Lord Ruby34
Under the glare of an unforgiving sun, deep in the barren desert steppe, you slowly recover your senses. Through eyes that have known only darkness for days you catch blurred images of dour faced guards that hem you in, etched black against the blue mantle of sky. Beyond them a ring of frenzied townsfolk spit curses and hiss behind black and broken teeth; pelting you with dung and stinking refuse in their fervor.

Memory and understanding come flooding back in a rush of flashing nightmare images - the horror of your situation draws clear. Charged with the murder of the blood-prince, you have been condemned as Servus Mortem and made death-slave to the fallen heir. For decades this heathen custom has seen countless citizens entombed alive; lowered into the Crypts of Eternity with only their pitiful wails to comfort them. Wives buried with dead husbands, children entombed with deceased parents, and even murderers buried alive with their victims - all at the whim of the Mad-Sultan and the decree of his monstrous custom.

Now it is you who stands upon the great copper platform, suspended over a gaping black pit, the stench of carrion death wafting up from its haunted depths. A hard loaf of bread and skin of wine is thrust into your arms by a grim-faced soldier - ceremonial offerings to aid in your journey beyond. Encircled by armed spear-men, you are prodded toward the center of the platform where the body of the slain prince rests on a silver bier. His corpse is completely wrapped in fine linen and treated with scented oils; an ornate silver funerary mask graven in the image of a leering skull covers his face, and glints in the blaze of the oppressive sun.

A tense silence befalls the crowd as the Holy Vizier strides forth; a wry smile spreads across his thin lips as the copper platform begins its descent amid the soft groans of naked slaves who toil with the chain. As you slowly descend into the charnel pit of death, the vizier’s voice booms with the hollow finality of a great funeral bell.

"As it was your honor to serve the prince in life, it shall be your eternal honor to serve the prince in death. For the vile act of murder upon the righteous blood-prince you are hereby condemned as Servus Mortem, and granted immortality as Death Slaves of Eternity!" His speech is received by the cheers of the wretched crowd behind you. Isolated faces stand out in the crowd. Friends, family, those who you thought loved you. But there is no aid, only their ashen faces watching your condemnation.

From behind the leering vizier, a drumbeat begins.  Boom, boom, boom  The pounding of the drum matches the beat of your heart, as the great gears begin to turn.

With a dull, hideous grating, you slowly descend into the stygian darkness of nether midnight. Passing down a narrow well of sheer rock, like the gorge of some colossal leviathan, you emerge through the ceiling of a great domed chamber; the rank air aflood with aeon-buried foulness.

Your dreadful and measureless decent ends with a bone-jarring halt, as the copper platform slams against the tomb floor, echoing wildly throughout the mortuary depths. A single bar of light from the tunnel above burns through the gloom, betraying the look of unnatural dread etched upon the guards’ faces.

With a quickness born of fear the guards order you from the platform to the smooth, crimson-tiled floor below. Four of the lean, black cloaked men begin to carry the prince's body off the platform. The other six never leave, even as they shove you forwards with the hafts of their spears. On the opposite end of the platform are fifteen oil-cloth bundles, one for each of you. These bundles contain the weapons and the few goods that have not yet been stolen from you.

Once the blood-prince's body has been moved from the platform, the four Mortuary Guardsmen that were responsible for his transportation scramble back onto the platform. The other six level their spears at you, as the other four quickly shovel the oil-cloth bound packages towards the ground by your feet. As soon as the task is completed, a one guardsman strikes a massive gong at the center of the platform, the signal for ascent.

What do you do?

 
 Spoiler: OOC 

Everyone gets +1 loaf of bread and a full wineskin. Your weapons and goods are in the oil-cloth packages by your feet.

Good luck.
 
Auranghzeb
 MARLOWE 
 The black room took us

like a cave or a mouth

or an indoor belly.

his teeth, his hair growing

like a field or a shawl. 

The verses resound in Marlowe's head as he tries to confront panic with poetry, making horror aesthetically pleasing to cope. For all he knows, he is dead, worse, buried already. What's point there is? He uncorks the wine given to him and takes a good sip, scanning the crowd to find someone who looks like a good talker.

In the crowd he recognized Anak and Lanit. Scholars whom he had seen a few times as audience to his plays and jests.

He made his way towards them.

  So, buried alive I see?   
 TZARAS 

Still in disbelief, Tzaras tried to convince the guards of her innocence, they only ignored her with eyes full of fear. They knew who she was, she had tortured people in front of some of these guards. And now she was being lowered to hell.





 FARXANT 

Farxant wasn't someone to fall in desperation and his acute instict for survival would not let him die. He knew he could stay alive for some time in this place, enough perhaps for the conspiracy to fall and truth be told. But it was going to require all his wits.


He saw a desperate Tzaras bordering hysteria, proud child of a noble house... He approached her. She knew her way around a knife, that could prove useful.
Cavir
 Cecil 

The elven artisan was still in a daze of disbelief while marched to the platform. He was well known, having made wondrous works for many of those in the crowd along with the late prince.  As he stood on the platform and turned to face the crowd, his gaze turned to a burning anger for the injustice. He stared at the crowd. When the Holy Vizier began his speech, Cecil's burning stare focused on the supposed voice of justice.

The gears began their work. The drums started pounding. All that woke something up out of the pottery master and granted him an insight. If the innocent had been proclaimed guilty, then those in power knew they had either failed to find the real murderer... or those same had taken part in the prince's demise. The prince was the only son. That would be a boon for someone. Likely who he was starring at.

As the platform lowered he called out at the top of his elven lungs.   "The killer is not here. COWARDs! I will haunt you all!"   Who knew if he had said coward or cowards, or if they had even heard him at all over the drums and the throng.

The platform lowered away regardless.


 Flora 

Flora's life was again being torn apart, this time even more into the pits of hell. She had tried to use her persuasive ways to promise various guards the night of their life, or week even, in exchange for escaping the nightmare. Fearing for their own fate, none took the offer.

She stood on the platform staring into the crowd hoping for one last look of her Alicia. Alicia would be too young to understand what was happening but it would mean the world for Flora. She looked and looked and suddenly Flora saw her only daughter, hoisted on the shoulders of whom she could not see. Flora was filled with joy to see her even at the distance. Alicia's attention was on the crowd she was surrounded by. Flora was glad Alicia would not have the memory of her mom being lowered into hell as the last view of Mom.

The platform lowered. She lost sight of her little one. Flora dropped to her knees and wept.


 Galen 

Galen was pushed along by the guards towards the platform. He met the gaze of each one. Each one he knew by name and been brothers in arms with them.   "You know I didn't do it. You don't want this same fate for you or your family do you? Find the killer, kill them, then kill the Sultan before you too stand here. Fail that and I'll haunt you and your families forever!"    For that he kept getting prodded by the spears, hard enough for pain but just shy of drawing blood. The guards did not want to draw attention to themselves.

The Holy Vizier spoke. Galen glared at the supposed holy one. He burned that image into his mind. The image would be a source of anger to keep himself going. To stay alive long enough to somehow escape and put the Vizier and Sultan under his blade.

At the bottom he was herded off the platform like the rest of the condemned. Galen watched for any moment to turn the tide on those wielding spears. At one point he almost had his chance to take some of them out. Two things stopped that. One, those same guards knew him and knew to watch out. Two, the injury that put him to desk duty slowed him too much for being so out numbered.

The gong rang. The platform began to rise. Galen grabbed a rock from the ground and threw it upwards at the craven spear men. The sudden action after days in the dark prison on top of his bad shoulder led the rock to totally miss them. The sharp pain in his shoulder probably hurt more than what the rock would have done.
Metastachydium
Lanit stuck close, very close to her sister as they were herded through the streets and onto the platform, to shield her from eyes and the shame of being soiled by all the filth the mob flung their way. To shield her from harm. She should have found a way, to spirit Anak away before they could get her. The darkness and the cold would break her, she was sure of it. But at that, she failed. All she could do was lessen the blows and lend Anak her own warmth. It would have to do.

For her part, Anak herself didn't seem to truly grasp what's happening to them. That was, nevertheless, hardly the truth. Her blank face and blank stare as she leaned into Lanit who helped her along faithfully betrayed no fear or understanding indeed, but Anak did understand, perhaps better than most. However, she understood the futility of struggling just as well. There was far less that she could do than even her fellow scapegoats. She could as well cling to a modicum of dignity. Absorb some of the heat from the sun while she was still able. The darkness would take her, whether it posions her last moments in the light or not.

Usnar Kavan, the Bald-Man, on the other hand, was one to mistake such reasonings for weakness. And weakness was nothing he would show. Hissing curses under his breath he glared and shook fists and the guards had to restrain him, time and again, from lunging at some particularly obnoxious specimen from the crowd. He was no madman, nor truly brave: the spears he didn't dare. And he didn't speak up either, until after he knew his possessions shoved safely off of the platform and to within his reach, lest they were withheld from him.   The ghouls know you' face now!   he snarled at the guards as the platform began to rose back into the realm of the living, his fists clenched.

Lanit took the welcome distraction of stones and words thrown to scurry forward and reclaim what the twins were left to keep before returning to Anak's side to inspect and distribute the inventory; she would carry most of it, of course. She could tell they gave them back their staves; that was good. She had little hope to stand firm in a fight, were the rumours hiding a kernel of truth, but it was some added support for Anak's fragile frame and she could appreciate the illusion of safety. The familiar face of the halfling approaching the two of them had a similar effect.   Marlowe!   Lanit smiled at the little man weakly; it was a shame he ended up here (and a shame they  all  did, really), but he could yet prove a staff for the spirit.

