Core Dungeon Crawl: The Deadpeaks

[Devilfish]

Your employer sips quietly and eyes the uninterested adventurers as they leave the table. The moment they’re out of earshot, he spits out his tea and throws the remainder into a nearby plant pot. “Well, let’s not wait around til that bunch starts blabbering. Gather your things- we leave in an hour.”

Your journey was not an easy one. After slipping out of town in the dead of night, you ride ten days east; always breaking off trail to camp in the woods by day, never moving back to travel the road til night. Three days more and you turned from the road altogether, hiking into the wilderness by the guide of no more than a scroll, a candle, a starmap, and a sextant. The journey was tasking with its destination untold, but it gave you time to familiarize yourselves with one another. Even your employer kept you entertained well enough.

Q,he called himself, was a genial man and an erudite lorekeeper. He had a talent for regaling you with storytelling from around the globe, along with some excerpts about Sham Bel Sharma himself. You would almost think him a genuine friend, were it not for his constant obsession with secrecy, his obvious pseudonym, his remarkable tight-lip about what he was after, and him always, always watching behind his back. Soon he even insisted on barring campfires, for fear of being followed. And any inquiries as to why were all met the same way; a smile and a suggestion to focus on the gold they’d find instead.

You continue like this into undiscovered territory, until six days later... the road began again.

* * *

~ Now ~

* * *

In a land forgotten by man, forgotten by life, the Deadpeaks stood alone; an unmarked rock affixed in the distance. Your feet trod a path for ages untouched, leading to a place long lost and abandoned. It drew you high into the mountains where your pilgrimage was complete, the first visitors of the temple in years.



A statue of Sham Bel Sharma awaits you from atop his cathedral, six stories high.

Spoiler: Our Roster:

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* Aerowyn Foxfire, Elf Rogue
* Ivellis Eliene, Gray Elf Wizard
* Saeth Iach, human Cleric of the inevitable march of war.
* Umral Warden, barbarian
* Isabella Streamrunner, human ranger/barbarian
*Malthena Malachi, dwarf cleric
* Burroughs the Respecrable, dwarf Bard

The entrance picture, larger

Spoiler: Link to the OOC thread:

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http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showt...7#post22523977

[Devilfish]

Q, very much a lorekeeper and not an adventurer, seems quite content staying back for a bit until you can clear a safe path for him

The entry to the temple has been completely sealed shut, its door an enormous stone slab 20 feet wide which bars your way [rectangle]. Two stone grotesques [circles] are mounted at either side, standing nearly as tall as men, with long tongues extended outwards as though in anguish.

The statue on the right has a long slash mark across its chest.

The wind blows briskly at your faces from across the peaks.

Spoiler: OOC:

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This post is just to tell you more about what's in front of you. I fully encourage you all to interact amongst yourselves and head in whenever you like

You can call out your placements on the grid if you like: I'll reference the grid A-Z horizontally and 1-10 vertically. (EX: Left statue is at A3 & A4

[Eladrinblade]

Aerowyn rummages through the packs of his heavily-laden donkey, swapping in the gear he intends to carry on his person. "Q, is there anything you can tell us about the interior of Sham Bel Sharma? Inhabitants, defenses, layout, that kind of thing?" His voice is somewhat low for an elf, and ever-calm. Satisfied with his selections, he turns and approaches the great door, hands on hilts, eyes turned upwards as he scans the entirety of the structure before scrutinizing the parts immediately before him.

Spoiler

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One spot check to see anything unusual about the outside of the structure.
Searching the two statues and every 5ft of door between them - six rounds.

Wearing/carrying:
Studded leather, buckler, rapier, bow/arrows, dagger, climbers kit, thieves tools, belt pouch, antitoxin, tindertwigs, all potions/oils/elixir, one sunrod, one smokestick.

42.25lbs total

Everything else remains on the donkey, which he pulls along behind himself with one hand, his other on his bow.

He also hands his wand to Ivellis.

[Meijin]

Malthena plants her hands on her hips and surveys the temple, and tries to peer to either side as well (Spot check, along with any applicable Knowledge: Religion, Arcana or The Planes).

