JollyDoc's Savage Tide-Updated 10/8!
JollyDoc
Explorer
DEATH IN FOGMIRE
“Someone’s just trying to rattle us,” Anwar said as he examined one of the crucifixes. “Don’t concern yourselves,” he continued, turning to the castaways but locking eyes with Amella, “Anyone who would have to rely on such parlor tricks is obviously trying to compensate for something. Let’s keep moving.”
The day passed without further incident, but as the sun began to set, the path ahead came to an abrupt end, looking out over the bay. Nearly sixty feet above, it continued along its southern route. A bamboo platform hung near the upper path’s edge, suspended by several vines draped over a log driven into the cliff face above. The other ends of the vines hung down the cliff face and were attached to a second log at waist height on the lower ledge. Down below, a dozen or so abandoned huts lined a wide but rocky beach.
“This has bad idea written all over it,” Anwar said, looking up at the dangling platform suspiciously.
“I agree,” Thrisp nodded. “I’ll go up and take a look.”
Weaving a quick spell, the gnome began scaling the cliff wall, spider-like, keeping to the shadows. When he reached the upper ledge, he looked about quickly, but saw nothing suspicious, so he turned his attention to the lift. At first glance, it appeared sound, but as he lowered his goggles to his eyes and examined it closely, he saw that several of the support vines had been cut almost completely through. The cuts were recent. Hastily, he made his way back down.
“Sabotaged,” he reported once he’d reached the lower path.
“Our unseen friend again, no doubt,” Anwar said in disgust. “These nuisances are weak and tiresome. Looks like we’ll have to get up by other means.”
Thrisp ascended the way he had before, while Basil cast a spell of flight upon Sepoto, and the big goliath then shuttled the rest of the group up two at a time. It was almost full dark by the time they had all reached the upper path, and so they made camp for the night.
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It was their fourth day out of Dark Mountain Pass when they saw the native kill himself. The day had been uneventful, almost pleasant, when ahead on the path they saw a man dressed in Maztican garb standing on the cliff’s edge. As they drew near, he drew a dagger from his belt, stabbed himself in the chest, and then flung himself into the bay. When they reached the spot from which he’d jumped, there was no trace of his body on the rocks below.
“Why’d he go and do that, Sepoto?” Tavey seemed on the verge of tears. “Why? Huh? Why?”
Amella was calm, but Anwar could see in her eyes that she was just as disturbed by what she’d seen as the boy was. Urol, for once, was at a loss for words.
“It’s another trick,” Anwar said reassuringly. “Don’t you see? Whoever is behind this wants us to panic, let our guard down. Here, let me show you.”
The bard drew a scroll from his pack, and read the arcane words written on it. When he had finished, another Maztican suddenly materialized out of thin air. At Anwar’s command, he danced a little jig, and then threw himself over the side of the cliff. Amella gasped, until Anwar pointed out that there was no corpse below.
“An illusion,” he explained. “A simple one at that.” He leaned towards Amella conspiratorially and whispered, “The kind most gnomes can accomplish from birth.”
The Captain glared at Urol when she heard this, but the little druid seemed oblivious, distracted as he was by a strange growth of shelf fungi on the cliff face.
Though Anwar’s display calmed their fears, Tavey and Amella continued to glance around constantly as they continued their trek, flinching at every odd sound. Thus it happened that it was they who first saw the gargoyles approaching. There were five of them, the largest of which wore a stone crown upon his brow.
“There they are!” Basil heard them shout in their guttural tongue. “Leave none of them alive!”
The gargoyles dove towards the company, completely ignoring Thrisp, who had been scouting ahead, and was concealed in a shadowy cave opening several yards away. As they closed, the beguiler stepped from hiding and hurled his magic at the leader and the two directly behind him. Instantly, their eyes clouded over in confusion and they hesitated in their descent. Unfortunately, Marius was already casting as well, and as his fireball engulfed the same three gargoyles, plus one more trailing, the confusion faded from their eyes, replaced by blind hatred.
The other members of the group began to scatter. Anwar and Basil both faded under invisibility spells, while Urol darted forward towards Thrisp, making for the shelter of the cave. Amella began running back the way they had come, dragging Tavey behind her. At that moment, the gargoyles reached the ledge. The crowned one was foremost, diving straight for Marius. As he passed Sepoto, the goliath swung at him, but his chain only left a faint scratch. It was as if he’d struck iron. The gargoyle leaped at Marius, and as it drew back its arm, both the crown and its clawed hand flashed with light. When the blow struck the war mage, it sent him hurtling back against the cliff wall, momentarily dazed. Fortunately for the gnome, the leader standing over him effectively blocked the other two maddened gargoyles clamoring to get at him.
The two remaining gargoyles decided that gnomes made easy prey. One swooped after the fleeing Urol, narrowly missing him as he ducked into the cave, while the second one charged towards Thrisp. At a spoken word from the beguiler, however, the brute came up short as a series of mirror images of Thrisp sprang into view. Enraged, the gargoyle swiped randomly at one, causing it to dissipate into shimmering fragments. Thrisp only smiled as another one popped in to take its place.
Sepoto whirled towards the gargoyle king, planted his feet firmly, and focused his mind. Drawing power from the very stone he stood upon, the goliath whirled his chain like a scythe, and when it struck, it cut through the gargoyle’s skin like butter. Then, from the cliff’s edge, Basil suddenly appeared as a ball of fire sprang from his hand, detonating behind the three gargoyles. Simultaneously, Marius shook his head clear, summoned the Weave and promptly immolated all three of his attackers. Sepoto deftly caught the crown as it fell, and placed it upon his own brow.
Thrisp strolled almost casually past his assailant, grinning as the dim wit struck in futility at his mirages. He called out to the gargoyle trying to force its way into the small cave in which Urol hid, “Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?”
He spoke another spell, and as he did so, the gargoyle’s own shadow seemed to come to life, seizing it from behind and drawing it into itself. With a shriek, the creature vanished.
“What in the…?” Urol marveled, astounded by his kinsman’s mastery of the Weave.
The last gargoyle gave up its fruitless attempts at Thrisp, and instead focused on Basil, who stood conveniently right at the edge of the cliff. As it closed, however, Sepoto moved in front of it, slamming it with his chain. The brute tumbled to the ground, and as it tried to rise, a barrage of arcane fire from Basil and Marius put it down for good. At that moment, the gargoyle Thrisp had banished suddenly reappeared, but its gray skin was almost ashen, and a look of abject terror was on its face. Scrambling to its feet, it took to the air, soaring out across the bay and vanishing in the distance.
