Adventure log XV

THE TEMPLE OF URGOTHA PART II

———————1————————

The Flowers pushed open the heavy door, its creak echoing ominously in the dim corridor behind them. The stench of death and decay hit them full force as they stepped into the side room.

The sight that greeted them was grim—a large, iron operating table occupied the center of the room, its surface stained with dark, crusted blood. Iron restraints, heavy and brutal, held the table’s occupant in place: a young man, no more than twenty winters old, gagged and helpless. He strained against his bindings, but was held tight. The horrifying realization struck Calli first. This was Deyanira’s missing brother.

But their horror did not end there. Standing beside the operating table was a figure straight out of nightmares. He was tall and unnervingly still, his posture rigid and unnatural. His face was twisted in a permanent snarl of disgust, yellowed teeth jutting from his mouth like the fangs of a beast. His fingers were long, clawed extensions of his hands, curling in the air as if itching to tear into flesh. The creature’s eyes, wide and intense, locked onto the Flowers with a predatory hunger that sent a shiver down each of their spines.

"A nosferatu," whispered Taylan, his voice barely audible.

The ancient vampire’s gaze shifted, taking in the intruders with a mixture of curiosity and disdain. "What do you want?" He sneered, dripping with contempt. His eyes flickered to the young man on the table, then back to the Flowers, a cruel smile playing on his lips.

Byron rushed in, closing the distance and demanding,"Let the boy go, or I’ll rip you apart, fang by fang."

The nosferatu’s laughter filled the room, a dry, hollow sound that made the hair on the back of their necks stand on end, and he downed a small potion retrieved from his waistcoat pocket. "Such bravado, but you are far from understanding the forces you meddle with. I have work to do."

Focker followed Byron’s lead and covered the vampire with his silvery breath of confusion, but he payed it no mind.

Hoping the others could keep the tall creature distracted, Calli burst into one of her inspirational songs and sped to the table. She began investigating the restraints, hoping to spirit Ruan away, but the iron clamps were unyielding and the levered mechanism looked as likely to pull him apart as release him if she switched it the wrong way.

Not appreciating being laughed at, Byron began swinging his clawed fists at the creature’s lanky form. The slim figure seemed to barely move, a mere flicker of shadows, but it was enough for the skilled pit fighter to miss entirely with every jab. The group had never seen someone slip his attacks with such ease, and they began to wonder if the vampire may be right. Maybe they weren’t prepared to fight him.

Their opponent raised his hands at the ready to cast at anyone else who looked like they would attempt an attack. His bony fingers ended in long, wicked-looking nails. He looked from Flower to Flower and patiently waited to see what they’d try next.

Nightingale, ever the tactician, began to subtly move, positioning himself closer to the vampire. He knew they needed a plan, and fast. This vampire was a foe unlike any they had faced before, a creature of ancient power, with centuries of blood and death behind it. Unlike the filthy and animalistic bloodsuckers in the alley they they’d fought, this one was downright civilized. He began asking questions, stalling for time. To their surprise, the monster was happy to answer. They learned the vampire arrived on the sunken ship they’d explored, hired by a mysterious third party he was sworn not to reveal, to work with the cult in developing and spreading the plague. He had no interest in the cult itself, only the science of crafting diseases.

Trevor had been eyeing the equipment in the room and the sheer complexity of it told him this was someone who knew what they were doing. Someone with lifetimes of experience and skill far beyond their own.

"We’re not here for you," Calli said. "We’re here for him." She gestured to Ruan on the table. "Let him go, and we’ll leave."

The nosferatu grinned, exposing even more of his ghastly fangs. "No!”

The Flowers exchanged uneasy glances, the weight of the situation pressing down on them. The nosferatu’s malevolent grin held a sinister promise, and they knew that they were outmatched by the ancient vampire’s power. Fighting him would be a death sentence, and they had already seen enough death.

Calli stepped forward, trying to mask her fear with resolve. “We’re currently cleaning out this dungeon, we’ve already got Davaulus and killed Rolth. We’re going to take down the rest of the cult, including Andaisin. There will be nothing for you here, let us have him and you can get away.”

The vampire’s grin widened, his fangs glinting in the dim light. “You misunderstand, girl. This boy is mine, just as you will be soon enough.”

Byron clenched his fists at the threat, his claws extended, ready to strike. But Calli put a hand on his arm, urging him to stay calm. “Wait,” she whispered, her eyes never leaving the vampire. “We can’t win this fight, not like this.”

Nightingale, standing back, his mind racing, caught on to her intent. “What do you want?” he asked, his voice measured. “You clearly have power, but what’s your price? What will it take for you to release the lad?”

The vampire’s eyes gleamed with interest. He took a step closer, his gaze flicking over each of them, weighing their worth. “Ah, diplomacy,” he mused, his voice dripping with amusement. “So you wish to bargain with me? Very well. This child is of little consequence to me. However, there is something I desire; something the priestess of Urgathoa possesses. A box, ancient and imbued with power. She guards it jealously, but I grow weary of her demands and meddling. It’s about yea big and decorated with skulls.” He motioned with his hands indicating something about the size of a loaf of bread. “If you are as successful as you hope to be, then bring me this box, and the boy will be yours.”

Calli narrowed her eyes, suspicion clear in her gaze. “And why should we trust you? How do we know you won’t just kill him—or us—after we bring you what you want?”

The nosferatu chuckled, a raspy sound that sent chills down their spines. “You have little choice but to trust me. But to ease your minds, I will sweeten the deal. Retrieve the box, and I will not only release the boy but also provide you with my notes. With them you should be able to create an antidote to the Blood Veil plague that ravages your city. Consider it… a gesture of goodwill.”

