#she probably had to watch him drag her husband's corpse around their city walls for 3 days as well

[pinketine]

Reading the Illiad and someone explain to me what the hell Achilles has against Andromache. He kills her father, kills seven brothers, ransoms off her mother (only for her to die as well) AND kills her husband. At some point is really has to be personal because there ain't no way. But gods forbid someone kill Patroclus nobody has ever felt such heartbreak ever. Ever. If that isn't bad enough his son then brutally kills her child like was it genetic. Nobody was out here having an awful time like women in the Illiad but god damn Andromache did not get a single break and we should acknowledge that more.

[siribear]

the bolted lock slides free, and the security door swings open. there’s no further message, no additional comment. kellogg leaves them in a tense silence. he’s here. he knows they’re here. worse yet, he’s been watching them.

for all she knows, it’s a trap. she could walk through that door and be blown apart. or she could walk through that door and kill her husband’s murderer.

‘only one way to go,’ deacon says, softly. ‘i’ll take point from here.’

whisper can’t speak. can’t trust her voice. so she focuses on breathing, tightens her grip on deliverer, and falls into line behind deacon. in the next room, she swipes another two pulse grenades sitting on a desk, and waits for deacon to disarm a tension trigger on another security door. maccready reaches up and fully disarms the electrical trap in the ceiling, just in case.

in the next room, they search through lockers tucked away in an alcove. whisper fidgets, watching maccready search through pockets of army fatigues. a handful of fusion cells is all he can find, but it allows her to reload her laser rifle. she knows they need to be more careful now. knows they have to take their time. but every step brings her closer to revenge, to shaun. she can’t stop.

peering around a corner, they spot a lone turret standing guard in front a large set of metal doors. two shots leave it a smoking heap of scrap metal.

‘i almost didn’t recognize you.’ she skips a step at the sudden sound of his voice, and it’s maccready that keeps her steady. kellogg’s huff of laughter is grating. ‘honestly didn’t think you’d make it this far. thought the commonwealth would eat you alive long before you made it to my door.’

whisper puts one foot in front of the other. the line of computers marking the room as the command center pass by in a blur. the concrete fort transforms after another security door, blown off its hinges. threadbare carpet muffles their steps down another hallway with torn, red wallpaper hanging like cobwebs from the ceiling. another pair of synths attempts to stop them, failing miserably. to their left, a long wall of windows reinforced with wire lattice separates them from another room, larger room. the lights are off, obscuring their view, though she can make out the silhouettes of more computers.

‘good ole american military,’ deacon mocks in a commercial-ready voice. ‘destroying the world since 2077.’ it bristles, but she ignores it, stepping around a pillar of broken pipes and concrete in the center of the hall.

the way forward, illuminated by a glowing red exit sign, is blocked by another locked security door. kellogg doesn’t open this one for them, so they turn back down another hall. it leads them down to a barracks with skeletons still resting in their beds.

‘you’re pissed off. i get it. i do,’ kellogg says to her. he hasn’t spoken a word to her companions. ‘but whatever you hope to accomplish here? it’s not gonna happen. you can still turn around, live your life out however you please. i won’t even bother you.’

whisper shoots out an overhead laser turret, pretending its kellogg’s head.

another hallway breaks off into the mess hall, and a skeleton hanging half out of a window startles her. she hisses, reeling backward into maccready, and for the moment the tension drains from her. instead of going down another short staircase, she ducks into another maintenance tunnel, searching for any way to shut kellogg up. a bundle of wires to cut the microphone. something. instead, she finds a toolbox and a password for the armory - which works just as well.

again, kellogg laughs, and it’s ominous in their next red-lit hall. they follow humming pipes and buzzing wires down the tunnel. ‘you’re in way over your head,’ he warns, and she wonders if he’s only counting himself.

they find the armory. whisper keys in the password on the nearby terminal and the metal door swings open, revealing a bounty of supplies, years untouched. she and maccready pocket rad-x, radaway, and stimpaks while deacon unlocks a second door. there’s a load of .10mm ammo, another bundle of rifle ammo that deacon and maccready split, and -

‘that’s a f-freaking fat man, isn’t it?’

whisper flips on her pipboy light and - ‘yeah. that is.’

