== Sunday, Erastus 6, 4708; Magnimar; late night ==
We searched the Black Tower (in the valley of the same name) for secret rooms or passages, but found none.
We lowered Derreldon’s body down into the cold crypt below, still wearing a Sihedron Amulet, and closed the secret trap door. It seemed appropriate that he, being a monk, should be laid to rest in a room purposefully built as a monk’s tomb. We will return as time allows to Hallow the place and add extra protections.
We then teleported to Magnimar and began the slow task of selling off our surplus inventory. Being Sunday, many of the larger main stream businesses were closed (as were all of the banks), and so selling off our more exotic items and exchanging the large amounts of copper and silver for something more portable must wait until tomorrow.
We set up a meeting with the Mayor for the following morning, and then each of us set out about our own private business. For most it was time to unwind and rest, and a suitable inn was found and rooms rented.
Nolin left to meet up with his old comrades in the City Guard, and Kane left to visit the Temple of Desna.
I had two things on my mind that gave me no peace: how to track down citizens with sihedron tattoos so they could be removed, and the where abouts of Xanesha — we had expected to find her lurking in Mokmurian’s lair, but I feared she must be still in Magnimar, working her ill-will against the city and its people.
My first stop was Pharasma’s Temple, which was not difficult to find, being easily the most Gothic structure in the city and situated next to a prominent cemetery (both as usual).
I was able to speak with the head priest, and explained my concerns. She had not seen or heard of any unusual tattoos on anyone, but an acolyte who was working nearby overheard our conversation and volunteered the following story.
“It was maybe a month ago when a woman, who was with child, came in. She was close to giving birth, but was in an unusual amount of pain, which is why she came to us. She had a tattoo where you’d normally never see it. And her child was stillborn, which was a blessing as it was deformed, like it was half animal, half child.”
She had never seen the woman before, but said her manner of dress indicated she was from one of the less affluent districts — probably Shadow.
Xanesha once haunted the Shadow district, and the story reminded me too much of Lamashtu for comfort. I strongly suspected our old nemesis was still operating in town, and that immediate action was called for.
I returned to the inn and rounded up everybody except Kane and Nolin. After hearing what I had found we were all eager to head out and find Xanesha, but first we returned to the temple where I could cast Scrying using their mirror dedicated for this purpose. Unfortunately the attempt failed, and so we’d have to locate Xanesha the hard way.
We set out as the sun was setting: our first stop was the Shadow Clock, that derelict edifice where the party had last faced Xanesha. That conflict had ended with a dead party member and Xanesha flying away.
It was as they had left it several months earlier. Signs of the battle scarred the tower, but it was obvious no one had been there since. Looking out from the top I could see the lights of the inns and public houses glowing beneath the colossal span of the Ironspire. The sounds of people drinking, wenching, and gambling drifted up from below. Gambling. That was where we would find Xanesha or her cohorts.
The nearest such business was seedy, but thronged with people lining the bar and seated at tables, heads close together as they conducted private business. A larger, boisterous crowd was gathered at the far end, crowding around the gambling tables. We made their way over to the action and surreptitiously looked over the players for sihedron tattoos peeping out from clothing.
Fortunately the night was warm and the patrons were dressed accordingly. After a minute or two Rigel discretely pointed to one of the players shooting dice, who’s tattoo occasionally peeked out from beneath his shirt as he leaned over to toss the dice onto the table.
Trask squeezed his way next to the man and looked on in wonder. It took little time for the tattooed man to notice what he took for a young man fresh from the farm on his first trip to the city. He talked Trask into putting up some gold in order to join the game, and began to explain the rules, which appeared to change as rapidly as the sides of the dice.
Meanwhile I sidled up to the bar and, after ordering a drink for which I put down too many coins, asked the barkeep about my friend’s new found playing companion. The barkeep said he was known as the Snake, and if I cared about my friend I would do good to keep on eye on him and his companions. He also mentioned that the Snake had a particularly cruel girlfriend, whom he described as a real piece of work.