  Yes.   Anak joined her twin in addressing the halfling, or, at any rate, his question, rhetorical as she knew it to be.   It's a fairly archaic funerary custom.   she explained with hollow calm.   I have read of cultures that saw it as an honour; the promise of eternity we were given is a vestige of that, I reckon.   she went on, all impassively. She could feel Lanit's gentle hand pressing her arm. But if it was meant to encourage or warn, neither of them could truly tell.

  I feel mighty  honoured .   Usnar grunted from the shadows as he inspected his own gear, unsheathing and sheathing the long, straight dagger (it was still sharp) and making a show of noisily putting his good clothes, no, his  real  clothes on. He wasn't going to die a prisoner's death in prisoner's clothes.   Anyho', I'm curious.   he added with a smirk.   Did any of you really kill that young ****?   maybe they did. Maybe he would learn. Maybe they would check on them and he could rat out whoever put him in this place.   What?! No!   Lanit hissed back indignantly.   But he did know death was close and coming.   Anak remarked, drawing an   Eh?   from the merchant – but the answer never came.
Lord Ruby34
Tzaras, your pleas fall on ears of stone. You're roughly shoved away from the guards with the hafts of their spears, as they work with frantic energy.

Cecil, your last sight of the surface world is the Holy Vizier's self satisfied smile.

Galen, your throw is better aimed than you realize. You throw, and a long arch leads your missile to connect directly with the jaw of one of the guards as the platform rises. You see a bloodied lip, but he doesn't stumble or fall. You see him take his spear in hand, aiming it down towards you, but before he can throw another guard, a man you recognize, puts a hand on his arm and shakes his head. You aren't sure if it was kindness, pity, or just the realization that you were already dead. It's only when you look down that you realize there are no rocks scattered beneath your feet, only moldering bones.

Usnar, if the guards hear your curse, they don't change their behavior in response. You can see that their eyes were already wide with terror.

The other three young women who you were lowered down with grab at their belongings, arming themselves as quickly as they can.

The platform recedes into the tunnel above, slowly blotting out the light and with it your last rays of hope. All about you, set into the smooth walls and vaulted ceiling are clusters of fist-sized green stones that gleam with a ghostly radiance, casting everything in unnatural shadows and alien gloom.

A strange crimson tiled floor stretches out before you. Its glasslike surface covered with moldering bones and worm-eaten funerary garb. The very act of breathing is a struggle, as the stale air
carries with it the stench of ageless rot mingled with bitter aromas of strange spices used in bygone funerary rites. The endless silence of dead ages permeates these mortuary depths, making even the slightest sound thunder with shuddering echoes.

Through the pale green glint of the witchlights, you can see that you are in a circular room. To the east is a gate of heavy iron, covered in rust by time and set into an open archway. Through the closed bars, you can see crimson tiled steps designed for longer limbs than those of men that descend into the unholy glow of the strange stones.

To the west is another gate, though this one hangs ajar. An odor of purification, vile and unclean, surges from somewhere deep below.

To the south, you see a passage, though you cannot make out where it leads. To the north, You see a massive set of double doors wrought from polished bronze. Its otherwise gleaming surface is streaked with dried blood and filth.

The blood prince's body has been placed in an alcove to the northwest.

What do you do in the next few moments?
Gyrfalcon
 Akesh 

The lotus eater was stuck in a terrified stupor as the crowd was lowered into the abyss to serve as a dead man's slaves. It had been days since his last pipe of lotus smoke, and his hands shook and chest heaved as he panted for air. When the platform reached the bottom, he dodged the guard's spears and leapt off the platform, racing to recover his meager possessions and the pittance of bread and wine. The gangly man mumbled half to himself  "I never be meeting no prince, never been meaning him no harm either. And now we be down here because he be dead...." 
 Meriam 

A stargazer by trade, she was more used to looking to the night sky for signs. But she kept her head raised and eyes on the blue, blue sky overhead as it receded into the distance, hungry to burn the light of day into her memories in the face of the darkness to come. Unlike the addict who was next to her, she moved quickly off the platform, catching a foot on a moldering bone and stumbling, luckily righting herself before she fell.

She listened to the conversation carried on nearby, interested by the claim that the Prince had known his death was coming soon.  "One of his men came to my shop, with a depiction of a strange constellation that I have never seen before. His man was most insistant on any information I might have of one star in particular, a vivid green." 
 Zacharias 

The small halfling was hidden in the crowd, his normally cheerful face locked in a scowl. He had recognized many of the faces in the crowd, and too many had shown clear relief and cheer as no one would be required to pay debts back to a dead man. At the bottom, he quietly collected his possessions. An abacus probably wasn't the most useful survival tool, but he was determined to do so. He looked around the bottom, marking the four paths - two barred, two open. One stank of death and was to be avoided. The path south was the most likely one to take, but he found himself drawn to inspect the bronze doors.  "If this wasn't a horrific death pit, this would surely be an interesting archeological site. Does anyone here know more about it than rumors? I always heard you could hear the wailings of the slaves, but so far it is quiet..." 
Cavir
 Cecil 

The elf- tall, thin,and pretty muscular for an elf, gathered his bag and used his elven vision to see if there was anything alive down there that didn't come down with them. From there he went over to the dead prince.   "No, I did not kill him nor knew anything about it, at least not until we were on the platform. Now, I am sure the Vizier had the prince killed. The Vizier claimed he could not find the real killer and grabbed us randomly to distract from his failure. Who would gain from the prince being dead? Most likely the Unholy Vizier himself. His self satisfied smile as we were lowered confirmed it for me."

"I did help create the mask. Commissioned by the prince himself I am told but I was not involved in the sale."   He takes the mask off and keeps it for himself.   "Anyone know anything about this design?"   He examines the body, seeing what was useful for him or them, including the clothing.

 Flora 

The brunette human female, still attractive even as disheveled as she was from several days in a dark dank prison, had her weeping broken when prodded by the spears to get off the platform. She grabbed her bag and kept her stiletto in hand. She had no idea what to expect from the others. Flora went to the alcove and gazed on the dead prince on the opposite side of the elf.

 "I was at the festival to try to meet him. Never happened. I had heard the Mad-Sultan's first wife died and the kids were sentenced here too."  She turned her look to the elf.  "Maybe you are right about who is behind all this."  She tears off a piece of bread and eats it.

 Galen 

The one guard itched to throw the spear. Galen had hoped he would, also hoping it would miss. Another weapon down here might help.   "COWARDS!"  

He was surprised to find his sword strapped to his backpack in the bundle left for him. Someone was having some pity. That and his leather armor having never been removed gave an an advantage if there was a threat down here. He put the oil-cloth bundle into the backpack and then put it on.

  "Name's Galen. I was City Watch, but not assigned to the prince that night. Don't even know how he died. Can you tell? Not that it matters."

"There were others sent here before us. I'd guess they didn't all just sit here waiting to die. If nothing else maybe we'll find their stuff. Maybe they left clues."  

Galen examines the glowing stones. He looks to find one he can pry out and carry with him.
Metastachydium
  Strangled, they say.   Lanit replied to Galen, completely forgetting her manners. She shuddered at the thought, only to straighten herself hurriedly and glance at Anak: she had to stay composed for her sister's sake. But Anak did not look back, nor did she notice the shudder. The green star had her intrigued now and the curious orders.   That conforms well with what we know so far.   she nodded towards Cecil, her comment strangely belated. The other elf reclaiming something sold to a dead man was offputting, but as an exchange between the dead it made sense.

Usnar, in the meantime, was in his element as the people all around him began to talk.   Then we're ****ed.   he interjected with a snort when Cecil brought up the Vizier, even as he moved closer to body being looted, flashing his eyes at the Prince's feet.   Looks like he kept all the weird **** for you lot.   he appended to Cecil and Anak's further musings then.   The li'l **** only bought some slippers off me. Good ones. Not for dying.   He only really took a good look at Flora at this point. A wolfish grin spread on his bony, long-nosed face as he clapped a hand on her shoulder.   Ain't that  Buttercup , now?   he said, almost cheerily.   We're dyin' in good company, ladies and gents!  

Lanit merely sighed and shook her head at this entire show. She felt like she should have been appreciating the merchant's working towards lightening the mood, but it didn't seem to put her at much of an ease. Still, she was fairly certain reminding this swordsman, Galen, as he called himself, that scattered bones told a very different story, of people dying where they now stood was not exactly the right course of action to take either.

Galen's proactive reasoning caught Anak's attention as well and unlike her twin, she did not shy away from addressing it.   And which way would you start looking?   she inquired, with the same uncanny calm in her voice as before. She could feel Lanit's grip on her arm growing firm as she began to help her approach the swordsman. Lanit was more attracted to the blade than the words that drew Anak, of course, but that was just as well.   I would recommend testing an open way myself.   she went on. (  Do you need help with that?   Lanit motioned vaguely towards the witchlights inspected by Galen at the edge of Anak's field of vision.)   We onnly have so much food and no water; the wine will do us little service. We must conserve our strength.   she explained, drawing yet another snort from Usnar.   And maybe find water.   Lanit joined in.   I wonder how cold it gets here at night. Maybe the walls will gather some for us?   she mused.   The air is quite dry and slow.   Anak shrugged noncommittally – but this gave her sister an idea.   Does anyone have a candle? Or a smoking-pipe?   she asked suddenly.   The smoke?   Anak smiled at her.   The smoke.   Lanit confirmed, looking around.
Lord Ruby34
Galen: You attempt to pry one of the glowing stones from the wall. It feels hard, almost unbreakable, until you get it out of the wall. Unfortunately, it pops off suddenly enough that you fumble the stone, and it smashes against the ground with the sound of broken glass.

The three women who haven't spoken to you are standing where the platform was, speaking amongst themselves in low voices.

