[Horde] Chapter Five: Session Ninety-Three

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December 30th

He looked at Arthak and Thura.

She trailed off as Nyxxa continued to translate over the telepathic link.

But it was clear that wasn’t the entire story.

As the group looked around, they also realized Sigryn had probably taken various offerings from the tomb as well as she was in rough shape and the offerings left would have been useful to survive. Zar’Kaa pulled out some soup and offered it to her.

She hesitated a moment longer, but begrudgingly took it. As he touched her hand, he got an imprint from her. He realized what happened to Sigryn was the inverse of what happened to Zar’Kaa. While he accepted the fel willingly, Sigryn had it forced into her very soul, and it was likely she never had magic abilities before. The brand on her face was the physical manifestation of that curse.

Sigryn began to devour the food immediately, and Sol asked her when the last time she ate was. She admitted it had been a few days ago, as she was a warrior, not a hunter. Sol offered her food and a place with them as long as she would like, as he believed he could help her deal with her pursuers. He explained he empathized with her situation, and he believed they could help each other.

Nyxxa suggested they should explain what they were doing first.

As Hilaire listened to the tale, she had rapidly gone from suspicious to protective. The group suggested she could go with Hilaire, and the vrykul hunter immediately agreed and said that she could teach the young woman to hunt if she was willing to learn. Sigryn looked momentarily defiant, but then deflated and admitted that would be of great help.

Hilaire smiled and she assured the group that she would ensure Sigryn got to the Unseen Path. Arthak said that when they made camp, he would see to maintenance for Sigryn’s weapons. Sigryn winced and admitted she knew they needed it, she just hadn’t had time to do it.

The golden spirit started to glow, this time bright enough that even those without special sight could see it. It seemed to be trying to find something it could cling to. Sol grabbed some spirit paper and extended it toward the spirit. The spirit almost leaped to the paper and emblazoned on the paper in bright gold writing that faded to brownish gold. It was a vrykul rune that meant “Hope”. An immense power came from the rune.

Sigryn asked what that was, and Sol explained it was the spirit that was with her.

Sigryn chuffed.

Sigryn grit her teeth, clearly holding back tears.

They identified the rune, and it was shown to be a one-use resurrection rune that could be used instantaneously.

Sigryn explained she had been looking at the grave to see what happened and was trying to see deeper than what her eyes would show her. But she had only arrived a few minutes before the group had. The group fanned out to take a look.

Symma assessed that there didn’t seem to be tracks that would indicate where Skovald and the others were there, but it was also an often-visited site and there were footprints that could be followed. However, as Nyxxa looked in the grave itself, there was fel residue that indicated magic was used to accomplish some sort of feat. Sol assessed it was excavated with raw, destructive magic.

There was a deep and raw sensation in the area, one that threatened to overwhelm Zar’Kaa as he opened his senses to it and held the broken spear. He felt pride, disdain, and awe. There was awe of people that had never seen such a thing before. Even the great queen of the val’kyr had been unable to protect herself from such power.

However, they found no body.

Sol suggested Symma attempt to commune with the Eternal Queen’s spirit to see if they could get any further clues. She agreed to try, but as she conjured the ritual, nothing answered, and there didn’t seem to be any evidence as to why it failed. She decided to transition into a normal commune instead in order to try and gain insight as to what happened, and she felt a piercing gaze focus on her.

The entity replied that it did not know, for she was beyond its sight.

She got the sense that their gaze was not omnipotent, and the entity answered they did not see all, but the Eternal Queen shone like a beacon in the dark and they had known her for many years.

The entity said that she did not.

As the group continued to consider, their eyes shifted toward Haustvald, which was the heart of the Bonespeaker clan - the keepers of the dead. It was quite possible that her bones were taken there, as those that preserved the traditions, also likely knew how to subvert them, and they knew there were practitioners of the fel among the clan.

As they looked back toward the footprints, they noticed one that was barefoot with an uneven gait, and recent enough it had to be within the last few days.

Hilaire observed it was best for she and Sigryn to part ways from the group, as Haustvald did not welcome women.

