njorgard
First Post
Chapter 11
My friend Helfdan is a little bit busy with RL so I thought that those of you who are following this story hour might enjoy another update in the saga of the Heirs of Galanan....
(this was written by Helfdan...btw....)
- Njorgard
-------------------------------------------------------------
Part 11: The Fight for Medore
Father: May the keeper’s blessings be with you, always. If by the grace of Armax you received my prior missives, you know that we had been successful in recovering the sacred Goathian Bell from the ogre warlord Koron and his Mestorien ally, Denora – at great cost. My oath before Tilsman and Terferos was thus fulfilled, but our mission was far from over, for we still had to return to Medore in time to rescue it from an impending attack by hordes of undead horrors summoned by the vile cult of Symarul.
Despite our losses and the other grim events we witnessed in fallen Roedran, our spirits were briefly lifted on our way back from the southern province. Firstly, by our discovery of mighty Stormshadow, a dapple grey destrier which Jerikas of Terferos pronounced as “celestial.” Of course, I know not whether this steed comes from the heavens, but it is certain that we were meant to meet, as he seems to know my commands before I give them, and since we met we fight together as if I had trained him since he was a foal. Secondly, though we learned from wounded soldiers that the undead had already attacked the city, they also told us the horrors were only active after dusk, and we were certain we would reach the city before then.
But as we approached, we were set upon by a flock of enormous, hellish crows. Though they were relatively weak, they were numerous, and delayed us enough that we did not reach the Bridge of Erias until dusk.
It was a grim scene that greeted us, father. An approaching thunderhead deepened the dusk shadows. The land around the city walls was scorched, and pits full of flaming pitch had been set around it. The walls bristled with archers and torchbearers, ready for yet another night of battle.
However, father, we might as well have been miles away. For the bridge was sundered, with a gap over ten feet wide. Across the bridge were five undead riders, armed with crossbows. They were flanked by two gigantic skeletons, with huge clubs. And leading them, to our despair, was a man riding a sable horse with unnatural red eyes. Its master was none other than Erecos, the Lion of Medore. His mithral armor was blood-stained, and he had a standard bearing Symarul’s beaked, three-eyed, six-armed symbol. This man, who had claimed to be loyal to Hintai above everything!! The one who had sent us to hunt a traitor! Yes, father. Against all of Morcandor’s teachings, the mightiest warrior in southern Hintai was now our foe’s champion.
We had to act quickly, as on both sides of the bridge undead creatures were clawing their way from the ground, meaning to overwhelm us. We decided to ring the bell, and then jump across. After unhitching the team that had pulled the bell all the way from Roedran, I had Stormshadow effortlessly pull the enchanted, wheeled carriage close to the gap. Eithnelle hurled a trio of eldritch bolts straight at Erecos, but they fell short!
“They are protected by a source of abjuration,” quoth Jerikas. “It is very strong!”
Girion plied his bow, skewering one of the skeletal riders. Erecos fired a flaming bolt from his crossbow – directly into the bell’s frame. Praise be to Tilsman, the flames burned out quickly, but we now knew the traitor’s plan. For the Bell’s carriage was made from the roots of Naend, the sacred tree. Should it be destroyed, and the bell touch the ground, no force on this world could again lift it. Baruk sent an eldritch red beam, which we knew was lethal to undead, and it too failed to breach Erecos’s magical protection.
“Now or never!” shouted Jerikas Ran. “For Terferos!!” The black-and white gloved priest smashed his mace into the Goathian Bell. This holy relic, given by the Caretaker of Souls to his priests centuries past to fight the evil of the necromancer Tirias Tolem, then showed its awesome power. For on contact with the spiked mace, the Bell shone as bright as the sun, and the resonance of its mighty peals seemed to linger. The radiance spread outwards quickly, and where it reached the risen dead, they evaporated. But to our surprise, the holy light formed a circle around Erecos and his bodyguard, leaving them unaffected!
The skeletal giants hurled huge spears, which narrowly missed the priest and me. The five riders released their fiery quarrels at the Bell’s frame, but it again failed to take flame. As they continued to shoot fiery quarrels into the frame, Girion smiled, and chanted a prayer to Syllisia, asking her to protect the frame from fire. I prayed for Tilsman to guard me, and spurred Stormshadow forth. As another brace of huge spears flew past me, the mighty stallion cleared the gap in the bridge, to land fiercely facing the foe. Girion joined me on his lighter steed, Firedancer. Erecos charged on his hellish steed, and thus began one of the most difficult fights of my life.
