The Hell Swamp
Hell Swamp
1492DR - Kythorn 20 - Midday
The tar of the seemingly endless Hell Swamp had been disturbed by nothing more than insects and frogs for a long time. Today an heavy armoured foot splashed down sinking in.
Immarhel: “Why are we doing this, again?”
A towering Dragonborn, uttered this phrase as he used his misplaced strength to pull his feet out of the muck of the swamp, an annoying pop follows each end every steps of the two meters tall two hundred kilos fully armoured adventurer, it's like the Swamp doesn't really want to let go of the mud covered heavy steel boots.
Theoanora: “I find myself asking the same question over and over again. I'm not sure what was brewing in my mind when I said yes to this exhausting folly.”
A female human, wearing an elaborate red and purple robe echoed the same regrets. From the waist down, the robe was now black and brown, dragging on the watery putrefying surface of the Hell Swamp.
Brigg: “Brewing is the right world Theo! See, you can't take your mind off the prize that await us at the end of our epic quest!” *hi hi hiiiii*
An horse cheerfully replied to the nagging of his companions, ending his rebuttal with a laugh. His back was loaded with the supplies that fed the company over the now one month journey into the Hell's Swamp.
Aenarion: “I swear, your endless complaining is half the Difficulty Rating of this quest! Especially you, Theo. One month, and every five minutes we all have to hear how you'd rather be reading books in your boring tower! You came with us because you need the credits to graduate as a mage, so make your peace with it, already!”
The half-elf was at the end of his wits. Not being able to groom himself is something he could live with (barely), but the nagging of those two was weighing on his mind more than the noxious emission, the smells of putrefaction and the mosquitoes.
Hearing the rebuttal of the half-elf, Theoanora stopped in her tracks, pulled her robes out of the black puddle and turned to face Aenarion.
Theoanora: “It's been one month, and we have not found any trace of the Abbey at all. We should have found it by now. I think the building, if it ever existed, was swallowed up. We should go back already, toy boy!”
Aenarion: “I get it now, you made a mistake deciphering the ancient Guide Micelene, relic of the legendary Sommelier Scef Toni. You wish to go back to hide this mistake of yours, is this it? Disappointing, but expected from an amateur that never leaves her library. I should have beseeched my Patron after all. I always overestimate full blooded humans...”
Aenarion raised his chin and smirked with the superiority complex only an half-elf can display. Theoanora, now red in face and barely able to contain her rage, raised her hands and pronounced the words most beloved to a wizard.
Theoanora: “FIREBOLT!”
Aenarion: “YOU IDIOT!! THE SWAMP GASSES ARE~
BOOOOOOMMMMs
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Methane is what?
Hell Swamp
1492DR - Kythorn 20 - Midday
Brigg: *fiiiiiiii* The . world . is . sideways . what . happened ?
The horse laid on his side, his ears ringing. The air no longer smelled like rotten eggs, but like burnt chicken now. Slowly, the ringing in Brigg's ears subsided, only to get replaced by draconic yelling.
Immarhel: “Have you any idea how many gold pieces it takes to repair my armour??? I'll detract the costs from your share of the bounty!”
The Dragonborn was lifting Theoanora grabbing her from the sides, he was lecturing her eye to eye. Theoanora herself was only half there, still trying to wake up from the explosion she caused.
Theoanora's robe, was now not only dirty with swamp's tar, but was burnt, with her cowl completely ripped away. She was bleeding from nose and ears, not a good sign, not that the Dragonborn cared.
Aenarion: “Put Theoanora down, Immarhel. How many times have you ignited an explosive in our face by mistake? It happens so often I can now launch my Frost Shield as a reaction.”
Immarhel: *humpf*
The Half-elf was unblemished, shards of ice laying at his feet, his elaborate blue and green robe with golden swirls was only dirtied by the regular swamp soup.
Unfortunately this was not the first time the party was blown up by carelessness. Brigg, understanding the situation jumped up on all four legs, shook off the sooth off his hide and looked around to assess the situation. More often than nots it was his guts that alerted the party to potential dangers, monsters could have been alerted by the explosion.
Brigg: “I'll be damned! Look over there!”
In his horse form, Brigg lacked fingers to point, so he merely nodded with his snout, directing the attention of his ailing companions ahead. The fireball had burned the thin flammable methane in all directions, lifting the haze that was restricting visibility.
A structure could be seen, no more than two clicks away.
Theoanora: “I found it! The Abbey of Hell's Palm! I'm a genius!” *oooofff*
Theoanora quick swing of moods were well known to the party, disgusted, Immarhel let the useless baggage fall in the charred muds and began marching toward the prize.
Immarhel: “There better be at least a thousand gold pieces there to make this travesty worth my time and efforts. Cure Wounds.”
Despite his harsh words and attitude, Immarhel had just shared some of his life force with Theoanora. In his calculations, healing her here and now with his innate Paladin skills would yield a decent return on investment. Honour and feelings only mattered until there was wealth to be gained.
As the adventurers resumed their march, Briggs looked at the ruins with anticipation.
Brigg: “We'll see if your tastes live up to your reputation, Scef Toni! Today Brigg will taste for himself whatever the mythical six star entry is worthy of such honours!”
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Somellier
Hell Swamp – Abbey of Hell's Palm – Crypt
1492DR - Kythorn 20 - Evening
Immarhel: *grunt* “There, little people. The way is clear. Get in.”
Centuries of neglect had taken their toll, the Abbey of Hell's Palm was in ruin, with just the outer walls still standing. Aenarion, in his mind, could imagine what the abbey once looked like, dominating the plain around with its thirty meters tall tower and supported by elegant arches. Those glorious days were long gone.
Luckily for the adventurers, what they were looking for was certainly waiting for them in the crypts below, untouched. After finding a partially collapsed entrance, it just took the strength of the Dragonborn to clear the way. As bog's air rushed inside the structure for the first time in centuries, the stale air of the Dungeon was pushed out.
Brigg: *sniff* *sniff* “Beer. It's faint, but this is a brew I never tasted before! I'm sure it's here!”
As a druid, Brigg was a skin changer. Brigg was now an unremarkable middle aged dwarf. Unlike the fine garments and armours the other adventurers wore, Brigg's wore only clothes and equipment made from natural fibres, twigs and woods. Brigg had a strong aversion to metals. As a bonus feat, in his dwarf form Brigg was very sensitive to all kinds of Brews, being able to estimate the brand with just a sniff.
Theoanora: “If you say so, drunkard... Now, let me cast some light, it's pitch black here.”
Aenarion: *pffft* “I pity your blood, it doesn't even let you see in the dark.”
Immarhel: “I can't see in the dark either, smarty pants.”
Aenarion: “Indeed. You cannot.”
Immarhel's tail had a little flame on its tip, but it didn't cast nearly enough light to explore a dungeon. Theoanora on the other hand had a spell perfect for this occasion. A few words, and she was now holding an orb of light revealing the surroundings.
Brigg: *lick* “Those bricks... They have been graced by beer foam alright.”
