The Thrilling Conclusion!
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Babetta freezes as the cultist is now looking directly at her.
CULTIST
“Good day, sister. Blessings of Yoreb upon you. What brings you to these blessed woods?”
BABETTA
“I saw you genuflected in prayer and thought to join you in your devotion.”
CULTIST
“The idea has appeal. Kneel beside me, face the waning sun, press your face to the earth, and listen for the ululations of Yoreb’s phantasmal chorus.”
Babetta kneels beside the masked cultist. The cultist bows his head to the ground, and resumes his prayers. Babetta draws her sword, and with an elegant flourish, brings the pommel down on the cultists’ head. He crumples in a heap.
Wasting no time, Babetta relieves the unconscious man of his yellow robes and mask, and ties him up. She dumps the cultist, still out cold, in the bushes.
Back at the tree of Yoreb the Jowled, Bork and Turlo arrive to find Wisk still trying to “reason” with the cultists guarding the tree. Bork advances on the tree, but is quickly stopped by the guardian cultists, stout staves in hand.
CULTIST
“The uninitiated may not approach the sacred tree, less those who walk with axe in hand!”
BORK
“My only intention is to pay homage to the tree and its’ holy countenance.”
CULTIST
“That is an admirable goal, but you must leave your prodigious chopping implement on the ground where you are.”
Not having a good reason to bring the axe with him (if he is supposed to be praying), Bork drops the axe and kneels before the tree.
Bork, realizing that the devotions of Yoreb are unknown to him, gets up and walks back to where his axe is, picking it up and leaning on it.
Just then, two cultists arrive, with the stew for the guards’ supper. As they approach to the glad cries of the guards, another cultists can be seen walking behind them. Bork raises an eyebrow. There is something strange about the way this last cultist walks, something…feminine.
The last cultist makes a subtle gesture. It is, of course, a well-disguised Babetta. With the gesture, she invokes The Illusion of Vile Arthropods. This illusion is something of a challenge for her. In the past, she has only used this spell to create the appearance of tasps and spiders, only things that are vile and disgusting to behold. However, her knowledge of religion assures her that the image she is creating is nothing less than nauseating…
Just behind the cultists, next to the holy tree, none other than Yoreb the Jowled appears! His hideous jowls almost brush the ground, his skin glistens with slime.
All of the cultists drop to the ground in supplication. Babetta, concentrating on this difficult glamor, almost forgets to do the same, but then drops as well. Bork, Turlo and Wisk do not forget! Thinking that Yoreb walks among them, they drop to their knees as well.
YOREB(illusion)
“Ah, my servants. It is gratifying on the extreme to stand here and see the obvious extent of your devotion! I am here, for I have tasks that I require you to perform!”
Not wanting to miss this chance to see their deity in the “flesh”, one of the cultists looks up, and cannot help but point out an irregularity.
CULTIST
“Mighty Yoreb, highest of the high, why is it your belt of scintillating flesh is hung with medallions of silver and not of gold?”
BABETTA
“Oops.”
YOREB(illusion)
“Silence! You dare to question my choice of dress? How dare you display such blatant heresy!”
The cultist is cowed, but the two cultists nearest Babetta head a woman’s’ voice issue from behind her mask. There are no female cultists, as far as they know. Babetta sees them staring and wracks her brain looking for a way out. Suddenly, another of the guardian cultists speaks up.
CULTIST
“Oh, magnificent Yoreb, who is the light of our lives and our redeemer, I would never dare to criticize your wardrobe, nor even comment on it, as it is ripe with divine potency. But…I must ask. I grovel at your feet, and must ask…where is the bifurcating toe of Yoreb, that is, up till now, to be found on your left foot?”
The wooden mask hides’ Babetta’s look of shock, and then it hides her cunning smile.
YOREB(illusion)
“Look behind you, to the cultist farthest from me. It is due to his efforts that I am now whole. Unfortunately, the very essence of his manhood was drained away in the process, giving him the aspect of a woman! But his sacrifice was not in vain. The toe is healed!”
CULTISTS
“The toe is healed!!!”
“The toe is healed!!!”
“The toe is healed!!!”
BORK,TURLO and WISK
“The toe is healed!!!”
