The Dead Roads

GM

A thought, faint sound or even absence of a familiar sound slowly tugs you into wakefulness. It’s far too early to wake up, with not even a glimpse of daylight worming its way towards you. Roslar’s Coffer, where you went to bed last night, is also still very quiet. No noise of people moving around, no annoying animals greeting the approaching dawn, nothing at all to disturb you. Really, there’s no reason at all to awaken. And yet… you’re not comfortable. The bed beneath you is hard and cold, the lack of sound is somehow more disturbing than comfortable and your mind doesn’t seem to agree that it’s far too early to become active.

As more and more awareness returns, you realise that something is quite wrong. You’re resting on your back, with your hands neatly folded on your stomach, and your feet and legs snugly stretched out side by side. While you’re not entirely sure what you’re wearing, you don’t think this is what you wore when you went to bed. You’re also alone, without any companion that might have been nearby otherwise (whether humanoid, animal or familiar). The bed remains considerably harder than you remember and there’s a faint smell of something earthy and damp, despite you being quite sure you didn’t end the day somewhere outside. 

Should you try to move, you almost immediately bump against a hard surface. Once you open your eyes, you see - through what would be complete darkness if you didn’t have darkvision - that there’s a solid surface just a few inches in front of you. A careful twist to look to your sides reveals a similar surface. Movement of your feet and legs conforms an equal lack of space, as well as some objects near your feet and lower legs that you can’t quite identify by touch alone. If you touch any of the surfaces, you’ll probably recognise it as smooth stone. There is no light and no clear holes for fresh air. While you don’t know how you ended up here or how long you’ve been here, there’s still enough stale air to breathe. For now.

What do you do?

Arkris, 7/7 HP, 12/12/10 AC, +6 initiative, spells; level 1: 5/5

Arkris yawned.  It sure was dark for him to be awake.  Surely he hadn’t slept all through the day.  He didn’t remember…what’s his name—or was it her name?—being such a bad lover as all that.  Whoever he or she was.  He usually had a better memory for such things.  What had he been drinking before they fell asleep?  Oddity after oddity.  Too, he was on his back.  Kris never slept on his back; it was far lonelier that way than when one was cuddled up to a cozy bedmate, whatever their name was.  So he rolled over and put his arm around the warm body lying next to his. “Hey you,” he murmured.  “Why’d you let it get so cold and hard around here?  I thought hardness was my thing, not necessarily yours, lover.”

Or rather, he TRIED to do this.

Instead, only the first few words actually escaped his lips before the arm he’d intended to encircle the man…woman…other person with hit something that was every bit as cold and hard as the bed he was lying on.  “What the hell?”  One thing was certain.  Something was very, very wrong here.  Almost reflexively, he sat up to get a better grasp of whatever was going on.  Except, of course, that there was something very unexpected overhead.  “What the fuck?” he yelled, no longer trying to modulate his pitch to that of a drowsy lover awakened in the night.  There was room enough to rub at his poor, abused head, so he did that, feeling the utter darkness of the enclosed space seeming to clench tighter around him.

A stream of somewhat less than polite phrases in a rapid glut of languages spewed forth in a rush as Arkris pushed at the confines of the space that held him.  “WHAT THE EVER LOVING FUCK??”  If his last utterance had been a yell, this was something even larger, a huge bolus of sound that he could feel vibrating through the…stone—yes, that was stone, wasn’t it?—surrounding him.  “GET ME THE HELL OUT OF THIS PLACE!!”

And really, that said it all.  His hands fluttered from side to side of the box around him, feeling the confines on all sides.  Oh yes.  Something was very, VERY wrong.

Spoiler:

The member 'Celissa' has done the following action : Make Your Rolls!

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'd20' : 1

Drizzle, 9/9 hp, 13/13/10 AC, +5 initiative, channel 4/4, icicle: 7/7, recall 7/7, spells level 1: 3/3, ghost hunter 1/1.

She slowly awakened to a silence that felt too deep. At home there were often sounds of animals during the night, both domestic and ones that used the cover of darkness to creep closer to the river and village. But now… now it was quiet. And uncomfortable. A sense of unease stirred within her, making it harder to just return to sleep and wait for the morning to come. It had been a while since she lay wide awake during the night, but it seemed to become one such nights. Except that it wasn’t quite right and the bed never felt this cold. Sighing, just a little, she opened her eyes and turned. Or tried to. Her shoulder and hip bumped against something hard even as her gaze focused on something solid and very nearby. She heard the soft sounds of fabric and some objects shifting, but not like her blanket would shift and move with her. Stilling, she stared at the barrier so close to her, then slowly let her gaze travel around. It was all around her. The objects near her legs seemed familiar, but it was hard to properly see them without lifting her head high enough to touch the barrier and she didn’t want to do that. It would only confirm how little space her eyes told her she had.

