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For whom the bell tolls
“Wait,” said Ramaka. “Why don’t we try ringing the bell?”
“Err, I don’t know,” said Lorven, “maybe because that would be absolutely insane?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, it would alert all the monsters in the courthouse of our presence.”
“What, you think they don’t already know where we are?”
“I don’t know”, said Lorven with a shrug. “I’m hoping we gave Mord the slip. How else do you explain that he didn’t chase us?”
“He’s probably confined to the room where he died, like all ghosts are.”
“I think ringing the bell would be fun,” said Ebin.
“Well, Ebin, we don’t give a damn WHAT you think,” growled Zarr.
“I agree that it’s potentially dangerous, but I think it’s worth a try,” said Patrissa. “People outside might hear it, and come to our aid.”
“She’s right,” said Sir Rekkart. “We’re in Absalom, after all. If we could only find a way to warn the guard and the good churches, then perhaps there would be hope for us.”
“Yeah! I say we do it!” said Ramaka.
The argument kept going for a few more minutes, while the group still kept watch on the windows. In the end, only Zarr and Lorven were strongly opposed to ringing the bell. Killian and Kamettia (who had escaped Patrissa’s magical charm by now) weren’t sure what to do, and the others all agreed to do it.
“Plus, it might annoy the ghoul-stirge and make it come down and fight us!” said Ramaka.
Lorven blinked incredulously. “And that’s supposed to be a GOOD thing??”
But Sir Rekkart firmly gripped the rope and tugged it several times. The loud sound of the bell assailed the captives – it was nearly deafening, and at first, even those who had agreed that it should be rung regretted their decision. Eventually, though, the echoes faded, and they recovered their senses. Silence followed. The ghoul-stirge had not come down from the roof, and nothing had crawled out of the staircase, either.
“Now we can only wait, and pray,” said Sir Rekkart.
“And even if we do end up all dying, at least we’ll have entertained the citizens of Absalom,” added Ebin. “When they tell the tale of our tragic deaths in years to come, they’ll be able to say that they heard the bells of the haunted courthouse tolling their sinister warning on this fateful night.”
Ramaka looked down at the gnome and shook her head in dismay. “You’re a creepy little guy, you know that?”
“Where should we go now?” asked Lorven.
“There is one room that might be of interest;” suggested Killian, “the one where the murder was committed. If memory serves, Mord’s family’s room was on the third floor of the building. Perhaps we can reach it by that other stairway we passed in the lounge?”
The others quickly agreed and headed back down. Sir Rekkart once again led the way at the front; but this time, when he emerged into the lounge, a monstrous corpse attacked him from out of the shadows!
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The strangled
The paladin’s eyes widened in surprise and shock. “Malgrim?!” he exclaimed in a tone of disbelief.
Indeed, the creature that had appeared before him was the bloody corpse of the hobgoblin crime lord. His neck was still oozing where his spiked chain has pierced it earlier as it strangled him. Thankfully, the monster was not wielding the weapon, since Zarr had already taken it.
The thing that had recently been Malgrim clumsily tried to strike Sir Rekkart, but it seemed to be but a mindless undead, and the paladin avoided its blows. “In the name of Iomedae, I shall destroy you!” said Sir Rekkart, pointing at Malgrim’s animated body and smiting it with his longsword. At his side, Kamettia and Ramaka prepared to come to his help. Behind them, the others were still crowded in the corridor, and were surprised to hear Sir Rekkart call out Malgrim’s name.
Suddenly, though, another source of terror generated screams of panic from those at the rear of the group. From the other hallway that formed an angle at the base of the stairs leading up to the belfry came another shape from the shadows. To their horror, the jurors saw that it was the Croaker itself! With an inhuman rasp from its mangled throat, it gazed upon them with the red eye that was visible from underneath the folds of its dusty black hood.
Gripped in fright, Patrissa, Ebin and Lorven pushed toward the front of the group, even though the way was blocked by their comrades, who were also locked in a terrifying combat against the undead reincarnation of Malgrim. Halgrak Five-Toes, the last one at the rear of the group, had still been climbing down the belfry’s stairs when the Croaker appeared. The half-orc gave a low moan of anguish and hurried back up the stairs.
Lorven felt like he was in a nightmare; he tried to press forward, but Killian and Zarreven were barring the way, unwilling as they seemed to enter the room and face Malgrim’s fury. The tiefling wizard looked back briefly and saw the hideous shape of Jarbin Mord’s ghost looking their way, and then toward the stairway. Much to his relief, the revenant began to make its way up the stairs.
A sudden inspiring cry of bravery pierced the din of battle. “IOMEDAE!!!” shouted Kamettia, as she swung her falchion wildly toward Malgrim’s upper body. She struck with great force, chopping off the dead hobgoblin’s head. A moment later, the massive body crumpled to the floor, where it lay unmoving. He was dead (again)!
The others finally pushed through, and everyone gathered in a defensive position in the lounge, as a chaotic cacophony of panicked voices was soon accompanied by the sound of the great clock downstairs: it was nine o’clock.
Two horrible things had happened: the jurors now had a sign that not only they could be killed by Mord’s curse, but that they could rise as foul undead soon afterwards! Also, and of more immediate concern, was the fact that Halgrak was probably being slain by Mord at the moment.
“We have to go help him!” exclaimed Kamettia.
Sir Rekkart, Ramaka and Killian nodded grimly and started to approach the corridor once again, their weapons warily in hand.
“You’re all nuts!” wailed Ebin. “There’s no way I’m going back up there!”
“He’s right!” said Patrissa. “It’s useless! Halgrak must surely be dead by now!”
“We have to try to help him!” said Sir Rekkart. “There’s no time to waste, come on!”
But the gnome and the woman in the red dress would not budge. Nor did Lorven, who looked absolutely frightened, or Zarr, who glowered darkly at the others.
“I warned you that ringing the bell would alert monsters,” said the bard. “See what happened?”
And so it was that only four members of the group dared to climb the stairs in hope of coming to Halgrak’s aid. However, when they reached the top of the stairs, they realized that the trap door was locked. They called out Halgrak’s name a few times, with no answer.
“Poor Halgrak…” muttered Kamettia.
“I’ll get this open,” said Sir Rekkart.
“Be careful… the Croaker’s probably still up there,” said Ramaka.
“And the ghoul-stirge as well!” added Killian.
With a few powerful strikes of his sword, Sir Rekkart was able to bash through the wooden trap door. However, he was immediately showered by some foul-smelling liquid. He briefly recoiled in surprise, but then gathered his courage and climbed up into the belfry.
The brave paladin, and his comrades who soon joined him, were relieved to see that they faced neither the ghost of Jarbin Mord, nor the ghoul-stirge. Halgrak sat alone in the belfry, humming quietly to himself. The others were flabbergasted to realize that he was in the process of sewing his toes back to his foot. The jar that had contained them lay broken on the floor; its contents had been spilled, which explained why Sir Rekkart had been sprayed with formaldehyde a few moments earlier.
While the two men stood watch, the two women approached Halgrak and asked him what had happened. The massive smith did not respond. He seemed wholly focused on sewing his toes back on. Eventually, Kamettia was able to convince him to stand up and follow them. But Halgrak still did not speak a word, and he seemed to be in a daze. Had his mind been shattered by some terrible vision? Had the Croaker done something atrocious to him? They had no way to tell at the moment, but they dared not stay longer. They climbed back down, helping the half-orc as they went. He was limping badly.
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CHAPTER 7: MALENE’S LAST DANCE
Shadowy victim
Since the Croaker was nowhere to be seen, the group continued toward Jarbin Mord’s bedroom. They climbed up the stairs whose base was in the lounge, and found themselves in an attic apartment. The place looked abandoned, but it was in an even worse shape than the rest of the courthouse. The bed had been hacked apart as if with an axe, and was still covered with large dried-up blood stains. The rest of the room was in disarray as well, with clothes, pieces of furniture and wooden toys cluttering it. It looked indeed like the murder had happened here, but that the authorities had not even bothered to clean it up in their haste to flee the crumbling district.
Most of the group was inside the room now, examining it with their magical lights. It was rather crowded, though, so Patrissa, Ebin and Halgrak were still waiting on the stairs. Suddenly, out of the corner of their eyes, the ones in the room noticed a shadow move. To their surprise, it took the form of beautiful woman, but only her jet-black silhouette was visible. Her movements were fluid and graceful, and she approached the visitors with a dance, the shadows of Varisian scarves fluttering about her. There was something quite disturbing about her, though, as if her head had been split open…
“A shadow…” breathed Zarr.
“What??” asked Ramaka.
“A creature of darkness,” said Sir Rekkart with a frown as he considered the image of the dancing woman. “This is a manifestation of evil. This poor woman has been twisted by her husband’s morbid curse. We must free her soul!”
With that, the paladin lunged at the woman with his glowing sword, but the weapon passed harmlessly through her. The shrill scream of a woman suddenly pierced the air, and the room seemed to go darker. Malene’s form turned toward Sir Rekkart and caressed him with a scarf. Immediately, the silver-haired man paled and seemed to weaken. At the same time, several of the toys that had been lying on the ground, discarded until now, suddenly animated as if by a ghostly possession. The tiny wooden horses, knights and wizards rose up and began attacking the armored paladin.
The scene might have been comical in different circumstances. Ramaka tried to help Sir Rekkart, but her glaive also passed harmlessly through Malene’s shadow. “Only a magical blade can harm such a spirit!” said the paladin. “Get those toys off of me instead!”
Kamettia and Killian turned their weapons against the toys, battling the little contraptions in the chaos of the cluttered room. The entire scene looked like something out of a child’s nightmare. Behind them, Lorven stood unmoving: his mind was in a trance, he was experiencing another vision. Zarr was at his side, and the room was too cramped for him to go help his comrades. He shrugged with a grin, and produced his beloved flute. He had been inspired by the shadow of the lovely dancer, and he decided to play a little tune to go along with her dance, and perhaps bolster his comrades in battle.
It seemed to work, for Sir Rekkart struck a mighty blow against Malene’s shadow, who shrieked in pain but continued her mad dance, seeming to drain more and more of the paladin’s strength. He tried to finish off the shadow, but was tripped by the multiple toys, and fumbled with his weapon. Soon, he found he could barely lift the heavy blade, so drained was he by the shadowy creature’s touch.
Lorven finally came out of his trance and realized what was happening. Behind him, he heard Patrissa gasp, and the sounds of a heavy body tumbling down the stairs. He looked in that direction but only saw Patrissa and Ebin rushing down.
Ramaka managed to destroy one of the toys, and as she did so, the ghostly echoes of a little boy’s angry moan were heard by everyone. Kamettia was also fighting the toys, but she had a hard time hitting the quick and small objects with her large blade, careful as she was in this cramped room not to behead any of her allies by mistake. Meanwhile, Killian had also approached Malene’s ghost and had produced an ornate dagger that he had until then kept hidden in his coat. He tried to stab the spirit, but his weapon passed through it, as did Sir Rekkart’s sword on several occasions.
With a disturbing laugh, Malene danced right into Sir Rekkart’s arms and hugged him tight. The devout follower of Iomedae felt his very life drain out of him… And feared this was the end. But miraculously, he survived, although he barely had the strength to stand, much less fight. Another single touch from the ghostly lady would surely turn him into an undead as well…
Thankfully, the noble knight was saved when Killian’s dagger finally stabbed the dancer. Malene’s shriek was truly horrible to hear this time. She recoiled away from Sir Rekkart and Killian. Her form was now breaking up into tattered ribbons: the old gentleman’s blow had nearly destroyed her. But before he could finish her off, she disappeared into a wall, and was not seen again.
Sir Rekkart would’ve collapsed to the ground if not for Killian’s support. Two toys remained hell-bent on attacking him, but Kamettia finally struck true, and she destroyed both of them in quick succession. She then went to check up on Sir Rekkart, while Zarr and Ramaka warily stood at ready, expecting Malene to attack again. Lorven had disappeared down the stairs, but he soon came up with Patrissa and Ebin. They looked quite glum.