“What exactly did you do?” Anwar asked as he watched the gargoyle flee.
“I sent it away for a short visit to a land of its worst nightmares,” the beguiler smiled.
Anwar nodded in approval. He didn’t know what had come over the gnome, but he approved. He most definitely approved.
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The next three days of the journey saw the company unmolested or hindered, save for a brief episode in which a small rockslide turned out to be comprised of skulls. More trickery, Anwar reassured his companions, but his cheerful attitude was becoming less and less infectious.
Near the end of the sixth day from Dark Mountain Pass, the group came to a crossroads. A narrow pass led through the cliffs to their right towards the interior of the island, while the cliff road continued on south. Urol marked the pass on his map, but urged the companions to maintain their present course, arguing that it would take them to Tanaroa in a more roundabout way, but ultimately safer. They heeded his advice, but after traveling only a short distance more, the road came to an end. Whether the elements had eroded it away completely, or the ancients simply never completed it was unclear, but it was obvious that they had no choice. They would have to backtrack to the pass and head deeper into the Isle of Dread.
It took them most of the following day to make their way through the rough terrain of twisting rock canyons. When the pass finally came to an end, they found themselves on the edge of a great and dark, fog-shrouded jungle. A lake glittered far off in the distance, barely visible through the gloom. They began their descent, entering the thick canopy with its strange bird calls and leaves dripping with condensation. An inordinate amount of small snakes slithered across the jungle floor, but they rapidly vanished from sight as the group approached. As the day wore on towards evening, the fog grew thicker, and the ground became wet and muddy, verging on swampland in places. Many of the animals and plants they began to see were deformed in some way, either off-color, or bloated with twitching growths. For a moment, they were reminded of the savage creatures they had encountered at Kraken Cove, but these beasts did not seem hostile.
Nightfall rapidly encroached, and Urol shouted, “Aha!” as the game trail they had been following opened into a clearing. The ground was relatively dry, but they had clearly stumbled upon the ancient ruins of a village. The crumbling, moss-covered walls were made of simple stone blocks, and they bore no designs or patterns, unlike other Maztican architecture they had seen before. An empty fire pit sat in the center of the remains, and it was there that they happened upon a truly chilling sight. A crude wooden frame stood near the fire pit in the shape of an “X.” Bound upside down to it was the corpse of a Maztican man, his legs high in the air. There was a gaping wound in the center of his chest. Slowly they approached, all save for Amella, Tavey and Urol. Anwar was immediately suspicious of more theatrics, and he was not disappointed when the corpse suddenly opened its eyes and began to speak.
“Welcome to my home, travelers,” it said in Common. “I, who was Golnura, bid you welcome. You come a long way only to stay here forever. At least you live. That is good for now. My home is your home, now and forever.”
Anwar smirked. “I suppose you have been left here by our stalker in hopes of frightening us like small children.”
“The Master of Fogmire killed me. He placed me here as both promise and warning,” Golnura answered.
“Who is this Master?” Anwar asked sarcastically. “What does he look like?”
“You will know soon enough,” the corpse replied. “I have forgotten what it is like to be alive. Can you tell me?”
“It’s perfectly lovely,” Anwar sneered. “Too bad for you that you can’t enjoy it any longer.”
“That’s ok,” Golnura smiled gruesomely. “Soon, you will know what it is like to be dead.”
Anwar sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “Enough of this. I have a message for your master.” He drew a dirk from his belt, and bent forward, etching words into the chest of the zombie. Amella’s face showed disgust, and she looked away, covering Tavey’s eyes. When the bard was finished, Thrisp and the others examined his handiwork. ‘I love your work,’ the message read.
“You will have your chance to prove that,” Golnura said flatly.
“Let’s go,” Anwar said, turning the others.
“Go?” Urol asked, alarm in his eyes. “It’s getting dark! We shouldn’t be traveling in the jungle at night.”
“We won’t go far,” Anwar reassured him. “Just away from here.”
They left the ruins behind, continuing along the game trail. It wasn’t long before the trail opened again into another clearing…only it became abundantly clear when they entered that they had been there before. They were back at the ruins. Golnura smiled at them from his crucifix.
“Welcome back travelers. Did I not tell you that my home is now your home?”
Anwar felt anger overcoming him. He had tried to be nonchalant for the sake of appearances, but he was already tired of this damned island and its never ending series of monstrous inhabitants. None of this was part of his plan. He had anticipated accompanying Lavinia to her parent’s colony, helping her to make it into a thriving trade port, and thereby reaping both the financial and political rewards that would most surely follow. ‘Lord’ Anwar had a certain ring to it. Yet here he was, stuck in the middle of this cesspool, being taunted by a smart-mouthed corpse, and being stalked by a fool who thought himself mysterious.
“Show yourself!” the bard shouted, startling his companions, who all stared at him as if he’d gone mad. “We tire of your games! If you are so mighty and nefarious, then lets us meet face-to-face!”
For a moment, there was only silence, which was broken a moment later by Basil’s sharp intake of breath. The wizard had taken the time on the voyage to research a spell that permanently imbued his eyes with the ability to detect magical auras. Three such auras had just suddenly appeared in the clearing with them, one right next to Anwar.
“I think he’s here,” Basil whispered.
Anwar barely had time to register what he was seeing, much less what was happening. From out of nowhere, the beast appeared. It looked like nothing so much as a powerfully muscled ape, with tusk-like fangs and six digits on each hand and foot, yet the cruelty that burned in its rheumy, red eyes signaled a hateful intelligence. It was on the bard in a heartbeat, springing at him from ten feet away. Teeth and claws ripped and tore, a bloody haze filling the air. It was over almost as quickly as it began. Anwar lay on the ground at the base of the crucifixion, his eyes fixed and staring, his throat ripped to shreds. His murderer stood over him, heaving with exertion, blood dripping from its mouth and nails. The sound of Golnura’s laughter was drowned out by the shrill screams of Amella.
Basil was in shock. It was a demon. A bar-igura demon. They were often used as scouts and enforcers for more powerful demons, yet they were powerful enough in their own right, as evidenced by what this one had just done to Anwar. Almost reflexively, the wizard spoke the words to a spell, vanishing from view. He prayed that he only imagined that the demon was still staring at him.
