Session Twenty-Three, Part Four: Altar of False Gods
The mud grabbed at his skin, burning him through his clothes, but he gritted his teeth and forced his way onward, half walking, half swimming. The stink of it rose into his nostrils. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was aware of the creature falling, but he only registered it as a swell and subsidance in the substance that surrounded him.
His eyes watered. He could barely see.
One hand reached out, brushed cloth, and he seized Dru's shirt, dragging her back, fighting his way towards the narrow limestone path. She was dead weight, unmoving.
Gods, let her still live!
The pain was tremendous as the mud blistered his skin, but he forced his way onward through the stinging steam. Something tapped his hand, and he reflexively grabbed at it, then felt himself drawn forward. "Get her out!" he shouted. "Get Dru..."
He felt the weight of her being pulled from his arms, and then hands drawing him forth from the mud. He heard Shesara singing, but the words danced through his brain without connecting to their meaning. He tried to force a question from his lips, but it would not come, and he struggled to remain conscious in the face of the pain.
The singing stopped, and for a moment, so did the world.
Then he heard a familiar voice. "I don't
like this place," it growled. And he smiled.
The embers of the platform still smoldered when they returned to the temple, sore, wounded, limping.
"What the hell kind of monster has three tails, anyway? Stupid thing," Dru grumbled. "
And my sword's in the bottom of that mudpit."
"It's a good thing you had the ring on, otherwise you'd have been with it," Di'Fier pointed out. "I'm not sure I'd have been able to find you in time. At least you've got Soderheim's sword waiting for you back in Freeport."
Dru grunted, moving towards the smoking ruin. "We can get through this passage, now, if we want."
"Maybe we should wait until we have rested," Benares suggested.
"I want
off of this damned island," Dru snarled, and lifted herself upwards, teeth gritted against the pain of burned skin. "City of the
Gods." Her words held a century's worth of scorn.
Di'Fier looked at his companions helplessly, and moved to follow her.
The passage curved, twisted deep into the rock. She passed warning-stakes topped with skulls, which she smashed as she went by. And then the tunnel ended, at a small room with a crude altar. Dru could feel her companions behind her, waiting for her anger to subside.
She glared at the altar, looking for an excuse. It was plain, but for the ancient metal case that stood atop it. She moved forward, throwing open the latches to reveal the gleam of gold.
There, in perfect miniature, sat one of the creatures they had fought below, its three tails splayed and its arms stretched outwards. Its arrow-shaped head looked imperiously across the room, and the tiny specks of rubies seemed to bore into her own eyes.
Kneel, it seemed to say.
Serve us. You are strong. You will serve well.
Dru gritted her teeth, the anger boiling within her. "I...will...
not!" She swept the statuette from the altar, flinging it to the floor where chips of the gilded stone scattered across the room. Di'Fier's blade descended upon it, and a crack spread across its body. Dru seized the pieces in either hand. "I
hate this island!" she screamed, dashing one against the wall. "Everything is
giant and it tries to
eat you or
take over you mind!" The second chunk joined the first, shattering again. "Stupid city! This was supposed to be our way
off of this stinking place!" Dru seized the case, battering at the stone with it. "Everybody probably thinks we're
dead now because some stupid
b*st*rd had to sell us into slavery!" The statue was little more that powder now, and Dru flung the metal box aside, sinking down to sit on the stone floor.
Everyone was silent for a moment, and then Benares spoke quietly. "Perhaps...we should rest now."