[IC]Crisis at Jawal Avignon(5E)

[Zergrinch]

Zaladane psychically summons the rest of the wayward party members.

"Come here!" the imperious command echoes through their heads. "Enemies are afoot!"

[Irish Musician]

Drekek, Elite Totem Warrior

In normal circumstances, Drekek wouldn't outright kill an enemy without a weapon in its hand.....but seeing as they are on the move and need to not leave hostiles behind them, these were not normal times. Drek rolls the orc over on its back with the butt of his Halberd, "You will pay for the innocent lives you have taken. Be gone from this world, evil..smelly....filth." With that Drek plunges the pointy end of his halberd into the orc's throat, draining what is left of his life.

Drekek then takes off down the hallway and move just in front of the wizard.....sorcerer.....mind-caster.

[Zergrinch]

"Ah, Drekek. How goes your tortureless interrogation of the orc? We're you able to extract any usable information before you ended its life?"

In truth, the Mystic fully expected the Aarakocra to fail, and derives some pleasure from his discomfort. It is a habit the academic has picked up after having taught thousands of students during her tenure.

[Irish Musician]

Drekek, Elite Totem Warrior

"It was not fruitful, no. As I said, the shamans tend to perform things of that nature....I am not that. But I could not leave him alive to potentially give our position away or attack us from behind." Drekek readied his Halberd in case any enemies are to jump out from around a corner.

[WaffleLord]

Below Jawal

Moving forward at a cautious pace, you peek behind tapestries as you go, careful of traps, but find nothing behind but generation old watch posts with dust and rat droppings. Working all the way down the corridor without incident, you reach the ending that branches all three directions. However, in a very short distance both the left and forward passages end in collapsed walls with rubble everywhere. Nothing but rats and stale wisps of air have passed those ways in centuries. Turning right, you find ten more feet of hall before you come to a rooten wooden door hacked apart by weapons, recently by the look of the scattered dust.

Inside the ceiling rises to thirty feet and spreads out wide before you. Forty feet wide by fifty feet, this temple's high ceiling are supported by eight pillars of smooth charcoal colored stone shaped as orcish warriors holding spears, standing at respectful attention.. Along the left wall, a thirty foot alcove stretches to accommodate a raised area two steps higher than the rest of the floor. Between two more pillars sits a throne made of rock. An elaborately armored orcish skeleton in black plate mail is sprawled upon the throne. 32 other orcinsh skeletons stand or lie in various positions about the room. Many of the dead appear to assumed stoic positions, leaning against pillars to keep their bodies from falling.

Nearly at the end of the right wall, there appears to be another exit, five feet wide.

[WaffleLord]

Below Jawal

Seeing the vaulted hall rise up above him, Drekek stretches his wings and luxuriates in the freedom of the air, whizzing around pillars with winged grace. His vantage point shows him little that couldn't be seen from the ground, but the view is always better from height. The pillars are of good craftsmanship and detail but seem normal in all other respects.

Zaladane moves cautiously towards the throne, scanning all areas for the spark of intellect. The skeleton sitting on the throne, though slumped and lifeless, retains his regal bearing. His elaborate black plate mail is engraved with clan markings from several tribes. This was obviously a leader that carried the blessings of many different tribes. His helmet has an added plate that covers one eye, voluntarily blocking his sight to show his devotion to Gruumsh.

Soveliss looks carefully at the skeletons leaning against the pillars. Each appears to have chosen his position before dying. Some have connected themselves to remain standing after death while others made sure to face the throne in respectful repose. They wanted their bodies to continue to be respectful even after their passing. While most are armed and all are armored, their seems to be nothing more special about them.

After only a short time of investigating the room, a piercing cry comes from the other passage, the pathway leaving the hall on the far wall. Dashing over with an abundance of caution, you see the exit passage is a stairway going down twenty feet before turning to the right. Descending slowly, peering around the corner, you see a bloodied orc with a ballista bolt sticking out of his back. The only thing preventing him from flying 20 feet down the second stairway to the ajar iron door at the bottom was a tripwire wrapped around his foot.

[Zergrinch]

Zaladane has no interest in getting between an orc and something wielding a ballista. However, she does feel it useful to see from its eyes as to what has shot it full of holes.

From a hidden vantage point atop the staircase, the mystic extends her psychic mind, and starts to mentally communicate with the doomed orc.

"Orc, your fight is over. But before you expire, tell me, who or what killed you?"

[Fighting_Ferret]

Soveliss searches the area around the orc for the apparent trap.

Spoiler: search

Show

(1d20+6)[15]

[WaffleLord]

Spoiler: Zaladane

Show

You can feel his anguish, the strange combination of tingling and numbness that comes with a severed spine, Images come unbidden to his mind and flash through your sight faster than you can follow. Hideous faces, boundless rage, endless bloodshed, but intermingled are oddly touching moments. An elder's death, a childhood love, and heart-filled devotion to a human looking man. Patchy facial hair and a misshapen nose join beady eyes and a crooked smile into a generally unappealing face that brings a swell of passion to the dying orc's heart before it ticks its last and falls away into silence and darkness.

Spoiler: Soveliss

Show

The trip wire tangled around the orc's foot trails back to a ballista hidden behind a dirty, stone colored tapestry at the top of the stairs. It is aimed slightly down the the staircase. Or rather, it was before the strong foot of the orc pulled rather than snapped the trip wire. Now the empty machine points towards one of the walls, having been twisted by the beast descent.

The stairs continues down another 20 feet before ending in a heavy iron door, sitting slightly ajar with a flickering light beyond.