DM Note: Ouch!
Some debate then followed as to the distribution of the weapons. All were taken along, but ownership of some was left unfixed until more details of their properties emerged.
Beyond the living quarters of the Bloodsnake's house was another surprise; a library. Several racks of books - both Khabran scrolls and 'normal' bound page-books - lined one wall. After some investigation, Méabh tucked 11 volumes of various sizes - all written in Krultac of all things - on magical theory into her backpack. Gorfang found a book on swords which had a picture of the Veldrin, but which he couldn't read. Glancing at it, Méabh informed him that it was written in the disquieting language of the Fae Mhor, and was entitled "Weapons of the Fae Mhor". The orc bagged it with satisfaction. Next to it, he found another book which he passed to Méabh; this turned out to be written in High Erlyid and have the title 'Famous Blades of the Kyraura'. She added this to her collection.
Eloy strung his new bow and nocked one of Belurith's Arrows, then began speculatively eyeing Anshekehra where he orbited gently in his prison. Méabh and Gorfang both considered this worrying, and removed themselves from the area. Méabh went right out of Anshekehra's tomb and back to the central shaft. Gorfang swiped himself another snack from Thykon's kitchen, had a last check for loot, and fired the longhouse before following the sorceress out of Anshenkehra's tomb.
Left to himself, Eloy considered the problem. The enslaved undead king of Khabra was trapped in a bubble of force floating above Thykon's vast pool of gold. Eloy reckoned that his new arrows, with their Ghost Touch ability, could perhaps attack the force effect directly, sufficiently to destroy it perhaps. Carefully he drew the string of his new bow and unleashed the shaft
| DM Note: Ouch! |
As it sped, he felt a sudden cold breeze across his knuckles, emanating from the bow itself. Likewise, the arrow was suddenly sheathed in frost as it flew up. To Eloy's horror, however, it flitted through the ball of force as if it wasn't there and struck solidly into the groin of the imprisoned mummy. To add insult to injury, a burst of cold erupted from the point of the arrow to spread through the undead flesh as the arrow disintegrated.
There was a moment of dead silence. Then Eloy called up in Selasht, "er, sorry! I was only trying to get you out!". There was no response, and the human thought his best move was to pack up his bow and get out of there. He walked quickly around the catwalk and out into the central shaft. There was no sign of the others, and he decided he would have to pick an arch at random. Turning left, he strode past the pillar marked 'Luxtennath' and into the passages beyond.
 The central shaft |
Méabh had reached the central well, looked around and chosen an arch at random. The pillar for this tomb read 'Amonenhat', which didn't really mean anything to her. Cautiously she advanced down the passage beyond, towards a light at the end which suggested the same ambient light as Anshenkehra's tomb. A few yards later, she paused as she heard a sound all too familar these days; combat, the song of blade on blade and the scuff of feet shifting on slightly sandy stone. She thought there were a fair number of combatants from the sounds. Moving cautiously on she came to an arch and looked through at what lay beyond.
The passage opened up into a high, vaulted square room, a couple of hundred feet across. Two huge statues (resembling, though she didn't know it, Eloy's demon) flanked the entrance. Méabh carefully did not advance past these. Twelve pits were sunk into the surface, lined with steps leading down to their flat bottoms. In each, a pair of warriors fought back and forth with a wide variety of weapons. Méabh paused to watch for a moment; their level of skill was impressive, and the contests were fascinating to watch. After a few moments, she realized that - despite their skill and fluidity of movement - these warriors were undead. This explained their continued existence; their weapons were mere metal, and the fighters, like many undead, were probably immune to nonmagical weapons. The hits they scored against each other were merely keeping score.
The hall was lined - as were most of the walls in the pyramid - with painted and lettered murals. At the very back was a figure she'd initially taken for a picture on the wall, grey, humanoid and around nine feet high. As the light shifted, she realized that this figure was not a flat image but a phyiscal form, from the colour probably made of metal. Méabh decided to observe for a while, and remained in the entryway, watching the fighting.
At that moment Gorfang arrived; he'd reached the central hall just in time to see Méabh disappear into this passage and had strolled after her. He too was drawn by the display of battle-skills being performed in the pits, and was impressed. Being Gorfang, there was no foe he would hesitate or decline to engage; but he knew he would treat these fighting figures with respect if he ever had to match himself against them.
