A Bone to Pick – Sheryl, the Fae-Touched – 2.09.2020

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There was no foot traffic that any of them could see as they made their way up to the Sunfast keep. It was strange to Sheryl – she knew the Vorstborn were very cautious people but this was bordering on worrisome. Little did she know how entrenched in their security measures they would be until she and the others tried to enter.

Extra security precautions were in place now: Baine, BB and Taffeta weren’t surprised with this but Sheryl’s concern only grew. They were taken to a side room in which a dwarven, Vortstborn paladin greeted them, the sunburst symbol on her breastplate drawing the fae-bard’s eye. She cast a Zone of Truth and interrogated them for the full ten minutes, asking them their names, where they came from and other such questions. Their answers must have been sufficient enough because they were soon being led down the passageways, blindfolded. Astra had chosen to stay behind in the Summer Court for a while longer, and Sheryl mused about what her winged companion would have thought about such persistent vigilance.

They arrived in the large cavern that held the Vorsthold citadel; it was bathed in the brightest light Sheryl would have thought possible from the stalactite and stalagmite crystals clustered around the enormous cavern. The soldiers looked a lot more grim than the last time she had been here whereas the civilians did not dally or linger in the streets, keeping to the centre of the pathways where the light was the strongest.

They are instructed by the Archmage to help Rangim find Morin, but above all to keep him alive. The dwarf has become obsessed with trying to find his colleague and Duron knows he cannot stop him, but with the increased attacks on Vorsthold he could not spare the soldiers to accompany the necromancer.

“Last time we came there was the new type of undead that we traced to the Dead King,” Baine said to the Archmage of the citadel. “Have there been any more?”

“The corpse you brought back,” the dwarf says and nods. “I have not seen anything that matches that description, however the undead attacks have increased and they are unusually powerful. There are many terrors. It appears that whoever is creating these creatures is learning from their experiments.”

Baine points up to one of the bright lanterns in the middle of the pathway’s intersection. “Anything to do with the fact you’ve lit up your entire city?”

“We’ve been experiencing covert attacks by creatures that can move themselves through the shadows.” Sheryl’s eyebrows shoot up, fascinated but also wary. She takes a small step closer to the light. “Not merely concealed but actually transported from one shadow to another.”

“Think it’s connected?”

“They seem to be incorporeal undead, so yes,” Duron admits.

None of this sounded good. Sheryl wondered not for the first time how the Vorstborn were able to continue living in such a place with the constant shadow of peril looming.

Their group is led to a side door of a nondescript house which Sheryl had gone through the last time to the Stargrave mines. Rangrim is pacing as he waits for them to join him. Grumbling a complaint about how long it took them, he enters the house, clearly eager to get a move on.

Upon entering, Sheryl sees there are two more guards inside. One of them, a strawberry blonde, green-eyed dwarf wrinkles his nose as if he smells something unpleasant. The reaction catches her attention, and she notices the dwarf is looking at Baine when he enters.

The half-orc clearly noticed too. “The fuck? I bathed, like, yesterday,” he says, irritated.

“Yeah, rude,” Sheryl agrees, muttering under her breath as she starts to follow Rangrim who has already moved on to the next door.

The strawberry blonde dwarf gives Baine a long look.

“Itchy nose.”

Sheryl stops and partially turns back. Casually waving her hand, she casts a spell with a particular scent that drifts across the room originating from the dwarf. A moment later, and everyone in the room can smell the rotten eggs.

“Oh yes, something really does smell,” she says, a faint undertone of sarcasm to her voice.

The guard glances at her and then does a double take. Sheryl does not linger though as Rangrim has exited out the other door and she does not want to lose him.

“That’s the guy who made my fur stand on end last time,” BB attempts to whisper to Taffeta as they all follow Rangrim into the dark passageway.

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Morin floats over, the sound of a bell coming from her dried, corpse-like mouth and the blood ooze starts to boil with Baine in it. She then points to BB and Ghesh and two crimson tendrils latch onto them, dragging them inside as Sheryl feels part of her magic get drained from her.

What the-?! Oh, you are not getting away with that!

