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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Helfdan" data-source="post: 893901" data-attributes="member: 11732">Chapter 3Part 3:  The Night Grows Darker    Again I get a brief moment to write to you, though it is with a heavy heart that I do so.  At times I wonder if I should continue to tell you of these events, grim as they are.  But I know that the chances of my letters reaching your hands are slim, and as I write I can imagine your responses and fatherly advice.  And today I could use your kind words more than ever.    I already wrote of how, after a bloody struggle, we captured the traitor, Tobias, in his stronghold in the Calemd forest.  It was another matter to get him safely back to Tabat, given the un-dead monstrosities that were waiting to fall on us as soon as dusk deepened.  The only survivor among the mercenaries, a man called Landrick, offered to help us, and swore not to aid Tobias or try to escape.  As he tried to interfere with our preparations, the betrayer of Medore was roughly gagged.  We had a brief discussion, as some of my comrades wished to spend the night in the traitor’s tower, whilst others wished to hurry out of the forest.  In the end we decided to try to leave the forest post-haste, as we feared that our horses would not survive the night.      After setting fire to the corpses of our fallen foes, we hurried along the narrow game trail and reached our horses by dusk.  We were weighted down by the loot we took from the tower.  Much of it would be useful to us, and the rest we meant to return to the Hintaneese quartermasters.  Jaral smiled on us, as our mounts were safe.  We quickly loaded both goods and prisoners on our pack beasts, and anxiously followed the wider trail out of the forest.  It was completely dark by the time we reached the main road.  Inexplicably, the half-elf Landotharan suggested that we camp then and there!  He was promptly outvoted, for the rest of us had little doubt that the monsters would chase us past the eaves of the Calemd.      The ride back was a harrowing one.  Our imagination made many a tree branch look like a grasping claw, and the wind often sounded like the hellish moaning of unliving monsters.  But thanks to the Judge of Judges, no attackers materialized on our four-hour ride to Tabat.  As we approached, we saw a long line of torches leaving the garrisoned town—the armies of Tabat were starting the march to the fork of the Antarius River, where they mean to destroy the largest remnant of the orcish hordes of Kundria.      We rode slowly past the mobilizing troops, and it was almost midnight when we reached the iron gates of Lord Eltross’s keep.  We were promptly received by his seneschal, Lorem.  He was elated to see our prisoners, and had them promptly taken to his dungeons.  I reminded Tobias of his impending appointment with Tilsman’s justice, and his reply was the only one possible – a hate-filled glare as he growled through his gag.  I fear he will never repent, and is already lost.  I have to admit I felt pangs of guilt at Landrick’s surprise at his own arrest.  But though he was true to his word, he was guilty of brigandry as well.  I resolved to aid him at his trial, within the bounds of truth.      We were then led to the same guest rooms as before, and settled down to a large meal, which seemed a feast to us after our toils.  Again with the cornbread…   what do these people have against wheat?  After dinner, Segnarus announced he had ‘business’ to take care of (yes, at midnight!) but the rest of us settled in for some rest – or so we thought.  For I was woken by a sense of palpable evil, less than an hour after bedding down.  It seemed to emanate from outside the room, so as I donned my plate-and mail armor, I awoke my companions and warned them of impending danger.  Girion donned his own shirt of dwarf-forged links, while Baruk went next door to awaken Landotharan and Solemund.  Soon we were all awake and armed, and I set to the task of finding this hidden threat.  I soon saw that the taint I felt came from the left-overs of our meals!!      We were preparing to go to the kitchens, when Lorem came to us.  He was surprised, and incredibly offended, to see us awake, armed, and armored.  I explained our reasons, but he would not listen.  His anger was great, as if we had committed a heinous crime.  I told him about our curse, Sen Beldazar’s efforts, and my feelings regarding the food.  He seemed to hesitate for a moment, but ended up casting us out into the night, for ‘violation of the lord constable’s hospitality’.  What were we to do?  I thanked him for his kindness, and as we parted, beseeched him one last time to confirm our story with the Sen.      As we did not know this town, and needed shelter for the night, we sought sanctuary at Tilsman’s temple.  The acolyte on guard explained there was not room for us all, but he kindly directed us to a nearby hostelry called ‘The Inn in the Hole.’  