@Talion Yes, portcullis' are meant to drop hard and lodge the pointy ends into the ground. You'd guess the door is pretty heavy as well, made of heavy iron or something like it. If you were to flip the stop-hook, it would come crashing down.
@Bertolt The dais is the central feature of the room and is currently empty. Only the bloodstained altar is on top of it...
Onyx considers the question for a moment then answers aloud, loud enough for everyone in the group to hear.
"Not a true goddess, but something old and. . . strange. I don't feel any sapience or deliberate evil, but that bramble reeks of undead regardless. I think whatever they did here corrupted the very soil and created something mindless and abhorrent. Perhaps that means we can outsmart it. You all keep your distance, we lead it under the portcullis, and you hit the release. With any luck, that will weaken and pin it down."
He retrieves a small flask from his pack, carefully gripping it in one gauntlet.
"I plan to wake it with some of Lathander's warmth. Tell me when."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Another medical problem. Indefinite hiatus. Sorry, all.
Onyx, as you state your intention aloud, there is a preternatural stillness and then a loud and deep bash of a drum as the beat begins anew. You all hear several sounds almost all at once; the sound is like a sharp knife cutting through paper. The chanting rises once more, echoing back to you from multiple sides, producing a grim new cadence, the lyrics of which are unknown to you [unless anyone knows Infernal, or perhaps Abyssal...?]
You gasp and flinch (especially those of you on the ledges) as thirteen dark apparitions appear at each sound of the slicing knife, seeming to cut their own existence from time and space itself. They are spread out on the ledges overlooking the room. Each one resembles a black-robed figure holding a torch, but the torch’s fire is black and seems to draw light into it. Where you’d expect to see faces are voids.... They chant over and over, drowning out all other thoughts you might have enjoyed...they all seem to be focused on the dais, their intonations rhythmic and inevitable.... There is nothing else happening in the room at this point.
Erven hears the chanting, he does not recognize the language. He draws his rapier and readies his shield, his hand instinctively goes down to the antler hunting trophy in his pocket. His eyes dart from figure to figure, his tendons as tight as a bowstring. He readies himself for whatever comes next. If it is dark enough, he attempts to move along the edge into the shadows…
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Sho presses his back against the wall and stares at the faceless apparitions surrounding them. The chanting voices of the joyless and wasted men and women, of the grey and monotonous gathering of cultists washing away. Sho narrows his eyes and manages to piece out the meaning behind the repeating, soporific phrase, and the corner of his thin lips curls up in a wry smile -
Onyx and Sho, it takes you a minute to parse out the language but when you hear it, it's obvious and there is no mistake: "One Must Die!" The harsh, guttural sound of dark vowels lapping over each other makes your heads spin. The chant assails you from several sides and as it comes back you hear the words, "Or Die and Serve!"
Onyx, Sho, Talion, and Erven - You recall a decent amount from reading the book the cultists kept about their order to recognize the beginnings of a sacrificial ritual, which you find yourselves in the middle of... You look around at the apparitions and notice their featureless black forms stare intently at the dais. Talion and Erven, As you look at Sho and Onyx, you watch their faces fall and their eyes close - in anger? Sadness? Frustration? Who can say? But in that moment you catch each other's eye, all four of you, reluctantly, knowing instinctively what must be done. These types of rituals involve a trade of sorts - a gift, a sacrifice - in exchange for something else. Looking at the altar with dread, you begin to look at each other.....weighing...considering....
Bertolt stands looking around, not really piecing it together but is gathering by the look of you it's not good.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
(( Crossed posts ))
Talion nods slowly at Onyx’s plan, “I can also try to protect you, but if you attack it, my protection fails. Perhaps, in that armour, just trying to avoid being hit might buy us some time. And if you need to bring it to the door anyway…I guess it might help.” He winces, shaking his head slightly, clearly impressed by Onyx’s willingness to take a stand, and not totally convinced by his own suggestion.
He looks in the direction Onyx indicated, trying to make out details. “Did you say it wasn’t another dammed undead? I might have a means to keep it at bay, at least for a short time.”
Talion shakes of the moment of doubt, another imposition from the house no doubt, then stares in disgust at the altar, “Whatever so called gifts they are offering, I’ll have none of them!” Turning to his companions, he clutches his trusty meat cleaver tightly once more. “We’ve all seen where that leads.”
Sho stares deeply at the gloomy and stern apparitions, chanting the same phrase over and over again. With revelation, a great dullness had sunk over him; a deep coldness, a thick stolidity. He glances at the sleeping aberration down south,and then back, seeming to be weighing the options gravely. Slowly, he starts to move towards Talion, and begins to unload his things to him - a scroll, a healing potion, and finally his amulet under his armor and drops it in his hand as well.
