Narration 25
Sunday, 11 April 1571 P.C.E.
  Secunda Hora Ante Nones

 
ack on the surface, Lugnut casually passes the time slowly sharpening his wickedly curved butcher knives while he sits his vigil upon his prepositioned cask of oil.  As the blades slowly scrape across the whetstone, the kobold keeps one pointed ear alert for any sound coming up the dread stair, his hatchet and lantern within easy reach.

     From down below, he hears a series of echoing shouts that send his ears to twitching.  Tensing, he leans closer into the doorway to listen for a moment.  Realizing the noise's origin, he smiles one of his sharp toothy grins and settles back onto the heavy oaken cask to resume his sharpening.

ain's echoing oaths rebound throughout the long hallways of the Barrows.  In extreme irritation, the lanky ranger whirls his twin scimitars through a glittering routine before slamming them hard into their scabbards.  His face flushed red with anger, he turns to the rest of the party, "I want to fight....not solve some cursed puzzle."  He waves a finger at Martin and Folly.  "Why don't one of you scholarly types solve this bloody thing."  He stalks off and settles himself in a nearby corner with his hooded cloak pulled over his face.

     Realizing that he would be of little help, Rumil nudges the silent Shardis.  "Let's go back and recheck those rooms a tad better.  We may have missed something of interest."  Shardis shrugs and turns to follow the paladin back up the hall, leaving the rest to set about the puzzle.

     Likewise, Castus takes the (OOC: so far nameless) dark haired stranger by the arm.  "We'll take watch up the hall a ways," and, pulling out his dice bag to grab the man's attention, "...and entertain ourselves a bit.  Give a yell if you have any luck."  Then, thick as thieves, the two wander up the hall.

     The remainder: Doran, Folly, Martin, Calimar, Talen, and Durian come together near the puzzle and gaze at the clue and the letters spreading out across the floor.

     Doran puts her hand against her chin, and rubs a finger along her jaw.   "Could the He be the AllFather?"

     Martin nods sagely, "I believe so...why don't we all work on this separately and then come together to share any possible results?"  The others assent and you all spread apart to ponder the puzzle separately.

ack up the hall, Rumil and Shardis reenter the east barracks.  The room seems to have been devastated by past violence and the passing of time.  Knocking over rotted bunks and shattered tables, they find nothing but a filthy privy, an ash-filled firepit, and other bits of decay.

     Shaking their heads in disgust, they glumly make their way across the main room and enter the west barracks.  They find things to be much the same...rotting wood and signs of battles past.  However, something catches Rumil's eye.  The paladin points one gauntleted hand at the empty firepit.  "Something doesn't seem right with that."

     Shardis strides over to the bare pit and stares at it.  "I agree.....its too clean.  The other was full of ashes."

     Rumil comes alongside the ranger and bends over the pit's high edge.  "That's odd as well."  He points to a group of different colored bricks in the pit's bottom.  Rumil steps into the clean firepit and kneels next to the patch of different colored bricks.  Taking out his dagger, he slips it between two of the blocks and pries them apart.  "There's a hollow underneath."  Shardis joins Rumil and the two begin pulling up the rest of the
blocks.  When the hole is clear, Rumil reaches in and begins pulling out its contents.  Soon, he has a pile of things....a pair of heavy leather bags jingling with coin, a prayer book, several sheaves of parchment, and a set of silver and black rosary beads.

     As the two sit staring wide-eyed at their find, a raspy scuttling noise from the back of the room intrudes on their perusal.  Setting the things aside, Rumil stands and draws his sword.  "By the blood of the saints, what was that?"

     Shardis shakes his head.  "I don't know....but I saw something small moving through the shadows and go under that table."

     Rumil stalks forward to the table with his blade ahead, Shardis but two steps behind him.  At the table, he jabs underneath of it with his heavy blade to scare the thing out.  He catches sight of something bone white, but it fades back into the shadows.  He bends down to get a better look, but then a scurrying noise draws his attention upwards.  Looking up, he sees a human skull shaped spider-like thing launch itself from the ceiling at him.  He tries to dive out of the way, but the thing lands on his back and scurries up his chainmail to gain access to his vulnerable neck.  The paladin lets out a cry as the skull-thing bites into his flesh and fills it with a burning sensation.

     Shardis comes quickly to his aid.  One of his rapidly spinning sickles catches the skull-horror in the side and the point drives heavily into the white carapace.  The thing crunches sickeningly and spills black-green goo as it falls to the floor in its twitching death spasms.  The ranger watches silently as the thing's insect-like legs twitch beneath the skull one last time and fall motionless.

