Part Three: Creatures in the Darkness

Twas morning in the village of Tillitsville, three days after the Massacre at Little Stone Peak and two days after the funeral of their comrade. He was buried on the western side of the village, a pauper’s grave with several large rocks piled above it and a crude wooden sign with the name KROSS written on it. Lazeurus and Prem were still recovering from their wounds and the mood was somber for the most part. The day was now Baltus, the 8th day in the month of Low Sun.

Outside the wind howled and the weather was bitterly cold, but inside Hecht tried to cheer up the party with a story about a local farmer called Hithan Duarg… perhaps the story was more funny to Hecht, who was known to partake in Wizards Weed (commonly known as Tubin). Hithan Duarg was a Tubin farmer and Hecht had struck up a conversation with him in hopes of getting some kind of discount.

“This is what Hithan told me,” recounted Hecht, pausing to puff on his foul smoking pipe. "After the war the forces of evil scattered, isolated humanoid forces would reappear now and again to ravage the land but there was no one powerful enough to unite and lead them. Lately there had been rumors and whisperings of strange goings on in the areas around Mijae. Whether any of these are connected, I have no idea."

Prem and Ghostar listened, but neither of them understood why Hecht was laughing so much. The story sounded much more serious and certainly not something worth giggling about.

Hecht took another puff of his pipe. “One of the rumours is there is a giant nugget of gold, some say the size of a man's fist. It was reportedly lost in one of the abandoned mines at the edge of the Tranquil Valley. If the rumors are true it would be worth a Prince's ransom!”

This mention of gold caught Caedo’s attention and she began prodding Hecht for more information, but he was just kept giggling for no apparent reason.

The front door slammed and the group looked up to see a tall and well built man, none other than the captain of the town guard, Kerish Enn. He strode over to their table where they waited expectantly. “The town council has agreed to pay a handsome sum given the dangers you face. They will pay five hundred golden crowns to each person who survives and bring back our beloved Ghennifer Raintree.” His voice quivered with emotion as he said the woman’s name and then he spun on his heel and left the tavern without waiting for their response.

Caedo made a mental note that Kerish had not specified whether she had to be returned alive. Her dead body was apparently worth just as much.

On the way out Kerish brushed against Wrathgar who was outside sitting on the porch in front of the inn trying to coax a mangy mutt over by whistling at it. He began feeding it scraps of food and the dog began wagging its tail as it willingly gulped down the morsels.

Kerish whistled and waved at another guard standing in front of the guardhouse. He nodded, went inside the guardhouse and a moment later returned. Wrathgar paused in what he was doing when he saw the guards were escorting three men through the village towards the tavern.

Shackled and chained together was the bandit Ulger, followed by the half-orc with lanky black hair and beady eyes they had captured and a dark-skinned human believed to be from Derkaz, evident from his jet black hair and hooked nose. The last of the three seemed very nervous as a crowd of townsfolk began to gather near the tavern. The three men were led into the inn, to the back of the room near the fireplace. The crowd of angry villagers followed and Wrathgar noted a few of them carried weapons in their belts.

In full armour Kerish Enn stood in front of the fireplace and standing beside him was the hulking figure of the town blacksmith, a man with short black hair and a large leather apron. His huge arms were knotted with cords of muscle which flexed as he rhythmically banged a large war hammer in his hand. He eyed the prisoners in such a way that suggested he would enjoy killing or torturing them. Silence fell in the inn and there was no sound but the crackle of the fireplace.

Kerish cleared his throat and began to speak. “I asked y’all to come here and help decide the fate of the three bandits we have before us. As y’all know, they kidnapped Ghennifer and killed old Crawnail. We can’t hold ‘em here no longer and we gots ta ship ‘em to Durin’s Falls. Old Ezail can figure out their fates. Any objections?”

