Cal had been keeping quiet, out of his normal element and feeling the stirring of fear mixing with rage " What the f&&~!". Staggering to the bushes, emptying the contents of his stomach.
Spitting at the last chunk of bile he wipes the last of the vomit from his mouth. Gathering himself, Cal looks at the ground, his fists clenched tight he breathes deeply a few times.
" The only thing that comes to mind are some stories of dragons. Or it could be a mages experiment gone awry, other then that I have no clue. Any information I ferreted out last night is rumor after bad information.". Cal growls, keeping a hand on the hilt of his blade, watching the forest while his mind searches for any snippets of tales.
"Yes, animals that spit acid? Dragons? If they exist, even." Dandelion has few words, as he takes everything in.
He wanders over to the deepest indentation in the middle, and inspects it, digging it up with a stick, and trying to figure out what could have made it.
Carefully, Grendel gathers up the damaged sketches, looking at each in turn. Once he has what he can find after carefully looking and retrieving, the young druid shows the other two.
"Did either of you check to see if there was anything readable in the other stuff?" the young prince gestures vaguely in the direction of what he guessed to be the magic users supplies. "Not that we would understand much, since they spoke another language, but maybe a clue as to what they where speaking. We possibly could get it translated," Grendel shrugs his shoulders at the idea.
After a while of searching and pondering, the mis-matched eyes of the druid seek out the others.
"Alright, so here is what I'm pretty certain of. The three people where attacked by something. That something is probably pretty damn big, possible snake-like in body," he points to where the spots "begin" and "end" for emphasis. "Whatever attacked, its nothing of the natural world, for nothing natural corrupts the very ground it touches. And those that die, from all counts, there spirits remain trapped within a rotting shell." Grendel shudders at the thought. "And before the woman succumbed to her wounds, she made an effort to mention the words or phrase; Edh, for, rob, mola, conn, zed, whatever that means." The half-orc runs a hand through his short and spiky flame kissed hair as he mulls what little they know over.
"Hmmm, perhaps after we finish up here, we should go and see what, if anything , the healer Jyr has learned about the bodies. And perhaps we should see about that young traveler who found the bodies. Perhaps he might remember something, or have not mentioned something due to terror," Grendel offers. After mention the traveler, Grendel goes to the pile of produce, and checks it over. The odds where slim, but perhaps some clue to what happen here lay hidden under the bloody produce.
Your later conversations with the young traveler reveal nothing new, and Jyr is still just as lost as when you last saw him. Dimqu remains alive, and is now moaning, though her heart is still and she takes in not a breath.
Calvoric scours the depths of his experiences and comes up with another report of a vaguely similar events happening hundreds distant. Only with the context of this direct contact do the pieces of the other story come together.
Beneath the produce is a dagger and small sack with 8 phials of thick blue liquid with crystals bound within. Though they are well wrapped two have shattered, shards of glass filling the sack, suggestive of a rather brutal impact. There is no smell to the liquid and you are unable to identify their contents.
Moving around the perimeter was uncomfortable, but Dandelions moves closer and feels an intense burning on his skin that gets worse with each step. Ice crystals form on his clothing, and you see each of his exhalations as the water within freezes. Dandelion's walks into something solid, his exposed flesh sticking to a slightly convex surface, and as he backs away he leaves a fair amount of flesh behind. The frozen tissue hangs in space, affixed to something that is unseen.
Semi-frozen blood flows sluggishly from the areas that are now bereft of their protective skin, and the oracle has received some nasty ice burns as well. Counterintuitively the wounds immediately act as though they are infected, the skin red to the touch, inflamed, and even more concerning is there are lines of green-black slow crawling from the wounds further towards Dandelion's heart. The pain is excruciating, and far out of step compared to what would be expected of the injury.
Probing with a stick is troublesome because the wood freezes and breaks so fast, but your few jabs reveal a mostly solid mass that is linked to the next semi-solid mass. It appears to be rounded with an elongated hole in the middle: The sketch of immense chains comes to mind.
Glancing around you realize that all of the dead animals and insects rim the edges of the affected areas, save for those that look to have been obliterated by a great weight.
Startled by Dandelion's reaction, Grendel looks over at the big half-orc. He carefully hands off the small sack containing the remaining vials and the dagger to Cal. The druid quickly goes over to what had happen, when he spots the bit of flesh, frozen, and hanging in mid-air.
"What in the Burning Sands...," Grendel voice trails off as he stares. Tugging Dandelion a few paces out of the blighted area, Grendel looks at his wound with a decently trained eye. While the half-orc had never seen frost burns, he had seen infected flesh before.
Grendel doesn't waste anytime and chants a druidic spell to help heal Dandelions wound. A barely visible greenish-white glow surrounds the druid's hands as he chants. Holding his hands over the wounded spot, tendrils of healing warmth trace through the air and caress the slightly frozen wound.
