The Aberrant Acoloyte (with too many tentacles)
An accounting from Bryn.
Gorlock flew down the stars, an eldritch blast already leaving his hands. A half dozen bats fell to the ground. Mistle, not to be outdone, took aim and fired into the centre of the closest swarm. Wings pierced, more dropped and the swarm dispersed into confusion.
Greeba wasn’t far behind. Bat bones crunched under her heavy feet as she ran and then—jumped!—into the air, waving her Warhammer wildly around her head. Six more bats fell, some perhaps by surprise. The remaining bats swarmed towards Thibault, wanting to get away from the half-orc, but he was ready for them and killed two as soon as they came near.
The bats were angry now, making high-pitched noises that were enough to make someone’s hair stand on end. They re-doubled their efforts to attack Thibault, but his heavy armour held them back. Vrena took the opportunity to get close, using both of her short swords to good effect.
“Thank you for your assistance, Vrena!” said Thibault, ever polite. Then some sloshing sounds and a faint eldritch glow from the next cave drew his attention. It was mostly filled with water, with a crescent of sandy shore. A craggy rock was all that broke the water’s surface. It was carved with a number of strange glyphs and a rough depiction of a three-eyed, tentacled, fish-like creature. A pair of well-worn manacles dangled from the rock. Every bit of it gave Thibault the chills.
Xarius hadn’t noticed yet. He cast acid splash at the bats, but they dodged and the spell fell harmlessly to the cave’s floor. Bryn moved past him to get better aim and fired her short bow, taking out another half dozen bats as the arrow ripped through their wings.
Thibault said, “I can hold the bats, better check out what is coming towards us. These disgusting sounds do not bode well.”
At his words, slimy skeletal forms began to emerge from the water and, from the darkness beyond them, a low-throated woman’s chuckle came. It was pure malice.
“EEEeeeeek!” shrieked Xarius. “Stay away from me!”
“She’s here,” said Greeba, trying to keep the fear out of her voice.
“Not for long!” said Bryn.
“Our holy devotion will guide us through,” said Eamon solemnly, shifting his feet into a fighting stance.
For a moment, nothing happened. And then Thibault heard an inhuman psychic scream that seemed to come from within his own skull. He let out a strangled cry that made Greeba tear her eyes off of the Aberrant Acolyte in front of them to stare at the poor paladin.
“Ye gods, I have a headache the likes I’ve not had before!” he cried out after a moment. He shook his head to clear it.
Eamon took that opportunity to attack the skeleton nearest him. It exploded beneath his fury, bones shattering everywhere. Not done, he punched another one so hard that everyone heard the crack of bone, but the skeleton managed to stay on its feet. Gorlock blasted it, and it too went down, crumpling into itself.
Mistle, farther back, aimed for the last bat swarm, but her hands were shaking and the arrow flew wild. She wasn’t the only one distracted by the gruesome sight in front of them. Greeba, shaking with rage, swung her Warhammer so wildly that it whiffed through the air. She hit nothing, but the bats tried to swoop in for an attack. One got stuck in Thibault’s mane of hair, messing about his perfectly coiffed locks.
Vrena continued the attack on the bats, hoping to at least remove one enemy from the fray and even managed another attack on a skeleton. But the damage had been done to Thibault’s concentration and his next attack missed the mark. He pulled the remains of the bat out of his hair and tossed it to the floor.
Xarius took a deep breath and cast burning hands, and while his aim was true, the skeletons remained standing. They were scorched but stalwart.
Bryn moved closer and brought her bow to bear on a skeleton near the sorcerer. The arrow flew straight into the eye socket of the skeleton, making a noise as it hit the back of the skull, and the skeleton dropped where it stood. Bryn glared at the acolyte, wanting her to know that they were coming for her. They would not be put off with these rotten bags of bones!
The acolyte grinned and Bryn felt the same sharp pain that Thibault had felt as a psychic scream tore through her brain. She gritted her teeth and shook it off, giving a laugh. She stared right into the acolyte’s dark eyes and drew her finger slowly across her throat.
As if that was their cue, the skeletons attacked Thibault and Vrena, managing to do a small amount of damage. Gorlock tried to distract them with an eldritch blast, but it shot harmlessly between them. He cast some healing to Thibault, but the remains of the eldritch beam dazzled his eyes and only a small portion of it fell upon the paladin.
“Damn!” said Gorlock.
“That’s okay! Thanks, Gorlock, it still feels better than the skeletons!”
Eamon concentrates his attack on the skeleton near Greeba, cracking its bones and making it stagger back while Mistle fired an arrow at the one nearest Thibault, dropping it in one hit. It fell with a clatter of bones. The cave floor was beginning to resemble a charnel house.
Vrena stepped forward into the space, not caring that she stood in the middle of some long-dead remains. She continued her attack, destroying another skeleton.
Xarius panicked a bit, casting the first spell that came to him. Poisonous spray covered the skeleton in front of him, but had no effect. Bryn shot at it and took it down.
The remaining skeleton attacked Eamon viciously, cutting the monk.
“Don’t hurt me,” he cried out, “I am but a humble monk!”
Another low laugh drew their attention to the acolyte. Her robes fell away, revealing the horrific mass of writhing tentacles that made up her body. A wave of fear fell upon them. They had to withstand it! They could not run now! All stood strong, except for the half-orc, tortured by some long-forgotten memory from her childhood. She howled in agony, dropped her Warhammer, and ran.
“No wonder you hide down here,” said Bryn. “Just look at you. A body not even a mother could love.”
“We must close rank now,” cried Thibault. “She shall not pass!”
