JollyDoc
Explorer
TRIEL AND THE SONS OF KYUSS
Gardrid surveyed his situation for a moment. Triel stood near the tub, arms crossed, with a very smug look on her face. The Alleybasher next to her chuckled stupidly.
“Well,” Gardrid said matter-of-factly, “if ye’s wanna go ahead an’ surrender now, I’m all ears. Otherwise, we can do this the hard way.”
Triel laughed coldly, “If your employers had only been patient, dwarf, they would have gotten their precious wands back…for a price. Now, you have invaded my home, unbidden. For that, you and your friends will die, and Cauldron will pay ten times my planned fee, or they will drown in their own filth.”
“I guess that answers that question,” the battlerager shrugged, and then he hefted his axe and charged.
Triel immediately pulled her flail and prepared for the dwarf’s attack, but she was a fraction of a second too late, and the great axe slipped in low, gashing her across the thigh.
Just then, the door burst open again, and Pez stood just outside it. He gestured at Triel, uttering a quick incantation, and suddenly, she found herself struck blind.
“Curse you!” she screamed in rage, “Zoth, kill the dwarf!”
The Alleybasher, dismayed at his superior’s sudden incapacity, nevertheless did not hesitate to obey. He moved in behind Gardrid, feinting and prodding at the dwarf’s defenses, and then suddenly lunged forward, catching him squarely in the shoulder.
Gardrid, however, knew that Triel was far from being out of the fight, and was still the greater threat. He circled away from the thug, putting Triel between them. Triel swung blindly about with her flail, searching for any target, and posing as much of a threat to her own henchman as she did to Gardrid. Gardrid waited for his opening, and then he chopped at the woman twice more, opening up two more large gouges in her flesh.
“Tilly, now! Move in!” Pez hissed at the rogue. His plan, fortunately, had worked. With Triel blind, their victory was assured. He now wanted Tilly to distract her from Gardrid with feints, leaving the battlerager open to go for the kill. Tilly obediently darted through the door, but no sooner had he stepped in, than the wicked spikes appeared again, and the door began rotating shut once more. Tilly tried to do as Gardrid had, and tumble forward, but the edge of the door caught him, and swung him backwards, pinning him between it and the frame. He was trapped, and now the door was stuck, preventing the others from getting in to help Gardrid.
Zoth swung at Gardrid again, stabbing the battlerager thru the calf this time. With a roar of rage, the dwarf instinctively swung around, hacking furiously at the brigand. His attacks were reckless, however, and Zoth deflected them easily, all the while drawing him away from Triel, which was the idea all along.
Triel was well aware that she was in trouble, but the thought of retreat or surrender never occurred to her. She had worked for years to bring her plans to fruition, and she wasn’t about to let some upstart do-gooders ruin them. Her trap was holding the others at bay, and even though she couldn’t see the dwarf, she could still hear him. In addition, she was favored of Bane. She knew her dark lord would not let her perish before she had completed her mission. She drew a slender wand from her belt, uttered a quick word, and immediately felt her wounds begin to mend.
Gardrid heard Triel speaking magical mumbo-jumbo behind him, and realized his mistake. Turning, he saw the wand in her hand, and noted that the hard-earned wounds he had inflicted were disappearing. Growling deep in his throat, he rushed in, short-gripping his axe, and swatted at the wand, causing it to fly from Triel’s hand, landing several feet away. But he underestimated his opponent. He had just revealed to her exactly where he was. Triel didn’t miss a beat. No sooner had the wand left her hand, than she double-gripped her flail and swung with blinding speed, striking Gardrid’s head twice with the heavy spiked end of the weapon. Gardrid staggered back, bleeding badly. Another blow from behind reminded him that Zoth was still to be deal with. Dashing the blood from his eyes, he knew he had to even the odds. He rushed at Zoth, bringing the axe up high for a powerful chop, but as the Alleybasher predictably brought his sword up to block, Gardrid reversed his attack, curving his blade around and slicing it across the man’s belly, spilling his innards across the floor.
