…continues from Book #01, Chapter #09, Scene #08

Synopsis

The 28th Day of Ches in the Year of the Sudden Journey
The group have chased down an orc that stole some of their goods from the wagon along the Old Road and defeated the rest of its tribe. Upon searching for their goods, however, they have encountered a very strange beast.

Cast List

Scene Length

This scene starts on Tuesday 30th October 2012 and is expected to be completed by the end of Friday 23rd November 2012.

Players are expected to be able to post at least once a day.

The crossbow shivered in his trembling hands and for a moment Zero had thought he had struck Kireth in the back by mistake. In fact, would it matter? They were all doomed by this odd thing before them. He shook his head and tried to wipe the thought from his mind, noticing the bolt quivering fast in the wood over the fireplace.

He took some comfort in the thought that the eyes were no longer on him and he steeled himself for what was to come.

The cut where Tradden’s longsword had removed some of the creature’s orange fur kept splitting even as the fighter missed the opportunity to follow the slice up with a more deliberate strike. It did not bleed, however, just opened up ever so slightly revealing a shiny black skin beneath.

The mage’s ball of force burst over the gnoll’s chest with an audible crash, slivers of pure force cascading past and into the fireplace causing the embers to sparkle and flame.

Splinters of the ball cut tears across the gnoll’s orange fur that split and contorted in front of the group, a writhing black mass underneath starting to bulge through.

The gnoll looked undisturbed, however, by the petty strikes of the group so far, simply looking up at the group with disdain.

Tradden’s strike was swift and Kireth’s was powerful, but the beast before them still stood firm.

Beltak was unsure what his minor powers could do in comparison with those that his new-found comrades were able to display time after time. He hesitated. He was not one for battle and found himself stumbling back, away from the thing before him, almost stumbling over the chair.

He almost fumbled his prayers as he uttered a short prayer to Pelor, but a divine light spread out from his symbol to cover the gnoll and Khalin.

‘Whatever you are, you will fall before Pelor!’ gasped the scribe bravely, but the tremor in his voice belied the bravado.

When the dwarf turned back to the gnoll, though, rather than witnessing the bloody pulp he expected he saw a rather different scene and the confidence and cocky attitude started to wane. Where he thought he would see the gnoll’s crushed skull, he simply saw the flesh hanging limply off to one side and a writhing mass of black, unfurling before their eyes.

Despite the offensive the group had launched at the creature it still stood before them, impassionate and stoic. Across its chest its flesh had been ripped by shreds of force and radiant light. Its face was darkened by whatever lay beneath its skin.

It moved slowly, but surely, its arm moving up towards its face, grabbing a hold on the limp flap of fur that hung loosely down. It began to pull, and the blackness within moved and rippled in tandem.

Then, the lights went out.

The bright magelight threw the room ablaze, the shadows of the corners and the ceiling banished with Kireth’s spell. The furniture and oddments remained as they were, but the gnoll was gone.

For a moment the mage frowned. He had sensed no magics or movement in the brief time the room had been plunged into darkness. The only remains appeared to be the flaps of orange-furred skin that had been cast to one side by the blows of Khalin’s hammer and the forces of the mage.

There was, he noticed, however, more of the skin on the floor behind the table and realisation began to dawn.

Then, he looked up.

Where he had expected to see a ceiling there was none, the room extending upwards right into the rafters that had previously been hidden by the low light of the candles. The stairs ended in a precipice as though the upper floor had been ripped out. And there, glistening in the light of the mage’s staff was the horror that he feared.

It was revolting yet somehow beautiful. Translucent, almost insubstantial, orbs of wispy tendrils flowing and writhing about five feet above the table as if they were cast upon the wind. The tendrils were the deepest black, irridescent in sheen, and perhaps a couple of feet in diameter. It dripped with whatever ichor it had needed to keep itself within the fake body and now it was unleashed had started to unfurl the tendrils like great tentacles of the kraken they had encountered before.

The sweat on Kireth’s skin now chilled him to the bone. He knew in his heart that this creature, whatever it was, only wanted one thing from them.

To feed.

The thing seemed to writhe and flex, convulsing with the magic that Kireth aimed at its brain. The tendrils stood on end, reaching as far as Tradden and then they recoiled and swam from side to side in the air as it appeared to calm.

