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Tales of the Darkened Land
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<blockquote data-quote="Nathan P. Mahney" data-source="post: 3954215" data-attributes="member: 29748"><p><span style="font-size: 12px"><p style="text-align: center"><strong>CHAPTER VIII</strong></p></span></p><p style="text-align: center"><span style="font-size: 12px"><strong></strong></p></span></p><p style="text-align: center"><span style="font-size: 12px"><strong><span style="font-size: 15px">THE TOMB OF ALDORIOUS</span></strong></p></span></p><p style="text-align: center"><span style="font-size: 12px"><strong></strong></p></span></p><p style="text-align: center"><span style="font-size: 12px"><strong>PART II</strong></p><p></span></p><p>And so at moonrise, as darktime ended and the night began, the adventurers once more set off into the caves, for there were many more passages to explore, and possibly more drow and orcs lurking about. Qwan, however, remained behind, and who knew the reasons? For this hulking warrior was silent on the matter.</p><p></p><p>The twisting tunnels were strewn with signs of battle, dead orcs with crossbow bolts in their throats, and drow elves hacked and ripped to pieces, some half-eaten. In one long cavern to the east of the caves there was an iron door, locked and impassable, and beyond the lockpicking skills of both Elrohir and Jah. More dead bodies lay here, but to the south not all was dead – the sounds of guttural merriment were signs of life indeed!</p><p></p><p>Forewarned by these raucous shouts, Kael moved ahead to scout, his dwarven eyes unhindered by the darkness. And in the next cavern, a fateful cavern indeed, he saw the orcs! Four of them around a campfire there were, as well as a large and malevolent wolf, and all were engaged in happy conversation. A halfling's corpse was roasting on a spit over the flames, and if Elrohir had been watching then he would have recognised one of his ill-fated companions.</p><p></p><p>The sight of the orcs fuelled Kael's deep ancestral rage, and he charged into the room. He cleaved an orc through the chest, killing it instantly, but then the others were on their feet, twin axes at the ready. And two of these were great in stature, for it was they who had finished Elrohir's companions, and they were mightier than they had been. They hurled their axes at Kael in unison as the great worg-wolf savaged him with his jaws. The dwarf suffered great wounds, but his red rage and mighty constitution kept him standing, and kept his axe swinging.</p><p></p><p>His companions heard the clamour and came to his aid, Jah with his glaive and Elrohir with bow and arrow. Gordred tried to push his way through the press of battle, a move that proved foolish. One of the orcs smote him mightily across the head, and Gordred collapsed to ground, his life hanging by a slender thread. The battle tipped this way and that, with neither side gaining the advantage, until finally the tides turned – Kael clove the worg's head in two as Jah drove his glaive into an orc's throat. Elrohir slipped by to force a healing potion down Gordred's throat, and slowly he was restored to health. The two remaining orcs fell quickly, but the danger was not past.</p><p></p><p>Kael stood amidst the corpses, his axe and beard slippery with gore, the powerful rage of his barbarian clan pulsing inside him. But with no more enemies left to slay, and suffering from many terrible wounds, his rage ran its course. Without it his wounds were too much to bear, and the dwarf dropped to the floor with the bodies of his enemies. Only the quick thinking of Elrohir, and the use of another healing potion, saved him from death.</p><p></p><p>With Elrohir's comrades avenged, the adventurers turned their thoughts to loot, as is their custom. It was with great elation that they found many of the treasures lost in the last foray, especially the mighty Star of the Morning. But the elation was short-lived, for the uniforms of the orcs was sure proof that the orcish army had discovered the caves below Bastion. An upward-sloping tunnel lead from the cavern, but the adventurers thought it best to clean out their current level first.</p><p></p><p>Gordred, Elrohir and Kael were all on the verge of collapse, and so it came time for rest. This time they made camp in the caverns, near the locked door they had been unable to open earlier. Elrohir took this time to study his spellbook for an incantation that might open the door, while the rest stood guard or slept uneasily.</p><p></p><p>And as Jah stood his turn at watch, a strange and unnatural creature stole into camp invisible and unseen. Jah caught sight of it as it materialised, an odd assortment of rubbery white arms on a bag-like body, all balanced on a single powerful leg. It voiced it's alien cry - "YIP YIP, MOMP MOMP" – and hopped forward to snatch at Jah's backpack. Jah managed to strike the thing first, and it disappeared back from whence it came, another in a long line of mysteries yet unanswered.</p><p></p><p>The rest of the dark time passed without incident, and Elrohir tried his opening spell upon the door. Alas, it too was powerless, and the door remained impassable.