IN THE SHADOW OF THE SPIRE

SESSION 13D: A TIME OF TRAGIC REST

December 16th, 2007
The 1st Day of Kadal in the 790th Year of the Seyrunian Dynasty

Dominic had watched the duel between Itarek and Morbion through a haze of dull pain and desperation. It was taking all the strength he could muster merely to keep Itarek on his feet, and he couldn’t understand why Morbion didn’t simply strike him down and ensure his victory.

When it was finally over and Itarek turned to weep over his comrades, Dominic turned to his own comrades and began the rites to heal their broken bodies.

When it was done, all of them – Dominic, Agnarr, Ranthir, Tee, Tor, and Elestra – were amazed to find themselves still alive. It had seemed to all of them that the catastrophe at the door would be their final folly.

But although they were alive, they were far from well. Their bodies were battered, bruised, and burned. Wounds still oozed fresh blood through crude bandages. Dominic had expended nearly all of their healing resources, and there were still the goblins to be healed.

An argument broke out at this. Elestra simply dismissed the goblins as a concern – they had decided that other grievously injured goblins were beyond the point that they could or should be saved, and these were no different. Tee agreed with her – without healing magic they might find it difficult or impossible to escape back to the safety of the clan caverns.

But Agnarr was adamant: If they had the ability to save the goblins, then the goblins must be saved. “Without them we would be dead.” He pointed to Itarek. “Without him we would all be dead.” (more…)

IN THE SHADOW OF THE SPIRE

SESSION 13C: THE TALE OF ITAREK

December 16th, 2007
The 1st Day of Kadal in the 790th Year of the Seyrunian Dynasty

The fire bathed him and cleansed him and brought the cairn-dark to his eyes. The bane-doom of his clan had come to rest upon his shoulders, too. The memories of the caves passed before him, and he traveled the Long Hall to the Mysteries of the Plain.

But as he journeyed down the Long Hall, he saw before him two figures. And one had the form of a man with golden skin. And the other was that of a great snake with silver scales and gossamer wings.

And the figures spoke to him thus, with voices of conjoined chorus: “Turn back, Itarek Clan-Warrior. This hall is no place for the quick.”

And Itarek answered thus: “But my place is upon the Green Fields of our Lost Fathers, for I am dead, my liege-lords.” And he fell to his knees and bowed his head, for they seemed to him now to be great chieftains.

At this the golden-skinned warrior laughed and the silver snake spoke again, this time its voice seeming no more than a whisper: “How can you be dead, Itarek Clan-Warrior? For you yet breathe.”

And at the words breath burst in Itarek’s chest and the blood beat through his veins. The figures seemed to step behind a veil, the Long Hall faded into shadow, and he opened his eyes once more upon the heart of the bane-doom.

The heroes of the world above had fallen. Their broken bodies lay scattered upon the floor. Only the Holy Man of the Forgotten Gods remained, and Itarek understood now that the strength had been restored to his limbs and the breath to his body only through the divine grace that flowed through the faith of this man. And Itarek felt that faith being born in his own blood. He felt it beating through his own heart.

Now, beyond the Holy Man he saw the bane-bearer Morbion and, at his side, a demon of corrupted flesh. He saw, too, that the Holy Man wavered upon the bloody brink of death. His fingers tightened upon his sword. His legs beat down upon the floor and he rose.

Itarek stepped forward and lowered his sword. “Morbion!” he cried. “I name you Kinslayer and Clanbane. I utter clan-curse upon you. And in the name of those you have killed and those you have corrupted, I give you the challenge of the clan.”

“Do you think me still bound by your mortal law?” Morbion said, and his voice was cold ash. With a flick of his wrist, the bane-bearer sent his demon forward – a mavering maw of muscular death.

Itarek thrust forth his sword, and impaled the demon upon it. “Bane you may be,” he said. “But in your chest still beats a goblin heart.”

And he wrenched free his blade. The demon fell dead at his feet, and in the eyes of Morbion the flickering flame of anger was kindled. Itarek saw it. He knew it. And it gave him hope, for now his vain words rang true in his own ears: Strange and blighted Morbion may have become, but he was not beyond the ken of blade or the bite of steel.

Morbion came forth and the tentacles of his corruption beat upon Itarek. But Itarek did not fear them. Behind him, the Holy Man remained upon his knees and Itarek could hear the murmur of his prayer and could feel the golden strength of it flowing into his limbs. It knit his wounds and soothed his pain.

“Bane you may be, but in your chest still beats a goblin heart!” he cried again. He raised his sword and brought it low. And at its passing, one of the corrupt tendrils fell free and flew from the back of Morbion.

Morbion cried in rage: “I have forsaken your ways!”

And Itarek answered with sword and word: “Forsworn you may be, but oaths there are that must be kept!”

And another tendril fell. And Itarek saw that, like his sword, his words had found their mark – for Morbion paid no mind to the priest or his prayers, and all his hate was bent upon Itarek alone.

And for this Itarek was glad, for he was sure that without the prayers of the priest he would be lost. Fast with blade he might be, but no speed could match the terrible might of Morbion.

Even then, as if to mock his thought, Morbion bore down upon him and drove him to the floor. His twin tendrils closed about Itarek’s throat and he laughed, “Did you think to stop me? Know that the Galchutt shall awaken! Know that all hope is lost!”

