Shadowdark in the Lost City - Session 7

Our characters for this session included:

• Belit, Human, Fighter, 3rd Level
• Dagon, Human, Thief, 3rd Level
• Samira, Elf, Thief, 3rd Level
• Uras, Human, Priest, 3rd Level
• Zippo, Human, Wizard, 3rd Level

The blade sliced the air as Belit ducked and sidestepped, their sword cutting a swath in their wake. It rebounded off the metal rim of a shield, sending a painful jolt through the warrior’s arm. Spinning to face their foe, Belit dropped into a defensive stance, parrying an overhand stroke. As their blade swiped the other to one side, the warrior lunged to deliver a low thrust. But their opponent was fast and delivered a kick to Belit’s arm, sending their sword flying. Committed to the attack, the warrior’s balance was forward and not easily reversed. Belit sprawled and scrambled for safety only to feel a boot drive the air from their lungs. Gasping for breath, the warrior rolled to one side and attempted to gain their feet. A heavy blow landed on the back of their head and stars burst before their eyes, quickly fading into blackness. A familiar voice trailed off, “That was a desperate thrust and left you open ...”

Belit’s hand frantically grasped about, finally brushing across the familiar crossguard of their sword. The warrior sat up into a world of utter velvet blackness. The dream faded as a cold sweat broke across their body. Belit shifted and felt another body close at hand and reached out, shaking the person. Uras grunted and could be heard shifting in the darkness. The priest spoke a few words and a blinding light illuminated the stone corridor within the tombs where last the party had been conscious. The rest of their number were there, all beginning to stir, shielding their eyes. Dagon sprang to their feet, Bloodtooth gripped tightly, and lightly padded to the doorway of the embalming chamber. The thief peered into the adjoining chamber and down the dark hallway. “What the hell was that, then?” Belit stood up, sheathing their slender blade, and extended a hand to Zippo. “Nabu, that’s what it was ... what exactly and why, I don’t know.” The wizard was pale and feeble, wobbling on their feet and leaning heavily on their staff. “It had to have been a sleep spell but why would Nabu ..,” Zippo’s words trailed off as their hand went to where Mandura’s scroll case had hung over their shoulder. “Eyes of Shamasha! They’ve taken the scrolls ... I guess they couldn’t wait or didn’t want to risk us not surviving.”

With Zippo barely able to walk after the battle with the shadow creatures, the party decided to leave the tombs and speak with the followers of Nabu. Returning to the cult’s chambers, they found them evacuated. Zippo led the party to the Nabu cult leader’s private chamber and with a bit of searching they found and opened its concealed door. Iltani’s bedchamber had likewise been hastily packed up. However, a small silken pouch lay on the stripped bed. Zippo pulled it open and a thin wafer of black lotus root dropped into their palm. The wizard ignored the questioning glances of their comrades and the drug disappeared into the folds of their robe. With no further answers to be had, the group decided to recuperate here. The party—Zippo in particular—slept and later, over a meal, discussed their plans upon returning to the tombs.

The wizard was clearly not themselves. While their strength had largely returned, Zippo’s entire body ached and their mind was clouded. After eating but a few bites, the wizard promptly emptied their guts into an urn. Zippo knew almost immediately ... the black lotus ... there was no denying it. The wizard had read about this dark, mysterious plant and its arcane properties ... as well as the power addiction that more often than not came with its use. There was nothing for it at this point so Zippo laid back down and slipped the bitter root on their tongue. Within an hour, the wizard was up and about examining some of the items recovered from the tombs. After a period of study, Zippo identified three enchanted objects—a beautiful scarab brooch of vitality (+1 AC and advantage on rolls related to disease), a delicate silver ring of protection (+1 AC), and an oblong wooden shield with a bronze boss depicting a mighty ram’s head. The shield—like Bloodtooth—had been enchanted by Mandaru, the great Cynidicean sorcerer, and was named Kaba‑Atudu (medium shield +1 with a knock‑back ability against human‑sized or small creatures). Belit took up the fine shield, Zippo attached the sapphire winged scarab brooch to their robes, and Samira slipped the ivy‑engraved ring on their slender finger.

Knowing that they had explored most of the tombs and hopefully vanquished many of its fiends, the party felt certain they must be close to recovering the sword of Cyrus the Great. With a course determined, they descended again into the dark corridors. Retracing their path, they passed the embalming chamber and pushed open a door to another tomb. The floor was piled shin‑deep with human bones and the walls were painted with scenes depicting the roles of royal servants. The party crunched through the bones, finding many having been broken open and gnawed upon by the ghouls no doubt. They spent little time searching this forsaken chamber before deciding to make for the unexplored passage beyond the tomb of Mandaru. The adventurers followed a long straight corridor, thieves with eyes alert for peril. They found themselves at a dead end. Uras, who had been mapping out the tombs as they went, studied their position. The priest pointed out that the heart of this level of the pyramid was yet to be discovered and that beyond this wall somewhere surely there was an entrance. The party fanned out and began to scour the walls and floor for hidden doors. Finally, Dagon traced the thin outline of a stone door concealed in the wall. With some trial and error, Dagon and Samira discovered the trigger and the door slowly sank in and ground away to one side, revealing a wide corridor beyond.

