The Old Ones (Steelshod 43)
Hey there!
As the name implies, this is part of an ongoing saga. See below for previous installments:
Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7 || Part 8 || Part 9 || Part 10
[Part 11] (https://www.reddit.com/r/DnDGreentext/comments/69fzi4/the_reveal_steelshod_part_11/) || Part 12 || Part 13 || Part 14 || Part 15 || Part 16 || Part 17 || Part 18 || Part 19 || Part 20
Part 21 || Part 22 || Part 23 || Part 24 || Part 25 || Part 26 || [Part 27] (https://www.reddit.com/r/DnDGreentext/comments/6chy6n/remember_sigrun_steelshod_27/) || Part 28 || Part 29 || [Part 30] (https://www.reddit.com/r/DnDGreentext/comments/6d4ap5/killing_the_party_steelshod_30/)
Part 31 || Part 32 || Part 33 || Part 34 || Part 35 || Part 36 || Part 37 || Part 38 || Part 39 || Part 40
Sporadically updated Lore Document.
Comments are open, so feel free to leave one if you have any questions or requests for more content of a particular variety.
—MAPS—
World (Shitty scan of the original world map… if you zoom in it’s semi-legible though!)
We got a long one today. Let’s get into it.
The Lost Party
For reference, this group is: Aleksandr, Yorrin, Alaina, Hubert, Gunnar, Orson, Ben “Longshanks”, Drengi, Miles, Quigley “Quickly,” John “Tiny,” and Brother Luke.
Orson’s left hand is still a mangled ruin
Ben’s leg is now badly broken and shredded by the gargoyle’s claws
He’s unable to walk unassisted, carried by Quickly and Luke
Nearly everyone has some injury or another: cracked bones, sprained joints, bruises, cuts, scrapes.
And now, they have begun to ascend a short staircase, when a voice challenged them inside their own heads.
The stairs take them to some sort of dais or platform
They can make out large figures ahead of them, in the flickering torchlight
Tables, or perhaps altars, stand on the dais
“Who are you?” Aleksandr challenges, stepping forward, raising the torch.
A gust of cold, stale air washes over them
The torch gutters, goes out.
Plunging them into near total darkness
In the distant reaches of the cave, hundreds of feet away, faint blue luminescence radiates from some of the fungus
But it sheds no meaningful light on our party.
Aleksandr drops the useless torch and grips his sword in both hands.
Ushers Alaina to stand behind him.
He feels movement beside him
Hears Yorrin give a murmur of encouragement
His Right Hand at his side, his beloved behind him.
You are the ones that have entered our home, rasps the voice
Killed our guardians
And you ask our names?
“Your ‘guardians’ tried to kill us,” Aleksandr says.
“We protected ourselves.”
Are you protected? Asks the voice.
No, a different voice, but very similar.
From where we stand, you appear quite vulnerable.
Aleksandr tightens his grip on his sword
His eyes strain to see in the darkness
Suddenly, the cavern is bathed in illumination.
This is not a flickering torchlight, or the pale blue glow of the cave fungus
Instead, everything is blanketed in a deep, dark, red glow
The glow is perfectly even, originating from no particular place
Permeating every crevice, every step, every fold of cloth
The dais is indeed littered with altars
Caked with old, brown bloodstains
Scattered with scrolls, books, and clay tablets
None of this is remotely consequential, however.
Because the other things on the dais are far more important
There are three figures
Not people.
Not monsters.
Figures.
They stand perfectly still, looking more like statues than living creatures
Indeed, they may well be statues
As they appear to be made entirely of pale white stone
Or perhaps calcified bone
They differ in details, but have broadly similar features
Bipedal, with two legs and two arms, a head, basic humanoid features
All three are massively tall, the shortest is perhaps ten feet tall, the tallest has to be pushing twenty.
The smallest figure has a tail of some sort, tail bones coiling down behind it, motionless
They are fixed in different positions, but all three are standing in poses that suggests confidence
That sort of easy, lazy confidence of someone that is poised to strike at a moment’s notice, but betrays little of their readiness.
Their limbs are freakishly long for their bodies in all cases
The bones seem thin, stretched
Spurs and spiky protrusions jut out of their joints and extremities at strange angles
Hands end in long, jagged claws
Their skulls each differ, but they are all long, oblong, with pronounced features
Wide mouths and sharp teeth
On some level, they look familiar.
