Halsin and Lump descended the creaking stairs. The lingering scent of damp stone and decay clung to their nostrils as they reached the bottom. Before them stood a heavy iron door that was slightly ajar.
“This is a trap,” Halsin muttered, his voice low and cautious. “The hag is expecting us to follow her.”
Lump tilted his head, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Hag?” he asked, his deep voice reverberating in the confined space.
“The captain—Grisly—was no captain at all,” Halsin explained, his tone sharp with certainty. “She was a green hag wearing a disguise.”
Lump scratched his head, his expression thoughtful. “To me, she just seemed like a normal person,” he admitted, then paused, snapping his fingers as realization struck. “Wait—her smell! It was... off. Like saltwater mixed with something rotten. Very subtle, but my nose caught it.”
Halsin nodded in approval, his gaze briefly softening. “Green hags are masters of illusion magic,” he said. “They can fool the eye and even the mind, but magic has its limits. Perhaps she underestimated someone with a keen nose like ours. Or perhaps she left her scent deliberately, to lure in prey more curious than cautious.”
Lump grinned sheepishly. “Good thing I have my wits about me—or at least my nose. Let’s just hope this isn’t like the last one. If my arm gets cut off again, you’ll stitch it back on for me, right?” he joked, his laughter tinged with nervous energy.
Halsin smirked faintly but said nothing as he pushed the door open. It groaned on rusted hinges, revealing another staircase that spiraled downward into the depths of the building. Without hesitation, Halsin descended, his staff in hand, and Lump followed closely behind, his eyes darting around warily.
The basement was dimly lit, with beams of faint light filtering through the cracks in the warped wooden ceiling above. Barrels of ale were stacked haphazardly along the walls, their surfaces coated in thick layers of dust. It would have seemed like an ordinary storage space, if not for the enormous, gnarled tree growing in the corner of the room. Its twisted roots pierced the stone floor, cracking the foundation as though the tree itself had clawed its way into existence. The bark was dark and slick, oozing a viscous green sap that shimmered unnaturally in the dim light. A faint hum emanated from it, a sound that seemed to vibrate within their very bones.
“What is that tree doing here?” Lump asked, his voice tinged with both awe and unease.
“It’s the hag’s doing,” Halsin replied, crouching low to inspect the floor for traps or hidden mechanisms. “Hags share a deep connection with nature, though they twist it to their own dark purposes.”
Lump offered to help, scanning the walls and floor for anything out of place. But despite their combined efforts, they found nothing that suggested a hidden passage or trapdoor. Lump sighed heavily, leaning against the nearest wall, his weight causing the illusion to ripple like water. Before he could react, the illusion gave way, and he stumbled backward.
With a startled grunt, Lump landed awkwardly on a wooden platform just at the floor’s level. “Well, that’s new,” he muttered, looking up at Halsin, who rushed to the edge.
Halsin peered down at him, his brow furrowed. The platform was part of a small hidden chamber, barely large enough to hold the two of them. A single wooden door loomed on the opposite wall, warped and darkened by time.
“I guess this adventure isn’t over,” Lump said with a sheepish chuckle, scratching the back of his head.
Halsin ignored the comment and approached the door. The closer he got, the stronger the sense of foreboding grew. A sickly, rotting miasma seeped from beneath the door, carrying with it the humid stench of a swamp. It clung to his skin, making the air feel thick and oppressive. He reached out to test the door’s handle, only to find it locked. But as they stood there, a faint sound reached their ears—muffled footsteps and a man’s voice.
“I can’t wait to see Auntie again. I love her so much,” the voice said, fading into the distance as the footsteps grew fainter.
Halsin stiffened, his hand tightening around his staff. “This is bad,” he murmured.
Lump turned to him, his expression both questioning and fearful. “Why? What’s an Auntie?” he asked, his voice low.
Halsin’s face was grim as he answered. “Auntie is a title given to very powerful hags. The one we fought before was an Auntie, and if there’s another here...”