Zacharias: You stand before a massive set of double doors wrought from polished bronze. Its otherwise gleaming surface is streaked with dried blood and filth. The doorway has no handles or fixtures, and its surface offers no bolt or catch. You can see that there are deep rents in the surface of the bronze. Someone, or something, has tried to gain entry.

Cecil: You don't immediately see anything in the witchlight, as you turn your attention back to the blood-prince's body. He's wrapped in a burial shroud, his limbs bound tightly with bandages of the finest linen. As you peer down to look more closely, you see something in your peripherals. A heat signature you weren't expecting. Not from your group. You have a split second to cry out before the figures fall upon you.

Slowly from within the distant gloom, manlike figures become visible, like shapes growing out of the night and silence. Draped in moldering robes, they skulk out of the darkness like creeping shadows, their fleshless skulls staring out from beneath worm-rotted hoods. With long emaciated fingers they silently reach out towards you; black and broken fingernails groping at your flesh.

 
 Spoiler:  Everyone please open 

Your group has won initiative! However, the following PCs are suprised and cannot act in the first round of combat. The enemies are coming from the northeast corner of the room, near the bronze doors.

Tzaras; Marlowe; Farxant; Lanat; Zacharious; Galen; Olivia

((Cecil was exempted from rolling, because he had actively looked for danger in a way that would not fail to spot it.))

Anyone who has not grabbed their weapons is unarmed. It takes an action to free your weapon from the bundle that is your possessions. Feel free to post any questions to OOC, or let me know if I've missed anything that you needed information on.
 
Gyrfalcon
 Akesh 

The gangly lotus eater takes one look at the skeletal assailants and shrieks in fear, fleeing towards the tunnel to the south, the only obvious path away from them.

 Meriam 

The woman digs through her bag and retrieves a long, sharp knife, clutching it tightly as she looks to see if more people will stand together.

 Zacharias 

The halfling is terrified by the sudden attack and stands there gaping at the terrible monsters.
Cavir
 Galen 

 Do you need help with that? Lanit motioned vaguely towards the witchlights inspected by Galen at the edge of Anak's field of vision. 

The stone Galen pried out fumbles out and shatters.   "Can't hurt to have more light to take with us. "   He starts working on another, hopefully having learned his lesson about their fragility.

 Flora 

 Ain't that Buttercup, now? he said, almost cheerily. We're dyin' in good company, ladies and gents! 

Flora shot the man a look. Her stiletto was palmed in her hand with the blade against her wrist to keep it out of sight. Her hand tightened around the handle, not sure if the man was a immediate threat. He wasn't moving toward her so she glanced around to see reactions from others. That's when she saw the movement from the shadows. She moved back and kept the dead prince between her and the actual threat. If one came at her the stiletto would get put to use. It wouldn't be her first time defending herself, just the first time against something seemingly already dead.

 Cecil 
  "LOOK OUT!"   The elf moved back and away from the monsters. He pulled his putty knife, wishing there was some wall with a door in between them that he could just close and keep the danger at bay.

 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Galen- sword already in hand, surprised.

Flora
Attack:  (1d20+1)[ 15 ] 
Damage:  (1d4+1)[ 2 ] 

Cecil
Dodging while pulling out the knife.
 
Metastachydium
Usnar raised a thick eyebrow at Flora; did she not recognize him? But the awkward silence had its benefits: the shuffling sounds approaching and the woman's eyes flicking away from him were not lost on the man. He swirled around and reflexively drew his dagger again as he looked into… What probably  was  the face of the newcomers once.   The ****?   he grunted; the example of that pathetic gangly thing dashing away looked eminently sane at this point and he began to back off himself. But then, he flicked his gaze at Flora once again. Should he not pretend to be chivalrous, here? He could feel sweat ooze out of his palm, seeping into the wrap on the dagger's hilt.   C'mon, le's move, you wan' to fight those?   he hissed nervously, tightening his grip on his weapon.

 
 Spoiler: OOC 

U. moves some way towards the southern passage, readies an attack if something goes for him:  (1d20)[ 10 ]  for  (1d4)[ 1 ] .
 


Lanit was far less perceptive. Letting go of Anak for what she believed would be just a moment, she let her staff slide into the crook of the elbow of her smooth, round arm as she stepped closer to Galen, raising her hands to catch the witchlight should it fall. But Anak saw them.   Lanit!   she called out with alarm in her voice, the smile melting away from her anemic lips. She backed off towards the wall, clutching her own staff, barely realizing she was moving to hide behind her twin. Lanit's head turned ever so slightly at her voice – and the hand of the young elf, rising higher yet to smooth an unruly grey lock of hair out of her face froze in the air as she gasped in horror, not quite certain what was happening beyond that it was  bad .

 
 Spoiler: OOC 

A. maneuvers behind L.; L. half-turns to notice the attackers.
 
Lord Ruby34
Two of the women who were condemned here with you fall back to where Cecil is standing, directly away from the creatures, and ready weapons.

Zach, the faceless creatures fall upon you first, closest to the bronze doors as you are. A pair reaches towards you. The first one yanks away your bread and wine, as the second attempts to push you to the ground. You recover just quickly enough to dodge the grasping, filthy fingers, ducking under the creature's legs. It overbalances, stumbling a few steps past you before quickly recovering.  (( -Bread and Wine))

Flora, another pair launches themselves towards you over the blood prince's body. The first is met with your knife. A sure and pitiless strike takes the creature from breastbone to chin, opening a bloody furrow in the pallid flesh. The trailing blow of your strike catches on something, and the skull comes flying off. Only . . . it's not a skull at all. An ivory mask breaks free from the creature's falling corpse, bouncing off the blood prince's body and revealing the pallid, emaciated face of a young man. His body slumps over that of the blood prince, as the partner reaches for your bread and wine. With the funeral bier between the two of you, you're able to get just enough room to pull away, keeping your bread and wine.

The other creatures, seeing no more isolated targets near them, move to mob the group at the center of the room.

The rest of you see one of the young women, armed and armored, have her bread and wine stolen before pushing the other creature away and readying her blade.

Tzaras, another pair of creatures come at you. One rips the bread and wine from your hands while the other shoves you hard. You hit the ground with a jarring crash. ((-Bread and Wine)) ((Knocked Prone))

 
 Spoiler: Prone Condition 
 It takes one action to stand up from being prone. While prone you move at half speed, enemies have +2 to hit, and you have -1 die size for your melee attacks.
 


Farxant, you are also approached by a pair of the creatures. One manages to wrangle your bread and wine away from you while you sidestep the one who attempted to push you to the ground. ((- Bread and Wine))

Meriam, still surprised, you fail to react as one of the creatures snatches the bread and wine from your hands and the other pushes you to the odd crimson floor. ((- Bread and Wine)) ((Knocked prone))

Galen, you attempt to pry another stone from the wall. It isn't hard to find one, they seem to be everywhere. This time you manage to hold onto the stone, but it cracks in your hand, and the light goes out. It seems these rocks are more fragile than they appear. Getting a working one from the wall seems like it might be an unexpectedly difficult task.

 
 Spoiler: Swan, Usnar, Marlowe, Cecil, Lanit 

You hear noise coming from the western gate, the one that's propped open. It sounds like snarls and howls, echoing off the stone walls of the crypt. And those sounds are getting rapidly closer.
 

 
 Spoiler: Akesh 

You scamper into the black interior of the crypt that yawns before you, sinister and mysterious as the very shadow of death. An odor of elder desolation wafts from within its sacred gloom, for whatever door had once guarded this portal has long rotted away. You find yourself in a series of passageways lined by niches and alcoves that stretch away into the darkness. Mummified bodies wrapped in moldering funeral shrouds are set in recessed shelves throughout the warren of catacombs. Smashed urns and ancient debris mingled with the dust of the tomb litter the labyrinthine halls. The air surges with the musty smell of stagnation and decay.

You can hear the sounds of conflict behind you, and they seem to be increasing. Do you continue to run into the twisting passageways?
 


Every PC may now take a turn as normal.
Auranghzeb
Tzaras

Tzaras is taken out of her shock by the assault of these creatures. She attempts to roll away and draw her knife, fearing that it's too late to react, but trusting her instincts and good fortune.

 
 Spoiler: OoC 
Tumble?    (1d20+1)[ 13 ]  agility roll

  (1d20+1)[ 7 ] Luck roll

And then draw weapon and brace herself.
 


Farxant is alive because he understands the basics of retreat. He immediately looks around to find a place to hide or someone who seems armed and ready to face these monsters, then he bolts out of reach.

 
 Spoiler: OoC 
Perception?  (1d20)[ 2 ] 
Move out of the way and find cover behind a bigger guy
 

 Marlowe 


He sets his feet and readies draws his prop sword. He hasn't been in too many fights, but he surely is trained in On-Scene Swordmanship. But his sword is not there, he reaches down and picks the largest femur he can find and wields it as a club, hip bone as the attack side.

 And so the is the summer of our peace made contentious winter and the whitened bones of yore blunt instruments of our fate! Charge! 
 
 Spoiler: EDIT 
I misread Marlowe's situation
 
Cavir
 Galen 

The glowing "rock" shattered in his hand. Before he could investigate it more the assault began. The elf's warning had Galen turn soon enough to see the first attacks. He noticed the enemy going for belongings or pushing, seemingly not for blood. The former watchman rushed to form a line besides those ahead of him. With a loud firm voice he ordered   "GET BACK!"   He raises his sword, ready to cut down any in range that press the attack.

 Flora 

With her oil-cloth bundle in one handle and her bloodied stiletto in the other she takes a few more steps back, ready to strike again.

 Cecil 

His awareness saved himself from the initial rush. Starting to take more steps back his awareness told him of another threat coming from the west passage.   "More coming from there, help me hold the gate!"   He rushes to the gate, closes it, and looks for something to jam the gate shut.

