The Curse of Scarwall

“Shit! More ghost things!” Jax cried from the top of the stairs. They’d ascended to the top floor of the War Tower, and the dark room at the top of the stairs had appeared empty when he’d first entered. But with an eerie moan, four spectral figures had appeared out of the walls and were floating towards him, bony hands outstretched.

Tomas was right behind him, and he slid past Jax, sending an arrow flying towards the nearest haunt. He could see the wall behind it through its semi-transparent form, and wasn’t surprised to see his arrow pass right through, although it did exit with a spray of ectoplasm. Laori heard Jax’s shout, and pushed past the others on the narrow stair, hurrying to see what they were confronting. “Crap!” she shouted. “They’re Spectres! Really dangerous, but they hate sunlight!” Knowing that the greatest danger came from their ability to drain their foes’ lifeforce, she cast Death Ward on Jax. And not a moment too soon. Two of the spectres floated towards the rogue, and clawed at him with insubstantial fingers. Their hands reached right through his armor to claw at his heart and soul, and he gasped from the pain of their icy grip, but thanks to Laori’s spell, he suffered only minor pain, not soul-sucking agony. A third spectre floated forward into the wall at the top of the stairs, then reached out of it and clawed at Jax from within the stone’s cover.

The fourth spectre sank silently into the floor. It reemerged from the ceiling of the floor below, descending silently behind Erin. “Look out!” Shadow cried from the open doorway into the records room, and Erin spun around in response. But not fast enough. The spectre reached through the metal armor that should have protected her and clutched her heart in its icy grip. She bit back a scream as she felt her soul being ripped by its claws, and felt her essence being drained away. But she steeled herself, and raised her sword before her like a talisman. “Protect us, o mighty Inheritor!” she cried, and her blade suddenly exploded in a blaze of holy light. The room was bathed as if in bright sunlight, and the spectre  in front of her recoiled with a screech. Erin backed up the stairs a bit, letting the light from her sword spill up the staircase and into the room above; she was rewarded by the sound of more ghostly wails from upstairs.

Wren rushed forward and swung at the incapacitated spectre that had hit Erin. Her magical sabre was imbued with undead-bane hatred thanks to the blessings of the Shoanti ancestors, and the blade sliced through the spectral figure from top to bottom, exploding it in a splash of ectoplasm. Shadow leaped over the puddle it left behind and hurried up the stairs, hammering one of the other spectres with a volley of Magic Missiles. Jax slashed at one of the ones attacking him, and Tomas kept firing arrows. One spectre dissolved into nothingness and the other two, helpless in the face of Erin’s holy light, fled back into the safety of the castle walls.

While Erin’s light still protected him, Jax hurried to open the door out of the room. As he’d expected, it opened out onto the tower’s parapet. Three ancient siege engines – a pair of catapults and a ballista – lay in ruins before him. Looking out, the tower offered breathtaking views of the crater lake and the stark walls of the volcanic cliffs beyond. Behind, the towers of Scarwall’s heights loomed above him, silent and forbidding.

They had entered the War Tower in search of the mysterious “Risibeth” that Belshallam had told them of, but so far they’d found no sign of her. They quickly descended back to where they’d entered the tower, wanting to distance themselves from the surviving spectres before Erin’s light ran out. They’d entered from the second floor of the castle, and an unexplored flight of stairs led down from there – the stairs that the Nessian Warhounds had emerged from. Jax led the way as they descended cautiously down the stairs. The walls and floor of the room at the bottom were scored with scorch marks. Whatever furnishings this room had once held had been burned to piles of ash ages ago, and a thin layer of sulfurous smoke still hung in the air. “Yep – this is where those hell-hounds came from,” Jax muttered, wrinkling his nose.

There was a single door, and after listening carefully, Jax pulled it open. This room had once been a barracks of some sort; the tangle of collapsed bunks and rotting wardrobes were of better make than the guard barracks they’d found earlier, and Tomas guessed this might have once been officers’ quarters. As the group quietly filed in, Shadow cast Detect Magic. “Hey, Laori!” he hissed in a stage whisper. “Look around down by your feet!” The elf nudged aside a fallen cabinet; beneath it was a nice looking buckler and an adamantine dagger. She tossed them to Shadow (laughing to herself has he juggled to catch the dagger without slicing off his fingers) and he added them to his Bag of Holding. This room also had a single exit, a closed door in the southern wall. Jax listened, heard nothing, and pulled the door open.