“Halgrak’s dead,” said the tiefling.
“What?” gasped Ramaka. “What happened?”
“I’m not sure,” said Patrissa, who was still twisting her beautiful necklace with nervous fingers. “He just… collapsed…”
WOW fantastic, I was not waiting for the beginning of the new chapter already... good good something to read now that I'm preparing myself to go sleeping... yesterday part was enjoyable as usual.
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The needle
Sir Rekkart was now sitting down. He was white as a sheet and sweating. “Shadows are a foul form of undead who steal a man’s strength with a mere touch. I am fortunate to have survived the encounter, and for this, I thank you, Killian.”
The gentleman nodded wordlessly, but Ramaka said: “It was a foolish thing you did to attack her. You nearly died. And she was just a victim…”
Sir Rekkart feebly looked up toward the young woman, and his eyes narrowed in anger. “Servants of the goddess of justice do not let such abominations walk the world with impunity.”
“In case you didn’t notice,” said Ramaka,” we’re in a bit of trouble here with this Croaker character, and I don’t think attacking his wife is going to make him like us more.”
“I saw the murder,” suddenly said Lorven. Everyone turned toward him, and he continued. “It was now my turn to have another vision. I saw the events just before the murder, actually. I saw the murderer threaten Malene, the still-living Malene, that is. She was a raven-haired beauty with an ample bosom and dusky eyes that hinted at animalistic passions.”
“Must’ve been quite a vision…” said Patrissa coyly.
The wizard blushed and cleared his throat. “Err… Well… What I meant to say was… That the black-cloaked man laughed terrifyingly and raised his fist to strike Malene. She was faster than him, though, and slashed his face with a knitting needle. She drew blood. But unfortunately, she only seemed to make him angrier. And I saw him reach for the axe.”
“His face… did you see his face?” asked Killian intensely.
Lorven shook his head. “No… But the needle’s wound surely left a scar… It must be the same man Zarr saw.”
“Alastir Wade,” said Ramaka. “He has a scar, doesn’t he?” she asked Patrissa.
The woman nodded gravely. “Yes, it’s him.”
The group took a few minutes to search the ravaged room. Ebin found a few Varisian scarves that matched those found in Alastir Wade’s desk. Zarr tried to pocket a few coins he had found in an old chest, but Ramaka forced him to leave them behind.
“Why?” he asked her with an annoyed tone.
“They surely belonged to Mord. We don’t want to make him angrier by taking his money, too.”
“Who cares?” said the bard with a shrug. “I don’t think we can get much worse in his esteem than we already are. And the two of us haven’t even done anything to him. There’s no logic behind his madness. But fine, I’ll leave the pocket money here if you’re going to make a big scene about it.”
The group then went back down to the lounge. They examined Halgrak’s corpse, but couldn’t find a definite explanation for his death. The foot on which he had grafted his toes seemed to be in a state of putrefaction already, as if it had become gangrenous in a matter of minutes. Had the smith perished because of a delayed reaction to something the Croaker had done to him up in the belfry?
“What now?” asked Patrissa. “We can’t find any way to escape, and even Malene is back as an evil spirit, which we attacked! What are we to do??”
Only silence answered her. Everyone seemed to have run out of ideas.
Suddenly, Ramaka began shouting at the top of her lungs: “If you can hear us, Mord, we know who the murderer is! It’s not one of us! Although some of these people, who were in your jury, didn’t follow the law and sent you to the gallows, the one who killed your wife and son is still at large! They won’t be avenged tonight, even if you kill us all! Let us go instead, and we can bring the true murderer to you! His name is Alastir Wade!”
The priestess of Shelyn then realized that every single one of her companions was glaring at her.
“Well that was pointless,” said Ebin.
“And needlessly loud,” said Zarr through clenched teeth.
“Well, let’s move on, then,” said Ramaka. “We haven’t looked at what’s at the end of that hallway over there. Might as well head in that direction.”
“But what if the Croaker went there?” said Patrissa.
The half-orc woman shrugged. “He could be anywhere at this point.”
Before they left, Sir Rekkart insisted that they say a prayer over Halgrak’s corpse. They all said a prayer to their respective gods, in the hope that his soul would find solace despite Mord’s curse.
“Hmm,” said Zarr,” what if just praying isn’t enough to prevent him from coming back as an undead to attack us? Shouldn’t we cut off his head or something?”
“That’s disgusting!” said Kamettia, outraged.
“Yeah, well, you’re the one with the big sword, so you should cut it.”
“I will do no such thing!”
“But you’d be saving his soul… What if he comes back as an undead?”
“Iomedae will provide.”
Zarr shook his head. “I hate paladins,” he muttered under his breath.
The group then headed back into the long tunnel leading past the stairs to the belfry. There were now only eight of them. Sir Rekkart was now at the back of the group, and could barely walk. He had to lean on Killian to keep up with the group.
“Thank you again,” he said.
“Don’t mention it, old chap,” said Killian cheerfully. “We have to watch out for each other here. This is no courthouse for old men.”
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Grisdom’s axe
Beyond a door at the end of the long hallway, the captives found a large, dark, dank room which contained three old couches and two massive cabinets. While Ramaka, Ebin and Zarr approached the first cabinet carefully, Patrissa moved to one of the couches and sat down with a sigh.
“I just need to sit down for a minute…” she said.
Lorven came to stand next to her protectively. He could see that she was pale. “Is your stomach still hurting you?” he asked gently.
The lovely Patrissa looked up at him through her thick lashes and nodded wearily. “Yes, it does, and now my back’s killing me too.”
The tiefling wished he could comfort her in some way. He did not want to see this beautiful woman come to harm, he wanted to find a safe way out of here for her, he wanted her to be happy and in peace. And preferably… with him. He knew he was a fool for thinking of such things on this terrifying night, with people dying left and right, but still, he was smitten by the magnificent woman, and he put her well-being even ahead of his own.
“Jackpot!” suddenly exclaimed Ebin.
He and the others had found some old equipment within the first cabinet. Despite having being abandoned for all those years, it seemed quite functional. Among the items were two heavy crossbows, some tanglefoot bags and smokesticks, as well as eight magical potions that Ramaka identified as healing potions. This was one of the rare times so far that night that the group had run into a bit of luck. They distributed these items amongst themselves, with hope that they would be better prepared to face the horrors that the rest of the night had in store for them.
Zarr then approached the second cabinet, but to everyone’s surprise, as soon as he opened in, a gaunt corpse lunged at him with a piercing shriek. Within the blink of an eye, the creature had clawed deep wounds in the poor bard’s chest. Zarr hadn’t even had time to defend himself, and he fell to the ground at the monster’s feet.
The others all gasped in horror. The undead was wearing a faded blue uniform, and a throwing axe protruded from its chest. Its eye sockets gaped emptily, and veins dangled from its wrists and shoulders as if they had been torn from its frame.
Patrissa was the first to react. She aimed the heavy crossbow that she had just been given moments ago, and pulled the trigger. Unfortunately, in her state of panic, she missed her mark completely. The rasping undead advanced toward her with claws eager to dig into her soft flesh, but Lorven bravely positioned himself between the two. That had been a truly manly, chivalrous, and daring move. Unfortunately, it had also been an astoundingly stupid one. The creature tore into the wizard with its claws, dropping him to the ground to bleed just a few feet away from Zarr.
While Ramaka approached and unleashed a rather unimpressive burst of positive energy to heal her fallen comrades (which did not suffice to allow either of them to regain consciousness), Ebin screamed at the top of his lungs and bolted out of the room. Seeing two of the others be cut down in a manner of seconds had been too much for him, and he feared that the creature they had just ran into would kill them all.
Had the gnome been a tad more courageous, though, he would’ve realized that things were not as bleak as they seemed at first. Even though the heavy crossbow bolt that Killian shot at the undead didn’t cause any damage, when Kamettia approached it and called out her goddess’s name to smite this evil foe, she sliced its head off, killing it in one might blow.
“That’s my girl,” thought Sir Rekkart with satisfaction as he struggled to remain standing.
The survivors hurried to help the wounded as Ebin’s screams echoed in the distance.
“Little coward!” growled Ramaka.
Using several healing potions (including the one they had taken from Malgrim’s corpse), they were able to restore Zarr and Lorven almost to full health. Zarr seemed to have gained some respect for Kamettia, who had proven herself quite proficient with that deadly blade of hers. Examining the corpse of his assailant, he noted that the axe had likely belonged to Grisdom, the mercenary captain who had come with Father Kelgaard’s crew five years ago.
“Oh yeah, I forgot about them,” said Ramaka. “I wonder what really happened to them in here. Were they also attacked by the Croaker and those other monsters?”
“It seems they were attacked by this one, at least,” said Patrissa.
“I wonder what happened to poor father Kelgaard,” said Lorven. “He died here as well, didn’t he?”
Zarr nodded. “Well, I hope he didn’t turn into anything too nasty.”
A quick search showed that there was nothing more of interest in the room. Although they had found some valuable equipment here, the group’s numbers were dwindling, with Halgrak’s recent death, Ebin’s departure, and the fact that Sir Rekkart could barely stand anymore.
After a brief discussion, since they seemed to have explored the upper floors, they decided to go back downstairs, thinking that perhaps they had missed something there. The first thing the group did when they reached the ground floor was to check the latrines, but alas, just as they had feared, Tablark’s body was gone, along with its bindings. The only sign that he had ever been there were a few bloodstains on the floor.
Grisdom’s axe
...Zarr then approached the second cabinet, but to everyone’s surprise, as soon as he opened in, a gaunt corpse lunged at him with a piercing shriek. Within the blink of an eye, the creature had clawed deep wounds in the poor bard’s chest. Zarr hadn’t even had time to defend himself, and he fell to the ground at the monster’s feet...
...pfuuu for a moment I feared to have lost my favorite horse and my bet ^^
P.S. Matilde has born yesterday... welcome my little daughter
P.P.S. Gratz as usual for the wonderful story you are able to imagine from a written adventure and thanks for sharing it
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...pfuuu for a moment I feared to have lost my favorite horse and my bet ^^
P.S. Matilde has born yesterday... welcome my little daughter
P.P.S. Gratz as usual for the wonderful story you are able to imagine from a written adventure and thanks for sharing it
HEEEEYYYYY!!!!! Congratulations!!!!!!!
I hope everyone is doing ok!
Good luck with the rough road ahead of you! I hope you will still have time to check my journal every now and then. :))))
So, are you still betting on Zarr and Kamettia being the two survivors walking out of the courthouse in the morning? It's true that they seem like good candidates... Zarr has the highest AC in the group, and Kamettia's been pretty deadly with her falchion so far.
Killian, Ramaka, Patrissa and Ebin have been pretty good at staying out of trouble, so far, though... :D
Don't forget... it might be two NPC's who survive... Mwa ha ha ha ha!
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CHAPTER 8: THE FIFTH VICTIM
Who’s funny now?
“Oh no, poor Tablark!” cried Kamettia. “We shouldn’t have left him behind! We should’ve carried him with us!”
“He would only have slowed us down,” said Zarr, who shrugged at the outraged glares he got from Lorven and the two paladins. “It’s true!”
“Well, it’s too late to worry about him now,” said Ramaka. “Mord probably got to him, too.”
Kamettia turned toward Sir Rekkart. “Don’t worry, Sir Rekkart, we won’t leave you behind, even though you’re mostly useless now!”
“Thank you, child, that’s… very kind of you. I suppose.”
The group warily began exploring the western part of the ground floor. They entered a room within which they found a large oval table with twelve old chairs around it. A boarded-up window faced them from the opposite wall.
“Ah yes, the deliberation room,” said Patrissa as they entered one by one. “I remember spending a lot of time in here.”
There didn’t seem to be much of interest, but the group searched the room anyway.
“Who’s funny now, Mord?” said Ramaka after a while. The others all turned toward her with perplexed expression. She had been looking under the table. She smirked and said: “It’s written: ‘Who’s funny now Mord?’ right here. And they even signed it. E.B. I wonder who wrote that?”