After descending a flight of stony steps, the party was in a circular chamber, surrounded by pillars. The walls were made of red bricks interlaced with a grey adhesive, cement perhaps. The ceiling was a vault, a continuation of the walls curving inward, with large patches of green and brown moss. The floor was made of large slabs of paved stones secured with the same grey adhesive as the walls.
Theoanora: “Only one tunnel.”
Aenarion: “Good. Now we can be sure we'll take the wrong way. I hate when there are two tunnels and we always take the dead end or the ambush route.”
Seemingly, there was only one way forward, a single one and a half meter tall tunnel on the opposite side of the chamber. Immarhel shoved Theoanora and Aenarion to the side and advanced. He was seriously annoyed the tunnel was not Dragonborn sized.
Of course, the corridor splits into three just a few meters from the entrance. The main tunnel kept going forward into the darkness, with a left and right tunnel forking from their position.
Immarhel: “You had to speak, didn't you Half-elf?”
Brigg: *sniff* “I smell Beer at our left, but my guts tangle when I look to the front. I get nothing from the right tunnel.”
Immarhel: “Eyes on the prize. We go left.”
Immarhel was single minded, he knew well what venture was profitable enough for him to endure the torture that his travelling with this party.
The adventurers travelled slowly, feeling the ground for traps, smelling the air for poison or telltale smell of monster and looking for gaps or holes in the wall, which may hide traps of various kinds.
Aenarion: “Nothing. No traps, no monsters. It's just an old mouldy tunnel.”
At Aenarion's words all adventurers face palmed, and prepared for a battle.
Still nothing.
Aenarion: “If after saying a phrase like that nothing happened, we can be sure the tunnel is safe!”
Brigg: “Please! Stop tempting fate!”
A few more meters, and Immarhel was finally able to stand upright. A chamber. Light from Theoanora's spell revealed the darkness as she joined her companions in the chamber.
It was an unremarkable storehouse square in shape, walls with exposed bricks that curve into a vault and paved in stone, just like the rest of the crypt. The room was about ten meters in size and housed a number of rotting piles of wood and rusted metal, that once ought to be barrels.
Brigg: “The smell of Beer is coming from over there!”
Brigg wasted no time, with the certainty of a dwarven sommelier and guided only by his nose, he approached the remains of a singular barrel. Like the other it was mostly consumed by time, but the bottom on this one was somehow still airtight.
Jackpot! A small pond of thick brown fluid was still lingering after all this time.
Brigg reached below his wooden armour for a wooden spoon. A spoon he kept attached to a necklace made of entwined roots around his neck at all times. Brigg carefully scooped a spoonful of the brown liquid, he smelled it thoroughly and drank it.
Brigg: “...“
A few long seconds passed. The dwarf was frozen with his spoon still touching his lips.
Immarhel: “Well, Brigg? Time is money. Is that piss what we were looking for?”
Brigg: “...“
Aenarion: “Brigg must have gotten cursed while drinking. Again. Theo, give him an hand, will you?”
Brigg: AAAAAAAA roll down
As Theoanora was closing in to treat Brigg, the dwarf crouched down, rolling on the floor in tears. Immarhel was unimpressed, but Aenarion prepared for battle and Theoanora begun thinking on how to help him.
Immarhel: “Is the Ale really that good, Brigg?”
Brigg: “It is the dream of every dwarf! I can't even begin to describe how good everything about this brew is! Am I dead? Is this the dwarven afterlife?!?!” *tears*
Theoanora: “I'M GONNA KILL YOU!!!”
Immarhel: *grin* I'm going to drain the dwarven race of all their gold with this brew!
Few things could bring a dwarf to tears, tasting a good brew was one of them. Immarhel could sympathize with Brigg for having his desires fulfilled.
Theoanora instead felt an idiot for worrying about Brigg, and was trying to strangle him. Aenarion quickly grabbed her from behind and was holding her back.
Aenarion: “Now now, Theo... All is good... Let Brigg have his moment of happiness.”
A few minutes passed letting the emotion of the moment dissipate. The party was still inside an unexplored crypt, letting their guard down now could be disastrous.
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Brews and Tattoos
Hell Swamp – Abbey of Hell's Palm – Crypt – Storeroom
1492DR - Kythorn 20 - Evening
The party was sitting down in a circle, in the storeroom. After a great find, it's always best to let the euphoria of the moment bleed away and assess the situation. The adventurers were still in the middle of a quest in an unexplored crypt after all.
Brigg: “I'm sorry for doubting you Scef Toni.” *nod*
Aenarion: “Can you reproduce the brew from the sample you have?”
The first question was the most obvious one. The Micelin Guide was truthful, the legendary Six Star Brew of the Abbey of Hell's Palm was real, and the party had a sample.
Brigg: “That's impossible. I need the recipe,and the ingredients if I ever hope to resurrect this nectar. It would be too cruel to let the final masterpiece of the Hell's Palm Master Brewers disappear, we have a duty, NO, moral obligation! to share this divine brew with all of Pherun.”
Immarhel: “It's decided then. We keep exploring the crypt. There ought to be the equipment, recipes or ingredients used to manufacture this ale, here, somewhere. We just need to find it. I'm counting on you Brigg.”
Aenarion: “We should camp here for the night and resume our exploration tomorrow... Uhm... Everything alright Theo?”
Theoanora: “...”
Theoanora was not taking part to the conversation. Not unusual, but she was looking at her wrist tattoo and seemed puzzled about it.
Aenarion: “THEO! Everyone home there?” *shake*
Theoanora: “HEY! DON'T TOUCH ME!”
Aenarion: “Calm down. You seem out of it, we decided to camp here for the night.”
Theoanora: “Its just... I don't remember ever getting a tattoo... It's stylish, but wtf?!?”
Theoanora raised her arm and turned her right wrist toward her companions. Engraved on her skin was a tattoo of a snake eating itself in a circle. It was really tasteful and well drawn, it looked almost alive.
Aenarion: “Ouroboros. You must have gotten that tattoo while drunk at the Mage College of Neverwinter. I never took you for someone that parties that hard Theoanora. I too got a tattoo on my back, don't ask me how I got it, it's embarrassing.”
Brigg: “Aye. It shows taste for a tattoo you got while drunk.”
Theoanora inhaled deeply, ready to dispel the misunderstanding when the incredible happened. Before she could, the mouth of the tattooed snake moved in front of everyone, and took a bite out of his tail, shrinking in size.
At the same moment, the adventurers jumped, with Aenarion touching his hearth. Even Immarhel showed for a moment a contorted expression on his mouth.
Theoanora: “... WHAT'S GOING ON HERE?!?!”
The party checked their wrist, and found out the obvious.
Immarhel: “I hate having a lesser reptile drawn on my scales... Totally uncalled for...”
Brigg: “Did we all got drunk the same night and got the same tattoo as Theoanora? That's cool, but this tattoo hurts my souls. I'm going to punch the tattoo artist in their face when I find them! The tattoo is pretty cool though...”
Aenarion: “Detect Magic … A curse. A powerful one at that. My Patron tells me it represents our life force, as Ouroboros eats itself, our life disappears with it.”
Theoanora: “I'M NOT LIKE YOU OLD RELIC! I WANT TO LIVE! GET THIS THING OFF!”