‘we’ll have someone come back for it,’ deacon tells her, hand on her shoulder. ‘after we get out of here.’

she nods and flips off the light, shrouding them again in near darkness. backtracking, they find themselves in a waiting area just outside an office. a dusty american flag stands vigil next to the open door. inside, they blink against the harsh light and the strangeness that is the contrast between the rotted wooden walls and the pristine desks and bed. everything that he would have had in diamond city, moved here.

with her hand on the next door, kellogg speaks to her. he sighs, and she feels it in her soul. ‘you’ve come this far. let’s talk, just you and me. your friends stay behind.’

she turns to see deacon with a frown set heavy on his face. maccready’s vehemently shaking his head. ‘no way.’

‘my synths are standing down. it’s now or never.’

‘i have to. i’m not turning back,’ she says. ‘just stay close.’

-

lights overhead flicker on, one by one, until the entire room is bathed in light. kellogg steps out of the shadows, flanked by two synths. he holds his hands up, though in one he holds a magnum, finger parallel to the trigger. perfectly civil, for a mercenary.

whisper steps forward, deliverer drawn, and it hardly breaks his casual smile. like he’s catching up with an old friend.

‘and there she is. the most resilient woman in the commonwealth.’ they’re almost face-to-face. he drops his hands, she lowers hers. ‘let’s hear it.’

she can hear the synth stepping in close behind her. ‘kellogg,’ she begins, with an evenness that surprises her. ‘where is my baby?’

he shakes his head, his smile turning up into a grimace. ‘i’m only a puppet, just like you.’ she frowns, but he continues. ‘shaun’s a good kid. though, he’s not a... baby, anymore. and he’s not here. he’s with the people pulling our strings.’

‘take me to him,’ she says, with barely contained rage. ‘right now.’

kellogg throws his head back in a laugh. ‘like i could, even if i wanted to. nobody can reach your son now. he’s safe at home. in the institute.’

she raises deliverer again, tired of it all. kellogg doesn’t even flinch. ‘so tell me how to get there and i’ll find him myself.’

he rolls his eyes with a sigh. ‘you don’t get it, do you? you don’t find the institute. the institute finds you. just like they found your family the first time.’

‘enough.’

‘i agree. we both know how this has to end.’ he rolls his shoulder. it’s him or her. only one of them is walking out of this alive. ‘are you ready?’

she smiles, sickeningly sweet. ‘in a hundred years, when i finally die, i only hope i go to hell so i can kill you all over again, you piece of shit.’

‘now!’

in half a second, the room erupts in chaos. in front of her, kellogg pulls out a stealth boy and presses a switch, his body flickering out of sight. whisper rushes forward, ducking under laser fire, and slams into kellogg before he can get away. behind her, a pulse grenade explodes where she once stood, and metal flies overhead as it takes out one of the synths and damages another.

an invisible kellogg throws her across the room, and she hits one of the computers, glass shattering against her back. she scrambles for cover with a wheeze and scans the room. deacon punches a synth in the face, knocking it off balance long enough to take it out with a quick shot. maccready catches her eye before quickly ducking under his own cover as a shot goes sailing over his head.

‘by the stairs!’

peeking around her cover, she eyes the stairs. she hears the shot before she sees it, just before it lodges itself in the wood next to her head. but - there. a shimmer in the light, the banister distorted. whisper fires twice, one hitting the wood and the other - the other hits home, red flowing from a fresh wound.

she edges closer, trusting deacon and maccready to cover her long enough for her to reach him. one of them hits him again, though it bounces off his metal arm piece, but it breaks the stealth boy long enough for her to tackle kellogg to the ground. she digs her knee into the wound she made in his thigh, grabs the hand still holding his magnum and fires directly into his wrist. it blows apart, red and ugly, the magnum falling next to them. she picks it up, batting away his other hand, and bashes it into his head. his hand wavers, slowly creeping toward her throat, but she hits him again.

and again.

and again.

his skull cracks under the butt of the gun, but it isn’t enough. she tosses it aside and punches him. she meets more resistance than bone, the flesh of her knuckles shredding against a piece of metal braced against the side of his skull.

