Episode Eight – A Bone to Pick

Borkum and company enter the cursed crypt and discover this adventure will not be for the faint hearted.

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Transcript

Chapter 8 – A Bone to Pick

Borkum stood before the entrance of the Cursed Crypt, his grip tightening on the shaft of his axe. The runes on the stone doors glowed faintly, casting eerie shadows on the twisted roots and rocky hillside.

"We've made it this far," Borkum grumbled, breaking the silence. "No turning back now."

Hawk Tuah, her hand still resting on Borkum's shoulder, nodded solemnly. "The spirits are restless here. We must tread carefully."

Brindle Lightfoot, the halfling magician, stepped closer to the doors, his eyes scanning the runes. "These symbols... they're both a warning and a ward. It seems they were meant to keep something inside."

"Aye," Borkum replied, his eyes narrowing. "But we've got a job to do. Brindle, can you break these wards?"

Brindle began to chant, his hands weaving intricate patterns in the air. The runes flared brightly before fading, signaling the wards had been dispelled. Borkum felt a chill run down his spine as the crypt seemed to exhale a breath of ancient, cold air.

Lykxnzzl, ever the silent observer, moved forward to inspect the door. His fingers danced over the stone, quickly finding and disarming hidden traps. "Clear," the drow thief whispered, stepping back.

At that moment, Elaria, the cleric who had joined them, stepped forward. Her eyes were calm, her expression serene. "Before we proceed, I offer to cast a blessing upon us all. It may grant us protection and fortitude in the darkness ahead."

Borkum nodded, appreciating the offer. "Aye, that'd be wise. We could use all the help we can get."

Elaria raised her hands, her voice melodic and soothing as she began to chant. A soft, golden light enveloped each of the adventurers, filling them with a warm sense of calm and strength.

"May the light of the divine shield us from harm and guide our steps," Elaria intoned, her eyes closing as she finished the blessing.

Borkum felt a renewed sense of determination. "Thank you, Elaria. Alright, on my count. One, two, three—"

With a grunt of effort, he pushed against the heavy doors. They creaked open, revealing the dark void within. A chill wind blew out, carrying the scent of damp earth and decay.

"Stay alert," Borkum said, glancing at each of his companions. "We don't know what's waiting for us in there."

Skyclaw let out a low screech, and Hawk Tuah placed a calming hand on the hawks’ neck. "Easy, friend. We'll need your keen eyes in the dark."

One by one, they stepped through the doorway, their torches casting flickering light on the ancient stone walls. The air grew colder as they descended the narrow staircase, their footsteps echoing ominously.

At the bottom, they found themselves in a large antechamber. Faded tapestries and broken statues lined the walls, and a massive statue stood in the center.

In the center of the antechamber, illuminated by the flickering light of their torches, stood an imposing statue of a woman. She was carved from a single piece of dark, polished stone that gleamed with an eerie luster. The figure was tall and regal, her presence commanding the room despite the years of dust and decay that surrounded her.

The woman's face was exquisitely detailed, with high cheekbones and a serene expression that conveyed both wisdom and strength. Her eyes, though made of stone, seemed almost lifelike, as if they could see into the very souls of those who gazed upon her. Long, flowing hair cascaded down her back, intricately carved to resemble individual strands that caught the light in a way that made them appear almost real.

She was dressed in flowing robes that clung to her form, accentuating her graceful figure. The fabric of the robes was meticulously detailed, with patterns of vines and leaves that seemed to move and shift as the light played over them. Around her neck, she wore a necklace with a large, multifaceted red gemstone at its center, the only part of the statue that retained its original color, glowing faintly with an otherworldly light.

In one hand, the statue held a staff topped with a crescent moon, its surface etched with delicate runes that matched those on the stone sarcophagus. Her other hand was extended outward, palm up, as if offering a blessing or a warning to those who entered the chamber.

At the base of the statue, an inscription in an ancient language was carved deeply into the stone. It was worn and difficult to read, but the adventurers could make out a few words: "Guardian... Eternal... Protector."

Lykxnzzl's sharp eyes caught the faint, alluring glow of the gemstone around the statue's neck. Its multifaceted surface shimmered with an otherworldly light, captivating his gaze. The drow thief's instincts kicked in, and he moved silently, his nimble fingers itching to claim the prize.

Without a word, he stepped closer to the statue, his movements as fluid and silent as a shadow. His companions, engrossed in their own observations, didn't notice as he reached up, his fingers barely brushing the surface of the gem.

