The bard and the judicial champion led the search for the scout. There was no answer to their calls and none of the hunting party could be seen anywhere near the House that Sits High.
AID YOUR ALLY (Tekhra) - Weak Hit
GATHER INFORMATION (Williarth) - Weak Hit
It seemed hopeless, scouring the thick, wet woodland for a man who wouldn't answer his name. They'd assumed he'd just hurt himself in a ditch or something, but the further they went the less likely that outcome became. Eventually Williarth spotted an arrow in the undergrowth and hope was renewed. Proceeding on in silence, they began to smell something acrid in the air and hear faint voices in the distance. A hollow filled with pale pink smoke came into view. Tekhra skirted round to approach from the opposite direction and they converged on a horrible scene.
Three cultists in dirty robes surrounded a crackling fire by a large tree. Two of them danced to a silent rhythm whilst the other uttered incantations in an unrecognisable language. High above the flames Bjorn hung from a branch by a rope lashed to his ankles, his arms dangling uselessly in unconsciousness. They watched in horror as the thick plumes of smoke from the flames began to take a dark shape. The form of an armless human torso with the head of a bull coalesced and snaked upwards towards the captive. The head came face-to-face with him, the two horns lining up with his temples. The incantations began to rise in fervour and enthusiasm.
ENTER THE FRAY - Small pack of Zealots (Formidable)
... [Shadow] Kabeera - Weak Hit
... [Heart] Luiden - Strong Hit
... [Heart] Williarth - Weak Hit
... [Shadow] Tekhra - Miss
ENDURE HARM (Tekhra, Masked, Ironclad) - Strong Hit
Tekhra came charging out of the bushes, blades levied at the verbal cultist, but she underestimated his reactions and with a quick sidestep he drew a wicked-bladed dagger and sliced at her side as she passed. The elf grunted in surprise but her armour kept her from harm.
The fight was on and Luiden and Williarth stepped into the hollow with weapons bared whilst Kabeera prepared for an attack from hiding. The bard, keeping his eyes on the targets, called out to the suspended Bjorn, summoning him to consciousness.
But the scout was in bad shape and under threat of demonic possession. For now he was on his own and faced a great battle to resist the evil spirit long enough for the rescue to be effected.
SCENE CHALLENGE - Resist demonic possession (Dangerous)
The bard's words were just contextless sounds to Bjorn, muffled and distant. Something told him it was important, urgent even, but his dreams were disorienting and distracting. He tried to latch on to the voice and pull himself from slumber.
SECURE AN ADVANTAGE - Miss [0/10] [1]
ENDURE STRESS - Weak Hit
As the demon's will seeped into Bjorn's mind his dreaming became darker and cloudier and the voice of his comrade was pushed aside until it couldn't be registered any longer. Bjorn was now forcibly trapped in sleep and his struggles bound to the realms of dreams.
Luiden wasted no time in lunging for the nearest zealot.
STRIKE [0/10] - Strong Hit [3/10]
He thrust the spear aggressively at the cultist who nimbly dodged the first two stabs, but lost his balance and in the pause to stop himself from falling received Luiden's bone-blade fatally-deep in his side.
Kabeera lunged from behind the other dancing cultist...
STRIKE (Cutthroat) - Miss
...but a twig snapping underfoot gave her away. The zealot swung round on instinct and planted a heavy fist in her face, knocking her out in one blow.
Williarth closed in on the same zealot, who looked round and ran his blade lightly across his own throat with a wicked grin that made clear the pleasure he would take in cutting the bard up.
STRIKE [3/10] (Longarm) - Strong Hit [6/10]
Williarth got straight to the point, wielding his staff as a deadly weapon he rained a barrage of forceful blows to key pressure points on the cultist's head and torso. The cultist reeled back, dropped his weapon and after a moment of motionlessly staring at the bard collapsed to the ground with blood seeping from his ears.
Tekhra turned on the lead zealot, who despite having a blade drawn and spoiling for a fight was still speaking the words of his cursed ritual. This little inconvenience was nearly over...
