This is a novelisation of a solo-play Shackled City campaign. Not the best way to play but the only one I manage to fit into my meagre freetime and just reading the books and mags iss not an option for me. It's also part of my continuing effort to improve my writing skills. The characters are the iconics at the moment so no prizes for guessing races and classes. Enjoy.
Shackled City, Part 1 - Flocktime 1, 577CY
Jozan raised his mace to parry the descending blade and then stepped back as his opponent sent a cross swing across his stomach. He stepped back again but felt his right foot slip on the rain-slicked cobbles and pull his leg from under him. Pain shot up the back of his thigh and he fell to one knee and his foe advanced on him. The swordswoman put her blade to his throat and fixed him with her striking blue eyes.
“Do you yield, brother,” Alhandra said with a hint of a smile.
“I yield,” answered Jozan, using his mace as a crutch to push himself to his feet. As soon as he did so, the pain shot down the back of his thigh again and he winced, reaching back to grab the injured muscle.
“Mistress Jenya should look at that,” said Alhandra.
“I’ll be fine,” answered Jozan.
“You’ll learn some sense someday,” Alhandra chided and Jozan poked his tongue out at his sister as they started toward the south tower of the temple, where their quarters lay. He had always lacked his sister’s wit and always it had got him in trouble. They had fled Hollowsky because of his stupidity and though he tried to forget it, Jozan was forever plagued by guilt for what had happened. Weakened by illness as a child, Jozan rarely joined Alhandra and their father hunting the jungles around Hollowsky and instead watched the village around him. He grew to dislike the cruel steward who ruled the village in the name of Lady Knowlern and one day, she came to the inn to seek him out. He fled and his friend, Zenith Splintershield was taken by Freija Doorgan in his stead. That was the day that Alhandra and Jozan left Hollowsky with a priest who Alhandra had seen in a dream, Sarcem Delasharn.
“Still dwelling on it,” said Alhandra, knowing his mind better than any as they were twins.
“It never leaves my head,” he answered. “If I’d been there, they’d have taken me and like as not beaten me but we could have stayed in Hollowsky.”
“The Saint had a different plan for us,” said Alhandra as she opened the door to the tower at the south of the courtyard.
“Maybe,” said Jozan but he was not so sure. His witless remarks had forced them to exile in Cauldron, he was sure of it.
“Race you to the High Chamber,” said Alhandra, darting toward the spiral stairs. Jozan forgot all of his recriminations and dashed after his sister.
************
The demon lord grabbed the bars of the cage that held him and howled his rage and madness at the ceiling of the chamber in which his cage hung. He drew his hands back and realized that they bled, pierced by spikes on the inside of the cage’s bars but he paid the wounds no mind. They could not harm him for he was Adimarchus, a prince among demons and he had once challenged Graz’zt, The Dark Prince himself.
“None can hear you,” snarled the robed skeleton who stood close to the cage. “None have come for five decades of the mortal world and none will come for five centuries or five millennia. You are the Demon Prince of Madness now and the Dark Prince rules what once was yours.”
Adimarchus snarled and spat and tried to grab at the creature but it flapped the bony wings that protruded from its back and sprang away from him. Dark Myrakul stayed always out of reach but Adimarchus thought to catch him one day. An eternity was a long time and even the warden of Skullrot had to make a mistake.
Turning, he stalked back across the cage and slumped to the floor, holding his head in his hands. How could he have been such a fool, he wondered, as he had so often wondered. He had loved Athux and he had been betrayed, for the paladin he had sought to save from this prison by trading his own imprisonment, had been a son of Graz’zt. All along he had been a fool and had walked like an obedient dog to the cage that the Dark Prince had made ready for him. Maybe there would be no escape.
And yet, his mind had touched so many mortals and one had been set upon a path to free the Demon Prince. Perhaps in time he would have his revenge. He had an eternity and an eternity was a very long time.
************
Hennet pulled the wench onto his lap and kissed her firmly on the lips but just as the passion began to build between them, he felt the wench pulled from his arms.
“I’m Tarla,” cried the girl as she was dragged from Hennet by a burly warrior in a chain hauberk with a sword slung across his back.
“And my brother’s had too much ale,” said Regdar, glaring at Hennet. The woman stormed back towards the bar resenting the implication that Hennet’s attention was brought on by ale. Vadania and Ember laughed at the antics of their brother and took sips from their wine goblets at the same time. Regdar sat down and glared at them too until they fell silent.
“Alhandra would not like it,” said Regdar.
“Nor does she like you,” answered Hennet, knowing all too well his brother’s infatuation with the paladin of Saint Cuthbert. He understood it as well, Alhandra had close-cropped dark hair and large, almond shaped eyes that were a pale blue despite her dark colour. Her face was slim, her skin was smooth and her lips were full and luscious. Hennet almost drifted into another of his fantasies but stopped himself as his brother nudged him.
“Here they are,” said Regdar eagerly.
Many in the Slippery Eel turned towards the door as Alhandra and Jozan, her stern twin brother, entered the common room. Hennet, Regdar and their two sisters were regulars here, hiring out as mercenaries to guard warehouses from thieves but the two servants of Saint Cuthbert came here rarely and were seldom made welcome. The tavern was a haven for rogues as well as the miners and plantation workers who drank there. The town guard tended to ignore the place and most wished that the Church of Saint Cuthbert would ignore it too.
The two made their way through the crowded taproom to the table by the window at which they always met their friends.
“Welcome,” said Hennet, “you just missed my younger brother teaching me when I’ve had too much to drink. And spoiling my fun in the process. Who’s the older of us now, brother?”
“In years or in wits,” answered Regdar as he pushed his brother along the bench so that Alhandra could sit next to him. Hennet mock scowled at his brother but then broke into a smile.
“How go things at the temple?” asked Ember, the most dark skinned of the four siblings and the most serious.
“Mistress Jenya asked after you,” replied Alhandra, “she is concerned that you have been away a month now and are slipping behind in your studies.”
“My studies are continuing,” said Ember, “and I will return soon. Our work has been slowing of late. It seems others will protect warehouses from thieves without the need for guards.”
“And Master Sarcem?” asked Regdar, hoping that Alhandra would appreciate his interest.
“He remains in Sasserine as far as I am told,” replied Alhandra. “Hence Mistress Jenya’s concern that as many as who are able return to the temple. The streets are not as safe as once they were.” All had heard of the kidnappings that now plagued Cauldron and nodded grimly.
Vadania turned talk away from the dark rumours of the kidnappings and told them of her wanderings beyond the walls that day and soon the others shared stories of their recent deeds that brightened the mood around the table. They drank the wine and ale that was brought for them and talked long into the evening until at last, it was time to seek out their beds. Regdar, Hennet, Ember and Vadania shared a room in the home where what was left of their family now lived. They had fled Sterich when the giants had come and now shared a crowded house on Lava Avenue not far from Ghelve’s Locks. First though, as they always did, the four siblings walked back towards the Church of Saint Cuthbert with Alhandra and Jozan.