As his hand made contact, the statue's eyes seemed to spark to life, glowing with an intense, otherworldly light. The once serene face of the woman now bore a stern, almost sorrowful expression. The stone seemed to warm beneath his touch, and a quiet murmur filled the chamber, like a whisper carried on the wind.

The sound grew louder, forming coherent words. "Who dares disturb the eternal rest of my Master?"

Lykxnzzl froze, his eyes widening as he met the glowing gaze of the statue. The murmur became a soft chant, ancient and powerful, reverberating through the chamber. The gemstone pulsed with light, matching the rhythm of the murmurs.

“Oh crap, crap, crap,” he quietly murmured.

The rest of the adventurers turned, alerted by the sudden change. Hawk Tuah's eyes widened in alarm. "Lykxnzzl, step back!"

The once serene statue face contorted into an expression of fury, and a booming voice filled the chamber, echoing off the ancient stone walls.

"Thieves! Intruders! Be gone! Leave my master at rest!" the statue cried out, the words reverberating through the air like a thunderclap.

Lykxnzzl recoiled, his heart pounding as he stumbled back from the statue. His companions turned, alarmed by the sudden outburst.

"Lykxnzzl, what have you done?" Hawk Tuah shouted, her voice a mix of worry and reprimand.

As the statue's eyes dimmed, the fierce glow fading to a gentle shimmer, its expression softened, returning to the serene, calm visage it had before. The tension in the air seemed to dissipate slightly, and the once booming voice became a soft whisper that echoed faintly through the chamber.

“We have to be careful everyone. Remember I was here before and barely left with my life, Hawk Tuah warned.

"Prove yourselves worthy," the statue murmured one last time, the stone figure returning to its previous, immobile state. The Guardian's stern judgment was replaced by a watchful, yet peaceful presence.

“Worthy my ass,” Lykxnzzl retorted; frustrated that he allowed himself to be so startled so quickly. “I am going to get that gem” he muttered under his breath to no one. 

Lykxnzzl, still feeling the weight of the statue's gaze, shrugged off the last remnants of tension. "Agreed. Let's move forward before something else decides to—"

Before he could finish, a chilling sound echoed through the chamber: the unmistakable creak of bones and the clinking of ancient armor. The adventurers' relief quickly turned to renewed tension as the sound grew louder, coming from the dark corridors that led deeper into the crypt.

Borkum raised his axe again, eyes narrowing. "Everyone, form up! We have company."

The sound of dragging feet and the groan of ancient metal filled the air, sending shivers down their spines. From the shadows emerged skeletal warriors, their hollow eye sockets glowing with an eerie light. Clad in rusted armor and wielding decayed weapons, they moved with a relentless, mechanical precision.

"Undead," Hawk Tuah whispered, her grip tightening on her staff. "The crypt's guardians won't let us pass easily."

Brindle Lightfoot began to chant, his fingers weaving a quick spell. "Prepare yourselves!"

Elaria raised her hands, calling upon her divine powers to ward off the undead.

Lykxnzzl drew his daggers, his eyes darting to find weak points in the skeletal ranks. “I think this is what she meant by prove yourselves."

As the skeletal warriors emerged from the shadows, Brindle Lightfoot's eyes narrowed with determination. He knew the undead would give no quarter and neither would he. Without wasting a moment, he began to cry out, "Arcane forces, heed my call," Brindle intoned, his voice growing louder with each word. "Magic Missiles, strike true!"

With a final flourish, Brindle unleashed a volley of flaming Magic Missiles that streaked through the air with unerring accuracy, each one slamming into a skeletal warrior with explosive force.

"Take that!" Brindle shouted; his face lit with the glow of his spell.

Three skeletons were struck simultaneously. The first missile shattered a skeleton's ribcage, sending bones clattering to the ground. The second missile struck another skeleton's skull, causing it to explode in a shower of bone fragments. The third missile hit a skeleton square in the chest, and with an added twist of Brindle's wrist, it burst into flames, the arcane fire spreading rapidly across its decayed bones, shedding light and smoke throughout the chamber.

"Impressive, Brindle!" Borkum shouted, charging forward to engage the remaining undead with his axe. "Let's show these bags of bones what we're made of!"

Hawk Tuah nodded, her staff glowing with natural energy. "Well done, Brindle! Well done!"

