Death in the Mountains - IC

Some other place, sometime ago…

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The figure that stumbled over the rocky mountainside was scarcely recognisable as a man. Drooling, glassy-eyed, he crooned and babbled to himself, walking stiff-legged like one in a dream.

His mind was empty. He saw nothing of the landscape around him, heard nothing of the wind, felt nothing of the cold rain. He knew nothing of the mountain people who saw him in the distance and bolted their doors, scaring children to sleep with tales of the Ghost of the Crags.

Sometime, he remembered. Not completely, just garbled snatches of the past. Sometimes, he saw the beautiful smooth bones of those who had followed him, the eye-sockets turned to him in obedience and love. Sometimes he remembered being hunted, and his bleary eyes widened, his numbed legs tried to move faster. Nearly always, he knew that he had been wronged, that every mans hand was against him. He knew that power and glory had been stolen from him, and he burned to regain them. If only he could remember how and why…

The night was cold and clear as he made his way across the high fells. He knew not where he was going, he never did any more, but his feet took the lead and he followed. Perhaps, he thought, he was still being pursued, but he wasn’t sure. He just knew that he had to keep moving.

Without knowing why, he stumbled and struck his head on a rock. The pain cleared his blurred vision a little, and he found himself sprawled at the foot of a mound. Something very far away in his mind told him such places had once been special to him; he tried to remember but he could not.

Out on the fell he thought he could hear the pounding of horses hooves and the rattle of a coach or wagon. Something approached. He tried to lift himself but pain lanced through his head causing stars to flash before his eyes before his vision started to darken. He heard the horses stop close by and then a moment later he was aware that someone stood over him.

A dark voice seeped into his mind “Your time has not yet come”

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Slyth looked over the peaceful dung heap. The farmers were wasting time with vegetables instead of raising vast amounts of feeding stock, it was no wonder the children were weaklings and the strongest man was the physical match of a skink.

"Your guessss matchessss all known qualitiessss of the ratsss. Do we warn the town or ussse them assss bait to lue them out of the holesssss?"
He had a devious grin on his face, but the others couldnt see it. Only one who grew up among the saurus in cuexotyl would have even half an inkling.

Using the village as bait was an idea that pleased him very much.

Daemaer nodded.

"But what are they after? We need to speak with the monks and see about the job, and ask questions about the rats....and while we are it, why not try some of the famous beer i have heard of...ONWARD!"

He walks toward the monk at the gate.

"Greetings fine sir! I heard you were in the market for some adventuring types!"

"You would alert them to ussss and the ratssss?" he hissed at Daemer, "If they exsssspect a fight, then they would flee insssstead." he says, licking the air with his forked tongue.

Before the group could reach a decision, Daemaer was already off and moving. "I suppose we are moving to meet the monks then. Better to warn them anyways." He stands from his kneeling position and walks off after the elf.

Serestre eyes the lizardman with wide eyes for a quick second, before shaking her head. 

This must be the way of the world. This isn't home anymore, that's for sure. 


She lets the thoughts escape her mind and then finds herself moving along with the group. 

"I agree, it is best they are warned. Hopefully, then, they may stand a chance." 

The monk at the gate who was slouching against the wall, straightens himself as you approach “Taals blessings to you travellers.” He intones as you draw near. His brown robes are very simple with a rope tied around his waist, and a stout quarterstaff resting against his shoulder. His basic attire is what one would expect from a follower of Taal the Lord of Nature which his blessing gives credence to.

After a brief conversation about your business he takes you into the monastery grounds and leads you towards the main building. The yard is busy with monks going about various work from tending the henhouses, sweeping, to a couple of the monks sparring, the crack of their staves as they strike the other echoing off the solid looking limestone walls. Compared to outside and the bustle of the yard the monastery is quiet. You’ll be taken to a room which has a table and chairs and asked to wait while the monk speaks to the Master Jean-Louis Dintrans, about a meeting. You won’t be waiting long before a couple of junior monks enter; one carries a large bowl of water for washing away the dirt of the road and the other refreshments – water, ale, bread and a particularly stinky cheese. As they leave you’re told the master will see you soon. You’ll have plenty of time to clean up, rest a little and eat – before an hour or so later one of the junior monks returns, it is time to meet the master.

You’re led through a small library and into a study where a monk sits in a huge wooden chair by the rooms sole window, basking in the pale mountain sunshine that streams into the room. He is balding and has well weathered skin, but he perhaps looks younger than one would expect a ‘master’ to be? “Welcome, welcome” he says “I trust your journey through the mountains was a safe one?”

