Mystery of the Malgwaith - TURN 8: The Beast From Beyond

As of 5/11/98

TURN 8: The Beast From Beyond

Hroknar and Ysoltre settled into position, the Dervatear warrior keeping vigil on the temple as the minstrel watched their three companions disappear from view back the way they had come.

"When we move, stick to my right," Hroknar whispered to the bard. "In the fight against the hobgoblins at the inn, Ethan took advantage of the fact that I carry a shield while he does not. You should do likewise. With me at your left side, you need not fear an attack from that quarter, unless I should fall."

Ysoltre turned to look at the Dervatear, nodding his understanding, his face a mask of grim repose as he armed himself with Hroknar's dagger and the sword that he had liberated earlier from the mysterious dark-garbed figure.

A minute passed, with nary a sign of the others, but the two adventurers contented themselves with the knowledge that it would take some little time until all would be at ready.

Suddenly, the door to the temple opened. Two hobgoblins - armed with swords and spears, though encased in the same black leather armor as their fellows - emerged, peered around, and moved down the steps connecting the small balcony before the entryway to ground level. The four sentries immediately came to a greater state of attentiveness, though they seemed more intent on the newcomers than the surrounding area. Another figure then walked out of the building: tall, gaunt, wearing dark robes of violet interwoven with designs of a blue akin to the color of the sky just before the blackness of night descends wholly.

Words were exchanged between the robed figure and the sentries; the language was harsh and guttural, but in terminology and phrases that made no sense to either Hroknar or Ysoltre, though the sounds carried easily from the temple to their hiding place.

Hroknar gestured toward the robed figure and whispered to Ysoltre, "I'd wager that he's the same type that you got your new sword from. From what you and Karissa told of the fight on the stairs, I'd suggest making him the primary target. If he's a spellcaster, that could bode ill for our friends if he is still in working order after they spring the trap."

The Dervatear paused for a moment, thinking about how best to continue. Finally he looked at the young bard and said, "It seems that we have a choice to make. One of us could run over to the others and tell them of the new developments, and possibly re-plan the whole thing; or we let them go ahead and set the bait, hoping that you and I can take out the new threat quickly. Do you think they are already in position? I think we should warn them if they aren't. That spellcaster is someone who worries me. I'd like Karissa's take on the situation before we go ahead. But, if it's too late, then you and I have the responsibility of killing the robed person first, before anything else. What do you think? Do we try and stop the others, or let them go ahead with it?"

Ysoltre shook his head. "I think we should wait here," he replied, his voice - like Hroknar's - little more than a harsh whisper. "The others are watching the same thing we are and I doubt they will attempt our plan with three extra players for the other team. We should wait it out a bit; see what happens. If nothing happens in a while we will try to regroup with the others. Agreed?"

Hroknar and Ysoltre turned toward the temple as more harsh words issued forth from the man in the dark robes. The hobgoblins backed away from the speaker, taking up positions behind the mysterious figure. The man seemed to sigh heavily, obviously composing himself. His stance grew rigid; his forearms crossed against one another in front of his body. A strange chant filled the air, growing in intensity as the man's voice rose in passion and fervor.

From his hidden position, Hroknar gripped the haft of his throwing axe so hard that his knuckles turned white. "What I wouldn't give to have a good opportunity to hurl this axe and bury it in the villain's..." His voice trailed off. Hroknar's eyes widened suddenly. He waved Ysoltre back. "Let's get out of the spellcaster's line of sight, just in case his spell is aimed at us somehow."

The half-elf moved as Hroknar had directed, maneuvering closer to the building. "Keep those axes ready," Ysoltre whispered to his friend as the bard peered cautiously around the corner, although he knew the Dervatear warrior doubtless was thinking the same thing. "A blade in the spellcaster's belly should shut him up if the need arises."

Hroknar nodded, his eyes - as were those of his compatriot - fixed steadily on strange scene being played out before them. "Since you probably know more about magic than I, I'll rely on you to alert me to attack if our friend seems to be invoking some type of subtle offensive magic that I might miss."

A block away, Karissa, Rogmund, and Ethan moved into position, having managed to swing out by the wall and backtrack to the agreed-upon position to institute Hroknar's plan to take out the hobgoblins.

