Burrows & Behemoths

by Lee Duckett

  The dwarf glanced back at the elf, who swore as she pulled a partially melted rod out of the lock, tossing it to the side as she pulled out a new one from her belt pouch. He sighed, before starting to walk forward. “I’ll get its attention. It mighta had dwarf before, so it’ll go for me first. Not that I’m gonna be goin’ down easy.”

  “Rurik, you can’t!” Aria cried. “I can’t ask you to-” A loud series of clicks interrupted her.

  ~Done!~ Fayne sent over the connection. ~Help me get this open and stop talking!~

  The party rushed over to help, a ringing alarm emanating as soon as they’d cracked it. “It’s trapped! Why didn’t you disable it!” Aria yelled over the din.

  “I was too busy getting it open!” Fayne snapped back. “Now help me!”

  As the door opened, torchlight spilled into the area from the other side, illuminating their position. On the other side was an entrance hall, full of still burning torches and completely wrecked. The door’s rusted hinges groaned and squealed, making the party fight for every inch, pulling them open more and more.

  As it widened enough to let Rurik through, darkness rushed them from behind like a tangible force, dampening the light from Aria, but not making it past the threshold of the doors. It seemed to twist and curl like malevolent mist, burning away in the light from the church’s torches.

  From behind they heard the sound of slithering as the serpent approached, and the party looked back. In the torches’ light, three golden gemstones seemed to float in the air behind them, keeping a triangular formation as they danced back in forth, coming closer. The party fell silent as they stared at the beautiful display, watching it in wonder.

  Badger sent something over the connection, but Fayne disregarded it. Whatever it was could wait until the show she was watching was over, how the light seemed to dance back and forth across the yellow diamonds was just fascinating.

  A bolt of fire streaked towards them, but luckily looked like it would pass right through the center, so it wouldn’t stop the show. If anything, she was interested how the fire would be reflected within the-

  The serpent, less than fifty feet away from them, seemed to howl in fury as the Flame Bolt spell struck it directly on the nose. Fayne blinked, remembering what was going on and what the hell was she doing? Grabbing Rurik, who was shaking his head like a wet dog, she practically dragged him through the door. She pulled him to the side and turned to get the other two when Badger bodily tackled Aria through the gap, both of them hitting the ground on the other side of the door. Rurik grabbed one door as Fayne grabbed the other, both of them looking at the serpent that had enraptured them.

  What she’d thought were gems were the creature’s eyes, placed equidistant around it’s almost conical head. Just as she thought the placement of eyes was odd, the creature’s head seemed to split open. Its jaw separated into three parts, an eye in the center of each, the entire inside of its mouth covered in twitching fangs leading into its gullet. Like a penguin, her mind helpfully supplied, and the thought of being devoured by a giant snake-penguin broke her out of her horror.

  “CLOSE!” she shouted, pulling with all of her might on her door. Rurik pulled his as well with a roar of effort and they were both sent sprawling backwards when the fifteen-foot-tall square doors smoothly slid shut without a hint of the grinding they’d made when opening, the sounds of locking mechanisms spinning as soon as the entrance was sealed. Not even a half second later the ground shook as the creature slammed itself into the iron barrier over and over, trying to get to the party, and failing.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Need-To-Know

  Breathing hard, the party took a few minutes to collect themselves. The entrance hall they were in was wide, but was only an antechamber for whatever was next. A pair of doors, smaller than the ones they’d come through, were placed opposite the now locked portal from which the serpent could be barely heard slithering angrily, hissing and spitting over being denied its meal.

  “What. Was. That,” Fayne finally asked. “We were running and then we were just staring like idiots, waiting to get eaten!”

  “Right,” Aria sniffed, “he didn’t make you deal with that sphere.”

  “What sph- you mean that thing that charmed you guys?” she asked.

  Badger nodded, “Enchantment magic tends to grab your attention and give you a compulsion.” He laughed, “It fits the entire snake theme, though that didn’t look like any snake I’ve ever seen. I am glad though that we don’t just have the bear necessities.”

  “You’re making jokes?” Aria snapped.