"Oh..." Dandelion steps back in surprise. "Ooooouuu. This should not have happened so fast. There are not visible things there..." he says as he watches the tendrils of disease and death spread on him at an alarming rate. Fear takes hold of him, and he does his best to hold still as Grendel performs his druidic magic on him. "No no no no no no no NO NO! Thank you." The first at the green-black, the second to Grendel.
He tries his best to resist the pain and twist his left hand into a motion, one he knows, if he can just keep his concentration, will tell him if there is poison there (Detect Poison). Of course if there is, there is nothing he can do about it, he realizes. He winces in pain, made that much worse by the knowledge that he will die, or worse, be dead and still feeling pain. It is too much to bear, and he screams a loud, long scream he cannot hear but can feel.
"Cold and death. I caught what he caught. Xelien. I will die. Please do not let me become like her. Let the forest take me. Let the Mother have me back."
He wants to run, to flee to the ocean, the town, anywhere.
But he fears he will not defeat death. For how can death be defeated when it accepts not its own defeat?
His mind having accepted defeat, to a point, it starts to wonder. He looks up, wondering if something had come down from the sky or the clouds, something long and terrible, which smashed the ground, and is still there.
Cal, inspecting the dagger and the pouch almost drops both at Dandelion's scream of fear and outrage. Watching Grendal work magic on the other half-orc, as whatever it was worked it's way through Dandelion's body.ght
It struck him then, he had heard a story that had matched what was going on now. Of course that had been in a crumbling Tome and the plague that had been brought with the dead trapped in their bodies.
The for lack of a better word daemon had brought death, invisible to the senses except touch. Cal wondered how they had delr with whatever was causing thus freezing, poisonis death.
The druid's healing magics dull the pain, halt the flow what the oracle's magic confirms to be a poison, and close the wounds. Days will pass before all of the pain is gone, though there will be horrific scars forever.
"Nah, I wouldn't worry about it. I doubt you got a full dose of..., whatever that was," Grendel says, still examining Dandelion's arm. He looks close at the wound, trying to determine if the tendrils that radiated from the wound might be filled with poison. If they were, he would have to lance the tendrils individually and trying to push the poison/pus out like a sliver just under the skin.
"Cal? Do you want to gather up some pebbles and see if whatever unseeable thing matches that sketches of the massive chains? Toss them at the blighted areas to see what happens, I mean," Grendel says over his shoulder to the other half-orc. "After looking at that sketch, I'm not so sure about the giant snake. If something was bound in giant, invisible, frozen chains, I'm rather terrified to even try to guess what it could have been."
Dandelion sighs in relief, and goes to a 'safe' spot to sit his large frame down. "Sorry. I overreacted, I guess. It's just I was filled with this fear, after seeing those explorers and what befell them."
He looks up once more to see what might have come down from the sky.
" Perhaps they thought to contain a "wyld" animal or a monster and the words that they used were a part of the summoning ritual or in fact the creatures name. " Cal says, thinking for a few moments.
" That could be why be why they purchased so much rope. Since everything seems to freeze and then for a lack of better word Rots. Since I have no clue as to the vials, we could wait until dusk and see if something shows up, if something does we can bring whatever the thing looks like to the guards and get more help. Perhaps even find some one who is a finger wiggler." Cal finishes looking at some of the animals remains, staying away from where Dandelion had been injured, thinking that perhaps fire would chase what was causing this away.
Green-black pus thickly crawls forth from the wound as the lanced tissue releases its poisonous burden. Ever so slowly the signs of infection recede until all that remains are open wounds flushing themselves out with the half-orc's ichor.
Pebbles reveal the general shape of what lies before you. They are huge chains, each link of which is longer than a man is tall and must weigh hundreds of pounds. They trail off on one end, where it appears that they must have shifted about. The other end has half a link only because the chains move up into the sky.
Dandelion looks up, his brown eyes scouring the summer sky for anything untoward. He finds it within moments. A section of hemp rope hangs in midair perhaps 150' above your heads, occasionally being tossed about by the breeze.
Dandelion lies on his back, and says, "I have found the rope. Or part of it."
His good arm rises as if he's going to sit up, but instead it stays there, pointing, accusing, almost straight up.
He doesn't mince words, this one. "I have never heard of a giant invisible colder-than-cold poison and disease-ridden chain that hangs from the sky. Have you?" He lifts his head so as to see the answers, expecting shakes or nays.
He wonders if he is in a nightmare, but then the pain pangs him again on his shoulder, and he grits his teeth and closes his eyes in agony.
"What are you talking... about...," Grendel trails off as he gaze follows Dandelion's outstretched arm. "Oh. That rope." The druid's gaze remains skyward for several long moments. He looks down at the other half-orc. "Good eyes," he grins.
It had taken a lot of self control when the druid was draining the greenish-black pus from Dandelion's arm. The smell had been truly vile, making sour milf marinated meat rotting in the sun smell pleasant. In truth, the druid was amazed how well Dandelion had taken running into the link of massive, invisible chain. Especially after what they had all see last night when the travelers had arrived.