This immediately got my attention, and I began to describe the woman for whom we were looking, to which the bartender replied in a low voice, “Do you mean Xanesha?” I confirmed that that was indeed the woman, and I explained how she was fooling innocent people into getting tattoos, which she claimed allowed them special access to certain events and locations, but which really harvested their souls for her dark master, a powerful mage.
At this the man became somewhat nervous, and wondered out loud how someone thus marked could escape this fate. Sabin had joined me by now and offered to use an Erase spell, which was a harmless way to remove the tattoo and break the binding. The barkeep cautiously lifted up his shirt and his tattoo vanished.
I pushed a small pile of coins across the bar and asked him to spread word around the Shadow District about the tattoo, its true deceitful purpose, and how desirable it was to have the thing removed. He grateful took the money and wholeheartedly agreed to spread the word.
While Sabin and I were having our conversation, Trask had bravely managed to lose all of his stake to the Snake and his friends. Rigel, who is an expert at all games of chance, had been watching and seen how the Snake and Friends had cheated, and so she put a sizeable stake of coins on the table and proceeded to clean up, in a friendly sort of way.
Upon seeing that Rigel was a serious “player” he invited her to go to a nicer house, with higher stakes. Rigel agreed as long as her friends, Avia and Trask, could come along, and so the four of them got up to leave.
I cast Status on the foursome as they left, while Sabin grabbed a boy cleaning tables and sent him off to fetch Nolin and Kane. We discretely watched as the Snake led our friends to another building some distance away, where after knocking on the door and speaking a password, they were all let in.
Sabin, Rarallo and I returned to the Clock Tower to await reinforcements.
In the gambling house, Rigel played several games with modest success, while Avia and Trask looked on. A young woman came over to Trask and introduced herself as Isabelle, then asked if he was playing. Trask replied no, and she invited him upstairs to a private party, where everyone wore masks. He said he’d come up and join her once Rigel had finished playing. She winked at him, ran a long fingered hand down his side, and told him not to be too long about it.
Eventually Rigel tired of the game, and the three made their way upstairs to the party. There was a hallway, and a handful of rooms, but no obvious signs of merriment, so they opened a door to a room where a handful of masked figures were standing around.
“What are you doing here?” barked one.
“Isabelle invited me, um, us,” stammered Trask.
Hearing her name, Isabelle appeared, wearing a medusa mask, and led our friends to a storage area where masks and other party essentials were stored. She indicated that they should select something appropriate to wear.
No sooner had the door closed than the eyes of Isabelle’s mask glowed green and rays of putrid green light shot out, striking Avia. But Avia shook off the intended effect, and said, “Your time has come, Xanesha!”
“Bring it on paladin!” spat Xanesha.
And the paladin did.
Xanesha, spitting out blood, cried “Curse this!” and vanished.
Trask, thinking quickly hastened himself, Rigel and Avia, and after briefly searching for a secret exit, they ran out from the room and down to the exit.
But the rest of us had not been idle during this time. Nolin and Kane arrived just as Xanesha had revealed herself to our friends, the shock of which registered with the Status spell, and I called out, “They are in need, we need to run!”
We raced through the streets toward the gambling house, and Rarallo sent a bolt of lightening before us, blasting the door to flinders so it would not impose any delays.
As we approached the doorway, Avia came running out shouting, “It was Xanesha, but she teleported away.”
Trask and Rigel joined her, and Trask, looking at the door (or where the door used to be) shook his head and created the illusion of a red dragon, “To provide a cover story for what blasted the door.”
At that moment a set of bright red rays engulfed Avia and Trask, and from down the street came a wicked laugh as Xanesha appeared, in her true Lamia Matriarch form.
Less than a moment later Sabin and Nolin were at her side — something she clearly did not expect — and Nolin savagely hacked at her. Avia, who was still hasted, charged in and beat the shit out of her. Xanesha was swaying unsteadily on her feet, and I could see she planned to flee combat once again, and so I sent an icicle in her direction, which sank into her chest as she dropped, joining the rest of the filth on the street.
