TOPIC: Mummy's Mask discussion

(Savaged) Mummy’s Mask – Session Three (25/10/2018)

The Sanctum of the Erudite Eye had once have been a grand, imposing structure, but like the rest of the necropolis, it had long since fallen into disrepair. Twinned statues of the god Nethys flanked a flight of marble steps leading to the entrance. Within the sanctum, the floor was a checkerboard of black & white tiles, though many were covered by puddles of freshly spilled blood. Several bodies lay strewn across the temple; most were ancient and desiccated, though others were fresher and wearing familiar golden masks.

“Zese are ze same men who harassed us in ze inn two nights ago,” Cluedo said, gingerly removing one of the masks. The corpse beneath bore the rugged, deeply tanned features of an Osirian native. “I am beginning to understand. From ze beginning, ze Golden Masks were using ze lottery to get into ze necropolis and search for zis particular building. But why? What iz so special about zis place?”

The Desert Storm spread out to search the temple, hoping to find some clue that would explain why the Golden Masks had weathered so many casualties to be the first to reach the sanctum.

“Not-so-secret door over here!” Bes called, “It’s propped open by another body!”

Before the heroes could investigate further, a wave of necromantic energy welled up from below the sanctum. Most of the party felt it as a sense of unease, as though someone had not just walked over their grave, but grabbed a shovel and started digging. Vardis felt the necro-pulse more keenly, so closely attuned was the gnoll shaman to the practise of tribal death magic. Innis was also effected by the wave; suddenly he felt stronger and faster than he had felt since emerging from his sarcophagus! His empty eye sockets began to dance with bright purple fire.

The corpses on the ground were similarly affected. They rose clumsily and converged on the heroes. Several zombies ganged-up on Chenkov, mortally wounding the mighty warrior! Fortunately, Billu was on hand to provide healing.

“This is not how I die!” Chenkov roared, swinging his greatsword in an arc that killed everything caught within its murderous circumference, “When my time comes, I will die holding my father’s sword!”

Still reeling from the potency of the necro-pulse, Vardis was unable to defend himself as a zombie shambled toward him. Although Boros felt no love for his master, he could not stand idly by and watch the gnoll be disembowelled. With an incoherent cry mingling his fear and fury, Boros snatched the Spear of Watchful Guardians from Vardis’ unresisting paws and drove the shaft through the zombie’s unbeating heart!

“You saved me?” Vardis panted, “You could have let me die. You would have been free.”

“I don’t know why I did it,” Boros replied, “Maybe you’re not such a terrible master after a-rrgghhhh!”

The moment was ruined as the zombie Boros had skewered grappled him from behind. The spear impaling the zombie was driven through the slave’s chest, killing him instantly! The rest of the zombies were dispatched, but it was too late to save the life of the valiant slave.

“At least in death, he has rediscovered the freedom taken from him in life.” Bes said respectfully.

“Nope!” Vardis barked, calling upon his dark, shamanic powers to drag Boros’ spirit back to the material plane. As the confused ghost appeared, Vardis slapped a pair of arcane shackles around its wrists. “Do you not remember me telling you that you would never be free, Boros? Did you think that dying would change that?”

“I take back what I said earlier,” the ghost replied, “You are the worst.”

The reunion was interrupted as yet more zombies shambled in through the open doors of the temple.

“Aren’t those the Silver Chain guys that we fought?” Billu cried, as the undead robbers skidded across the bloody tiles.

“There are too many to fight!” Bes said, “Quick! To the not-so-secret passage!”

TBC

(Savaged) Mummy’s Mask – Session Four (01/11/2018)

With a mob of undead ravagers snapping at their heels, the Desert Storm retreated into the catacomb beneath the temple. A flight of narrow stone steps descended steeply into the dark. Issa advanced, lantern held high in his bony fist. The flickering flame illuminated a long, vaulted chamber. A low, mournful groan sounded from the shadows and a pathetic figure dragged itself into the light. Like many of the bodies the group had encountered since entering the temple, the zombie wore a golden funerary mask. Unlike many of the other bodies, this particular specimen had been cut in half at the waist. The top half of the pitiful creature dragged itself forward, leaving a glistening trail of viscera in its wake like some gory slug. Issa stepped forward, raised his foot and stamped down hard on the zombies head. Not hard enough it seemed; the zombie grabbed his leg and started clawing at his shins. Vardis moved forward and drove his spear through the zombie’s back, ending its dismal existence.

