II. The Lost

“That’s what the farmer’s wife said,” Zahkrash insisted as the party walked through the woods, following Vincent’s directions.  “Criminals, bandits, maybe, but not cultists.”

“What’s the difference between a criminal and a cultist?” asked Jezebel, back to stomping on crunchy leaves.

“What’s the difference between a knight and a priest?” Caran replied.

Jezebel spared a look for Thrum. She always got nervous when they talked about religion around the white-bearded dwarf.

“The connection to a god,” Thrum replied, seemingly unoffended by the comparison drawn by his companion.

“We all worship gods,” Jezebel said, kind of to no one and kind of to everyone.

“Worship?” Thrum said in a tone that Jezebel recognized as that of a teacher seizing on a learning opportunity.  Her heart sank.  “Do you worship a god, Jezebel?”

“I mean, kinda…When I was with the guild, we were taught about Memnon…”

“What do you say to Memnon?” Thrum asked.  Jezebel shrugged.  If there were a lesson, she’d prefer they end it quickly.  On cue, Thrum explained, “Everyone knows of the gods; some might even identify with a god, but others are connected to gods.  I am connected to Gede.  The god of mirth and festivals feeds my holy powers, granting me abilities quite different than the rest of you.”

“Tinder has a connection to a god,” Caran said.  Jezebel looked over her shoulder to see if Tinder would explain.

The kobold averted her eyes, interesting herself with something in the woods.  “You could say that.”

No one pressed her, and they continued in silence, though Caran gave Jezebel a dagger-like stare when she crunched more leaves beneath her feet.

Jezebel lost track of how long they walked, but it felt long enough when she heard Zahkrash call from behind, “The trees.  Look at the trees.”

The trees surrounding them were leafless like many others, but as she stared, she could see the difference: a rot festering within their bark.  It was green and moss-like but slimy, like a wound festering in the bark.

“We must be getting close,” Thurm said, examining the same tree as Jezebel.

The dwarf was right.  Soon, they came to a cave entrance, flanked on either side by lit braziers.

“A light spell,” the kobold said, approaching the braziers.  “Strange magic for bandits.”

Jezebel’s head spun, tracing the sound of a snapping twig nearby.  She was about to warn the party when she caught Thrum’s eye.  “I heard it too,” the dwarf agreed.  “Hide.”

Circling from the back of the cave is a patrol.  A human cultist led the group, dressed in simple dirty robes with a loose rope belt.  He was followed by a goblin bandit wearing a dark leather vest and an arrow nocked in a short bow.  Behind them were two peasants, common half-orc townsfolk who looked no different than the farmers who had directed the party to Vincent’s tower.

The patrol’s robed leader stopped, gazing into the dead trees surrounding the cave with eyes so dark, they looked black.  His hair was greasy and messy. A patchy five-o’clock shadow covered his jaw.  Suddenly, the man’s disposition changed.  He stood straighter and gripped his staff tighter.  He had spotted someone in the darkness.  There was no time for subtlety.  The halfling sprang from her hiding place behind the patrol.

She threw a knife at the leader, going end over end until it struck home in the cultist’s shoulder.

Discovered, Zarkash sprang from his hiding spot.  In quick strides, he charged the cultist and thrust his spear into the robed man’s stomach.  The cultist clutched the spear in surprise and slid backward, falling to the ground.  Too late to save his friend, the bandit dropped his bow and raised a thick, gnarled club, swinging it at Zarkash and striking the half-orc in his shield arm.

The peasants also raced into action, one charging Jezebel with a clumsy strike she easily ducked and the other charging Zarkash, who knocked away their untrained attack.  Jezebel drew another dagger and jammed it into the peasant's side.

Zarkash’s spear flashed outward, but the bandit spun away from the strike.  The attack left the half-orc vulnerable as the goblin bandit smashed their club against Zarkash’s face.  While the half-orc attempted to recover, Thrum gripped his thigh with a glowing hand and whispered a call to Geed, instantly healing the pain.

Jezebel continued to dodge the peasant’s wild attacks, toying with the little man like a basilisk with a fawn.  As the peasant’s club sailed past her head, she struck with her dagger, leaving a red slash along his arm.

Caran similarly toyed with the other peasant, using her free arm to block an incoming strike and slash the peasant’s leg.  The sandy-haired man cried out as she flipped her sword back into a defensive position.