“E.B….” mused Killian. “Ebin Blithoddle.”
“Oh yes,” said Patrissa. “I remember now, he was sitting over there. I had noticed that he was spending a lot of time carving underneath the table near the end of the deliberations. I guess he got bored.”
“He must’ve known that Mord was about to get sentenced to death,” said Lorven. “Sadistic little freak…”
“It’s so strange to be back here,” mused Patrissa as she looked around the room. “I was sitting right here,” she said, pointing to one of the chairs, “and I remember Malgrim was sitting over there, and Tablark was sitting next to him. Oh, and look here, Killian, this was your spot, see, that big stain is still there!”
Indeed, an ancient, large, dark and dried-up stain marred the table in front of one of the chairs.
“I imagine there’s a story behind this,” said Ramaka, turning toward Killian. “What happened?”
“Well, I, errr… It’s nothing really, I just… spilled something… It doesn’t matter. I say we should move on.”
The others followed him out of the room, but as they did so, Lorven noticed that Patrissa cast a perplexed glance toward the old gentleman.
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The unfinished letter
The next room the captives visited seemed to have once been the office of a judge. It was sumptuously furnished, with a massive desk of dark wood decorated with an eerie pattern of cherubs wrestling with snakes. The pelt of a big white bear covered the floor. Behind the desk was a high-backed chair upon which rested the skeleton of a bearded man in robes. Scary as this sight was, what made it even worse was that a nasty-looking spiked chain still hung around the corpse’s neck, and that the skeleton of a large dog or wolf was lying at its feet.
“What the…” gasped Lorven in dismay.
“That chain!” said Ramaka. “It looked just like Malgrim’s!”
“But how could it be here?” asked Kamettia. “It’s in Zarr’s bag.”
“It’s probably a different one, honey,” said Patrissa.
“Indeed,” said Lorven. “Malgrim must’ve slain this man years ago. But why? And who was this? Was it Judge Trabe?”
The jurors approached the desk to examine the skeleton, but as they did so, the bones of the old dog arose suddenly and moved to attack them!
Zarr was the fastest to act, but his rapier glanced harmlessly off the creature’s bones. Killian fired a crossbow bolt at the dog, but couldn’t get a clear shot with the people moving in front of him, and missed. Patrissa impressed the others with a much more precise shot, shattering one of the dog’s hind legs with a well-aimed bolt from her heavy crossbow. The skeleton kept attacking nonetheless, but Zarr was able to nimbly avoid its bite.
Kamettia and Ramaka tried to help the bard, but their weapons weren’t doing much to the bony abomination. Zarr, who was still retreating from the undead hound’s assault, tripped over the bearskin’s head, nearly dropping his rapier. Another crossbow bolt from Killian harmlessly jarred itself between two ribs, but finally, Kamettia shattered the dog’s skull with her falchion!
Zarr sighed in relief. He had only narrowly escaped being bitten by the thing.
Now that they were closer to the desk, the remaining jurors saw that an unfinished letter was still placed on its surface. It was covered in dust and by an old dark stain… likely the blood of the unfortunate victim of Malgrim. Lorven took the letter, blew the dust away, and read out loud:
”Most Honorable High Magistrate Archamais Mazer,
It is with great remorse that I script this. The chaos of our time has eaten many innocent souls, but this one was lost not to the catastrophe, but to an evil deed of injustice.”
The tiefling stopped, giving the others a meaningful stare before continuing.
”Lies have killed a man this morning and I for my part did nothing to stop it. My esteemed colleague Silman Trabe knowingly sent an innocent man to the gallows, as I stood by silently. I only hope that Jarbin Mord’s soul may find some rest if the truth comes out”
“If the truth comes out of what?” asked Kamettia, blinking in surprise.
“That’s all he wrote,” explained Lorven, “before he was murdered.”
“Oh!”
“Silman Trabe…” said Ramaka. “Him again! So even the judge was corrupted in this sordid affair.”
“But why?” asked Lorven. “What did he have to gain by Mord’s death?”
“Are you sure of your sources, Patrissa?” asked Killian. “Are you sure that Alastir Wade was the one who killed Malene and Gabe? Perhaps it was Silman Trabe instead?”
The woman shook her head. “No. It was Alastir, I am sure of it.”
“Well, Trabe was surely guilty of something,” said Lorven, pointing toward the skeleton with his chin. “Most likely he was the one who hired Malgrim to kill this poor fellow.”
“Unless Malgrim had his own reason for wanting to see a magistrate dead,” said Zarr with a mirthless chuckle. “I’m sure that as a dangerous criminal, he had plenty of reasons, in fact.”
“All right,” said Ramaka, “so basically, we can’t conclude anything for sure, except that even Silman Trabe was dirty. But that doesn’t really help us, now does it?”
The group then searched the office for more clues. They found none, although they did discover a gilded dagger and three vials of magical potions. Alas, Lorven was only able to identify one of them as a potion of Lesser Restoration. He took it and one of the other mystery potions, and Patrissa gently asked him to give her the third, just in case.
“You don’t have anywhere to keep it,” said Lorven, showing Patrissa the many belt pouches he used to store spell components, “I could hold on to it for you.”
“Oh honey, don’t worry about it,” said the seductress with a wink. She then snugly hid the vial within her cleavage.
The reclusive wizard felt his cheeks burning. He cleared his throat and stammered: “Oh, that... that’s very nice…”
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I have to say suspenseful. Interesting twist on Patrissa. I wonder how poor Lorven will react when the truth comes out about her. Let me guess Zarr is being played by the player who also played Navan from your Rotrl campaign. I noticed a similarity between the two :)
Hahaha!!! It's nice that you saw that. :)
Actually, as I mentioned earlier, I didn't play this with my friends. This is just a story I made myself based on the module. So for the purpose of this story, I played all PCs and NPCs.
But yeah, when writing the parts of the PC's, I tried to imagine how my friends would've reacted under those circumstances. Yes, Zarr was inspired by Navan's player (and a bit Lagaan's player from my Savage Tide campaign), Ramaka is more like Ulfgar from Savage Tide, and Lorven is more the kind of character I would play normally.
Kamettia is in fact quite similar to Kerista in Rise of the Runelords (strong, gentle, beautiful, but dumb), it's just a coincidence, I rolled a 5 for one of her stats and alas, the only place it was feasible to put it was in intelligence. Actually, it's funny, but when I visualized that character, I thought of Kandi from Two and a Half Men. ;)
As for Patrissa, yes, I'm happy with the change I made about her condition. I think it's ok if a couple of characters go nuts and commit suicide, but it gets old if they ALL do it. So I went for something different with her, as you guessed.
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I noticed the similarity of Kamietta and Kerista. You could have given her a dexterity of 5 and role played an extremely clumsy paladin. I like the character of Ramaka a half orc priestess of a gentle goddess of love and beauty, but she is not a beauty and she isnt very gentle or loving.
Yeah, Ramaka's pretty special. So, do you have any guesses about who's going to survive?
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The birds
Next, the group opened a door that led into what remained of another court room. It was in even worse condition than the one they’d awakened in earlier. Most of the furniture had been hacked to pieces. The windows were boarded up and humidity had seeped in, creating ugly stains. All over the large, dusty room were perched dozens and dozens of large black birds. They rustled softly, and the light the captives carried with them seemed to reflect with an eerie red glow in the many eyes that watched them balefully.
Yet even more disturbing than those countless birds was the tiny little corpse that lay in the middle of the room. He was easily recognizable, even though his jester’s outfit had been torn to shreds as if by a thousand angry beaks. Poor wee Ebin was lying on his back, unmoving, for he had also found death in the accursed courthouse. A few birds stood atop his mangled corpse, and one of them idly picked at Ebin’s tongue through his open mouth, forever frozen in a scream of agony.
While the companions were wondering what to do, one of the crows cawed at them. It was joined by several of its fellows, and soon, a cacophony of angry noises emerged from the birds as they took flight in a dark, threatening cloud of fluttering feathers that headed toward the terrified humanoids.
Kamettia, Zarr, Lorven, Patrissa and Ramaka were in the room and tried to fight the swarm of crows as best as they could, but their weapons did not seem to do much against so many enemies. Zarr used a Dancing Light spell to try and scare them with its fiery light, but it seemed to have little effect. Lorven began frantically rummaging through his pack to find a torch and tinder box, and as he did so, Patrissa grabbed his Sunrod and retreated back into the room where they’d fought the skeletal hound. She closed the door behind her, effectively trapping the four young unfortunates.
“What the hell are you doing?” asked Killian, his eyes open so wide that his monocle almost fell off.
“We can’t fight so many birds!” cried Patrissa hysterically, “I had to close the door before they came for us too!”
“We must help them,” exclaimed Sir Rekkart. “Open this door at once!”
The feeble paladin did not currently have the muscles to back up his order, but Killian started struggling with the beautiful Patrissa, trying to open the door she wanted to keep closed at all costs.
Meanwhile, the crows were focusing most of their rage against Zarr and Kamettia: both were now covered in a multitude of tiny bites, and seemed to be doomed to the same grim fate as Ebin. Kamettia swung her falchion in a wide arc, slicing the bodies of many of her flying aggressors. They fell around her, littering the ground with their desiccated bodies and black feathers. Zarr was having much less success with his rapier, and so did Lorven, who had now lit up his torch, but wasn’t able to use it very effectively.
Now that they were surrounded, the companions realized that these were no regular crows: their eyes glowed with an evil light, and their bodies had rotten away in places. They seemed to be undead creatures of some kind. Ramaka considered using her divine powers to harm them, but since she could call upon them so rarely, she decided to use them to heal her wounded companions instead.
Suddenly, the door re-opened behind the four comrades: Killian had managed to open it! Patrissa lay on the ground; the older man had pushed her out of the way. She was still clutching Lorven’s Sunrod. “Damn you, you fool!” she hissed as she got back to her feet, then left out the back door. A number of crows had already entered the dead judge’s room; Killian stabbed a few of them with his dagger, and Sir Rekkart feebly swung his sword at them, without much effect. He was barely able to keep the heavy blade in his hand.
Zarr was surrounded by the thick mist of hateful birds. He was being attacked on all sides. He couldn’t defend himself, he couldn’t attack, he couldn’t think, he couldn’t even keep his eyes open. He sank to his knees, and then, as he was bitten more and more times, he finally fell to the ground, bleeding from countless little wounds.
Kamettia fared much better. The beautiful young paladin was like a deadly whirlwind, and she wielded her falchion with fury, sending more and more of the crows to the ground. Eventually, she killed so many that they stopped attacking her, and she joined Ramaka and Killian, who were trying to clear the way to Zarr’s body. Ramaka climbed on the remains of the judge’s platform to get a better angle of attack. Lorven had wanted to help with his torch, but he proved entirely useless against the vicious crows, eventually dropping the thing to cover his head with his arms, all the time yelling frantically: “Not the face! Not the face!”
Eventually, Killian, Kamettia and Ramaka were able to disperse the remainder of the dark cloud of crows. The surviving birds fled to the rafters. Ramaka used her second to last gift of positive energy to stop Zarr’s bleeding. With a few of the potions of healing they had found upstairs, including one they quickly looted from Ebin’s corpse, they were able to bring the fallen bard back to consciousness, and to heal most of his wounds and Kamettia’s.
Once again, Kamettia gained more respect from her peers. Although everyone had dismissed her earlier on as a half-wit and a hindrance, she had time and again proven that she was a mighty combatant. Lorven felt quite ashamed as he picked up his torch. He had been completely useless in that fight, yet again.
The group feared that the remaining crows might attack them again, so they didn’t take the time to search the room very thoroughly, instead retreating quickly into the hallway. Lorven had been afraid that Patrissa had run away and possibly gotten herself into a lot of trouble, but the voluptuous woman was waiting for them in the main hallway, holding the Sunrod in a slightly trembling hand.
“You… B!TCH!!!!” roared Ramaka. “You left us to die in there!!”
“I’m sorry!” wailed Patrissa. “I panicked… I didn’t know what to do!”