The corridor was twice as wide as the others in the tombs and was covered in a thick layer of dust. It stretched away into the heart of the pyramid and was decorated in red and white marble tiles laid out in a checkerboard pattern. Along the walls were beautiful mosaic scenes of the ancient Cynidicean court. Samira and Dagon led the party deeper into the pyramid. Alert for danger, the thieves carefully studied the dusty floor before them and after traveling about 40 feet, Samira saw that one of the tiles was trapped. The tile was a pressure plate that would surely trigger some sort of trap but with steady hands, the elf managed to disarm it. Within twenty more feet, two more pressure plates were discovered. Rather than continuing to test their skill and luck, Dagon and Samira carefully cleared the dust from the plates, making them easy to avoid. Just ahead, the party found the hall largely unpassable by two massive blocks of stone. One completely blocked half of the corridor while another appeared to have become wedged as it fell from above. A narrow two‑foot‑high crawl space extended beneath the stone mass where it didn’t quite make contact with the floor below.

Crouching down, Zippo shined the lantern through the tight cobweb‑ and rubble‑strewn space. Without discussion, Dagon dropped onto their chest, Bloodtooth clenched between their teeth, and began to crawl through. Sand and grit hissed down through cracks as the thief shimmied nearly 10 feet, eventually crawling to their knees and then their feet. Leaning down, Dagon spoke back to their comrades in a hushed tone, “Way ahead is blocked by broken stone and rubble ... passable but it’ll take some doing. Come on.” One by one the rest of the party crawled through and emerged covered in dust and webbing. They set to clearing away the rubble until there was enough space to scramble up and over. Before sending anyone ahead, Belit pointed out the obvious: there would be no quick escape if one were needed ... they would have to stand and fight ... whatever they might find. On the other side, the corridor was also choked with broken stone, leaving but a narrow winding fissure. They would have to slide sideways through one at a time, careful not to disturb the possibly unstable rubble.

Belit’s blade slid from its scabbard and the warrior took the lead. Small, jagged bits of stone and gravel cascaded down here and there as the party inched through the defile. After nearly 40 feet of thinking they might be buried alive at any time, the corridor finally opened back up to its full width and just ahead ended in a stone door. The thieves examined the door but found no signs of a trap and with that, Belit pushed it open. Light shined into a deep room and fell upon two large sarcophagi. Gold highlights gleamed in the lamplight and in its sweep numerous bronze urns and chests were also illuminated. Moving carefully into the room, the party saw the room was scattered with human bones and ceremonially broken objects—swords, pottery, torn clothing. Mosaics covered the walls showing key events from the reign of King Cyrus and Queen Zakiti and the sarcophagi bore their names in bold Cynidicean letters.

The party exchanged quick, excited glances and just as fast fell to their work. Samira and Dagon moved up to examine the sarcophagi. Belit headed toward one of the bronze chests and Uras, fingering their holy symbol, moved deeper into the room peering into the shadowed corners. Zippo stood in the doorway, lantern held high. The warrior found the chest unlocked. Lifting the lid with their blade, gold and silver caught the light and Belit’s eyes went wide ... the deep chest was filled with coins. What would the other four chests hold? Samira’s light fingers brushed the edge of Queen Zakiti’s gold sarcophagus. As they admired the metalwork, something shiny caught their eye on the floor and they picked it up. Thin flakes of gold ... or no, was it gold? Looking at the base of the sarcophagus, the elf noticed a bare spot and scratched at it ... wood painted to look like gold? At that same moment, Belit pulled a handful of coins out of the chest and found them strangely light. “It’s not gold, it's wood ..,” Samira quietly asked rather than stated. “Shebela’s balls, what’s this?” Belit exclaimed, throwing the wooden coins which scattered across the floor. Uras turned and looked at both of them, “This isn’t the real tomb ... it's a decoy.”