Immarhel, happy to have a volunteer ,unsheathed his trusty blade, Claw with the clear intention to test a painful theory on Theoanora's wrist. Aenarion placed his hands on Immarhel's to stop him, then slapped Theoanora out of her fit.
Aenarion: *slap*
Theoanora: “MY.... HOW DARE~
Aenarion: *slap*
Theoanora: “YOU!!!~
Aenarion: *slap*
Theoanora: “... Enough slapping, please. My cheeks hurt ...” *tears up*
Brigg: “I reckon we delve into the crypt deeper, kill the boss and that ought to make the tattoo disappears.”
Aenarion: “Agreed. I like when inferior races are quick on the uptake.”
The party started examining the room and the tattoos more carefully, new informations quickly emerged.
Aenarion: “I estimate Ouroboros will devour itself in about two hours. By which point we'll die.”
Brigg: “A crack in the wall. Water is seeping through. *lick* Uhm... This water tastes funny.”
Aenarion: “Close it. The last thing we want is to get caught in a flood while trying to free ourselves of Ouroboros.”
Brigg: “Mending”
Brigg took out two wooden coins from his pouch and laid them on the floor. With his right hand he touched the crack and pronounced a word of power. The crack visibly shrunk, cutting off the diminutive gush of water.
Immarhel: “If you are all done, lets move on to the next chamber.”
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Tenants
Hell Swamp – Abbey of Hell's Palm – Crypt – Tunnels
1492DR - Kythorn 20 – Evening
The party decided to explore the central tunnel, the one Briggs felt was different from the others. First in line was Immarhel, the damage sponge of the party. Second in line was Brigg, the one with the best instincts and knowledge. Third was Theoanora, in charge of delivering damage and deal with magic. Fourth and last was Aenarion, protecting against ambushes from the rear.
With their hours counted, literally, the party was focused.
Brigg: “Ahead. I hear and smell goblins.”
Theoanora: “Leave them to me.”
Theoanora cut the light off, a tenuous flickering light from a fire ahead cast eery long shadows. It took a few minutes for the party to get used to the darkness and move forward.
Brigg: “Three are snorting. One is tinkering with the fireplace.”
The party invaded the room in complete silence, impressive especially for the heavily armoured Immarhel who was clad in heavy armour. Anearion gifted with Dark Vision helped Theonora understanding the layout of the room, and soon she was ready.
Theoanora: “Fireball!!!”
Goblin: "Mmmhh?"
From the entrance, Theonora opened the fight achieving full surprise. A single goblin, awake to tend the flame, only got a warned by Theonora's yell, by the time he turned his head left, a fireball was already filling his field of vision.
BOOOOOOMMMM
Goblin: GHAAAAA~
The goblin tending to the flame got hit in full by the magic flame, that on hit expanded outward, engulfing everything in a few meter radious, including two sleeping goblins and an hobgoblin.
One of the sleeping goblin, still in flame, never moved at all. The one awake, stopped yelling suddenly and fell on his side like a rock. Two surviving goblins jumped out of their bedroll. The small goblin had his green skin blackened and took a few seconds to come about. By the time his mind was clear enough to understand what was going on and identify the intruders, a blade was alread falling on him from above.
Goblin: "Dhoooo..."
Immarhel: *grin*
Immarhel's blade, cleaved right through the wounded goblin with ease, severing him in two. The blood on the edge seemed to dissipate, and a pupil engraved in the handle opened, revealing a pulsing red gem, to Immarhel's delight.
Hobgoblin: "..."
The hobgoblin was much tougher than the diminutive creatures that just fell to the surprise attack of the party, standing as tall as Aenarion and as well built as Immarhel, yet, the creature understood they were unmatched, and did the only sensible thing. They run away.
Aenarion: “Eldritch Blast!”
Hobgoblin: "GHA!"
Anearion took out his signature weapon. A super endowed pink crystal of phallic shape. The half-elf caressed the pink pillar while wisphering, and soon a purple and green rush of magic essens shoot from the tip. The gush unnaturally arched and hit the back of the Hobgoblin. The tough creature was not done yet, even with teir ragged breath, they opened a door on the far end of the room and escaped into the darkness.
Brigg: “Enough! It's not wise to run to a dark tunnel like that.”
Aenarion: “Agreed.” *blush*
The party was used to the weapon gifted to Aenarion by his Patron, but as a refined half-elf, Aenarion was always shy about it. The battle was done quickly, and his weapon was already stowed away safely.
Theoanora: “I can make some light now, I guess”
The party was in a chamber, much larger than the storehouse they were in before, it was at least thirty meters wide. The construction was the same as the rest of the structure, except for a couple of pillars.
Goblins had made this room their base in the swamp, it was obvious by the filth and the smell lingering. Some of the goblin's properties were burnt by the Theoanora's fireball, like the bedrolls and some piles of junk.
Of interest was a dirty old chest on the far side of the room, near the late goblin's fireplace and the door the hobgoblin took to escape.
Immarhel: “Treasure! *slurp* Don't mind if I do!” ARGH
Immarhel, having noticed the chest was overwhelmed by his greed, just until he felt a sharp pain in his very soul. The Ouroboros had just taken another bite out of itself.
The room fell silent for a second.
Aenarion: “Perhaps we can look for treasures after we free ourselves of this deadly curse.”
Immarhel: “...”
Immarhel was indeed fond for riches, and a quick and dirty calculation convinced him he would acquire more wealth if he lived longer than a couple of hours. Without saying anything, the party returned in formation and ventured beyond the door the hobgoblin crossed a few minutes earlier.
Clean House
Hell Swamp – Abbey of Hell's Palm – Crypt
1492DR - Kythorn 20 – Evening
Brigg: “It's dead.”
The Hobgoblin did not make it far. Just a few meters beyond the door, it had collapsed in the narrow tunnel, giving Immarhel some difficulty in jumping over.
Aenarion: “Detect Magic... It was graveusly injured, but it looks like it died of a curse.”
Brigg: “Room just ahead.”
Immarhel: “We'll loot the corpses later.”
One could tell the situation was serious when Immarhel passed on the opportunity to gather wealth. The party pressed on to the next room, just a few meters ahead.
Brigg: “The lights are up, over there. I can hear water splashing.”
Immarhel: “AAAAA! aaa?”
It would be difficult entering in Stealth with lights on, Immarhel elected to charge forward at full speed, using his momentum and Intimidation to get the advantage.
The light at the end of the tunnel got brighter and brighter as Immarhel marched forth, a brief moment the light overwhelmed Immarhel and just after his draconic eyes adjusted, a scene he did not expect was bare before him.
The room was divided in two. The floor and ceiling were as usual, but the room was more refined, having stone tiles covering the wall up to a meter of height.
The bigger room was about fifteen meters by thirty meters, and clearly being used as a living space by humanoids, with dresses and clothes hanging from the ceiling and furnitures made from remains of barrels holding all kinds of undefinable items.
Turning right from the tunnel from which the party emerged, was a smaller room, about fifteen meters by fifteen meters. A well of stone occupied most of the room, with a wooden rack on the side being used by a woman to wash clothes.