“This is no gift.” He says solemnly, “A choice. One or us die, or we all die.”
He gives the man a look of finality, and starts towards the alter.
Erven steps forward out of the gloom. “Sho!” He stops, doesn’t say anymore, looks at him in the eyes, and his head drops, looking at his feet. He can’t face him. Tears roll off his cheeks, coming from somewhere unbidden. Mortality. Life. Breath. It IS worth fighting for. “Don’t” is all he says. His hand grips his rapier. He looks up at the dark figures, his eyes full of rage.
Erven steps forward out of the gloom. “Sho!” He stops, doesn’t say anymore, looks at him in the eyes, and his head drops, looking at his feet. He can’t face him. Tears roll off his cheeks, coming from somewhere unbidden. Mortality. Life. Breath. It IS worth fighting for. “Don’t” is all he says. His hand grips his rapier. He looks up at the dark figures, his eyes full of rage.
Lucky Bear licks your bone-white knuckles grasping your rapier...
Erven bends down, looking Lucky Bear in the eye. He blinks a few tears away, scratches him under the chin and says to him “Are you trying to tell me something boy? Hmm?” He welcomes the familiar distraction of a dog wanting attention and affection, to take his mind ever so briefly away from this little pit of hell.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
Onyx moves swiftly towards Sho, momentarily forgetting his caution, and attempts to clasp his hand over the shoulder of the resigned death priest (his flask momentarily transferred to his shield hand).
"I won't pretend to be fond of you or your calling, but this is not the way."
He is nearly shouting now, over the din of the chanting.
"There is no fairness in this 'bargain', this evil cannot be trusted. I cannot stand by and let you die here, not when we've come this far. Not when it would mean surrendering to undeath."
Onyx moves to H7, casting protection from evil and good on himself, and prepares his rebellion against Sho's nihilism.
Sho stares deeply at the gloomy and stern apparitions, chanting the same phrase over and over again. With revelation, a great dullness had sunk over him; a deep coldness, a thick stolidity. He glances at the sleeping aberration down south,and then back, seeming to be weighing the options gravely. Slowly, he starts to move towards Talion, and begins to unload his things to him - a scroll, a healing potion, and finally his amulet under his armor and drops it in his hand as well.
“This is no gift.” He says solemnly, “A choice. One or us die, or we all die.”
He gives the man a look of finality, and starts towards the alter.
It takes a moment for Talion to realize what Sho is doing, at which point he starts trying to hand the items back to the priest. When then fails, he speaks with emotion and genuine anger, something that Sho has not really seen in him before.
"No! This is not the way. That..." he waves his arm in the direction of the altar, "...that is not death! It's servitude; servitude to an uncaring master. You will be bound to this house, never to leave, always suffering. Never to discover the true nature of death."
He stands in front of Sho, arms on both shoulders, pushing back, trying to get his full attention. "I said we would all get out of this house, or none of us would, and I meant it! Now more than ever. If we die, then we die, but we all die free."
"I will not have my life saved by you appeasing this f#@*1ng house! Leaving it to prey on others for another 75 years is not a solution, it's surrender. That thing...whatever it is...must die. And we...and I...need your help to do that!"
Erven bends down, looking Lucky Bear in the eye. He blinks a few tears away, scratches him under the chin and says to him “Are you trying to tell me something boy? Hmm?” He welcomes the familiar distraction of a dog wanting attention and affection, to take his mind ever so briefly away from this little pit of hell.
Lucky Bear licks the tears from your eyes and puts her chin on your knee. Her eyes bore into yours...
Erven, roll an intelligence or insight check please - with advantage,
@Talion
Yes, portcullis' are meant to drop hard and lodge the pointy ends into the ground. You'd guess the door is pretty heavy as well, made of heavy iron or something like it. If you were to flip the stop-hook, it would come crashing down.
@Bertolt
The dais is the central feature of the room and is currently empty. Only the bloodstained altar is on top of it...
DM - And In The Darkness, Rot: The Sunless Citadel
DM - Our Little Lives Kept In Equipoise: Curse of Strahd
DM - Misprize Thou Not These Shadows That Belong: The Lost Mines of Phandelver
PC - Azzure - Tyranny of Dragons
Onyx considers the question for a moment then answers aloud, loud enough for everyone in the group to hear.
