Party 16

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Varius sighs in relief as the light brings his vision back. Not satisfied with the old woman's cryptic messages, he stands there impatiently as she sets herself on the ground, arms crossed.
"Who are you? Where are we, and how did we get here? And why don't we remember it? Are you responsible for all this?"
Varius remains standing over her, hoping to get some answers, one way or the other.
 
woman (2).jpg"Oh Varius, Varius, I am but a messenger, and this place is but a fleeting vision from which we may arrange your return. As for responsibility, it has been some time, but my recollection is that it was the four of you who, eyes open, sought a bargain with Zhudun. In his wisdom, the Corpse Star always insists on payment in advance. And so, you can rest easy, knowing that you owe nothing at all. You did your part, now Zhudun has done his, and you are free to return to your task. Perhaps this time you will succeed even. Who can say? If there have been some side effects, that is unfortunate, but you are here, otherwise restored. Rejoice!"

As she says this, the woman reaches into her robes and draws out a delicate purple scarf tied in a bundle, which she places on the blanket beside her. Accessing her robes again, she produces a carved wooden dish perhaps a foot across and lays it in front of her. She bites her lower lip and looks from one of you to the next as she slowly runs her forefinger around the rim of this platter.

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"Our return?" Astryos moves to sit in front of the woman, resting his hind on the heels of his feet. "Our return to where? You make it sound as though we have all died and made some dread pact to complete a task unknown to us."
 
Faria tried to follow along with what crone was saying. Her cold and dry hands at least felt like something solid, and not like a spirit trapped in limbo. She was beginning to wonder from her ramblings if that was possibly the case. 'A pact not remembered...? This time? What does she mean... were those dreams perhaps...?'

She continued to watch with interest as the old woman pulled a dish out. As Asteryos asks the question about a dread pact she looks between him and the old lady. "At the very least can you get us out of this place? I'm beginning to fear that any place is better than here..." says Faria who looks around in the surroundings of the area. 'I swear this reminds me of that night...' comes a thought unbidden into her mind. Faria's arms close in around her sides, as she rubs her arms as if suddenly cold.
 
Cassandra wrinkles her nose. Corpse Star? I would never strike a bargain with something like that! She grits her teeth. Something about this rubs her the wrong way. And returning? That would mean that they were...

She shudders as Astryos vocalizes her realization. Dead. I couldn't have died...could I? Cassandra shivers, both from cold and the possibility. The half elf finds herself sure of one thing: I need to get these memories back.

"If we go back, will what we've forgotten come back to us? Is there anyway for us to remember?" She frowns. "You said we might even succeed this time. What was so important that we already failed once and would want to try again?"
 
woman (2).jpg"An intriguing theory, to be sure," the woman says, smiling at Astryos. To Faria's question about escape from this place, she says, "Yes, of course. That is what we do now. We will consult an oracle, Tarokka, to see where you go from here."

Card_back.jpgAs the woman's finger continues its orbit of the wooden plate, the vessel grows slightly larger with each loop, so that it's now the size of a small table top. She flicks her wrist upward and the enlarged dish floats off the ground, coming to rest about a foot above the blanket. She undoes the scarf and slides a deck of playing cards onto the floating table. "Ah, here we are. Hello, Tarokka. How are you this evening?" She takes the deck in hand and begins to shuffle. "Tarokka, like all else here in Zhudun's grove, is but a facade, but it will serve to open you a door out. "

She has a sympathetic smile for Cassandra. "I am truly sorry, but I cannot say what will become of that which you have lost. I do not know these things. As for your task, Zhudun says that I must only disclose that which was formalized in the bargain. Besides, our time here grows short." She looks behind her, listening to the wind blowing in the unseen trees. "Perhaps there is time for a brief story though, while I mix the cards:"

M.jpgThere was a girl, a foolish girl, who heard stories of a cursed land shrouded in mists, where the people suffered under the hand of a cruel tyrant. Nobody knew where she heard these things—some said from a vagabond, some said a god whispered it in her ear. The girl came to think of these poor oppressed subjects as her own special flock, and wherever she went, she would tell people about their terrible plight. Nobody listened. Nobody cared.

