the eastern wall in what looked to be a finger dipped in white paint were several large words. Most of it looked to be incoherent rambling that would make even the most paranoid schizophrenic sound tame, but three phrases in particular stood out.
May the gods have mercy
The locust lord shall devour us all
The young gods cannot save us
For a minute, neither of them said anything. Then, Thunderclese turned to Vlishgnath. “Who are the ‘young gods’?”
Vlishgnath shook his head. “I’ve never heard of any ‘young gods’. The gods are supposed to predate time itself; I would hardly consider that young.”
“Right. That’s what I thought. Any idea who the ‘locust lord’ is?”
Again, Vlishgnath shook his head, but this time did not speak.
“Is it just me, or were we dangerously uninformed coming in to this mission?”
Vlishgnath turned and looked at Thunderclese for a moment, his gaze returning to the wall as he spoke. “You’re assuming the church knows anything about this. Think for a minute: have you ever heard any of the arch clerics mention a locust lord? Even Loremaster Garadain, whom we’re presuming knows everything that’s ever been written down and most of what hasn’t, never brought any of this up in conversation. We’re dealing with something entirely unknown to us, Thunderclese. This is big, and it isn’t good.”
For a long moment, Thunderclese remained quiet as he contemplated what Vlishgnath had said, then finally turned to face him before speaking again. “What do you think the chances are of this house letting us out so we can go ask Garadain if he knows anything about this?”
Vlishgnath shook his head as he moved to exit the room. “Let’s keep moving.”
Making their way down the walkway along the southern half of the second floor, the three paladins came upon a large wooden door facing north. Reinforced with iron bands, the door stood in a sturdy frame with hinges that had been closed off to prevent them from being simply removed.
“I believe we have found the study, gentlemen, and we’d better hope this key works, because I don’t think you’re going to be able to ram your way through this one, Maximus.” Vlishgnath tapped Maximus on the shoulder with the back of his hand as he spoke.
Maximus, however, was moving past the door, the sound of his massive lungs drawing in air through his nose easily heard through his helmet. “You guys smell that?”
Vlishgnath sniffed tentatively at the air, indeed able to pick up a very faint aroma permeating the musty smell that they had grown accustomed to. Making their way east along the southern walkway to discover the source of the smell, they came to a T leading north and south, with a door to their right along the wall. Maximus led the way, stepping up to the door and grasping the doorknob to push it open. He stood and looked inside for a moment before stepping away so that Vlishgnath and Thunderclese could get in.
Upon discovering the source of the smell, Vlishgnath silently closed his eyes, his head dropping down to his chest.
“Oh no...” Thunderclese lamented, peering into the room over Vlishgnath’s shoulder.
An elegant bathroom, complete with ornamental mirrors and a large, elaborate cast iron bathtub now housed a heavily mutilated corpse. Suspended from the ceiling and hanging upside down by an elaborate set of chains and meat hooks, the lifeless body dangled directly above the bathtub. Its clothes were ripped and torn, and as Vlishgnath and Thunderclese stepped in closer they discovered the floor to be covered in dried trails of blood where the victim had apparently been dragged into the room. Hanging with its back to them, the body’s arms hung down, several of its fingers looking to have been chewed off.
Slowly, Vlishgnath reached out, grasping the body by the shoulder and turning it around to face them. Even with his eyes gouged out, his eyelids stitched shut, his face severely lacerated, his black hair pulled from his scalp in patches, and most of his teeth shattered, they immediately recognized what was left of Vincent LeFay. Below him, his blood had pooled in the bathtub, a deep slice to his jugular bleeding the artistic LeFay son to death.
“Bastards!” Thunderclese shouted, his anger beginning to swell up inside of him the longer he stared at the desecrated remains of Vincent. “Their own son! How could they do this?! WHY would they do this?!”
But whereas Thunderclese’s anger burned like fire, Vlishgnath’s temperament became cold as ice, his voice holding a frightening tone with a deadly chill to it. “I’ve had enough of this. I want answers. Now.”
That said, Vlishgnath turned on his heels and marched out the door back to Jonathan LeFay’s study. Retrieving the makeshift key from the belt pouch he’d kept it in, he slid it into the keyhole and didn’t even pause to celebrate the fact that it worked. Thunderclese and Maximus were right behind him. He gave the order just as the lock clicked open, the door swinging loose, “Swords.”
The three of them simultaneously drew their weapons. Retribution rang out loudly as if to announce itself to the evils that took refuge within the LeFay mansion, its divine radiance shedding a brilliant white light on the area. Vlishgnath delivered a standing front kick. The door reeled back from the force of the blow, and the three men prepared to charge into the study. But before they could enter, there was a sudden loud thundering noise accompanied by the smell of ozone as a massive burst of lightening erupted where they stood, each of the three men writhing in agony within their plate mail for a second before falling limp to the ground, as their worlds went black.
Episode 9
As Vlishgnath gradually returned to consciousness, his mind still groggy and his eyes refusing to open, a set of voices grew less and less muffled until they finally became discernible.
“...the ones I mentioned the other day. The one in the middle there, he’s the one that almost spotted me.”
The first voice was answered by a second, older sounding voice. “Wretched knights and their insufferable conviction to their ‘ideals’. Would it be safe to assume the rest are waiting for them back in Drenton?”
The reply came from a third, sounding young like the first, but not as deep in pitch and much more enunciated. “If religious military history has taught me anything, it is that the church of Mithos is laughably predictable. When these three don’t return, they’ll keep sending more, gradually increasing the size of the search parties until eventually an entire column of them is knocking down our door.”
The second voice spoke again. “It doesn’t matter. With the sacrifice of Vincent, the ritual is complete. All we need to do is disassemble the portal to ensure they don’t—”
The first voice interrupted suddenly. “Silence! The middle one is awakening, Father. It would be wise to be gone when they awaken; Alexander’s lightning bolt didn’t finish them off, it seems.”
The third voice spoke once more as the sound of hurried footsteps led them away. “It wasn’t meant to.”
Several minutes passed before Vlishgnath was able to coax his muscles to respond to his mental commands to move. At around the same time, Maximus slowly sat up to his left, growling and cursing loudly. To his right, Thunderclese rolled over onto his side from his back, groaning and beginning to push himself up off the ground. Lying sprawled out on his stomach, Vlishgnath rolled over onto his back just as Maximus came to hover over him and offer him a hand getting up. With a quick, forceful jolt, Vlishgnath was standing in an instant, and looked around briefly to discover Retribution lying on the ground. He immediately bent to retrieve it.
Thunderclese spoke as he slowly rose from the ground, retrieving his own weapon as he did so. “Someone is going to pay for that.”
Vlishgnath sighed. “They were right here, just a few minutes ago. I could hear them, but I couldn’t yet move.”
“Right