"That first step was pretty easy, right?"
Gitana rejoices inside at the sight, but cannot muster any celebritory movements. She's too weary and cold and just feels grateful to have a moment's respite from the fight.
She frowns at the comment about the queen, but checked on Will rather than trying to figure out what the peanut gallery is on about.
Zordt dug through his pack and pulled out a sky-blue potion. He handed it to Hedrak. "Here, that should help with the worst of it."
Father Frances was slowly regaining his footing. He had lain still after the demon had first thrown itself at the interior magic circle, when smoke had flooded the area between the two circles. "What's all this?" He asked, confused.
Zordt let Gitana tend to the others while he addressed the onlookers. "We have defeated it, here. Now we must ensure it is destroyed forever. We will follow it to its home plane and put an end to it. Father Frances, come." Once the Father came down closer to him, Zordt lowered his voice. "I can't promise what will come out of that portal. If it's truly any of us, or any innocents we rescue, I will have them say "sand dunes". I entrust you to control the temperament of the soldiers."
Gitana: Needs 10
Hedrak: Needs 10
Norde: Needs 14
Zordt: Needs 14
11 rounds, excellent, I'm nearly not fatigued any more!
"Thank you brother, I can feel some of the strength retrunging to my limbs" - Hedrak turned to Zords after drinking the potion.
"And thank you for the healing magic Gitana" - he nodded at his companion - "My wounds are fully recovered"
Before doing all the healing, Gitana checks on Will.
Gitana checked on Will. The boy was still unconscious. His eyes rolled underneath their lids disturbingly, and he was moaning softly. The tattoo was no longer visible on his neck.
Father Francess blinked at Zordt for a moment. He seemed confused. "Portal?" He glanced around the room for some time, eventually fixating on the soldiers. They looked back at him, waiting for an order. "Sand dunes." He told them carefully. He looked back at you to see if he had done a good job.
Father Francess was clearly incapable of healing Hedrak at the moment. The other assembled spellcasters, however, happened to have four castings of Lesser Restoration between them.
Zordt narrowed his eyes and frowned at the Father. "Uhh. Who is in charge after Father Francess?" He called out to the rest of the clergy.
Another member of the clergy stepped forward. She was old and wizened, with a kind face. "I was the leader of the faith before he came here, but I abdicated so that he could lead."
Another man stepped forward. "Yet Father Francess showed me greater favor, and surely would prefer that I lead if he is unable. Isn't that right?" He asked.
"Steven, you always had such a lovely face," said Father Francess.
Hedrak offers his thanks to the clerics - "I am not sure how I will replay you for this, but I will make sure to do so"
"Saving the world should be payment enough."
Zordt stared blankly at the man. "Seriously? In this time of danger and unrest you make a move for power? For shame." He turned to the older woman. "Take over for the time being. If anybody comes through the portal, be it us or anybody we rescued, they will say "heat wave" so that you know it is no enemy in disguise. We will trust you to minimize the hysteria."
The older woman nodded at Zordt. "I understand, we will keep this place sacred."
The young man looked back at Zordt with resolve, muttering something about his divine right.
"The demon-slayers have endorsed me." Said the woman. "Father Francess will require the support of young Steven in his time of need. Until he regains his strength, I will resume my position as leader of the temple." The woman spoke with confidence, and many of the others nodded along enthusiastically. "Adras, please assist Steven and Father Francess on their way to Father Francess's chambers. Be careful that whatever is going on outside does not cause them harm." Adras and his men moved towards the two immediately. Father Francess had never been popular with the King or his soldiers. "I shall prepare a statement from the church to calm the masses, the rest of you should appear behind me, to publicly show your support."
While Hedrak is receiving healing ministrations, Gitana explains a few things to the assembled clerics. "This isn't over! There is some kind of portal that we will enter to finish what we started. Don't disturb this area or we may become trapped. The portal can only be seen from one vantage point, in case you doubt my word." Gitana stands where she can look into the portal and studies what can be seen. As she watches, she adds, "Will is unconscious and still could be in danger. The tattoo is gone, however, so I hope that's a good sign."
