[IC] Tyrant's Tomb

[Eireleen]

Travelers often think of the desert as a hot place. When the sun burns brightly in the sky, with nothing from which to take solace from its heat, the sands become a vast furnace which could cook a human alive.

But all of that changes at night. Now, with only the pale moon to give light to the arid wastes, the desert was no warmer than a mountainous tundra. A cold wind swept through the quiet sands, bearing a chill that could freeze water. The team of five had trekked through the sands, through the heat of the day and the icy night, and had finally arrived at the entrance to the tomb.

Just up ahead, the ground gave way to a staircase, leading down into the earth. The sandstone steps seemed as though they had bore thousands of years of erosion from the blistering winds, and yet they stood as unfalteringly as the ground itself. With no trees to drink up the moon's lonely light, what little illumination it granted stretched down into the corridor, revealing the walls and floor of paved stone.

The wind howled across the opening in the ground, almost like an invitation. Small grains of sand fell into the chamber, leaving a thin layer of cold sand across the ground, bearing the faint footprints of those who had entered the tomb in the past. There were no such footprints heading back out.

The Guild of Galas'nor wished to acquire the king's treasure to finance their organization. Naturally, the adventurers doing the acquiring on their behalf were entitled to a cut. But even the Guild had no idea how large or how small the king's treasure really was. The legends spoke of palaces wrought of gold, of piles of coins that stretched to the ceiling. But who knows how embellished such a story was, after being told and retold for thousands of years?

Only time would tell. Before the five adventurers lay a spiteful tyrant's last laugh.

Spoiler

Current illumination: low-light (20% concealment)

All participants must make a DC 15 Fortitude save from traveling through the harsh desert. On a failure, they begin the mission with 1d6 points of nonlethal damage.

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[Oath]

"Desert travel always takes so much out of me... Though, it is good to be traveling with some familiar faces once more." I sit near the entrance giving myself some time to recover from the trek across the desert. I notice that one among us is someone that I have not yet had the pleasure of adventuring with, but I make no effort to break the ice.

Spoiler

{Fortitude Save}

Rolled 1d20+5 : 2 + 5, total 7

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[Emperor Wilbers]

Saendal glances around at the others. Most of them are members he has ventured with, some not. He did not come for the money. Quite the contrary, actually. He has come for something entirely different, and he will not let any assailants in the tomb force him to capitulate his life. If such a scenario came to be he would rather die by the will of his own then that of the creatures that dwell in the bowels of this ancient tomb, and hopefully his companions would not restrain him from his actions, but he shall soon see how the turn of events plays out.

Spoiler

Fortitude Save: [1d20+-2] 11 = 11 + -2 = 9

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[Manzokushi]

The long trek through the desert accosted by deathly heat and cold winds in the night. These had truly been harsh trials for the group to endure. The nights had been exhilarating for Jorn, the open sky allowed for the splendor of the moon to be seen in all its glory. The blessing of Dehanine Moonbow, were many and he was thankful for this opportunity. But all good things must come to an end and as expected back down into the depths of the earth they would go. He noted all familiar companions in attendance save one. The female appeared able to carry herself, but only the rigors of the Tomb would prove his assessment true or false.

Why must all these treasured tombs and glorious hordes be concealed beneath the ground. One could just simply bury it in the forest and make things exceptionally easier for all those involved, the elf mused to himself.

His place as always tended to be at the back of the party. His sharp eye could defend the flank and maximize his ability to attack at range.

Spoiler

Fortitude Save:

Rolled 1d20+1 : 4 + 1, total 5

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He spoke just over the rush of the desert winds,"Well, there is no time like the present. Please someone lead the way."