Plunking her pack down on the ground, Malthena dons her suit of armor: black metal, fading into a deep green tint around the visor and extremities, with red gauntlets. Keeping the visor up for the moment, she checks that her gear is all strapped into place, then extracts a small box of bones, which she scatters on the ground and examines inscrutably, before packing them away. Kneeling, with head bowed and one hand pressed to the earth, she prays aloud: "Ruby Sorceress and Keeper of Secret Places, guide our foray into the unknown. Show no mercy to fools, but take our preparation and our strength as an offering, and reward our efforts as they deserve. May the bones of our enemies seed crops for a thousand years. Amen."

Straightening up, Malthena dusts herself off and turns to her comrades. "Ladies and gentlemen. It has been a pleasure to get to know you this past week. The augury bones bode well, and I trust your strength and determination. I have your backs, as long as you have mine. I am willing to take the front line, if you wish. Now is the time to make your peace with whatever gods, idols or traditions you hold dear, and to steel yourselves to walk amongst death seeking riches. Shall we enter?"

[Luccan]

Ivellis nods and takes the wand from the other elf. While he had no doubt Aerowyn knew what he was doing with the wand, it was probably safest in a wizard's hands. As Aerowyn moves to examine the statue, Ivellis joins him at a respectable distance, reasoning his scholarly studies might lend some light as to the statue's nature. Plus his own keen elven eyes might be of assistance

Spoiler

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Aid Another on Aerowyn's Search (1d20+6)[10]

Trying to learn what I can from the statues as well:
Knowledge (History) (1d20+6)[13]
Know. (Architecture and Engineering) (1d20+6)[19]

If there are other relevant Knowledge checks, let me know

Upon hearing Malthena's words, Ivellis shivers. The woman was unnerving, though she had done nothing to offend him. It was simply that he had only brief dealings with followers of Wee Jas in the past and at best, they had been unfriendly. Still, he heeds her advice and offers a quick, silent prayer to Corellan, reasoning the god of elves can't hold grudges too terribly long just because of one or two shouting matches with his clergy. He considers other deities, mostly of magic, but sets them aside. If Wee Jas was on their side, then it would be enough to ask Corellan to work with her.

So, Aerowyn, what do you make of it?

[Auranghzeb]

Burroughs scratches his chin, as he examines the door, he takes off his finely crafted gloves and takes out his tobacco pipe and a little box. He carefully prepares it while he recalls his books and tomes, trying to remember any useful information.

Spoiler: Rolls

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Knowledge History (1d20+7)[12], Knowledge Dungeoneering (1d20+7)[23], Bardic Knowledge (1d20+7)[18]

Hope you all don’t mind me smoking. I won’t do it indoors so I might as well take my last pipe here.

This is indeed an impressive structure. The crafting of the statues suggests a high degree of masonry.

He approaches the statue with the slashing mark…

Perhaps someone battled here. Defenders might have locked themselves inside. Waiting on the enemy… There could be another entrance… or arrow slits…

Spoiler: search

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taking 20 on a search for arrowslits or similar around the door, I don't know if the stonecunning applies.

[Devilfish]

“Inhabitants?” Q raises a hand to shield his eyes from the sun, “No one has worshipped the prophet Sham Bel Sharma or his deity for a long time. Nor has he been alive to protect his worshipers from the evil that lingers in this place. If anything is inside that has come during his absence...” he shudders. “None of it would be good.”

Malthena scours her memory. Sham Bel Sharma something sounds familiar about that name…
Knowledge: Religion (1d20+8)[18] (+2 bonus for worshipping a god of death)

Your memory serves well. You remember one night sneaking into the crypt’s library, curious about other gods of protection and death.

Sham Bel Sharma was a prophet of the primordial entity Aldul. Aldul was rumored to be among the first beings to declare that mortal men must die, lest they rise against the gods in rebellion. He did not concern himself with the matters of living things, and to him the conflicts between men were as insignificant as a squabble between two grains of sand. Only when they died did he turn to them, to offer in death his love and protection.

To better understand mortal kind, Aldul sent Sham Bel Sharma among the living. But the men of that time were wicked and haughty, and the prophet was mortified at the crimes he saw. Terrified of invoking the Death God’s wrath, he created this temple to cleanse even the worst man’s sins. Here, in self- imprisonment, self-punishment, self-condemnation, evil men were left to meditate, and match cruelty for cruelty upon themselves.