Pez cursed his luck. He had tried several times to free Tilly, throwing his strength against the door, to no avail. It wouldn’t budge an inch. Even with Wathros’ help, he could not get it to move. Finally, running out of options, he stepped back and began smashing at the stubborn portal with his sword, flinging stone chips in every direction.
While Gardrid dealt with Zoth, Triel quickly began groping around the floor, until her hand closed around the wand once more. Uttering the command word again, she continued to heal her wounds. She assumed the dwarf would have no such remedies, and she knew he was badly hurt. Victory would be hers!
Gardrid was starting to suspect the same thing. He was bleeding freely, and his vision was blurry. He couldn’t chance another lucky hit from that flail. It was then that he heard the frantic hammering at the door, and Tilly’s shouts. His only chance was to get his friends in here to assist him. He ran for the door, leveling his axe, and began raining blows against this side, trying to assist Pez in battering it down.
Triel heard the assault as well, and she used the sounds to guide her towards the door. As she drew nearer, she heard heavy footsteps retreating, and knew that the dwarf had withdrawn. “Coward!” she shouted, laughing despite the severity of her situation. They feared her, and rightly so. Soon all of Cauldron would fear her as well, and soon after that…the world. Oh yes, she had powerful friends now. Things were much different from that day ten years ago when she had skulked from the city to lick her wounds like a dog. They would all be sorry they had underestimated her. She would bathe in their blood! At last she reached the door. Feeling her way around it, she was delighted when her hand brushed across the flailing limbs of Tilly. This was going to be fun, she thought, raising her flail.
Gardrid was torn. He knew that he was no coward, as Triel had taunted. He simply did not want to die, and thus fail his friends. All it would take would be one strike from that flail to finish him. He didn’t want to risk it, but at the same time, Triel had found Tilly, and she was beating at the halfling mercilessly. Many of her blows were off the mark, and deflected by the door, but sooner or later she was going to get lucky. He had to do something. Throwing caution to the wind, he ran for the door. As he approached, Triel turned abruptly towards him, swinging the flail all about her. He narrowly avoided its deadly arc, and with all his might began hammering the stone portal again. This time he was rewarded with a satisfying crack as the door split in two and fell away. Wathros stood on the other side, his hands crackling with electricity. “Stand aside!” he shouted, and Gardrid immediately hit the floor.
Triel turned this way and that as she heard the door give way. She knew her opponents would be on her in a moment. They would never take her alive! Suddenly, her body was jolted from head to toe. She momentarily lost control of her muscles as they jittered and jerked. Just as she was trying to recover and shake off the aftereffects, she again felt the sting of the dwarf’s blade as it sliced between her protective armor plates.
Free at last, Tilly darted into the room. Unlike Gardrid, the rogue truly did fear for his life. The door had practically impaled him, and then Triel had nearly finished the job. Still, she was blind, after all, and somewhat distracted by Gardrid and Wathros. If there was ever a golden opportunity, it was now. He crept silently around to her back, his sword held in a death grip. As she continued to twist and turn, swinging her flail at every noise, he saw his mark. Just where her breastplate ended above her waist, there was a gap, which opened wider each time she turned. He waited for just the right moment, and then rammed his blade into it, feeling it sink deeply into her flesh.
Triel grunted, but did not scream, as she felt the new attack. She raised her wand again, calling on its power to continue to mend her wounds. Again she was struck by a blast of electricity, and then a third time. Some sort of animal was now nipping at her legs, trying to trip her. The sword pierced her again. Electricity coursed through her body. Triel cried out in agony and ecstasy, for every wound she took, she immediately removed, calling on Bane’s grace again and again. She would never die!
