It was well past noon when we stirred from our slumber. At some point, the wind had stopped, the magical storm winding itself down. No further messages had come for Emeline, so I guessed that the tactic of using a magical blizzard to force the tribes to pull up short worked well. Which was good, since I was not keen on fighting the Tribes just yet. I knew better than to assume that, even with the curse I had placed upon them, that I could stand against them just now. I was still too weak.
Fortunately, Emeline was perfectly fine allowing the fighting to be done by the army. She’d done her part, and the whole army would know that it was by the Frostmaiden’s favor that they were able to get in place in time to meet the Tribes. As a Priestess of Auril, that counted as a win in her books.
So, after eating some rations warmed by the cooking light, I dressed myself in clothes better suited to exploring the unknown, and armed myself, just in case. Sure, my fists were more powerful than my daggers, but I had learned the lesson of not relying on only a single way to attack. Options were always a good thing.
Once again, Emeline cast a spell to allow her to fly, and we set off. For two hours we flew, to the south and the west, until we came to a small area where black stone rose from the tundra, and no snow seemed to stick, despite there being snow all around us. Landing at the edge of the circle of bared stone, I frowned. Something was clearly wrong.
Emeline placed her hand on my shoulder. “You can feel it, can’t you? The warding, and the evil filling the space behind it. The tomb lies beyond this point, where our family’s home used to stand. Now there is nothing but bare stone on the cursed ground. But an entrance to the tomb remains, according to the spells I have cast. I cannot help you past this point, but when you return to the shrine in Sleetmouth, I will buy you dinner and drinks at the tavern, so you can regale the town with your exploits.”
I took a breath, and brought the magic of my own entropic warding up, to at least give me a bit more resistance if there were any undead using bows in there. Turning to look at Emeline, I nodded once. “I am ready, Priestess.”
She smiled at me. “I know you are, child. Now, remember, the undead inside will probably be of the weaker variety, but even weak undead can be dangerous in sufficient numbers, and you do not have a cleric’s power to halt them with the Lady’s power. Take care not to get drawn into an area you cannot get yourself out of. As for the fallen Patriarch, I do not know what condition he will be in, after all this time, but he was a mortal man, and the divinations I have seen indicate that he did not have the power or resources available to turn himself into one of the truly powerful undead, like a lich. But I have been informed that some part of him yet remains within the tomb.”
“Well, then I will have to make sure to evict him, and send his soul to whatever ‘reward’ awaits him for his treason.” With that thought in mind, I turned away from Emeline, and stepped forward, through the barrier. And in that instant, the Voice of the World gave me new information.
Unhallowed Ground
This land has been cursed by a powerful agent of Myrkull, unhallowing it.
This site is guarded by a magic circle against good effect, warding creatures within against good creatures.
Additionally, all turning checks made to turn undead take a –4 penalty, and turning checks to rebuke undead gain a +4 profane bonus.
I felt slightly unclean, as the dark power infused the area all around me. I was touched by Auril, and this ground had been forcibly altered to be turned to another god. My powers weren’t affected, and, from what I could see, the unhallowing wouldn’t make me any weaker against the denizens of the tomb. It just made me feel uncomfortable, like I’d been working hard and been too long without a shower.
Melinda’s Spot check: 1d20+2 = 12
I had not moved far into the area when I was alerted by a clatter that I was not alone. Bones that I had not noticed amongst the scattered stones and the ruined foundation of the former manor rose up, gripping a scimitar in each hand. The weapons were old, and rusted, but they still looked deadly enough to me, given my allergy to iron. Clearly, I had found the guards to the tomb.
If they had been the only enemies that I was going to face this day, I might have considered fighting them head on. But I was no fool. I needed to conserve my strength, so that I would be in proper condition to fight against the fallen Patriarch, in whatever form he took. Since I had not yet gone underground, and these were mere mindless undead, I saw no reason to play fair with them. Spreading my wings, I took to the air, and circled around, blasting them with my arcane powers again and again until they died, or were put back to rest. It would be considered cowardly by some, but I didn’t care about that at the moment.
Stolen novel; please report.
For defeating two Skeleton Warriors, you gain 200 XP.
I smiled as I landed near the two skeletons. They did not possess any goods worth taking. Other than their scimitars and shields, their gear had long ago succumbed to the elements, and what little was left was in tatters, and not worth considering. That was fine, however. Their movement had drawn my attention to the entrance to the crypt.
A pit opened up in one area of the stone. This looked to be a basement of some kind that had long been caved in due to neglect. However, a set of stone stairs descended into the pit of debris, and led to a small path cleared in the rubble. The path ran in a straight line across the pit to a wooden door that had clearly seen too many winters exposed to the elements, but still remained rigid, for the most part. Flanking the arched doorway were the remains of two statues, long since broken and defiled, their remains joining the rest of the debris. The edges on the stone looked smooth. It had been many, many years since the statues had fallen.