Of course, Grendel had lied through his tusks when he had told Dandelion that the same wouldn't happen to him. For all Grendel knew they had all been "infected" just from being in the same area as the chains. There was always the possibility that there was something at the top of the chains that that did the infecting, not the chains themselves.
"Oh, sure there the latest rage in many port cities, all of the famous heroes have at least two," Grendel says with a crooked grin. "I'm only joking my friend. I have never heard of such a thing. Cal? How about you? Any tales of such things rolling around in your head?" Grendel asks of the bard, not really expecting much of an affirmative answer.
"I wonder if those potions allowed them to hover, or float up to the rope," Grendel muses out loud. "Now, I haven't seen all that many potions in my days, but the remaining ones I found looked.., somewhat unusual. There looked like there were crystals suspended in the blue liquid." The half-orc thinks for a few moments. "I think the bag of potions and the dagger fell from up there," Grendel points at the hanging rope. Let me get another look at the dagger Cal," Grendel walks over to the bard.
Grendel was looking to see if the dagger was very ornate, possible some ritual dagger, or if it looked to be a simple piece of sharpened metal used in day to day life.
While the word "chain" is being bandied about it is important to note that the surface is semi-solid, making the material it consists of a mystery.
Looking up at the rope gives some insight into a possible explanation of how Dimqu's hands were ravaged, and why she had broken bones. Should she have slid down the rope, gripping the hemp with bare hands, and then fallen, her abraded hands would look much the same. It did not explain other wounds, or her shattered psyche, but at least it was a toehold into the mystery of this situation.
Glancing up you realize how tough she is, to already have been wounded, and to survive such a fall. Perhaps there is magic involved, such as a feather fall spell, considering that you found a spell component bag.
Calvoric had heard about a similar situation perhaps 2 weeks ago, but hundreds of miles away. In that place the "chain" had entered the water of a pond, despoiling the area and killing all of the creatures around, including several villagers. The waters invisibly parted where the chain pushed the waters away, thus sending a ripple of rumours through the realms.
The dagger is mundane.
" Yes I know a tale, at the time I didn't believe it." Cal says growing pale, " I will tell you what I heard later, suffice to say these 'chains' showed up a few hundred miles away, two weeks ago. The water parted around the links. Every man, every child, every woman died, much like she did. The water was as a frothing poison, sicking the animals.... " Cal trails off, his eyes searching as if he could see what had happened.
Dandelion stands, hoping for no more spasms of pain but knowing they are coming.
"So, what now?" he asks. This is the strangest thing he's ever seen, though he has not traveled far in his life.
He looks around for a long stick, and, getting up his courage, he moves back toward the invisible object. He starts poking at it to see if it truly extends upward into the sky.
Blinking in surprise, the druid listens to the little tidbit that Cal knew about. He had not been expecting the bard to have known anything. 'Shows what I know,' he thinks with a slight shake of his head.
Thinking about the rope, Grendel had gone back to the the pile that was, from what he guessed, was the magic users gear and pokes around through it. He had mainly been focused on the sketches, not thinking anything else had survived.
"Well, I'm curious to know what's up there. Who knows what could be up there? A giant invisible ship, or some kind of hidden creature. Hells, for all we know there could be a magic gate that leads to another land at the top" the druid says, looking back up at the other two half-orcs. "Obviously we can't just grab a hold of the unseeable things, which I'm guessing look like the chains in the sketch. As Dandelion tested for us, touching them is not a good idea. So, the others must have used magic to get up there. Or perhaps the potions, we still have no clue as what they may be."
"I'm a bit hesitant to just try one of the potions and see what happens. They could be poisonous for all I know," Grendel looks back up from where he was searching. "Plus, I want to know if the two of you are up for seeing what's up there. I would rather not attempt this on my own," Grendel adds with a grin.
Pieces of Dandelion's sloughed off skin, momentarily hanging in space, are prised by the wind and flake off the "chain" and find rest on the ground.
The probing confirms the pebbles' findings: there appears to be a giant "chain" of some highly viscous substance leading invisibly up into the sky. If Calvoric's tale is true, and that's the flip of a coin as to whether any rumour approaches the truth, then multiple "chains" appear climb towards the clouds across an unbelievable stretch of land. Though silent you become aware that the "chain" is moving about, the impetus of which moves down the chain from above. Perhaps it is the wind, though that is doubtful considering the incredible mass hanging from the sky. They appear to be attached to something that moves on occasion.
Nothing new is found in the magic wielder's gear, or in the affected area, beyond what has already been discovered.
Another mystery has been pierced as to why someone would buy so much rope, but not pitons. Pitons would likely be useless in such a climb.
Dandelion thinks for a bit, and then says, "I know nothing of potions, but I can sense poisons. If there's no poison I cannot say if it will otherwise harm you." He moves over to where Grendel has the potions and concentrates, twisting his hand the same way he did before to sense whether the vial has poison in it. He then does the same for the other vials.