Pez was infuriated! How could this be happening? The woman was blind, for Tyr’s sake! She should have been long dead, yet she continued to counter everything they threw at her, all the while dealing out damage they could not so readily heal. The archon stepped forward, one last, desperate ploy on him mind. He summoned his divine energy once more, and hurled pure, concussive, formless sound at Triel. It struck her like a physical blow, and she lurched backwards, the wand flying from her left hand, and the flail dropping from her right. “Now!” Pez screamed.
Gardrid dove forward on his belly to grab the silver flail. He rolled onto his back and hurled it with all his might across the room and into the large tub. At the same time, Wathros scrambled after the wand, tucking it securely into his belt. Tilly drove his sword deep into Triel’s abdomen. She doubled over, coughing up a great gout of blood. “Surrender!” Gardrid snarled, “This be yer last chance!”
“Burn in Hell!” Triel screamed in defiance, and she swung her mailed, spiked fist blindly, striking Tilly squarely in the jaw. The rogue rocked back on his heels, but then steeled himself one final time, and lunged ahead, driving his blade with both hands all the way to the hilt, it’s point exploding out Triel’s back. She sank slowly to her knees, and collapsed to her side.
Pez stepped over Sarcem’s murderer, rolling her onto her back with his boot. She was dead. He shook his head at the futility of it all, and then bent to search her body. Tucked into the back of her belt were three clear, crystal wands, each filled with a thick, blue glowing liquid. “Three?” Tilly said, his face dropping. “Where are the others? Aren’t there supposed to be eight? We went through all this for only three?”
“Artus said that Triel was not working alone,” Pez reminded him, “She had two accomplices. It is likely that they have the remaining five. We must find them. The whole place may be on alert by now. We can’t give them a chance to flee.”
_______________________________________________________
They continued deeper into the stronghold, moving through one empty room after another, each appearing to have been hastily vacated.
“They know we’re coming,” Pez commented, “They’re preparing for us.”
Tilly repeated his now standard operating procedure of creeping up to the door and putting his ear to it. He had resigned himself to the fact that he would again hear nothing, as he had at the last dozen rooms they had been through. They would, of course, search the area, but would find no one. Thus, he was surprised when he heard several soft whispers on the far side of this portal. He signaled to his friends, holding up four fingers to indicate the number of voices he heard. He pressed a stud in the jamb, causing the door to swing open, and stepped aside, making room for his more bloodthirsty cohorts.
The small room beyond was bare, but the far wall had a rough-hewn tunnel leading from it rather than a worked corridor. Four armored Alleybashers stood ready in the room’s center, swords drawn and faces grim. Their eyes, however, told a different story. They were the eyes of doomed men. They knew their probable fate, and had resigned themselves to it. The battle was short, but fierce. The brigands fought as if they defended their own hearth, and they asked for no quarter. The result was a foregone conclusion, as the now battle-hardened heroes worked like a well-oiled machine. The last foe fell beneath Gardrid’s axe and they pressed on, not looking back.
___________________________________________________
The tunnel ended in a large, natural cave. The first thing that struck the band was the stink. It was overwhelming. Sticky pools of congealed fluid lay in depressions in the floor, having drained from the rotting carcasses of several spiders, roughly the size of horses.
“What do you make of this?” Pez asked, glancing at Wathros. The druid shrugged, “They seem to have been dead a long time. I’m not sure I want to meet whatever it was that killed them.”
They began picking their way cautiously through the grisly scene, moving towards another tunnel in the south wall. Just then, Gardrid caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He whirled around, hefting his axe, and was horrified to see that one of the corpses had somehow righted itself, and was lurching towards them, several of its limbs dragging uselessly behind it, ichor leaking from numerous shattered eyes. One by one, the other spiders, six in all, began to move, shambling drunkenly forward. The four companions and Onesock had just reached the center of the cave, and now they found themselves surrounded. They immediately formed a circle, putting their backs to one another, facing the undead horrors coming for them.