Pain and anguish has permeated these walls for years, and no saint remains to prevent what would fester in this place…

Aerowyn, Ivellis, and Burroughs move in to examine the door

Ivellis: you succeed in making scholarly insights which assist Aerowyn in his searches. You place it back to about 11-12 centuries old (a long time by human standards, you remind the elves and dwarves of your group), and are thoroughly impressed with the craftsmanship and masonry relative to the contemporaries of its time. The gargoyles have been long-since battered by the elements, and you place them back to about 8-9 centuries themselves... but the slash mark? It looks like someone took an axe to the thing no longer than a year ago.

Burroughs: You eye the statue warily. You’ve heard tales from other dungeon-delvers of statues which would spring to life and attack most ferociously. You have learned to take such tall-tales with a grain of salt, however; this statue looks little more than an expert’s artwork and decoration.

The first story of the cathedral seems to be a foundation structure, as the entire building is built into the rock. Peering upwards, you do notice windows along the two towers, large enough for a bolt to be shot through, small enough to prevent anyone from crawling in or out. You are well within bowshot; if one wanted to, they could feasibly have reduced you to a pincushion by now.

Aerowyn: Searches: (1d20+13)[14] (1d20+13)[14] (1d20+13)[23] (1d20+13)[31] (1d20+13)[22] (1d20+13)[25]
You scour the door as best you can. You notice a bass-relief of multiple hooded figures converging into one, but the wind has destroyed the rest of the image in there.

The gargoyle on the left is unnervingly built. It feels as though it is staring back into your eyes.

The gargoyle on the right is very much the same... except you discover a hinge in the back of its mouth.
Its tongue is a lever... if you dare to reach into its mouth to pull it.

.

Q sits back eagerly.

[Luccan]

Ivellis lowers his voice, not wanting to alarm their employer. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I judge that slash to be no more than a year old. Someone has been here more recently than Q believes. He rolls his shoulder and steps back. For the time being, he'd done his part, but he sets his hand on the gnarled, ashen wood of the wand at his belt and keeps an eye out around them. Revindil the bat crawls from within Ivellis's pack onto his shoulder, head turning to examine their surroundings.

Spoiler

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Ivellis
Spot (1d20+4)[8]
Listen (1d20+7)[10]

Revindil
Spot (1d20+8)[22]
Listen (1d20+8)[23]

[Auranghzeb]

Burroughs points up to the narrow windows above them with the tail of his pipe.

If there's someone inside, they are surely not expecting us or at least no organized against us. Or we will be dripping blood from many new eyes.


Savages perhaps? tasteless goblins unable to finbuid their own dwellings. Or beasts.

[dextercorvia]

Saeth scoffs at the open prayer given to the Stern lady. He prefers to offer his devotion on the field of battle. He says nothing, however, as he has learned that challenging the beliefs of others more often than not leads to a fight where no one wins.

His equipment is worn but well cared for, if only the same could be said for his face. Clean shaven is the most that can be said for the care he takes in his appearance. The kindest would call his visage weathered. Less tactful folk would note that erosion of time did not cause his homeliness, and if anything, might have improved upon it by offering excuse.

For almost two decades Iach has spent the year from first thaw to hard freeze on campaign. Forced marches, long sieges, both in and out of walls, and pitched battles. Where there is a war, he finds a way. Even winter is not enough to hold the veteran some years. Three times he has risen as high as sergeant before a nation suddenly breaks out in peace and he must be on his way.

Of late a good war has been even harder to find, and Saeth is picky about who he will fight for. After two months with nothing but scoundrels looking for lackeys, signing on with Q was an easy choice.

The soldier wonders, though, what sort of fight lies ahead of him. As he keeps an eye out, he has to wonder, as well, How many fights lie ahead of me?

Spoiler: OOC

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Spot check (1d20+2)[4]

[Goaty14]

Umral steps up to the stone, cracks his knuckles and voices

I dot cer. Big man open big door.

He then attempts to climb the slab.

[Eladrinblade]

Aerowyn stands by the ugly statue on the right, fingers to chin, and responds to Ivellis, "Well, this one's tongue is a lever, which I am considering whether or not to pull," He glances at the other statue and opens his other hand in it's direction, "while that one's is not." He walks closer to Ivellis and lowers his voice to a hush, "(Elven) I cannot be sure, but the left one's gaze follows me. A guardian of some kind? Or perhaps a spying device. Either way, consider that it has no wound, while the one on the right has been slashed. I have heard you speak to Umral in orcish; can you ask him to destroy it's head?"