"I'll position myself on the far side, by that building," Rogmund said to Ethan. "You can set yourself here. That way we'll have two angles of fire by which to either protect Trollbait or let loose on the hobgoblins wholly if all goes according to plan."

"Rogmund?" Karissa interjected, a curious tone in her voice.

"You'll be fine, Trollbait; trust me," the armored archer replied, still addressing Ethan. He lowered his voice. "If something does go amiss, we close with blades in hand, quickly, agreed?"

"Rogmund?"

He smiled, a somewhat pained expression. "You harangued?" Rogmund turned to face the brunette, who seemed to be blatantly ignoring her armored cohort. Karissa's right hand rose suddenly, pointing down the street in the direction of the temple.

Ethan and Rogmund turned as one, their eyes widening at the sight. In front of the temple now stood six hobgoblins - not four - the two newcomers armed with spear and sword, though armored in the same black leather that seemed to be favored by this particular tribe of humanoids. Most surprising was that the hobgoblins stood fanned out behind what appeared to be a tall, gaunt human attired in dark robes of violet and dusk blue hues. The man stood stiff and erect, his eyes closed, his forearms crossed in front of his body. Now that Rogmund had grown silent, the three companions could just make out a chant that issued forth from the robed figure's lips.

Hroknar and Ysoltre were nowhere to be seen...

"'Tis evident that 'twould be unwise to follow through with Hroknar's plan, for he counted not on this occurrence," Karissa said. "Yet now are we faced with a decision: do we wait hence, or make our way back to where we last viewed our fellows?"

Rogmund's lips moved, his voice too soft to be heard accurately, but sounding very much like some type of invective curse. "Any idea what our friend's trying to accomplish, beyond the obvious use of magic?"

Karissa shook her head. "Nay. He is too far away for me to discern the subtleties of his chant. Likely possibilities are that he might seek to summon some specialized effect about or within yon temple, or he might seek to discern our presence if Hroknar's fears of this being a trap are true."

The young ranger's brow furrowed slightly. "So much for comfortable odds," Ethan said softly, eyeing the six hobgobolins and the robed figure standing before them. "I hate this sneaking around, but I have to agree with Karissa - we should scratch Hroknar's plan. I'm thinking, though, that we might want to stay where we are and wait to see what happens next. Hroknar and Ysoltre aren't stupid; if we see the two new hobgoblins and the robed-one, I'd bet my left ear they see them too. Let's give this chanting fellow a little more time and see what we can see. If needed, Rogmund and I can let fly a few arrows. If things go from bad to worse, we could make a break for the horses and decide what to do next at that point. What do you two think?"

Rogmund tested the tautness of his bow-line by drawing back the arrow nocked to it. "I'm easy either way. Let's hope Dark Robe there isn't doing something designed to compromise Hroknar and Ysoltre."

"Regardless, 'twould seem to provide further credence to our supposition that something of relevance may be centered within yon temple," Karissa remarked. "I say let us trust to the good sense of our fellows, standing ready to assist as we may, yet not give away either our position or intent by hasty action."

The armored archer grunted. "Fair enough," Rogmund replied, "but if Dark Robe or his hobgoblins so much as move in the direction of Hroknar and Ysoltre's last known position, I'm going to perforate the spellcaster. Last thing we need is to face a foe who can melt flesh from bones, summon up hordes of Undead, or something similar."

A smile drifted across Karissa's face. "Bosom friends hath I who can perform such feats."

"I know," Rogmund answered, his glance resting uneasily on the action going on in front of the temple.

Karissa's smile disappeared. "Enemies, as well."

Rogmund's gaze left the temple, and drifted toward the woman. "That, Trollbait, I know very well; makes for sleepless nights, I can tell you."

The brunette's smile returned. "Mmmmmm, and to think I believed thy tale when thee did say 'twas but an outward manifestation of thy vivid dreams of me. Thou art a shameless beguiler, Rogmund Malatreides."

