OG: Chapter 33

It became clear almost as soon as we pressed deeper into the tunnels of the Arabyan Settlement that this was no mere outpost. A full town had been raised here inside these crags and deep underground. A veritable cavern-city, in fact, replete with homes, shops, and everything. From the way the tunnels zig-zagged, however, it was clear that this place had been a fortress. It was also clear from the many corpses that this fortress had seen use. This place hadn't been abandoned, it had been sacked. The curious thing was that while many of the Corpses wore the armor you would associate with Arabyan Warriors, the opposing force did not wear the Tilean, Imperial, Bretonnian, or even Estalian Armor you would expect from something going back to the crusades.

No, instead, these were Kislevites. Early Kislevites, at that, from back before Kislev was fully unified under Khan-Queen Shoika, in keeping with the time period. Oh, certainly, the weapons and armor were much the same as were in use now, with the notable absence of black powder standing out, however, there were a lot more Gospodars compared to Ungols, and almost no Roppsmenn, judging from the weapons, armor, and clothing on display, as Northwestern Kislev and Troll Country had not yet been unified with the rest of Kislev at the time and were still ruled by Hethis Chaq as Khan of the Ungols and the Roppsmenn.

"What are Kislevites doing here?" Questioned Martine.

"Why don't you ask our resident Boyar?" Queried Anders.

"I hold the rank, but no title or land. That hardly makes me a real Boyar." I protested.

"The point stands, answer the question." Scoffed Ruggiero.

"Right, well, there's only one Kislevite who fought in the Crusade. Most of my people were too busy in the Unification Wars between the Gospodars, Ungols, and Roppsmenn at the time." I pointed out.

"Who?" Asked Martine.

"Prince Vaclav the Crusader. He was the firstborn son of Khan-Queen Miska the Slaughterer and the Brother of Khan-Queen Shoika. He took one thousand Kislevite Troops south to aid in the Crusades and was instrumental in liberating the Kingdom of Cantonia in Estalia from Arabyan Occupation. He was a companion of King Juan Carlos the First of Magritta, and fought in Estalia while the Empire and Bretonnians fought in Tilea and Araby. Supposedly, he had one of the few Rune Weapons that Alaric the Mad forged for Khan-Queen Miska. The only thing is, nobody knows what happened to him. He was undefeated in the Estalian Reconquista, but then disappeared along with all his remaining men on his way back from the Crusades." I explained.

"I guess we know what happened to him then." Mused Ruggiero.

"If these are Vaclav's men." Qualified Anders.

Just then, however, Radamenes, who had thus far been silent, let out a warning growl, fur on the back of his neck raised as he prepared to pounce. I turned to see what he was looking at, only for my optics to pick out large, leathery flapping wings in the dark. I drew my sword and one of my pistols as the screeching began, time slowing down as I began to run the numbers, brain already calculating trajectories and angles of fire as I cocked my pistol, drawing down on the lead Giant Bat and exhaling as I squeezed the trigger. As time sped back up, my pistol bucked, spewing fire and leaden death, the pistol ball soaring straight into the skull of the lead Giant Bat, crunching it to bits and splattering its brains on the stone floor. That caused more screeching as I drew my second pistol, dropping the first to the stone.

"Merda! Giant Bats!" Swore Ruggiero.

"Less Swearing, more fighting!" Martine insisted, tossing a throwing knife at one of the flapping beasts and striking it in the neck, dropping it writhing to the floor.

Anders didn't say anything, but began chanting in a language that I didn't understand, but sounded at least like it was somewhat similar to the mystical language spoken by the Ungol Hags of the Oblast. It hit me then that he was chanting in Druidic, a language sometimes used by the Hedgefolk's Blessed Few for casting more potent spells than the usual Hedge or Petty Magic. Anders stretched his hand out as his chant reached a crescendo and a fat bolt of lightning arced into the flying mass of Giant Bats, sizzling into and through six of them and frying them to a crisp. Anders sucked in a lungful of air afterward, clearly winded from the effort of a proper battle magic spell. I fired my second pistol into the face of another Giant Bat, killing it.

"Here they come!" I warned as Radamenes launched himself into the air to pounce on another Giant Bat, bearing it to the ground.