‘you fucker.’ she punches him again, his face gone blurry and unrecognizable. ‘give me my son. give. him. back.’ each word is another punch, more blood and bone, another heaving breath. but she doesn’t wake up. the nightmare doesn’t end.

a pair of arms snake under hers, heaving her upward and off of kellogg’s corpse. she kicks it before she’s dragged too far away. ‘he’s dead, boss. he’s dead - you got him,’ maccready says, trying at soothing. ‘jesus. you really got him.’

whisper doesn’t move even though he lets her go, just stays on her knees, leaned over, and it’s then she realizes she’s crying. wordlessly, she watches deacon lean over kellogg’s body, digging through his jacket and his pockets.

‘hey,’ he says, gently. ‘it’s another password. probably for that computer over there. maybe it’s got some information we can use.’ he kneels in front of her, dropping the holotape with the password in her shaking, bloody hands.

deacon looks over her shoulder to maccready, but she doesn’t register anything else. maccready helps her to her feet, leading her to the one terminal still in one piece. she loads the holotape herself when he can’t seem to figure it out, keying in the options to access the computer. first, she opens the security doors, not looking up at the sound of them swinging open. she blinks, keying in to the access logs.

the boy, shaun, successfully delivered back to the institute. payment received.

she backs away from the terminal, smearing the rest of the keys red. seeing it in print makes it worse. makes it real. her son is gone, lost to the institute, and the one person that could have told her anything lies dead across the room, his blood on her hands.

god, the blood. she brings her hands up to inspect them. coated red. gore under her nails. what would nate think of her now?

‘oh my god,’ she says, dully.

‘let’s, uh, let’s get you out of here.’ maccready takes her by the shoulders, leading her carefully out of the room. deacon joins them from the foot of the stairs, one hand hovering just near her arm. afraid to touch her. like she’s made of glass.

an elevator takes them up to the roof where deacon disarms the row of turrets from a terminal. the sun shines high in the sky, oblivious to what’s happening below. a large cloud - or what she thinks is a cloud - passes in front of the sun, casting the roof in shadow.

people of the commonwealth -

whisper looks up to see the largest air ship she’s ever seen. it spans longer than the fort itself, the metal clad ship held aloft by a number of thrusters lined along the bottom. a pair of vertibirds fly alongside it before taking off in separate directions. the air ship turns to follow one.

do not interfere. our intentions are peaceful. we are the brotherhood of steel. the loudspeaker clicks off with a static-y echo.

the three of them watch it pass over the fort, beyond the line of trees, heading across the commonwealth.

‘would you look at that?’ deacon says in awe. and then, more grave, ‘damn.’

maccready picks his jaw off the ground. ‘what’s the goddamn brotherhood of steel doing here?’ 

if the brotherhood of steel is in the commonwealth in full force - whisper sighs. it doesn’t bode well for anyone.

[paladin-of-deneir]

The Pain of Revenge

Blood in the Snow  

The storm raged outside, and part of me wondered if our little wooden house would survive. The wind whistled through the eaves, and the wooden walls creaked. The snow fell heavy and fast, and the wind threatened to crumple the house. The fire in the fireplace had long burned away to ashes, and the only firewood we had was outside, claimed by the raging storm. So heavy the snow fell that I couldn’t see my friend, Thira’s, house, even though it was right next to ours. Ice and frost covered the windows, and the front door was frozen shut. Not that we wanted to go outside, anyway.

My husband, William; my daughter, Lucy; and I were all huddled under several thick blankets on the sofa in the sitting room, sleeping in thick clothing and cloaks. As the night dragged on, a dream formed in my mind.