Bjorn wandered a dark and indistinct labyrinth. Walls of alien masonry ran and jutted in geometrically-bewildering angles. The air was cold and still. Everywhere he looked there were carvings, sculptures and reliefs in a bull theme and with every step he grew in certainty that he was not alone here. He turned a corner and in an alcove ahead saw a familiar sight - his parents eating a meal together, laughing and smiling. They looked younger than they were the last time he saw them and it dawned that this was a pleasant memory from his childhood. Not one he'd cherished, though perhaps he should have.
Smoke began to billow at an empty seat at the table. Neither of his parents seemed to notice as it formed the hulking shape of a large man with a bull's head and bovine legs. Bjorn broke into a run as the minotaur flipped the table, lowered its giant horns and brutally gored his father against the wall. His mother screamed silently. He burst into the scene and barreled into the minotaur to barge it away from his parents.
FACE DANGER [0/10] [1] - Miss [0/10] [2]
ENDURE STRESS - Weak Hit
He flailed uselessly at the smoke demon and pushed right through it without making any connection at all. He turned and tried again, but his fleshy fists could make no impact and find no purchase on the the gaseous beast. He never gave up trying though, even as the minotaur finished goring his father and wrapped its massive hands around his mother's throat, crushing it closed with irresistible force. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he helplessly watched his mother suffocate before him.
Bjorn found himself standing in the alcove alone. The scene had vanished and he couldn't remember a single detail of it. Only that there had been one and the demon had destroyed it. Somewhere in his memory a huge chuck was missing, but how could he know what was missing without the memory of what was there before? At this point he realised what he stood to lose in this battle and he quivered at the terrifying prospect.
Bjorn, 19th of the name Dýrfirar, ventured further into the labyrinth convinced that was, and had always been, the 18th.
Tekhra gave a rising battle-roar and ran at the remaining cultist.
STRIKE [6/10] (Masked, Duellist) - Miss [6/10]
ENDURE HARM - Strong Hit
The cultist was so light on his feet and seemed to take no trouble in ducking aside at the last moment and kicking the elf's legs from under her in the process. Tekhra fell but rolled back to her feet, refusing to give any ground at all.
Luiden approached somewhat less impetuously, leveling his spear and opening up to the goading whispers of his bloodthristy wife. This one is dangerous, my loooove. Make it dangerous to be him. Endanger all the wicked ones. The new, no-quarters Luiden needed little encouragement and he came at the cultist with slaughter in his eyes.
STRIKE [6/10] (Blade-bound) - Miss [6/10]
ENDURE STRESS - Weak Hit
ENDURE HARM - Weak Hit
The skirmisher was confident in the superior reach of a spear facing a dagger, but as he thrust at his target he watched in horror as the zealot's body bent and bowed in was that bones should not allow, warping this way and that as though he and the cultist were playing by different spatial rules. The arm with the dagger impossibly lengthened and coiled like a cobra about to strike, then lashed forwards with just such a speed to slice Luiden's shoulder open from a clear six feet away.
The others looked on the cultist with similar horror. His hood had fallen and the shaven head sported inch-tall growths at the temples like juvenile horns and black smoke whisped from his nostrils. It seemed clear that this was to be the fate of their companion.
Bjorn ventured deeper into the labyrinth, continually taunted by a ghostly snorting and the scuffing of a hoof echoing down dark, twisting passages. A fresh breeze blew across the nape of his neck and he turned to see an outdoor scene from his home village of Frost Barrow. He saw the family home of his teenage love, a fair maiden called Elli. She was sat before it on the grass, the coastal wind in her hair and the sun shining down. He smiled and approached, but then noticed with horror that the shadows on the house behind her had a multitude of horns.
He reached her as the Minotaur surged out of the darkness.
FACE DANGER [0/10] [2] - Strong Hit [2/10] [2]
This time he put everything he could into visualising the strike. Time slowed and with every running stride he felt an iron force surging ever stronger in his muscles. When he impacted the demon it rang out like an almighty thunderclap and the smokey form flew apart into a swarm of whisps.