Inside was an ancient bedroom. There was a desk littered with old scrolls on one wall, and just inside the door was a metal bathtub, its interior coated with dried bloodstains. A single bed, its mattress sagging and decayed sat beside it, and a woman reclined on it. She was dressed in a provocative, revealing gown, but her skin was stretched and withered, her long blond hair dry as straw. She did not get up as the door opened, but simply raised up onto one arm, regarding the newcomers with a bemused smile.

“Well, well … just when I thought nothing new would ever happen here. Let me guess – you’re mighty adventurers, come to rid Scarwall of its terrible curse. Am I right?” She gave a low, seductive chuckle. “Ah, your zeal is as amusing as it is pitiful. Am I to assume you wish to kill me, or is there some other reason for your visit?”

Jax was taken aback. “Uh … hello. Who are you?” Then the realization hit. “Are you Risibeth?”

The woman sat up on the bed, her eyebrows raised. “Why yes, I am. I see you have heard of me. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit? As you might imagine, I don’t get many suitors anymore.”

Jax was frantically motioning behind his back for Shadow to come forward – he wanted someone a little more glib to take over the conversation. Shadow stepped forward and gave a polite bow and a broad smile. “As a matter of fact, we’ve come here looking for you. We ran into a brother of mine outside – a dark dragon. He suggested that we should talk to you, to see if you could shed some light on the nature of the magic that has bound him here, and what might be done to remove it.”

Risibeth returned Shadow’s smile with a seductive one of her own. “I certainly possess the information you seek, for all the good it will do you. I have nothing better to do, and your futile efforts could prove entertaining. I would gladly answer any questions you have about Scarwall’s history and the nature of its curse. But first … it has been so long since I have felt alive. I have longed for the touch of living flesh. If you wish answers, then allow me to embrace one of you, if only for half a minute. I will do you no permanent harm, and it will restore to me a life I have not felt in centuries.” She dropped her gaze slightly and looked up at Shadow through lowered lashes. “What say you, half-elf? You look like a lusty soul.” Wren was standing on tip-toe, looking over Shadow’s shoulder, and Risibeth caught her eye. “Or you? I have not felt the touch of a woman in far too long.” She ran her tongue over her dry, cracked lips.

Wren turned three shades of red and ducked back behind Shadow, pulling her hair down over her face. As the others shuffled uncomfortably, Jax stepped forward. “Come to me, sister,” he said, feigning confidence. “I’ll let you have me.” He knew that Laori’s Death Ward spell was still active, and he prayed it would protect him from the worst of whatever Risibeth had in store for him.

Risibeth rose from her bed and gave Jax a seductive smile. She stepped towards him, gently stroked his cheek, then wrapped her arms around him in a loving embrace. She made no aggressive moves, but as soon as her skin touched him, Jax felt himself grow weak. The others saw Jax sag a little in her arms as his face grew deathly pale, while Risibeth’s skin began to become coated with fresh blood. As agreed, Risibeth held the embrace for but half a minute before breaking it off. She stepped back, drawing in a deep breath, her eyes closed as she shuddered in ecstasy. There were no bloodstains on her gown, but every inch of her skin was wet with blood, as though she had bathed in it. As they watched, the blood absorbed into her skin and she began to transform. Her flesh filled out and took on a rosy hue, her breasts swelled, her skin smoothed, and her hair became soft and lustrous. When she opened her eyes, she was a young woman, a vision of health and loveliness. Jax staggered away, woozy from loss of blood. “A Sayona!” Nat whispered, recognizing the undead creature that traded blood for eternal youth.

“Thank you!” she sighed. “I have not felt this way in 800 years. I shall treasure this memory in the centuries to come. You have fulfilled your end of the bargain, and I shall fulfill mine. Let me tell you something of what transpired in the final days of Kazavon, and of the Curse of Castle Scarwall.

“My name, as you know, is Risibeth, and I was Kazavon’s war commander. I rode by his side in our campaign against the orcs, and helped him build and defend Scarwall. We resisted all who came against us for twenty years. Then our spies brought word that Lastwall intended to mount a campaign against us, and had sent a scouting force north into Belkzen to secure the passes so their army could march for Scarwall.

