Chapter Twenty-One: Auspicious Guests
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Elongated talons, the structure of its scales kin to an armadillo which forsaked its sly form. A lesser lindwyrm or rather an attempt of one twisted by design with arms like that of razors and a spitting acid dissolving metal in seconds. Parts of its body grafted, under its left armpit evident stitching-- Not that, it would need it anymore. Having long died hours ago, the fearsome creature lay dissected as Hannigan peeled back skin in scrutiny. It had taken twenty men to fell the beast, before it claimed three. Only conscripts, a meager loss.
Dorrin's swampland, the constant inkling of being watched and insidious beasts not natural breed here experiments gone awry. Or simply let go for any such venturing there. No lone mage could produce the numerous amalgamations Hannigan and his fellow men had slain, a dozen at the lightest measure. From two headed snakes to web-less hunters poaching too close. Even the trees themselves swayed in deceit and cunning. Freywyn must be the cause of it. Jabaloth had not spoken, Hannigan could only deduce it himself.
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Buzzing past my ear, another fly swatted as we marched through muck. Smog engulfed treeline and anyone trying to see past their partner. A rolling tide of decay, rot the wafting methane stirring vision. Side the small pests, the ankle high waters was still just snapping of twig and low-lying branch deterring our path. My feet were trapped between the sludge-like consistency as water turned muck of low tide. Each step displaced wiggling masses of worms, the imprints left by those ahead a path I followed with security of ground. Sudden drops, pockets deep enough to swallow one hole in an instant' nature liked to stick it when you least expected it.
Leading specialized recon ahead, to pave way for our wheeled cargo and assets. Although adepts could turn the sludge to stone, it was an unnecessary risk for sake of convenience. The menial magic would be wasted, just to tire the most explosive force at our disposal. Putting risk on everyone. The winding paths narrowed to a formation of arched rocks and a inclining hill, Jackson an experienced tradesman and tracker, cunning with the blade and a sure-shot archer veered to my left one of the first to touch solid ground in miles. While I watched Jackson make it towards the hill's apex a flicker of movement coursed through the ground, I caught myself from falling forward, handful of sludge I felt it. A warmth, a prickling premonition.
Air swept past, the ground came rising as sludge and water parted. As to what I assumed dirt and stone humbled my convinced notions for it was skin. Crumbling off its form, Jackson had slipped face first to the creature's side; it overlooked me, and us as if judging grass to be cut. A wide mouth and slit eyes, mucus-like skin with a two stubby legs. A toad, a large one at that statuesque it just observed with indifference, I knew not common among the territorial nature of amphibians. It would take all of us to fell it, like anything it was not without risk but I gauged my men behind me a stoic silence but resolve I know well. Raising an arm I held their thoughts, dashing an attack or any movement that would be a provocation.
Without an exchange of words Jackson had slowly retreated, as we begun a careful detour among the toad's vigil. It was a good day with no blood drawn, thoughts betrayed me as yelling came to ear. A woman's shrill cut short in a moment, Marsha, she was the only woman in the party- Emphasis on was, her torso now separated between the jaws of a rising form. At the back line, her body was gulped down a crocodile rivaling the toad in size and posture...
Blood trickled down its scale, Marsha had pierced its nose in desperation, quicker than a thought it struck ending her life. Dorrin' a truth of wilds with death lingering at each misstep. No sheltering wall or devised security, only wit and martial prowess with a tinge of magic. So why had I abandoned my reason, running toward the crocodile- I did not know, perhaps out to avenge to someone I was nay close, to prove my superiority or just my foolish nature. Hannigan would have my head if any more scouts die-- In unison we moved, to surround the vile enemy too only be obscured by moving shadow.
Overhead, a massive form the toad had jumped blocking sunlight. It pounced like a cat on mice, clamping its mouth toward any body part that fit. Thrashing the croc was rendered immobile by the sheer difference in weight as scale cracked, liquids best kept inside squirmed out every orifice. An acidic tongue melted flesh to putrid bone snatching flesh with each turn it grappled.
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It was an open invitation to leave.
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Past the gallows, deep below nestled between the edges of an rowdy establishment. A gathering of forces, Catch was home to many such occasion, a decisive meeting, lives decided amongst involved blood and coin. To the lingering gazes, a figure obscured behind an inviting mystery and allure of riches. To the set of men measuring their next kill and venture it was a worthy lure. Then the outlier, a nail on the board flaunting to be whacked...