"Not a true goddess, but something old and. . . strange. I don't feel any sapience or deliberate evil, but that bramble reeks of undead regardless. I think whatever they did here corrupted the very soil and created something mindless and abhorrent. Perhaps that means we can outsmart it. You all keep your distance, we lead it under the portcullis, and you hit the release. With any luck, that will weaken and pin it down."
He retrieves a small flask from his pack, carefully gripping it in one gauntlet.
"I plan to wake it with some of Lathander's warmth. Tell me when."
Another medical problem. Indefinite hiatus. Sorry, all.
Onyx, as you state your intention aloud, there is a preternatural stillness and then a loud and deep bash of a drum as the beat begins anew. You all hear several sounds almost all at once; the sound is like a sharp knife cutting through paper. The chanting rises once more, echoing back to you from multiple sides, producing a grim new cadence, the lyrics of which are unknown to you [unless anyone knows Infernal, or perhaps Abyssal...?]
You gasp and flinch (especially those of you on the ledges) as thirteen dark apparitions appear at each sound of the slicing knife, seeming to cut their own existence from time and space itself. They are spread out on the ledges overlooking the room. Each one resembles a black-robed figure holding a torch, but the torch’s fire is black and seems to draw light into it. Where you’d expect to see faces are voids.... They chant over and over, drowning out all other thoughts you might have enjoyed...they all seem to be focused on the dais, their intonations rhythmic and inevitable.... There is nothing else happening in the room at this point.
DM - And In The Darkness, Rot: The Sunless Citadel
DM - Our Little Lives Kept In Equipoise: Curse of Strahd
DM - Misprize Thou Not These Shadows That Belong: The Lost Mines of Phandelver
PC - Azzure - Tyranny of Dragons
Anyone who wants to, go ahead and roll insight (wisdom) or religion (intelligence) check to see if you can understand what is going on...
DM - And In The Darkness, Rot: The Sunless Citadel
DM - Our Little Lives Kept In Equipoise: Curse of Strahd
DM - Misprize Thou Not These Shadows That Belong: The Lost Mines of Phandelver
PC - Azzure - Tyranny of Dragons
Erven insight : 18
Erven hears the chanting, he does not recognize the language. He draws his rapier and readies his shield, his hand instinctively goes down to the antler hunting trophy in his pocket. His eyes dart from figure to figure, his tendons as tight as a bowstring. He readies himself for whatever comes next. If it is dark enough, he attempts to move along the edge into the shadows…
A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
Onyx Insight 12
Another medical problem. Indefinite hiatus. Sorry, all.
Sho presses his back against the wall and stares at the faceless apparitions surrounding them. The chanting voices of the joyless and wasted men and women, of the grey and monotonous gathering of cultists washing away. Sho narrows his eyes and manages to piece out the meaning behind the repeating, soporific phrase, and the corner of his thin lips curls up in a wry smile -
"They want one of us to die." He says.
Insight: 24
Religion: 8
Talion insight: 16
Onyx and Sho, it takes you a minute to parse out the language but when you hear it, it's obvious and there is no mistake: "One Must Die!" The harsh, guttural sound of dark vowels lapping over each other makes your heads spin. The chant assails you from several sides and as it comes back you hear the words, "Or Die and Serve!"
Onyx, Sho, Talion, and Erven - You recall a decent amount from reading the book the cultists kept about their order to recognize the beginnings of a sacrificial ritual, which you find yourselves in the middle of... You look around at the apparitions and notice their featureless black forms stare intently at the dais. Talion and Erven, As you look at Sho and Onyx, you watch their faces fall and their eyes close - in anger? Sadness? Frustration? Who can say? But in that moment you catch each other's eye, all four of you, reluctantly, knowing instinctively what must be done. These types of rituals involve a trade of sorts - a gift, a sacrifice - in exchange for something else. Looking at the altar with dread, you begin to look at each other.....weighing...considering....
Bertolt stands looking around, not really piecing it together but is gathering by the look of you it's not good.
WHAT is to be done?
DM - And In The Darkness, Rot: The Sunless Citadel
DM - Our Little Lives Kept In Equipoise: Curse of Strahd
DM - Misprize Thou Not These Shadows That Belong: The Lost Mines of Phandelver
PC - Azzure - Tyranny of Dragons
(( Crossed posts ))
Talion nods slowly at Onyx’s plan, “I can also try to protect you, but if you attack it, my protection fails. Perhaps, in that armour, just trying to avoid being hit might buy us some time. And if you need to bring it to the door anyway…I guess it might help.” He winces, shaking his head slightly, clearly impressed by Onyx’s willingness to take a stand, and not totally convinced by his own suggestion.