************
A wretched drizzle fell from the ash-gray sky as they made their way to the walled church. The crowded, rain-slicked buildings seemed especially bleak and frightful this evening, hunched together beneath the gloomy skies. It was easy to imagine kidnappers lurking in every shadow. A few lights burned in the windows as Regdar led them back towards the temple but mostly, shutters had been closed for the night. The scent of chimney smoke filled the air, and the din of water trundled from the rooftops, splashing into dark alleys and turning street gutters into rivulets. A sudden, plaintive cry for help from a nearby alley split the evening air.
Alhandra waved the others towards the alley and they heard scuffling and cursing from somewhere along its length. Within, they saw that three figures assaulted a fourth who lay face down on the wet cobblestones. One watched the street but Alhandra knew he had not seen them draw near. She drew her sword as quietly as she could and rushed into the alley. A bolt of pale blue energy lanced past her as she ran and struck the watcher in the chest, spinning him around and away from Alhandra. Ember hurled a javelin that drove into the back of the watcher’s shoulder as he spun around and by the time he turned to face his foes once more, he faced Alhandra, Regdar, Vadania and Jozan, charging in a line down the alley. Alhandra was upon him and instant later but he jumped back as she slashed at him with her sword. She saw that the man’s face was painted, half white and half black with make up giving the man the look of a ghoulish clown.
“Bugger off, little girl,” he snarled and stabbed at her with his sword. Another turned from the man on the ground and came at her but Hennet sent another dart of energy into the alley and slowed the second man. His blade stabbed at her but she dodged away and then Ember was upon him, her short bladed kama slashing his right arm. Alhandra looked at Ember for too long as when she looked back, a third painted foe’s blade was driving at her. She jumped back but steel seared into her leg and she fell back, dropping to one knee. She felt warm blood flowing down her thigh and then felt something altogether stranger. She felt fear.
“Alhandra,” Jozan cried out. He saw his sister fall to one knee and charged at the attackers. He struck one with his mace and Regdar drove his blade into the shoulder of another. They fell back before the fury of Alhandra’s wrathful friends and family.
Alhandra stepped forward with the others but a blade lanced out and she saw it too late. Burning pain pierced her stomach and blood gushed from her. She dropped to both knees, engulfed in blinding pain and then fell forward as mist and then blackness covered her eyes. From behind the rogues, the companions then heard a chanting and saw that the fallen man had pushed himself to his feet. He raised his arms above him and a sense of peace washed over them all. Hennet uttered his own incantation and loosed a bolt of blue energy at the most wounded of the rogues but though he bled from several wounds, the painted-faced man came forward with his companions then, all three desperately seeking escape. He drove his blade into Regdar’s leg and the big warrior cursed before looking down to see if Alhandra could have heard him. She heard nothing for her life was ebbing from her as she lay on the floor.
Ember ducked a blade thrust at her throat and then twisted neatly on the spot to slash out with her kama. She drove the blade into the neck of one of the rogues just above his shoulder and he fell, bleeding to the cobbles. Jozan saw his chance and stepped back from the rogues then, kneeling beside his sister’s head. Reaching out a hand, he placed it on Alhandra’s stomach and grasped his holy symbol with his other hand. Slowly and carefully, he began to recite a healing prayer that he had been taught only a few months before. To his relief, a white light slowly spread from his hand, reaching out to his sister’s wounds and closing them. A moment later, she opened her eyes and looked up at him.
They both looked over at the battle then, as though they had forgotten how they came to be in the alley for a moment. Regdar smashed the hilt of his huge sword into the face of one of the two rogues, felling him, and then slashed at the second who ducked under the huge blade. Vadania rushed forward and slashed her scimitar across the arm of the last rogue while the one who Regdar had felled tried to crawl away from the battle. Suddenly, he got to his feet and ran towards the far end of the alley. Just as the man thought his escape was certain, the man who had been beaten to the ground stepped to block his path and swung out with a mace. The man reeled and fell to the ground at the feet of his would-be victim.
Alhandra pushed herself up slowly from the floor and reached for her blade. The last rogue was still intent upon Regdar, Ember and Vadania and so she rose to a sitting position unseen. Then, she thrust her blade at the man’s legs, driving it into his thigh. He cried out and staggered back. Hennet loosed another blue dart of energy which she knew to be her last and it seared into the man’s shoulder. He turned to flee the battle as panic took hold of him but the man he had attacked stood behind him and struck him down with his mace as he made for a bend at the far end of the alley.
************
“I’ll tell you nothing, little girl,” snarled the paint-faced rogue as Alhandra knelt beside him. He spat in her face and she recoiled.
“We should not get involved in such things,” fussed the intended victim, a bearded priest of Saint Cuthbert who Alhandra and Jozan had met around the church.
“We already are involved, Brother Ruphus,” said Alhandra as gently as she could, “where were you going when you were set upon.”
“I was coming back to the church from the orphanage,” he answered, “seems someone doesn’t want us trying to find the children who’ve been taken from there. The Saint alone knows why. Now, can’t we just summon the guard and have them take these.”
“If this one will tell us nothing more,” said Alhandra, turning back to the man on the floor.
“More than me life’s worth,” snarled the man. Alhandra rose and let go of the front of the jerkin he wore. He fell back to the cobbles. “Call the watch,” she said.
A sergeant and three guardsmen arrived soon after and took away the two men who yet lived. One had died of the wounds he had suffered and so the watchmen covered his body with a cloak and said that they would come back for him.
“Will you escort me back to the church,” asked Ruphus once the guardsmen had gone. “Mistress Jenya will want to hear of this.”
“We were going there anyway,” answered Jozan bluntly, putting his mace back on his belt. Together, the seven made their way back out onto Magma Avenue and started east again along the rain-soaked street.
************
Jenya Urikas looked at Brother Ruphus’ rescuers sternly and wondered truly whether they were able enough for the task that she sought to give them. Alhandra was a warrior of great potential, who Master Sarcem had brought himself from Hollowsky. Her brother Jozan was devoted enough but he lacked wits. Ember was strong-willed and strong-minded but seemed to seek her own path outside the church. The others she had heard talked of on the streets as capable enough guards but until tonight, they had never had to draw their blades in battle. Jenya had had the visitors brought to the south tower and given warm blankets and beds in the High Chamber where Alhandra, Jozan, and sometimes Ember, slept. Once she had heard Ruphus’ tale, she had come to them and now they sat on the beds of the High Chamber in dim candlelight while rain still fell steadily on the city outside. A fire blazed brightly in the hearth of the High Chamber.
The towers of the church offered commanding views for the Church of Saint Cuthbert had been built with defense in mind as well as worship. From each of them, the lower city was spread out below while the tops of Cauldron’s high, black walls were level with the highest windows offering the briefest glimpses of the mountain slopes beyond. Tonight, all was cloaked in darkness except for the odd light that burned in the city below and the lanterns carried by guards upon the walls and gates. Jozan made up her mind then and began to speak.
