Crystalis- Episode 2

He's (un)dead, Jim.
Bayside's Rat's Nest, Mersscene, Islamore. Monday, Dusk.

Our heroes stand once again in the inn they had decimated mere hours ago. Having spent the day in their own ways, they reunite around that same table as Dechard returns from his excursion. He reminds them that he has no idea what awaits them if they choose to pursue these rumors of a cult, but assures them that it will not be a safe undertaking. For their individual reasons, the party is not at all dissuaded, and agrees to journey with him to the harbor to search for clues.

The journey to the bay is a spectacular one. The rainbow colors of the sunset reflect off the ocean waves and bounce off the white marble buildings of the capital city. The beauty of it is not lost on the travelers, especially those unfamiliar with the sea. The shops are closing, some bars open to receive a few last patrons before the night's curfew, and the city seems lazy and calm. The harbor itself, however, is still bustling. Fishermen haul in their catches, deckhands scrub their vessels, and merchants can still be seen loading and unloading their wares.

Dechard departs for a moment to question the locals, and suggests that our heroes do the same. They elect to split up, to cover more ground: Soh, Raziel, and Fried going one way; Edriar and Isaac the other. The trio, walking some distance up the docks, decides (much to Fried's dismay) to converse with 3 ladies of the night. Brandy, the most forthcoming of the prostitutes, is at first suspicious of the strange men approaching her, but readily answers their questions. She reveals that the missing constable, Edward, was a regular client, though he hadn't made contact with them lately. Also, her and her companions were visited every month by cloaked, gloved men who had extremely eccentric tastes. They only did business with the girls when their time came each month, and only wanted their blood. Their coin was good, and (while revolting) their requests were simple enough and therefore provided. In fact, one of the girls (Cecile, as she liked to be called) had a meeting with one shortly. Sensing that this might be one of the men they were after, our company decides to follow her at a distance. Securing a viable vantage point, they try to look natural as they keep watch for their target. Soh's homoerotic method of doing so very much perturbs Fried, who responds with unprecedented hostility.

Meanwhile, our friendly neighborhood giant robot and paladin scan the coastline, where many of the corpses that have been appearing lately had first been discovered. Sure enough, a cursory scan reveals a murdered dog to Edriar, which he fishes from the rocks with his monstrous glaive. The stench it puts off is nearly unbearable (to all those with noses). Seeing Dechard up the docks a way, they bring their "catch" to him. The three of them confirm each other's suspicions: this dog was sacrificed in a ritualistic manner, and bears the same mark the Rat's Nest's newest employee drew for them that morning. Dechard is disturbed. "Not even the elves do this sort of thing anymore..." It occurs to Isaac that he had once heard that marked corpses could be enthralled, but he thinks little of it (magic of that sort being unheard of in the world today).

Edriar, seeing the other group up the docks, reunites the party to compare notes. As most gather around to discuss the implications of the robed figures searching for blood and desecrated canine cadavers, Soh and Edriar hear a scuffle from the direction of Cecile's position. Sneaking quickly forward, they are just in time to see a cloaked figure slay the wench in cold blood. As she dies, she lets out an awful scream that draws the attention of the entire group. Realizing his position is compromised, and seeing that he was being observed, the cloaked man turns and bolts away. He is very quick for his size, and the group is hard pressed to keep up with him. Isaac, stumbling as he runs, is the last to turn the corner to see this figure standing on the cobbled street, awaiting his pursuers. His marked hand glows green, and a pulse of Necrotic magic emanates from his staff (though only Fried recognizes it as such). Seemingly unaffected, the party rushes forward to attack the murderous fiend.