He looks in the direction Onyx indicated, trying to make out details. “Did you say it wasn’t another dammed undead? I might have a means to keep it at bay, at least for a short time.”
Perception (area where Onyx pointed): 16
"Oly mfwz duy!! Oly mfwz duy!"
The sounds echo off the walls at you. Where is that drumming coming from? You look at the altar, bathed in blood...
"Oly mfwz duy!"
You crane your neck to see what Onyx was pointing at but can't really get a good look from here - it looks like a cave from here - maybe a way out?
"Oly mfwz duy!! Oly mfwz duy!"
DM - And In The Darkness, Rot: The Sunless Citadel
DM - Our Little Lives Kept In Equipoise: Curse of Strahd
DM - Misprize Thou Not These Shadows That Belong: The Lost Mines of Phandelver
PC - Azzure - Tyranny of Dragons
Talion shakes of the moment of doubt, another imposition from the house no doubt, then stares in disgust at the altar, “Whatever so called gifts they are offering, I’ll have none of them!” Turning to his companions, he clutches his trusty meat cleaver tightly once more. “We’ve all seen where that leads.”
Sho stares deeply at the gloomy and stern apparitions, chanting the same phrase over and over again. With revelation, a great dullness had sunk over him; a deep coldness, a thick stolidity. He glances at the sleeping aberration down south, and then back, seeming to be weighing the options gravely. Slowly, he starts to move towards Talion, and begins to unload his things to him - a scroll, a healing potion, and finally his amulet under his armor and drops it in his hand as well.
“This is no gift.” He says solemnly, “A choice. One or us die, or we all die.”
He gives the man a look of finality, and starts towards the alter.
Erven steps forward out of the gloom. “Sho!” He stops, doesn’t say anymore, looks at him in the eyes, and his head drops, looking at his feet. He can’t face him. Tears roll off his cheeks, coming from somewhere unbidden. Mortality. Life. Breath. It IS worth fighting for. “Don’t” is all he says. His hand grips his rapier. He looks up at the dark figures, his eyes full of rage.
A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
Lucky Bear licks your bone-white knuckles grasping your rapier...
DM - And In The Darkness, Rot: The Sunless Citadel
DM - Our Little Lives Kept In Equipoise: Curse of Strahd
DM - Misprize Thou Not These Shadows That Belong: The Lost Mines of Phandelver
PC - Azzure - Tyranny of Dragons
Erven bends down, looking Lucky Bear in the eye. He blinks a few tears away, scratches him under the chin and says to him “Are you trying to tell me something boy? Hmm?” He welcomes the familiar distraction of a dog wanting attention and affection, to take his mind ever so briefly away from this little pit of hell.
A wizard is never late, nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to.
Onyx moves swiftly towards Sho, momentarily forgetting his caution, and attempts to clasp his hand over the shoulder of the resigned death priest (his flask momentarily transferred to his shield hand).
"I won't pretend to be fond of you or your calling, but this is not the way."
He is nearly shouting now, over the din of the chanting.
"There is no fairness in this 'bargain', this evil cannot be trusted. I cannot stand by and let you die here, not when we've come this far. Not when it would mean surrendering to undeath."
Onyx moves to H7, casting protection from evil and good on himself, and prepares his rebellion against Sho's nihilism.
Another medical problem. Indefinite hiatus. Sorry, all.
It takes a moment for Talion to realize what Sho is doing, at which point he starts trying to hand the items back to the priest. When then fails, he speaks with emotion and genuine anger, something that Sho has not really seen in him before.
"No! This is not the way. That..." he waves his arm in the direction of the altar, "...that is not death! It's servitude; servitude to an uncaring master. You will be bound to this house, never to leave, always suffering. Never to discover the true nature of death."
He stands in front of Sho, arms on both shoulders, pushing back, trying to get his full attention. "I said we would all get out of this house, or none of us would, and I meant it! Now more than ever. If we die, then we die, but we all die free."
"I will not have my life saved by you appeasing this f#@*1ng house! Leaving it to prey on others for another 75 years is not a solution, it's surrender. That thing...whatever it is...must die. And we...and I...need your help to do that!"
Lucky Bear licks the tears from your eyes and puts her chin on your knee. Her eyes bore into yours...
Erven, roll an intelligence or insight check please - with advantage,
DM - And In The Darkness, Rot: The Sunless Citadel
DM - Our Little Lives Kept In Equipoise: Curse of Strahd
DM - Misprize Thou Not These Shadows That Belong: The Lost Mines of Phandelver
PC - Azzure - Tyranny of Dragons