Tuesday, June 23, 2009

Session #4, Part 3

As soon as the necrosis was purged from Wahleed, he was restored to health by means of a healing potion and some ministrations from the cleric. After jumping over the pit, the party made their way to the altar.

At that moment, a magical message relayed itself to the mind of Wahleed. It was from Alaric, stating that it had begun to rain, and that the mercenaries were pulling up stakes and attempting to build camp in the woods, rather than remain at their posts. Wahleed insisted that the party stay together.

The altar stood on a podium over fifteen feet from the ground, carved in relief as a pile of skulls. On the altar lay a book, open but unreadable at the party's present distance. Without hesitation, Meatwad sprang up the altar (with Meggan at his heels), and peered into the book, hoping to find a way to identify it. As his eyes scanned the pages, he felt something strange overtake him, and his mind was transported to another time in this same room...

In his mind, he was a cleric, standing atop this podium and looking out over a sea of hopeful faces. These faces were squires, men-at-arms, and lesser nobles - a sea of trusting faces here to give their honor to the fallen Teshy at what they believed was his burial chamber.

Only he, and the knights and clerics behind him, knew better.

As Meatwad's speech to the men reached its climax, he placed his hands upon the book in front of him, and spoke aloud the words of power that it had whispered into his mind.

"Ia! Ia! Talg'lesh kholm'in!
Dresh u'log sashin Shaku!
Shaku! Shaku! Ia! Ia!

As the crowd looked up at him in stunned incomprehension, countless swarms of spiders descended upon them from every conceivable dark corner of the tomb. The men fell, screaming as the poison coursed through them, darkening their faces as blood clotted in their veins, withering as necrosis seeped through them, or simply dying as the poisons stopped their hearts. Larger spiders - some as big as a cart - walked among the dying, wrapping some of the larger ones in webs for later eating. Meatwad stood as stone-faced as the rest as the men that he had fought with for six years were devoured, their screams of pain and cries for help falling on the deaf ears of those they had willingly followed.

When the feast had ended, and all that remained were the corpses of the crowd, Meatwad the cleric and his fellow nobles burned the accoutrements of battle, as well as the standards of Malikk they had displayed on the walls. The god would know of their treachery by now, and their path was clear...

Shaku would be pleased....


Meatwad awoke, his head throbbing with the memory of this place and the horror that had occurred here. His mind seethed with the enormity of it, repelled at the evil he had just witnessed, yet unable to articulate anything but fear and disbelief. A scream tore itself from his lips, and he sank to his knees. Thinking that he must keep the book from him, he lashed out at it to dash it from the altar.

As his hand struck it, he was thrown from the platform, hurling through the air, landing on Wahleed, who had intercepted him. Meatwad relayed the horror he had witnessed, and it was decided that Hinda should be the one to carry the book, until it could be identified.

At that moment, a magical message relayed itself into the brain of Wahleed. Alaric needed help at once. The party took the book, and made their way back to the entrance, where the found Alaric in the entrance chamber, a crossbow bolt protruding from his leg.

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