“We should lock you up in there and let them do to you what they did to Ebin!”
“She just panicked,” said Lorven. “She’s not a fighter like you are, Ramaka. Her instincts took over.”
“Yeah, well my instincts are telling me to mess her up right now…”
“Enough!” said Sir Rekkart sharply. Despite his decreased physical power, there was still strength of personality in his piercing eyes. “Patrissa acted rashly and selfishly, but this is neither the place nor the time for us to turn against one another. Our very lives are at stake, and we’ve already lost almost half of our group. We must keep a clear head if we are to survive!”
The others nodded glumly. “I apologize, everyone,” said Patrissa in a contrite voice. “I swear it won’t happen again.”
Most of the others seemed all right with this, but there was still no forgiveness in Ramaka’s eyes. Then, everyone jumped in fear when a loud noise erupted just a few feet from them. The Asmodeus clock was ringing again!
It was now ten o’clock.
Patrissa gave the Sunrod back to Lorven, and Ramaka renewed the Light spell on Kamettia’s falchion. She had offered to cast it on Zarr’s rapier, but for some reason, the little man seemed to prefer staying in the shadows.
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CHAPTER 9: HOPELESS
Silence at the gallows
Things were looking pretty bleak by then. The captives still hadn’t found any way to escape the premises. They knew, or at least, they thought they knew, the identity of Malene and Gabe’s murderer. But this man wasn’t present in the courthouse; if indeed Jarbin Mord’s ghost was keeping them in the undead-infested building, where they would possibly not survive the night, he wouldn’t even get the revenge he had wanted. They would die, and he would be doomed to an eternity of damnation.
It all seemed hopeless…
“There’s one thing that I’ve noticed, though,” said Ramaka after a while. “Since we’ve been here, Jarbin Mord – or the Croaker, hasn’t actually harmed any of us.”
“What??” asked Zarr.
“Sure he has…” said Patrissa. “There was Tablark, and Halgrak…”
“But he didn’t actually kill them,” said the priestess of Shelyn. “At least, we don’t have proof. They just seem to have gone insane after seeing him. But we haven’t suffered that same fate.”
“Hmm,” said Lorven,” that’s an interesting theory, but remember, both times, they were alone with the Croaker for some time before going insane. Maybe he did something to them in those few moments.”
The half-orc woman shrugged. “Maybe. But it seems to me that we’re deathly afraid of this Mord character, when it’s other monsters in the building who’ve done more damage than him.”
“Wait,” said Zarr. “That’s not true. Malgrim was killed by Mord.”
“We don’t know that for sure…”
“Well, that would be my guess. What other explanation could there be?”
“I don’t know. But I think we should at least try to speak to Mord. Maybe we can make him listen to reason. Let’s go back to the gallows.”
“Are you mad??” asked Patrissa, her eyes wide with fear.
“I’m not going back there,” said Zarr. “I was paralyzed by a vision the last time I went!”
“I think Ramaka has a point,” said Killian. “It might be worth a try.”
The others thought like that as well. So it was that the group decided to carefully return to the gallows. They were shaking with dread as they opened the door to the room. It was empty, and still permeated with a bone-chilling cold. But this time, the Croaker did not manifest itself.
“Jarbin Mord?” whispered Ramaka hesitantly. “We wish to help you. Please, let us leave this place, and we swear we’ll bring you the man you’re after! We’ll help you avenge your wife and son’s deaths!”
There was no answer.
After a minute or two, the group gave up. It seemed that the spirit of the courthouse could not, or did not wish to, communicate with them.
I start to fear for Zarr but my votes remains for him and Kamettia... next chapter will be probably decisive... let's see...
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I start to fear for Zarr but my votes remains for him and Kamettia... next chapter will be probably decisive... let's see...
Sorry I have not posted in a few days. I could not get an internet connection at home last night. I will try to post several updates tonight to make up for it.
Things are about to get even more unpleasant for our friends, alas...
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Claws of the earth
Next, the group opened one of the few doors they hadn’t investigated yet. It led outside, to a large caged area divided into two sections. The fog had retreated beyond the bars of the second section, where several tombstones stood. In the closer section were stocks where prisoners had once been put on display. As the companions warily approached, the stocks started to shake threateningly, and dark shapes clawed their way out of the earth in the far section of the cage, moaning like the damned. Guessing that something terrible awaited them there, the group moved in unison and quickly left the area. While Zarr, Killian and Kamettia kept pushing on the door to make sure it remained closed, the others went to fetch pieces of the broken chandelier in the main hall, hoping to keep the door wedged shut.
As they did so, though, Patrissa suddenly gasped in fear. The others turned and saw a familiar little shape lurking in the shadows, dressed in a tattered jester’s outfit. It limped slowly from the great hall. Kamettia looked in the other direction and saw another shape, this one much more massive, approaching from the cells area.
“Halgrak!” she cried.
Just like Malgrim, it seemed that the two unfortunates had risen as undead who now sought to destroy their former comrades. Ebin seemed mindless, but Halgrak’s corpse appeared possessed of a sinister intelligence, moved by an evil presence that had clearly not been within the half-orc smith in life. His body looked as though it had died of a terrible wasting disease, which seemed strange, given that only about an hour had passed since they had last seen it.
“I knew we should’ve chopped off his head when we had the chance,” growled Zarr.
Kamettia and Zarr readied their weapons against Halgrak’s corpse; since they were in a corridor, the group couldn’t gang up on him. The others all went together against Ebin, in the main hall.
Zarr was the first to move, attempting a nimble attack against Halgrak. Unfortunately, the usually dexterous bard slipped on some rubble and nearly fell on his face before the dangerous undead. He recovered just in time to block Halgrak’s claws. The smith had clearly turned into a horrible undead, most likely a ghoul, so the bard knew that any wound he would deal could prove very dangerous indeed. Halgrak tried to bite him savagely, but Zarr dodged out of the way. Then, Kamettia swung her falchion and opened a deep wound in one of Halgrak’s arms. Foul blood trickled to the floor from the gangrenous appendage. The light on the paladin’s wide blade cast maddening shadows along the walls as she swung it.
Meanwhile, Patrissa and Sir Rekkart shot Ebin with their heavy crossbows. Patrissa’s shot was once again most impressive: she hit the gnome right between the eyes, but the mindless zombie kept on shambling forth nonetheless. Killian and Lorven approached with their daggers drawn, while Ramaka stayed a few feet behind, attacking with her glaive. Killian was able to deal a deep wound to the little jester, who tried in vain to pummel him. The old dandy seemed quite agile despite his many winters.
Zarr was desperately trying to defend himself from Halgrak, with little thought toward offense. However, the ghoulish half-orc hissed not at him, but at the lovely Kamettia, who had so badly wounded him. He clawed her thigh and bit her throat, drinking of her warm red blood. The unfortunate young paladin was helpless to defend herself, as she found herself paralyzed by the unholy touch of the ghoul.
“They need some help over there!” said Patrissa to those who were fighting Ebin. She had been keeping an eye on the fight in the corridor while she hastily reloaded her crossbow.
Alas, despite having a crossbow bolt stuck between his eyes, the little gnome was quite resilient. Killian kept stabbing him and narrowly dodging his attacks, but he couldn’t kill him quite yet. Lorven and Ramaka tried to help him, but they truly fought like the young rookies that they were, and couldn’t land a significant blow on the tiny buffoon.
“Help!” cried Zarr, whose hand was shaking so much that he couldn’t land a blow on Halgrak either.
He hadn’t thought much of the whiny half-orc in life, as he had seemed rather harmless despite his side. But now, locked in mortal combat with his unholy reincarnation in this cramped hallway, Zarr was now terrified of the muscular creature. Halgrak looked down at the short man and grinned wickedly, his sharp yellow teeth glistening wetly as Kamettia’s blood flowed from his powerful jaw. He attacked Zarr again, but fortunately, the agile bard was able to parry, dodge and block all of his attacks.
Ramaka brought the edge of her glaive down sharply, and at last, she hit her small target. The heavy weapon sliced through Ebin’s chest, cleaving him neatly in two. With the zombie dead, Patrissa and Sir Rekkart turned to help Zarr and Kamettia, but alas, they couldn’t get a clear shot since their two allies were in the way. Neither of their bolts hit the ghoulish half-orc.
As the others approached to help him, Zarr finally struck true, piercing Halgrak’s heart with his rapier. With a terrible shriek, the foul creature Halgrak had become fell to the ground, where it writhed for a few moments before expiring.
“By the Lady of Songs,” said Ramaka, looking at Kamettia’s bleeding and still body, “what happened to her?”
“She’s paralyzed,” explained Zarr. “Halgrak turned into a ghoul, I think, and their attacks can do that. But she should recover soon enough.”
Indeed, Kamettia soon regained control of her movements, but she was still badly wounded. Since she had already used her healing potion, Sir Rekkart gallantly gave her his, which healed her wounds entirely. “Thank you, Iomedae, for the miracle of healing magic,” whispered the young paladin.
Lorven looked at Halgrak’s corpse with a disgusted expression. “Poor, poor man,” he said. “What a terrible transformation he endured. I wonder, will Madge and Tablark have suffered the same fate?”
“I hope Tablark’s not dead…” said Kamettia.
“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t bet much on him,” said Zarr.
“We would have to go back downstairs to check up on Madge,” said Ramaka, “and I don’t feel like going.”
“I agree,” said Lorven. “As a matter of fact, I think the safest thing for us would be to barricade ourselves in a room and wait for sunrise. It seems clear that there’s nothing here that will allow us to escape or avoid whatever sinister fate awaits us.”
“Maybe,” said Ramaka,” but there are only a few rooms we haven’t explored yet. Don’t you want to see what’s in there?”
“Not really, no. There might be more monsters within. Our supply of healing potions is running low. Clearly, we can’t win at this mad game that Mord has in store for us. Why keep playing by his rules? Let’s find a safe room and wait.”
“I agree,” said Sir Rekkart.
“Me too!” said Kamettia.
“As do I,” said Patrissa. “I don’t think I can go on much longer. I need to rest…” Indeed, she looked paler than ever before, and seemed so dizzy that she clung to the wall.
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Waiting for morning
After a brief discussion, the group picked the courtroom of Mord’s trial as their safe place. It seemed fitting that they should return to the place where they’d woken up in this nightmare. Those who still had strength in them lifted some benches and tables to barricade the two doors. Sir Rekkart wearily sat down on the judge’s chair: from that vantage point, he had a good view of both doors. He had taken one of the heavy crossbows there with him.
The paladin was very pale, but kept a brave face despite his terribly weakened state. He looked at the others, and most of them seemed in bad shape as well. Lorven, Zarr and Kamettia were covered in blood – their own blood, from the horrible wounds they had suffered in the past few hours.
Patrissa’s stomach cramps seemed to be getting worse, and she was now lying on a bench, in too much pain to stand or even sit. Lorven sat at her side and had covered her with his cloak. The tiefling caressed Patrissa’s hair as he looked at the others. Kamettia was standing watch near the double-doors, while Killian, Ramaka and Zarr spoke in hushed voices. They were discussing their predicament, looking for possible clues they’d missed in their exploration of the courthouse, or from Mord’s motive.
Lorven looked down at Patrissa’s beautiful face. Her head was resting on his thigh. He was afraid, not only for his own life, but also for that of this beautiful woman. He did not want her to die like the others had died. He did not want to see her suffer. He feared now that the curse was affecting her – that it had somehow made her ill. He could only hope that she would survive until morning, so that he could bring her to a temple for healing. It would cost a lot of money, but he would do anything for her. Yes, he had earlier been so skeptical of her, but as the evening had progressed, he had become more and more infatuated with Patrissa.
“Don’t worry, Patrissa, everything will be all right,” he said gently.
She looked up at him and smiled weakly. “You really think that?” she asked. “You must be more naïve than I thought!”