Lump swore under his breath, his hands tightening into fists. “Bollocks,” he muttered. The tension between them was palpable as they stared at the ominous door, both knowing that whatever lay beyond was far worse than they had imagined.
"Are we breaking the door or not?" Lump asked, his tone eager, his fingers flexing in anticipation.
Halsin sighed, a mix of resignation and determination. “It seems we have no other choice,” he said, stepping back to give Lump room.
Lump’s lips spread into a wide grin, baring his jagged teeth. “Finally, something I’m good at!” With a forceful kick, his boot connected with the door, the wood splintering and collapsing inward with a deafening crash.
A putrid wave of swampy air hit them immediately, heavy with the stench of decay and stagnant water. Lump wrinkled his nose. “This smells... smells like me in the summer,” he muttered, half amused, half disgusted, as his eyes adjusted to the dim light.
Beyond the ruined door stretched a bizarre subterranean swamp. Thick, slimy fungus crawled up the walls, their caps glowing faintly in sickly greens and yellows. Pools of murky water dotted the uneven floor, their surfaces rippling as unseen things moved beneath them. Torches flickered weakly, their flames struggling against the oppressive dampness. Shafts of sunlight streamed down through an opening in the cave’s ceiling, their golden rays doing little to brighten the gloom but revealing unsettling details: jagged roots curling through the stone walls and the skeletal remains of a massive creature.
The skeleton dominated the center of the room. Its skull was elongated, its sharp, serrated teeth bared in a permanent grimace. The ribcage stretched wide, cracked in places but still imposing. Lump couldn’t help but stare at it, a shiver running down his spine.
“Whatever that was,” Lump muttered, nodding toward the skeleton, “it didn’t die easy.”
Halsin’s eyes were sharp as he scanned the cavern, his grip tightening on his staff. “Stay alert.”
They didn’t have to wait long. Out of the shadows emerged a group of figures, rushing toward them with unnatural speed. Their faces were hidden behind crude wooden masks carved to resemble monstrous grins and snarls. .
Lump immediately raised his fists, ready to charge. “Now we’re talking!”
“Wait!” Halsin barked, his voice cutting through the tension. He raised his staff and pointed it toward one of the masked figures.
Lump followed the direction of Halsin’s staff, his eyes widening. Among the attackers stood a woman who looked identical to Captain Grisly.
“It’s her,” Lump growled.
“No,” Halsin corrected sharply. “It’s an illusion. These people—they’re not hags. They’re victims, enthralled by her magic. Do not kill them!”
Lump groaned, his shoulders sagging slightly. “I’ll try. But if one of them stabs me, I’m swinging back!”
The masked figures charged, their movements erratic and wild. One lunged at Halsin, wielding a dagger. Halsin sidestepped gracefully, using his staff to disarm the attacker without causing harm. Another rushed Lump, a shrill cry escaping their lips as they swung a rusted blade.
Lump caught the attacker’s wrist mid-swing, his strength overpowering them easily. “Sorry, mate,” he muttered, lifting the masked figure and tossing them gently but firmly into a nearby pool of water. “That’s as nice as I get.”
The room descended into chaos, the flickering torchlight casting long shadows on the damp walls. Halsin moved with precision, blocking strikes and disarming opponents with swift, practiced movements. Lump, on the other hand, fought like a boulder in motion, knocking attackers aside with heavy but controlled blows, careful not to use lethal force.
In the midst of the fight Captain Grisly stood motionless, watching with an unnerving stillness. Her mask was different, more intricate, with twisting green vines carved into the wood.
“She’s the anchor,” Halsin called out to Lump, his voice strained as he deflected another attack. “Her magic is controlling them. If we can break her hold—”
“On it!” Lump roared, charging toward the figure.
But as Lump closed the distance, the woman raised her hand, and a surge of green energy erupted from her palm. The blast hit Lump square in the chest, sending him flying backward into the skeletal remains. He crashed into the ribs with a sickening thud, the bones groaning under the impact but miraculously holding firm.
“Lump!” Halsin shouted, his voice filled with concern.