Lykxnzzl darted around the battlefield, his daggers flashing as he found weak points in the skeletal warriors. "Keep it up, Brindle! I'll take care of the stragglers."

Elaria raised her hands, summoning a protective aura around the group. "By the light, we will overcome!" She then drew her mace and began swinging at the skeletons.

As the moments dragged on, the number of skeletal warriors began to dwindle. The adventurers, though weary, fought with renewed vigor, sensing that the end of the battle was near. With one final coordinated effort, they dispatched the last of the undead, the bones collapsing into piles of dust and fragments on the cold stone floor.

Breathing heavily, Borkum lowered his axe, surveying the aftermath of the battle. "Is everyone alright?" he asked, his voice gruff but filled with concern.

Hawk Tuah nodded, wiping the sweat from her brow. "I am good".

Brindle let out a relieved sigh, the glow of his spells fading. "I am okay."

Lykxnzzl sheathed his daggers, a satisfied grin on his face. "Not bad for a warm-up. What’s next?"

Elaria smiled, her hands still glowing, does anyone needing healing?” She asked.

As the echoes of battle faded and the smoke cleared Lykxnzzl couldn't resist the urge to search through the remains. Ever the opportunist, the drow thief moved silently among the scattered bones, his keen eyes scanning for anything of value.

He crouched beside a particularly large pile of bones, poking through the remnants with a practiced hand. The bones were brittle and old, crumbling slightly under his touch. He sifted through fragments of ancient armor, rusted and worn beyond recognition. A few scraps of cloth disintegrated at his touch, and any weapons were mere shadows of their former selves, reduced to corroded lumps of metal.

"Nothing but dust and decay," Lykxnzzl muttered, his voice barely audible as he continued his search.

He moved to another pile, hoping for better luck. His fingers deftly lifted a tarnished pendant from the rubble, but as he examined it closer, he saw it was worthless, the once-precious metal now a corroded, unrecognizable piece of junk. With a sigh, he let it drop back into the pile.

His companions watched him with varying degrees of interest and amusement. Borkum leaned on his axe, a wry smile on his face. "Find anything shiny, Lykxnzzl?"

Lykxnzzl shook his head, standing up and brushing the dust from his hands. "Nothing worth the trouble. These skeletons must have been picked clean long ago."

As the adventurers regrouped and prepared to move deeper into the crypt, Hawk Tuah’s keen eyes caught something among the scattered bones that made her pause. She approached a particular skeleton, its bones still partially encased in rusted armor, and her heart skipped a beat.

Kneeling beside the remains, she gently brushed away the dust and debris, revealing a distinctive amulet still hanging around the skeleton’s neck. Her fingers trembled slightly as she recognized the symbol – an intricate design of intertwined vines and leaves, a token she had given to a dear friend many years ago.

“By the spirits,” Hawk Tuah whispered, her voice choked with emotion. “It’s Haldor.”

The rest of the party turned, noticing the change in her demeanor. Borkum stepped closer, concern etched on his face. “Hawk, what is it?”

Hawk Tuah swallowed hard, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “This skeleton... it was my friend, Haldor. We ventured into this crypt together years ago. He fell behind and we lost track of him. I never knew what became of him until now.”

Brindle Lightfoot’s expression softened with sympathy. “I’m sorry, Hawk.”

She took a deep breath, her resolve hardening. “Haldor wouldn’t want me to dwell on his fate. He’d want us to continue our mission and ensure no more souls are lost to this cursed place.”

With a gentle touch, she removed the amulet from the skeleton’s neck, intending to keep it as a memento. She whispered a silent prayer for Haldor, her fingers brushing the pendant one last time before standing up.

Borkum placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “We’ll see this through, Hawk. For Haldor and for everyone else who’s fallen here.”

With the memory of Haldor fueling their resolve, and a reminder what could happen to them if they were not careful, the adventurers gathered their courage and prepared to delve deeper into the crypt's shadowy corridors. Borkum led the way, his axe at the ready, while Hawk Tuah, clutching her fallen friend's amulet, walked with renewed determination. Brindle Lightfoot's fingers danced with arcane energy, ready to cast at a moment's notice, and Lykxnzzl moved stealthily, his keen eyes scanning for traps. Elaria, radiating calm and light, whispered a blessing for their safety, and Skyclaw, ever vigilant, kept a watchful eye on the darkness ahead. 

Together, they ventured onward, ready to face whatever horrors the cursed crypt had yet to unveil.