DM
The some of those tapestries and pelts might've been worth something once, but thanks to the water damage they're indistinguishable from the ones that aren't.
As Racaille and Kwava search the cavern, Kwava for any secret doors, the pillar of light from the cavern's eye above shimmers and waves. The pillar's edges soften and sharpen into the ghostly form of a man-sized bird with a humanoid face nestled in the feathers of their head. Their ethereal, ringing voice freezes Racaille and Kwava as suredly as encasing ice.
"Where is my Yaris? What has happened to him?"
Racaille
It feels like that name should mean something, but it's not coming to Racaille. He glances at Kwava, passing the baton while he tries to fight the bird's magical hold.
DM
"I'm sorry, but your Yaris is dead," says Kwava. "Everyone in Witchlight is dead."
The bird opens their mouth with an ear-stabbing screech: "You LIE!"
The magical hold on Racaille and Kwava clamps down, crushing their flesh against their straining skeletons.
Ruran
"No! It's the truth!"
Ruran steps out from shadows behind the barricade. The ghost-bird's magic sits like viscous syrup in the wet cavern, but it slides off either side of their spell-resistant aura.
"I can prove it."
They beckon with two fingers toward the door. Their glowing-sword zombie, slightly more decayed since last night, shuffles into the cavern.
Racaille
Nope, nope, nope. Racaille would be shaking his head if he still that much movement available to him. As it is, he keeps quiet and focuses on steadying his strained breathing. This could still turn out to be a magically-induced nightmare.
DM
A muscle flexes in Kwava's jaw, but he stays quiet as well.
The bird's expression remains anguished, but they fix their human eyes on Ruran and the zombie.
Ruran
Ruran looks over their shoulder at the zombie. When they speak, their voice carries their own undercurrent of black magic.
"Child of undeath, you're from Witchlight aren't you? Tell them. Tell them the truth of Yaris."
DM: Ruran
The zombie's mouth opens. Out rasps a voice dry as bone and stinking of death.
"Yaris is dead. I killed him in the lighthouse myself."
Racaille
Racaille forgets the breathing. Yeah, no, Ruran's definitely going straight to the Hells when they finally kick it. They'd probably make an archdevil, too, with this much infernal-fucking-necromancy at their fingertips.
DM
This time, the bird lets out not a scream but a whispered sob: "Yaris…"
Their form shivers and waves. It fades back into the pillar of light. The magic holding Racaille and Kwava vanishes, dropping them to the cavern floor.
Ruran
"Are you guys ok?"
Racaille
"Well enough," says Racaille, not brazen enough to claim they were better off before the necromancer showed up.
Especially while he's crawling up off the cavern floor.
"What are you doing here? Following us?"
Ruran: Racaille
"Uh...not at first. We were in the lighthouse when you guys came by and woke the undead."
DM
"Undead plural?" asks Kwava, crawling up beside Racaille, his eyes narrowed to violet slits.
Ruran
Ruran's wince has gotta be answer enough.
Racaille
"Great. Fucking perfect."
DM
"Ruran, if your undead leave these caves, I swear to whole fucking pantheon-I'll take you in," says Kwava, jabbing a finger in their direction.
Ruran
"Got it. They won't. Promise."
DM: Ruran
Mase, surmising by the conversation that all danger has passed, pops his head through the doorway. He grins toothily at Racaille and Kwava.
"Howdy. You haven't seen Avery Syleg around, have you?"
Racaille
The hard line of Racaille's mouth relaxes slightly at the sight of the irrepressible druid.
"No. Unless he got void-zombied and we just didn't recognize his busted face."
DM
"I'm thinking that's exactly what happened," Mase sighs.
"Then I think we're done here," says Kwava.
Ruran
"I guess so, but...did you want any help looking for your renegades while we're here?"
Racaille
Racaille looks from the silent zombie to Ruran. He doesn't look at Kwava. Because the inescapable truth is, they might not be here without that gods-damned necromancer and their mindless horde.