“Well, I just mean that…”
“I was just teasing you,” she said with a wink. It seemed that she managed to keep her sense of humor despite her pain. “I think our fates are beyond our control now. It’s all up to Mord to decide… Whether we live or die. Perhaps I deserve to die… Perhaps I truly deserve to pay for my sins. Perhaps I should be put to the axe like a sick old cow…”
“Don’t say that!” said Lorven. “You’re so beautiful, Patrissa. And whatever you did, you surely don’t deserve to die, or to suffer like this. It’s not right! We all make mistakes, and you’ve learned from those you made. You repented… In fact, you’re the one who can lead us to Wade and end Mord’s curse.”
“You really think that?”
“Yes, if we can bring Wade back here, then we’ll be able to –“
“No, I mean, do you really find me beautiful?”
“Yes, very much so. It breaks my heart to see you suffer like this, Patrissa.”
“Thank you, Lorven. Thank you for being so kind to me,” said the woman gently. Then, she reached under her cover and retrieved the healing potion she’d been given earlier. “If my condition worsens… Please give this to me… In case it helps.”
Lorven took the vial and they spent a few minutes in silence. Every now and then, Patrissa would shiver from the pain. Much to the wizard’s chagrin, her condition seemed to be getting worse. Then, he asked her: “Patrissa, do you think my mentor had something to do with Mord’s sentence?”
“That old transmuter? Hmm… I’m not sure, he was very mysterious. You’re probably more capable of answering that question yourself, since you knew him better than me. I feel bad for you, Lorven, and for the other youngsters. The four of you got dragged into this despite your clear and complete innocence. That’s really not fair.”
Lorven contemplated the role his master had likely played in Mord’s trial. Had the old mage been corrupted as well? Had he been bribed to vote for Mord’s death, or had he perhaps had other reasons for wanting to see the executioner dead? It was too late to know for real now, but Lorven wouldn’t have put it past his mentor to do something like that. He had not been a kind-hearted man, and even though it shamed him to think like that, Lorven was actually glad that he was dead. He had few fond memories of his cruel master.
With a bitter smirk, Lorven told himself that the old human hadn’t even been that good of a teacher: indeed, he found that he had been spectacularly useless that evening, unlike Kamettia, Zarr and Ramaka, who had shown their weapon skills, and Ramaka’s powerful healing magic. None of the spells he had prepared that day had been useful, not that it would have changed much – he just wasn’t a very good wizard.
He was brought out of his self-loathing reverie by Patrissa softly calling his name. “What is it?” he asked quietly.
“Lorven… Don’t trust Killian,” whispered the woman.
“Why? What do you mean?”
“There’s something odd about him. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but he seems different than he was at the trial. More so than any of the other jurors. It’s almost as if… it’s an entirely different person.”
“What? Are you sure?” whispered back Lorven, casting a furtive glance in Killian’s direction.
“I’m not… It’s just my intuition… But something’s off… The way he talks, and moves. And behaves… And he didn’t remember the story about the stain, back in the jurors’ room. He wasn’t the one who had spilled the drink, it had been Kamettia’s father. And Killian got really upset. He made a big deal out of it. I doubt he would’ve just forgotten about it.”
“What do you think we should do about it?”
Patrissa smiled weakly, and then winced. “I don’t think I’ll be able to do much now… But you… Please be careful… Keep an eye on him… I think he knows more than he lets on.”
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Sacrifice
Since Patrissa’s cramps were getting worse, she and Lorven stayed together in silence from then on. Lorven carefully observed the others.
“I think that one way or another, Mord is going to require a sacrifice before morning,” said Killian.
“How do you know?” asked Ramaka.
“It said so in the message he left in his cell,” replied the older man.
“He’s already sacrificed four or five of us,” said Zarr. “That should be plenty enough.”
“That’s not the way these things work,” said Killian, shaking his head. “From what I understand of his message, someone will have to die hanging from the gallows.”
“Fine, we can hang one of the other’s corpses.”
“I don’t think that’s going to work.”
“So you’re saying that one of us will have to hang himself from the gallows?” asked Ramaka, her eyes wide with disbelief.
Killian nodded grimly. “I am afraid so.”
“You’re insane. This is insane!” said the priestess, shaking her fists in frustration.
Zarr chuckled sarcastically. “All right, do we have any volunteers, then? Anyone interested in a little noose around their neck? Perhaps you’d like to volunteer yourself, mister Killian?”
“I’ll do it,” said Sir Rekkart. Everyone turned toward him in surprise.
“What?” asked Kamettia.
“I’ll do it,” repeated the aged paladin. “We failed this man. The jury I was part of condemned Jarbin Mord, an innocent man, to death, for a murder he did not commit. We let the true murderer remain at large. This is unacceptable. We committed a grave injustice, and I was too foolish to prevent it from happening. As a paladin of Iomedae, I failed in my duty. The way is clear for me: I must sacrifice my life so that Jarbin Mord’s spirit can finally rest in peace. If he needs a soul to be able to achieve this, then let it be mine.”
“No, you can’t do this!” wailed Kamettia.
“Sir Rekkart, please, don’t speak like this,” said Lorven. “Even if you did this, the true murderer should still be at large. Surely Iomedae wishes you – wishes all of us – to find this guilty man and bring him to justice!”
“Yeah, but if we can’t escape to serve this great justice you people are so found of,” said Zarr, “if Killian’s right, someone’s going to have to take one for the team. And if Sir Rekkart so chivalrously offers to give his life for ours, I think we should honor his altruistic decision.”
And so took place an argument between the hopeful and the hopeless; between those who wanted to keep Sir Rekkart alive and those who were more worried about saving their own hides.
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CHAPTER 10: THE SIXTH, SEVENTH AND EIGHTH VICTIMS
Horror in the court
The dispute was interrupted after a few minutes by a loud moan from Patrissa. The others approached her and noticed that she seemed to have lost consciousness. Her breathing was shallow, and she was sweating.
Ramaka wasn’t very knowledgeable in the art of healing, but she was the only priestess present, so she was the one who examined Patrissa. “All I can say is that she’s not doing too good,” she said after a minute or two.
While she had examined her, she had removed Lorven’s cloak from Patrissa. “Oh, gross! Looks at that!” said Zarr, pointing at Patrissa’s midsection.
Indeed, the thin and form-hugging fabric of her red silk gown showed that something seemed to be moving underneath. Something that was most likely moving inside of Patrissa’s abdomen.
“What’s happening to her?” asked Kamettia in a shrill voice.
Zarr moved his hand to lift Patrissa’s dress, but was stopped by Lorven. “What do you think you’re doing?” asked the outraged wizard.
“This isn’t the time to be a prude,” replied the bard. “Her life could be in danger!”
“He’s right,” said Ramaka, who pulled up Patrissa’s beautiful red dress, revealing soft flesh dressed with enticing underwear. The smooth feminine curves would’ve been very inviting to the men observing them had it not been for the disturbing movement distorting the skin of Patrissa’s belly.
“What the hell is that?” asked Lorven, a tone of panic in his voice.
“It looks like some kind of… worm,” said Killian with a disgusted grimace on his face.
“That’s gross,” said Ramaka. “There’s something growing inside of her. Did she sleep with a monster or something??”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” snapped Lorven. “It’s Mord’s curse! This poor woman is the next victim of that twisted madman, he must surely have infected her with some kind of disease. Please, can you use your magic to cure it?”
“No, I can’t!” said the cleric firmly. “I’m just an acolyte, I can’t do that kind of magic! There’s nothing we can do for her. I suggest we kill this thing before it bursts out of her.”
“WHAT??” asked Kamettia.
“We will do no such thing,” said Lorven, whose voice was now resolute and cold. He would stop the half-orc from harming his beloved if it was the last thing he did.
“How about a healing potion, maybe it would help her?” offered Killian.
“Or one of those other potions we found?” suggested Sir Rekkart.
The discussion was interrupted by the sound of a door opening in a nearby room. Everyone went very quiet. Something was out there!
Sounds of shuffling feet came from beyond the door that led to a judge’s office, the one where some of them had gotten attacked by flying books earlier. Then, something scratched on the door leading into the courtroom. A low, hideous moan followed. What was that thing? Had it heard them? Had it sensed them?
Then, something heavy struck the door. And again. And again! The being was trying to get through!
“What do we do??” asked Ramaka.
Everyone looked utterly confused. They had feared that something like this would happen, but they hadn’t really thought things through. Their options were simple: they could stay and fight, or run away. But there wasn’t really anywhere safe to run to.
They all came to this realization and readied their weapons. Only Lorven didn’t prepare himself for the fight. He still stood near Patrissa’s half-naked body, desperately trying to find a way to help her. But for once, his superior wizard’s intellect couldn’t come up with anything. At least, if need be, he would prevent Ramaka from trying to harm her.
Finally, an abomination burst through the door. The thing had likely once been a man, but had now turned into an undead monstrosity. Stringy golden hair still clung to its skull, and it wore a heavy chainmail over which hung the tattered remnants of a white robe with Sarenrae’s faded symbol on them. The flesh of the monster was riddled with holes, as if it had been pierced by a hundred large nails. In its powerful fists, it wielded a large flail.
Zarr recognized this being based on its appearance and the rags it wore.
“Father Kelgaard…” he muttered in disbelief.
The bard, who had taken Patrissa’s heavy crossbow, fired a bolt at the monster, but missed. Sir Rekkart’s aim was better, though, and the bolt pierced the chainmail and lodged itself in the monster’s chest. As the creature entered the room through the hole in the door, Zarr, Kamettia, Ramaka and Killian approached it. All of them, except Killian, immediately felt sick due to the stench that surrounded the putrid entity. They tried to strike it, but it was nearly impossible to harm. Its chainmail deflected most of their blows.
Killian, however, moved with grace and experience. He maneuvered to stand beside the monster and while it was distracted trying to slay Zarr, he pierced it with his dagger. The others recognized the move of an experienced rogue. Thankfully, Zarr was also quite agile, and he dodged the swing of the enormous flail.
Suddenly, they were all distracted by a terrible scream. It came from poor Patrissa, and it was more shrill and full of pain than anything she had emitted until now. She truly seemed to be in agony now, and Lorven watched in horror as the thing in her belly seemed to push and push against the skin of her abdomen.
But the others had their own lives to worry about. Even though they surrounded the foul smelling undead, it kept them at bay with wild swings of its flail. Alas, the monster struck Killian in the chest with its flail. The old man grunted in pain, and his comrades heard the sound of several of his ribs cracking… but he kept on fighting nonetheless.
Ramaka stopped attacking the undead, since she didn’t seem to be able to pierce its defenses, and called upon the luck of Shelyn to help Killian. It seemed to work somehow: the old rogue dodged the undead monster’s next blow, and was able to strike back, inflicting a light wound on the thing’s leg.
Alas, Shelyn’s luck ended there, and was immediately replaced by horror in the courtroom.
Patrissa’s belly burst open in a disgusting explosion of blood and gore, splattering the unfortunate woman’s innards all over Lorven. The tiefling stepped back in horror as he watched the remains of the lovely woman. Most of her seemed to be dead now, but from the gaping wound in her abdomen, her intestines seemed to still be alive, and were writhing most disturbingly.
“No… No…” thought Lorven, paralyzed by fear. His beloved Patrissa was dead. And what a truly horrible death hers had been!
Yet but a moment after that, another one of his companions perished. Killian had held his own remarkably well against the undead monstrosity that had once been a cleric of Sarenrae, but eventually, the creature found a flaw in his defense, and crushed his skull with a powerful swing of his flail’s metal ball. The nearly-headless remains of Killian Paltreth crumbled to the floor.
Kamettia, Zarr and Ramaka fought the monster bravely, but they felt that this was the end. None of them had even been able to scratch it, and now, Killian was dead. They were also aware of Patrissa’s horrible plight.
The next one to fall was Ramaka. The flail didn’t her crush her skull, as it only hit her with a glancing blow, but it was enough to knock her out.
“Run!!” yelled Zarr as he retreated toward the double-doors. “Everyone run for your lives!”