     Rumil stands with a hand against his bleeding neck, and moves to look at the creature.  "What by the Blood is that thing?"

     Shardis shrugs uncertainly.  "I don't know....but it splattered like a bug...  But hey!... Here's another one!"
     The thing beneath the table proves to be another of the legged skulls.  It rushes out from beneath the table and scurries towards Rumil's legs while another one jumps up on the table and hurls itself at the startled ranger.  Shardis' twin sickles leave their harness and catch the thing in midair.  Missing legs and cleaved through, it falls to the floor spasming its agony.

     Meanwhile, with a satisfied grunt, Rumil kicks his attacker with a heavy hobnailed boot, sending the foul thing twitching across the floor.  Before it can right itself, the paladin rushes up and smashes it with the flat of his sword, leaving the thing a crushed greasy puddle.

     From the privy comes the raspy scuttling of many of the ugly creatures.  One of the bone white horrors jumps up on the table and waves its front set of legs at the two adventurers.  In a gross parody, the human-shaped jaws open and a pair of insect-like mandibles extend snapping outward.  As the noise from the back of the room increases, Rumil and Shardis look at each other for a moment.  Then, in silent agreement, they fall back from the room, pausing only to take up their found loot.  They turn by the door to see scores of the skull creatures scurrying towards them.  With a mutual sigh of relief, they slam the heavy oaken portal shut and make their way back to the rest of the party.

fter about a quarter of an hour, Father Martin calls everyone back together.  As the group huddles close, everyone can see a disgusted look on Folly's face.  He answers, unasked, "I thought I had a solution by using 'AllFather'....but it did not make it all the way across.  It may have been set as a trap for the unwary."

     Martin smiles and pats the mage on the back.  "I followed the same track for awhile....but I believe I have the correct solution."  In quick succession, the priest points to the letters that spell 'PaterOmni'.  (OOC:  Everyone who answered got it right!)  To test his hypothesis, the priest taps the "P" with his staff and the block holds.  Beaming, the cleric turns around, "Well, who shall be the one we send?"

     At his question, the others begin to arrive back at the puzzle.  Castus comes smiling, his purse appearing somewhat heavier, while the dark haired stranger looks glum.  Shardis and Rumil look sweaty, as from a fight, and the paladin holds a bit of cloth against his bleeding neck.  Even Cain, risen from a bit of slumber, comes to discuss what to do next.

     A determined look comes to the face of Sir Talen.  He rummages through his pack and pulls out a length of rope.  Securing one end to his waist, he moves to Rumil, offering the free end.  "I fear I may have angered you earlier.  I wish to amend that by placing my life in your hands."  Rumil looks somewhat shocked, but takes the offered rope.  As the wiry knight moves to the edge of the puzzle, a guffaw brings him short.
Turning, his eyes steely, Talen gazes back at its source....the mage, Folarien.

     Barely restraining his mirth, the mages smiles shamefacedly.  "No insult, Sir Knight, I find myself amused by the illogic of it all."

     The knight cocks an eyebrow.  "Meaning?"

     The taller mage wanders over to the knight, and points to his arms and armor.  "First off, amongst all that steel, your dexterity is sure to suffer...and one slip, you'll fall into who knows what."  He then places a finger on his own chest.  "Also, with my...ummm... skill in the obscure arts, I stand a better chance of meeting the supernatural on equal terms.  Sir, your faith and steel may be strong, but it may prove useless against
the ether."

     Father Martin chimes in.  "He has a point, my son."  The knight nods, disgruntled, and steps back from the puzzle, motioning for the mage to move forward.

     With a hop, Folly jumps onto the "P" and then turns to face Doran.  Tearing off his cloak, he motions as if to lay it down.  "Milady, I offer to cover this crevasse with my cloak for your dainty foot."  The mage lets out a silly chuckle and then tosses the heavy garment to Talen.  Then with almost negligent ease, he makes the series of leaps to the other side, hitting only the letters that spell "PaterOmni".  When he clears the puzzle, a deep grinding sound begins, and two great stone slabs slowly creep from the walls to cover the dangerous floor.  Meanwhile, Folly brings
forth a book from his satchel and begins leafing through its yellow pages as he studies the combative phantom.