Rigel then came up and casually cut off her head. “Nothing to see here!”
I looked down at the hideous, broken body of Xanesha at my feet and thought of all of the carnage she had caused. Vengance for my cousin Menkat’s death now seemed a small thing compared to all the other sufferings, but it still tasted sweet all the same.
We took the opportunity to explain to the gamblers and operators of the house who Xanesha was, and what she was doing in Magnimar. The thought of their tattoos being used against them unsettled most, and I have little doubt that by morning not one of those present would be left sporting a sihedron rune. Word of Xanesha’s treachery and betrayal should rapidly spread throughout the district, if not the entire city.
We took Xanesha’s mask and spear, the latter of which Sabin recognized.
[1010] Mask of the Medusa: a gold mask with eyes of green crystal. Grants +4 bonus to all saving throws for visual effects. Once per day the wearer can seen a pale green ray from the eyes to a target, which must make a Fortitude save (DC15) or be turned to stone (like Flesh to Stone) for 1 minute.
[1011] Impaler of Thorns: an Ancient Thassilonian weapon used for crowd control. A +1 spear of dark wood, once per day it can be used to create a burst of despair in a 30′ radius with a DC16 Willpower save (see Crushing Despair for a description of the effects). Those who fail must make an additional save (DC15) to avoid being nauseated.
== Moonday, Erastus 7, 4708; Magnimar; mid morning ==
We met with the Lord Mayor, and explained what we found about the Runelord Karzoug, and his accomplice Xanesha. I explained the tattoos, and emphasized how important it was to set up some sort of city wide program to ensure that afflicted citizens could have their tattoos erased.
At first his Lordship was not particularly moved by our arguments, but after I explained how the tattoos would enable the return of an ancient power, who would most certainly look to conquering all of the major cities for himself, he began to warm up to the idea of having the city somehow assist.
I then offered up a plan whereby those who could afford it could pay for the removal of the tattoos for others, and that if each person who donated brought in others to donate, they would receive a share of that donation, and so on down the line. Quite naturally, I explained, the city would need to administer the program, taking an appropriate share required to manage it.
By then the Mayor was quite ecstatic about the program, and called in his financial administrators even as we were leaving.
We then finished selling off our excess items, got the coins exchanged, and purchased a few additional equipment and supplies.
We are about to teleport onto the Lost Coast Road, just south of Sandpoint, and walk to the city from there.
== Moonday, Erastus 7, 4708; Sandpoint; noon ==
We entered Sandpoint, and were heartened to see reconstruction from the giant invasion and dragon’s fire well underway.
We have spoken with Mayor Devlin and Sheriff Hemlock, but they could only repeat what they had already said. Sandpoint was rocked by an earthquake, and soon thereafter the sinkhole appeared in the northwest corner of the town. At night an unholy howling can be heard from the sinkhole, and the guards who were sent down to investigate never returned. Later, cries of pain and agony had echoed up from the pit.
We peered down into the thirty foot wide crater and could see a passage leading off to the northwest. The southern end of the sinkhole exposed the cells of the city garrison, which provided easy access to the bottom of the pit, some fifteen feet below street level.
Hauling out Olithar’s journal and map entries I judged that the sinkhole was approximately where the underground temple had been, with its (now) inactive (or so we hoped) rune well.
I have taken Olithar’s old map of Sandpoint and sketched in the location of the sinkhole, and have copied his map of the underground complex into my journal so I can update it as needed.
== Moonday, Erastus 7, 4708; Sandpoint; after noon ==
The narrow passage from the sinkhole had a smooth, worked wall on the right, and a rough jumble of stone and earth on the left. Following it we soon reached a short set of steps leading down before sharply turning to the left. A door was on the right hand side of the junction, and a set of collapsed double doors further down the left passage, set in the right wall.