Brigg: “Uhm... Hello lady, nice weather in this dungeon today, yes?”
Brigg, rushed in the room just after Immarhel, it took him a few seconds to realize why Immarhel had stopped. Brigg's guts told him the woman wasn't a threat, talking with her might even hold some hints to free themselves of the curse.
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Dawn: “...”
The woman was frozen in front of the washing rack and was glaring at the adventurers, she had let a garment fall when she first heard Immarhel charging in.
Theoanora: “...”
Theoanora was third in formation, she was very puzzled seeing the scene in front of her.
Suddenly a sharp pain assaulted the party. The Ouroboros tattoo had just taken another bite out of itself, and pain was getting worse.
Theoanora: “TRAP!!! THERE IS NO WAY AN HOUSEWIFE WOULD BE HERE!!! FIREBOLT!!!”
Aenarion: “IDIOT!”
Dawn: “AAAAAH .. … CORVO, HELP ME!!!!”
Unfortunately, the pain triggered Theoanora who unleashed a minor fire spell on the unknown woman. Aenarion, who just understood the situation, reacted quickly and took out his pink phallic crystal, hitting Theoanora square in the back of her head. Just a step too late.
Regular humans never raised their levels, even a low level spell or even a cantrip is often enough to kill with a single shot, a fact well known to the adventurers.
The small fire shaped arrow, travelled surely across the room, lodging itself in the woman's left shoulder. Her garments, made from animal skin and tendons, burned away around her shoulder, the skin below turning from brown to charred black. The woman collapsed on her knees letting out a cry for help.
Brigg: “We apologize, lady. Our idiot of a mage is on edge right now. We'll heal you right away, Immarhel?”
Immarhel: *Humpf*
Immarhel didn't particularly care for the woman's life. Negotiations would be difficult now that they attacked first, but if she had informations useful to clear the curse, he would be willing to share some of his life force to clear up Theoanora's misstep. Before that, he would have to add this to Theoanora's tab though.
Corvo: *SLAM* “WOMAN! WHO DARES DAMAGE MY WOMAN?!?”
On a closer look, just right of the well was a door. The cry of help of the woman didn't go unanswered, the door slammed open, and an intense figure came into view of the party. A man covered in scant clothing whose body was covered in ritual tattoos emitting an azure light, just like his eyes. Beside him, two ethereal snakes emitting a pink aura were coiling around him, baring their fangs to the skies.
Brigg's guts tangled at the sight. Fighting him would be bad news for the party.
Brigg: “WE APOLOGIZE! WE MADE A MISTAKE! PLEASE ALLOW US TO TALK!”
Theoanora: *foaming* “TRAP! TRAP! DIEEEE!!!”
Aenarion: *holding* “...”
Theoanora was consumed by rage with white foam seeping from her mouth. She had lost all reason in her rage against the woman.
Aenarion was holding Theoanora by wrapping his arms from below Theoanora's armpits. As a frail mage, her physical strength was easy to rein in, but her words weren't really helping the party's cause though. Aenarion had half a mind to knock Theoanora unconscious, but if a fight were to erupt her spells would be needed, especially against such a powerful opponent.
Aenarion: Quite the quandary...
Immarhel was holding Claw with one hand, and his shield with the other, focusing on the potential enemy ahead. He would have to take his first attack and tackle him in melee combat, the weakness for casters.
For now the two parties were in a deadlock. The man took the chance to speak with the woman in a tongue unknown to the adventurers.
Corvo: “{How are you, Woman?}”
Dawn: “{I'll live, husband.}”
Seeing an opening for negotiations, it was Aenarion's time to show off his charisma and charms, and hopefully explain the misunderstanding. With a nod, Immarhel and Aenarion changed place in holding the mad Theoanora, an easy task for the two meters tall dragonborn. Immarhel had enough leeway to place an hand in front of Theoanora's mouth.
It wasn't to help negotiations, Immarhel just found listening to her nerve wrecking.
Briggs took out an health potion, took a sip to prove the liquid was not harmful and handed it to the wounded stranger.
Theoanora:*humpf*
Brigg: “A potion, for your shoulder, fair lady. With apologies from la Compagnia del Carretto.”
Aenarion: “Good sir, our party apologises for the senseless action of our teammate. I hope we can clear this misunderstanding without resorting to violence, yes? We are willing to give you some gold as reparation.”
Immarhel: “No, we are certainly not!”
Aenarion: “Hush! Hmm He he he...”
Corvo: “...”
Aenarion really felt sabotaged in his diplomacy efforts. Neither Theoanora's madness nor Immarhel's greed were easy to work around. An awkward laugh was all he could manage under the intense glare of the stranger and the two ethereal snakes.
The stranger clearly was not a man of many words. He merely summoned an item from a satchel made from animal skin hanging from his side. A wet sphere, dotted with eyes and radiating a pink aura.
The party exchanged glances, they were unsure if the man was about to attack or what purpose did the mystical item serve.
…
About ten minutes passed in this stand off, it was nerve wrecking.
Even Theoanora had time to cool off, Immarhel still had no trust in her, and wouldn't leave her.
Finally, the stranger spoke.
Corvo: “I am Corvo of Manitou. Why are you here?”
Aenarion thought about lying or hiding, but he had calculated that the stranger did not seem a Beer Sommelier, and thought that had he been the one to place the curse, he would just be fighting, so Aenarion elected to use the truth at this moment.
Aenarion: “I'm Aenarion. We came here in search of the Six Star Brew, mentioned by the Scef Toni in the Micelene Guide. We got cursed by this Ouroboros tattoo, and we are not long in this world. We are searching for a way to dispel the curse and hope~
Corvo: “I forgive you for damaging my woman. I do peyote, not beer, do as you will with your quest.”
The stranger was glaring at the wet eyeball in his hands. Seemingly satisfied, he grabbed Aenarion's wrist and examined it thoroughly.
Corvo: “This place was built on a cemetery filled with the corpses of my ancestors. You were not liked and were cursed by the powerful animal spirit Ouroboros at their behest. You'll be dead by the turn of the day.”
Theoanora twitched at the revelation, while Immarhel raised an eyebrow. Aenarion used his finger to loosen the collar of his stylish jacked and let off some sweat.
Aenarion: “Me and my companions kinda enjoy being alive, would you be willing to help us stay so? We are willing to give you a reward.”
Aenarion used the full measure of his charisma to try and convince Corvo.
Corvo: “... You interrupt my work. Intrude in my home. Damage my woman. And now ask me for help?”
Aenarion: *gulp* “Yes? He he he.”
Corvo: “Helping the dead can wait. I shall help the living since you are not bad. Follow me.”
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Spirits
Hell Swamp – Abbey of Hell's Palm – Corvo's Home
1492DR - Kythorn 20 – Evening
The party followed Corvo in his abode, with Immarhel watching Theoanora closely. The deepest room of the crypt had been reporpoused, decorated with animal pelts on the walls, a mystic fireplace in the center of the room and shelves filled with all kinds of unidentified mystical items and parts.
Corvo: "Before I was interrupted, I was working. Communing with the Great One on the Path Paved With Stone to excorcise the restless spirits of my ancestors and give them peace."