After thinking for a bit, he says, "Wonder how they got that rope up there. If they could fly like birds, they would have had no need of rope. I have seen lumber men .... lumber-jacks? .... who wrap a cloth or rope around a tree and then kind of walk up. I wonder if that would work. But the rope may freeze and break."
Oracle magic confirms no poison within any of the 6 phials of thick blue liquid with crystals bound within, or the two broken ones.
Dandelions feels cold within his very core, as if his very innards have been damaged by the experience.
Dandelion sits back down again and wraps his arms around himself, shivering uncontrollably.
He looks up at the rope in the sky again, and rests.
" The only way that I could see that much rope getting up their would be with magic, now perhaps they did the same thing as a lumber-jack good idea, tomorrow I can see the phials hold an element of magic. I know a tune that should help me understand what could be in the phials." Cal says bringing his mind back to the present, sighing he says " I have no idea as to what brought this here, so touching it isn't an option, since we have no way of flying up to see how high it goes, we have 6 phials that are part of the mystery. "
Blowing out a breath, he mutters to himself " Edhforrob molaconnzed " Not expecting anything to happen as the phrase that she had uttered before dying had been so bloody important.
"Given that whatever these chain things are are so cold, they can instantly freeze flesh, I think I'll pass on this "lumber-jacking" myself," his mis-matched eyes follow Dandelion as he tries to hug the warmth back into his frame. Plus, being from the desert, he had little idea of what they were talking about.
"So, we're mostly certain, some type of magic was needed to get the rope up so high. Also, some type of magic was used to protect them from the cold, most likely. I know a ritual that would allow us to endure more extreme temperatures, but I don't think it would work against that," Grendel gestures at the "empty" blighted spot they where standing in front of.
The druid pauses for a second, looking upwards.
"So, odd thought. What if these aren't chains? What if they are some sort of tendrils, like a giant jellyfish," Grendel flashes them a tusked grin. "Sorry, a little too much time spent on the ocean."
The words flow freely from the bard's mouth. If repeating Dimqu's words have there any discernible affect you are not immediately aware of it.
You speak with the young traveler and learn nothing new. He assures you that he will return to the farm and never leave again.
Dimqu remains "alive", her heart not beating, and she takes no breath, though she is now sitting up, moving, and babbling once again. As you speak to Jyr you notice that both Dimqu and Xelien are restrained. Xelien, though more corpse than man, is also moving and babbling. Jyr assures you that their minds are broken. He notes that both have the same amorphous tattoo, which wraps around their bodies in exactly the same pattern.
A night passes.
Though Dandelions has only pain from his injury remaining, the druid's magics had rid him of his wound, he feels unclean, as if the very core of his being had been spoiled.
The phials turn out to be full of magic, which you glean to be powerful healing magics.
At first you are unsure, but what started as a possible trick of the eye is confirmed. The area of despoliation around the "chains" is slowly creeping outwards. Its spread is perhaps only inches in an hour, and every bit of life it touches is immediately ended. The area of, for lack of a better word, "wrongness" spreads, slowly pushing you further from the epicentre of pestilence.
Where the "chain" had looked to be moving about, they are now appear to be still.
Dandelion, back in town, notices some kind of markings on both Dimqu and Xelien. He inspects it more closely, and compares it to his own shoulder injury.
The spreading of the pestilence is something else that concerns him greatly, though. How long will it continue, and how far will it go, he wonders. He uses his knowledge of nature and his inspiration from his Natural Divination to inspect it to glean whatever he can about its cause, without touching it directly.
The tattoo looks to have been carved into their skin by an expert hand. Though It does not appear to represent anything specific, The amorphus pattern flows and entombs their bodies in ink. Unless magic is involved there are very few people in the realms that could replicate the pattern perfectly from one person to the next, and the tattoos are exactly the same.
Dandelion's wound is healed flesh and scarring, looking nothing like either tattoo.
There appears to be nothing natural about the processes that are happening around the "chain", it seems to be a novel event to this locale. The advance is uniform and more severe at the areas closest to the "chain", suggestive that the "chain" is the source.
" Okay so people who are dead, are getting back up with nothing left in their brain box, we have perfectly crafted tattoos on their bodies. We have a pestilance that is freezing and rotting in a growing sphere. I'm going to see if I can get somethin' from the constable forces, also to see if they would like some more info." Cal says at breakfast, his eyes alert, then he says " Jyr are the deadits attackin' folk? Or trying to get up and ah leave this place?" Cal asks the healer.
Toeing the edge of the blemished land, a frown decorates the young druid's tusked face. He was certain that the spots had increased in size over the night. While he is at the edge. Grendel looks at the corpses of the small animals and insects. He was seeking for any trace of similarity between the three who could not die, and the animal life.