Lin surveyed the men before him,
A gruff man, whose nature was one to recoil, the vile and sludge his manner produced was naught to the copious debauchery. Jasper the aforementioned Ironscall' Leader a two faced swashbuckler at the edges of his fading youth. Past his mail and overcoat, few missing digits and beyond the short blonde hair were calculating brown eyes. His lean hands in a constant fidget between himself and a short blade at his hip... Another man to his left built like an ox, a silent menace but of no particular distinction Lin had not seen this man before. A thick black-beard draped down to his chest braided with loops. A long bow rested by his feet, apparently an archer or hunter of some sort. To be later known as Morgan.
Then nay a dwarf but a midget bald, bottled up with crass and rage. The right hand man, John a brawler who wielded an axe large as himself. An eye missing hadn't discouraged his deeds, pious and virtuous an upstanding man whom great service was known to all, well this wasn't that man. John's reputation an irritable man, who'd bite your face off- If he could jump that high.
And Ironscall's final member, Que a shifty fellow covered in bandages and hood far too tattered to be of reliable use. A known thief for hire and low-mage, which misled his age hair shy away from using a cane. In a profession were it paid to be young, Que was an oddity-- But so came his garnered sense. Lastly, across from all of Ironscall, cross-legged sat someone no one knew, a mask covered face-- Leaving much to the imagination, as all but their voice was hidden. And the smell of blood, from themselves or others, it was hard to discern. They carried with them a draped cage, soon revealing a raven underneath.
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For reasons not explicit, Lin had been gestured a seat by whom he believed to be the one herald by fate herself, despite intruding their meet the elf now found a spot at the table. Uncovering the cage, the man spoke laying fourth first a name; Carrion, and such what they would refer to him as. "Draugr." Carrion spoke telling on his urgent business to impart, to a crypt brimming with relics. But just one small snag. Ancestral undead were guarding the grounds forevermore, not powerful but in number too vast for himself alone.
Carrion's raven would scour the ruins ahead of them, the members of Ironscall could keep anything they were able to carry relics or otherwise at their discretion. Tempting as the offer was, a price not paid had yet to reveal itself, for reasons Jasper had the inclination to decline. Which is what he had done, at least halfway stopped only by the distinct clink of metal rolling across the table' "Call it, an advance for your work.' Carrion motioned to the sliding silver and golden necklace,
"There is but a singular thing from the Crypt I need, deal with the Draugr guarding it and the rest will be yours."
An unspoken agreement was formed, Jasper leaned over the table extending an arm "You'll have your quarry' Ironscall, will have theirs. "Just one question Carrion, what role will the elf play in this?' Carrion slowly exchanged a look between members of Ironscall and Lin, the elf bard.
"I- Assumed, the elf was of your accompany..."
"No."
Before either had a chance to move, Lin slammed the table pinning a hand to it. The cutlery now-- Informal stake, self mutilation was not usually adorned with a wide toothy grin, but it was a special occasion. Hidden under the bustle and noise, those at the table were the only one's privy to a bleeding and giggling elf, the members of Ironscall varied in surprise. Carrion made to stand, "I.. seek no disrespect, I'm a bard but also healer in trade...' Lin spoke, removing the knife as they ushered a soft chant, a white light searing flesh closed. "My abilities could prove in..Indispensable in the journey ahead."
Spite the misgiving the callous intrusion Lin was, Carrion had not walked away just yet. Any desiring adventure would due well with help of a healer' doubly so when the destination lingers with undead. Aversion to life, undying thirst for what can never be quelled the malignant have no filter on who they deem foe, the mindless mass a plague to the living. Those that retain consciousness a ever fearsome, calamitous existence. To undead knights preforming arts perfected by lifetime of vigor in a shell of neither flesh nor heart, to wizards wielding the arcane with occult knowledge; though the tale was mostly the mindless and primal mass of skeletons barely moving, a waking rigor-mortis without escape. Still. First aid, use of elixirs could go only so far.
While words left unspoken, imagination and assumptions run wild to Carrion' it would seem Lin to be just an unintended variable. His silence construed to anger rather that of apathy, Jasper frowned the bard had gone too far it was not his place or discussion to intervene...
"So be it, by first light tomorrow gather at the western gate." Before the members of Ironscall had a chance to appease, Carrion had already stated his intent, tipping them and the elf a farewell, no sooner than they exchanged a glance the mysterious man had left.
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