Trevor, still uneasy, took a step forward, locking eyes with the vampire. “Swear it,” he demanded. “Swear on your honour as a vampire that you’ll keep your word.”

The vampire’s grin remained, but his tone grew more solemn. “I swear, on my honour as an ancient of the night, that I will keep to our agreement. Bring me the box, and the boy shall go free. And you shall have what you need to cure the plague.”

“And then you’ll return from whence you came. Back to Ustalav. Right?” the bard prompted.

He used one of his long fingers to make an x over his heart, and somehow made even that sarcastic.

“Why don’t you come with us? You can help us get your box, and we can be sure Ruan’s safe.” Taylan suggested.

“I was bartered for, and as part of the agreement I am as unable to directly work against the priestess as I am to tell you who hired me. I shall not break my deal with my benefactor, as you would not wish me to break my deal with you.”

With a final glance at the bound human the Flowers reluctantly nodded in agreement. Ruan’s eyes pleaded silently with them. They had no other option, not if they wanted to save the boy and their city. The vampire’s terms were clear, and they could only hope that he would honour his word.

“Where can we find this priestess?” Nightingale asked, already planning their next move.

The vampire’s eyes gleamed with dark satisfaction. “She resides deeper within the complex, in the sanctum beyond the eastern passages. You will know it when you see it—her obsession with death is as grand as it is grotesque.”

With a curt nod, the Flowers turned and made their way out of the room. As they stepped into the corridor, the vampire called, “I’ll see you later! Or maybe I won’t.” His laughter haunted them as they headed deeper into the lair.

———————2————————

Trevor walked forwards and opened one of the doors in the Eastern wall. The room beyond the door was a study in horror. The acrid scent of burning wax hung heavy in the air, mingling with the sharp, chemical tang of alchemical brews. Several tall, misshapen candles sputtered and flickered, casting unsettling shadows across the chamber. Along the walls, workspaces were cluttered with tall beakers of foul-coloured liquids, parchments scrawled with ominous symbols, and cages filled with small, whimpering rodents. The entire room seemed steeped in dark magic.

At the chamber's centre, four large glass vats stood ominously, each filled with a bubbling, emerald-hued fluid that bathed the room in a sickly green light. Within these vats floated grotesque abominations—twisted fusions of man, angel, and horse. The creatures were a nightmare of half-formed muscle and bone, with equine skulls stripped of flesh. These were very real versions of the pestilence demon Calli had conjured an image of in the large room upstairs, known as Leukodaemons. Three of these monstrosities were eerily still, suspended in their viscous prisons, but the fourth occasionally twitched, a disturbing reminder of the unnatural life that still clung to it.

Ahead to the east, a pair of massive stone doors hung slightly ajar, revealing a long, dark hallway that stretched further into the depths of the complex. The reek of decay and the oppressive weight of dark magic pervaded the air, making it clear that this was a place where only the most profane experiments were conducted. This was a laboratory of horrors, a place where life and death were twisted into abominable forms, and the very air seemed to thrum with the remnants of unspeakable rituals.

The cultists inside had been waiting for them, and as Trevor led the charge, two of them sent holding spells at him. He felt his limbs begin to seize, but with a roar of defiance he broke free, the sheer force of his will shattering their magic.

Taylan and Calli acted quickly, Taylan casting invisibility on Byron and Calli feeding Gale a potion of the same. Both men vanished and rushed in to attack. Byron landed a solid hit, but Nightingale’s attack was rebounded by magical armour. Having made their attacks, the invisibility dropped off.

Little Focker darted into the room, only to be met with a sudden assault—three magical scythes materialised out of thin air and struck him in quick succession. The blows were brutal, and Little Focker faltered, seriously wounded.

Trevor tried reentering, but was caught again in another priest’s hold spell, while Byron tore apart the priest in front of him with a savage roar, spraying blood across the room. Nightingale followed suit, his electrically charged rapier cutting down another foe. Taylan, joining in the battle, sent a flurry of snowballs into a cluster of cultists, pelting them with damage.

Having seen the battering Focker endured, Calli squeezed into the room past the unnaturally still half-orc and used a wand to restore some of his health. Focker, his wings beating furiously, fled from the relentless scythes that pursued him. Another strike left him reeling, but the drake was determined to draw them away. Meanwhile, Trevor once again broke free of his magical restraints, his anger fueling his strength.

As the battle raged, one of the dying priests, in a final act of defiance, smashed the glass of one of the horrific vats. The fluid spilled out, releasing the twitching Leukodaemon. The monstrous creature of bone and rot found its footing, its sun-bleached horse skull head turning menacingly toward the battlefield. With a sickening lurch, it lunged at the nearest priest, gutting him where he stood.

The remaining priests, terrified by the daemon’s indiscriminate violence, hastily drank healing potions, their eyes wide with fear and fascination. Another priest, trembling, tried to strike Taylan but fumbled, injuring himself instead. Taylan responded by unleashing his magic missile, the energy beams slamming into the priest and sending him staggering.

Byron, eyes blazing with fury, charged at the LeukoDaemon. The creature retaliated, sinking its diseased teeth into him, but Byron barely flinched, the pain only fueling his rage. Calli, hoping to hinder the spellcasters, hurled a thunderstone at the priests. The explosive impact successfully deafened and disoriented one of them. She then ran over behind where Byron and Gale were fighting their way across the room, ready to heal should it go badly for them.

Nightingale continued his assault, his rapier crackling with electricity as he struck down yet another priest. Meanwhile, Little Focker, still pursued by the scythes, flew as far as his wings would carry him. The magical weapons followed, but as they reached the limits of their range, they vanished, giving the tiny drake a chance to catch his breath before returning to the fray.