Comparing this arrangement with Olithar’s map it became apparent that part of the ceiling of the ancient underground temple had given way, and the passage was in fact the southeastern edge of this main chamber. Although littered with rubble, the area beyond the double doors matched Olithar’s map, and on the ground we could see fresh boot marks leading further into the complex.
We followed the prints, which led deeper into the Thassilonian ruins, through rooms, passageways and chambers where my companions had explored more than a year before. The rubble and damage caused by the sinkhole petered out as we went further in, and soon there was but a fine layer of dust on the floor, in which it was easy to see the prints of the ill-fated Sandpoint guardsmen.
In and down and around we walked until once again we encountered rubble strewn about the floor. This time it was at the top of a spiral staircase leading down.
Nolin volunteered that, “This was blocked the last time we were here, but it looks as if someone has removed the rubble.”
Olithar’s map confirmed this.
The boot marks led down, and so we followed until we ran into large spider webs blocking the stairs. Trask used a flaming sphere to burn these away, but found the stairway simply dead ended at what we assumed to be the bottom. Rigel squeezed forward and found a latch to a secret door, which she skillfully opened.
Wispy tendrils of cold, clammy fog wafted in from the darkness to the west.
We paused here to organize ourselves, and I have taken the opportunity to update our progress.
== Moonday, Erastus 7, 4708; Sandpoint; after noon ==
I know not what function this chamber served, but entering it sent a chill through my soul. The well worked stone walls, floors and archways were covered in Thassilonian writings… but the size, style and means by which the words were written varied.
Some passages are written in bold, blocky letters three feet tall, while others are in the smallest, most graceful script imaginable. Some words are written in a greasy black ink, and no small amount appear to be in a dark brown substance that can only be dried blood, and no few have been engraved into the stone itself.
Peculiar patches of magic fog cling to the eastern doorway, through which we came, and to the north, where a rough corridor dead ended. A door in the eastern wall to the corridor was locked, but Rigel’s nimble fingers quickly unlocked and opened it to reveal a very short hall with another locked door.
This locked proved no more difficult to Rigel than the last, and soon we opened the door and looked in to see a round room with a round pool in the center rimmed by a lip of stone. A domed ceiling arched overhead and runes covered every surface, praising Lamashtu, goddess of deformed creatures. The water itself was perhaps three to four feet deep and lightly radiated an aura of evocation.
Back in the main chamber a set of closed double doors, bearing the engraved likeness of a three eyed jackle (the symbol of Lamashtu) were set in the south wall, while westward a wide hallway appeared to open up to a much larger room.
But now a voice speaks out from the darkness: a grating, screechy sound speaking in ancient Thassilonian, and I shall attempt to record here all that is said as the conversation unfolds.
Voice: Greetings good people, what news of the world? What can you tell me of the Runelords who govern the lands?
Takkad: The Runelords are long dead, and only a few scholars remember them or their deeds.
Voice: What great power replaced these mighty rulers?
Takkad: While there are many empires, there is no single great empire: ancient Thassilon has crumbled to dust, and only a handful of ruins remain.
Avia: I sense a very evil presence over to the west.
Voice: Who in these lands wields the greatest power?
Takkad: There are many who wield mighty powers, but do not feel the need to subjugate others to prove their greatness.
Trask: I wield great power.
Voice: So there are no true wielders of great power left in the world, just impotent little war lords gnawing over their insignificant territories, or rag tag wanderers like yourselves.
Trask: No, really. I do wield great power.
Avia: If you are so powerful, then why do you hide in the shadow? Reveal yourself!
A fiendish humanoid appeared to the west, wearing a breast plate, and wielding a wicked looking falchion in one hand, and a dagger in the other. One of his eyes was glazed over — completely milky white — and he smiled at us with what I can only describe as an insane grin.
Takkad: The free peoples of the world represent far more power than your ancient, cruel overlords.
Voice: From what you say, nothing in the world today can compare to the great Runelords, and their Runeforge…
Trask: I said, I WIELD GREAT POWER!
A fireball has engulfed the figure — Trask!