Grendel had been rather quite, thinking about the three that were not dead, yet should be. At the sight of them, he had almost turned and fled the healers shop. A shudder runs up his spine at the thought of the pieces flailing about. To the half-orc's credit, he did try to help the cause for more information. He had up several of the sketches to the thing that was called Dimqu, to see if there was anything left of her mind. Grendel had also shown Dimqu one of the blue vials.
Being honest with himself, he wasn't sure what to expect. What he and the other two half-orcs had stumbled into seemed.., horrifying. Invisible lengths of freezing, pestilent death where so abhorrently unnatural that it made his stomach twist at the though. Grendel couldn't follow the druidic order and leave such a thing unchallenged.
Calvoric meets an initial reaction of utter disbelief from the guards, them thinking him to be a drunkard, or addled himself, but slow the conviction and truth to his words win them over. The guard agrees to cautiously send out their members to explore the sections of destruction, cautious of avoiding the "chain", and will look into the undead.
The guard provide many of the same rumours, Calvoric notices that a number of the stories have mutated even further from when he had heard them. Perhaps the story is true now, but it is doubtful, embellishment appears to be the norm. He does hear a new rumour, which is that there is border skirmish going on to the south and east, in the swamplands, as the common folk have risen up against a cult of death. The guard also warns Calvoric that there has been an increase in banditry as of late, and the attacks have been much more brutal as well.
Jyr replies that he had tied them down to stop them from hurting themselves anymore than they had already. Using just their fingernails they had torn asunder their own skin and rent the flesh below. Neither Dimqu, nor Xelien, had tried to leave, they seemed only interested in self-harm.
A guard of Dewsdam patrols the area near the "chain" to warn away unsuspecting travellers. He nods at you from 'neath his helmet visor and leaves you to your exploration after furnishing you with the gossip that Dimqu and Xelien have been put to death by burning. It had been deemed by those venerable few within the council that they represented a potential threat to all, and as such they were dragged to the end of town and put out of their misery.
Grendel's toe touches the despoiled land without ill affect, though he feels the presence of the unspeakable evil as he gets closer. There is a unseasonable chill to the air that makes the breath visible this proximal to the invisible cause. The creatures that died near the "chain" show no sign of tattoo, and truly appear to be dead, they do not writhe in agony or moan.
Dimqu's sketches were horrifying to behold, as the writing implement digs deep furrows into the parchment while trying to convey tooth and claw, monstrous inhuman shapes, fire and pain. There is no subtlety to the act, though it appears to matter to her and she pushes it back to the druid as if it explains everything. Like her words you can make nothing definitive from it, other than she has been tortured beyond anything imaginable, which has absolutely shattered her very mind. Dimqu looks at the phial for a moment, her clouded eyes quizzical, which sets her to scribbling once again.
In Dewsdam, Dandelion goes to buy some oil at the local store. Five pints, if he can. He does not quite know what they are for, but he feels he may need them.
Regarding the mystery, Dandelion is stumped.
"I have this feeling... the chain will rise up again and disappear. Appear in another place, later." he postulates.
" That is ah possibility or when one sprouted up whatever caused this, lead the path for other unliving, pestilence breeding chains. Now do we stick around here or go looking for the other one two weeks away." Cal finishes with a snort of caustic humor, feeling that there was a story here that would only end in tears.
" Either way, we need access to books 'haps there is away to undo what is the source." Cal stops trying to come up with some crumbs of knowledge.... nay hope, knowing that he would be busy with tales.
" Bandits are hitting folk somethin' fierce. We also know that there is some kind' death cult stirrin' up ah whole messa trouble. " Cal frowns trying to make heads or tails of what Dimqu had scribbled down.
All basic supplies are found in Dewsdam at rates most reasonable.
Perhaps there are patterns to Dimqu's drawings and utterance, then again it might just be wish thinking that there's a deeper meaning there.
Despite all of the occurrences as of late, it is a lovely early summer day.
Grendel shakes his head, looking once more at Dimqu's final sketch. Looking at it, madness had been almost carved into the parchment. Something had attacked and tormented the three travelers. What the woman had attempted to put onto paper was proof of that. The druid just wished that it made some form of sense. He looks up from the sketch and at the other two half-orcs.
"I don't want to leave this area yet. I really want to find a way to stop the spread of pestilent death that these "things" leave by it's very presence. If whatever it was was just there, not spreading it's corrupt filth to the land, I wouldn't really care," Grendel shakes his head once more. "But it is spreading, admittedly slowly, but spreading none the less."
"I suppose it's a decent possibility that the cult you mentioned might have some sort of hand in this," Grendel mulls over the thought. "These chains do spread death." A chill runs up his spine thinking that someone might be actively controlling the invisible what ever it was. "Possibly a lead for us to check." The half-orc taps his chin as he thinks. "I don't think traveling to the lake would help us. By the time we get there and back, who knows how much larger those blighted spots will travel."
The druid falls silent once more, thinking, considering their limited options. He is pulled back to the present when Dandelion speaks up.