"Yeah, sure."
DM
Mase pumps his paw-fist into the air.
"Then let's move out!"
-/-
DM
A chill descends on Medomai, Merimna, and Serem as they walk the dark, dripping western tunnel. The light of Serem's torch nearly flickers out.
Merimna
Merimna stops Serem with a hand on his shoulder. Something's not right. Her eyes scan the darkness.
DM: Merimna
All is well, as far as Merimna can see.
Serem
Serem adds his eyes to the effort.
DM: Merimna
Serem sees even less, so things are apparently even better than expected.
Medomai
Medomai takes a look.
DM: Medomai
Medomai just fucking dons a pair of rose-colored blinders. This tunnel's a cake-walk ending in a pot of gold.
Merimna
"Nevermind," apparently.
Merimna pats Serem's shoulder. He's free to step further into this clearly innocuous tunnel.
Serem
"Righty-o," says Serem, his mouth twisting into half a wry smile.
He takes that next step and/or steps without a care in Gozreh's natural world.
DM
A bloodcurdling shriek reigns down from above. A bat-winged demon of pure, seething shadow swoops at Serem baring claws and needle-sharp teeth.
Merimna
Ah, there it is, the fuckening. That incorporeal shadow bit's gonna be a problem. Merimna can only hope Serem brought his magic claws to work today.
She fixes the demon with her dread stare and sets a finger against her temple. She flicks the finger off her skin with a soft, magic, "Poof."
DM: Merimna
A dazing spell normally wouldn't affect a demon of this caliber, but Merimna's dread stare is living up to its name. The demon freezes, including their wings. They crash to the floor of the cavern.
Serem
"Nice assist," Serem growls, shifting into bull-tiger form.
He slashes into the shadow demon with today's magic claws.
DM
Serem shreds the demon to shadow ribbons. They would roar in pain, but they're currently frozen.
Medomai
Medomai just shrugs.
"I've got nothing," he smiles. "You two are doing great."
Merimna
Fuck. This spell isn't going to-Merimna snaps her fingers. She'd just learned quite the trick.
"Serem, you just stand right there."
She turns her dread stare back on the demon. Merimna raises one palm. She shoves it toward the demon.
DM: Merimna
A psychic wave surges out from Merimna's palm. It shoves the frozen demon past Serem, affording him an opportunity attack.
Serem
Serem claws at the demon as they go sliding by.
DM
That'll do it. Serem rends the last of the demon's shadows into dissipating ribbons. They dissolve into the darkness of the cave leaving no trace of their would-be attacker.
Medomai
"Go team," Medomai says cheerily.
Merimna
That could've gone disastrously if the daze had worn out, but as it stands, yeah. Merimna gives Serem's muscled shoulder a light punch.
"Nice clawing, bull-tiger boy."
Serem
"Anytime."
Serem shifts back and sweeps his torch up off the floor. Now that the guard dog demon's dead, time to see what's really at the end of this tunnel.
DM
The echoes of waves crashing against the cliffs grows louder as the western team follows the tunnel. A natural fissure in the wall offers a glimpse of the chamber within. A lion-like beast's body, partially dissected, is splayed on a table and surrounded by a variety of tools and half-filled bottles.
Merimna
"That's an akata, isn't it?"
Too bad Ruran isn't here. This looks like the kind of life-desecration that would be straight up that necromancer's ally.
Serem
"It was."
Merimna: Serem
"Wait, before you step into that room-"
DM
Nope, too late. Flames roar out through the fissure at Serem.
But, of course, they don't hit him because nothing can hit that shifty-ass elf.
The attack reveals a shaven-headed drow on the other end of the flaming wand. He holds a spear in his other hand. A giant, albino gecko snaps its razor-sharp teeth by his side.
Merimna
Merimna ignores the gecko for now and fires at the drow.