Nobody could fathom how the corpse managed to get itself chopped in half; then Issa stepped on a hidden pressure plate and two spinning blades emerged from the walls. The mystery was solved! Fortunately, the heroes were dexterous enough to dodge the deadly trap.

Vardis’ ears pricked up at the sound of fighting up ahead. Billu crept forward, moving quietly between rows of silent tombs. Suddenly, something started clawing at the inside of the nearest sarcophagi and Billu’s heart nearly burst out of his chest. Torchlight and the ruckus of combat originated from beyond a large door at the far end of the crypt. Peeking around the threshold, Billu saw another masked warrior fending off blows from two hulking mummies wrapped in rotting bandages. A third mummy toppled the sarcophagus from a dais, revealing a secret compartment hidden beneath. A young, bald-headed man in a voluptuous robe knelt to recover a golden funerary mask from the revealed recess.

“At last!” the robed man crowed, raising the mask above his head, “After years of searching; I, Nebta-Khufre, have found it, the mask of the Forgotten Pharaoh! With the power trapped within this gaudy trinket, I will raise an army of the dead mighty enough to rule Osirion!”

“That is no trinket, wizard!” spat the masked warrior. His blades flashed out, hacking chunks of rotting flesh from his two mummified opponents. “You have no idea of the forces you are meddling with! Surrender the mask!”

“I shall not,” the necromancer giggled, lowering the mask onto his own head, “But your pathetic demands amuse me. When you succumb to your wounds, I might well raise your body to serve as my jester.”

“I recognise that voice,” Cluedo whispered, joining Billu at the threshold, “Ze masked man was at ze Tooth and Hookah two nights ago. He was talking about a mask then too.”

“Everyone is talking about masks,” Billu grumbled, “There are altogether too many masks in this adventure!”

The Desert Storm kicked open the door and charged into the middle of the situation unfolding in the next room. Alarmed by their appearance at his rear, the masked warrior dropped his guard and one of the mummies delivered a blow that drove him to his knees. The necromancer summoned a portal to his lair and scrambled through. As the portal closed, he turned to deliver a parting curse – only to be stuck in the chest by the flask of oil fired from Billu’s sling! As the portal winked out, the heroes glimpsed the necromancer flailing as his voluptuous robes went up in flame.

The heroes defeated the three mummies, then levelled their weapons at the masked warrior. The man removed his golden mask, revealing the severe, deeply tanned features of a desert nomad.

“You beetles have no idea what you are doing,” the man said angrily, spitting bloody phlegm at Guud’s feet, “You scurry in the shadows of giants, interfering in matters you do not understand. Because of you, the necromancer has escaped with his ‘trinket’. The ruin he will bring upon this city will be as a noose around your necks.”

“You talk and talk, but say little,” Guud said, as he and Chenkov manhandled the struggling cultist out of the crypt, “Be silent now, soon you will tell us everything we want to know.”

TBC

(Savaged) Mummy’s Mask – Session Four (01/11/2018)

The heroes quit the necropolis and returned to the Tooth and Hookah with their injured prisoner. The guards at the gate of the living city advised that healing could be sought from the clerics of the Grand Mausoleum, but the Desert Storm had no intentions of handing their captive over to the temple. Billu and Guud handled the interrogation of the previously-masked warrior, learning that his name was Ikram and he belonged to a group calling itself the Cult of the Forgotten Pharaoh.

“Tell us why everyone is so hard for that mask!” Billu demanded.

“I would rather bite out my own tongue than tell you!”

“Tell meeeeeee!” Billu sang, striking a flamboyant pose.

“Your spirited performance has stirred my wicked heart toward redemption!” cried the cultist, “Lean in close and I will whisper to you all the secrets of my organisation!”

Billu leaned in close.

The cultist bit down hard on his own tongue and spat the bloody lump of gristle on the floor. As Billu recoiled in horror, the cultist leaped to his feet and hurled himself out of the window. He broke his neck in the fall and lay dead upon the ground. Fortunately, Billu’s room was at the rear of the building and the body had landed in the alley behind the inn, away from prying eyes.

Later that day, the Desert Storm were invited back to the estate of Lord Okhenti, who congratulated them on the success in the lottery.