“I am grateful for coming to the aid of Brother Rufus,” she said. “It seems our aid to the orphanage on Lantern Street is unwanted and being discouraged, though by whom we cannot discern. If you will give me the time, I have a proposal for you all that might benefit us equally.”
“We will always do your bidding, Mistress Jenya,” said Alhandra, as Jenya knew she would.
“But your friends are not so bound,” answered Jenya. “Are they willing to hear what I ask?”
“We are,” said Regdar and the others nodded their agreement.
“Very well,” said Jenya, “but this may be long in the telling.” She paused and the others waited expectantly. “You have no doubt heard of the recent kidnappings that have plagued Cauldron in recent weeks,” she said at last. They all nodded. “You may not know that three nights ago, four children were kidnapped from the local orphanage. They were named Deakon, Evelyn, Lucinda and Terrem. The orphanage has two common bedchambers on the second floor – one for girls, the other for boys and two children were taken from each room. None of the other children and none of the resident staff heard or saw anything. The windows are all barred and excellent locks bar each door, including the doors to the children’s rooms. The orphans are always locked in at night to prevent mischief in the night. Following these kidnappings, I have publicly vowed that our church will locate the missing children and bring the kidnappers to justice and so, earlier this evening, I brought the Star of Justice forth from our vault.” Jenya looked at the group, expecting them to understand the import of what she had just said but Alhandra and Jozan looked at each other blankly. Only Ember seemed to realize what she meant.
“You have used the Star of Justice?” asked Ember.
“I have,” answered Jenya.
“And what is the Star of Justice?” asked Jozan, drawing a stern look from his sister for unmasking his lack of knowledge.
“It is,” said Jenya, “as most in this church know, one of our holiest artifacts. A mace that was wielded by the first of our order to brave these southern lands, a mace that has the power to divine the answer to a question asked to it once a week.”
“And what did you ask it?” questioned Ember, clearly intrigued now.
“I asked the Star a simple question,” replied Jenya, “where are the children who were abducted from the Lantern Street Orphanage?”
“And, where are they?” asked Jozan. Jenya felt doubt about her choice returning but pushed it aside.
“The response was a cryptic riddle which I wrote down,” said Jenya. She reached into a pouch at her belt and pulled forth a small scrap of parchment, handing it to Jozan. She rubbed her eyes then and to the others in the room seemed older than her thirty years. Grey streaked her rich brown hair and her brown robe with gold trim seemed sullen in the dim light of the room.
“The locks are key to finding them,” Jozan read aloud, “Look beyond the curtain, below the cauldron. Beware the doors with teeth. Descend into the malachite ‘hold, where precious life is bought with gold. Half a dwarf binds them, but not for long.” He finished and creased his brows in puzzlement. “What in the Saint’s name does that mean?”
“The first line must hold an important clue,” said Jenya, “I know not which locks it refers to but it may mean those at the orphanage. Alas, I am not an expert and have no knowledge of who crafted them.”
“We can ask around,” said Ember, “someone will know.”
“And if they do not, you should seek out the Lantern Street Orphanage,” said Jenya. “And if you wish it, I can put together a list of all those who have been recently abducted. It shall be ready by morning.”
“Then we must venture out again to learn what we may,” said Vadania with a laconic smile. The others nodded and rose to their feet. Quickly, they made themselves ready to go out again and then headed for the stairs down from the tower.
************
A small turret dominated the façade of the two-story black stone building in front of Regdar. Iron bars were embedded in the thick window frames. Beyond the turret’s ground-floor windows sat a lovely display of locks, from large to small, simple to complex. To the left of the turret, above a heavy oak door, swung a simple sign that read “GHELVE’S LOCKS”.
A guard on the gates of the Church of Saint Cuthbert had told them that most of the town’s locks were fashioned here and so they had decided to pay the shop a visit. Unsurprisingly, it was closed for the night but Vadania, Hennet and Jozan were already examining the front door to see if it could be broken down.
“We could just knock,” suggested Ember, stepping forward. She knocked loudly on the front door with her fist. The sound of scuffling came from inside the store and then a window and shutter were opened above the front door. A gnome with short, salt-and-pepper hair and a neatly trimmed mustache looked down at the visitors.
“Shop’s closed, friend,” he said. “Come back after sunrise.”
“We wish to speak with you about disappearances from the Lantern Street Orphanage,” said Alhandra.
“It’s late,” answered the gnome, “and I’m not ready to talk business – yours or mine. Come back tomorrow!”
“We come from the Church of Saint Cuthbert,” said Alhandra desperately, “four children have been taken along with countless others from the city. Don’t you want to know how the abductors are getting past your locks.”
“Alright,” said the gnome finally, “just keep the noise down. I don’t want the whole of Cauldron to know my business.”
The gnome disappeared from the window, shutting it behind him and then footsteps were heard as he came downstairs. Then, at least three locks were unlocked on the stout front door before it was opened by the gnome.
“I am Keygan Ghelve,” he said, waving the group inside quickly. The storefront into which they were led smelt of wood and pipe smoke. Two padded chairs flanked a hearth containing a small yet lively fire. The fireplace’s carved mantle bore a tinderbox, a small vase of dried smoking leaves, and a finely wrought collection of pipes. A burgundy strip of carpet led from the entrance to the wall across from it, where dozens – perhaps hundreds – of keys hung from tiny hooks. The keys came in all shapes and sizes. A handsomely engraved mahogany counter stretched along one wall. Behind it hung a red curtain that neatly hid the rest of the store.
Keygan moved to the two chairs and sat in one while Alhandra sat in the other with her companions clustered about her.
“Did you make the locks for the Lantern Street Orphanage?” Alhandra asked without preamble.
“I may have,” answered the gnome, “I’ve made many locks in Cauldron. And they’re good locks.”
“They may be,” said Alhandra, “but someone is getting past them and kidnapping children. How can that happen with your locks.”
“Who said they were my locks,” answered Ghelve, “you’ve no proof that I made them.”
“We haven’t,” answered Alhandra, “but we’ve heard that you make most of Cauldron’s locks so odds are, if we go to the orphanage and ask, they’ll tell us you made their locks. So how could someone get past them?”
“They couldn’t,” Ghelve responded, “not without a key.” He nodded his head towards the red curtain and the room beyond it and then arched his eyebrows. Alhandra got his meaning straight away and gestured to Regdar. He drew his sword quietly, nodded to Vadania and Ember and headed towards the counter and the curtain beyond it.
“And have you given anyone a key?” pressed Alhandra but with a wink to the gnome that asked him to continue the charade.
“Not that I’m telling you, Cuthbertine,” he answered with mock venom.