“Gray Lady protect me,” she murmured ever so softly, before raising her voice to a considerably louder volume while still trying to sound calm. “This is not funny. Let me out of here.” She listened to the answering silence and tried to recall what blessings she has requested the night before. None of it came to her mind as being immediately useful. Taking a slightly deeper breath of air that felt too stale, she calmed her nerves and carefully shifted a bit to her left. Some soft object pushed against her left foot, but she ignored that due to it being too far away to easily reach. Her hands wandered down across the clothes, which felt vaguely familiar and yet not. Her fingertips brushed against a belt and from there across pouches that felt the same as the pouches she regularly kept attached to her belt during the day, but never at night. And there, yes there… a hilt that was just right.

“Let me out of here,” she beseeched once more, with her voice calling out as loudly as she could without descending to the level of screaming and panic. Her fingertips moved the dagger higher up, until her hand securely grasped the hilt. She wasn’t sure what good it would do, but she might need it if whoever had put her here had ill intentions. And if no one was there to help her… well, she wasn’t going to throw her life away just yet. Then, for just a few moments, she thought she heard something new, some voice maybe? But it was muffled and she couldn’t understand what it was saying. If it hadn’t just been her mind conjuring the sound of someone else to still the growing fear that she was trapped in here alone. Steadying her nerves for just a moment, she reached out with her free hand and let it wander across the stone surfacing. Looking to see if it was a solid block she had somehow been moved into - however that might be possible - or if there was a lid of some sort. If there was an edge, perhaps she could use the blade to widen it and gain leverage against the stone. She knew well enough that she wasn’t overly strong, but that was no reason to give up. Not yet.

Spoiler:

.

The member 'Silanae' has done the following action : Make Your Rolls!

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'd20' : 11

GM:

Arkris' actions do not result in the stone moving even an inch. But while the stone seems unemphatic to his demands, the last few screams are loud enough to penetrate the stone surrounding him, as well as the others. While not clear enough to understand the screamed words, it is (briefly) a sound that wasn’t there before, penetrating the silence of the space surrounding the others.

Kiza, 12/12 hp, 18/11/17 AC, +1 initiative, smite evil 1/1, orc ferocity 1/1.

It was too damn dark. Frowning, she stared at the structure just above her. The dark didn’t concern her as such, but it bothered most of her fellow soldiers. And while ‘harmless pranks’ weren’t that uncommon, she didn’t think they would pull this off. Putting something in her drink was possible, sure, as was moving her to another location while she was knocked out from the drink. But something like this didn’t quite fit their sense of humour. Maybe some of the new ones had decided to do something as elaborate like this. It was pretty elaborate, considering they had even gone through the trouble of putting her armour back on. She was quite sure she hadn’t been wearing it before she’d felt tired enough to sleep and it wasn’t that easy to put chainmail on someone who was unconscious. But still...

A prank was only fun if they were around to watch her response, or if they could pretend they didn’t do anything while still getting a good look at the result. It could be possible that there was light beyond the stone, but in that case they must have really taken quite an effort to ensure it properly sealed. And if there was no light outside it, how were they ever going to see her response? Maybe they had put her in here, forgotten how long she’d be out from the drink and wandered off bored. That did sound like something some of them might do.

She could try to make a ruckus, but spoiling their fun was often the best way to teach new ones to stop with the pranking. Or at least target someone else, while keeping their pranks harmless enough. If this had happened to Addel, the human would have freaked out in blind terror. Literally blind, with how dark things were. And while it wasn’t really comfortable… well, she’d slept in worse spots. At least she was dry. Air wasn’t very fresh, but none of them would have risked her actually dying during a prank, so obviously there was somewhere the air would be coming from.

Giving it a small shrug, she turned her head slightly and closed her eyes. Might be a while before sleep came, but at least her body would get some more rest. It really wasn’t all that bad. Place was dry, bit cold but not terribly so, firm beneath her and quiet. Well, relatively quiet. That did sound like someone saying something quietly, or possibly yelling if in another room. How good was this stone at muffling sound, anyway? Pondering this for a few moments, she finally sighed and reopened her eyes.