“I led Kazavon’s forces south to ambush Lastwall’s vanguard and head off their invasion, but it was all a trick. It was not a scouting party, but their main force, and we fought them for many days before finally forcing them back. But even that had merely been a feint to draw us out of the Castle so that a small war party led by the paladin Mandraivus could infiltrate the Castle and attack from within. I was away when Kazavon fell, and by the time I learned of the attack it was too late to help. With our own forces decimated from the battle, I disguised myself and rallied the local orc tribes to attack Scarwall, to reclaim the Castle. The orc champion, a woman named Ukwar, slew Mandraivus, but as soon as he fell, a terrible curse descended on Castle Scarwall. The spirits of everyone who had ever died within its walls – Mandraivus’s followers and Kazavon’s alike, along with orcs and every soul who had ever been tortured and murdered here – arose and began to slaughter all who still lived. And the spirits of the freshly slain joined those who had gone before them, all trapped for eternity within the walls of Scarwall.

“The focus of Scarwall’s power is an entity called Mithrodar. He was once Kazavon’s castellan, his second in command. He now exists as a Chained Spirit, and is at once in command of all of Scarwall’s spirits, and at the same time its most tightly bound prisoner. He derives his power by investing bits of his soul into four Spirit Anchors. As long as these Spirit Anchors remain bound to him, he cannot be destroyed. Mithrodar himself cannot leave Scarwall’s Great Hall, but he can see and hear through the senses of his Spirit Anchors, and can sense the presence of any spirits, living or dead, anywhere in the vicinity of the Castle.

“If you insist on continuing your futile quest, you must find and destroy these four Spirit Anchors, and once they are all gone, face Mithrodar himself. The first, and closest of these is the Umbral Dragon, Belshallam, whom you have already met. He arrived some two hundred years after Kazavon fell, drawn by curiosity about legends of a dragon who worshipped Zon-Kuthon. His rage when he discovered he could not leave Scarwall was the most amusing thing that has happened since I’ve been trapped here.

“The second is Nihil the Ashbringer. She is an ashmede devil who was gifted to Kazavon by Zon-Kuthon to serve as his personal assassin. She had accompanied my force and was also away from Scarwall when Kazavon fell. She teleported back as soon as she sensed his death, but could not defeat Mandraivus’ force by herself, and retreated to the hills to bide her time. When my orcs attacked, she joined us, and was caught like the rest by Scarwall’s curse. She was the first to be seized by Mithrodar as a Spirit Anchor, and is now confined to the Lord’s Tower.

“The third Spirit Anchor is Castothrane. He was the Commander of the Castle Guard, and fell to Mandraivus’ sword. When the curse descended, it restored him to his undead state, and Mithrodar claimed him. He still stands watch above the Castle gatehouse.

“The final Spirit Anchor is probably the most dangerous. Zev Ravenka was Zon-Kuthon’s high priest here in Scarwall, a lich of great power. The night of Mandraivus’ raid, the Midnight Lord sent him a dark premonition of the impending invasion. He sealed himself in the Castle donjon, where Zon-Kuthon’s chapel was, and called upon the Midnight Lord to seal it against the invaders with potent Forbiddance magic. He assumed that Kazavon would defeat the invaders, but when Kazavon fell, his plan backfired as Mandraivus’ allies cast Forbiddance magic of their own and sealed the donjon to keep Zev Ravenka and his acolytes imprisoned inside. He is trapped there still, but Mithrodar was still able to chain him as a Spirit Anchor.”

The group listened carefully, trying to make mental notes of everything she told them. At the mention of the name ‘Zev Ravenka’, a light bulb went on in Nat’s head. “Zev Ravenka – that was the name of the artist that painted those pictures we found in the dining room upstairs!” he whispered to Wren. He turned to Risibeth. "What can you tell us about Zev Ravenka?”

She shuddered. “Other than that he was a lich and a high priest of Zon-Kuthon? What more is there to know? The man terrified me, and the only good thing about the last 800 years is that he’s been trapped in the donjon where I haven’t had to worry about what he might do to me.”

“Is there a way to get into the donjon?” Nat asked, undeterred.

She looked at him as if he were insane. “I suppose you’d have to batter down the doors. Mandraivus went to great lengths to ensure that Zev Ravenka could not escape.”

“What about this Castrothane fellow?” Wren asked. “Is he human?”

“I suppose he was once, but that would have been long before I met him.” Risibeth replied. “He was a skeletal warrior when he led the castle guard, and so he remains today. A very accomplished warrior.”

