'Didn't you learn anything?'
'Not really. It's not like a book with clear instructions.'
'But you held it. And you've had magical tutorage, right? Surely you could make it ... work.'
'It's possible, but in that short a timeframe and surrounded by the enemy...'
'We'll see to them. You just focus on what you need to do.'
SCENE CHALLENGE - Execute the plan (Extreme)
Tekhra grabbed Luiden's spear from where it leant in the shadows of the large doorframe and heaved it like a javelin up the great hall.
SECURE AN ADVANTAGE - Strong Hit
It sailed over the congregation and embedded in the floor just in front of the skirmisher. Luiden leapt to his feet, snatching it up in one fluid motion and turning to fend off the rising cultist horde.
FACE DANGER [0/10] [0] - Strong Hit [0.5/10] [0]
He had the jump on them, but not by much. He swung the barbed bone-blade wide and forcefully. He struck one aside, then another, creating a small zone within the first few rows.
Bjorn and Williarth sprang into action too, sprinting apart to opposite sides of the hall as the robed minions lunged for them from behind.
FACE DANGER (Bjorn) - Weak Hit
FACE DANGER (Williarth) - Weak Hit
Both of them struggled, the path of each being interfered with by frantically clawing arms of the cultists, but thought they were slowed no grip found purchase upon them. In moments they each stood by a rope attached to the giant candelabra. In unison, the bard, the scout and the champion set about releasing the weighty apparatus.
AID YOUR ALLY (Bjorn) - Strong Hit (Burn)
AID YOUR ALLY (Williarth) - Strong Hit
SECURE AN ADVANTAGE (Tekhra) - Miss [0.5/10] [1]
ENDURE HARM (Masked) - Weak Hit
Though Tekhra had secreted their weapons behind hanging banners right by their positions, both the scout and the bard opted to untie the knots rather than trust to hacking through the thick rope. Both performed nimble work and freed their anchors in quick order, but the elf champion was less successful. She landed a swing that sliced halfway through and the fibres creaked as though threatening to give at any moment, but as she raised the blade to strike again she suffered a strong blow to the head from behind that lay her out flat. Blurry-visioned she frantically scrabbled for her swords before her assailant could take advantage of his ambush.
Kabeera leapt upon the altar as nimbly as the wedding gown would allow her and pulled down the scythe from its suspension. The officiating cultist grabbed at her ankle...
SECURE AN ADVANTAGE - Weak Hit
...and for his efforts received a bone-crunching stamp from Kabeera's boot. He howled in pain and recoiled.
She'd bought herself some precious moments. Turning to face the chaotic scene from her vantage point, she clutched the scythe tightly, narrowed her eyes and focused intensely upon the mystical force emanating from it.
FACE DANGER [0.5/10] [1] - Strong Hit [1/10] [1]
The scythe responded. It was a primal thing - little by way of complexity or nuance, but wild and contentious and likely not without teeth.
Mayatanay had also sprung forth from her kneeling position in the front row. Hood thrown back and standing tall, she was not at all as she was. She had been present for the invocations, heard and understood every word and their force had found her. She was young again, healthy, fit and youthful. She now stood over the spasming form of the Dead King. She bent down and loudly proclaimed to his dying ears 'I do not hold my peace!' before drawing Kabeera's dagger from his throat in a spray of arterial blood and preparing to buy the noble as much time as possible from the advancing rage of cultists.
Luiden was getting overwhelmed and started backing up towards the altar, still sweeping his spear as his wife tittered with anticipation in his ear.
FACE DANGER [1/10] [1] - Weak Hit [1.5/10] [2]
The effort had him sweating profusely and panting from exertion. he maintained the safe zone as the horde of shouting cultists tried their hardest to get by him, but their focus and organisation were recovering quickly from the initial shock.
Bjorn had now grabbed up his bow and arrow and turned it upon the fast-approaching zealots.
SECURE AN ADVANTAGE (Archer) - Weak Hit
FACE DANGER [1.5/10] [2] - Miss [1.5/10] [3]
ENDURE STRESS - Strong Hit
Something hissed behind him, startling him enough to send his shot far wide of any enemy. He turned to look over his shoulder and nearly screamed at the shadows separating themselves from the dark recesses at the back of the hall and coming towards him. There were lots of them and they kept coming and coming, tiny specks of flickering light for eyes the only discernible feature. They stood tall and bipedal as humanoids, but their necks were long and he thought he saw tails. He held his terror at bay, just, and ducked behind a hanging banner.