Reginald thanked the monk for his hospitality and washed up when offered. He ate his fill but stuck to water rather than ale. They still had to meet with the head master and maybe even get into a scuffle in the evening. With that being the case, he wanted a clear head.

+++

"Well, our trip was without incident, but we can't say the same for the corpses we ran into at the first way-station up. The road up has a skaven problem - and that means this monastery might as well very shortly. I believe we have out paced them as they're traveling underground mostly and at night. What we know for sure is that they are headed this way. Oh, before I forget tell me, have any wayward mules wandered into the monastery in the last couple of days? If so, I might need to lay claim to them."

Slythe watched from afar. They had decided to tell the town of the threat instead of using it as bait and he wholeheartedly disagreed.

Still, most northerners found his presence...disturbing, so he would wait until something happened in the meantime.

He pulls the skins tighter around his shoulders, warding off the bite of cold.

Master Jean-Louis' smile drops at the word of trouble on the road, he concentrates on Reginalds every word. His voice loses its welcoming tone "The news you bring is very concerning and you think they are headed this way? What evidence have you seen of this and how many are there?" as he speaks his right arm pulls a wooden medallion from beneath his robes, a stylized wooden deer skull which he leaves prominent atop his clothing. "I do not doubt you, but I would know all so I can react accordingly as there are many here who look to me for their care."


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From the treeline Slythe watches, his green skin and leathers making sure he wasn't too obvious to the people of the monastery. There was no large scale farms here, with the food grown very much on the small scale and what animals he could see seemed to be allowed to roam the village and its surroundings so they could forage. Some children laughed and squealed as they chased each other...
…out of the corner of your eye to catch movement. Instincts kick in and you slowly turn your head towards it the hope that it wouldn’t notice you. Staring straight back at you is a Ratkin, its red eyes widen at what you could only consider to be surprise. It turns to flee...

"Fellow named Norbert was ambushed on his way down the mountain. He told us his tale and we retraced his tracks. Sure enough, we found his bodyguards bodies and put them to rest. Then we made our way up here; by that I mean we followed skaven tracks up this way."

Reginald runs a hand through his thick red hair and then sets it back down on the arm of the chair while he thinks. "There are at least ten of them leaving tracks. Could be more of them underground we can't count. Tell me, have you had trouble with the rat kind before?"

Daemaer had let Reginald do the talking, but stepped a little closer to add something.

"Also...do you know of anything in the area that they might be interested in?"

Serestre gave the brother a respectful bow and silent prayer to Taal. She hadn't been near a place of worship for Taal before and could see the differences immediately between her patron diety and the one that they worshipped here. She writes a few things down on the parchment before filing it away in the canister. She listens to the conversation, letting the dwarf do the talking before adding a bit herself. 

"It was a miracle Norbert made it to us. And that we have arrived before the ratkin could do anything to you all. Blessed more like."

Slythe jumps into action, chasing the ratkin before he could warn the others.

Sssstupid he berates himself, sssshould have hidden.

It didnt matter as he used his superior muscle to catch up to the rat.

Jean-Louise stands before the window and looks out while questions are asked "We've not had trouble in these parts for over 30 years and it was goblins that were the problem back then, put down they were by the dwarfs in the mine... so the previous master told me anyway." he turns away from the window to face you "Obviously there could be more and while 10 or so skaven could cause mischief they wouldn't be a threat to the Monastery.” Looking over to Daemaer at his question he shrugs “I can’t think of what they would want with us, we’re a simple lot with very little of value. Perhaps they are just passing, but nevertheless I will ensure we are prepared if we are attacked.”

The master returns to his chair once more and bathes himself in the pale sunlight. “Now, the junior monk said you’re looking for work – I have something that I need help with but these skaven should be dealt with first?”


+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The skaven darts off between the trees, his superior reflexes and agility trumping Slythes longer strides and power. The ratkin clearly knew he was no match for a Saurus and was also taking care to not take a direct line to wherever he was going. Stamina would not be an issue in keeping up, but the fact that the skaven was just quicker and slowly pulling away from Slythe would. After a minute or so the skaven was mostly out of sight and Slythe was following by hearing along and a minute later there was no sign of one of the lizardmans ancient foe…

"Hunting skaven is serious work," says Reginald getting straight to the point. "Of course it was our duty to warn you about them, but it seems as though it is in your best interest to batten down the hatches here, so to speak. That means we would be hunting on your behalf and on your payroll. Yes?"