In the dream, everything was as it was in reality; the storm raged, the wind blew, and my family was huddled on the sofa. It was as if I was watching the scene from outside of my own mind. I looked around, and saw two figures clothed in dark robes appear in the entryway, silvery mist swirling around their feet. From what I could tell, one of them was a man, and the other a woman. They moved silently to the sofa, both of them drawing daggers. I heard the woman say something as they approached. “Leave the woman. I want her to suffer. For everything.” It was just a whisper, but as I was, I could hear it, clear as day.

“I-if you insist,” the man replied half-heartedly. I tried to call out to William, to Lucy, to either of them, but my voice didn’t exist in the dream. I watched in horror, unable to tear my eyes away, as the two figures began to stab William and Lucy repeatedly, their blood staining the wall, the sofa, the blankets… everything. They cried out as best they could, their mouths covered by the attackers. Lucy tried to reach out to me, tried to shake me awake, but, for some ungodly reason, my form didn’t stir. William tried to wrest the dagger from the woman’s hand, tried to fight back, but found himself overpowered, likely due to being caught off-guard. He called my name, but still my form stirred not.

The man stopped as soon as Lucy stopped breathing, at which point he dropped the dagger on the floor. But the woman just kept driving his blade into the corpse of my husband. William’s eyes were glazed over and empty, but she just kept going. Eventually, the man grabbed her by the arm and dragged her back to the entryway, both of them disappearing with a puff of silvery mist. I heard their footsteps as they fled, the snow crunching under their feet.

I looked on at the carnage, stunned. My form sat between two mutilated bodies. Bodies that belonged to members of my family. As my mind raced, the only thing I could wonder was why I hadn’t woken up from my nightmare yet. Then, as I watched, a raven materialized from nothingness, and perched itself on my sleeping form’s shoulder. I knew immediately what the raven was, and why it was there. “I told you last time, Raven Queen, I am not making any sort of deal with you. Especially not after you’ve shown me this nightmare!”

A sigh rang through the air. “So clever, yet you still haven’t put it all together?” I looked around, trying to find the source of the voice. Last time, the voice had come from the raven, but not this time. It was then that I noticed the pale woman sitting in the armchair. She had long, unkempt black hair and a simple enough black dress. She wore a sad smile, and her hands were clasped firmly in her lap. “Unfortunately, that was no dream. Your family is dead. I’m sorry.”

I reeled, the information hitting me like the snow outside hit the house. Then I growled at the woman. “My family died and you decided to show me in a dream? Why couldn’t you have woken me up to stop them?”

“It is my unfortunate job to make sure that creatures fated to pass from the world do so without complications. Your family was fated to die this night.” Her smile turned sinister. “But, I also know that their killers are fated to die soon. By your hand, no less. Them and everyone else involved. I know you heard that woman’s voice, and I know you recognize it. And I can offer you my aid in your revenge. I only ask for a few favors in return.”

“What kind of favors?”

“Well, you see, the undead are an affront to me and the concept of death itself. They defy fate. The intelligent ones, especially. I just want you to find hunt them down and kill them again. Shouldn’t be too hard; they’re everywhere.”

I sighed and thought for a while. “Fine. You have yourself a deal.” I said finally, putting out my hand towards the sitting woman. She stood, and I found her to be shorter than I. She took my hand, the sensation odd, like my hand was numb. Her eyes flashed black, and I felt an otherworldly power flow through me.

