Shadowdark in the Lost City - Session 6

Our characters for this session included:

• Belit, Human, Fighter, 2nd Level
• Dagon, Human, Thief, 2nd Level
• Samira, Elf, Thief, 2nd Level
• Uras, Human, Priest, 2nd Level
• Zippo, Human, Wizard, 2nd Level

Sammas muttered unintelligibly as Belit and Uras hauled the Ishtari leader up the stairs. Reaching the enclave of the cult of Ishtar, Uras pounded on the door and it was quickly opened. Ishtari warriors surged forward to take Sammas into their arms and quickly backed away. One of those with a bronze scythe at their hip stepped forward and bowed deeply, “We are indebted to you, brave souls. Return to us in a day's time once Sammas has recovered.” With that the stone door slammed shut and was barred.

Still nursing wounds of their own, the adventurers wasted no time retreating to the relative safety to be found among the followers of Enlil. Coming into the crowded barracks, the Enlilite warriors who had taken part in the adventurer’s rescue of Sammas were greeted with cheers. Holding their bloodied weapons high, the warriors waded among their jubilant comrades. “We bled the priests of Zargon dry!” “Now we come for Darius!” The warriors celebrated their bloodletting as deeply buried hope struggled to obtain the light.

Ardates, leader of the Enlilities, and his closest advisors stood apart and eyed the adventurers, sharing unheard comments behind their bronze masks. Walking up to Ardates, the cult leader raised their arms in greeting and congratulations. “You have won a great victory. I dared not hope to see all of you return alive ... or at all. So, the word of Nabu proved true? Sammas lives?” Uras nodded and said that the Ishtari leader had been returned to their followers though they were heavily drugged. “Let us hope that Sammas’ mind quickly returns and can see the urgent need to band together.” “While we all celebrate this blow that has been struck,” Ardates gestured toward their followers, “Darius will answer it with absolute ferocity ... and soon.” Lowering their head, Ardates continued, “And as much as it shames me, I yet again must ask for your aid ... we must have the sword of King Cyrus if the cults are to stand as one.”

The heroes took much needed rest and discussed among themselves their next actions. They all agreed that they had not come this far, risked so much, not to see this through. They would return to the tombs in hopes of finding Cyrus’ blade. After a fitful sleep, Zippo awoke and before rising, placed their remaining wafer of black lotus root on their tongue. Again, reality fell away and the wizard soared among the cosmic fires before slowly drifting back into their physical form. Having avoided a poisoned needle trap, Samira and Dagon found that the small chest they had taken from the priest’s chambers contained two vials of liquid and pouches of cut gems. They had also found a large bronze key on the priest of Zargon who had led the axe-wielding hobgoblins. With a bit of trial and error, Zippo was able to determine that the vials contained healing potions.

Having readied themselves and distributed the healing draughts, the party departed. They returned to the Ishtari’s chambers and were warmly greeted. Sammas sat heavily in a chair flanked by a dozen warriors. Gesturing toward them weakly, the Ishtari leader said, “Forgive my lack of proper greeting to you who have done me such a service.” In response to party inquiries about their health, Sammas responded that their physical wounds were of no concern but their mind and perhaps more so their soul was deeply scarred. Those that worshipped Zargon sanctified the most unimaginable depravity and grotesque cruelty and it had left its mark. Uras and Zippo carefully turned the conversation to preparing for Darius’ inevitable response to their attack. Sammas nodded and responded that Ardates was right, Darius would come for blood. “Blood for blood until all that is left of Cynidicea is bled dry. This is our legacy ... the unsummable cost of our wickedness.” Zippo pressed that perhaps together Ishtar and Enlil could put an end to it and even atone for the past. Sammas shook their head tiredly, “There can be no atoning while the best of what we were is denied their sacred rest ... the shade of Queen Zakiti is trapped in the horror of what we have become.” Waving them away, “We are not yet worthy ... now leave me.”

Leaving the Ishtari leader, Uras recalled their brief encounter with the spirit of the Queen in their earlier explorations of the tombs. The apparition had paid them no heed, locked as it was in its black despair and torment. The priest had called upon their deity, Marduk, father of storms, to rebuke the shade and found they had no power over it. Uras gripped his holy medallion tightly as the party descended the stairs leading into the crypts.