************
Regdar pulled back the curtain with his left hand and stepped through, returning both hands to his sword hilt. Beyond, black curtains partially obscured a window niche that faced the street. Ornate locks and complex locking mechanisms were neatly displayed in the niche. The room itself looked tidy, but lived in. Carpets covered the stone floor, and a broom leaned against the railing of a wooden staircase leading up to a second floor balcony. Three wooden chests rested in the middle of the floor, their lids bound shut with sturdy iron padlocks. Small tables, shelves, and benches held various knick-knacks, and a framed portrait of a silver-haired gnome hung next to a tall wooden box at the base of the stairs. The wooden box contained an intricate array of ticking gears, counterweights, and cylindrical chimes, surmounted by a circular face that bore the numerals 1 through 12 on its circumference.
“There is breeze from here,” said Vadania then, gesturing toward the side of the staircase. “There is a hidden door here.”
Regdar turned but then there was a sudden blur of movement and before him stood a hairless humanoid with grey skin and a rapier in its right hand that had seemingly leapt from the balcony overlooking the room. The creature stabbed at him and he felt searing pain as the rapier drove into his shoulder. He swung out his sword with a roar and cut into the side of the creature’s chest. It spun on the spot and then fell on top of one of the wooden chests bleeding profusely. Regdar stood over it for a moment but when he saw that it was not moving, he turned away.
“We have slain the creature that lurked here,” he called back through the curtain.
“Then it is safe for me to speak,” the gnome said in answer. Regdar, Vadania and Ember made their way back into the main room.
“That was one of them,” said Ghelve once they were all gathered. “One of the Tall Ones. They are hairless, genderless and have skin that seems grey but that can change colour to blend with their surroundings. There are Short Ones too. They are sinister, gnome-like creatures with pallid skin, large noses, and soft black hooves for feet. They wear black cloaks and cowls that help them hide in shadows.”
“But why are you helping them?” asked Vadania.
“Because they forced me,” Ghelve answered, “and they took my familiar, a rat called Starbrow. I can sense that he still lives and is in a dark place no more than a mile from here. I can also feel his hunger and fear.”
Hennet winced and felt his own familiar, a bat that he had named Blackwing, move in the hood of his robes where he most often nestled when not needed. The sorcerer patted the hood to reassure the tiny creature.
“Then it is understandable,” Hennet said. “Do you know who leads these tall and short ones?”
“If they have a leader, I have never seen it,” answered Ghelve, “the Tall Ones and the Short Ones seem to get along well enough without one. They share a language that I do not understand but speak Common well enough too. I gave them three skeleton keys to open most of the locks in Cauldron, including the ones at that orphanage you keep mentioning.” The gnome lowered his gaze to the floor as though ashamed.
“And do they come through the hidden door in the next room?” asked Vadania.
“Aye,” answered the gnome. “Thee Tall Ones come with rapiers and crossbows and the Short Ones with sharp knives. Them stairs beneath my own stairs go down to Jzadirune where they live.”
“What’s Jzadirune?” asked Hennet.
“Jzadirune was a small gnome hold,” answered Ghelve. “Only spellcasters dwelt there but it was abandoned seventy five years ago when the Vanishing came, a magical plague that made some in Jzadirune fade away into nothingness. It may still be there for all I know. I remember the doors were all gear-shaped and would roll to one side and some bore traps that only gnomes could bypass. It was a fine place in its day.”
Ghelve grew wistful then and seemed to be lost in some distant memory. Alhandra rose from the chair and looked around at the others.
“Do we dare brave Jzadirune tonight when we are yet wounded?” asked Alhandra. She was eager to begin but would leave the decision to others.
“I for one am sorely hurt,” said Regdar. “I’ve already felt the point of one of the Tall Ones’ rapiers.”
“Jozan can take care of that,” said Vadania, “I say we go now.”
“I’m not sure,” said Jozan as he tended to Regdar’s wounded shoulder. “I don’t like the sound of Tall Ones and Short Ones or the Vanishing.”
“You don’t like the sound of anything beyond the walls of your church,” Hennet teased. “Let’s waste no more time. We should go tonight.”
“I will go with your choice, Alhandra,” said Ember. “You have guided us well so far.”
“Then we seek Jzadirune tonight,” said Alhandra. “It is settled.”
“Good luck,” said Keygan Ghelve, apparently awakened from his reverie. “You shall surely need it. You’ll also need a map.”
************
Beyond the hidden door a stone staircase, its steps shrouded with cobwebs and dust, descended twenty feet to a 10-foot-square landing, then bent to the right and plunged into darkness. Jozan lit a torch and Hennet conjured light on the tip of the spear he normally carried strapped to his back. He carried it as his own torch now and the group descended into the darkness. Beyond the bend, another flight of stairs descended to a landing and around another bend the staircase descended another 20 feet before opening into a room. From this landing, all could hear strange sounds emanating from the chamber below, specifically chirping birds, rustling leaves and cheery giggles. The landing itself was bare save for an empty iron torch sconce mounted on the south wall.
Regdar held his sword in front of him as he descended the final flight of stairs. The staircase ended at a 40-foot-square room with a 10-foot-high ceiling. A slight draft blew into the room from a 10-foot-wide open passage in the far wall, directly across from the stairs. Two 4-foot-diameter circular doors were set into the middle of the south wall. Each door was made of wood and framed with a ring of mortar stones. The westernmost door was closed and inscribed with a strange glyph. The easternmost door bore a different glyph but rested half-open. The half open door revealed an iron rim of gear-like teeth, and dim light spilled from the chamber beyond. Mounted to the walls of the room were twelve tarnished copper masks. The masks were 2 feet tall and clung 4 feet above the floor. Each one depicted a smiling gnome's face. The soft giggling, chirping, and rustling noises seemed to pour forth from the very walls.
Regdar studied the faded map that Keygan Ghelve had given them and a look of puzzlement crossed his face. Alhandra moved to stand next to him as did Vadania and together, they found where the chamber lay.
“Let us explore each chamber in turn,” said Regdar, “starting with that one.” He pointed toward the half-open gear door in the southern wall.
“And what of the masks,” said Alhandra, wandering off toward the eastern wall to study the masks that hung there. Regdar followed her and Jozan and Ember wandered toward the other walls to look at the masks. Suddenly, a voice began to speak out and everyone in the chamber jumped. As they all looked towards the source of the voice, they could see that Jozan stood before a mask on the western wall and it’s mouth was moving. It intoned a poem in clearest Common.
Welcome to Jzadirune – behold the wonder!
But beware, ye who seek to plunder.
Traps abound and guardians peer
Beyond every portal, behind every gear.
“We move on,” said Regdar, “quickly!”
He started towards the half open gear door and stepped into the room. The others followed. A dozen small cots and chests lined the walls of the ten-foot-high dusty room beyond the door. Cobwebs blanketed many of the cots and chests, and tiny spiders scurried about. Two rough-hewn tunnels, each five feet in diameter and tubular, breached the eastern and southern walls. Stony rubble covered the floor near each tunnel. A 1-foot-long iron rod lay in the middle of the floor, its golden tip shedding enough light to cast lurid shadows on the walls.
