Session 17: Beneath Wimark's Gate Report

Party begins in camp again, resting after the chaos around Asbjorn's infiltration. A few hours has passed since his capture, and dawn is coming soon.

Below the manor house Asbjorn is kept in a cage within a musky cave. The torches that light the walls send forth an eerie half-glow, casting shadows into the remote corners of the room. In the center of this carved room is Rena, her son Terric Thealing, and Captain Loric of the guard. They are speaking among themselves, the mother and guard, and looking over some letters on the table. The guard comes over to the cage and looks down at Asbjorn, and begins to question him about who he is and why he invaded the manor house. Asbjorn pleads ignorance and claims to have only been exploring when things went wrong. The guard was skeptical of the claim, and even more so since the refugees below had been attempting to get across for some time now. They continue to banter on for some time, shooting questions and answers at each other without any meaningful result. Finally, at the behest of Rena, Captain Loric began to deviate and ask questions about Wilke Thealing, who had been at large since he fled his father's court with a large body of soldiers. To their interest, Asbjorn had dealt with him before, but as an enemy at Ninegraves. For that reason he was unaware of Wilke's motives or his movements.

Whether he believed Asbjorn or not, Captain Loric was about done with him after such a long exchange of banter and useless information. He turned back to the table and spoke with Rena in hushed tones, leaning in close and giving occasional glances to the cell. A minute pasted before he gave her a nod and strode back to the bars. "The information you gave wasn't useful, nor is keeping you around. We can't have drifters causing chaos outside the fort. Surely you understand". Asbjorn gave a nod and said to him in a voice with trace sarcasm "Of course not! A single man tied up with no weapons is an immense danger to a fort garrisoned by armed Vestidian warriors. What could you possibly do to stop me now?" Loric just stared down at him with a frown, "I have an idea for that", he said while he walked across the dim cave to a pulley tucked close to the shadows. Without another word, he began to wind it, coiling a rope that followed the walls and ceiling all the way to the cell. With a piercing series of lurching creaks, a small iron gate began to open which Asbjorn had failed to notice. It was about the height of a hunched man, but led to a gaping maw within the wall of the cave. Asbjorn turned to face it, staring into the darkness with morbid apprehension.

He did not have to wait long. Shortly after the gate opened, Asjborn heard something like a hiss, though it carried on like a whining call, emit from the depths of the blackness. The sound rebounded through the cavern, clinging to the rocks and remaining there as the cries grew in volume. Like a viscous paste, the sound dripped down from the dusty walls with every gnash of teeth and guttural noise. Asbjorn could do nothing more than gawp in horror, looking back to Loric for some sense of what was to come. Loric's eyes did not meet his, but were instead stuck to the gaping entryway that was only a dozen flimsy metal bars away with a look of unease that never quite settled.

The beasts emerged from the darkness, and gazed across the cavern with eyes held close to the ground. Their features were similar to that of a man's, but in a way that cruel mockery is a reflection of the original form. Where eyes should rest, there were shallow, dark holes the size of a fist. Within them there was no light, and no way to distinguish what spirit they may possess, if any at all. The chasms of flesh that may be considered mouths were equally disturbing. The edges were lined with barbed teeth and in the center existed restless tongues that lapped up the air with greed and dashed upon the dirt and walls with eager power. In stature, these monsters were like common animals, disposed to walking on four limbs rather than stepping with feet like sentient mortals. The front limbs were like human arms, though elongated to a disagreeable and unnatural length, then crowned with long talons. The hind legs were like those of a canine, bend as to afford maximum speed and agility. Finally, their skin was a patchy grey, interspersed with streaks of dirt and grim. The texture was hard and leathery, like that of a corpse forgotten for centuries in a humid bog. Two such monsters emerged to face Asbjorn, and it took every ounce of courage he could muster to prevent himself from pasting to the bars and begging for mercy.

