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Tirlanolir/D'nemy's Tales of Turgos: The Heroes of Goldfire Glen (UPDATE 7/26)
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<blockquote data-quote="Canaan" data-source="post: 2820272" data-attributes="member: 40239"><p><strong>Chapter 12: The Sacking of Goldfire Glen</strong></p><p></p><p>Despite a beautifully clear sapphire sky, a bright sun and a gentle cool wind, clouds had gathered over Goldfire Glen. The usually gleaming spire that rose above the otherwise simple skyline was obscured in a thick glove of black smoke. Bloated red and orange fiery tongues peeked through the opaque undulations and from as far as a mile away, soot and ash blustered about in the light wind. </p><p></p><p>Much of the village was on fire. </p><p></p><p>As we rode past the narrow, two-story, northern tower, I spotted two armored guards hanging out the tower’s narrow window. Fresh swabs of blood painted the wall under the window’s ledge, fed by deep gashes that gaped widely from their throats. </p><p></p><p>The streets were deathly quiet. All that could be heard was the crackling fires voraciously consuming unseen buildings. </p><p></p><p>We made the first turn into the heart of the small town, near the square, close to the Feisty Fox and Menion’s Herb shop, and were forced to finally stop when we saw what the invading Orcus thralls had done to the square’s fountain. </p><p></p><p>It had been overstuffed with the dismembered corpses of dozens of the village’s innocent residents. Positioned atop the heap were the flayed remains of what I recognized immediately as Goldfire Glen’s Justicar and its Inquisitor.</p><p></p><p>Rising from the center of the fountain was a beautiful marble statue of an angel. From the opened palm of her hand that normally sprouted out a delicate stream of clear water, purpling blood sputtered down the porcelain arm, tracing through the folds of her sleeve, her billowing dress and atop of her exposed, delicate foot. </p><p></p><p>Every building was stained with some molestation. Smashed windows, bent, broken doorways, feces smeared on stoops, brown, amoebic tarnishes burned into the walls. </p><p></p><p>Lilian was the first off her horse. Carrie, Farmer Jed’s little girl had buried her face in the folds of a blanket she had pulled from Lilian’s saddle. </p><p></p><p>We all followed the Champion as she zeroed in on the Feisty Fox. </p><p></p><p>Gabriel raced up to her, grabbing her shoulder.</p><p></p><p>“Lilian!” He said in a terse whisper. </p><p></p><p>Her eyes were elsewhere. Crimson veins scratched the usually clear, ivory white pools that surrounded her brilliantly verdant eyes. </p><p></p><p>“Can’t you hear them?” She said. “They’re laughing!” </p><p></p><p>At that moment, we all heard the muffled roar of laughter coming from within the Feisty Fox. Something heavy smashed on the floor. It was followed by what sounded like a wretched plea. The laughter only intensified. </p><p></p><p>Lilian unsheathed her sword and stepped toward the front. Aesendal breezed up to her, placing his gloved hand on her shoulder. </p><p></p><p>“Wait.” He said. “I own this place. I know a secret entrance that leads to a crawlspace above the attic. We can catch them flat-footed.” </p><p></p><p>“What about Carrie?” Asked Talon, who had come to stand next to the Sorcerer. </p><p></p><p>“I will stay with her.” Said Hu Li. “I will protect her.” </p><p></p><p>Everyone looked to the tall, gaunt, pale prestidigitator. After the third silent second of our dubious stares, Hu Li stiffened his back and harrumphed. </p><p></p><p>“What do you take me for?” He said, adding in a whisper, after reaching up to cover the girl’s ears. “A pedophile?” He removed his hands from her ears. “She will be quite safe with me.” </p><p></p><p>He waved his hands about the girl, and then gingerly touched her forehead. A glimmering prismatic prestidigitation formed about an otherwise invisible suit of mage armor that enveloped her small frame. Carrie poked her face up from behind the blanket, saw the starry shimmer that surrounded her, gave a quick “eeep!” and buried her face again. </p><p></p><p>Another crash broke through the tavern, followed immediately by more laughter. </p><p></p><p>Aesendal led the way as we squeezed through a narrow gap between the Feisty Fox and the Blacksmith Everhammer's shop next door. A ladder greeted us at the end of the alley. We climbed up, as quietly as possible and followed Aesendal through a small square portal on the side of the roof. </p><p></p><p>The crawl space ended at another square opening some fifteen feet from the alley. As I scuttled in, I saw Aesendal, on all fours, halted at the adjacent aperture. I could hear him whispering to Lilian, who was the second to enter. Talon and I were next, while Gabriel watched the rear. </p><p></p><p>“I see some people, all women.” Aesendal was saying. “They’re all tied up and gagged. They appear to have been… brutalized. I see no one else.”