. The light that seeped in through the slight gap around the
door was red, hellish, and reeked of sulphur. Fiendsbane rattled in his scabbard. Theryn found the lever and made as if to pull it. Turning to
his friends he said, “Nalkruska lat're goaumn avhrough skator, kip goaumn!” “I don’t understand what that means, Theryn,” Varien said in
a tired voice. Undaunted, Theryn pulled the lever.