The Battle of Verjigorm's Temple
From the Journal of Rutegur Stonespeaker
* This document contains sensitive information about the Earthdawn Adventure Shattered Pattern *
By the time bleak midmorning had risen we had already covered much of the distance to the temple. The bland terrain of the dead forest reflected the typical home of a Horror well and served to lower the party's spirits considerably. We spoke little and moved at a slightly quicker pace than we might have otherwise.
I found myself pondering Trent's ability to draw others to our cause. Not the most friendly individual, he had still drawn more than a few hardy (or foolish) individuals to our band. I looked back at the strange mix that followed us this time: a human, a windling, and an obsidiman. All relatively green. The windling, obviously a wizard, Trent had introduced as Shar, calling the obsidiman Hezekiah and the human Godai. They both appeared to be warriors, perhaps her bodyguards, but the human looked a little frail for a fighter to me. As we trudged on, they held back, staying close to Trent and Tasmin, only the windlings daring to speak in the unnatural silence of the wood, glancing about apprehensively as the whispering echo sounded here and there. Hezekiah was last in line, clumsily navigating the tangled tree roots underfoot. I almost turned back in order to speak to him but thought better of it. The last thing I want is to draw jibes about stupid, slow obsidimen bringing up the rear. The matter at hand was more pressing than any desire I might have to speak with my own kind anyway.
Beleg, to my left, was busy studying his helmet and gave our surroundings little notice. It seemed to be troubling him, and it was beginning to make me a little uneasy. Made of a Horror skull, nothing good could come of it. I was about to suggest smashing it and being done with it once and for all when Calypso popped up from somewhere underfoot and motioned us down. From the brush where we crouched we could see above us the twisted black spires of a temple looming over us. Verjigorm's Temple.
I glanced over my shoulder to gather the others' reactions, saw an interesting mix of fright and awe. From inside dozens of Hunter cultists swarmed like ants, milling about and disappearing into the surrounding forest. Those going in appeared to be covered in blood and waved objects over their heads, screeching at each other as they passed.
I suggested those of us who could pass for cultists might get in wearing their garb. But that meant only Beleg, Godai, and Trent. I saw neither obsidimen nor dwarves among their ranks. The windlings could fit easily enough in someone's pack, though the cultists seemed to travel without any provisions or equipment.
We were trying to strike on an alternate plan when Calypso said quietly, "I can make an illusion." He added reluctantly, "I can make us look like cultists, but it's taxing." We agreed that the idea was a good one, and determined to steal some cultist garb for the two elves and human while Calypso would create his illusion over himself, Hezekiah, and I. Calypso grumbled halfheartedly but we finally prevailed upon him to do it.
Beleg, Hezekiah, and I selected a group of three passing nearby and moved to ambush. "I'll suffocate them," offered Calypso more cheerfully as we prepared ourselves for combat. As soon as they were almost on top of us we moved to strike. "Remember," Calypso calling after, "you won't be able to breathe either!" I struck my mark in the head, sending him reeling from the unexpected onslaught. As he opened his mouth to cry out the air suddenly constricted around us, driving the breath from our lungs. He looked around, bewildered, and I struck him down, turning to see Beleg backhand the other cultist so that he spiraled through the air, crashing into a tree some distance away. A little surprised, I barely recovered enough to stagger out of the suffocation spell's range. Beleg slumped over near me, gasping for breath, followed by Hezekiah who seemed unconcerned. We both stared at him for a moment until we had recovered enough to move on, gathering the cultists' clothes on the way back to our original position.
"They attacked us," said Godai, leaning on his sword to catch his breath as we approached. "Trent went after... the last." We followed for a moment, but found signs of neither archer nor cultist. Fearing discovery, we searched as long as we dared before putting the plan into action. Beleg and Godai donned the cultists' gear while Calypso created his illusions, muttering to himself with a pained expression on his face.
We entered the temple with little difficulty, virtually unnoticed as we slipped into the swirling press of shrieking cultists entering the temple. Within the crowd, we could see that the screeching cultists were carrying the severed heads of freshly slain beasts which they brandished at each other as they called defiance at each other. Those with no trophies lowered their eyes in shame and skulked, attempting to stay clear of their victorious clansmen. Beleg and I fell into step with these and glancing back I could see that the other members of the party had done likewise. We traveled down a long corridor, with many grisly trophies mounted on either side of us. There were heads of lizard creatures, other beasts, and every so often I thought I saw the head of a name-giver. Revolted, we came to the end of the hall to find the cultists splitting up, those with trophies depositing them and exiting by one doorway while those without left through another. Glancing through the doorway the defeated cultists used, I took my bearings and guessed that it led to their quarters. Beleg, obviously thinking the same thing, opened the other door and motioned us to follow. As we proceeded deeper into the temple my sense of foreboding grew, but Beleg moved on, moving swiftly despite the confusing twists and turns. Soon we came to a large cavernous chamber.