</p><p></p><p>Footsteps were heard coming up a staircase right below us. Aesendal turned and put his finger to his lips. A door whined open and someone stepped into the room. I could hear the muffled pleas of the bound and gagged women. Lilian’s fist tightened around the hilt of her sheathed sword. I grabbed hold of my mace and readied myself for to request another blessing from Canaan. I realized in that moment that none of us had sufficiently rested or engaged in our usual rituals and meditations required to replenish our various gifts. We would be heading into a battle with an unknown number of enemies worn-out and almost depleted. </p><p></p><p>Aesendal betrayed no sign of fatigue, however, as he raised his hand, contorted his gloved fingers into complex, delicate contours, muttering quickly to himself. A moment later I saw three magic missiles fire from the sorcerer’s hand, followed by the sound of the Cultist below collapsing onto the floorboards. </p><p></p><p>Laughter erupted from the bar below. Using the sudden burst of mirth as a cover, we all leapt from the small opening as gingerly as possible. Aesendal, Gabriel and Talon had no problem keeping quiet, as their garb was loose and light, but Lilian and I, being encumbered with our heavy, clinking armor, might was well have yelled down to the Cultists that we had arrived. </p><p></p><p>When Lilian hit the floor, the laughter died down. When I landed, the laughter stopped altogether and was followed by the heavy footfalls and a half a dozen armored Cultists barreling up the stairs. </p><p></p><p>I took the moment given us to call upon Canaan to bless us in this skirmish. I had but a scant few prayers left to me, and given the destroyed condition of the women here, I knew what was left would have to be used to cure their wounds, provided they were not too far gone. </p><p></p><p>The door to the attic swung open. Gabriel and Talon leapt at the first two Cultists, each apple-faced from ingesting too many spirits, donning chain-shirts over their black and red robes and wielding wide, curving blades that were smeared with browning blood. </p><p></p><p>Canaan’s justice was with us as the monk and the brawler grabbed the villains, grappling them to the floor. </p><p></p><p>Two more Cultists jumped past the threshold, where they met Lilian, sword out and ready to enact justice. </p><p></p><p>Canaan’s Champion swung her blade down hard on the first Cultist to engage her, but he was too deft of foot for the attack and feinted, clear of her steel’s path. The second of the pair pitched his blade toward Lilian’s exposed throat, but she managed to snap her head back, and twist her frame to the right. The blade still met flesh, flaying across the back of her shoulder. She grunted down the pain, twirled to stand evenly between the two attackers and readied for her next opportunity.</p><p></p><p>I swung my mace at the head of a fifth Cultist who had ran behind his detestable allies, but all I caught was a ceiling’s support beam bolted just above the door’s threshold. Wood splinters rained down on me and the Cultist smiled, slashing his sword. It bit into my upper arm and yanked back, creating a gash that leaked blood down both sides of my arm. Filled with Canaan’s righteousness, I only felt the pressure of the wound and the wet of my blood, but I refused to feel any pain and steadied myself to return the man’s blow with one of my own. </p><p></p><p>I heard bones crack and noticed my enemy give a quick glance over to his right. Gabriel and Talon had snapped the necks of the two Cultists they had engaged. The drunken hue that masked my enemy’s face melted instantly into stark white. </p><p>To my right, Lilian sliced through one of her rivals, dropping him to the ground.</p><p></p><p>Aesendal, standing between us and the Cultists’ victims, inhaled with a curdling whistle and exhaled a thin green torrent of acid, striking Lilian’s other opponent, and sending him withering to the floor, sizzling under the ravenous assault of the Sorcerer’s acerbic breath. </p><p></p><p>The Cultist with which I was engaged, having seen his fellows fall in seconds, lost his will and turned to flee, but Gabriel had hurried up beside me and seized the opportunity. He landed a strike at the back of the man’s neck, sending him tumbling down the stairs. He rolled to a stop at bottom of stairs next to the barrel lined wall. </p><p></p><p>The Cultist never moved again.