"Dandelion does bring up a good point. What if the whatever it is just picks up and moves? The Desert Spirits only know where or when it might appear again," the half-orc visibly shudders as a new thought occurs to him. "Imagine what would happen if this thing stopped over a large city? What if it can spread that.., sickness to others?" Grendel's mis-matched eyes bind the other two half-orc's in his piercing gaze. "We need to stop this source of.., unnatural taint from getting worse." Grendel says intently, his gold and green eyes burn with the druid's determination.
"Of course, no idea how were going to do that yet. Still working on that part of the whole plan," Grendel speaks up once more after a few moments of silence, falling back into a much more laid back demeanor.
Ichi chitters, joining the conversation, and tells Grendel that he is not doing a very good job finding him something to snack on. Nagrish's blue eyes watch from were the desert cat lies, motionless aside from the twitch of his tail.
Dandelion periodically looks up to see if the status of the rope has changed, or anything else is up there. At one point he walks carefully to the far end of the phenomenon and looks up from that vantage point.
He has trouble understanding all of Cal's words, but is able to get the gist of it, he thinks. But Grendel echoes his own thoughts. "I agree - I don't want to leave here now. But I don't know what we can do, now."
Dandelion takes a look at the sketches for the first time. Perhaps they contain something that will speak to him differently than to Grendel or Cal.
Seeing the monkey's distress, Dandelion asks it, "What is wrong, little Ichi?"* Seeing it is food he wants, Dandelion takes out some dried fruit and tosses it to him.
*The monkey understands!
The chain and rope appear to be in the same position as before from all available vantage points.
Cal grumbles over the puzzle, musing that if it drains the life out of everything then perhaps it would have an aura of magic. Of course the flip side is the others who had died might have had the same idea and been driven mad and touched the chain.
Letting out a sigh Cal starts asking around the town, trying to see if an was well read enough to own a number of books.
You are not the only ones looking into this mystery. Dewsdam has sent out its best and brightest in an attempt to understand what happened befallen the shadowless Bragh, Dimqu and Xelien while others search for some explanation as to what the chain portends.
Dewsdam has an impressive library.
You find absolutely no reference to giant invisible chains, let alone those falling from the sky hundreds of miles apart.
Calvoric gleans that there is a necromantic spell, which produces a "cold, cloying miasma of greasy darkness." The spell is a curse called "Blight", and it affects all save those with the coldest of hearts and selfish dispositions. There are also several other powerful curses that could closely replicate the effects you have seen as well.
It is well known that vampires are reputed to show no reflection in mirrors. What is less well known is that they cast no shadows. Being undead they would continue to function without breathing or having a heart that beats.
Vampires also cannot enter a private home or dwelling without permission, which might explain why Dimqu nearly bled out in the doorway of The Gilded Wyvern.
The next day a guard loses all patience with investigation and inquiry. He moves to the chain at midday, his companions all around yelling for him to heed caution, and trust in the process, and starts to climb. By the time you arrive you see large chunks of flesh flayed off and stuck to the chain. Armour and clothing were as nothing, providing no insulation against such cold. A bloated corpse with bulbous black veins protruding with pestilence, and large sections of flesh simply missing, lies nearby. Enough blood to fill a man coats the ground between the chain and the man, telling the tale more thoroughly than any word could. He shows no signs of undeath and simply joins the other corpses that litter the area.
The area of blight has spread a little further.
Cal let's the other two half-orcs about what he finds, what little time he was able to spend time researching soon after the moronic guard, killing himself due to his desire to be the 'hero'. With a sigh the bard shakes his head, wondering where his thoughts took him into thinking that he was going to be safe enough to deal with the chain.
Vampires brought a new element into this puzzle, in fact Cal hadn't known about the lack of shadows. Cal files that tidbit of new information in the back of his mind, pondering what else he could remember about vampires.
Grendel stares at the guard's body when they arrive. He moves a few paces away from the body, breathing shallowly, his mis-matched eyes taking in the details. What had happened to the man made him want vomit his breakfast all over the blighted area. Turning away Grendel looks over at the other guards, he nods to the group.
"I'm sorry for the death of your friend. You should drag the body a ways away and burn it. Take care not to touch his corpse, use a spear to roll the body onto a cloak or blanket and drag it away," the druid pauses and looks at Dandelion. "My friend here will make sure the fire doesn't rage out of control."
Internally, Grendel was, on one hand, cursing the impatient fool and, on the other, was glad they had a bit more evidence. Not to mention, there was no way anyone could deny that something was horribly wrong. His eyes trace the flesh seemingly clinging to air as he thinks. The news that the three might have been vampires surfs around in his thoughts, as he recalls that night.
Ichi devours the bit of dried friend, smiling without teeth at Dandelion. The monkey thanks Dandelion, and then pats the side of Grendel's head.
The big desert cat watches the proceedings, briefly wondering what the man-things were still doing near the bad-smell-cold-place.