“And Mithrodar? You said he’s confined to the Great Hall – where is that?”

“It’s on the second floor of the main castle, just to the south of the courtyard.”

Wren took a deep breath. “So … how do we go about getting rid of these Spirit Anchors?”

Risibeth smiled at her. “Why you kill them, of course.”

“No,” Wren clarified, “I meant, is there some other way to release them, without having to kill them? We promised Belshallam we would try to set him free.”

Risibeth raised her eyebrows. “I am surprised – you show more compassion than most adventurers of my experience. The hold that the Chained Spirit has on his Spirit Anchors is no mere spell. I have had hundreds of years to reflect on the power that holds us here. In the early years, Kazavon’s devotion to Zon-Kuthon was unquestioned, but towards the end? As his pride grew, his respect and fear of his patron waned. I think the Curse was initially imposed by Zon-Kuthon as punishment for Kazavon’s impudence. But there is more to it than that – I think there had been so much anguish and bloodshed within Scarwall’s walls that its dead twisted the Curse into something not even the Midnight Lord can control anymore. Simple magics such as Dispel Magic, Remove Curse, or Break Enchantment would have no effect. Powerful spells – something like Wish or Miracle, cast upon each Spirit Anchor – would perhaps do the trick. It might even be that something like Dispel Evil or Dispel Law might work. But of course, no one has ever attempted such a thing, so there is no way to know for sure.”

“What about that star-shaped tower?” Jax interjected. “What’s up with that?”

Risibeth smiled coyly at Shadowcount Sial. “Ah, but I’m sure you know exactly what that is, don’t you? It was here before Castle Scarwall was ever built – long before. Indeed, it is why Kazavon chose this location to build his fortress. Very few were ever admitted into the Star Tower – Kazavon, Zev Ravenka, and a few select prisoners. There was a curate who lived there when we started building the castle, but he was an eccentric little man, and Kazavon had little patience for his ramblings; I don’t believe he survived very long after the castle was completed.” She looked at the rest of the party. “I suggest you let your Kuthite friends tell you about the history of the Star Tower. I was never all that devout.”

Everyone turned expectantly to the Shadowcount, but he simply shook his head, looking flustered. “Not here, not now. We’ll talk about this later.” Not for the first time they wondered what he was holding back.

There was one other door in Risibeth’s room. “What’s through there?” Jax asked, pointing to it. Risibeth considered the door for a moment, as if she’d forgotten it existed. “Oh yes – I believe that was once the armory.” Sure enough, when he opened the door he found wooden weapon racks and armor stands littering room, all in varying stages of decay. The room was nearly empty, but three weapons could still be seen among the ruins: a shortspear, a sword, and a spiked chain. All three glowed when Jax cast Detect Magic, and he carried them back out. “What are these?” he asked.

Risibeth shrugged. “Once, I could have told you who each belonged to, and what special powers they might have had. But that was centuries ago, and I have had no use for weapons in a very long time.” Jax tucked them away in one of the magical bags, making a mental note to have one of the more experienced spellcasters try to identify them later.

Erin was leaning against the wall, rubbing her forehead. “We need to get some rest,” Wren said, knowing that the paladin hadn’t been able to sleep during their earlier naptime, and was in sore need of a Restoration. “We need to get spells back, and recover our energy.”

“What’s your hurry?” Nat countered. “It’s barely after lunch time, and we just had a two-hour nap not that long ago. We should keep going.”

“Maybe you’re fine, but some of the rest of us aren’t,” Wren snapped. “All of our Restorations and Lesser Restorations are gone, and I have a feeling we’re going to need a lot more before this is all over.”

“Fine,” Nat said with a heavy sigh. He wanted to avoid an argument. “Let’s just go upstairs and bed down.”

“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,” Jax offered, and several heads nodded in agreement. “We know there are still spectres upstairs somewhere, and last time we tried to sleep, some people had a rough time of it.” He glanced at Erin. “I think we should fly back to the mainland, and rest there.”

“That seems like a waste of spells to me,” Nat argued, and Tomas took up his side. “Yeah,” Tomas agreed. “It’s a high level spell to let us all fly out of here today, and then another to get us back here again tomorrow. Why don’t we just rest here and save the spells?”

Jax turned to Risibeth, who’d been watching this exchange with a bemused smile. “Is it safe to sleep here in Scarwall?”

