Here the narrative is again written by Xoma of the M’jai family, drow wizard of Xen'drik.
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There are those who claim that Vulkoor, the Mighty One, lord of the drow of Xen’drik, is an aspect of the Mockery, a benighted deity who is part of the Dark Six.
They are wrong.
Vulkoor is a manifestation of the unforgiving nature of the wild. But he is not cruel any more than nature is cruel. Nature does not care about right or wrong, law or chaos, morality or amorality. In nature, the strong survive and the weak do not, but that is the law of the wild, not one imposed on men by the laws of civilization. Even those who are strong among my people recognize that causing needless suffering serves no purpose. They do not delight in killing the animal they hunt. They do not torture unless the information held by an enemy is crucial to their survival.
Nature never goes out of its way to single out individuals or groups for destruction. It is not purposefully cruel or malicious. It simply is, and those who understand that survive.
It baffles me how anyone could equate the Mockery with Vulkoor. Vulkoor represents self reliance, strength, and independence. The Mockery perverts nature and mortality simply because he enjoys it. His followers do not alter their bodies to display their heritage or honor their ancestors and traditions. They mutilate themselves to mock and frighten. Such desecration of the body survives no purpose beyond perversion. Hence it is wrong.
Nothing in my travels through Khorvaire has offended me until now. I am content to allow others to live their lives as long as they allow me to do so. But what I have seen in this place is enough to make me an enemy of the Mockery and his followers for eternity.
But enough musing. You will not understand why this angers me so unless you know what happened.
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| "Kill the girl. She is already past saving." - Drivinia |
Drivinia, our enigmatic half-elven escort, seemed to hold great enmity towards the young woman. I can’t blame her. Anyone who would ritually sacrifice her own brother deserves no mercy beyond a swift death. So after our company disputed and finally gave our guide the choice, she slashed the throat of the misguided acolyte and dumped her in the charnel pit along with her brother.
We rested briefly so that I could regain some of my magical energy. I overheard snippets of conversation between Drivinia and Cypher. Apparently, he hadn’t realized she was a former scout from the Brelish Army until now. I would have told him earlier, but I had assumed he would have figured it out on his own, considering that he, too, was Brelish. I pick on Cypher a lot because I believe he is capable of far more than he has displayed thus far. He needs prodding to be willing to take more risks. His duel with the gargoyle was an excellent step towards embracing his power and confidence, but there is still a long way to go. If he is truly to achieve freedom, he must cast off the bonds of his former servitude.
I do not envy Cypher: a being created for war, who is finding his purpose in the world, only now that the war is over. It must be disorienting and disheartening. My methods may be harsh, but I believe that he needs to be pushed away from caution at least somewhat in order to embrace his place in the world.
After meditating, I examined the door that was behind the web I had created. Finding no lock or obvious trap, we opened it. Beyond lay a short hall, ending in another door. This one was covered in sharp metal protrusions and appeared to have no obvious means of entry, though a barred window peered into the darkness beyond. The door itself was inscribed with an inscription in Supernal, the language of demonic and angelic beings. I had come across the language before, though I was not conversant in it. Fortunately, I had prepared a spell to allow me to decipher languages. The inscription read: "You who walks beyond this door forsakes all but the Mockery. Bleed for him, the Sovereign of Betrayal and Bloodshed, Lord of the Host,or bathe in his justice."
I knew immediately that the door required a blood sacrifice, so I cut myself and bled on the door. This accomplished nothing, so I asked Magnus to do the same—perhaps it needed more blood. But the quantity of blood wasn’t the issue, and our barbarian comrade’s primal instincts revealed the way. He cut himself directly on the door's own blades, which seemed to satisfy it, causing it to unlock.
Skewered or hanging upon each hideous device was a tortured, mutilated, or desecrated corpse of a human, half-orc, or member of other common races. It was difficult to discern the racial features, given the torture that had been perpetrated on these individuals.
