Catacombs of Port-a-Lucine, Night of April 21st, 770
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
At first, you followed only tracks, little signs and marks of passage. But then, as you approached your final destination, other signs made themselves manifest. A woman's voice, rising and falling in a steady cadence. And then, when you were quite close, an eerie azure glow, like sun reflected off the sea.
Then you turned a corner, and a grim vista unfolded before you. The tunnel you had been following widened to form a chamber or hollow in the network of tunnels in the catacombs. There were skulls and bones lying abotu everywhere, but also there were mirrors, broad, gilt-backed mirrors with grey surfaces, propped up against the walls. Something flickered in them from time to time, a hint of movement.
In the center of the chamber, a large pool had been built, carefully fitted stones raised to create what was almost a bath beneath the earth. It was this that was the cause of that unwholesome glow, the only source of light in the chamber. Standing beside that pool was Dr. Nicole Poincare.
She looked... tired, mostly. Tired, exhausted, drained, aged. The last month had not been kind to her, and she looked every one of her forty-odd years. She was dressed in simple black robes, half fashion statement, half practicality in this dim underground, stained and dirtied in places by the residue of what she did.
"Blood." Poincare said, her voice careful, precise. She lifted her hands above the pool, a bone dagger clutched in one hand, and nicked herself on the forearm. A droplet of blood fell into the large pool. Her arms were covered with small, white scars.
"Bone." Reaching into one of several jars by her feet, the former art historian withdrew a long shard of human bone, yellowed and cracked with age. Ceremonially, she snapped it in half across her knee, and then dropped both parts into the pool.
"Ash." Now Poincare withdrew a length of ancient wood from a satchel, black and twisted, and held it above the pool. With a whispered incantation, it ignited, burning brightly as she let go of the burning branch. It dissipated to ash before it hit the water.
"Dust." This was another jar, from which the witch withdrew a handful of grey dust. Without another word, she dashed it into the pool. Now it was time for the final component.
"Breath." With a gesture from the bone dagger, Nicole Poincare bid something approach. You hadn't even
seen them at first, but there they were, vast monsters sitting to either side of the door, hounds made of human corpses and calcified earth. Grave Weirds. One of the great beasts lumbered to it's feet and approached the pool. With ponderous grandeur, the Grave Weird entered the pool, feet moving through that shining blue water, until it had entered fully.
Poincare touched the blade of the dagger gently to the beast's forehead, reaching up even though she stood on a pedestal and it was half submerged. The Grave Weird accepted this benediction... and dissipated. It was as though all of its cohesion had been lost in that one moment. All the bodies and bones within it's form turned to nothing more than dirt, falling into the water. In heartbeats, the Grave Weird was gone completely, absorbed by the gently moving pool and it's unnatural blue glow. If one looked, one could fancy shapes flitting across the surface of the pool.
Poincare sighed, then let her arms fall back by her sides for a few second's break. Now, all eyes no longer on the ritual, one could see the
other inhabitants of this subterranean chamber. Poincare was there, yes, and a single Weird remained as well. But there, by the side of the pool was another spectral form, half-transparent and more beautiful than she had ever been in life. Anne-Marie watched the ritual with breathless awe. Beside her, a pair of
things stood as well. At first, you took them to be hooded acolytes, but this was not quite true. Their robes and hoods were made of cold ash, and as they turned to look upon you, one could see that their eyes were made of burning embers. And of course, there was whatever flickered throughout the mirrors.
Unfortunately, this also meant the cultists, or at least the ghosts and monsters that comprised it just now, could turn their attention to you. Poincare regarded your presence with no particular surprise, even as Anne-Marie hissed and whirled upon you, eyes brimming with cold anger.
"Come to cause more damage---?" The ghost began to say, before a sharp gesture from Dr. Poincare cut her off.
"Anne-Marie, please." Poincare said softly. She looked at you without any particular affection. "You will get this offer once, and only once. Make no sudden moves, go nowhere but back the way you came, and this will end without bloodshed."
Any hostile action, which includes pre-battle buffing but not pre-battle healing, as well as any attempt to leave the central tunnel (the area of columns 12, 13, and 14, from row S down) will be interpreted as starting combat, and I will then call for initiative rolls.
If/When someone makes a hostile action, please refrain from any posts that include more than just talking until the DMs can get in with a combat-post. Everyone will need to roll initiative, though the person who commits the hostile action, and only that person gets a +5 bonus to his Initiative roll (If he still fails, then he just managed to make it very obvious he was about to break the slender truce).
All clear? Consider yourself forewarned.
Rubble: The patches of black (as opposed to the greyish walls) are rubble. It is Difficult Terrain.