Even Kamettia retreated before this seemingly unbeatable foe. Sir Rekkart had painfully gotten back on his feet and drawn his sword. “Flee, my friends, I will hold it back!” he said bravely, as he prepared himself to sacrifice his life.
“No!” shouted Lorven. “I’ll take care of it! I have a plan! Save yourselves!”
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Talking about a new definition to the word gutless, you made Patrissa's death even more gruesome. This specific adventure is to difficult for a party of four first level characters.
Oh yes... Definitely. And even more, those are Pathfinder characters, so they're a bit more powerful than normal.
If I remember correctly, the ghast has AC22... that is quite high for level 1 characters, especially for a creature that is so dangerous otherwise. None of the PC's landed a single hit on it.
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I'm wondering did you put the Pcs at a slight disadvantage on purpose? I noticed Lorven has no damage dealing spells prepared, and Ramaka she didnt exactly have optimal domains either. However the party as done well with what they are working with. I just hope there luck lasts the night.
For Lorven, I gave him some spells that he would have likely learned for a regular day in the city. He didn't know he would be doing any fighting that day when he prepared them. He did cast Mage Armor at some point, by the way, but it made no difference, because he didn't get attacked during that time. Actually, he didn't really have any offensive spells: his other level 1 spells were Enlarge Person, Shield and Mount. I guess he was more a "buffing" type of spellcaster. ;)
I don't know, Charm and Luck are pretty nice domains I think. I like them. I think they go well with the notion of a priestess of Shelyn.
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The final embrace
The flail-wielding undead seemed as confused as its victims, unsure of which one to destroy next. While Zarr, Kamettia and Sir Rekkart circled around it, Lorven put his plan in action. It was a really cunning plan: he threw a tanglefoot bag at the monster to temporarily hinder its movements, allowing them all to flee.
Unfortunately, there was a flaw in Lorven’s plan.
The flaw was that Lorven threw like a girl. Not an athletic girl like Kamettia or Ramaka, but rather, a girl who didn’t throw things very far. Or very accurately.
The scene would have been comical under other circumstances, but nobody laughed at the fact that Lorven’s tanglefoot bag landed many feet away from its intended target. But on the bright side, it had part of the desired effect: its movement drew the creature’s attention away from Kamettia, Zarr and Sir Rekkart…
…toward Lorven.
Zarr was the first out of the room, fleeing through the hole Father Kelgaard had bashed into the single door. Sir Rekkart stopped for a moment to halt Ramaka’s bleeding, and Kamettia took the unconscious cleric over her shoulder. As she turned to flee after Sir Rekkart, she was the only witness of the horror that happened in the next few moments.
Father Kelgaard’s flail pulverized Lorven’s right leg. With a piercing cry of pain, the wizard fell to the floor. He knew it was the end, he could feel his life slip away. He was dazed with pain, and Patrissa’s blood trickled over his eyes. He wiped it quickly and saw that, surprisingly, the stinking undead wasn’t raising its flail to strike again. Rather, it was looking at Patrissa with a surprised expression on its hideous face.
Lorven turned and saw that the woman he had so desired had risen again. But alas, it was clear that she was still dead. From the gaping wound in her abdomen, her intestines seemed not only to still be alive, but to be possessed of an abnormal amount of awareness and mobility. They snaked out of the woman’s carcass as if they were the tentacles of a hungry aberration.
The last thing Lorven saw before he died was Patrissa’s face twisted in a frozen mask of pain, as her snake-like entrails grabbed his limbs and forced themselves inside his throat, choking him.
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CHAPTER 11: FEAR OF THE DARK
And then there were four
Somewhere else in Absalom, several miles away, a raven suddenly shrieked in terror. It had felt something within it die. It had been searching the entire night for Lorven, in vain. But now the black bird knew: its master was dead.
The two paladins followed the shadowy shape of Zarr in the darkness ahead of them. The only light guiding them was the one glowing on Kamettia’s falchion. If they couldn’t reanimate Ramaka, then they would be in the dark.
They made their way upstairs and hid in the offices where they had fought the giant leech. It seemed as good a place as any to hide from the horror that had killed their comrades… or to die if it found them.
They tried to remain as quiet as possible. Searching her limp body, they were able to find Ramaka’s healing potion. They carefully administered it to her, and were able to bring her back to consciousness. At least she was still with them… But it was down to only the four of them… They were wounded, weakened, and terrified. They had seen too much on this terrible night.
Kamettia was sobbing softly. She could not stop thinking about Lorven and Patrissa’s horrible deaths. What had they done to deserve such a fate? It wasn’t fair!
Sir Rekkart sat silently in the shadows. He was shaking slightly. He wished he had the strength and courage to return downstairs and finish off the undead abomination that had killed their comrades, but he still lacked the strength that Malene’s evil spirit had drained from his limbs. He was almost useless, and he knew that if he were to survive, he would have to rely on the three young pups who’d made it so far with him.
Ramaka and Zarr looked grim as they stood watch near the door, waiting for the slightest sound that could reveal the approach of an incoming enemy. The priestess looked at the bard and saw the haunted look on his face. They knew they had both narrowly escaped death from the abomination that had formerly been Father Kelgaard. Why had the saintly man come back as a putrid undead? Had he committed any sins that could’ve corrupted his soul, or was he, like them, just an innocent victim of this terrible place?
Another mystery remained unsolved. During the last moments of the fight, when Killian had been struck down, both Ramaka and Zarr had noticed a gray wig fall from the remains of his head. Beneath it had been perfectly fine black hair. It seemed that Killian had been wearing some kind of disguise.
“But why would he want to make himself look older?” whispered Ramaka. “I don’t get it.”
“Unless he wanted to hide his true appearance,” replied Zarr quietly. “But was this someone impersonating the Killian who’d been part of the jury ten years ago, or had Killian been in disguise even back then? We can’t be sure. But if for some reason, some poor schmuck decided to impersonate Killian tonight and got dragged into this instead of him, he sure picked the wrong night.”
“Hmm… Unless somehow Killian knew that something like this was going to happen, and he left a decoy behind him… Knowing this poor fool would get taken instead of him?”
“What do you think, Sir Rekkart?” asked Zarr. “Do you think the man who was with us tonight was the real Killian, or not?”
The aged paladin shrugged. “I am not sure. It’s true that a few things he did or said seemed strange, but the same could be said of almost everything that happened tonight. I do not think we should worry too much about Killian’s identity, anyway. Whoever he was is now dead. Let us now pray that we’ll live through the rest of the night.”
Zarr and Ramaka nodded. The veteran was right. As they waited for the inevitable in the shadows, they heard the clock downstairs chiming eleven times.
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CHAPTER 12: PUNISH THE GUILTY
Midnight visitors
The four survivors waited in the dark for what seemed like an eternity. They were scared out of their wits, expecting at any moment to be attacked by a wicked spirit or by the animated corpses of their former comrades. They strained their ears to try and hear any sign of an approaching menace, but all they heard was the creaking of the old courthouse’s wooden walls and floors, and the wind that whispered eerily outside.
Eventually, though, Ramaka heard something from below. She gestured toward her companions and pressed her ear to the door.
“I hear voices,” she whispered.
“What are they saying?” asked Kamettia a few moments later.
Ramaka shook her head. “I can’t hear – wait!” Then, after a pause: “I hear sounds of fighting. Steel against steel!”
The survivors exchanged puzzled glances. “Who can it be?” asked Kamettia.
“It might be the guard, coming to rescue us,” offered Sir Rekkart.
“They probably ran into one of the monsters down there; perhaps Father Kelgaard.”
“If they’re in trouble, we need to go help them!” said Kamettia.
“Are you mad?” hissed Zarr. “What if we get attacked again?”
“She’s right, son,” said Sir Rekkart. “It’s our duty to help them. Besides, they may be our only chance of making it out of here!”
“I agree,” said Ramaka. “I’m going to take a look!”
The half-orc priestess carefully opened the door and started making her way toward the stairs. The two paladins, who wielded their only remaining light, followed her closely. Zarr sighed and reluctantly followed them. Even though there might be danger downstairs, he felt safer with them than alone in the dark.
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Betrayed
When the four companions reached the main hall, they realized that the sounds came from two figures seemingly locked in a duel. They were fighting each other with rapiers, and the scene was illuminated by two lanterns that had been placed on the floor. It seemed they had been fighting for a little while already. As they approached, the companions saw one of the combatants stumble with weariness and fall to the ground. He was a heavyset man with gray hair and a thick moustache, dressed in elegant clothes and wearing a monocle. He was sweating and panting, and although he appeared skilled with the blade, it seemed his endurance hadn’t been enough to match his younger opponent’s.
The man that stood over him with his rapier now pointed toward his throat was tall and lean. He was also dressed like a gentleman, with a tall black hat and a swirling cloak. He had a long, neatly trimmed dark beard.
“Stop!” cried Ramaka, and both men turned toward the four companions.
“Please, help me!” panted the older man on the floor.
“What is the meaning of this?” asked the other one in a deep velvety voice, raising an eyebrow.
Zarr drew his rapier and pointed it toward the taller man. “Step away from this man, Alastir Wade, or you’ll have to answer to us!”
The man’s eyes narrowed dangerously at the threat, but he realized that he was outnumbered, so he withdrew, letting the older man get back to his feet.
“I see I am at a disadvantage here,” said Wade, “for although you seem to know me, I cannot say the same about you. Care to explain?”
“Oh, we’ve heard about you several times tonight,” said Zarr. He then whispered to his companions: “I recognize him from my vision. He looks older now and has a beard, but I’d recognize that smug, pompous face anywhere.”
Ramaka nodded. “And we are also in the presence of the honorable judge Silman Trabe, it seems,” she said loudly, pointing at the man with the moustache.
Trabe blinked in surprise. “Yes… Yes, indeed.” He looked at the four newcomers with suspicion, but then his gaze widened in recognition. “Cole? Sir Rekkart Cole? Is that you?”
“Yes, your honor,” replied the paladin. “It has been a long time, and it is a strange coincidence to meet you on this dreadful night.”
“Would you care to explain, Sir, the meaning of this charade?” asked Wade.
“We could ask you the same thing,” said Ramaka. “How did you get here?”
“Yes,” said Zarr, “how did you two get through the fog?”
The others looked surprised. “What fog?” said Alastir Wade with a sneer.
“And what happened to you people,” asked Trabe as he looked at the blood-soaked garments and armors of the four survivors.
“Let’s just say we’ve had a really unpleasant night,” said Ramaka. “We’ve spent the entire evening in this place, unable to escape due to some dark magic. The place is crawling with evil spirits, who have harmed us, and killed eight of our companions.”
Wade and Trabe both seemed to grow a bit paler when they heard this.
“Indeed, it seems that some dark forces are at work this night,” said Sir Rekkart. “These young people and I awoke a few hours ago in the very court room where I, and the jury I was part of, condemned Jarbin Mord to be hung to death, ten years ago this very night. I am the only member of the jury who is still alive. The others have all paid terribly, slain by the hellish revenant of Jarbin Mord, whose spirit thirsts for vengeance. For he was wrongly convicted; Mord was innocent of the crime he was accused of. The culprit of the horrible murder of Malene and Gabe is still at large. And now, at long last, this horrible felon will pay for his treachery. Before the sun rises, you, Alastir Wade, will hang from the gallows!”
Everyone then jumped in shock not only at the accusation, but at the deafening sounds of the great clock, sounding twelve times.
“You… You are mad, Cole!” spat Alastir as the echoes of the clock faded away. “How dare you accuse me of this?!”
“We know it was you!” cried Kamettia. “You horrible man!! How could you???”
“A lot of good people died tonight because of you, you filthy scum,” growled Ramaka.
“This is an outrage!” roared Wade. “What proof have you?”
“We found documents showing you bribed members of the jury,” said Sir Rekkart. “You tried to sway the judgment so that Jarbin Mord would take the fall for the crime you committed!”
“Documents you could easily have forged and planted after the fact, not admissible in court, I’m afraid,” replied Alastir Wade with a dismissive gesture.
“We saw you do it in visions! You were happy when Mord died!” said Kamettia.