Any reply the armored archer might have given was silenced by a wave of Karissa's hand. All eyes returned to the temple. The robed figure's arms began to gesticulate wildly; his chanting increased in volume and intensity. Suddenly, the ground seemed to swell up and alter its shape from an indistinct blob to that of an animal, appendages and snout thrusting out from its body. The very texture of the "creature" seemed to change, becoming increasingly supple until it took on a semblance of some armored beast possessing a fearsome tail, sharp teeth, and long talons adorning each of its four "paws." A murmur grew unbidden amongst the hobgoblins, their faces contorted in fearsome adoration of the creature, which stood some four feet at the shoulder.

The spellcaster's eyes opened, even as his body began to shake visibly. One arm thrust outward suddenly, palm upward. A hobgoblin stepped foward, putting a waterskin in the robed figure's grasp. The man drank greedily, as if parched from a week's travel in the desert. Before him, the "creature" sniffed and snorted as it rooted about the grounds.

A block away, Ethan stood momentarily frozen in disbelieving awe, his eyes fixated on the strange creature. "I've known a few summoned beasts in my day," the ranger said softly to his two companions. "This. . . this ain't one of them. Forget what I said before about maintaining position. That thing seems to be sniffing around like a dog, and even a city mutt would eventually sniff us out. I say we take it back nice and slow. Karissa, you go first, Rogmund second, and I'll bring up the rear. If that thing heads our way, I'll see if I can't establish some form of communication with it."

"I'm the better armored of us, Ethan," Rogmund replied. "You lead, and I'll..." The armored archer's statement was interrupted by the hand Karissa placed upon his shoulder.

"Ethan speaks wisely," the Theavian said, her voice soft yet firm. "I know thou dost wish ne'er to place another in more harm than that which thou shalt face, yet, in this instance, Ethan's skill and empathy with animals provides the greater tactical advantage."

The tall man locked gazes with Karissa, one moment stretching overlong into the next. Rogmund growled something unintelligible under his breath, then nodded for the others to follow in his wake. "Anything or anybody gets in our way before we reach Hroknar and Ysoltre, I'm sending the wretch straight to whichever of the nine hells is most convenient."

"'Twill allow thy victim to join the others thou hast sent there already," Karissa remarked. "Perchance they might make it a festive occasion, a party welcoming the latest newcomer who did meet thy blade or barbed shaft."

Rogmund only grunted in petulant anger as he led his companions back toward where the armored archer hoped Hroknar and Ysoltre still waited.

"Damn thing seems to be made out of the very earth itself," Hroknar mumbled from his and Ysoltre's hiding place. Mouth agape, the Dervatear gave a sideways glance at the half-elf minstrel. "You should have told me to attack. What is that thing? Never before have I even heard of such a beast."

For his part, Ysoltre looked as wide-eyed and flabbergasted as Hroknar had been. The bard tried to form words of explanation, managing only to do a somewhat decent, yet silent, imitation of a fish trying to breathe out of water.

"Tseld's forge," Hroknar spat. "Now we have to wait for the others to begin the attack or rejoin us. They would be out of position if we started the attack, and we would have to hold off all of the hobgoblins, this spellcaster, and his...ummmm..creation."

Harsh, guttural voices again drifted forth from those outside the temple. The gaunt, robed figure gestured vehemently at the gathered hobgoblins, each of whom shook its head at the baneful glare that followed during the magic-user's sudden silence. The man turned toward the strange creature that seemed to have formed out of the earth and stone. A series of clipped sounds were spoken by the spellcaster, which, strangely enough, the "creature" returned in like manner. The robed figure grunted, then turned and strode back up the stairs and into the temple, the two hobgoblins that had originally preceded his appearance trailing in his wake.

"Grisknak pa'lurkil," the largest of the shield-bearing hobgoblins called out, just before spitting upon the ground. The "creature" growled then, its spiked tail swishing back and forth ominously as the "beast" studied the hobgoblin, then its fellows.

"Priktru belloq dod frukt!" another of the hobgoblins called out, waving its bow and arrow in a semi-circular direction, its own face contorted into a savage snarl. The armored "beast" slowly paced about, rooting about the ground with its snout, a golden glow slowly illuminating within its eye sockets. It stopped suddenly, frozen in motion; even the "beast's" tail ceased, suspended in air.

Hroknar and Ysoltre's eyes widened at the sight, for the whatever-the-hell-it-was seemed poised in their direction, despite their relative seclusion.