The scribe looked abhorrently at the floating creatrure, unsure whether to fear or revile the thing.

‘You are an abomination,’ uttered Beltak hoarsely, before lifting his symbol and starting the now familiar words of prayer.

A crackling web of radiant light began to spiral upwards from the floorboards around the scribe. They spread out five or ten feet from the priest and sparked and fizzed when they touched the tendrils of the creature. Khalin could feel the strength and the warmth of Pelor’s grace, however, and knew it would help if they were injured.

As Khalin launched into his strike one of the tendrils snapped out and caught the craghammer around the shaft, pulling with incredible strength and throwing the dwarf to one side.

Before the dwarf could react he found the hammer coming around in an arc towards Beltak’s head! Part of it was the tendril’s grip on the shaft, but part of it seemed to be Khalin’s desire to strike down the scribe.

Although the scribe wasn’t expecting it, he just managed to get his shield up in time, diverting the blow.

The sword cut through one of the shimmering tendrils, slicing it from the thing’s body. It gently and silently fell to the floor like a feather.

The thing in the rafters began to roll out its tendrils, obvious to the group that they could reach a fair distance.

Then the crackling web of light from Beltak’s prayer covered them, boiling them with radiant light and energy.

The tendrils refused to succumb to the holy power and simply swayed and waved in the air as though they were being blown by a gentle breeze, almost mesmerising. Then they snapped taught and a shock of air hit those closest.

The blast reeled through the group, disorienting and confusing them. The thing pressed its advantage, reaching out with its tendrils to latch onto the one that had struck it last.

The pain was excruciating, far more painful than the warrior expected from such wispy limbs. For a moment he was stunned, his eyes staring into nothingness, wide open with fright. Then he seemed to snap back into the room as if released from some spell.

Zero was swift, moving to the curtains and then stepping back once more without even watching the bolt.

It was straight and true and plunged into the centre of the writhing mass of tendrils, causing the creature the whirl in an agitated manner, some form of liquid dripping down onto the table beneath it.

The thing squirmed as Kireth concentrated his efforts on its mind, tendrils snaking left and right and the irridescent sheen pulsed with strange patterns. Whatever magics the mage was conjuring up were definitely affecting the beast.

Beltak continued his chanting, eyes focused solely on the aberration before him, the crackling strands of radiant light continuing to flow from the floor like tendrils of steam.

He started to add to the chanting, weaving further prayers into the ones he was already reciting, the resulting litany gaining volume and speed.

The warmth of Pelor’s divine radiance filled the hearts of those closest to Beltak, but the abomination simply wrapped three of its shimmering tendrils around the scribe’s arm that held aloft his holy symbol.

Tradden was quick to try to sever the tendrils before they could act on the scribe.

The young fighter cut across the tendrils but with little purchase and the abomination tightened its grip.

The tendrils squeezed and flicked the priest across the room until he crashed into Kireth, the final words of the divine spell upon his lips.

The scribe swore, drawing a raised eyebrow from Kireth even as the mage felt his physical and arcane strength wane with the misdirected prayer.

The dwarf simply couldn’t help himself as he tried to focus his assault on the whirling tendrils before him, as he tried to move to flank the thing he took offence at the look on Tradden’s face and struck out without thinking at the young fighter.

The young fighter was ready for whatever retaliation the thing could throw at him, but none came.

Khalin tried to compose himself and shake off whatever curse the beast had laid upon him…

…but the curse was strong and the dwarf felt nothing but despair.

Free of the crackling energy from Beltak’s prayers the creature began to assert its dominance.

It continued to unfurl its tendrils, spreading them out and thrusting them in the direction of the dwarf, snapping them rigid as they struck his head.

Khalin looked stunned, but Tradden lunged in.

‘Oh no you don’t!’ he shouted.

The young fighter sliced off another of the translucent, irridescent tendrils, but the creature kept on writhing and pulsing.

With Khalin stunned for the moment, it moved off towards the others.

Tradden swung again and Khalin shook off whatever had befallen him, striking out with Aecris as the tendrils the creature left flowing behind it.

The wild swipe from Tradden went amiss, but Khalin bashed one of the larger tentacles. The creature kept on moving though, going below Khalin and in a great sweep around to the curtain near Beltak.

It glided effortlessly through the air and appeared to have no issues with entering the crackling web of radiant energy that Beltak was maintaining.

