Invisibly, Finian reached the area near the altar. He'd completely lost sight of the dagger-wielding priest in the obscuring mist that was billowing in the area. To his left he could hear someone beseeching the aid of 'Princess Rot' in protecting themselves from these intruders and the Archer started to move in that direction. A wave of discomfort suddenly struck him as if the very air around him was urging him away from the area.
Roach was only slightly hampered by his sudden loss of sight. His other senses were working just fine and he was able to creep forward and to the right along the wall until he was free of the Darkness and could once more see the advancing figures.
Ledare was in worse shape, however. She could still hear the sound of distant voices from her right and could hear Kirnoth asking if she was alright on her left, but much of her carefully-honed abilities relied on sight. She suddenly felt very vulnerable and wondered whether this was how Ruze felt; if it was, then the Battleguard's insistence that he come along was even more surprising.
"Ledare? Are you alright?" Kirnoth asked again and this time she answered.
"I'm alright," she told him. "I just can't see."
She reached out a hand, found the edge of one of the doors and forced herself through. She staggered through the darkness and stepped suddenly out into light. There were two robed figures nearby, one held a dagger while the other held out its empty hands to her. As he came forward, she saw that his hands were discolored and blistered, dripping blood-tinged puss.
Almost before she thought of it, her enlarged, glowing sword flashed free of its scabbard and sliced upward across the man's chest. He fell backward, dead.
Roach sunk back into the shadows, aimed at one of the robed figures that was furthest from Ledare, and huffed into his blowgun. Again, however, his aim was off and the dart went well wide of the mark.
Finian struggled against the urge to retreat. He had the strong feeling that he shouldn't be where he was - he was unwanted there and the compulsion to leave was strong. But he forced himself onward toward the sound of a muttered prayer ahead. Suddenly, a dark figure loomed out of the mist only a few feet from him and he drew his sword. The brilliantly gleaming blade alerted the man to his presence, but before he could do more than turn to face the Archer, the longsword had bit through the brown robe into the flesh beneath.
The man cried out, his prayer ruined by Finian's attack even as the Archer's own invisibility failed.
Kirnoth listened to the sound of battle raging beyond the obscuring bubble of blackness and winced. He looked for a moment at Ruze and the Battleguard looked back and nodded. It was only after the mage had plunged into the darkness that he realized that Ruze had actually LOOKED at him.
The cultist with the dagger stepped uncaringly over his fallen comrade and came at Ledare with his weapon ready. The point of the blade found its way between the top of her gauntlet and the bottom of her sword arm's vambrace. The wound was a minor one, but the pain was enough to make the Janissary miss her retaliatory strike.
Roach moved into the shadow of one of the carved columns and again took aim with his blowgun. This time, his dart struck one of the cultists in the side. The man found time to look at the shiny metal spine sticking out of his abdomen before he slumped unmoving to the floor.
The robed figure that Finian had wounded regarded the Archer with unnatural calm and threw back the hood of his cloak saying, "Look, you, into my eyes."
The Archer was unwilling, but his gaze went to the man's face anyway. It was almost like two different faces had been sewn together into a single disturbing whole. The right wide was a normal man with pale skin and reddish hair; the left was a festering mass of boils and open lesions with a filmy, yellowed eye staring out from it.
Despite himself, Finian felt an icy finger of fear worming its way into his gut. He let out a little yelp of terror and retreated from the grinning face of death, backward into the obscuring mist.
Kirnoth stumbled suddenly out from the sphere of utter black and blinked in the candlelight. He saw the enlarged Ledare engaged in single combat with a knife-wielding cultist to his left and two more were making their way toward her. Finian and Roach were nowhere to be seen, but the center of the room was a mass of green fog. No sooner had he gotten his bearings then one of the two robed figures heading for Ledare veered toward him instead.
The mage quickly hurled one of the darts at the man, but in his haste he released the dart at the wrong time and it struck the ground well away from his target.
Ruze stepped out of the darkness directly behind Kirnoth and saw the figure advancing on the elf. An instant later, he saw the man stumble and clutch at a shiny dart that had suddenly appeared in the middle of his chest. The cultist looked to his left where the Battleguard could see Roach crouched, reloading his blowgun. The robed man fell immediately to the floor.
Ledare's opponent slashed out at her again with his dagger, but this time, she was able to block it with her shield. The cultist was likewise able to dodge her enormous sword as it came around to strike him. She saw another figure approaching behind the first, but could do little about it at the moment.
She noticed absently that it had begun to get very hot.
Finian, meanwhile was doing his best to put some distance between himself and the disease-ridden cultist. He half-ran, half-fell out of the mist, nearly went sprawling and only just managed to hold onto his glowing sword. He had almost regained his senses when the robed man stepped out of the mists holding his unholy symbol in one hand and pointing at Finian with the other.
"Oh, Aphyx!" the man cried, "Let not this defiler escape my terrible wrath!"
Before the Archer could do anything more than raise his sword, he felt an unholy power clamp down over his limbs, holding him immobile and completely helpless.
Kirnoth turned his attention on the robed figure moving toward Ledare. His first dart struck the man in the small of the back and stuck there. His second hit the man in the buttock. He cried out, but did not fall.
It was getting more than hot now, Ledare realized. It was downright stifling. And it wasn't the room that was heating up, it was her armor; where ever it touched her it stung at her skin. And it was getting worse.