Williarth had also grabbed his weapon, but was making a mad dash for Tekhra's rope that was still hanging on to its heavy payload.
FACE DANGER [1.5/10] [3] - Strong Hit [2/10] [3]
Most of the cultists were focused on the front. Those few that attempted to impede him were deftly smacked aside by his staff and on reaching the rope he brought the haft down on the weakened spot with all his might.
REACH A MILESTONE (Defeat the Cult) - [4/10]
The huge wooden wheel and violently-flaming passengers went into terrifying freefall and the bard winced as it descended upon the mass of robes below. With an almighty crash it landed upon two or three dozen of them, breaking many skulls and backs with its terrific weight. The sudden and immense violence of it, so soon after the betrayal at the altar, sent a fresh wave of confusion and panic throughout the congregation as did the fact that many of them were now on screaming blue fire.
A wave of the cultists came running at Williarth, at least some of them intent on dealing him imminent bodily harm though most were bound for the exit. Tekhra finally dispensed with her attacker and came rolling in to the bard's defence.
FACE DANGER [2/10] [3] (Masked, Duellist) - Strong Hit [2.5/10] [3]
She advanced into the charging mass like a lawnmower, swirling blades with professional speed and strength and relentlessness, chopping and slicing and severing at every turn. Their numbers were still immense, but she stayed focused and in control.
Kabeera's negotiating of the scythe's mystical propensity was a struggle that she couldn't quite get on top of. It was unruly and petulant, refusing to be commanded so soon out of centuries of ceaseless labour. The officiator had regained his bearings and came at her legs again with a large, ceremonial blade.
FACE DANGER [2.5/10] [3] - Weak Hit [3.0/10] [3]
She noticed him just in time and brought the blade down upon the cultist, swinging it over his head and stabbing into his back, severing his spine. As he fell so did she, over-balanced due to lack of accustom to such an awkward weapon. She hit the altar-top flat on her back and the wind blew straight out of her lungs.
But the scythe remained in her grip and it seemed ... pleased?
Luiden looked over his shoulder at how things were going at the altar and was stunned enough as to nearly drop his guard against the mad, flailing throng of flaming and angry worshippers. As Mayatanay fended off stray attackers that had taken the long route to avoid him, the Dead King was rising behind her. His features were flickering between the face of youth and the visage of death. He was trying to claw his way back from the spirit world into his next lifetime and seemed intent upon the Chosen One as though he could use her to this end. The skirmisher made a whirlwind maneauvre to buy him a precious few seconds, then turned to face the Dead King and, with his wife advising him in sordid whispers, delivered a commanding malediction to compel the evil spirit fully out of this plane.
SECURE AN ADVANTAGE - Weak Hit
The Dead King stopped in his tracks, just short of Mayatanay. Luiden maneuvred his way between them as the Dead King staggered backwards, struggling to keep a grip on his broken mortal frame but not for long. In seconds he was back in control of his faculties and lurching at the skirmisher.
Bjorn watched the teeming shadow spirits flood into the hall and into the sea of crazed cultists. He tried not to see the shadows grabbing at them and pulling them screaming into their own dark forms, undoubtedly condemning them to some dread hell. He backed up along the wall then turned his attention towards the altar. Seeing the Dead King vertical and engaged only by Luiden he made for a clear angle from the rear of the hall.
SECURE AN ADVANTAGE - Strong Hit
FACE DANGER [3.0/10] [3] - Strong Hit [3.5/10] [3]
As the Dead King moved to strike down the skirmisher, Bjorn's arrow pierced the back of his skull, drove through his brain and appeared fully out an eye-socket, the destroyed eyeball hanging in tatters from the arrowhead. On top of this new destruction of his mortal body Quoth came flapping furiously down from the rafters.
SECURE AN ADVANTAGE - Weak Hit
The corvid raked deep into the Dead King's chest with its razor-sharp talons and pecked viciously at his head and neck. The Dead King howled in frustration and flapped his arms at the bird to little effect.
