Part XII:The Tower of Finderblunts
23rd of Obsidian, 370A square flat-roofed structure loomed ahead of them.
“So, this is it,” Rin said, “We're in Finderblunts' territory now... At least the sky is clear and there's no damn snow blowing in your face,”
Ova, who was chuckling after a joke one of the crow men had just told him, bean walking down the slope to get closer.
“Wait,” Suwu exclaimed with a hushed voice, “Let's move together and keep quiet.”
They crept to the building, the crow men flying above and serving as lookouts.
Suwu entered the structure through an open archway, coming into an empty and dusty rectangular room with stairs leading up in the corner.
She snuck to the stairs and made her way up, sword ready in hand...
She was frightened by what she saw: a large humanoid with unkempt black hair and a long swinging trunk stood there, armored and bronze halberd in hand!
A foul, twisted beast and servant of the evil sorcerors!
Fortunately it had not noticed Suwu -- it was turned to inspect something in the corner of the passage.
Suwu did not stop to ponder what to do. She instinctively slashed her sword at the unaware abomination, hitting it in the neck and severing its head in entirety!
While Suwu did not feel any grief or remorse as the creature slumped lifeless to the ground, she noticed her hands slightly shaking in fear. She was not one to handle pressure well and it was not like of her to react on impulse and instinct.
She took a moment to calm her breath as Lòr walked up the stairs.
Lòr looked at the corpse, not saying anything. It saddened him that the creature had died: the companions would never know whether this creature was truly evil or merely a poor victim of the sorcerors' foul magicks.
The room the abomination had been guarding was empty. There was nothing in the whole building: only dust, pebbles and cobwebs, and a foul odor.
Walking over chert pebbles and dry grass that crunched under each footstep, they closed on the next building: a small ziggurat or pyramid-like structure.
“Shhh!”, Suwu whispered putting her finger in front of her lips, “I think I heard something.”
There were sounds coming from within the building.
“...those ignorant fools...the Distant Confederations...war with us...hahaha...end up dead like the rest...”Voices. Words. Foul, wicked words.
It was hard to make out what the discussion exactly was about, but what caught Suwu's attention and deeply troubled her was the part where one voice said
'desire to kill all the living and any fools standing in the way'.These certainly were no innocent creatures.
Suwu snuck into the entry of the ziggurat and once again was taken aback by the sight before her.
A very large, twisted and formless blob with little remaining of its original form. It had blocky charcoal-black scales and two narrow tails writhed from its back -- or what Suwu thought was its back.
Suwu lunged at the monster.
She struck it in one of its tails, her sword getting stuck in the scales, which were hardier than she had thought!
As she struggled to pull her sword free, the monster tried to bite her with surprising speed. Fortunately Suwu was nimbler and dodged the attacks with little difficulty.
As Suwu and the blob struck and dodged eachother's blows, the others rushed in: Lòr striking it with his pick, scoring a few grievous hits, and Cañar punching it with his fists until it fell on the ground unmoving.
“Foul thing!”, Ova looked at the corpse with disgust. He strapped his bow back to his back as he walked to the thing, “It's unlike anything I have ever seen... Even more sickening than those giant keas we have in Waterlures...”
Suwu did not stop to inspect the remains, but instead rushed straight up the stairs towards the voices she had heard.
And up the stairs, in a small dark room were two more of the blobs and another of those hairy abominations with a long trunk: this one was muscular, but it did not wield weapons nor have armor.
Regardless, these mockeries of Ôsed's creations surely had heard the commotion from below. Suwu did not wait and acted with immediacy.
The blobs and the hairy humanoid proved to be a rather challenging foe, yet the companions managed to put them all down without suffering nary a scratch.
Lòr pulled his pick loose from the body of the last of the monsters, thick ichor pouring out of the wound, “Abominations! Foul beings twisted by the Night!”
“Truly. We are doing the right thing,” Ova said as if to assure himself that attacking and killing these beasts was something necessary. While he saw these beings as monsters that needed to be stopped, he could not shake off the feeling that there must be another way than violence.
The companions went from ziggurat to ziggurat, from building to building, slaying more abominations and encountering undead goblins, elves and even a faun. Some fights were more tense than the others, but so far, they had suffered no losses and the only injuries they had were a few bruises. However, the crow men had scattered into the skies: maybe they were shocked by what they saw, and perhaps they did not want to have a part in all of this? Or maybe they were still flying about somewhere nearby, keeping lookout?