</p><p></p><p>Lilian, Talon and Gabriel moved down to the bar proper to insure there were no other villains lurking about. Aesendal and I stayed in the attic to unbind and care for the captives. </p><p></p><p>Three of the unfortunate women were beyond our help. Their frail bodies were broken under the debaucheries that had befallen them. The remaining survivors had no tears when they spoke with us. Anger was the only fuel than fostered their tale. How they were wrenched from their homes, witnessed their husbands’ murders at the compassionless hands of the Cultists, then dragged to the attic of the tavern, bound and gagged. They were summarily beaten, humiliated in unspeakable ways and violated beyond comprehension. </p><p></p><p>Aesendal recognized the most vocal among them as the Baroness Underhill. He addressed her in accordance to her station.</p><p></p><p>“My lady,” He said as he released the rope that bound her wrists behind her back. “Are there any other invaders in the village?” </p><p></p><p>She shook her head. </p><p></p><p>“I do not know for sure, but I believe most of them left.” She said. “My husband…” Her voice cracked and trailed off as the anger that bore her until this moment crippled and gave way to tears. The other ladies, now all freed, draped their arms around her. </p><p></p><p>The movement proved to break her spell of self pity. Her long, regal neck stiffened. She wiped away her tears on her torn sleeve and immediately stood. Though shorter than the other women, her presence, bold and commanding, towered over everyone else, even Aesendal. </p><p></p><p>“There will be time for tears. If he is dead, he is dead. We will mourn for them all when the time comes.” She said. “We must rebuild our home. That is our top priority. Our only priority. </p><p></p><p>“He may yet live, Baroness.” Said one of the women, a barmaid, by the look of her dress. “I overheard some of the invaders saying something about locking up all the guards and the royalty in the palace’s jail.” </p><p></p><p>“What of Tanner?” I asked. </p><p></p><p>“The Chosen One? I… do not know.” Answered the Baroness. She fell silent, seemingly at a loss for words.</p><p></p><p>I placed a hand on her shoulder, in a sincere gesture of compassion, but, knowing she was a noble and yoked with a responsibility that demanded her attention, I had an ulterior motive. </p><p></p><p>And it worked. She curtly brushed off my hand and her handsome mien reclaimed a stately facade. </p><p></p><p>“You are quite right to ask about the boy.” She continued. “Clearly he was the motivation for this incursion. If they have taken him, he must be rescued, unharmed, and returned to us.” </p><p></p><p>We rendezvoused with Lilian, Talon and Gabriel who told us that the rest of the bar was clear of enemies, but they had found one of Aesendal’s bartender’s covered in wine and beaten to death. </p><p></p><p>Aesendal nodded, balling his gloved hands into fists. His shiny, almost serpentine eyes glistened with malice. </p><p></p><p>The Baroness came up to Lilian, who bowed to her. </p><p></p><p>“Enough of that.” The noble said. “We must make haste to the palace and the chapel. If the Baron lives, he must make his presence known. It will instill hope in those who survived this atrocity.” </p><p></p><p>We met Hu Li and Carrie, remounted our horses and, with the Baroness sharing Lilian’s saddle, raced for the palace. </p><p></p><p>On our way, we took notice of what was once the Tanners’ supply shop, now owned by the mysterious, unfriendly Shuuthian. Although the front was duly barricaded with criss-crossing wooden planks, it was completely untouched. The buildings on either side were little more than razed, smoldering husks. The anomaly did not go unnoticed from any of us. </p><p></p><p>I heard Gabriel yell up to his sister. “We need to look into that!” </p><p></p><p>Lilian responded with a nod.</p><p></p><p>The town was in shambles. Virtually every building bore scars of the invasion. Menion’s Herb shop vomited a thick, black funnel of smoke from its front door. We hurried past, but I could see the others staring at the store, mouths agape, fearing the worst for both the herbalist and Jazzad, his Ranger friend.</p><p></p><p>By the time we reached the palace gate, most of the fires had died out, leaving great piles of ash and soot in their wake. </p><p></p><p>We raced under the raised portcullis into the palace’s courtyard. The once pristine, elegant garden of hedges and brilliant flowers, was blackened by ravages of fire. </p><p>Every path way was littered with the corpses of the town guard and Cultists. </p><p></p><p>The body of Captain Tiberon’s lieutenant was impaled on the horn of a stone gargoyle which grimaced over the archway that led into the main foyer of the inner palace. </p><p></p><p>As we dismounted, I gave a prayer for the dead. I asked Canaan to hasten the fallen heroes to paradise. </p><p></p><p>The Baroness led us through the interior of the palace. Every room was smeared with blood, gore and other unmentionables. The odor was all consuming and I found it difficult to keep from gagging.