Chapter 45: Down Where Quests Lie

The journey into the cave was soon underway. It was an exceptionally unassuming hole in a rocky break from the general dominance of the forest, and it would be hidden and missed unless stumbled directly onto. At most, two abreast could fit through, though it widened quickly.

One hand-sized hole in the top of the cave created an aura of sunlight, the last of the day before the darkness beyond it.

The party was Lord Carlisle, Dax, Merril, Theron, Sir Finley, Mekias, Bob, Estara, two other scouts, and four other soldiers. Finley and two others were rear guards, including another medically capable gent, Sir Galmore. Most warriors were in breastplates, helms, and shin guards with mail elsewhere, and had spears along with big, polished round shields.

The scouts had bows, sabers, and rondel daggers designed for piercing or getting around armor, fairly ubiquitous that she’d seen of travelers in general. Dax had the saber and dagger as well, and was equipped further with throwing knives and… a sack of rocks.

Her and her fucking rocks. If she ever has a bag of holding, she’ll stow a whole meteor shower’s worth in the damn thing.

Dax also had the idea of using the glass shards she’d had stowed away for days for progress markers as they began into the cavern. No one seemed to think too much of it, despite the oddity — they were fairly effective as something distinctive. Naturally, the reality was they had tremendous extra utility in Sammy being able to monitor their rear.

Merril was given the Mask of Masquerade that Estara had, as he was one of the advance scouts that would go on ahead. After seeing a sketch of the lookout frogman and additional descriptions, he used the relic’s once-a-day effect to fashion a disguise as a brownish frogman. It was passable. The group did it all in such a way as to make their ‘witch’ appear to be the one to do it.

“Nice job,” Dax said with an impish grin. “Really improved your face from before.”

“Fuck you, Sis!” The comic effect of the frogman disguise scowling and mouthing the curse had everyone snickering.

“It’s very convincing, though,” Estara said, after ‘coughing’ behind a hand. “Could you give us your best croak?”

For a moment the scowl turned on the servant girl, but then frog-Merril sighed and relented as he determined it a genuine request. Soon he made an extremely good croaking noise.

Estara gasped. “W-wow! That was perfect!”

Frog-Merril made a rather weird and uncanny-looking grin. “I’m excellent with animal noises.”

Somehow, I think that smile would be ten times more disturbing to a frogman…

“Alright, let’s move on,” Carlisle interrupted. “Long way ahead, and we’re burning oil.”

The caverns were narrow, winding, and splitting, much as expected, requiring scouting to identify unlikely paths or dead ends. Sammy’s mirror info to the loot wasn’t of tremendous help except keeping a general bearing, as who could know what path led ultimately to it. Sometimes they went away, sometimes they got closer.

Hours went by with nothing more happening than travel through the dark caves, occasional doubling back, and deliberation on tracks and signs. Merril’s sense of smell and hearing under his spell was what gave the edge to keep them on track… but he couldn’t really spam it willy-nilly.

Evening came.

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1 FE (Mirrors, Illusion) obtained from [Devout] worship.

1 FE (Mirrors, Illusion) obtained from [Devout] worship.

22 Daily FE gained.

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Sammy kept a close monitoring of Merril. Very early on, she did the rider thing, and Merril was curiously unconcerned about it. Sammy... found it weird, but... she just avoided thinking about anything... not pertinent. It was certainly a burst of sensory information, thanks to his keen, enhanced senses. Then he cast his spell that improved them even further and it was almost disorienting at first, especially the blast of smells.

As Merril was stalking through a tunnel under the light of a dimmed lantern, those keen senses are what let him know someone or something was coming down the path ahead, and swiftly, by the sound of scattered rocks and scuffing, before any sign of light was seen.

The scout immediately rushed back the way he came, while Sammy alerted the party of potential company. As fast as the feline was, though, those behind were faster, and scattered light could be seen to grow, while sounds filtered as well — a distressed croak-like cry and… something else. A cross between a snarl and an alien screech. Multiple.

“Merril, I may have to use the daily effect!” Sammy sent, frantic.

“Hold on! If I can just get to- there!”