A horrible feeling – like maggots crawling under her skin and writhing in her tummy – swept over her when Sheryl’s eyes looked upon the undead thing that was Morin but fortunately the spell she was casting did not require specific targeting. Instead, the fae-bard glanced in her general direction, guessed at where the best spot would be and unleashed a psychic energy blast. The undead creature closed her mouth and slowly, as if in a parody of pain, clutched at her head as her green glowing eyes rolled back. Feeling more of her energy sapped out of her, Sheryl flew away on her dazzling cloak of many feathers.

Swooping by, she saw that Baine had escaped from the blood-ooze again.

“Bring her to heel, Baine!” she shouts to the warrior.

The blood ooze starts to boil and to their collective horror something is birthed from it’s roiling mass. Sheryl has never seen a beholder in person but one does not go through life without hearing tales of them. But this one is not like the tales she has heard. This aberation is undead and already eyeing up which of her friends to attack.

One eye stalk swivels to her and she feels a telekinetic force try to toss her out of the air. From somewhere behind her Sheryl hears the call of a raven and her wings swivel harder, pulling on all of her strength to keep her where she is. She winces as she feels stabbing pains in her back but it’s gone before she can even think about it. Out of the corner of her eye she sees Arkadius nimbly dodge a sickly green ray that misses him by mere inches whilst BB on the ground, drenched in blood from the ooze blinks in anger up at the floating death tyrant.

From below, Rangrim moves towards Morin, holding a silver bell up to her.

“We can fix this! Come back with me,” he entreats. “Together with Duron we can fix this. We can fix what they’ve done to you.”

Morin looks down at him but there is no recognition. There is only one way this is going to end.

Baine leaps up, disappearing between one breath into mist to then appear next to Morin’s floating form in the air. He latches onto her and for a moment Sheryl worries he is going to succumb to whatever horrible effect looking at her does. But Baine’s strength is more than how he handles his cindermaul and Sheryl sees a flash of light glowing from his pendant as the two plummet to the cavern floor. At the same time from behind her, Arkadius mutters a word and with a faint popping sound the death tyrant is banished. Sheryl dares to think that things might actually turn out alright.

“I’m really sorry about this mate.”

Baine’s voice drifts up to her. She looks down just in time to see him slam his lit cindermaul into Morin’s side, her ribs caving in as his golden lion, Ari, comes over and bites her face off.

Sheryl flies down, gracefully landing between BB and Baine. A wave of healing energy radiates out from her on the notes of a soft harp chord that echoes through silent cavern. Glancing at Rangrim, he is surprisingly less upset than they expected him to be. Carefully, he picks up Morin’s splintered, broken body and starts to walk back the way they came without a word to the rest of them.

“Rangrim, wait!” Sheryl calls out to him as she runs after him. He turns back to look at her. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to take her home,” he says softly.

“Are you going to try to bring her back, properly, as her?” she asks.

“If it is possible, we will do it.”

“I know you’re all very capable mages but if you need any help resurrecting her, I could lend a hand. If you would like.”

As she says the words, part of her hears how they sound – the subtle threat laced in the tone of her voice. Sheryl wants to stop speaking but it’s too late, the words are already out there. The shadows reach forth and she feels a darkness seep into her.

Rangrim goes pale and he clenches his jaw. He looks past her to the others, shakes his head in disgust, then turns and leaves.

“The fuck was that, Sheryl?” Baine demands.

“Why are you threatening him?” BB questions warily.

“That was kind of scary,” Ghesh vacillated.

“This is exactly what we were talking about two weeks ago,” Arkadius declares.

Sheryl doesn’t turn around to face them. She just stands there for a moment, angry and confused.

I can’t deal with this right now.

She walks off into the dark, following Rangrim.

“Aaaand you’re ignoring the issue. That’s fine, that’s perfectly fine!” Arkadius calls after her.

You’re one to talk, Arkadius…

“I’ll stick with them,” Sheryl hears Taffeta say to the others.

Sheryl easily catches up with Rangrim, the darkness of the tunnel closing in fast. She can hear Taffeta trying to catch up but she does not wait for her. In the dark Sheryl wonders if there is a way her friends could help solve what is happening to her…


Continued in ‘A Bone to Pick, Coda’ 🦋