It then opened its tendrils and appeared to shiver in the air.

A cold fear came over the trio near the curtain and the stark shadows cast by the bright magelight atop Kireth’s staff formed shadowy outlines upon their faces.

The floating behemoth was not finished at that, however.

It continued its advance and thrust out the tendrils once more. Not at Beltak, however, but past the scribe and directly for Kireth.

Kireth grimaced with the pain and faltered for a moment, then snarled back at the abomination.

With the rogue’s shaking hands the bolt went astray, but he slowed his breathing and movements enough to hide himself, or at least so he hoped, from the array of tendrils.

His shivering stopped once he felt he was hidden and some sort of calmness returned to his demeanour.

It took some moments for Kireth to work out where he was. He felt drained and strangely impotent. His vision was blurred and he lashed out with his staff at the first shadow he saw, striking Beltak across the shoulder.

Dark wisps of shadow shot up violently from the cracks in the floorboards to tug and wrench at the creature’s tendrils, but they failed to gain any significant hold.

Kireth braced himself for any retort from the creature but for now it looked to be ingoring the mage.

With a brief respite granted, Kireth managed to shake off the strange psychic forces the creature had laid upon him.

The scribe kept his prayers going, muttering to Pelor under his breath, and the web of radiant light kept its vigil around him.

He smarted at the strike from Kireth, wondering why the mage had caught him with a staff he never used for anything other than aiding in his spells, but did not have time to ponder this in his usual way.

At close quarters such as this Beltak’s powers were limited, and yet he did not want to move away and let the creature out of Pelor’s radiance.

He could see the welts starting to form on Kireth’s face where the creature had grabbed him, so decided to strike out at the creature and in the energy of the strike bless the mage with some much needed healing.

As Beltak swung his mace around the tendrils lashed out and caught ahold of his arm. With a violent tug they pushed him away down the length of the room towards Khalin. With an irate snarl the priest lashed out, catching the dwarf.

Fortunately for the dwarf his reactions were quick and he managed to bring his shield around to deflect the unexpected blow.

Beltak looked dazed, unsure as to what was happening. He did manage to gather his wits to send a blessing in the direction of Kireth, however.

Content, for now, that the mage would be safe and able to continue his arcane assault, the scribe tended to his own needs, summoning up the willpower to break whatever curse the creature had lain upon him.

The scribe began to breathe easier now that his wits had returned.

Khalin was getting tired of the fight, something within him giving him the sense that they could not win, they would be overwhelmed. The pathetic priest had chosen to heal the selfish mage, too, and not him, who was on the forefront of battle and far more deserving. The scribe had even tried to hit Khalin with a mace, too. It was a good job the dwarf was a good warrior. In fact, he’d show Beltak just how good he was and lashed out with Aecris.

There was barely a sound from the shadows behind the curtain, just the snap of a crossbow string…

…and the satisfying squelch as the bolt struck home. The creature whirled on the spot in a flurry of tendrils.

‘Come on then, have some dwarf if you think you can handle it!’ Khalin taunted at the thing.

But no matter how he voiced his bravado, he still felt strangely affected by the abomination.

The floating monstrousity didn’t flinch one iota and when the young fighter came within range of its tendrils and did not appear to take much care it grabbed ahold and served up the mental pain that the group were becoming all to familiar with.

…but the momentum was gone and the strike was a weak one. Tendrils grabbed the young fighter and he felt himself disoriented for a moment, not quite knowing where he was, thrashing out with his twin swords until he realised he was striking Khalin!

The sharp longsword ducked underneath Khalin’s well prepared defences and opened a gash along the dwarf’s thigh, drawing a cry of alarm and a curse.

There was no time for respite from the hovering behemoth, however, its tendrils began to quake and shiver once more.

The tendrils rose and fell in a curious rhythm, tantalising and mesmerising, until a chill came over those nearest.

Fear and despair overcame Tradden and Khalin and they eyed each other suspiciously, their weapons slowly rounding on one another.

As they watched each other the tendrils were off, through the curtain and into the kitchen, seeking out a new victim, one lurking somewhere in the shadows, his position given away after the orders to strike from Khalin.

A victim the monstrousity had yet to taste.

As it moved away the wisps of shadow that Kireth had conjured clawed at the moving tendrils, ripping and tearing them.