Aenarion: "Sorry about that."
Ignoring Aenarion remarks, Corvo went on with hisexplaination.
Corvo: "My journey led me to here. I had been working on my excorsism of this place of suffering for two years. Another two months and it would have been done. Without my ancestors, your curse would cease to be."
Aenarion: "Can you perhaps shorten it from two months to let's say... Twenty minutes?" *gulp*
Nervous glances exchanged between the party members, especially Theoanora. Again, Corvo merely ignored Immarhel.
Corvo: "Sometimes in the past someone placed an artifact in an hidden chamber nearby to harness the power held by the spirits of my people. Your curse comes from there. Destroy that artifact and your curse will be freed, along with the grudges of my ancestors."
Immarhel: "Destroying IS my forte."
Brigg: *fiuuuu* "And here I thought it would require some kind of wits or spiritual journey. I'll tell you, The Compagnia del Carretto is the best when there is stuffs to wreck or slaughter, mister Corvo!"
...
Corvo: "I can see that.But be aware, it will be very hard to destroy that artefact while the power of my people's grudges flow through it. WOMAN! Bring me the materials!"
Dawn: "By the way, my name is Dawn, strangers. I forgive you, but please, keep your female companion away from me, yes? She is looking at me with marderous eyes."
Theoanora: ouch
Immarhel promptly slapped Theoanora. He couldn't let the occasion slip by.
----------------------------------------
Obsidian
Hell Swamp – Abbey of Hell's Palm – Crypt
1492DR - Kythorn 20 – Evening
Theoanora: ouch *sweat*
Corvo and Dawn spent about ten minutes preparing a ritual circle in a nearby small room, presumably to access the hidden room where the source of the curse is placed. Of course, Ouroboros took another bite out of itself and shrunk quite considerably on the wrist of the adventurers.
Brigg: *kneels down* "I can feel it in my soul. I can't take much more of this."
Immarhel: *short breath*
Aenarion: "If it's of comfort, I'm positive the Shaman is not lying about helping us. I saw it in his demeanur, that's a man of his word."
Having their soul eaten, had taken a great toll already, even Immarhel staggered with the last bite. There is no saying if the party would be able to even fight if Ouroboros was able to taste itself again.
Corvo: "The door is ready. At my will, we will appear in front of the artefact. I can feel the item's animosity. It will not let itself be destroyed without a fight."
With no other choice available to them, the party readied itself.
Immarhel was hiding behind his shield, holding Claw strong with his right hand, ready to charge and impale whatever threat fate bared in front of him.
Brigg and Aenarion had studied Corvo's rituals with great intrests. The Shaman's magic beared resemblance with both Druidic and Warlock techniques, but were not quite either. As Corvo's conjury was nearing completion, Brigg brought out his Shillalag, his druidic staff. Aenarion, dropping his usual shyness, held in hand his phallic pink crystal. Dawn's attention was strangely captured by the weapon, causing Aenarion to wink in response. Dawn looked away blushing.
Brigg: "oi mate, don't play with the wife of our saviour."
Theonora was in a calm and relaxed state, an uncanny smile painted on her face.
Corvo: "Great One! Lead us across the Path Paved With Stones!"
One moment the party was there, the next moment, the party found itself in a much different place, with only a few seconds to grasp the surroundings.
It was a spacious room, thirty meters in size, with two rows of strong pillars. The room was square, with no arcs, unlike the rest of the structure, and was paved with gray tiles traced with gold drawings in hairline patterns.
At one end of the room, between two pillars and standing on a semicircular step, was a slab of obsidian, four meters tall, it featured a prominent drawing made of gold traces in the shape of a mask with seven eyes. Eerie and strangely captivating, it seemed an item not from this world. Its sight sent chills running down Brigg's spine.
Brigg: "That... Abomination is the antithesis of all that is natural."
Four statues, three meters tall, made of silver, were placed at four corners of the room. At a closer look, each of the golem was equipped an unique weapon. A greatsword. A spiked greatshield. A spear. A giant club. The golems had all the same stout stern face, hinting at both the lack of creativity and seriousness of the ones who crafted them.
Corvo: "Your quarry is the black stele. Take care, it is harnessing the power of the spirits of my ancestors. It is strong."
Without thinking twice, Immarhel, confident in his prowess, charged forward, fully intending to end the battle with one stab of Claw. His magical weapon had nothing to fear from a dull slab of stone!
Immarhel: "My father was a miner! I eat stones like that for dinner! AAAAA!!"
Greatsword Golem: *ding*
Immarhel: "This sound... Silver?" *droll*
Aenarion: "We'll loot it if we survive! Destroy the stone!"
Immarhel had charged with his full strength behind Claw only for the Greatsword Golem at the right of the stele to step in and intercept Immarhel's blow with his weapon.
The might and weight of the three meters tall golem was such that the mighty charging dragonborn found himself stopped in his tracks. The Golem barely reacted to the force of the clash, simply sliding backward some twenty centimeters. The Golem's greatsword though clearly accused the hit, it became slightly bent at an angle and Claw was now eating a few centimeters inside the blade. Silver might have been a great spiritual conductor, but was no metal from which to build a sturdy weapon from.
The Shield Golem at the left of the stele slowly moved toward Immarhel. Its impressive shield was a towering chunk of metal four meters tall, two meters wide and at least ten centimeters thick, barely curved to vaguely look like a shield. It had stubby spikes on the surface, and its massive size meant that even the golem had trouble bearing it.
Corvo: "Today I release the spirits from oppression! Ancestors! Corvo of Manitou, servant of the Great Spirit call forth for your strength! Come help your descendence! Spirit Summon!"
Corvo extended his arms outward forming a T. Ritual tattos over the Shaman's body emitted a fiery green light as and the mystical pink aura around him intensified.
In front of Corvo's left hand, individual spirits took form and coalesced into a great Elk Spirit, a fiery being standing two and a half meter tall which immediately begun squaring off against the Spear Golem. Despite its size, the elk was still the smaller entity and yet it charged head on. A loud crashing sound and the huge statue was trampled, it ruinously fell on the ground, the force of the impact clearly felt by the feet of the adventurers.
The Spirit Elk looked up and seemed to be giving out a warcry, though the spirit apparently could not emit sounds this way. the Elk's glorious headress seemed to emanate even stronger moonlight during this display.
At the right of the adventurers the three meters tall Club Golem had raised an enormous silver club as big as the golem itselfs above its head, ready to crush Theoanora. A pale light summoned the second spirit called forth by Corvo's plea. A pale blob of moonlight was gathering speed, accelerating toward the enemy.
Around the blob, the shape of a giant boar formed, charging at full spead already. The sight of a three meters long ethereal beast was humbling and terryfing, the party were deeply relieved that Corvo was not their enemy.
The Club Golem got hit squarely in its shin by the tough snout and short tusks of the Spirit Boar. The golem managed to retain its footing, but the silver club fell from its grip while the golem was trying to balance itself. The Club followed the law of graviation and fell straight down on the golem's head, denting it badly, with a distinct CLANG ecoing in the room.