</p><p></p><p>Little Carrie clung to Hu Li’s robe. Her free hand covered her mouth. Her eyes darted about, taking in the horrors. I thought to myself that I wished I had the means to force this young innocent to forget these sites, for it was almost too much for me to bear. I could only imagine what nightmares would plague her for the rest of her life.</p><p></p><p>How could Canaan allow this to happen? </p><p></p><p>We soon came to the prison cells underneath the palace. The Baroness let out a sigh of relief as we came to the first cell. Her husband, the Baron Derren Underhill, was there, sharing the cell with Captain Tiberon and the rugged, burly blacksmith named Everhammer. The Baron was keeping watch over both of them, for they lay motionless at his feet, their bodies covered from head to toe in browning bruises and deep gashes. </p><p></p><p>The Baron was almost naked, having torn his regal garments into strips to cover what wounds he could on his less fortunate cellmates. </p><p></p><p>He lunged for the cell door as we approached, grabbing hold of his wife’s hand. No words were spoken. I asked the Baron if the other two were alive. He simply nodded. </p><p></p><p>Both Talon and Gabriel tried to release the bolt on the cell door, but failed. The keys were nowhere in sight. At last the Baron spoke. His voice was parched and labored, as if he had not spoken in months. He told us that after they were locked in, the Cultists left with the keys.</p><p></p><p>It was decided that Talon, Gabriel, Hu Li and Aesendal would look for the keys to the cell while Lilian and I would go to the chapel in hopes of finding Tanner safe. If the boy had been abducted, then we hoped to find some clue as to where they had taken him, and for what purpose.</p><p></p><p>Carrie would remain with the Baroness.</p><p></p><p>Lilian and I hurried upstairs to the chapel. As we feared, it had been defiled and desecrated. Feces and urine stained the delicately carved archways and angelic statues that greeted the devotees as they first entered the serene halls. </p><p></p><p>We both gasped as our eyes fell on the altar. Crucified upside down on the Canaan Cross that hung above the altar, was the gutted remains of Father Nimitz. His entire torso had been torn apart and hollowed out to the bone. His eyes remained open. His lifeless mouth was twisted in frozen agony.</p><p></p><p>Spread before the altar was an inverted pentagram, the symbol of the thralls of Orcus. It had been sculpted from the priest’s entrails. A spreading moat of oozing bile emanated from the outer circle of the demonic rune. Lilian and I stood for a long moment. Both of us were stunned into silence by the sheer inhumane cruelty and artistry of the dreadful vista. </p><p></p><p>A creaking floor board freed us from the chimera. The sound came from behind a closet door to the right of the altar. Lilian unsheathed her sword and I took hold of my mace as we gingerly moved to the door. The creaking continued as we approached. Lilian took hold of the handle and pulled it open. </p><p></p><p>We both raised our weapons to strike, but stayed our hands when we saw a young priest rocking back and forth, sitting with his knees brought up to his chest, his eyes wild and distant. </p><p></p><p>His lips were shining with saliva and his white robe was damp and stained with sweat. </p><p></p><p>“Acolyte Tim!” Uttered Lilian, resheathing her blade and kneeling down to him. </p><p></p><p>“Canaan, have mercy!” He cried. “Have mercy. Free me from my mortal coil. Take me into your arms and let me gaze upon your glory. Have mercy. Have mercy.” </p><p></p><p>“He’s in shock.” I said, knowing I was stating the obvious.</p><p></p><p>Lilian grabbed the young priest’s face with both of her hands. She forced him to look straight at her. Their eyes locked for a fleeting moment.</p><p></p><p>“Where is the boy? Where is Tanner?” She asked.</p><p></p><p>“Have mercy, Oh Canaan!” He pleaded. “Have pity. Have mercy. Forgive me my sins and lead me to life everlasting.” </p><p></p><p>“Where is Tanner?” She asked again, raising her voice.</p><p></p><p>Tim struggled, but her grip would not give.</p><p></p><p>“Forgive me!” He said. “I failed! We all failed! All hope is gone! They have him! They wore the faces of priests!”</p><p></p><p>“The Cultists?” Asked Lilian. </p><p></p><p>The acolyte nodded. Tears beaded up in his eyes and fell freely down his cheeks. He tried to pull away from Lilian’s grasp, but she only held on tighter.</p><p></p><p>“Where did they take him?” She asked.</p><p></p><p>Tim could only sob. </p><p></p><p>“Answer me! Hope is not lost. Canaan is with us. He is with you! Have faith! Have strength! Do not give in to your fear, or the Adversary will truly have this day. Speak to me, Priest! Where have they taken Tanner?” </p><p></p><p>A cry, beget deep in the acolyte’s soul, moving up in a slow, but horrific crescendo, burst out of his mouth in a pitiable admission. </p><p></p><p>“I DO NOT KNOW! I DO NOT KNOW!”