 
 Spoiler: OOC 

Galen
Attack  (1d20-1)[ 10 ] 
Damage  (1d8-1)[ 6 ] 

Flora
Attack  (1d20+1)[ 3 ] 
Damage  (1d4+1)[ 2 ] 
 
Lord Ruby34
Cecil, you look around for something, anything, to bar the gate. Your eyes settle on the rope that the woman with the pick ax standing near you is holding. She doesn't seem to be making any move to help. In fact, at your exclamation, she seems to be inching in the other direction, preparing to run east.
Metastachydium
Lanit is ever more confused. What's this about? These things look dead; but they appear to take a surprising amount of interest in food. She can also hear what Cecil warns them about just fine – and the new voices sound more alarming than Cecil seems to realize.   These ones are silent; that's something else!  Worse!  Someone go help him!   she churns out rapidlymotioning towards the west. But she knows it can't be her. She can't leave Anak behind. And she won't know her sister can follow if she's busy with the gate. Without a moment of further hesitation, she shoves their food into Anak's hands and all but presses her against the wall as she spreads her arms to shield her as best as she's able even as she begins wildly swinging her staff in broad arcs to keep the creatures away.   Stay off of her!   she shrieks defiantly.

 
 Spoiler: OOC 

Attack if neccessary:  (1d20)[ 6 ]  for  (1d4)[ 1 ] , should someone try to get handsy.
 


Anak's eyes snap from the creatures over to Cecil and back again; but before she could process the new information, she suddenly finds herself with her hands full, bodily corraled towards the wall, her sister's big, messy ponytail brushing through her face as Lanit makes her stand. Still, as usual, Anak's mind is faster than her body: her delicate, bony little hand with her staff, extended fully along the wall reaches out from behind the frantically flailing Lanit.   Give it to the elf, quick!   she barks out. It's not like she's about to get much use out of it where she is.

Usnar, meanwhile, can likewise detect the source of the elves' concern and has to concur with Lanit's understanding in it; but from where he stands, not far from Flora, he can also see something more heartening.   You're had, pricks!   he bellows as he surges forward, tucking the oilcloth bundle under an arm to snatch the staff from Anak's hand.   It's just a mask, they can  bleed !   he adds with a roaring laughter, presenting their assailants with an obnoxious, fearless grin as he swivels around to stroll forward, swift like the Cobra, his sign, towards the west, tossing the staff to Cecil.   Run along, you ****s or you'll bleed more!   he then goes on taunting the masked ones further, his blade raised and ready.

 
 Spoiler: OOC 

I have a quite weak grasp on everyone's exact position and how much can be achieved in a single round; the idea is that Usnar moves as much as he can, first towards Anak to get the staff and then towards Cecil to throw it to him from a safe distance (he's  not  going closer to that gate than neccessary, thank you very much). Meanwhile, if talking is a free action, he tries to use something Intimidate-like to, y'know, try and frighten off the attackers. A Personality roll, mayhaps (do add modifiers if any; he's a merchant, he should be good at being loud):  (1d20+0)[ 11 ] 
 
Gyrfalcon
 Akesh 

Panting for breath, the lotus-eater takes stock. On his own, he doesn't fancy his chances down here, and that means that he'll need to make inroads with the others and find safety in numbers. He takes a moment to stuff the bread and wine he's still holding into his bundle and draw out his rusty shiv, then licks his stained lips and gathers his courage to venture back to the entrance, where by the sounds of it fighting is still raging.

 Meriam 

Meriam shrieks in fear as the skull-faced monsters knock her to the ground, bony fingers scrabbling and tearing the food and wine from her grasp. She scrabbles away from the figures as quickly as she can to make distance and then stands again.

 Zacharias 
 "Bah, foul beast, that was mine!"  the halfling shouts, taking the opportunity to run towards the group in the center of the room, dodging wide around the skull-faced monsters. If he can, he frees his dagger from his belongings, the steel clean and sharp.
Lord Ruby34
Tzaras, you roll away. The creatures probably could have struck you as you crawled away, but they don't seem interested in the opportunity. You see them move past you, in search of other food to steal.

Farxant, you look around desperately for a safe place to stand. You see the two women who've been speaking to each other, and put them between yourself and the "ghouls". Unfortunately, they both move soon after. One moves to help Cecil, and the other ducks behind you!

Usnar, you can't tell for sure why your words had no effect on the massed group of masked figures, but you think it might be the terror already present in their jerky motions. These masked thieves are taking as much as they can as quickly as they can. The pair that stole Zacharias's bread charge you. You aren't able to stop them from yanking the bundle of your belongings away and shoving you to the floor. (( -Thieves Tools; Loaf of Bread; Wineskin)) ((You are prone))

Marlowe, you find yourself approached by a cautious pair, they seem to be trying to avoid Galen's drawn blade. They steal your ritual offerings, but you resist being shoved to the floor. ((- Bread and Wine))

Flora, you hear a muffled curse from behind the mask, and your surviving assailant moves to find easier prey. Your back is to the wall, but the blood prince's body, and the corpse of the dead thief, are between you and everyone else.

Cecil, one of the women who was thrust down here with you, but not the one with the rope, runs to help you hold the door. You can hear the snarls growing louder. Fiercer. Hungrier. However, the aid is short lived. The cultist that survived his encounter with Flora runs toward you and steals your bread and wine while you are occupied trying to keep the gate shut. Another pair rushes to the young woman near you and steals her food and wine before shoving her to the ground by the gate. You see heat signatures, more than half a dozen, rapidly approaching you and the prone young woman next to you. They'll be upon you in only a few seconds. ((- bread and wine))

Your group watches as the other masked men steal the food and wine from the young woman by Farxant and push her to the ground, still careful to avoid Galen's blade.

A final pair, both with stolen victuals in hand, move back into the shadows of the northeastern section of the crypt, and join another man standing there. He's wearing the same clothing as the others, rags and an ivory skull mask, but is massive in proportion to the skinny, sickly creatures robbing you. He stands at least six and half feet tall, and is muscular, and broad chested, more than twice as wide as the largest of the thieves.

The other young woman, the one who had already been robbed, moves toward the eastern gate and turns, half panicked.

Galen, Lanit, and Anak, the thieves avoid your group of three. It appears none of them wish to test Galen's raised blade.

Akesh, your position the the shadowed arch of the opening to the southern passage seems to be an excellent hiding place, as you're able to observe the fighting and no one's made a move against you.

Meriam, crawling away seems to have let you avoid notice. You find yourself, still prone, by the panicked woman at the eastern gate.

Zack, you're still surrounded by the thieves, but they seem to be focusing on what they can safely steal, and pay you no more mind.

Everyone: You can hear snarling the sounds of horrid, unnatural movement coming from the western gate.
Metastachydium
Anak slowly lowers her staff and raises her sparse, gray eyebrows instead. Looks like the Bald Man is much louder than he is competent. Unfortunately, however, he's not even their loudest problem. Even she can't miss the approaching sounds.    Retreat?    she asks tentatively, her voice small. Galen's an asset and Marlowe, a known quantity. The four of them would have to do; and the southern hallway is near. Lanit seems to hesitate for a fraction of a heartbeat, nevertheless.   I… I'm with you, always.   she says at last, reaching back to draw Anak along as she inches closer to the mouth of the corridor, continuing to execute her clumsy, broad swings.   Marlowe? Galen?   she adds hurriedly. She knows Anak and her would last… Not so long alone.

 
 Spoiler: OOC 

L. tries to hit anything hostile trying to get close:  (1d20-1)[ 16 ]  for  (1d4)[ 2 ]  and will move closer to the S corridor  or  into it, keeping herself between Anak and the rest of the room if M. and G. agree to ride along.
 


Usnar's mind is occupied with… Well, not thoughts. Emotions, rather. None too subtle and none too cautious. The world is all red now; those carnival clowns have  stolen  for Usnar Kavan. Nobody does that.  Nobody.  Largely forgetting about Cecil and his plight, he lunges forward, screaming an irate    You sonoffa rabid bitch!    at the thief as his right swings in a sharp arc, his dagger aimed at the thief's thigh.

 
 Spoiler: OOC 

Usnar will not stand, but neither will this stand with him; he'll attack the one with his stuff, moving as much as he can if needed:  (1d16)[ 15 ]  for  (1d4)[ 4 ] 
 
Lord Ruby34
Usnar, your wild, lunging slash catches the thief in the thigh, cutting deeply enough that your blade scores bone. The figure falls, screaming in a shrill voice, and drops your bread and wine. The fall knocks the mask off of the thief, revealing the terrified face of an emaciated young woman. Her eyes lock with yours, just for a moment, as the mortal wound takes, and the life rapidly drains from her eyes.
Metastachydium
  See?  SEE?!    the merchant raves with lips pulled back from his improbably white teeth, his confidence restored, raising the bloody blade in the air, propped up on an elbow as he is.

 
 Spoiler: OOC 

Man, I do hope talking is a free action!
 
Auranghzeb
Tzaras finally wakes up

 It is about staying alive... it is about staying alive... staying alive 
 STAY ALIVE!!! 

She screams at the top of her lungs while she slashes at one of the assaulters as an attack of opportunity
 
 Spoiler: AoO 
 (1d20+0)[ 12 ]   (1d4)[ 2 ] 
 


Then she rises and uses her agility to dance around enemies and flay them

 
 Spoiler: Round attacks 
 (1d20)[ 6 ]  damage  (1d4)[ 4 ] 
 



Farxant realizes the assaulters are not interested in them but in their gear... he can survive and then grab what's left. He crawls into a corner and hides.