One of the cultists attempted to retaliate against Taylan but the spell went wide, another chose to heal some of the injuries sustained, while the remaining two hung back and simply watched, hoping their monstrous daemon would do the work for them.

Trevor, finally free again, charged the daemon. In his haste his swing went wide, the axe embedding itself in his own flesh. He grimaced in pain but fought through it. Byron’s attacks on the LeukoDaemon were fierce, but the creature’s unnatural resilience made it difficult to bring down. Nightingale and Taylan were able to down two more priests with rapier and snowballs, respectively. Calli attempted to incapacitate one of the remaining priests with a hideous laughter spell, but the magic failed to take hold.

Byron chipped away with his fists, but the large beast was surprisingly nimble. Nightingale turned his attention to the monster and lashed out at the daemon with his lightning-infused rapier. The creature took the hit, shaking off the shock as only a minor annoyance. Trevor tried again with his axe, having to swing twice before his axe sunk into the rotten flesh.

Annoyed by the men ganging up on it, the daemon exhaled a cloud of noxious "corpse breath" directly at Trevor, catching the cultists who’d been happy to stand back and watch in the attack as well. The foul contagion of biting black flies washed over them, causing them to cough and retch in agony. The cultists collapsed, flies crawling into slack mouths and over unseeing eyes. Trevor, his body wracked with pain, let out a primal scream as his form twisted and changed. Shiv had arrived, the chaotic force of Trevor’s darker self.

Shiv didn’t come alone. With him appeared a hound of Tindalos, a nightmarish predator that seemed to materialise from the very shadows. He grappled with it, straining to keep it from tearing at his face. The hound’s soulless eyes glinted with malice as it took in the new location. The final priest’s eyes went wide with recognition at the otherworldly canine, and it sent a magical blast towards the hound. Taylan ran into range, causing the hound to turn its gaze upon him, raking him with unseen claws. Taylan staggered, blood pouring from invisible wounds, but he fired a magic missile at the hound, though it barely seemed to notice.

Byron and Gale continued to focus their attacks on the demon, relentless. Calli turned her readied healing on Shiv, closing his wounds as he grappled with the beast. Focker finally made it back into the chamber, and seeing his master in battle with the daemon dove into the fight, but his sharp tail was unable to add much. The monster swung at the drake as one would swat a fly, but Little Focker was able to avoid contact.

Sensing the LeukoDaemon presence, Shiv twisted the hound’s head, forcing its gaze upon the undead monstrosity. The LeukoDaemon let out a horrifying scream as its body convulsed under the hound’s deadly gaze.

In its final moments, the LeukoDaemon lashed out at the hound, its claws tearing into the creature, but the damage was done. The hound’s gaze proved too much, and the LeukoDaemon collapsed in a heap of rotting flesh and bones.

With the LeukoDaemon vanquished, Byron launched a final, ferocious attack on the hound. His claws ripped through its body, and with a mighty blow, he severed its head. The hound’s body evaporated into dark smoke that vanished, leaving no trace behind.

The battle was over. The remaining priest, seeing their abomination destroyed and their allies fallen, was swiftly dispatched by the Flowers. As the dust settled the group stood covered in gore and breathing heavily, their bodies battered and their spells nearly depleted. But as they looked around at the carnage, a cold realisation set in: Trevor was gone, and in his place stood Shiv, the embodiment of chaos and violence. And ahead of them, the priestess of Urgathoa still awaited.

———————3————————

Shiv’s eyes were wild, darting between his companions with a look of raw fear that none of them had ever seen before. “I’m not going back,” he growled, voice shaking with a mixture of anger and desperation. “You don’t understand. That place... it’s full of horrors. I won’t return to that dark place.”

Byron stepped forward, placing a heavy hand on Shiv’s shoulder, his voice calm but strained. “If you do, I’ll come with you,” he promised. “I won’t leave you alone.” Calli quietly finished healing Shiv and turned to help Focker and Taylan with their injuries.

Shiv shook his head violently, pushing Byron’s hand away. “No, Byron, you won’t. You can’t. You don’t know what it’s like. I’m never going back there again!” His voice cracked, and the others could see the torment etched across his face. The dark world he spoke of—the one he was dragged into when he wasn't in physical form—was a twisted reflection of this one, filled with unspeakable terrors that stalked him relentlessly.

The party exchanged uneasy glances, the weight of the situation settling over them like a thick fog. If a cruel fighter like Shiv was openly admitting his fear, it must be far worse than they could imagine. They didn’t have time to deal with that now, they had to finish their mission. If they weren’t going to be able to get Trevor back, they needed to get Shiv on side. Whatever threat lay ahead was too great to face without him.

Shiv took in the chamber with its vats of daemons and dead cultists strewn around. “Where am I?”

Byron tried to ease the tension, nodding toward the double doors that stood ominously to the east. “A bad place. Come on, Shiv. We saved the big one for you. You’ll like it. Let’s deal with this first.”

Shiv didn’t move. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest, his entire body coiled with tension. “I’m not taking another step until you swear to help me stay here. Permanently.” His voice was deadly serious, the demand hanging in the air like a blade ready to drop.

The request sent a ripple of unease through the group. Nightingale and Taylan exchanged a quick look, their decision immediate. "Fine. We’ll help you," Nightingale said, his tone impatient, as if this was a minor inconvenience.

Taylan simply nodded. "We can sort that out later."

But Byron hesitated, his jaw clenched as he weighed Shiv's words. Agreeing to his terms meant condemning Trevor, trapping him in that dark, twisted world where only Shiv had escaped. After a long pause, he gave a reluctant nod, though it was clear he hated every second of it.