It was hard to know if these people had voluntarily chosen to take part in these rituals, or if they were miscreants, vagrants, and unfortunate souls who had been kidnapped by agents of the Mockery.
Unsurprisingly, and with great justification, Doongul was incensed at the desecration of his gods. Magnus wished to move on and leave the people to their suffering—but I could not. Ordinarily, I really like Magnus—in fact, I probably enjoy his company more than anyone else in our band—but in this instance, I was unimpressed by his casual disregard of the suffering of these people. Our missions mean nothing it we allow for unnecessary suffering. Even the weak deserve to die with honor.
Several of us dispatched the crucified and tortured human sacrifices with simple spells and strikes to end the misery of those on the platforms. It was then that we heard the voices. They were coming from the blood, whispering profanities and heresies.
Soon after the voices began, strange spider-like creatures with hard, reddish carapaces emerged from the bloody slime pits. The creatures lashed out with their mandibles in an effort to grab hold of us. They were not the most difficult creatures we had ever faced, but they were tenacious and frustrating.
One of the creatures latched onto me, but I blasted it away from me with my leopard’s roar, sending it hurtling against the blades of one of the Mockery's symbols. Several times, the creatures latched onto my companions, though they managed to shrug them off. Even little Trug, who at first I doubted, put up a respectable fight against the creatures. He may not be much of a warrior, but the goblin has heart, and that is very encouraging.We continued to battle the creatures, though Doongul was flummoxed by their jerky movements. I don’t think his failure to hit them had anything to do with his skill at arms, which is formidable. Rather, I suspect that the unholy desecration of the Dark Six that permeated the temple was inhibiting his holy powers.
Rendar sought a way out of the chamber at the far end of the room. A door separated the room from an unknown, other part of the temple. At the time, escape seemed like a good idea. No one wanted to remain in the presence of the bloody pools, and for good reason.
In hindsight, we should have finished the battle in the chamber before moving on. When Rendar moved into the next part of the temple, he opened us up to trouble on multiple fronts. I do not blame him, for he had no way of knowing what would happen. It is a mistake I think none of us will make in the future.
When Rendar left the chamber, he emerged in a large courtyard, open to the sky. Stairs ascended up the walls of the courtyard near the back, leading to additional levels, perhaps some sort of platform for further sacrifices.
When Rendar entered the chamber, he walked a path surrounded by strange red flowers. I recognized them as dread blossoms, benighted flora that flourished upon spilt blood and fear. On the opposite end of the chamber was a massive, scarred bugbear and two hardened orc guards. The bugbear called up to a level above the courtyard to a “Master Ennin.” Apparently, there were other enemies waiting above.
Realizing that the spider creatures were mostly under control, Magnus and I joined Rendar, not wishing to leave our half-orc companion to fight the thugs on his own.
Right after we entered the open courtyard, Drivinia showed her true colors. From what I’m told, she moved passed Cyzicus and slammed the door to the blood-pit chamber, retreating back the way we'd come. Cyzicus was enraged.
I heard after the fact that she half-apologized, saying “I’m sorry. It was Zerasha’s idea, not Sa-jira’s.” I can only surmise that Drivinia’s hands were tied. She received orders from this Zerasha, who may be the mother-ambassador who the young medusa is so at odds with. Clearly, the half-elven scout was unhappy about betraying our group, but she had no choice. I can understand her predicament, though I have no sympathy for it. If we see her again, I intend to enact vengeance.
If you don’t want to follow an order, don’t follow it. Do what your honor dictates of you, even if it results in your death. Otherwise, your life has no meaning.Meanwhile, we—that is Rendar, Magnus, and myself—faced the bugbear and his friends in the courtyard. The massive goblinoid, who wielded a curious bone club studded with spikes, seemed somewhat cocky, which is an expression I always enjoy on an enemy that is about to die.
The courtyard was perfectly shaped for a web, so I trapped the three goons in a mass of sticky strands. The spell held the two orcs for some time, but the massive bugbear broke free almost immediately, charging forward to grasp Rendar and choke him with one hand.