  Her husband regarded her levelly, “It’s laugh or cry, and I’d rather not break down right now.” He turned to his son. “So, Rurik, what do you think?”

  The dwarf, silent until now, nodded to the smaller set of doors, “Church be through those doors, but I not be sure what be lyin’ in wait.” He nodded to the rotten, broken furniture all around them, “Been too long ta’ tell exactly what did it. I hope that it ain’t ‘round no more, but it would be a poor excuse for a Lair if there weren’t some creepy crawlies waitin’ for us deeper down.”

  The samurai walked to the side, running his hand over one wall, destroyed tapestries hanging in the corners. “There should be somethin’ else. Another door but I ain’t be seein’ it.” He glanced back, eyebrow raising at the elf who was holding herself and shivering. “You okay there lass? I know it be getting a bit colder than ya might be used to in yer sun-lit forests, but if ya need a cloak or sumetin’ ya could wear Shino’s shawl. It be more of a robe on yer skinny shoulders, but it should ‘elp.”

  She shook her head, “No, thanks. I’m not cold, it’s just. . . having something that could take over your mind like that. It’s. . . it’s just wrong. Badger, you don’t have any spells like that, right?”

  He hesitated before shrugging, “Sleep is an enchantment spell, and some spells from those class are beneficial, like Bestow Skill, which lets someone do something like they’ve trained in it, though that’s a divination/enchantment mix. Do I have Charm Person? No. But honestly, I’d rather put a foe to sleep instead of being forced to kill them. It has an Intensity limit though, so I could use it on someone as strong as us, but not the roper or that thing outside since their minds are too intense to be affected by the magic. You can still resist those magics though, if your will is strong enough. Oh!” he commented, eyes going wide.

  He opened his character sheet and indicated his will save modifier, “This actually gives an incontrovertibly objective measurement of your willpower, if you think about it. So, I have a plus seven, three from my wisdom stat, and four from my class, since being a wizard trains your mind, but not your body or reactions, so my fortitude and reflex saves aren’t that great. So, if a spell has a difficulty of ten, assuming that each attempt works on a one through twenty scale, then a little over half the time it won’t work if you try it on a student who’s got a standard amount of willpower. Every point in your ‘save’ is another five percent chance it won’t take.”

  “However,” he continued, drawing out the math in the air with magic, having forgotten the situation in his obvious pleasure at explaining. “That’s for the lowest level spell, done by a person with the minimum amount of skill required. My Sleep spell would have a difficulty class of fifteen on the Lavabrow-Glyphwocket scale, so a bit less than a three out of four chance of success. Fayne, what’s your will save modifier?”

  “Um,” she replied, not expecting the question. Checking her sheet, she replied, “Three. One from my class and two from my wisdom score. So that means if you cast Sleep on me it’d work, what, three times out of five?”

  The wizard nodded, “Exactly! Enchantment magic is powerful, but it’s risky, since usually it either works completely, or not at all. Sleep is better for a small group, since if your target saves it’ll just jump to the next one in range.” Aria started to say something, but stopped herself, scowl somewhat softening. “So,” Badger said, looking around
and sighing, “we’ve been talking long enough. Let’s get moving.”

  Motioning towards the doors leading further inwards, the party stacked up on the entryway; Rurik and Fayne stood ready in front of each of the two stone doors, Aria and Badger standing behind them, ready to cast. Rurik nodded to Fayne, who returned the gesture, before he charged through the gate, weapons drawn. Fayne, opening the other door and darting inside, froze along with him as they saw what waited for them. Instead of more wreckage, an aged and decrepit church laid before them.

  Sitting in the pews were seven cloaked humanoids, short but stout figures fitting perfectly in the lower than normal pews. At the pulpit another figure stood, obviously a dwarf, but covered entirely in moth-eaten veils like the rest. “Welcome visitors,” the priest intoned in Dwarven, voice, deep but raspy. “How may this humble congregation assist you?”

  Rurik looked back to Badger, who looked to Aria, who, by her deer in the headlights look, wasn’t sure what to say. Sheathing his swords, he started forward, the rest of the party following. “Uh, me friends and I were explorin’ the ruins of the city above,” Rurik explained in Dwarven, obviously confused. “I dinnae mean anythin’ by it, but what the bloody ‘ell’s up with this place? Ye got ropers, orcs, trogs, ‘squitos, and a giant frickin’ snake!”