As the traitor and I fought, I quickly noticed two things. Firstly, he was both stronger, and vastly more skilled than I. Second, the evil standard of Symarul was the source of his magical shield, for within its evil power, your Aerbrand was devoid of its eldritch frost, and Solemund’s belt did not enhance my strength. Worst of all, I could not feel Tilsman’s or Morcandor’s presence! It was as if a part of me was missing. Still, I matched your sword against Bludkliege, the traitor’s greatsword, as well as I could. Sparks flew as our blades met, and my shield and armor were soon deeply scored and stained with my blood.
Behind me, I heard the Goathian Bell’s holy peals, as Jerikas continued to hammer it with fervor. The giants lagged behind their master’s protection, and vanished in the holy light. Ignoring the enemy archers, Girion joined me, and together we set upon the traitor. His skill was awesome, father. Truly a titan on the battlefield. One moment we pushed him back, and the next he unhorsed both the ranger and I!! Of course, I landed on my feet (your son could do no less…), and hastily raised my dented shield to ward off his heavy sword. As I backpedaled, seeking an opening to riposte, I saw Baruk take a running jump, but his short legs did not give him enough speed, and he splashed into the river. Praise the gods for his light armor…
Jerikas continued ringing the bell, and one of the riders now vanished, leaving only Erecos and four riders. On foot, I struck back at the traitor, wounding him with your steel… and saw that he did not bleed – he was obviously undead as well. He saw that soon, he would stand alone against us, thus resolved to destroy the bell personally, for Girion’s charm had spoiled his fiery plans. He thus rode past me, as I scored him yet again with Aerbrand, and jumped his fiendish horse over the gap. He bore down on the Goathian Bell, hacking at its frame with Bludkliege.
Two of the riders bore down on me. But with Erecos so far, Tilsman’s grace was with me once again, and Aerbrand became as cold as ice. Dodging and deflecting my skeletal foes’ attacks, I sprang onto Stormshadow’s back, unhindered by my wondrously light banded armor. I raised your sword, calling on Barlam for strength, and cut one from the saddle. Its bones were crushed to pieces by Stormshadow’s massive unshod hooves.
Only two riders remained. One was staggered by Eithnelle’s eldritch bolts, and finished by the ranger with the Blessed Sword of Tears. The last charged me, but Stormshadow reared, and smashed it to a pulp with hooves and teeth before I could bring Aerbrand to bear. We turned back to see Jerikas, now unhorsed, Segnarus, and fierce Grimfang attempting to keep Erecos from the Bell. There was no sign of Baruk, and Eithnelle was cursing in a very un-elf-like manner, as his spells were useless against the powerful traitor.
I called on Tilsman to heal my wounds, as Girion gracefully sheathed Renmemnion and knocked two arrows at once to his bow. The twin shafts sank deeply into the hell-horse’s flank. Erecos turned, and thus saw he stood alone against us. He screamed in anger: “At least YOU will die today, Falconian!” There had never been love lost between us, father, so his hatred came easily.
He again leapt over the gap, and tried to unhorse me. But he was distracted as one of Baruk’s axes bounced off his armor. “Not this time, villain!” I cried. “Your evil ends here!” He was hard pressed as Aerbrand wounded him deeply, even if again devoid of its magical cold. But the ranger, who had always had a sort of kinship with the traitor, could not give up on him – perhaps he did not realize Erecos was no longer a living man.
“Lion of Medore!” he cried. “It is not too late! You can fight this evil!” But the huge traitor merely laughed, and answered “The evil you speak of spells your doom!”
The ranger saw that his former ally was lost, and in one of his magnificent displays of archery, closed to five feet and rapidly yet gracefully launched three arrows at the traitor, two of which punched through his mail. He still fought like a lion. “I said, today you die, whelp!” he cried as again he cut me from the saddle. I barely parried his follow up attack, as I was distracted by a huge figure that flew towards us.
It was a vile cross between a large human and a huge crow, at least eight feet tall. It had strong, sinewy limbs covered with small gray feathers, a long neck topped by a crow’s head, and vast feathered wings. Erecos looked up and shouted: “Narmoon!” I seized this opening to again smash Aerbrand into him, with all the strength I had left. Simultaneously, Eithnelle shouted in both anger and joy, and invoked a fiery conflagration on the feathered fiend, leaving it singed and angry.