Gitana's eyes keep tearing up, as she worries about Will. She struggles to see anything at all.
One of the clerics places a hand on Gitana's shoulder. "Don't cry. You killed it, you're a hero." He has a kindly face and a deep, sympathetic voice.
Norde takes a deep breath and leads the group into the unknown.
Gitana lets Hedrak and Zordt go through first if they want. She'll activate Detect Magic before going in and then concentrate on what she sees after entering.
Despite the reassurance of the cleric, Gitana is still struggling with her emotions so she's not especially perceptive yet.
"Ok, let us do this then" - Hedrak nods at his companions, as they venture into the land of the damned.
With boldness, you ventured forward into the portal. The temple faded into the distance behind you, Adras shoving Steven and Father Francess out the front door behind you.
The air was freezing, but you found that you were outfitted as you had been on your journey, with all your warm outdoor clothes and your other equipment. Wind kissed your faces, the cold sweet as a new lover after the heat of the temple. The sky above was black and dark, with no sun or moon. Yet there was some light, off in the distance, a bare wisp of red. The orc-blooded could see trees on all sides of you, tall and dark, groaning in the wind.
The light grew brighter as you moved towards it. When you lit your own lights, you couldn't see it anymore, though you were able to see black boled trees tinged on their windward side by snow. The light turned into a large bonfire, red sparks flying up towards the sky. There were no stars, and where the sparks winked out you could see only an inky darkness deep as the ocean.
A scream tore through the air. Others joined it, and you could hear the sounds of pleading and wailing. There were houses around the fire, you could see them clearly now. The battered figure of a woman stumbled into the light of the fire, only to fall facedown in the snow. A moment later and something pulled her back into the shadows beyond.
Norde looks about, and asks, "Can one of you make light? Also, we're not on the world any more, right?"
With a quick chant and a flick of his wrist, Zordt made Norde's greatsword glow with a gentle light.
"Yes, we are not in our world. We can expect little except violence and death here. I'm...not even sure if those people are real." He said with a chill as the woman was dragged off.
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Norde looks at the blade in awe, "you enchanted my blade! The beast will stand no chance against us now."
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Zordt opened his mouth to respond, then paused.
"Yes, yes I did. Go forth and cause havoc."
Norde's light cast a second light upon this place, paler and clearer than the red of the flames. You were clearly on the edge of a village. There was a thin snow on the ground, but it had melted away around the fire. The fire had yet to spread to the whole pile of wood, however, so it must not have been lit too long ago. The sounds ahead were disturbing, but you didn't hear the clash of metal or the battering down of doors.
Norde looks for signs on the ground to see if he can determine what, who, how many, and where things might be...
Zordt kept his alchemically-enhanced eyes sharp and searching for the cause of the carnage, trying to find the demon as swiftly as possible.
Gitana maintains her concentration on what her spell to detect magic reveals, keeping a hand gently on the shoulder of one of her comrades so she could walk without light. If her spell does not reveal anything at the bonfire, she'll let it lapse and cast a light spell on herself. She'll creep up to one of the houses and listen. If the house has windows she'll try to peer inside.
Hedrak followed after the others in silence, weapon in hand. Raziel peered from his backpack.
Norde quickly identified many tracks in the snow. They looked humanoid, but unfamiliar. Here and there were strange marks that looked like points had been pushed into the snow, as though there were creatures who walked with many arrows for feet.
Zordt couldn't see much beyond the light of the fire, but he could smell the fear and death in the air. From afar, he could hear a rhythmic chanting somewhere inside the village. There was a closer, sucking noise, like the sound of a person eating a juicy peach.
Gitana felt exposed as she moved forward. Lit up as she was, anyone would be able to see her clearly in the darkness. She could see a magical aura near the area where the woman had gone down, but as she moved so that her light shone on the area, the aura moved back and away, out of her vision.
At that moment, the sucking noise Zordt had heard also stopped. The chanting, further forward, continued.
