Behold the Unloved King (Part 1)
Log Info
- Title: Behold the Unloved King (Part 1)
- GM: Whirlpool
- Place: The Desolation
GAME: Harkashan casts Heroes' Feast. Caster Level: 12 DC: 23 GAME: Harkashan casts Magic Vestment. Caster Level: 12 DC: 20
In that case, you're just wrapping up dinner. You have some fair ideas of where the Unloved King might be buried. Deep in the Desolation, but fortuntely not within the reach of the Everstorm. Seeking entrance is going to be a chore in and of itself, given that you can't say for sure how well buried it is at this point.
One advantage of the locale is that it won't be likely you'll be interrupted, or have much in the way of civilization nearby to you. You're well beyond the most habitated part of the Rift.
GAME: Telamon casts Overland Flight. Caster Level: 20 DC: 24 GAME: Telamon casts Mind Blank. Caster Level: 20 DC: 27
Harkashan, admittedly, is feeling a bit overwhelmed and concerned. After all, he is amongst giants right now. Yet, he's trying his best to contribute. "I've got a few spells at theready, but I rather not use those until we are about to... well... 'step inside' so to speak." He remarks - having already spoken to Ravenstongue how he promises to try and shield her mind.
He's still holding a small stalk of churro from the Heroes' feast as the group works on the last bit of this puzzle, taking a moment to look around. It's not the first time he's been in the Desolation, but it's certainly a... most unique place.
He's going to let the people who are taking the lead on this, take the lead.
Seldan has been quiet - even for him - and unusually focused and tense throughout dinner. He is among the first to finish eating and begin seeing to his gear, wordlessly going through everything, checking gear, consumables, weapons, and so forth. His own set of earplugs, he has set aside for the moment, but seems to have brought a multi-layered method of doing so for when the time comes.
"We must needs find the place in question, first," he observes in low, quiet tones. "I know not yet the exact location, and it is my sincere hope that it does not openly greet us. Mourner, have you the means of locating our quarry?"
Dinner with friends is always good, even in trying times like this. And Telamon was quite pleased with Harkashan's conjured feast. Once the meal is done, Tel winds a couple spells around him, the flight spell and the mental warding.
"Thank you for the meal, Harkashan," the half-elf says with aplomb. "I know we're in a fairly lousy place, but it's good to have a proper sit-down before we set ourselves to work." He strokes his chin. "Although -finding- the tomb is going to take some time."
He smiles at his wife. "Here we are again, out performing daring deeds of derring-do, love. Ready?"
Aryia wipes her lips off, a streak of spicy red staining her arm as the dozen or so Am'shere specials are piled upon a plate. Her knee bounces, the only nervous tick outwardly showing. She gives a small nod towards Harkashan, adjusting her jacket as another thlaco is scooped up for the road. "Well, once we find the place, I can break down the wall or whatever the fuck it is if its sealed off," she posits with her hands, a chunk of beef flying out of the meal before she chomps down on it. Her appreciation shown in grabbing yet another one. She looks to the others. "I can just run around as a fallback attempt if we can't divine it?" <Handspeech/Tongues>
Cor'lana is not a purveyor of spice.
Which is to say that her efforts at consuming dinner are slow. And filled with tears. "Yes, thank you, Harkashan," she warbles, between patting at her eyes with a handkerchief that she stole from Telamon's pockets. (Not that Telamon is likely to complain about such a thing.)
She dries her eyes. "I'm ready," she says, before looking between Seldan and Harkashan. "If the Mourner doesn't know... Perhaps I could recreate a spell that can with a spell that's a bit... Costly?"
Verna considers Seldan's words and the lack of information; that is, the lack of specific information, as they have enough to progress thus far. "Possibly. Unfortunately, even powerful magic to locate a person, location, or object requires some minimum level of knowledge of what one seeks. My concern is that we may not hold enough to achieve a perfect success." She then retrieves a small tome to which she refers.
Harkashan bows his head to Telamon in answer, letting out this deep little rumble. Crunch. Nomf nomf. Smirking at bit at Ravenstongue with that slight bit of enjoyment of Ravenstongue getting exposed to food she isn't too used to. "Rune used to have a face like that, back in the day." He remarks to the Corset Sorceress.