The villagers began to argue, some in favour of frontier justice and just hanging the men immediately. Others wanted them sent to see Ezail, the sheriff and magistrate of Durin’s Falls, the city to the south. While the arguments rage on Hecht moved close to the half-orc and studied him while puffing on his pipe.

The half-orc glared at Hecht and growled. “May your gods have mercy on your souls, because Makhama won’t!”

“Who is this Makhama?” asked Hecht.

The creature spat in Hecht’s face. “You stupid fool! You know nothing of the power of Makhama!”

Hecht wiped the spittle off his face and shot the guard an angry look. The guard quickly elbowed the half-orc sharply in the ribs, which doubled over and gasped in pain.

Caedo popped up from out of no where. “Why is this Makhama so powerful? What is the source of his power?”

The half-orc glared at the little Halfling with utter hatred. “Makhama is the all powerful and he will flay your skin!”

“If he is so powerful, then why are you in chains? Where is his power now?” laughed Caedo, poking the half-orc in his injured ribs. Behind her Ghostar watched with wry amusement.

The half-orc continued to glare at them but his eyes betrayed the fact he knew something, a secret so ominous it made a shiver go up Hecht’s spine. He slipped back into the crowd, suddenly unnerved by the half-orc’s fanaticism.

The din inside the tavern was intense, between Ulger pleading for his life and the villagers arguing between the pros and cons of sending these men to prison. Hecht made his way to the door while Caedo and Ghostar followed behind, tired of the noise.

Outside Wrathgar was trying to teach the dog to fetch a stick when a wailing woman ran towards the tavern. She was middle-aged with long strawberry blonde hair, attractive and slim despite her age. “My Buggsy Wuggsy!” she repeatedly wailed, causing the barbarian to wince at the sheer idiocy of the name.

“Who is Buggsy Wuggsy and what happened to him?” asked Ghostar. “I’m Ghostar and this is my friend Caedo,” he said and motioned to his other friends. “We will all help if we can.”

“The monster got him! Oh please, you have to help!” she cried, her makeup smudged with tears.

Ghostar nodded agreement. “Let’s help her and see what we can do.” Caedo followed, as did Prem was back up and feeling well enough to walk. Wrathgar followed, as did his canine companion. Hecht decided to stay behind, keeping his distance from the dog.

The woman led the way. “My name is Jenat Tillit, and my little friend Mr Buggsy Wuggsy has gone missing!” she explained as she led them to her house, a large two story abode near the centre of town. She was evidently one of the wealthiest villagers and her family tracked its lineage back to Tillit Renn, the man who founded Tilletsville. “Mr Buggsy Wuggsy was on the stairs with me when I went up. I haven’t been up in the attic in years but I noticed a funny smell up there and wondered what it was. Mr Buggsy Wuggsy is so curious and he leapt on past me when I opened the trap door to the attic. That’s when I saw it. It was so horrible….and then Mr Buggsy Wuggsy scampered away. I hope he’s still ok. Don’t worry Buggsy some nice, young, strong and handsome fellows are here to help!” she said, her praise a bit overdone.

Inside the house she led them to the attic landing. Wrathgar looked around at the finery inside the house, a bit bewildered. The walls were covered in paper with a decorative pattern on them. What a fundamental waste of expensive paper, thought the barbarian.

“You are each welcome to one of my knick knacks as a reward for bringing back Mr Buggsy Wuggsy,” Jenat offered. “Most of the things in the attic are mementos and some of them are quite old and valuable.” Prem and Caedo both brightened at this.

“Why don’t you go have some tea and wait down stairs while we handle this?” suggested Wrathgar and the woman obliged. With her gone the group discussed a plan of an action.

Ghostar readied himself to go up whilst Wrathgar gingerly lifted the trap door. The elf rushed up the stairs and once inside saw a large spacious rectangular room with a slanted ceiling which formed the roof of the structure. Dusty furniture was scattered about the room. Ghostar spoke several words in an archaic language and a soft blue light revealed the form of a small furry mammal, which was not moving. A foul stench filled the room, the smell of decay and something worse.

