The Lost City – Part 12 (Session 35)
Milo pushed his way through the crowd, straining to reach Auriga. Brushing off the hands of would-be worshippers, he finally made his way to the masked leader of the Usamigarasites. ”She’s not dead,” Milo said breathlessly.
”How can that be? We saw Zargon fall!” Auriga argued. The people crowded around them began to murmur.
”He fled before we could finish him off. We’re not equipped for underwater fighting.” Milo explained. Auriga frowned at his words. ”Tomorrow we can prepare spells that will allow us to bring the fight to Zargon’s stronghold. We won’t give up until Zargon is truly defeated.”
Auriga gravely considered Milo’s words. By then, the crowd had been subdued. All that could be heard were furtive whispers as the news of Zargon’s flight spread. Finally, Auriga spoke, ”Then the celebrations must be postponed. I will explain to the people, but they will not be happy.” He turned to the crowd and raised his hands to call for silence. ”My people! Zargon yet lives, we must return to our homes and allow our saviors rest and respite. For on the morrow they journey to the Evil One’s own stronghold!”
Even with Auriga’s positive words, Milo could tell that the people were less than enthused to hear the news. He worked his way back through the now unresisting crowd to the others. ”Well, it’s time to plan. We’ve got to prepare ourselves for an underwater battle tomorrow. It’s something I’ve never had to do, but I know of some spells that will help.”
The heroes joined Auriga’s people for a subdued dinner that night. The food was surprisingly flavorful for a society that spent their lives underground. Milo wouldn’t have thought them capable of finding the range of flavors that he was experiencing so far from normal sources of food. He was about to comment on this when he noticed Kella nearly slump from her chair.
Jeremiah was there in a flash. He caught Kella in his arms. She settled limply, relying wholly on the brawny barbarian for support. She looked up at Jer groggily and giggled. ”Jer-bear,” she slurred, and then broke into an uproarious laugh. Jeremiah settled her back in her chair and returned to his own as a deep red flush came to his exposed skin.
Milo groaned and pushed his plate away. He leaned over to Mazi and asked her if she had cast a detect poison cantrip on the food before they sat. She shook her head side to side. Milo watched as she wiggled her fingers into arcane symbols under the table. She grimaced after examining the food.
”There’s a slight hallucinogen in the food,” she whispered to Milo. ”I think Kella got a bad batch of mushrooms.”
A grin slowly broke out on Milo’s face as the information sunk in. He leaned back over to Mazi. ”Watch this!” he whispered as he grinned evilly.
”Kella! Watch, I can make my arm melt!” Milo shouted across the table. Kella watched in rapt horror as Milo raised his right arm and scrunched his face up in mock-concentration. Kella’s eyes followed the imaginary melting arm as it dripped to the floor. She added her own very real offering to the ground shortly after. Jer patted her on the back as she retched, then glared at Milo, who had the sense to look abashed.
”Milo! That was cruel!” Mazi said as she punched him in the arm. Milo could tell she was barely hiding her own smile.
”Ach! Tha’s rich, Milo!” Brigit guffawed, half eaten mushrooms spraying out of her mouth.
The refuse was soon cleaned up. Milo thought it best that they call it an evening shortly thereafter. Kella would need some time to sleep off the drugs, and the next day promised to be trying enough. Milo tried not to think about how cold she would be towards him if she remembered his little stunt.
The next morning they met out at the pier. Kella looked much better, but Milo could tell she was suffering from the world’s worst headache. He prudently chose not to take advantage of the situation.
There was a flurry of spell casting as Milo, Mazi, and Kella prepared everyone for the rigors ahead. They had secured a raft large enough for the five of them from Auriga the night before. Milo rang the gong one more time, hoping to lure Zargon closer to shore rather than having to face him where he would have the home ground advantage. No bubbles rose from the surface of the lake.
Milo shrugged. ”It was worth a shot,” he muttered. They filed onto the raft and were soon propelled across the mirror-smooth water by Jeremiah’s strong poling.
The raft made a faint sloshing sound as it bumped onto the shore of the island. The crumbled grand parthenon lay ahead. Milo thought he heard a faint whisper in the breezeless air, a haunting, melodic sound that was barely noticeable. He shook his head and attributed the sounds to his nerves.
They spent a few minutes scouring the rubble of the parthenon for some sort of entrance to Zargon’s home. All they found was bare rock and a few intact pillars. Milo heard the whispers again, this time more insistent, almost needy. He thought he saw something flutter out of the corner of his eye. When he spun about to see what was there, he saw nothing but rock. A chill crept up his spine that caused the hairs on the nape of his neck to stand on end. It seemed the others were just as ill at ease.
Finally, a thought struck Milo. He ran to the shore near their raft and plunged his head into the water. Just at the edge of the ambient light, he could make out an indentation in the cliff-like side of the island. It was possible that Zargon’s entrance was underwater, since he didn’t seem to have a problem staying under for long periods of time. Milo thanked Usamigaras for the water breathing spells.
”Over here everyone,” Milo’s voice sounded alien in the preternatural silence. ”I think I see an entrance underwater.”
The others were quick to join him, not wishing to spend any more time than necessary on the island surface. They tied their two ropes of climbing together before fastening one to a boulder and dropping the other down to the indentation. Milo took a moment to cast a light spell on one of his axes and one of Brigit’s. He volunteered to descend first, since his freedom of movement spell allowed him full range of motion underwater.