As I pressed the traitor back, Girion sent two more gray-goose shafts into him, whereupon Erecos let himself fall off his horse and into the river’s swift current. The creature known as Narmoon squawked: “You have not seen the last of us,” and disappeared in a cloud of brimstone.
Somehow, praise be to Iolanthes, we had again survived, and were again victorious against fearsome odds. It was a quick matter to finish Erecos’s fiendish mount, and to destroy his evil standard (which did prove to be the source of his protection from our mages’ efforts).
Jerikas then tied two strong ropes to the Bell’s carriage, and threw them to us. Girion and I, on horseback, pulled the Bell gingerly… and praise be to Terferos, the carriage actually rode on the water as if on dry land. As we crossed, more of the undead monsters converged on us, but the Terferian priest jumped his horse across the gap, and held them at bay with mighty callings to his Master. Once the Goathian Bell reached dry land, the priest again rang it, and our foes vaporized in its holy radiance. He continued to ring the bell as we approached the walls. Soon we heard a cacophony above the pure chimes: the ragged but heart-felt cheers of the tired defenders of Medore, who banged weapons against shields and shouted praises until they were hoarse. Savitas himself must have approved, for dawn arrived as we reached the city gates. Yes father. Medore was saved.
**********************************************************************
We rested in Medore for a week, to recover from our wounds, both physical and grief-induced. During that time, the grateful survivors of the Medorian garrison (many of whom we knew from our days in Erecos’s service, which now seem so long ago…) used the Bell to hunt down as many of the unliving horrors as they could find. Our new half-elven friend also displayed great generosity, as he used his magicks to enhance Solemund’s belt (with it, I can now lift up to three hundred pounds over my head, father!) and to craft a wondrous gray-green cloak for the ranger, which seems to change color to match its surroundings. We also visited the local prelate of Terferos, who assured us that our success in the quest for the Goathian Bell was more than enough atonement for our part in Segnarus’s unnatural return to life.
At the end of the week, we were summoned by the Imperial Regent, Lord Merodand. He invited us to two ceremonies. The first was a solemn affair, wherein a large pyre was built to burn the corpses of the fallen soldiers. This was followed by a celebration in our honor, wherein we were made honorary houseguards of Medore. The Regent stated we would always be welcome in the city. The celebration afterwards was a happy one. Men who are as close to death as all of us have been will rejoice in life as no others will.
****************************************************************************
The morning after the celebration, we were summoned by General Agamedis, a crafty old campaigner who had replaced Erecos, and led the defense against the undead horde. He told us that the battle at the fork of the Antarius River had ended terribly, with both sides decimated. Some of the few survivors had claimed to see Erecos take his own life at the height of the fighting, but no one believed them until the Lion of Medore himself was seen leading the monsters against his former home.
But his reasons for calling us were, of course, grim. It was tradition to bury the fallen Medorian soldiers in a vast series of catacombs outside the city. However, the men who fell in this battle had to be burned, for the undead hordes had taken over the catacombs as headquarters. The general had tried to eradicate them, but the Goathian Bell did not fit in its narrow hallways. It was with great embarrassment that Agamedis accepted our offer to help in destroying the remnants of Erecos’s horde. Of course, father, we could not do otherwise. And not only because we knew that a final reckoning with the Lion of Medore was due.
Thus on an overcast morning we reached the entrance to the catacombs. The difficult situation was worse due to the fact that Segnarus, still somewhat confused over his rebirth as a gnome, did not feel ready to join us on such a venture. We found that the gate had been sealed with large boulders, but a squad of Medorian soldiers helped us clear them. Foreboding stairs led down into the darkness. Girion and I led the way, followed by Baruk and Eithnelle (who bore torches) Jerikas brought up the rear.
The stairs ended in a large, dark room, with the stench of dust and death. I heard something move in the dark, and no sooner I said this, that Baruk reacted, invoking an eldritch formula that infused our limbs with unnatural speed. I stepped into the room, and saw a pair of hellish red eyes, which could only belong to the dreaded coffer corpses of Symarul! I struck the first with Aerbrand, as several moved to surround me and try to strangle me. Many others stepped around the melee to attack my friends. I heard Baruk and Eithnelle chanting, and smelled the stench of burning, dead flesh. “By the will of Terferos, BEGONE!” shouted Jerikas, and three of the horrors fled.