The bar-igura turned away from the wizard. The demon could still see him plainly, though the tiefling obviously thought himself hidden. No matter. His mates would deal with the mortal. Olangru preferred a challenge. His eyes fixed on the goblin. The so-called dragon shaman. Him first, then the goliath. Rushing forward on all fours, he leaped at the goblin, bearing him to the ground under his weight. The little rat raised his arms in a pitiful attempt to ward him off, but Olangru could smell his fear. He threw back his head and roared his triumph as he prepared to disembowel the goblin, but in that moment, something seized him from behind…something whose strength rivaled his own. He turned, and to his total confusion, found himself staring at his own shadow. It surged towards him, wrapping itself completely around him, and he knew only darkness.
Thrisp stood panting, both from the exertion of his hastily cast spell, and from the adrenaline pulsing through him. Whatever that thing was, it had just brutalized their party. To add insult to injury, his spell would only hold it for a few moments, and then it would be back…probably angrier.
Basil was confused. Thrisp had banished the bar-igura, yet he could still sense other magical auras in the vicinity. He needed to get to safety, so that he could survey the area and pinpoint the sources. He wove another spell, allowing him to fly, and jumped into the air. As he did so, however, a second demon appeared. Though smaller, it was no less ferocious. It ripped at him with its claws as he took to the sky. Quickly, he put distance between himself and it, but he was bleeding badly. He couldn’t seem to focus his thoughts.
Back down below, the demon howled at its escaping prey, but then quickly turned its attention to the other victims in its vicinity, namely Thrisp. Snarling, it rushed towards the gnome, but as it did, Sepoto whipped his chain out, catching the beast around the ankle. Pulling with all his strength, he tried to yank its legs from under it, but the demon proved stronger. Howling furiously, it pulled back, tugging Sepoto completely off balance, and sending him tumbling to the ground. Snorting in satisfaction, it turned back to Thrisp. To its frustration, there were now several wavering images of the gnome where only one had stood before. It pounced, ripping two of the images to shreds, and then, by sheer luck, sinking its teeth into the real beguiler.
Samson slowly pulled himself to his feet, Urol offering his hand in assistance. Amella was still wailing, and Tavey appeared torn between fleeing in terror, and running to Sepoto’s aid. Yet the little druid had stood his ground. Samson opened his mouth to speak his gratitude, but then his eyes went wide. A third demon had appeared, and it was standing right behind Urol! Wickedly fast, it engulfed the gnome’s head in one paw, and then in an instant, it vanished just as quickly as it had appeared, taking the druid with it.
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Olangru looked about at his surroundings. He was in some sort of negative-image version of the ruins he had just been standing in. There was no color, only shades of gray and black. The ruins looked, if anything, even more degraded than the real ones. None of his victims were present, nor were his mates, but he was not alone. Shades and shadows danced and cavorted just at the edge of his vision, but when he turned that way, they vanished. Whispers and echoes sounded all about him. This must be where the beguiler had sent the gargoyle, he reasoned. He had watched the gnome’s trick and been slightly impressed, but now he truly understood its magnitude. Still, he also knew that the gargoyle had eventually returned, and so would he, he assumed. Best to be prepared then. Calling upon his own innate magics, he rendered himself invisible once more, then created an exact duplicate illusion of himself. He then settled down to wait, but as he did so the shades continued to taunt and tease him. Despite his knowledge that they could do him no harm, he felt himself becoming unnerved nonetheless.
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Sepoto leaped to his feet and ran at the remaining demon as it continued to dismantle Thrisp’s illusions. As he closed, he saw the beguiler spread his fingers in a fan-shape, and a spray of color washed over the bar-igura. It rubbed at its eyes in confusion for a moment, then just stood there, staring blankly into space, a thin ribbon of drool dripping from its slack jaw. Sepoto didn’t waste the opportunity. Summoning all his marshal prowess, he braced himself, and then wove a quick incantation around his chain, causing the individual spikes to seem to lengthen and become even more hooked. Then he struck. The chain wrapped around the demon twice before he ripped it free, peeling a large part of its hide away at the same time. A moment later Marius and Basil were both casting, bombarding the bar-igura with arcane missiles and scorching rays of flame. The creature never made a sound. It simply toppled to its side, twitched once, and was still.
“We don’t have much time!” Thrisp shouted. “The big one will be back any moment. We have to get ready. Amella!” He stood in front of the sea captain, who still held Anwar’s broken form in her lap, sobbing uncontrollably. “Get hold of yourself! You have to take Tavey and get clear. Now! You can’t do anything for him, but if you don’t do as I say, you will surely join him.”
Amella looked at him uncomprehending for a moment, but then the familiar spark returned to her eyes, and she nodded, her lips compressed into a thin, pale line. Standing, she took Tavey’s hand and hauled the terrified boy behind the cover of a nearby wall. Meanwhile, both Thrisp and Basil took a moment to cast spells upon themselves that would allow them to see the unseen. Finally, Thrisp conjured another rippling field of vertigo around the area where he knew the bar-igura would return. The others closed in…and waited.
It happened in the space between heartbeats. One moment there was nothing, and the next the bar-igura was there, pale and retching. Samson immediately breathed his acidic breath upon the demon, the virulent spray clinging to it like a second skin, yet causing no apparent harm to it. Simultaneously, Marius unleashed another pair of fiery beams…only to watch them pass right through the creature. It was then that he realized they’d been tricked. It was an illusion.
“It’s not real!” he shouted to the others. “Don’t believe what your eyes tell you!”
Basil could see that Marius was telling the truth, for he saw both the invisible form of the bar-igura, and the image as well. Thrisp saw the same, and when Sepoto peered more closely at the demon, he found that it was faintly transparent. It was then that Thrisp wove another spell, filling the air around the fiend with glittering motes. These settled upon the true form of Olangru, outlining his body for all to see. At that moment, the bar-igura began rising into the air.
“It’s trying to flee!” Thrisp shouted. “Stop it!”
Basil tried, engulfing the demon in a ball of flames, only to see it emerge almost completely unscathed. Sepoto tried as well, hammering at it with his chain. He could see that he had wounded it, but not nearly enough. Olangru continued to rise until he was clear of the vertigo field, and then he disappeared.
