Emberhold (expecting guests)

Day 9 
 
The day dawned with a renewed sense of vigilance. We resumed our stakeout, this time keeping a continuous watch over the cult entrance. Four separate shifts passed:
 
Watch 1: Nothing observed.
Watch 2: Still nothing.
Watch 3: No activity.
Watch 4: Silence reigned.
 
Every hour ticked by, and still, no one emerged from the tunnel. The prolonged quiet only deepened our suspicions.
 
As night fell once more, we prepared for our final approach.
 
We would converge on the entrance from different directions to avoid detection and reconvene in a secluded spot near the cellar door. Every member of our small band—myself, Freya, Rory, Friar Karl and even the ever-critical Lim Dul—knew the stakes.
 
In hushed voices and with measured steps, we advanced. The darkness cloaked our movements as we circled the dilapidated building. Finally, gathering in a shadowed alcove beside the ancient cellar door, we exchanged one last nod. With a collective breath, I reached for the door, and together, we eased it open. In that moment, every disagreement, every sarcastic quip, every challenge and criticism melded into a single, unyielding purpose. 
 
We were here not because our paths were easy, but because we chose to confront the darkness head-on—even when our own voices clashed. And so, as the door creaked open to reveal the unknown depths beyond, I led us forward, ready to face whatever lay in wait in the shadows.
 
Underneath the Cellar Door
 
We slipped into the dark passage with the cautious coordination of seasoned operatives.
 
Once inside, we advanced along a natural slide that ended in a rocky landing. Cloaked by an invisibility potion he’d purchased earlier, Rory led the way silently, moving like a ghost through the shadows. His silent form was indistinguishable from the darkness, though every so often his whispered observations reached our ears.
 
I followed close behind Friar Karl, every sense alert.
 
At the far end of the landing stood a battered ladder, its rungs slick with condensation.
 
As we neared it, a sudden flash at its top caught our attention—a Skaven emerged from the gloom.
 
In one swift, predatory motion, it hurled a fragile globe of glowing, poisonous gas. The sphere shattered upon impact at our feet, unleashing a noxious cloud that obscured our vision and clawed at our lungs.
 
Before we could recover, the very walls near the ladder began to crumble.
 
As if animated by some foul magic—chunks of stone tumbled from the walls like discarded refuse, and from the ruptures, swarms of writhing snarling Nurglings pouring into the tunnel, their tiny, grotesque forms moving as one in a frenzied assault. Foul creatures, their small forms teeming with pestilence and decay, surged around with unrelenting ferocity.
 
Pandemonium erupted.
 
Even as chaos reigned, Friar Karl, intoned a solemn prayer that summoned forth a guardian spirit—a spectral knight whose otherworldly blade cleaved through the creatures.
 
Amid the chaos, the swarm converged on Freya. The diminutive creatures clambered all over her as if drawn by a magnetic hunger.
 
“Disgusting vermin!” she cried, her tone steady despite the peril. With practiced grace, she mistily stepped toward the top of the ladder and unleashed a series of crackling eldritch blasts, punishment for deigning to touch her. Each burst of arcane energy shattering the bones of the creatures that dared to come too near.
 
Lim Dul, never one to waste a moment, clambered up the ladder. As he ascended, he murmured incantations that coalesced into shimmering protective wards around him. “This is exactly why we need discipline and structure!” he barked, his voice laced with the ever-present cynicism that challenged my every command.
 
Rory, his temper frayed by the chaos and the stench of poison, roared and plunged into the melee. His blade—heavily adorned by magic like mine—sliced at the creatures with savage abandon, each swing a burst of raw fury that reduced the smaller foes to splinters.
 
I unsheathed my enchanted blade and tried to cut through the horde, but the foul creatures seemed almost immune to its magic.
 
Desperation lending me clarity, I summoned a Fire Blade—a sword of searing flames that roared to life in my hand. Its fiery edge lapped at the swarm, igniting clusters of Nurglings and turning their numbers to ash. 
 
The guardian spirit’s otherworldly blade cleaved through the remaining creatures, finishing what our weapons had only begun.
 
After the dust of battle had settled, we paused to catch our breath, then pressed onward into the passage.
 
The tunnel opened into an enormous cavern that took our breath away. A vast, echoing space, the ceiling soared sixty feet overhead, and the space stretched more than one hundred and twenty feet wide and twice that long. Along the walls, ledges formed a natural gallery, and in the southern wall a vast hole revealed a slightly narrower, winding path. 
 
Drag marks—deep gouges in the stone—and scattered remnants of equipment and broken supplies testified to something heavy having been moved along that route.
 
“We need to inspect this chamber carefully,” I said, my tone even and resolute despite the lingering adrenaline. “There might be clues here.”
 
Freya knelt by a set of well-worn tracks and murmured, “These marks are not random—they speak of deliberate, methodical movement. Something heavy was dragged here, and the precision of it suggests planning.”
 
Rory leaned over the tracks and frowned. “So you’re saying somebody was hauling a giant chest or maybe a prisoner? That’s... messy.” He cast a sidelong glance at Freya, in question. 
 
Before Freya could respond, Lim Dul interjected with a wry smile, “Ah yes, the philosophical musings of dirt experts. Next, we'll be debating the moral implications of mud. Meanwhile, the rest of us will be following the path.”
 
Freya and Rory exchanged stunned glances, Freya asking, “did he just make a joke?”
 
I met his challenging gaze with calm determination. “Lim Dul, your input is noted. But rushing in without gathering all available information only invites unnecessary loss. We proceed deliberately.”
 
With quiet resolve, we then set off down the southern passage. The floor was slick in places, the drag marks and strange tracks led us down a narrow, southward passage that wound around turning north until we came upon set of massive, iron-bound double doors embedded in the wall. As we drew near, the sound of clanging metal and distant, discordant noise began to rise—an ominous symphony of impending danger.
 
Then, without warning, the heavy double doors shuddered as they burst open. Before any of us could react further, a massive, wheel-like contraption—a veritable "wheel of doom"—careened out from the darkness, hurtling toward us with bone-crushing momentum. Its jagged edges caught the scant light, and the roar of its impending impact filled the corridor with tension.Time seemed to slow…  and in that heartbeat of terror and adrenaline, at least for me, our disagreements, our doubts, and our rivalries melted away. We were a single force, united against a common enemy. One thing was certain, the next chapter of our journey will be written in blood.