Ysoltre leaned over, closer to Hroknar. "Damn! It sees us," he whispered. The bard shook his head, eyes glued to the "beast" and the humanoids. "That can't be a Yeth hound, not in broad daylight." Ysoltre swallowed hard and tightened his grip on both blades. "We should stand our ground. If it attacks, we can double on the beast. Rogmund and Ethan should be able to pick off the hobgoblins."

A hiss of breath escaped through Hroknar's clenched teeth. "Don't move! It probably smells us and is trying to spot us now. If it comes this way, however, I'm not going to wait until I'm sure it sees us. Nay, I'll strike before it comes to that. If I'm reading the situation right, then doubling up won't work, as you suggested. I think its main attack is going to come from the tail. If so, we'll make an easier target for it if we stick together. Instead, one of us should seek to draw its attention; the other will have the chance to strike at its head or side."

Hroknar's grip on the haft of his axe tightened and loosened reflexively, providing evidence of his agitation at the turn of events. "I just hope that Ethan and Rogmund will be able to bend their bows effectively against the hobgoblins while we take care of their 'pet'. Otherwise, we're supper!"

Strange clipped sounds issue forth once again from the "creature." It dropped its snout and began to rummage about once again, taking several steps, then altering course one way then another, but always in the general direction of Hroknar and Ysoltre. The two comrades watched silently from their hiding place, knots forming in their stomachs as the "beast" seemed to be effectively sniffing out their position.

All four hobgoblins milled about, seeming to take care not to get too close to the strange "creature," speaking amongst themselves, but appearing to possess a greater vigilance than earlier nonetheless. One minute passed, then another. Hroknar whispered something about wishing he could understand the hobgoblin tongue, then added that it had always seemed a waste to spend so much time and effort learning something that you would probably use only to curse an enemy before slaying the self-same foe. Ysoltre remarked that at least it would provide his slaying with a substance of style: witty repartee timed to the beat of each slash of Hroknar's weapons, a clever quote accompanying a killing stroke.

Hroknar cursed again as the "creature" came closer, and began to move in a more direct line toward them. The Dervatear's right arm drew back, the hand axe poised for throwing. Then, Hroknar froze, eyes wide with surprise. The incessant harsh, guttural chatter of the hobgoblins ceased. All four collapsed to the ground, shields and weapons useless as the humanoids lay unmoving, their eyes shut, the rising and falling of their chests noticeable as each seemed to be taking deep, measured, regular breaths.

"Oh, she's good," Ethan said from directly behind the Dervatear and minstrel, the young ranger peering intently at the heap of humanoids sprawled on the street. Hroknar and Ysoltre both nearly jumped out of their skins; neither had heard Ethan's approach. It was as if he had simply appeared. The ranger smiled. "You really shouldn't let people sneak up on you this way, you know. It's hard on one's nerves."

One arm rose and pointed toward the hobgoblins. "Just a friendly little gift from our favorite Theavian," Ethan explained. "If the 'beast' keeps coming our way, we're to take care of it while Karissa and Rogmund move to the door of the temple, getting into a position to protect against anyone exiting the building. If the 'creature' notices the hobgoblins and turns back, Hroknar is to assist Karissa and Rogmund while Ysoltre and I cover the temple doors."

Any verbal reply the others might have offered was drowned out by a loud squeal as the "beast" charged forward, its tail waving ominously back and forth, saliva dripping from its fangs. Ethan immediately drew back his bowstring and let loose an arrow. The barbed shaft flew forward unerringly, struck the "creature," and bounced away, apparently without doing any damage whatsoever.

Hroknar drew back his right arm once again, flinging the hand axe at the strange beast. The creature ducked and swerved, and the weapon sailed past the "animal" to land on the ground beyond.

"Aim for its eyes," Hroknar called out as he stepped forward, deliberately placing his armored countenance between the charging creature and his more lightly protected companions, even as he shifted the battle axe back to his right hand.

Ethan let loose a second arrow, but the barbed shaft - like its mate released seconds before - seemed to bounce off the ridged plating of the beast's hide.

An unearthly growl issued forth as the creature plowed into Hroknar - all fangs and claws, biting and slashing, even as the beast's tail whipped this way and that ominously. The Dervatear pressed with all his skill, a sudden moment of desperation fueling energy to his limbs.