The bugbear called to me, saying, “Tell your friends that Gray Garrak killed your friend.” Bugbears are not known for their intelligence. If he had been smarter, he would have realized that repeating “friend” twice in the same threat lessened the impact of his words. He would come to pay for his grammatical ineptitude.
As the scarified bugbear choked Rendar, Cyzicus retaliated against Drivinia, grazing her with an arrow through the viewing plate of the door. He had trouble opening the door, having been elsewhere when Magnus and myself discovered the mechanism of entry.
Drivinia responded to the attack, calling out, “I’m on your side!” This confused nearly everyone. If she were on our side, why did she abandon us? But then she said a prayer to the Shadow, blessing those in the blood chamber with her dark magic. Perhaps Drivinia hoped we would succeed in helping Sa-Jira, even if she was being ordered to work against us. Such half-hearted logic proved how weak she really was.
Back in the courtyard, Magnus made a mighty spear throw that should have gutted the bugbear, but in an almost unimaginable feat of agility, Gray Garrak swerved, interposing the still choking Rendar in front of the spear. Rendar was badly skewered through the back and I feared the wound might incapacitate him, but he was still alive—at least for now. How he cried out. I could not blame him; I would not want Magnus throwing a spear into my back.
After Rendar’s impaling, four ghastly, self-mutilated monks—or were they priests—appeared at the top of the stairs on the level overlooking the courtyard. Seeing the new threat and hoping to dispatch the bugbear before the monks could join him, Magnus entered into a rage. He delivered a crushing strike against the bugbear with his massive mace.
One of the monks—who may have been the elder named Ennin—whispered a word of power meant to paralyze Magnus, but the enraged barbarian shoved of the magic. He also called out in the Common tongue, "What is the purpose of this intrusion?"
Doongul finally joined the battle in the courtyard, firing a lance of holy light at the bugbear. One of the orcs managed to get out of the web, delivering a nasty strike against me. He would pay for that. I released a cone of fire that incinerated the orc. Rendar, Cypher, Magnus, and Doongul brought down the other one and the bugbear, who seemed surprised to be bested even as he toppled to the ground.
The monks started to descend the stairs, moving through the webs like they were spiders. It was clear we needed to escape, so I threw up a sphere of darkness at the door back into the chamber with the blood pits.
I retreated, along with Cypher and Rendar, through the darkness and into the blood chamber. Magnus lagged behind, taking longer because he wanted to pick up the massive bone club that had been wielded by the bugbear. I hadn't had a chance to tell him yet, but the club is actually a dragon bone. If we survive, I suspect he’ll be quite pleased.
Unfortunately, the monks had other plans. The leader, Ennin, roused the dread blossoms with a mere clapping of his hands, causing them to explode into a swarm that enveloped Magnus and Rendar, though they seemed to ignore Cypher. Perhaps they only feed on those with souls. Or maybe it’s a blood thing.
Magnus came charging out of the darkness, swarm on his heels, carrying the massive dragon-bone club. Alas, the monks were right behind him, moving swiftly—at least as fast as the barbarian himself!
As Magnus attempted to retreat, Cypher and I followed Cyzicus out. The shifter with his keen, bestial nose had caught the sent of our half-elf betrayer and was in pursuit. But we could not follow him outright for fear of leaving Magnus to the depredations of the monks.Cypher, Rendar, and I turned back to the temple, only to see the monk send Magnus sprawling to the ground with a stunning kick. Rendar sent an arrow shaft into the gut of the elder monk, much to the pervert’s surprise. But it did not slow Ennin down. He kicked Magnus again, a powerful, bone-crunching blow. Cypher and I tried to provide cover fire for our escape, but the monks proved too nimble.
We stand at the precipice of destruction. Will we be able to retreat and solve the mystery of who is setting us up and why, or will we become meat for the sacrificial altars of the Mockery?
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