Moonday, 21 Gozran, 4711
The day’s planned journey to the Crypt of Tula Belhaim in Dragonfen started with some unforeseen difficulties and delays. During the night, Mischief and Jiri heard Iacobus moaning loudly and incoherently in his room. The fox awoke Shalora so that she might provide aid to the ailing magus, who was sweating profusely and trembling, his eyes glazing over. The warrior-mage’s wounds had all healed well after Shalora had cast her cure spells on him the night he had been nearly killed by the imp and accuser devil in Hunclay Manor, and she could see no other obvious cause for his sudden illness... perhaps he had contracted some sort of infection or disease when when injured by the fiends? The elf did what she could to ease Iacobus’s symptoms. Yet come morning, he awoke feeling chilly and weak and was slow to rise. Kroc (sans falcon) and Eudomas were waiting in the common room of the inn with the other companions when the magus finally emerged from his room.
Iacobus stumbled over to the House of Abadar, hoping that Eupaphenia Targas, the Banker, would have access to a magical cure for his illness. The magus interrupted the Banker, who was hard at work poring over documents. Eupaphenia acknowledged that Iacobus looked very unwell, but neither she nor the temple had access to magic that could cure disease. The best she could do was offer to cast a spell that would temporarily alleviate some of the symptoms, but as this would be cast from a scroll containing a spell that was normally beyond her ability to cast and that she reserved for use among villagers in dire need, she was reluctant to make use of it. If the illness had indeed been contracted from a fiend’s bite, then she suspected that it would not be contagious. The thought that such otherworldly evil was on the loose in the area clearly alarmed the priestess. Iacobus offered to do some work on behalf of the temple -- perhaps assisting with clerical work? -- in exchange for one casting of the Restoration spell. Eupaphenia replied that she had no need for such assistance, but that a 200 gold coin donation to the House would help with eventual replacement costs. Iacobus was not willing to pay the suggested “donation” amount. Eupaphenia asked that Iacobus or one of his companions inform her if his condition deteriorated in the coming days. She would certainly help if the situation became dire.
Back at the Inn of the Wise Piper, Shalora was able to lessen some of Iacobus’s symptoms with a spell of her own. Although the magus was tired and not in top form, he would not be left behind as his companions went on their trek to the crypt.
It was a humid and cool, misty morning. Villagers peered curiously out of windows, or from their yards as the party walked through town and across the stone bridge over Rogue Creek that marked the start of Old Quarry Road. Shalora rode Stampy, while Akiro led Speckles on foot; Mischief tried to stay clear of the horse and pony’s hoofs. The party with menagerie marched past the junctions for Devy and Hunclay manors -- the grey silhouettes of both hilltop mansions looking sinister in the mist.
The old road -- now just a muddy track overgrown with beech, holly, thickets of deciduous shrubs, and low hanging branches of oak and blackwood -- meandered up and down through forest at the foot of rocky highlands. In short time, the companions made it to the site of the flooded quarry by which the Blood Vow kobolds laired, a half mile or so from the eastern edge of town, and all presently obscured by mist. At that point, Jiri and Eudomas noticed fresh, large, bipedal reptilian tracks followed by more numerous smaller ones heading east along the road into the swamp. The companions guessed that they had been made by Nighttail astride her mount, followed by kobold warriors. What were they doing in Dragonfen -- had their new kobold “allies” betrayed them to serve Lord Aeteperax?
It was a short distance through hilly forest from the flooded quarry to the edge of Dragonfen. The road beyond was little more than ankle-deep mud, as it wound its way into the veiled bogland.
“Pea soup... a bad omen,” mumbled Eudomas nervously. “I don’t think it’ll lift anytime soon, either,” added the hunter. “Tula’s Crypt is not a pleasant trek at the best of times; this damn fog’ll only make it easier for the wolf men to sneak up on us... and they don’t call it Dragonfen for nothing... you sure you want to do this?”
It was evident that Eudomas was reluctant to press on, but he put on a brave face when the companions asked if he would prefer to come back when the fog had lifted... and especially when Kroc egged him further. The hunter tried to lighten the mood by sharing another one of his tasteless jests.
“What do a whore and butter have in common?”
Silence.
“They both spread for bread!”
As usual, the humour was lost on Akiro and Shalora... and unappreciated by Jiri and Iacobus.
No sooner had the nervous hunter finished telling his crass joke, that loud, yet distant roars chilled the blood in everyone’s veins... then they heard another, as well as sounds of vegetation crashing under foot, coming from much closer... The eyes of both Eudomas and Kroc widened with fear.
As the party readied for the encounter, a tall, bipedal reptilian silhouette emerged from the mists, perhaps 20 feet ahead in the fen, moving in their direction. A handful of creatures less than half its size followed... Soon they were are able to make out more distinctly the form of Nighttail astride her saurian mount, Hak, followed by four spear-wielding Blood Vow kobolds.