Melinda’s Spot check: 1d20+2 = 6
I took a deep breath, and landed at the top of the stairs. I could not see any skeletons waiting to greet me amongst the debris, but that did not mean they weren’t there. After all, I had not seen the other two until they literally rose up off the ground to move to attack. If the last skeletons had been clever enough to wait until I was closer, instead of moving the moment I drew their attention, then they could have put me in a bad situation from the start. I couldn’t rely on all the enemies being mindless simpletons who were only capable of following basic commands.
My caution was rewarded, as two more skeletons rose up to stand in my way. As I approached the door into the tomb, they rose up from the debris, their weapons at the ready. This time, however, they were armed differently. One had a scimitar, like before, but the other was armed with a bow and arrows. That was a concern, but worse was that I was under an overhang, meaning that this would likely be sent into close quarters.
Initiatives:
Skeleton Archer
Melinda
Skeleton Warrior
Skeleton Archer’s attack: 1d20+1 = 15 (Miss)
The Archer was the first to move, but thankfully it was a poor shot. Well, that would likely have been enough to hit me if I weren’t as well-protected as I was, but I was easily able to dodge away, out of the arrow’s path. If this was the level the skeletons were at, then all I’d need to worry about would be ensuring that I did not get overwhelmed by numbers.
Melinda’s attack: 1d20+8 = 16 (Hit)
Damage: 2d6 = 7
Speaking of not allowing myself to get overwhelmed, I decided to ignore the archer, for a moment, and focused on the warrior. The blast of arcane power hit it square in the chest, and the effect was spectacular, far more than I had anticipated. The skeleton simply shattered, getting blown apart!
Skeleton Archer’s attack: 1d20+1 = 21 (Hit)
Confirm roll: 1d20+1 = 5 (Regular hit)
Entropic Shield: 1d100 = 15 (Miss)
I turned back from dealing with the threat of the skeletal warrior, only to get an eyeful of an arrow, coming right for me! As in, it was only a few inches from my eye when the swirling energies surrounding me knocked it just off course enough that it sailed past my face, close enough to catch my hair as it passed. That was way too close for comfort!
Melinda’s attack: 1d20+8 = 12 (Hit)
Damage: 2d6 = 4
I’ll admit that I was freaked out by suddenly coming so close to death. After all, ever since I’d come to this world, even through all the fights I’d been in, this was the first time I’d ever really thought that I could be killed in a fight. I barely managed to hit the skeleton, my heart was beating so fast, and I nearly screamed in fright as I saw that it did not obediently die like the last one had.
Skeleton Archer’s attack: 1d20+1 = 7 (Miss)
Fortunately, the skeleton was too stupid, or unskilled, to take advantage of my unsettled state. Another arrow flew past me, this one even further from hitting me than the last had been. It wasn’t a problem. Really. I could do this.
Melinda’s attack: 1d20+8 = 20 (Hit)
Damage: 2d6 = 5
With a yell that certainly wasn’t a scream that definitely didn’t have anything like terror behind it, I unleashed another bolt of arcane power from my fingertips. My accuracy was better, now, but it was clear to me that attacking these skeletons was little better than hitting target dummies. Fortunately, my magic finished off the last of the skeletons, causing the bones to fall to the ground in a heap.
For defeating a Skeleton Warrior and Skeleton Archer, you gain 200 XP.
There was no loot to speak of from this group of skeletons, same as with the last. That didn’t matter to me at the moment. All that mattered that I was alive, and my enemies were not. Well, they were already not alive, but that wasn’t the point. The point was they were no longer trying to kill me.
I made an executive decision to take a small break. After that scare—no, excitement—I needed to catch my breath, and recenter myself. Fighting the undead on my own wasn’t anything like standing in the ring against a fellow tribesman, or facing off against wolves with a hunting party. It was death, pure and simple, coming towards me. No hope of negotiation or mercy. Just kill or be killed. How did the veteran adventurers do it?
That was a stupid question. Obviously, they didn’t do it alone. They had people to help watch their back, and make sure they didn’t get in over their heads. If I was ever going to get into adventuring, myself, then I would need to find a group. And I was fairly certain that adventuring was definitely going to be in my future, since Auril had plans for me.
I spent about ten minutes just resting, and regaining my focus. Well, I said that, but, if I were to be honest, I was trying desperately to keep my heart from leaping out of my chest. But eventually, I was calmed down, and ready to proceed.
With renewed determination not to fail myself, Emeline, or the Lady, I turned, and faced the ancient door. It was old, and weathered, and it looked as though the wood had long ago swollen to seal the door as effectively as if it had been barred by magic. Pushing on the door did nothing. I could not shift it.
Others may have been forced back, to seek out aid from someone with more brawn to shoulder aside the door, or look for tools to pry the door open. I had no such tools, and no wish to return empty-handed to Emeline. What I did have, however, was an unending supply of magic, and fists that hit like iron. Arcane power flowed around my fist. Time to break into a crypt.