</p><p></p><p>The effort proved too much and the young priest fell into unconsciousness. Lilian let him go. She stood and turned to me.</p><p></p><p>“I fear we must return to Balian’s.” She said. I was astonished by both her certainty and the incongruity of her idea. “He will want to hear of this, and, though I am loathe to admit it, I do not know who else might have the means to locate the boy. An arcanist of his caliber could scry virtually anywhere in the world. It is a task beyond any of us, and I see no other alternative.” </p><p></p><p>I nodded, knowing in my heart that she was right. Balian was our only hope.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Canaan, post: 2820272, member: 40239"] [b]Chapter 12: The Sacking of Goldfire Glen[/b] Despite a beautifully clear sapphire sky, a bright sun and a gentle cool wind, clouds had gathered over Goldfire Glen. The usually gleaming spire that rose above the otherwise simple skyline was obscured in a thick glove of black smoke. Bloated red and orange fiery tongues peeked through the opaque undulations and from as far as a mile away, soot and ash blustered about in the light wind. Much of the village was on fire. As we rode past the narrow, two-story, northern tower, I spotted two armored guards hanging out the tower’s narrow window. Fresh swabs of blood painted the wall under the window’s ledge, fed by deep gashes that gaped widely from their throats. The streets were deathly quiet. All that could be heard was the crackling fires voraciously consuming unseen buildings. We made the first turn into the heart of the small town, near the square, close to the Feisty Fox and Menion’s Herb shop, and were forced to finally stop when we saw what the invading Orcus thralls had done to the square’s fountain. It had been overstuffed with the dismembered corpses of dozens of the village’s innocent residents. Positioned atop the heap were the flayed remains of what I recognized immediately as Goldfire Glen’s Justicar and its Inquisitor. Rising from the center of the fountain was a beautiful marble statue of an angel. From the opened palm of her hand that normally sprouted out a delicate stream of clear water, purpling blood sputtered down the porcelain arm, tracing through the folds of her sleeve, her billowing dress and atop of her exposed, delicate foot. Every building was stained with some molestation. Smashed windows, bent, broken doorways, feces smeared on stoops, brown, amoebic tarnishes burned into the walls. Lilian was the first off her horse. Carrie, Farmer Jed’s little girl had buried her face in the folds of a blanket she had pulled from Lilian’s saddle. We all followed the Champion as she zeroed in on the Feisty Fox. Gabriel raced up to her, grabbing her shoulder. “Lilian!” He said in a terse whisper. Her eyes were elsewhere. Crimson veins scratched the usually clear, ivory white pools that surrounded her brilliantly verdant eyes. “Can’t you hear them?” She said. “They’re laughing!” At that moment, we all heard the muffled roar of laughter coming from within the Feisty Fox. Something heavy smashed on the floor. It was followed by what sounded like a wretched plea. The laughter only intensified. Lilian unsheathed her sword and stepped toward the front. Aesendal breezed up to her, placing his gloved hand on her shoulder. “Wait.” He said. “I own this place. I know a secret entrance that leads to a crawlspace above the attic. We can catch them flat-footed.” “What about Carrie?” Asked Talon, who had come to stand next to the Sorcerer. “I will stay with her.” Said Hu Li. “I will protect her.” Everyone looked to the tall, gaunt, pale prestidigitator. After the third silent second of our dubious stares, Hu Li stiffened his back and harrumphed. “What do you take me for?” He said, adding in a whisper, after reaching up to cover the girl’s ears. “A pedophile?” He removed his hands from her ears. “She will be quite safe with me.” He waved his hands about the girl, and then gingerly touched her forehead. A glimmering prismatic prestidigitation formed about an otherwise invisible suit of mage armor that enveloped her small frame. Carrie poked her face up from behind the blanket, saw the starry shimmer that surrounded her, gave a quick “eeep!” and buried her face again. Another crash broke through the tavern, followed immediately by more laughter. Aesendal led the way as we squeezed through a narrow gap between the Feisty Fox and the Blacksmith Everhammer's shop next door. A ladder greeted us at the end of the alley. We climbed up, as quietly as possible and followed Aesendal through a small square portal on the side of the roof. The crawl space ended at another square opening some fifteen feet from the alley. As I scuttled in, I saw Aesendal, on all fours, halted at the adjacent