It probably was nothing, but it would be rather typical if the pranksters had gotten themselves into trouble. Might as well see if she could get out of here to help them. At worst she’d make a fool of herself and give them a good laugh. That was all right with her. Not ideal, but better than ignoring them and finding out that there had been something she could have done to help. Moving slowly, she gently placed her hands against the stone above her. A deep breath in and then she pushed out with as much force as she could in her tight position.

Spoiler:

The member 'Silanae' has done the following action : Make Your Rolls!

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'd20' : 7

Shrikala, 12/12 HP, 18/15/13 AC, +7 initiative, spells level 1: Reduce Person, Inflict Light Wounds

Rossler’s Coffer was a small, quiet town, yes, but it was never—and Shrikala meant NEVER—this quiet. The silence was almost louder than the steady beat of her heart. Her eyes were open. She knew that they were open, but there was no morning light spilling in through a window that was no longer present. Shrikala closed her eyes, opening the core of her being to the thought of full darkness, then opened them once again. Not even the faintest sliver of light penetrated this cool, dark place. It was a new experience. It was, in fact, an experience she hadn’t thought to have until she was dead. This felt like the dark, quiet stillness that she had always imagined a grave might feel like. While Shrikala was fairly certain that she wasn’t preoccupied with death, she couldn’t deny that it was a fascinating subject, in its way. She was, after all, one born on the cusp of the grave. Fascinating or not, however, death was a rather terminal subject.

She used her hands to explore the space around her body, feeling the close, snug walls of stone around her. It was comforting, in its way. Shrikala had never minded being tucked away into a snug space. She had her gear, her armor. Her rapier was thoughtfully strapped to her side, as was the dagger she rarely used for anything but necessary cutting. It felt as though she was in a coffin-like stone box, with what seemed to be the majority of her possessions with her. Whomever had placed her in the box had cared enough to ascertain that all of her most important things were with her for this next step, whatever that step may be. Yes, it was comforting.

A disturbance from outside the dimensions of her box caught her attention. Something, or someone, must be making a fair bit of noise for it to intrude through the quiet walls of her solitude. Although if there was something around to make noise, perhaps the solitude wasn’t complete. She patted at the space around her again, determining just how much room there was in which to move around. Not much, but it should be enough, she thought. Shrikala unhooked her rapier, scooting it over to the edge of the box. The dagger she kept; that, at least, was small enough to move with her. It was considerate that whomever had laid her away had placed her in a box just her size. It was a kindness she would not have expected. Moving as little of her body as possible at any one time, Shrikala slithered and slid over until she was on her belly, with her strong back facing what seemed to be the lid of her box. Contorting herself carefully, she pushed up onto her forearms, using all of the strength she could muster to attempt to shift the lid of the box aside. Something, after all, was out there, and was making enough noise that it could be someone in trouble. Someone, perhaps, needed her help.

Spoiler:

The member 'Celissa' has done the following action : Make Your Rolls!

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'd20' : 17

GM:

As Drizzle explores the stone surface, she realises that the stone isn’t naturally smooth. Someone created this structure and took care to smooth out any impurities of the rough surface. Just as her fingers trace what could be a horizontal line, she realises that not only is this structure made by someone, but she has seen something like this before. Not daily, and certainly not from the inside, but there had been something like this on display when she was a young girl. She had walked past it a few times during her life, her hand idly brushing the finely cut stone, wondering who would ever want to be buried inside something like this. The bad news is that she’s inside a sarcophagus and those aren’t made for the living. The good news is that there is a stone lid on top of it which can be moved, even from inside. If one can apply enough force to move or break it.

Kiza’s push is unfortunately not enough to push the stone slab away, but it does seem to move a bit. Not enough to create an opening, but enough to be relatively certain that it moved.

As Shrikala pushes against the lid with all her might, she can feel the weight resisting her efforts for a few moments. But then it shifts, just a bit at first, but then at a more steady pace and with a grumbling protest that only stone sliding against stone can make. For a brief moment it hangs in the balance, but just before it tips and falls she manages to restore its balance. The opening is just enough for her to climb out of the no longer fully closed structure and she can look around through a completely dark room without any light source - not even a glimpse of light. The room is long but narrow, with a heavy door along the shorter wall to the west and something that looks like a crate along the short wall to the east. Including the one she was in, there are six sarcophagi evenly placed alongside the northern wall, with about five feet of empty space between the largest of the sarcophagi and the southern wall. There is no sign of anyone else standing inside the room with her.