There was no finesse to this fight. It was simply brutal hack and slash. The zombies were relentless, showing no effect from any blow, feeling no apparent pain, until finally one would just cease moving and collapse to the floor. Blades whirled in non-stop fury, and Onesock darted around and under the monsters, tearing at putrefied flesh while his companions bit with the metal fangs they wielded. The last zombie fell in a stinking heap, and Pez quickly looked around for more opponents.
“I don’t like this,” he said cautiously, “I fear one of Triel’s partners may be some sort of necromancer. We may face far worse than this before we find him.”
____________________________________________________
The southern tunnel led to a small, darkly beautiful chamber. It glittered and glowed, the volcanic rock having formed millions of tiny black and red crystals that caught the light from a heatless flame burning near the door, and reflecting it back a million-fold. The only thing that did not glitter was a large slab of dull, black stone in the center of the room.
“Careful,” Pez whispered unnecessarily. The four huddled close, peering around the room for any sign of hidden threats. Again, it was Gardrid who first spotted something amiss. “No,” he said softly, his voice echoing off the shining walls.
From behind the black slab, two figures rose. They began shambling forward into the light, and the others saw immediately what had dismayed the battlerager. The two beings may once have been dwarves, but they bore only a passing resemblance now. Their bodies were rotted to the point that bone showed in several places. Their eye sockets were hollow, except for the writhing, green maggots that crawled out of them and into their mouths. Their hands ended in filthy, jagged claws.
At the sight of them, each of the companions felt cold terror grip their hearts. For Pez, it was a fleeting thing, for he understood many undead could produce such an effect, the better to terrorize their victims and make an easier kill. Tilly also overcame his dread, for halflings, though small in size, could be giants when it came to pure intestinal fortitude. So it came as quite a shock then, when Gardrid’s face suddenly drained of all color, and without a word, he turned and fled back up the tunnel, Wathros and Onesock right on his heels.
Pez and Tilly watched them go, and then looked pointedly at each other. Tilly gulped loudly, and then braced himself, for the walking dead were upon them.
The archon and the halfling quickly moved at right angles, each circling one of the creatures. Pez immediately struck, his blade sinking deeply into the maggoty flesh of his opponent, but as soon as he withdrew his attack, the wound began to reseal itself. He tightened the grip on his sword, preparing to level an attack at the fiend’s neck, doubting that it could regenerate from that. However, just as he pulled back to swing, something entirely unexpected, and revolting happened. The ghoulish beast plucked one of the squirming worms from its eye, and flung it onto his face. Repulsed, he immediately brushed it to the floor and stamped his boot on it, only to have another, and then another thrown at him. He backed several steps away, for now the monster was closing on him, taking advantage of his distraction. He knew this was a ploy to get inside his defenses, so he ignored the vermin crawling across his skin and prepared to attack again. Suddenly, he heard Tilly scream. He saw that the halfling also had several of the worms on him, but one of them had just started burrowing into his skin. Just as Pez realized the danger, he felt a stinging pain in his cheek, followed by the horrendous feeling of the maggot writhing beneath his own skin. Then he too screamed. It was involuntary, wrenched from him as a searing blast of agony lanced into his head. He grabbed his skull, staggering across the room, dimly aware that the undead creature was still coming. His thoughts were becoming jumbled. He couldn’t remember what the sword in his hand was for. Soon after, he couldn’t recall what he was doing here, and then he forgot his own name. Instinct began to take over. He must get away…must run now! The little one…he had to take the little one, though he didn’t know why. He began running towards the exit, pushing Tilly in front of him, “Run!” he heard himself say, but he barely understood the guttural grunt that passed as language.
The two of them ran, fear driving them. Like animals that only know that danger is near, and must be avoided, they fled. They had no real idea what direction they were going; they simply turned down any nearby corridor, going through any open door. Finally, by sheer luck, they stumbled out of the ruins and onto the beach once more. There were creatures here. Were they enemies? The mindless being that was once Pez somehow sensed not. They didn’t smell like danger, or food. One of them was coming near, making strange noises. The noises were soothing, comforting. He would be safe now…safe. He was hungry…
Gardrid surveyed his situation for a moment. Triel stood near the tub, arms crossed, with a very smug look on her face. The Alleybasher next to her chuckled stupidly.