Tekhra, meanwhile, was making every effort to keep any cultists from fleeing. They couldn't afford any kind of re-grouping outside the hall - this was their best hope of crushing the brotherhood once and for all.
FACE DANGER [3.5/10] (Masked, Duellist) - Miss [3.5/10] [4]
ENDURE HARM (Masked, Ironclad) - Strong Hit
She slew at an incredible pace and the blood specks in the air formed a veritable red mist around her, but eventually a cultist blade found an opening and caught up under her armour. She fell with an unheard cry and immediately braced for the stampede, but it didn't come. She uncovered her eyes and looked up to see a charge in the opposite direction, but of shadows. Horrible, horrible malformed shadows with lizard-like gaits running silently into the crowd and pulling them out of reality.
The shadow spirits attacked the congregation from all sides now. The cultists screamed and fought with one another in mad panic to escape, but routes out there were none. The air was awash with chaos and pain and utter terror.
RESOLVE SCENE CHALLENGE [3.5/10] - Miss
The spirits would not acknowledge the Dead King, but closed in on Kabeera where she knelt on the altar, head bowed in silent and focused communion with the scythe. She drowsily sensed their presence closing in, intent on pulling her from this world too.
ENDURE STRESS - Strong Hit
Clutching a relic of power, there atop the great altar in a hall imbued with age-old magic, a place serving as the sole focus of an almighty deity, she couldn't help but feel steeled with supreme will.
In her mind she reached out to the shadows - she could hear them seething with rage and thirst for vengeance. She cut through their jabbering with an almighty proclamation: 'Leave us be, for I shall set you free!'
COMPEL - Strong Hit
It was a bluff, but a good one and heavily-weighted with conviction. The shadows halted their advance upon her and waited impatiently.
Luiden took a moment to be sure the shadows weren't coming near him, then with his wife's goading spurring him on, he thrust the kin-blade spear into the Dead King's abdomen with a sickening sound.
FACE DANGER - Strong Hit with Opportunity (7)
The wound began to rip and maggots poured out, but Luiden was blind to it for he witnessed far, far worse. He saw the Dead King's spirit writhing on the spear head, impaled in spectral space. He saw the spear begin to glow a horrible, cold blue hue and ghostly arms stretch from it to grab at the Dead King's limbs en masse. He watched the Dead King's soul distort and stretch with the pulling, screaming and rending under the other-worldly force and being sucked into the spear-glow in pieces. He heard his wife roaring with laughter.
REACH A MILESTONE - (Defeat the Cult) [4.5/10]
The physical form of the Dead King, now truly forever and empty of vitality, crumpled to the ground and began to quickly disintegrate into dust and bones. Luiden braved the stench to pull free the top of the spine - a prize specimen indeed!
REACH A MILESTONE (Acquire the remains of legendary warriors to oppose the doom) - [4/10]
And then Kabeera slammed the hilt of the scythe down upon the top of the altar with an almighty crack.
FULFIL YOUR VOW (Defeat the Cult) [4.5/10] - Weak Hit [3XP]
The altar heavily split apart and from the cracks was forced out a continual flow of rotted, minced flesh that stomach-churningly rolled across the floor in all directions, thickly swamping around ankles and over corpses. As the mystical force from the relic collided headfirst with the deep-rooted and divine power of the temple the entire island upon which the structure stood began to quake, sending tremors rippling up to the ceremony hall. The walls and ceiling began to crack apart, also spewing forth the awful, carnal soil. Masonry and meat began to fall from the ceiling.
From the horrid substance vegetation sprouted immediately, riding the slowly, roiling waves of the flow of it. The colours of the flowers were resplendent and dazzling; the scents intoxicatingly sweet and sickly. The cultist bodies were consumed and those still living ceased in their mad panic to now stand motionless and stare idiotically at the eerie garden blossoming all around them. The luminescence came too and the light of the plants burned through the shadow spirits like sheafs of paper held over candleflame and quickly they were all gone - maybe dead, maybe freed, maybe condemned back into hell. Nobody would ever know.
The five adventurers and Mayatanay were the only ones left compos mentis and once this had been established they resolved to make a damn quick exit before the whole place came down upon them.
But Kabeera wouldn't descend from the broken altar. She just stood there, scythe in hand, with a look that said it all.