</p><p></p><p>With but one level passage unexplored, they decided to press on despite the wounds that plagued them. They went down two flights of stairs, and the air became thick and moist, and laden with a nameless dread. At last the passage opened into an enormous cavern, with an underground lake at one end and a set of large stone doors at the other. Soft chittering echoed about the cavern, and the furtive movements of bats could be made out upon the ceiling.</p><p></p><p>There was also a smaller passage to the south, and it was here that the adventurers explored. It opened into two small rooms, one a bedroom and the other for storage, and both shattered by unknown forces long ago. The storeroom held naught but a chest, and in this chest a frayed and coiled rope. This they ignored. The bedroom held an item of much greater interest – the journal of Bastion's cryptkeeper! The book was moldy and stained, mostly illegible, but that is the sad toll of years on many a fine tome, my friends. Even so, a few passages remained legible, and it was Elrohir who read them aloud in his fine elven manner.</p><p></p><p>"This is the first," he said. "<em>'...Lord Bayle has taken his life from despair. The siege has become more than his heart could bear, and I blame him not. Shameful his act was, but still will he be interred with honour in the tombs, until such time as his body may be returned...'</em> There it ends, but there is more further on, here. <em>'...I have taken to paddling in the lake. The water is cold, but it refreshes me in the morning, and is a welcome distraction from war. Tirren says I am a fool, but I scoff at his warnings...'</em> And yet more! <em>'...Barran Thar came by again today, seeking knowledge for something he calls the Vault of Hope. What is he planning?'</em> Barran Thar? The name is familiar..." And though it did not come to him in that moment, later Elrohir would remember where he had seen the name – in the Vault of Hope, that strange and deadly museum discovered through the magic portal-painting in Bastion.</p><p> "There are two more entries. The first reads thus: <em>'...and thus Aldorious, great paladin and last lord of Bastion was laid to rest in his tomb with the axe Orcsplitter. I would lay this weapon in hiding that some great warrior may one day claim it, rather than see the blade destroyed by our foes. The armies of the Dark God swell below our walls, and there is no hope for victory now.'</em> Aha! Aldorious was the name of the paladin whose tomb we seek, is it not? It seems the end of our quest draws nearer! This is the final entry. <em>'...We have taken Orogg of Thar, legendary orcish warrior, and even now the lice-blown dog rots in our dungeons. He tried to escape last night, but he was too stupid to know that the door opens only for a man of the Bastion Guard.'</em> That is all – the rest cannot be made out."</p><p></p><p>And so they puzzled over this new information, but little could be made of it. There was little left to do but continue exploring. The stone double doors in the cavern were large and featureless, with no hinges to be seen. Predictably, they could not be opened, and so the lake became their final option.</p><p></p><p>The waters were still, but shone with an odd, unnatural glimmer. As they drew nearer, the adventurers saw its source – a skeleton lay at the bottom of the lake, a key clutched in its bony fingers. The key shone with eldritch light, temptingly. Could such a thing be unguarded? Of course not, but Gordred wasted no time on such thoughts – without hesitation he dived into the chill waters and swam toward the prize.</p><p></p><p>The key was bright and golden, and came free of the skeleton's grasp with little trouble. But then a dark shape appeared in the corner of Gordred's eye, approaching nearer and nearer, its form and nature indiscernible. Gordred turned and swam for shore, lungs bursting, racing his dread pursuer for his very life. And just as he burst from the lake the thing rose silently behind him, dripping water from its tentacled jaws, pincers flexing on the end of powerful arms.</p><p></p><p>Slowly the nameless thing clutched Gordred in its embrace, wrapping its tentacles around his body and his face, worming them into his mouth. Its venom seeped into him, horrid and cold, sapping the very strength from his bones, and once more luckless Gordred lay helpless for the battle. He was at the mercy of the horror's chewing mandibles, paralysed, but horridly aware as the thing began eating him alive.</p><p></p><p>Not content with but a morsel, the thing attacked, and proved more than a match for its foes. First Elrohir, then Kael fell beneath its blows, and only Jah and his glaive stood between the adventurers and a terrible death. Doggedly he rained down blow after blow upon the nameless lobster-thing, until finally its shell cracked and was pierced, oozing thick and black. Silently the thing sank below the water, releasing Gordred from its jaws. It was still alive, waiting and watching, mayhap to play a greater part in tales of the future.