The beasts circled around Asbjorn the moment they noticed him, pausing for a moment as their black tongues slipped across the ground with plumes of dust. There was no chance to escape, with the bars locked behind him and the gaping map from whence the monsters had come being the only way forward. Quickly scanning the room for weapons, Asbjorn saw nothing save for the rotting chair that had been his interrogation seat. It was better than nothing. He grabbed it up with an open hand and held it before him like a shield, waiting for his opponents to attack.

While Asbjorn was busy fighting for his life, the party's small camp in the courtyard began to stir. After the unfortunate capture of Asbjorn, the party spent the night resting. Edwyn first played his pipes, but then went to updating his book. Marcarius spoke with Garo about the latter's trips across Nevan and the enemies he had fought in the past. A duelist must have good stories, after all. Roy was eagerly talking to Kronlim about his inventions from Azabar, amazing things that he had never before seen in all his days. Yanis spent his time looking at the fire and ignoring the night above, which in Atamani folklore is considered to be a curse by Artam. Finally, Flynt was sitting silently next to his tent, only a shadow of him caught by the firelight. He spoke seldom, as was his custom, but did take the chance to interject every once and a while, primarily on matters of fighting and travel, both well practiced past times of his. It was peaceful. Peace, that word with which the party had been such strangers. However, peace is a gift, a privilege for those who seek it. Mercenaries at peace? That was an oxymoron in itself. Francis was sitting at his tent, picking away at splinters left from when Kromm had smashed his halberd in two, when he began to feel a strange force on his chest. Reaching beneath his leather armor, he withdrew the necklace he had received from the Tomb of King Renfed to fix it glowing the color of amber. In his hands it caused a continual dull pain that quickly caused his arm to ache. The Bloody King had it made to detect the presence of demons, so to have it act up now was an immediate concern.

Francis lept up from his seat beside the fire and began to rush about the courtyard like a man possessed. Edwyn looked up from his book with raised brows, watching Francis with eyes that bounced across the courtyard in an attempt to keep pace. Roy got up after him, pausing his conversation with Kronlim to chase after him. The Elivasi were beasts by nature, perhaps there was some primordial urge to his interest. In any case, he caught up with Francis and began to hurl questions at him. Francis shrugged them off, only grunting back that there was something very wrong with this place.

Asbjorn fights well, but is eventually slashed by the sharp talons of these demons and is send tumbling to the ground, too weak to resist. Captain Loric watches with morbid curiosity as the beasts, rather than tear Asbjorn apart there, drag him back into the maw of darkness from which they had come.

The party, barring Edwyn, Yanis, and Garo, rush to the house where Francis believes the malign energy is originating. Moving down the stairs of the main manor house floor, they pass through a dimly lit tunnel carved into the rock with torch sconces along its walls. Despite the torches, the light is still dim, making it hard to see. They emerge from the hallway into the cavern beneath the manor. They see Loric standing by himself near the table, staring at the empty cage. The only thing left to indicated previous use was an unsightly splatter of blood in the center, just aside a tipped over chair. Francis, taking the lead, charged at Loric and grabbed him by his arms before the man had a single moment to reach. The rest of the party followed by fanning out into the room, taking to the walls, or in Roy's case, right toward the interesting collection of documents on the table. Francis began to interrogate and bellow into the face of Loric as to what monsters existed down here and where they may be found. The captain was initially resistant, so a yelling match ensued. Just a foot or two away, Roy made an interesting discovery. A well preserved document of a fine creamy white matte was heaped along with an array of other dusty and torn papers on the desk. Roy grabbed it up and scanned it with passing interest. A moment later he put the letter down with disgust and looked over to Francis who was still brutalizing Loric, and told him that the letter was an explicit order by Lord Wimark to use whatever means possible to stem the tide of refugees from pouring into Dagmeron. If beasts could be harnessed to do the work, then it was only to further benefit. "Do you still deny what is down here?" Francis yelled into Loric's face, at which point the latter finally relented and admitted the truth. Beasts were down here, and they were used regularly to rid the town of dissidents and other malcontents, including Asbjorn.

