Adventurers
| Character |
Class |
Description |
| Rashomon |
Elf level 2 |
A dangerous looking elf. |
| Llyfed |
Elf level 3 |
Thin and balding elf whom also happens to be Rashomon's friend. |
| Derennan |
Dwarf level 3 |
A dwarf hailing from Western Wastes. |
| Hist |
Fighter level 1 |
|
| Brent Goose |
Cleric level 5 |
An eccentric, but charismatic, cleric seeking the Holy Bird. White robes and black cloak conceal his tall, frail and anemic frame. His eagle-like nose is exposed for all to see. |
| Oberon |
Fighter level 3 |
A tall, supple hunter adorned with bones and horns of his prey. |
Redleaves 12th, Waterday
Llyfed picked up the torch dropped seconds ago by Hist and charged after the monster dragging the warrior into the darkness.
Taking a sharp turn to the right, into a narrow corridor, the elf caught up with the sickly naked man and cut him deep. The man yelped, dropped Hist at once, and fled into the darkness.
Llyfed dragged Hist back into the outer rim, reconvening with other party members.
“What do we do now?”
“We are two down, we should find an exit.”
“Do we know where it is?”
“The stone doors slammed shut behind us. We don't know where is the other exit...”
“Did you try opening them?”
Silence.
“No.”
“Listen guys, how about death or glory? We go to the center of the temple and either kill whatever is there or die trying!”
“Wow, this is a great plan!”
“Yes!”
And so they left behind paralysed Hist and Oberon in pitch black darkness in a temple whose walls weep blood.
Remaining heroes—Llyfed, Derennan, Rashomon, Brent Goose, and Dorn—went into the narrow corridor, which they theorised would lead into the temple's very core.
This was a weird, angular, corridor. It terminated in an oddly shaped pseudo-junction. To their left was shoulder-wide corridor and to their right was a ten feet wide corridor leading into darkness so black it seemed to suck in their torchlight.
Everybody—sans Brent—felt tension, sickness, and existential dread.
Llyfed threw in his torch.
Darkness engulfed it.
Tremendous bull roar shook the temple once more.
Unable to move nor act, Hist witnessed unspeakable horrors.
Oberon did not fare any better.
Dorn was gripped by horrific visions of death and destruction.
“Come on, no going back now!”
“But I'm sooo weak, sooo frail!”
“Come on!”
With a little bit of healthy convincing, Brent cast Light at Darkness.
Lo and behold, the solid blackness ahead of them begun to flake and disintegrate into tiny particles.
Inch by inch, corridor covered with coins, gore, and refuse uncovered itself.
A giant, bull-shaped abomination starred them down. Bones and sinew of various creatures wired together made for its body. A patchwork of different skins were fastened to its body with hundreds of coins with an orange sheen. Bulbous sacks hung all over its underbelly, clacking and clinging as the flesh golem swayed and heaved.
The mere sight of such unnatural creature, nay!, such abominable mass of raw Chaotic energy was too much for already tormented Derennan.
His sanity completely shattered, transforming him into a bundle of unrelenting furry. The dwarf gripped his polearm and charged the monstrosity.
And let it be known that this was no heroic charge. This was an irrational act of a deeply disturbed being; a cry for help; an attempt to reclaim that last bit of sanity hiding somewhere in the deep recess of his own mind.
Llyfed, our brave Llyfed, did not fare much better.
Elves have a different outlook on life. They see more than Humans. They experience more. They live more. They suffer more.
No mortal human can comprehend the horrors Llyfed saw when the Bull-God gazed into his eyes. In fact, even attempting to describe a fraction of his vision would drive any human being insane.
Rashomon tried to save his friend, but Llyfed just stood there, speaking nonsense. His gaze was distant, his motions lifeless. Rashomon pushed his friend away—into safety, he hoped—and joined the fray alongside the dwarf.
Dorn followed his Master. He has chosen the adventuring life, so he better prove his worth. That will surely warrant a higher paycheck once they manage to kill a God.
Brent his in a little alcove to the side, cupping his eyes. All the screams and yells convinced him it is a really bad idea to look at whatever it is that drove everyone else insane.
The flesh golem dominated the whole ten by ten area. It did not even try to evade Derennan's savage assault. Heck, it did not even acknowledge them. Dorn stabbed from the second rank. The bull was so large it was impossible to miss it. Rashomon came up close, hacking at the beast's deformed legs.
Walls around them were pouring blood, patches of flesh peeling off of it with every blow delivered.
Submitting to peer pressure and ridicule, Brent opened his eyes, took a few deep breaths, and then cast Protection from Evil.
He stepped around the corner.
What a sight!