Jezebel gave another casual dodge to her enemy's lazy swing.  She wondered if the peasant had ever killed anyone or anything.  She could sense the hesitation in their strikes.  That kind of hesitation got you killed.  She would give them no such quarter as she spun under the attack and dragged her dagger along the peasant’s throat, leaving them dying on the forest floor, bleeding out onto the fallen leaves.

Caran was not quite so lucky.  The peasant fighting her lurched with a surprising surge of power.  She tried to step aside, but he caught her off-guard, pulling her to the ground, where his club luckily struck her head. 

Thrum was quickly at the elf’s side, casting his spell to heal her wounds.  Recovered, the elf rolled on top of the peasant and jammed her longsword down into his chest, accentuated by a blood-curdling battle cry.

In only a few moments, the goblin bandit’s friends were wiped out, leaving the lone survivor of the patrol against a party of well-armed attackers.  With only a flicker of indecision, the kobold turned and fled into the woods.

With the battle over, the party took stock of themselves.  Jezebel mentally counted their number, naming them as she went.  Her count left her one short.

“Tinder,” she whispered to herself.  Then yelled, “Tinder!”
On cue, the red-scaled kobold appeared on the side of a tree, her robes tangled in the branches. She tried to undo the knot but lost her grip and fell to the ground.

Jezebel and the witch’s raven, Poe, were quickly at her side, helping her to her feet.  “Gah!” the kobold complained, frustration rippling through her voice.  “Turned myself into a newt again.” Tinder cursed as she brushed the fallen leaves off her robe.  The halfing had to fight back a laugh at the thought of Tinder crawling around the battlefield as a little amphibian.

“C’mon,” Caran called to the party.  She had already lit a torch and was entering the cultist’s cave.

Jezebel quickly followed in Caran’s wake, entering the complete black of the caves. The wet, mossy stone at the entrance gave way to a chamber only faintly lit by Carn’s torch. As the halfling’s eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light, she realized that the back of the chamber was filled with a strange mound of sticks. She blinked, and her vision continued to focus. No. Not sticks.

"Bones,” Thrum said, his voice tinged with disbelief and disgust.

“No one is to touch ‘em,” Thrum continued. “‘Tis evil. Vile.”

Jezebel noticed Tinder open her mouth as if to argue, but she shut it again.

“Which way?” Jezebel asked Caran. “Left or right?”

Without an answer, Caran took the torch to the right, leading the party deeper into the cavern.  The tunnel narrowed into little more than a crevice of rock, and while Caran could nimbly step through with little difficulty, the others struggled with the tight fit.  The broad-shouldered Thrum and Zahkrash especially had to force themselves through the claustrophobic pass.

No sooner had they passed through than Jezebel noticed something hanging in the air. Little particles caught in the torchlight. A grove of green fungus surrounded the party. Giant red mushrooms with big white spots clustered near the cavern wall, unleashing the spores into the air.

“It’s poisonous,” Jezebel gasped, recognizing the spores. “We have to get out of here!”

They scrambled through the grove, barreling ahead into the darkness, not knowing what lay ahead but knowing they could not stay in the room. Only Tinder stalled, stopping to harvest the mushrooms for her collection. Hastily, She pulled up some of the little mushrooms up by the roots and stuffed them into her backpack.

“Balls,” Caran whispered under her breath. Jezebel poked her head through the elf’s legs to see a large dark chasm below. “That jump must be a couple dozen feet.”
“Mustn’t be too rash,” Thrum said from behind them. “Seems like a mighty long fall into the dark.” The dwarf was already pulling out ropes and iron spikes from his bag. “We can secure the rope here and make it easier to cross the chamber.”
“We don’t have time,” Caran said as she shook the torch to remind the dwarf that their light wouldn’t last forever.
“We have plenty of torches,” the dwarf countered.

When the rope was secured, Thrum offered, “I’ll go first to test.”
Zahkrash stopped him. “You’re too important. Your healing magic is needed to get out of here. I’ll go first.” The dwarf seemed reluctant but handed the rope to the half-orc. Zahkrash took a deep breath and jumped across the chasm.

