Its all in the Cards.

Briar manages to evade the noose's grasp, struggling to break free from its entanglement. Alyria, weakened by the poison coursing through her veins, swings at the undead but misses her mark. Eye of the Storm, Briar, and Couth launch ranged attacks at the undead, their projectiles embedding into its decaying flesh.

As the undead claws at Alyria, she fortifies herself and raises her shield just in time to deflect the blow. Meanwhile, the sinister noose now targets Ashtar, snaking towards him with menacing intent, aiming to ensnare his neck in its deadly grip.

Ashtar was nearly blindsided, too shocked by the rapid escalation of events, but he shook out of it in time to evade the noose’s grasp. He let loose an eldritch blast at it for good measure.

"Stop it, stop it, stop it!" the young rogue yells at the undead. "Just stay dead already!"

"Gnnnh!" Eye of the Storm clamped his maw shut as he kept firing his bow whenever he had a clear shot..

Taking a long blink, Alyria slowly shakes her head trying to clear her mind of the substance that was slowing her down. With effort, she swings her sword again, hoping to decapitate the zombified corpse.

Ashtar manages to break free from the sentient noose's grasp, attempting to destroy it with a blast of magic, but the agile rope evades his attack. The noose then targets Couth, swiftly coiling around him, but Couth reacts quickly, struggling to tie it into a knot and restrain its movements.

Distracted by the entangled rope, Couth's arrow misses its mark, echoing against the dungeon walls. Meanwhile, Alyria and the undead continue their fierce combat, with Alyria using her sword skillfully to block the undead's claws and thwart its attack.

Eye of the Storm and Briar seize the opportunity, unleashing a volley of shots that pierce the undead creature, turning it into a makeshift pincushion as their projectiles embed deeply into its decaying form.

As the rope lashed out at a new target, Ashtar squared up properly, took aim, and blasted it.

Wrinkling her nose in frustration, Briar continues to fire upon the undead. She looks over at Eye of the Storm and calls out, "Okay, you were right. I hate this place."

Ashtar sniffed as if something unpleasant was in the air, keeping a cool demeanor as if his heart wasn’t thundering a storm inside. "What a ghastly business. How’s everyone doing?"

The undead body loses its form and falls to the ground.

My Beloved Children
I wish I could do what all fathers do and tell you that
monsters aren't real. But it wouldn't be true
Life can create things of exquisite beauty. But it can
also twist them into hideous beings. Selfish. Violent.
Grotesque. Monstrous. It hurts me to say that your
mother has turned into one such monster, inside and
out. And I'm afraid the disease that afflicted her mind
has taken hold of me as well.
It sickens me to think what we've put you through
There is no excuse. I only ask of you, though I know I
do not have the right to do so, to try and forgive us. I
despise what your mother has become, but I love and
pity her all the same.
Rose, I wish I could see you blossom into a strong
beautiful woman. Thorne, Walter, I wish I could be there
for you. But I can't. This is the only way.
Goodbye.

The footlocker is opened up and inside you find a simple black leather cloak, a small wooden box containing four potions of healing, a chain shirt, a mess kit, a flask of alchemist's fire, a bullseye lantern, a set of thieves' tools, 2 simple stone wedding rings, and a cloudy glass orb.

After putting away her gear, Alyria wanders over to the locker. With a hand holding her wound, she passes a healing potion to Couth and Briar before taking one for herself and downing the contents. Once she does, she grabs the chain shirt and the ring set, placing them in her bag. "Are we ready to head down?"

Briar pockets the potion and her eyes light up as she lifts the alchemist’s fire. "Any objections?" She holds it up with a delicate wiggle and makes a glance at her belt, waiting for permission to add the throwable to her arsenal. After receiving a response, she lifts the curious orb and rotates it in her hands. "What do we think this is?"

Ashtar examines the black leather cloak, but didn't dare try it on. It was likely cursed and would attempt to constrict him.

"I'm none the worse for the wear, but are you sure you don't need a breather? You've taken quite a few hits."

The party heads to the last set of stairs. As they descend the chanting becomes louder more clear.
The prashe "He is the Ancient. He is the Land." Reverberates thoughout the stairs.



At the base of the stairs the party finds a dungeon reliquary, thirteen eerie relics are stored in niches along the walls:
A mummified yellow hand with sharp claws, once belonging to a goblin, hangs from a loop of rope.
A knife crafted from human bone, stained with dark history.
A dagger featuring a rat's skull set into its pommel, exuding an unsettling aura.
An 8-inch varnished orb crafted from the eye of a nothic, radiating ancient power.
An aspergillum made entirely from bone, used in twisted rites of blessing.
A folded cloak stitched from ghoul skin, its texture disturbingly leathery.
A desiccated frog affixed to a stick, possibly used in rituals involving amphibian symbolism.
A bag filled with bat guano, hinting at arcane spellcasting components.
A hag's severed finger, preserved and potent with dark magic.
A small wooden figurine of a mummy, arms crossed over its chest, emanating an aura of ancient curses.
An iron pendant bearing the visage of a devil, symbolizing infernal pacts.
The shrunken, shriveled head of a halfling, a morbid token of past sacrifices.
A small glass coffer containing a dire wolf's withered tongue, possibly used in macabre divinations.

There are 2 paths. One is blocked by a rusty iron portcullis the other turns a corner.

"I am in a mood to burn it all down. Preferably after we leave."

Eye of the Storm takes the remaining items, with a special interest in the lantern's oil for... reasons.As the group descended what Eye of the Storm hoped was the final stairs down the chanting began and his fur rose up. He hissed "More cultists?" to the group, wondering what was down there. Then they emerged in the reliquary he tore his eyes away from the grim items on display and aimed his bow down the hallway to the south..
"Touch nothing. It is likely all cursed. Or trapped."

Ashtar nodded at the feline's words, a rare moment of agreement. "Best we take care of all these chanting cultists," he said with disgust.