Now that the ruse was up, the party was inclined to action. Francis, this demonic business being his purview, took lead once more. It was clear that something had to be done about the beasts beneath the town. He wrenched at Loric, who struggled to resist, and brought him over to the cell gate. Francis slammed the poor man into it a few times until the captain agreed to hand over the key. Key in hand, he opened up the cell and stepped inside, manhandling Loric along with him. The rest of the party kept their distance, but called out as to what he was doing. "Having the captain here make an introduction" Francis called back over his shoulder, while he stared into the maw of darkness ahead. "How do you get them to come out?" Francis inquired of Loric, who by this time had pasted himself to the wall of the cell. The captain pointed out how the idea was suicidal, but Francis persisted. Eventually, Loric told him that they are somewhat intelligent creatures, and know that fresh meat has arrived when the gates open. Francis gave a shrug, "I suppose we'll have to open the gates then". Loric's eyes grew wide and he was caught by panic, repeating over and over how terrible an idea it was to open the gate. Francis ignored him, and told Flynt and Marcarius to open the gate, with which they reluctantly complied.

The beasts emerged. Loric tries to escape through the gate, and Francis promptly cleaves off his hand at the wrist to prevent him from leaving. He then waits there, staring at the monsters as they stare back at him with their sunken eyes. They approach him, prod at him with their black tongues, but do nothing to harm him. Then they notice Loric, kneeling in the dirt with blood pooling around him. They rushed to the attack and tore Loric apart before the eyes of the party, struggling amongst themselves over the dismembered parts of his body. Francis was left entirely untouched. He looked back on it with a sneer, and heads into the tunnels. He finds Asbjorn in the darkness, surrounded by the two beasts that had dragged him away. Already they had cut through his leather armor and had exposed his chest. Francis made the calculated decision to not risk his life in trying to save a man who was so clearly beyond saving. With something of a heavy heart, he continued through the tunnel, leaving Asbjorn to his fate. The Vestidian has always hated him, after all. It didn't seem entirely worth while to die on this occasion.

As he traveled through the tunnel, Francis was disgusted by the grotesque sounds of slurping, breaking, and tearing that rebounded through the narrow halls. Those who were "missing" were no longer missing, it seemed, but they were far beyond saving. Most of them were refugees from elsewhere in Vestidia, if not Lord Wimark's own holdings, but now they were piles of unidentifiable slop slathered across the cold ground. Those beasts that were not gorging themselves on the poor and unfortunate were latched to the walls in a form of hibernation. To the eyes of Francis, the monsters were silent and dormant corpses, unmoving or breathing. The only thing that might give away life at all was the fact that some beasts remained awake, clung to the walls like their brethren but following the movements of Francis with unseeing eyes, their tongues dangling in air with the prospect of close blood. Moving farther into the tunnel, Francis reach what looked like a dead end, a wall of dirt crossed many times with weathered wood boards. It was a curious thing to find in a cavern such as this, so Francis picked at it with the tip of his halberd-made-axe. After a few pokes, the dirt began to fall away between the boards, falling to the ground in grey clumps. Daylight.

While Francis was moving among the dark tunnels, the rest of the party took the time to fight off the monsters surrounding Loric's body. They poked and prodded at the beasts as they huddled around the human remains. Kronlim was injured on the arm while attacking through the bars with his mallet. Roy stabbed at them with varied success with his spear, but the agitated beasts knocked it aside more than once. Flynt had the most success, and was able to slay one of the beasts with Loric's sword that had been left behind, as his scythe was too unwieldy. The wretched thing withered up on the ground when killed, and the wound emanated a thick, black smoke. With one dead, the others fled with claws full of however much flesh they could carry. After that the party was left in apprehensive silence, waiting for and if Francis returned, with Asbjorn hopefully in tow.

The daylight shimmered in through the small opening stabbed open through the dirt, illuminating the rocky ground and the lower reaches of the walls, exposing the feet of close by demons to natural light. It did nothing to them. Francis peered through the opening, and saw that where he stood was beneath the gentle slope from the fort and manor to the village of novels that lay below. It made sense now, to some degree. If the refugees below attempted to revolt, the beasts held below could be unleashed and tear them to shreds in a matter of minutes. Francis heads back to the party and tells them about his discoveries and his choice about Asbjorn.