[Devilfish]

Revindil quakes gently atop Ivellis's shoulder, and you feel a stern sense of worry from him. Perhaps he simply does not like this place? Perhaps it is as you fear, and someone is actually watching you? It is difficult to read the meanings behind emotions sometimes, but you see nothing.

Umral makes a spectacular sprint at the stone door, kicking off the bas-relief and leaping high to gain some height. Unfortunately, the slab is only 15 feet high before it reaches the ceiling of the outside structure, and all you manage to do is grab hold of some moss which quickly breaks away and sends you falling onto your backside. Q stands thirty feet behind you, quite unharmed and unable to discern what you are doing. You take no damage, and splendidly identify yourself to the GM as the party clown

Saeth: The mysteries of this place are yet to be revealed. You steel yourself, ready to explore.

((OOC: Stepping out for a bit, more to follow later tonight pending replies))

[dextercorvia]

Saeth whistles through his teeth at the news of a lever. He takes another gaze at the architecture then comments."I don't know much about old temples, but the place looks like a keep to me. I've never seen the gate to a castle with a way to open it from the outside. Either obscure cults are more welcoming than most rural lords, or that lever doesn't open the door."

[Merellis]

It's never the unknown that lies ahead that tends to get you gutted, but the known you've left behind with complete surety. At least, this is the wisdom of Isabella Streamrunner, the eternal wanderer. Her eyes are peeled and ears sharp to any indication that something would come from the surrounding lands that they had traversed for the last six days.

Because if their employer was worried about it, than it was something to worry about, another wisdom learned.

"Any of you try knocking yet?" She calls out, hand idly grasping the haft of her weapon, other at the ready to snatch a javelin. "Or better yet, just tying a rope to the lever and pulling from afar? This area is a little too open for my tastes, would prefer to not just be sitting at the entrance waiting for something to happen."

Spoiler: OOC

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(1d20+6)[20] Spot
[/roll]1d20+6[/roll] Listen

Isabella is going to stick within charging distance of the front door, but will be keeping most of her attention towards their rear and sides. Q has been more than paranoid about followers, and no matter the work done to keep trackers from following, some tend to find tracks.

[Devilfish]

Isabella backs away from the temple several strides. While Burroughs and Ivellis have done well enough surveying the building and its vantage points, a gut feeling compels her to look back down the trail she came. She squints her eyes at the base of the peak... where a faint glimmer reflects in the sun.

Rivendil squeaks frantically and burrows back into his pack.

There are horses hitched at the base of Deadpeaks.

[Luccan]

Ivellis nods and turns to Umral, only to see his fantastic fall. He raises a brow, but otherwise ignores the incident and walks over to him, speaking quietly to him in Orcish If you think you can make the climb, please destroy the head of that statue pointing to the one Aerowyn indicated. His eyes widen at Rivendil's sudden movement and he turns with slight alarm on his face.

[Meijin]

Malthena rummages in her pack and takes out a long coil of soft, well made black silk rope, cocking her head to Isabella. She speaks, loud enough for to get her message across to the group:
"I agree, on both counts. Standing at the mouth of danger makes me uneasy. If the crypt-fortress is giving us this much pause, it seems able to deter most pursuers. Besides, I believe Q isn't paying us for sightseeing. Even if the lever doesn't open the door, I'd wager it does something. If I were a betting woman.
and Something is a bit better than the Nothing we're going on right now. Even a trap or guardian might give us a clue. This place has the feel of stifled souls who could use a good airing out, and it makes me uneasy. If no one objects, I'm willing to do the honors. Unless someone else has a particular desire to volunteer? Any objections?"

Spoiler: OOC

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If no one objects, I'm willing to do the honors. I'll try to tie the rope to the lever, stand as far back as I can, wait for my companions to position themselves safely away if they wish, and give it a pull.
If anyone else wants to do the fastening or the pulling, I'll defer to them.
If anyone objects to my execution of Isabella's plan, I'd like to hear what they have to say.