Caedo dodged between Ghostar’s legs, rolled and came up with her short bow at the ready. To the north she spotted the head of a green skinny monster with coarse hair, a snout, red eyes and yellow teeth like a dog. She saw two other heads, the faces of red skinned goblyns in the darkness… in a panic Caedo shot at the nearest goblyn directly south of her, the arrow hitting it right between the eyes.

The trophy head didn’t move, instead it seemed to laugh silently at her. The others climbed up the stairs and looked about the room. “Caedo the trophy slayer!” Hecht snickered. Prem waited on the stairs, seemingly paralyzed with fear from his recent near death experience.

Something writhed in a corner thousands of little legs surged forward, sensing food. Dull insectoid eyes reflected the blue light as the creature skittered forward, its hard carapace making strange clacking sounds. The creature was small, perhaps only eleven inches long, but it was certainly the largest insect any of them had seen. More of the critters moved about in the darkness, their legs and carapaces making bizarre clicking and scraping noises. It was not alone…

Ghostar nocked an arrow and tried to get a clear view of the creature. Wrathgar meanwhile removed his grosseklinge from his back and Caedo tried to climb over an old sofa. Finally with Caedo out of the way Ghostar filed a shot at the creature, killing it instantly.

Another critter skittered out of the darkness and tried to bite Caedo, who rolled about on the old sofa avoiding its dripping mandibles. Two more swarmed around Wrathgar but the barbarian boots were too tough to bite through. He brought his grosseklinge down in a wide arc and cleaved two of the insects neatly in half.

From behind Ghostar one of the creatures wrapped around his leg and bit deep into his calf. His arrow shot went wild and bounced off the slanted ceiling. Caedo’s shot fared better, pinning the creature to the sofa. Another of the monsters crawled from the darkness amazingly quick, crawling up Wrathgar’s leg and biting him just above his boot but the hardy barbarian just shrugged it off and chopped another two creatures in half.

One by one they killed the swarm of insects, until the floor was littered with twitching bodies. They thought the battle was over when one of the insects they thought was dead skittered forward and tumbled down the stairs towards Prem. The sight of the creature falling toward him shocked him from his semi-catatonic state and he splattered the creature with his trusty flail.

In a state of madness he charged up the stairs, hurdled the sofa and began attacking the green-skinned trophy on the wall. What was left of the Gurgan head and its helmet fell to the floor and he began stomping on it until his madness passed.

A single insect remained and it was quickly dispatched by Wrathgar and Ghostar.

A large sword mounted on the wall caught Caedo’s attention and she went over and plucked it from its mount. Skull Cleaver read the inscription, and it was both light and razor sharp. She showed it to Ghostar who gave it a few practice swings.

Wrathgar picked up the limp form of the paralyzed dog in the middle of the room and carried him down to the kitchen where Jenat sat enjoying her tea. Ghostar followed along and soon the elf and barbarian were being profusely thanked for their efforts. She asked if they wanted any reward and Wrathgar said he’d be happy with a throwing axe while Ghostar asked for arrows.

“You are going to need to do some cleaning up there. There’s a decomposing body up there, along with some dead insects you’ll need someone to dispose of it,” Wrathgar suggested.

Upstairs Caedo and Prem found the source of the rotting smell, a decomposing and partially eaten body of a human wearing fine leather boots and a reddish brown cloak. “Likely one of those red cloaked men,” mused Prem. Amongst his belongings they found a long coil of rope, a shortsword and scabbard, a pouch and two small sacks hidden under the dead man’s cloak. Caedo continued searching the body but found nothing else of value and eventually gave up.

Prem lingered in the room and spoke a short incantation. Visible only to his eyes the scabbard and shortsword gave off a faint blue light. He unsheathed the sword and marveled at it. Caedo noticed this and came back, wondering why he was studying the blade so intensely.