"The Deathsinger did not grace me with a spell of finding today. I suspect Lady Verna may be more likely to know of it though." He notes then. There's however a little burning, like the visage of something glimmery. A single horn or wing...
Harkashan shifts aside, and speaks in Draconic; "You mustn't gaze into this moment, or this day any further." He remarks, before looking to the group. "Thirku believes it offer aid, though nothing exact, to align to our wishes."
GAME: Harkashan rolls Bluff: (15)+3: 18
Though Seldan had said nothing, it was clear during the meal that he was not eating with much enjoyment either, although whether that was due to spice or distraction is very much up for debate. He'd mostly stuck to the few things that were less spicy, and picked at the rest, and ate only enough to be polite and partake of the effects of the spell. He merely listens as the others discuss, although the instruction to Thirku attracts his attention, and his head swings that way. "There is danger here, in gazing into the past," he agrees.
Telamon simply places his hand in Lana's. "We can, but let's see if we have other options first." His lips curl downward in annoyance. "I considered seeking the location in the land of dreams, but... the dreamtime is a place where even things forgotten could be found. And while we want to take something from the tomb, we don't want to bring anything -else- out either."
He shakes his head. "Still. We have abilities to spare. We'll find it yet." He gives Lana's hand a squeeze, before nodding to Seldan and Harkashan.
"Thirku? They could offer insight that we might not be able to, although... It might be quite dangerous." Cor'lana replies to Harkashan's suggestion. "But... Perhaps if we find no further insight... It is a matter of picking the shiniest spot on the map that we have, and investigating? It should be a relatively quick process to determine, once we are there, if it is the place we are looking for?"
She blinks just a moment later. "Shiniest spot. I'm starting to sound like Pothy," she mutters. She squeezes Telamon's hand.
Aryia snickers at Cor'lana's misfortune with the spice, she herself having a runny nose but just keeps on munching. The mention of this Thirku, the glowing outline, and the aside in draconic gets a white brow to rise in confusion.
She scratches her head. "Agreed about the danger of looking into things." She rolls her shoulders, a light snort leaving her at Lana's insight. "Not a half bad idea. We're not exactly pressed for time." <Handspeech/Tongues>
Verna arches a brow at Cor'lana, though otherwise does not comment on any similarities that she may or may not share with Apotheosis. "While time is a reasonable constraint, I venture that searches of all possibilities until the true location is found may offer the least risk overall." She nods to Aryia in agreement.
Harkashan bows his head. After all, he doesn't know the exactness of the danger. It's best he doesn't know the strictest of details around this - memetic risk and all that. And he's okay with this. Instead, he's more concerned with focusing inwards, making sure that Thirku has 'retreated' from this moment, before he bows his head.
"Then let us venture forth." And readies to move with the rest of them.
"I feel like we're circling a lake that something nasty is hiding in," Telamon remarks, floating along a few inches off the ground. "We know there's something there we need, but we're not sure the best way to go into the water without getting eaten." He pauses. "I wonder if it might not be a bad idea, once this little trip is done, to modify our memories so we don't remember the location again."
Cor'lana shivers at the thought of modifying memories. But she squeezes Telamon's hand. "On this occasion... It might be worthwhile," she says softly. "Just this once. Some things are better left forgotten."
She looks to the group. "Telamon or I can provide teleports as needed."
"I venture that a wise idea, indeed." Having finished whatever it was he was doing, Seldan stands abruptly and begins to assemble weapons and pack about his person, clearly preparing to go. "At all costs must this horror never return. On this does my honor depend, and that of my ancestors, for it was they who begrudgingly spoke of it to me. I will do what I must to see that it does not." He has not smiled the entire time, his entire demeanor is tense and focused.
One last churro down the gullet, the mute pugilist pops to her feet and wipes her hands off on her pants. Aryia pulls an arm to the side to stretch. "Fuck yes, walking long distance, my favorite," she lightly smirks, nervous leg still bouncing. Giving Telamon a brief look, she seems uncomfortable about it, but- "Might have to do that. Had enough shit fuck with my head, but it's necessary."