While they are speaking, they hear the door entering the cavern open up and footsteps rush down. The party scrambles for the shadows. All but Francis, that is, who decides to maintain his position in the cage, just aside the broken remnants of Captain Loric. A young soldier emerges into the torchlight, calling out for Captain Loric. When he sees Francis there is a pause, as he registers the fact that something is terribly amiss. Captain Loric was absent, and in his place was an armed and armored Astorian. At that moment, the other members of the party darted from the darkness and overcame the soldier, tossing his weapons aside and leaving him in the grip of Flynt and Kronlim. Marcarius and Roy questioned him whilte Francis stood in the cage with his arms crossed. They asked what he had come down to tell Captain Loric, which the soldier responded in a rushed jumble of words "It- it's Wilke Thealing! The traitor prince, the son of the lord himself! He is here now, and he's demanding the surrender of the post!" At this, the party looked to each other, and thought of a plan. It fell to them weather to fight, flee, or speak to the new arrival. They chose the latter, risking everything on a short conversation.

To begin, Francis, stepping out of the cage, demanded of the young soldier to fetch him a suit of mail and a helmet. Wilke did not know Loric personally, so a strategy of impersonation would possibly be a viable option. As they returned to the surface, the soldier delivered the armor, Francis got prepared, and the group approached, all except Yanis, Edwyn, and Garo, who opted to stay back from that experience. Peering over the earth rampart and down the slope, the party was shocked to discover a herd of refugees gathered before the fort, all looking confused and somewhat panicked. Behind them were numerous soldiers, no fewer than 500 by the look of it. They stood there on the rampart for a few silent moments, listening to the refugees muttering to each other and staring about with wild eyes, filled with uncertainty and fear. Then, through the midst of this herd came one of the figures from among the soldiers. His hair was wild, and tumbled down the sides of his head like untamed rapids, but dared travel no farther than his shoulders. His chin was dotted with the stubble of a forming beard, or one that had recently been shaven by crude methods. His face was long but his features fair. The last defining part of his face were his light blue almost grey eyes. His armor was scale with chain beneath, crafted of fine quality but worn away by the harsh elements. What remained upon his crest was a tabard of gold with a red, open hand emblazoned upon it, though it was bisected. He stood before the fort with no guards, and no apparent fear affecting him.

They spoke, during which the ruse of Francis being the captain quickly fell away. Wilke tells the party about his desire to move north to Dagmeron, but along the way subduing the strongholds of his father's regime. Wimark's Gate here fell right in the way. The party in turn explains their turn origins as mercenaries of Lord Folkmer from Dornum, which caught Wilke's interest. The party agrees to be civil and friendly with him, and even give up the fort, as they had no care for its control at all. But then, as always, things took a turn for the worse. Rena Thealing, the regent of Wimark's Gate in the stead of young Terric Thealing, appeared on the walls, scowling down on the large collection of unwashed, sad people gathered before her. "Wilke Thealing, you stupid bastard! Have you come all this way to ruin what your father has done for us?" The party looked to Wilke, who himself stood dumbfounded for a moment, staring up the hill. "Rena, I had no idea you were still here. I should guess that Terric is here with you?" Still red faced, she responded "Of course he is! There is nowhere else he should possibly be! As a matter of fact, the only one who is out of place here is you Wilke, and your circus of dirty fools!" Her insults caused the men behind Wilke to keep their gaze low, only uttering soft mutterings. The conversation continued in that matter for some time, with the party daring not to say a thing. Finally, things became dangerous when Rena threatened to release the beasts below Wimark's Gate if Wilke didn't leave.