“Lots of people were happy when the murder was executed,” replied the barrister with a shrug. “And visions? Visions? Really? Cole, this is laughable! Would you really accuse me based on the visions of a few blood-soaked lunatics?”
“I long suspected something of the sort,” said Trabe, “and on this night, I received this letter from mister Wade.” He produced a letter from his jacket. “He was the one who lured me into this place, surely to eliminate me at long last. Yes, he must have something to do with your predicament as well!”
“Nice try, sir,” said Ramaka, well aware that the old man was trying to get in their good graces. “But we’ve also reason to believe you were in on it too. Isn’t that what your old colleague would’ve said, you know, the one you hired Malgrim to kill?”
“What are you talking about?” grumbled Judge Trabe.
“This is all very interesting,” said Wade, also fetching a letter from his coat, “but I would have you know that I also received a letter instructing me to come here. It seems I am just another victim of some deranged mastermind, just as you all were. And clearly, this psychopath has deluded you into thinking that I had something to do with this!”
“Don’t lie, mister Wade!” said Kamettia, an edge of anger in her voice. “Patrissa knew it was you! She told us! We all know you did it!”
“Patrissa?” said Alastir Wade, shaking his head derisively. “Patrissa Vrakes? Yes, I remember her from the jury, quite a charming woman if I recall. But tell me, young lady, is miss Vrakes able to contribute something to this discussion? Is she here, or is she perhaps, in fact, dead?”
The four companions remained silent for a few awkward moments. It was true that their star witness was gone.
Or was she?
“I’m dead, but I’m also here,” said a familiar feminine voice coming out of the shadows. “Alastir, honey… it’s been too long!”
Wade, Trabe and the four survivors turned around in shock toward the sound of the voice. To their horror, they saw several horribly mangled corpses creep out of the shadows.
They had all been alive but hours earlier… The four companions felt their hearts twist with revulsion and grief as they watched the morbid remains of their former allies lurch and crawl toward them.
Tablark’s face and beard were covered in dried blood that had flowed from his hollow eye sockets. Killian’s body moved jerkily, his arms raised in front of him, groping blindly as he moved forward. His neck was a ruined stump, and his head was missing. At their side came the corpse of Lorven. The tall, gaunt tiefling was now forced to crawl since one of his cloven-hoofed legs had been shattered by Father Kelgaard’s flail.
Each of these corpses was connected by what at first seemed like a foul glistening tentacle to the body of a fourth victim. As she stepped into the light, the spectators had to fight back the urge to vomit as they realized that the tentacles were in fact Patrissa’s intestines. The once lovely woman’s fancy silk dress had been torn to shreds, and from the gaping hole in her abdomen, several long strings of her entrails snaked out, some directing the other three corpses like puppets, other twisting in the air, ready to strike like vicious serpents.
Patrissa’s eyes glittered in the dark as she gazed at Alastir Wade.
“That’s right, dear, I told them everything! They know you murdered Malene and Gabe. They know you tampered with the jury to get Mord to take the fall for you. They even know you bribed that old piece of goat dung Trabe to go along with this treachery! And yes, I helped you. I played my part in all of it. I am also responsible for Mord’s death, but then again, none of us were above reproach, not even that pompous ass Sir Rekkart!”
The paladin gasped, but none dare to move, almost hypnotized by the disgusting spectacle.
“That’s right, fool!” continued Patrissa. ”Your naïve mind was like putty in my hands. I got you to send Mord to his death and you never even realized I was holding the strings. But as you can see,” she said, gesturing toward her twisting entrails with a grin, “I already paid for my sins.”
Patrissa’s smile faded. She turned toward Alastir Wade, and now, there was nothing but pure hatred on her face. “Look what he did to me, my love! LOOK AT ME!”
Wade trembled slightly. For the first time in his life, the smooth-talking bastard was at a loss for words.
“We all paid for YOUR crimes!” roared Patrissa. “Now it’s YOUR turn!”
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Patrissa’s revenge
Patrissa’s entrails twitched madly, and they seemed to direct the other three corpses to attack the living. Killian’s headless corpse was at the center of the action and he staggered blindly toward Alastir Wade. Wade and Zarr both pierced it with their rapiers; Kamettia and Ramaka soon joined them with their heavier blades. Out of the corner of her eye, Kamettia saw Tablark’s stout, bloody shape advancing toward her. Meanwhile, Lorven’s broken corpse crawled toward Judge Trabe, who stepped back and pierced it with his own weapon.
A few feet away from the melee, Patrissa’s corpse regarded the combatants with a disturbing grin. Her intestines controlled the three zombies like puppets. Suddenly, though, she recoiled from a powerful impact: a heavy crossbow bolt had just pierced her thigh! She turned to her right and saw that Sir Rekkart had crept behind a pillar and was fumbling with his crossbow, trying to reload the weapon before she had a chance to strike back at him.
Zarr, Kamettia and Ramaka fought side by side. They’d been through so much that night together that a strong bond had finally formed between the three youngsters. Yet they hesitated somehow: should they focus their attacks against Wade, Trabe or the undead? All seemed like enemies.
Wade seemed to be wondering the same thing, but for now, he seemed to consider the undead to be a greater risk to his survival. With a dazzling display of swordmanship, he opened a deep gash in Killian’s chest. A moment later, from the other side, Zarr executed a superb blow with his own rapier, finishing off the zombie. The poor mistreated body of Killian fell to the ground, now completely destroyed. Zarr noted as it did so that Killian had been wearing some kind of pillow under his shirt: another element of disguise?
Alastir and Zarr’s eyes held each other for a moment. Their fighting styles were quite similar to one another.
“Nicely done,” said Alastir with a quick nod.
“Ditto,” replied Zarr.
Meanwhile, not far from them, Kamettia had started trading blows with Tablark’s eyeless corpse. She kept the monster at bay with wild swings of her falchion. Ramaka ran around the closest pillar and hit Tablark in the chest with a strong blow of her glaive. While the zombie reeled from the impact, Kamettia brought down her blade with both hands, slicing his head in two. Tablark’s body also fell to the ground, too badly damaged even to be used by Patrissa.
A cry of pain came from closer to the courthouse doors, as Judge Trabe was dragged to the ground by Lorven’s bloody fingers. The tiefling then proceeded to batter the old man with fists that seemed stronger in death than they had been in life.
“Over here! Please! I need help!” cried the Judge as he was pummeled mercilessly.
Ramaka heard the man, but she didn’t feel a particular urge to help the villain. Rather, she turned toward Patrissa’s corpse… and was struck violently by a stinking coil of viscera! She staggered back against the pillar, nearly dropping her weapon in the process.
Wade hesitated for a moment, as he looked from Trabe’s plight, to Patrissa, to Zarr and the others. His cold, calculating mind was trying to determine the best course of action: he wanted his enemies to weaken each other so that he might eventually destroy them all. However, Zarr forced him to make a choice by attacking him. Wade raised his rapier at the last second to try and parry the blow, but damned! The young man was fast. Striking like a furious snake, Zarr pierced Wade’s abdomen deeply. Blood started flowing down the man’s shirt and trousers.
“Damn you!” spat the tall barrister, who stepped back and quickly reached for a healing potion. He drank it and within moments, his wound closed. “Let’s see what you’re made of, boy!” He parried Zarr’s next attack, and counter-attacked, but Zarr blocked his blow with his small shield.
Kamettia also came to Zarr’s help, furious as she was at the treacherous Alastir Wade. Badly wounded, Ramaka decided to call upon Shelyn’s healing magic for one last time that night. A wave of healing energy surrounded her, helping not only her allies, but also Silman Trabe. Yet, things still didn’t look good for the old judge. The much taller Lorven was on top of him, continuing his punishment. Trabe’s rapier had rolled a few feet away, out of reach. The old man desperately strained his arm to try and reach it with the tip of his fingers…
Patrissa’s voice then rose above the din of battle in an insane, evil laughter. From the bloody depths of her gaping belly wound, four of her unnaturally long and strong strands of intestines whirled around the battle scene. It seemed medically impossible that such an volume of entrails could’ve fit inside the woman’s abdomen, even if she had let herself grow a bit plump over the years. And yet the things struck like flails. Kamettia, Ramaka and Sir Rekkart were violently hit by the things. So was Judge Trabe, and for him, it was the end. Everything went dark and he lost consciousness… At the edge of death, right there, at the very entrance of the courthouse where he had once ruled.
Alastir parried a few more of Zarr’s attacks and then tried to throw off his opponents by lunging toward Kamettia in a quick attack. He was surprised to notice, though, that the young lass had received some extensive combat training, and she nimbly parried the strike. Zarr took advantage of the opening and pierced Wade’s left arm, drawing blood. Overall, though, it had been but a minor wound.
“You can do better than that, boy,” taunted the villain.
But his grin faded an instant later, as he realized that zombie-Lorven had let go of Silman Trabe and was now crawling in his direction. Wade was surrounded!
Ramaka moved against Patrissa, but since she had to dodge out of the way of the flailing “tentacles”, she couldn’t land a blow. From behind her, Sir Rekkart fired another bolt, but missed as well.
Zarr then winced in pain as he was cut by Alastir’s rapier. The man sure knew how to use that blade… Zarr was gifted with a great agility, but Wade had much more experience. Before he could try to retaliate, though, the unfortunate bard was struck twice by Patrissa’s intestines, and he dropped to the ground!
Wade would’ve surely laughed at his enemy’s suffering and humiliation if he hadn’t also been hit by two tentacles at the same time. He recoiled in pain, trying not to lose his balance from the powerful impact. His fear grew in intensity as he realized that the abomination that Patrissa had become was not just disgusting, but was also quite likely the most dangerous enemy he now faced.
“We must unite against Patrissa!” he barked at Kamettia, but the young woman refused to listen to him. She swung her falchion furiously, yet the blow was clumsy. Wade simply side-stepped away from it, and almost managed to trip the irate paladin in the process.
In the mean time, the others were hard at work fighting Patrissa. Ramaka wounded her with her glaive, and Sir Rekkart pierced her with another well-aimed bolt. But that damned woman wouldn’t die. She looked at Ramaka and continued laughing insanely. The cleric couldn’t believe it: she would never have thought that someone as harmless-looking as Patrissa could be so hard to kill, especially since her abdomen had already been ripped open!
Alastir was locked in mortal combat with Kamettia. He could see the fury in the young woman’s eyes. Whatever she had seen, whatever she had heard in the courthouse tonight, it had convinced her: Alastir Wade needed to die! The barrister was hard-pressed to parry all of her frenzied attacks. He almost slipped in some blood at some point as he circled around Kamettia, trying to put some distance between himself and zombie-Lorven.
Kamettia was struck by another tentacle, and a moment later, so was Wade. They were both very badly wounded by then. The end seemed near… Wade stepped back to avoid a swing of the deadly falchion… and tripped on Lorven’s corpse!
The barrister struggled to regain his footing, but it was to no avail. Just like his old colleague Silman Trabe, he was battered by the furious fists of the one-legged tiefling wizard. His last moments of consciousness were very unpleasant. This terrible, terrible man felt a measure of the pain he had caused so many others before he slipped into oblivion…
Kamettia turned around to go help Ramaka, but as soon as she did that, she was struck one final time by Patrissa’s intestines… and fell to the ground. A blink of an eye later, and it was the turn of Shelyn’s priestess to be defeated. She, too, collapsed under the foul-smelling onslaught.
Patrissa’s laughter was rudely interrupted as a third bolt hit her, piercing her shoulder.
Only one living person remained standing in the haunted courthouse.
Sir Rekkart Cole, righteous defender of order and devout follower of Iomedae, he who had seen so many horrors that night, he who believed he had failed his duty and his goddess, he who had nearly completely been drained of strength by the ghost of Malene Mord, was now frantically trying to reload his heavy crossbow, knowing that every fraction of a second counted.
“It’s over, Sir Rekkart,” purred Patrissa’s blood-soaked carcass, a disturbing mixture of nauseating innards and tantalizing feminine flesh.