Upon questioning, Nighttail informed the heroes that her party had been out trying to capture slurks (‘giant, long-toothed sticky toads’) in the swamp to help protect their lair, now that the Blood Vow were left with few warriors. A few moments ago, they heard big roars and wings, like a dragon... maybe two. They were scared that Lord Aeteperax might be out hunting, that he might be angry with the Blood Vow or make them do things against Big Foot town... the swamp was not safe at this time, so she opted to lead her hunters home. The story sounded credible to Jiri.
Once the kobolds were out of sight, Eudomas and Kroc both wondered aloud what that thing was that the kobold leader was riding... they had never seen anything like it in the area, and it left them awed and even a bit shaken.
“I always knew there were still dragons in the fen, but I’ve never heard or seen them before,” said Eudomas nervously. “Look, I don’t know that I can do this... If you want, I can give you your money back... I think my family needs me alive more than they need the money...”
The companions reassured the hunter that he would be safe with the party, as they had successfully dispatched a demon, a monstrous dire wolf, and an otherworldly undead horror during the past few weeks without suffering any casualties. Not wanting to lose face, and reluctant to reimburse the fortune he had just received, Eudomas accepted the party’s reassurances and renewed his resolve to lead them into the fen.
The further the party travelled, the deeper the mud became. Now and then, one of the companions came close to falling, or to losing a boot to the sucking mud. Shalora was somewhat more secure up on her horse, but even it struggled to keep steady on its feet from time to time. Rotting deadfall on the track slowed everyone’s progress, and it did not take long before cloaks and trousers were splattered with mud. The road itself was almost level with the surrounding murky pools and half-submerged copses of trees. The route occasionally wound past hummocky islets, and large lilly pads and colourful marsh flowers that temporarily replaced the smell of rot and decay with a sweet, fragrant smell. The fen was alive with the sounds of insects and birds... but no one heard the sounds of more fearsome predators since the encounter with Nighttail. From time to time, the mists swirled and parted just long enough for the group to spy steep, heavily forested hills arising ahead. The air was muggy, and clothes felt clammy against skin.
A few hours in, the party stumbled upon the creepy silhouette of a large, dead blackwood that towered over the surrounding vegetation. A tree of similar girth lay across the track at the edge of sight. Stretches of spongy ground fanned out from the road, forming natural, if likely unreliable bridges, across stillwater pools of unknown depth. Buzzing flies threatened to drive the companions mad.
Akiro thought he heard a deep snort nearby, but was unsure of the direction from which it came. Was the fog playing tricks on him?
As Akiro and Jiri advanced, they spotted a winged reptilian form gliding down from the submerged forest, landing upon the downed tree that blocked the path. The creature, not much bigger than a gnome, snorted loudly, spread its wings and puffed out its chest, clearly trying to make itself looker bigger, more intimidating than it actually was. Akiro and Jiri kept creeping slowly forward cautiously, until the diminutive drake became spooked and flew from its perch and disappeared once again into the mists. The duo scanned the area, their eyes falling on sets of massive reptilian tracks beyond the fallen trunk far larger than any that might have been made by the wyrmling. The stillwater ponds to either side of the track rippled and heaved.
Panic set in.
Dwarf and Tian were slow to react as a pair of massive green dragon-like creatures the size of draft horses burst from the adjacent ponds and roared, one of them seizing Akiro with its rear claws, trying to pull him higher into the air. The silent warrior managed to pull himself free from the monster’s grasp, his lightning reflexes allowing him to tumble safely to the ground from a height of approximately twenty feet.
Shalora managed to keep control of Stampy and Speckles and did her best to shelter Mischief. As the companions concentrated their arrow and spell fire on the beasts, the deformed, fiendish accuser devil Chirit materialized among the branches that crowned the dead blackwood, giggling with glee at the predicament the companions found themselves in. “Oh, this is going to be good…”
The second wyrm tried to reach out for Shalora with its claws, hissing that “elf meat” would be “more tasty.” The companions fought back hard, and as the one wyrm tried unsuccessfully to snatch Akiro once again, it soon found itself in danger of being mortally wounded. Now desperate to escape its deadly prey, the creature belched an acidic cloud that engulfed some of the heroes. Still, between Iacobus’s spells, repeated volleys of arrows, and Akiro’s acrobatic attacks, the beast that had targeted Akiro eventually dropped from the air as it tried to fly away, flopping with a heavy splash into the fen. The second monster roared with fury but gave up on its quarry and fled into the mists, but not before it too blasted its enemies with its acid breath. Miraculously, everyone, even Mischief, survived with only minor wounds, easily healed by Shalora and Jiri.