Aleksandr and Yorrin have seen their echoes in the Thaumati bone demons and cultists they faced in Yerevan
But the demons were comparatively small, and the bones were joined with tight ropes of sinew, whereas these seem fused together with calcificied growths.
It takes a moment to notice, but Aleksandr realizes there is a fourth statue
Suspended above them, from the ceiling
The main body is the same as the other three
On the larger side
The head is a bit more stretched, the mouth wider
And in place of arms, they see the skeletal structure of massive wings, stretching out across the cavern roof.
Hundreds of bat creatures hang suspended from the long, petrified bones of the wings
Look upon the Old Ones, mortals, says one of the voices
Look upon your end.
One thing I have to give my guys credit for.
They don’t waste time.
As the voices begin to speak again, Aleksandr and Yorrin snap into action.
Yorrin pulls a dragonfire out of his bandolier and hurls it at the closest statue
Aleksandr surges forward, sword raised.
The fire explodes onto the statue, bathing one arm and part of its torso in liquid fire.
STOP!
A sound echoes across the cavern, an tangible sound
It sounds nothing like the word “stop”
Yet they immediately understand it to mean precisely that
The word echoes across their minds
And they stop.
All of Steelshod feel a sudden, inexorable pressure bearing down on them.
Frozen in place, they crumple to their knees.
The fire on the statue continues burning merrily, charring away the outer layers of the petrified bone.
“Take heart, my friends,” Hubert says quietly from behind them.
He is kneeling, same as everyone, but he can still choke out the words
“We have faced sorcery before, and prevailed,” he continues.
“Do not lose hope.”
Fools! Declares the voice.
It sounds more ragged, and upset.
Though none of the statues move, somehow they have a feeling this voice belongs to the nearest one, that now burns in dragonfire.
You dare to bring fire against us?
“Naturally,” Yorrin manages to say, through gritted teeth
You will not live to enjoy your impertinence, child.
When your ancestors clawed their way out of the sea, we were already ancient gods.
Our names are lost behind the veil of eternity.
We are—
“Boring!” Yorrin interrupts.
“You sure do talk a lot for ancient gods.
“Almost seems like you’ve gotten bored and lonely down here.”
Each gasp of breath takes some effort for him, but he manages to spit the words out.
“Gods? There’s only one god, and he doesn’t need to hide away for thousands of years.
“You’re afraid.”
Yorrin doesn’t just spit words this time.
He spits a chunk of phlegm at the feet of the nearest statue.
While Yorrin talks, Aleksandr moves.
Whether it was Hubert’s words of encouragement
Or his own iron willpower
Or the sword burning in his hands, its inscriptions burning orange with heat
All he knows is that he has not been fully floored by the magic that has stopped his companions.
He stumbles to his feet.
Steps closer to the statue.
Grips his sword, tries to assume a proper stance
And hears a mocking laugh echo in his mind.
Impressive, it says.
For your kind, you have a strong will.
Do you wish to kill us?
Strike me down, with that blade?
Aleksandr steps closer
“I do not wish to kill anyone,” he says.
“It is not a matter of wishing.
“It is a simple truth.
“You are evil, and evil must be opposed.”
You simple little fool.
Aleksandr ignores the taunts, focusing on forcing his legs to obey his will.
Do you think I fear my own power?
He closes the distance and raises his sword
Do you fear your hands? Your voice?
The sword’s heat surges to agonizing levels
It quivers in his hands
Shaking harder than he can hold it steady
You have brought home one of our children.
A screech of metal
A blazing flash of orange
And the Kerensky blade splits in half, peeling apart down the length
Sending fragments of steel spinning in every direction
He sees a wisp of smoke and ash, taking the vague form of the demon that was previously bound in his weapon
In a moment, it disperses.
Leaving Aleksandr standing in front of the statue, holding nothing but a broken hilt
That mocking laugh again.
What did you think? The voice asks
You would smite us down with our own power?
That pressure waves over them again, pushing Aleksandr to his knees.
It builds, forcing everyone down
Causing physical pain, crushing down upon them.
Power you cannot even begin to comprehend, much less control?
“You talk big,” Yorrin growls from behind Aleksandr.
“But you don’t rule the world, we do.
“If you’re really the Thaumati, well… you lot have had your time
“Torath struck you down.
“And now you’re cowering down here, terrified that he will notice you.
“What you fail to realize is he has already noticed you.