As a last-second decision, the half-orc scooped up Jezebel and took her with him, tossing her to safety as he lept through the air. There was little doubt Zahkrash would land on the other side. He made the massive leap look easy. He smiled down at Jezebel, who was still unsure how she had gotten across the chasm so quickly and untied the rope around his waist.
“I’ll go next,” Caran said.

After Caran gracefully jumped over the chasm, Thrum prepared to go next. The dwarf secured the rope around his waist and breathed deeply, praying to whatever gods would listen. He then took a small skip as if preparing for the jump and sprinted toward the edge, readying himself for the leap, but he never got the chance to try.
The rope caught around Tinder’s leg, and she tumbled down into the chasm with the dwarf, disappearing into the darkness.
“Fuck!” Caran cursed, watching them fall. She quickly tied another rope to their ledge and descended into the darkness after them.

Jezebel watched in the dark as Caran tended to their fallen companions. First, she checked on Thrum, then Tinder. It was hard to see through the dim light. At times, they’d look still, and at others, they’d look to be moving. The halfling’s heart finally relaxed as she saw Tinder get to her feet and begin climbing the rope while Caran carried Thrum.
“He’s alright,” Caran said. “Unconscious, but he’ll live.”
“Shame to lose our healer,” Zahkrash grumbled.
“Just be glad he isn’t dead,” the elf countered, though that didn’t seem to improve Zahkrash’s mood much.

“Look,” Caran said. The ledge the party stood upon was perched over a great chamber. Limestone tendrils snaked through the round cavern, pointing toward a purple gemstone that glowed in the dark, illuminating the chamber with its strange light. Cultists surrounded the gemstone, gazing at it and humming a strange prayer, their shadows cast upon the rocky walls.
“How do we get that?” Jezebel asked. “And what even is it?”
“It’s whatever is driving these people mad,” Tinder said, joining them to look down upon the strange gathering.
“Guys,” Zahkrash said, the only one not looking over the ledge. “Something is coming from the chasm.”
Jezebel cursed under her breath. Whatever it was, it wouldn’t be good. Nothing good came from the dark underground. The torchlight was faint, but as Caran held the light a lot, she could see antenna poke over the ledge Caran had scaled down to gather their companions. The antenna were followed by a clicking set of pincers, large enough to arms. It was a cave creeper emerging from the deep—a chittering green centipede the size of a horse with tentacles dripping with paralyzing venom.

“I have a plan,” Zahkrash said, rushing to Thrum’s body. He picked up the dwarf and set him on the edge of the ledge, quickly tying a rope around his waist.
Caran realized what the half-orc planned. “Move to the side of the cave,” she said as the cave creeper pulled the last of its long, chitin-covered body from the chasm. “And stay perfectly still.”
They followed Caran’s instructions, pressing themselves against the side of the rocky tunnel, watching the giant insect inspect the area with its menacing tentacles. Jezebel could hear its mandibles uttering a horrible, high-pitched cry of excitement when the creature detected Thrum’s motionless body. She must have flinched because Zahkrash reached out and clasped her arm to ensure she didn’t disrupt the plan.

Slowly, the cave creeper lunged forward, its body expanding and contracting as it approached its prey.  It paused momentarily when it reached the party members hiding against the wall as if ensuring they wouldn’t harm it.  As Zahkrash had predicted, the monster’s appetite for a corpse, which seemed to have no resistance, was too tempting.  It crawled toward Thrum, squealing, expressing its delight at finding dinner.  Upon reaching the dwarf, it poked him with a tentacle, ensuring he was unconscious, then raised its long, centipede body and prepared to chomp down with its mandibles.

They all lunged at the monster together, pushing as hard as possible. Caran led the charge, seizing the monster's backside and heaving it forward with the help of her companions. Jezebel had to admit she couldn’t help much. The monster's chitin armor was slick with mud, moss, and slime. Her hands slid right over it, and she worried Zahkrash’s plan might fail. But Caran surprised her. The lithe elf was stronger than she looked, lifting the beast from behind and toppling it forward.
Zahkrash crawled on his belly and grabbed the rope bound to Thrum’s waist, ensuring the dwarf would not fall as well. The cultists' humming turned to gasps and shouts as the cave creeper landed among them. Most of those in the chamber fled or hid in the darkness as the creature rolled upward and flailed its tentacle, trying to make sense of its new surroundings.