“I’m fine!” Lump grunted, dragging himself to his feet. He wiped a trickle of blood from his lip and glared at the woman. “But she’s not getting away with that.”
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Halsin took a deep breath, his focus narrowing. “We need to incapacitate her. Quickly, before she does more damage.”
The stakes had risen, and the room itself seemed to pulse with malevolent energy, as if the swamp were alive and watching their every move.
Lump charged like an unstoppable force, his feet pounding against the damp dirt, but as he reached Captain Grisly, his fist passed through her like mist. He skidded to a stop, his momentum nearly carrying him into one of the jagged roots writhing on the ground. Turning swiftly, he caught sight of her outstretched hand too late—a sickly green bolt of mist struck him square in the chest.
Lump staggered backward, gasping as pain coursed through his body. His veins pulsed with an unnatural green hue, the corruption spreading through him like wildfire. He clenched his fists, gritting his teeth against the searing agony.
Halsin’s voice cut through the chaos like a lifeline. “Lump! Hold on!” With a sharp gesture, Halsin’s staff flared with vibrant energy, and roots shot up from the ground, ensnaring Captain Grisly. The hag struggled violently, but Halsin’s magic held firm, an aura of light encasing her like a spectral cage.
“Now! While she’s bound—go!” Halsin shouted, his voice strained as he dodged a masked attacker’s swinging club while maintaining his focus on the spell.
Lump wiped the blood trickling from the corner of his mouth and smirked despite the pain. “Don’t have to tell me twice.” He charged at the hag, his massive hand reaching for her wooden mask.
But just as his fingers brushed against the cursed wood, it reacted violently—spiked thorns erupted from its surface, piercing his hand. Lump snarled in pain, jerking his hand back as blood dripped from fresh wounds.
“Damn it!” he growled, flexing his hand and glaring at the woman . “Fine. If you won’t give me the mask...”
Halsin’s grip on the spell faltered slightly, sweat pouring down his face as he fought to maintain control. “Lump, hurry!”
Lump cracked his knuckles and squared his shoulders. “Guess there’s only one way to deal with this.” With a roar, he swinged his fist.
The impact was strong , but not strong enough to kill the woman , hopefully. His fist collided with Captain Grisly’s mask, the sound of the blow echoing through the cavern. Her head snapped to the side and her body became limp. But somehow her mask was still intact.
Lump stood over her, breathing heavily, his veins still glowing faintly with the spell’s corruption. He turned to Halsin, who had just deflected another masked attacker with his staff.
“She’s down,” Lump called, his voice rough. “But the others are still coming!”
Halsin glanced at the unconscious woman, his brow furrowing. “She wasn’t the anchor,” he muttered under his breath, realization dawning. The controlled people showed no sign of stopping.
Lump parried another blow, grabbing the attacker’s wrist and twisting gently but firmly, forcing them to drop their makeshift weapon.
Halsin struck the ground with his staff, releasing a wave of green energy that caused vines to erupt from the damp floor. The vines coiled around the feet of several masked individuals, holding them in place. “Focus on disarming them,” he instructed. “We must avoid harming them at all costs.”
One masked man—a burly dockworker by the look of him—lunged at Halsin with surprising speed, swinging a heavy piece of metal. Halsin sidestepped the attack and struck the mask with the tip of his staff. The wooden mask splintered, falling away in pieces. The man collapsed to his knees, gasping for air as if he’d been held underwater.
“What... where am I?” the man mumbled, his eyes wide with confusion.
“Destroy the masks, and they’ll be free!” Halsin called to Lump.
Lump’s face lit up with a wicked grin. “Now that’s more my style!” He grabbed the mask of the nearest attacker, his massive hands crushing the enchanted wood like dry bark. The woman beneath gasped as the fragments fell away, her expression shifting from blank hostility to terrified confusion.
“It’s working!” Lump said, glancing at Halsin.
But their relief was short-lived. A voice ringed out with mockery from everywhere. “You’re wasting your time! For every mask you break, I’ll make ten more! You can’t save them all, druid!”