Reginald was starting to think they lucked out by not having to wipe the skaven out on the trail; at least now they could be rewarded for their efforts.

Slythe knew the skaven had gotten away.
He hisses in protest. Nothing to do now but warn the others.....and the town as well.

***

He walks through the outlaying "farms" to be greeted by cold stares and raised pitchforks. They kept their distance though and let him pass without compliant. He moves in towards the building, past the idiotic food-growers.

He finally finds the dwarves and the elf speaking to a village elder.
A ssssskaven ssssspotted me. They are out there-ssssss."

Reginald holds a hand up in the air. The timing couldn't have been better. "You see?
Grubby little rats are already checking out the place."

Back up from his seat again at Slythes entrance and news Master Jean-Louis calls in a monk who must have been waiting outside “Ring the bell and gather the monks and villagers, I will address them in 15 minutes. Oh and get Fredrick to open the armoury and distribute whats there to the monks.” The young monk just stands there for a moment staring open mouthed at the Saurus “don’t just stand there lad. MOVE!” shouts Jean-Louis.

He turns back to you all but primarily addresses Reginald who’d been doing most of the talking so far “The monastery doesn’t not have much coin, but I’ll pay you what I can if you deal with the vermin. Ten gold per set of ears is reasonable I think?”

Valgard nodded in thanks to the monks that let him wash up and drink. "Ah, this cheese is fantastic, an tha ale is smooth. Many thanks. Many thanks." He says to the monks as he eats his fill. When they returned to take him to their master, he nodded, grabbing his axe as he moved.

+++

"Aye, ten gold is plenty, maybe we can get a barrel a this ale fer the road too." He says as he takes another swig of the ale he'd brought with him. He smiles.

"Absolutely reasonable - and the additional ale and cheese is a very nice touch, thank you, sir. You are far too hospitable to your guests." Reginald stood and made ready to leave and get a feel of the monastery. He was of the mind that the best offense was a solid defense.

"If anything else comes up, don't hesitate to let us know."

Daemaer, who had been slightly distracted for a moment, popped back.

"Sounds like a plan! I'm not much for planning but I will trust you military type fellows. Another beer, and I will be ready!"

He moves out to where the refreshments had been served and helps himself.

"What a great day!"

Slythe, just hissed lowly. He cared little for money and treasures.
The combat would be refreshing, however, and it would put this whole little hiccup behind them and get them moving again.

"Your monksssss would tassste very good to a rat." he taunts them as he hefts the celestite sword on his shoulder.

The head monk arches a brow at Slythe "I'm sure we all would taste good to the skaven, but with your help I'm sure it will not come to that." he keeps his eyes on the Saurus looking him and down "Forgive my curiosity but I have never met one of your kind before, you're from Lustria? We've not the time now but I would very much like to speak with you about your kind if possible."

Jean-Louis nods to you all "You have my thanks. I will arrange for some rooms to be made ready and you're welcome to join us for our evening meal if you wish. Please excuse me for I have things to organise, feel free to come and go as you please."

Lusssstria? No. I come from the Sssssouthlands. Below the deadlandssss on your mapsss.
Above it on ourssss."

He was used to stares born out of fear, but the curiosity was new to him, something he hadnt seen out of his traveling companions.

Serestre jotted down the exchange between everyone and the head monk making sure to keep keep all the details. She was glad the terms were agreed upon so quickly. She had expected there to be some haggling, but the company she had joined seemed like a lot that was nice enough to do the job for a reasonable price. She declines the offer of any ale given to her politely. 

"Thank you for your hospitality. Should you need any assistance in the healing arts, I am able and willing to aid you. We might need it in the coming days." 

Reginald nods and addresses the group. "Well, with what Slythe saw, they're probably coming tonight. I say we get this place ready for an attack - need to check any cellars or underground shelters for likely entry points. Doubt they'll be hitting the main gates with only ten."

Unless there are any objections he makes his way to find someone to guide him to any of the areas he mentioned.

Valgard chugs the last bit of ale, setting the glass down on a nearby table, the first unoccupied surface he could find. He coughs and looks at the head monk, "Excuse me yer... monkliness, are there any clear hidey-holes around? Old mines, caves, taboo foresty spots, that sort of thing that might house a small force of the skaven? I say we send Slythe back out to go look fer em while we fortify. We can send the other two with him as well, if he wouldn't mind, I'm sure the two a us brothers can get yer defenses set up proper. Just find em Slythe, don't fight em."

