In the Belly of the Beast
Or, Not all Living Rocks are Liferocks
Zil approached me in my workshop regarding the nonsense down at Irondelve. We had found a Liferock no one remembered, which was spitting out two-headed Obisidifolk nonsense generators. Zil had started himself on the Path of the Purifyers, and so was headed down to help two of them - Om, an Obsidifolk, and Feliana Halcyon, the elfiest of Elves - get this thing done right. He asked for my help and it was a good cause, so I gave it.
Also helping were Daldorer, Xeviouz, and Vlolkir. Good and solid folk, all.
We were well prepared. Om would lead the Purifying ritual while the rest of us protected him. Daldorer laid down a complex progression of Life Circles - good work, that. I appreciate magics put in place, set into the stone and meant to linger and defend. Good honest magic. The rest of us cast our spells, steeled our spirits, and waited.
Didn't have to wait long. More corrupted Obsidifolk guards extruded themselves from the rock and set about trying to kill us. They had to go through Vlolkir and Xeviouz, though, which is no easy task. In fact, it's a nigh impossible task. I do not recommend trying it. So, it seemed we had things well in hand.
Of course, the universe hates hubris and so everything promptly went to shit.
A hole opened up in the rock behind us and out poured more twisted nonsense monsters. Tiny winged horror children. A fat horror worm. Turns out that worm was a Despairthought, and it worked its soul-crushing whispers on Om; had been working them for a long time, it seems. So Om, who seemed like a good enough fellow, stabbed himself in the heart.
Stabbed himself in the heart. Just so that sinks in.
So of course the ritual peters out. We did some righteous murdering and took care of the Obsidifolk guards and the imps and chased the worm back into the Liferock. Which was gooey on the inside and covered in half-digested bodies and folks. I have to tell you. That ain't no damn Liferock.
Inside there was that so-sad-I'll-kill-myself worm and some massive eat-you-whole worm and three we-corrupt-the-air horror folks and all around us was the throbbing, oozing, pulsing flesh of what I was later told is called a Bloatform. Oh yeah, I should have warned you, don't eat immediately before reading this journal. Sorry folks. I'm sure the Library has napkins.
These Ehrlgren, the two-legged ones, they seem to have the ability to aim shafts of pure corruption from their hands and if they do it right, it unravels spells and exposes you to raw Astral space which is no joy at all. One of 'em also tainted the very air around it and it requires a strong spirit to keep moving forward.
Anyhow, it was a tough fight, down to the bone and the knuckles. But we're tough bastards and we've been doing this a hot minute or so, and so we went after 'em one and then the other, taking them down in turn. Till it was the big fella's turn.
Which is when my knees turned to jelly and my throat closed tight and it was everything I could do not to just turn and run. The fear I felt facing this Bloatform was no natural thing and it hit me like a hammer made out of a hundred other hammers. It was the kind of fear that just carved your guts out, turned 'em to water, and then fed 'em back to you. It was no good nasty bowel-rupturing terror. Even Zil's plea to Garlen herself gave us neither aid nor succor.
I was slowly starting to get a hold on myself when Daldorer, bless him, managed to Suppress the Curse on Xeviouz, who then proceeded to Suppress the Life out of the Bloatform. We crawled out of the thing like we were being shit out by a Horror, which is exactly as pleasant as it sounds. But now the thing is - well, not dead. But driven off back into whatever writhing miasma of Astral nonsense it calls home. And the cleansing of Irondelve can finally be done proper.
I'm spending some time here to help them build out their spa, as the iron business has definitely taken a turn.Statistics:Posted by bronzemountain — Tue Jul 28, 2020 4:37 pm
]]>