Frustration boiling over, Belit put a foot against the chest and kicked it over, shiny fake coinage spilling across the dusty floor. Dagon and Samira lifted the lids of the sarcophagi to find bodies in plain burial wrappings, no adornments, no treasure, and certainly no sword. Uras scanned the room looking for answers while Zippo nervously looked over their shoulder. “A ruse for would‑be tomb robbers then ... and surely they wouldn’t simply be allowed to walk away ..,” the wizard’s voice trailed off as they peered about into the twisting tunnel through which they had come. “Then we must act and quickly,” Uras mumbled, already moving toward the south wall. The priest began to run hands along the cobwebbed surface. The thieves followed the priest’s lead and began inspecting the tomb walls in hopes of discovering some long‑hidden secret. It didn’t take long. “Here!” Samira piped with nervous energy. The elf had found a concealed door in the north wall and was trying to game out how it might be opened. In another few moments, Dagon found a hidden door parallel to Samira’s in the south wall. Uras noted that they should open the one on the south first as it was on the same side of the tomb as the fake sarcophagus of Cyrus. Samira joined Dagon and together they searched for traps and, finding none, managed to trigger the opening mechanism ... the stone door slowly swung open.

Forming up, the group advanced into the darkness beyond the doorway. The air was stale and the floor covered in a deep layer of dust. The passageway bent to the right and within a short distance ended with a door in the north wall. With no imminent threat of traps, Belit put a shoulder to the door and pushed it inward. Light fell upon a stone sarcophagus straight ahead and flanking it on the right was a throne and to the left, a chariot. Colorful mosaics decorated the walls with scenes of warfare and the raising of great edifices—including this very pyramid. Looking down from the ceiling was the commanding face of the god Enlil, surrounded by a wreath of lightning. The adventurers stood in silenced awe for a moment but then Belit led them into the tomb. Uras moved toward the throne while Dagon, Zippo, and Belit headed straight to the sarcophagus. Samira’s eyes were drawn toward the chariot. It was wrought of wood and wicker but heavily accented in bronze—an instrument of war but a beautiful one at that. Inside, the elf found an elegant recurve shortbow and quiver of arrows. Pulling an arrow from its case, Samira admired the blue and white feathering and saw thin silver engraving along its length as if a bolt of forked lightning.

Belit called over to Uras and the four of them strained but managed to lift the sarcophagus lid and set it aside. Lying within was a mummified body encased in brilliant bronze‑gilt cuirass armor, a gem‑studded crown resting upon the figure’s brow. Across the chest of the body rested a straight long‑bladed sword in a plain bronze scabbard. The hilt of the sword was likewise unadorned except for an opal pommel stone which shone a faint blue in the lamplight. Belit outreached their hand, hesitated a moment, but then grabbed up the sword. The scabbard was cold to the touch and as their hand gripped the hilt, the warrior winced as an icy sensation rushed up their arm. The others stepped back as Belit loosened the sword and slowly pulled it free. The air about the shining blue steel blade roiled with a ghostly vapor and the warrior’s companions standing nearby shivered. The warrior let out a deep breath which billowed in a cloud of mist and seemed as if in a trance. Zippo broke the silence, “Belit, we have no time.” The warrior snapped back to their senses, nodding and slowly sliding the sword back into its scabbard. The adventurers respectfully removed the crown and armor from Cyrus the Great. Uras worked their way out of their chainmail and with the aid of Belit was strapped into the king’s cuirass.

As the party filed back into the false tomb, the room was suddenly flooded in pale white light. Cold seeped through their armor, clothing, and deep into their souls as an apparition materialized. The shade of Queen Zakiti floated before them surrounded by a baleful blue glow. The spirit’s shriek pierced their brains, “Infidels that would dare disturb the rest of Cyrus the Great will serve him in death!” The spirit streaked straight at Belit and the warrior backpedaled, their hand falling on the hilt of the King’s sword. Pale hands as cold as the grave raked the warrior and they cried out in pain as the sword leapt from its scabbard. Belit sliced through the ephemeral body of the Queen and sidestepped. Uras stepped forward, the medallion of Marduk held before them. “Back to the grave with you, foul spirit! By Marduk, you are commanded!” but the priest’s words were as if ash on their tongue and the cold of the spirit seemed only to intensify. Samira dove behind one of the sarcophagi and popped up to loosen one of the blue and white fletched arrows. As it left the bowstring, the arrow was sheathed in crackling electricity and burst upon the visage of the Queen who howled in rage. Zippo gestured wildly and shouted arcane words, sending an oozing green bolt flying. Acid splashed and sizzled across the surface of the apparition. Slipping from the shadows on the flank, Dagon drove Bloodtooth into the gossamer‑like visage of the Queen who let out a chilling shriek.

