Session 7

Our dungeon-delve continues, and I’ve yet again underestimated our opponents. While covering an area of the warrens that we’d gone over the previous day, I charged a pair of giant centipedes that had emerged to challenge us and fell into a pit trap 20 feet deep and filled with poisonous centipedes (which we were able to dispatch pretty easily at least). An impressive feat given how little time that they’d had to work; and it certainly made the upcoming fight more difficult, with the rest having to jump across the gap left by the pit. A few bizarre mishaps later: we could confirm that Kurshkin is behind this. Once the others had cleared the gap left by the pit, Kurshkin opted to try and flee through a secret door and threw some more of his fey lackies at us. After I was able to extract myself from the pit with a rope that Meera had let down for me, I was able to burst through to the secret chamber and grab Kurshkin. The little bastard was able to wriggle out of my grasp twice as we pursued him through another secret passage (which met up with our original position, allowing Meera and Faran to flank our opponents) before Faran succeeded in subduing him. We wanted to take him alive, as we figured he’d know something about who or what was behind this.

While Kurshkin convalesced upstairs, we continued our exploration, discovering a grizzly shrine of sorts with three Magaambya masks and cloaks set up to look as if their wearers were crucified on the wall. Fortunately there were no bodies present, and only one of the masks was completed: that of a kindly hare. However, we knew who that mask had belonged to: a student who had turned up dead in an alleyway one night about a month ago, her death assumed to be little more than a mugging. I’ll admit that vengeful thoughts entered my mind at that point – one of our own had been killed by these creatures and her mask, a face that she chose, had been turned into this grotesque ornament. Shortly afterwards, we managed to find another secret door, which led to what looked like a dysfunctional strategy meeting between various fey “commanders”. We couldn’t make out what they were saying, but they grabbed their weapons and attacked us on sight. I got to slake some of my thirst for revenge then, I won’t deny it felt good to bring a kind of justice to those who were “organising” all of this.
There was one, however, who didn’t grab a weapon, and fled to the corner of the chamber where a bunch of bedrolls had been rolled out. We learned her name was Binji, and she was possibly the most pathetic creature that I’d ever beheld: a diminutive opossum-headed fey with two small tusks, dressed in rags and absolutely infested with all manner of lice. We accepted her surrender on the condition that she could tell us more about what was going on here, and if she could take us to whom- or whatever Kurshkin answers to. She described the entity as a kind of terrifying “stone ghost”, and Kurshkin’s motivation being revenge against the Magaambya for killing his friends.
Binji led us to the final secret chamber: furnished just like a student’s bedchamber in the Academy above, with patches of bare rockface peeking through the otherwise normal-looking walls, like it had been plucked from its place above and transplanted to a cave here below. A pair of pugwampees fiddling around with a Magaambya mask underneath one of the tables decided to make themselves scarce after being given a stern look by Meera. The chamber appeared otherwise deserted, but Nanna was able to (literally) shed some more light on the situation. Just on the edge of my vision, a slight humanoid-shaped outline in the stone wall ahead of us. None of the others could perceive it, so I shouted out a challenge: “Enough of these games, show yourself! You’re the one responsible for the Magaambya’s woes, and I want to know why!”

That got his attention, as the outline shifted and flowed through the floor of the chamber, rising up into an incorporeal form next to me to attack, striking me pretty badly. I managed to keep the spectral figure occupied as Matuas and Faran manoeuvred to outflank him. Meera was able to heal my wounds from the initial attack and give Faran’s rapier a bit more oomph; and I’d taken to using the pick that had badly wounded me the previous day, as it had potent magical runes attached to it. All of this was needed, as mundane weapons had no chance of damaging this strange creature, a combination of spirit and stone. Nanna’s old charms usually hold some kind of solution to whatever I find myself fighting, but this time it was something that I’d added myself: my mask. This entity was driven by hatred for the Magaambya, and what better emblem for that than the mask? I wasn’t fighting with that damned khopesh anymore, but I couldn’t help but hear like a whisper on the wind, in the back of my mind in half-buried memories: that beautiful, bright laugh. In spite of the advantage of surrounding the entity, I couldn’t focus enough to land a decent hit on him. No matter: Faran and Matuas were holding their own quite nicely, and Meera managed to conjure up a small tempest which caused the ghost to finally break apart into chunks of incorporeal stone. I’ll have to study these later. Ghosts aren’t supposed to stick around like that…

Upon searching the room more thoroughly, we found a set of notes left by this ghost. It turns out that they used to be a student at the Magaambya, but had (contrary to his teacher’s instructions) massacred a group of gremlins. Of this group, Kurshkin was the sole survivor, having been captured and borne away before this student could carry out his extermination. The student was expelled from the Academy, and eventually became this vengeful spirit, hellbent on causing the Magaambya harm; and cruelly amused that he had been able to recruit his unwitting former prey, Kurshkin, to aid in his mission. One thing that’s been plaguing the Academy which this spirit seemed to have no part in is the sudden and mysterious increase in the number of bugs around. The ghost and his fey lackeys had used the phenomenon to their advantage, putting various giant bees, ants, and centipedes to work for them, but had no idea why they were attracted to this place. I guess this mystery will need more investigation before we can unravel it; but for now, it’s time to rest.

A few days later, we were summoned by Teacher Ot to meet a new intake of students: Rainbows-Reflected-Upon-Gossamer-Strands (Goss), Droplets-Hanging-Gently Savanakin, and Barest-Threads-Billowing Maztachia. The three Anadi choosing to show up in a hybrid humanoid-arachnid form, much to Matuas’ surprise, and like me: without a sponsor. They had only just begun their journeys with the Craft, but were eager to learn, and felt that they had to be here at the Magaambya. Teacher Ot accepted them as students, but we were immediately set upon by a pack of griffins, determined to make a meal of any Anadi they could see, including Matuas after he transformed back into his original form. It was a close call, but we were able to drive off the griffins and save the new students.

I’ve had a lot to think about over past few days: I’ve seen what bloodlust and an obsession with revenge can do to someone. I now bear a constant reminder of the very reason I had to leave my tribe on my mask; but without it, it just didn’t look complete. Why are you like this? You fucked up. He’s dead, and there was no one to blame but you. It tore your family apart, it caused a rift in the tribe: you had no choice but to leave, and so you left. You were supposed to leave it all behind: take only what you needed with you – enough to see you to the place where Nanna’s stories led. Even though I’m here now, I can’t seem to leave it all behind. Last night, I had a dream: I was walking through that warren of tunnels beneath the Magaambya, my mambele in hand, Nanna’s voice guiding me…somewhere…I knew it was important for me to get there, but also that I expected a fight. As I approached the door to the final chamber, the one where we fought that stone ghost, I could hear the faint cries of an infant cub from the other side; and as I opened the door I was blinded by an intense light but could now clearly hear the infant cub’s cries. That’s the last thing I remember before waking up in a cold sweat.