Of the two, the shaman is most likely to waken soon. Gavri's very close to death, and even though stable, won't be waking up any time soon. The shaman will wake up with a single Cure Light Wounds.
Djon moves to retrieve the fallen ritual knife.
Maybe this will hold a clue.
Walter used his Healing Hex to awaken the bound shaman once he was sure Gavri was both bound and stable.
"Now that you're awake, I fear we need to talk. No, no, I know that you're mouth is gagged. Wouldn't want any chants coming out." Walter said as he squated next to the bound man, "We can do this one of two ways. I wish for you to explain this unstoppable ritual to me, in detail. Since I cannot possibly stop this ritual it will not be a problem, correct? So, we can have a friendly chat, as professionals in the field."
He smiled cheerfully. "Nod if you agree, yes?" He hadn't mentioned the second option yet, quite on purpose. Nothing he could say would be as terrible as the ideas in the mans own mind would be. Not unless he seared off his hands, at least.
Djon moves to retrieve the fallen ritual knife.
Maybe this will hold a clue.
Linguistics, if any inscription
There are characters on the blade, but the forms are so odd as to seem almost profane, in some inexplicable way. Djon can make nothing of them.
The man nods agreement to Sir Walter, staring ahead maniacally.
"From his home in R'lyeh dread Cthulhu sleeps no more! He comes, herald of the End!"
Handing Walter the knife, This is more up your alley. These symbols tickle the back of my brain though, shivers. Ugh.
Walter nods, using Read Magic on the blade in the hopes of deciphering the writing. If that doesn't work he'd have to use his Tongues Hex to read it. And if -that- didn't work then, well, that wasn't a good sign.
"So you have awoken something," he said, nodding to the shaman and careful not to say the name of the thing. He wasn't sure if it could hear them, but some things listened for there names. "Alright. But your ritual wasn't finished. What was the rest of it designed to do? Bring it here? Control it?"
The dagger inscription contains a very powerful gate ritual, as well as a necromantic component for "awakening" sleeping demigods (basically summoning).
The man nods in shame at this last part. "Control. Yes, he comes, and we are all finished, now. No matter how the war goes. Hopefully he kills the Pruscians first."
Walter sighed. "Bugger." Gesturing with the knife, he asked, "And how does one control this creature?"
"It is too late! He is here! He is manifest! If the canyon beneath a figure recognized an annihilation, then the doorstep self-flagellates!" The shaman rambles on, appearing quite completely mad. Sir Walter cannot determine any way the dagger would allow control of whatever mad beast is coming.
"Oh, good. He's quite mad." He glanced over at the assassin, but suspect his mind was probably no less shattered. Just trying to touch this thing was insane. He looked at the others. "I fear, gentleman, that we're going to have to challenge a creature for beyond time and space. If anyone wishes to flee now would be the moment."
The giant grumbles from where he sat on the stage's lip. "This is consequences of witchcraft. Tarasik will not run and allow it to poison your mind. Already dangerous enough as is."
The Next Morning
Despite the turmoil, the group manages to find a hotel accepting guests. After a night's rest that is all too brief, and a filling breakfast in the hotel restaurant, you head out into the city to determine what the situation is.
On the way, Billy is reunited with his horse Marion, who surprisingly seems to have arrived without incident on a livestock train.
The city itself is in disarray. Though you managed to stave off some of the bloodletting the previous evening, the nationalists, along with their Brask allies, now seem firmly in control of the city. The Ugrin army now seems committed to their cause as well: it looks like the nation is officially at war with Pruscia.
There is no sign yet of this Cthulhu entity, though honestly, the gloom of war hanging over the city seems enough evil for the time being.
Billy pats Marion on the flank, grateful to see his trusty steed.
"So, what do y'all reckon this beast'll look like. How do we know the bastard shows up?"
"Ugly as sin and smelling twice as bad, one would think," Walter said with a small shrug. "Big? It's supposed to be able to bring about the end of times, and I can't imagine a mouse pulling that off. It feels like something you'd want to be massive to do."
Will not be bigger then Tarasik." He says with confidence.
As the day wears on, it becomes obvious the Brask and Ugrin combined forces are mobilizing in Dathapest. Something big is seemingly in the works. The fervor of the nationalists of the previous evening is virtually invisible. Now, the people that remain are either hiding, or mustering at various points.