[Throndir]

When she had first met the group, it was the first time she went traveling with a dark elf and a moon elf. She had seen and met dwarves before back when she was in the Order of the Golden Dawn, but the two before her were beings she had only read about. At first she had suspicion for the dark elf in the group, but remembering the guild's rule, she eventually pushed that suspicion into curiosity. Through their journey, Annia had asked her mentor various questions relating to the dark elf and the moon elf. How old are they? How old do they get? Is that elf evil? What do they eat? Of course her sword always replied claiming to not know the answer. After all, his world was different than hers, but Annia couldn't help but keep asking. As they journeyed Annia had that silent conversation with her sword.

As the chill wind blew against Annia's figure, she reflexively clenched at the cold intrusion. Traveling through the desert wasn't something that the paladin would have repeated, but like her reasoning before, she was interested to see more of the world around her. Especially the tomb. Annia didn't know exactly what had drove her, but if she were to put it on just one thing it would be curiosity. It was enough to keep her marching through the harsh desert climates, through the arid heat, and finally through the biting winds at night. Curiosity, her inquisitive nature, and likewise perhaps her sometimes reckless bravery was something that a part of her being. At the sight of the opening on the ground, Annia couldn't be help but be drawn towards it.

Spoiler

Fortitude save 1d20+2 : 12 + 2, total 14

Will save, DC 10 1d20 : 8, total 8

If failed will save, Annia will approach the entrance and inspect it. If succeed, she'll stay with the group, right behind Ryine if he chooses to move out.

Search directed at the entrance 1d20+2 : 19 + 2, total 21

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[Eireleen]

Annia's footprints joined those before it in the cold sand. She could only see a few feet in front of her in the dim illumination, but after a few steps, she felt hard stone beneath her feet. The floor, ceiling, and walls were all made of sandstone, the structure just as stable as it had been when it was first created, millenia ago.

She can feel small grooves in the wall, like writing, too precise to have been enacted by erosion. But her eyes cannot read them without clearer light.

Spoiler

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[Throndir]

The stone felt cool to the touch as she glided her fingers across the grooves in the wall. They felt like carvings or something that was painstakingly etched into the sandstone walls. She pulled back from her reverie and attempted to squint at what she was just examining, but the light proved to be too dim. A moment later she pulled the pack from her side, and started rummaging through it.

"I know it's in here some-" She said as she stuck her hand in the pack. "Ah yes." And with that she pulled a long torch, and lit it.

Spoiler

Used the flint & steel and one of the torches in my inventory.

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[Oath]

Seeing Annia venture forth alone let me know that it was time to move out.  As I am not the best at examining passage ways, would be best to leave that to someone else while I am close enough to help in combat if such a thing happens.

Spoiler

I move to be in the tile behind Annia.[/spoiler\

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[Eireleen]

The light of the torch laid bare every message inscribed upon the walls. It was not script or words, but pictures - like hieroglyphs, telling the tale of the tyrant.

The inscriptions bear a shining palace, exuding rays of light in all directions. It eclipses the sun itself, perhaps even surpassing it in brightness. It shows a large man, his arms outstretched over the land, covering everything there was.

Such images are shown all around the walls, like a tapestry, a tribute to the tyrant's greatness. His riches were vast and plentiful, more than he could ever spend in a single lifetime.

Further along the walls, the images changed. Now, they showed the palace surrounded by huddled figures, bearing pitchforks and farming scythes. In the next picture, the palace was on fire.

There was one image, on the wall across, which was larger than any other. It dominated a vast swath of the wall to bear its thousand words. It was a picture of a man - not the tyrant from the other pictures, but a younger, slim man with long hair. The tyrant was behind him fleeing, and before him was the revolt, the mob of peasants which intruded upon the king's domain. The man leveled his spear at them, protecting the king unto his last breath.

Spoiler

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[Manzokushi]

Jorn, attempted to follow at a distance but it appeared the corridors were narrow, and it would not do to be so spread out. With a final glance back at the beauty of the moon, he blew his first love a goodbye kiss. ?Off into the pits of some other random tomb, oh joy. Well there is certainly no time like the present; I suppose we should get to it.?

He glanced around marveling at the pictures on the walls and followed the dreaded outcome these images depicted. ?I would guess the farther in we proceed, the rest of this story will unfold. So treasure and a history lesson, I am excited.?

