I must be brief, for I have only a few moments, but it is important to get this down before we enter the corridor, for we may not return. Rorick is already dead; who knows what fate lies ahead for us? While Muntaquim further peruses the incriminating papers we have found and Immin heads out to secure assistance, I will jot down these notes.
After the death of Pasha, we spent an uneventful night in the woods. We determined we should return to Grelsh separately: Immin would transport Pasha's body back and "place the bait," Muntaquim would return alone and discreetly, Urik would head to my shed to make sure the bodies of Ecgbert and the others had been taken care of, and Zinna, Rorick, Apple, and I would go to see Cavendish of the Stealers Guild at the Blessed Bee, his garish boat. All except Urik would meet at the Grass Pipe afterwards.
When our group reached the Bee, we were greeted warmly by the guard, Finney - or rather Zinna was greeted warmly and we were suffered to board. Our interview with Cavendish was prompt, friendly, and not entirely productive. He seemed more interested in memories of his romantic escapades with Iris than in interpreting her dreams or prophecies in any useful way. (To be fair, Iris's communications were oblique, to say the least.) Cavendish did seem saddened by the loss of Pasha. I think he has decided his interests are best served by supporting the Nackle, and he was willing to provide material assistance for our cause, up to inciting a riot in the streets if one were needed.
Satisfied at least that we had the Guild if not entirely on our side, then at least not set against us, we retired to the Pipe. Immin and Muntaquim had already arrived and were being taken of by Sprig. Our noble friend from Fek had made it back to Grelsh safely and without drawing undue attention; Immin advised us that he had interrupted services at the Temple of Agravaris to deliver Pasha's body to Releford himself, and had seen the body be carried into the lower levels of the church.
It seemed clear where to begin our search for the zombie manufactory. Rorick had recorded the scrying spell given to him by Pasha into his spellbook; he needed some rest to renew his magical vigor and we would be about our task with ample confidence in finding the workshop.
In the stillest hours of morning, when one day is becoming, but is not yet, the next, we stole towards the temple. The post-mass revels were still going on in the town core, but the neighborhood and the watch barracks that border the temple grounds were both so quiet that little stealth was needed. Rorick cast about with his unseen eyes for the goblin arrowhead in Pasha's body; once he had a bearing, he sent an earth elemental swimming through the dirt to verify the location - under the church, of course.
Zinna took us through locked doors as we followed the path of Pasha's sorry cortege into the building and down the stairs; first into some kind of living quarters, then further down, through a stairwell hidden under a trunk, into an underground chamber. We saw a portrait on the wall of a beautiful woman in blue; then we all saw stars as Rorick tripped a hidden rune on the tread and a magical blast hit the stairs. That was just the start of the ructions.
An undead being, in the form of a skeleton of immense eldritch power, engaged the party - engaged Rorick, specifically. As near as we could determine later, activating the rune also made Rorick the primary victim of the creature: it tore into him mercilessly, forsaking all other targets to strike at him and rend his flesh. Immin fired arrow after arrow into the creature, futilely, while Apple cast spell upon spell but found its power was too strong. Zinna did the best she could with weapons ill-designed for the combat; Muntaquim fared a little better with a fearsome hammer he drew and wielded in place of his sword.
With a silent wish that C'hallah was by my side, I enchanted some stones and set to work with my sings, like so many times in the jangwa - this was a foe familiar to me! The battle was so frantic that I had a hard time placing my missiles. One miss, then another, then finally I caught the monster a fair clout and burst its skull, felling it in a clatter of once-again inanimate bones - but too late! Any elation of victory was immediately dampened by Rorick's unquestionable death: his body was rent and torn far beyond mundane or magical healing. This champion, this paragon of dwarvish swains, our boon companion, was no more - and for what?
I took his axe to fulfill my promise to him.
The stillness of death filled the room, but there was still work to be done. Muntaquim immediately seized some papers from the worktable; Apple tended to pasha's body, found on some sort of altar in the corner; I secured a bottle bearing the mark of ancient Ulch from some alchemical gear on a table; and Zinna set to work opening an important-looking chest. This last task nearly dispatched our Sandey along Rorick's path: a clever poison trap sped her spiraling deathward with just a prick, and it was only by the most willful magic that I was able to restore her vitality.
The chest gave forth some goods, including some sort of small enchanted box that we attempted to puzzle open. In the midst of our puzzlement, Zinna took direct action and ripped the cube asunder with a mighty effort; she was rewarded with another blast of eldritch fire that rocked her recently restored Orcish constitution as the box gave forth a magical amulet bearing the Ulch symbol.
Muntaquim then gave some time to reading the papers he had found. In what seems to be Releford's own hand, they contain, among many details of the skeleton we fought (she was Releford's former - and current - lover!) and descriptions the magical artifacts in the room, two accounts of critical importance: a clear admission of a conspiracy against Nackle Tarren on the part of Cardinal Releford, Helion of Crespin, and Stryker Malm; and the information that the Death Machine, the Nil Engine, is in the trio's possession.
Probably in this very underground complex.
Probably down the corridor behind me.
Immin has raced back to town to clear the way for our return and to bring reinforcements; at least one witness to this perfidy must survive. We are determined to see this through to the end, whatever that might be. We may all want different things - to support Nackle, to save Grelsh, to stop the undead, to curb DuChamp - but whatever we are after, an ending lies down this dark hallway. Empires and churches are born under the sun of death; who knows what we will face as this dawn approaches.
I think I hear Immin returning...
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