Djon gives Tarasik a affectionate clap on the back, Certainly not, my hulking friend.
But if what we've been through is the calm, I'd hate to see the storm.
With no one to fight and nothing but time, Walter used his magic to connect once more to the Akashic memory and find out what they could about this foe, Cthulhu.
Sir Walter does not have to seek far afield in the Akashic record to find hints of this being. The mere concentration on the name brings images of horrible suffering in the distant past, but more disturbingly, the immediate future. The time is almost upon you, the place is...near. A battlefield.
Religion gets you very little, specifically. You believe humans have encountered this being in the distant past, so distant history would have been but a future rumor.
Planes gives you a little more; the name of a sunken city known as R'lyeh, that exists both in the deep sea on your world and in another dimension entirely. You remember the name as something quoted by the cultist Shaman: From his home in R'lyeh dread Cthulhu sleeps no more!
Arcana gives you something actually useful: the dagger that brought the beast is his tie to this plane. You believe if you FINISH the battle by cutting him with this dagger (after first defeating him), it will reverse the ritual and send him back to "sleep". Otherwise he would continue to re-manifest until the world was nothing but a shambles.
Walter sighed, rolling his shoulders as he stood. His mind was awash with the things he had seen, and it took a moment to order his thoughts once more. "There is a battlefield near here, which is where the thing will rise, or we will meet it. One or the other. We can only hurt it, but if we hurt it enough, the knife can be used to put it back into a slumber as deep as death. Otherwise he will never sleep or die or live and the world shall be his meal to devour and take and feast upon and eat and consume, it will be his feast his meal his sup broken fast his-" Walter stopped suddenly, and whiped a tear trickling from his eye. "Let us just say it will be bad. Best he is stopped here."
Djon turns quickly and focefully vomits, gasping to breathe. As suddenly as it had come, it abates.
After wiping his face and a few labored breaths, Damn, Walter... there goes breakfast. Sorry, fellas.
He's quiet for a bit, then explains.
Whatever you "saw" must have been powerful enough to be seen by my other half. You guys know the purpose of the experiments I was a part of, to meld a physical soldier with a being from another realm.
It's like a voice in my head, a "partner" of sorts. Mine mostly heckles from the recesses of my mind. Eh, sometimes she's useful. He holds his head in his hands.
Well, whatever you saw... I think she caught a glimpse and it was enough to shut her up. Now, that's really scary.
The Russkin's face twists in disgust at Djon's rather forceful display. "This is what happens when dabble with witchcraft. Would only be loosing stomach during hard work or good party, not when talking with unseen strangers. Tarasik will not be loosing own stomach in face of creature."
"Your stomach is the lesser concern, I'm afraid. This thing doesn't work how we do. It doesn't correspond to the way we understand the universe. It is walking madness, a thing that twists reality that we see in a form that is nothing like what we see but is simply the best our minds can do to understand it. It is no more 'Witchcraft' than a bullet would be to those people from before we mastered fire. It simply isn't comprehensible, to a point where our minds are a weapon against us." Walter shrugged. "But none of that matters. It must die, or the world does."
With a spit to the ground in dismissal, "Only thing that needs understanding is where to slam Молот-винтовка into face. Will not allow mind to be lost. Will not allow world to die. Tarasik is simply too angry for this to affect him."
"Well that sure ain't good." He nods in Tarasik's direction, "I'm with the big guy. All I need to know is where to shoot it. Come to think of it...I reckon I've got some power left over from my ma. Don't rightly know what she was, but it was somethin' not quite of this world, somethin' holy. I think it'll serve me well if we're fightin' some sort of ultimate evil."
With troops heading out of Dathapest in large numbers, it's rather obvious they're heading out for a battle. Carts full of munitions being pulled by horses accompany them. Several civilians have also taken up arms and are traveling with the troops, so it is easy enough to just blend in. As they are moving at marching speed, it is not hard to keep up.
By noon, you've traveled about 10 miles from the city, and occasional munitions fire can be heard in the distance.
Tarasik, well aware of the situation about to take place, doesn't opt to even hide his normal stature this time. His steps lumber forward with enough force that some might have trouble telling between him and the mortars making the ground shake. Already he carries his weapon, resting it over his shoulder as he marches.