I was somewhat surprised, for what inn keeps its doors open after midnight?  It was to be a night full of surprises.      The inn was indeed open, and as a matter of fact, crowded.  The many wooden tables were loaded with platters of food and flagons of strong drink, even at this hour.  All eyes in the common room seemed to turn to us briefly on arrival (I keep forgetting these people are not used to fully armored knights outside of the battlefield).  A burly ruffian, working as door-guard, gruffly welcomed us and intimated that though we were obviously deserters, we were welcome!  Baruk grumbled at this slight, but nonetheless we followed a serving wench to a well-used, ale-stained table.  We ordered some mulled wine, except for Solemund, as the large, shaven-headed priest avoided all earthly temptations.  I wondered if that was the reason his faith seemed stronger than mine, though I admit I was distracted by the swaying hips of our serving maid…  Some things do not change, do they father?    The men in the tables close to ours were engaged in games of chance – knucklebones and a complex game wherein a large, colored wheel set on the wall was spun, and bets were placed on which number would be topmost when it stopped.  Baruk and Lando both bet (and lost) a few coins, but conversation soon turned to the tainted foodstuffs.  At my friends’ urging, I called upon Tilsman to help me see if the food in this place was also tainted.  As the wenches passed by our table, I saw that over half the heavy platters of viands had the taint!  We were soon interrupted by the door-guard, who claimed my “staring” was making the customers nervous.  I apologized, and returned to my wine.  I could not help but think that in some way, they knew I was seeking the evil in their hearts, and it was their guilt, rather than my eyes, that made them nervous.  Solemund heartily agreed.  We soon were led to our rooms, and spent the rest of the night in peaceful slumber.      I arose with the dawn the next morning, and made my way to the stable.  After checking on Stepper, I went to the inn’s courtyard, which was still quiet.  It was a good place for my morning prayers.  As the sun rose over Tabat, I prayed:  to Barlam, for strength; to Iolanthes, for courage; to Morcandor, for honor; and to Tilsman, may he judge me worthy.  I then started practicing with Aerbrand, as armsmaster Turin taught me.  But after half an hour or so, as the townsfolk arose, I had to stop due to their stares – truly, for an empire which claims to have the largest armies on Andaras, these people seem to have little experience with warriors.      After a quick breakfast, we returned to the temple of Tilsman to meet with Sen Beldazar.  He welcomed us, and quickly led us to his study.  He congratulated us on our capture of Tobias, and asked if we were pleased with the bounty.  Lorem had mentioned nothing of this!  The Sen smiled, and offered to send an acolyte to collect it for us.  I was very pleasantly surprised when Girion and Lando offered a portion of the reward as a tithe.  He then turned somber, as he announced he had communed with our lord Tilsman and his saints.  He spoke of visions, father:  He spoke of Cir, and the march of the Hintaneese army.  He saw Lord Eltross, and Erecos himself.  He saw Death, and rivers of blood flowing though the land.  And he saw the abandoned priory at the edge of Tabat, and somehow knew that the answers to our riddles were there to be found.  He also said he did not understand the nature of the curse, but felt something terrible was about to happen.      To these grim tidings we added our tale of the previous night’s events, and the evil taint in the food.  We all agreed our best lead to this widespread taint was the old priory, but the Sen warned us that the lord constable’s men were guarding it, and no one was allowed within a stone’s throw of the place.  As we were discussing our options, Segnarus swaggered into the temple.  Now fully recovered from his wounds, the swarthy little thief-catcher had obtained some useful information.  He had heard Lord Eltross was back in his keep.  He also felt that the best way to get access to the priory could be obtained from a smuggler named Murias, a dwarf of the Old Kingdoms.  I was shocked to hear that Segnarus would deal with such folk, but he sheepishly explained that sometimes these ‘contacts’, as he called them, were needed to catch other criminals – this land has truly unusual customs, father.      But we decided to attempt to gain entry to the priory in a lawful manner, and rode to the lord constable’s keep.  The gate guards were short with us, stating that Eltross would not want to see us after our ‘behavior’ the previous night.  Girion and Baruk soon lost patience, and started answering the guards in kind.  Thank the Keeper I was able to calm my friends, and persuade the guards to at least announce us to their lord.  Within a few minutes Eltross himself marched out to meet us, surrounded by seven men-at-arms.  He was as furious as Lorem had been, accusing us of violating his hospitality.  