"Do you feel anything?" Beleg asked me suddenly, his gaze straying to Doom strapped across my back. At first confused, I thought he was questioning my nerve and I told him I was fine. When I realized what he meant, I assured him that the black sword told me nothing. He appeared troubled, but he entered the cavern without further discussion. I found myself wondering just what he had meant.
Inside the room were four crystal chambers, one empty, three containing humanoid forms. Examining one, I found the outline within seemed strangely familiar and opened it to find Jhal-Li unconscious inside. I removed her immediately from her prison. The others left, delving deeper into the temple, and I followed. I entered a hall to find them already examining strange eggs set on pedestals. The eggs were covered in a green slime. Somebody said something of corruption when we were interrupted by the appearance of a white-haired elf, one of the prisoners.
"What have you done to the eggs?" he demanded, but we told him we had just found them. He asked about the slime and when we told him we knew nothing about it he commanded us, "Get it off them." He tried to help remove the slime while I attempted to wake Jhal-Li, but to no avail. The other stranger entered and the two of them gathered the eggs to remove them. Feeling a sense of urgency, we pressed on, plunging into the darkness, down countless corridors, finally coming to a large door deep within. We burst into a great inner room with a vat of blood in the center. We found ourselves surrounded by dozens of cultists, arrayed all around the room on balconies and along its sides. Our entrance produced no reaction among the cultists for they appeared to be in some sort of trance, but the robed figure at the center of the room near the blood pool turned to face us.
It was Tyr-Lun the Nethermancer. Resting on a stone platform suspended above him was the old elf, the very one who had enlisted our aid in finding out his true identity. The elf was bleeding from numerous cuts, his blood spilling over the sides of the tier and into the blood pool. We stood shocked by the sight for a moment. Beleg hesitated, looked wildly around him, then with a cry charged down the stairs, slicing Tyr-Lun's robed attendant who fell and lay still. I shouted for the Windlings to aid the elf and Hezekiah and I followed Beleg, charging for Tyr-Lun. Hezekiah swung and to our left a cultist screamed as his sides split in a grotesque display. I drew up my axe to strike, wondering what manner of twisted magic Tyr-Lun was setting against us, when the nethermancer held forth his hand, shouting, "STOP!" My charge ground to a halt as his spell bound my limbs. I gritted my teeth and strained against the mystic chains, felt them slowly giving way. Screams from my left told me that Calypso had unleashed one of his more potent spells on the cultists. Beleg and Hezekiah struck at Tyr-Lun vainly, drawing more shrieks from the crowd and causing more cultists to collapse into gory heaps. Alerted by the warriors' cries of dismay, Shar turned her attention from the elf and began the arcane motions of a spell of her own. Tyr-Lun turned to her as his enchantment broke under the magical assault, freeing the cultists from their trance. As Tyr-Lun turned I broke free of his spell and lunged, snatching a piece of his robe as he dashed from the room.
I quickly recovered and chased him only to have the door from the chamber slam shut before me. I grabbed the door and pulled it, could feel the magic binding it shut start to give and just as the door was opening my grip was lost and it slammed shut again. Beleg and Hezekiah hit the door then, pressed their backs to it. I struck the door, denting it, when from behind us a gigantic, bloody dragon-creature rose from the blood pool, roaring in defiance. Beleg turned and leapt on it, followed by Godai who thrust his blade to the hilt in the monstrocities back. Seeing our plight, Shar again plied her magic, this time to the door, dissipating the magical seal. I plunged through the darkness beyond, as did Hezekiah and Beleg.
We found Tyr-Lun before a summoning portal, through which we beheld Verjigorm the Great Hunter. The giant Horror's many eyes glinted in the unnatural light. We charged Tyr-Lun, swinging with all our might, each striking blows in turn seeking to disrupt Tyr-Lun's summoning spell, but to no avail. Some force held him fast, blood spattered from his wounds but his battered body remained rooted to the spot. From the blood pool chamber came the sound of the crashing stone platform and the dragon's death cry just as Tyr-Lun's eyes closed and he collapsed under our final desperate attack. Verjigorm's head loomed over us, its terrible teeth flashing in the fading light of the portal and we recoiled. The jaws snapped and then were gone, as was the mangled corpse of the nethermancer. Where it had rested only a moment before now there was only a pool of blood to mark Tyr-Lun's passing. Not daring to pause to consider the disaster that had just been averted, we scanned the room for further threats and finding none, rushed through the door to rejoin our companions.
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