The girl grew and learned to be a warrior. She took a vow to a god of light that she would raise an army and vanquish the dark land's tyrant to make the sun shine there again. She repeated the peregrinations of her youth, going from place to place to spread word of the cursed land. But this time, with shining armor, stirring words, piercing eyes, people did listen. She drew many to her cause—zealots, adventurers, lost souls seeking purpose—and together they rode forth to liberate the shadowy land.

At the edge of civilization, where monsters stare out from the forest, the little army marched into the mists on their holy mission. They did not return.

The woman's eyes twinkle. She looks around, gauging your reactions. "But perhaps you have heard this tale before."

"Now, for Tarokka." She mashes the well-shuffled deck out into a clumsy fan across the table. "Are you familiar with cartomancy? One of you must draw from my deck. A single card only, so much depends on it. Who will it be?"
 
Faria nodded in response. If she was going to get them out of this place, that was probably the most agreeable thing she could have said. She listened to the old woman's responses to the others, and to the tale she told about a girl. 'Was that to inspire hope in us...?' thought Faria for a moment. She had pictured a Cleric or Paladin on a holy crusade helping those that needed help. It was akin to something she had set out to do so long ago when she had left Daggerfalls and the surrounding area of the Dale of Daggers. Faria had hoped to return the favor that had been bestowed upon her when an adventurer's group had saved her.

The ending to the story was a bit unsettling however, since it sounded either that it ended badly or that the story was still ongoing. The sound of the wind blowing through the trees also added to the ominous ending. It was like the forest knew that the story was important, and trying to lend credence to the old woman's story. "I can't say I have heard this tale before...." says Faria shaking her head to the side slowly. When the subject shifted to Cartomancy she gave out a small chuckle. It wasn't something she had expected. Where they getting swindled here with a fortune? What did this lady even thing they had that was worth the reading. 'She didn't ask for money or payment however... not the usual swindle. Maybe she really believes in the cards. Very few people actually have a gift to tell fate, most of the time they are charlatens.'

Faria studies the woman for a moment as she goes about spreading the cards out. "Cartomancy is the art of telling the future, or truths from cards right? I've dabbled a few times but they've never spoken to me before. Though I've never actually used a magical deck before," says Faria coming up to observe the cards. She looked at the others for a moment and then back to the fan and then at the woman. "This is really important to you isn't it?"

'Tymora's blushing cheeks! I can tell she fully believes these cards hold power. We probably shouldn't upset her if we are going to get out of.... where ever we are. Hopefully the others trust my judgement. Tymora bless this draw,' thinks Faria as she holds her hands out hesitantly hovering over the cards as if feeling out the correct card. It was a gesture she fell back to as if she was tricking a potential mark for a few coins. A gesture to hide her nervousness and after a pass of the cards her hand came to a stop on the way back over a particular card. Was it her mind playing tricks on her or had she felt a heat rising from this card. Her muscles had locked in place as if they had felt something, and the hairs on her body began to stand up. She blinked her golden eyes for a second before her hand flashed into motion, drawing the card between two of her fingers and flipping it up facing away from everyone and then with a twist of her two fingers turned it around to reveal the card. She let go of a soft breath that she didn't realize she had been holding.
 
necromancer.jpg"Ah, the Necromancer! From the court of Stars," cries the woman when Faria's card is revealed. "An old favorite." She sweeps the remaining cards off to the edge of the floating table nearest to where Astryos is kneeling, so that the Necromancer stands alone.

"Gather round now and have a good look—you too, Varius. I have graced you with my little tale, now kindly return the favor. Each of you in turn, please tell me something of this Necromancer. What do you see? What associations come to mind? Maybe a memory from your past, maybe a story invented here and now. It doesn't matter. This is how we craft the doorway you will take out of this place."
 
Asteryos rubs his eyes and blinks. "I see...a shift in the hue of the light of your lamp. And..." the elf sniffs the air, "I smell, resin." his voice trails off as though he were searching for the origin of the scent.
 