"Yes, we must make sure whatever is in there doesn't get out, at any cost," she agrees with Seldan, her scarred visage finally dropping to its usual scowl. <Handspeech/Tongues>
With magic in the state it is in these days, a little 'glitchy', such long distance movement through it carries risks. All the same, you've got points on a map and time to get it right, so it's not exactly like you're unable to.
The first such potential locale for the Unloved King is a set of dry, desiccated hills deep in the Desolation. To the north are the time-ravaged lands of the Vast, to your south the great, swirling vortex of the Everstorm, visibly on the horizon.
The sun is shining, but the wind is mighty strong here. Rubble surrounds you on these hill tops. Fortifications.
Arrived after a long journey into the first place, Harkashan takes a moment to sit down on one of the cragged pieces of rubble sticking out of the ground. Taking out a flask of water, and drinking of it. He wears heavy armor, and isn't a sandborn Sith-makar. He can handle the heat, but the heavy armor makes long journeys like this a bit harder on him.
Resting like this, he gazes out onto the fortifications, wondering what could have one day stood here. A civilization that has expired since. Having been born in Am'shere, he knows that sight all too well, for the Jungles to the north especially are filled with the remains of a fallen Empire.
What little respite walls gave, the the decline of a civilization.
"We dig down?" He asks by motioning his hands. <Handspeech>
Telamon takes notes on the magical issues; it might prove useful later on, especially in the hands of a certain gnome of his acquaintance. But it doesn't sit well with him, these magical 'hiccups'. It feels like the Sea of Mana is having occasional hiccups, as absurd as that sounds.
Watching the Everstorm for a moment, Tel muses, "I wonder if anyone's ever tried to harness it. Like a waterwheel on a river. Crazy, yes, but it's a shame watching all that energy, sound and fury, gone to nothing." As his eyes sweep around, looking at the rubble, he nods to Harkashan. "Maybe. I'd give a lot for some of those fellows from the Tashraan Archaeological Society right now. They've got tons of experience at this sort of thing."
Aryia tightens a cloth around the bottom half of her face to keep debris out, squinting against the whipping wind as she looks towards the first potential spot. "Fuck me, my ears are going to turn into kites and drag me off in this shit," she complains with her hands to no one in particular.
Craning her head back to take in the Everstorm in the distance, she barely catches the flick of Hark's hands. "Can try," she agrees, unslinging a shovel strapped across her back. Several white bands are tightened around her hands before she tries to find a place with the others. "I guarantee you some crazy fuckers are going to try that, Telamon. Or already have. Or their hubris surrounds us now. Who knows?" <Handspech/Tongues>
Cor'lana looks like she's contemplating using magic to dig, in a sense, but the wobbling of mana doesn't mean that the convenient magical option is the best one to use for something mundane like this.
"I suppose there's no replacement for work as Angoron intended," Cor'lana says cheerfully, going to retrieve her own shovel from within her bag of holding.
And then her face falls as she looks between Telamon and Aryia. "... Now I'm sounding like Lily-of-the-Valley," she murmurs. She sighs heavily and just goes to follow Aryia.
Perhaps the most annoying thing about Seldan right now is that despite the wind and the dust of a long journey, the sand being swept around, his armor is impeccably clean. His twin cloaks, ordinary atop magical, whip around him, dust-covered and fraying at the edges, and somewhere in the journey he had tucked the ends of both behind his pack to keep them out of his face. His now-military short hair is unaffected, though flying dust leaves him shielding his eyes.
Seeing Aryia secure a cover over her face to keep the debris out, he takes a moment to put in his earplugs, and fully covers his ears with the scarf that he wraps over his face in imitation of Aryia. He signals to the others in new-learned Handspeech, "Let's get started."
GAME: Whirlpool rolls 1d4: (4): 4
"Gobbers," Verna offers with gestures as one possibility. Afterwards, she reaches into her hood to plug her ears and ensure said plugs are secure. Then there is the matter of digging. A shovel is regarded for some seconds, forlornly, before she takes it up for use. Between hood, plugs, and wind, any snickering at Cor'lana is just as lost as any shattered artifacts for which they search.
The area is abandoned, long abandoned and that means you can work in peace. Peace and silence thanks to the ear plugs, if we're honest.
Digging is time consuming as you effectively engage in archaeological excavation, trying to see if there's 'more' here to merit further digging at this site. Is The Unloved King here?