Brigg: "Shillala!!!"
Aenarion: "Eldritch Blast!"
Theoanora: "Firebolt!"
The trio of adventurers didn't lose any time begun mercilessly beating down the enemy, which finally fell as a result of the barrage.
The Spirit Boar viciously focused its tusks on the Golem's joints. Each of Brigg's Shillala hits was strong enough to make the silver cave in. Aenarion phallic crystal released powerful Warlock magic that made the silver disappear from the inside of the golem, causing its skin to collapse like a sinkhole. Finally, Theonora's fire magic melted the silver causing the joints to lose strength and sever.
Soon enough the glorious three meters tall golem was reduced to little more than silver chunks lying on the ground. Streaks of moonlight rushed out of the destroyed statue, with its dented head showing a face contorted in pain. The last spirit left the statue, making that expression the last one the stature would ever wear.
Corvo: "Be careful! The spirits inside the stele are stirring!"
The spiritual winds from the Club Golem coalesced into blobs of moonlight, not dissimilar from how Corvo seemed to summon his spirits. The blobs of light after standing suspended for just a moment, begun rushing toward the Obsidian Stele dominating the room.
The blobs disappered inside the huge obsidian object, seemingly in response, lighting crackled around the artefact.
Theoanora: "Tier 3 magic! Take cover!"
Immarhel: "What? AAAAARHHH"
An area ten meters around the stele was flooded with powerful Lighting magic, tearing and crackling the air. The Dragonborn who was originally taking on the Greatsword Golem, got hit by the full might of the spell. The smell of roasted dragonborn scales was dispersed by the merciless hit of the Greatsword Golem clashing with Immarhel's shield.
The Greatsword Golem was hit the same as Immarhel, but far from taking damage, the golem roared and for a second or two the golem took an imposing stance with his silver arms flexing at his sides, seemingly taking in the power of the lightings and visibly growing in size. The Greatsword Golem, taking in even the final sparks from the blast and was now three and an half meters in size.
Brigg: "Campfire"
A small fire blossomed from below the Greatsword Golem at Brigg's behest, it wasn't particularly big or intense and yet the enemy still couldn't exactly ignore the heat attacking the soft metal up to its ankle. The moment respite was exactly what Immarhel needed to regain his composure.
Redoubling his resolve and full of his draconic pride, Immarhel taunted the supercharged golems facing him.
Immarhel: "COME ON! HIT ME! I HAVE TWENTYONE AC! I DON'T FRACKING CARE ABOUT YOUR HITS"
To Immarhel's dismay, the slow Shield Golem made it into his field of vision from behind the Greatsword Golem, and this golem too was in a supercharged state after getting hit by the stele's lighting blast.
Corvo: "Come forth! Subdue those who would defy the Ancestors! Totem Animal!
Snake: *shaaaaaa*
Seemingly out of nowhere, a giant snake at least fifteen meters long, with the girth of an adult Dragonborn's tight and clad in a purple shamanic aura, slithered up the Shield Golem's silver leg, creeping all the way up to the head of the enormous construct. As the snake applied pressure from his coils, clattering of metal crumbling was mixing with cry of pain from the snake as lighting from the golem traveled the length of the summon.
Aenarion: "What was that?!?"
Corvo: "You just witnessed the might of my ancestors. It pains me to see spirits used so forcefully by the stele. I shall exorcise the spirits before the stele can make use of them again."
Brigg: "Works for me pal! YOU ARE MINE SPEARY BOY! RAAAHHHH!"
Aenarion's intrest was piqued by the Shaman's techniques, his Patron Echidna too never had seen this type of power, she was taking an interested peek from her indescribable astral domain. Yet, Aenarion's quest for knowledge would have to wait, being perhaps a single Ouroboros bite away from death served as a good motivator to focus on the task at hand.
The Half-Elf turned around to face the Spear Golem. Aenarion lifted his pink phallic crystal high above his head and supplicated for power, to the delight of his Patron.
Aenarion: "I beseech you Echidna! Show those construct the power of love! Eldritch Blast!"
Echidna, a plump dark skinned astral entity wearing a provocative dress, was used to peeping on her favourite Toyboy from the safety of her Astral plane, she loved the sound of the handsome Half-Elf voice and, above all, loved his looks. Licking her lips in lust, Echidna waved her hand and answered Aenarion's call.
Echidna: "Some juice for you, Sugar." *wink*
The phallic pink crystal lighted up, and thick white silky magic sprouted from the tip, traveling with certanty, skillfully avoiding the Spirit Elk and hitting the Spear Golem squarely in its chest.
The Spirit Elk, proved to be more than a mindelss blob of spirit energy and gave a push with its glorious horns in sync with Aenarion's attack, causing the three meters tall Spear Golem to put one foot back down to try and retain its footings.
Brigg: "Campfire!"
Aenarion was knowna as a one trick pony, and Brigg too had no shame in spamming the same trick ad nauseam. A magic fire appeared below the foot of the Spear Golem, which didn't have time to react at all, as the charging Spirit Boar hit it from his left flank, now fully open.
Brigg: "See how worthless your metal is in the face of nature?!? Shillala!!!"
Brigg's mighty hit split the silver spear in two, causing the Spear Golem to ruinously fall to the ground. The party could swear having heard the construct cursing his bad luck. Its falling trajectory just put the golem's head in a collision course with the stony pillar behind him. Needlessly to say, the weakest link between the pillar and the momentum of the huge golem was the neck. The stern silver head cleanly rolled away from the corpse as the party viciously assoulted the construct's body, slowly but surely tearing the Spear Golem to shreds.
Judging that the Spear Golem was on its way to the scrapyard, the party's mage turned her attention toward the two empowered golems facing Immarhel and Corvo's Spirit Snake. Her party had done a great job diverting the enemy's attention away from her, she was free to cast grand magic from the backline.
Theoanora: "Fireball!"
An evil grin formed on Theoanora's face as the fireball engulfed the Shield Golem, the Greatsword Golem and the friendly Spirit Snake. It was the favourite spell all mages enjoy casting, flashy and effective.
The silver golems size worked against them in this instance, the Fireball flames washed by the sides of the Greatsword Golem, sparing Immarhel who was in the golem's shadow.
Immarhel's: *humpf* "You are still good for something, little human. Shield Bash! Claw!"
Immarhel returned to the offensive. The Greatsword Golem's posture was all over the place, and couldn't possibly block an attack. Immarhel's shield bash still couldn't even budge the towering golem, but his magical sword was very effective, leaving deep scars on the golem's silver skin.
Theoanora: "Crap! The stale is doing its thing again!"
On the other side of the room, a small scattered mountain of silver fragments, once in the shape of a proud golem begun leaking spirit energy.
Corvo: "Not this time. Ancestors! I free you from your torment! Return to the Path Paved With Stones!"
A blob of spirit energy was gathering above the remains of the Spear Golem, but before the Seven Eyed Stele could absorb them, Corvo intervened. Channeling his shamanic powers, the Shaman raised his hands to the sky, causing the blob to scatter in countless white flames that flickered a second before vanishing into nothingness.
The Seven Eyed Stele rumbled.