The companions knew not and they had little time to ponder it. Covered in blood and ichor, their clothes drenched in sweat, they approached what they presumed was the tower proper: a huge, chaotically twisted structure of gray unnatural stone rising from a field of sand -- even snow found this barren wasteland hostile -- high into the skies, ending in many a spire stretched upwards like sickly fingers.
Suwu turned back to look at the four walking close behind her. They were clutching their weapons tightly: Rin his short sword, Cañar his trusty war hammer, Lòr his pick and Ova wielding a war hammer of silver, which he had acquired from one of the buildings they had rummaged through.
“Are we ready for this?”, she asked them, “Are we ready to enter the den of evil?”
“Prepared or not, we must do this,” Lòr replied eyeing the sinister structure, “Let us pray that we are successful. May Mestthos grant us courage and strength to face whatever horrors await us inside!”
Suwu stepped through the large, crooked archway leading into the terrible tower, entering a high, dark hall. The evil in the air was heavy here, as if it tried to grasp her heart and crush what hope remained and plunge her into despair.
With uneasy steps she walked slowly inside, her footsteps echoing in the hall despite her trying to be as silent as possible.
And there, in front of her, she saw a dwarf and a human.
The dark brown-skinned dwarf had long gray hair with traces of its original color, pumpkin, visible. He was garbed in rather simple attire, wrapped in a cloak and hood pulled tight over his head, with a bronze knife strapped to his belt. What was most curious was that the dwarf had no beard: he was clean-shaven.
The chubby human was similarly garbed and a bow was strapped to his back. The locks of his white hair fell down all the way to his waist from under his hood, his narrow nose and dense eyebrows twitching in an unnerving manner.
As Suwu approached the rather agitated looking sorcerors, the human spat in her direction, narrowly missing the dwarf in front of him.
“Vile minions of the Night!”, she began, mustering all her courage to confront these evil-doers, “You who would blight this world and plunge it into the darkness and slay the living, fear us!”
“I am the vanquisher of many a giant and we have come for you, foul servants of the Dark!”, she yelled, ready to charge at the sorcerers.
“What madness is this?”, the dwarf exclaimed and began running down the hall away from Suwu and the companions. The human did the same, but in the opposite direction.
Suwu followed the frail dwarf up the stairs at the end of the hall, gaining on him just when he was running through a door in a room full of dusty scrolls. She did not pay attention to the black-scaled humanoid with large mandibles barely visible in the little light there was.
No, her eyes were set on the dwarf.
She lunged at the dwarf, but he dodged into the room, muttering incantations and waving his hands.
The clacking of bones could be heard from under Suwu's feet as the skeletal remains lying there began to move: she had not noticed them even when stepping on them.
The others were still headed for the stairs as they heard the sounds of scuffling from above.
Suwu narrowly dodged the attack of the skeleton into the room where the dwarf had disappeared. A small study with a table and books.
She saw the dwarf slip down a hatch beyond the table and rushed for it.
Lòr was about to rush the stairs up after Suwu when he was surprised by the dwarf running back down the other stairs.
Clever dwarf trying to get them separated! But Lòr would not fall for the trickery of these Foes of Life.
He rushed towards the dwarf...
...But as Lôr turned to the dwarf he saw the sorceror's stomach open up, blood spraying and guts spilling: Suwu had struck from the stairs, bringing her sword down in a mighty arc!
“--Gah-- S-stop... --Cough-- Stop this!”, the dwarf sputtered out as she dragged her entrails behind her, “I... This... No, plea--”
Her words were cut short when Cañar swung his hammer down, crushing the skull of the sorcerer like a melon. This was not the same one who had fled up the staircase: Suwu had driven a different one down!
As Suwu noticed it, she leapt down the stairs.
“There are more,” she yelled looking around, “Our work is not yet completed -- after the rest of them!”
No sooner had Suwu said it when a sickly goblin with an upturned nose entered the fray, an unnatural glow in its empty eyes: an undead with special powers, raised from the dead to serve a special purpose for the necromancers!
Swords flashed, hammers were swung; strikes were parried and blocked.
And to the surprise of the companions, the scaly, mandibled humanoid who had been upstairs had come down and joined the fight -- on the side of the heroes!
Maybe things were not as simple as they seemed?