Stepping out of the stairwell, the party headed south and then turned west down an unexplored corridor. Ahead on the left was a door standing partly open. Slender blade at the ready, Belit stepped up and placed a hand on the door to push it open. The stomach-turning smell of rot hit the warrior’s nose and they recoiled for a moment. Steeling themselves, they pushed the door inward and stepped over the threshold. Human bones were strewn across the floor - ribs, femurs, a toothless skull. As lantern light panned across the space, Belit saw in the far corner vaguely human-shaped forms lying in the shadows. The warrior took a few more steps into the room, their boot accidentally sending a jaw bone spinning across the floor. One of the humped forms shifted, sitting upright, and loudly sniffed the foul air. Letting out a rasping cry, the form threw off a mouldering blanket and leapt to its feet. Pallid, sagging skin hung off the ghoul’s bones as it bared yellowed needle-like teeth and threw itself at Belit with a howl. The two combatants collided in a whirlwind of claw, tooth, and steel. The other forms leapt to their feet and rushed out of the shadows and suddenly the fighter was surrounded. Belit’s sword sliced through flabby, putrid flesh and they cried out as icy claws raked across their thigh (Belit once again avoided the ghoul’s paralysis).

Seeing their companion suddenly overrun, Zippo swallowed hard and dove into the fray. Magic coursed through the wizard and erupted from their extended hands in a blaze of blue fire. The ghouls alighted and shrieked in pain as the room was flooded with arcane light. Arrows flew from the doorway as Samira and Dagon fired into the flailing ghouls. The booming voice of Uras was heard as the priest pressed into the chamber, their holy medallion glowing with power. The undead howled in terror and tore for the doorway as the priest rebuked them. Belit thrust their sword into the side of a larger one wearing a tattered red cloak as they fled. Scattering out of the way, Samira stumbled backward and toppled into the corridor as Dagon dropped their bow and unsheathed the dagger, Bloodtooth. The thief leapt onto the back of a ghoul as it scrambled past, repeatedly driving Bloodtooth into its ribcage. With a backhand swing of their mace, Uras pulped the head of a ghoul against the stone door as it raced to escape. The remaining two sped down the corridor heading for the cover of darkness with Dagon and Zippo in pursuit. Rounding a corner, Zippo sent a glowing arcane bolt into the back of the red-cloaked figure as Dagon hamstrung the other, sending it tumbling. Another arcane bolt hit the fleeing ghast, sending it crashing into a wall where it crumpled. Dagon finished the other ghoul off with a coup de grace through the throat.

Inspecting the foul-smelling corpses, Dagon found the ghast to be clothed in a tattered red bed sheet and wearing a delicate jeweled tiara. While back in the ghoul den, Belit and the others searched through the bones. The warrior saw a platter of some kind piled high with human bones. Lifting it, the bones clattered to the floor and they found the platter to actually be a shield made of wood and rimmed with bronze. A large boss in the shape of a ram’s head adorned its face. Uras absently kicked a finger bone across the floor and Zippo picked it up, finding it wore a gore-encrusted silver ring. Was this the last of the eaters of the dead to haunt these halls - the adventurers hoped so as they gathered back in the corridor and continued on.

The passageway turned to the south and then again to the west where it extended away into the darkness. The party passed an adjoining corridor leading to the north and came to a doorway on their right. The thieves inspected the door and, finding no traps, stepped aside, allowing Belit to take the lead. The warrior pushed the door open into a large, dusty tomb. Their light shone on numerous murals on the surrounding walls. Scenes of high sorcery were depicted - the summoning of monstrous demons, fire raining from the heavens. Woven throughout the murals were also stanzas of music notes. The party’s eyes fell from the walls onto a sarcophagus resting on a platform across the room and in the middle of the chamber, a pedestal on which rested a lyre. All along the walls were large, waist-high urns.

Belit moved to inspect the urns as the rest of the adventurers gathered around the pedestal. The warrior found urn after urn filled with a wide assortment of bones - human and animal. Zippo gently lifted the lyre from its resting place and examined the instrument. It was exquisitely crafted, an object of rare beauty that seemed untouched by age. Studying the music woven throughout the murals, the adventurers decided to try to arrange the stanzas in order and then to play them on the lyre. Zippo began to gently pluck the lyre’s strings and as each note echoed through the tomb, its corresponding notation in the mural shimmered. The wizard’s untrained fingers suddenly hit a sour tone and the notes faded. Samira, captivated by the beauty of the instrument, asked to give it a go. The wide-eyed elf gracefully took the lyre in hand, studied the music for a moment and began to play. Again the notes began to shine as Samira plucked each string until they hesitated in confusion and a discordant pitch echoed through the room - the notes again faded. Face knitted with concentration, the elf began again, slowly moving their lithe fingers across the strings. One by one the notes came to life in the mural until the final one shone in time with its playing. The haunting song echoed and reverberated through the tomb for several moments and then slowly faded to silence (they had three attempts and succeeded on their final one in order to avoid a nasty tomb guardian).