“Pleasure doing business with you.” She said with a smile, and I woke up suddenly, covered in the blood of my husband and child, a raven perched on my shoulder. I realized that, as the bird sat there, I could see so much clearer, and in the darkness, no less. I wasted no time in wrestling myself from the mess and throwing on my fur cloak, the raven flying about until I got my cloak on. I made a gesture and spoke an incantation which was imprinted into my mind. Suddenly, with a step of mist, I found myself outside. There were footprints in the snow, blood in the craters. The winds whipped around me, and the snow bit into my face and hands, the scarf around my neck doing little to stop it. I trudged through the snow, following the prints to the house next door. The home of my good friend, Thira. I came up to the door and spoke another incantation, putting my hand to the door. A blast of energy surged from my hand, blowing the door from its hinges, knocking it to the ground. I stepped into the sitting room, finding Thira and another man sitting on the sofa, covered in blood. Thira was just sitting there, staring at her blood-stained hands. The man rushed to his feet as I entered, and rightly so. I probably looked like an avatar of death. A woman covered in her family’s blood, an expression of rage in her eyes.

“Shit, y-you? Already? How did you know to come here?” The man growled, his voice gruff. The raven on my shoulder cawed and cocked his head.

I didn't even respond, deciding to let the fury in my eyes speak on my behalf. I stalked toward him, noticing that his hands were empty, his dagger still in the corpse of my daughter. He backed up as I approached, fear in his eyes. He soon found himself in a corner, and I lunged forward, grabbing the side of his head and yelling an incantation. He cried out as his flesh began to rot away under my touch. He eventually fell to the ground, his eyes empty.

I turned to Thira, who stared at me with fear in her eyes. As I walked over to her, eyes still full of fury, she jumped up as if to run, but I grabbed her by the collar and slammed her back onto the couch. I put my hand right against her throat and stared her dead in the eyes. “Start talking. Or your flesh rots like his.”

Thira growled at me. “I shouldn’t have to tell you anything, Chloe. You should know very well why I did what I did.”

“I’m not sure I do, Thira.” I said forcefully. “I was under the impression that we had made up with each other.”

“Made up!?” Thira yelled. “Are you out of your damned mind!? You have taken from me at every turn in your damned life! My friends, my job, and even my fiancé! Every step you’ve taken has been on my fucking back! And you think I’ve just… forgiven you?”

I was silent for a moment. “Is that what this was about? You killed Lucy and William because he chose me instead of you?”

Thira sighed. “No, you idiot. Haven’t you been listening? I want you to suffer for everything you’ve ever taken from me! And the best way to do that? Kill the only people you love more than yourself, and then frame you for it!”

“Frame me for it? And who would have backed that up? Who would’ve taken your word over mine?”

“Every single person I payed off to keep this quiet. I spent my entire life savings on this! Come tomorrow, I won’t even own this house, nor anything in it! I gave everything I had left to make you suffer!” Thira yelled, a manic smile on her face.

I shook my head. “All of that just to hurt me? You’re a fucking lunatic, you know that?” I didn’t let her respond before I spoke an incantation, and a blast of force hit her square in the throat. I heard a sickening crunching sound, and Thira’s head slumped to one side, that manic smile now forever on her face. I stood and walked down a hall to Thira’s room. After digging around for a bit, I found a hidden panel in the wall. Behind it was letter after letter to and from people all throughout the city concerning this night. People in high places, as well as many of my supposed friends. I walked back into the main sitting room, a list of involved people in my hand. I took one last look at the scene before I walked out and back to my home, ready to kill the entire gods-damned world if I had to.

But when I got home, and saw the brutalized corpses of my family, I just sat with my back against a wall and wept the whole rest of the night. The whole while, I swore to make everyone on my list pay for what they did. Or rather, what they didn’t.

Haunted One

Many months later, I find myself sitting at a table in a tavern in Baldur’s Gate, downing my fourth mug of mead. I came here on the orders of the Raven Queen, who wants me to catch a ship to the continent of Chult. The jungles there are supposedly infested with undead, so it’s a good place to start repaying my debt. But more than that, It was a good change of pace after living in the Yawning Portal in Waterdeep for the better part of six months. The barkeep, Durnan, and I knew each other by name by the end of my stay, so I figured it was time for a change. Things haven’t been quiet here, though. People have been acting really antsy, nervous, like something’s wrong. But I haven’t really cared.