Quietly, Méabh pointed out to him the looming presence at the other end of the hall. Gorfang was interested, and stepped into the room to investigate further. As he walked down between the arena pits, he noticed that the eternally battling warriors stopped fighting as he passed them and turned to silently watch him pass. At the far end of the room, as he approached the statue, he realized that it was the figure of a male Khabran of heroic proportions made of iron, and that its' eyes moved, following the action as the undead warriors fought and strove. As the orc reached it, the statue paused and looked down at him.
"Greetings, Regailia Bearer," it said. "To what do I owe the honour of this visit? Have you come to free my brother King Anshenkehra from his slavery?" Gorfang shrugged helplessly. The statue was speaking Selasht, and he didn't understand a word. From the doorway, Méabh hissed a translation, and Gorfang asked who he was speaking to.
"I am Amonenhat, Lord of Battles," the statue answered. "My soul is bound to this frame of iron so that I may enjoy the skills of my Honour Guard forever. My three brother kings and I may not leave our tombs unless called forth for a little space by the Bearers, but we can feel Anshenkehra's pain. Call us forth, I beseech you!"
"Who are the four Kings?"
"Amonenhat, Lord of Battles; Luxtennath the Ghost Master, whose maze-tomb no non-regalia bearer will ever escape; Nakhsataat, the Slave Master, on the broken bodies of whose victims the empire of Khabra was built."
Gorfang and Méabh retreated into a huddle for a moment to discuss it, and then Gorfang stood straight. "I call you forth!" he said.
Eloy, meanwhile, had managed to get into the first few tunnels of Luxtennath's maze. His confidence crumbled as he came to realize the complexity of the place. Turning, he retreated to the central spindle, not noicting the ghostly form that drifted out of the wall behind him, looked after him as he left, and flitted back through the stone as he passed from view.
In the centre, he paused for a moment and listened. Yes, he'd heard right; enormously heavy footfalls coming closer from one of the other passages. Diving down into the well of coffins, he hid carefully and watched what emerged. It didn't improve his confidence; a nine-foot walking statue of a Khabran male strode out and up the stairs, followed by ranks of heavily-armed mummies. Eloy shrank back as the parade reached the centre, crossed the centre platform and descended the stairs towards him, but his spirits rose as he noticed Gorfang and Méabh following them. Once the undead were past, he joined them and they told him what had happened.
The procession wound its' way unerringly through the maze of Luxtennath's tomb, with more and more unsolid spectres coming out to look at them. Finally they arrived in the Ghost Master's sepulchre. This took the form of a giant temple to Nepthis, with ghosts seated in pews offering endless homage to her. Once again, the soul was released to join the gathering force, and the cavalcade moved on to the final tomb.
Nakhsataat the Slave Master journeyed through eternity enthroned atop a squat cylidrical pillar, with a circular area around him teeming with animated skeletons. Around half of these were occupied in building a curved wall around the pillar; the others were equally busy tearing it down again. Eternal toil seemed to please the king's spirit.
With all three kings gathered, the procession returned to Anshenkehra's ruined tomb, and the other three kings combined their powers to break the enchantment and return him to ground level. Eloy hung back behind the others, sheepishly, but Anshenkehra showed no immediate signs of taking up the matter of the human's unfortunate arrow.
Amonenhat turned back to the adventurers. "You have our gratitude," he said. "What reward would you ask from us, Regalia Bearers?"
Gorfang gestured to the Battle Master's followers. "You must have much lore of battle and weapons," he said, "I desire to master all weapons; teach me what you can."
"We haven't much time," said Amonenhat. "This will have to be a little rough and ready." He gestured slightly. Instantly all twenty-four of his honour guard drew their weapons and threw themselves at the orc. Startled, Gorfang whirled to the defence, and the impromptu battle spilled out across the plinth once occupied by the Blood Snake's house. Attacks were piling in from every side, and Gorfang found himself defending to the very limit of his skills. Then - abruptly - one of the mummies reversed his weapon and tossed it to the orc. Gorfang caught it, and found himself fighting with... well, it had a blade and a handle, but he'd never seen one before. There was no time to ponder; he had to fight with it or die on the spot. He stamped forward, parried in a high stance, and lunged....