Cassandra stares at the card. Of course, a necromancer. Her mind turns to her time with Master Quarion. When she traveled with him, he had been compassionate to a fault, but...
"...What do I see? I see someone who has commited a truly unspeakable act. My teacher believed that all life was sacred in itself, and that the natural course of life was something to be cherished and protected."
She scowls a little at the card. "Necromancy taints that. Molds death into a mocking shape of life. It's apalling. I only ever saw Master Quarion get angry once, and that was hearing about a necromancer. And I agree with him. That's what I see."
 
Faria’s eyes were drawn to the intricate details of the card. Whoever had made these cards for the woman or if she had made them herself was really well done. Her eyes wandered over the three figures in picture obviously for most people it was supposed to cause an instant revulsion and fear that a reader could capitalize on. Instead Faria looked past her initial reaction and let her mind open up to the things that some would claim as the divine motives of fate. The goddess Faria often prayed to one was the goddess of luck. One could say she was a goddess of fate, and many claimed she liked to influence mortal games of chance which meant that she probably wanted her to pick this card.

“It is a beautiful card,” says Faria admiring once more the artistry. “Whoever made it knew what they were doing.” She took another moment before starting to speak once more on the things she noticed as she noticed them.

“The candles on either side of the card are not of the same length, is that important? Perhaps this is signifying that both a swallow and a prolonged study of the card is enough. Notice how both spill up having been snuffed out. There is no light here to help illuminate hour path set between these candles…” said Faria as she moved her focus inward towards the three figures. “The man on top is obviously supposed to be the necromancer controlling two thrawls. His unnaturally long and contorted fingers are positioned in a way as if to suggest that he is puppeteering the dead below him with perhaps invisible lines of power. The necromancer himself hovers just barely in view preferring the shadows of obscurity. He is ultimately responsible for the fate of the two below him.”

Faira’s eyes then wander down to the two undead like figures below. There were a few oddities here to notice. “Both of the undead here hold four stars on their head which represent probably a number of things. First and foremost is their connection to the card itself, the eight of stars, but also it is a physical manifestation of the Necromancer’s control over these two undead. Lastly, notice how the stars are evenly distributed between the thrall. The Necromancer’s power is split between these two undead, and with no power left represented by the cards number he is putting all his faith in these two servants without holding any back for himself,” said Faria as the surrounding area seems to fade into the background for her, and her minds eye places her in a black space with the three figures before her. In this mental projection another two facts strike her immediately. “They were elves once… their sharp ears… I would recognize anywhere. The horns on their head however… that is a corruption.”

One of the creatures shifts up to stand upright in her mind’s eye and a final detail clicks into place. “I had thought both of the creatures of the same height but no… the one on the right is hunched into the frame making himself appear to be on the same level as the other. This one is more dangerous, and his cruel smile seems to be almost self-aware. He isn’t a mindless thrall as the first glance would have you believe. He waits for his moment, appearing smaller than he is supposed to be… I think the Necromancer may have reached beyond his capabilities with binding this one.”

For a moment Faria continues to imagine the dark scene, before the necromancer’s eyes lower to me hers and the two undead suddenly cease to be their ridged frozen framed selves as they rush forward to her. She visibly flinches for a moment as she mentally recoils from letting her imagination run wild. “At least that’s as far as I can tell from looking at the card…” says Faria looking purposefully away from the card now for some reason. 'That was different than any sort of examination I've done before... it's like this place has a proclivity for madness. We need to get out of here soon.'
 
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Varius approaches, still refusing to sit down.
"Very well, woman. If this is what it takes to get out of here, then I shall play at your game."
He leans in close, peering carefully at the card.
"Necromancy is not, by nature, evil. I have known a necromancer who would collect the bodies of hanged criminals and bandits tracked down by the guard. She would animate them, and use them for menial labour that nobody else wished to do. But this necromancer. He is evil."
 
Cassandra narrows her eyes as Varius speaks his piece. His tale seemed earnest...but this was still necromancy. The half elf bites her tongue for now and hopes that the differing ideas wouldn't have to be tested. Between Varius's statement and Faria's in depth analysis, Cassandra feels the desire to know how she ended up in the company of these people all the more.
 