“Well,” Gardrid said matter-of-factly, “if ye’s wanna go ahead an’ surrender now, I’m all ears. Otherwise, we can do this the hard way.”
Triel laughed coldly, “If your employers had only been patient, dwarf, they would have gotten their precious wands back…for a price. Now, you have invaded my home, unbidden. For that, you and your friends will die, and Cauldron will pay ten times my planned fee, or they will drown in their own filth.”
“I guess that answers that question,” the battlerager shrugged, and then he hefted his axe and charged.
Triel immediately pulled her flail and prepared for the dwarf’s attack, but she was a fraction of a second too late, and the great axe slipped in low, gashing her across the thigh.
Just then, the door burst open again, and Pez stood just outside it. He gestured at Triel, uttering a quick incantation, and suddenly, she found herself struck blind.
“Curse you!” she screamed in rage, “Zoth, kill the dwarf!”
The Alleybasher, dismayed at his superior’s sudden incapacity, nevertheless did not hesitate to obey. He moved in behind Gardrid, feinting and prodding at the dwarf’s defenses, and then suddenly lunged forward, catching him squarely in the shoulder.
Gardrid, however, knew that Triel was far from being out of the fight, and was still the greater threat. He circled away from the thug, putting Triel between them. Triel swung blindly about with her flail, searching for any target, and posing as much of a threat to her own henchman as she did to Gardrid. Gardrid waited for his opening, and then he chopped at the woman twice more, opening up two more large gouges in her flesh.
“Tilly, now! Move in!” Pez hissed at the rogue. His plan, fortunately, had worked. With Triel blind, their victory was assured. He now wanted Tilly to distract her from Gardrid with feints, leaving the battlerager open to go for the kill. Tilly obediently darted through the door, but no sooner had he stepped in, than the wicked spikes appeared again, and the door began rotating shut once more. Tilly tried to do as Gardrid had, and tumble forward, but the edge of the door caught him, and swung him backwards, pinning him between it and the frame. He was trapped, and now the door was stuck, preventing the others from getting in to help Gardrid.
Zoth swung at Gardrid again, stabbing the battlerager thru the calf this time. With a roar of rage, the dwarf instinctively swung around, hacking furiously at the brigand. His attacks were reckless, however, and Zoth deflected them easily, all the while drawing him away from Triel, which was the idea all along.
Triel was well aware that she was in trouble, but the thought of retreat or surrender never occurred to her. She had worked for years to bring her plans to fruition, and she wasn’t about to let some upstart do-gooders ruin them. Her trap was holding the others at bay, and even though she couldn’t see the dwarf, she could still hear him. In addition, she was favored of Bane. She knew her dark lord would not let her perish before she had completed her mission. She drew a slender wand from her belt, uttered a quick word, and immediately felt her wounds begin to mend.
Gardrid heard Triel speaking magical mumbo-jumbo behind him, and realized his mistake. Turning, he saw the wand in her hand, and noted that the hard-earned wounds he had inflicted were disappearing. Growling deep in his throat, he rushed in, short-gripping his axe, and swatted at the wand, causing it to fly from Triel’s hand, landing several feet away. But he underestimated his opponent. He had just revealed to her exactly where he was. Triel didn’t miss a beat. No sooner had the wand left her hand, than she double-gripped her flail and swung with blinding speed, striking Gardrid’s head twice with the heavy spiked end of the weapon. Gardrid staggered back, bleeding badly. Another blow from behind reminded him that Zoth was still to be deal with. Dashing the blood from his eyes, he knew he had to even the odds. He rushed at Zoth, bringing the axe up high for a powerful chop, but as the Alleybasher predictably brought his sword up to block, Gardrid reversed his attack, curving his blade around and slicing it across the man’s belly, spilling his innards across the floor.