  The priest nodded, veils rustling in the stillness of the chamber. The congregation, oddly few in number, were absolutely silent and still. “You are safe from all of them here. Come, if you have injuries I shall heal them, and one of my flock shall show you where you can rest.” He motioned, and one of the cloaked figures stood up with effort, slowly making his way over to the priest as the party walked down the aisle in the center.

  “Rurik?” Aria asked hesitantly, looking around at the walls. Many of the tapestries were old, rotten with age, but one portion in particular seemed to have been lost on every single one of them. Looking around, the damage didn’t quite seem as natural as it first appeared, but there was one thing in particular that was bothering her. “I don’t know a lot about dwarven churches, but aren’t they supposed to have the holy symbols of their gods in them?”

  Rurik gave her an incredulous look, “Aye lassie. It wouldn’t be much of a church without ‘em, there’s one on the pulpit, see? It be right. . . oh. That ain’t braw,” he commented faintly, his outstretched hand pointing to the middle of the furniture in question. Where there should have been a symbol of Andruft, there was a depression, the edges hacked at irregularly so that not even an outline of the holy symbol remained.

  The cloaked figures, all staring at his arm, started to let out low rattling growls, the sound almost animalistic. They stood as one, moving smoothly, even the one that had feigned infirmity moving to a hunched stance that swayed fluidly. One figure from behind the party launched itself at Aria, flying ten feet through the air like a pouncing cat.

  It almost landed on her, pallid, clawed hands reaching from beneath its tattered rags when Badger slammed it in the side with his staff. The blow landed with a muted crack as the air warped around the staff and sent the figure hurtling away. It twisted mid-air, shedding shawls, landing on all fours with a feral hiss. It might’ve once been a dwarf, but its pale skin stretched taught over its frame as the creature snarled at the gnome with a mouth full of canines. Dark ichor dripped from its naked chest, two broken ribs piercing its skin, but it didn’t seem to care.

  “Undead!” Aria exclaimed. “Ghasts!”

  Now named, the creatures shed their coverings, revealing their unnatural state. Fayne, who had never put away her bow, leapt to a gap in their encircling of their group and let fly with an arrow at the one who had pretended to be a cleric. The creature twisted backwards faster than anything that emaciated should’ve been capable of, the electrified arrow passing above it to shatter against the tapestry behind him, setting it alight.

  Badger ran his hand across his belt, murmuring arcane syllables under his breath, while Aria grasped her holy symbol and brandished it, proclaiming, “By the light of Solus begone!” Golden light poured from her hand, and the two closest to her backed away from its glare, yelping in fright. The other five however were unaffected, rushing forward as one for her.

  “I don’t think so ya blighters!” Rurik yelled in response, drawing his swords and charging the group, Fayne moving to intercept the ones coming from the other side.

  “Rurik, Fayne don’t!” the aasimar tried to warn, but it was too late. The dwarf met the lead ghast and slashed it across the chest with his longsword, slicing open undead flesh, but his follow up with his shortsword was caught, the ghast grasping the samurai’s wrist. The swordsman stiffened, every joint locking and every muscle pulling tight as the dwarf tried to yell in shock but could barely make a sound.

  Fayne got two shots off, one took a ghast in shoulder, staggering it backwards, while the other caught it in the head, dropping it to twitch nervelessly on the ground. The other one, however, closed the distance and grabbed for her. She almost jumped out of the way, but its pallid claw tagged her foot without enough force to cut, but a touch was all it needed, causing her to stiffen and crash into a pew. She bounced off the stone bench with a strangled cry of pain, barely more than a whisper.

  Aria lifted her symbol, the first words of her call to her god on her lips when the last ghast reached her, claw digging into a gap in her chainmail. Her muscles strained as they started to stiffen, but she wrenched herself away coughing and gagging along with her husband as the oppressive stench of decay choked them both, unhindered by perfumed cloth.