“You have done very well, my friends, far better than I could have hoped! You have bought great honour to House Okhenti. That one-armed crone Damej Mahfre must be cursing the day she hired the Scorched Hand to represent her interests! I cannot wait to see her face at the next council meeting! Hohoho! The lottery is now closed and the necropolis will be resealed – at least until the Ruby Prince decides his treasury is growing empty again. Hoho!

“I understand that you are keen to sell your plunder. An auction is being held in the next few weeks, where all the groups who participated in the lottery will get to sell their loot. No date has been set, so you have some time to relax and pursue your own interests.

“There is one more thing that I need to say. Billu, I summoned you to Wati to join the group I was putting together for the lottery, but that was not my only reason for wanting to see you.

“Billu… I am your father.”

“Nooooooooooo!” Billu cried, “Wait, what?!”

“It’s true!” Lord Okhenti continued, “Many years ago, back in my adventuring days, a quest went bad and I was left wounded and alone in the desert. I was dehydrated and nearing death when an angel appeared before me, or so I though at the time, so addled were my wits. I later learnt she was a nomad and that she carried me to her yurt and nursed me back to health. Over time, we grew closer, then intimate. But I could not stay in the desert and she would never leave. Our love was as furious and fleeting as a sandstorm, then we were both tossed back into our old lives. Years later, I learned that she had borne a child and I knew I had a son. I brought you to Wati so that I might observe you and see what kind of man my son had grown into. I am proud to call myself your father and acknowledge you as my heir!”

The party continued into the night as Billu and his companions celebrated his nobility. Uncomfortable with displays of revelry, Guud slipped away into the sleeping city, sticking to the rooftops where he could think clearly. He was the Pale Bowman and his place was in the desert, not in this writhing mass of civilization; Lord Okhenti’s rambling monologue had reminded him of that. Guud climbed to the tallest point in the city, the domed roof of the Grand Mausoleum. It had been a while since he had checked his messages. People who needed his aid and knew how to contact him would leave messages at the highest point in the area, secure in the knowledge that eventually/inevitably; the Pale Bowman would be drawn there like a moth to an open flame. Two missions had been left for him; the first to deal with a group of bandits terrorising merchants on the caravan route between Wati and Tephu, the second to collect the hide of a rare, desert-dwelling reptile called the shasalqu. Guud memorised the details, then lay back against the golden dome, staring up at the night sky. Even the stars looked different here.

TBC

(Savaged) Mummy’s Mask – Session Four (01/11/2018)

With an undetermined amount of downtime before the auction, the Desert Storm were able to indulge in side-quests for treasure and personal growth.

Vardis made some discrete enquiries and located a slaver operating out of barge town, the floating slum moored on the banks of the River Asp. He purchased a matching pair of human children to carry his baggage when the ghost of Boros was otherwise engaged.

Billu shed the trappings of his former life, emerging from a cocoon of poverty to embrace his new-found nobility.

Guud prepared for an expedition into the desert to hunt the shasalqu.

Cluedo tutored Issa in the common tongue, enabling the skeleton to converse with the other members of the group without having to rely on Bes or the Inspector to translate. Issa began poring through the dusty tomes in the temple’s hall of records, exercising his tenuous grasp on the common tongue to search for descendants of General Ahkentepi. For some reason, the skeleton seemed obsessed with finding a living relative of his ancient enemy.

Chenkov spent his time in prayer to his god. After twenty-four hours of meditation, the brawny warrior slipped into a troubled sleep, whereupon he received a divine visitation. When Chenkov rose the next day, he felt the blessing of Gorum awakening within him.

Bes’ sleep was also disturbed by the gods. He dreamed he was back in his childhood home, eating a simple meal with his family. Bes noticed an extra place had been set at the table.

“Mother, who will be joining us?” Bes asked.

“Why, you of course,” his mother answered.

Bes looked back to the empty place and saw himself seated there.

“I am us as once we were,” Other-Bes explained between mouthfuls of their mother’s famous cactus stew, “Before the new gods rose to prominence, the people of this land worshipped us. Some still do of course, but their numbers are dwindling. Soon we will be all but forgotten, save for the old shrines buried beneath the sands of history. The land may have forgotten us, but we do not forget the land and we protect it still, as best we can. An ancient and powerful evil is stirring, we witnessed the first rumblings in the necropolis. Like a storm in the desert, we can’t stop it coming, but we can prepare for when it breaks. In the age of the old gods, we were served by four powerful jinn, generals who commanded our armies and the elements. South of Wati lies the Pyramid of Air, final resting place of Hesterpput. His name will open the way. Recover his bones, then we will speak again.”