“Foes lurk within,” called Regdar as he noticed two of the hairless creatures crouching, one either side of the door. Those beyond the door tried to push forward while the creature stabbed at Regdar and Ember who were already in the room. Regdar swatted aside the thin rapier that the creature wielded and plunged his blade into its chest. Then, he surged forward into the room and rushed at the other creature. Vadania came behind his and thrust her scimitar into the shoulder of the second creature. Ember swung her kama but the creature ducked and backed away as though seeking to flee. It scampered backwards but Alhandra had rushed into the room and circled around behind it. It bolted anyway and Regdar brought his sword down on its back as it fled. It fell to the floor and Alhandra drove her blade through it.
The rod on the floor was a sunrod, alchemically made to shed light for a time. Vadania picked it up and carried it as another source of light. They took the eastern tubular passage and followed it straight eastwards for perhaps a hundred feet. Then it turned left and then right and ended at another passage that led north or south. They turned north and after fifty feet or so, the tunnel turned left and opened into a chamber. Just as they reached the chamber, Regdar halted them. Ahead a voice barked “Taral yan zyggek!” as though in command.
They emerged from the tunnel warily and found a chamber with a five-foot-wide, rough-hewn circular tunnel that breached the west wall. The rubble left by the excavation of this and the tunnel from which they emerged had been pushed into the northeast part of the room, leaving the rest of this chamber clear. A few rat bones and other refuse littered the floor, but otherwise the room appeared empty.
Suddenly, a terrible shriek filled the room and in front of Regdar appeared a four–legged metal creature that resembled a lobster but with spiked wedges instead of claws. Instead of a head, it had a round opening at the top of its body and from this the terrible shriek was coming. Regdar sank to his knees, dropping his sword as he did so and holding his ears as the pain became too much. The others felt the piercing pain too but stayed on their feet.
The metal creature came forward and slashed out with one of its limbs, smashing Ember against the wall. Her head struck the stone and she saw blinding light, then there was blackness. Alhandra leapt from the passage and over Ember and thrust her sword at the creature, taking a chunk of metal from one of its legs. Vadania placed her hands on Regdar’s head from behind and uttered words of healing. Light glowed from her hands and he pushed himself to his feet, reaching for his sword as he did so. The creature turned towards him and he thrust his blade at it, only for the sword to slide off the hide of the creature in a shower of sparks. Alhandra slashed at the creature but she too could not harm it this time and then it drove one of its wedge-shaped limbs into Regdar’s chest and he fell for a second time.
Vadania leapt over Regdar and slashed at the creature with her scimitar but she could not harm it either. The creature lashed out with one of its limbs and struck the druidess in the face. She reeled away and spun back into the passage, seeing only blackness.
“We must be gone from here,” said Alhandra, “it is too powerful for us.”
She grabbed Ember and dragged her back into the passage at her back. Jozan grabbed Regdar and dragged his heavy form back into the passage and Hennet grabbed Vadania, and took her back and away from the terrible creature. When they had gone a little way into the passage, they stopped as the creature seemed to have stopped moving and had not followed them. Alhandra knelt beside Vadania and bound the wounds in her face while strapping up her clearly broken jaw. Jozan wrapped Ember’s head in cloth and stanched the bleeding but as Hennet knelt beside Regdar, he began to weep.
“We can do nothing for him,” the sorcerer said. “His heart is crushed.”
A good start Medreiv (sp?), complete with a character death in the first serious encounter. I hope you find the time to continue. :)
Part Two should be up later today. Glad you like it.
Life's Bazaar, Part 2 - Flocktime 2, 577CY
Lord Vhalantru looked down at the parchment in front of him and then back up at the thin-faced Gortio who stood in front of his chair.
“You’re certain that these four were taken from the orphanage,” he asked, keeping the anger he felt out of voice as much as he could.
“Certain, Lord,” answered Gortio, “I spoke with Gretchyn Tashykk myself.”
Vhalantru sighed audibly and looked out of the window to his left. Light was creeping over Cauldron slowly from the east. The sun would be up soon. He looked over to the two half-orc guards who flanked the door to his study and fancied he saw one of them nodding off.
“And what has the noble Lord Severen done about this?” asked Vhalantru, unable this time to keep the emotion, in this case viperous sarcasm, from his voice.
“Uh, nothing that I know of, Lord,” answered Gortio, for once caught off guard by the question. “The city guard are at a loss to explain any of the abductions, though I believe that the Church of Saint Cuthbert has gathered a group together to investigate.”
“And have they made any progress?” Vhalantru asked.
“I don’t know, Lord,” answered Gortio, “but they returned to the church two hours after midnight with three bodies on litters. I hear there is to be a burial for one of their number this afternoon.”
“Really,” said Vhalantru, steepling his hands before his face. “Then they will need reinforcements. And we need to ensure that this is dealt with properly and these orphans,” he gestured at the list before him, “are found.” He looked back to the window and the ever-lightening sky. It looked like it was going to be a nice day. Vhalantru watched the guards on the city walls busying themselves with shift changes for a moment and as he watched them, an idea struck him.
“You!” he called out loudly to the guard at his study door who he had fancied had been dozing off. The half-orc started and raised his head, looking up suddenly.
“Me, sir, uh sire, uh Lord,” he answered, all but confirming that he had been half-asleep.
“Yes, you,” answered Vhalantru in his sternest tone. “What’s your name?”
“Name is Krusk, Lord,” answered the half-orc.
“Well, then Krusk,” said Vhalantru with a smile. “Seems I’ve got a little job for you.”
************
Alhandra looked up in annoyance as a loud knocking on the church gates disturbed her prayer as she knelt beside Regdar’s body in the high outer hall. She wondered how they could face Jzadirune again after such a failure but she knew from the stern look on the face of Hennet that they must. He was the only one of the four siblings who had walked out of Jzadirune and behind him, wrapped in his cloak, he had dragged the body of his brother. Jozan and Alhandra had similarly brought Vadania and Ember to the surface and then, at Ghelve’s Locks, the locksmith had helped them fashion makeshift litters to add some dignity to the sorry procession. Alhandra raised her head and met Jozan’s gaze as he prayed opposite her, across the body of their fallen friend.
“We can do no more for him,” she said then and Jozan nodded. Together they rose and as they did so, the north door to the wide atrium opened. A temple guard stepped in. The three companions turned venomous looks upon him and he stopped, unsure what to so. Jenya Urikas spared his blushes, rising from where she was tending to Ember and Vadania’s wounds as they lay on hastily brought cots.
“What is it Alete?” she asked softly, smiling to put him at ease.
“A half-orc is at the gates,” said the guard, “he insists on seeing you. He says he want to help find the missing.”
Jenya looked at the others and shrugged.
“We need all the help we can get,” she said. Jozan and Alhandra winced at her remark but could not dispute the truth of it. The half-orc was brought up from the gate and led into the chamber which he looked around in wonder. He obviously had not seen too many places as grand as the church and was drinking in his new surroundings.
“You want to help us,” said Janya. “What makes you think we need help.”
“Three bodies means need help,” answered the half-orc in broken Common. “Besides, they take my brother so they taste my axe.”