It found the rogue easily, lurking to the north of the kitchen, and closed in. It did not show feelings but Zero could sense its menace and purpose and shivered at the thought.

It reached out its tendrils for him and the rogue nearly screamed.

As it touched the rogue the tendrils seemed to increase their fury, thrashing and sliding from side to side in a rapid motion. For want of a better description it appeared to be excited, thrilled at tasting Zero’s psychic energy.

So much so, it pressed down once more on the rogue’s head, the tendrils flexing and pumping with pleasure.

Zero went white and when the abomination finally released him, he looked as though he were ready to keel over.

… but the tendrils closed in as the rogue darted through.

This time the manoeuvre was less eloquent and the rogue bounced off the woodwork with a crash.

The bolt skimmed through the tentacles and slammed into a cupboard door behind it.

‘Damn!’ swore the rogue and began to shiver once more.

The clash with the doorway had at least brought the rogue to his senses and he managed to overcome the eerie spell the creature had put upon him.

Lightning burst from Kireth’s staff and engulfed the mass of tendrils. For a moment it looked as though it would destroy the thing, but the flashes petered out quickly, with only minimal effect. Kireth snarled.

The mage began to seethe with anger at being bested by this creature, losing his normally controlled demeanour.

Beltak looked pale and white, not quite understanding what the creature was or how it could be.

‘I… I cannot harm it,’ he stammered. ‘I know not what it is.’ As he spoke the web of radiant light that had been surrounding him began to falter and dim.

‘Still, I can be of some minor service, perhaps,’ he rallied and turned to Tradden, laying his hand upon the young fighter’s shoulder.

Holding his holy symbol with his other hand he uttered a short prayer to Pelor and Tradden felt strength and vigour flow through him.

The scribe was not content with that though, lending strength to all of the warriors he could as they would surely need their prowess and continued his prayers for Khalin.

Khalin retuned the prayer with a snarl and Beltak backed away.

‘Steel yourself, master dwarf’ the scribe uttered, aghast at the warlord’s actions. ‘This fell enchantment will not last!’

Khalin could not help himself. Tradden had seemed to bask in the radiance from Pelor’s grace whilst he had felt no such warmth. It was not fair and the boy would pay. With a backwards swipe he struck out at Tradden to teach the useless lump a lesson.

As the dwarf picked up speed he ran straight into the tendrils floating behind the curtain that swiftly reacted and reached out to encompass him.

The warlord ignored the pain from the tendrils’ grip and continued to close in regardless…

…before swinging Aecris as hard as he could.

The rogue finally had some colour in his cheeks and the warlord turned inwards to shake off the odd effects of the abomination.

A calm began to pass over Khalin as he finally pulled away the darkness that had hung around his mind.

As the young fighter slipped through the curtain the tendrils reached out, stretching for Tradden’s head.

It wasn’t the strength of the tendrils that made Tradden grimace but the odd, cold, numbness and lingering pain. They left red welts along the side of his face which angered him. He staggered over towards Zero with a growl.

As he stormed in he faltered when a blanket of tendrils covered his face and burnt his skin. Blind he continued his strike.

The sword swept around, but not at the target Tradden had anticpated…

Tradden’s twin blades cut an impressive sight, but unfortunately they were aimed at his friends.

The tendrils of the creature flickered ghost-like in the sunlight through the open door. The shadow of Zero’s body cast against its translucent form. It looked moist and slippery, writhing endlessly, and something not of this world.

A familiar buzz, dulling their senses, invaded those closest. Not audible but inside their heads, growing and growing with each moment.

Shadows of dark thoughts coalesced in the minds of the young fighter, the warlord, and the mage. They cast glances at each other full of distrust.

They barely noticed the creature move off to the south.

Khalin, however, had not had his senses dulled enough to pass up the opportunity of striking the creature as it moved away.

The hammer made contact, but seemed to go through the tendrils, rather than causing them much damage. The abomination moved for the rogue.

Zero’s eyes grew wider as the creature advanced and only a feeble cry fell from his lips as the tendrils reached out to encompass him.

The creature pulsed and thrived on the rogue’s life energy.

The tendrils followed the rogue, however, seeking out his energy, desperate for another taste.

