Belswick 12: "plan B - welcome back, master!"

From the journals of Tilbørd, missionary Searcher priest of the Order of Olmadicians.
(the green parts are from secondary journals, written in an obscure language using another obscure alphabet, and encrypted, written in a very different handwriting).

Finally, there are DM's notes.

-cont.-..had been pretty exhausting, so after leaving the Fungal Queen’s court for the second time we decided to rest up. This offered an opportunity for me to spend some time examining the strange effects governing this cave's spatial and temporal dimensions. Comparing it to the effects in Xiximanders tomb and questing out with some magic, the best explanation I can now offer is that it is a passive and ungoverned effect of the ancient evils kept within these places.


Tilly has been using the Spells Recognize Their Own option, where he doesn't expend a spell slot but uses his memorized spells as a very specialized sage. Every caster can do this.

Although these effects don’t appear to be wilfully brought about by the Du’van they are indicative of something more. These zones are damaged reality, out of control of The Authority. A clear indication the god is not omniscient and omnipotent as the church would like us to believe – at the very least the magicks of the Du’van still form something of a weakness or blind spot for the god.

The rest also offered me a chance to bolster our growing group's morale with an uplifting story, as well as some explanation. While most of them rarely seem to depend on knowledge to guide their lives, I still hope they might see the light some day.

Increasingly impatient about this tomb's flow of time, Aju decided to go outside for a while.

Player absent and had been expressing unease at the fact that his year-long shark-to-fishling spell was wearing off quickly in the accelerated dungeon timestream. I think the next adventure will be an underwater one, to get Aju back to the crab wizard that turned him into a fishling!

Shams, the nobledwarf we were getting to know as courageous in battle as well as diplomatic, was still very focused on finding the two remaining lost dwarves from her expedition – likewise our goal of finding our deluded friend Mike has not diminished.

The last two dwarves were in the swamp, in the south-eastern corner of the cavern. Getting there was easy with our fungal guide we dubbed Mel – even if we had to go by a settlement of more exiled Shroomians like him. The place had been called the Oasis of Happiness at the fungal court, but it turned out to be filled with depressed and morose individuals like Mel who had been deemed to be not mellow enough for the drug-addled ‘capital’. This exile was apparently nigh impossible to reverse. We named it Gloomhaven and arranged a place to sleep.

We arrived at the swamps edge and discovered the murky water to be shallow along the edges, making it possible to walk closer to the captive dwarves. However, Shams offered to build some sort of raft using the giant mushrooms in the area. It was interesting to see the dwarves use their engineering and woodcutting experience for this wholly new task – but in the end a spark of divine inspiration was needed to finish the raft. Mushroom rafts waterproofed with arachnid viscera complete, we set out.

Smart move by Shams to buy a map from Frankie the dungeon merchant and have him jot down where he'd last seen her expedition members!

Soon enough we neared a pair of small islands where two squat cocooned forms were guarded by a pair of giant toads, several large lizards, a swarm of flying insects and a heaps of crawling maggots.

Placing our raft as a bridge between the islands we began a tough struggle to deprive these beasts of their food source. A combination of simple magic and intimidating draconic speech vocalised by the dragonborn Sydney and myself worked somewhat to keep the lizards at a wary distance. The mindless hunger of the toads required a lot more force – one of them even ate Sydney alive at one point. By virtue of Sydney’s magic,  supported by Shams’ crossbow and greatsword and Lomins bow, and protected by my divine blessings, we prevailed.

Two of Shams’ entourage, Dan and Axl, received serious injuries but all managed to survive. Our help came too late for one of the two cocooned dwarves, but the other was alive and happy be reunited with his companions. With this all of Shams’ missing underlings had been recovered, dead or alive, as well as the trade mission's sled of goods and supplies. Fortune smiled on us as we also discovered on the island a third numbered keystone, needed to enter the main crypt, and a well-preserved throwing dagger, quite possibly enhanced by magic.

It has been a long and exhausting day, and several wounded members of the group need care, so we decide to go back to the Shroomian village to sleep in relative safety.

After he lost a drinking competition to Sydney we asked the huge cockroach trader Frankie to provide us with additional information on the three rooms along the caverns outer walls. It is costly but useful information. We learn the vault in the south east has already been looted but is guarded by undead servants still – the keystone, cloak and dagger we found in the swamps is evidence the culprit did not escape safely altogether.