“I am the slayer of Zebna Brightpowers the Oaken Lanterns, a spineless slug who was crushed under my mighty hammer!”, Cañar roared with a fury not normal to him as he swung Nethlîlar Emlïd at the ghoulish goblin, cracking its skull and lodging the war hammer in the wound.
Yet it did not bring their foe down...
...And it swung at Suwu, missing her narrowly.
She returned with a wide slash from her short sword, striking true and cleaving the intact parts of the undead goblin's head asunder, Lòr yelling in the background.
The ghoul fell to the ground. It did not move any more.
They turned their eyes further down the hall to a different human than the one they had first encountered: this one, too, had long white hair, but his nose was slightly hooked and his hair the color of cinnamon.
The hooded man stood aghast, shocked at what he had seen, visibly trembling in fear.
Suwu approached him sword in hand, blood-thirst in her eyes.
“N-no... This cannot be...”, the man spoke with a quivering voice as he looked at the carnage, “Our work... Do not ruin... Our wor--”
The man's voice fell silent as his body fell to the ground with a thud.
Suwu pulled her sword from his head, wiping the blade clean on her thigh.
“We will avenge all those who you have fouled and corrupted,” Lòr spat on the corpse, “We will make things right. Mestthos be my witness: we will not stop until all of these Agents of the Dark have been sent into the deepest pits of the Underworld.”
The companions headed through a door in the hall. They had seen the other of the two sorcerers they had first encountered fleeing through it.
Lòr approached the fat human who stood back against the wall, Suwu and Cañar standing guard near him.
Lòr unslung his pick as he stepped in front of the human. He looked up, gazing deep into the eyes of the foul servant of darkness.
“I am captain,” the human spoke, “I
rule over Finderblunts. What I do is right. What do you want, capybara man?”
There was no fear in his voice, nor was there any hint of other emotion. He continued, “Have you come to defeat me? Slay me, perhaps?”
Lòr stood there silently. He looked at Cañar and Suwu, who eyed the human closely, prepared to retaliate if he made any sudden moves. Lòr grimaced. His innards hurt. In all the scuffling he had taken several hits, and only in this moment did he realize that they may have been more devastating than he thought.
“You ignorant fools!”, the human laughed, “Do you think that by taking
me, or any of my underlings, down you will accomplish anything? Hah! Such naïvety! You kill one of us and the gods of death will choose a new harbinger, a new champion!”
Lòr felt fear begin to creep in. He hesitated.
“Do it. Do it now,” Suwu hissed, gripping her sword hilt tightly, “Do not listen to him -- end it now.”
The human turned to walk down the hall, waving his hand down dismissively at the young capybara man, “Pitiful idiot. A mere pawn of the selfish gods.”
The necromancer's head rolled on the ground as his body fell to its knees, blood spraying from the neck: with unbelievable might Lòr had swung his pick so hard, so furiously it had ripped the head off the shoulders with a sickening tearing and slurping sound.
The captain was dead.
Exhausted Suwu looked around. None of the corpse pieces seemed to move any longer. Blood, innards and flesh was everywhere. The stone floor was painted a slick red and one had to be careful not to slip and fall down.
Ova was sitting in a crouched position, gasping for breath. He was wheezing and clutching his chest.
Lòr was panting, too. He had dropped his buckler and looked at his left thumb, which was twisted into an unnatural position. From the looks of it, that thumb would take a long time to heal -- if it ever would.
Things had not been as easy as 'walk into the tower, kill the captain and be off as heroes of the day'. No, not at all.
For you see, the moment they had left the room with the dead captain things had taken an unexpected turn, or perhaps it was something they
should have expected: the power of Undeath is not stopped by killing the mortal flesh.
No, if not taken care of properly, flesh can come back over and over again.
And that is precisely what had happened.
Corpses rising from the ground. Necromancers in the dark, gesturing. Body pieces being severed. Only to come back with a vengeance. Put down once. Twice. Thrice. Suwu had lost count of how many she had killed -- if that is even the proper word to use when dealing with the undead!
She had lost track of her companions. Each was caught in their own fight for survival. She, Cañar and Rin had remained unscathed. But not Lòr and Ova. Lòr would survive, but of Ova she was worried... She was not sure he would make it.
“I swear...”, Lòr panted as he followed Suwu who was inspecting the corpses, poking them with the tip of her blade to see if they still twitched, “I swear I put that goblin down at least four times! By Mestthos, four times!”
