Archive for August 29, 2017

The Devil’s Riddle: Session 59

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

Fyn, meanwhile, is entirely out of his mind with fear. He runs through pitch black corridors with no thought for his destination or the dangers that may lie ahead. His only goal is to escape those horrors that he knows lie behind. Reaching a door he fumbles in the darkness to open it but finds it locked. He whimpers in terror.

In desperation he slams into the door with his shoulder, but fear has unmanned him and his limbs feel drained of strength. The door doesn’t budge, but the sudden sharp pain in his shoulder is sufficient to snap him back to himself. The magical terror dissipates, leaving the young swashbuckler suddenly clearheaded.

“Seven Hells”, he mutters, gazing back down the pitch-black corridor and suddenly very aware of his solitude and vulnerability in this dangerous place.  “What have I done?”

He waits for a moment, but hearing nothing from behind the door he begins to feel his way back the way he came, fingers brushing against cold stone. He’s gone perhaps twenty feet when he hears approaching footsteps, and his heart leaps to his mouth. He fumbles for his weapons, only to realise that he dropped them back in the chapel room. He has a bow strapped to his back, but it’s worse than useless in these conditions. Unarmed, alone, and blind. Exceptional, Fyn, just exceptional.

The footsteps draw closer, a rhythmic staccato march. The precise, regimented march of a man with a parade ground swagger stick shoved firmly up his butt, Fyn realises. “Rufus?” He calls out into the darkness. “Is that you?”

A faint blue glow appears, and a moment later Rufus rounds the corner, his sword glowing in the dark and faintly illuminating him.

“Fyn. Well, you haven’t managed to get yourself killed, or bring down another horde of Darkspawn on our heads. Which is something I suppose. Come on, we need to get back to Lisandra.”

Despite the blademaster’s gruff words Fyn grins. Rufus may give him a hard time, but even the blithe swashbuckler can hear the relief in the older man’s words. “It’s good to see you too, Rufus. I can honestly say I’ve never been so pleased to see you. You don’t have a dagger about your person I could borrow do you? I seem to have mislaid my weapons again.”

The two make their way back down the winding corridor. As they near the door to the chapel Rufus turns to Fyn, about to speak, only for the younger man to hold up a hand, cutting him off. “Quiet!” he whispers. “I think I hear something…”

They both hear what comes next; a roar of agony from Tomas as battle is rejoined.