That was when the three party members within the fort, Edwyn, Yanis, and Garo, sprang to some form of action after minutes of careful listening and waiting. Thinking quickly, they formulated a plan. Garo quickly rushed off to an isolated corner of the fort and began to climb onto the thatched roofs. Yanis and Edwyn then began to call out to the guards that there was another assassin in the fort, bound to attack the young lord or his mother. They were unsure of the exact results they'd get, but doing something was better than nothing at all. To their credit, it did catch the attention of Rena and the nearby guards, who fell into defensive position around the regent. This gave Francis the opportunity to propose a plan to stem the threat. How exactly that would be done was left to conjecture, but once again, doing something was better than allowing them to be released at Rena's will. They started with the small glint of sunlight that Francis had seen in the tunnels. That was the fastest way into the fort. Wilke called over a group of his soldiers, who quickly tore through the ground with their hands, revealing the wood planks and the tunnel beneath. Using his broken halberd like a lumber axe, Francis broken through the rotting boards and leapt down into the sunlit tunnel, sending up dust as his feet touches ground. Wilke promptly ordered the pit to be covered by whatever boards could be ripped off the hovels.

Down in the tunnel once more, surrounded by sharp taloned beasts, Francis did all in his power to move faster than a walk. His blood might make him seem like kindred blood in the eyes of the monsters, but they were not above attacking their own in dispute, let alone attacking him. Further he went, with only a torch as his light in the otherwise impenetrable gloom of the subterranean. The rock crunched beneath his feet, sending faint pangs of sound skipping along the walls. The beasts remained bound to their routines, in slumber or picking at the scraps of Wimark's dissenters. Ahead, however, twinkled the light of another torch, bobbing around at the far end of the tunnel. Francis continued moving, and found there the same young soldier that had given him the suit of chain. He was moving the torch along a rope that was nailed to the wall, and pinned to the roof of the tunnel until it reached the wooden planks at the other end. It was clearly a means to allow the monsters out of their pit, and clearly a threat. Francis rushed toward him, through the gate that remained open since the party killed Captain Loric. The soldier noticed him and turned tail, gripped by surprise and fear. Francis attempted to lob a bolo around his legs and halt him, but that fell short and skittered across the stone. The man made good on his escape.

Francis lures forth the beasts from their pit, taking handfuls of gore from Loric's remains and tossing them across the cavern. The beasts emerge in large numbers, spreading throughout the room. The soldier returns with a number of his comrades. They file into the roof and attempt to arrest Francis, but quickly realize the threat that surrounds them. In panic, the troops attempt to flee, only to be descended upon the monsters and torn apart, man by man, limb by limb, as Francis watched. Once they were dead, Francis charged up the stairs, to the manor and courtyard above.

By this time, Edwyn and Yanis had gained as much time as possible through their ruse. The guards were closing in on Garo, who was rushing about in confusing loops, and would catch him unless they left soon. The monsters urged them along, as they burst open the door to the manor and let out piercing shrieks into the morning sky. All three of them ran to the rampart and, by tumbling and struggling, managed to make their way down to the rest of the part. Rena and her guards were taken by complete surprise as a dozen or more beasts collapsed upon them. The party outside watched in horror and disgust and she was lifted into the air by one of the monsters, thrown down off the walls, then chased with claws and wagging tongues like a plaything. Wilke, his nearby men, and the party prepared themselves for a fight as more poured over the walls, toward them and off into the surrounding forests to wreak greater havoc on Dagmar's Finger.

Francis explored the manor house, now infested by beasts. He sees a second floor door being pounded upon by two of the monsters. Reaching out to investigate, he was slashed across the arm by one of the pair, who stared at him with sunken eyes and let out a low hiss. Well, that door was staying closed. He left the place, and whoever was inside, to their fate. Dashing through the door, he stepped onto the ramparts to see a battle had erupted down between the party and released monsters.

Fight runs its course, Kromlin is wounded, but survived. Roy is latched upon by two of the beasts, who claw at him and attempt to pull him to the ground. They are initially unsuccessful, but soon one of the beasts slashes a deep scar into his leg, and promptly runs his tongue into the wound, infecting the area. When the fight ends, that’s the primary concern. Marcarius attempts to use his knife to cut out he infection, but he fumbles and does further damage. It becomes clear that the only way to save Roy's life is the remove the leg. Francis does the job with his broken halberd.

The party speaks further with Wilke once the fight is over, and decide to remain with him. Their destinations were about the same, and the traitor prince might have a plan to get into the city.