“Alaina and Hubert are priests of Torath.
“And now—”
SILENCE
The word washes over them, mostly Yorrin
He opens his mouth again, but chokes on his words
Aleksandr looks up into the empty eye sockets of the statue in front of him.
And he permits himself a thin smile.
He gathers his willpower, opens his mouth, and speaks.
“Like any tyrant, you try to silence the truth when it offends you.”
We tire of these games, one of the voices says.
Alaina speaks up from where she kneels near Yorrin.
“You tire of it because Yorrin is right.”
He is a fool.
We are masters of this place. Gods.
We fear nothing and no one.
“A lie,” Aleksandr says.
Alaina chimes in. “You have great power, but how do you use it?”
“You hide,” she continues. “Probably kill anyone who finds you.”
Aleksandr picks up the thread with her, adds: “You carry out this farce of ‘life’, in perpetual fear that the world above will learn of your sad little existence, and end it.”
“You can’t touch the surface,” Alaina says. “Because the surface is under Torath’s protection.”
She says the words with a twinge of sadness.
Through the magic trying to force his impudent mouth closed, Yorrin manages to speak
“Torath,” he growls through clenched teeth. “Is. With us.”
Alaina blinks. Nods.
Aleksandr feels a warmth in the center of his chest, radiating out.
That unyielding weight and pressure slides off his back.
He feels the same warmth in his hands, coming from the hilt of his sword.
Soothing, not painful the way the burning heat had been.
He looks down, and sees a nimbus of white light blooming in the hilt of the broken blade.
Aleksandr stands up.
The light in the hilt of the sword coalesces
And erupts
A shimmering blade of pure, white light
Nearly twice as long as the normal blade
Weightless.
Stop
The voice sounds agitated
Frantic, even.
A wave of force smashes into Aleksandr
And slides off, having no effect.
He looks to the nearest Thaumati skeleton
Raises his sword.
No! STOP!
Aleksandr strikes.
The blade of light passes through the statue, and it explodes into a cloud of dust and small chips of petrified bone.
A tortured scream echoes across the cavern.
Alaina speaks again, and this time her voice is calm, confident.
“Stand up,” she says. “Everyone, stand up.”
She has reached into her shirt and drawn out her Torathi holy symbol, a simple sphere with a snake coiled around it.
The sphere is radiating white light, driving back the hazy red glow that permeates the room.
Yorrin reaches for his own holy symbol
Grips it tightly, not so much praying as knowing Torath is with them, protecting them.
And his symbol, too, erupts with white light.
The pressure is still there, but where the light touches, it is lessened.
Yorrin and Alaina stand tall while the rest of Steelshod struggles to rise.
Aleksandr turns to another one of the statues.
“Your time has come,” he says.
No! Cries another of the voices.
Please! Mercy!
Aleksandr strides into reach, raises his sword, and swings.
The voice screams again.
But in the instant the sword would impact, the blade of light vanishes
For a moment, it simply winks out, and the statue is left unharmed.
Then an explosion of white light erupts from the sword
Glittering motes of light, like tiny diamonds, blanket the area, and all three remaining statues.
The red haze and the white light pulse against each other, neither fully holding sway
The screaming stops.
The voices are silenced.
And the pressure vanishes as suddenly as it first came upon them.
Aleksandr moves to join Yorrin and Alaina.
Steelshod is scrambling to their feet, and the stragglers are finally coming up the dais.
Alaina suggests that perhaps Torath was unwilling or unable to allow Aleksandr to systematically murder the remaining Thaumati
But clearly, he has somehow neutralized them, however temporarily it may be.
Both her and Yorrin’s holy pendants still glow brightly
In the background, Hubert and Brother Luke both fish out their own symbols
But find them… unaffected. Or perhaps, more likely, the piece that is lacking is something inside them.
They hear a sudden screeching sound
And realize that whatever Torath has done to silence the Thaumati, their bat minions are very much unaffected.
And they are now swirling about overhead, clearly agitated.
Aleksandr tells them they have to move.
Yorrin decides that, if Torath lacked the ability to execute any more Thaumati, that doesn’t necessarily mean he’ll object to fighting them the old fashioned way.
He withdraws his final remaining dragonfire, and hurls it at one of the statues
It burns, though whether it’s causing real harm or not is anyone’s guess
He goes over to one of the altars and splashes some oil from his last flask onto the texts.
Tosses the oil to Hubert and asks him to light up another altar while he ignites this one.