Risibeth slowly shook her head in amazement. “Of course it’s not safe! You are all such fools – you have no idea whatsoever what you’re up against. I’m amazed you’ve even survived this long.” Then she changed her tone. “I mean – of course it’s perfectly safe. Especially if you sleep here with me.” She batted her eyes at Jax. “Perfectly safe and very entertaining.”

The prospect of spending the night in a haunted castle with a horny sayona seemed to win the argument. Thanking Risibeth for her help, they made their way back up the stairs. As they reached to top floor blockhouse, a low moan echoed through the empty room as the two surviving spectres emerged from the walls. But Wren was ready for them. She cast Searing Light at the nearest spectre, and it dissolved in otherworldly mist; its partner retreated back into the walls rather than face the same fate.

Everyone hurried onto the parapet and prepared to depart. Nat, Shadow and Jax each cast Invisibility on himself while the Shadowcount cast Greater Invisibility. Several people pulled on their Red Mantis masks and activated their See Invisibility (both so they could keep track of each other and so they could see any invisible threats coming their way). Then Nat cast Mass Fly and everyone took off, making their way south towards the ruined barbican where they’d spent the previous night.

Scarwall’s spires and battlements were adorned with dozens of stone gargoyles, staring motionless out over the surrounding tarn. But as the party took to the air, two of these gargolyes separated themselves from the stone walls and began flying towards them on stone wings. Tomas fired off a volley of arrows that chipped bits of stone off the one in the lead, and both of them flew straight towards him. They were four-armed brutes, and the one he’d shot ripped a chunk out of him with a stony claw. Ahead of them, they saw another pair of gargoyles leave their perches and begin winging their way.

Nat unleashed a Fireball on the gargoyles attacking Tomas, using his Selective Spell metamagic rod to have its flames avoid scorching his friends. Shadow, still invisible, flew past those two as well as one of the ones coming in from the south. He maneuvered into a position to line up three of them, then fired off a Lightning Bolt that zapped them all. Then he cast Quickened Vanish to avoid becoming their next target.

Laori didn’t want to get into hand-to-hand combat with anything that had more hands than she did, so she hustled south, skirting the castle wall. Unfortunately, she saw two more gargoyles flying in from ahead of her. They spotted Laori, who was by now well out ahead of the rest of the group, and began homing in on her.

Jax cast Haste on those who were still close enough to him to be within range, as Shadowcount Sial began a Summoning spell. Within seconds, a trio of Air Elementals appeared, harrying the Gargoyle Brutes. Unfortunately, the airy allies’ attacks did almost no damage to the gargoyles’ stony skins. Wren, however, cast Destruction on the one that had hit Tomas, and was gratified to see it grimace in pain.

Erin charged to help Tomas, but her swing went wide. Tomas fired arrow after arrow into his attacker, and it plummeted into the lake below with a splash. Its mate focused its full attention on Tomas, rending him with its teeth before slashing him with all four claws and goring him with the short horns on top of its head. The second pair of gargoyles whirled to confront the air elementals; one sent gouts of vapor flying with multiple attacks, but the other seemed to have trouble hitting a foe that was mostly air, and flailed wildly. The other pair, farthest to the south, headed straight for Laori; one of them snapped at her with its jaws but narrowly missed.

Nat kept flying south; he was feeling extremely exposed, and cast Greater Invisibility as he flew. Shadow also zipped south, but he was intent on helping Laori. He fired off a Maximized Fireball, its energies transformed into electricity, that zapped both the gargoyles near Laori while narrowly missing her; once again, he followed up with a Quickened Vanish, just to be safe.

Laori swung her spiked chain and it rebounded off the Gargoyle Brute, chipping some pieces away. Then she flew off to the south, taking a nasty claw slash as she fled. Jax, still invisible, darted in behind one of the ones engaged with an elemental, stabbing it in the back. The air elementals continued to pummel the gargoyles, but it wasn’t clear if the Brutes could even feel their fists when they hit. Wren called upon Pharasma to summon a Flame Strike on the Gargoyle Brute that was chasing Laori, while Erin swung her flaming longsword at the one in front of her, and bits of molten stone splashed off as she struck. Shadowcount Sial, having summoned his air elementals, decided his work here was done, and flew south as fast as he could, hoping no one would notice his absence.

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The PCs earned 9,600 XP, putting them at 265,902 XP with 295,000 required for Level 14.