Pez cursed his luck. He had tried several times to free Tilly, throwing his strength against the door, to no avail. It wouldn’t budge an inch. Even with Wathros’ help, he could not get it to move. Finally, running out of options, he stepped back and began smashing at the stubborn portal with his sword, flinging stone chips in every direction.
While Gardrid dealt with Zoth, Triel quickly began groping around the floor, until her hand closed around the wand once more. Uttering the command word again, she continued to heal her wounds. She assumed the dwarf would have no such remedies, and she knew he was badly hurt. Victory would be hers!
Gardrid was starting to suspect the same thing. He was bleeding freely, and his vision was blurry. He couldn’t chance another lucky hit from that flail. It was then that he heard the frantic hammering at the door, and Tilly’s shouts. His only chance was to get his friends in here to assist him. He ran for the door, leveling his axe, and began raining blows against this side, trying to assist Pez in battering it down.
Triel heard the assault as well, and she used the sounds to guide her towards the door. As she drew nearer, she heard heavy footsteps retreating, and knew that the dwarf had withdrawn. “Coward!” she shouted, laughing despite the severity of her situation. They feared her, and rightly so. Soon all of Cauldron would fear her as well, and soon after that…the world. Oh yes, she had powerful friends now. Things were much different from that day ten years ago when she had skulked from the city to lick her wounds like a dog. They would all be sorry they had underestimated her. She would bathe in their blood! At last she reached the door. Feeling her way around it, she was delighted when her hand brushed across the flailing limbs of Tilly. This was going to be fun, she thought, raising her flail.
Gardrid was torn. He knew that he was no coward, as Triel had taunted. He simply did not want to die, and thus fail his friends. All it would take would be one strike from that flail to finish him. He didn’t want to risk it, but at the same time, Triel had found Tilly, and she was beating at the halfling mercilessly. Many of her blows were off the mark, and deflected by the door, but sooner or later she was going to get lucky. He had to do something. Throwing caution to the wind, he ran for the door. As he approached, Triel turned abruptly towards him, swinging the flail all about her. He narrowly avoided its deadly arc, and with all his might began hammering the stone portal again. This time he was rewarded with a satisfying crack as the door split in two and fell away. Wathros stood on the other side, his hands crackling with electricity. “Stand aside!” he shouted, and Gardrid immediately hit the floor.
Triel turned this way and that as she heard the door give way. She knew her opponents would be on her in a moment. They would never take her alive! Suddenly, her body was jolted from head to toe. She momentarily lost control of her muscles as they jittered and jerked. Just as she was trying to recover and shake off the aftereffects, she again felt the sting of the dwarf’s blade as it sliced between her protective armor plates.
Free at last, Tilly darted into the room. Unlike Gardrid, the rogue truly did fear for his life. The door had practically impaled him, and then Triel had nearly finished the job. Still, she was blind, after all, and somewhat distracted by Gardrid and Wathros. If there was ever a golden opportunity, it was now. He crept silently around to her back, his sword held in a death grip. As she continued to twist and turn, swinging her flail at every noise, he saw his mark. Just where her breastplate ended above her waist, there was a gap, which opened wider each time she turned. He waited for just the right moment, and then rammed his blade into it, feeling it sink deeply into her flesh.
Triel grunted, but did not scream, as she felt the new attack. She raised her wand again, calling on its power to continue to mend her wounds. Again she was struck by a blast of electricity, and then a third time. Some sort of animal was now nipping at her legs, trying to trip her. The sword pierced her again. Electricity coursed through her body. Triel cried out in agony and ecstasy, for every wound she took, she immediately removed, calling on Bane’s grace again and again. She would never die!