When Bes woke he was back in his room at the Tooth and Hookah.

Although the lottery was over, the Desert Storm decided to stay together until they had divvied up the loot from the auction. The rest of the party accompanied Guud out into the desert to hunt the shasalqu. Vardis proved himself to be a capable tracker and led the expedition to the lizard’s lair. Several large, blue reptiles lazed in the sun, their scales glistening with ice.

“I have read about these creatures,” Cluedo explained, while Guud strung his bow, “They absorb the heat from the air and release it as a burst of freezing cold to catch their prey.”

The party bombarded the lizard colony from atop the dune then wandered down to collect the hides, which Guud could trade in for a suit of magical leather armour back in Wati.

TBC

[Savaged) Mummy’s Mask – Session 5 – 08/11/2018

The Desert Storm returned to Wati, where Guud traded the shasalqu scales for a suit of ice-hide leather. The armour replicated the lizard’s innate ability to absorb heat from the air and channel that energy into an icy blast. Reluctant to reduce his existing armour value (chainmail, AV2), Guud gifted the ice-hide leather to Issa.

Having discovered that Chenkov’s sword was now in the possession of Damej Mahfre, the heroes made enquiries about the reclusive noblewoman. They learn that she remains a formidable swordswoman despite the loss of her right arm and that she is not afraid to fight her own battles when her authority is challenged. She is also the patron of a rival group of adventurers called the Scorched Hand.

While the rest of the party were off making streetwise checks, Vardis was scouring the city for other gnolls. He bumped into a small pack of his former tribe on the edge of the marketplace.

“Well look who it is!” barked a scarred, one-eyed brute, “Vardis the Reviled. Vardis the Weak. Vardis the -”

“Enough!” Vardis snapped, “I know my own name and I know yours too; Scrotus the Curseweaver, as well as the part you played in my exile.”

“Your own weakness bought you low, no act of mine.” Scrotus sneered.

“You call me weak?” Vardis growled, summoning pure fury into his clenched paw, “Do you really want to test me, Scrotus?”

“What?! How…??” the Curseweaver gasped, stumbling back a step, “That power…!!”

“Tuck your tail between your legs and run,” Vardis snarled, “Run back to the desert and tell our brothers I will be coming for them. Tell our mother that I will be coming for HER!”

Scrotus and the other gnolls fled, leaving Vardis alone.

Anticipating an expedition to the Air Pyramid of Hesterpput, Bes was haggling with a second hand camel salesman when he felt a small hand reach into his pocket. Bes was too slow to catch the thief, who melted into the crowd still clutching his purse! Once a thief-taker, always a thief-taker, Inspector Cluedo collared the young ragamuffin before he could escape. Unfortunately, the scrappy urchin was not working alone and tossed the purse to a second young pickpocket, who tore toward the exit of the marketplace. With reckless disregard for the rest of the crowd, Issa fired his crossbow at the escaping thief and pinned him to a wall by his sleeve. Rather than hand the two wannabe rogues over to the guard (the punishment for theft was the loss of a hand, which was then nailed to the Pillar of Second Chances as a lesson to others), Cluedo offered the youngsters a deal; act as his liaison with the criminal underworld and avoid dismemberment by the state. The thieves took the deal and agreed to relay Cluedo’s message to their guvnor.

When the heroes returned to the Tooth and Hookah, a shady looking individual was waiting at their regular table. He introduced himself as Fadil and claimed that he represented the Silverchain gang. Fortunately, Fadil seemed unaware that the heroes had already run into (and murdered) a group of his fellows in the necropolis. Guud slowly rolled down his sleeves to hide the silver bangles he had looted from the dead robbers. Fadil was happy to talk business but became less happy when that business involved robbing Damej Mahfre.

“That woman is a witch!” he cursed, spitting on Farhaan’s nice, clean floor, “You would not know it from all her fine talk on the council, but she has an evil reputation for cruelty that is well-earned.”