Gorlock cast Sacred Flame upon the unholy acolyte, but she writhed out of the way. Eamon punched the last skeleton right in the jaw and it exploded in another rain of bones. He strode forward towards the acolyte, but her tentacles knocked his weapon away before he could make contact.
Mistle’s arrow went wide, as Greeba’s panicked flight by her jostled her elbow. The half-orc was trying to breathe, trying to catch her breath, but nothing but thoughts of terror filled her mind. She took the stairs up, wanting only to see daylight.
“Now you die, bitch!” shouted Vrena, slashing at the acolyte, but while she drew blood, the horror still stood. The thing’s tentacles reached for Vrena, grabbing at her.
Thibault threw a javelin at the acolyte, but missed, perhaps put off by the way she swished and swayed on her tentacles. Bryn tried an arrow as well, but missed. She crept closer, wanting to get a better shot next time.
The acolyte was not distracted from her purpose. Her tentacles wrapped around Vrena and drew the thief to her, piercing her flesh. Vrena screamed in pain and horror, while above, they heard the slam of a door as Greeba found sunlight.
“Hang on, Vrena!” cried Bryn, regretting the uncharitable things she had said to the girl earlier. But it was no use, Vrena’s body went limp. “No! Get her!”
“As my faith commands, I must remove evil,” said Eamon, but he slid on some bone shards and his attack went wide the same time as Gorlock’s eldritch blast flew off into the water. Mistle had more luck, as her next arrow took the creature in the flank, but the acolyte did not fall. With an inhuman roar, she raised Vrena’s body above her head like a bloody trophy.
Everyone redoubled their attacks, chipping away bit by bit. Bryn dropped her bow and drew her rapier, blocking the creature from Thibault, who was looking very harried. She hit, drawing a fountain of blood, but it only seemed to make the creature more mad. The acolyte dropped Vrena’s body unceremoniously behind her and reached for Bryn, but the thief managed to wriggle her way out of the creature’s tentacled grasp.
That seemed to give everyone some spirit – Xarius drew his crossbow and fired, hitting the creature in the stomach. Bryn went to attack again with her rapier, but had to fight back bile rising in her throat as the creature’s smell was like fish stew that had been left to rot for weeks on end.
As if maddened by their successful attacks, the aberrant acolyte reached a few tentacles behind her and snapped Vrena’s neck with a spiteful crack without even looking to see what she was doing. More tentacles reach again for Bryn, wrapping tight this time and burrowing in.
“Agh! It stings!” Bryn chokes out a scream and then falls limp.
“Dear acolyte, I don’t hit women normally, but let’s see if I can change that,” said Eamon, but missed as the creature swung Bryn’s body around as if to show them what she had done.
“I have no such qualms!” cried Mistle, letting an arrow fly from her longbow. It struck the hideous creature directly in the red eye on her forehead and the acolyte slowly collapsed into herself, until she fell into a puddle of tentacles and blood.
“Well, I am definitely not putting that thing in the stew pot!” chirped the halfling.
Thibault pulled Bryn from the congealing mass of tentacles and he and Gorlock administered what aid they could. She came to with a start, looking around frantically.
“It’s okay, we made it,” said Gorlock. Thibault nodded at the warlock and then took the stairs two at a time, bursting out the tower door above, sunlight making him blink. “Greeeeeebbbbbaaaaaa! Come back!!!!”
After a rest to collect themselves, they take the time to look around, finding a waterlogged chest in the water and a small amount of treasure. Was this what Vrena had come looking for and lost her life for? Had it been worth it? They had, at least, managed to set Brecos’ spirit free and killed an evil, but at what cost? Indeed, Vrena had more gold upon her person than was found in the chest.
“We must bring her back and honour her,” said Greeba, now calm but sweaty after her run. “I shall carry her back.”
“Perhaps we should use some of the gold to raise a glass in toast to her memory once we get back to the Inn,” said Bryn.
They make their way back to the Cumin Inn, but it is a sombre return journey. They are in no mood for the two dangerous looking fellows that they meet on the road.
“Hey there!” said one. He looked familiar from their last visit to the Inn.
“That’s Vrena dead, then?” said the other. He didn’t sound very upset.
“She died well, fighting evil,” said Bryn shortly.
"We're her friends. We thought you'd take good care of her,” said the first, eying them.
"The tower is free of evil now and Brecos' ghost is free." They moved to keep walking, but the two louts stubbornly resisted.
"You got the treasure, then?" said the first. Droog, was it? “She trusted you and you got her killed.”
Thibault was out of patience. He dropped his hand to the pommel of his sword. The two roughs looked at each other uncertainly.
“Tell ya what. Hand her over with all her money; we'll take care of the funeral,” said the shorter one after a moment.
“We've brought her back to lay to rest with honour,” said Greeba in a tone that brooked no argument.
Gorlock turned on the charm. “Good fellows,” he said, “How can we make good by her dear name? I propose we have a toast.”
“A toast? You mean, like drinks?” Droog scratched his head, threatening to dislodge some lice.
“And it's all in her honour! Let's raise a goblet to Vrena!” Thibault said loudly, his hand still on his sword.
“Hmmmmph,” said Mistle, clearly unimpressed with the local louts. They scowled at her. She scowled back.
“Eh, okay then. You guys are buying!” The two followed them into the Inn.
“Indeed,” said Gorlock.
Inside, they made good on their word, buying a round with Vrena’s money and arranging for her burial with the local priest. Xarius performed a graceful dance, some kind of funerary right he had once learned, and the inn was filled for a time with talk of Vrena and her deeds. The Seven, saving the monk, savoured their ale slowly, all wondering if there had been any way that things would have worked out differently. But, at least, they were alive and had gained much from the experience. Wisdom? Perhaps.
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