Corvo: "Boa Constrictor, my Animal Totem! Receive the blessings of the Ancestors!"
The Shaman had managed to turn the Stele's trick against it, a slab of obsidian was no match to the mighty Shaman when it come to Ancestral Spirits. The Spirit Snake Corvo had released before hissed and grew in size visibly, all the additional length becoming more coils strangling the Shield Golem.
Silver creacked and crackled, crumbled and folded. The stern visage of the shield golem losing shape.
Rumbles from the Seven Eyed Stele intensified.
Immarhel: "Die already! You are just a pile of coins, behave as such! Claw!"
A mighty down swing from the dragonborn was met by a parry from the Greatsword's Golem. Finally, the difference in quality between of the two blades reached the rupture point. Claw cleaved right through the parry and scraped downward the body of the golem, leaving a deep gush.
Rumbles from the Seven Eyed Stele intensified yet again.
Brigg: "Immarhel, we are done with the hunks of junks down here! Campfire!"
Theoanora: "Firebolt!"
Standing on the newly formed hill of silver, Brigg released yet another fire, Theoanora followed along with a spell of her own. In her grace she spared her party of her favourite area of effect magic.
The Spirit Boar and Spirit Elk, while quite a bit more ethereal than before, raised their snout and begun their charge to meet the remaining enemy.
Rumbles from the Seven Eyed Stele intensified yet again.
Corvo: "... The winds are changing ..."
Theoanora: "Frack! Tier 3 magic!"
Before the Shield Golem could collapse, and before Corvo could interfere again, spirits rushed out of the construct, letting it fall like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Without delay, the the white spirits got absorbed by the Stele, and, after a short delay, a mighty Lighting Storm got released, even bigger in size than before
A blinding blue and white light filled the large room, cursing through the adventurers and spirits alike.
Both the Spirit Elk and Spirit Boar got hit in their charge. Lighting cursed through them and the spirit beasts uttered a soundless cry of pain and shattered into translucent moonlight fragments.
Corvo's glowing tattoos increased in intensity, Corvo just had the time to join his forearm arms to defend his face, he still clearly accused the lighting hit and let out a muffled noise from his mouth. Corvo's Spirit Snake had diminished somewhat, but was still summoned and slithered back to his master, forming protective coils around him.
Either as a joke or as willed by the Stele, Ouroboros choose this exact moment to take another bite out of itself and the tattoo shrunk to its smallest size on the wrist of the adventurers. The party suffered greately beseiged with both their body being attacked by lighting and soul being chunked.
Briggs, Theoanora and Aenarion collapsed on the ground, Immarhel barely retained consciousness, tough he was panting heavily and within an inch of collapsing himself.
The Greatsword Golem grew in size another notch and was now an imposing four meters tall. The scar left by Claw seemingly being filled by fresh liquid silver.
Immarhel: *pant* *pant* "You are getting cocky, stupid pile of coins."
Corvo: *groan* "... Apologies. The stele is more cunning than I expected."
Six Star Brew
Location: Hell Swamp – Abbey of Hell's Palm – Secret Crypt
Time: 1492DR - Kythorn 20 – Night
Brigg felt his body being distant. Suspended into nothingness, Briggs was stuck between between dreamland and the waking world.
Brigg: My lips... are wet...
A fragrance was slowly infusing from his mouth to his tongue. Despite only tasting it once, it was clear what this liquid was.
Brigg: “The Six Star Brew.”
Brigg opened his eyes, he was standing above a veritable mountain of silver rocks, quite an uncomfortable position. But something caught his attention, and he didn't even notice his back complaining.
Above him, some of the black tiles covering the ceiling had fallen due to the intensity of the fight. Behind them, painted behind was a drawing of a monk carrying a plant and from a crack droplets were slowly gathering ad falling.
Brigg: “I CANNOT DIE UNTIL I GET THE RECIPE!!!”
Despite being beaten to an inch of his life with his soul in tatters, Briggs got back up with willpower alone. His goal was so close.
Brigg: “DON'T YOU DARE SLEEP THIS OUT! THE RECIPE!!!”
The usually calm Brigg, was seemingly possessed by his singular desire. Without thinking, he grabbed a few potions, he chugged two himself, and quickly run to his heavily wounded companions, Aenarion and Theoanora. He took another two potions each, ripped away the caps with his teeth and forcefully pushed the bottles in the mouth of his companions.
Aenarion: *cough* “Wha ?? ??”
Theoanora: *cough* “You... YOU BASTARD!”
Brigg's gnarled branch was laying on the ground, lighting had coursed through it carving a blackened rift along its length. The Dwarf was no more, he morphed into a trash panda, his most feral and vicious combat form, and ignoring his companions Brigg charged.
In front of him, the battle had been raging on without the trio. The Greatsword Golem was now disarmed and was unleashing a flurry of heavy punches to the comparatively tiny Immarhel who was barely holding on for dear life. Each punch sending chunks of Immarhel's shield flaying with each hit.
Corvo's Snake had already coiled around the sole surviving golem, but was not nearly powerful enough to constrain it as successfully as before. The spirit had weakened, while the golem was now four meters tall and mightier than ever, surrounded by small static charges that were further hampering the spirit's efforts.
Brigg: “Campfire!”
To the surprise of absolutely no one, Brigg released yet another Campfire on the field. It's worth noticing that the other fires had died down when he lost consciousness before.
Brigg: “Shillala!”
The Greatsword Golem in his empowered state had little to fear from Brigg's hit, but Brigg was not aiming for the Golem at all this time. Brigg charged forward, climbed the step and pulled down his staff with all his might. The head of the gnarled branch hit the Seven Eyed Stele right on the golden drawing in the shape of the mask with seven eyes.
The Seven Eyed Stele rumbled, but it was a different kind of rumble. Cracks appeared on the surface, gold started seeping from the cracks, was the precious metal like blood for the spell casting stone? The adventurers barely noticed as they where in the mood for dishing out a beating and ask questions later.
Theoanora: “I'll kill you later, Brigg. Force Bolt!”
Aenarion: “Echidna! I beseech you, show this hunk your lust! Eldritch Blast!”
The Greatsword Golem feeling the threat to the Stele, turned around to face Brigg, but The party's Warlock and Mage would not make it easy. A barrage of magic assaulted the Golem's left side.
Immarhel: “You shouldn't turn your back to your enemy. Shield Bash! Claw!”
Immarhel's once glorious Dragon scale Shield was reduced to half of its size, chunks of it missing and what was left was badly warped, still the shield served its purpose. The Dragonborn charged and hit the Golem on the back of his legs. Combined with the party's attacks and the snake's constriction, the Golem finally lost his footing and begun his very long fall forward, eventually crashing face first into the step right behind Brigg.
What followed, was a one sided beating, Brigg's trash panda form, had white foam leaking from his mouth and was madly assaulting the Seven Eyed Stele. Likewise the party was madly releasing vicious spells and attacks on the enormous golem, preventing it from ever getting upright again.
Divine Calling
Hell Swamp – Abbey of Hell's Palm – Secret Crypt
1492DR - Kythorn 20 – Night
Corvo: “That's enough.”