Sepoto looked around at the devastation wrought by the brief but violent conflict. He could scarcely believe that Anwar was really dead. Though he never really cared for the bard, he had earned a grudging respect from the crusader for his silver tongue, if nothing else. The others were just as stunned. Not only was Anwar gone, but Urol was missing as well, taken who-knew-where. Amella came out of hiding and walked stoically back to Anwar’s side. As she knelt beside him again, Golnura chuckled.
“Don’t worry, pretty one. You’ll be with him soon.”
Sepoto struck a torch alight and calmly went to the zombie and set him on fire.
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They built a pyre for Anwar in the fire pit, and Sepoto spoke one of Savras’ blessings over his remains. Amella then lit the pyre, and they stood in silence as it burned, each lost in their own thoughts. They had no choice but to camp in the ruins, hoping that the dawn would bring new perspective.
Basil slept poorly that night, his dreams tormented by terrible visions of demon-haunted jungles and ocean. When he awoke the next morning, he was momentarily filled with the urge to seek out a hidden shrine to a demon prince that he seemed to know was somewhere nearby. He wanted to offer himself up as a sacrifice. The urge passed quickly, but the direction in which he knew the shrine to lay tugged at him nevertheless.
“I think I know where Urol is,” he told his companions once he’d composed his thoughts.
Having no other viable options, the small band set off into the jungle-swamp once more, this time allowing Basil to take the lead. After a few hours of grueling heat and biting insects, the jungle and the oppressive fog thinned before a low hill. Above, a large spire of black rock loomed, while at the hill’s base, the image of two gigantic fanged baboon heads carved into the rock leered out at the wilderness. Their gaping maws revealed two caves that lead into darkness.
“This looks like the place,” Thrisp said dryly, but no one found any humor in his statement of the obvious.
“I won’t go in there,” Amella said, her face going pale, “and I won’t let ye take the boy either.”
Basil turned on her, a look of malice on his young features. “Listen closely! Anwar’s not here to protect you any more, so you’d better just get used to…”
“Enough!” Thrisp snapped, his tone commanding the tiefling’s attention. “She and Tavey can remain here. They’d be more of a liability to us anyway. Cast your rope trick so that they won’t have to worry about predators. If we’re not back by the time the spell expires,” he continued, turning to Amella, “I’m afraid you’re on your own. If there is truly no escape from this place, you might want to consider your options carefully.”
Amella nodded, understanding the implication clearly. She glared at Basil, and spat on the ground at his feet.
Once Tavey and Amella were secure, the five Legionnaires looked at the twin caves, trying to decide which path to take.
“You know the old saying,” Samson shrugged, “Evil always lies to the left.”
Left they chose, finding themselves in a natural passage, the walls carved with a band of leering, demonic monkey faces at waist height. The cave smelled strongly of wet fur and sulphur, and the air was heavy and damp. Thrisp went first, scouting as always. He was followed by Samson and Sepoto, with Basil and Marius bringing up the rear. They had traveled barely twenty feet down the passage, when suddenly the entire ceiling overhead gave way. Tons of rock and debris came crashing down, filling the air with choking, blinding dust. When Basil finally cleared his eyes enough to see again, none of his companions were in sight. He was standing up to his waist in debris, and the entire corridor ahead was completely blocked.
“Sepoto!” he called. “Thrisp! Marius! Samson!” For a moment there was silence, but then, faintly, as if from a great distance, he heard a muted call from beneath the rubble. At least someone was still alive underneath.
Basil began digging. Lacking any useful tools, he simply grabbed rocks with his bare hands and heaved them out of the way. Minutes passed. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the frail wizard uncovered a hand…a goliath hand. Grabbing hold, he heaved, and beneath the rockslide Sepoto heaved as well. With a gasp of breath, the crusader burst free, battered and bruised, but alive. Quickly, he joined Basil, his great strength cutting the work in half. In short order they unearthed the rest of their companions, each beaten, but overall hale.
“You see?” Samson said between coughing fits. “Evil always lies to the left.”
They exited the cave, and started down the right-hand passage, Thrisp scouting carefully this time. After a short distance the passageway forked right and left. A faint dripping sound could be heard in the distance. Peering down both branches, Thrisp could see the hall to the left was blocked, but a second passage branched from it just before the avalanche. The right hand path was a dead-end. Just as he motioned the others forward, he noticed something on the wall to his left. It was a handprint. A bloody, gnome-sized handprint.
The side-passage led them around the cave-in, and within it, they found piled in a corner the crumbled and torn remains of Urol’s tunic, boots and gear. They were headed in the right direction at least. The natural cavern soon gave way to worked stone beyond the off-branch, opening into a short hallway that ended in a pair of tarnished bronze doors. The portals were engraved with scenes of all manner of demonic reptiles and simians tormenting human slaves, and the handles were made from the barbed tongues of fiends. A pair of stone statues flanked the doors in niches carved into the walls. Each depicted leering monkey demons, their tongues dripping an oily red liquid that evaporated before it hit the floor below. Tiny inscriptions were written beneath each statue, written in the language of the Abyss. Thrisp translated: “Give of your left,” the left inscription read. “Give of your right,” said the right one.
Sepoto looked at the barbed handles. “Here goes nothing,” he said, and he grasped each one, feeling the barbs bite into his flesh as he twisted and pulled the doors open.
“Someone’s just trying to rattle us,” Anwar said as he examined one of the crucifixes. “Don’t concern yourselves,” he continued, turning to the castaways but locking eyes with Amella, “Anyone who would have to rely on such parlor tricks is obviously trying to compensate for something. Let’s keep moving.”
The day passed without further incident, but as the sun began to set, the path ahead came to an abrupt end, looking out over the bay. Nearly sixty feet above, it continued along its southern route. A bamboo platform hung near the upper path’s edge, suspended by several vines draped over a log driven into the cliff face above. The other ends of the vines hung down the cliff face and were attached to a second log at waist height on the lower ledge. Down below, a dozen or so abandoned huts lined a wide but rocky beach.
“This has bad idea written all over it,” Anwar said, looking up at the dangling platform suspiciously.
“I agree,” Thrisp nodded. “I’ll go up and take a look.”
Weaving a quick spell, the gnome began scaling the cliff wall, spider-like, keeping to the shadows. When he reached the upper ledge, he looked about quickly, but saw nothing suspicious, so he turned his attention to the lift. At first glance, it appeared sound, but as he lowered his goggles to his eyes and examined it closely, he saw that several of the support vines had been cut almost completely through. The cuts were recent. Hastily, he made his way back down.