</p><p></p><p>With Gordred hovering on death's doorstep, the adventurers returned to Bastion for rest and solace. Elmyr was ready to give neither – he had recovered from his illness, and mocked the adventurers for their sorry state. Chanis was in a more forgiving mood, and healed the party, though he required Gordred's oath still. This time the fell ranger gave it, though whether he intended to honour it is a tale for another day.</p><p></p><p>Again the adventurers returned to the caves, and the impassable double doors. The key fit the lock, and they pushed open easily. The room beyond was lined with pillars, each carved with spirals that depicted spirits rising to the heavens. A door to the north there was, engraved with the sunburst symbol of the Light. To the south another door, engraved with the skull symbol of the Void. More double doors lead east, engraved with the image of a warrior with his arms crossed over his chest.</p><p></p><p>The sunburst door opened into a small temple, with pews, an altar, and a funeral bier. An air of peace and holiness pervaded the air, and Gordred and Elrohir were especially unsettled. A silver bowl rested on the altar, full of a clear and wholesome water. The adventurers partook of this holy water with little regard for the sanctity of the place, emptying it into flasks, and moved on.</p><p></p><p>The skull door opened into a similar temple, but here the bowl was clay, and filled with damp and stinking earth. The funeral bier was occupied – a skeleton lay upon it with a tarnished silver sword upon his breast. The sword bore the crest of Bastion on its pommel, and at this Elrohir became intrigued. He reached out with trembling hand and broke the sword from its holder's grasp. It came away with a harsh snap, for the skeleton's hands were still attached. They were prised free easily enough, however, and left with their original owner – though why such propriety in the face of blatant grave robbery is beyond me I fear!</p><p></p><p>The double doors were last, and they too opened with the shining key. The room beyond had passages exiting to the north and south. Upon the wall was a tapestry, a traditional depiction of the Light standing over the Darkness, his blazing sword held high and his foe cowering and defeated. Yet this was different – the Darkness was depicted as five identical beings, and this the adventurers had never seen before.</p><p></p><p>The adventurers moved on, heading north at Jah's insistence. It turned right, and came to a tomb to the north. <em>'Here lieth Bereg, first hero of Bastion,'</em> it said, <em>'slain in the year 2012 AS. We must follow his example of sacrifice.'</em> Perhaps wary now of the consequences of grave-robbery, or perhaps under the spell of conscience, they left the tomb alone and continued.</p><p></p><p>They soon came to another, and this one not so still and restful. It said: <em>'Here lieth Ingvar, third hero of Bastion, slain in the year 2013 AS. He died in madness, but lived in honour.'</em> But that was not urgent, for above the tomb stood Ingvar himself, a hollow apparition with pleading eyes. "Tell me!" he screamed, though his voice sounded as though from a great distance away. "Tell me who won the war!" And there was great trepidation, for in that pleading tone was the hint of death and madness.</p><p></p><p>The adventurers debated for a time which war was meant, and in this we learned fellows should judge them not too harshly, for outside our walls the tide of history has swept all knowledge of the old times away. Though surely the great War of Nightfall is told in tales the world over, even in the shattered lands that our heroes hail from? Even so, the adventurers were confused, and in their memories they thought of the Eternal Battlefield which they had once visited – a vast plain where the dead wage war still, living and dying and living again for all of time.</p><p></p><p>"The war is still waged," said Elrohir. "With yet no victor."</p><p></p><p>"Then there is hope!" cried the spectral warrior. "There is still hope for the Light!" And with that the spirit vanished, his voice receding with a contented sigh. And yet its deathly presence lingered, sensed but not seen, and so the adventurers continued on, unsure of what they had achieved.</p><p></p><p>The passaged turned south, with another set of double doors to the east. The adventurers sensed that there goal was near – the Tomb of Aldorious which had for so long eluded them. With hearts both excited and fearful, they opened the doors and stepped forth to meet their fates.</p><p></p><p>The tomb of Aldorious stood upright in the centre of the room, and Aldorious's body was visible inside, radiant and untouched by the years. He looked exactly as his ghost had appeared when he implored the party to avenge his death, though none of the present adventurers had been there for that particular tale. An axe was gripped in his hand, and even from a distance it radiated with power. Four warrior statues flanked the coffin, their heads downcast. On a bier in front of the coffin was another corpse, this one rotted and eyeless.</p><p></p><p>As the adventurers cautiously entered the room, the eyeless corpse rose from the bier jerkily. "Who comes to claim the great axe Orcsplitter?" it intoned. "Speak lest thee be judged."</p><p></p><p>The adventurers hastily gave their introductions, unsure yet of what this judging would entail.