The shaman put his hand on Brigg's left shoulder, causing him to took Dwarven form again, and with his form, his reason.
Brigg coughed and kneeled down, his muscles sore and his mind still clouded by the mad rage that consumed him. He could still taste silver and stone in his mouth.
As Brigg was regaining his wits he looked around. The Seven Eyed Stele was no more, Brigg in his anger managed to reduce the four meter tall slab of obsidian into scattered debris mixed with pools of now solid gold. Some of the gold was scattered in high speed droplets, it would have been a gory scene had the Stele been running on blood.
Looking at his right, Brigg saw the Shield Golem partially melted and sitting and with its joints bent with the clear intent of raising up. Instinctively Brigg reached for his Shillala.
Aenarion: “Corvo exorcised the spirits that animated it. The poor thing is stuck in that embarrassing pose now. I'm pretty sure it would rather be a pile of scraps like the others!”
Aenarion nodded to the right of the Dwarf. Brigg looked over and saw a small mountain of silver chunks that used to be the Greatsword Golem.
Immarhel extended his scaly hand for Brigg to grab and get up. Upon looking around, two more mountains of silver debris could be seen on the other end of the room, remains of the Spear Golem and the Club Golem. The room was in a sorry state as well. The pristine black tiles with gold hairlines were now like a checker board, revealing red bricks behind them. The columns likewise were scarred by the battle, and rifts caused by the stele's magic were everywhere.
Brigg turned to Immarhel, who was already holding a silver chunk and slowly panning his view around. Brigg knew this cold calculated look well. After licking it to assess its purity he already made an estimate of the haul.
Immarhel: ~and carry the two... Twelve million three hundred seventy nine thousand Silver Pieces. Give or take a few coppers...”
A good craftsman earns twenty Silver Pieces a day. This adventure's loot was a King's Ransom. Whomever built those golems must have been insanely rich.
A long silence befell the room as the enormity of the loot dawned on the adventurers.
Theoanora: “I'M RICH!!! I told you the book I found was reliable!!!” mad laugh
Aenarion: “Theo, I'm pretty sure you are still getting half a share for damaging Immarhel's armour at the beginning.”
Theoanora: “What?!?! His armour got trashed during the fight, you can't even see the scorching I did in the swamp!”
Immarhel: ~multiply by six... half a share for the Human Woman... It means she gets nine parts in one hundred of the treasure, we gets eighteen parts in one hundred.”
Theoanora: “WHAT?!?!?!”
Theoanora got triggered, but the battle had drained the human mage of all her spell slots. She attacked Immarhel's back with her weak bare hands. With the only results of Theoanora herself crouching and groaning in pain, holding her reddened fist.
Meanwhile the more adult adventurers were speaking businesses.
Corvo: “Eighteen? You are giving me a share of the treasure?”
Immarhel: “Honest pay for honest work. That's the Dragonborn way.”
Corvo: “...”
The stoic Corvo nodded. It seemed he would refuse, but that was not the case. Maybe he had an use in mind for the wealth, or perhaps he considered the spoils as payback for the abuse on his ancestors, the Dragonborn didn't care for his motives.
With immediate concerns gone, Brigg was looking at his wrist. The tattoo of the snake eating itself was gone. The ill feeling from earlier was subsiding too. On a second thought, perhaps, the adventurers should have checked the tattoo first, but those who knows adventurers, would know better. Trading risk of death for money is in an adventurer job's description.
Brigg: “... gone ...”
Corvo: “The Stele was the source of the curse. With my ancestors freed, the curse was released. The ancestors saw it fit to return the pieces of souls that were taken from you, consider yourself lucky.”
Aenarion: “What magic was that anyway?!? I never saw anything like it! My patron for one is clueless as well, and she as seen EVERYTHING!”
Echidna was proud of her personal toy boy for remembering, her thirst for knowledge was almost as insatiable as her desires. She was listening with attention from her indescribable place in the astral plane, hoping to glean new knowledge.
Corvo: “... I do not know who created this Stele and with what means. I only know it was created to harness the power of souls. How or for which purpose I cannot fathom. I owe it to my ancestors to track down the perpetrators.”
Theoanora: “Maybe I could write about it in my thesis for some extra credits...”
All ends that ends well? No. There was one thing left to do.
Brigg grabbed a chunk of silver, catching a distrustful look from Immarhel and threw it to the ceiling.
Theoanora: “What gives?”
Aenarion: “Oh, I see. Immarhel!”
The Dragonborn looked up, exhaled two small flames from his nostrils, bent down to pick a few chunks of silver himself, and begun throwing them at the ceiling as well.
One by one, black tiles fell down, with Theoanora hilariously trying to jump around not to get hit by debris. A few minutes later the deed was done. The old vault was laid bare, revealing an elaborate mosaic depicting monks working.
Brigg was in tears, mesmerized by the sight.
Brigg: “This is the true treasure. The manufacturing process of the Six Star Brew!”
Theoanora: “Really?!? I mean, of course! I knew it was there all along!”
Brigg was single minded in his focus on the mosaic, using his knowledge of Beers and Ales to work out what made the Six Star Brew special.
Brigg: ~which means... THE WATER! It's the water used for fermentation that give the Six Star Brew its divine taste!”
Immarhel seemed deeply interested in the mosaic, albeit for completely different reasons from the Sommelier Brigg. It was time for the last question that would bring this adventure to a final end. The Dragonborn was visibly drooling in anticipation.
Immarhel: “Can you recreate the Six Star Brew?”
Brigg: “I HAVE to recreate the Six Star Brew. It is my calling, my LIFE'S WORK!!! It would be a crime against all dwarven kind. No, a crime against all life to let this masterpiece be forgotten.”
Immarhel: “What do you need?”
Brigg: “It must be done here. The only source of the water for the fermentation process...”
Theoanora: “Whatever, you drunkard. I don't drink alcohol and I can't see what you find in that pis *humpf*
Aenarion: “Nectar! She was saying Nectar!”
Both Brigg and Immarhel turned at Theoanora with bloodshot eyes, it was only Aenarion's quick wits that saved the mage from committing Blasphemy. The duo wasn't about to let their sacred mission be sabotaged by a mere human mage.
The Brew must flow.
Aenarion: “Can we stay here in the Abbey of Hell's Palm, Corvo?”
Corvo: “The spirits are now at rest. Do with this ruin as you will. My quarry is with the makers of the Stele. Woman!”
Dawn: ”Yes, Husband.”
Aenarion: “wtf?”
Summoned by her husband, Dawn appeared out of nowhere, spooking the adventurers.
Corvo: “Prepare my stuffs. We are leaving.”
Dawn: ”Yes, Husband.”
Husband and Wife stepped on the magic circle that brought them into the room and disappeared, not before Dawn could give one wink to Aenarion, who smiled in return.
Brigg: “Immarhel, go back and begin preparations. I will stay here and guard the treasure. I need to study the mosaic. I need to find the equipment. So much to do~
Immarhel: “I trust you, partner. I'll be back before long with what we need.”
Aenarion: “This was an enjoyable adventure. My Patron should be sated for a while.”
Theoanora: “Weirdos.”