DM: Merimna
The drow gurgles blood in shock as both arrows pierce through the bark-ified skin of his chest.
Serem
The gecko's the real surprise here. Serem turns his focus onto its pigment-lacking eyes.
"Hey there. Nice gecko."
DM
No, not nice gecko. It snaps at Serem. And misses, of course.
The drow rasps something at the gecko and flees through the chamber and a narrow gap in the back wall. The gecko scurries after him.
Medomai
That's a bit of a long shot, but Medomai's shooting range is longer. He fires.
DM: Medomai
Medomai's bolt punches through the back of the drow's ribcage, its tip just piercing out the front. The drow drops dead to the floor of the cavern. The gecko continues scurrying. It disappears around a bend.
Merimna
"That gecko's going to alert the rest of the camp, isn't it?"
Serem
"Mmm, yep."
DM
Sure enough, two drow guards with crossbows and rapiers come running in for the attack. One charges at Serem, rapier drawn. The other stays back, firing their hand crossbow at him.
Both are fucking stymied by Serem's un-fucking-naturally fast reflexes.
Medomai
Medomai fires at the crossbow elf.
DM: Medomai
Medomai's bolt knocks the piss and blood out of the drow, doing all but sending them to an early grave.
Merimna
"Why do they think they can play with us?" Merimna mutters, firing off two arrows at the wounded elf.
DM: Merimna
They aren't thinking now that Merimna's arrows stab the life out of them.
Serem
Serem whacks at the remaining elf with his quarterstaff.
DM
Serem very nearly kills the drow. On their last legs, the drow's solid white eyes widen in realization of the death before them. They drop their rapier, running back from whence they came.
Medomai
"How about...no."
Medomai snaps a finger at the drow.
DM: Medomai
But Medomai's spell seems to bounce right off some kind of spell resisting aura on the drow.
Merimna
"Don't sweat it. I'm sure we'll be seeing them again."
For the moment, it's enough for Merimna to crouch down by the body of the flame-wielding drow for looting.
DM: Merimna
Merimna rustles up the drow's wand of produce flame, masterwork leather armor, an enchanted spear, a masterwork dagger, two silver bracelets and a silver ring.
Merimna: DM
Merimna keeps the wand and switches her dagger for the masterwork one. The spear, she tosses sidewise to Serem.
"For throwing, I presume."
Serem
"Yeah, will be sure to chuck that at the next mid-to-close-range enemy we come across, thanks."
Medomai
Medomai crouches down by the arrow-and-bolt-riddled drow guard to do some corpse-looting himself.
DM: Medomai
This guard's carrying the same equipment as the first two they'd encountered. If not for the clear difference in facial features, these guards could be clones.
Merimna
"I suppose it's time to proceed to what most certainly is an ambush."
Serem
"Yep. Oh hey, what was that you were saying earlier?"
Merimna: Serem
"Ah, I was going to offer you the protection of the mental trick I totally remembered to give Meda and myself this morning, but your reflexes have thus far defied reasonable chance, so I doubt you need it."
Serem: Merimna
"Well, it's the thought that counts anyway."
Medomai
"Indeed. Shall we?"
Medomai steps back into line with Merimna behind Serem.
DM
The tunnels of the east and west teams feed into opposite sides of an eighty-foot sea cave supported on natural pillars of rock, resulting in an unintentional pincer movement.
Water fills the lower portion of the cavern, sloshing and surging with the tide. A five-foot-wide rocky beach lines the face of the pool. At the north end of the chamber, a thin cascade of water plummets from a crack in the ceiling into the pool. To the south, several wooden platforms attach to the rock pillars, precariously.
A ladder rises ten feet to the first platform where the wounded guard chugs healing potions. On a larger platform is twenty feet above the water, two drow guards stand with crossbows at the ready. They immediately notice the torches carried by Serem and Racaille from opposite ends of the cavern.
Roll initiative.