The strike was true, slicing through several tendrils and squelching into the centre of the mass, exploding into a sticky web that clung to the furniture and doorframe, slilting the creature’s movements.

A silvery goo dripped slowly down onto the floor. The rogue had hurt it badly and the abomination tried to shake and shiver in anger against the webbing from Zero’s bolt.

The bolt thudded into the doorframe, severing a strand of the webbing. But at least Zero felt he could breathe a sigh of relief at being concealed.

The clumsy oaf Tradden was putting Kireth out of his stride, barging around and banging into his allies was not what the mage considered the right path to follow. The young fighter had already struck Khalin a couple of times and there was no way Kireth would suffer the same fate.

When the fighter’s back was turned the mage thrust the butt of his staff into his back.

The tendrils squirmed erratically as Kireth’s magic struck the creature.

This time the creature had time to steel itself and Kireth could feel its mental barriers up and strong against his powers.

Kireth, in return, tried to match the creature’s endurance by shaking off the fell taint it had cast over the mage.

Clarity returned to him once more.

From the far side of the room Beltak could witness the rest of the party lunging at one another and uttering petty remarks. What was going on?

He needed to get closer, if only to protect them from their selves.

By the curtain, in the middle of the group, he could see they were eyeing each other with mild distrust.

‘Stop this!’ uttered the scribe. ‘Snap out of it!’

The group paid Beltak relatively little attention, their thoughts focused on the writhing mass of tendrils or each other.

Beltak looked through the curtain’s gap, held up his symbol and spoke a soft prayer to Pelor.

But the prayer seemed to falter on the scribe’s lips as he spoke.

Khalin grunted in annoyance. He was calculating the best tactics to deal with this creature and all around him were interruptions and distractions. Even the bloody scribe was annoying now. With a snarl he turned and berated Beltak, pushing his warhammer into the scribe’s chest.

When Tradden raised an objection he gave that lanky youth a piece of his mind too, followed by a swift jab at the boy’s legs.

Regardless of Khalin’s prayers the tendrils streched out and struck the dwarf as he neared.

The draining effect the tendrils was becoming too much, though, and the swing slowed. Khalin could hear the sniggering and laughing behind from Tradden, joking with the pathetic wizard on how he couldn’t even strike the tendrils.

They were taunting him, guffawing on how the dwarf would bravely run away, like his forebears.

The warlord found himself stood before the vain fighter and decided to chop him down to size with a swift swing at Tradden’s legs.

There was a splinter of bone and the young fighter fell instantly to the floor.

The was a gasp and a howl of pain from the floor as Tradden gulped in air.

The rogue needed no further encouragement to try to stop the beast advancing…

…but the rogue was unsure of what was going on in the room. He was sure he’d heard Tradden scream and the momentary lapse of concentration fumbled his shot and blew his cover.

Despite Khalin’s bold cry towards Zero, the fog in his head still remained.

His knees ached and he wasn’t sure if he could stand. There were enemies all around him, leering above him and ready to finish him off. He still had some moves, though, even if he was laid on his back and swung his sword around in a vicious arc.

…but the tendrils had other ideas and reached out to grab the fighter’s unprotected head as he closed in.

The young fighter collapsed under the strange weight of the tendrils, he could go no further and he slumped to the ground.

The dwarf straddled the fighter bringing his warhammer down against one of the outsretched tentacles. The blow was weak but the shout that accompanied it was strong and the young fighter’s eyelids flickered open with life.

The tendrils snaked around the haft of the warhammer and around the warlord’s head and Khalin shivered involuntary.

The dwarf turned slowly, perhaps unaware of his actions, and brought the warhammer down on Tradden’s exposed head.

There was an unnerving crack and the flickering eyelids moved no more.

Translucent goo continued to drip from the centre of the mass of tendrils onto the wooden floor, some dribbling along the length of the tendrils.

The tendrils quivered as though they had lost all strength, but they still managed to squirm past Khalin, snaking over the warlord’s shoulder and landing lightly on Tradden’s bleeding skull.

They moved like tongues, savouring the warm taste of the young fighter’s draining life, before squeezing ever so slightly, thrilled at the energy that was released.

As the tendrils pulsed and tightened the thing began to solidify, the translucent appendages became a ghastly opaque, grey and mottled. A smell hung in the air that reminded Khalin of Deepingwald docks and the tendrils that snaked over his shoulders became heavy and real.