I called on Morcandor’s might, and smashed two to pieces with Aerbrand. Two others raked my dented shield and banded armor with their claws, but one was dragged down by Grimfang, whom Girion sent to my aid. I heard Baruk’s gruff voice, and a brace of eldritch bolts smashed into my other foe. Jerikas rushed to my side, destroying the one rent by Grimfang, as I finished the last foe standing. We then noticed that three remained, cowering from the Terferian priest. Girion, Grimfang, and I quickly finished them.
Jerikas healed our wounds, and then we explored the chamber. It was empty save for a doorway leading deeper into the catacombs. We proceeded cautiously. Baruk’s eyes, which were incredibly keen in the darkness, saw that the main hallway continued on as far as his eyes could see. Passages to the right and left ended in doors. We turned right, and found the door was wood, reinforced with iron, and was locked. We really could have used Segnarus’s help… But calling on Barlam, I smashed my shoulder into the door until it fell (Solemund’s belt is mighty indeed!)
This room seemed darker than the previous ones. This prompted Girion to put away his bow and draw Renmemnion. By its holy light, it seemed that our own shadows were moving along the walls… and to our surprise, what seemed to be naught but patches of gloom lunged at us! The ranger reacted with tiger-like reflexes, and slashed at one with his golden blade, causing it to recoil. I leapt to his side, driving my sword through it, destroying it.
But many of the creatures converged on us. Eithnelle chanted, sending a trio of magical globes to wound one. I ducked as one of them lunged at me, but another touched Girion through his wondrous mail shirt. The ranger paled, and seemed to weaken significantly. We fought back to back against these vile creatures. Our enchanted blades were not always effective against such intangible foes, but our friend’s spells and prayers aided us. By the time the last evil shadow fell, however, I had felt their chill touch once, and Girion had been wounded a second time.
That evil touch had drained our strength, and the ranger had received the worst of it… I could not help but be reminded of when I suffered a similar curse at the hand of an evil priestess in Tabat… she who had slain Solemund… However, this time Jerikas was able to partially offset our weakness by praying to Terferos to restore us. But this would not be enough to prepare us for the terrors that still awaited us. I hope I live long enough, father, to tell you of our grim journey deep into the catacombs of Tabat. May the Judge of Judges keep you safe.
My friend Helfdan is a little bit busy with RL so I thought that those of you who are following this story hour might enjoy another update in the saga of the Heirs of Galanan....
(this was written by Helfdan...btw....)
- Njorgard
-------------------------------------------------------------
Part 11: The Fight for Medore
Father: May the keeper’s blessings be with you, always. If by the grace of Armax you received my prior missives, you know that we had been successful in recovering the sacred Goathian Bell from the ogre warlord Koron and his Mestorien ally, Denora – at great cost. My oath before Tilsman and Terferos was thus fulfilled, but our mission was far from over, for we still had to return to Medore in time to rescue it from an impending attack by hordes of undead horrors summoned by the vile cult of Symarul.
Despite our losses and the other grim events we witnessed in fallen Roedran, our spirits were briefly lifted on our way back from the southern province. Firstly, by our discovery of mighty Stormshadow, a dapple grey destrier which Jerikas of Terferos pronounced as “celestial.” Of course, I know not whether this steed comes from the heavens, but it is certain that we were meant to meet, as he seems to know my commands before I give them, and since we met we fight together as if I had trained him since he was a foal. Secondly, though we learned from wounded soldiers that the undead had already attacked the city, they also told us the horrors were only active after dusk, and we were certain we would reach the city before then.
But as we approached, we were set upon by a flock of enormous, hellish crows. Though they were relatively weak, they were numerous, and delayed us enough that we did not reach the Bridge of Erias until dusk.
It was a grim scene that greeted us, father. An approaching thunderhead deepened the dusk shadows. The land around the city walls was scorched, and pits full of flaming pitch had been set around it. The walls bristled with archers and torchbearers, ready for yet another night of battle.
However, father, we might as well have been miles away. For the bridge was sundered, with a gap over ten feet wide. Across the bridge were five undead riders, armed with crossbows. They were flanked by two gigantic skeletons, with huge clubs. And leading them, to our despair, was a man riding a sable horse with unnatural red eyes. Its master was none other than Erecos, the Lion of Medore. His mithral armor was blood-stained, and he had a standard bearing Symarul’s beaked, three-eyed, six-armed symbol. This man, who had claimed to be loyal to Hintai above everything!! The one who had sent us to hunt a traitor! Yes, father. Against all of Morcandor’s teachings, the mightiest warrior in southern Hintai was now our foe’s champion.