  Staggering, she struck the ghast in the face with her mace, crunching cartilage and sending the undead menace backwards. Raising her holy symbol, she started to once again call upon her god when two more jumped on her, their combined paralyzing touch rendering her unable to speak his name.

  Badger, stumbling backwards from the stench, swung his quarterstaff wildly at the undead circling around him. After a swing went wide a ghast darted in and poked him in the chest, claw barely cutting into his studded leather armor. Badger tried to fight against the effect, but his body shut down, freezing as if in absolute fright. Before the process could complete a low thrum emanated from his belt and a bolt of force lashed out, striking the ghast in the arm, breaking it and sending the creature flying backward over several pews.

  Still too stiff to move, the gnome fell sideways, smacking his head on the floor as he dropped between the benches. The gnome could hear the sound of Aria being dragged away, completely unable to do anything but lay on his back, looking up at the ceiling, a fresco stretching across it with some sections clawed out. A ghast climbed over the stone pew, visibly drooling as it looked at the gnome. Oh god, they’re going to eat us! The wizard realized. The creature reached down to grasp Badger’s arm, the feeling of fearful stillness spreading from its touch. Once again Badger’s belt thrummed and a barely visible lash of force snapped out, impacting the creature’s chest and sending it flying away.

  “It is likely a spell. It will fade soon enough.” The lead ghast called in Dwarven, out of sight. “We shall deal with him last. Come, the dwarf looks delicious!” Badger listened, as that was all he had left while he struggled impotently to do more than twitch a finger. There was the snapping of armor being ripped apart, followed by the wet sounds of consumption, Rurik’s stifled screams of pain barely audible.

  “Leave some for us!” a different ghast whined, a couple others making noises of agreement.

  “Stay on the other two,” the leader rebuked, the sounds of mastication continuing.

  Badger raged against the situation, he raged against the world that made him come here in the first place, against his own. Utter. Uselessness. Struggling with everything he had his arm jerked, first flailing but as rage filled him, the artificial fear instilled by the ghast’s touch fled. Nearly shaking with anger he peered over the pew. These monsters would burn, but he had to be smart about it.

  Fayne and Aria were dragged behind the pulpit, a ghasts crouch
ing next to each, a hand resting on each woman’s breast. That alone nearly sent him up, but he had to make this count. The other five were gathered around Rurik, flashes of bright red seen between hunched bodies.

  Almost all of Badger’s spells were utilitarian in nature, to better help the others fight. The tapestry that Fayne’s arrow had lit had been put out, so Badger concluded that they weren’t exactly scared of fire, unfortunately. The only attack spell he has that wasn’t a cantrip was his fiery spray spell, and not only would he have to close to practically knife fighting range to use it, it likely wouldn’t be enough.

  Trying not to listen to the abominations continue their meal, trusting in their twisted need to keep their food, his son, alive for as long as possible, he opened his spellbook, trying to find anything that could help. He wouldn’t have enough time to change his prepared spells, but one could rip out the pages of one’s spellbook to cast them as scrolls. It was against everything that Badger had been taught as a wizard, but Jack didn’t care one lick about that if it would save his family.

  Unfortunately none of his spells would work, and he suppressed a growl of frustration, as he flipped through empty pages uselessly. Turning to the space he’d set aside for third order spells, which he couldn’t even cast yet, he paused at the only one of that kind he’d copied down. In their last adventure he’d found two scrolls of fireball, the explosion spell that was the calling card of most wizards. He’d used one to light the branches of an undead tree they’d ended up fighting on fire. If he levelled again he’d be able to use that normally, but he didn’t have time. Casting spells above your capability was dangerous, sometimes deadly to those that attempted it, but it was the only choice he had.

  Slipping his dagger free of its sheath he quietly sliced the page out, holding it in his fist as he carefully laid back down, plan forming. The spell was powerful enough that he was just as likely to kill his family as save them if he tried to use it to destroy the ghouls. If he could detonate it mid-air, he might be able to only hit the ghasts, but it was meant to explode on impact and he was going to have enough time just getting the damn thing to work as intended. To do what was required he needed to pull off some of the group, hit them, and try to get the ghasts off of everyone else.