Rather than outsource their hero work to a third party, the Desert Storm decided to rob the scary noblewoman themselves and frame the Silverchain gang for the crime. An elaborate and unnecessarily convoluted plan was conceived! Billu persuaded his lord-father to host a party to celebrate the end of the lottery and his acknowledgement of Billu as his son. Lord Okhenti did not need much persuading - until Billu specified that they should invite every nobleperson in Wati, including Damej Mahfre.

“But my son,” Lord Okhenti explained, “Damej and I have been mortal enemies for many years. I have no proof to take before the council, but I am certain that she has hired assassins to end my life on more than one occasion. Even if she agreed to attend, I am reluctant to invite that poisonous snake into my home, lest she bite me or someone I care for.”

“Fear not, lord-father,” Billu replied, striking a heroic pose, “You will have the Desert Storm protecting you! You cannot let this woman think that you fear her. Let my friends and I astound her with a display of strength! She will surely think twice about sending more hired swords once she knows you have such fearsome warriors at your beck and call.”

Not without some misgiving, Lord Okhenti agreed to host Billu’s soiree and invite the Mahfre viper into his bosom. It was a decision that he and the Desert Storm would ultimately come to regret.

TBC

[Savaged) Mummy’s Mask – Session 5 – 08/11/2018

Several days passed in a whirlwind of preparation for the party at Lord Okhenti’s estate. The Desert Storm was divided into two teams; Billu, Chenkov, Vardis and Issa would attend the party and keep an eye on Damej Mahfre, while Bes, Cluedo and Guud broke into her home and recovered Chenkov’s sword.

Damej arrived at the gates of the estate with an entourage of guards and three members of the Scorched Hand. As he welcomed them to his lord-father’s home, Billu took the opportunity to study the noblewoman and her trouble-shooters. Damej Mahfre was a steely-eyed old woman in her sixties, yet she walked and talked with the resolve of a much younger woman. Her right arm was missing and her sleeve had been pinned to her side, yet she did not seem overly inconvenienced by her disability. A masterwork rapier was sheathed at her hip. The three members of the Scorched Hand were Velriana Hypaxes (a Taldan noblewoman turned mercenary wizard), Azaz Arafe (an adolescent Osirian rogue) and Idorii (Mahfre’s half-orc bodyguard). Billu welcomed them to the party with a show of feigned enthusiasm.

“So this is the peasant boy you have taken in?” Damej asked Lord Okhenti, “He has a blunt charm about him, I’ll grant you that – but so hairy! I thought you preferred your playthings smooth and innocent?”

“Peace, father,” Billu said as Lord Okhenti blustered over the insult, “I am still rather rough about the edges, but no rougher than your own companions. Perhaps you would be interested in a wager to establish which of our two groups is the strongest?”

Billu proposed a wrestling contest between the two groups; Chenkov would represent the Desert Storm, the Scorched Hand would be championed by Idorii. Velriana snapped her fingers, conjuring a ring of fire around the two combatants. The other guests gathered to watch the spectacle, getting as close as they could without burning themselves on the flames. Issa looked for Azaz in the crowd but soon realised that he had slipped away. Concerned, Issa went looking for the young thief.

Within the ring of fire, Chenkov and Idorri wrestled. Chenkov could not help being impressed and aroused by the half-orc’s strength as they grappled together, as close as lovers. After ten minutes of sweaty grappling, Chenkov gained the upper hand and managed to pin Idorii to the ground. Idorii snarled and pulled a hidden dagger from her boot, but a word from Damej stilled her hand. Chenkov rose and offered his hand to the half-orc woman. She spat into his palm and stalked away. Lovestruck, Chenkov watched her go.

“I’ll never wash this hand again.” he said.

At some point, Azaz reappeared at his mistresses’ side. Issa eyeballed the thief suspiciously (as best he could without actual eyeballs), having failed to find him sneaking around the main house. Chenkov got very drunk and challenged Idorii to an arm-wrestling contest.

“If I win,” he slurred, “You have to give me a kiss.”

“And if I win,” she replied, “I get to break both your legs.”

Muscles rippling in his beefy arm, Chenkov forced Idorii’s hand down on the table. Idorii grabbed Chenkov and kissed him, biting down on his lower lip hard enough to draw blood.

“I think I’m in love,” Chenkov later confessed to Billu as they watched Damej and the Scorched Hand leave, “I feel light-headed and dizzy. Is the floor supposed to be spinning like that?”

“That could be love,” Billu hedged, “Or it could be blood loss. Maybe you should have a lie down.”

TBC