“Sabotaged,” he reported once he’d reached the lower path.
“Our unseen friend again, no doubt,” Anwar said in disgust. “These nuisances are weak and tiresome. Looks like we’ll have to get up by other means.”
Thrisp ascended the way he had before, while Basil cast a spell of flight upon Sepoto, and the big goliath then shuttled the rest of the group up two at a time. It was almost full dark by the time they had all reached the upper path, and so they made camp for the night.
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It was their fourth day out of Dark Mountain Pass when they saw the native kill himself. The day had been uneventful, almost pleasant, when ahead on the path they saw a man dressed in Maztican garb standing on the cliff’s edge. As they drew near, he drew a dagger from his belt, stabbed himself in the chest, and then flung himself into the bay. When they reached the spot from which he’d jumped, there was no trace of his body on the rocks below.
“Why’d he go and do that, Sepoto?” Tavey seemed on the verge of tears. “Why? Huh? Why?”
Amella was calm, but Anwar could see in her eyes that she was just as disturbed by what she’d seen as the boy was. Urol, for once, was at a loss for words.
“It’s another trick,” Anwar said reassuringly. “Don’t you see? Whoever is behind this wants us to panic, let our guard down. Here, let me show you.”
The bard drew a scroll from his pack, and read the arcane words written on it. When he had finished, another Maztican suddenly materialized out of thin air. At Anwar’s command, he danced a little jig, and then threw himself over the side of the cliff. Amella gasped, until Anwar pointed out that there was no corpse below.
“An illusion,” he explained. “A simple one at that.” He leaned towards Amella conspiratorially and whispered, “The kind most gnomes can accomplish from birth.”
The Captain glared at Urol when she heard this, but the little druid seemed oblivious, distracted as he was by a strange growth of shelf fungi on the cliff face.
Though Anwar’s display calmed their fears, Tavey and Amella continued to glance around constantly as they continued their trek, flinching at every odd sound. Thus it happened that it was they who first saw the gargoyles approaching. There were five of them, the largest of which wore a stone crown upon his brow.
“There they are!” Basil heard them shout in their guttural tongue. “Leave none of them alive!”
The gargoyles dove towards the company, completely ignoring Thrisp, who had been scouting ahead, and was concealed in a shadowy cave opening several yards away. As they closed, the beguiler stepped from hiding and hurled his magic at the leader and the two directly behind him. Instantly, their eyes clouded over in confusion and they hesitated in their descent. Unfortunately, Marius was already casting as well, and as his fireball engulfed the same three gargoyles, plus one more trailing, the confusion faded from their eyes, replaced by blind hatred.
The other members of the group began to scatter. Anwar and Basil both faded under invisibility spells, while Urol darted forward towards Thrisp, making for the shelter of the cave. Amella began running back the way they had come, dragging Tavey behind her. At that moment, the gargoyles reached the ledge. The crowned one was foremost, diving straight for Marius. As he passed Sepoto, the goliath swung at him, but his chain only left a faint scratch. It was as if he’d struck iron. The gargoyle leaped at Marius, and as it drew back its arm, both the crown and its clawed hand flashed with light. When the blow struck the war mage, it sent him hurtling back against the cliff wall, momentarily dazed. Fortunately for the gnome, the leader standing over him effectively blocked the other two maddened gargoyles clamoring to get at him.
The two remaining gargoyles decided that gnomes made easy prey. One swooped after the fleeing Urol, narrowly missing him as he ducked into the cave, while the second one charged towards Thrisp. At a spoken word from the beguiler, however, the brute came up short as a series of mirror images of Thrisp sprang into view. Enraged, the gargoyle swiped randomly at one, causing it to dissipate into shimmering fragments. Thrisp only smiled as another one popped in to take its place.
Sepoto whirled towards the gargoyle king, planted his feet firmly, and focused his mind. Drawing power from the very stone he stood upon, the goliath whirled his chain like a scythe, and when it struck, it cut through the gargoyle’s skin like butter. Then, from the cliff’s edge, Basil suddenly appeared as a ball of fire sprang from his hand, detonating behind the three gargoyles. Simultaneously, Marius shook his head clear, summoned the Weave and promptly immolated all three of his attackers. Sepoto deftly caught the crown as it fell, and placed it upon his own brow.
Thrisp strolled almost casually past his assailant, grinning as the dim wit struck in futility at his mirages. He called out to the gargoyle trying to force its way into the small cave in which Urol hid, “Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?”
He spoke another spell, and as he did so, the gargoyle’s own shadow seemed to come to life, seizing it from behind and drawing it into itself. With a shriek, the creature vanished.
“What in the…?” Urol marveled, astounded by his kinsman’s mastery of the Weave.
The last gargoyle gave up its fruitless attempts at Thrisp, and instead focused on Basil, who stood conveniently right at the edge of the cliff. As it closed, however, Sepoto moved in front of it, slamming it with his chain. The brute tumbled to the ground, and as it tried to rise, a barrage of arcane fire from Basil and Marius put it down for good. At that moment, the gargoyle Thrisp had banished suddenly reappeared, but its gray skin was almost ashen, and a look of abject terror was on its face. Scrambling to its feet, it took to the air, soaring out across the bay and vanishing in the distance.
“What exactly did you do?” Anwar asked as he watched the gargoyle flee.
“I sent it away for a short visit to a land of its worst nightmares,” the beguiler smiled.
Anwar nodded in approval. He didn’t know what had come over the gnome, but he approved. He most definitely approved.
_______________________________________________________
The next three days of the journey saw the company unmolested or hindered, save for a brief episode in which a small rockslide turned out to be comprised of skulls. More trickery, Anwar reassured his companions, but his cheerful attitude was becoming less and less infectious.
Near the end of the sixth day from Dark Mountain Pass, the group came to a crossroads. A narrow pass led through the cliffs to their right towards the interior of the island, while the cliff road continued on south. Urol marked the pass on his map, but urged the companions to maintain their present course, arguing that it would take them to Tanaroa in a more roundabout way, but ultimately safer. They heeded his advice, but after traveling only a short distance more, the road came to an end. Whether the elements had eroded it away completely, or the ancients simply never completed it was unclear, but it was obvious that they had no choice. They would have to backtrack to the pass and head deeper into the Isle of Dread.