“Who’s they?” asked Hennet.
“Them who’s taking others,” Krusk answered. “Hear you doing something. Not like city guard. I help and find brother. Then axe gets bloodied.”
“Then you’re most welcome,” answered Hennet before anyone else could. “And you’ll find your axe getting bloodied long before we find your brother.”
Jenya walked over to a side table where various parchments lay scattered. She had been working on the list of the missing all night.
“Alhandra,” she said, “come and see this.”
Alhandra crossed the room and looked down at the list, following Jenya’s finger as it traced a line down the parchment.
“Odd isn’t it,” said Jenya quietly.
“Yes, it is,” Alhandra whispered back. No one had reported any half-orcs missing. Either Krusk had a human brother or he needed watching.
************
Flocktime 5, 577CY
“When we get going?” Krusk asked Jozan and Hennet for at least the twelfth time that morning. The three had shared a room in the South Tower since Krusk’s arrival which was now three days past and the half-orc had been growing more and more impatient. Jozan rose from where he was kneeling at the foot of the bed, satisfied that Saint Cuthbert would grant him the prayers he had asked for.
“We go today,” he answered, “as long as Vadania is strong enough. The druidess had taken the longest to heal from the wounds she had taken in Jzadirune but with the care of both Jozan’s and Jenya, she was now almost ready to return to the gnome hold.
Hennet kicked his feet off the side of the bed and sprang to his feet. For a moment, he forgot that they had buried his brother the afternoon after Krusk’s arrival but then the memories hit him like a warhammer to the stomach and he stopped. He looked over at Krusk with the glint of tears in his eyes.
“It’s time to avenge both our brothers,” he said.
Together, the three made their way out into the hall and Jozan crossed over to the opposite door. He knocked politely and waited for a response from the women inside. The door was opened by Alhandra and Jozan smiled at her.
“Are you ready?” he asked. She nodded in response.
Jozan stepped past her and greeted Vadania. Without preamble, he began turning her face to one side to check that the shattered bones had healed properly and that the wounds would trouble her no more.
“There’s a small scar,” he said finally, noting a small white mark on the half-elf’s cheek, “but it should not trouble you anymore.”
“You did a fine job,” said Vadania, giving Jozan all the credit despite the healing spells that she and Jenya had also lent to the process.
Each of the six looked at each of the others then, knowing the perils that lay ahead of them. Only Krusk faced the unknown and he patted the haft of his huge axe reassuringly. When all were ready, they made their way down from the tower to head back to Ghelve’s Locks.
************
Ghelve greeted them brusquely and rushed them into the side chamber where the secret door lay. He was clearly anxious to avoid too many questions from customers and as they descended the first stairs, he called after them.
“Come at night next time,” he shouted.
When they reached the chamber of masks, they stopped and surveyed the two open exits before them. The passage that led west before them was dark and seemed more eerie than it had been when they had first come here. From the room to the south, came the unmistakable smell of death.
“We go south,” said Alhandra, “Regdar chose that way and we will follow his path.”
“And face that thing again?” questioned Hennet. “It killed Regdar.”
“I haven’t forgotten what killed Regdar,” answered Alhandra, “but the path we took was not the only one.”
“Dead things that way,” said Krusk, pointing at the southern room.
“And those passages were cramped,” said Jozan, “if we met one of those things in the passages and only one of us could fight it…” He let the sentence trail off. They all knew what the outcome would be.
“Then we try the western passage?” asked Vadania.
“I’d be for that,” said Jozan.
“As would I,” said Ember, “I don’t want to see another one of those things for a long time.”
Alhandra looked around and found that the others were all nodding their agreement. She shrugged, drew her sword and started towards the western passage.
“Krusk,” she said, “you’re with me. Ember, watch our backs. The rest of you, keep your eyes open.” With Krusk and Alhandra leading they started off. As Hennet and Jozan started off behind the pair, the sorcerer nudged his companion.
“Your sister’s getting touchy,” he whispered.
“She misses your brother,” Jozan replied. Hennet said no more.
After thirty feet, the westward passage joined a north-south passage that stretched away into darkness to either side of the group. Along its west wall were several gear-shaped doors and to the north, at least one more door opened in the east wall of the passage. Krusk turned south, seemingly on instinct, and none of the others saw any reason to argue. They passed by the gear-shaped doors, Ghelve having warned them of the dangers and then, ahead of them, the corridor ended with a pair of circular doors in the west and east walls. Dust and debris covered the floor.
“No way through here,” said Krusk but then he stepped forward to confirm his conclusion and the floor beneath him tilted as though it were the deck of a ship. Krusk scrambled for a handhold but then pitched into the pit that had opened beneath him. Ember reached over her shoulder and drew a javelin from her back. She jabbed one end into a crack in the stone floor and angled the other to stop the lid of the pit tilting back into place. She held the javelin firmly and sure enough, the pit lid tilted back and lodged neatly on the javelin jarring Ember’s arms as it did so. She looked down to see if Krusk could now get out but the bottom half of the pit began to tilt then, throwing Krusk against the south wall which was covered with sharp wooden spikes. She heard Krusk grunt as he hit the spikes and before her, she saw the gears that were tilting the pit.
“We must jam those,” she called back to the others.
Krusk was clambering up the spikes of the far pit wall, now, using them as handholds but they did not reach all the way to the top and Ember was sure that the pit would tilt back any second. She could see her javelin bending and knew that they had little time. Krusk pushed himself off the last spikes and grabbed hold of the ledge above. Just as the javelin began to bow, he hurled himself up onto the corridor floor. The javelin snapped loudly and the pit rocked shut with a thud.
Krusk pulled himself to his feet and turned to look back at his companions. He understood that the pit trap now lay between him and his allies. He took a step back and then sprang forward, taking two huge strides before leaping across the now hidden pit trap. He landed amongst the group, several feet beyond the trap and looked around at them all, beaming.
“Where did you learn to jump like that?” asked Hennet, amazed.
“Brother,” he answered. Alhandra eyed Krusk curiously but he was already starting back down the corridor with his axe in his hands.
************
The northern end of the corridor was also flanked by two round doors and seemed to be a dead end and so, rather than risk another trap, Alhandra led them back to the chamber of masks.
“Now we go south then,” said Jozan, moving warily towards the foul-smelling southern room.
“Looks that way,” said Ember, “we need to find some way to open those gear doors.”
“And I’m sure that the Tall Ones we’ve found must have keys or something somewhere,” said Alhandra. “Let’s go.”
She and Krusk led them into the southern room where they found that the two corpses of the Tall Ones that they had killed a few days before had now been mostly picked clean by rats and other vermin. The stench of rotten death hung in the air and so Alhandra rushed past the bodies to the passage in the northeast corner. Krusk stopped at the entrance and looked at the tubular passage.
“Krusk too big,” said the half-orc. “No fit in there.”