Chirit whined his disappointment at the outcome, but Akiro soon sensed that the devil had moved far enough away from the party that his evil aura was no longer detectable. Still, they would need to remain alert for his return or possible traps he may have laid for them. In the distance, they could still hear the mournful wails of the surviving wyrm.
Were the wyrms known to the kobolds? Were they kin of Aeteperax? Eudomas, who had missed each one of his shots due to overwhelming fear, was desperate to turn back, but knew he would never make it back without the companions now that they had angered a dragon. He steeled his nerves once again, led the party along an overgrown road that led out of the swamps and up into rocky highlands where stood a weathered and now largely featureless “dragon stone,” likely carved by some swamp dwellers from long ago. From there the track descended once again to the swamp, where it crossed Iskander Creek. From there, Eudomas veered off the road that continued on southeast into the misty fen, and instead lead the party north along the creek bank.
Some time later, as the heroes approached a lonely earthen mound, they also heard disturbing moans, groans and gibbering coming from the same direction. The gibbering was maddening, driving some in the party to lose all sense of who they were, what they were doing, who their allies were… Eyes glazed, Eudomas loosed a shaft from his bow at Akiro, whose armour fortunately absorbed the worst of the attack. The others wasted no time forcing the woodsman to snap out of his dangerous stupor.
The gibbering grew ever louder as party reached the foot of the mound, focusing their thoughts on anything but the maddening cacophony. A massive dragon skeleton came into view, partially sunk into the bog, partially draped over the low mound. Some of its black scales remained visible, even centuries later. On the side of the mound, just below the dragon skull, was a stone door with a keyhole. The gibbering came from within the dragon skull. The skeleton of a wolf was engulfed nearby, at the foot of the mound, in a sickly yellowish ooze.
Soon, the companions had to contend with deadly, alien foes on two fronts. Though he had no idea what it was, Iacobus recognized the gibbering horror holed up inside the dragon skull as something depicted in the black tome the fiends had stolen from Hunclay’s bedchamber the night the magus decided to make himself at home there. The abomination was a writhing mass of eyes, mouths and flesh that stared in all directions, its countless maws yammering ceaselessly.
The jelly at the foot of the mound also came to life, diving into smaller and equally hungry units every time someone struck it with a weapon, each of the units lashing out with their own flesh-burning tendrils. Shalora stayed at a safe distance with Mischief and the mounts and supported her allies when necessary with divine healing and guidance, as Iacobus, Jiri and Eudomas tried with great difficulty to slay the creeping and constantly multiplying ooze. Meanwhile, Akiro and Kroc waged an even more difficult battle against the gibbering horror.
Iacobus eventually determined that arcane fire was a more effective way of dealing with the ochre jelly, but the battle with the gibbering, spittle-launching mouther turned against Akiro, who became engulfed entirely within the horror. Trapped suffocating and suffering from constant blood drain within the formless aberration, it looked as though Akiro was doomed… but as the warrior’s companions fought desperately to slay the thing from without, after annihilating the ooze he managed to cut himself free from within and finally slay it. Where did these abominations come from? The Tian, scarred, drained of blood and burned by the mouther’s gut acid, just barely clung to life. It was the closest any of the companions had come to dying since they had joined Silas Gribb’s caravan all those weeks ago, and it was all in vain…
The companions would not be able to explore Lady Tula’s crypt. The following was inscribed into the door to the crypt:
Herein layeth the remains of Lady Tula Belhaim, Dragonslayer and Great Hero of Taldor, First Baroness of Belhaim, born the 5th day of Abadius, year 3647 in Nazili, deceased the 31st of Arodus, year 3699 in Belhaim;
and esteemed members of the Belhaim and Canteclure families;
and the most stalwart of the Slayers of Nazili.
May Aroden forever keep their souls.
Only those who, with noble intent and urgent purpose follow in the steps of Lady Tula, may cross this threshold upon petitioning the keeper of the crypt to enter this holy place.
May those who cross this threshold unbidden be forever damned.
Blarnin of Maheto
Jiri and Iacobus confirmed that the lock mechanism was far more complex than anything either of them had ever dealt with, and as the runes in the lower corner of the inscription indicated, the crypt had been constructed by a dwarven craftsman of great repute.
Once Akiro had been cared for, the companions vented at Eudomas. Why had he not told them that they could not enter the crypt without a key? He replied defensively that he had told them that there was little to see out there, and they still insisted that they wanted to see the crypt… so he did as they asked, and brought them to the holy site.
Frustrated and worn out, the party began the unpleasant trek through the fen back to Belhaim. They would need to watch over the cataloging of Hunclay’s assets over the coming days, and then resume the hunt for the demon-bats, Chirit the accuser devil, the imp from the tower ruins, the tomes believed stolen by the fiends, and any other threats lurking in the area that might endanger the auction to be held in town in a month’s time…