“Our work is not yet done,” Suwu said, “There may be more of these foul minions of the Prince. How are you feeling, Ova?”
“I-I feel so fragile...”, the mandrill man replied from behind, “But there is still breath in me...”
'At least for the time being', he thought.
He was, in fact, feeling hopeless. Maybe this was to be his end? Maybe he would not see the green of the grass, nor hear the wind rustling through the leaves... Maybe he would die in this dead land, far from the reach of the benevolent gods, from the soothing embrace of Ôsed... No, he had to push on. This didn't discourage him. He
would keep going.
The companions went from room to room, encountering numerous amounts of books and scrolls...
...They climbed narrow, twisting steep stairs...
...Walked through winding halls...
...Through seemingly endless maze-like passages...
...Passages that went on and on.
Until...
...Until they arrived at the topmost spire of the tower of Finderblunts.
The five companions stood in the dark chamber with a faint eerie light glowing in its center, casting sinister shadows on the walls.
In the center was a table forged from copper and on the table lay a slab -- an ancient limestone slab from which the light emanated. The light flickered and pulsed slowly, like a throbbing heart pumping poisoned blood into the veins of the body.
The presence of Death and Evil was tangible in the air. One could almost grasp it from the air.
They stared at slab, looking at it silently.
“That is it...”, Lòr said with a hushed voice that echoed from the walls, “That is from where the waves of Darkness came... In my dream.”
“Then it must be the source of power,” Cañar spoke looking at it deeply with a sense of unease creeping over him. He felt the hairs in his spine raise as he continued, “From whence the dark sorcerers drew their strength.”
“Yes,” Lòr nodded. He was certain this was it. This was where evil entered the world. This was key. This was what Mestthos had guided him towards, though it looked far less sinister here than in his vision.
“If it is as you say,” Cañar continued, “Then we must... Destroy it. One way or the other.”
Rin looked at the slab from the other side of the copper table, not paying much attention to what the others were saying: he was still shaken by the horrible massacre in the entry hall where they had been nearly overrun by the Dead.
The slab seemed to draw his gaze in. In and in. Deeper. Ever the deeper. It was as if he was gaping into a void. An otherworldy emptiness.
He could now only see the slab in the room...
'Gogollomoth Uja Sutar...,' Rin heard hundreds of dissonant whispers in his mind.
'Gogollomoth Uja Sutar... Crypttomb... The Urns of Fate...'He closed his eyes and clutched his ears.
He still saw the slab.
And the voices did not stop.
'Rin... Rin... Gogollomoth Uja Sutar... Lomoth Lomoth Donu... Rin...'No, they
beckoned him.
=====
Surprisingly the tower expedition was far from the anticlimax I was waiting for. For once DF agreed to cooperate with the story!
Okay, maybe not such a surprising turn of events there in the end...
But I noticed a curious thing when starting the adventure. Maybe some of you remember that Rin abbhors power and would see all masters toppled? Well, that is not the case anymore. For you see, after some incident in Waterlures (not sure what, but some kind of violent conflict?), Rin had a change of personality: he now respects power... And I believe he is the only one among the adventurers who has such a view. We'll see where this goes.
I cut out a LOT of combat, and by Mestthos, that was a horribly chaotic battle in the hall when suddenly necromancers and possibly undead lieutenants began raising corpses. I honestly lost track of what happened and am unsure how Ova got his wounds. Not surprised of it though: he is unarmored. Like most of our heroes. Cañar and Rin are the only ones with proper armor. I'm just happy we didn't loose anyone there. Could've gone really, really bad.
Completely forgot to butcher the corpses, but I guess it would've been meta-gaming if I'd done it. After all, our heroes don't know shit about facing undead.
Unsurprisingly we lost the crows somewhere when checking the other buildings (didn't yet go through all). Well, they certainly would not have survived the undead onslaught in the hall, so I guess it's a good thing they left?
Also as a note: even though I'm mentioning 'the Prince' (meaning Abod the Prince of Duty), these necromancers are not of the Abod strain. They're from a human death god. But our capies don't know that, so that's why I'm referring to the Prince.
But in any case, looks like my old Warhammer GM mode is kicking in since things are starting to turn a bit to the grimdark side after all. It was inevitable.
Let's see what happens next.
Speculations, ideas, etc. welcome.