Inside Shrikala’s sarcophagus are all of her belongings, but some of them are slightly altered. If any of them were dirty, they are now completely clean. Small tears and rips have been repaired as if they were never there. Her backpack is packed quite neatly, but not quite in the same way as she would have packed it. On the outside of the backpack is a neatly stitched ribbon, making it seem newer and fancier than it actually is. Her formula book was carefully placed in the corner near her right foot, but has moved around a bit during her movements. A few thin strips of paper were placed along the side, but there’s no words written on them and the paper almost seems to want to fall apart. Her rope can be found in the corner along her left foot, neatly bundled up and with a festive ribbon tying it together. Should she go through her backpack, she’ll find a potion tucked away between her set of regular clothes that she didn’t have before. She will find it easy to recognise it as a potion of inflict light wounds. Should she take the time to properly examine her own appearance, she’ll realise that while the armour is the same - just potentially cleaner and repaired - the clothes aren’t quite right. Instead they seem like a variation of the fanciest clothes she has worn, and they fit quite nicely.

Across the northern wall are various carvings of heroic figures and a carefully positioned text above it, saying: “Red Shrikes - Noble Companions in the War against Evil. Rest Well, My Friends.” Shrikala’s sarcophagus is the closest to the door and the smallest in the room. The carving above it displays a short female, perhaps a human, with what looks like a rapier held up high in a triumphant - or defiant - pose. The other engravings aren’t as easily seen, except if one moved to stand by the sarcophagus underneath it. The door to the side is firmly closed - not locked - with iron bands across it.

Shrikala, 12/12 HP, 18/15/13 AC, +7 initiative, spells level 1: Reduce Person, Inflict Light Wounds

With a little work, Shrikala managed to shift aside the heavy stone lid enough to slip out of the stone box in which she’d been nestled. The idea of using more than just her arms to push seemed to have been a good one. Once she was out of the box—or rather, the sarcophagus, it seemed—there was no one at all inside the dark room. Darkness didn’t bother her; it never had and never would. She was a child of the night, named for the light of the moon. There were five other boxes set up in the narrow room. It really was a mausoleum, it appeared. How interesting. She had never really considered actually being completely dead, as opposed to the state of quasi-half-life that she normally inhabited. But could someone who was completely dead move about, and actually think about doing so? Probably not. Well, unless that one was a vampire or some such creature, but most of the undead she had encountered seemed completely mindless. Shrikala was very sure that she wasn’t mindless. But then, what would mindlessness feel like? It was an interesting thought, but it was one for another time. There were things to explore in her mausoleum. There were the reliefs along the walls, which were quite interesting, and there were, of course, the small treasures that had accompanied her into this new place and time inside her sarcophagus. These she collected, placing them carefully into her backpack.

No sooner had she finished collecting the bits and pieces than it seemed that one of the other sarcophagi trembled a little. Not enough to shift aside the heavy top, but she was certain that it trembled. Shrikala caught her breath—that was another thing; did things that were dead even need to breathe?—and cautiously moved towards the box that had shivered just a bit. The breath she held ran out, and she released it in a whoosh, taking in a quiet gulp of new air. It was curious, this situation. Stretching out a cautious hand, she rapped a hard count of three on the lid of the box that had, for just a moment, moved.

Kiza, 12/12 hp, 18/11/17 AC, +1 initiative, smite evil 1/1, orc ferocity 1/1.

The stone didn’t want to move. Or it did, but not nearly as much as it needed to. Giving it an annoyed frown, she shifted her shoulders a bit and then conceded she might need more than just her hands. There was only a small bit of space, but perhaps she could shift enough to push up against it with her knees and lower legs, although that would be quite uncomfortable. Suddenly three knocks came from above her. Faint, but definitely just above her. Blinking, she shrugged a little and gave the lid three slaps in return. Someone probably had become worried that she might be dying in here, which didn’t mean they’d help her get out. Shrugging, she decided she’d give it one more try before she’d suffer through the trouble of bending uncomfortably to get her legs involved. Either the someone outside would help, or they wouldn’t. She was quite used to having to do things herself.