Halsin’s gaze hardened. “Perhaps not, but I can stop you.”
The hag’s laughter echoed through the swampy cavern. “Come then, hero,” she taunted. “Let’s see how much of a savior you really are.”
As the hag voice stopped, more masked figures emerged from the shadows, their movements stiff yet purposeful. Lump turned to Halsin, his tone growing serious. “She’s right. We’ll be overwhelmed at this rate. What’s the plan?”
Halsin’s sharp eyes locked onto the grotesque totem in the corner, its macabre design casting a sinister aura over the swampy cavern. Made of bones that gleamed with an eerie luminescence, it resembled a twisted cross, its crooked arms adorned with shards of broken masks and fetishes of rotting cloth. At its base lay dark offerings: bottles filled with unidentifiable, viscous liquids, a bowl brimming with thick, congealed blood, and a mask strikingly similar to the ones worn by their attackers. The totem seemed to pulse faintly, as if alive, exuding an oppressive energy that pressed against their chests like a vice.
“There,” Halsin said, his voice low but resolute, pointing at the vile construct. “That totem. Destroy it, and the masks’ magic may shatter.”
Lump turned his gaze to the totem, his expression hardening as he took in its twisted form. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, an almost eager glint flashing in his eyes. “Destroy it? Now that sounds like something I was born to do.” He cracked his knuckles, the sound reverberating like a challenge to the dark forces at play.
. “Careful,” Halsin warned, his tone carrying the weight of years spent combating such magic. “It won’t be unguarded. And even if it’s not, we have no way of knowing what curses or dark spells it might unleash.”
The swamp seemed to respond to Halsin’s words. The flickering torchlight dimmed, shadows stretching unnaturally long across the cavern walls. The air grew heavier, carrying the pungent stench of decay and damp earth. Even the masked attackers, who had been relentlessly advancing moments before, hesitated, their movements growing sluggish as if some unseen force compelled them to guard the totem with their lives.
The two warriors exchanged a glance, the gravity of the moment settling between them. Lump’s confident smirk softened into a determined scowl. “Guess we’ll find out the hard way,” he muttered, adjusting his stance.
The swamp felt as though it were holding its breath, an unnatural stillness settling over the cavern. Then, as if in response to their resolve, the totem began to hum, a low, guttural sound that resonated in their bones. The offerings at its base shimmered faintly, and the blood in the bowl began to bubble, releasing tendrils of crimson mist that coiled upward like grasping fingers.
Halsin tightened his grip on his staff, his jaw set. “It’s reacting to us. Whatever we do, we must be swift.”
Lump grunted in agreement, his massive frame stepping forward like a battering ram. “Swift, I can do. Subtle… not so much.” He surged toward the totem, his boots splashing through stagnant pools of green water, each step reverberating like a drumbeat.
The cavern responded violently. Shadows peeled away from the walls, coalescing into nightmarish shapes that lunged at Lump with claw-like appendages. He swung his fist, the sheer force of his punch dissipating one of the shadowy figures, but another raked its claws across his back, leaving shallow, searing marks.
“Lump!” Halsin shouted, lifting his staff high. With a guttural incantation, he unleashed a burst of emerald energy that erupted into twisting vines. The vines lashed out at the shadows, binding some and dispelling others in bursts of green light.
“I’m fine!” Lump roared, shaking off the pain as he reached the totem. He grabbed one of the grotesque bones forming its base and yanked, but the totem resisted, as if anchored by some unholy force.
The totem fought back. The crimson mist thickened, forming grotesque faces that screamed and howled. One of the faces lunged at Lump, its spectral teeth gnashing at his arm. Lump roared in defiance, shaking it off, his muscles straining as he wrenched another bone loose.
Behind him, Halsin was locked in a fierce fight. The remaining masked attackers surged toward him, their movements frantic and uncoordinated as if driven by desperation. Halsin spun his staff, striking with precision to shatter their masks without harming them. Each broken mask released a gasp of confusion and relief from its wearer, but Halsin had no time to comfort them.