Nothing had attacked you yet. Gitana opened the shutters to one of the houses, but could see nothing out of place inside. The occupants must have been gone before the violence began. Up ahead, there were more structures, and here and there was strewn a corpse or a spray of blood. Whatever monsters had done this were clearly avoiding you, however.
One of the structures was larger, a hall, perhaps, though it was difficult to tell in the little light. When Gitana first saw the hall, she heard a voice call out faintly, "Help me, please, before it's too late." There was no one in sight who could have spoken. The voice unmistakably belonged to Will. No one else heard the call, until they moved forward and saw the larger structure for themselves.
"We need to find something to kill here, right? We have to find that beast."
Gitana wished she had prepared some of her spells that helped her gain information, but all she had were spells for combat. She drew a Harrow card at random, hoping it could give her information on where to go or how.
The card depicted a Lamia, a chaotic evil race of creatures who are attracted to the ruined and forsaken parts of the world. The card represented false promises and obsessions involving love. It could also mean a new relationship disguised as something much less beautiful.
She put the card back and whispered, "Let's explore that large hall. Beware of what you see and hear. I think this is a place where appearances are meant to deceive."
She transfers her light spell to the palm of her gloved hand, so she can keep the light from showing with a clenched fist but have it ready if needed.
Norde nods at Gitana's direction, his confidence raised by the knowledge that the enchanted blade in his hands will be anathema to the creature they are hunting. Norde boldly strides toward the building she indicated with all of the trust a child has in his parents' love and protection. He holds the monster-bane weapon ready to wreak havoc on the demon that had been terrorizing Will.
The shadows cast by Norde's sword leaned and rolled as he walked forward. There were sounds of movement coming from outside the range of the light, but still nothing showed itself.
Zordt could clearly hear what was going on inside the hall as you gathered in front of the door.
"Flee, and we'll skin you alive and roll you in the snow," hissed a voice. You were immediately reminded of the greyskins, but there was something different. This voice was deeper and more guttural, like the growl of a beast.
"Be still, my child, still and sweet and you won't be harmed." There was a low sobbing.
There was also a terrible sucking sound inside, just as the one you had heard before, and the whimpering of a dying man.
The air inside was rank and steaming, but you still felt a chill on your skin. At the center of the room was a human child, strong and sturdy looking, with bright hair and brown, healthy skin. Above him was a huge she-wolf with sagging teats, swollen with milk. She had the face of a human man. "Drink, my child, drink and be filled with the power of our lord."
Across the edges of the room, your light shone on huddled villagers who cowered with their heads and faces turned towards the floor. There must have been three dozen of them, some sobbing in defeat, others offering silent prayers to their invisible gods. Scattered among them were four figures who you recognized as greyskins. Yet they were different from the ones you had fought on your world, not thin and emaciated but thickly build and corded with muscle. Perhaps this was how they had once been.
A sixth greyskin, huge, with towering wings thick and strong, held one of the villagers by the head. There were several corpses beside it. It's huge, clawed fingers connected behind the man's skull, and its mouth was full of fangs. As you entered the room, it released the man, who crumpled to the floor beside the other corpses, and turned towards the she-wolf, a pure white substance dripping from its mouth. "Our lord thanks you for this gift," said the she-wolf with the human face, greedily lapping the substance up from the winged greyskin's mouth. As she did, her pendulous teats sprayed milk into the child's mouth. "Yes, drink deep from the cup of despair, my child."
None of them seemed to have any knowledge that you were in the room with them.
"Help," came a voice from the ether. It was Will's.
Gitana notes Zordt's attention focused on sounds and she waits for his advice on whether to enter or not.
"It seems some kind of spirit of Will is in there. I suggest we go in and free it."
Norde looks at Zordt and suggests "make with the music."
Zordt began a deep hymn, something taken from the dwarves. Rather coincidental it was about slaying demons.
The instant he feels the affects of Zordt’s song, Norde rages and charges the female wolf thing, his holy sword held high and screaming, ”Benedicta…”
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