The laboratory in the east supposedly still holds alchemical supplies, potions and recipes. Probably well worth a visit. The room in the north west seems to be something of a study or workroom dealing with magic, and is likely to still hold valuable information and implements.

Aside from that, Frankie informs us that the Fungal Queen also has collected some valuables – and he knows of at least one more nest of giant spiders where some treasure has accrued over the years.

After we reconvene with Mike, each of these may warrant our attention. But first, we resolved to enter the Crypt and find out what brought Mike all this way.

Map by Dyson Logos, restock my own. Feel free to use! Here's the PDF version with encounter charts on the back.

THE CRYPT

The next day we headed off towards the south wall of the crypt where an ominous red flickering light is the first source of illumination we have encountered in the cavern. This turns out to originate from a flaming skull and spinal cord suspended by a chain from the ceiling. This creature guards the entrance to the crypt.

With some trouble I manage to glean enough meaning out of its dark utterings to point the group at a series of depressions high up in the doorway – the location to place our keystones. A combined use of our wits and athleticism solved the puzzle, unbarred the entrance and caused the skull to retreat into the ceiling. The main entrance of the crypt contained nothing but a stairway down, and evidence previous unallowed visitors had been repelled by the skull with fire. A lot of fire.

The flaming skull could well be the remains of Barzai, the one who caught and imprisoned the rebellious Du’van known as Umtak Ktharl. Like most undead set to guard parts of their crypts he seemed highly focussed on his task. It might be interesting to try and strike up a second conversation at a later moment though – at some point first witness accounts of the times of Du’van could be helpful.

This is indeed the undead remnant of Barzai the Wise, the Du'van wizard who caught and bound the priest Umtak Ktharl. At this point I remind the group that their buddy Mike has been taken over by a devil who was going to "do something to a priest".

Stepping down the stairs we feel the temperature drop dramatically – more evidence of fell and unnatural things to be found, not that we needed that. Also, the dimensions of this place finally revert to something more normal.

Below was a straightforward hallway leading to a room containing a large basin of flowing pure water, and one other exit leading on. Also, written above something of a table or altar more words of the language used throughout these crypts – it simply tells us to wash away our ‘blood and sins’.

Naturally this instantly reminds me of the fount of cleansing blessed water we found earlier near the entrance – and I instruct the group to wash themselves thoroughly.

Washed and wet we proceed and without incident arrive a juncture in the hallway, both ending in doors. Near one of the doors we find Mike, our lost friend! He is senseless and unmoving, and we quickly check to find he is alive and seemingly uninjured, but unconscious.

Of special interest in this case.. not only was our quarry insensate, but calling on the possessing devil also yielded no result. Had the devil left, or had some effect caused them both to remain out cold?

Happy to find Mike in no immediate danger we spent some time examining the hallways and doors, hoping Mike would regain consciousness soon.

The door nearest where Mike was lying was engraved with warding sigils seemingly not directly targeted at us. The other door held a warning engraved above it – speaking of great immortal danger for those who entered here. Before I could think more on the meaning of these words, or the wards on the other door, some of the companions displayed alarming impatience. Sydney tried, and succeeded in safely opening the warded door and walked inside the room. Therein he discovered a prominently displayed, obviously magical, beautiful sword. Which he picked up without hesitation. When he showed it to the rest we saw words written in some ancient Elven language, which caused our Elf companion Lomin Mor to almost grab the sword out of Sydney’s hands.

A while back, I'd invited the players to suggest magic items they'd like to find and suggest items for other players in a Secret Santa-like deal. This blade was Lomin's urgent request. I've flavored it as a slightly heretical relic of a pre-Church saint who may well have been one of the Du'van necromancers.

The impatience of the ignorant can be aggravating to say the least! Why would anyone open a warded door without examination or preparation? Baffling, yet the many mortal dangers we have encountered over the last couple of months seem to engender a sense of normalcy even in myself when it comes to danger.

The words written above the second door ‘those who enter here surrender their immortal soul for all eternity’ barely phase me, after all. My immortal soul has been damned for years, and recent events have only added to my sins.

The sword, so casually grabbed by the dragonling, and so uncharacteristically appropriated by the scoundrel, I do recognise as a holy relic of the Church. It seems to be the sword Lightbringer, once carried by the saint Kurelda – founder of the Order of Light. I do inform the greedy one of this fact, and advise him to hide the sword from all eyes once we return to the surface.