aperture. I could hear him whispering to Lilian, who was the second to enter. Talon and I were next, while Gabriel watched the rear. “I see some people, all women.” Aesendal was saying. “They’re all tied up and gagged. They appear to have been… brutalized. I see no one else.” Footsteps were heard coming up a staircase right below us. Aesendal turned and put his finger to his lips. A door whined open and someone stepped into the room. I could hear the muffled pleas of the bound and gagged women. Lilian’s fist tightened around the hilt of her sheathed sword. I grabbed hold of my mace and readied myself for to request another blessing from Canaan. I realized in that moment that none of us had sufficiently rested or engaged in our usual rituals and meditations required to replenish our various gifts. We would be heading into a battle with an unknown number of enemies worn-out and almost depleted. Aesendal betrayed no sign of fatigue, however, as he raised his hand, contorted his gloved fingers into complex, delicate contours, muttering quickly to himself. A moment later I saw three magic missiles fire from the sorcerer’s hand, followed by the sound of the Cultist below collapsing onto the floorboards. Laughter erupted from the bar below. Using the sudden burst of mirth as a cover, we all leapt from the small opening as gingerly as possible. Aesendal, Gabriel and Talon had no problem keeping quiet, as their garb was loose and light, but Lilian and I, being encumbered with our heavy, clinking armor, might was well have yelled down to the Cultists that we had arrived. When Lilian hit the floor, the laughter died down. When I landed, the laughter stopped altogether and was followed by the heavy footfalls and a half a dozen armored Cultists barreling up the stairs. I took the moment given us to call upon Canaan to bless us in this skirmish. I had but a scant few prayers left to me, and given the destroyed condition of the women here, I knew what was left would have to be used to cure their wounds, provided they were not too far gone. The door to the attic swung open. Gabriel and Talon leapt at the first two Cultists, each apple-faced from ingesting too many spirits, donning chain-shirts over their black and red robes and wielding wide, curving blades that were smeared with browning blood. Canaan’s justice was with us as the monk and the brawler grabbed the villains, grappling them to the floor. Two more Cultists jumped past the threshold, where they met Lilian, sword out and ready to enact justice. Canaan’s Champion swung her blade down hard on the first Cultist to engage her, but he was too deft of foot for the attack and feinted, clear of her steel’s path. The second of the pair pitched his blade toward Lilian’s exposed throat, but she managed to snap her head back, and twist her frame to the right. The blade still met flesh, flaying across the back of her shoulder. She grunted down the pain, twirled to stand evenly between the two attackers and readied for her next opportunity. I swung my mace at the head of a fifth Cultist who had ran behind his detestable allies, but all I caught was a ceiling’s support beam bolted just above the door’s threshold. Wood splinters rained down on me and the Cultist smiled, slashing his sword. It bit into my upper arm and yanked back, creating a gash that leaked blood down both sides of my arm. Filled with Canaan’s righteousness, I only felt the pressure of the wound and the wet of my blood, but I refused to feel any pain and steadied myself to return the man’s blow with one of my own. I heard bones crack and noticed my enemy give a quick glance over to his right. Gabriel and Talon had snapped the necks of the two Cultists they had engaged. The drunken hue that masked my enemy’s face melted instantly into stark white. To my right, Lilian sliced through one of her rivals, dropping him to the ground. Aesendal, standing between us and the Cultists’ victims, inhaled with a curdling whistle and exhaled a thin green torrent of acid, striking Lilian’s other opponent, and sending him withering to the floor, sizzling under the ravenous assault of the Sorcerer’s acerbic breath. The Cultist with which I was engaged, having seen his fellows fall in seconds, lost his will and turned to flee, but Gabriel had hurried up beside me and seized the opportunity. He landed a strike at the back of the man’s neck, sending him tumbling down the stairs. He rolled to a stop at bottom of stairs next to the barrel lined wall. The Cultist never moved again. Lilian, Talon and Gabriel moved down to the bar proper to insure there were no other villains lurking about. Aesendal and I stayed in the attic to unbind and care for the captives. Three of the unfortunate women were beyond our help. Their frail bodies were broken under the debaucheries that had befallen them. The remaining survivors had no tears