She swung her huge sword at the robed man and cleaved through his left ankle, severing his foot and sending him to the floor dead, but then she needed to drop the sword. The heat of it was unbearable. She yanked off her helmet even as she began to smell the obnoxious odor of burning hair and it clanged loudly to the floor.
Roach saw the trouble that the Janissary was having - smoke was actually starting to rise from her body now - and he aimed at the final cultist he could see, the same one who Kirnoth had wounded. His aim was horribly off, however and the dart instead struck Ledare in the abdomen at the same moment she cast his painfully-hot gauntlets aside. She stood there for a single heartbeat and then fell forward, slumping unconscious to the ground.
Kirnoth cast another dart at the same cultist he'd been threatening, but missed even as Ruze closed with the man and made a sweeping, open-palm strike to the middle of the man's back directly between his shoulder blades. The cultist coughed up blood and fell forward over the body of the man Ledare had dispatched moments before.
Finian watched impotently as the diseased man drew toward him. A cloud of gnats surrounded the man's head, but he smiled at the Archer as he came. Finian tried to cry for help but couldn't. All he could do was watch.
"Oh, Lady Plague, let this fool know the touch of your greatness," the cultist said and touched Finian's face with a hand that dripped fluid from dozens of broken blisters.
If it had been within the Archer's power to scream, he would have. The pain from the man's touch was enormous and it felt as if Finian had been hit in the face with a mace.
A terrible, cooked pork smell hung in the air over Ledare, and Ruze could hear the sizzling of flesh on hot metal as he approached. He had to get this armor off her or she'd be fried within it before too long. He tried to pull at the leather straps that held on her breastplate, but the metal clasps were too hot.
Kirnoth approached the Battleguard and the unmoving Janissary. His face pinched up at the smell of seared half-elf.
"Is there anything I can do?" he asked Ruze.
"Help me get her out of this armor!" the cleric commanded and Kirnoth drew his knife and went to work.
Roach, seeing no further enemies in the front of the room, flitted through the shadows to the back. There on the far side of the green fog bank, he spotted the paralyzed Finian and another cultist.
The man had stepped back from the Archer and had his arms held out at his sides. In his left hand was his unholy symbol; in his right was a dagger.
"I give this unbeliever's soul to you, Aphyx," the cultist shouted to the ceiling. "Break him in your coils for all eternity!"
Roach huffed into his blowgun, striking the man in the back of his thigh. The cultist jerked at the hit, but didn't fall.
"Did you hear that?" Kirnoth asked Ruze. "I think there's still some opposition."
The mage looked momentarily toward the back of the chamber and then back at the cleric, but Ruze had his eyes closed and his hands held over Ledare's body.
"My Queen," he intoned. "Grant the healing grace of your touch to my fallen companion."
As he said this, his palms began to glow the silver of moonlight and the elf watched as some of Ledare's blisters and burns began to close of their own accord. He was only momentarily awestruck, however; if he didn't get this armor off her, then no amount of the Battleguard's healing would save the Janissary's life.
Roach reloaded his blowgun and was about to raise it to his lips when the end struck the ground on the upswing and the fragile tube broke in half as he raised it.
The cultist turned from Finian, smiled at Roach and approached with his dagger at the ready.
"You," the man said, "are a truly fitting sacrifice for Princess Rot. Come and embrace her gifts."
Roach didn't agree and did his best to fade into the shadows as the man came at him.
"Yeow!" Kirnoth cried as he tossed aside the last, huge piece of Ledare's armor. His fingertips had blisters on them, and the Janissary seemed to be in very bad shape, but at least she wasn't getting any worse. He was glad she was unconscious and didn't have to suffer with the-.
"Why do you foolishly persist?" a man's voice said from nearby. Kirnoth and Ruze looked up to see a robed man with a yellow scarf wrapped around his hooded neck. How he had gotten so close to them without them seeing neither could say.
"Death is but a part of great cycle. Without death there can be no life. Without decay there can be no growth. Without dissolution, no rebirth."
Kirnoth had to admit, it made a fair bit of sense...
Roach couldn't avoid the man. He closed quickly to dagger range and started stabbing. Fortunately, his enthusiasm far exceeded his skill and Roach was easily able to avoid the thrusts. He took a swing at the man with his left fist and landed a solid blow to his chest. The cultist choked a little and staggered backwards, but again, he did not fall.
Kirnoth was surprised at how perfectly reasonable this man seemed. He had expected these cultists to me raving lunatics, but this man made some pretty sound arguments.
"If her gifts are so despised why then do the gods of virtue not cast her forth?" the man was saying as he continued to walk toward them. "I will tell you why: because they know what I know. They know that Aphyx's touch keeps the balance. It keeps the ranks of the other gods' followers from swelling too greatly. She is the great equalizer, taking all to her bosom without concern for their morality or ethos. She-"
"Shut up!" Ruze said, getting to his feet with more speed than his bulky form seemed capable of. "Your words may have beguiled the elf, but I know you for what you are."
The cultist was mere feet from Ruze and he turned his cowled head to look at the Battleguard.
"What I am, moonkisser, is your executioner," the cultist said, drawing back the hood of his cloak. "Look on the face of your own death and tremble."