My thoughts have been occupied with what I did to everyone who was prepared to frame me for my family’s deaths. I had killed every single one of them. Brutally. Twenty-seven people, as well as Thira and whoever the fuck that other bastard was. Looking back on it, I feel awful for what I did to them. Too horrible to describe. They… they may have been involved in my family’s murders, but even still… I crossed a line. Now in my nightmares, not only do I see my family’s corpses, but the rest, as well.

Maybe another mug will silence the memories? At least for tonight?

Another story! This honestly kinda depressing thing was the story I wrote for a warlock named Chloe Sarcan. She was my second character for the Tomb of Annihilation campaign, but was only there for like 4 sessions before my group fell apart. But hey! It was fun while it lasted! I have another story about her that I’ll post soonish, where I basically just made up how I figured the end of the campaign would have gone.

Anyway! I’m prattling again. Enjoy the story (if at all possible, given the subject matter...).

PS. My friend played the Murder in Baldur’s Gate adventure, and suggested to me that Chloe should be in Baldur’s Gate while all of that was happening. I didn’t want to distract from the point of the story, though, so I just kinda kept it vague. ANYWAY! Goodbye!

[mythicnoir]

Runaway, Part 1

Last session began a new chapter, and took Thunderclan from the cities to the catacombs.

Rae and Emilia stow away on a ship. The adventurers watch as it bobs and tilts away over the foggy horizon, bound for, as Freesia unhelpfully put it, ‘a better place’. The three stood on the docks for a bit following their partings, but then it’s back to business.

Young legends die all the time, after all.

Equaarion, Freesia, and Salty move throughout the distilleries and waterfront, pissing off locals and pushing through smokey bars. A quick meeting with Salty’s sister and crewmate Melanie establish the plan and the prior events -- it seems the strange lightning that took them from Harpy’s Roost in Drownesia shot them to soul relays around the island. From here, they’re going to follow Salty’s contingency plan of going to the nearest port city where they’re not wanted criminals and keeping their eyes open. Salty wants to get to the bottom of this. Melanie takes a long drag on her pipe, “Weird shit happens all the time, baby sister.”

The heroes pay Professor Chess, the dragonborn vitamancer, a visit. He’s dissecting an aumaua and has crystal strewn about his office, a matter he’s willing to throw under a tarp and ignore in favor of examining the magic items the group needs identified. It’s only a matter of time before Chess is making offers for anything they have that’s evron, but the group is fine, they’ll hold on to things for now. Chess is doing fine, but he sighs a bit dejectedly about the state of his marriage (to a revolutionary zombie bartender living a week’s travel away) and his growing anxiety that his pursuits into controversial sciences will put him on the wrong end of a torch-and-pitchforks mob one day soon.

Night is falling soon, and the heroes have to crawl through the darkened streets of the Gate District, a place now torn apart by domestic conflict, gang warfare, and riots in the streets. The splendor of the district when the level 2 heroes first visited it has been replaced with something resembling a gothic maze, populated by pickpockets and burned-out shells of buildings that got on the wrong side of a local guild.

They return to the Fighting Fox, a shambling boxing ring and inn that’s seen better days. But Tuorg, the gnoll behind the counter, is still happy to see them and offers them a room for a fair price. In the morning, Salty revisits Chess, and they swap brief, numb statements of dissatisfaction and loneliness. Chess asks Salty to bring Set, his husband, a gift.

After the purchase of a coach -- only luxury for the halfling -- the crew begin a journey to the undead city of Necropolis, populated by the once-army of a nasty necromancer, who miraculously had their souls restored to their now-decrepit bodies. The city resides in the crypt that once served as their resting place.

The adventurers are going to follow up what they heard about the Crimson Bat, a demon princess possibly associated with the missing King Ezra. The Crimson Bat, they’ve heard, could pose a serious threat to Necropolis, a place populated generally by good people, despite their undead nature.

Along the trip, the crew find a pool of rainwater surrounded by sleeping animals. As Equaarion and Freesia approach it, they each seem to hear something within their minds. Neither of them mention it. Salty isn’t bothered.

