The party have investigated Melloth Hwyr and discovered an archaeological expedition uncovering an ancient tomb.
Zayri chiselled the last of the lime deposits from around the doors. “That's it,” she grinned, “Ready to make history?” With out waiting for a reply Zayri strained to open the doors. They didn't move.
“It won't budge,” Zayri wiped sweat from her eyes, “Come on boys, and lend a hand.”
“We shouldn't do this,” said Patrick, “Something bad is going to happen.”
“We all agreed to this.” argued Hugo, “ You agreed to it Pat”
“Why do I feel I'm going to regret this?” Patrick grumbled. “Come on then, let's get on with it. The sooner we start, the sooner we die!”
Patrick and Hugo dropped their weapons and armour then approached the granite slabs. Even through the centuries of lime deposits the carved relief of the Horned King could be clearly seen.
Hugo traced the carving with his fingers. “Fact or fiction I wonder? This is a part of our people's past. What part will it play in our future I wonder?” He laughed, “Let's find out.”
Cursing and grunting, Hugo and Patrick strained to move the stone door. Slowly, with a low rumble, the block inched backwards. Then, CRACK! Something gave way and the door swung smoothly away spilling Hugo and Patrick to the ground. Zayri skipped over the prostrate pair and darted through the doorway. The flickering light from her torch illuminated the carved walls of a stone passage sloping down into the earth.
“Look at these,” Zayri pulled a brush from her pocket and brushed dust and cobwebs from the carvings, “From the same hand that carved the door if I'm not mistaken. They bear a striking resemblance to Melphant's rubbings of the carvings he found at Khargath. I wonder if they are related in some way. I must take some rubbings before we leave.”
“Careful Zayri, the tomb may be trapped,” Durban warned, “I can sense powerful magic at work here.”
“Old magic I think,” said Zayri, “You are sensing the echoes of past spells.”
“I agree with Zayri. I can find no traps or snares,” Owen said, “Let's press on before Jason decides to stick his nose in and spoil all the fun.” Owen juggled one of his daggers and grinned “What could possibly go wrong?”
“I still have a bad feeling about this;” muttered Patrick, “Just don't touch anything. The Goddess only knows what has been locked down here.”
“Ah! That's where you're wrong Patrick,” Interrupted Zayri, “Look at these carvings!” She pointed at a series of carvings depicting a horned warrior battling creatures. “He's shown battling demons and over there undead.”
“So?” asked Patrick.
“These scenes champion the Horned King, not vilify him. If this is some sort of prison, why carve these scenes?” Zayri grabbed Patrick's arm. “This is amazing, we're making history! It's so exciting. Lets move on – there must be more to see.”
The square cut stone shaft sloped gently downwards. The flickering light of Zayri's torch cast shadows across the walls making the carved figures of the Horned King dance and move.
“That's really unnerving,” whispered Durban , “I don't like it.”
“It's a simple trick Durban . I've been told the stone carvers of Agregann used the same tricks with great effect.” Zayri stopped and looked at Durban , “You must try to be more objective. Don't let you emotions control your actions. Logic and science must prevail.”
A hundred yards beyond the first doors the corridor ended in a rune covered brick wall, flanked by carved pillars of black marble.
“Magnificent,” Zayri moved her torch across the wall,” Untouched by time. I wonder what…”
Before her outstretched hand could touch the bricks the runes erupted with a golden light, illuminating the corridor. Slowly the light crept along the joins between the bricks until each brick was outlined. With a gentle sigh the bricks separated and floated gently outwards, coming to a rest at the sides of the corridor. Beyond the doorway lay an octagonal chamber, gently lit by a faint, white light.
Before each of the seven other walls sat a stone chair, carved from black marble. On the six seats to the left and right of the door sat a still human figure. Each was clad in elaborate plate armour with an untarnished, glowing sword resting across their knees. Open-faced helms showed thin, pale faces with parchment-like skin pulled tight across their faces.
Across from the entrance sat a seventh, taller figure. He was clad in scale armour, each individual scales carved in the shape of a leaf and stained a deep green colour. Thin, pale hands grasped the handle of a great axe, covered with more carved leaves and glowing with a green light.
The figures head was bent low with his chin resting on his chest. A simple gold band studded with emeralds circled the figure's head, holding back green-tinged shoulder length hair. A magnificent set of stag's antlers erupted from the top of his skull.
“Oh my,” whispered Zayri, “It can't be …… it's impossible ……what …”
“Oh, but it is true.” The soft, whispered words echoed around the chamber. “I am here before you and I live.” Slowly the antlered head rose to an upright position. The man's face was thin and emaciated, his pale skin stretched tight over a long, narrow skull.
“I am Barraell,” he whispered, “The Horned King.” The man stood up, stretched and took a few tottering steps forward. “Who are you and why have you woken me?”
“Oh dear,” Zayri scuttled backwards and darted behind Patrick's armoured form, “Err, what do we do now?”
Back to Part 4 of the Campaign Chronicle.
