Archive for May 29, 2017

The Devil’s Riddle: Session 38

Posted in The Devil's Riddle on May 29, 2017 by Carl

Rufus is first to speak. “No-one sets up such potent protective measures unless they have something to hide, or something of value. I suggest we work out a way to get past.”

“A fair point, and potentially not so difficult to achieve” Idril replies. “These creatures seem to be attracted to metal, to feed on it, is that right?”

Tomas nods. “That’s right. They can sense metal from a great distance, and are drawn to it. Their antennae turn any metal they touch to dust, which they then consume. But how does that help us?”

Idril smiles and says “Fyn, would you pass me that pouch of yours?” The rogue blinks at her in surprise but does as she asks, comprehension dawning on him as he does so. The elderly gnome jiggles the bag and the sound of clinking metal can be heard. “I suggest we feed the guard dogs.”

Lisandra nods, smiling. “I see what you mean. We still need to bypass this area of heated metal, though we could perhaps achieve that by wrapping and carrying, or dragging, our arms and armour.”

Rufus nods. “Makes sense. Sounds workable. Though I suggest we head back to the guard post first; Fyn requires replacement weapons, and there may be a shield I can use.”

Their plan of action agreed the party retrace their steps, Rufus taking point. They soon find themselves back at the guard post, the bodies of the three fallen thugs lying in congealing pools of blood. Already flies have begun to buzz around the stiffening corpses. Spying a fallen handaxe near to the brutalised body of the bandit chief Fyn reaches down; it is only Rufus’ keen eye and swift reflexes that save the rogue from having his throat torn out.  

“Back!” the blademaster cries, and gripping the back of Fyn’s tunic he tugs the young man out of the path of a death blow. Astonished, Fyn gazes down. In a moment of stomach-clenching horror he sees what Rufus has seen, and understands. All three corpses have turned a putrid grey, thick black veins visibly writhing beneath translucent skin. Hands have extended into long, wicked claws. With a popping of sinew and bone arms and legs begin to lengthen. The dead faces of Shivers and the Chief elongate, slender yellow fangs extending from slack jaws. Dead glassy eyes flood with scarlet blood and come into focus, suddenly hungrily aware. Each of the fallen bandits begin to twitch and stir, and then all three, even the headless corpse of Fat Rollo, begin to rise.

“Blessed Light!” mutters Rufus. “What fresh devilry is this?” Then in a ringing voice he calls out; “To arms!”