</p><p></p><p>"Wilt thou stand beneath my holy smite and be judged, and thus prove if thou art truly worthy to wield yon axe?"</p><p></p><p>The adventurers consented, none wishing to test their mettle against this foe if such was not needed. The corpse-knight bowed his head, and then a blue fire lit his empty sockets. Suddenly the air around the adventurers burst forth with holy power, a power good and pure and deadly to the wrong kind of man.</p><p></p><p>Jah and Kael were blasted, and staggered, but still they stood resolute. Elrohir and Gordred were sent sprawling to the floor, burned to the core of their dark souls. This was the manner of the judging, and all had failed, for one who was truly worthy would have emerged unscathed.</p><p></p><p>But Kael could not accept this judgment, and strove to prove his worthiness by way of his axe-blade. Into battle he charged alone, hewing the knight's dead flesh with little effect.</p><p></p><p>"Truly I am sorry that this duel could not be one of honour," said the corpse-knight, "but I must defend the tomb to the utmost of my power." With this he pointed his sword to one of the statues, and it lumbered to life, stepping from its podium with a sharp crack.</p><p></p><p>Kael battled on, pummeled by stony fists, sliced by ancient blade, and yet he swung his axe again and again. It did no good, and soon he knew he would fall, though his dwarf's heart shuddered to admit it.</p><p></p><p>"Go your way and you will be spared," said the knight, even as he swung his sword at the dwarf. "For I defend only the axe, and need not pursue."</p><p></p><p>And so Kael left the field of battle, weary and forlorn, his hands aching in vain to wrap around the hilt of mighty Orcsplitter. But all was not lost! In an event that neither fate nor the gods could have foreseen, Jah thought of another bearer for the axe: loyal Corwyn, who lead Bastion with such simple nobility. Perhaps he would prove worthy?</p><p></p><p>Before returning to Bastion, there were two more smaller tombs to explore. One read thusly: <em>'Here lieth Elestal, second hero of Bastion, slain in the year 2012 AS. She died that we may hope.'</em> Once more the adventurers exercised caution, and chose not to defile this tomb.</p><p></p><p>The last was open, the seal smashed. Inside lay the bones of a fallen warrior, with a warhammer of adamantine beside them. Jah snatched the hammer, and finally the grave-robbing ways of these fellows got the best of them. A roiling black cloud swirled from the bones, gibbering madly. The insane chatterings penetrated their minds, threatening yet fascinating. Gordred was the only one who succumbed, and he stood transfixed. Finally overwhelmed by the night's many terrors, the adventurer's fled this apparition, dragging Gordred behind them until he awoke from the trance. </p><p></p><p>Back in Bastion, Corwyn proved reluctant to leave Bastion, as he still feared Elmyr's ambition. And yet, his desire to bring aid to Bastion was strong, and when Elrohir and Gordred offered to remain behind to watch Elmyr, Corwyn agreed to give his aid. With Jah and Kael at his side, he ventured forth into the depths.</p><p></p><p>The way to the Tomb of Aldorious was open, and they reached it with no danger. Again the corpse-knight issued his challenge, and his call for judgment. At this Corwyn faltered – for the horror of the living dead was something beyond his experience. But then he found heart, in the promise of death for his people, and his brother, and his little niece, and he stepped forth to face the knight's judgment. The knight bathed him in holy power, and it washed over Corwyn without effect. And in that moment his soul was revealed, simple yet noble, and humble above all.</p><p></p><p>"You are pure of heart," said the corpse-knight. "And I may rest at last." And so he did, sinking back onto his funeral bier, never to rise again.</p><p></p><p>Corwyn took the axe Orcsplitter from the tomb with shaking hand, and held it aloft. Torchlight flashed along it, lingering on the brass dwarf's head that sat atop the haft. And then, to the astonishment of all, that head spoke!</p><p></p><p>"Ach laddie, ye've woken me up from the long sleep at last, aye? Well, I'm thirsty, that I am. Soak me in ale for the night, will ye? It does an old axe good, it does. And then me thirst'll be slaked for real – with the blood of orcs and gobs, aye!"</p><p></p><p>And then the axe fell silent, but Corwyn could feel the sentience that lingered within the blade, and he already sensed the beginning of a great kinship. Holding it reverently, he lead the way back to Bastion.</p><p></p><p>And what of Elmyr? He confronted Elrohir and hated Gordred, of course, backed up by his gang of cronies, but naught was exchanged but bitter words. And yet, there was the promise of more to come – the promise that Elmyr would have the last laugh.</p><p></p><p>Thus our tale ends, with Cormyr appearing before his people, Orcsplitter held high. Kael and Gordred stood at his side, as did Elrohir and Jah, and surely bloodthristy Qwan was in the crowd to see the outcome of the quest he had abandoned. "This is Orcsplitter!" shouted Corwyn gruffly. "Forged in olden times for one purpose – splittin' orcs, head and chest and all! The orcs are comin' by their hundreds, like we ain't never seen before, and hope was a meagre thing for us, that it was. But now we've got some! With this axe, we've got hope! We'll send those greenskin bastards back where they came from, or send 'em to hell!"