Marlowe charges the nearest assaulter with his improvised bone club

 
 Spoiler: attack 
  (1d20+1)[ 19 ]  damage  (1d3+1)[ 4 ] 
 
Gyrfalcon
 Akesh 

Akesh returns to the mouth of the tunnel and waves an arm frantically to the people struggling in the center of the room.  "Come, come! This looks to be safer than there, no skull-faced ghouls!" 
 Meriam 
Meriam hears the shouting as she stands, taking a moment to retrieve her dagger, she tries to get the attention of the woman next to her.  "Come on, there's no getting through here. Let's get to the tunnels to the south!" 
 Zacharias 

Dagger in his hands, almost a short sword in proportion to his size as a halfing, Zach slashes viciously at one of the assailants as they run past, and then slashes at another, looking to target one carrying stolen food.

 
 Spoiler: OOC 

AoO -  (1d20-1)[ 5 ] , damage  (1d4-1)[ 1 ] 
Attack -  (1d20-1)[ 3 ] , damage  (1d4-1)[ 0 ] 
 
Cavir
Galen's instinct is to now start cutting down the attackers. The elf's desperation despite the thieves and the offered staff change his focus. He grabs the staff and darts over to the elf. He holds out the staff and readies an attack at whatever is coming from the tunnel, ideally attacking through the closed gate.

Cecil directs woman with the rope.   "We'll hold the gate shut, use the rope to tie it shut! HURRY! "   He takes the staff from Galen and tries to use it to jam the gate shut.

Flora, finding herself alone amidst the chaos, knows she is in a bad position. With a large step she passes by 2 the bodies on the floor and rushes to the nearest "friendly" group- the elf, the swordsman, and a couple others. She stabs the thief near Cecil that just pushed the woman down to the ground, preferably in the neck but somewhere in the back worked too.

 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Grabbing the staff is a free action, so that would go for both Galen and Cecil.

Galen readied attack:  (1d20-1)[ 1 ] 
Damage  (1d8-1)[ 7 ] 

Flora attack:  (1d20+1)[ 21 ] 
Damage  (1d4+1)[ 5 ] 

Figure Galen ends up just south of Swan (or south of Cecil if she gets out of the way) and Flora would be between Cecil and Usnar, which also cuts off the escape of some thieves.
 
Lord Ruby34
Tzaras, your lunging slashes are not as effective as Usnar's was. You find that your enemies are able to doge back just far enough to avoid the bite of your blade.

Farxant, you crawl into a corner lit less well than most by the witchlight and hide yourself. You think you've found a place you can remain unseen in the chaos . . . so long as you stay still.

Marlowe, you take a few steps forward towards the nearest enemy, and swing your bone club in a long arc that connects with his kneecap. You feel the joint give under your weapon, and the figure collapses before you. A second blow smashes through the mask, and breaks the thief's skull. The stolen food they carried falls to the ground next to them.

Akesh, it seems some people are listening to you, as you notice Lenit and Anak join you at the mouth of the southern tunnel.

Meriam, the young woman gives a startled nod, and falls in next to you. It seems she's going where you're going, at least for the next few moments.

Zach, you are quickly reminded that violence is not your forte. Your slashes are wild, half aimed things, easily avoided.

Cecil, your words are headed. The young woman on the floor crawls away, opening a place for the woman with the rope to join you. She appears terrified, but begins wrapping a length of rope around the bars, trying to tie one end of the gate to the broken catch.

Cecil and Galen. You see something out of a nightmare. Loping towards gate on twisted and stunted limbs swarm snarling gibbering things that barely resemble men; inbred atrocities of human flesh swathed in the rotting cerements of the tomb. Their bloodthirsty howls echo throughout the haunted gloom as they descend upon you - mad with ravenous fury. The young woman was was tying the gate in place screams, and her hands shake as she tries to finish.

Flora, you charge from your position into combat. Your attack takes the thief totally by surprise. You miss the neck as the thief finishes shoving Swan to the ground, and stab directly through the back of the skull instead. Your blade comes out from the thief's eye, and the person is dead before their body hits the ground. ((Critical hit! Hit to the eye for +1d4 damage))

After seeing multiple of their companions fall, the thieves break. They sprint to the northwest, and the final thief steps forward towards Zacharias while placing a lantern on the ground. The light reveals a tunnel in the northwest corner, previously hidden in the shifting shadows of the witchlight. The surviving thieves make for the hidden entrance. ((Opportunity attacks happen here, if taken. They have been pre-rolled, though I likely won't do that again. You can check the die roll thread for results.))

Zacharias, the broadchested man steps up to you, sword still sheathed. You see him move for your weapon, and you react as fast as you ever have before, trying to pull the blade away, but the big man is faster still. Your dagger is in his hand.  "Brave"  he says, and looks around at the corpses of the fallen thieves.  "Take the tunnel."  His voice booms, filling the tomb with a sound like rumbling thunder. You have a feeling the invitation was not given to Zacharias alone.

Flora, Usnar. You get only glimpses of what Cecil and Galen see, but you can see pallid hands raise crude weapons as they move towards the defenders of the gate.

The creatures arrive, howling with an unnatural fury. Cecil and Galen, you can see clearly that there are eight of them, though the gate is only wide enough for four to stand abreast. Cecil is the first target they see as he tries to hold the gate closed with the wooden staff. However, the creatures have no interest in trying to test the strength of your rope, or the strength of your arms. Armed with crude bone daggers and filthy, clawed hands they stab at you through the bars.

The first blow takes Cecil through the arm. The dagger drives deep into the elf's forearm and drags him forward, where another takes the opportunity to grab his face and smash it against the gate itself with enough force to shatter Cecil's elven skull. Cecil's body falls limp in front of the gate, the staff falling from limp fingers to clatter hopelessly on the ground. ((Cecil is slain))

Another monster makes for Galen. The retired guardsman makes to swing through the bars with his own blade, but at that exact moment the old injury flares up, twisting him in pain and causing him to fall into the gate, where the monster stabs him through the throat with a dagger made of bone, adding a second corpse to the pile near the gate. ((Galen is slain))

Karen, too, is struck through the arm, though she manages to jerk back her hand back fast enough that she's merely left with a brutal wound through her arm. She continues to scream. ((Karen takes 2 damage. 2 HP remaining))

With most of it's defender's slain, the gate does not look like it will stand for much longer, if at all. However, it appears the leader of the thieves has made you an offer. What do you do?

 
 Spoiler: Cavir 

Apologies that the first round of real attacks ended up doubling up into your PC's. Unfortunate rolls, too.
 
Metastachydium
Usnar looks back and forth. He's a money man. A betting man. He goes through the costs and benefits, projected as they are, in but an instant. He insulted the thieves. He killed one. He bragged about it. They disarmed the usurer. But they are here to  live . Lost, what, three? Four? Killed none. Those past the gate ar in this for the kill. The meathead and the elf learned that the hard way. He grabs the oilcloth bundle,  his  bundle from the girl he skewered and springs to his feet, bolting for the corner with the lantern, trying to let the dagger hang low, unthreatening.   C'mon, sweetwine!   he calls back to Flora over the shoulder.   Pick up the pace; that's a bad spot!  
 
 Spoiler: OOC 

Usnar gathers up his **** and runs for the NE tunnel at full speed.
 

 ♣ 
Lanit peeks past the corner as the screaming begins – just in time to see Cecil hit the ground, face bashed in and Galen, the one she thought was their chance to fight their way out, the one the  thieves  were worried about fall, lifeless. Anak's staff, wasted. The bald halfwit darting for the thieves, heeding their call. Is that foolish? Smart? She has no time to think that through. Anak could tell, perhaps. She's clever and calm. But Anak doesn't see what she sees. She shouldn't, either.

Lanit purses her lips in frustration, but the cloud passes, and a decision takes shape. It's too far away, the northern passage, with the bodies and the confused people, across the chamber. They'd have to pass in plain view of the gate.   Marlowe! Come in here,  please ! Quick!   she calls out to the one friendly face one last time before motioning to Akesh to get moving and turning around herself.   What is it?   Anak asks quietly, but firmly. She's very pale, or so it seems to Lanit. But her calm is not yet broken. The healthy twin merely shakes her head as she grabs Anak by the shoulder and begins pushing her further south.   Death.   she says, her voice hollow.   It's now or that; let's go.  
 
 Spoiler: OOC 

The elves go south! They take the Emost one or the one right next to it to try and reduce the chances of getting spotted from inside the chamber and they'll try to drive Akesh before them.
 
Lord Ruby34
The group watches Karen run away screaming from the creatures, headed northeast at speed. Two of the creatures lunge for her through the bars, scoring another long and nasty cut to the back of her thigh. ((Karen -1 HP, 1 HP remaining.))

Galen's blade has fallen through the bars, and is under the feet of the churning mass of pallid man-things.

Near the gate, there's a soft, low keening coming from behind the monsters, just at the edge of hearing. It's beautiful, a haunting song, that  almost  makes you want to stop and listen.

 
 Spoiler: OOC 

Remember that if Farxant and Tzaras want to flee, they still need to spend an action standing.
 


It's still the PC's turn.
Gyrfalcon
 Akesh 

Akesh's nerve fails again at the sight of the horrors and the sound of the otherworldly singing in the distance, and he flees into the tunnels to the south as soon as the elves arrive, following their lead into the eastern of the branches.

 Miriam 

Miriam follows the lead of the otheres, drawing along the woman who had been at the eastern gate with her.

 Zacharias 

Unarmed and stripped of most of his worldly possessions, the halfling heaves a sigh, then holds out his hand to the huge man.  "Alright, I'll take you up on your offer. Do you mind handing my dagger back? I may only be a mouthful, but I'd prefer to make those bastards choke on steel instead of me." 