“Lump, it’s weakening!” Halsin shouted, his voice laced with urgency.
“I can feel it!” Lump bellowed. With one final roar, he swung his fist into the totem’s center, his knuckles colliding with the bone cross. The impact reverberated through the cavern, a deafening crack splitting the air.
The totem shattered, its pieces flying outward in a burst of crimson energy. The blood bowl toppled, its contents evaporating into the air with a hiss. The oppressive energy lifted, replaced by an almost deafening silence.
The remaining masked attackers froze, their masks crumbling to dust. They collapsed to the ground, groaning as if waking from a terrible dream.
Halsin approached the remains of the totem, his eyes scanning the area for lingering threats. “You did it,” he said, his voice steady but tinged with relief.
Lump straightened, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. “Told you I could handle it,” he said, offering a grin despite the fresh wounds on his arms and back.
But their victory was short-lived. A chilling laugh echoed through the cavern, sending a shiver down their spines.
Halsin and Lump exchanged a grim look.
After they carefully guided the trembling survivors out of the cave, Halsin and Lump paused to catch their breath. The faint cries of the freed captives echoed behind them, their gratitude overshadowed by their exhaustion and trauma. Yet, there was little time to rest. When they turned back to the cave, they noticed the double doors at the far end of the passage creaking open, as if beckoning them inward.
Halsin exchanged a wary glance with Lump. Without a word, they both stepped forward.
The air inside the chamber felt thick, almost suffocating, as Halsin and Lump stepped cautiously into the room. The dim glow from bioluminescent mushrooms scattered across the walls mingled with the flickering light of torches, casting eerie, shifting shadows that danced along the roots twisting through the stone floor. The place, once perhaps a simple hideout for the underbelly of the Blushing Mermaid’s clientele, now reeked of decay. The barrels of ale were cracked and rotting, their contents long spoiled, while cobwebs clung stubbornly to dusty shelves lined with ominous glass bottles.
And in the center of it all stood the hag.
She was a grotesque sight, her appearance unnerving. Her skin was a sickly, mottled green, resembling a swamp’s murky waters, with deep wrinkles carved across her face. Strands of long, greasy hair hung in tangled braids, woven with bones, feathers, and the remnants of some poor soul's belongings. Her nose was hooked and grotesquely elongated, overshadowing her thin, cracked lips that curled into a wicked grin, revealing yellowed, jagged teeth. Her eyes glowed faintly, a sickly green hue that pierced through the dimness of the room, promising malice and torment. Massive clawed hands, tipped with nails like shards of obsidian, moved over her bloated belly, which seemed unnaturally large, stretched taut like a drum.
The hag’s voice was a rasping, gloating mockery, thick with malice. “Oh, the noble heroes finally grace me with their presence. How delightful!” She chuckled darkly, her claws caressing her grotesque stomach in an almost maternal manner. “Doesn’t it suit me so well?” she continued, her tone dripping with venomous glee. “Vanra sits here.” She tapped her swollen belly, the movement making it ripple unnaturally. “Growing fat with power. In time, I’ll vomit her up and have myself a fresh, young hag to train.”
Halsin’s jaw tightened, his hand gripping his staff with restrained fury. The thought of the innocent girl, Vanra, trapped within the hag’s twisted magic was enough to ignite a fire of righteous determination within him.
“You kill me,” the hag sneered, taking a deliberate step forward, her twisted frame swaying grotesquely. “And the girl dies along with me. But don’t think that’s the end, druid.” Her grin widened, the red glow in her eyes intensifying. “I’ll simply return—stronger, darker, and more terrible than before.”
Lump’s fists clenched at his sides. “You won’t live to see that day,” he growled, his deep voice echoing in the chamber like distant thunder.
The hag cackled, throwing her head back in delight. “Oh, brave words! Let’s see if they’ll save you from what’s to come.” With that, her form flickered like a mirage.
The tension in the room was palpable, the oppressive air filled with the weight of an ancient, malevolent power. The fight for Vanra—was about to begin.