Only Calli stood firm, keeping her face carefully impassive. "I won’t do it," she said flatly. "I won’t condemn Trevor to that place. I’ll help you, we can figure something out, but not at the cost of his soul. He’s one of us."

“What’s your problem?” Shiv demanded.

“I don’t have a problem, I’m being honest with you. You need us to help you, and we will, but not until we’ve finished what we’re doing here.”

The air grew tense, thick with the unsaid conflict. It was a standoff, the group divided, each member feeling the pressure of the impossible decision they were being forced to make. Shiv’s eyes flickered dangerously between them, a challenge unspoken but clear.

Byron finally stepped in, his voice low but firm. “Let’s deal with this threat first. We’ll talk about the rest after.” There was a pleading edge to his words, trying to diffuse the situation before it boiled over.

For a long moment, Shiv’s gaze lingered on Calli, his lips curling into a snarl as if daring her to defy him. But eventually, he gave a short, sharp nod. “Fine. But I’m holding you to it,” he growled, turning toward the open doors.

The party moved forward, but the tension lingered between them like a shadow, as palpable as the looming threat that awaited them down the hall.

Ahead of them loomed a large 100ft long corridor. Wary of any traps they may encounter, Nightingale suggested someone or something should walk down the corridor to investigate. At first it was suggested that Shiv walk down due to his Trap sense. But the Half orc just growled at the idea. Instead Nightingale suggested they reanimate a corpse It was a clever idea, and the party quickly agreed.

Taylan drew the wand they’d confiscated from Jolistina, the mad jester, muttering a dark incantation under his breath. With a sickening crackle, the wand’s magic surged into the lifeless corpse at his feet, forcing its eyes to flick open in a grotesque mimicry of life. The stench of rot filled the air as the zombie lurched to its feet, its disjointed limbs moving with a jerky, unnatural rhythm.

“Go,” he commanded, voice low and firm. The undead creature shuffled forward into the corridor, its decaying form casting long, twisted shadows against the stone walls.

The party watched with tense anticipation, every creak of the zombie’s joints, every scrape of its rotting feet on the floor making their nerves stand on edge. Their eyes followed it as it moved deeper into the darkness, expecting at any moment for a trap to spring—blades, arrows, poison, anything. But nothing came. Only silence greeted them.

Still, the air felt heavy, oppressive, as if something unseen was watching. The flicker of torchlight cast shifting patterns on the stone walls, making it seem as though the shadows themselves were moving, alive.

After what felt like an eternity, the zombie reached a point near the far end of the corridor unscathed. Calli let out a slow breath. “Seems clear,” she muttered, though no one felt entirely convinced. They made sure to kill it again before it could reach the far door, not wanting to risk the priestess taking control and using it against them.

Byron took the initiative and lead the group down the hall. Calli replaced the spell of resistance on Nightingale, wanting to give him whatever edge she could against the diseases they’d been fighting through. Nightingale traced an arcane rune in the air and suddenly there were multiple of him. Taylan muttered words of power and lightly touched Calli’s arms, laying a protective spell against evil over her. She smiled in return, surprised and grateful. They all moved cautiously, every step taken with the expectation that the ground might give way or that something far worse lay just beyond the reach of their light.

As they travelled, they all had a strange moment where they remembered the last Harrow reading the ghost of Zellara had done for them. Each of them saw a vision of the card they had drawn, and they felt their bodies become a bit more resilient against whatever was waiting for them.

At the far end of the passage, they reached a round chamber with an unusually tall domed ceiling. As they stepped inside, a wave of nausea hit them, the air thick with the stench of decay and something far worse—an unholy mixture of odors that burned the nostrils and clawed at the back of their throats.

Seven basins, jagged and ancient, jutted from the walls like the mouths of grotesque, gaping wounds. Each was filled to the brim with vile liquids—blood so dark it appeared almost black, thick bile that shimmered like oil, sour milk curdled into something unnatural, and other fluids too strange and horrifying to name. The scents mingled into a sickening cocktail that seemed to cling to the back of their throats, making it hard to breathe.

Calli covered her nose and mouth, her eyes watering as she scanned the room. The basins were surrounded by small open metal boxes, each carved with the grim images of skulls, as if they had once held something now long consumed by whatever foul ritual had taken place here.

At the centre of the room, rising out of a pool of what appeared to be pristine, crystalline water, stood a statue. It was beautiful at first glance—a golden figure of a woman, nude and elegant. But as their eyes moved downward, the horror of it was revealed. Where her hips should have been, the flesh gave way to polished bone, her lower half nothing more than a bleached skeleton. The contrast was unsettling, the erotic allure of her human form twisted into something nightmarish and grotesque.

A chill settled into the room, as if the air itself recoiled from the blasphemous sight. There was something deeply wrong about this place, an ancient evil etched into the very stones. It was as if they had stepped into a shrine dedicated to death itself—a mockery of life, a place where beauty and decay were intertwined in the most perverse way possible.

Byron’s voice was barely a whisper. “This place... it reeks of death.”

They had seen horrors before, but this room felt alive with malice, as though it was waiting for them to take one wrong step, one false move, before it consumed them whole.

Scattered around the chamber the party could also see various zombies, but that was the least of their worries.  Suspended in the air before them, Lady Andaisin radiated a twisted elegance, a vision of both seduction and terror. Her form was draped in black leather, each strap and buckle intricately placed, hugging her like a second skin. Her high-heeled boots gleamed under the faint light of the chamber, each step in the air deliberate, like the walk of a predator. Around her waist, metallic chains clinked softly, adorned with charms shaped like skulls and bones, symbols of her devotion to the Pallid Princess.