It took them most of the following day to make their way through the rough terrain of twisting rock canyons. When the pass finally came to an end, they found themselves on the edge of a great and dark, fog-shrouded jungle. A lake glittered far off in the distance, barely visible through the gloom. They began their descent, entering the thick canopy with its strange bird calls and leaves dripping with condensation. An inordinate amount of small snakes slithered across the jungle floor, but they rapidly vanished from sight as the group approached. As the day wore on towards evening, the fog grew thicker, and the ground became wet and muddy, verging on swampland in places. Many of the animals and plants they began to see were deformed in some way, either off-color, or bloated with twitching growths. For a moment, they were reminded of the savage creatures they had encountered at Kraken Cove, but these beasts did not seem hostile.
Nightfall rapidly encroached, and Urol shouted, “Aha!” as the game trail they had been following opened into a clearing. The ground was relatively dry, but they had clearly stumbled upon the ancient ruins of a village. The crumbling, moss-covered walls were made of simple stone blocks, and they bore no designs or patterns, unlike other Maztican architecture they had seen before. An empty fire pit sat in the center of the remains, and it was there that they happened upon a truly chilling sight. A crude wooden frame stood near the fire pit in the shape of an “X.” Bound upside down to it was the corpse of a Maztican man, his legs high in the air. There was a gaping wound in the center of his chest. Slowly they approached, all save for Amella, Tavey and Urol. Anwar was immediately suspicious of more theatrics, and he was not disappointed when the corpse suddenly opened its eyes and began to speak.
“Welcome to my home, travelers,” it said in Common. “I, who was Golnura, bid you welcome. You come a long way only to stay here forever. At least you live. That is good for now. My home is your home, now and forever.”
Anwar smirked. “I suppose you have been left here by our stalker in hopes of frightening us like small children.”
“The Master of Fogmire killed me. He placed me here as both promise and warning,” Golnura answered.
“Who is this Master?” Anwar asked sarcastically. “What does he look like?”
“You will know soon enough,” the corpse replied. “I have forgotten what it is like to be alive. Can you tell me?”
“It’s perfectly lovely,” Anwar sneered. “Too bad for you that you can’t enjoy it any longer.”
“That’s ok,” Golnura smiled gruesomely. “Soon, you will know what it is like to be dead.”
Anwar sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “Enough of this. I have a message for your master.” He drew a dirk from his belt, and bent forward, etching words into the chest of the zombie. Amella’s face showed disgust, and she looked away, covering Tavey’s eyes. When the bard was finished, Thrisp and the others examined his handiwork. ‘I love your work,’ the message read.
“You will have your chance to prove that,” Golnura said flatly.
“Let’s go,” Anwar said, turning the others.
“Go?” Urol asked, alarm in his eyes. “It’s getting dark! We shouldn’t be traveling in the jungle at night.”
“We won’t go far,” Anwar reassured him. “Just away from here.”
They left the ruins behind, continuing along the game trail. It wasn’t long before the trail opened again into another clearing…only it became abundantly clear when they entered that they had been there before. They were back at the ruins. Golnura smiled at them from his crucifix.
“Welcome back travelers. Did I not tell you that my home is now your home?”
Anwar felt anger overcoming him. He had tried to be nonchalant for the sake of appearances, but he was already tired of this damned island and its never ending series of monstrous inhabitants. None of this was part of his plan. He had anticipated accompanying Lavinia to her parent’s colony, helping her to make it into a thriving trade port, and thereby reaping both the financial and political rewards that would most surely follow. ‘Lord’ Anwar had a certain ring to it. Yet here he was, stuck in the middle of this cesspool, being taunted by a smart-mouthed corpse, and being stalked by a fool who thought himself mysterious.
“Show yourself!” the bard shouted, startling his companions, who all stared at him as if he’d gone mad. “We tire of your games! If you are so mighty and nefarious, then lets us meet face-to-face!”
For a moment, there was only silence, which was broken a moment later by Basil’s sharp intake of breath. The wizard had taken the time on the voyage to research a spell that permanently imbued his eyes with the ability to detect magical auras. Three such auras had just suddenly appeared in the clearing with them, one right next to Anwar.
“I think he’s here,” Basil whispered.
Anwar barely had time to register what he was seeing, much less what was happening. From out of nowhere, the beast appeared. It looked like nothing so much as a powerfully muscled ape, with tusk-like fangs and six digits on each hand and foot, yet the cruelty that burned in its rheumy, red eyes signaled a hateful intelligence. It was on the bard in a heartbeat, springing at him from ten feet away. Teeth and claws ripped and tore, a bloody haze filling the air. It was over almost as quickly as it began. Anwar lay on the ground at the base of the crucifixion, his eyes fixed and staring, his throat ripped to shreds. His murderer stood over him, heaving with exertion, blood dripping from its mouth and nails. The sound of Golnura’s laughter was drowned out by the shrill screams of Amella.
Basil was in shock. It was a demon. A bar-igura demon. They were often used as scouts and enforcers for more powerful demons, yet they were powerful enough in their own right, as evidenced by what this one had just done to Anwar. Almost reflexively, the wizard spoke the words to a spell, vanishing from view. He prayed that he only imagined that the demon was still staring at him.
The bar-igura turned away from the wizard. The demon could still see him plainly, though the tiefling obviously thought himself hidden. No matter. His mates would deal with the mortal. Olangru preferred a challenge. His eyes fixed on the goblin. The so-called dragon shaman. Him first, then the goliath. Rushing forward on all fours, he leaped at the goblin, bearing him to the ground under his weight. The little rat raised his arms in a pitiful attempt to ward him off, but Olangru could smell his fear. He threw back his head and roared his triumph as he prepared to disembowel the goblin, but in that moment, something seized him from behind…something whose strength rivaled his own. He turned, and to his total confusion, found himself staring at his own shadow. It surged towards him, wrapping itself completely around him, and he knew only darkness.
Thrisp stood panting, both from the exertion of his hastily cast spell, and from the adrenaline pulsing through him. Whatever that thing was, it had just brutalized their party. To add insult to injury, his spell would only hold it for a few moments, and then it would be back…probably angrier.