Spoiler:

—————-
GM:
Should Shrikala look up, she can see a carving of a fierce looking half-orc in full plate armour glaring down on the watcher, an axe in one hand and a shield leaning against the legs. Should she wish to assist someone who is still trapped inside, she can either make her own strength roll to push the lid off, aid the roll of whatever the one inside is doing to remove the lid (giving them a +2), or come up with another creative idea.  Kiza manages to open the stone lid from inside the sarcophagus.
—————-
Kiza, 12/12 hp, 18/11/17 AC, +1 initiative, smite evil 1/1, orc ferocity 1/1.

With the renewed effort, Kiza managed to force the lid to move and keep moving. Grumbling a bit as she did so, she used the increased space it creates to easier push it away until the damn thing tilted and fell on the ground with a satisfying thud. Using the edge of the stone structure to easier get up, she frowned into the dark that was - as she’d expected - far too dark. Except that someone was there and didn’t seem all that blind.

“Who are you?” She managed to keep her voice polite - especially considering that she was not fond of being moved to strange places for foolish pranks. “Are you new?” Frowning, she looked the girl up and down and shook her head. “You don’t look like much of a soldier, although you still might be. We’ve had short ones around before,” murmuring the last bit more to herself than the unknown girl, she glanced briefly around and suppressed a sigh. “Really? You - and whoever else helped - dragged me to… this?” She waved around a hand to indicate the ridiculous nature of the room, before giving up trying to understand the prank for now and clambering out of the stone coffin. They really needed to find a new hobby.

The member 'Silanae' has done the following action : Make Your Rolls!

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'd20' : 16

Arkris, 7/7 HP, 12/12/10 AC, +6 initiative, spells; level 1: 5/5

There. Was. No. Response.

This was a problem of monumental proportions. Arkris had been many things in his life, it was true, but ignored had never, NEVER been one of those things. Alone in his immovable confine, he thought furiously. Fact One: He had not been alone when he fell asleep. Fact Two: He had been drinking before his amusement with whoever that was. Fact Three: He sure as hell had not fallen asleep in a box made of rock. Fact Four: It was too quiet, and too dark. Fact Five: Once he was out of this mess, someone was going to die for entombing him in it.

Entombing…

Surely not. No, whatever juvenile scheme had landed him in this position, it certainly wouldn’t be something so…so final. He wasn’t going to let it be. Arkris focused his thoughts, forcing them away from the utterly undesirable idea of being trapped in a stone box. He had always had a talent for using prestidigitation magic. He employed this talent now, focusing hard on creating an effect he had no way to see. The spell could create small objects; it was this feature he utilized now, calling sparking letters into effect approximately three feet away from where his (rather sore) head now lay. “L E T M E O U T,” he spelled, then added a flickering wisp of feeble light bouncing up and down near his display to call attention to the spectacle. Someone would see it, and let him the fuck out of this hole. Surely.

Just after he’d shaped a second wisp of light to bounce beside the letters, his concentration was absolutely shattered by a crash that was very loud, even within the walls of his prison. Perhaps he only imagined it, but he swore he could almost feel a tremor run through the box surrounding him. Arkris immediately abandoned the idea of shaping more dancing lights, instead allowing his frustration to find voice once again. “HEY!” he bellowed. “LET ME THE FUCK OUT OF THIS BOX! I’M RIGHT HERE! JUST FOLLOW THE DAMN LIGHTS!” At this point, he wasn’t sure if he cared that who or whatever was out there was probably an enemy. There was room out there, in theory, room to breathe and to think and to clear his head so that the still, cold confinement wouldn’t swallow him… “JUST LET ME OUT!” He banged both fists against the surface suspended above his body. Noise and light. Something would work. Something had to work. He was not going to die like this. Not today, not ever.

Shrikala, 12/12 HP, 18/15/13 AC, +7 initiative, spells level 1: Reduce Person, Inflict Light Wounds

Shrikala was nothing short of delighted when her knock upon the lid of this particular sarcophagus resulted in a response.  She’d no more than gotten herself set to try and help whomever was inside push the thing aside than she had to jump aside as the lid was flung to the ground from inside the sarcophagus as a half-orc woman emerged from within.  Could it be that there was someone in each of these boxes?  If she’d been in one, and this woman within another, logic implied that all of the sarcophagi could be full…  Even as she beamed a smile at the armor-clad half-orc, she saw lights and letters shimmer into view behind the woman.