“None of us fit in there,” quipped Hennet, “just follow the nice paladin woman.” He gave Krusk a shove on the backside that pushed him into the passage. The half-orc answered with a feral growl and Hennet back away, allowing Jozan to follow Krusk in.
They picked their way slowly along the narrow passage through the roughly hewn rock until they reached the north-south passage again. Preferring not to face the terrible war machine that had slain Regdar again, Alhandra turned south, creeping her way along another passage until she felt a gap in the wall on her right. She turned aside and as Hennet’s light-tipped spear came up behind her, she saw that they had emerged into a part of Jzadirune that looked like a small forest. Four trees sprouted from the grassy floor, their leafy crowns fanning out twenty feet overhead to form a roof of deciduous leaves through which rays of sunshine filtered. Brambles and thickets formed impassable walls, although bramble archways set into the north and south walls led to dark passages and chambers beyond. Two mounds of stony rubble flanked the hole in the east wall from which they had emerged. A gentle zephyr cased leaves to rustle, and birds chirped merrily in the boughs above.
“Who’d have thought that the gnomes could do this underground,” said Hennet, his usual brashness overtaken by the wonder of the chamber.
“Truly amazing,” said Ember. “How is it done? Surely trees and brambles and birds cannot live down here.”
“They cannot,” said Vadania, “it is likely magic. A permanent illusion or some such effect. Gnomish trickery is all you see here.”
“Impressive trickery nonetheless,” said Hennet, still in awe of the place.
“So, do you know where we are?” Jozan asked Alhandra who was now studying Keygan Ghelve’s map.
“I don’t think we should go north,” she replied and started towards the southern bramble archway.
“There you go,” said Jozan, “we go south.” He started after his sister. Krusk was already following and the others fell into step behind.
The archway led into what must once have been a dining hall but which now contained only the wreckage of once-fine furniture. Two iron chandeliers dangled from the ceiling, while a third – its rope severed – lay amid the debris on the floor.
“We go south, or we try one of the geared doors,” said Alhandra. There were four of the round doors leading out of the room, two in the east wall and two in the west wall. An archway led into a darkened chamber to the south. “It may be time that we try one of the doors.”
“Then we go south, Ghelve said the doors were trapped,” said Vadania, “we should not chance traps.”
“But all we’re finding now are dead ends,” said Ember, “Alhandra’s right. We might have to chance these doors.”
“No doors, no traps,” said Jozan, “we go south and try every dead end until we run out.”
“That’s what you always say, Cuthbertine,” said Hennet, “we wouldn’t be down here if we’d listened to you. Let’s try the doors.” Ember nodded and started towards the northernmost one on the west wall.
Hennet was quicker. He uttered an incantation, extended his hand and loosed a pale blue bolt of energy that struck the door. The wood seemed undamaged but Jozan was already charging at the door, his mace in hand. He struck at it and the door shuddered but seemed undamaged. The others struck at i8t with their own weapons and nicked the wood in places but the door did not give way. Krusk was the last to come forward, his huge axe in hand but then a cloud of pale green gas burst forth from the door. Alhandra and Ember fell back choking and Krusk charged in, apparently heedless, and struck the door a huge blow with his axe.
“Stand back,” called Hennet, “we should attack it from afar.” He was already leveling his crossbow but waited for Alhandra, Ember and Krusk to move aside.
Vadania loaded her sling and withdrew while Jozan leveled his own crossbow at the door and retreated from it. Ember and Alhandra staggered from the cloud and clumsily reached for their own missile weapons. Ember hurled a javelin that simply bounced off the thick wood of the door and Alhandra loosed an arrow that drove ineffectually into the door jamb. More gas burst from the door and forced Krusk back from it, staggering and choking. He felt a burning in his lungs and gasped for air but the others paid him no mind as they were aiming at the door which was now proving to be as deadly an enemy as the gnome war machine. Krusk struck art the door again with his axe and then drew back. The portal was split and cracked across its face but it was unbroken.
“It is breaking,” said Ember, “we only need to keep striking at it and it will fall.” She hurled another javelin that broke against its surface. Alhandra loosed another arrow, her lungs still burning from the gas she had breathed, and the shaft split the wood further. More gas burst forth from the door and she recoiled, instinctively. She reached for another arrow and began coughing as pain lanced across her chest once more. Vadania loosed a sling stone that bounced off the wood and then Jozan and Hennet fire crossbow bolts that also seemed to do no harm. Finally, Krusk fire an arrow that snapped as it struck the thick wood. He cursed and spat.
“This is hopeless,” said Ember, “we will not get through here. I say we go south and see if we can yet find what opens these things.”
“And if it’s another dead end,” said Vadania, “what then?”
“Then we find another dead end,” answered Ember, “until we’ve explored them all.”
“I agree,” said Alhandra, “it seems there’s no way through here. We go south.”
“Krusk agrees,” said Krusk, “gnome door too strong.”
They each cast their own despondent looks at the scarred gnomish portal and turned away towards the southern archway. Jzadirune had beaten them again.
Through the archway to the south was a passage that ran east to west and then bent around to the south after twenty feet in each direction. Gear doors led east and west at the points where the passage turned out of sight. Alhandra led them cautiously around first one bend and then the other. The western passage had another gear door in the east wall before a dead end and the eastern passage had a gear door in the west wall in front of a seemingly identical dead end. They turned away, frustrated.
“Why should we not go north?” asked Ember. It seems we have few other choices now.”
“Ember’s right,” said Jozan, “what could be worse than these Saint-cursed doors.”
“Alhandra?” pushed Ember.
Alhandra heard their questions but tried desperately to ignore them, even though she knew she couldn’t. The time had come, she realized, they would have to face a worse foe than the trapped doors of Jzadirune.
“If I read Ghelve’s map right,” she said finally, “the northern arch from the forest room leads down some stairs and emerges in the chamber where…..where…” She could not finish.
“The chamber where Regdar died,” finished Ember. “Then it is that we avenged my brother.”
************
Sure enough, beyond the archway were a flight of stairs that descended to a landing and beyond that, a chamber opened up. On the landing, Jozan and Vadania uttered healing prayers that eased Alhandra’s and Krusk’s burning lungs and closed the worst of the wounds that the pit had inflicted upon him.
Alhandra led them cautiously forward and then, as they reached the chamber’s threshold, they heard the same snapped command. “Taral yan zyggek!” came a gruff voice.
“Be ready,” said Alhandra.
Vadania asked Beory to show her any magical auras within the room and at once, with her divinely altered sight, saw a strong aura just to the right of the archway into the room. It had a familiar shape and a sick feeling assailed her as she saw it.
“To the right,” she called out. “The war machine comes for us.”
“Krusk find it,” growled the half-orc, charging into the room. He swung out blindly with his axe and to the amazement of the others struck metal. A spiked wedge, one of the war machine’s arms fell to the ground before Krusk and then the terrible four-legged metal creature appeared before him. The shrieking came from the hole at the top of its body then and Alhandra, Jozan, Ember and Hennet all fell to their knees as the terrible sound filled their heads. Krusk howled his own pain and Vadania scowled at the pain she felt but neither fell. An instant later, Vadania saw a blur of movement in the round western passage and fancied that she saw a cloaked figure retreating into the dark. Just as quickly it was gone and so she charged into the chamber to aid Krusk.