Jean-Louis replies to each of you in turn as you ask your questions. While it is clear that he has things to organise in light of the news you've brought he listens patiently to each of you.

"Your offer of Shallya's blessings would be welcome in the village Lady Serestre; old Tom broke his leg in a fall not long ago and while we've treated him as best as we can your skills no doubt eclipse our own. You'll easily find his abode, it the house closest to the south gate."

At Valgards and Reginalds queries he goes to his desk and produces a large key from one its draws "They're are no obvious places outside the monastery's walls that I'm aware of where the skaven might hide, but if you want to check inside its walls there are a few places although they all seem like dead ends to me. Firstly there is the cellar in the brewery which you'll find easily enough. The second is the crypt, you're welcome to have a look although do not disturb those who rest within, this key will get you inside." he holds out the key for whoever wishes to take it "hmm, thinking about it my predecessor was a man of some magical talent and there is a rumour that he had a workshop of sorts hidden in the crypts, but there is nothing down there as far as I've seen."

Daemaer returned to the others, beer in hand, and listened to the proposed plans. His ears perked up at the mention of a workshop.

"Well i think thats settled it then! Myself and my large friend here", he taps Slythe on the shoulder, "...will go check out the cellar and crypts! Magic and more beer awaits!"

He looks at Daemaer and smiles, though no one here would be able to tell.

"Crawling throughssss a crypt ssssstomping ratssss?" He says. The fact that they were going to look through a cellar for rats was not lost on Slythe's stunted sense of humor.

Reginald looked dumbfounded for a moment and then shook his head. "No, no. You misunderstand me. Slythe, you're the only one of us who knows where to start looking for the skaven outside of the walls. You need to be the one who goes looking for them. Not to toot my own horn,
but there is no one better here suited for shoring up defenses than I. Besides, crypts and cellars are within the realm of dwarfs. Aren't elfs more inclined to forests anyways?"

Reginald added the last part with genuine curiosity rather than as a jest or sarcasm.

As you move into the yard and make ready to part ways you see Jean-Louis addressing monks of varying ages from the young to those of more advanced years ".... may be wishing to visit harm upon us, so we will need to be vigilant in the coming days. Brother Milt, break open the armoury and ensure every brother and sister who can use a crossbow is armed - while that is done I will speak to the villagers." The one you assume to be brother Milt, is a small man mountain - easily six feet and barrel chested nods grimly in reply and takes a few brothers with him into the monastery as the rest of the gathering breaks up.

+++++++++++++++++Valgard & Reginald++++++++++++++++++

You enter the crypt via an iron gate in a fenced off area of the monastery yard and head down the winding steps until you are some twenty feet underground by both of your expert reckonings. There is no light source so one or both of you with flint and steel light your torch or lantern, the light sending flickering shadows dancing over the walls. At the foot of the stairs is a door made of heavy, rough hornbeam marked with deer-skull motifs on inlaid brass plaques, a thick iron bar holds it in place but your key opens the padlock. The door creaks open and a musty smell wafts over you.

Beyond the door is a large chamber containing two rows of ten stone sarcophagi. The stone walls are covered in bronze plates, there are easily over hundred covered niches and a further fifty that are uncovered which reveal two foot wide holes in the walls – where the dead would be laid to rest. The only exit from the chamber is an identical hornbeam door directly opposite you.

+++++++++++++++Slythe, Serestre & Daemaer++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Returning to where the skaven watcher was discovered Slythe with Serestre and Daemaer in tow retraces his steps through the trees until the rough location is reached where the ratkin was lost amongst the trees. The tracks so far had been relatively easy to follow, now for the hard part…

Daermaer brought up his hand.

"My apologies friend! I heard the words "magic" and "workshop" and everything else faded away. And yes, most generally do prefer the open air and forests and what not. Personally i dont mind! Where better find a little excitement!"

He winks at Reginald, before turning and slapping Slythe on the back again.

"Well that settles it! Lead the way! Forest and rats await!"

***

He follwed Slythe out into the forest, keeping quiet as the Lizardman started tracking, keeping his eyes peeled for any signs of trouble.

He sniffed the air with his forked tongue, but he sensed little traces of the wily rat.

"He musssst have a hidey hole nearby." he searches around the area before finding some tacks.
"Here are his feetprintsssss. Too fast to bother cover hisss tracksssss."