Hard to say, at first, but it becomes clear that your task has been made more difficult by the acts taken by the survivors to erase all signs that anything might once have been. It is this notable facet that is making your task more difficult. Reasonably, those trying to hide this would have done what they could to ensure that there was no 'clue' left that might encourage some wayward treasure hunter to dig it up.
And this means that this first site is a bust. The fortifications alone would surely draw the eye, and digging more or less confirms this. You find signs of treasure hunters having picked through these ruins, several times over, though none recently.
And so you move on, to the next potential site, and to the next. With magic, this conserves a vast amount of time and energy, and with the heroes' feast guarding you against fatigue, it's easy enough to put the extra miles on, so to speak.
Its the earplugs that help you finally identify a site of interest, believe it or not. As you dig down into the earth, each of you begins to sense a vibration, like an going, pulsating tremor that never ends.
Physical labor is not Telamon's favorite thing, unless it's something specifically for himself or his wife. Planting the garden? That's work, but it's fun. This? Not so much. Still, he brought tools -- folding shovel as well as a smaller spade.
But by the third site, Telamon is becoming a touch grumpy. Only when they start to feel the vibration does he pause, and then suddenly recoil in shock. His face is pale, as he looks at the others, signing in Handspeech. "Do you feel that? Like a heartbeat, or some vast artifice engine?" He shivers a bit.
Aryia gives a final snort at Cor'lana before she slots her earplugs in, following Seldan's lead. Quite a bit of digging later, the pugilist is covered in dirt, crawling out of the hole with deeper etched frown on her face. Another site then. Bust. Damn. At least she found an interesting looking rock? Black with white flecks. She shrugs, jamming it into a pocket before the second site is called to be nothing.
Finally, her shovel strikes the dirt after some odd amount of time digging thrice. She freezes alongside Telamon, covered in sweat to only be coated in dust.
Her scarred throat bobs. "I do," she signs slowly, trying to steel herself. "I think this may be our point of no return." <Handspeech/Tongues>
By the time they reach the fourth site, Heroes' feast or not, Harkashan is a bit tired. But, he's digging. And by the time they start hearing the thrumming, he's come up with a bit of a plan...
For the moment the rhythm, the thrums, all of that comes...
He starts tapping his foot matching a completely different song from his younger years. A song he's known for decades now, in order to focus on that, and literally create a 'song stuck in his head' to try and ignore the resonance from below - as his digging continues.
Seldan's demeanor does not change through the search. Focused, single-minded, patient, and nearly wordless, seemingly locked in his own little world. He, too, is covered in sweat and dust, but his entire mien is one of focused determination, one that will not give up no matter the length of the search. Knowing that they chose to do this the hard way for safety reasons does not make it less frustrating, but he silently reminds himself of this as he works.
Not being musical in the slightest, when he does find it, it takes him a minute to identify it. Vibration. That is a thing he had not considered, but he keeps digging, changing his digging rhythm to be explicitly out of step with the vibrations.
Earplugs in, Cor'lana frowns, signing as well. "At least it's not... a rhythm? Nothing like a conventional song. So..." <Handspeech>
She pales for a moment at a thought in her head, and as she looks over to Harkashan, she decides that his way might help assuage her fears about learning the song of the Unloved King by accident. So she starts tapping her feet.
And one lucky member of the group is treated to a song in his head. It's Telamon, listening to his wife singing. She follows Seldan's stead and digs out of time, too.
Verna is also not fond of heavy manual exertion, moreso when the results are lacking. More than once. Yet, they have little recourse. Magic could alleviate much, but so near the storm in lands already made unstable by unknown powers... No.
To deter the dullness, and perhaps out of habit, she takes to humming to herself a simple melody. While not heard now, it is one familiar to the non-corvided Lupecyll-Atlon household during various household chores. Due to this, she is not aware of the vibration until she realizes that both Telamon and Aryia have halted and paused shovels for signing. "What is--" a pause and then "that?" follows with a gesture to the ground.
The vibration is steady. There are brief interruptions to it, but nothiong that implies a song or dance, thankfully.
But it definitely suggests something.