Hubert discreetly scoops up a large, leather-bound manuscript from the table
Slides it into his mostly empty pack
Then does as Yorrin asked, and wistfully burns the rest of the altar
Dangerous it might be, even evil, but knowledge is still knowledge.
Miles, Gunnar, and the other semi-able-bodied have taken up positions to fend off the bats when they attack
Though they keep swooping down, they seem reluctant to attack in force
Especially staying back from the blazing white lights of Alaina and Yorrin, as if the holy glow is a physical barrier.
The cavern is still well illuminated by the competing white and red light
Aleksandr looks around the dais
Sees half a dozen corridors like the one they took in here
Some dead end, some lead to other tunnels that seem to go deeper into the caves
But two of them lead to incredibly steep staircases
That rise up, a hundred or more feet, opening into distant passages.
When in doubt, go up.
He picks one path essentially at random, and gives the command.
They move out as one, making for the stairs as quickly as possible.
Luke passes his Serpentis longsword up to Aleksandr
As he is indisposed anyway, carrying Ben
The Serpentes Knights favor good sized longswords, very similar in length to the Kerensy blade
It fits comfortably in Alekandr’s preferred two-handed grip.
They pass another of the divided corridors.
This one splits into three pathways
And to their chagrin, they see two faint faces on the walls
Melding back into the stone as they approach.
Aleksandr demands that they rush through quickly
The first gargoyle that attacks gets the treat of one of Yorrin’s very last alchemical pots.
Stone-Tar
The thick, fast-hardening glop covers the gargoyle’s feet
It ties to meld through it, but as Yorrin hoped, the Stone-Tar is no true stone
It’s a strange slurry of ingredients
And the Gargoyle falters, stuck in the tar.
Miles hammers the gargoyle with his mace as the rest of Steelshod rushes past.
The other one is more of a nuisance
Getting in a few good hits
But, like the bats, it shies away from Yorrin and Alaina
And to their relief, it does not seem able or willing to pursue them beyond it’s little slice of the hallway.
They quickly reach the steps and begin ascending.
The steps are fairly narrow
Steep, with no rails or protection
They awkwardly ascend no more than two abreast
The bats take this opportunity to strike at the places where Yorrin and Alaina’s light is faintest
And Steelshod hurries to make their ascent.
Down below, the lights still pulse
They have no way of knowing how much time Torath has bought them
They can only hope that they will have put some distance between them and the Thaumati when, or if, the statues are returned to full power.
As they hurry up the stairs, Yorrin and Aleksandr exchange a few words
Chiefly, Yorrin asks a simple question, and receives an affirmation.
They aren’t going to leave the Thaumati down here forever, are they?
When they’ve stopped Taerbjornsen, healed their wounds, and regrouped with the rest of the company.
They will come back, and wipe these bastards out, right?
Aleksandr’s answer is simple
Predictable.
Yorrin hardly had to even ask.
Of course they will.
Okay, damn.
Hope you guys enjoyed that. A lot more prose/scene than usual. I had to take a lot of artistic license, since I don’t remember exactly what was actually said some 3-4 years ago. Hopefully the guys won’t have too many egregious corrections to add in the comments.
I kept it especially light on mechanics and rolls, but there were some good rolls in there, as you can probably guess. This was a mixture of good rolls, the right words being spoken, the right stuff having already happened, and some literal deus-ex-machina. Hopefully it doesn’t come off feeling cheap… I don’t think the guys felt it was at the time.
Just about the only time you can see Torath’s influence directly is when Thaumati are involved. So I knew there was a chance of godly intervention.
But even then, Torath’s big thing is that he helps those that help themselves. So in order for the light and faith shit to come into play, they had to have conviction, and courage, and faith, and the will to succeed. Without that (which was demonstrated via a combo of rolls and actions) he wouldn’t have saved them.
Nothing was predetermined or scripted, I just had an idea of ways they might survive. And an idea of ways they would probably eat it.
Keeping the Thaumati talking was smart. It gets lonely being a statue for tens of thousands of years.
Oh and of course, these Thaumati also double as the Torathworld version of another classic monster! This one is more a D&D staple than a mythology staple… wizard that achieves immortality via turning into an undead skeleton, and all.
Anyway, that’s it for today guys. See you tomorrow!
Edit: Next!
Posted Jun 6, 2017, 7:56 PM UTC · edited