</p><p></p><p>"Aye!" shouted Orcsplitter. "Aye, we'll carve them from belly to breastbone and oil ourselves in their blood, we will, haha!"</p><p></p><p>And Bastion erupted with a mighty cheer, the like of which had not been heard for centuries – for the first time these people had cause to believe that the darkness would not triumph.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Nathan P. Mahney, post: 3954215, member: 29748"] [SIZE=3][CENTER][B]CHAPTER VIII [SIZE=4]THE TOMB OF ALDORIOUS[/SIZE] PART II[/B][/CENTER][/SIZE] And so at moonrise, as darktime ended and the night began, the adventurers once more set off into the caves, for there were many more passages to explore, and possibly more drow and orcs lurking about. Qwan, however, remained behind, and who knew the reasons? For this hulking warrior was silent on the matter. The twisting tunnels were strewn with signs of battle, dead orcs with crossbow bolts in their throats, and drow elves hacked and ripped to pieces, some half-eaten. In one long cavern to the east of the caves there was an iron door, locked and impassable, and beyond the lockpicking skills of both Elrohir and Jah. More dead bodies lay here, but to the south not all was dead – the sounds of guttural merriment were signs of life indeed! Forewarned by these raucous shouts, Kael moved ahead to scout, his dwarven eyes unhindered by the darkness. And in the next cavern, a fateful cavern indeed, he saw the orcs! Four of them around a campfire there were, as well as a large and malevolent wolf, and all were engaged in happy conversation. A halfling's corpse was roasting on a spit over the flames, and if Elrohir had been watching then he would have recognised one of his ill-fated companions. The sight of the orcs fuelled Kael's deep ancestral rage, and he charged into the room. He cleaved an orc through the chest, killing it instantly, but then the others were on their feet, twin axes at the ready. And two of these were great in stature, for it was they who had finished Elrohir's companions, and they were mightier than they had been. They hurled their axes at Kael in unison as the great worg-wolf savaged him with his jaws. The dwarf suffered great wounds, but his red rage and mighty constitution kept him standing, and kept his axe swinging. His companions heard the clamour and came to his aid, Jah with his glaive and Elrohir with bow and arrow. Gordred tried to push his way through the press of battle, a move that proved foolish. One of the orcs smote him mightily across the head, and Gordred collapsed to ground, his life hanging by a slender thread. The battle tipped this way and that, with neither side gaining the advantage, until finally the tides turned – Kael clove the worg's head in two as Jah drove his glaive into an orc's throat. Elrohir slipped by to force a healing potion down Gordred's throat, and slowly he was restored to health. The two remaining orcs fell quickly, but the danger was not past. Kael stood amidst the corpses, his axe and beard slippery with gore, the powerful rage of his barbarian clan pulsing inside him. But with no more enemies left to slay, and suffering from many terrible wounds, his rage ran its course. Without it his wounds were too much to bear, and the dwarf dropped to the floor with the bodies of his enemies. Only the quick thinking of Elrohir, and the use of another healing potion, saved him from death. With Elrohir's comrades avenged, the adventurers turned their thoughts to loot, as is their custom. It was with great elation that they found many of the treasures lost in the last foray, especially the mighty Star of the Morning. But the elation was short-lived, for the uniforms of the orcs was sure proof that the orcish army had discovered the caves below Bastion. An upward-sloping tunnel lead from the cavern, but the adventurers thought it best to clean out their current level first. Gordred, Elrohir and Kael were all on the verge of collapse, and so it came time for rest. This time they made camp in the caverns, near the locked door they had been unable to open earlier. Elrohir took this time to study his spellbook for an incantation that might open the door, while the rest stood guard or slept uneasily. And as Jah stood his turn at watch, a strange and unnatural creature stole into camp invisible and unseen. Jah caught sight of it as it materialised, an odd assortment of rubbery white arms on a bag-like body, all balanced on a single powerful leg. It voiced it's alien cry - "YIP YIP, MOMP MOMP" – and hopped forward to snatch at Jah's backpack. Jah managed to strike the thing first, and it disappeared back from whence it came, another in a long line of mysteries yet unanswered. The rest of the dark time passed without incident, and Elrohir tried his opening spell upon the door. Alas, it too was powerless, and the door remained impassable. With but one level passage unexplored, they decided to press on despite the wounds that plagued them. They