At a widening of the tunnel, there was a curving feature of the wall, rocks broken and fallen down in an ancient, eroded piling. It jutted into the tunnel, and Merril stopped right as he got to it, moving in close, hugging, crouching down, just as the sounds were approaching.

“Merril! Fuck! I don’t think-”

“It’ll work!”

It was entirely too late to change his mind anyway, as the light could be seen coming up, and the terrifying noises filtering to the scout’s ears. He shuttered his lantern and made himself small, unmoving, while covered in a brown cloak. The angle was such that whoever came running — and they were definitely running — wouldn’t see unless they looked back.

If they do, I have to be quick on the draw. I’ll make him look like a rock.

The figures swept by, not even close to looking Merril’s way — a single frogman was in front, bounding and running for his life at great speed, holding a glowing stone in his hand. Behind him were three… things, one missed step from being on him.

They were four-legged wolf-sized beasts in shades of red and purple with black tufts of hair and rat-like whipping tails but with a tuft on the end. Their maw was a frightful thing, rows of sharp teeth and prominent fangs, with long, lolling, dripping tongues. The red streaking over their muscular bodies was luminescent, as were their eyes, and they seemed to smoke slightly.

These are straight out of hell.

Fighting down her dread, Sammy sent the info and imagery to her Followers, who were already bracing to intercept… then there was a cutoff cry heard by Merril, something like victorious demon hyena calls, and then perhaps snapping bone.

Oh shit!

“Carlisle, you have to move on them or they’ll end up on Merril when they turn back!” There was no way she was going to risk his life hiding under an illusion when she couldn’t mask his smell.

Carlisle and the party rushed forward toward the scene — as it turned out, it wasn’t entirely necessary, as the creatures were still feeding on the frogman’s corpse. Blood was pooled around multiple ripped-off limbs…

Sammy grimaced. She really didn’t want to see it, but she had to pay attention.

The men could approach two abreast, and they did so cautiously. At first, the beasts ignored them, then as they neared, tried to growl, snap at, and scare them away from the feeding. At that point, Carlisle called for a round of ranged fire from just out of melee range, pelting them with arrows, knives, and big darts, the front ‘phalanx’ ducked down.

Two of the beasts were hit soundly, one in the torso with a knife, and one right through the eye. The latter pitched and screamed balefully with a noise like nails on a chalkboard, thrashing around wildly. The other two bolted, spooked, one slower than the other thanks to a knife sticking out of it. Briefly, while running, it deftly grabbed the knife handle in its teeth and slung it out on the ground with a snarl. It clattered and smoked.

Sammy fed flashes of imagery rather than words to Merril through the process so he knew what was occurring. Merril rather quickly moved to hide on the other side of the jutting feature before the creatures passed…

The men in the front moved in on the wounded beast, stabbing it with spears repeatedly, while a couple more potshots went down the tunnel at the two fleeing, but they didn’t take any wounds that stopped them. They sprinted away, escaping back the way they’d come.

It took multiple spear jabs to disable the wounded creature, which did not die without a fight, lashing out with vicious talons on its front legs. Fortunately, the shields were strong enough to the task, taking multiple smoking gashes but keeping their wielders from harm. Ultimately the beast weakened and was held down by two lodged spears while two more finally stabbed it enough to make it cease moving.

Its blood smoked and sizzled on the stone, and the spears took damage. One of them had the head just snap off where contact had eaten away at the wood.

“The bloody hell are these things?!” Bob asked, wiping his spear on the remains of the frogman to stop the deterioration of the metal and wood.

“Fucking demons, obviously,” Dax said, scowling. “Some stupid fucking wizard playing with fire. This is not the kind of shit you’d learn from the Dominion. They don’t like otherworldly influences.”

“Wipe your weapons, replace them quickly if needed, and get moving!” Carlisle commanded gruffly. “No time to waste, now. These aren’t good signs.”

Merril, meanwhile, was already moving swiftly ahead, if not quite running.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Sammy demanded mentally.

“Still have to scout. Whatever is happening, we better act immediately. If the marchioness dies, it’s all for nothing.”