“Oh look!” she cried, pointing.  “There must me someone else here indeed!”  Realizing that she was being questioned, she turned her gaze back to the half-orc.  “I’m Shrikala,” she said, “and I’m happy to answer anything you need to ask, but first, I think someone or something must be over there, too.”  Indeed, a muffled caterwauling noise emerged from the same direction as the feeble lights.  “C’mon.  It sounds like he needs our help!”  Giving the half-orc another delighted smile, Shrikala raced over to align herself wit h the lid of this noise-infested sarcophagus, settling herself in to try and heft off the heavy stone.  “One and two and three!!”  With that, she threw her admittedly limited weight and strength into trying to shove the thing aside.  “I really should do some experimentations towards a spell that has an opposing effect to my personal reduction spell,” she murmured as she worked at the heavy stone.  “It seems that it could at times be useful to add muscle rather than grace.  I’ll look into that!”  Shoving at the stone with one absolutely gigantic effort, she pushed with all her strength.

Spoiler:

The member 'Celissa' has done the following action : Make Your Rolls!

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'd20' : 14

Drizzle, 9/9 hp, 13/13/10 AC, +5 initiative, channel 4/4, icicle: 7/7, recall 7/7, spells level 1: 3/3, ghost hunter 1/1.

“No.” The word was softly whispered, but still seemed to fill the air around her. It couldn’t be, but the signs were all around. Staring at the stone lid above her, she swallowed and wondered how this could be and what she’d done to deserve this. She had heard the occasional mutter of her being touched by death, but surely no one believed in that firmly enough to bury her alive? To trap her beneath earth and stone, so she wouldn’t even be able to break the wood and try to claw her way back towards air? Towards life? She felt the burning of emerging tears and firmly fought to not give in. If this was to be her time - undeserved as it might feel to her - than she had to accept and embrace that. Taking a breath to begin a prayer to the Lady of all Souls, she faltered when there was a loud sound. If she was already underneath the earth, then surely she wouldn’t have heard that? Again the silence fell, but less deeply than before. It almost seemed… that was almost like the voice she imagined hearing before. Maybe… maybe they hadn’t left yet? Maybe she didn’t truly have to die?

She tried to call out again, but her voice choked on suppressed tears. Another loud sound shattered the silence, alike to the previous loud. Hoping without quite daring to hope, she raised the hand with her dagger, turned her wrist and used the hilt to rhythmically bang against the stone above her. She couldn’t make herself scream, despite the terror that tried to control her body. If she was wrong, if the sounds weren’t caused by anyone who’d wish to help her, than she’d need the air she would waste with screaming. No matter what her fate would be, she wasn’t going to die without a final prayer for her soul. Even if she hoped that it wouldn’t be necessary.

———

Kiza, 12/12 hp, 18/11/17 AC, +1 initiative, smite evil 1/1, orc ferocity 1/1.

“Answers would be good, helping is better,” Kiza agreed as she glanced between the short one and the tomb with… dancing lights. Getting there proved to be easier said than done, with her almost tripping over what appeared to be her shield while moving out of the coffin. Muttering a few unkind words, she managed to make her way close to where the other was already starting to push. Only to see the stone begin to slide and move out of the way of whoever was inside there. Judging by the sound produced from within, it was at least a living being.

“Nicely done,” she commented politely, before looking around for any other strange lights. She didn’t see that, but did faintly hear another sound that continued steadily. “Let’s get the others open. I rather disturb the resting place of a true dead than have someone living die inside one of these.” Moving towards the nearest unopened sarcophagus, she tried to find a good grasp on the lid and push it away. But aside from it moving a bit, the lid remained firmly placed. "Come give me a hand with the unopened lids, will you?" She called out to the short girl who was pretty strong for her size.

Spoiler:

———

GM

Shrikala’s efforts to shove the stone lid away are quite successful, as it turns out that pushing it away is easier with more room to manoeuvre. The lid resists for only a few seconds before it slides away and tumbles to the ground next to the sarcophagus. Should someone look up at the carving above this sarcophagus, one would see a figure with a strange hat, elaborate robes and what looks to be a tail. There’s no weapon in sight, but one hand is stretched out in another heroic pose with stylised flames forming from his hand.

Unfortunately Kiza does not manage to push the lid free, although it does move a bit.

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'd20' : 4

Shrikala, 12/12 HP, 18/15/13 AC, +7 initiative, spells level 1: Reduce Person, Inflict Light Wounds

Another overjoyed smile blossomed on Shrikala’s face as the stone lid obliged her efforts to dislodge it, sliding to the floor with a loud crash.  She didn’t even have to dodge anything this time, since she was pushing the slab of stone away from herself.  Unsurprisingly, this sarcophagus, too, was occupied, and this particular occupant did not look at all happy to have been inside the cozy box, even if his was a good bit larger than the one inside which she had found herself.