That was only ten out of twenty, however, and the rest of the Giant Bats came flocking in, screeching and biting as they did so. I lashed out with my sword, cutting one of them in half, only for another to dive-bomb me and try to get at my face through my helmet. It didn't manage it, thankfully, and I cut out at it with my blade in an upward slash that bisected it. Nearby, Ruggiero had taken a claw rake to the bridge of his nose, but had downed a bat, carving its wings off with his sword, and wounded another with his looted Dagger. Martine had slain one with her fighting blade, but had taken a bite to her upper arm just behind the vambrace in the process. Radamenes, meanwhile, was working on ripping the head off his second giant bat with his jaws, while Anders smashed a bat out of the air with his fellstave, though unfortunately, it had no extra effects beyond that.

I moved to cleave through another Giant Bat with my blade, cutting the right wing off it and literally cutting it out of the air, even as Ruggiero and Anders finished their wounded bats and Martine shoved her blade up through the torso of another. There was an unearthly crunching noise as Radamenes slammed into the last Giant Bat, dashing its skull against the stone floor over and over again until the thing hung limp in his mouth. Then the skirmish was over.

"Sound off, who's not dead!" I called out.

"I think we're all alive, though I should probably look at those wounds. Giant Bat wounds can become infected fairly easily if not treated." Offered Anders.

"Sure. I won't say no to healing." Agreed Ruggiero.

"I feel the same." Nodded Martine.

And for the next twenty minutes, Anders inspected Martine and Ruggiero's wounds, applying herbal pastes to disinfect them, before handing each of them a vial of greenish liquid to drink, their wounds healing over as soon as they did so. In the meantime, I busied myself with studying the corpses on the floor. Their armor bore the badge of an Octagon, with each side a different color, with a pair of crossed scimitars above a lamp in the center of it. That was the Sigil of El-Khabbath, the City Port of the Eight Winds, in Araby. The Home Port of the Golden Magus today, and the origin point of Grand Vizier Sulieman the Stout, the architect of the High Watermark of the Crusades for Araby, being that he was the commander who conquered the Grand Duchy of Savoie in the Vaults and overran southern Carcassone in Bretonnia for two years while Louis the Righteous got a counterattack ready.

If this was where the Host of El-Khabbath ran off to after being booted out of Bretonnia and Savoie, then it really was no wonder that he and Prince Vaclav had seemingly destroyed themselves fighting each other. Prince Vaclav might have had a Rune Weapon and better skills, but he was only one Hero among a force of regular troops. Sulieman the Stout had two other heroes working for him, including a Sorcerer, Abdul Ibn Salaf, the infamous Butcher of Valraux, plus enough forces to actually reach Bretonnia to begin with. That must have been some battle.

However, somehow I was getting a feeling that this wasn't the whole truth. I suspected there may be more to the story of this City's demise than just the last battle of two successful crusaders. Whatever it was would have to wait, however, because Anders was finished tending to Martine and Ruggiero's wounds from the Giant Bats. He nodded at me as I looked over at the three of them.

"I've finished healing the others. We should head out shortly, just in case more things have shaken off their fear of the unknown and are now coming to check out what the sounds from earlier were." Advised Anders.

"Fine by me, where to?" I questioned.

"Where would be the most likely place to find artifacts?" Queried Martine.

"Probably somewhere fortified enough to prevent thieves from breaking in." Mused Ruggiero.

"That's not a bad thought. Actually, I think I see a place like that now." I mused.

"Where?" Asked Anders.

"Follow me." I insisted.

Then I took off, Radamenes falling into step next to me with the others following close behind as I picked my way through a section of alleyway that was choked with the dessicated corpses of Kislevites and Arabyans alike. I'd spotted a building with thick walls through this alleyway in the light of Anders' lightning bolt spell. Sure enough, as we exited out of the alleyway and out into the large cavern beyond, we came upon a building with thick walls that looked more fortress-like than the homes and shops we'd previously passed by. A large plaza spread out in front of it, mosaic tiles smashed and stained with blood, as various broken piles of wood and cloth seemed to denote stalls where those without proper stores hawked wares in a makeshift Bazaar of some kind.

"Looks like a caravansarai of some sort." Opined Martine.

"There's only one way to find out." I shrugged.

"The door's iron, though. Not rusted, but that's more due to the dryness in the tunnels than anything else." Pointed out Ruggiero.

"Right, Martine, you're up." I nodded.

"Leave it to me. I'll have the door open shortly." Agreed Martine.