Sammy couldn’t exactly argue. “I still have the illusion use. I’m here. Cue me if you want it, otherwise I’ll use it when there’s no other choice.”

“My thoughts exactly, Goddess.”

The group moved on, the general airs of the group some mix between paranoid caution feathered with the fears of the moment and anxiety to move on and see just what was happening… what fate the marchioness suffered or was suffering.

Considering her lack of experience with such grave situations and terrifying foes, Estara was keeping a brave disposition. She hadn’t needed to do anything with the one-sided battle on the side of her allies, but Sammy had seen her readiness… if also a bit of uncertainty.

Briefly, Sammy sent some supportive waves her way and sent, “Don’t be afraid to unleash a mini-buff or two at the first sign of more combat, aiming at our non-Followers. Once things get crazy, though, use your own judgment.”

“Yes, Your Majesty! I will!”

Sounds of battle and the screams of pain and death soon filtered into Merril’s ears. The tunnel widened into a larger, cavernous area seen over a lip: just visible was the ceiling with endless drooping stalactites. The lip curled off right and upward, as though over a drop-off that emanated light from below, and a left path went down and down. Several torn-up frogmen bodies were down that way.

Merril went up right swiftly to get out of view and find some sparse cover from nearby formations. Moreover, the lip indeed had an edge. So he got on his belly and crawled up to it.

At the bottom of the cavern was a scene of slaughter, the last remnants of struggle barely holding out. Bleeding frogmen bodies were everywhere, and in two corners — entirely cornered — were the last frogmen making a stand. One was being overwhelmed quickly, while another had some sort of caster presenting a huge shield of shimmering force that was simply stalling things.

Their foes, in addition to a few more of the hyena-things, were something like overgrown imps, skinny pale gray-red figures with frayed wings and whip-like tails, with nasty pick-like weapons akin to one-handed scythes. A few were larger and their heads had flames rising from their heads… These were throwing bolts of fire from their hands, mainly concentrating on the force shield of the last big frogman group, perhaps to weaken it.

In the center of it all was a massive, complex pentagram circle that had been carved into some sort of stone tile, runes crackling with energy in a ring around the center. What the runes ‘said’ was obvious, because the center also had a vertical portal pulsing in the air, a tear in reality, one world falling into a psychedelic, warped blend of color, like shimmering oil on water.

Some ‘medium’ from one place to another.

Near the portal stood the believed dead Sir Thadeus, in crimson robes and surrounded by some baleful aura similar to the portal. He also wore a magnificent bronze crown with two strange, bejeweled circles at the top. He leaned on a great flaming two-handed sword point-down, scowling at the shield of force like it was an insult.

“Hurry up and kill your mutual scum, scum!” He cried with a snarl, watching in general disgust at the scene. “The blood of the demihuman shaman must spill, then we can get to the main attraction I’ve been waiting so long to… drop.”

He swept his nasty gaze over to the final key feature of the cavern. A makeshift wooden cage of thick tree branches, and inside, watching in disturbed horror and terror — in disbelief — was the marchioness, hands and feet bound in shackles.

“Our master shares my impatience to finish this little quest line.”

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Samantha, Virgin Goddess of Mirrors & Illusion
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Goddess Level 1; Fledgling Deity

Domains (2/2): Mirrors, Illusion
Faith Energy: 930/1000
FE (Illusion): 10
Followers: 15 (Daily FE Gain: 20 [22])

Devout: 3
Priests: 2

Brute: 0
Rogue: 0
Wizard: 1 [0/20]
Bard: 0

Special Skills: First Aid, Tarot Reading, Priestly Ordination, Holy Relic Investiture, Read Runes, Spell Construction, Detect Magic

Special Traits: Token User, Immortal, Demiplane Domain, Conceptual Body, Fueled By Faith

Powers: Faith Energy Utilization, Grant Prayer (Illusion), Mirror Sense (at will), Mirror Communication (at will), Create Illusion

Status: Token User Promotional Bonus (5/30), New Deity Grace Period (5/7), Free Priestly Ordination (1-use)