went down two flights of stairs, and the air became thick and moist, and laden with a nameless dread. At last the passage opened into an enormous cavern, with an underground lake at one end and a set of large stone doors at the other. Soft chittering echoed about the cavern, and the furtive movements of bats could be made out upon the ceiling. There was also a smaller passage to the south, and it was here that the adventurers explored. It opened into two small rooms, one a bedroom and the other for storage, and both shattered by unknown forces long ago. The storeroom held naught but a chest, and in this chest a frayed and coiled rope. This they ignored. The bedroom held an item of much greater interest – the journal of Bastion's cryptkeeper! The book was moldy and stained, mostly illegible, but that is the sad toll of years on many a fine tome, my friends. Even so, a few passages remained legible, and it was Elrohir who read them aloud in his fine elven manner. "This is the first," he said. "[I]'...Lord Bayle has taken his life from despair. The siege has become more than his heart could bear, and I blame him not. Shameful his act was, but still will he be interred with honour in the tombs, until such time as his body may be returned...'[/I] There it ends, but there is more further on, here. [I]'...I have taken to paddling in the lake. The water is cold, but it refreshes me in the morning, and is a welcome distraction from war. Tirren says I am a fool, but I scoff at his warnings...'[/I] And yet more! [I]'...Barran Thar came by again today, seeking knowledge for something he calls the Vault of Hope. What is he planning?'[/I] Barran Thar? The name is familiar..." And though it did not come to him in that moment, later Elrohir would remember where he had seen the name – in the Vault of Hope, that strange and deadly museum discovered through the magic portal-painting in Bastion. "There are two more entries. The first reads thus: [I]'...and thus Aldorious, great paladin and last lord of Bastion was laid to rest in his tomb with the axe Orcsplitter. I would lay this weapon in hiding that some great warrior may one day claim it, rather than see the blade destroyed by our foes. The armies of the Dark God swell below our walls, and there is no hope for victory now.'[/I] Aha! Aldorious was the name of the paladin whose tomb we seek, is it not? It seems the end of our quest draws nearer! This is the final entry. [I]'...We have taken Orogg of Thar, legendary orcish warrior, and even now the lice-blown dog rots in our dungeons. He tried to escape last night, but he was too stupid to know that the door opens only for a man of the Bastion Guard.'[/I] That is all – the rest cannot be made out." And so they puzzled over this new information, but little could be made of it. There was little left to do but continue exploring. The stone double doors in the cavern were large and featureless, with no hinges to be seen. Predictably, they could not be opened, and so the lake became their final option. The waters were still, but shone with an odd, unnatural glimmer. As they drew nearer, the adventurers saw its source – a skeleton lay at the bottom of the lake, a key clutched in its bony fingers. The key shone with eldritch light, temptingly. Could such a thing be unguarded? Of course not, but Gordred wasted no time on such thoughts – without hesitation he dived into the chill waters and swam toward the prize. The key was bright and golden, and came free of the skeleton's grasp with little trouble. But then a dark shape appeared in the corner of Gordred's eye, approaching nearer and nearer, its form and nature indiscernible. Gordred turned and swam for shore, lungs bursting, racing his dread pursuer for his very life. And just as he burst from the lake the thing rose silently behind him, dripping water from its tentacled jaws, pincers flexing on the end of powerful arms. Slowly the nameless thing clutched Gordred in its embrace, wrapping its tentacles around his body and his face, worming them into his mouth. Its venom seeped into him, horrid and cold, sapping the very strength from his bones, and once more luckless Gordred lay helpless for the battle. He was at the mercy of the horror's chewing mandibles, paralysed, but horridly aware as the thing began eating him alive. Not content with but a morsel, the thing attacked, and proved more than a match for its foes. First Elrohir, then Kael fell beneath its blows, and only Jah and his glaive stood between the adventurers and a terrible death. Doggedly he rained down blow after blow upon the nameless lobster-thing, until finally its shell cracked and was pierced, oozing thick and black. Silently the thing sank below the water, releasing Gordred from its jaws. It was still alive, waiting and watching, mayhap to play a greater part in tales of the future. With Gordred hovering on death's doorstep, the adventurers returned to Bastion for rest and solace. Elmyr was ready to give neither – he had recovered from his illness, and mocked the adventurers for their sorry state. Chanis was in a more forgiving mood, and healed the party, though he required Gordred's oath still. This time the fell ranger gave it, though whether he intended to honour it is a