Basil was confused. Thrisp had banished the bar-igura, yet he could still sense other magical auras in the vicinity. He needed to get to safety, so that he could survey the area and pinpoint the sources. He wove another spell, allowing him to fly, and jumped into the air. As he did so, however, a second demon appeared. Though smaller, it was no less ferocious. It ripped at him with its claws as he took to the sky. Quickly, he put distance between himself and it, but he was bleeding badly. He couldn’t seem to focus his thoughts.
Back down below, the demon howled at its escaping prey, but then quickly turned its attention to the other victims in its vicinity, namely Thrisp. Snarling, it rushed towards the gnome, but as it did, Sepoto whipped his chain out, catching the beast around the ankle. Pulling with all his strength, he tried to yank its legs from under it, but the demon proved stronger. Howling furiously, it pulled back, tugging Sepoto completely off balance, and sending him tumbling to the ground. Snorting in satisfaction, it turned back to Thrisp. To its frustration, there were now several wavering images of the gnome where only one had stood before. It pounced, ripping two of the images to shreds, and then, by sheer luck, sinking its teeth into the real beguiler.
Samson slowly pulled himself to his feet, Urol offering his hand in assistance. Amella was still wailing, and Tavey appeared torn between fleeing in terror, and running to Sepoto’s aid. Yet the little druid had stood his ground. Samson opened his mouth to speak his gratitude, but then his eyes went wide. A third demon had appeared, and it was standing right behind Urol! Wickedly fast, it engulfed the gnome’s head in one paw, and then in an instant, it vanished just as quickly as it had appeared, taking the druid with it.
____________________________________________________________
Olangru looked about at his surroundings. He was in some sort of negative-image version of the ruins he had just been standing in. There was no color, only shades of gray and black. The ruins looked, if anything, even more degraded than the real ones. None of his victims were present, nor were his mates, but he was not alone. Shades and shadows danced and cavorted just at the edge of his vision, but when he turned that way, they vanished. Whispers and echoes sounded all about him. This must be where the beguiler had sent the gargoyle, he reasoned. He had watched the gnome’s trick and been slightly impressed, but now he truly understood its magnitude. Still, he also knew that the gargoyle had eventually returned, and so would he, he assumed. Best to be prepared then. Calling upon his own innate magics, he rendered himself invisible once more, then created an exact duplicate illusion of himself. He then settled down to wait, but as he did so the shades continued to taunt and tease him. Despite his knowledge that they could do him no harm, he felt himself becoming unnerved nonetheless.
__________________________________________________________
Sepoto leaped to his feet and ran at the remaining demon as it continued to dismantle Thrisp’s illusions. As he closed, he saw the beguiler spread his fingers in a fan-shape, and a spray of color washed over the bar-igura. It rubbed at its eyes in confusion for a moment, then just stood there, staring blankly into space, a thin ribbon of drool dripping from its slack jaw. Sepoto didn’t waste the opportunity. Summoning all his marshal prowess, he braced himself, and then wove a quick incantation around his chain, causing the individual spikes to seem to lengthen and become even more hooked. Then he struck. The chain wrapped around the demon twice before he ripped it free, peeling a large part of its hide away at the same time. A moment later Marius and Basil were both casting, bombarding the bar-igura with arcane missiles and scorching rays of flame. The creature never made a sound. It simply toppled to its side, twitched once, and was still.
“We don’t have much time!” Thrisp shouted. “The big one will be back any moment. We have to get ready. Amella!” He stood in front of the sea captain, who still held Anwar’s broken form in her lap, sobbing uncontrollably. “Get hold of yourself! You have to take Tavey and get clear. Now! You can’t do anything for him, but if you don’t do as I say, you will surely join him.”
Amella looked at him uncomprehending for a moment, but then the familiar spark returned to her eyes, and she nodded, her lips compressed into a thin, pale line. Standing, she took Tavey’s hand and hauled the terrified boy behind the cover of a nearby wall. Meanwhile, both Thrisp and Basil took a moment to cast spells upon themselves that would allow them to see the unseen. Finally, Thrisp conjured another rippling field of vertigo around the area where he knew the bar-igura would return. The others closed in…and waited.
It happened in the space between heartbeats. One moment there was nothing, and the next the bar-igura was there, pale and retching. Samson immediately breathed his acidic breath upon the demon, the virulent spray clinging to it like a second skin, yet causing no apparent harm to it. Simultaneously, Marius unleashed another pair of fiery beams…only to watch them pass right through the creature. It was then that he realized they’d been tricked. It was an illusion.
“It’s not real!” he shouted to the others. “Don’t believe what your eyes tell you!”
Basil could see that Marius was telling the truth, for he saw both the invisible form of the bar-igura, and the image as well. Thrisp saw the same, and when Sepoto peered more closely at the demon, he found that it was faintly transparent. It was then that Thrisp wove another spell, filling the air around the fiend with glittering motes. These settled upon the true form of Olangru, outlining his body for all to see. At that moment, the bar-igura began rising into the air.
“It’s trying to flee!” Thrisp shouted. “Stop it!”
Basil tried, engulfing the demon in a ball of flames, only to see it emerge almost completely unscathed. Sepoto tried as well, hammering at it with his chain. He could see that he had wounded it, but not nearly enough. Olangru continued to rise until he was clear of the vertigo field, and then he disappeared.
Sepoto looked around at the devastation wrought by the brief but violent conflict. He could scarcely believe that Anwar was really dead. Though he never really cared for the bard, he had earned a grudging respect from the crusader for his silver tongue, if nothing else. The others were just as stunned. Not only was Anwar gone, but Urol was missing as well, taken who-knew-where. Amella came out of hiding and walked stoically back to Anwar’s side. As she knelt beside him again, Golnura chuckled.
“Don’t worry, pretty one. You’ll be with him soon.”
Sepoto struck a torch alight and calmly went to the zombie and set him on fire.
__________________________________________________________
They built a pyre for Anwar in the fire pit, and Sepoto spoke one of Savras’ blessings over his remains. Amella then lit the pyre, and they stood in silence as it burned, each lost in their own thoughts. They had no choice but to camp in the ruins, hoping that the dawn would bring new perspective.
Basil slept poorly that night, his dreams tormented by terrible visions of demon-haunted jungles and ocean. When he awoke the next morning, he was momentarily filled with the urge to seek out a hidden shrine to a demon prince that he seemed to know was somewhere nearby. He wanted to offer himself up as a sacrifice. The urge passed quickly, but the direction in which he knew the shrine to lay tugged at him nevertheless.
“I think I know where Urol is,” he told his companions once he’d composed his thoughts.