when they spoke with us. Anger was the only fuel than fostered their tale. How they were wrenched from their homes, witnessed their husbands’ murders at the compassionless hands of the Cultists, then dragged to the attic of the tavern, bound and gagged. They were summarily beaten, humiliated in unspeakable ways and violated beyond comprehension. Aesendal recognized the most vocal among them as the Baroness Underhill. He addressed her in accordance to her station. “My lady,” He said as he released the rope that bound her wrists behind her back. “Are there any other invaders in the village?” She shook her head. “I do not know for sure, but I believe most of them left.” She said. “My husband…” Her voice cracked and trailed off as the anger that bore her until this moment crippled and gave way to tears. The other ladies, now all freed, draped their arms around her. The movement proved to break her spell of self pity. Her long, regal neck stiffened. She wiped away her tears on her torn sleeve and immediately stood. Though shorter than the other women, her presence, bold and commanding, towered over everyone else, even Aesendal. “There will be time for tears. If he is dead, he is dead. We will mourn for them all when the time comes.” She said. “We must rebuild our home. That is our top priority. Our only priority. “He may yet live, Baroness.” Said one of the women, a barmaid, by the look of her dress. “I overheard some of the invaders saying something about locking up all the guards and the royalty in the palace’s jail.” “What of Tanner?” I asked. “The Chosen One? I… do not know.” Answered the Baroness. She fell silent, seemingly at a loss for words. I placed a hand on her shoulder, in a sincere gesture of compassion, but, knowing she was a noble and yoked with a responsibility that demanded her attention, I had an ulterior motive. And it worked. She curtly brushed off my hand and her handsome mien reclaimed a stately facade. “You are quite right to ask about the boy.” She continued. “Clearly he was the motivation for this incursion. If they have taken him, he must be rescued, unharmed, and returned to us.” We rendezvoused with Lilian, Talon and Gabriel who told us that the rest of the bar was clear of enemies, but they had found one of Aesendal’s bartender’s covered in wine and beaten to death. Aesendal nodded, balling his gloved hands into fists. His shiny, almost serpentine eyes glistened with malice. The Baroness came up to Lilian, who bowed to her. “Enough of that.” The noble said. “We must make haste to the palace and the chapel. If the Baron lives, he must make his presence known. It will instill hope in those who survived this atrocity.” We met Hu Li and Carrie, remounted our horses and, with the Baroness sharing Lilian’s saddle, raced for the palace. On our way, we took notice of what was once the Tanners’ supply shop, now owned by the mysterious, unfriendly Shuuthian. Although the front was duly barricaded with criss-crossing wooden planks, it was completely untouched. The buildings on either side were little more than razed, smoldering husks. The anomaly did not go unnoticed from any of us. I heard Gabriel yell up to his sister. “We need to look into that!” Lilian responded with a nod. The town was in shambles. Virtually every building bore scars of the invasion. Menion’s Herb shop vomited a thick, black funnel of smoke from its front door. We hurried past, but I could see the others staring at the store, mouths agape, fearing the worst for both the herbalist and Jazzad, his Ranger friend. By the time we reached the palace gate, most of the fires had died out, leaving great piles of ash and soot in their wake. We raced under the raised portcullis into the palace’s courtyard. The once pristine, elegant garden of hedges and brilliant flowers, was blackened by ravages of fire. Every path way was littered with the corpses of the town guard and Cultists. The body of Captain Tiberon’s lieutenant was impaled on the horn of a stone gargoyle which grimaced over the archway that led into the main foyer of the inner palace. As we dismounted, I gave a prayer for the dead. I asked Canaan to hasten the fallen heroes to paradise. The Baroness led us through the interior of the palace. Every room was smeared with blood, gore and other unmentionables. The odor was all consuming and I found it difficult to keep from gagging. Little Carrie clung to Hu Li’s robe. Her free hand covered her mouth. Her eyes darted about, taking in the horrors. I thought to myself that I wished I had the means to force this young innocent to forget these sites, for it was almost too much for me to bear. I could only imagine what nightmares would plague her for the rest of her life. How could Canaan allow this to happen? We soon came to the prison cells underneath the palace. The Baroness let out a sigh of relief as we came to the first