The lid of the sarcophagus quietly lifted and stood open. Cautiously approaching, the party found within the mummified body of the great sorcerer Mandaru who had served King Cyrus and his father before him. Mandaru had been not only the chief sage and wizard but also the court musician and composer. A gem-studded gold scroll case lay beside the body. Eyes gleaming, Zippo gingerly lifted the scroll case. Releasing a small clasp and opening the lid, the wizard saw it was filled with scrolls of ancient papyrus. Putting the scroll case’s carrying chain over their head, Zippo let it rest at their side, a hand guarding it closely. A small smile on their face, Samira scanned the murals one last time as they carefully placed the lyre in their pack.

Leaving the tomb of Mandaru, the party backtracked and turned up the adjoining passageway heading north. They quickly came to a door on their right and found it led into yet another tomb. This chamber had been thoroughly ransacked no doubt by the ghoul pack. Coffins had been shattered and remains lay scattered. Many of the bones showed the gnaw marks of needle-like teeth. Finding nothing of note, the adventurers again headed north up the corridor. The hallway turned to the east but straight ahead was also another door.

Opening the door, the party noted that this was not another tomb but something altogether different. Quietly filing in, they found three waist-high stone platforms with hollowed-out areas in which a human body might lie. Along one wall sat small jars and urns and in one corner, a large woven basket. Running a hand along one of the platforms, Uras stated to no one in particular that this was an embalming chamber. Belit knelt to look at the vessels and picked up one of the smaller jars. Lifting its lid, the warrior sniffed the faded but still familiar scent of myrrh. Zippo removed the top off the basket and found it full of cloth wrappings. Belit continued to examine the contents of the jars as the wizard began to remove wrappings from the basket using their staff. Nearing the bottom of the basket, Zippo saw the glint of gold and a flash of blue. Reaching in, the wizard pulled from the bottom of the basket a gold scarab brooch with sapphire wings.

As Zippo admired the item, Samira and Dagon shared a perplexed glance and then both looked again up at the wall. The silhouettes of the party were picked out there in black against the stone but were there suddenly two more than their number? Before either of them could verbalize the question in their heads, Zippo gasped and dropped to their knees. Over the wizard hovered a shadow figure, its black translucent hands wrapped around the wizard’s throat. As one the rest of the party turned, hands on weapons as yet another shadow detached from the wall and attacked Belit. The warrior ducked and pulled their sword free as the shadow shot above them. Zippo, looking pale, crawled feebly toward the door, staggering to their feet as the shadow turned its attack on Samira. The elf leapt aside and also sprinted toward the door followed by Dagon. Uras brought up their shield and moved alongside Belit as their comrades beat a hasty retreat.

Belit thrust their blade into one of the creatures as it flew by while the other set upon the fleeing wizard again. Zippo tried to grapple with the insubstantial creature but its cold essence washed over them and they felt their life force melting away. Uras swung their mace at the shadow and it retreated, allowing the wizard to crawl through the doorway. Both the shadow beings darted about the room as Belit and Uras backed into the doorway, stabbing and hacking as they went. Rising on wobbly legs, Zippo moved behind Belit and Uras, and sent a spout of blue flame into the room. A shrill keening filled the air as one of the vaporous shades disintegrated before their eyes and the other launched itself into the two warriors. Belit and Uras struck at it, retreating back through the doorway as it too seemed to vaporize beneath their blows.

Zippo slumped to the floor, face drawn and pale, cold sweat beading their forehead. As the adventurers recovered their wits, their attention turned to the wizard. Zippo was conscious but their body seemed all but sucked dry of strength. As Uras knelt beside Zippo, Belit, sword still in hand, scanned the dark corridor to their right and then turned to look behind. The warrior narrowed their eyes and just made out in the dim a silver face of the child god, Nabu. The figure took one step forward and raised a finger to their masked lips. Belit’s eyes fluttered and for a split second they struggled to remain awake as blackness washed over them.