The rest of the warband discussed their approach, and they decided to disguise themselves as either members of the enemy warband or affiliated entities, such as a fel harpy for Symma. Zar’Kaa disguised himself as Jubei’thos, Nyxxa as Caria, Sol as Iskar, and Arthak decided to go as the disguise he went by in Suramar.

They opted to use the remainder of the wind walk to cover the distance to Haustvald. The ancient city was built into the ground itself, where the entrance was denoted with lights at the opening of a chasm. There were no guards posted, and an ever-present mist wafted around the area. They saw immaculate carvings of the gods inlaid into the walls. One carving stood out, as she was a woman that was set below everyone else, and her lower body seemed to have been replaced with tentacles.

A voice shouted out to them in vrykul, and they were met with a young man. He told them outsiders and women were not allowed and demanded they leave, but Nyxxa held up her symbol.

The man’s eyes widened.

Nyxxa rolled her eyes.

The man apologized and said he was just a neophyte, but he would fetch the elders. As the man led them in, it became evident that some other vrykul did recognize them, but the man brought them past ossuaries and requested they wait. He returned shortly with two other Bonespeakers. One of them was an old man with ashen-white skin and intricate teal runic tattoos with a long beard. The other one was covered in ritual scarring in intricate designs. They seemed to recognize “Caria”, “Jubei’thos”, and “Iskar”.

The older of the two bowed and addressed “Caria”.

The younger man furrowed his brow.

The two of the vrykul exchanged glances. They appeared somewhat annoyed.

The man glanced over his shoulder toward a corridor.

The elder Bonespeaker narrowed his eyes, seemingly understanding the orcish. It seemed there was some sort of bargain struck between the Bonespeakers and Skovald.

He looked back at the ground.

Nelvek was clearly not pleased.

Urgev clearly disagreed, but didn’t voice it. Nyxxa walked over to Urgev and traced her finger down his arm.

As Nyxxa locked eyes with Urgev, and she allowed the curse to wash into him.

He looked at Arthak and spoke in orcish, expressing that he should hold his tongue. But then he stopped talking, because an axe was abruptly buried in the back of his head. Urgev had killed him the moment he had turned his back. Urgev ripped the axe out and hacked it again and again.

The exchange had drawn a lot of eyes, but Urgev pointed the bloody axe of them and commended them to return to their duties.

Nyxxa said that they could offer magic support, but the man demanded he could do it himself. He held up his and and released a sudden blast of fel energy which destroyed the door. Urgev’s arm was consumed by fire and he dropped to his knees laughing and proclaiming that he “did it” before the fire faded, leaving nothing left.

But he got back to his feet and they headed in. Inside was an emaciated, elderly man. His hands were tainted black with the fel, and scattered around him were bones with a vrykul’s skull he was holding in his blackened hands. He was muttering under his breath with parched lips.

As Sol reached out with detect thoughts, all he could hear was “what have I done?”.

Urgev was going right for the Runeseer. He grabbed the man by the neck and easily lifted him.

At that moment, Zar’Kaa drove his spear through Urgez’s chest, and Arthak took his head. The Runeseer was dropped to the ground, and he was jostled out of his stupor.

The man started to openly weep.

He reached for the skull.

He started to get things back in order to perform the ritual and he ordered the group to stand in the center of the circle. The Runeseer chanted, and the room grew impossibly hot and impressively cold.

A thick, brackish blood seemed to seep up from the ground, and they each felt their lungs fill with saltwater. They felt the essence of drowning, and yet no water was there. They started to cough, and they found themselves unable to breathe. Sol grabbed for the potion on his hip, and he pushed against the water.

He took a sip, but he choked on liquid hopelessness. He didn’t know which way was up, and which way his friends were. Every tool at his disposal had failed, and he was alone. He was going to die there, but at least he’d be forgotten.

The rest of them emerged together, and they took a breath, but the air was not satisfying. There were still six of them. Zar’Kaa asked if everyone was alright, and it seemed like they were.