tale for another day. Again the adventurers returned to the caves, and the impassable double doors. The key fit the lock, and they pushed open easily. The room beyond was lined with pillars, each carved with spirals that depicted spirits rising to the heavens. A door to the north there was, engraved with the sunburst symbol of the Light. To the south another door, engraved with the skull symbol of the Void. More double doors lead east, engraved with the image of a warrior with his arms crossed over his chest. The sunburst door opened into a small temple, with pews, an altar, and a funeral bier. An air of peace and holiness pervaded the air, and Gordred and Elrohir were especially unsettled. A silver bowl rested on the altar, full of a clear and wholesome water. The adventurers partook of this holy water with little regard for the sanctity of the place, emptying it into flasks, and moved on. The skull door opened into a similar temple, but here the bowl was clay, and filled with damp and stinking earth. The funeral bier was occupied – a skeleton lay upon it with a tarnished silver sword upon his breast. The sword bore the crest of Bastion on its pommel, and at this Elrohir became intrigued. He reached out with trembling hand and broke the sword from its holder's grasp. It came away with a harsh snap, for the skeleton's hands were still attached. They were prised free easily enough, however, and left with their original owner – though why such propriety in the face of blatant grave robbery is beyond me I fear! The double doors were last, and they too opened with the shining key. The room beyond had passages exiting to the north and south. Upon the wall was a tapestry, a traditional depiction of the Light standing over the Darkness, his blazing sword held high and his foe cowering and defeated. Yet this was different – the Darkness was depicted as five identical beings, and this the adventurers had never seen before. The adventurers moved on, heading north at Jah's insistence. It turned right, and came to a tomb to the north. [I]'Here lieth Bereg, first hero of Bastion,'[/I] it said, [I]'slain in the year 2012 AS. We must follow his example of sacrifice.'[/I] Perhaps wary now of the consequences of grave-robbery, or perhaps under the spell of conscience, they left the tomb alone and continued. They soon came to another, and this one not so still and restful. It said: [I]'Here lieth Ingvar, third hero of Bastion, slain in the year 2013 AS. He died in madness, but lived in honour.'[/I] But that was not urgent, for above the tomb stood Ingvar himself, a hollow apparition with pleading eyes. "Tell me!" he screamed, though his voice sounded as though from a great distance away. "Tell me who won the war!" And there was great trepidation, for in that pleading tone was the hint of death and madness. The adventurers debated for a time which war was meant, and in this we learned fellows should judge them not too harshly, for outside our walls the tide of history has swept all knowledge of the old times away. Though surely the great War of Nightfall is told in tales the world over, even in the shattered lands that our heroes hail from? Even so, the adventurers were confused, and in their memories they thought of the Eternal Battlefield which they had once visited – a vast plain where the dead wage war still, living and dying and living again for all of time. "The war is still waged," said Elrohir. "With yet no victor." "Then there is hope!" cried the spectral warrior. "There is still hope for the Light!" And with that the spirit vanished, his voice receding with a contented sigh. And yet its deathly presence lingered, sensed but not seen, and so the adventurers continued on, unsure of what they had achieved. The passaged turned south, with another set of double doors to the east. The adventurers sensed that there goal was near – the Tomb of Aldorious which had for so long eluded them. With hearts both excited and fearful, they opened the doors and stepped forth to meet their fates. The tomb of Aldorious stood upright in the centre of the room, and Aldorious's body was visible inside, radiant and untouched by the years. He looked exactly as his ghost had appeared when he implored the party to avenge his death, though none of the present adventurers had been there for that particular tale. An axe was gripped in his hand, and even from a distance it radiated with power. Four warrior statues flanked the coffin, their heads downcast. On a bier in front of the coffin was another corpse, this one rotted and eyeless. As the adventurers cautiously entered the room, the eyeless corpse rose from the bier jerkily. "Who comes to claim the great axe Orcsplitter?" it intoned. "Speak lest thee be judged." The adventurers hastily gave their introductions, unsure yet of what this judging would entail. "Wilt thou stand beneath my holy smite and be judged, and thus prove if thou art truly worthy to wield yon axe?" The adventurers consented, none wishing to test their mettle against this foe if such was not needed. The corpse-knight bowed his head, and then a blue fire lit his empty sockets. Suddenly the air around the adventurers burst forth with holy power, a power good and pure and deadly to the wrong