"Darkling moon!" Ethan spat, even as he hastily shouldered his long bow and drew forth his sword and hand axe.

"Yeeaaahhhh!" Ysoltre yelled as the bard moved around to attack the beast from its left side, sword in his right hand, dagger in his left. The minstrel immediately wished he had taken Hroknar's advice about staying on his friend's shield side. The Dervatear's battle axe chopped and sliced in wide arcs, an ominous impediment akin to the creature's ferocious-looking tail that whipped about almost as wildly. Ysoltre thrust his newfound blade forward, piercing their foe's side.

A strange, wailing sound issued forth from the creature as Ysoltre drew back his sword, its blade stained with a brownish ichor. Yet, the beast seemed barely slowed, its ferocity unabated. Claws and fangs sought to tear the Dervatear's shield from the grasp of its wielder. Suddenly, the creature changed tactics, dropping down and whipping its hindquarters about, the tail slinging around and forward to strike beneath the protective disc.

Hroknar screamed as bone-like ridges along the tail-head sliced through his splint mail, drawing blood. A burning like liquid fire momentarily spread outward from the wound, wracking the Dervatear's body with a wholly unpleasant sensation, only to dissipate in seconds.

"Noooo!" Ysoltre yelled, the half-elf's handsome face contorted in rage at the possible damage done to his friend and ally. Sword and dagger slashed forward, as yet more brownish ichor flowed.

Ethan jumped into the fray, his own blade thrusting forward, even as his hand axe was brought up and down in a wicked slash. "You've got to strike between the epidermal plates, get to whatever it calls its flesh beneath."

"Beware the tail!" Hroknar called out as the creature shifted its weight.

"Augghhh!" Ethan's impromptu grunt of pain accompanied the path of the beast's tail as it whipped back to slice through the young ranger's studded leather armor. Almost immediately, the human's movements could be seen to slow noticeably.

"Isaidwatchoutforthebeast'stail!" Hroknar screamed at Ethan, even as the young ranger found his thoughts debating which type of language the Dervatear had spoken.

"Areyouinjured?" Ysoltre called out. Ethan's brow furrowed. Apparently the bard was conversant in the tongue as well.

Ethan back away from the strange creature that the robed figure had summoned, surprised at the speed and ferocity not only of the beast, but of the quick responses of his companions. He tried to summon up the soothing quality of voice that had served him so well in the past with creatures both domestic and wild. "Bbbeeeeeeee sssttttiiiiiillllll, mmyyyy ssstttrrrraaannngggeeee ffrrriiieeennnddd. Bbbeeeeeee sssttttiiiiilllll."

Ysoltre's eyes widened at the sight and sound of the young ranger. The minstrel gave a loud, wailing cry, then plunged forward, seeking to strike a mortal blow with sword and dagger, the blades of both already stained with brownish ichor.

"By the forge!" Hroknar roared, widening his stance so that he might bring an even greater amount of force to each blow from his battle axe. The weapon slashed out and down, splitting one of the epidermal plates of the creature. The beast yelped, then hissed as it shifted its weight and sent its tail swinging around in a wide arc. Once again the appendage slipped past Hroknar's shield to rake against the Dervatear's splint mail armor. Once again the ridged tail sliced through the protective sheath, drawing yet more blood from the red-bearded Axemaster.

Fire seemed to erupt from the wound, a burning sensation that appeared to spread quickly throughout the Dervatear's body. As before, the effect proved but a momentary inconvenience, fading quickly but leaving Hroknar breathing heavily.

"Die, nightmare, die!" Ysoltre called out. Again the bard struck to effect, his sword if not his dagger striking true between the epidermal plates of the beast.

The beast shifted its stance involuntarily as it sought to move away from Ysoltre's slashing attacks. It proved the only opening that Hroknar needed. The Dervatear's battle axe swung up and over, cleaving through the rock-hard exterior of the creature's protective armor-like hide to bury itself deep within a far-softer interior. The strange animal screamed forth a cry of anguish and sudden desperation. Hroknar freed his weapon and swung again, the mighty blow severing the creature's head for its body.