In one hand, she clutched a wickedly curved scythe, the weapon’s blade gleaming with a sickly green hue, as though it had tasted the blood of countless souls. Her skin was as pale as the moon, almost translucent, veins visible beneath the surface like delicate blue webs. Her eyes, cold and unfeeling, glowed with the same unnatural light that radiated from her scythe. A chilling smile twisted her lips, revealing sharp, ivory teeth that seemed far too predatory for a human mouth.

Her voice was a venomous purr, echoing through the chamber as if the walls themselves conspired to amplify her malice. "So, you have come at last. Foolish mortals, stumbling blindly into the presence of death's chosen." Her smile widened, eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. "You stand before Lady Andaisin, architect of your city's demise, high servant of the Pallid Princess. You call it a plague, a curse upon your people. I call it a gift- a gift your Queen asked me to create—Urgathoa’s gentle kiss, spreading through your veins, making you one with her eternal hunger."

She paused, letting the weight of her words sink in, savouring the fear that flickered in their eyes. "Your fates have already been sealed. But I am generous—far more than your pitiful gods. I offer you a choice. Before you stand the seven scourges of Urgathoa’s embrace. Drink from them, and I shall spare your lives. You will be broken, yes, but alive—able to feel her divinity course through your flesh as it rots away. Refuse, and I shall destroy you where you stand, for you are unworthy to carry the goddess within you. Prostrate yourselves at my feet, and I will make your end quick. Swifter than you deserve."

Her laughter, cold and cruel, echoed in the chamber as the sickly green light around her grew brighter, casting eerie shadows on the walls. “Kneel, or die screaming.”

The battle erupted in a whirlwind of chaos and fury as Lady Andaisin hovered above, her sinister smile never faltering even as the Flowers attacked with everything they had.

Calli’s voice rang out, her song inspiring courage in the hearts of her companions.

With a snarl, Shiv hurled a flask of alchemist’s fire at Lady Andaisin. The glass shattered against her, flames licking at her leather-clad form. She shrieked as the fire burned through her defenses, but with a quick motion, she doused the flames, her smile now twisted into one of rage. “Kill them all!” she commanded, and the zombies turned their focus to the Flowers.

The zombies broke into unnatural runs, and Byron, Nightingale, and Shiv found themselves fending off attacks.

Nightingale unleashed a scorching ray at one of the zombies, but the undead creature barely flinched as the fire washed over it, unexpectedly resistant to the flames. It lurched toward him, faster than he anticipated, but he managed to sidestep its claws just in time. One of his mirror images disappeared as the corpse struck it.

Taylan, seeing an opening, cast a massive fireball at the floating woman. The chamber filled with a blinding explosion of flames, but to the party’s horror, Lady Andaisin stood unscathed, her immunity to the fireball spell leaving her untouched by the inferno. The realisation settled like heavy weights in the party’s stomachs that their heaviest attack would be of no use.

Two zombies make futile swipes at Byron, who carves brutal gashes into one in response.

Little Focker took position on the other side of the zombie to Byron, giving them an edge to their attacks, but his bite attack still struggled to get through the patch of leathery skin he’d targeted. Calli, still singing, cast another resistance spell, this time on Byron, bolstering his defences.

With a roar, Shiv charged forward and cleaved a zombie in two with a single swing of his acid-coated axe, its body collapsing into a pile of rotting flesh.

High above, Lady Andaisin’s eyes blazed with divine power as she cast a spell upon herself, growing stronger and more dangerous by the moment.

A third zombie joined the attacks on Byron, their blows landing hard, but his barbarian resilience absorbed much of the damage.

Taylan’s eyes flared as he shot magic missiles from them, each one slamming into Lady Andaisin with unerring accuracy. She snarled, her scythe flashing in her hand as she prepared her next move.

Byron, consumed by rage, tore through another zombie with his claws, the undead abomination crumbling beneath his fury. Little Focker darted forward, casting a healing spell on Byron, knitting together some of his wounds, before Byron ordered the drake to go stay with Calli.

Calli moved back away from the zombie onslaught and tapped Shiv on the way past, reupping his resistance as well.

Shiv, not slowing for a moment, launched another powerful attack at a zombie, nearly splitting the creature in half. It staggered, barely clinging to its unholy life.

Nightingale, determined to turn the tide, cast a Disrupt Undead spell down his rapier into the chest of one of the creatures doing a tremendous amount of damage with a burst of positive energy, and as he pulled out his blade he sliced into another which spun from the momentum and fell motionless at his feet.

Lady Andaisin, sensing the danger, drifted closer to the party and commanded them to kneel. The word was backed by magic, and Nightingale, unable to resist the overwhelming force, fell prone to the ground, helpless. The rest of the party resisted, standing firm against her control.

A zombie lunged at the fallen Nightingale but missed, its claws scraping uselessly against the floor. Byron punched forward at it, spearing his claws through the skull leaving it hanging limp and lifeless once again.

Calli, desperate to stop the priestess, cast her last "Hold Person" spell on Lady Andaisin, but the magic fizzled against her powerful defenses. Shiv, undeterred, hurled another flask of alchemist’s fire, and once again, the flames engulfed her, forcing a scream from her lips.

Nightingale scrambled to his feet and cast "Enlarge Person" on Byron once more, causing the barbarian to grow to twice his size, his massive form looming over the battlefield.

Lady Andaisin, realising the danger, retreated to the back of the room, casting a healing spell to mend the wounds from the relentless fire and magic missiles. She taunted the group saying, “This is a futile fight, your queen sent an emissary to bring me here, she’ll not thank this interference!”