We had to act quickly, as on both sides of the bridge undead creatures were clawing their way from the ground, meaning to overwhelm us. We decided to ring the bell, and then jump across. After unhitching the team that had pulled the bell all the way from Roedran, I had Stormshadow effortlessly pull the enchanted, wheeled carriage close to the gap. Eithnelle hurled a trio of eldritch bolts straight at Erecos, but they fell short!
“They are protected by a source of abjuration,” quoth Jerikas. “It is very strong!”
Girion plied his bow, skewering one of the skeletal riders. Erecos fired a flaming bolt from his crossbow – directly into the bell’s frame. Praise be to Tilsman, the flames burned out quickly, but we now knew the traitor’s plan. For the Bell’s carriage was made from the roots of Naend, the sacred tree. Should it be destroyed, and the bell touch the ground, no force on this world could again lift it. Baruk sent an eldritch red beam, which we knew was lethal to undead, and it too failed to breach Erecos’s magical protection.
“Now or never!” shouted Jerikas Ran. “For Terferos!!” The black-and white gloved priest smashed his mace into the Goathian Bell. This holy relic, given by the Caretaker of Souls to his priests centuries past to fight the evil of the necromancer Tirias Tolem, then showed its awesome power. For on contact with the spiked mace, the Bell shone as bright as the sun, and the resonance of its mighty peals seemed to linger. The radiance spread outwards quickly, and where it reached the risen dead, they evaporated. But to our surprise, the holy light formed a circle around Erecos and his bodyguard, leaving them unaffected!
The skeletal giants hurled huge spears, which narrowly missed the priest and me. The five riders released their fiery quarrels at the Bell’s frame, but it again failed to take flame. As they continued to shoot fiery quarrels into the frame, Girion smiled, and chanted a prayer to Syllisia, asking her to protect the frame from fire. I prayed for Tilsman to guard me, and spurred Stormshadow forth. As another brace of huge spears flew past me, the mighty stallion cleared the gap in the bridge, to land fiercely facing the foe. Girion joined me on his lighter steed, Firedancer. Erecos charged on his hellish steed, and thus began one of the most difficult fights of my life.
As the traitor and I fought, I quickly noticed two things. Firstly, he was both stronger, and vastly more skilled than I. Second, the evil standard of Symarul was the source of his magical shield, for within its evil power, your Aerbrand was devoid of its eldritch frost, and Solemund’s belt did not enhance my strength. Worst of all, I could not feel Tilsman’s or Morcandor’s presence! It was as if a part of me was missing. Still, I matched your sword against Bludkliege, the traitor’s greatsword, as well as I could. Sparks flew as our blades met, and my shield and armor were soon deeply scored and stained with my blood.
Behind me, I heard the Goathian Bell’s holy peals, as Jerikas continued to hammer it with fervor. The giants lagged behind their master’s protection, and vanished in the holy light. Ignoring the enemy archers, Girion joined me, and together we set upon the traitor. His skill was awesome, father. Truly a titan on the battlefield. One moment we pushed him back, and the next he unhorsed both the ranger and I!! Of course, I landed on my feet (your son could do no less…), and hastily raised my dented shield to ward off his heavy sword. As I backpedaled, seeking an opening to riposte, I saw Baruk take a running jump, but his short legs did not give him enough speed, and he splashed into the river. Praise the gods for his light armor…
Jerikas continued ringing the bell, and one of the riders now vanished, leaving only Erecos and four riders. On foot, I struck back at the traitor, wounding him with your steel… and saw that he did not bleed – he was obviously undead as well. He saw that soon, he would stand alone against us, thus resolved to destroy the bell personally, for Girion’s charm had spoiled his fiery plans. He thus rode past me, as I scored him yet again with Aerbrand, and jumped his fiendish horse over the gap. He bore down on the Goathian Bell, hacking at its frame with Bludkliege.
Two of the riders bore down on me. But with Erecos so far, Tilsman’s grace was with me once again, and Aerbrand became as cold as ice. Dodging and deflecting my skeletal foes’ attacks, I sprang onto Stormshadow’s back, unhindered by my wondrously light banded armor. I raised your sword, calling on Barlam for strength, and cut one from the saddle. Its bones were crushed to pieces by Stormshadow’s massive unshod hooves.