It slumped to the floor underneath the sticky spider’s web that Zero had cast, floating no longer as though it could barely take its own weight.

The lacerations and lesions that the group had placed upon it started to heal as it squeezed the limp body of Tradden.

It would not be much longer before it was well on the way to recovery.

The bolt nicked one of the tendrils drawing a thin line of goo.

The thing writhed on the floor as Kireth concentrated his efforts, tendrils swaying to and fro in a shivering motion.

Beltak had seen it coming. The distress and confusion that was caused by the tendrils’ touch was plain for him to see. How had he been so slow to react?

Tradden was on the floor and in a bad way, with Khalin stood over him ready for the killing blow. Beltak moved swiftly to the young fighter’s side.

The wounds were heavy. Tradden was covered with welts from where the tendrils had clung on and the young fighter’s skull was showing in a couple of places where the warlord had pounded him with his hammer.

Beltak drew out his holy symbol and used all of his strength to summon the radiance of Pelor.

A warm light spread over the fighter’s face and the lacerations and bloody cuts began to close before Beltak’s eyes. Colour returned to Tradden’s cheeks and his eyes lurched open with a jolt.

He could hear the boy splutter and breathe again. No doubt the fool would get up and make a mess of things again, getting in the warlord’s way. Better that the youth take a lie down. Permanently.

In an instant, Khalin had swung the warhammer down, missing Beltak by a fraction, and slammed it into Tradden’s chest, knocking the wind out of him once more.

Exhaustion was starting to take its toll and the dwar’s swing was wild. The tendrils barely moved, though, and for once the warlord was left without the feeling of anger towards his allies.

Calm and certainty now overcame Khalin’s mind and he could see the true target at last.

The first swipe was a feint, to try to open up the beast’s guard, but as Tradden looked into the mass of tendrils he was mesmerised by their movement.

The tendrils seemed to snake around and around and at the centre of them was Khalin. The same dwarf that had been striking Tradden repeatedly. Khalin must be the enemy, he simply must. Without thinking, Tradden continued his manoeuvre.

Khalin managed to stand firm against Tradden’s initial assault and block the second with his shield.

More goo, this time real and putrescent, slipped along the lengths of the creature’s tendrils, the source somewhere in the centre of the mass where Zero’s bolt lay firmly entrenched.

The creature looked less threatening now it was solid and real. The webbing from Zero’s bolt had dissolved, but the thing did not look as though it was going far in its current state.

Slumped to the floor, no longer floating nor shimmering or translucent, it was a hideous sight.

The thing was still moving, though.

There was a familiar buzz for a moment, a crescendo building up, but it quickly passed.

The the thing was moving, slowly, but surely, wriggling and pulsing along the floorboards and heading for the sunlight and the porch.

Out in the open the sunlight glinted off the mucus-covered tendrils and it made Zero shiver.

The tendrils snaked out, the rogue caught in a moment’s hesitation, and then they struck.

The tendrils seemed to sting the rogue, clamping down aside his unprotected head, drawing great red welts, similar to those the orcs had upon their heads.

Zero was dazed, but the creature didn’t appear to want to stop.

Zero shrieked, flapping his arms from side to side, and managed to fend off the heavy tendrils.

Invigorated by the sunlight perhaps, or by the taste of Zero’s psyche, the creature began to rise in the air, floating once more, as it began to fade and take on its translucent form.

With a squelch that sounded like a spit, the bolt that had been causing so much harm shot across the porch and skidded to a stop at Zero’s feet.

As the bolt left the crossbow he turned, dodging to the side and behind the wooden wall of the shack. Out of direct sunlight and in the shade he prayed he was safe from the reaching appendages.

There was a shudder from the creature as Kireth spoke the last words of his spell, but for a moment nothing appeared to happen. Then it materialised in an instant, the shimmering iridescent tendrils becoming a grey putrid mass and the thing fell to the ground with an almighty crash, splintering the wood of the decaying porch.

There was no movement, no last throes of life.

A release of tension filled the air as if a dark cloud blotting out the sky had sped onwards on the wind revealing sparkling rays of warmth. A distant ringing was all that remained in their ears, the noises abated.

‘Well that was fun,’ commented Tradden and promptly fell to the floor with exhaustion.

[Combat Encounter Completed]