Roach took another swing at his opponent, and backhanded the man's head. This time, the man did fall, dropping his dagger and collapsing to the ground in a heap.
Ruze winced at what he saw under the hood: a puss-slicked face full of odd growths and open wounds. Black and brown teeth grinned out of the nearly lipless mouth and eyes that seemed dead and blind stared from deepset sockets.
The Battleguard looked away for a moment, but only long enough to summon his strength. He spun on his heel, bringing his right fist around and down across his opponent's hideous visage. The sound of cracking bone seemed very loud in the room, and the man just stood there swaying for a moment.
Then he dropped to the floor without uttering another word.
Roach looked down at the unconscious cultist at his feet. He had little desire to lay hands on the disease-ridden figure, but so long as he drew breath, he might pose a threat.
He looked around, his eyes falling on the unmoving Finian and the glowing sword in his hand. He crept closer and looked at the half-elf. The Archer was as unmoving and rigid as a statue.
"Can you not move?" Roach asked, but Finian did not reply. Grunting once, Roach circled him and approached from the right. He pried the Archer's longsword free of his hand.
"I'll just borrow this," he said, moving silently toward the unmoving cultist.
For his part, Finian could do nothing to stop Roach. He did get a startlingly good look at the mysterious figure's face with its mismatched eyes and bearded snout. His belief that Roach was a mongrelman was finally confirmed.
Ruze looked at his fist with utter disgust. The knuckles were slick with greasy, orange puss and he bent to wipe his hand on the cultist's cloak.
"I don't think I'll be able to eat a spot of spice bread again with this hand without throwing up my guts," he muttered.
The Battleguard looked up at Kirnoth and saw that the elf seemed to still be under the thrall of the cultist's glib words. Even as he stared blankly, his lips moving slightly, he held his hands delicately at his sides and Ruze could see the blisters formed on the mage's fingers.
The cleric reached into his belt pouch and produced a tiny earthenware jar fitted with a wide cork stopper.
"Kirnoth," he called and tossed the jar at the elf who recovered from his reverie enough to actually catch the jar. "Put this on your fingers. It will ease the pain."
"Th-thank you," the mage said, blinking his eyes in confusion.
"Beware the lies of Chaos, Kirnoth," Ruze said. He stood and laid a hand on the elf's narrow shoulder looking meaningfully into his violet eyes. "It holds a powerful sway and a sense of logic as well. But be advised the promises are as hollow as an empty apple barrel."
"I- I know," Kirnoth replied, But his voice lacked any real conviction. His brows knitted in concentration as if he were trying to force himself awake from a deep sleep and when he spoke again, his voice seemed stronger. "Of course, I know. What was I thinking?"
Ruze shrugged.
"Sometimes a demon may speak with an angel's tongue," the cleric said, giving the mage's shoulder a squeeze before he turned to look at Ledare.
Kirnoth worked the stopper out of the jar and examined the contents. It looked and smelled like lard, and grimacing he began to apply it to his blistered fingers.
"How is she?" he asked and Ruze glanced up from his patient.
"She'll live thanks in part to your help," the Battleguard said. "Nice work. I think I may continue to use your assistance in the future."
"Is she very badly hurt?" the elf asked, fearful of the answer.
"Ledare is in a bad spot. She is going to need more healing than I can provide, as I fear Finian will as well," Ruze admitted. "You go to Finian. If he's injured, don't touch him yourself but come back to tell me what you see."
Kirnoth circled the green fogbank, making his way toward the back of the room where he supposed Finian must be since he couldn't see him anywhere in the front of the room. Of course, he hadn't seen him at all since the Archer had slipped on the Ring of Invisibility. He hoped that Finian wasn't hidden within the green mist, so he-
He suddenly spied the Archer standing in the dimness ahead. He held his fist oddly before him, his body tensed for some action.
"Finian?" Kirnoth called softly. "Are you alright?"
There was no response, and approaching closer, the mage saw why. Finian was paralyzed. On his face, the mage could make out raised welts in the shape of a handprint. It looked painful, but seemed to be the only injury that the half-elf had suffered.
Kirnoth moved slowly around him looking him up and down and could see nothing else.
"Stay here," he told the Archer. "I'll be right back."
Finian, of course, could do nothing else.
The mage hurried back toward Ruze.
"We should go," Roach growled.
"Agreed," Ruze replied. He glanced up from Ledare to the mongrelman and gasped.
Roach immediately slunk back into the shadows with a hiss. The tip of the glowing longsword in his hand was stained with blood.
"I'm sorry," the Battleguard explained. "I just wasn't sure what you'd look like. You surprised me."
"Your vision has returned?" Roach asked, sounding a trifle disappointed.
"Yes," Ruze replied. "A gift from my-"
All at once, Ledare's body shrank back to its normal size, startling both man and mongrelman.
"It isn't safe here," Roach reiterated after a pause and the Battleguard nodded.
"We need to get out of here while we can," Ruze said. "It's safe to assume there are not more cultists ready to swarm in here. It looks as if we have three abled bodies. You, Kirnoth and myself. Finian is unknown."
"Finian is paralyzed," Kirnoth said as he hustled up to the others. "He's got a nasty burn or something on his face, but he seems okay other than that."
"Let's go have a look at him," Ruze told the elf. To Roach he added, "Will you stay with Ledare?"