Only two riders remained. One was staggered by Eithnelle’s eldritch bolts, and finished by the ranger with the Blessed Sword of Tears. The last charged me, but Stormshadow reared, and smashed it to a pulp with hooves and teeth before I could bring Aerbrand to bear. We turned back to see Jerikas, now unhorsed, Segnarus, and fierce Grimfang attempting to keep Erecos from the Bell. There was no sign of Baruk, and Eithnelle was cursing in a very un-elf-like manner, as his spells were useless against the powerful traitor.
I called on Tilsman to heal my wounds, as Girion gracefully sheathed Renmemnion and knocked two arrows at once to his bow. The twin shafts sank deeply into the hell-horse’s flank. Erecos turned, and thus saw he stood alone against us. He screamed in anger: “At least YOU will die today, Falconian!” There had never been love lost between us, father, so his hatred came easily.
He again leapt over the gap, and tried to unhorse me. But he was distracted as one of Baruk’s axes bounced off his armor. “Not this time, villain!” I cried. “Your evil ends here!” He was hard pressed as Aerbrand wounded him deeply, even if again devoid of its magical cold. But the ranger, who had always had a sort of kinship with the traitor, could not give up on him – perhaps he did not realize Erecos was no longer a living man.
“Lion of Medore!” he cried. “It is not too late! You can fight this evil!” But the huge traitor merely laughed, and answered “The evil you speak of spells your doom!”
The ranger saw that his former ally was lost, and in one of his magnificent displays of archery, closed to five feet and rapidly yet gracefully launched three arrows at the traitor, two of which punched through his mail. He still fought like a lion. “I said, today you die, whelp!” he cried as again he cut me from the saddle. I barely parried his follow up attack, as I was distracted by a huge figure that flew towards us.
It was a vile cross between a large human and a huge crow, at least eight feet tall. It had strong, sinewy limbs covered with small gray feathers, a long neck topped by a crow’s head, and vast feathered wings. Erecos looked up and shouted: “Narmoon!” I seized this opening to again smash Aerbrand into him, with all the strength I had left. Simultaneously, Eithnelle shouted in both anger and joy, and invoked a fiery conflagration on the feathered fiend, leaving it singed and angry.
As I pressed the traitor back, Girion sent two more gray-goose shafts into him, whereupon Erecos let himself fall off his horse and into the river’s swift current. The creature known as Narmoon squawked: “You have not seen the last of us,” and disappeared in a cloud of brimstone.
Somehow, praise be to Iolanthes, we had again survived, and were again victorious against fearsome odds. It was a quick matter to finish Erecos’s fiendish mount, and to destroy his evil standard (which did prove to be the source of his protection from our mages’ efforts).
Jerikas then tied two strong ropes to the Bell’s carriage, and threw them to us. Girion and I, on horseback, pulled the Bell gingerly… and praise be to Terferos, the carriage actually rode on the water as if on dry land. As we crossed, more of the undead monsters converged on us, but the Terferian priest jumped his horse across the gap, and held them at bay with mighty callings to his Master. Once the Goathian Bell reached dry land, the priest again rang it, and our foes vaporized in its holy radiance. He continued to ring the bell as we approached the walls. Soon we heard a cacophony above the pure chimes: the ragged but heart-felt cheers of the tired defenders of Medore, who banged weapons against shields and shouted praises until they were hoarse. Savitas himself must have approved, for dawn arrived as we reached the city gates. Yes father. Medore was saved.
**********************************************************************
We rested in Medore for a week, to recover from our wounds, both physical and grief-induced. During that time, the grateful survivors of the Medorian garrison (many of whom we knew from our days in Erecos’s service, which now seem so long ago…) used the Bell to hunt down as many of the unliving horrors as they could find. Our new half-elven friend also displayed great generosity, as he used his magicks to enhance Solemund’s belt (with it, I can now lift up to three hundred pounds over my head, father!) and to craft a wondrous gray-green cloak for the ranger, which seems to change color to match its surroundings. We also visited the local prelate of Terferos, who assured us that our success in the quest for the Goathian Bell was more than enough atonement for our part in Segnarus’s unnatural return to life.
At the end of the week, we were summoned by the Imperial Regent, Lord Merodand. He invited us to two ceremonies. The first was a solemn affair, wherein a large pyre was built to burn the corpses of the fallen soldiers. This was followed by a celebration in our honor, wherein we were made honorary houseguards of Medore. The Regent stated we would always be welcome in the city. The celebration afterwards was a happy one. Men who are as close to death as all of us have been will rejoice in life as no others will.