Around them was a hellish sight. It was endless and swampy, and there were shipwrecks aplenty on the endless, dark shore. There were rusted swords and blades, each of them stuck into the earth. There were bones and skulls aplenty with lightless lanterns. It was empty.

There was some reticence as they debated on what to do, and Sol spoke up that they might want to just walk around and see what they find. They passed by a desiccated vrykul that was saying he was thirsty, but whenever he drank water, it fell through an empty rib cage. They found a battle of vrykul gutting each other and tearing limbs and faces off. There was nothing honorable about the fight.

They saw spectral hydras begin to tear through the battlefield. There was a warrior with a half-skeletal face hiding behind a rock, and as they passed, he told them to get away, as that was his rock to hide behind. Zar’Kaa asked what he was hiding from, and the man just pointed at the hydras.

Zar’Kaa nodded.

Seria checked on her mother, and she said that she didn’t like it, as it was a darker place of the other side that she had never seen before. Kala advised her to keep her wits about her, as she sensed a draw of ichorous muck that wished to keep them there.

Arthak’s words didn’t travel far. It was like the air drank them up.

He heard Sol speak behind him. Arthak turned and looked at Sol, and his grin turned uncomfortably wide for a moment. He blinked, and his crimson eyes turned a sickly seawater green.

Rows of shark-like teeth appeared in the doppelganger’s mouth.

Helya led the group into the darkness, and they followed. They walked for some time.

Meanwhile, Sol was sinking. As the darkness closed in on his mind, he felt something. It was if something was tightening, and his limbs were being pulled and stretch. He could do nothing to fight it. The weight of the place crushed him, but then he felt it, like a thousand punches on his chest.

His eyes jerked open. He coughed up black, brackish seawater. He saw a large woman. She glowed faintly, as if there was something supernatural about her. She had hair the color of the sun, braided and long. It somehow avoided the stain of the blackness around them.

She looked at Sol with bright eyes that reminded him of his mother.

Sol tried to speak, but he coughed up water. He was alive, but not in a great state.

Ash: A fool’s journey. I was once known as such, but if I know anything of this place… there is no escaping it. I’m sorry. Can you move?

Ashildir smiled.

Sol grabbed on to Spiritsong and sang to calm himself. Ashildir looked around.

Ashildir offered a hand, and Sol took it.

She shook her head in despair.

She was almost taken aback at the conviction, and she smiled.

She patted him on the back.

Ashildir asked him what his name was, and he introduced himself as Sol. She said it was a fine name, and he said her’s was too. The pair of them began to walk through the murk and mud.

The rest of the group passed by dregs and dead souls that reached out to them and begged. If one got too close, Helya, still in Sol’s body, flicked her finger and a line of water cleanly cut a hand off.

A wicked grin crossed Helya’s face, and they arrived at a small hill. Overhead, there were brightly glowing figures in the air. They were val’kyr, but rather than golden armor and wings, their skin was pallid and their armor was jet black with inky wings. Spectral chains hung onto a rock, and the stone moved. Six glowing, teal eyes regarded them. Long canid features shifted as the creature turned to regard them. It was a three-headed hound that growled.

Helya raised her hand, and the beast calmed.

They ascended a large, spiraling staircase, and they reached an altar. There was a stone with candles that were lit with black flame to illuminate some sort of meeting place.

She extended out her hands to either side.

She stepped off the ledge and disappeared. There was silence. Nyxxa reached out, but then Helya cackled.

A massive form extended out as tentacles reached over the edge.

A hand reached over the ledge, and she pulled herself up to reveal a drowned, giant woman. Her ears were long fins, and her dress was made of shipwrecks. Her hair was adorned with massive metal and jewelry that was made from figureheads and ship parts. Barnacles instead of freckles were on her face and bare shoulders.

She leaned over.

This page was last edited on July 23, 2025, at 08:28 PM

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"It’s not weak to be afraid. Fear is not something that ails us. Fear is something that drives us to do something else. To protect ourselves and others. To make something right. I know this because I too have been afraid for a long time."