Jezebel seized on the confusion, whipping a dagger through the darkness. The blade flew end-over-end, finding the chest of a goblin bandit who had been stunned at the sudden presence of the giant underground insect interrupting their ceremony. They clutched at the blade sticking out of their chest and collapsed to the ground.
The mix of bandits and cultists assaulted the cave creeper, firing arrows and casting spells. The creature thrashed in pain and lunged at the nearest bandit, a halfling with a bow, snapping its mandibles and whipping its tentacles in a frenzied attack.
Tinder sent Poe to circle above the fight, allowing her to cast a blinding spell on the cultists in the back of the chamber. Caran and Zahkrash targeted the same cultist, firing arrows and throwing an axe down that clipped the robed figure.

Jezebel leaped from the ledge, jumping onto thick limestone tendrils that ran through the cave. She slid down the tendril and slipped into the shows along the wall, hiding in the darkness.
The bandits and cultists continued to pummel the cave creeper. The halfling bandit whacked the creature with her club, hardly having any effect on the monster. The cultist’s spell fizzled out in their hands.
From her hiding spot, Jezebel saw one of Caran’s arrows sail through the dark, striking the cultist in the gut. They fell back, lying on the floor, struggling to cling to their last bit of life before the cave creeper’s massive body smashed down on top of them.
The halfling bandit broke, along with the rest of the followers who had been brave enough to stay but too scared to help. They rushed out of the cave, desperate to escape their attackers.
Only the cult leader held his ground—an elf with sharp features and a robe as black as the darkness surrounding them. “The Lost shall protect me!” he screamed at the beast as it raised its front torso menacingly over the leader.

Jezebel emerged from the shadows and struck with another throwing dagger. This one found a crack in the armor of the cave creeper, delivering the final blow. A terrible screech came from the monster as it trashed once, then slumped to the ground, unmoving save for a final series of mandible clicks. The cult leader wheeled on Jezebel. “You!” he spat in a furious breath. “You killed my followers!’ The leader sprinted at Jezebel, swiping with his jagged dagger, which she easily avoided.
The rest of the party descended on the leader. Tinder beat the man with her staff, Caran shot him in the back with an arrow, and Zahkrash leaped down upon him with his spear.

They made quick work of the zealot, cutting him down. Zahkrash delivered the final blow, stabbing the elf in the back between the shoulder blades, pinning him down.
Jezebel hovered over the body, ensuring it didn’t move. Once she was sure the elf was dead, she inspected the corpse. She pawed through the thick, black robe to find pockets or purses. She was pleased to find a full leather pouch tied to the elf’s belt containing gold, silver, and a healing potion.

With the danger passed, the party got their first good look at the room around them. Caran was the first to remark on the strange chamber.
“What is this place?” the fighter whispered, though even a whisper echoed off the walls and was loud enough to hear.
Six enormous limestone tendrils perforated the chamber walls like rocky roots, snaking their way to the glowing purple gemstone in the middle of them, the stone that had so enchanted the cultists. Jezebel had just finished securing the dead leader’s pouch to her own belt and immediately made for the stone.
“Careful,” Zahkrash warned. The half-orc had scrambled back up to the ledge to retrieve Thrum’s body. “We don’t know what that stone does.”
“But we have to take it,” Jezebel countered. “We should bring it back to Vincent for a reward.”
“Or keep it for ourselves,” Tinder suggested, staring at the stone. “It could be quite powerful.”

“The wizard warned us about getting in over our heads,” Caran agreed with Jezebel. “Still, getting it out of here might be difficult.”
Jezebel waved a carefree hand at the elf. “Pfft, taking things is my specialty.” Jezebel grasped the gemstone and attempted to remove it from its pedestal, but it refused to budge. She tried again, but the stone was rooted firmly in place. As she tried a third time, the stone pulsed with bright light.
Jezebel was transported to a forest in the south, where two monstrous entities emerged. As they passed through the forest, they flattened the trees like the leaves beneath Jezebel’s feet. They paused, and their shadowy figure looked to the moon. Jezebel felt their longing, their pain.
Then she was standing in the cave again, gasping for breath. She searched for her companions and found they wore the same expression. “You saw it?” she asked them. “The forest and the moon?”
No one said anything at first, but they gave nods of confirmation. Only Tinder said, “Shune must hear of this.” Something Jezebel thought Thrum would not take kindly to.