     When the stones cease to move, the party comes across to join the mage.  As they watch the ghost, it picks up the pace of its frenzied sword swinging.  The phantom knight becomes weary looking and ghostly blood trickles from wounds made by unseen enemies.
     The mage turns to the party, pointing at his text.  "I have identified the phenomena.  He is merely a visual impression left by past violence."  The mage turns to Calimar.  "However, there may be something of interest to you.  Take note of the pattern on the knight's blade."  Calimar's eyes flash at the sight of the twisted vine on the ghostly blade.  Folly looks back to the others, "We may wish to search the area for further clues
concerning Sir Ghost here."

     Castus' booming voice cuts in as the monk points at the retreating ghost.  "Or you may want to follow him down those stairs....for that is where he's going now."  Everyone turns to see the phantom backing slowly down the darkened stairway, giving ground as if in a fighting retreat.

     Folly's face twists for a moment as it flushes an irritated red.  "After it!  It may lead to something of import."  The mage begins to lunge after the retreating ghost, but the heavyset monk bars his way.

     "Not whilly-nilly like that...not in this place.  If we follow it, we follow it rightly."  The monk turns to everyone else.  "Line up like we came down the first set of stairs.  Talen and Durian up front, Calimar and me, Martin and Folly, Doran and Shardis, Cain and the stranger, and Rumil bringing up the rear."  As everyone lines up, the monk opens the shutters on his lantern and relights the others with it.  With all in readiness, he motions for Talen to move out at a pace to catch up with the ghost.

     The stairway proves dark and deep, its rough walls carved from the very stone of the earth.  The stair seems more like a cavern than a man-made tunnel.  The atmosphere is dank, cool, and heavy with moisture.  In the murky shadows, the only sound is your footsteps and the sound of dripping water.  Finally, you come near to the ghost knight again.  He seems the worse for his journey.  He still hews valiantly with his blade, but trickles of ghostly blood run down his face and his phantom armor is rent by unseen blades.  Slowly, you descend after im....seemingly forever, into the bowels of the earth.  The once narrow staircase widens until it spans a good twenty feet and its ceiling is a good fifteen feet
above your heads.  Finally, the bottom comes into sight lit above by a glowglobe on the ceiling.

     As the phantom reaches the bottom and then swings back around the side of the stair to head north, you find yourselves in an empty, roughly square room of about forty feet by forty feet.  Not pausing to explore, Talen keeps the party moving after the phantom.  The party passes through a long east-west hall.  At its shadowy ends, two disfigured statues of winged angels can be seen.  Moving quickly through a short connecting hall, you come into a room made up of barrel vaults (series of interconnecting arches).  In its southernmost corners, two heaping piles of rubble
and scattered skeletal remains sit sentinel.  Its shadowy walls, once decorated with religious murals, are now profaned by graffiti.

     The phantom knight proceeds to the center of the room and pauses again as if holding off the enemy.  As you wait for him to continue his course, you simultaneously become aware of two things.  One, your ears are no longer greeted with silence.  Off somewhere in the distance to the north, you hear muted chanting...almost as if hearing a distant mass....except this one is punctuated by the heavy booming of a large drum.  Secondly, a chuckle from Castus brings you aware of something else.  The big monk wanders over behind one column and you hear him mutter, "Now where did you come from milad?"  He returns with a large struggling black and white tomcat in his arms.

     The big cat frees himself from the monk's embrace and flips to land on the floor.  Looking up with big yellow eyes, it wanders around the party as if looking for something.  Coming up to the grim Sir Talen, it pauses and its whiskers seem to twitch happily.  With a loud, "Meowrr", he leaps up to the knight's shoulder and sets his claws firmly in Talen's mail before crouching comfortably ...and from its expression....permanently.  As the grim Talen stands perplexed, the phantom knight turns from his combat and breaks off running to the northeast through a passageway.

ack at the surface, Ilph lounges casually around the arm hearth of the keep, trying unsuccessfully to strip the cold buried in his bones by the encounter with the hungering ghoul.  Nearby, Squire Gilles busies himself with chores about the camp.  In quick succession, the young man sets the place to order, gathers a good supply of firewood and prepares the makings for an evening meal...all under the eye of the wounded halfling.

     Ilph is brought from his restful contemplation of hard work by the heavy stomping of booted feet.  The nearby doorway to the stable bursts open and armored men in the tabard of the Wardens march into the keep.  All told, about a score of road-weary soldiers come in, some wounded and supported by their comrades.  Their hawknosed leftenant swings a hard eye about the orderly camp, but it stops hard when he catches sight of the destroyed wall and the desecration of the dread room.  The fact that Lugnut comes merrily bounding out of the room does not seem to help his mood either.  Before Gilles of Ilph can approach him, he swings a hand at them and bellows to his men, "Seize these vandals for questioning!"