Dandelion had looked at the pictures, but seen nothing he recognized.
Now he sees the result of the guard's folly, almost the same folly he himself had shown. He shrugs, guessing the guard's foolish blood would not be passed onto any children. Any more children, anyways.
After Cal relates what he has learned, Dandelion has to ask what a vampire is, and verifies that they are really a thing. It also hits him how useful reading was at this time, after he learns about the library. Perhaps Dandelion should learn to read faster and better.
"Is anyone looking for the third person?" Dandelion asks the others, and the guards. No body had turned up yet, so perhaps this Bragh is still alive and around. Or, not alive, and around. Dandelion is still uncertain about vampires, so he asks Cal and Grendel more questions about them in the hopes of not getting surprised by one. Though, he suspects not much will surprise him at this point... He suggests the three of them could go out at night, in hopes of spotting Bragh.
" 'haps a good idea if Brugh is a vamp, I wouldn't like our chances. If he isn't a vampire he could be dead." Cal says while running his hands on the cover of a book, dregging up what little lore he could remember.
"I thought the third one was reduced to parts. Honestly, I don't really remember, there were a fair number of parts in the cart," Grendel adds. "Vampires, hmmm. They drink blood and are, I think, undead, other than that, I don't really know."
The druid looks up at the rope and than down to the chunks of frozen flesh. A frown crawls across his face.
"What if whatever that thing is, it perverts the natural order of life? At the highest point, I mean. At the ground level, it just seems to kill and spread disease. It's clear the the other three made it much higher up, not that it ended well for them," Grendel muses out loud. "Of course, that still leaves us with the questions of how did they protected themselves from the cold and how did they get up so high."
Thinking for a few moments, the druid asks if anyone remembers seeing Dimqu and party during the daylight hours.
Corroborated information on vampires is limited, as these solitary creatures of the night are rarely encountered or studied. They are highly resistant to damage, drink blood for nourishment, and are creatures of unspeakable evil.
The guard relays that they had found no evidence of Bragh. The young traveler had only encountered the duo in his travels. Scouring through books is an excruciatingly slow process, had taken days and days, so Bragh would have the better part of a tenday headstart if he had traveled with the others.
You found no sign of Bragh, no trail of blood, or belongings strewn about, that would suggest that he was with them.
3 days stands before everything changes.
Dandelion is growing weary of this whole thing, though he realizes part of the weariness stems from the underlying disquiet about what effect this thing will have on the world around, and the additional stress of not knowing what to do about it.
A huge sigh escapes his mouth, and he says to the others, "Maybe we go back and rest? If we get out tonight and look around, a rest before will help."
" Vampires hunt in the dark at least that is what I remember in the stories. The only way that they could have protected themselves is with magic. Even then, it looks like it only helped partly." Cal muses out loud.
" If Bragh was a vampire he has left no trail.... Guardsman, if what Grendal has said is correct, has Dewsdam had anyone show up drained of blood? Before the arrival of the chains and Dimqu and her friend. " Cal trails off a sicking thought occurs to him, what if Dimqu and her friend had purchased as much food and drink as they could get to weaken the cities foodstuffs.
After the guardsman gives what little information he asks " If the blight keeps spreading fresh food and water might be an issue. I'm only asking due to tales that started out like this." Cal says
Cal worried that this was the start of something more; as the rumors of a war come surging through the fore front of his mind, not only did they have something that could cause a blight, but the occupants of whatever city or town would have no way to cancel the pestilence of the "chains".
Letting out a few breaths, tying to marshal his thoughts as panicking would due the bard no good and it would due the others around him to start freaking out. Still a blight and vampires; not the best choices at the moment in fact, if Dewsdam was going to be under siege so to speak; and perhaps soon whatever had laid the groundwork to help weaken the city had a pretty good start.
Cal's hands were itching and they did that when he was on the track of another tale. Cal had a feeling that the start or perhaps even the end of the tale would be tragic to say the least. The feeling that something was waiting to strike had the back of his neck prickling; it was clear that whatever had crafted these blight chains had the ability to make more.
Knowing that the fear of what was going on and the fact that no one had a real clue as to what to do wasn't helping. Cal knew that he was going to start writing about what was going on brought no pleasure to him, Cal starts humming, trying to build a center of calm on himself and the others around him, without even realizing it.
While the trio had stocked up on large quantities of foodstuffs, the large town's supplies had not been in danger of being greatly diminished.
A rumour works its way to your feet, though exhausted from its journey it catches its breath and brings you into the know: Xelien and Dimqu have been incarcerated. Being burned to ash, charred flesh and blackened bone has apparently not hindered their ability to walk about spouting their nonsense. Of interest is that all of their injuries, save those afflictions of the psyche, have all been repaired during their time entombed among the worms. Even stranger is that their tattoos remain intact. Their filthy and naked selves were put in irons without any sort of struggle after they had approached anyone that would listen apparently to warn them of whatever madness peopled what was left of their minds.