I told him of our findings, and of our intention to explore the priory.  Again my words fell on deaf ears.  He accused us of rumor-mongering in times of war, and refused our request.  “If you truly wish to help, you should ride out with our troops, to fight the Kundrian scum!” he announced imperiously.  After crossing Andaras to fight orcs, father, I cannot help but feel there was some truth to that statement.  But the evil in this town was palpable, if insidious.  It needed to be rooted out.      Thus, despite my misgivings, we were soon standing in a small, cluttered store in the seamiest part of town.  Our host was a white-bearded, wrinkled dwarf, who for all his finery had all the finesse of a weasel, if you can forgive the alliteration.  His keen eyes appraised us, or rather, our belongings – his craftsman’s eyes were even drawn to Aerbrand’s plain hilts, though it remained in its old scabbard.  We first traded with him for some of the items we obtained from Tobias’s keep (and I’m certain he cheated us, despite my ignorance in matters of coin).  We then turned to our quest – and were surprised when he told us he knew of our plans!  This dwarf is more dangerous than he seems.      He offered to help us enter the priory, in exchange for a black gem, the size of a man’s fist, which he knew was hidden at the priory.  Some “associates” of his wanted this item, or so he claimed.  Murias warned us not to touch it with our bare hands.  However, he refused to answer any questions on the nature of this item, or who his sponsors were – save to tell us that his patrons were powerful and not to be crossed.  And worst of all, he would only agree to help us if we gave him our word that we would give the gemstone to him, regardless of its nature.  It felt as if we were making a promise to Etigon himself, Tilsman preserve us.  But the deal was struck, and we were instructed to go to the priory four hours after sunset.      As we turned to leave, Baruk asked Murias one last question: “You say you are from the Old Kingdoms, Master Murias.  By chance do you know the meaning of this brand upon my cheek?”  The dwarven sorcerer rarely spoke of his past, and with good reason.  All he remembered was waking up amongst his kinsmen after a battle with monstrous goblins.  He knew nothing of his home, his kin, or the source of his remarkable powers.  I did not like the gleam in the smuggler’s eyes as he answered the obvious: He would tell Baruk of the strange sigil when we brought the black gem back.  I could not help but feel my friend would be disappointed.      At the appointed time, Girion, Baruk, Lando, Solemund, and I approached the priory in the light of a half-moon.  Even from this abandoned area of town, we could still see the line of torches as the armies of Tabat continued their march towards the fork of the Antarius, and destiny.  I briefly thought of the quartermaster’s delight when we gave him the armor, weapons, and other military supplies we liberated from the traitor’s keep.  I was shaken from my reverie by an improbable sight:  over a dozen guardsmen were strewn around the courtyard which surrounded the priory.  They had identical darts sticking from their necks, but to our relief they were not dead, only drugged.  The ranger from fallen Roedran was amazed.  “My friends, skilled in stealth as I am, I know of no one who could accomplish such a task without raising any sort of alarm.”  This was no doubt the work of Murias’s patrons, as if we needed further concerns.      But other matters were quickly forgotten when we saw our goal.  The priory was a large stone and mortar structure, at least thirty feet high.  It was roughly pyramidal in shape, if flat-topped.  A large stairway led to a set of great wooden doors.  We climbed swiftly, and on reaching the doors saw that they had scorch marks and other signs of forceful entry.  And then the ranger’s keen ears heard footsteps beyond the doors.  Solemund and Lando leapt up, applying their combined strength to gain our entry.  But they felt resistance, as if someone was opposing their efforts from within.  Girion and I added our shoulders to the fray, and the doors flew open.  We saw a dimly-lit hallway, which two cowled figures were crossing in an attempt to escape through two separate doors.      The ranger sprang forth like a panther.  He drew his sword as he reached his prey, but the cowled one was far from helpless.  He touched Girion’s shoulder and to our horror, wounds opened on the skin of the ranger’s arm.  As Girion struck back dauntlessly with his blade, I ran after the other black-garbed man, Solemund and Lando close on my heels.  We burst into a large storeroom, which was remarkable only in that several walking corpses served as porters!      “By the power of the Strong God, BEGONE, vile things!”  And Barlam’s power was indeed with Solemund, as three of the zombies were consumed by cleansing white flames.  By that light I saw that there were not one, but three of the cowled villains in the room.  