The mongrelman growled softly, looking from the Janissary to the Darkness-shrouded doors leading out to Ruze and back again.
"Be quick," was his only reply.
"I am afraid we are in a bunch of it here," Ruze said as he examined Finian's face. "I can sense the evil in this place brewing like some rich, dark, Slophian Coffee."
"Is Finian...?" Kirnoth asked nervously.
"As near as I can tell, he'll be fine once the Hold Person spell wears off," Ruze said. "We'll all need to go to my temple to be properly cleansed from the taint of this place though."
"Any ideas what caused Ledare to burn?" the elf asked. "I'm worried it was my magic gone awry again."
"No, I'm certain it was the influence of one of these cultists," Ruze assured his companion. "I sensed the working of spells that countered my own. As you can see the forces of Chaos are strong. I suggest we retreat from here immediately."
"Our mission from the King is to rid Barnacus of the skaven and we haven't come across them yet," the mage said. "But we are suddenly at an incredibly huge disadvantage, so I think we should get Finian and Ledare out of here immediately and worry about the skaven later."
"Yes, I-" Ruze started to say when the green mist that had surrounded the altar in the center of the room dissipated with a quiet hissing sound. They could now clearly see the obscene black block of the altar and the struggling man bound to it with heavy ropes.
"I forgot about him," Ruze admitted, unslinging his warhammer from his hip as he went toward the altar with Kirnoth hurrying behind.
"Can you detect evil?" the elf asked in hushed tones. "I'd love to know if this man is a willing participant in this ritual!"
"My sense is that he is an unwilling participant," Ruze surmised. "Because, if willing, why gag him? I could see the tying up; they would not want him to change his mind at the last minute. But the gag makes me think he's innocent in all this."
Kirnoth nodded.
"Makes sense," he admitted.
"I say we examine him visually and then lead him to safety," Ruze concluded and stepped up to the altar.
Upon closer inspection, they saw that the 'man' was in fact a half-elf with jet black hair. His torso was painted with tiny red symbols that were both painful and unsettling to look at. Neither Ruze nor Kirnoth had seen their like before, but it looked like some kind of language. The prisoner's wrists were rubbed raw where he'd been struggling against his bonds. A gag had been tied across his mouth and he was making some choking sounds around it. His bright green eyes pleaded with Ruze as the Battleguard studied him for signs of drugging.
"What do you think?" Kirnoth asked.
"I say we ungag him," the cleric replied and did just that.
The half-elf gagged and spit out a wad of blood-soaked cloth that had been stuffed in his mouth.
"Untie me," he asked, still struggling to free his hands.
"Wait," Kirnoth said as Ruze went for the knots. "Let's ask him some questions first. What's your name?"
"Omrixx Eletulikin," the man answered. "Why?"
"What do you know about these people?" the mage asked without answering.
"Nothing!" the man assured them. "They drugged me and I woke up in a cell."
"What were they doing to you?" the mage persisted. "Are you a follower of Aphyx?"
The man gnashed his teeth and jerked once more at the ropes.
"Do I look like a follower of Aphyx?" he cried.
Finian felt the unnatural hold on his limbs relax and he nearly fell over before he regained control of himself. He groaned softly and flexed his body; numerous joints in his shoulders and back popped and cracked as he did so. He had fully expected to feel worse than he did.
Fearfully, he reached a hand up to touch his face where the cultist had laid hands on him. It hurt there, from the skin clear down to the bone underneath. He winced as he traced the raised welts with his fingers.
He could see the glow of his longsword in Roach's hand at the opposite end of the room, and saw Kirnoth and Ruze bent over the man on the altar. He padded over toward them.
"If I knew I'd tell you, believe me!" the prisoner answered through bared teeth. "Now untie me, for Lukane's sake."
"Do you have any idea what they were doing?" the mage persisted.
Finian walked up to the altar at that point and looked down at the bound man and his eyes grew wide.
"Hawk?" he said.
"Finian?" Hawk replied.
"What happened to you?" they both asked at the same time.
"You know each other?" Ruze asked, incredulous.
"Yes," Finian told the Battleguard. "Hawk and I went through the Grey company's initiation together."
"My apologies for asking so many questions, Hawk," Kirnoth said. "Sometimes I'm overly cautious."
"Please," Hawk responded. "Call me Omrixx. I haven't gone by Hawk for some time now."
"Well, it looks like you and I both ran into the same people," Finian commented, gesturing to his own face and Omrixx's bound condition. "But it seems that I made out better than you did."
"Well, you don't look as bad as Fir Flinderkin would have left you," the half-elf chuckled."How is our other companion, by the way - Soriah was it?"
Finian and Kirnoth couldn't meet Omrixx's gaze as a shadow fell over there faces.
Ruze, having never met the woman did not feel the wave of grief that his companions shared and he set about untieing Omrixx's wrists.
"She's dead?" Omrixx asked and Finian nodded.
"There was an accident," he started to explain and Kirnoth stopped him.
"I miscast a spell and killed her with a lightning bolt," the elf said flatly.
Omrixx's eyes grew wide.
"You're a wizard, then?" he asked, looking Kirnoth up and down. "Yes. Of course you are."
"She died fighting," Finian added.
"How else would she have gone?" Omrixx replied. "I mean when I saw her getting ready to club that dragon with her mace instead of run like a sensible person would have, I figured that she was too stubborn to die."