Pez was infuriated! How could this be happening? The woman was blind, for Tyr’s sake! She should have been long dead, yet she continued to counter everything they threw at her, all the while dealing out damage they could not so readily heal. The archon stepped forward, one last, desperate ploy on him mind. He summoned his divine energy once more, and hurled pure, concussive, formless sound at Triel. It struck her like a physical blow, and she lurched backwards, the wand flying from her left hand, and the flail dropping from her right. “Now!” Pez screamed.
Gardrid dove forward on his belly to grab the silver flail. He rolled onto his back and hurled it with all his might across the room and into the large tub. At the same time, Wathros scrambled after the wand, tucking it securely into his belt. Tilly drove his sword deep into Triel’s abdomen. She doubled over, coughing up a great gout of blood. “Surrender!” Gardrid snarled, “This be yer last chance!”
“Burn in Hell!” Triel screamed in defiance, and she swung her mailed, spiked fist blindly, striking Tilly squarely in the jaw. The rogue rocked back on his heels, but then steeled himself one final time, and lunged ahead, driving his blade with both hands all the way to the hilt, it’s point exploding out Triel’s back. She sank slowly to her knees, and collapsed to her side.
Pez stepped over Sarcem’s murderer, rolling her onto her back with his boot. She was dead. He shook his head at the futility of it all, and then bent to search her body. Tucked into the back of her belt were three clear, crystal wands, each filled with a thick, blue glowing liquid. “Three?” Tilly said, his face dropping. “Where are the others? Aren’t there supposed to be eight? We went through all this for only three?”
“Artus said that Triel was not working alone,” Pez reminded him, “She had two accomplices. It is likely that they have the remaining five. We must find them. The whole place may be on alert by now. We can’t give them a chance to flee.”
_______________________________________________________
They continued deeper into the stronghold, moving through one empty room after another, each appearing to have been hastily vacated.
“They know we’re coming,” Pez commented, “They’re preparing for us.”
Tilly repeated his now standard operating procedure of creeping up to the door and putting his ear to it. He had resigned himself to the fact that he would again hear nothing, as he had at the last dozen rooms they had been through. They would, of course, search the area, but would find no one. Thus, he was surprised when he heard several soft whispers on the far side of this portal. He signaled to his friends, holding up four fingers to indicate the number of voices he heard. He pressed a stud in the jamb, causing the door to swing open, and stepped aside, making room for his more bloodthirsty cohorts.
The small room beyond was bare, but the far wall had a rough-hewn tunnel leading from it rather than a worked corridor. Four armored Alleybashers stood ready in the room’s center, swords drawn and faces grim. Their eyes, however, told a different story. They were the eyes of doomed men. They knew their probable fate, and had resigned themselves to it. The battle was short, but fierce. The brigands fought as if they defended their own hearth, and they asked for no quarter. The result was a foregone conclusion, as the now battle-hardened heroes worked like a well-oiled machine. The last foe fell beneath Gardrid’s axe and they pressed on, not looking back.
___________________________________________________
The tunnel ended in a large, natural cave. The first thing that struck the band was the stink. It was overwhelming. Sticky pools of congealed fluid lay in depressions in the floor, having drained from the rotting carcasses of several spiders, roughly the size of horses.
“What do you make of this?” Pez asked, glancing at Wathros. The druid shrugged, “They seem to have been dead a long time. I’m not sure I want to meet whatever it was that killed them.”
They began picking their way cautiously through the grisly scene, moving towards another tunnel in the south wall. Just then, Gardrid caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He whirled around, hefting his axe, and was horrified to see that one of the corpses had somehow righted itself, and was lurching towards them, several of its limbs dragging uselessly behind it, ichor leaking from numerous shattered eyes. One by one, the other spiders, six in all, began to move, shambling drunkenly forward. The four companions and Onesock had just reached the center of the cave, and now they found themselves surrounded. They immediately formed a circle, putting their backs to one another, facing the undead horrors coming for them.