We attacked, and a fierce melee ensued.  Our foes wielded spiked maces, and invoked some kind of hellish power as they struck at us.  Solemund called Barlam’s name as he swung his iron-bound club with passion.  Lando fought silently at my other side, his greatsword cutting through robes and into flesh.  More zombies joined the fight, and we were sorely pressed.  As the last of the cowled villains fell to our weapons, I was once again compelled to call on the gods for aid.  “By all that is holy, BEGONE, foul creatures!”  I do not know if my faith has grown, father, or if these creatures are simply weaker than those we met in the Calemd forest.  But they recoiled in terror from me, and shuffled away as fast as they could.  It was not long before all of them were destroyed by steel, wood, and Baruk’s eldritch beams.      We searched the cowled corpses, and found naught but maces, hauberks, robes, and medallions which I can only depict roughly:        After making sure no one was grievously wounded, we chose one of the doors leading deeper into the priory.  We saw a long hallway with two doors on the left side.  Girion and I opened one, while Lando and Solemund opened the other.  Each room held one of the cowled villains, but these were quickly dispatched.  The hallway seemed to end in a blank wall.  But the eyes of the faerie are not to be underestimated.  Lando somehow saw a cunningly hidden doorway in that wall!  He also announced he heard strange chanting behind the door.  He hastily opened it and rushed out, before we could stop him.  We followed as he turned right into a narrow hallway.  It opened into a chamber the likes of which I hope to never see again.      It can best be described as a fane.  It was dark, and dominated by a ten-foot tall statue of black stone.  We could only see it from the back, and it appeared to be a powerfully-built humanoid with six arms.  The only lighting came from two torches clenched by the uppermost of arms.  The middle arms were spread out as if in supplication, while the lowest set held twin censers, which spewed out noxious fumes that permeated the room.  My senses were assaulted by raw, unabated evil.      Its occupants were no less striking.  Close to half-a-dozen zombies wandered brainlessly around the statue.  The chanting came from three more of the cowled acolytes, for it was now obvious that is what they were.  And leading their unholy rite was a woman.  She was tall, slim,  and pale, with a wild mane of lustrous black hair.  Her unearthly beauty was only marred by the malice in her features as she saw us, and commanded her minions to attack.  Solemund’s warning was no surprise: “She’s been kissed by the dark powers, the stench of death is upon her!”      Crowded into the entranceway as we were, it was difficult to react as our foes set upon us.  One of the acolytes spoke eldritch words, and to our amazement, Lando screamed and ran in terror from the battle!  Solemund called on Barlam to destroy the walking dead, but he was unsuccessful, as it seemed the miasma in the fane protected them from his powers.  I called on Tilsman’s blessing as I drew sword and tried to force my way into the fane.  As Girion gracefully loosed arrows into the fray from his long bow,  Baruk spoke words of power, and from his outspread hands a sheet of flame appeared, singeing several foes!  But the stalwart dwarf was then affected by another of the acolytes’ spells, and fled in terror after Lando.      Solemund then spoke sacred words as he brought his club down on the floor, and a shockwave traveled through the tiles to knock one of the zombies off its feet.  I rushed through that opening, striking at the two acolytes who came to bar my way.  In such close quarters, it was my shield and harness that protected me from their spiked maces, though some of the impact got through.  The evil priestess spoke hellish words, and my eyesight started to fade.  But the Judge of Judges must have been watching for me, as her spell vanished without effect.  I saw a fierce wolf materialize next to the evil beauty, summoned by Solemund, but she eliminated it with her magic in a matter of seconds.      Not for the first time that fateful night I thought I would be overwhelmed, alone against so many foes.  But my friends have yet to fail me.  One of the acolytes, in trying to avoid my sword, walked into Girion's line of fire, and fell with an arrow in his throat.  As I pressed my attack, the barlamite used another sacred shockwave to slay a zombie, and charged into battle.  Once again we stood side by side, sword and club bringing death to evil foes.  But this time our victory was far from assured.  For the priestess again spoke words of power, and from the darkest pits of hell a terrible monster appeared.      At first glance it appeared to be a massive ape, like those we once saw in the great baronial fair so many years ago…  But its hide was crimson, and its stench was of sulfur and brimstone.  It roared as it flailed at Solemund with its mighty claws.  