As most others watched this, Méabh quietly cast a Message spell. To Anshenkehra she spoke once again, and apologized for Eloy's mistaken shot. "I offer you his life," she said calmly. The mummifed king's response was totally different to the borderline moron she had contacted before; fully in possession of his powers. "I thank you for your courtesy," he said, "but if you kill him here, he'd rise as undead, and we'd be stuck with him forever. Better he be removed from the Pyramid. What happens after that is up to you." She bowed slightly. "What reward would you ask from me," he continued. "I ask for nothing," she responded, "I leave it entirely in your hands." Anshenkehra bowed in turn. "I see the conflicts in you," he commented, "and the blade you have captured will increase those. I see your desires; I think I can help you." Méabh blinked; something shifted inside her.
Encouraged, Eloy also spoke. "I would like the ability to be invisible," he said. Luxtennath the Ghost Master looked at him for a long moment. "Servant of the Dark Foe though you be, your aid has been truly given this day," he said. "I shall grant your desire, and hope you find a cleaner alliegance with its' aid."
Amonenhat spoke again. "We must take measures to ensure that our mutual enemy does not return to try this again. So, we shall seal the pyramid; we will let in the desert and drown it in sand."
"Well, that ought to do it," mutttered Gorfang to himself as he spun past, blocking three blades and wincing as a fourth clipped his shoulder.
"You have one hour to leave for a safer place." continued the Battlemaster.
Méabh and Eloy looked at each other. They'd hoped to try and avoid having to confess that Eloy, Gorfang and Uruk had demolished a quarter of the Kings' pyramid. "The stairs are blocked," said Eloy, in his own style delivering just enough of the truth to create the impression he wanted in the hearer. "Through the actions of the Blood Snake," added Méabh, just for safety's sake. The kings communed silently for a few moments, and then Luxtennath spoke.
"I shall provide you with the ability to reach the teleport portal," he said. "Do not delay, though, for we shall begin the sealing in an hour. In five hours it will be done. Farewell, Bearers of the Regalia, and our thanks." He touched each of the travellers, and they faded into incorporeality like ghosts.
| DM Note: Jay, don't blame me for this one; I asked Aimo to suggest what you'd say as he knows you best and this is what the players came up with... |
After some experimentation, they found they could phase in and out of their wraith forms, and could indeed pass through walls, floors and ceilings. Before leaving, they returned to the Regalia Halls, and Uruk presented himself to Nepthis. His answer to 'How will you die?' of "Drunkenly, in agony," didn't seem to quite be what she was looking for and he left empty-handed.
 |
Aware of the time limit, they flitted through the stone back go the pentagram room and re-materialized. The pentagram glowed before them, and Méabh recalled what she'd learned about it cycling once every 15 minutes. They'd all have to go through at once, and it was a cinch that the Blood Snake would have some sort of welcome ready for them. Everyone checked their weapons and prepared their defences, and then on a count of three, everyone stepped onto the magical sigil.
As the flare and disorientation of the teleport faded around them, the adventurers recognized the pentagram room at the Museum of War and Conflict. They were home; and they were not alone.
Several crates had been dragged from the room next door, and set up as cover near the corners of the room. Sheltering behind these were the four clerks from the office downstairs and the chirpy middle-aged receptionist, armed with crossbows and looking worried about the idea of using them. The seven surviving lizardman museum guards were spread around between the crates, re-armed with battleaxes and poised to attack anyone coming in through the portal. Clearly prepared for the flash of arriving victims, the clerks loosed their weapons as soon as solid figures were visible, and a volley of poorly-aimed crossbow bolts flashed across the room in all directions.
Most buried themselves in the wooden walls. One carved a minor gash across the arm of one of the lizardman guards. The receptionist, even less able to use a crossbow than the others, managed to shoot one of the clerks dead by accident. Then the moment of surprise was over, and the companions exploded into action.