"I know some of you aren't fond of magic," Walter mentioned, carefully not looking at Tarasik, "But once we see the thing coming I will place some spells on you to aid you. I imagine we will have a moment."
The dagger, only after it is defeated? Or will it be the beast's downfall? Who should carry it?
"Once it is down, the dagger will prevent it from returning to life - or whatever it does when it is awake and moving - rather than simply returning, again and again."
The soldiers stop for lunch served off the backs of trucks and carts, giving you the opportunity to move toward the front of the ranks. By the time you reach near that, another two miles, the front has begun moving again. Soon, you can hear the sounds of individual munitions shots clearly, and the occasional large caliber shell is falling among the troops.
Another hour after that, you can see the enemy troops, and mortars are falling with regularity.
One of these lands near you. Make a Reflex save. Evasion applies.
Ah, the sweet scent of artillery Walter thought wryly as he attempted to get the hell out the way and keep all his limbs.
Tarsik has never exactly been what one would consider 'limber' and 'quick to react'.
Sir Walter avoids the worst of it, take 6 SP damage.
Tarasik, however, takes more of the force of the attack, suffering 12 SP damage.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Despite practically taking mortar fire to the face, Tarasik manages to come out barely worse then Walter did by dodging out of the way.
Billy, too, dodges the worst of the artillery fire.
Incoming! Djon finds an outcropping to take cover behind.
The Urginian side rushes to set up their own artillery weapons, now that you're in easy visual range of the "enemy." Meanwhile, the party keeps an eye out for anything abnormal on the battlefield.
It doesn't take long. A cacophony of screams and cries and...laughter? can be heard in the distance where the enemy troops are stationed. Several begin moving down a long slope toward your position, the Ugrinian troops take up firing positions as if to fend off a rush. But the people coming toward you aren't moving in any organized fashion. In fact, several of them are running in odd patterns, or abort running toward you and move in a completely different direction. Some seem to be stabbing each other with bayonets, or firing their weapons in the air.
The incoming artillery has stopped entirely.
Soon, you see something bobbing up and down on the hilltop from whence the Pruscian forces were set up. It looks a bit like an...octopus? But huge. Then, you realize depth perception is playing a trick on you. It's actually behind the hill, not on it. Which means something is supporting the octopus.
And then you see it. The creature rises slowly in the air over the smoke of battle. And continues to rise. It towers at least 50 feet, probably more, above the battlefield.
Will Saves, please.
For Sir Walter, the world suddenly explodes in an array of colours and disturbing, ever-twisting images. He can barely make out the things around him, and cannot distinguish those which are real from those that were there a few minutes ago and those that suddenly appeared.
Tarasik is unaffected, but certainly uneasy at the appearance of the large beast.
Billy looks up at the colossal beast, taking his hat off and putting it to his chest, ”Well, that’ll take the cake for bein’ the biggest thing I’ve killed.”
He flips the cowboy hat back onto his head and puts a hand on his pistol. He looks at his companions and says, ”So boys, you ready?”
Billy finishes his sentence, and then falls over, unconscious.
Tarasik heres the thump beside him, and slowly pans himself over to watch Billy lay face down in the dirt. His eyes drift further along to land on Walter, similarly in a catatonic state. He finishes by turning towards Djon, watching the shady man almost expectantly.
How can that... be? You don't know the half of it...
Djon starts screaming uncontrollably for rounds.
All around Tarasik, Ugrinian and Brask soldiers are losing their minds, the same as the soldiers on the Pruscian side seem to be doing. Some are attacking each other, others are screaming or staring ahead catatonically, still others are walking odd patterns on the ground as if they're playing a child's game.
One in his madness attacks Tarasik with a rifle butt.
Tarasik has no problem disarming the madman, who then runs off babbling. By the time the giant has roused Billy from his short nap, Djon and Sir Walter have recovered their senses.
Across the battlefield, the creature strides forward, stepping on soldiers here and there, or pausing to pick one up and devour it. It is, at this point, about 1000 feet distant.
"Tarasik did not loose mind," He informs in such a straight-forward manner, that it's difficult to tell if he was boasting or merely informing them of fact. "Did not charge ahead either. Walter, you are to be using your magics now. Tarasik may not be loosing mind, but in the face of this beast will not be letting down guard."