There was no finesse to this fight. It was simply brutal hack and slash. The zombies were relentless, showing no effect from any blow, feeling no apparent pain, until finally one would just cease moving and collapse to the floor. Blades whirled in non-stop fury, and Onesock darted around and under the monsters, tearing at putrefied flesh while his companions bit with the metal fangs they wielded. The last zombie fell in a stinking heap, and Pez quickly looked around for more opponents.
“I don’t like this,” he said cautiously, “I fear one of Triel’s partners may be some sort of necromancer. We may face far worse than this before we find him.”
____________________________________________________
The southern tunnel led to a small, darkly beautiful chamber. It glittered and glowed, the volcanic rock having formed millions of tiny black and red crystals that caught the light from a heatless flame burning near the door, and reflecting it back a million-fold. The only thing that did not glitter was a large slab of dull, black stone in the center of the room.
“Careful,” Pez whispered unnecessarily. The four huddled close, peering around the room for any sign of hidden threats. Again, it was Gardrid who first spotted something amiss. “No,” he said softly, his voice echoing off the shining walls.
From behind the black slab, two figures rose. They began shambling forward into the light, and the others saw immediately what had dismayed the battlerager. The two beings may once have been dwarves, but they bore only a passing resemblance now. Their bodies were rotted to the point that bone showed in several places. Their eye sockets were hollow, except for the writhing, green maggots that crawled out of them and into their mouths. Their hands ended in filthy, jagged claws.
At the sight of them, each of the companions felt cold terror grip their hearts. For Pez, it was a fleeting thing, for he understood many undead could produce such an effect, the better to terrorize their victims and make an easier kill. Tilly also overcame his dread, for halflings, though small in size, could be giants when it came to pure intestinal fortitude. So it came as quite a shock then, when Gardrid’s face suddenly drained of all color, and without a word, he turned and fled back up the tunnel, Wathros and Onesock right on his heels.
Pez and Tilly watched them go, and then looked pointedly at each other. Tilly gulped loudly, and then braced himself, for the walking dead were upon them.
The archon and the halfling quickly moved at right angles, each circling one of the creatures. Pez immediately struck, his blade sinking deeply into the maggoty flesh of his opponent, but as soon as he withdrew his attack, the wound began to reseal itself. He tightened the grip on his sword, preparing to level an attack at the fiend’s neck, doubting that it could regenerate from that. However, just as he pulled back to swing, something entirely unexpected, and revolting happened. The ghoulish beast plucked one of the squirming worms from its eye, and flung it onto his face. Repulsed, he immediately brushed it to the floor and stamped his boot on it, only to have another, and then another thrown at him. He backed several steps away, for now the monster was closing on him, taking advantage of his distraction. He knew this was a ploy to get inside his defenses, so he ignored the vermin crawling across his skin and prepared to attack again. Suddenly, he heard Tilly scream. He saw that the halfling also had several of the worms on him, but one of them had just started burrowing into his skin. Just as Pez realized the danger, he felt a stinging pain in his cheek, followed by the horrendous feeling of the maggot writhing beneath his own skin. Then he too screamed. It was involuntary, wrenched from him as a searing blast of agony lanced into his head. He grabbed his skull, staggering across the room, dimly aware that the undead creature was still coming. His thoughts were becoming jumbled. He couldn’t remember what the sword in his hand was for. Soon after, he couldn’t recall what he was doing here, and then he forgot his own name. Instinct began to take over. He must get away…must run now! The little one…he had to take the little one, though he didn’t know why. He began running towards the exit, pushing Tilly in front of him, “Run!” he heard himself say, but he barely understood the guttural grunt that passed as language.
The two of them ran, fear driving them. Like animals that only know that danger is near, and must be avoided, they fled. They had no real idea what direction they were going; they simply turned down any nearby corridor, going through any open door. Finally, by sheer luck, they stumbled out of the ruins and onto the beach once more. There were creatures here. Were they enemies? The mindless being that was once Pez somehow sensed not. They didn’t smell like danger, or food. One of them was coming near, making strange noises. The noises were soothing, comforting. He would be safe now…safe. He was hungry…