+++++++++++++++Slythe, Serestre & Daemaer++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The tracks of the skaven weave through the trees, taking you in an indirect northerly direction. All feels normal in the wood, birds tweet and flutter about, a red squirrel pauses as it nibbles on something as you pass underneath its tree. The tracks are lost a few times as your foe moved over harder ground but with perseverance and the help of Serestre and Daemaer, Slythe keeps on course until you find yourself on the edge of the wood and basin. The tracks end where steep rock rises before you, there seems to be a way up some thirty feet to a ledge which is shrouded in shadow...

[The Skaven]

Daemaer looked around.

"Well then. Do we go up? Do you think its a trap? Im pretty sure its a trap right? Those rats are sneaky like that...."

[The Skaven]

Serestre walked along with the elf and the lizardman, looking out for anything that just might be out of the ordinary. She looked side to side, a little bit afraid of what might jump out at them. Plus, she didn't have the greatest confidence in her fighting ability. 

"Whew, well, we gotta do something right? What do you think, Slythe?" 

[In The Crypts]

Reginald stalked foward, never moving too far in front of his brother in the event that something nasty came out to greet them. They had learned the hard way previously that fighting back to back or side to side was the much smarter move. After nearly clearing the first room he gave his brother a nod.

"Nothing here save for the dead. Next room?"

He gestured with his warhammer.

[In The Crypts]

Valgard eyed the alcoves one by one. As he moved down the rows he made sure to keep close to his brother, knowing full well that they fought better when closer. As he looked into the alcoves, he realized quickly that there was nothing there. He picked up the pace a bit and eyed the last few columns casually.

Valgard replied to his brother with an affirming grunt. "Next room." He said before moving to unlatch the bar.

[In The Crypts]

Opening the door reveals a short passage way with another hornbeam door at the opposite end. Along each wall are two openings with iron gates baring the way into small chambers, each with an identical sarcophagus of great antiquity...

[In the Crypts]

"There." The Runesmith gestured to the second resting place on the right, waiting for Valgaard to see what he had: less dirt and dust on the ground. "Tha' one's seen some use recently."

[The Skaven]

Slythe points up the rock face.
"There, in the ssshadowsss iss a cave. Can you not ssssee it?" he asks the others.

His forked tongue slithers in and out from his scaled lips.

"We will have to climb." he says.

[In The Crypts]

Valgard eyed the two rooms closely. He was about to make his way to the next door when his brother spoke to him. Leaning on his axe, Val shined his lantern where his brother pointed. "Ahh, the floor is nice and clean. Good eye brother. I'll get the coffin, if there's something waiting behind it, I'll cover your arse." He secures his lantern to his belt, takes up his axe, and moves through the gate. "Ready?" He asks, bracing himself against the sarcophagus.

[In the Crypts]

"Ready." With Valgaard ready to unleash fury with his axe, Reginald moved to lift the lid of the coffin...

[In the Crypts]

With much grunting and straining between you the sarcophagi lid is place carefully on its side resting against the side of the coffin. Within is a desiccated corpse of a man in rotten robes, a symbol of a stags head carved from wood rests on his chest on a chain around his neck.

On the front of the coffin reads the legend "Ahren Englestien, 2113-2167"

[In the Crypts]

"Fifty-four is a bit young for a human, eh? Huh. No matter. Maybe the priests were down here scuttling about?" It was clear he didn't believe that for a second. Why only here and not the other areas? Either way, no skaven were attacking so he figured the best move on.

"Shall we?"

[The Skaven]

Slythe spotted a path, not easy but by no means a challenge. It would be a good warm up before the slaughter of the ratkin.

"Follow me." he hisses as he heads up. His pace was slow and methodical. He had no desire to risk failure when there wasnt a need for risk.

[The Skaven]

As the three of you step onto the ledge two skaven skulk cautiously out of the shadows of the cave mouth. Their fur is rank and matted, a dark brown in colour, beady red eyes glare at you. The jagged swords and shields they carry at the ready...



"Stay stay backss you must." the rat on the right spits out at you "Boss rat rat, come speakss."

The skaven hold their ground some ten feet away blocking the way into the cave, hate shines in their eyes.

[The Crypt]

The door in the corridor opens into another large chamber about two thirds the size of the first you came through. Fourteen stone sarcophagi, each one of a Master of La Maisontaal judging by the inscriptions. The most recent is that of de Muscadet who was interred here only a year ago. The chamber is beautifully decorated, with carved scenes of nature and wild places, the workmanship is exquisite.