[Emperor Wilbers]

The necromancer followed after Ryine and Annia into the narrow walkway. As he walked down the stone steps he gazed upon the archaic inscriptions that were bored into the stone walls. It reminded Saendal of how much he loved history, and knowledge. It reminded him of scholarly research that occupied him for countless days. Those days were over, though. He proceeded down the steps, just behind Ryine, and awaited the rest of the group.

[Throndir]

As the lights of the torch illuminated the series of pictues, Annia couldn't help but be drawn towards them. Finding lost tombs had always been fascinating. She remembered her days at the temple where she would sneak in some nights reading about the adventures of Miliana Jones, much to the displeasure of her tutors who thought such reading was "uncouth". Touching the images chiseled on the stone walls, it felt like she was living through something in one of the books she read.

The sounds of footsteps alerted her and took her away from her thoughts. She glanced back to see the two elves come down to join her and Ryine.

Jorn.. athiel and Saen..thel? She thought. She had seen the names once, and she recalled hearing the names before the few times she would talk with others in the guild hall. It was the first time she would be going on a mission with this particular group however. She turned towards the fighter who followed her.

"Annia Siadon. If you didn't already know." She said quietly. Elves supposedly had sharp hearing, so she hoped they would hear as well. She then turned to examine the walls again as she made her way further deeper into the tunnel, keeping her eyes and ears closely examining anything strange.

Spoiler

Search, spot, and listen while walking 20 feet west.

Spot 1d20+3 : 12 + 3, total 15

Listen 1d20+3 : 17 + 3, total 20

Search 1d20+2 : 7 + 2, total 9

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[Eireleen]

The hieroglyphs continued. The young man fought bravely - he wielded a spear with skill that far surpassed that of mere peasants. The wall to the right bears an image of the man surrounded by angry serfs on all sides, but none of them daring to approach within a spear's length of his body. It was a standoff, of one versus a hundred, and the knight's fiery gaze struck fear into each and every one of his enemies.

When they all charged at once, he was overwhelmed. The sheer mass of each peasant made the tide of anger akin to falling rocks. The knight fell, and in their frantic attempts to end his life, the peasants began to wildly stab each other with their pitchforks as all of them piled on top of him. In the end, it was not their blades that killed him. He suffocated, trapped under the bodies of his own dead servants.

-SHING!

Annia's reading was interrupted sharply. There was a small click, followed by a spring-loaded blade cutting through the air at a terrifying speed. The hilt formed a pivot on the corner, around which the blade had been kept at ready. It was aimed at the height of a man's neck cutting through the stifled air of the tomb as it made its way towards the intruder.

Spoiler

Annia's Search check fails to meet the blade trap's DC.

Trap:
[1d20+5] 15 = 15 + 5 = 20
vs Flatfooted AC for
[1d8] 1 = 1
slashing damage

The torch provides 20 feet of normal illumination. 20 feet further, the light is raised by one step (darkness -> low light, low light -> normal)

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[Throndir]

The story was simple yet fascinating. It was almost like a picture, except of course on a larger scale. It was a story of bravery; of a knight who protected his king until the very bitter end.

Watch out! Her mentor said releasing her from her intent reading. But it was too late. As she took her final step, a hidden trap triggered. It was too sudden for her to dodge, and she found herself being cut by the sharp blades that had appeared. It had cut a wound, but thankfully, for one reason or another the injury wasn't so grevious.

Get a hold of yourself. Be more wary. The katana told her.

[Throndir]

As she looked at the trap that had sprung, more than once she wished she had been trained to find traps. She shook her head as she attempted to move again. No one in the group seemed to have any skills with finding traps, rogues wore daggers at their belt with leather armor, and of course shadowy hoods that seemed to mark the trade.

Spoiler

Move 5 ft west while attempting to find simple traps.

Search 1d20+2 : 10 + 2, total 12

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