The flow of time reverted and he turned to Elli who seemed unflustered by the event. She tried to coax him into joining her and dreamily staring at the clouds together, but he knew better than to rest on his laurels. He grabbed her by the hand to pull her to her feet and into a run from this place before the monster returned.
SECURE AN ADVANTAGE - Weak Hit
She came, but grudgingly and not as fast as he wished. Behind them the demon was beginning to reform and he could hear the hideous snorting once again. He urged her on in the direction of the foothills sleeping at the end of the Tempest Hills mountain range and tried to pick up the pace.
FACE DANGER [2/10] [2] - Strong Hit [4/10] [2]
Very quickly they were running as fast as they could from the village, hand in hand and laughing. This was a different memory, one of the wild abandon of youth and the rebellion of teenagers in love. They exerted themselves together, laughing and casting no thought to the complaints of tired limbs. The demon pursued, now more bull than man, charging angrily after them but continually losing ground to the speed of exuberance.
Bjorn felt the swell of pride and relief at knowing every battle was safeguarding another piece of his soul, but he knew what was coming next. Elli was beginning to tire and slow and there was little doubt the demon would not. He led her into a rocky gulley strewn with boulders so that he might hide her from it. He quickly realised they were seguing into a different memory - Elli was a bit older now and the scene was of a time they'd had to hide from a roaming cave lion.
FACE DANGER [4/10] [2] - Miss [4/10] [3]
They ran for cover. The previous joy and excitement had vanished quickly and now it was gasping, panting and panic. Bjorn spotted a hidden depression in the rocks that would hide them well but as he pulled her in that direction a terrific roar swept over them and a giant, smokey lion with massive bull horns sprang into view behind her. It landed upon her, pinning her down and breaking his hold. The mouth opened and viciously tore at her flesh as she screamed his name. He watched helplessly as the demon devoured her before his eyes.
His mind whirled and he felt dizzy. He slumped to the ground and could feel all the emotional attachment he had for her seeping quickly out of his head. By the time she was fully devoured he had no recollection of her at all.
The demon prowled towards him.
FACE DANGER [4/10] [3] - Strong Hit [6/10] [3]
Bjorn scrabbled up the slope. In the waking world he couldn't hope to outpace a cave lion on level ground, let alone a climb this steep, but in the dream realms will is all and the terrain was composed from his own memories - every footstep and every handhold he recognised and exploited the familiarity of.
But the demon had its own powers over this place. It re-assumed the minotaur form and grew its proportions up and up and up. As Bjorn raced for the crest the gargantuan minotaur loomed up behind him and reached to pluck him from the hillside.
FACE DANGER [6/10] [3] - Miss [6/10] [4]
The crest kept shrinking away from Bjorn, refusing to draw nearer no matter his speed. The clawed-fingers of the minotaur snatched him up and engulfed him in blinding smoke. The reckoning was upon him.
The four in the forest closed in on the possessed zealot as one. His limbs were both elongated and snaking about and his body had stretched to be taller and thinner. Williarth came at him with a whirl of his staff.
STRIKE [6/10] - Miss with Complication (5) [6/10]
He struck the knife arm in an attempt to disarm, but it bent like soft dough then wrapped around the staff and pulled it from him, flinging it into the undergrowth.
Tekhra attempted to strike from behind but the cultist seemed to have perfect situational awareness and made to bash her sideways.
CLASH [6/10] - Miss [6/10]
ENDURE STRESS - WEAK HIT
FACE A SETBACK - [4/10]
The flailing arm swung in too quickly for her and she was thrown a clear ten feet. The strength the zealot could bring to bear surprised them all. Lying in the dirt she despaired at the impossibility of what they were seeing, lamenting the sheer wrongness of it, but in that hopelessness remembered the resolve of the dueling circle. She rallied and pulled herself back up from the dirt.