Yet not all was lost, for Lando charged back into the fray at this time.  Shortly after this we saw Baruk’s fiery missiles join Girion’s arrows in punishing the zombies.  Again the priestess called to the dark powers, and I felt my muscles start to freeze in place, but by the grace of Tilsman this did not last, and I continued to fight for my life.  I raised Aerbrand high, and by Morcandor’s might split an acolyte’s skull to the teeth.  I turned on the fiendish ape, invoking the Keeper’s name, but before I could strike he shouldered me into a wall with such force that my sword slipped from my grasp.  But that was the least of my concerns at the moment.      For it was then that the priestess glided into the melee, straight at Solemund.  Her delicate hand grasped the mighty barlamite by the throat, and as she spoke eldritch words, he died. No, that is not correct.  Father, I cannot describe to you how vile an act that was.  At her touch, the burly priest went stiff, and his eyes turned completely white.  In front of our disbelieving eyes, his skin became sallow and greenish, as life was drawn from his body.  What fell to the floor was not a corpse, but a desiccated husk.      I heard inarticulate cries from my friends, and saw Baruk’s  magical missiles slam into the villainess.  As the ape, acolyte, and remaining zombies battered me, I crouched to recover Aerbrand, and plunged its white blade into the fiendish simian’s guts.  Before I could finish it, though, the priestess leapt to my side, her lovely face twisted with hatred.  “I curse you for as long as you live to be weak as a child!”  With these words, she caressed my face, almost sensually.  But her words came true, as strength drained from me, and my armor seemed as heavy as the first time I put it on in your training yard.  As I fell to one knee, Lando screamed in rage.  Ignoring the zombies, he leapt at the ape, swinging his greatsword in a powerful arc.  The ape’s head rolled to the floor, and it vanished in a flash of hellfire.      Baruk again hit the priestess with his fiery missiles, and though hurt, she seemed to be intent on finishing me.  But weak as I was, I could still wield Aerbrand.  I attacked as I rose, and felt my blade bite deeply into her flank.  She screamed, backed away from me, and cast another spell—and the room was plunged into darkness.  The next few moments were confusing, as Lando and I moved awkwardly through the magical darkness to bring the fight to the remaining acolyte and zombies.  Suddenly we heard a male voice shout “Simarul take me!”  , and the eldritch darkness vanished.  We saw that the last acolyte had taken his own life.      As we turned to look for the priestess, we heard Girion cursing from another entrance to the fane (the main one, as it turns out).  The ranger had managed to follow the priestess through the magical darkness, but as he ran after her, he fell into a hidden pit, and she was able to escape.  We reached him as he was climbing out of the pit, annoyed at his ill luck. There was naught left to do but search the fane, for Lando had killed the last zombie and was looting the corpses.        We could now see the front of the idol, and were surprised to find it had the head of a crow!  I have heard of no such demon, but doubtless its name is Simarul.  In front of the statue was a plain altar.  On this altar was a crystal urn.  Within it, in a fist-shaped steel clasp, was a large black opal.  The opaque stone throbbed eerily, like a beating heart would.  As I turned to ask Baruk what kind of stone this could be, I heard him sobbing quietly.  Then the events of the battle returned to me with stunning force: Solemund was dead.      I approached his remains, and tears welled in my own eyes.  The evil woman had managed to take away what dignity there was in death.  His corpse was dry and desecrated, and barely resembled the man we knew.  Baruk doffed his cloak to cover our friends face.  With some difficulty (due to my weakened state) I knelt at his side and prayed to Barlam, the Strong God, to intercede with Terferos for this brave man’s soul.  As I did, the golden buckle on Solemund’s belt shone with a clean, inner light.  I was compelled to take it, but felt it would be disrespectful.      “He would want you to take it, I think.”  Girion smiled, even in his grief, as he spoke.  The rest of my comrades agreed.  As I buckled on the broad leather belt, I felt slightly stronger – an unexpected gift from a departed friend… I will continue this tale another time, for as I write this, father, my grief returns.  If a man of such strong faith can be so easily overcome by evil, what hope is there for the rest of us?  Yet I can imagine your answer to that question, and it seems to me the barlamite would agree.  “The best a man can do, son, is to face life’s hardships on his feet.”  Solemund was a good man, courageous and true.  He shall be greatly missed, but not forgotten.  And if Tilsman is willing, he will have justice.</blockquote>

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