~*~

Arkris, 7/7 HP, 12/12/10 AC, +6 initiative, spells; level 1: 5/5

Finally, finally, the lid of this prison slid away, revealing…another dark space.  It did seem as though this space was larger, at least, judging by the face of the beaming girl-child peering down at where he lay entombed.  No.  Not entombed.  He was free, and he was getting out of this hell hole.  Now.

Arkris sat up abruptly, one hand slipping up to soothe his sore head where it had collided with the utterly rude stone.  Unfair, that.  “Where am I?” he asked, not bothering to soften the harsh tones of anger in his voice.  “Who are you?  What the hell is going on?”

“I am Shrikala Chanda,” the child replied as Arkris clambered out of the damned coffin with as much grace as he could manage under the circumstances.  “I’m afraid that our location and the conditions of our arrival here are as of yet unknown to me, though perhaps a thorough investigation may give us some clues.”  

She really was a child, he noted, as he stood beside the girl, or…  No, she had a shape that was a little too well-defined to be that of a child.  That was clear enough even in the absence of light in this place.  Not bad, if a bit on the small side.  Which still didn’t answer any questions of where the hell he was, or where they were, he supposed.  There was another chick too, this one certainly a better size, though too armor-clad for him to make out much of her figure.  She was muddling around with another of the damned coffins, of which there were far too many in this place.

“What now?” he muttered, not really certain that he wanted an answer.  It seemed he was going to get one anyway, however, as the pixie-sized girl beside him immediately piped up with an answer.

“If the three of us were encased inside these sarcophagi, logic dictates that the others in the room are also probably occupied,” she said.  “We should check and be sure that no one feels uncomfortable in such a position.”  Though she didn’t add the words like you, Arkris could feel them brushing against his mind.  

“Yeah, whatever.  I guess you’re right.”  Besides, he noticed with a glance down at the coffin he’d been in, there were things in there.  If there were things in one, why not all?  

Belatedly, he realized that there was something in one of his hands.  He’d not really noticed it, but when he did, he let the object drop to the floor.  He strode to the center of the narrow chamber, leaving a single red rose, not completely dead, but somewhat dried out, alone in the dust on the floor.  Sentiment was such an unnecessary thing.  The carvings above the coffins were interesting, though.  Far more so than sentiment from someone whose name he couldn't even remember.

~*~

Shrikala, 12/12 HP, 18/15/13 AC, +7 initiative, spells level 1: Reduce Person, Inflict Light Wounds

Another soul released from captivity.  That was a very good thing.  He’d been, by far, the loudest of those that lingered in this place, though she thought she heard another noise somewhere nearby.  Tilting her head to one side, Shrikala listened closely, then made her way to the sarcophagus from whence she thought the sound originated.  Lining herself up carefully, she shoved again at the stone, seeking to release whatever lay within.

Spoiler:

The member 'Celissa' has done the following action : Make Your Rolls!

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'd20' : 14, 9

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Kiza, 12/12 hp, 18/11/17 AC, +1 initiative, smite evil 1/1, orc ferocity 1/1.

Shifting her position and hold a bit, Kiza tried again to push the stone lid away from the coffin that might hold someone who was in need of being freed. Biting her lip slightly as she pushed, she felt a sense of relief when it gave way and revealed what was inside. Which was nothing. Absolutely nothing. Something that was at least better than finding the corpse of someone who used to be alive. “This one is empty,” she called out to the others before looking around. “Need a hand with that one, or should I check the other one?” Four tombs open, two more to go. At least this wasn’t taking too much time and then there could be some answers. Answers would be quite welcome.

Spoiler:

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GM

This time Shrikala does not manage to push the stone lid away, although she does notice that the repeating sound is definitely coming from within this one. As Arkris regards the carvings above the sarcophagi, he can notice that the one above where Shrikala is pushing depicts a slender female of unrecognisable heritage. She is portrayed in such a way that makes it clear she’s about to heal some wounded with divine magic. Oddly enough, there are two symbols depicted just below her. The one to the left features an eye with wings behind it an rays spreading out below it, while the one on the right seems to be a spiralling comet. Above the other sarcophagi are also figures carved, but it is surprisingly difficult to make out their features. That one might be a male, or an armoured female. That one could be holding a sword, or maybe a staff, or even an undrawn bow. Of the four recognisable carvings, only the one above Shrikala is situated above a still unopened sarcophagus.