As she said that, Martine reached down into a pouch at her waist and pulled out a set of lockpicks. She moved over to the locked iron door and began fiddling with the lockpicks and lock. For a few long moments, that was all that happened, Martine trying to finesse the lock open with her lockpicks while the rest of us stood watch, anxiously waiting for some other sort of subterranean opponent to show up and try to bite our faces off or something. Eventually, however, Martine got the lock open and stood back up, stashing away her lockpicks and turning toward the rest of us with a nod.

"Got it. That was more difficult than it should have been for a caravansarai, though." She remarked.

"Could be a Military Supply Caravansarai." Offered Ruggiero.

"It could be. Or it could be something else." Warned Anders.

"Either way, we didn't come over here and have Martine pick the lock for no reason. We're going in." I pointed out.

Getting a round of nods and chorused affirmations, I made my way over to the door and prepared to pull it open. I waited just long enough for the others to stack up next to me on the doorway, just in case something tried to attack us through the suddenly open doorway. Nodding to the others, I yanked on the handle, the Iron Door opening far easier than I had anticipated it would. We hustled inside to find a number of tattered and faded banners hung up along the entrance hall with writing in Old Gospodarin. The Prince's Own, the Warriors of the Sun, the Riders of the Lynsk, and so on. These were the regimental banners of the forces that had gone on Crusade with Prince Vaclav.

"Guys? I think we may be in the Tomb of Prince Vaclav the Crusader." I informed.

"Then we could be close to a rune weapon." Grinned Ruggiero.

Unfortunately, any further conversation was stalled by Radamenes letting out another low growl, this time from deeper within the tomb. A wafted breeze picked up, bringing with it a stench of spoiled meat and sour milk, the telltale smell of Corruption. I drew my blade in preparation for whatever was about to come out and try to fuck with us now. I doubted this time would be anything as easy as giant bats.

"I have a bad feeling about this." Muttered Anders, giving voice to what we were all thinking.

"Oui, the stench. It is like something pulled out of a Mousillon Bog!" Hissed Martine.

Almost as soon as she said that, however, a roar echoed from deeper within the mausoleum. I shifted my stance, getting ready to fight, as from the other end of the entrance hall, a large, fat, rubbery bulk appeared, crouching down to get through the archway. Rocky, gray, pebbly skin was covered in various lichens, a loincloth of thick animal hide reinforced with metal strips covered the upper thighs and pelvis of the beast, while a similar, wide, cardiophylax-style plated baldric covered the chest. To my mystical senses, that crude armor was alight with magic, though not of the good kind, but the curdled, syrupy mess that was Dhar. Gnarled fingers tipped in wicked claws that were encrusted in filth served as weapons, while the bulbous nose, yellow eyes, bat-wing ears, and tusked maw all spoke of unnatural selection.

This was a Stone Troll, and one whose magic resistance had been amped up into outright immunity by the crude armor it wore. This was going to be a damn difficult fight, and everyone knew it, except for maybe, the troll itself. It just grinned stupidly at us as we shifted in place to try and take up guards that might stop a troll attack. Then, with a loud, roaring bellow, the Stone Troll charged us from the other end of the Entrance Hall.

And suddenly, there was no more time for introspection, only the dance of blades and the avoidance of death. . .

XXXX

AN: All right, so here we have the next chapter. The Group delves deeper into the Ruined Arabyan Settlement to find a proper city with actual history and a potential for extreme loot given that history. Of course, there is also the potential for extreme danger, as we've seen first with the Giant Bats, and then with the Stone Troll. There's also something clearly deeper at play here, as Trolls, even Stone Trolls, don't tend to wear armor unless being dominated by some other, more powerful, malevolent force.

A note on the historical figures here. I have made a lot of this up, but there just isn't a whole lot of lore to go off of that far back, and I have tried to fit it all in with existing lore. For instance, every magical item that isn't one of the Artifacts the group is being paid to retrieve has been rolled for using the random item table for WHFRP. Yes, that includes the Rune Weapon, though Older Canon also says that Alaric the Mad made rune weapons for the Khan-Queens of Kislev, so I have tried to use some of that in this, for instance.

At any rate, the next chapter will include the next part of the ruins delve, including the battle with the Stone Troll. I'm hoping to get the delve done in two more chapters. I'll also have a character sheet update out before then as well.

Stay tuned. . .