6

We made our way into the island’s jungle; it wasn’t long before we could smell the tar pits. Strong and Tough were brachiating through the trees, communicating with intermitten hoots and low howls. Belum was sometimes behind me, sometimes ahead of me. At times I chose a path that was easier going and at other times the Squire made their way faster. Belum found the first pit; I heard the squire cuss, using words about the Two-headed Basilisk’s genitals that I assumed were learned from the sailors on the Broken Oath.

SAMPLE ROOMS

D4, D6

4, 6

BONFIRE IN THE CENTER

That first tar pit was huge, big as a manor house of a well-to-do knight and in the middle, off center, was a hill that had not fallen into its hellish depths. The smell was what priests had told us hell would be. On the hill was a bonfire with about half a dozen people gathered.

The cultists gathered up weapons, spears and cudgels, taking orders from someone by the bonfire who I could not see clearly from where we were.

REACTION

2d6

11, ALMOST FRIENDLY

They made their way to the edge of the hill, where it met the tar pit with what I had thought were shields. Then they linked the shields with bits of rope and slide it atop the tar pit towards us.

“The Child would speak to you; your coming was known to Them,” they said, sliding their ingenious bridge across. “Come quickly before the Winged One sends its Crawling Dead from he Hellfort’s fell moat.”

“Could be a trap,” Belum said in a whisper.

“What choice do you see us having?” I asked.

The squire shrugged.

Before either of us could step across, Strong and Tough came out of the trees and made their way across their ramshackle bridge towards the cultists. The cultists panicked and prepared to defend themselves but I waved my arms.

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“Those are friends - Strong and Tough are friends,” I said, hoping Not Bad was okay out there with a bear trap and a chain and rope on their back.

“Truth and Beasts shall be His friends,” they muttered to one another as Belum and I made our way over the tar on the flimsy pieces of wood. As soon as we were across they pulled the pieces of wood back to their hill.

“Truth and Beasts…what is that?” Belum asked.

“The Child will explain if the Miseries will it,” one cultist said.

Tar stained everything they owned and they were all missing an eye, tooth or finger or a few of each.

The Child was wearing sailcloth that must’ve been salvaged from a ship decimated on the rocks that surrounded the Hellfort’s Island, giving them the look of an ancient philosopher of some kind. Their hair was cut short and unlike their followers, they seemed to have both eyes, all of their teeth and all of their digits. The Child nodded at some nearby tree stumps for us to sit down on. I sat; Belum declined. Tough and Strong sniffed at something on sticks that was cooking over the fire and when that failed to interest them, they sat down and began grooming one another as the Child began to speak.

“You came here for treasure but have found only the birthplace of a Misery,” the Child said. When I said nothing, they continued, “And you brought a ship, a martyr and beasts and the skulk…and most importantly, you brought the Truth. Now that you have seen the reality of this place, what do you want to take from it?”

The other cultists stood nearby, listening as if every word the Child said was vomited from the Two-Headed Basilisk.

“Martyr? Skulk?” Belum asked.

I didn’t have the energy to sort through cryptic nonsense. “I don’t know what I want from this place anymore. Perhaps I just want to leave with our lives and not end up a writhing corpse in that winged creature’s moat.”

“You’ve seen it?” The Child asked.

“Only when we spoke,” I said.

The cultists made gestures meant to ward away evil and began reciting psalms from the Nameless Scripture in a kind of religious ecstasy.

The Child glared at them until they quieted down. “What was said?” The Child asked and in that moment, for the first time, they seemed like a young person, a youth asking an elder when they should take their nap.

“They wanted us to bring you to them. They did not wish you well,” I said.

The cultists grew quiet, a few fell to their knees. One threw their hands to the sky. The Child sighed before saying, “Take me to the Hellfort, then; it is time.”

The cultists screamed in unison, falling over one another, moving past Belum to get to the Child’s feet, all begging for them not to go.

“It is time! You know my destiny. If I should fall, you know what you must do,” the Child said, dispelling their begging, causing them to move away, faces in the dirt, like the Winged One’s crawling dead.

The Child led the way back towards the Hellfort. Belum shook their head at our place in this madness. Strong and Tough seemed to barely notice. I noticed that whatever had been roasting on the fire was gone and a piece of roasted meat was at my feet when I got up to follow the Child.

None were paying attention to me. I ate it; it wasn’t half bad.

I burped and followed the Child and their wailing retinue.