Fried flings a pair of fiery orbs at him, which he easily deflects with his bare hands. Edriar, taking a more direct approach, brandishes his glaive with a vengeance, impaling the man. It should be noted here that the blade bites into the flesh all too easily, and that no blood issues from the wound. This isn't a normal man, if a man at all. Soh comes to the same realization, as his strikes with rapier and dagger that should normally fell a man with traditional human physiology, strike only cloth. This realization startles the elf, unnerving him. Isaac prays again to his god and bolsters the fighting spirit of his allies, while moving to attack a foe he is certain has no good in him. Unlike the last encounter, Raziel doesn't yet take his bestial form. Instead, a charge of lightning sparks to life in his hand, growing into a fearsome chain whip. He flicks it through the air, striding toward his adversary as Fried volleys another pair of fireballs at the villain, who cannot parry them this time.

A motion in the surf draws the attention of the elf, the boy, and the beast. Three more foes enter the fray: two dogs and a man wearing a constable's uniform. It takes little guesswork to realize that this is Edward, the missing womanizing lawman. Each of these new opponents bears the same mark, and have clearly visible fatal wounds that can be seen in the half-light of the evening. They are dead, but they are moving, and moving toward our heroes with malicious intent. As Raziel brings his outlandish weapon to bear against the bitch attacking him, Isaac steps forward to battle what is left of the former constable, letting blows glance of his armor and shield as his own sword darts in and out of the constable's rotten form. The other dog charges Soh, in spite of a crossbow bolt hitting home in its breast. Soh's blades flash in and out of its ragged flesh, once again having a less than desirable effect upon his attacker, who gnaws and tears at his arm. Learning as he fought, the roguish elf discovered a weak point on the hellish hound chewing his arm, and drives blade after blade into its mangy hide. Pinning what is left of it to the ground, he turns his attention to the necromancer.

Fried and Edriar, paying no mind to the interlopers, continue to struggle against their original adversary. The Necromancer's thin, glowing hand reaches to tamper with Edriar's delicate inner workings, but is grasped tightly by his attacker. With strength befitting a Deadalin, Edriar rips the arm off in a swift motion with surprising ease. Fried, hoping to compound the injury he'd inflicted with his last attack, sends a steady stream of flame at the chest of the dark wizard. Wincing in pain, and held aloft by the monstrous machine, the necromancer creates a small ball of green light in his remaining hand, and sends it flying at Fried. The heinous magic of this attack dazes our warlock. He clenches his eyes shut and holds his head in his hands, babbling in an unknown, terrible language as if arguing with someone. Seeing and hearing Fried behaving so strangely catches Isaac off guard, disturbing him deeply and distracting him from his duel with Edward. This is only worsened by Raziel's transformation taking place right beside him.

The constable exploits Isaac's momentary diversion, tripping him, and tries to finish off the lad. His blow bites Isaac's shield, but the young man stands quickly and drives his sword home into the breast of his enemy, sending him toppling backward. Now a wolf once again, Raziel hurls himself at the undead mutt biting at his heels, flinging it around like a rag doll. A final leaping attack from the dog quickly becomes a yelping flight into stacked timber as Raziel meets its reckless charge with one of his own.

Fried's eyes snap open. Well, I say eyes... now they are portals of flame where eyes ought well to be. From them erupts a steady stream of fire into the face of the necromancer. He strides forward, leaving smoky, boiling footprints in the stone as he does. He murmurs in that same repulsive language and, sliding past the robot, clamps a burning hand onto the villain's face. The cultist screams, making sound for the first time, and the heat emanating from the hand can be felt by all present.

Edriar, enraged by this sad perversion of undeath, wields his weapon with malice, repeatedly driving the glaive into his grappled, burning foe. Even when the wicked man's magic scored his chassis and wiring both inside and out, he continues his assault, showing no intention of abating. Dark, gooey blood now pours freely from the cultist's countless open wounds. Sensing his end might be near, the dark mage summons what magic he has left and conjures horrifying illusions that plague the senses of Raziel, Fried, and Isaac. Fried, seeing this abominations attacking him, immediately immolates himself, burning away his cloak and searing his own flesh in an attempt to rid himself of his invisible attackers. Raziel, likewise bewitched, begins to claw madly at himself trying to slay his unseen attackers. Edward, sensing an opportunity, moves to slay the wolf. Isaac (distracted only momentarily by the visions) moves quickly to save his comrade. He summons all his strength and channels the divine power of his warrior god into an awesome sword stroke directly at the exposed back of the corpse constable, felling him on the spot. After dispatching an unholy abomination such as this, Isaac's next breath feels to him not like the breath of a boy, but like the breath of a holy paladin of Antares.