Dagger or not, he'll make for the northeast tunnel with the theives rather then stay in the arrival chamber with the coming horrors.
Cavir
Flora's wall of people between her and the semi-closed gate vanishes. Her eyes dart around. Some people headed northeast, some south. She had no idea what was to the south. She also didn't know what was to the northeast, but the thieves had come from there and were headed back that way which told her there was much less likely to be murderous creatures that way. She grabs the oil-cloth bundle(s?) at her feet then scurries off to the thieves' tunnel, stiletto at the ready for any who grab at her or her belongings.

 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Grabbing any other dropped supplies along the way too?
 
Lord Ruby34
Flora, you grab Galen's backpack and turn to run, stopping only long enough to pick up another wine skin and a loaf of bread without too much blood on it. ((+2 loaves of bread, +2 Full Wineskins, +1 Backpack))
Auranghzeb
Farxant

Sees the group fleeing to the tunnel and joins them, standing up as fast as possible.


Tzaras  
 Spoiler: OoC 
I thought i'd said she was no longer prone
 


Tzaras grabs a packet of whatever the thieves left and follows the group to the tunnel


Marlowe.

Marlowe sees the defenders of the gate fall and he says to himself "Not today"

He grabs whatever the thief he killed was grabbing (food and wine) and follows the sage elves to the tunnel. He doesn't have time to get his sword, but the bone club seems to be a good alternative.
Lord Ruby34
 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Because I didn't get a response, I'm assuming Farxant went south and Tzaras went north.
 


Usnar, Tzaras, Flora, you hear the large man respond to Zacharias.  "No." , he says, before taking a step forward to throw the dagger at the horrible creature that's moving to start sawing the rope. Unfortunately, his step takes him directly into a steak of blood, and his foot turns, sending him tumbling to the ground, and the dagger clattering harmlessly to the floor. You hear a rumbling curse as he moves to right himself, before a strange note of a song floats toward you.  "Back! Now!"  The man yells, as he half crawls away. Two women, one of them horribly injured, take his advice and follow the thieves down. ((Swan and Karen flee north.))

If the four of you so choose, you are able to make it down the northeastern tunnel without further danger. ((Letting you choose if you're going to do that before I move you on. The big man's slip seems to have left him in some danger, so I want to make sure I give you guys the option of helping or not helping.))

---------------------------------------

The rest of the survivors flee down the tunnels to the south, chased by the sound of monstrous howls. The tunnels twist and turn, seemingly at random, nonsensical angles. Eventually, the howls fade, and you find yourselves in a forgotten passageway, lined by niches and alcoves that stretch away into the darkness. Mummified bodies wrapped in moldering funeral shrouds are set in recessed shelves, and have been throughout your flight. On the floor are smashed urns, and the air smells of stagnation and decay. The walls are grey stone, set with the strange green crystals that bath the tomb in an unearthly light.

You have no idea where you are, only that you have survived, at least for now. ((Everyone who fled south, gain 3 Experience.)) ((Marlowe, you have left behind your gear. - 1 prop sword and powdered wig.))

What would you like to do?

 
 Spoiler: Cavir 

You may take control of Olivia if you so choose. I'd like everyone to start by having at least one character with each group. If you would like you can change her name, alignment, and backstory, as she has not yet been introduced.
 

 
 Spoiler: OOC 

Take as much time as you'd like to role play among yourselves.

Let me know if I've missed any items or placed anyone in the wrong group.
 
Gyrfalcon
 Zacharias 

The halfling smiles darkly as he picks up his dagger before helping the big man stand.  ”It looks like the fates disagreed with you, my friend. What the blazes is that music, and who’d sing like that down  here ?” 
Lord Ruby34
In a voice that was barely suppressing tightly controlled fear, the man answers. " The Crypt Mother. "
Cavir
Flora dodges the big man who isn't actually coming at her. He slips and falls. Flora is about to continue on. Instead she grabs his shirt to help him up.   "Hurry up!"   Once he is half up on his own she flees into the thieves' tunnel.

Olivia grabbed whatever supplies that had fallen near her and took the southern tunnel away from the thieves and the deadly gate. She finally draws her sword as she finds herself in the middle of the group going through the tunnels. She tries to keep track of the way they went even though she had no interest in heading back towards two groups of enemies. She also looks for some pattern to the tunnels. Some older or newer? Any markings that might be particular to an area? She was keeping her mind busy to not spiral down from thinking about the hopelessness.
Metastachydium
Usnar needs no further encouragement and nor has he questions. The answers to the usurer's query are ominous enough as they are. Only bothering to check that Flora's still behind, he makes sure his markedly non-threatening grip on the dagger's hilt is firm enough and darts into the tunnel ahead. He made his bet; now it's time to see what his hand is truly worth.

 ♣ 
As (much to her relief), Marlowe and two others, to boot (with the loud merchant and the screaming, bleeding woman quite evidently  not  amopng them) join their little trio, Lanit is quick to get ahead of Anak, her staff ready and her spare hand clasped around her sister's skinny wrist. The twists and turns are a welcome feature, or so they strike her: line of sight with the howlers is the last thing they need. Anak, barely a step behind, gives the same more attention; keeping up is not the easiest of tasks, but Lanit knows her speed and its limitations perhaps better than Anak herself – and her adjusting for that (consciously and instinctively at the same time) leaves her enough strength to scan their surroundings. She does her best to memorize as much as she can; distances, angles, slopes: all she needs to make a mental map.

By the time they stop, she is quite winded nevertheless. That is no wonder, of course: even Lanit seems to breathe faster, sharper than before. The dry, dusty air claws at their throats relentlessly. Anak lowers herself onto a sitting position and takes a sip from one of their wineskins, just enough to moisten her lips and moisten her throat, before offering it to her sister. Lanit, crouching down beside her, nods and accepts, following her example.   If we can light a fire later, we can try to boil it.   Anak says, between huffs as her twin stoppers the skin and reaches down to gently press her calves, looking for cramps to smooth out.   Spirit is volatile, more so than water.   the lean, pale elf adds.   Fire would be good. For the smoke.   Lanit reminds the others of the previous converstion between the two, prompting Anak to weakly nod.   Among other things, yes.   she confirms once more.   Speaking of: was anyone, perchance, left with a piece of coal? Or better yet, ink?   she goes on, looking around, softly patting one of the bundles in her lap, the one that holds the journal. That map needs not stay mental.
Auranghzeb
 Marlowe and Farxant 

Scarred and frightened by the near deadly experience Farxant slips to the middle of the large group. Close to the elves and their keen senses and ready to jump to safety. He shuts his mouth and gently pats his bag, making sure his "cure all" balm is still intact. He moves in complete silence.

 Farxant Farxant, dear Farxant. You need to be more alert. If there's a way to keep your head on your shoulders, it is by being alert. 


Marlowe walks behind everyone. He has always been protective of other people, and keeps an eye as the rearguard of the group, listening carefully for any noises coming from the place of the slaughter.

When they finally stops ad the elves discuss the bonfire, he says with a clear voice, calmed and devoid of fear, he is after all, an actor, and he'll play the role of leader.

  I had some chalk among my stuff, but no coal. I'd go and get it otherwise, despite the inconvenience. We should make an inventor of what we have left and pool resources together. We can make it through the night by staying together. These bandit must have been for a long time. We can make it, and with better looks  
 
Tzaras:
 
Not knowing why, Tzaras instinctively follows Flora. Her eyes darting left and right for more dangers and her hand firmly grasping the sharpened knife.
Lord Ruby34
(With the Thieves)

Those of you who stayed behind to help the large man, or speak to him, see a fresh horror. The howling monstrosities fall silent, freezing to a statuesque stillness as the air grows chill and sinister with the anticipation of unseen dooms. A delicate figure emerges through the insufferable gloom. A woman, her once fine robe hanging in lose tatters about her lithe frame. Her face a grinning skull beneath waves of raven black hair, and from her fleshless mouth emanates a mournfully beautiful lullaby - its haunting crescendo promising comfort and madness.

The large man stands, with Flora's help, and stares at her with a moment of rapt attention.  "We leave. She cannot come to harm."  He backs up into the tunnels with you.

Zacharias, Flora, you both feel the tug of her song on your minds. Zacharias shakes off the sound easily. Flora you feel the tug on your mind. For a moment you want nothing more than to walk toward her. To comfort her. You know deep in your soul that it's wrong that she's here, in this place. She doesn't belong here any more than you do . . . but you shake the feeling off before you can move more than a half step towards her, and the glamor falls from your mind, and you can see again the horde of bloodthirsty monsters waiting to feast upon your flesh if your will had failed.

You are all able to retreat, falling back down a small, craggy tunnel. ((+3 EXP for Flora, Tzaras, Usnar, Zacharias))

It's not a long tunnel, but at points all of you except Zacharias are forced to crawl on hands and knees to make it though. It seems to end in blackness, until one of the thieves makes a series of knocks. Two light sounds, one deeper, and then a series of three rapid knocks, and a barricade is lifted from the other end.

You emerge into the nave of an enormous chapel, its air thick with the pungent smell of incense mixed with the foulness of unwashed bodies and disease. Pitiful and
degenerate figures huddle about the bases of fire blackened pillars. Men and women, their emaciated faces barely discernible as human beneath layers of grime
stare silently towards you, their glazed eyes wide with fear and despair.

The thieves that come out of the tunnel with you disperse, disappearing before anyone can ask for their bread or wine returned, taking their masks off and leaving them on a rack by the tunnel. Flora, however, you catch one young man shoot you a hateful glance as he leaves. The large man nods at your group once. Without his mask you can see he has dark black skin and thick hair bound in dreadlocks. Without another word, he too, leaves.

You see an elderly man making his way toward your group, though given his cane and shuffling walk, it seems like you have some time before he reaches you, if there is anything you would like to do.