“It has an incantation upon it. I’m not sure exactly what its power is though. It’s of no use to me, I’m sure you could make better use of it though,” said Prem and promptly handed the blade to Caedo.

“Thanks Prem, I sure will” said Caedo, greedily accepting the blade. The halfling followed Prem down the stairs, barely conscious of where she walking and inspecting her new prize. She was still marveling over it when they arrived back at the inn where Hecht was waiting and puffing on his pipe.

Caedo brandished the sword before Hecht, showing it off with great intensity and then went inside the tavern. Hecht watched her go, puffing on his pipe and eyeing the sword with more than a passing interest.

Hecht decided to go talk to Kerish Enn and convinced him to let him talk to Ulger in a back room of the tavern, under the watchful gaze of the blacksmith and two town guards. He gave Ulger an ultimatum. “You are indebted to us for sparing your life. You will accompany me and my companions and we will kill you for your defiance if you lead us astray. You will need to prove that you are no longer a threat to the people here in order to live.”

Ulger quickly agreed. “Please I will do anything, I just want to live. I can take you the hideout of Thelak the Bold.”

At this the blacksmith raised an eyebrow and sent one of the guards to get Kerish. They returned and Hecht spoke with him at length and convinced him to hand Ulger over into his custody so they find out why the bandit leader was involved in this messy affair. “What role does Thelak the Bold play in all this?” Kerish demanded of Ulger, his hand on his sword hilt.

Ulger shied away from him. “Please milord, have mercy on me. I do not know. All I know is he has allied himself with those red cloaked men and we were supposed to cause trouble in the town.”

“A mere distraction,” mused Hecht. “So they could kidnap the priestess, their ultimate goal.”

“That much seems evident. Very well, you may have your guide Hecht,” grumbled Kerish. He headed back into the main room and announced his decision. “The captives will be sent south to Durin’s Falls, where Sherriff Ezail Mohn will determine their fate. They will leave in two days time.”

Half of the crowd grumbled, but they respected his decision and began to disperse. Sterling began laying out a meal for the group as their stomachs were rumbling and a wise move since Prem was once again harassing the poor waitress Janelle with offers of solicitation.

“Have you had a chance to examine the traitor Killiam’s abode on the outskirts of town?” Sterling asked.

Shocked silence was his answer. Almost as one and without word the group stood up and went to the door, some quicker than others. Prem shot a wink back the waitress. “Don’t worry sweetheart, we will back to pay the bill shortly.”

Outside the group marched across the fields towards Killiam’s cabin whilst Wrathgar tossed sticks. His mangy wolfhound was now fetching them with ease. Hecht followed behind more slowly, wary and nervous around the dog, complaining that there’s no telling where it’s been and that it might have fleas or rabies or a bad temperament.

“Shut up Hecht,” muttered Prem. “You’re the one with the bad temperament.”

Killiam’s cabin was square with a small wooden shack on its eastern side and an out house on it western side. Caedo moved to the door and listened carefully. Behind her Wrathgar grumbled in impatience and kicked the door open. There was a sound of a bow string snapping and a sharp wooden stake flew down from the ceiling rafters and struck the barbarian in the shoulder, mere inches from his heart. Wrathgar ignored the pain and stepped aside to let Caedo in to inspect the room for more traps.

Having seen what had happened to Wrathgar, Ghostar decided to inspect the wooden shack by pushing the door open with a tree branch. The shack was a smokehouse and was filled with all manner of smoked meats.

Prem meanwhile decided to check out the outhouse, thinking it a fine location to hide something. He poked around in the foul smelling sludge for several minutes before finally giving up and leaving due to the stench.

“Could you go somewhere else with that damn dog?” demanded Hecht.

Wrathgar narrowed his eyes at the half-elf but did as he was asked, taking the dog over to the smokehouse to check it out. He and Ghostar began sampling the meats and feeding some to the dog. Deciding the meats were safe the two of them stuck a number of choice pieces in their backpacks for later.