It was Finian's turn now to chuckle.
Ruze offered Omrixx a hand up off the altar and the half elf accepted and examined his rope-burned wrists. From there he started examining with disgust the small red characters drawn on his body.
"I think it would be a good idea to get out of here," the half-elf said, rubbing at the red markings on his right forearm. "I seem to need a bath."
"I vote for making the quietest, sneakiest getaway and discussing things back at Gray House," Kirnoth said.
Finian nodded.
"Haw- Omrixx, have your personal goals been fulfilled?" the Archer asked. "Are you ready to rejoin the Grey House?"
The painted man looked intently at Finian, his green eyes shining in the dim light like polished pieces of jade.
"I have come a long way since you knew me," he said. "Much has changed, but I'm still not convinced that The Grey company is the place for me."
"I say temple first anyway," Ruze said. "Then Grey House to talk."
Omrixx hopped down off the altar and flexed his body experimentally.
"Other than these abrasions, I feel fine," he said. "I don't think I'll need a temple, although a trip to the bathhouse would certainly be welcome."
"Evil's taint is often insidious," Ruze told him, putting a hand on his elbow. "It corrupts by degrees too small for us to sense."
Omrixx looked at Ruze, Kirnoth and Finian each in turn. To Finian he said, "Look. No offense intended, but last time I adventured with you we faced a demon! So if you don't mind-"
"Hawk," Finian started, caught himself and started over. "Omrixx, those markings on you look like some I saw on a wall in the caverns where a follower of this disease god, Heurist, captured me. Perhaps they will know what they mean at Shaharizod's temple."
Omrixx looked at the symbols on his skin and then back at Finian's earnest face. At last he shrugged.
"Okay," he said. "I'll go as far as the temple. But I'm not promising anything about Grey House."
"Excellent. I cannot wait to get to the temple to get this unholy festering mark off my face," Finian said. "My body is already damaged enough as it is, I dont need to be ugly too."
"Let us move on then," the Battleguard urged. "I fear the rot of Chaos will be harder for my Sisters to remove at the Temple the longer it taints Finian's skin. We also do not know who and how many may be coming to find out what caused this chanting to cease. You three prepare Ledare for transport out of here. I have something to attend to."
Ruze hefted his warhammer and went to work on the altar while the other three headed for Roach and the Janissary.
After a flurry of blows from his hammer, they heard his voice ring out in the semi-darkness, "This is one down and however many to go, Aphyx. May Shaharizod bless my tongue for invoking her name. Iam one 'moonkisser' who says you can kiss me arse."
"Is he trying to attract the attention of every other cultist in this place?" Roach growled at Ruze's hammering and shouting. Seeing Omrixx, the mongrelman slid away from Ledare. "Who's this?"
"He's a friend," Finian told him. "Could I have my sword?"
Roach handed it over and Finian slipped it back into its sheath.
"How has Ledare been?" Kirnoth asked, kneeling down at the Janissary's side.
"She hasn't moved since you left," Roach told him.
A moment later, Ruze approached them and began to urge them on.
"Roach, why don't you take the point and lead us out of this mess," he suggested. "Finian, you to the rear whilst I carry Ledare."
The Battleguard knelt and draped Ledare's limp and blistered body across his shoulders.
"Falcon, here, I guess you seem to know Finian so are you able to walk out on your own?" Ruze asked.
At first, Omrixx nodded his head, then he stopped, his eyes getting wide. He patted his bare thighs and then his chest as if searching for something.
"My BOO..., stuff!" he exclaimed, looking about frantically. "They have my stuff! I can't leave until I get my stuff back. If I could only remember where they took me I might find it."
"We'll have to come back for your gear," Finian told the half-elf. "I would love to explore here more, but we're not in any shape right now."
Reluctantly, Omrixx agreed and he fell into line with the Archer.
"All right," Ruze grunted. "Kirnoth, kindly walk with me in the middle. Let's move."
Omrixx looked strangely at the wizard.
"Is your name, by any chance, Kirnoth of Galerideleli?" he asked.
"Yes," Kirnoth replied with a surprised look on his face. "How did you know that?"
"Did you ever meet a warrior boy named Murio Tilia?" Omrixx asked and the elf nodded. "Small world," he mused.
"How did you happen to meet him?" the mage asked.
"I met him when I helped save his village, Shiningwater, from an army of undead a couple of weeks ago," Omrixx replied with a shrug. "Well, some of the village anyway."
"Army of Undead?" Finian exclaimed. "Where exactly was this village?"
"It's west of Elcaden," Omrixx explained. "About half way between here and Restenford if you follow Longway."
"I stopped there for a time before I came to Barnacus," Kirnoth said and the chatter finally elicited a growl from Roach. He spun around and pointed at them menacingly.
"Enough talk," he hissed. "We should quit this place as quietly as we may. To do otherwise invites doom."
"I must agree," Ruze huffed. "We are not safe here."
Omrixx held up his hands in surrender and they started walking in silence.
The painted man leaned to Finian and whispered in his ear, "My old friend, you alone know the importance of what has been taken from me. Can you help look for my belongings as we withdraw? I have worked hard to acquire that which is now lost and I wish to concentrate in furthering my knowledge rather than relearning that which I already know."