Luiden shook his head, refusing to accept, but she just smiled and nodded with a sad but prepared look in her eyes. 'Just go,' she mouthed.
Tekhra grabbed his shoulder and urged him forcefully towards the exit. He gave Kabeera one last look, then turned and ran with the others from the rapidly disintegrating temple. The meat-soil was far ahead of them at this point and they were running through it to get out. All about them plant life was sprouting, growing and over-growing. By the time they reached the bridge the corridors were choked through with leaves and trunks and brambles. The spread had ventured outside the temple itself, across the bridge and over its sides and onto the magma ocean below where it floated and smothered the hellish heat. They ran across the bridge, barely feeling any rise in temperature the entire length. To their relief the growth was not spreading into the city beyond and they hastened back to the Well Chamber before stopping to catch their breath and process the loss of Kabeera.
Kabeera strolled through the enjungled temple, dragging the scythe through the grasses. She wondered how long Lagos had lasted before inevitably descending into madness. She felt a sudden gladness for having had a part in his release from duty, then wept a single tear at the thought she might have to wait so long herself. But she was calm and resigned. A politician's daughter she'd never been of much consequence yet forever burdened by the yoke of expectation. She'd yearned so hard to be out from it and seeking her own adventures on her own terms. She had done so and that was more than enough to be grateful for.
She felt a chill down her spine that stopped her in her tracks, then a small twitch in her pocket. She reached in and pulled out Artiga's skeletal finger. She felt a seething presence manifest behind her and span round.
Artiga floated before her in the claustrophobic jungle, spectral and transparent. His body bore horrible wounds - a slash across the face, a mangled hand, a chunk missing from his side as though taken by the bite of a monstrously-proportioned beast. Whatever had befallen his spirit in the time since his death had been brutal and punishing. What demonic adversity had he faced just to find her here?
Eyes wide with psychosis he spewed half-formed words of rage and primal importance. She focused hard to understand her erstwhile tutor.
FACE DANGER - Miss
ENDURE STRESS - Weak Hit
She couldn't understand him and it hurt her deeply. Since his passing she'd consoled herself that he was at rest with his patron deity now, but this pathetic yet terrifying apparition put paid to that. Artiga floated towards her as the tears welled and flowed down her cheeks. She babbled apologies and pity and dismay, instinctively backing away and tripping over a large root. Artiga hovered over her menacingly and she screwed her eyes tightly shut, expecting some lunatic vengeance delivered upon her from beyond the veil.
When nothing happened she opened her eyes to see Artiga fully-material, fully-formed and walking away from her, scythe in hand. He looked over his shoulder and gave her a paternal nod, then disappeared into the mad foliage taking her aeons-long obligation with him.
She wiped her eyes on her sleeves and brought her panicked breathing under control. Then reality came tremoring back to her attention. With ceilings caving in all about her, she picked herself up and started to run, run faster than she'd ever run before. Sprinting down the long corridors and winding staircases. Frequently she found paths blocked by vegetation and had to force her way through or find a desperate circumnavigation, all the while her lungs threatening to burst and her limbs crying for mercy.
She struck quite the image as, still in the flowing and resplendent wedding gown, she ran across the bridge that was now fully-sheathed in vibrant vegetation. The magma too was fully covered and the whole capacious cavern was awash with the eerie luminescence. Behind her the tall edifices and minarets succumbed to snaking cracks that wound and branched and opened, pulling piles of masonry down upon the main structure with ominous crashing sounds and explosive plumes of dust. As she reached the other side she turned to whisper a final farewell to Artiga, then hurried on to find the others.
Finding a route back out to the surface was a long and draining ordeal for bones that were already achingly tired, but not one of them wished to spend a second longer in that cursed, ghost-riddled place than was absolutely necessary. Bjorn led the way at an impressive pace and Williarth had Quoth help guide them, his raven sixth-sense proving surprisingly good so far below ground.