The half-orc needed no aid. Still howling in agony and rage, Krusk brought his axe down on the body of the war machine and split it open with one huge blow. The metal monster staggered and then fell over on its side, unmoving.
“Brother avenged?” Krusk asked Vadania.
“Brother avenged,” the druidess agreed, patting the half-orc’s thickly muscled arm.
************
Alhandra peered ahead over Krusk’s shoulder and hoped that he was as good as his word and could see as well as he had boasted. They had extinguished their light and hurried after the robed figure that Vadania had seen, led by Krusk who could see in the dark. Alhandra had placed her hand on the half-orc’s shoulder and each of the others had followed in the same way, into the narrow and pitch black passage. Jozan stood behind his sister even though Hennet would normally follow in such a narrow passage as Alhandra did not trust the sorcerer to put his hand only on her shoulder in the dark. She knew the lustful Hennet too well. From behind her, she could hear him whispering something to Jozan and then she heard his spear scrape the passage wall.
“They hear us,” said Krusk, and raising his axe, he burst into the room that he insisted lay in front of them with a roar. Hennet called light back to his spear and before her, Alhandra saw a dark room revealed with exits in the north and gear doors set into the south and east walls as well as the passage in the south west wall in which she stood. A stone oven filled the northwest corner. Iron tongs hung from a hook nearby. Bottles, flasks, and pottery cluttered shelves and tables haphazardly pushed against the bare walls. Shards of broken glass and ceramic covered the floor such that it would be difficult to cross the room without stepping on them and making a sound. It was too late for that of course.
Krusk was already across the room despite a javelin that was lodged in his thigh and attacking two short, cloaked humanoid figures with his axe. He swung at one of the creatures but it darted aside, almost impossibly fast. Jozan pushed past Alhandra and charged into the room, rushing to the north west corner to be ready to aid Krusk. Alhandra nocked an arrow to her bow and started running, firing at the rearmost of the two figures as she ran. Her arrow flew well wide and clattered away into the darkness.
Vadania came to the entrance of the passage then and loosed a sling stone that skittered past the cloaked figures and struck the floor in the darkness against the room’s eastern wall. Ember followed and hurled a javelin that met the same fate. The cloaked figure drew a short sword then and plunged it into Krusk’s stomach. With a gasp and a grunt, the half-orc fell to the floor.
While Jozan knelt beside Krusk to tend his wounds, Hennet came to the mouth of the passage and, propping his light shrouded spear against the wall beside him, he loosed a bolt of blue-white energy and the cloaked figure. It struck the one who had felled Krusk and the creature reeled back and away. The other creature darted forward and stabbed at Jozan as he knelt beside Krusk. The priest ducked the thrust and then rose to face his enemy. His healing prayer had worked. Krusk opened his eyes and when Jozan looked down at them he saw nothing but rage.
Alhandra loosed another arrow that flew away up the northern passage and then tossed aside her bow. She drew her sword instead and moved forward cautiously. Beside her, Ember threw another javelin and then drew her kama. The cloaked sword wielder saw the threat then and charged at Alhandra with its blade before it. Alhandra tried to step aside as the short sword darted forward but she wasn’t quick enough. It cut along the side of her leg with a burst of burning pain. Alhandra staggered and then forced herself to stand. She parried a second thrust and then looked for an opening to strike back at the creature.
Hennet loosed another magic missile, this time at the other cloaked figure who stood over Krusk. The creature fell back against the wall and watched helplessly as Krusk rose in wrath before it. It stabbed weakly at the half orc but Krusk swatted the dagger aside. He swung out with his axe and the creature ducked, leaving Krusk’s axe blade buried an inch deep in the stone wall above its head. Jozan drew his mace and struck at it but it cowered backwards and then turned and bolted up the northern tunnel which opened on its right.
“Let’s go big guy,” said Vadania, rushing to Krusk’s side and drawing her scimitar. “Let’s get him.” Together, the two rushed towards the northern passage after their fleeing enemy.
Alhandra panicked as she saw them leave in wild pursuit but could do nothing to stop them. She parried another thrust from the cloaked creature she fought and then drove her own blade in under its guard. It drove into the creature’s stomach and it fell back, clasping one bone white hand to the wound. Ember came at the creature with her kama and it retreated another step, glancing desperately to the northern passage. Suddenly, it uttered a guttural word “Applak” and dived to its right as fog billowed up from the floor of the room. Within moments, the entire eastern half of the room had filled with mist. Alhandra looked to Ember, who was now only a vague figure despite being only a few feet away, and shrugged her shoulders in resigned frustration.
“Krusk crush,” called the half-orc from somewhere to the north. Steel struck the stone floor then and then again and then there was silence. The cloaked enemies had gone. And Krusk and Vadania had gone after them.
************
Krusk rushed along the northern corridor, past a crossways and on into a room with four soot-blackened hearths are set into the corners of the room. In front of each was an anvil and bellows, and implements of the smithing trade hanging from nearby hooks. Two barrels of scummy water, once used to cool searing hot iron weapons and implements, stood against the north wall. Two more flanked the south exit, and two empty weapon racks stood in the middle of the room. No sooner had he taken all of this in than a sword stabbed at him from his right. He stepped back, dodging the blow and then swung out with his axe, cleaving the cloaked creature’s skull and felling it. Too slowly, he realized that he’d forgotten about its companion. He felt the white hot pain of a blade driving into his left side and then warm blood flowing beneath his chain armour. He fell to his knees and reminded himself not to be so rash and stupid next time. If there is a next time, he reminded himself. Then blackness took him.
Vadania leapt over the fallen Krusk an instant later and clashed blades with the cloaked creature. They danced back and forth, stabbing and cutting at each other while parrying and dodging. The creature was too quick, Vadania realized. She could never get close to it unless she could draw it to her. With a desperate chance in mind, she danced backwards predictably as she had before but this time, she took a step further and tripped over Krusk’s outstretched tree-trunk leg. She fell back and the creature darted forward. Just as she was about to fall on her back, she reached out and braced herself against the wall of the passage entrance. Panic widened the hooded creature’s small brown eyes as it saw Vadania’s blade braced before it. It tried to stop but was too late and with a shrill cry, the creature impaled itself on Vadania’s blade.
The others rushed into the chamber a moment later and surveyed the scene.
“That was stupid, sister,” said Ember to Vadania. “Anything could have been lurking in this chamber.” Krusk groaned on the floor and ended further debate. Jozan knelt beside him and asked Saint Cuthbert to heal the half-orc. There was a burst of white light and the half-orc’s eyes flicked open. He tried to sit up but dizziness assailed him.
“Bad idea,” he said.
“Yes,” said Ember, “a whole host of bad ideas.”