The Archer remembered what the half-elf had said to him when they'd crossed paths in the marketplace: 'I've just now traded a decorative bracer and the mithril coin for a scroll of wizards' spells.' While he had no experience with spell casting, he'd seen Kirnoth pouring over dusty tomes and scrolls often enough; Finian could imagine what Omrixx had lost and how valuable it was to his one-time Companion.
He nodded that he would keep his eyes open as they retreated.
But they found nothing as they went. Nor did they encounter anyone else along the way. By the time they resurfaced from the cellar of the burned out house, it was very quiet. The crowd at the brothel across the street had dispersed, and the eastern sky was beginning to lighten toward dawn.
Roach immediately distanced himself from the others.
"I have done what I agreed to do, Kirnoth of Galerideleli," the mongrelman growled. "You now know where the temple is and to route to find it. I have no use for temples. Leave me now to my duty."
Before anyone could say anything in response, Roach climbed expertly up a drainpipe on the corner of the building beside the abandoned house and disappeared onto the rooftops.
"Come on," Ruze urged them out toward Crescent Street. "Ledare isn't getting any lighter."
"I know not of this Sir Brin," Omrixx told Finian once they'd be given a clean bill of health by Shaharizod's temple staff and were left in a waiting room for reports on Ledare's condition.
Finian's face visibly fell. He had been sure that Heurist and the anti-paladin were behind the attack on Shiningwater.
"What I do know is that undead are terrible creatures. It just frightens people knowing that someone that they might have known now haunts them in being," the half-elf said. With an obviously un-nerved laugh, he added, "Sometimes, for a second time."
"I believe our meeting up with you is no coincidence, Omrixx," Kirnoth told the half-elf as he sipped from a cup of strong tea. "Tell me all about the adventure in Shiningwater."
"Yes," Finian agreed. "Tell us about these undead, Omrixx."
The half-elf spread his freshly scrubbed hands and leaned back in his chair.
"There's not much to tell, really," he said. "I was relaxing in an Inn, the Green Shamrock, up on Merchant's Lane by the South Gate, when this kid, Murio Tilia, walks in and starts asking for volunteers to help save his village."
"Why didn't he come to me, I wonder?" Kirnoth asked.
"He said that he tried," Omrixx explained. "That's how your name came up. He'd actually come to find you and when he couldn't, he started going from inn to inn looking for volunteers. By the time he'd gotten to the Shamrock, he already had a barbarian and two of Cyr's Fists with him."
"Cyr's Fists?" Finian asked.
"Warrior priests of Cyr," Ruze said from the doorway. "They're like Battleguards only they follow the Goddess of Strength."
"And if you've never seen these guys fight, wheew!" Omrixx shook his head in amazement. "Let me tell you, it's almost inhuman."
"How is Ledare?" Kirnoth asked Ruze as the cleric came in and took a seat on the divan.
"Nasser-Ubeen personally attended to her," the Battleguard told him. "I'm sure she'll make a full recovery."
"Great," the elf said, looking visibly relieved.
"She'll need a few days' bedrest, but after that, she'll be fine," the cleric explained.
"Omrixx was just telling us about this army of undead," Finian redirected the attention back to the story of Shiningwater.
"Right. Let's see," the half-elf said, trying to pick up the thread of his story. "Shiningwater had been having trouble with undead attacking outlying farms for a few weeks by the time we arrived. They'd lost a lot of men, including a wandering ranger who'd volunteered to help, so they were pretty convinced that their own deaths were just a matter of time. It didn't take Honak, the barbarian, long to track the undead back to the source, a ruined castle in the backcountry about halfway to Riverneck. Of course, whoever was animating them was long gone by the time we got there and we barely beat the undead army back to Shiningwater. There was a huge battle during which time, Xanella, one of the Fists of Cyr, was killed along with a goodly portion of the townsfolk. But in the end, we managed to destroy every last one of those zombies and skeletons. Afterward, we recovered some documents pointing to a town called Flavenshire near Redwood being the next target so Honak and Gorm, the other Fist, set off for Redwood and I came back here. I've personally seen enough walking dead to last me the rest of my days."
"That is not within thy control," Nasser-Ubeen's voice decreed as he entered the waiting area. "But thou wouldst do well to avoid their taint if thou mayest for it is a fate that it would seem thou didst evade by the narrowest of margins."
Ruze bowed his head to the High Priest.
"What do you mean?" the Battleguard asked.
"The writing that had been painted upon this one's flesh," Nasser-Ubeen began, indicating Omrixx with a casual gesture, "is in the ancient Sobar tongue. That language hast gone unused in the Realms for many thousands of years, but some examples remain in the earliest religious texts. The portion recovered here is one component of an ancient summoning rite designed to create a creature called a Plague Ghoul."
Nasser-Ubeen paused, letting the words 'plague ghoul' hang threateningly in the air.
"Thou hast been saved, half-elf, from a most unpleasant fate," the High Priest told Omrixx. "Thou wouldst do well to thank Battleguard Ruze profusely for it wouldst seem thou dost owe him thy life."
Omrixx shifted uncomfortably in his backless chair, clutched his borrowed robe around himself and looked finally at Ruze. The expression on the two men's faces was nearly identical in its discomfort.
"Thank you," Omrixx said without much conviction.
"It was nothing really," Ruze replied and he meant it.