Derennan, Rashomon, and Dorn were beating a pathetic, vaguely bull-shaped effigy made of bones stringed together with rope, leather, and sinew. Thousands of copper pieces underneath them clinked and clanked as the warriors jumped around energetically.
Slightly confused, but massively relieved, the cleric passed the swinging warrior and came to the side of the “bull.”
His attempts to convince others they are striking at inanimate collection of bones fell flat.
“Oh, what should I do?! I'm sooo weak, sooo frail?!”
Derennan, Rashomon, and Dorn watched in horror as Brent Goose curled his sleeves and tried to wrestle the huge abomination. Flesh golem shrugged him off like a fly, not even acknowledging the cleric's existence.
At this moment a naked man return, jumping Rashomon from behind. The elf turned his attention the the sickly man, ignoring the roaring bull for the moment.
“Have you tried turning, Cleric?!”
Brent called on Kadrim, God of Small Birds. Incorporeal tit on his right shoulder chirped, and a flash of bright light permeated the chamber.
Naked man cried in agony, tripped over, and ran off into the darkness.
Rashomon turned around, only to be surprised to see the demonic bull transformed into a disgusting pile of bones and rotting refuse. Dorn was equally surprised.
Derennan on the other hand was still frothing and going at the monster. He was blinded by rage, reduced to nothing but a mass of assaults.
Dorn abandoned the effigy and went to explore the passage behind it. There another naked man lied on the floor, gripping a scroll in one hand, and silver holy symbol of Shang Ta in the other hand. The fighter killed the man without thinking twice. Then he proceeded to ransack both the man's cracks as well as the alcove to his right.
Derennan eventually dismembered the bull-monster. To Rashomon and Brent it looked pretty much like the dwarf bust pinata wide open. Thousands of coins poured out of the effigy, covering the floor.
Dorn's eyes filled with glimmer as he started filling his sack with coins. He was a bit slow due to being picky and only going for the coins of silvery variety.
Rashomon went back to Llyfed, and led him to the entrance they cometh from. Derennan, shocked by his colleague's indifference to the temple folding into itself around them, ran into the unexplored darkness.
Brent fled for his life.
“Disappointed!” little tit cried, and faded away.
Just like Brent's ability to cast divine spells.
The party eventually found a secret passageway hiding the last naked man. They killed him. Then they pushed the stone doors open. Dorn and Rashomon returned to recover paralysed Hist.
“Look Kadrim! Look, I'm taking care of my flock! Look Kadrim!”
Brent cried to the air as he dragged Oberon outside.
Night was about to fall.
Shadow of the great eagle idol loomed over the party.
They retreated to shit and soot stained dilapidated house. Llyfed, now in control of his faculties, and Rashomon cleaned up the insides a little bit. Hist and Oberon unstiffened after few hours.
Nobody slept.
Everybody was haunted by horrific visions. Bull-God was chasing them.
Red-eyed, sleep-deprived, and paranoid, the party set out towards Ahyf with the first ray of sun.
Cannibal barbarians were behind every tree, every rock, every bush.
A large, deformed bull was always on their trail; just at the edge of the horizon.
No matter how quickly they moved, they could not stop.
Except there was no one there but them.
At the end of second day, the party found the safest spot they could.
Another night of unspeakable horrors, scarring them all.
Some resorted to praying to Shang-Ta, since they recovered four holy symbols from the desecrated temple.
On Redleaves 15th, at the cusp from dying due to exhaustion and sleeplessness, the party stumbled into Ahyf.
All but Hist and Derennan went for the Belching Vicar and Swordsman's Citadel tavern, whichever had empty space to house them.
Hist and Derennan went straight to Camus, the High Priest of Thoth. They informed him of everything.
“It is worse than I feared. And as I told you before you set out, merely killing these foul creatures is not sufficient. Friends, found a Sinkhole of Chaos. It is a scar on the land; a blight. It will continue to fester and attract forces of Chaos. Until it bursts.”
The duo pleaded for help, especially in alleviating the horrific visions haunting them. Camus sat in deep thought. He studied some of the parchment and books from his shelves. Then he shook his head.
“Friends, you have been touched by Chaos. This is not a curse. Nor is it a disease. This is a burden, a wound. I'll pray for you.”
Fighter and dwarf excused themselves and wearily went for the exit.
“We will go sleep now. We shall return and finish what we started. If we don't die from exhaustion first.”
Camus sighed heavily. Then he slammed the table with his large hands.
“I shall go with you. This must be stopped.”
The adventurers collapsed in whatever accommodation they have found. They slept for three days straight.
Except Brent.
“Look, I'm caring for my flock, Kadrim! Look!”
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