"Of course. Why send unthinking, unfeeling, creatures to deal with an infestation in the mines? Or clear out monsters that have made their way up into the sewers? The young, inexperienced, and dumb are so much more expendable."
 
Astryos shuts his eyes tight exasperated, "You said menial labor, though. Clearing monster hordes and infestations is far from menial! You made it seem that this woman had undead hordes raking the leaves from the gutters!" A half smile crosses his lips suggesting he is entertained by the debate.
 
"They also worked in the mines. Digging and hauling. They worked in the unstable shafts, the ones prone to collapse. And the ones filled with unbreathable toxic gas. How's breaking and hauling rocks in deadly conditions all day, every day sound for menial?"
 
The elf sniffs, "Dwarves work the mines regularly without much fuss. Though, I must correct my previous remark. Charmed seems hardly an appropriate word for a town that tolerates necromancy for any purpose. Perhaps damned is a better word." Astryos returns his attention the crone, "Are there more cards to be drawn? Or is that enough to spirit us away from this place and back to our...task." The elf is unsure of what their task is but if it means escaping this bleak place, he'll take it on eagerly.
 
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"I only knew her for a few years, but in that time, I lost count of the number of zombies that were destroyed in situations that would have otherwise killed living people. But I've had enough of trying to defend my views. How about you explain how this magic, which I have seen help and protect far more people than it has ever hurt, is evil by nature?"
 
woman (2).jpgThe old woman holds her knees and leans back a bit, content to let the debate between Astryos and Varius spin out for a while before interrupting. "Excellent! Yes, there are many facets of this necromancer, many details to see." She winks at Faria. "Nothing is absolute; how little we know. And I am heartened, Astryos, that with provocation you were able to provide commentary on something more than the atmosphere. But yes, bit by bit this place wavers and fades around us." The rusty orange quality of the light and the resinous odor are becoming clearer to all of you.

"You have done well. It should not be long before ... oh my!" The ground on which you sit or stand shifts suddenly, as if undermined in several places. "It appears all this talk of workers below has had some effect! Your path leads downward. I cannot join you." Uttering a few arcane words, she begins to float along with the table, leaving only the heavy blanket crumpling into the earth, which seems intent on absorbing the four of you as well.
 
"I expected a portal of some sort." he says as he falls into the earth, "Though, I suppose I don't know much about portals to begin with."
 
Cassandra sits and listens to the two men bicker. She sighs. Is this really the time? She starts to fidget a little, just waiting for things to move forward. Looking around, she notes the strange quality of light that Astryos mentioned, as well as the smell. She almost lets herself get lost in observing these things, drowning out the other two, when the old woman begins to speak again.

Then the ground shifts beneath her. Cassandras first instinct is to move, to get as far away as possible. But this is what the old woman was preparing us for, wasn't it?

The half elf hesitates, frozen with apprehension. She waits as the earth springs up around her, heart hammering in her chest.
 
As soon as the earth shifts, Varius' instincts kick in, and he scrambles away from the collapsing ground. Looking back, he sees the rest of the group get swallowed up, and muttering a few choice curses to himself, he only hesitates for a moment before jumping in after them.
 
You do not tumble so much as slide down gradually into the widening sinkhole that draws you together towards its funnel. "Farewell, and best of luck!" the woman calls from where she hovers above you. "If you hunger for more answers, perhaps you can find this face again in the outer world." She moves a hand to her wrinkled visage, which shifts to one side and stops moving, though her voice continues. "And a warning: Zhudun will not treat with you again; do not seek him out."

As the earthen funnel draws you down, the woman's lamp also tumbles in and is extinguished. You slide through a narrow squeeze that drops you into a low, dark passage with walls of jagged rocks and earth. The last of the dirt trickles through the sinkhole behind you, leaving only one way to go forward.

The odor down here is rich and loamy, with a putrid undercurrent. There are singing voices too, from somewhere in the tunnel ahead, low and rhythmic.
 
Finding himself blinded by darkness once more, Varius growls as he gets to his feet. Hearing the voices from up ahead, he calls out, heralding them in the same language.
 
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