Freesia is bothered by the undead within Necropolis, but not so much that Set’s sarcastic barkeep with weird hidden depths act can’t appeal to her a little bit. The adventurers have news and questions: A while ago we heard that there may or may not be a demon bat worthy of worshipping directly beneath you and your friends’ home. Maybe we could take a look in the archives and see what we can find?

After a couple hours of book-learning and tying red yarn between documents, the adventurers put some things together and have an idea of something. A Duke of Hell named Eligos once rode on a giant devil-bat. But something happened that caused them to separate. If news of the bat demon is correct, and they are beneath the city, they find a map that could lead them to such a location, an underground fort beneath the city. Could this be the Crimson Bat? Worth checking out.

Set tells them to bring along Dodge, one of the town’s guards. Dodge is a skeleton that was abused and brainwashed in his living years to serve as a mercenary for whomever carries his contract. Set doesn’t like the idea that he’s in possession of the contract, but he’d rather have Dodge work with people who want to break him free of his conditioning rather than someone who will purely abuse it.

Freesia and the gang are sympathetic and slightly disturbed, but overall treat the situation with a seriousness that Set appreciates.

The group shops for some potions (the alchemist Siobhan is thrilled by Salty’s ‘pet’ familiar) and some climbing supplies and magic items (the inconsistently accented shopkeeper is thrilled to accept a preposterous trade balanced in his favor).

The next trick is to simply dive into the catacombs, and beneath, consulting the map the group dug up in the archives. Freesia uses some dancing lights to help guide the party deeper. Eventually they reach something secret and unknown, a tiny crevice purportedly leading to an unexplored region. As Dodge -- skeletal as he is, squeezes into the crevice, the group hears sounds behind them. The shuffling and skittering of footsteps on the ancient stones of the catacombs. Freesia sends lights down the hall and sees two humanoid figures duck into a corridor.

Salty goes through next -- she takes the longest, as the largest party member to pass through -- Salty sweats as she struggles to press through the tiny space, not helped by a claustrophobia problem. (“I do not like being underground.”) The scuffling continues. Freesia and Equaarion watch two humanoid figures with giant, canine-like heads dash between hallways. They 

Freesia squeezes into the crevice next. Equaarion gives a final look to the darkness, then melds through the stone to the other end. (“New trick?” “Yeah.”)

The group inspects the cavern they’re in now -- large and spacious, enough to accompany a keep late in the stages of destruction. The walls are almost unrecognizable, and the keep could barely function as a home, but they do spot a nearby tent.

Equaarion shifts into a bobcat and moves to explore silently. He digs through the campsite, finding food and simple supplies, then finds a nearby dwarven corpse -- a few days dead. Overturned backpack. He delves deeper into the keep and begins to hear voices.

A deep voice complains about the taste of zombie meat, and a shrill voice apologizes for the state of their diet. Two corpulent (“Corpulent?” “Yeah, it means like… fat.”) ogres sit and poke at a slow-burning campfire, eventually breaking the silence to tell the other they love them. They mention, offhand, the ‘people below’.

Equaarion returns to the group and suggests that the gay ogres are probably hungry, and that he’s interested in who could be living in this place. He’s also a little concerned about the ogres. (Their one previous ogre experience had them being hit by a tree branch.)

Salty points out that they should see if Dodge can get them to cooperate, as he doesn’t really have any meat on his bones. Hilariously, this is convincing to Dodge and he heads to speak with the ogres. 

As the group waits for him, Freesia spots something in the darkness -- a large feline appears atop the keep ruins. The figure watches, then ducks behind cover. The three keep their eyes open and see nothing but another flicker of movement. Then nothing. Something, or possibly multiple things, are watching.

Dodge returns from the keep. The ogres will speak with them. Perhaps there’s some helpful conversation to have.

Next time: Talk with the gay ogres, learn about this place and if there’s any connection with the Crimson Bat, and hope that whatever lurks in the darkness down here isn’t too aggressive.