Méabh, still with her already lightning reflexes boosted by the influences of Cat's Grace, flicked her wrist and dropped a Web spell neatly over two of the lizardmen and one of the clerks, immobilizing them neatly. Across the far side of the pentagram, Eloy drew Bereloth and charged the nearest lizardman. The glass blade ripped through the right forearm of the guard, ruining the limb beyond any chance of using it to hold a weapon. Eloy's triumphant grin slipped, however, as he realized that the lizardman was holding his weapon in the other hand. Bastard was left-handed!
The lizardmen were closing from all sides, and Gorfang hefted Anaric, ready to use it for the first time. The heavy double axe felt good, somehow right, in his hands, the edges hungry for blood. The fierce spirits of the fallen heroes who had once carried it clamoured for slaughter once more. Gorfang was only too glad to oblige. A hail of blows smashed into the lizardman from all angles, tearing and cutting deeply. A moment later, a bloody shambles of what had been a sentient creature splattered to the plank floor and Gorfang spun around to look for another victim, just as a second lizardman lifted his axe to hit him in the back. A massive blow to the head crushed the reptile's skull and it too dropped. Gorfang stepped across to the door to prevent anyone escaping; the others, he thought, could probably mop up what remained of this pitiful resistance.
Méabh had not intended to get involved in something as crass as physical combat, but the lizardman guard to her right had escaped the webbing, and advanced on her, his battleaxe swinging. She evaded his strike, and engaged with her old familiar longsword; she wanted to know more about Rilliantorin before risking using it in a fight.
Eloy too had two opponents, but not for long, as he finished off the lizard whose arm he'd damaged earlier. The other one retaliated by wounding him in turn. Behind him Méabh was right in the middle of internally cursing her lack of skill with the sword when she backhanded a shattering blow across her opponent's throat, slashing his head clean off. Turning her back on everyone, she strolled across to one of the crates, casually cleaning the blood from her blade as she did so, and sat down on it as if utterly unconcerned by their foes.
This completely broke the courage of the conscripted clerks. All three survivors fled for whatever exits they could reach, including the one caught in the Web, who managed to pull himself free in a frenzy of terror. One huddled with the receptionist near the street-side window, not quite terrified enough yet to fling themselves to their deaths; two ran for the door and then froze in indecisive terror at the sight of the blood-covered Gorfang blocking the way; and one fled for the roof-side window, ignoring all demands for him to halt. Gorfang, not caring to take the time to string his bow, tried flinging Anaric at him; but whatever its' abilities, Anaric was not a throwing weapon, and it bounced ineffectively across the floor. The man was just about to make the window when Méabh pointed casually at him and muttered, "Hold it!" The Hold Person spell took full effect, locking the man's limbs and sending him tumbling across the floor from his own inertia.
Eloy struck down the last lizardman and the fight was over.
Méabh selected one clerk at random, and Gorfang and Eloy hurled the others into the Web preventing them from escaping. Then, they interrogated the survivors. It turned out that Thykon had indeed emerged from the portal - wearing red armour they'd never seen him in before, and burned and wounded to boot, and gathered them all together. He'd told them to kill the next people to come through the pentagram, and told them they would not be hard to kill. After that, they were to consider themselves dismissed and take a month's wages. Méabh told them to take it all and get out as soon as the spell expired.
Hustling their captive along, the group headed downstairs, while demanding directions from him to the house of Belarang Vulpold (the Blood Snake's alias in Lossal). In the foyer they paused, debating whether to head straight there or retreat to a tavern for some R&R first.
Slowly and majestically, the great Pyramid of Anshekehra settled into the sand. A deep, earshattering rumble of shifting stone rang across the desert, though in all that vast space there was no-one and nothing living to hear it.
Great slabs and chunks of stone slid and crashed from the ruined peak, smashing down the sides to settle in the sand which foamed around the pyramid's walls like water around a ship's prow. Dust filled the air and plumed into the sky to form a vast cloud visible for miles.
The process went on for nearly five hours, and then finally silence fell. Here and there, sinkholes remained in the sand, funnels left by the draining of more sand into the spaces within the structure; occasional slabs and bits of debris stuck out of the desert here and there. Other than these, which the desert winds and the drifting dunes would erase before long, nothing at all remained to show where the pyramid had stood.
 |
 |
 |