[Auranghzeb]

Burroughs, who has been sitting crosslegged smoking his pipe for a few minutes now, pts away his smoking kit while the tall woman ties a rope around the lever.

I can do it safely. Allow me warrior. Though I would think that our resident Rogue here was hired precisely for this kind of probing.


He cracks his fingers together and stands up.

Spoiler: OOC

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I'll first try to use mage hand I'm a bard... to pull the lever, if it doesn't work I'll use animate rope to pull the rope she tied around the lever.

[Merellis]

Isabella's grip tightens on the guisarme, her gaze sweeping over their surroundings as she began to step back towards the temple. She pondered the idea of letting their pursuers continue to believe that they had not been noticed, but this was far too open a place for defending, and far too many unknown variables for keeping up such a ruse. Not that she was going to scream out a warning, but there was no good reason to keep such dangers a secret.

"Hurry it up back there."

There was a concerned edge to her voice as she continued to shuffle backwards towards the group, keeping most of her attention on everything in front of her.

"Cause we were followed."

Spoiler

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(1d20+6)[12] Spot
(1d20+6)[24] Listen

Isabella is keeping her attention fully on the Deadpeaks and area near where the horses were tethered, wanting to figure out where these pursuers are.

[Eladrinblade]

Aerowyn raises his hand to stall the dwarves, "A moment, and we will try it." He waits to see the result of Umral's actions. From over his shoulder, he speaks, "Saeth, I am suspicious as well, but we do not have much to go on, and we may have company."

[Meijin]

Malthena gives a short, deferential bow to Burroughs and Aerowyn. "As you wish."
Finishing her knot, she hands off the rope and glances up toward the Umral.
"I must have missed the signs of our pursuers. Keen-eyed ones, what do you see? If they are close, perhaps we should provide a welcoming party.
Saeth, you are experienced in the tangled webs of tactics. What say you? While I have no interest in being reckless, nor in waiting around here for too long, I'm sure neither of our creeds would mind a little offering.
Q, would you like to tell us anything about who may be coming? I'll respect your desire for privacy as much as the next, but at the same time, even more enigmatic silence would be a useful clue. I assume if you knew that something or someone particularly above our pay grade was coming, you'd let us know, if only out of self-interest? The more we know, the better we can defend you. Knowledge is power, as they say.
"Does anyone have any power and desire to scout out the opposition?"

[dextercorvia]

Saeth grins, "Company? I'm all about hospitality. You all keep knocking, and I'll see if I can't put out a nice welcome." The veteran pulls his bow from its strap on his quiver and deftly strings it. Then he loosely knocks an arrow and looks toward the rear.

Spoiler: OOC

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Try another spot check:

(1d20+2)[18]

[Devilfish]

"What!?" Q spins around to Isabella. "Are you certain. No, that can't be. I was so careful. Oh no. Oh no..." he paces back and forth, stammering to himself.

The party springs to action, not willing to waste time. It took your company two hours to climb to this point, and no one can tell how long the horses have been there, or how fast its riders might climb.

Saeth and Isabella take to the rear-guard, eyes peeled tight but unable to spot anyone.

Malthena in her wisdom ties a short lasso and to toss over the gargoyle's tongue, lest the lever do little more than clamp down the statue's mouth and trap the hand that pulled it.

Aerowyn gives the command to Umral, who grunts in affimation and holds his halberd high over the left gargoyle's neck. Ivellis watches on intently, and stays keen on their surroundings.

Everyone is in position. The wind blows again, and the Deadpeaks are silent.

.

.

.

Burroughs puffs his pipe in contemplation, and puts it out decisively. All eyes turn to him, as he gingerly gets up and tugs the rope.

* * *

Dust unsettles from the temple's face, as the enormous stone slab slowly slides upwards. Ten feet thick and twenty five tons, the rock reveals the atrium of this once great sanctum, the stench of stale air lingering within.

You eagerly await as the stone rises...
Until it is three feet high
And bones spill out onto the ground at your feet

Five bodies, no more than a year old, collapse from where they were propped against the doorway inside. Their clothes are torn to pieces and one is missing his jaw- but not his fellows, suggesting the rot of time was not what took it from him. One is curled to a fetal position, and they all still wear their adventuring gear. You can almost imagine their screams during their last moments alive.