The Flowers shared quick looks hearing the queen herself could be behind this evil, as they’d already had their suspicions. But the use of an emissary meant it could still be someone close to her- like Sabina Merrin- operating without her knowledge.

The priestess cast a spell to cure more of the damage done on herself, but Taylan blasted her again with magic beams from his eyes immediately undoing the good she’d done herself.

Byron, undeterred by her retreat, charged into the room. With a series of mighty leaps, he bounded up the golden statue and soared through the air, attempting to grab hold of Lady Andaisin, but he slid off unable to keep hold. The group realized she must have a freedom of movement spell running, adding to the frustration of the fight. As he fell he lashed out with his claws, managing to draw blood on his way down.

Calli patted Taylan’s back, giving him the resistance she’d given the others, and then rushed into the room to try and close the distance between her and the flying priestess.

Shiv followed closely behind, his agility unmatched. Using the bones of the statue for leverage as Byron had, he vaulted into the air and hurled yet another flask of alchemist’s fire at the priestess. The flames caught her once more, burning through her magical defenses.

Nightingale, now within range, unleashed a scorching ray spell and added to the conflagration. Her scream became guttural as flames continued to eat into her body, and she retreated higher into the air as she cast another healing spell on herself.

Taylan fired another magic missile, this time from one of his wands, the bolts still striking her with pinpoint precision. Lady Andaisin wobbled in the air, her strength waning. Calli moved closer, giving herself the resistance she’d already bestowed on the others.

Shiv, seizing the moment, ran hard toward Byron, who had his massive hands outstretched. With a grunt of effort, Byron hurled Shiv high into the air. The axe-wielding warrior soared towards Lady Andaisin, his weapon flashing in the dim light. With a mighty swing, Shiv struck her with a devastating blow, the force of the attack sending her plummeting to the ground.

As she hit the floor, unconscious and broken, Byron caught Shiv before he could hit the ground, gently lowering him to his feet. Nightingale wasted no time, rushing forward to deliver a final, shocking grasp to the priestess. Lightning crackled from his hand, but to his dismay, her immunity to electricity rendered the spell useless.

Taylan fired one last magic missile at the fallen priestess, the arcane bolts slamming into her body. Byron, towering over her, raised his massive foot and, with a sickening crunch, brought it down on her head, ending Lady Andaisin once and for all.

The room fell into an eerie silence as Byron's foot crushed Lady Andaisin’s skull, her body lying still in a heap on the bloodstained floor. The party, battered and bruised, took a moment to catch their breath. Taylan wiped sweat from his brow, while Calli’s voice, still humming with the last traces of her song, wavered as the reality of their victory settled in. The guys surrounded the body to begin investigating it, while Calli began digging through the discarded skull boxes trying to find one that hadn’t been used. For a moment, it seemed as though they had won.

But that moment shattered.

A low, rumbling sound reverberated through the chamber, rising from the broken remains of Lady Andaisin. The air thickened with a palpable wrongness as her body began to twitch. At first, it was subtle—just a shiver in her dead muscles. Then, suddenly, her form convulsed violently, her limbs jerking like a grotesque marionette being yanked back to life by unseen strings. The vats around the room burst open, the disgusting fluids flooding across the floor over their feet and flow forth into her, around her, and as it did her body began to change.

"She's... coming back!" Taylan gasped, his eyes wide with disbelief.

Lady Andaisin’s shattered bones cracked and snapped back into place, but they did not return to their former shape. Instead, they warped into something nightmarish. Her body twisted and elongated, muscles tearing free from her skin as they expanded, exposed and grotesque. Her bones, now jagged and sharpened, formed crude but deadly weapons.

Her once-human face contorted, stretching into a hideous mockery of femininity. Flesh hung from her like a tattered gown, barely clinging to the monstrous form she had become. Her stomach ruptured open with a sickening rip, spilling a wave of dried entrails and dark, hardened fluids onto the floor, the viscera twisting into a massive tentacle-like appendage. This writhing tail thrashed violently, propelling her forward as her transformation completed.

As she rose up and away from them Byron and Shiv took the opportunity to strike her, managing to do some damage to her strange new form.

Her right hand, once delicate, now morphed into a massive bone scythe, its razor edges gleaming with malice. She stood over twice her original height now, towering over the party like a horrific demon, her body a grotesque fusion of exposed sinew and warped skeletal structure. Lady Andaisin had become a towering monstrosity of sheer, hellish majesty.

The battle they thought had ended was far from over.

Now fully reborn as the Daughter of Urgathoa, personally blessed by the twisted goddess, she let out a roar that reverberated through the chamber. Her twisted form lunged forward, the bone scythe gleaming in her grotesque hand, ready to tear through the party. The Flowers stood their ground, but the sheer malevolent force radiating from her made their hearts race.

Taylan unleashed a volley of magic missiles, bright streaks of energy slamming into her, each impact sending ripples through her monstrous form. Still, the Daughter of Urgathoa remained unshaken.

Byron leapt up and struck her again, his massive claws taking chunks out of her.

Worried they might have to make a hasty retreat, Calli asked Focker to help her find the box they needed to save Ruan before resuming her inspirational singing.

Nightingale clambered up Byron’s form to reach with his blade, but she was able to dodge the attack.

The Daughter of Urgathoa gaze locked onto Byron, and with unnatural speed, she swung her bone scythe toward him. Byron barely had time to react as the scythe carved deep into his side, the sickening sound of tearing flesh filling the air. Blood sprayed across the chamber floor. The blade of the scythe carried with it a dark, vile magic—the plague of Urgathoa herself.