Sir Rekkart’s numb old fingers worked crazily over the crossbow’s mechanisms as he watched the woman approach from the corner of his eye, while from further down the hall, the horror that had recently been Lorven also crawled toward him, leaving a bloody trail behind him.
It was taking too long… too long… He felt like he was in a nightmare. He was in a nightmare!
And then they were upon him!
The tendrils struck him, Lorven’s claw-like fingers gripped him. Sir Rekkart staggered back, somehow keeping his grip on crossbow and bolt…
There! Loaded!
The paladin raised the weapon, wincing from the terrible pain of the many intestines flailing at him. A lesser man would’ve fallen three times over, but the heroic knight truly made his goddess proud that night.
He aimed, pulled the trigger…
The bolt flew true…
And pierced Patrissa’s throat. The eyes of the beautiful corpse widened in disbelief, and she toppled backward. Her foul intestines immediately stopped their movements and fell limply to the floor, and so did her last puppet.
Lorven, the poor, gentle tiefling wizard, had hoped he would be able to escape that courthouse, and to be with Patrissa for eternity afterwards. He fell for the last time but a few feet from her. At least, he got the second part of his wish. Their corpses would rot together, undisturbed in the embrace of death, until the building collapsed into the sea.
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CHAPTER 13: THE HANGMAN’S NOOSE
Sir Rekkart dropped his crossbow and limped as fast as he could toward Kamettia. He implored Iomedae to show mercy: the poor young woman had fought so bravely tonight that it would be too cruel a fate for her to die now. He knelt at her side and quickly applied his healing hands on her unmoving body, infusing her with what little healing energy he still had at his disposal. It wasn’t much: her eyelids didn’t even flutter open. But he saw that she was still breathing. It had not been in vain!
But the paladin did not stop there, for he knew every instant counted. Others had fallen and their lives were at risk! He knew that he and his allies had spent every single one of their healing potions to recover from the previous fights they had endured, but he also remembered that Lorven and Killian had, before their untimely demise, still possessed such potions. Despite his apprehension, he quickly searched their ruined bodies and found the vials, applying their contents into Zarr and Ramaka’s throats. They, too, were saved in the nick of time. Zarr even regained consciousness.
The young man sat dazedly and nodded at Sir Rekkart in gratitude. He looked around at the bloody corpses scattered around the dusty hall. Such a bloodbath…
The two men then examined Trabe and Wade’s bodies, but neither had survived the fight: they had both bled to death. A close inspection of Alastir Wade’s face indicated that he indeed sported a scar on his cheek, which was almost, but not completely, hidden by his beard. Additionally, Zarr and Sir Rekkart examined Killian’s corpse and discovered that, as Zarr had seen at the last moment, he had been wearing a padded girdle under his shirt. He had in fact been a quite thin man, but had been wearing this disguise to appear as if he had a potbelly. For what reason this strange man had been disguised, the survivors would never know.
Zarr and Sir Rekkart knew what they had to do. Zarr lifted Wade’s body over his shoulder and carried it to the gallows, moving slowly, but surely, under the heavy burden.
It wasn’t easy for him to tie the hangman’s noose around Wade’s neck by himself, but he did it. Within moments, the murderer was hanging from the gallows where Mord had unjustly been executed for the death of his wife and son.
At last, justice was served.
Zarr and Sir Rekkart didn’t hear or see anything special, but they somehow knew that Mord was aware of what they had done. They knew his spirit could rest at last. They felt, intuitively, that the curse was now lifted from the courthouse.
But at what price…
The two returned to the main hallway and waited, silently watching over their wounded companions. The fog still prevented them from escaping, but they dared to hope that it would vanish with the first light of the morning. They waited patiently… No lumbering corpse or restless spirit bothered them again. And finally, at long last, a ray of sunshine appeared from between the cracks of the main door.
Under the light of the morning sun, Sir Rekkart and Zarr emerged from the ruined courthouse, wearily dragging the unconscious bodies of Kamettia and Ramaka behind them. They barely had the strength to do so, but they somehow managed. They closed the doors of the building behind them and stood with their backs to them for a few moments, in silence. They wondered if anyone would ever believe their tale.
They knew the memories of this night would haunt them for the rest of their lives.
But for now, the shadows of the night had been banished.
They had survived!
THE END.
I still miss to read last two chapters, I have been out for work before and then holidays with my three girls. Until now my heroes are still alive and I have really loved everything you created as usual. Tomorrow, I usually read during my eat pause at work, I'll finish your story (I need to print it down I don't like ro read stuff I like on the monitor) and I'll finally know. But I'm already sad because you have finished it and I'll start hoping again you'll do something like that... again this was (for me) a wonderful way to read deeply a module.
Thanks again
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I still miss to read last two chapters, I have been out for work before and then holidays with my three girls. Until now my heroes are still alive and I have really loved everything you created as usual. Tomorrow, I usually read during my eat pause at work, I'll finish your story (I need to print it down I don't like ro read stuff I like on the monitor) and I'll finally know. But I'm already sad because you have finished it and I'll start hoping again you'll do something like that... again this was (for me) a wonderful way to read deeply a module.
Thanks again
Cool, I hope you like how it ends!
Last weekend, I actually DM'ed it, it went very similar to the way it happened in my adventure, except less people died in the end (I was nice and let all the PCs live). Unfortunately, Patrissa wasn't with them at the end when it was her turn to die, so they missed that. She had been kidnapped by the Croaker. One thing that was pretty cool in that game, though, is that my mom really liked Halgrak. When he was about to turn into a ghoul coincided to the moment where Father Kelgaard attacked them, so I decided that Halgrak turned into a ghoul just at that moment but kept his sanity for a few more moments. So, knowing he was doomed anyway, he basically sacrificed himself, attacking Father Kelgaard so the others could flee.
One thing I would definitely suggest to do, for anyone running this adventure, is to print out the pictures and names of the NPCs on separate pieces of paper. Then, the players can always remember who are the jurors, their names and appearance. Also, when the group separates or as more and more people die, you can move the pictures around so it's easy to remember who's left.
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Well, at the risk of sounding like the most uncool entity in the universe, I actually played this with my mom. She and I (and my sister) used to play D&D together when I was a teenager.
Since she hasn't played in a really long time (and she's not too interested in complex rules like 3.5 or Pathfinder), we did this as a "diceless" RPG, so I decided what happened based on her choices and my previous experience running the adventure with actual dice (for combat and stuff).
We even kept the same characters. She played a smart version of Kamettia ( ;) ). All other 3 PC's (Zarr, Lorven and Ramaka) were played as NPCs. They all survived, and so did Sir Rekkart and Judge Trabe.
She really enjoyed Halgrak and Ebin most of all among the NPCs. She hated Patrissa and was very suspicious of Sir Rekkart, wondering if he had perhaps some dark agenda. ;)
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Good stuff!
One of the advantages of letting the dice help tell the story is that readers can't rely on the genre conventions to guess who survives. Here I was in the dark until the end.
On the other side, if the characters never turn over the rock hiding some bit of plot, the readers never get it. I'm left wondering why the one juror was wearing a disguise and who drugged/kidnapped the jurors and PCs.
Still, an excellent read.
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Good stuff!
One of the advantages of letting the dice help tell the story is that readers can't rely on the genre conventions to guess who survives. Here I was in the dark until the end.
On the other side, if the characters never turn over the rock hiding some bit of plot, the readers never get it. I'm left wondering why the one juror was wearing a disguise and who drugged/kidnapped the jurors and PCs.
Still, an excellent read.
Thanks!
For those who might not have read the adventure, here's the scoop on Killian. The real Killian Paltreth was one of the jurors 10 years ago, but he died since then.
The impostor who pretended to be Killian during this adventure was in fact a rogue named Sveth. He used to work at the courthouse and was a close friend of Mord. He knew that Mord had been unjustly condemned to death and wanted to avenge him. Note that the message the group found in Mord's cell near the start of the adventure was addressed to him.
In the adventure, he's the one who drugged, kidnapped and brought the 7 remaining jurors and the 4 PC's to the courthouse to try and get hints about who was Mord's true killer. He suspected (correctly) that some of the jurors had been corrupted. He's also the one who sent forged letters to Judge Trabe and Alastir Wade to make them come later that same night. He also suspected them.
The adventure leads us to believe that he did this all by himself, but that seemed a bit far-fetched to me, so as I mentioned earlier, I decided that he had in fact joined a cult of Pharasma who, as the Death Goddess, wanted to provide assistance to restless souls who could not find peace until they got their revenge on those who caused their deaths. Sveth convinced his fellow cult members to help him kidnap the jurors to free Mord's spirit and thereby cleanse one of Absalom's most notorious haunted places.
I also added the fog to make it clearer that the PC's weren't meant to leave the courthouse. That was a bit heavy-handed, but it was the best I could come up with. In the adventure, instead of this, anyone leaving the courthouse is just kind of teleported back inside, which works too, I just found the fog creepier and therefore a bit cooler.
Note that I got some inspiration from Silent Hill for this: during the night, the courthouse was a bit in another world, meaning that the fog was only visible to those inside it, not those outside. That explains why Trabe and Wade were able to enter normally, and why they seemed surprised when the PC's mentioned the fog ("What fog??").
Let me know if you'd like me to clear up anything else.
Personally, I like when there are still 1 or 2 mysteries left unanswered at the end of a story, but on the other hand, I don't want to leave the readers frustrated. ;)
The two returned to the main hallway and waited, silently watching over their wounded companions. The fog still prevented them from escaping, but they dared to hope that it would vanish with the first light of the morning. They waited patiently… No lumbering corpse or restless spirit bothered them again. And finally, at long last, a ray of sunshine appeared from between the cracks of the main door.
Sorry for the late comment (I read it some days ago but I had no possibility to write this). Finally I was not so wrong with my bet :) Great work Moonbeam very very useful (and interesting) for the community, a must read for everyone going to play the adventure...
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Sorry for the late comment (I read it some days ago but I had no possibility to write this). Finally I was not so wrong with my bet :) Great work Moonbeam very very useful (and interesting) for the community, a must read for everyone going to play the adventure...
Thanks! And I hope you're enjoying taking care of your new baby and not suffering too much from the lack of sleep and hectic schedule!
Thanks! And I hope you're enjoying taking care of your new baby and not suffering too much from the lack of sleep and hectic schedule!
Yes, it's difficult (especially for my wife I fear) but however beautiful and this night I had a dream... your story hour about the adventures of a group of Pathfinders... following some of those published Pathfinder Society Scenarios...
lol
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Yes, it's difficult (especially for my wife I fear) but however beautiful and this night I had a dream... your story hour about the adventures of a group of Pathfinders... following some of those published Pathfinder Society Scenarios...
lol
Hehe, that's strange! Well, the next thing I write probably won't be one of those, because I haven't played in quite a while, and I wouldn't want to spoil them for people who haven't played them yet. I recently started playing Council of Thieves, but I don't know if I'll write anything for that.
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What are you playing in Council of Thieves?
Well, again, this is something I'm playing just myself. My regular group can only meet every 2-3 weeks and we're still playing Savage Tide. I've also got semi-regular games with my Savage Tide GM, but he wants to take a break from the complexity of 3.5e/PFRPG, so we're playing a game mostly based on basic/expert D&D (oldschool... ;) ).
So since I, personally, want to play more often than that and I happen to like the PFRPG rules, I am playing a bit by myself just to try the rules and build some nice stories based on the APs. I rolled randomly for each PC's race, class, gender and alignment, and got some interesting results which defy a bit the law of randomness...
Female Human Ranger (LG)
Female Human Rogue (CG)
Female Human Fighter (CG)
Female Human Wizard (LG)
Female Human Monk (LN)
No healer... I think it will be challenging for this group to survive! So far, they have survived the first adventure with no casualties (but a few close calls), but I think the 2nd adventure will be a lot harder...
This being said, though, I think if I were to write a story about an AP, it would be about my Curse of the Crimson Throne campaign, which I really loved... But I'm still not willing to put in the millions of hours it would take to write it all. :)