Thanks to the renewed effort, Kiza manages to push the lid away. Unfortunately, there is no one inside. In fact, it is completely empty. No person, no items, but also no corpse.

The member 'Silanae' has done the following action : Make Your Rolls!

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'd20' : 9

Drizzle, 9/9 hp, 13/13/10 AC, +5 initiative, channel 4/4, icicle: 7/7, recall 7/7, spells level 1: 3/3, ghost hunter 1/1.

Tap. Tap. Tap. She could almost pretend she was banging instead, but knew she wasn’t strong enough to make enough sound in this way. Perhaps if she screamed, but she still couldn’t get herself to do that. It was hard enough to keep the panic and fear under control. She shouldn’t be afraid to die, but she didn’t want to die. And, perhaps, she didn’t have to. For after what felt like an eternity the stone above her started shifting. Closing her eyes for just a moment as a stab of relief travelled through her, she took a deeper breath and reopened her eyes again in time to see someone looking down at her. Not a familiar face, but also not a hostile one. Shakily sitting upright, she nodded when someone asked if she was all right and did her best to convince herself that she was all right. It was quite dark outside of the sarcophagus, but it wasn’t earth. She wasn’t buried underneath it.

Noticing another one standing close, a male this time, she nodded towards him with a faint smile before she realised what he looked like. She blinked and stared at him for a few moments, before frowning slightly. “I’ve seen you before,” she concluded slowly, still trying to place the where and how. “I don’t think I know your name.” Glancing towards the other nearby female, she felt a tingle of unease but wasn’t sure why. She didn’t think she knew that one either, although she perhaps couldn’t remember because her mind was still adjusting to not being buried alive. A loud thud sounded further into the room as another stone lid was removed from a sarcophagus. “I’m Drizzle. Drizzle Darksky,” she offered because they probably also didn’t know her.

“I know you,” the words rang out soon afterwards, almost to prove all her thoughts in this place wrong. The last living person in the room moved towards them and Drizzle took the chance to slowly get up and try to regain her bearings. “You’re the one near the cemetery. And that one was completely empty as well, looks like it’s just us.”

“Yes,” she conceded as she regarded what appeared to be a half-orc. She vaguely recalled seeing that one once or twice in the village, but they’d never talked. “I work there, but this isn't there. At least, I don’t remember ever seeing a room that matches this.” Not to mention having six sarcophagi in a row with carved portraits and… Pharasma. Looking at the nearest carving, she studied the symbols with a confused gaze. It could have made sense, but the symbol wasn't normally used to signify death in such a location. After all, all of them were dead. That was the point of being depicted in such a way above sarcophagi. And yet these were all empty, apparently, except for them in it. “None of this makes sense,” she concluded softly.

“It certainly makes less sense than what I originally thought,” the half-orc commented with a bit of a shrug. “I’m Kiza, currently stationed with the guards in Roslar’s Coffer. Had a few drinks last evening, don’t remember any of them tasting funny, woke up here. The lads wouldn’t have done this to villagers and none of you seem like you’re with the guard - no offence - so either this is a different kind of prank or something strange is going on. Any of you remember how you got here?”

Drizzle lightly shook her head and continued to study the carvings. She listened with half attention as the others talked, then blinked as she recalled who that symbol belonged to. “This doesn’t make any sense.” Realising she kept saying - and thinking - that, she looked back to the living beings with her. “That’s Aroden’s holy symbol, but he hasn’t been actively worshipped in quite some time. And there’s no reason for Pharasma’s symbol to be depicted next to it in such a way. The writing seems to indicate that this person - whoever she was - belonged to the Red Shrikes. All of them, in fact. I don’t know much about history, but I think they were part of the Shining Crusade. As far as I can recall…” she paused for a moment, struggling to make sense of things she read years ago and which hadn’t terribly interested her back then, despite her initial interest in that Crusade. “None of them actually died during the crusade and continued to perform heroic deeds afterwards. I have no idea why they would have been laid to rest in this place, though. Maybe someone was wanted them to reunite after dying?” Something which seemed very silly to her, but during her work she’d discovered many odd beliefs and wishes when it came to the final resting place of someone who was beloved or respected.

Spoiler:

The member 'Silanae' has done the following action : Make Your Rolls!

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'd20' : 15