For a brief, terrifying moment, Byron felt the plague clawing at his insides, a sickness threatening to consume him. But his barbarian resilience kicked in, his natural resistance fighting back the infection. The contagion sputtered and died in his veins, failing to take hold.

"I won’t fall to you!" Byron roared through gritted teeth, ignoring the pain. His muscles bulged with rage, and his eyes glowed with primal fury as he entered a berserk frenzy.

Taylan took advantage of her focus on Byron and got close enough to hit her with his flurry of snowballs, frost burning already charred flesh.

With a wild roar, Byron launched himself at the Daughter of Urgathoa. His claws, sharp and deadly, flashed through the air as he struck. The first blow raked across her chest, tearing through exposed muscle and bone. The second hit followed immediately, sinking deeper into her unnatural flesh, but he did not stop. His third and fourth strikes came with terrifying speed and strength, each one ripping through the abomination’s body, shredding it apart piece by piece.

The Daughter of Urgathoa staggered, her form breaking under the relentless assault. Each strike from Byron seemed to tear away the dark magic holding her together, and her once-monstrous body began to unravel. Her scythe-hand swung wildly in a desperate attempt to defend herself, but it was too late.

With a final, guttural scream, the Daughter of Urgathoa crumbled under Byron’s furious blows. Her body collapsed to the floor, falling apart in a grotesque heap of shattered bones, decaying flesh, and black ichor. The twisted tentacle that had propelled her twitched once, then lay still, and the bone scythe clattered uselessly to the ground beside her.

Byron stood over the broken remains, his chest heaving with exertion. Blood dripped from his wounds, but his victory was absolute. The Daughter of Urgathoa, the monstrous priestess who had nearly brought the city to its knees, was no more.

The rest of the party watched in awe as Byron’s rage slowly subsided. Calli’s song of courage faded, replaced by a stunned silence. Shiv lowered his weapons, while Taylan blinked in disbelief, his magic still crackling faintly at his fingertips.

Nightingale breathed a sigh of relief as he sheathed his blade. "We did it."

Byron, still panting, looked down at the broken form beneath him. “Yeah,” he growled, wiping the blood from his face, “it’s over.”

———————4————————

After the intense battle, the party took a moment to catch their breath and survey the chamber. Amidst the remnants of the fight and the shattered remains of the Daughter of Urgathoa, they began to search the room for anything of use, while Calli tended to the damage inflicted on Byron by the twisted priestess.

They discovered dozens of the described skull boxes were spread throughout the chamber. Nearly all were grimly used and discarded, their contents now long decayed or spread. Focker, already searching, quickly found one different from the others. The lid remained sealed, and it radiated ominous magic.

Calli utilized the identifying properties of Zellara’s Harrow deck which mystically let her know it was a Death’s Head Coffer. Each coffer, once containing a specimen infected with a vile affliction—whether rats, tainted blood, or flesh from plague victims—was designed to spread disease. By placing an object, like a silver coin, into the box, it would become infected. This was how the Blood Veil had been spread so effectively across the city.

At the base of the grotesque statue, Nightingale discovered a hidden compartment with some grim items of note. Two grim candelabras made from human hands encased in silver were arranged alongside several sticks of exotic incense. Among the other items discovered were a wand of Cure Serious Wounds, a wand of Remove Disease, and three blocks of Incense of Meditation. These items, although morbid, would prove valuable in their continued struggle.

The party then turned their attention to the remains of Lady Andaisin. Her corpse yielded several magical items: her vicious scythe, a breastplate radiating dark enchantments, a Cloak of Resistance, and a Periapt of Wisdom. Among her possessions was also an Onyx Unholy Symbol of Urgathoa, a dark emblem of her unholy allegiance.

With the spoils gathered and their goal in sight, the party prepared to leave the chamber, their path now clearer but their burdens heavier than ever.

———————5————————

The Flowers made their way back to the Nosferatu Vampire, their footsteps echoing in the dim corridors of the underground temple. As they presented the unopened death’s head box, the vampire’s eyes gleamed with both pleasure and surprise. He had not expected them to succeed in both retrieving the box and vanquishing Lady Andaisin’s monstrous form.

With a satisfied smirk, he kept his promise. The young man, Ruan, was released from the rack, his limbs trembling as he stood free. The vampire also handed over detailed documentation on the disease that they’d be able to use to create a cure. The party was relieved and grateful for this crucial piece of information. He then gathered some of his belongings and made a deep bow, ready to depart.

Calli, intrigued by the vampire’s dark charisma, but mistrustful of his intent, questioned him further. “How do we know you’re really leaving the city?”

“You’ll just have to take me at my word. Unless, perhaps, you want to personally escort me out? Alone?” His sharp smile slowly formed a wicked grin.

Calli resisted the urge to take a protective step back and continued, “If we needed to find you again, where in Ustalav do you reside?”

He tilted his head, “Are you suggesting we become pen pals? What an unusual notion!” She had intended it more as a subtle threat that they would hunt him down if he broke his word, but the rare opportunity to question an ancient and powerful being at a safe distance was too alluring for her bardic nature to pass up and she didn’t dissuade his assumption. After thinking a moment he continued, “Why not? I suppose that would be a novel experience, and they’re so rare at my age. My name is Ramoska Arkminos, and I dwell at Castle Corvischoir in Varna County. I look forward to hearing how your adventures progress.” He gave a short bow, and then exited the room with supernatural speed.

The Flowers all released the tension they’d been holding, relieved the ancient predator had honoured his agreement and left them in peace.