Having no other viable options, the small band set off into the jungle-swamp once more, this time allowing Basil to take the lead. After a few hours of grueling heat and biting insects, the jungle and the oppressive fog thinned before a low hill. Above, a large spire of black rock loomed, while at the hill’s base, the image of two gigantic fanged baboon heads carved into the rock leered out at the wilderness. Their gaping maws revealed two caves that lead into darkness.
“This looks like the place,” Thrisp said dryly, but no one found any humor in his statement of the obvious.
“I won’t go in there,” Amella said, her face going pale, “and I won’t let ye take the boy either.”
Basil turned on her, a look of malice on his young features. “Listen closely! Anwar’s not here to protect you any more, so you’d better just get used to…”
“Enough!” Thrisp snapped, his tone commanding the tiefling’s attention. “She and Tavey can remain here. They’d be more of a liability to us anyway. Cast your rope trick so that they won’t have to worry about predators. If we’re not back by the time the spell expires,” he continued, turning to Amella, “I’m afraid you’re on your own. If there is truly no escape from this place, you might want to consider your options carefully.”
Amella nodded, understanding the implication clearly. She glared at Basil, and spat on the ground at his feet.
Once Tavey and Amella were secure, the five Legionnaires looked at the twin caves, trying to decide which path to take.
“You know the old saying,” Samson shrugged, “Evil always lies to the left.”
Left they chose, finding themselves in a natural passage, the walls carved with a band of leering, demonic monkey faces at waist height. The cave smelled strongly of wet fur and sulphur, and the air was heavy and damp. Thrisp went first, scouting as always. He was followed by Samson and Sepoto, with Basil and Marius bringing up the rear. They had traveled barely twenty feet down the passage, when suddenly the entire ceiling overhead gave way. Tons of rock and debris came crashing down, filling the air with choking, blinding dust. When Basil finally cleared his eyes enough to see again, none of his companions were in sight. He was standing up to his waist in debris, and the entire corridor ahead was completely blocked.
“Sepoto!” he called. “Thrisp! Marius! Samson!” For a moment there was silence, but then, faintly, as if from a great distance, he heard a muted call from beneath the rubble. At least someone was still alive underneath.
Basil began digging. Lacking any useful tools, he simply grabbed rocks with his bare hands and heaved them out of the way. Minutes passed. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the frail wizard uncovered a hand…a goliath hand. Grabbing hold, he heaved, and beneath the rockslide Sepoto heaved as well. With a gasp of breath, the crusader burst free, battered and bruised, but alive. Quickly, he joined Basil, his great strength cutting the work in half. In short order they unearthed the rest of their companions, each beaten, but overall hale.
“You see?” Samson said between coughing fits. “Evil always lies to the left.”
They exited the cave, and started down the right-hand passage, Thrisp scouting carefully this time. After a short distance the passageway forked right and left. A faint dripping sound could be heard in the distance. Peering down both branches, Thrisp could see the hall to the left was blocked, but a second passage branched from it just before the avalanche. The right hand path was a dead-end. Just as he motioned the others forward, he noticed something on the wall to his left. It was a handprint. A bloody, gnome-sized handprint.
The side-passage led them around the cave-in, and within it, they found piled in a corner the crumbled and torn remains of Urol’s tunic, boots and gear. They were headed in the right direction at least. The natural cavern soon gave way to worked stone beyond the off-branch, opening into a short hallway that ended in a pair of tarnished bronze doors. The portals were engraved with scenes of all manner of demonic reptiles and simians tormenting human slaves, and the handles were made from the barbed tongues of fiends. A pair of stone statues flanked the doors in niches carved into the walls. Each depicted leering monkey demons, their tongues dripping an oily red liquid that evaporated before it hit the floor below. Tiny inscriptions were written beneath each statue, written in the language of the Abyss. Thrisp translated: “Give of your left,” the left inscription read. “Give of your right,” said the right one.
Sepoto looked at the barbed handles. “Here goes nothing,” he said, and he grasped each one, feeling the barbs bite into his flesh as he twisted and pulled the doors open.
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demiurge1138
Inventor of Super-Toast
Wow. I may be exaggerating, because you have written many excellent things in the past, JD, but Fogmire and the brutalities within might be your best work yet. The timing of the attack, Anwar's dismissive responses to the scare tactics (and the message to Olangru carved on the zombie's chest) and his subsequent brutal demise were amazing. Good to see Olangru is as brutal an opponent in practice as he is on paper.
Demiurge out.
Demiurge out.
Hammerhead
Explorer
RIP Anwar. Or, rather, minimize your suffering in the Grey Waste 
So what can top the diabolically evil Bard? The Druid who squeezes the life out of cute little kittens with his bare hands?
So what can top the diabolically evil Bard? The Druid who squeezes the life out of cute little kittens with his bare hands?
Neverwinter Knight
First Post
I agree, demiurge. This is fast paced action we are talking about.
Personally, I hope gfunk comes back with a lawful good cleric of Tyr. First off, they could really use him & also, he could pay back Joachim for reversing the Joachim/Entropy situation on him.![:]](http://www.enworld.org/forum/images/smilies/devious.png "Devious :]")
You could name him Rawna.
When I saw Olangru in the module, I thought that PCs were gonna die. I just didn't expect a casualty at this point. Still, Anwar's is one of the best causes of death in DnD: "Died, because he couldn't keep his big mouth shut."
My favorite from an old group of mine: Rouge to powerful lich NPC: "So, did you like take a course in theatrical speeches, or what?"
Personally, I hope gfunk comes back with a lawful good cleric of Tyr. First off, they could really use him & also, he could pay back Joachim for reversing the Joachim/Entropy situation on him.
You could name him Rawna.When I saw Olangru in the module, I thought that PCs were gonna die. I just didn't expect a casualty at this point. Still, Anwar's is one of the best causes of death in DnD: "Died, because he couldn't keep his big mouth shut."
My favorite from an old group of mine: Rouge to powerful lich NPC: "So, did you like take a course in theatrical speeches, or what?"
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carborundum
Adventurer
Wow. That was a brutal end!
Reminds me of that Faith No More number, "Surprise, You're Dead!"
Reminds me of that Faith No More number, "Surprise, You're Dead!"
theredrobedwizard
Explorer
I'll be drinking heavily today; the world's second coolest bard just died.
-TRRW