Fried, still beset by visions too terrifying to detail here, hurls himself at the cultist, who had only just managed to pry his frail form from Edriar's Iron grip. Reaching him, Fried wraps his blazing body around his enemy, engulfing him in the same, dark flame. Into his ear Fried whispers a short, malicious phrase in the vile tongue he'd spoken in before. The night seems to darken around our heroes, the pyre of two burning figures before them the only real light... and then it's over. The necromancer slinks toward the water to ease his pain and douse the fire consuming him, but doesn't make it that far. Raziel attempts to rush for him, but Soh leaps between them, saying "We need him alive." Raziel snorts and shifts back to his human shape.

Edriar walks forward and once again lifts his foe high, ready to interrogate him. All that this husk can manage, however, is a single, gargled word. "Pawn..." it says. The cultist's gaze meets Edriar's. His eyes are filled with fear, but not of the giant metal man lifting him from the ground. No, his gaze almost seems to be a cry for help. But before ought else can be said, the sorcerer's hand glows one final time, and presses itself against his own forehead like it had a will of its own. Green fire shines from his now empty eye sockets as the marked hand burns through his skull and destroys him from within.

Edriar and Raziel, frustrated and enraged at the "pawn", both leave their mark on his frail carcass. Searching through his remains, and those of his minions, Raziel discovers a few coins and an occult medallion. Isaac relieves Edward of his badge of office, hoping to soon return it to those better deserving of it. Soh lifts a key from the tattered cloak of the cultist, then makes a quick trip to investigate Cecile's body, which he finds devoid of life but not of gold. Isaac, watching indignantly as his comrades sift through the pockets of the deceased, asks "Are we done here?"

Fried, who had not moved this entire time, turns now to face the party. His eyes are now neither red (as usual) or burning (as previously). They're bright gold, shining in the night. He laughs mirthlessly, clapping his hands. Instantly all the forms of their fallen foes turn to ash and are whisked into the salty breeze. "We're done here," he says, one golden eye winking at Isaac. "That... was fun. Now, where's the old man?"

Dechard, the old man in question, only just now arrives to meet his friends. He missed the fight in its entirety: only hearing the sounds of combat, a scream, the howling of the wolf, and seeing the lights of Fried's fire over the rooftops. "What happened here?" Soh provides a brief explanation as Dechard dispenses magical potions that will ease their wounds and restore their spirits. The elf's words trouble him greatly. He shakes his head in disbelief at the group's unanimous report that they had faced undead thralls.

"This is far worse than I could have imagined," confesses the old man, his face a picture of determination. "But, if anything, it means that we absolutely must put an end to whatever they are up to down there. That key most certainly will give us access to the hidden entrance to their lair. I'm going to find it and try to put an end to this, and I hope you will all join me. I'm only a simple magician, of course, and there's only so much I can do. But YOU... you all could do it. You could end it tonight, before they finish whatever they're about. What do you say?

The party looks to one another. Fried's eyes have returned to their (un)natural color, as he stoops to collect the necromancer's staff. He, like Dechard, looks uneasy but resolute. Edriar's bloodstained glaive flashes in the silver light of the full moon as he shoulders it. Soh, sheathing all his various weapons, hazards a smile as loads another bolt into his crossbow. Raziel bares his fangs in something between a devilish grin and a snarl. Isaac, feeling every inch a paladin for the first time in his life, crosses his arms proudly.

"Lead on."