****************************************************************************
The morning after the celebration, we were summoned by General Agamedis, a crafty old campaigner who had replaced Erecos, and led the defense against the undead horde. He told us that the battle at the fork of the Antarius River had ended terribly, with both sides decimated. Some of the few survivors had claimed to see Erecos take his own life at the height of the fighting, but no one believed them until the Lion of Medore himself was seen leading the monsters against his former home.
But his reasons for calling us were, of course, grim. It was tradition to bury the fallen Medorian soldiers in a vast series of catacombs outside the city. However, the men who fell in this battle had to be burned, for the undead hordes had taken over the catacombs as headquarters. The general had tried to eradicate them, but the Goathian Bell did not fit in its narrow hallways. It was with great embarrassment that Agamedis accepted our offer to help in destroying the remnants of Erecos’s horde. Of course, father, we could not do otherwise. And not only because we knew that a final reckoning with the Lion of Medore was due.
Thus on an overcast morning we reached the entrance to the catacombs. The difficult situation was worse due to the fact that Segnarus, still somewhat confused over his rebirth as a gnome, did not feel ready to join us on such a venture. We found that the gate had been sealed with large boulders, but a squad of Medorian soldiers helped us clear them. Foreboding stairs led down into the darkness. Girion and I led the way, followed by Baruk and Eithnelle (who bore torches) Jerikas brought up the rear.
The stairs ended in a large, dark room, with the stench of dust and death. I heard something move in the dark, and no sooner I said this, that Baruk reacted, invoking an eldritch formula that infused our limbs with unnatural speed. I stepped into the room, and saw a pair of hellish red eyes, which could only belong to the dreaded coffer corpses of Symarul! I struck the first with Aerbrand, as several moved to surround me and try to strangle me. Many others stepped around the melee to attack my friends. I heard Baruk and Eithnelle chanting, and smelled the stench of burning, dead flesh. “By the will of Terferos, BEGONE!” shouted Jerikas, and three of the horrors fled.
I called on Morcandor’s might, and smashed two to pieces with Aerbrand. Two others raked my dented shield and banded armor with their claws, but one was dragged down by Grimfang, whom Girion sent to my aid. I heard Baruk’s gruff voice, and a brace of eldritch bolts smashed into my other foe. Jerikas rushed to my side, destroying the one rent by Grimfang, as I finished the last foe standing. We then noticed that three remained, cowering from the Terferian priest. Girion, Grimfang, and I quickly finished them.
Jerikas healed our wounds, and then we explored the chamber. It was empty save for a doorway leading deeper into the catacombs. We proceeded cautiously. Baruk’s eyes, which were incredibly keen in the darkness, saw that the main hallway continued on as far as his eyes could see. Passages to the right and left ended in doors. We turned right, and found the door was wood, reinforced with iron, and was locked. We really could have used Segnarus’s help… But calling on Barlam, I smashed my shoulder into the door until it fell (Solemund’s belt is mighty indeed!)
This room seemed darker than the previous ones. This prompted Girion to put away his bow and draw Renmemnion. By its holy light, it seemed that our own shadows were moving along the walls… and to our surprise, what seemed to be naught but patches of gloom lunged at us! The ranger reacted with tiger-like reflexes, and slashed at one with his golden blade, causing it to recoil. I leapt to his side, driving my sword through it, destroying it.
But many of the creatures converged on us. Eithnelle chanted, sending a trio of magical globes to wound one. I ducked as one of them lunged at me, but another touched Girion through his wondrous mail shirt. The ranger paled, and seemed to weaken significantly. We fought back to back against these vile creatures. Our enchanted blades were not always effective against such intangible foes, but our friend’s spells and prayers aided us. By the time the last evil shadow fell, however, I had felt their chill touch once, and Girion had been wounded a second time.
That evil touch had drained our strength, and the ranger had received the worst of it… I could not help but be reminded of when I suffered a similar curse at the hand of an evil priestess in Tabat… she who had slain Solemund… However, this time Jerikas was able to partially offset our weakness by praying to Terferos to restore us. But this would not be enough to prepare us for the terrors that still awaited us. I hope I live long enough, father, to tell you of our grim journey deep into the catacombs of Tabat. May the Judge of Judges keep you safe.