Hecht grumbled to himself and then pulled out a live spider. He spoke a short incantation and then swallowed the spider. Then with unearthly grip he climbed up the side of the cabin and onto the roof to get a better look around.

Inside the cabin Caedo was trying not to be overwhelmed by the smell of rotting meat carcasses. She hacked the bed to pieces but found nothing. When she sliced open the pillow however she heard a key hit the floor with a thunk, along with a carefully wrapped leaf. She lifted up the leaf and held it up so she could see it clearly, her senses suddenly overwhelmed and images dancing in front of her eyes. Her skin crawled and she lost track of time.

Prem entered the cabin and noticed a familiar smell. He immediately covered his face with a handkerchief. Derkazian Black Lotus was a rare and highly addictive narcotic. He ripped the leaf from Caedo’s stunned fingers and stuck it in his vest pocket for safekeeping.

In the meantime Hecht entered the cabin, but did so by walking upside down hanging from the rafters. He took out his warhammer and searched about for anything suspicious. He swept the room nervously suspecting another trap.

Dazed Caedo’s vision slowly returned to normal and the sensations faded. Once she felt well enough to think again she began searching the room and the floorboards. Hecht joined her, once more on the ground. “Found it!” cried Caedo, finally lifting up a plank in a corner, revealing an iron strongbox. She withdrew it, hastily inserted the key in the lock and heard a satisfying click followed by a second slightly more ominous click of a needle trap disabling.

“Let me see that!” said Hecht over her shoulder as they peered at the coins and a small bone scroll case. Caedo handed him the scroll case and he opened it to reveal two scrolls written on fine Mijaen paper. Hecht read the scroll aloud.

If there are troublemakers in town alert the Red Arrows and lead them into a trap. I have sent you another blossom for your dreams. - Alleron

“Freaking Alleron again,” muttered Prem. “I am really starting to hate that guy.”

“So that’s why he had the leaf in his pillow!” Caedo exclaimed, stating the obvious.

Hecht opened the second scroll and took it outside to show the others. It was a map showing the Dark Forest following a trail which led on to two branches. The end of each branch was marked with an X. The party began to discuss what they should do next, but Hecht had other ideas. “I have business back in Tillitsville and have some arrangements to make. Fare thee well and may Vulturn impart upon you the knowledge and wisdom to make the right choices,” he said, followed by muttering “Damn dog!” as he limped back towards the town.

With Hecht gone the party agreed unanimously to follow the trail indicated on the map. They crossed the Jesail Road, trekked across a field and came to the edge of the Dark Forest. Using the map Wrathgar managed to find the trail marked on the map and noted how well hidden the trail was to a casual observer.

The woods seemed cheerful here, the birds chirping amongst the tall gnarled trees and light managed to make its way through the thick canopy. Still, despite the harmonious atmosphere of the wildlife the group could not help the distinct feeling they were being watched, possibly even followed.

Farther into the woods they found a small copse near the trail and noticing the waning light decided it was a good time to make camp. They set watches and tried to ignore the growing mood of the forest, which became quite eerie at night.

During Caedo’s watch she espied a figure in the distance. She shot at it with her short bow and missed, but the creature cursed aloud in the goblyn tongue. She shot at it again and missed again as the creature turned and ran. She fired a third time and this time struck the goblyn in the back. It clutched at the arrow and fell down, twitching a bit before going limp. Caedo cautiously moved to inspect it and then dragged it back to the camp.

In the morning the party was shocked to see a dead goblyn sitting in their midst, propped up against a log as if he was alive and well. It took a moment for the surprise to wear off.

“What happened?” demanded Wrathgar.

“One shot One kill!” Caedo replied, hoping he wouldn’t notice the three arrows missing from her quiver.

“Wake us up next time in case of trouble,” Wrathgar grumbled and berated her recklessness.