Luiden took a more measured approach now, understanding that the situation needed more consideration than brutal hack and slash. He extended his spear to ward off the serpentine arms and advanced.
FACE DANGER (Skirmisher) - Weak Hit
ENDURE HARM - Strong Hit
STRIKE [4/10] (Blade-bound, Skirmisher) - Strong Hit [9/20]
ENDURE STRESS - Weak Hit
One spear against two arms made for a challenge and he took a strong blow to the head as he closed in, but managed to set up a sudden dart and thrust at close range. The kin-blade cut the cultist long and deep, slicing through cloth and skin and flesh and bone like it was all no tougher than grass. The cultist howled loudly and flailed backwards, opening himself up to a perfect coup de grace, but the skirmisher couldn't follow through. Echoing around his head was his wife's sadistic laughter and the sensation of boney fingers tearing through the veil intend on dragging a soul from its body into the depths of hell. It was all he could do not to turn and run.
The spear was still embedded though. Williarth took a deep breath and went to give the cultist a running-shove from behind.
AID YOUR ALLY (Turn the Tide) - Weak Hit
The impact was clumsy and whilst the cultist was no less impaled it left the bard disoriented and scrabbling for secure footing.
Tekhra closed in, focusing everything into one big finishing blow.
STRIKE [9/10] (Turn the Tide, Masked, Duellist) - Miss [9/10]
FACE A SETBACK - [6/10]
She picked her moment, crossed her arms and came in for a scissor motion aimed at the elongated neck, but took her eyes off the arms and was struck in the face at the last moment. The fist grabbed her mask and lifted, bringing her with it to dangle in the air pathetically. The cultist clearly had much of his faculties about him still.
Luiden gave up trying to hold back the forces of the spirit world. 'Let the chaos spring forth!' he bade his wife and twisted the spear in the wound.
STRIKE [6/10] (Turn the Tide, Blade-bound) - Weak Hit [10/10]
ENDURE STRESS - Strong Hit
END THE FIGHT [10/10] - Strong Hit
'Have at him,' he whispered, almost regretting it immediately. His wife's spirit surged within the bone-blade and the cultist's eyes widened in abject terror as she invaded his soul from within his innards. The screaming cut the air like a knife. Tekhra dropped to the dirt in a heap and Williarth rolled swiftly to a safe distance and both looked up at the skirmisher and cultist locked in a horrible rictus of torturer and victim. The cultist's elastic body pulsated and leaked tendrils of foul-smelling smoke. The flesh tore in great rips and rotted away leaving a contorted skeleton on the end of the spear. Finally the bonds between the bones gave up and they fell into a pile that quickly turned to ash before their eyes.
The minotaur let go of Bjorn and he saw that they were back in his family home. His mother lay in bed drenched in sweat and clearly exhausted. His aunt was at her side, tending to her. The minotaur was normal size again, but still barely able to stand up straight. It approached a manger at the foot of the bed, unseen by his kin. Bjorn could at once see through both his own eyes and those of his newborn self, the smokey bull-head coming into view over the cot with hellish lights glowing in the eye-sockets.
This was it. The final move of his invader was to erase his self from the very beginning.
RESOLVE SCENE CHALLENGE [6/10] [4] - Weak Hit
Bjorn willed a complete merge with his newborn self, latching on to the link of the identity they shared. He was at one with himself at all ages. All his memories slid together to overlap with himself as the one common element running all the way through. As the minotaur made to snatch the child a full-grown Bjorn rose from the manger and plunged a hunting knife into its eye with an almighty thrust. The minotaur cried out in anguished defeat and stumbled backwards towards the door. Through the doorway was empty nothingness and Bjorn gave him a big, dramatic kick to evict the demon from his head once and for all. The form dispersed into rolling plumes of smoke that were promptly sucked out into the void. Bjorn stood and watched it dissipate breathing a welcome sigh of relief. But, staring out into the emptiness, he began to see faces. A young woman, a bearded man, a tanned and tattooed southerner, a hard-featured elven woman and a young man he somehow knew to be from his home town of Frost Barrow. They looked on him with sadness as they too faded and vanished and as Bjorn regained consciousness he forgot about them all entirely. This was the demon's final trick.