Milo skillfully rappelled down the side of the island, marveling at the unreality of the experience. The indentation was indeed an opening of about ten to fifteen feet across. He motioned up for the others to join him as he cautiously landed on the tunnel floor. Milo waited for the others before continuing in.
Suddenly, a looming white shape startled him as it streaked out of the darkness of the tunnel. Milo breathed bubbles of relief when he noticed that it was a blind cavefish, a big, blind cavefish, but nothing to worry about.
Once the others had descended, they tread carefully into the tunnel. Moments into the cavern, Milo heard a strange bubbling noise, as of water boiling. He glanced around and spotted Brigit staring at her axe. Tiny bubbles had begun to form on its surface the deeper they went. Her eyes gleamed as the boiling increased. Trollgrater would taste blood today.
The tunnel opened into a spacious cavern. Their light sources cast odd, watery shadows on the far walls. The light changed as some of the shadows seemed to detach from the walls and move towards them. Brigit’s axe had sprung to fiery life under the dark water. If Milo hadn’t already witnessed so many unbelievable things, he wouldn’t have thought it possible.
Tall, green, grinning shapes loomed out of the darkness. Slimy, rubbery skin, covered with warts and sparse hair came in to view. The water trolls wasted little time converging on the group.
The heroes were cautious, they knew that only Brigit’s Trollgrater and Mazi’s flametongue had any hope of vanquishing these mutated trolls permanently. Milo cast knife spray into their midst as Mazi unsheathed her sword.
The trolls converged on Milo; they slashed and clawed as they moved. Milo practically danced to avoid each of their attacks. The others moved forward to aid Milo. He was surprised to see even Kella readying her scimitar in his defense. He prepared to cast magic weapon on the sword, hoping that it would give her enough of an advantage to make a difference.
That was when Zargon made his presence known. He loomed above Milo and Kella, his six tentacles thrashing in the water. Three of them snaked up to a ledge above them and toppled down a stream of boulders. The rocks fell behind, cutting their only avenue of escape. That’s fine, thought Milo, we aren’t leaving until you’re out of the way.
Mazithra cast stone skin on herself before engaging the many trolls. Brigit and Jeremiah were already cleaving through the beasts. Their wounds would heal quickly from Jer’s sword, but Brigit left wide, scorched gashes with every hit. The trolls exacted their revenge on the two, even with their many protective spells in place. The two warriors were far from finished though. They fought through their wounds to bring down the trolls, one by one.
Milo knew that the real threat was Zargon, but he also knew that the remaining trolls would hairy them unless dealt with first. His fears were realized as one troll sunk both claws deep into Kella’s flesh. The troll grinned toothily as it gouged through her body. Kella screamed, expelling great bubbled to rise to the surface with her blood. Milo moved back to heal the severely injured druid, but was too late for the next attack.
Zargon chose Kella to make an example. All six of his wickedly clawed tentacles shot forward like striking eels. Four of the slimy protrusions made their mark. With a satisfied grunt, Zargon wrenched them through Kella’s frame. Her screams were instantly silenced. Milo watched in horror as her ravaged body floated limply to the cavern floor.
Jeremiah loosed a hoarse scream as he redoubled his attacks on the trolls to reach Kella. The monstrosities were unprepared for the fury of his attacks. He cleaved through one, then another with massive sweeps of the Windsword. Milo wanted to reassure Jer that he could bring her back, but Zargon had to be dealt with first.
Meanwhile, Mazi and Brigit were making sure none of the trolls returned to attack them again. As she stooped to thrust her flametongue into one, it reared up and clawed at her. Both claws made contact and it scraped them along her body. She grinned as the claws’ impact was absorbed by her stoneskin and plunged her sword straight through its black heart.
The battle raged on for what seemed an eternity to Milo. He fought Zargon endlessly, sometimes with help from Jeremiah and Brigit, sometimes alone when the trolls would make resurgence. He was grateful for their presence, as it would sometimes distract some of Zargon’s claws away from himself. At one point, Zargon focused wholly on Milo. He seemed intent on destroying the little halfling that harried him so. Milo managed to dodge most of his attacks, but two of the tentacles caught him unawares. Milo then knew the agony that Kella faced before death as the claws almost rent him in two. He staggered back to recover and heal himself, amazed that he could lose so much blood without passing out.
The water lit with electricity as Mazi covered for Milo. Her lightning bolts streaked through the water, superheating it and leaving a trail of boiling bubbles behind. Some of her bolts surmounted even Zargon’s thick hide and resistance to spells. The trolls would fall and rise, constantly healing even from her magical attacks. She and Brigit returned to the task of felling them permanently.
Jeremiah stood before Milo and Zargon as the halfling healed himself. Zargon grunted as he aimed all six of his tentacles at the defiant barbarian. Four of the claws found purchase in Jer’s armor. He didn’t make a sound as Zargon gouged his claws deeper. Jeremiah’s resolve seemed to take the godling by surprise. He reared back, allowing Jer a perfect opportunity to strike at Zargon’s underbelly.
That was the turning tide of the battle. Brigit and Mazithra finished off the remaining trolls as Milo tumbled behind Jer and healed him. Milo knew that Jeremiah was tough, but even he couldn’t take another attack like the last.
Jeremiah and Brigit pressed their advantage, forcing Zargon back. The huge monster loosed a mournful keening as Jeremiah sunk the Windsword to the hilt into its rubbery trunk. He stood motionless and silent, his sword point resting on the floor, as Zargon’s bulk toppled in slow motion.