Again Queen Zakiti, as if oblivious to anyone else, launched themself at Belit. The warrior met the shade head‑on in an exchange of cuts and thrusts. Momentarily falling back from the melee, Belit heard Uras calling upon Marduk for protection and felt the hand of the priest fall on their shoulder. The warrior was wrapped in a golden shimmer which quickly faded. The rest of the party continued their onslaught, though the apparition showed no signs of lessening in resolve. Rising higher into the air, the frigid aura of the shade grew and its hate‑filled eyes rolled back in its ghostly head ... and it vanished in a whoosh of air. Heads pivoted this way and that as the adventurers sought for where the ghost had gone. “Is that it ... did we kill it?” Samira asked, not quite believing their own words. “I think not ... I still feel the cold of the dead here ..,” Uras replied, one hand on their holy symbol, mace in the other. Moments stretched and the party began to ease their guards. Zippo was the first to notice one of their number missing, “Where’s Dagon?” As if born from the shadows, the thief emerged, eyes burning with a pale blue fire. Dagon leapt at Belit, Bloodtooth gripped for an underhand stab. The warrior pivoted at the last moment, the black serrated blade running harmlessly along their chainmail. Dagon spun with blurring speed and came at the warrior with a flurry of slicing cuts. Belit desperately parried, trying to gain space as the possessed thief bore down on them. Uras gripped their holy symbol and gestured toward Dagon, “By the Father of Storms, I cast you out!” Dagon let out a blood‑chilling laugh and pressed their attack. Zippo rushed toward the thief, a spell upon their lips, and evoked the incantation with the clapping together of their hands. Dagon froze rigid as a statue, Bloodtooth inches from slicing open Belit’s gut.

Queen Zakiti erupted in a blue burst into the chamber. The ghost wailed in frustration and again flew at Belit. The battle raged for moments longer, lightning arrows flared, arcane bolts exploded, sword and mace raining down. As suddenly as it had appeared, the shade of Queen Zakiti vanished with an ear‑piercing shriek. The cold subsided and while very much ill at ease, the party slowly lowered their guard. Standing well back from Dagon, Zippo released the thief from their magical bondage. Dagon stumbled forward and spun to face their comrades, death in their eyes and sharp shark‑like teeth showing between their lips. But the mask fell away; Dagon uncoiled and glanced about, “Where’d that cold bitch go?” The thief had no memory of their possession by the Queen or trying desperately to fillet Belit. When gently asked about their teeth, Dagon put fingers to the jagged points, eyes wide. “I had a dream when I last slept that I was a fish ...” The thief looked at the dagger in their hand, fashioned from the tooth of an ancient shark, “bloody hell.”

Recovered from the battle, the party breached the concealed door in the north wall. It led, as they expected, to the final resting place of Queen Zakiti. A stone sarcophagus and throne sat in the room, which was decorated with fine mosaics of lush gardens, fields of grain, and bright blue pools. Looking down on them was the stern face of Ishtar, in one hand a scythe and in the other a skull. Opening the sarcophagus, they found the preserved body of the Queen, jeweled crown upon their head and a gold scepter studded with emeralds at their side. Uras gathered the crown and scepter, saying a prayer over the body as they did so. Belit sensed a presence and turned to see a faint figure sitting upon the stone throne. Zakiti gazed at the warrior, slightly bowed their head, and then was gone. Nerves still on edge, as they prepared to depart, Zippo summoned arcane flames that consumed Zakiti’s mummified body. Ancient wrappings burned away, revealing the shriveled face of the Queen that quickly fell to ash.

Leaving the tombs behind, the adventurers made their way down to the main level of the pyramid. Emerging from the stairwell, a group of Enlilite warriors walked ahead of them and more voices could be heard coming from the Chamber of the Gods. Coming into the high‑vaulted hall, the group saw that the space had been converted into a staging ground. Warriors were scattered across the room, some resting, others tending to gear, or gathered in small groups talking. As they made their way up the main aisle toward the dais, eyes fixed on them and a hush followed. Standing before the defaced statues of the Cynidicean gods, Ardates, grandmaster of Enlil, and Sammas, grandmaster of Ishtar, stood deep in conversation. A group of Ishtari warriors and reapers lingered nearby. As they approached the base of the dais—Uras encased in the King’s gilt cuirass armor, Samira holding Cyrus’ prized bow, and Yakhtabar, the King’s legendary sword, swaying at Belit’s hip—the two Cynidicean leaders joined their followers in stunned silence. Ardates broke the spell, words tumbling from their mouth, “I felt it ... like a bolt of lightning from the hand of Enlil themselves ... YOU’VE DONE IT! The King’s sword has been recovered!” Sammas raised their hands as if in exaltation, “And Queen Zakiti, it's as if a dark veil has lifted. She is finally at peace ... blessings upon you all.” Uras and Dagon presented them with the crowns and they took them into their hands with great reverence. Calling the adventurers to join them on the dais, Ardates raised their voice so that it boomed through the chamber, “Brothers, sisters of Enlil and Ishtar, the time has come to awaken from our long nightmare! Behold Yakhtabar, sword of King Cyrus the Great!” Ardates nodded to Belit, who in a fluid motion full of gravitas drew the long sword and thrust it overhead. Light gleamed across the blue steel as a vorpal mist shimmered about it. A joyous chorus of shouts and cheers erupted and echoed through a space long grown used to despondent silence.