Barely recovered from these reckless actions I hear my companions planning to carry Mike back to the room with the basin, planning to use the cool and cleansing water to try and wake up our druid friend. Doubting the efficacy of this course of action, and untrained as I am in the arts or magics of healing, I offer to remain behind and further examine the second door.

Shams offers to guard my back, and uses the retainers Dan and Axl to take up spots in the hallway so we can relay messages.

My main argument that plunging the unconscious body of someone possessed by a demon into likely holy water could have unpredictable results went unheeded. Even the argument that this might well seriously aggravate the devil who had brought us back from the Afterlife swayed them not at all.

I did not want to be close to whatever would happen there – instead, I could indulge my own curiosity about the crypt of Umtak Ktharl.

BOUND BY FLOWING WATER

Finding no wards, locks or apparent traps of any kind I cautiously opened the door to the crypt. It opened onto a balcony overlooking the elaborate means of subduing the resident being. A stairway led down into the grand room containing a large open sarcophagus in the middle. A constant stream of clear, pure water fell down one wall into a basin, connected by a stone waterway to the sarcophagus. Which constantly filled the space within and caused the supine body lying at the bottom to be fully submerged in a constant stream of holy water.

Recent earth tremors in the region had caused damage to this room and elaborate prison, though. Cracks ran along the walls and ceiling, the drain designed to catch the overflow was completely blocked by fallen rocks.

As evidence of these recent tremors – possibly caused by the distortions of the space in this crypt – the earth decided to shake at that moment. The falling rocks and losing of balance caused some wounds, but the area did not seem to be in danger of imminent collapse. So we continued our search, which would prove to be a fatal mistake.

Entering the room deeper showed a crack in the wall through which the water now left the room. This runoff felt decidedly tainted and familiar – no doubt the alternate route the water now followed exited the crypt to flow into the nearby stream, polluting the nearby towns water supply  and causing the inhabitants to act the way they were.

Looking at the body in the sarcophagus we saw a well preserved man of unknown origin, features elongated in a way that reminded us of the elven race with similar snakelike characteristics we had seen earlier on the undead guarding these crypts.

DID YOU REMEMBER TO WASH?

As Shams and I were discussing ways to unclog the original drain the rest of the group returned. They explained that as they used the cleansing water some sort of black cloud had been expelled from Mike, causing the earth to shake and stone splinters to rain from the ceiling. This entity had then uttered a foul shriek and had fled at speed towards the exit. What this thing was, what role it had played in Mike going missing, and if we would encounter it again, all these questions would have to wait for now. At least Mike seemed to be waking up slowly now.

As Lomin, Sydney and the other dwarves joined the discussion about the clogged drain I saw, too late, something I should have kept in mind. Though not seriously injured by the falling rocks, most of us bore some small cuts. The drips of blood we left on the floor had in fact been crawling ever closer to the sarcophagus – we had neglected to wash away our fresh blood in the basin after the rockfall. And as soon as the first drops entered the water, the water began to boil and the creature within started stirring!

Umtak Ktharl, the architect of the Du’van plans to storm heaven and dethrone god. Rumoured to be unstoppable, and captured here in a crumbling prison. And clutched within a strangely desiccated black left arm an ornate book. The secrets to be gained from reading that book! Or to be able to safely talk with this individual! So far, however, none of the undying remains of the Du’vanku people showed any inclination to be reasonable – or to view me as anything other than a slave or intruder.

Had I been alone I might have tried to grab the book.

Success! I've mentioned above that Buddy the devil was out to do something about a priest. Now, of course Umtak Ktharl was a priest and freeing him would unleash a lot of evil, but devils tempt, they don't terrorize. So who was Buddy tempting? Tilly of course. And Tilly, through no prodding of mine, took the bait hook, line and sinker. Happy DM.

As it was, once the whole group was within the crypt, I snatched an opportunity. As I saw the blood flowing upwards to the holy water.. I decided to wait. When Umtak Ktharl started moving I made a grab for the book. Damn my weak body! Failing to dislodge the book from his grasp, I only succeeded in helping Umtak upright. Out of the water his awakening was swift – and I opted to welcome him back to the world of the living in his own tongue, pretending to be the slave he would view me as.

Groveling was well on its way to working, when Sydney's player decided to unload dragonfire on the undead priest. Both were good ideas, but not at the same time.