Through the red blackness that blurred his vision, Itarek looked up with bloodshot eyes. Through bruised and bloodied lips, he smiled. Through choked voice, he laid his sooth: “In darkness you may be lost, but the fires of our clan will light your way.”

And the prayers of the Holy Man beat upon him and spurred him. In that prayer he found his strength.

And now Morbion fell back before him and the anger in his eyes turned to fear.

“In the fires of our clan, your limbs shall burn, your blood shall boil, and your soul shall die!” And Itarek thrust his blade deep into the chest of Morbion.

The Bane-Bearer and Kinslayer and Clanbane fell. And his final breath was a warning and a curse: “The chaos comes. There is no hope…”

And Itarek turned his eyes from him and looked upon his fallen comrades and he wept.

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IN THE SHADOW OF THE SPIRE

SESSION 13B: THE TRAGEDY AT THE DOOR

December 16th, 2007
The 1st Day of Kadal in the 790th Year of the Seyrunian Dynasty

A sudden hush filled the long hall – the violence ending almost as quickly as it had began. But even in this unexpected lull, the threat of danger still hung thickly over them. The door may have been shut upon Ursaal, but the warcaster was still an eminent threat.

They rallied quickly, reviving the injured goblins and falling into a defensive formation that quickly moved down the hall. Agnarr, with his flaming sword, hacked through the webs that Ursaal had left behind him. Once a path had been cleared to the stairs, he and Tee climbed up to the double doors of iron.

Tee quickly inspected the doors and found that no traps had been laid upon them. She fell back into the middle of the defensive formation at the base of the stairs, leaving Agnarr alone to place his hand upon the latch and swing one of the doors open.

Beyond the doors lay a spacious hexagonal chamber illuminated by seven strangely illuminated braziers arranged in a ten-foot-diameter circle in the center of the room. The sickly green stone of the braziers was carved into the shape of writhing, amorphous tendrils reaching up to support corroded iron bowls in which sputtered foul-smelling flames.

These braziers surrounded a strange idol carved in amorphous, undulating waves. Thick sheets of dripping algae and slime coated the walls, and dark-green tentacles of the stuff dangled down from the ceiling like thick, half-congealed ropes. All of this stuff slithered and writhed – sliding about the place almost as if it were possessed of life.

Vision into the room was utterly obscured by the constantly wavering layers of gelatinous growths, but shadows could clearly be seen moving within.

As Tee and Agnarr had worked, Elestra had whispered to her python viper – instructing it to follow the scent of Ursaal. So, as Agnarr opened the door, the massive snake slid between his legs.

Agnarr moved to follow, but as his arms touched the dangling tendrils he felt waves of horrible nausea sweep through his skin and overwhelm his senses. The floor beneath him, too, seemed to reel at his tread. He lurched backwards, but the tendrils reached out as if to follow him. With a disgusted sweep of his greatsword he sliced them away.

Agnarr stepped forward again, this time planning to cut a path through the seething chaos of slime and fungus. But as he did so, the unmistakable chants of an arcanist echoed through the smoky chamber. Acting on sheer instinct, Agnarr leaped back and slammed the door shut.

A moment passed as all of them looked at each other. But then Elestra, realizing that her beloved pet was now trapped within the room, gave a sharp cry and leapt forward, shoving the door open again and crying out for the snake to return to her side. (more…)

IN THE SHADOW OF THE SPIRE

SESSION 12C: TO THE AID OF GOBLINS

December 2nd, 2007
The 1st Day of Kadal in the 790th Year of the Seyrunian Dynasty

In the carriage on their way back to the Ghostly Minstrel the group discussed its plans. A consensus was reached that they should return to the aid of the Clan of the Torn Ear.

And so it was, early the next morning, that they found themselves working their way back through the increasingly familiar tunnels beneath Greyson House. Passing through the vaulted passages of Ghul’s Labyrinth they made their way into the caverns of the goblins.

As they came to the cave of stalactites and stalagmites where they had first met Itarek, Tee was hailed by a goblin they did not know.

He knew them, however, and welcomed them back to the caverns of the clan. Only two of the clan were on duty here now. The true danger lay elsewhere, but the clan had an ancestral duty to guard this passage.

The goblin dispatched his fellow guard to escort them to the chieftess. Crashekka greeted them in her great hall. Few goblins were to be found there now, and she explained that nearly all of the clan had been placed as a guard upon the stone bridge.

“Have you been attacked again?” Tee asked.

“Not yet,” Crashekka told her. “But we live in fear of an assault. I am glad to see you again. Without you I fear we would be lost.”

Crashekka personally led them to the stone bridge, and there they met with Itarek. He reported to them that there had been no sign of movement within the noisome caves beyond, but no further attempt to breach them, either.

Itarek gathered to him his three finest warriors.

“Is that all that can come?” Elestra asked, with Tee translating.

“The rest will be needed here. To hold the bridge,” Itarek said. “And they would not last long against the horrors that we have seen.”

Tee nodded her understanding, and then saw to distributing the cindershards they had purchased. Each of the six companions had one strapped to their body in one way or another, and a seventh was given to Itarek.

Ten of them crossed the bridge – six from the surface world and four of the clan. (more…)