Telamon shudders again before getting a hold of himself. "Reminds me of a book I read about. I'll tell you about it later." Well, that's a vote of confidence -- believing there'll be a later. He smiles at Lana, reaching over to touch her arm, before starting to work at the earth once more.
Though no one can really hear it, he begins to hum a tune, much as Harkashan is. It's the only one that springs to mind, and it's such a silly thing to hum -- hopefully, the sheer absurdity of it will keep the nightmare beneath at bay.
"Sweet ball root has I has I, sweet ball root has I. Deep ground root all mine all mine, sweet ball root has I. Out the ground, up and down, throw sweet ball root up high, up high. Oh sweet ball root has I..."
Aryia spies the others going about their own methods of adapting for the situation. She reaches into her shirt, pulling out a necklace that has a foot long tube of gold dangling free from her neck. Her shovel resumes striking the earth, the impact her rhythm, and a soft whistling through her teeth fills her skull with a tune from another, more dainty, life.
As you push down, the 'thrumming', this steady vibration, grows more intense. Finally, Harkashan's shovel hits something firm and solid -- a stone slab.
Tink! Harkashan hits the firmness, then puts the shovel down and goes down to his knees and starts to doggy-scrape away the sand. Tail up, leaning down on his haunches, fingers down, grabbing sand and sending it back between his legs!
PADDLE PADDLE PADDLE PADDLE!
Cor'lana pauses momentarily in her digging to look at Telamon like he's grown a second head for the song. But there are worse songs in life to sing.
This is the song that doesn't end--
Then she sees Harkashan's hit something and she goes to try and help him, shoveling frantically to try and unearth the thing that he's discovered. Thankfully for the telepathic connection she has with Telamon, he is spared the song that doesn't end.
GAME: Seldan rolls perception: (10)+25: 35
Aryia's shovel stops as she peers over at Harkashan dropping to his hands and knees, as- she dips out of the way of the flying sand! Wiping at her face to clear the dirt and waving a hand at people to get their attention, she flicks briefly, "We will have to seal this back up on the way out. But when you all are ready, I can punch us through."
That out of the way, she also pitches in to aid with her shovel. <Handspeech/Tongues>
Seldan does not look up immediately, distracted as he is by ignoring the vibrations that surge through his armored feet, rattling sabatons and greaves in a rather uncomfortable fashion. After a few minutes, though, he does, and similarly comes to help - placing himself on the side Harkashan isn't throwing sand on.
The stone slab begins to expand in your eyes. There is writing on it -- old writing. Old Aiglosian, they call it. Nearly indecipherable to the modern trade speak, that's for sure.
Verna has no issues setting down her shovel, now. Between Aryia and Harkashan, there are far more efficient methods. For herself, at the very least. "I can confirm that Aryia's strikes are most affective against most known substances," she gestures whilst watching Harkashan clear the lighter material. Then writing is made apparent, and she steps in to view, even at risk of flying detritus from Makari diggy-diggy hole.
Harkashan, luckily or unfortunately, cannot read Old Aiglosian, nor has anything prepared to learn languages. The Sith-makar knows the risk of memetic risks. So by the time he's exposed enough of it - with the aid of those who are shoveling with him - he gets back up and steps back from it. He then motions to Aryia, inviting them.
Once the writing is exposed, Seldan wipes the back of his forehead with a hand exposed by the removal of his gauntlets somewhere in the digging process, and comes over to take a look. He stares at it for a moment, and signs, I have no ability to read this. It may be that it contains a warning.
The mute rubs her eyes as the sprawling slab reveals itself. Her head tilts one way. Then another. A glance is cast around, to see if anyone wants to figure out what it says.
Seeing the invitation, Aryia gives a firm glare of assessment to each and every person gathered here to ensure that they were ready. She sets her shovel aside, and limbers up in a series of painful looking stretches. "Could be a warning. Might have some insight. Maybe. Regardless, just tell me when," she signs in agreement with Seldan, letting any scholars take a stab at the long dead language. <Handspeech/Tongues>
What secrets does this tablet hold?
Well, aside from the fact that digging arond it reveals more solid stone, expanding beyond it. It is interspersed with more such tablets, bearing the same text, or slightly different.
Either way, it's something.
The vibrating is continuing.