PLAN B: WELCOME BACK MASTER

As the undead being clawed his way out of the water, snarling in his dark tongue, my feeble attempts to talk to it amounted to nothing. At least it ignored me for the nonce as it greeted us all as slaves, and Lomin as 'inheritor'. Meanwhile, it was working the cricks out of its immobilized fingers, forming the sigils for certain death and destruction.

Sydney, recognising the threat immediately, started a spell battle with the thing. Elemental energies flew through the room, causing Lomin to retreat, and while Sydney seemed to be causing massive damage, the undead was still gaining power as he woke up and was regenerating the damage at an alarming rate.

Shams ordered one of the retainers to collect holy water down the hallway to dip crossbow bolts in, while slowly closing on the monster with blade in hand.  As the thing woke up, several spells or magical auras seemed to activate, draining the life force of anyone nearby – leaving me no chance to retreat further into the room to wait for an opportunity to act. Or escape.

Umtak Ktharl was a slightly reskinned Bodak, which damages you on your own turn if you end your turn near it or look into its eyes. Very handy for a solo encounter that would otherwise have gotten swamped in attacks.

Seeing the still near senseless Mike was in danger, Sydney bodily threw the druid off the balcony in the basin still collecting the fresh holy water below. And with his friend safe, the sorcerer continued blasting spell after spell at the undead, despite being crippled by sudden eruptions of lava or bone shards himself.

The weapons that Shams' servants had dipped in holy water seemed to help. Inspired that we at least seemed able to fight this creature and wound it, even if temporarily, I decided to bring some divine radiant magics into play and braved the life sucking auras. It helped, but wasn’t nearly enough to defeat it.

Having stood firm within those necromantic auras and been the main target for it’s spells, Sydney finally collapsed on the balcony. Mike, semi-conscious and aware of the danger, burst out of the water and ran at the monster in the form of a great goat, attempting to throw it down or back into the water. The undead withstood the charge and threw Mike back down on the floor.

As all seemed lost, and I felt myself rapidly losing my life in the life draining emanations, Lomin suddenly jumped down from the balcony like a hero talked about in stories. Clutching the magical sword which now radiated fire he swung at the monster.

And completely missed his attack.



Lomin had forgotten to attune the sword during the last short rest, and I gracefully allowed him to quick-tune it by making a simple Wisdom save. Which he kept failing and failing and failing, then eventually woke up the fiery sword...and botched his first attack. Gotta love the dice.

Just before darkness took me, I called on the Authority and grabbed at the undead's ankle with my hand charged with divine energies. It coursed through the being with a vengeance, lighting up it’s bones and burning the life force out of it. Hopefully permanently.

Posing as its slave gave me no protection against Umtak’s auras. Avoiding immediate harm I watched my companions engage in battle, actually managing to harm him – even as the life force sucked out of them seemed to reinvigorate him as quickly as they wounded him. Only holy or radiant damage seemed to have any effect. After seeing the sorcerer die I knew the only way to escape here would be to intervene and risk dying. Again.

As the battle ended I intuitively tried to send his soul through me towards the Maiden in the hope her aid could ensure Umtak would remain dead this time.

By that time I was close to death myself, and the black energies coursing through me caused some permanent damage, or cursed me even further. At least I did not walk through the gates of Death this day. Yet.

To quote St. Carnelli of the Order of Carnellians, “Start by doing what's necessary; then do what's possible; and suddenly you are doing the impossible.” [actual quote by Francis of Assisi]

LOOT FOUND

• Torch of St Kurelda - a +2 sun sword that deals radiant damage and shines with daylight when activated. Requires attunement. Inscriptions by the Saint are written on the blade in the tongue of the Du'van empire, which fell hundreds of years or more before the Church of the Authority was founded.
  Value 2500 gp for its abilities alone. More, much more valuable to the Kureldan order. Who might well want to keep its links to the blasphemous Du'van a secret, and when the inquisition wants to keep things secret...
  
  
• Throwing dagger of returning +1, a steel and gold-inlay dagger balanced for throwing. Requires attunement. Value 1200 gp.
  
  
• Hand of the Oathbreaker Backstabber - a Hand of Glory / prosthetic hand with as of yet untested powers. Value 2500 gp (players: I miswrote the index card for this item. Sorry!



• Ebon Codex  - Key to the Library of Heaven - Umtak Ktharls's masterwork, a book that gave him access to True Heaven and allowed him to steal the creator Hesaya's secrets. As of yet untested. Value 1500 gp. And yes, I'll be using The Stygian Library.