Dimqu had held your face intimately close, with a desperate sort of strength, as she craved to convey a message of dire importance to anyone that would listen. At no point, to your knowledge, had she attempted to harm anyone. This appears to stand in stark contrast to the idea that she was a creature of unspeakable evil, especially since neither Dimqu or Xelien had acquired any nourishment in many days to your knowledge.
Upon the pre-morn the two vampires will be dragged into the town square, firmly affixed to the stocks, and all the Dewsdam townsfolk will gather to watch the sun purge them from this land.
The guards eyes open wider as she considers Calvoric's words. There is an internal struggle that takes place as she decides whether to accept the charismatic half-orc as a confidante. She leans in, putting extra emphasis on one of the last words, "There has been an increase in banditry as of late, and the attacks have been much more BRUTAL as well", and wanders off to continue her sentry duty.
The pestilence reaches the nearby burbling stream, tendrils of green-black mist cloud the icy water immediately despoiling and forcing you to block the flow before it passes its cursed poison far from the source. It is late in the day when you realize that the advance of the blight has halted a relatively uniform distance perhaps as far as 5' all around the links of the "chain".
The power and import of the words indicating Dimqu and Xelien had survived intense fire, and tomorrow would be somehow cleansed by the very sun, are not lost on Dandelion. His world was suddenly a much more frightening place... if the Mother herself could be summarily ignored by those such as they; if the fires of man, burning white hot, could be treated as a minor inconvenience to creatures of this nature; if only the sun itself has the power to destroy such beings.
Dandelion is worried, but not frightened for himself, until he thinks of touching that thing again. No, he would not do that, never do that. Perhaps he should leave, continuing on the trek he had started not too long ago. But would this blight, as Cal called it, spread? Would it catch up to him, and everyone, wherever they were? How far would it go? How far is the end of the earth? No, he would not leave, either.
He thinks it strange that only the sun could destroy such beings, and asks the others about it. But these were not the vile bloodsucking beings described when vampires were mentioned; they were apparently innocent people, subjected to this horrific disease. They did not try to harm any save themselves. Dimqu only muttered those strange words repeatedly.
Dandelion walks to the far end of the 'chain', counting the indentations. He checks, using sticks and stones, to make sure he understood correctly: that the chain just ends here, and doesn't go up into the sky, down into the ground, or somewhere else entirely.
The torn flesh of the dead guard has long since fallen from the chain.
Overcast clouds warn of the onslaught of summer rain before it falls upon you. You become aware that the rainwater washes tendrils of green-black mist down the slight incline to the stream once again. Luckily your previous efforts have stopped the diverted stream from becoming contaminated once again.
Rain droplets bounce off invisible chain links often enough that it gives you momentary glimpses of the general shape of the thing. It leads up into the sky as far as your eyes can see, travels down to the ground, and corroborates what Dandelion had learned with stick and stone: the chains lays across a section of land, and terminates above ground.
You note that the water does not freeze to the links of the chain.
---
Despite the bite in the air you imagine that the entire population of Dewsdam has woken early to be present for the vampire's execution the next morning.
Scant time before the morning's light both Dimqu and Xelien are dragged forth with thick slabs of metal about their mouths, necks, arms, torso and feet. They are so hobbled that they are all but dragged along, their chains cheerfully marking their passage. The stocks are slammed down with a note of sodden finality around their necks and hands.
Rivulets of fresh rainwater carve playful paths across the cobblestones. Dimqu's heel is immersed for less than a breath, but in that time her foot flesh is stripped away, as if by acid, which also consumes the rags she wears on her lower leg. She screams in agony and drags her ravaged limb away from the flowing water. The ravaged flesh exactly matches the horrific wounds you saw upon Xelien the night he lay "dead" in the young travellers cart in days past.
As more of Dimqu's leg flesh is revealed you realize that her nigh-perfect tattoo has faded significantly since you saw her last. Your eyes confirm that both vampires' tattoos have faded in the meantime, Xelien's tattoo a bit more than Dimqu's.
They both talk mutter indistinctly, their meaningless words further garbled by their gags, beseeching anyone to understand what they are trying to convey. When they meet your eyes, crimson orbs silently imploring your assistance, you see something you had never expected from an undead monster.
Terror.
The sun rises behind clouds, teasingly peeking out for a heartbeat and disappearing. The illumination is poor, but its effects are devastating. Both vampires scream as they are tortured by the accusations of the purging light. Their bodies let out hissings, sighing sound, their blackened flesh cracking and splitting apart.
There is an audible impact and Xelien's head comes free of his shoulders, the severed pate falls heavily, and rolls a few feet before coming to a halt. The executioner's axe ends Dimqu's scream a moment later. Their bodies simply deflate upon themselves, noxious fumes and a spreading puddle of disgusting slime are the only things remaining.
You are haunted the pleading look in their eyes, and the question of what they were pleading for you to know.