A momentary spasm wracked the beast's body. Then, quite without warning, both body and head collapsed inward upon themselves, disintegrating into piles of dirt and dust.

Ethan stood rooted to the spot, his eyes cast downward studying the bloody wound the creature's tail had opened through his studded leather armor. "Ggguuuuyyyyssss . . . " Ethan said, watching as his companions fluttered around like hummingbirds. "Wwwwhhhhaaaattttt'sssss wwwrrroooonnnnngggg wwwwiiiittthhhhh mmmeeeeee? Ffffiiiinnnnddd, Kkkkkkaaarrrrisssssaaaaa. Ppppeeeerrrrrhhhaaappps ssshhheee cccaaannn dddiiissspppeeelll ttthhhiiisss ssstttrrraaannngggeeennneeesss."

Hroknar blinked away his amazement. "What manner of beast seemingly disappears unto death? Truly, I fail to comprehend the way of wizards and spellcasters."

"Ggguuuyyyssss?"

The ranger's second call penetrated the Dervatear's thoughts. Hroknar turned, seeing that Ethan was feeling and sounding out of sorts. Three quick strides and the dwarf reached up to lay one massive hand on the human's shoulder. "Ithinkthatthemonsterwaspoisonous.
BothtimesthatIwashitbyit,Ifeltaburningnearthe wound.Itmostlikelywillpass.Giveitafewminutesandit
mightdisappear." Ethan blinked, obviously struggling to make sense of whatever it was that Hroknar had sought to impart.

At Hroknar's words, Ysoltre's gaze shifted from the pile of dirt and dust that had been the beast. He studied his companions momentarily. "I'll get Karissa," Ysoltre announced to the Dervatear, "perhaps she knows of some arcane or herbal cure for Ethan's condition."

Ysoltre turned and began to move toward the temple, then was brought up short. Karissa and Rogmund were not in view. Three hobgoblins littered the ground before the temple steps, all quite obviously dead, one of which appeared to have nearly been decapitated. "Dirion's trumpet! We were so hard pressed battling the beast that we failed to notice the struggle here."

The minstrel studied the scene more closely as he moved furtively toward the temple, sword and dagger clutched tightly in his hands. Dead humanoids outside, Karissa and Rogmund gone, and the temple doors open. One eyebrow arched upward. Was that the sound of curses and steel clashing against steel that issued forth from inside?

Hroknar saw the three dead hobgoblins littering the ground outside the temple. "Yells and singing steel from within." His eyes sought out Ysoltre. "Go and help Rogmund and Karissa," he yelled out. "I'll stay with Ethan."

Ysoltre offered the warrior a nod of confirmation, then darted for the open doors, weapons at the ready. Hroknar could see the bard slow upon entering the building, obviously studying his surroundings while trying to determine the best way to help his friends.

As the minstrel disappeared from view, the Dervatear turned toward the woodsman. "Areyoufeelinganybetter?Itmaytakesometimefortheeffectstowearoff,butIdon'tthinkyouwillsufferany
permanentside-effects."

While Hroknar spoke, he kept a vigilant eye on the surrounding buildings, a throwing axe in his hand and at the ready. "Have to remember to pick up the one I threw," he said aloud, mostly to himself. A sudden smile appeared upon his lips as he turned to the ranger. "Howareyouenjoyingyourvacationnow?" A soft chuckle issued forth from somewhere deep inside the Dervatear.

The ranger's brow furrowed slightly. "Yyyyyyyoooooouuuuuuu jjjjjjjuuuuussssssttttt wwwwwaaaaaaiiiiiiittttttttt," Ethan said, the words rolling off his tongue like frozen molasses.

Hroknar looked toward the temple doors once again, then at the hand axe he had thrown at the beast, finally at the four slumbering hobgoblins that had fallen first - victims of what Ethan had said was Karissa's magic.

Grasping Ethan by the arm, the Dervatear led the ranger over to where he might recover his hand axe. He quickly secured the weapon, then led Ethan toward the temple, letting the young ranger set the pace. The Dervatear's gaze darted to and fro, searching for any sign of imminent peril. "Come.Let'sgetclosertothe building.We'llbeclosertocoverbesidesbeingclosertotheothers."

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