AID YOUR ALLY - Strong Hit
ESCAPE THE DEPTHS (Bjorn, Edge) - Weak Hit
ENDURE STRESS (Kabeera) - Weak Hit
ENDURE STRESS (Luiden) - Miss
FACE A SETBACK - Lose 1 progress on vow (Acquire the remains of legendary warriors to oppose the doom) [3.5/10]
ENDURE STRESS (Williarth) - Miss
ENDURE STRESS (Bjorn) - Miss
ENDURE STRESS (Tekhra) - Weak Hit
The journey out took as great a toll on their minds as it did on their bodies. Braving the same horrors they'd struggled past before and others that had been roused by the disturbance took great depths of resolve and tested them to the limits of their sanity. Frequently one or other of them had to be rallied or carried onwards by their desperate allies when their fortitude waned. Luiden's collection of warrior bones took a double-hit: not only had he forever lost Artiga's finger but he had to relinquish the spine bone of the Dead King to appease a power-hungry haunt, a loss he greatly lamented. Close to the exit Bjorn's excitement overwhelmed him and he tripped, banjaxing his leg.
Perhaps the only silver-lining to the horrific ordeal was a wealth of inspiration for Williarth's ballad of the entire episode.
REACH A MILESTONE (Write an exceptional ballad of Mayatanay's quest) - [6/10]
They spent several hours at the threshold recovering from the traumatic ordeal, despite longing desperately to be out of the chasm entirely. Eventually they felt ready to brave the harsh climb. Bjorn's leg was still useless and Tekhra had to carry him up the perilous cliff-path.
FACE DANGER (Masked) - Strong Hit
Though the scout felt sure on many occasions that they were both doomed to fall the unknown height to the canyon floor, the champion's resolute strength held them secure the entire way up. Back at the top of the canyon they rested again with spirits immeasurably lighter. Mayatanay was still youthful and healthy, happy even. She spoke with a joviality and optimism none of them had seen in her before.
REACH A MILESTONE (Escort elf outcast back to her tribe) - [9/10]
REACH A MILESTONE (Write an exceptional ballad of Mayatanay's quest) - [7/10]
Some hours later they began the slow and lengthy trek back towards the Fortress that Catches Tears, filling Mayatanay in on the Moonshard Stone and reanimated Kenrick and what she might find when she got there. She was happy not to worry about it much until she neared home.
Not far from the canyon they encountered a large posse of elves on gaunts led by the priest Sumulu. He had received a holy visitation that directed him this way on a mission against the cult. After hearing the account of the party he understood his purpose to be to provide them aid after the fact and provide safe passage for them all back to the Fortress. They gratefully accepted the supplies and healing services, but after some quiet discussion they asked Sumulu to take Mayatanay back to the Fortress without them for they had pressing business in the other direction. Sumulu didn't seem altogether surprised at this and gave them each a gaunt to aid their progress.
They bade Mayatanay farewell, hoping that her recovered youth and vitality would mean they might yet meet again. She thanked them in deep earnest, even hugging Tekhra who felt conflicted but didn't fight it. They watched her head off with the posse, leaving just the five of them alone in the forest once more.
FULFILL YOUR VOW (Escort elf outcast back to her tribe) [9/10] - Strong Hit [4XP]
FULFILL YOUR VOW (Write an exceptional ballad of Mayatanay's quest) [7/10] - Weak Hit [3XP]
SWEAR AN IRON VOW (Perfect ballad) - Weak Hit
FORGE A BOND (Luiden to Tekhra) - Weak Hit
They embarked eastwards towards the edge of the Deep Wilds, the Ragged Coast and the fable-drenched Barrier Islands beyond. Williarth completed his ballad of their adventures in service to Mayatanay and it was a grand work indeed, but not in-keeping with own lofty expectations. He resolved to fashion it into the most epic account of adventure ever written.
As they travelled Luiden looked upon Tekhra differently. She had shown unimpeachable loyalty and dedication to the group, despite being of a different race and having been committed to them by another. To her surprise he reached out to her in bondage. She accepted, but asked of him a vow to show his dedication to such a meaningful proposition. The skirmisher was a little taken aback at the demand, but agreed rather than lose face.
Three days from the Chasm of Sundered Ash they cleared the great forest and emerged into a clear vista of rugged, open lands and great fjords sloping away towards the distant sea. The air was chill, but fresh and dry. The sky was overcast, but still a cheerful and friendly welcome back from the dark depths beneath the expansive canopy. They looked at one another and began to laugh, blowing out the cobwebs of trauma and breathing in the fresh air of hope.