--------------------------------

(In the Southern Tunnels)

Marlowe, neither you nor the group hears anything as you stop to rest. It seems that you're alone, at least for the moment.

Lanit and Oliva. You both attempt to construct a mental map as you move through the twisting tunnels. You think you have a good idea of where you went. Probably. Maybe.

Olivia, the tunnels all seem to be of similar age and disuse. Throughout the entirety of your trip you were surrounded by moldering bones. The passages were difficult to tell apart, and in the uneven green glow of the witch-lights you realize that it would be very easy to miss a passage, at least without better light.
Metastachydium
 The Chapel 

Usnar reads the room and boldly decides the danger has passed, for the time being at least. He sheathes his dagger and righting himself, takes a moment to dust his fineries. Looks like the stars, wherever thay might be, favoured him this time around.   Will you look at that!   he sizes up the chapel with a half-smirk.   Looks like we might linger 'bout for a bit longer.   he adds, offering the elder a quick and cordial little bow of the head from afar before surveying their own surviving numbers.   Now, who might that be, though?   he wonders aloud tilting his pointed chin towards the old man as he begins moving to meet him halfway, motioning with a subtle finger for the others to follow. For his part, he's sure not going to stick by the entrance, knowing what might lurk past the barricade. Crypt Mothers? Yeah, no, he prefers living women.

 ♣ 
 The Tunnels 
  I cannot recommend that, given the risk.   Anak shakes her head at Marlowe's offer to backtrack.   Besides, I've got some chalk myself.   Lanit joins in.   That, and a pretty good sack.   she goes on, acknowledging Marlowe's request for spelling out a full inventory with a faint smile.   The reason why I have been asking   Anak continues herself   would be that I have paper aplenty, but no instrument to sketch on it with. A map, a plan, some records…   Lanit, busying herself with relocating some of the twins' resources into her sack raises two small items up onto the green glow of the witchlight, nodding pleased: it's flint and steel.   A charred bone, maybe? These things are really dry.   she points at the mummies.   They should burn well.   she adds.   Not impossible. Alternatively, we have the wine, assuming it's red. I see ashes all around; we might be able to reduce it. Produce some ink of our own.   Anak speculates further.   I'm Lanit, by the way.   the rounder elf suddenly addresses the three other than Marlowe and her sister.   And this is Anak.   she places a soft palm on her twin's bony shoulder. Anak nods.   We might spend some time together; we might as well exchange names.  
Cavir
Flora may have been free from the killers at the gate, but she was not letting her guard down.  She picks a spot on the floor that is away from others but still within earshot of where the old man seemed to be going. Stiletto kept in hand, she checks on the contents of the backpack, has some bread and wine, then puts the rest into the backpack. She knew what she had was probably all she might ever see again. No way would she would let it get stolen.

Olivia kept her ears open for anything coming from any direction while the group gathered around.  "I have a candle but not a way to light it. Any significant smoke would choke us out. I do agree we should stick together. Until we know these tunnels it will be easy to get lost. Perhaps a discrete marking on the tunnels. We can start with an X at an intersection that heads back to where we started. That way we at least know which way to not go."    She goes back to the last intersection, listens, then marks a small X with her sword at the tunnel leading back to their start, high up on the wall.
Gyrfalcon
 Zacharias 

The halfling remains with the three other survivors, watching over the masses of slaves living in the chapel. The four stand out for their relative health and cleanliness in comparison to the huddled masses.  "What a pitiful sight."  Zach murmurs to the others, watching the old man slowly make his way towards them.  "I'm surprised that so many have survived, but can you call this life? I don't know about the rest of you, but I don't want to end up turning into... this." 
 Meriam and Akesh 

Meriam shakes her head to the question about what each person has.  "I don't have anything suitable. A spyglass and some food that those thieves didn't notice. I am Meriam, by the way." 

Akesh hesitates before pulling the wineskin out of his bundle  "Wine be better then nothing, but we be needing to find water, there not be enough wine for even one to live here long. I be Akesh." 

Meriam nods.  "There has to be water down here - otherwise those thieves and monsters wouldn't be alive." 
Metastachydium
 The Tunnels 
  Meriam. Akesh.   Lanit nods with a small, urbane smile at the two that gave their names. Anak, oin the other hand takes more immediate interest in Olivia.   Given the improper ventillation and the proximity of further flammables, excessive smoke is an issue to worry about, yes; other spaces might prove more suitable for our purposes.   she concedes evenly.   The candle we might and indeed, probably will use if you mind it not. I can light it.   Only then does she turn to address the other two.   Spirit is what the sages call a  diuretic , and wine has it, if in a modest quantity.   she stresses for Akesh's benefit.   It means it drives the water out. Make you thirstier, on the long run. But you know that, I reckon, if you've ever known the Day After.   Lanit helpfully translates.   That is correct.   the skinny twin nods.   We should not ingest too much of it, lest it does more harm than good. The point, however,   she tilts her head, fixing her gaze on Meriam   is valid, in part. But be careful with your hopes; the thieves seem to dwell elsewhere and the howlers…   she lets the thought hang in the air for a moment, only for Lanit to pick it up.   Are they even  alive ?  
Lord Ruby34
 The Chapel 

The old man returns Usnar's nod as he approaches you. As he gets closer, you see him stop and offer comfort to some of the wounded and dying wretches clustered in knots throughout the chapel, before continuing his approach. His face is haggard and dirty. He gazes upon the group of you with one sorrow filled eye, the other milky white and blind. With a look of concern he asks, "Are you injured? Are you hurt? Be not afraid, we are all of us equally damned here."

Without waiting for a response from the rest of you, the wounded young woman breaks down. "Yes," she sobs out, still clutching the bleeding wounds that she received at the gate.

"Ah," The old man says, before calling a pair of wretches over. "Take this young woman to the back, with the worst of the other wounded. Prepare bandages. I will attend to her soon." The two escort the young woman who came with you back into the depths of the monastery, as the old man turns his single working eye back towards you.

"I am Nazaratus, a humble physician. I bid you welcome to our poor, forgotten sanctuary of the living dead."

----------------------------------------------------
 The Tunnels 

Olivia, you mark an X at the intersection with your sword. The old stone gives under your blade with some effort.

Lanit, you didn't see much of the creatures from you possession, but they gave off warmth enough for your elven vision to detect it. The mummies that surround you do appear to be incredibly dry.

The sisters, Meriam, and anyone else who is at least somewhat learned know that it was ancient tradition to bury the dead not only with slaves to see them to the afterlife, but often their possessions as well.
Metastachydium
 The Chapel 
  Well met, Master Nazaratus! Ain't those quite the halls you have, here? The name's Usnar; a trader, at your service.   the Bald-Man rumbles theatrically.   That'd be Zacharias, another   a sneer flashes through the man's face, of slight disapproval and mockery.    money  man. An' that's Buttercup. A thing of beauty's what she is; and what she  does  too. Well, did, anyhow.   he motions towards the two he's familiar enough with to introduce.   The rest are as new to me as to you, give or take an hour.   he waves, almost dismissively.   So, to business.   he cracks his neck.   I've got this hunch, y'see.   he pauses, briefly.   You don't know the way out either, do you?  
 
 Spoiler: OOC 

Is Diplomacy a thing as a skill here?
 

 The Tunnels 
  …although they seemed warm.   Lanit remarkes, her voice lightly seasoned with doubt.   Movement produces heat.   Anak retorts raising a bony shoulder slightly, as if in a powerless shadow of a shrug.   Either way, we do not understand the needs of these beings: unlike men and beasts as I know them.   The rounder twin mirrors Anak's shrug at that, before changin g the topic abruptly. The thought of the howlers makes her mighty uncomfortable.   But these are dead-dead.   she wiggles a tentative finger at the recesses with the mummies.   While we are at rest anyhow, we could  maybe   check them for…?    Lanit's voice trails off as she considers how  gross  what she began saying really is; but her sister is far less disturbed.   Burial goods? That could serve as well, although I wouldn't expect much from these, in particular.   she assents.
Cavir
Flora shoots Usnar a harsh look when he tries to introduce her, then is quickly ignored as she both tries to figure out the old man and ensure no one is trying to sneak up and grab her stuff.

-----

 "I am Olivia. Someone tried to pull a witch-light back at the beginning. Maybe we will have more luck."   She works on carefully pulling one out to be portable.  "If those other groups have survived down here there must be water somewhere. Not in this area apparently. We may have to go back and see what happened. Hopefully they killed each other off, or at least enough to be easy for us to take control." 
Auranghzeb
 Farxant 

He looks at the halfling with growing mistrust when Marlowe suggests making an inventory of the common items and slips into the shadows.
He doesn't need an invitation to start scavenging the mummies and looking for anything of value or use.


 Marlowe 
 We will need some warmth, whether it is by burning incense or anything like that. But more importantly, we need a plan... I really thought my career break was coming, but this is the performance of a life!  He says with a cynical chuckle.

Then he says a little prayer under his breath and sets about to find anything of use amongst the mummies. Ropes, cloth, whatever.


 Tzaras 

Tzaras knows her way around wounded people, often because she causes terrible wounds that take ages to heal. She is starting to realize that all the effort she put to uphold order means nothing here, but she's always been a servant.

She asks the man  May I be of use in your infirmary? I know my way with the needle and the surgeon's knife. 
Lord Ruby34
Flora, you notice that the large man from before is keeping an eye on your group from a fair distance away.

The old man laughs, slightly at Usnar's joke. "Well met, master trader." His milky white eye takes the rest of you in turn, and he makes similarly pleasant greetings as Usnar makes the rest of the introductions. The young woman with you chimes in to state that her name is Swan, and the old man greets her as well.