Nasser-Ubeen harrumphed and gathered up the folds of his voluminous mirrored robe. He started for the door and paused at the threshold.
"Thou hast done as I bade thee and found the missing faithful of Kossuth before Kakadiador," Nasser-Ubeen decreed. "Thus as a reward I wilt allow Shaharizod's ministrations to be given without recompense. However, a donation to the Silver Queen's coffers, freely given, would not be turned away."
He looked at them meaningfully, then added, "I must attend now to thy fallen comrade."
He vanished down the hallway.
"That guy..." Finian muttered, shaking his head.
"What about him?" Ruze asked with a smile.
The Archer leaned back, his hands gripping the low arms of his chair and took in a deep breath as he collected his thoughts. At last he exhaled expansively and leaned in toward the Battleguard.
"How is it that Soriah was so strict an rigid when it came to interactions with others where as you could get along well with anyone from the King to the drunk at The Five Elements inn?" he asked. "I would have suspected that you would all follow the same rules and be trained the same way. In fact , I found most of the priests at the temple to be... with no offense intended... a bit uptight. How come you are different although obviously no less devout in your worship?"
Ruze shrugged.
"I did not know Soriah Chaste personally; however, I sense that you all cared for her deeply, but that also she may have interpreted the tenants of her faith very strictly," the man suggested. "So I cannot answer your question as to Soriah - why she was that way and I am not - but I can answer generally as to the initiates and clerics of Shaharizod. First there are many orders of faiths within Shaharizod's employ. There are Clerics, Battleguards such as Soriah and I, and there are others that specialize in certain areas of worship such as fertility. In order to become an initiate of Shaharizod, one usually hears the call from the Goddess herself."
The Battleguard smiled and reclined on the divan, relishing a story he had just recalled.
"For me it was funny," he mused. "I was eating a very lovely bowl of pork and yintel beans-"
Omrixx cleared his throat.
"Look, this is all very interesting, but shouldn't we be talking about how we're going to go back into the temple?" the half elf asked.
Ruze grinned.
"Don't you like yintel beans?" he asked. "These particular beans were perfectly boiled and mushy not hard and crunchy."
Omrixx huffed and slammed his hand down on the arm of his chair.
"It's not the beans!" he snapped. "It's all of it. It's all this idle banter about involvement with this guy and dealings with this woman. You're talking about everything but going back to the temple. I think that should be our focus right now!"
"I can't go back there until I've performed the Yulthweah," the Battleguard said and got to his feet. "The ceremony will last for at least twenty four hours, but when it is complete, I would be interested in hearing about the visions of my fallen sister, Soriah, and what you have witnessed before I began travelling with you. I fear that the forces of Chaos are now over-tipping the cup of Balance."
"Great!" Kirnoth breathed a sigh of relief. "I think that should be our next step."
Ruze left the room to seek out Nasser-Ubeen and Omrixx huffed disgustedly.
"Are you really so eager to return to face those who held you prisoner?" Kirnoth asked and the half-elf nodded his head once, sharply.
"I, as sure as Lukane wants a one-sided coin, want to go back in," Omrixx said, and his bright green eyes seemed to gleam in the lamplight. "I want my boo... stuff! I want my stuff now!"
"I have depleted my stores of magical energy," the moon elf admitted. "Ruze must engage in some type of religious ceremony. And Ledare is still unconscious."
"If I could have convinced you all to stay I would have," Omrixx muttered. He looked hopefully at Finian. "What about you, my old friend? Let's you and I go back now."
The Archer shifted uncomfortably in his chair and looked at his boots.
"I don't know, Omrixx," he began. "We almost lost one member of our party when there were five of us, with only two..."
Omrixx shook his head and smiled hopefully.
"Since you all seemed to have broken up their little lotus party, a bit early, I suggest we re-enter as soon as possible - while they're unprepared," he urged. "Strike while the iron is hot, as the dwarven folk say."
"Are you really prepared to go back in there right now?" Finian asked, looking at last at Omrixx's face.
"Well, since I'm a little less than dressed I should try and find some clothing and maybe a weapon before going in there again," he said, getting expectantly to his feet. "A short sword would be ideal!"
Finian stood and sighed, his lips set in a tight line.
"If I decide to go with you - and I haven't made up my mind - I'll need to go first to Grey House and get a new string for my bow," he told the half-elf. "We can get you some proper clothing and a short sword there as well."
"And then you're going back in? Just the two of you?" Kirnoth asked, sounding more than a little shocked.
"And then we can take another look at our options," Finian corrected. "I'd feel more comfortable discussing our plans at home."
"It's a start I can live with," Omrixx said with a nod. "I can't just forget everything and start over. I'll have none of that."
After leaving what they hoped was a reasonable donation in the temple's coffers, Finian, Kirnoth, and Omrixx headed back to Grey House. It was near dawn, and a cold drizzle had begun to fall while they were in within Shaharizod's walls. Even so, the trio was surprised by the amount of foot traffic on the streets. The coming festival of Kakadiador had swelled Barnacus' population considerably, and as a result, it seemed that the city had no time for sleep.
The Companions couldn't say the same, however. It had been nearly twenty-four hours since either Finian or Kirnoth had rested. For his part, Omrixx couldn't recall the last time he'd laid his head to pillow; he'd been kept unconscious for a goodly part of his time in the hidden temple, but unconsciousness and sleep were two very different things. By the time they'd walked the length of Old City, even the eager Omrixx was content to sleep first and return to the temple when they were stronger.