cell. Her husband, the Baron Derren Underhill, was there, sharing the cell with Captain Tiberon and the rugged, burly blacksmith named Everhammer. The Baron was keeping watch over both of them, for they lay motionless at his feet, their bodies covered from head to toe in browning bruises and deep gashes. The Baron was almost naked, having torn his regal garments into strips to cover what wounds he could on his less fortunate cellmates. He lunged for the cell door as we approached, grabbing hold of his wife’s hand. No words were spoken. I asked the Baron if the other two were alive. He simply nodded. Both Talon and Gabriel tried to release the bolt on the cell door, but failed. The keys were nowhere in sight. At last the Baron spoke. His voice was parched and labored, as if he had not spoken in months. He told us that after they were locked in, the Cultists left with the keys. It was decided that Talon, Gabriel, Hu Li and Aesendal would look for the keys to the cell while Lilian and I would go to the chapel in hopes of finding Tanner safe. If the boy had been abducted, then we hoped to find some clue as to where they had taken him, and for what purpose. Carrie would remain with the Baroness. Lilian and I hurried upstairs to the chapel. As we feared, it had been defiled and desecrated. Feces and urine stained the delicately carved archways and angelic statues that greeted the devotees as they first entered the serene halls. We both gasped as our eyes fell on the altar. Crucified upside down on the Canaan Cross that hung above the altar, was the gutted remains of Father Nimitz. His entire torso had been torn apart and hollowed out to the bone. His eyes remained open. His lifeless mouth was twisted in frozen agony. Spread before the altar was an inverted pentagram, the symbol of the thralls of Orcus. It had been sculpted from the priest’s entrails. A spreading moat of oozing bile emanated from the outer circle of the demonic rune. Lilian and I stood for a long moment. Both of us were stunned into silence by the sheer inhumane cruelty and artistry of the dreadful vista. A creaking floor board freed us from the chimera. The sound came from behind a closet door to the right of the altar. Lilian unsheathed her sword and I took hold of my mace as we gingerly moved to the door. The creaking continued as we approached. Lilian took hold of the handle and pulled it open. We both raised our weapons to strike, but stayed our hands when we saw a young priest rocking back and forth, sitting with his knees brought up to his chest, his eyes wild and distant. His lips were shining with saliva and his white robe was damp and stained with sweat. “Acolyte Tim!” Uttered Lilian, resheathing her blade and kneeling down to him. “Canaan, have mercy!” He cried. “Have mercy. Free me from my mortal coil. Take me into your arms and let me gaze upon your glory. Have mercy. Have mercy.” “He’s in shock.” I said, knowing I was stating the obvious. Lilian grabbed the young priest’s face with both of her hands. She forced him to look straight at her. Their eyes locked for a fleeting moment. “Where is the boy? Where is Tanner?” She asked. “Have mercy, Oh Canaan!” He pleaded. “Have pity. Have mercy. Forgive me my sins and lead me to life everlasting.” “Where is Tanner?” She asked again, raising her voice. Tim struggled, but her grip would not give. “Forgive me!” He said. “I failed! We all failed! All hope is gone! They have him! They wore the faces of priests!” “The Cultists?” Asked Lilian. The acolyte nodded. Tears beaded up in his eyes and fell freely down his cheeks. He tried to pull away from Lilian’s grasp, but she only held on tighter. “Where did they take him?” She asked. Tim could only sob. “Answer me! Hope is not lost. Canaan is with us. He is with you! Have faith! Have strength! Do not give in to your fear, or the Adversary will truly have this day. Speak to me, Priest! Where have they taken Tanner?” A cry, beget deep in the acolyte’s soul, moving up in a slow, but horrific crescendo, burst out of his mouth in a pitiable admission. “I DO NOT KNOW! I DO NOT KNOW!” The effort proved too much and the young priest fell into unconsciousness. Lilian let him go. She stood and turned to me. “I fear we must return to Balian’s.” She said. I was astonished by both her certainty and the incongruity of her idea. “He will want to hear of this, and, though I am loathe to admit it, I do not know who else might have the means to locate the boy. An arcanist of his caliber could scry virtually anywhere in the world. It is a task beyond any of us, and I see no other alternative.” I nodded, knowing in my heart that she was right. Balian was our only hope. [/QUOTE]
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Tirlanolir/D'nemy's Tales of Turgos: The Heroes of Goldfire Glen (UPDATE 7/26)
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