They put out the fire, roused a weary Kabeera and brought Bjorn back down to earth safely. The smoke was clearing and sanity starting to return to them all. Bjorn thanked them profusely and remarked how lucky he was for them to have happened upon his predicament.
Awkward silence.
Luiden performed a quick spiritual 'examination' to confirm that their comrade was definitely not possessed. There then followed the difficult conversation comparing the party's account of their adventures together as a bonded group with the scout's account of adventuring solo for the past few months. They married up in every detail except the cast. Bjorn considered it impossible to accept these four strangers (plus a deceased fifth) had spent so much time with him when he couldn't recollect a single one of their faces, but their intimate knowledge of his many recent exploits was impossible to explain. Eventually they had to resort to the common ground of immediate intent - return to the House and recuperate fully.
Luiden arranged one of the cultist bodies for interrogation, placing the candles and charms around it ceremonially.
COMMUNION - Strong Hit with Opportunity (1)
GATHER INFORMATION (Communion) - Weak Hit
The cultist's spirit was a cowering wreck and no match for the new and corrupted Luiden. The skirmisher tore its ego to shreds and drowned it in anxiety. He wasn't asking, he was demanding. The cultist spilled snapshot visions of the temple and of the way to reach it. He revealed it to be underground, completely shielded from the world above except by a single entrance located in what was known as the Chasm of Sundered Ash. As Luiden pushed for more he felt a third presence there, one that grew in the darkness and in a sudden predatory lunge swallowed the cultist's soul and disappeared in an instant. The scream punched through the veil and was heard by the rest of the party in the mortal plane. All the candles blew out in the same instance. Luiden came to, dumbfounded. He'd never known such a thing to happen and even his wife was too stunned to discuss it.
REACH A MILESTONE (Defeat the Cult) - [3/10]
They gathered themselves together and slowly made their way back the House that Sits on High to set themselves up for a long recovery.
Over the coming days they rested, mended, prepared and trained. In the night, around campfires in the ruined streets, they made as merry as they could.
Bjorn went over his memory loss with each of them repeatedly. Nothing jogged him right, but it made him feel better about continuing on with these virtual strangers.
Williarth found an elven stringed instrument to replace his lyre. Tekhra told him it was called a feylodian and attempted to explain the folklore around it. The bard's takeaway was that it was magical and had to be played literally with one's soul. He spent the rest of the time working on his ballad of the vow for Mayatanay, rhyming words and connecting themes.
REACH A MILESTONE (Write an exceptional ballad of Mayatanay's quest) - [5/10]
ADVANCE A THREAT (Cult's ritual) [0] - The threat works subtly to advance towards its goal [1]
Deep beneath the eastern reaches of the Deep Wilds, in millennia-old halls and passageways, the Brotherhood of Kuolemasykli worked en masse to make preparations for the big event. Chambers were being blessed, engravings translated and interpreted, prayers and sacrifices made over and over, infusing the whole temple with unholy charge and potency.
ADVANCE A THREAT (Doom of Thornfield) [5] - A major even reveals new complications [7]
The spontaneous rising of corpses was spreading far into the Deep Wilds now, but not all were heading due east. The Moonshard Stone was shining out to the blind and shambling skeletons as they pulled themselves from the stinking soil and they were drawn will-lessly to it to the immense consternation of its living followers. Nevertheless, their faith in its power was quite unshakable.
ADVANCE A THREAT (War with the Elves) [4] - The danger escalates [5]
The elf chieftain Dotani mounted his gaunt and took one last look at the Eyes that Gaze Out Upon the Waste as it burned darkly in the treetops above. He heard the Ironlanders' battlecries drawing closer under another volley of flaming arrows. The war was picking up pace and this was a considerable loss of ground for his kind. With a heavy heart he sounded the retreat on his horn and led the survivors off towards the Fortress that Catches Tears.