The front doors to Grey House opened as they were climbing the front steps. Abernathy, as always, greeted them at the door holding a candelabrum against the pre-dawn gloom. His face looked drawn as if he too had spent the night without sleep.
"Welcome back," he said, taking inventory of the diminished group and distributing towels with which they could dry themselves. "Whatever has happened to Janissary Ledare and Battleguard Ruze? They aren't-?"
"They're at the temple of Shaharizod," Kirnoth told the man.
"Ledare was injured and Ruze had some ceremony to perform," Finian added.
The manservant nodded and looked non-committaly at Omrixx.
"Goodman Hawk," he said. "How good of you to return to us."
"Please, call me Omrixx," the half-elf replied. "That's my name: Omrixx Eletulikin. Not Hawk."
"My apologies, Goodman Eletulikin," Abernathy said with a deferential bow. "Am I correct in assuming that your personal business is taken care of and you are returning to take your position here?"
Omrixx's face hardened and he looked at each of the other three in turn.
"I have many goals of which..." he paused, obviously looking for the proper words, "...of which I have not come close to fulfilling. I do not seek entrance to the Grey House yet, although maybe sometime soon."
"As you wish," Abernathy replied. "Will you be needing a place to stay, meantime?"
"Yes," Finian answered for him.
"We must decide on our next step," Kirnoth concluded.
"Very good," the manservant answered. "I'll prepare a room."
Abernathy shuffled off down the Inner Hall.
"Omrixx, why don't I take you upstairs?" Finian said after a moment. "I have some clothes that may fit you well since we are about the same size."
The two half-elves looked each other up and down.
"I think I've got a few pounds on you," Omrixx told the Archer. "But it'll be good to get out of this wet robe."
"Kirnoth, why don't you grab a sword for our new ally?" he asked, giving the elf a meaningful glance that meant absolutely nothing to Kirnoth.
"Can't it wait until we've rested?" he asked, stretching expansively. "I may not need to sleep, but I still need time to meditate if I'm to recover my manna."
"Okay!" Finian huffed and started after Abernathy whose light they could just see going up the stairs at the rear of the hall.
As they walked, Omrixx looked around at the trophy cases and the portraits on the wall.
"I'd forgotten about all this," he muttered, pausing in front of a display case labeled: the Wand of Watoomb. Inside the case lay a double-headed rod of wrought mithril; one end held the softly glowing Heart of Light and the other the glittering black Ebon Stone.
"It's all really quite remarkable," he said and resumed walking toward the stairs.
They went about halfway in silence and then Finian asked, "Out of curiosity, why does no one call you Hawk anymore?"
The half-elf looked at him crossly, his mouth set in a scowl.
"My name has always been Omrixx and the nickname you refer to has unpleasant memories associated with it," he told Finian. "I would prefer to be known and introduced to new people under my real name, as not to give pre-conceived notions of my character."
"Fair enough," the Archer said and they climbed the stairs toward the landing.
All the while, Finian was keeping his eyes on the chimera heads mounted on the wall there. He paid particular attention to the eyes of the goat head on the left - making sure that they didn't glow, alerting them to the presence of Evil. But there was nothing to see - the half-elf wasn't evil - and at last he turned to look at Omrixx.
"It's creepy the way their eyes seem to follow you," the half-elf said, meeting the Archer's gaze.
"Yeah," Finian agreed, shooting a glance at Kirnoth. "Creepy."
Ruze found Nasser-Ubeen exactly where he thought he would. The High Priest was in an area that served as a dormitory for the Initiates, standing over the unconscious Ledare. Some privacy screens had been erected around the Janissary's bed and the cleric scowled up at the Battleguard when Ruze popped his head inside. The mediciney-sweet scent of feurkraut hung thickly around Ledare's bed.
"Nasser-Ubeen, High One, how is she?" Ruze asked.
"Methinks she wilt survive," the High Priest said gravely. "I am somewhat concerned that she hast not awakened of yet."
Nasser-Ubeen inclined his great head to look intently at the gauze-wrapped half-elf, one thick arm crossed over his chest, the other cocked up so that his hand rested thoughtfully on his tattooed cheek.
"Mayhaps her constitution hast already been weakened," he hypothesized. "Dost thou know this to be true?"
Ruze shook his head.
"I have only known them a short time," the Battleguard confessed. "She has never mentioned anything to me."
Nasser-Ubeen harrumphed.
"No matter," the High Priest said and laid his large right hand on Ruze's right shoulder. "Someone must stay with her until she dost awake. This duty falls to thee."
Ruze blinked at the man.
"High Priest, I thank you for seeing to my Arms," he began, gesturing to Ledare's unmoving form. "But I now must retire to the Yulthweah cell to perform the cleansing. I fear I have the Taint."
Nasser-Ubeen scowled at him and shook his head.
"It will take some time to prepare the items necessary for completion of the Yulthweah," he told Ruze. "Until such time as thou art summoned unto the lower cells, thou wilst attend to thy companion. Such is my decree, and the will of Shaharizod."
"As you wish, High One," Ruze said with a bow of his head.
The High Priest nodded his head once and disappeared beyond the screens.