...Umral decides to chop the gargoyle anyway (1d10+9)[15]. It sinks quite deeply into the thing's neck, but nothing else changes. (Seems the adventurer who slashed the right gargoyle was thinking the same thing!)

* * *

The inside of the entry hall is eerily dark, save for the that sunlight spills into the room. The faithful guards and stewards who once greeted guests here still remain, and their bones are littered about the dusty floors around you. You cast long shadows over them as you stand outside.

Two more gargoyles are at the far end of the room, mouths gnashing and clenched shut. Yet as you look at them longer... a fire suddenly sparks to life from within. They act as braziers to light your way.

The pathway is open to Sham Bel Sharma.

[Goaty14]

Oof? Se!? Big man open big door! Big boi go first!
Umral picks up one of the bodies' heads and moves it's jaw like a puppet
"Umral, we should go in together!"
Yes Mr. Skolly let's go in
Umral moves into the room right before the stairs (2nd position from the left) and...
Whops! Mr. solly no!
Umral watched in horror as the body drops to the ground, as Umral reaches out to catch Mr solly he misses grabbing him. (Umral stays in his square, but is it ok if the body goes down the stairs?)

[Auranghzeb]

Burroghs thinks Orcs, they only know how to kill and smash. They reproduce like rats and they can't organize themselves for noting else but slaughter and pillage. Fools.

Then he look at the bodies of the adventurers and takes a look inside...

These were adventurers. It seems they were trying to flee and never managed to open the door.

But... what killed them...

Will any of you versed in the secrets of healing be able to identify what killed this folks?


He kneels close to the bodies. Trying to see if they present any recognizable wound, something he had seen before.

Spoiler: Roll

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I'll roll knowledge dungeoneering to see if i recognize a particular wound cause by typical dungeon monsters. A dissintegrated body part, a rusted armor, etc... (1d20+7)[23] I know is a stretch but trying to be creative.

Could this guys be the owners of the horses you saw at the bottom of the peak?

[Devilfish]

Umral, for a man dimmer than Ivellis's magical bat, proves surprisingly clever (if not comically so).

You hoist a body held together in chainmail and let it tumble affectionately down the steps onto D8. It makes a remarkable racket while it clatters about, and displaces its head which bobs onto D7.

Mr. Skolly stares back at you indignantly, half-lolled on the bottom floor.

<P l a c e h o l d e r>

* * *

Burroughs , meanwhile, examines the bodies as though a mortician, while recalling all manners of terrifying fiends. For his expertise, the job is simple: grooves sink lightly into the bones, claw marks made by some medium sized creature. Unfortunately, the simple mechanical nature of this job leaves so many possibilities that it does not narrow a culprit for what could have done this.

Except for the jaw of course. It must have taken some strength to wrench that off.

(The bodies have been rotting for quite a while; it is unlikely that the horses outside belonged to them)

[dextercorvia]

As he steps through the archway, Saeth spares a glance at the corpses nearest the door. He had no particular skill for medicine, but years on the battlefield told him these corpses were much older than the horses. He wonders as he does so, what ill fate befell these adventurers. Burroughs' suggestion that they were trying to escape seems likeliest. "I know it sounds calloused, but someone should check to see if there is anything of use left in their equipment. "

Spoiler: OOC

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Moving to C13, continuing to keep watch with my meager wisdom bonus and not even a cross-class rank. Spot (1d20+2)[22]

[Luccan]

Ivellis glances at their employer Q, I know you want to keep your reasons private, but let's assume the people here are hunting the same treasure we are. What do we have to fear from them getting to it first? Is there some rival of yours in pursuit of the treasure?

He listens for an answer, but makes his way inside and looks around. Given the state of those who had gone before them, it seemed the party would need to know how to open the door from the inside. We should find a way to open this door again, should it close behind us.

Spoiler

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Search (1d20+6)[8]

[Auranghzeb]

Burroughs nods to Saeth


And perhaps any clues on what were they doing here. Whatever atacked them had claws, and apparently was not interested in their equipment.


Burroughs proceeds to search the bodies for useful equipment and any documents, maps or letters that give any indication of their identity and purpose. When he finishes he produces a small bottle of strong alcohol and cleans his hands. Grimacing.


May whatever gods you used to pray upon when living hold you in their halls.