———————6————————

The party then conducted a thorough search of the vampire’s room and the rest of the underground temple. They found a variety of scattered items, but one notable discovery was the enchantment on the plague masks. These masks were not only immune to the blood veil but also concealed the wearer’s true alignment, adding a layer of deception to the already complex situation.

Knowing they needed to leave the temple but unsure what the Grey Maidens and plague doctors left upstairs would have waiting for them, the party disguised themselves as plague doctors before returning in the lift. As they emerged on the surface, they were met not by aggrieved cultists, but by a group of armed Korvosan guards led by Sergeant Perith and Kressida Kroft. Byron, shedding his mask, embraced Perith with genuine relief.

Kroft asked what had transpired. Shiv, simply responded, “There was a big fat horrible cunt. We fucked it!” Perith and Kroft exchanged puzzled glances, confused by the crude outburst and the peculiar behaviour of Trevor. Byron quickly intervened, explaining that it was a long story and proceeded to recount their harrowing ordeal.

Byron disclosed the disturbing revelation that Lady Andaisin claimed Queen Ileosa herself had asked for her to come release the plague via intermediaries. Kroft was taken aback by this revelation, but the lack of absolute proof meant that immediate action against the Queen was not feasible. Besides ‘arresting’ the Queen would be extremely dangerous. The party would need to keep this sensitive information close for now, waiting for the right moment to act.

As for the cure, the party handed over their solution to the clerics of Abadar, who worked tirelessly with the alchemist Svetlo to create a life-saving salve. Svetlo mentioned as he was working he’d have strange visions of being in a seaside manor with tall stained glass windows, while a beautiful woman with dark hair and pale skin helped him in his calculations. Within 24 hours an antidote was made and then distributed throughout the city, and its effects were almost instantaneous. With the vampire’s notes it had an astounding extra feature: those infected with the plague who came into contact with others were also miraculously cured, bringing a wave of relief to Korvosa as the cure spread as swiftly as the disease.

———————7————————

In the days that followed, Calli successfully persuaded the owner of Carowyn Manor that his uncouth parties that lead to so much death had tanked his public image, and the best way to begin reparations would be to allow the displaced orphans and Madame Devlin’s girls to stay there until they could find their own accommodations. He readily agreed, not being eager to return to the scene of such trauma for himself, promising they could use the location as long as they wished. It was a moment of triumph for the Flowers, a small victory in their ongoing struggle.

With the danger past and the Trail’s End refugees rehomed, Tayce Soldado organised a massive feast in honour of the good work The Flowers had done for the people. People turned out en masse to lavish them with praise and gifts. Some of the gifts were of extraordinary nature, unidentifiable, but promising to unlock future bonuses as they were used. Most of the party found this too much, not feeling like the people who had already lost so much should be giving up more just because their group did the right thing. But the citizens were determined to reward them and desperate for the celebration, so celebrate they did. Food, drink, laughter, and dancing late into the night lifted everyone’s spirits. Especially the two half-elves, as both Calli and Taylan managed to get a good deal of dancing in with their respective romantic interests.

But among the joy of the following days, there were also sombre moments. Calli and Nightingale attended Penelope’s funeral. Losing a treasured friend and colleague can have a devastating effect on a person as grief can be overwhelming, but they had to put aside their feelings as there was too much still to be done.

For Gale, the work came in the form of night time capers. He’d heard about some depraved practices that had gone on while the city was most vulnerable and intended to take them up with the perpetrators personally.

For other members of the party, it was a time for relaxation and joy. Taylan proposed to Alice, who said yes. His smile could light up the night sky. The two of them threw themselves into wedding planning with Taylan’s hard-won adventuring loot. Master Roshi returned from his mystery journey and praised Taylan for keeping the shop safe, and saving the town besides.

Byron helped get the Manor in order for Madame Devlin and her girls but took a real delight in organizing the stables for the horses. Being around these magnificent animals seemed to relax the big man and also put a spring in his step. Calli, seeing how happy the horses made him, invited him to her own families’ stables so that he could get an idea of what was needed to properly care for them. He readily accepted the opportunity, and she rejoiced at yet another personal outing with the Bear.

As for Shiv, he clearly had his own agenda-enjoying his taste of freedom from the dark world he’d been confined in. Drinking, carousing, and letting go was his priority. ‘Better to burn out that fade away’ was his priority. Attempts by members of The Flowers to find him to begin discussing he and Trevor’s predicament failed, almost as if he was avoiding them intentionally.

However, in an unexpected twist, The Flowers were summoned to the Royal Palace and given a royal commendation by the Queen herself. She made a royal proclamation praising the Flowers for their heroic efforts to save their city whilst at the same time condemning Doctor Davaulus. As far as she was concerned, the Doctor had betrayed her and she had no idea that he’d been in league with Lamm. She was innocent. As the Queen made her prolomation, the Flowers looked silently on. As far as most of the party were concerned, she was the real villian here. She was the cause of all of Korvosa’s pain. Yet there was lingering doubt if she was actually being used by her aide Sabina Merrin. Or maybe someone or something else. Furthermore, they still didn’t know what the overall purpose of the infecting Korvosa was. A prelude to war? A cleaning of certain residents, families, nobles? Who knew? Either way, they needed to find out. Had to find out. Something was rotten in the state of Korvosa and as far as the Flowers were concerned all paths led to the Crimson Throne.

However, before they investigated the Queen's machinations any further, there were other things that needed addressing. Old Korvosa still remained under quarantine, Gena was still missing, Trevor was still trapped in the dark world, a Green Dragon continued to hunt Taylan, and the Arkona family had placed a bounty on anyone interfering with their business. The road ahead was fraught with challenges, but the Flowers were determined to face them head-on.