kind of man. Jah and Kael were blasted, and staggered, but still they stood resolute. Elrohir and Gordred were sent sprawling to the floor, burned to the core of their dark souls. This was the manner of the judging, and all had failed, for one who was truly worthy would have emerged unscathed. But Kael could not accept this judgment, and strove to prove his worthiness by way of his axe-blade. Into battle he charged alone, hewing the knight's dead flesh with little effect. "Truly I am sorry that this duel could not be one of honour," said the corpse-knight, "but I must defend the tomb to the utmost of my power." With this he pointed his sword to one of the statues, and it lumbered to life, stepping from its podium with a sharp crack. Kael battled on, pummeled by stony fists, sliced by ancient blade, and yet he swung his axe again and again. It did no good, and soon he knew he would fall, though his dwarf's heart shuddered to admit it. "Go your way and you will be spared," said the knight, even as he swung his sword at the dwarf. "For I defend only the axe, and need not pursue." And so Kael left the field of battle, weary and forlorn, his hands aching in vain to wrap around the hilt of mighty Orcsplitter. But all was not lost! In an event that neither fate nor the gods could have foreseen, Jah thought of another bearer for the axe: loyal Corwyn, who lead Bastion with such simple nobility. Perhaps he would prove worthy? Before returning to Bastion, there were two more smaller tombs to explore. One read thusly: [I]'Here lieth Elestal, second hero of Bastion, slain in the year 2012 AS. She died that we may hope.'[/I] Once more the adventurers exercised caution, and chose not to defile this tomb. The last was open, the seal smashed. Inside lay the bones of a fallen warrior, with a warhammer of adamantine beside them. Jah snatched the hammer, and finally the grave-robbing ways of these fellows got the best of them. A roiling black cloud swirled from the bones, gibbering madly. The insane chatterings penetrated their minds, threatening yet fascinating. Gordred was the only one who succumbed, and he stood transfixed. Finally overwhelmed by the night's many terrors, the adventurer's fled this apparition, dragging Gordred behind them until he awoke from the trance. Back in Bastion, Corwyn proved reluctant to leave Bastion, as he still feared Elmyr's ambition. And yet, his desire to bring aid to Bastion was strong, and when Elrohir and Gordred offered to remain behind to watch Elmyr, Corwyn agreed to give his aid. With Jah and Kael at his side, he ventured forth into the depths. The way to the Tomb of Aldorious was open, and they reached it with no danger. Again the corpse-knight issued his challenge, and his call for judgment. At this Corwyn faltered – for the horror of the living dead was something beyond his experience. But then he found heart, in the promise of death for his people, and his brother, and his little niece, and he stepped forth to face the knight's judgment. The knight bathed him in holy power, and it washed over Corwyn without effect. And in that moment his soul was revealed, simple yet noble, and humble above all. "You are pure of heart," said the corpse-knight. "And I may rest at last." And so he did, sinking back onto his funeral bier, never to rise again. Corwyn took the axe Orcsplitter from the tomb with shaking hand, and held it aloft. Torchlight flashed along it, lingering on the brass dwarf's head that sat atop the haft. And then, to the astonishment of all, that head spoke! "Ach laddie, ye've woken me up from the long sleep at last, aye? Well, I'm thirsty, that I am. Soak me in ale for the night, will ye? It does an old axe good, it does. And then me thirst'll be slaked for real – with the blood of orcs and gobs, aye!" And then the axe fell silent, but Corwyn could feel the sentience that lingered within the blade, and he already sensed the beginning of a great kinship. Holding it reverently, he lead the way back to Bastion. And what of Elmyr? He confronted Elrohir and hated Gordred, of course, backed up by his gang of cronies, but naught was exchanged but bitter words. And yet, there was the promise of more to come – the promise that Elmyr would have the last laugh. Thus our tale ends, with Cormyr appearing before his people, Orcsplitter held high. Kael and Gordred stood at his side, as did Elrohir and Jah, and surely bloodthristy Qwan was in the crowd to see the outcome of the quest he had abandoned. "This is Orcsplitter!" shouted Corwyn gruffly. "Forged in olden times for one purpose – splittin' orcs, head and chest and all! The orcs are comin' by their hundreds, like we ain't never seen before, and hope was a meagre thing for us, that it was. But now we've got some! With this axe, we've got hope! We'll send those greenskin bastards back where they came from, or send 'em to hell!" "Aye!" shouted Orcsplitter. "Aye, we'll carve them from belly to breastbone and oil ourselves in their blood, we will, haha!" And Bastion erupted with a mighty cheer, the like of which had not been heard for centuries – for the first time these people had cause to believe that the darkness would not triumph. [/QUOTE]
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