Nazaratus listens intently to Usnar's question. "So eager to leave already . . ." he trails off, then breaks out into a smile. "Not that I blame you. A tomb is far from the most comfortable place to make one's home." He pauses for a moment, and then continues, his tone more somber. "But you are wrong. I believe that I do know how to leave, though we do not possess the means to do so. Did you see the crypt mother, as you descended?"

He looks at Tzaras quizzically. "I suppose. I am a physician myself, by training." He ponders for a moment. "Akilah!" He calls, even raising his voice like this, the physician's words still come out wispy and insubstantial. "Escort our eager friend to the infirmary, if she thinks she can help." You are approached by a woman. She appears older, though it's hard to tell if that's because she's actually old, or simply the wear of the tomb, who offers to escort you to the infirmary.

Tzaras, would you like to go with her?

 
 Spoiler: Diplomacy 

You can attempt to persuade someone by rolling a d20+personality modifier. However, you'd only roll this if the outcome of whether or not they would be persuaded is uncertain.
 

-----------------------

Olivia, you break the first of the witchlights you attempt to pull from the wall. ((If you keep going, you succeed on your sixth attempt, darkening the hallway slightly, but adding a witch-light to your inventory.))

Marlowe, Farxant, you find nothing of any real value, only the ancient cloth wraps covering some of the mummies. ((You can take these if you wish.)) There are enough mummies in this area that you can continue attempting to look for valuables for quite some time, should you so choose.
Auranghzeb
 Marlowe 

Carefully picking the least damaged pieces of clothes, Marlowe gathers what could be used as at least the materials for a torch. Then goes back to the rest of the group.

 Suggestions? Anyone here has any knowledge of this place? Legends? 

He looks at the pair of scholar elves.


 Farxant 

Immediately disappointed, Farxant quickly quits his fruitless search. Instead he stands in the shadows at the edge of the group, assessing them.

 Tzaras 

Tzaras goes to the infirmary, still unclear on her ideas.
Metastachydium
 The Chapel 

Oblivious to Flora's discomfort and disapproval, Usnar shrugs jovially.   We've seen enough, let me tell you. It ain't sh… Somethin' I  want  to learn more 'bout.   he confides.   But we need to know, 'specially if it's hard. Meaning no offense, sir, we ain't getting any stronger, y'see.   he explains, with plain, foolhardy conviction.

 The Tunnels 

Olivia gets a smile of her own from Lanit, bolstered by the relief that Marlowe and… Whoever the shifty one is seem eager enough to do some searching in her stead. The halfling's question, on the other hand, gets her and Anak to look at each other in awkward silence.   Knowledge? No.   Anak speaks up at last.   I would surmise that is part of the point; as far as the living are concerned, we are no more. Our face, our name, the space we left: none of it is, anymore.   she explains.   This is a non-place. A bogeyman, if you wish. It could as well not exist the way the living do. A shadow. A matter of eschatology and cautionary tales.   she elaborates further.   It is meant to be confusing, at this point. Blurred. Those who threw us in could tell no more. Now, if you don't mind the vague and stylized…   the bony elf tilts her head slightly, trailing off.   You mean the verse? The "crowned in sorrow" thing?   Lanit inquires, sucking in her lips.   Mainly, yes.   Anak nods, clearly dissatisfied herself. Lanit nervously presses trhe tip of her tongue against her upper incisors.   Oh. That's… What you need to understand os, it's… It's meant to be art. It's probably nothing much. Guesswork, I think.   she raises her open palms defensively.   And it goes like this:

 Crypt of Doom beyond the pits of hell
Wherein a crawling death doth dwell
To heed the call of a god-flesh beast
Poisoned prayers of death-cult priests
Immortality, paradise revealed,
Thine ancient gates forever sealed
In a sunken world devoid of sky
Where madness lurks and death may die
Trapped within an everlasting tomb
Crowned in sorrow - eternity looms.   
Lord Ruby34
Usnar, the old man looks at you pityingly. "Yes. That is certainly true." He looks at you. "Six is more than we normally see interred down here at once . . ." He trails off, seemingly lost in thought, then shakes himself back to alertness. "The Crypt Mother was once a human woman, a princess, and the Sultan's first wife." He stops a moment. "Does the Sultan still rule? Of course he does, or you would not be down here." You get the impression that his thoughts are starting to wander. "She died in childbirth, and her children were the first of the Servus Mortem condemned here. I believe that she searches for them, still." He licks his lips. "Perhaps, should they be reunited, her spirit might find rest . . . and the path west might be explored." He pauses for a moment, then continues, sorrowful. "But it seems a fool's errand. I searched for them until I became too frail, and Chiumbo," ((OOC: Pronunciation: CHI-OUM-BO)) "has searched since, to little avail."

Tzaras, you are taken back towards the rear of the temple. You have time to see a  series of squat steps that lead to a raised dais. A headless idol looms in its center, standing more than twice as tall as a man and wrought from a strange green alloy. Nude save for a simple loincloth, its broad shoulders and flat athletic torso suggest both masculinity and strength, while its outstretched arms display open palms in a sign of peace. You aren't given time to examine the statute, as Akilah shepherds you to a door to the right.

Moldering curtains drawn across narrow archways line each side of a dark hallway. The fetid stench of rot and sickness along with the occasional moan emanates from beyond the veiled apertures. Tzaras, you see the woman from before has been laid down on a stretch of soiled fur. No one appears to be tending to her wounds. The other sick are similarly apportioned. Many of them lie on rotting, blood-soaked furs, the stumps of their amputated limbs bandaged in soiled rags. The woman next to you turns to leave, but stops for a moment. "Be careful," she says, "The physician said that these ones are sick."

-----------------------

((Marlowe gains +1 Ancient Funerary Wrappings))
Cavir
Flora listened to the talk of the Crypt Mother. Flora knew just hiding there would lead her to become like those already there, waiting to starve to death. She even had empathy for the Crypt Mother. Flora would do anything to get back to her own daughter. Just in the first few minutes of being down there she had already killed two and saved others. If helping a lost mother might help get herself back to Alicia, she was in. She spoke up from where she sat, straight to the point unlike Usnar.

 "So you have searched? You can tell us where you have and haven't gone? What dangers you've faced and how to deal with them?" 

-----

Olivia worked on getting her own light for a bit. She spread out her attempts so there wouldn't be one whole dark area. She finally collected a whole one after a half dozen attempts. The whole time she kept her ears peeled for anything not part of their group, even while the poem was recited. Small light in hand, she searches a few of the niches. Perhaps there were hidden compartments for the deads' belongings that the more direct light would help with?

 "From where we began there were several paths. This one seems to be endless burial shelves that we could become endlessly lost in. It seems we are not being pursued. I suggest we do the best we can to retrace our steps quietly while we may still remember the way. We needn't enter the main room, but find out what we can. We can help each other stay warm, but without water we're doomed."   
Metastachydium
 The Chapel 
  Six? Heh.   Usnar snorts.   There was, what? Fifteen of us? Two dead, I don' even know what became of the rest. The Sultan, may your Crypt Mother chew his face off, lives all right; but his li'l son croaked with us close at hand…   he goes on to explain, but Flora cuts the dissertation short.   Oh, dearest. Ain't she as clever as she's pretty, eh? Those manners, though…   the Bald Man chuckles.   What gets me a-wondering, ne'er the less, is how do you know there's a way out due west? I like the thought, don' get me wrong. I'm just curious.   he muses further.

 The Tunnels 
  I'm not worried about either, presently.   Anak shakes her head slowly as Olivia breaks the silence.   And should we succeed in crafting ink, getting lost will become less likely yet. For now, I would even entertain the thought of going on for a while. We might be able to establish a safe retreat in here, to conduct forays from.   she tells the human woman.   Right.   Lanit nods with true conviction, but feigned enthusiasm.   A retreat. To light a fire and do things.   she appends to her sister's words.   About that… Marlowe and, um, Akesh (did I get that right?), if you don't hate the mummies too much, could you gather up further flammables? Maybe?  
Lord Ruby34
 The Chapel 

The elderly man looks back and forth between Flora and Usnar, and shakes his head slowly. "The crypts are a dangerous place . . . I fear that if the rest of your group has gone unprepared into the black, they are likely already dead. The children and the Crypt Mother are the chief dangers of this place, but disease and ancient sorcery linger in the depths of the tomb." He continues on, his voice slow and near a whisper. "I have explored much of the tomb, but the catacombs to the south are a maze . . . I saw light there once . . . or perhaps the memory of it." He shakes his head again. "But you should go there only as a last resort. The walls seem to twist in unnatural ways, and most who enter never leave again."

----------------
 The Tunnels 

((Olivia, +1 Witch-light)) You notice that several of the mummies appear as though they have already been plundered. You are not the first scavengers to walk these halls.

 
 Spoiler: Looting the Mummies 

There are enough corpses here that you can make virtually unlimited attempts. Most corpses will have nothing, either from prior looting or because the body was the only thing interred.

If you would like to specifically search until you find something, let me know and I'll roll on the table until there is a result other than nothing. Alternatively, let me know how many corpses you want to loot for bandages and dried flesh.
 
Metastachydium
 The Chapel 
  Wait a beat there.   Usnar narrows his eyes in slight confusion.   If the things 'round that lovely Mother of ours  are  her children… What's it she's looking for?   The bald man raises a finger for emphasis.   What's it  you 're looking for?  
Lord Ruby34
 The Chapel 

"Ah . . . I fear that I have created a misunderstanding." The old man's voice came out in the hoarse whisper. "The children, the creatures you saw, are not her children. Not the ones that she lost. They were here before she came, but the creatures have come to see her as a mother . . . or maybe a god." He pauses for a moment, then continues. "Her children were human, and young when they passed, somewhere in these crypts."