“The toe is healed!!!”
YOREB(illusion)
“And now, my children, I must tell you of the task set before you. My newly female worshipper shall assist me.”
Babetta gets up and finds an acorn on the ground, handing it to one of the cultists.
YOREB(illusion)
“You, my faithful, are to take this acorn, which is sacred in my sight, and travel far, far to the east. Travel for no less than three days. When you have found the perfect spot, and you will know when you do, you are to plant this acorn, which will grow into a new tree in my divine image! Stay there, tend to this tree, and I will visit you anon, to judge who among you has been truly devout in his worship. Now go!”
The cultists start to head east, but Yoreb chastises them, reminding them that they may not rise to their feet in his presence. The cultists crawl on their hands and knees, into the darkening woods. Soon they are out of sight.
Wasting no time, Bork hefts his axe and makes short work of the tree. He then begins to cut the tree into very small pices. Turlo produces a match-stick, and sets the whole thing ablaze.
Babetta and Wisk see the bright fire in the darkening woods, and immediately start running back to the emerald manse. Bork and Turlo scramble to catch up.
Soon, it becomes apparent that they do not run in vain. Several Deodands pursue them, barely visible in the gloom. The Deodands are faster than ther PCs, and hungry, and are gaining quickly. All of the companions breathe a sigh of relief when the emerald manse comes into view. The pursuing Deodands stop short at the green glow that emanates from the tower. Lob is there, along with the carriage that the PCs have been sent to retrieve. A quick look at the carriage reveals that it has no horses hitched to it. It has no animals hitched to it at all!
Smiling, Lob gestures grandly at the carriage, clearly pleased with himself for how fastidiously clean it appears.
LOB
“Your carriage, my friends. Hurry, the emerald barrier will not preclude the entrance of the Deodands for long. And while I, as property of Imandolo, am in no danger of being attacked, you can hardly say the same.”
BABETTA
“Lob, make haste, hitch up strong horses so that we may be on our way with speed! The Tree of Yoreb the jowled is no more!”
LOB
“My lady, you make a flagrantly unreasonable request. My master was quite clear. Your hard work has earned you the carriage and nothing more. Of course, there are two strong mermelants out back, but I could never hitch them to this carriage, for they belong to my master. There would have to be some sort of … compensation.”
The Deodands begin to press in at the emerald barrier in the air. They grow bolder by the minute.
DEODAND
“We are lonely. Send one of your number to keep us company and we shall go away. We seek only an entertaining game of cards, a little conversation. Come, send us a guest.”
The PCs don’t dignify such talk with a response. Their desperation is evident, however, as they turn to Lob.
BABETTA
“Ne your price, Lob, and name it with unapparelled haste.”
Lob points at Turlo.
LOB
“I do not proclaim to be ambitios in station, but it occurs to me that your fine garments would be very becoming a servant of the Great Imandolo.”
TURLO
“You have partaken one too many times of the vapors in your masters’ workshop! My clothes are my own. Take her clothes! She is the one dealing with you, not I.”
LOB
“But, sir, she is a woman, and sleight of frame. You, however, are about my size. Of course, I could wait for the Deodands to do my shopping for me. I can wash bloodstains out of your fine clothes with ease.”
Turlo disrobes while Lob hitches up two cantankerous Mermelants. The mermelants refuse to budge until certain matters are resolved.
MERMELANT
“A switch in grooms does not nesscesitate a change in contract. For services rendered, one pint of beer, per groom, per day, must be rendered in full.”
The PCs agree in full to the mermelants’ terms. The carriage shoots off into the dark woods, leaving the running Deodands far behind.
BORK
“A close call. Turlo, I see you’ve opted for nudity rather than risk the infested garments of Lob. I cannot, in all candor, blame you. And now to Burske, to return this carriage.”
WISK
“Bah! The concept is jejune. We now control the carriage, and there is not one among us who wishes to return to Burske! Turlo, turn the mermelants towards Almery, and do not slow until we get there!”
The companions are in agreement, though they do spend a few minutes convincing the mermelants that the ale in Almery is far superior to that of Burske. That being settled, they rolled on, following the cold, dark roads of the Dying Earth.
The End
