“Sune, baby, c’mon,” Xylon pleaded to his
deity, falling to his knees with his hands raised in supplication. In his heart
he felt only a distant sadness.
“Xylon,” Radegast sighed. “Which way is
your girlfiend?”
“East,” Xylon mumbled.
Radegast picked up a stick and pointed it,
sweeping it slowly around. “Stop me when I’m pointing to the east,” she said.
Erwen’s spider senses were tingling. He had
grown up in woods much like these, but he had never been in such a weird forest
as Neverwinter Wood. The trees here did not reach to the heavens like those in
his native Lluirwood. Here they were stooped, covered in hanging clumps of
moss, as though they had turned their very backs on the sunlight. And the
silence! No crickets chirped, no squirrels chittered. It was as though the
animals had all taken their leave of this benighted place.
But the worst of it was the fear. Fear hung
in the cool, moist air like a stinking cloud.
To hide the shaking of his eight limbs, he
dropped out of wildshape and then reformed as a majestic elk, the spread of his
antlers rivaling the branches of the tall trees around them. If the trees
wouldn’t worship Nature’s goodness, he would pay tribute to the Green Mother in
his own way
Bowing his head, Erwen-Elk slowly scooped
up Bob and Alec into his antlers.
The party began to walk to the east through
the darkening woods.
“Guys,” Xylon said. “Once we get to
Agatha’s I want to meet her alone, all right?”
“Did you bring chocolate?” Radegast said
with forced cheerfulness. “Jewelry also works wonders.”
“Something like that,” Xylon said.
Varien brooded.
“Put your sword back in your scabbard,”
Xylon warned. “And let me talk to her first.”
The adventurers plodded their way through
the trees for four hours, making very little headway. Several times they had to
stop to hack their way through dense thickets of prickly bushes, and they would
stumble across a long-overgrown path only to discover that it followed a trail
of switchback turns that took them further and further off course with each
change in direction.
The
conifers conspire, and the deciduous deliberate ,
Erwen-Elk remembered a saying from his youth. The trees in this forest were not
friendly, not even to a Halfling druid.
Then Varien spotted something in the trees
ahead of them.
He gestured to his companions.
“Look there,” he hissed.
“Something’s hanging in the trees.”
“Hanging hanging, or hanged hanging?” Xylon
asked.
“Hanged,” Varien said with a grim look on
his face.
Radegast’s sharp eyes made out the shapes
of five humanoid figures, swaying in the silent breeze, hanging from ropes
slung over the low-hanging branches of a gallows tree.
She nocked an arrow into her longbow and
fired it across the clearing.
The arrowhead sliced into the rope holding
one of the corpses, and it unraveled quickly, dropping the body to the
leaf-covered ground.
Her second arrow went wide.
Erwen-Elk snorted, lowered Bob and Alec to
the ground, and then bounded across the clearing, catching the remaining four
bodies in his antlers and severing the ropes.
There was a series of wet thuds as the
bodies fell to the ground.
“Show off,” Radegast said to Erwen-Elk. “If
you want to engage in a pissing contest, make sure both competitors have the
same equipment.”
Erwen-Elk kicked out a leg and let out a
high-pressure stream of stag piss into the leaves.
Mindful of the growing puddle, Alec and Bob
climbed back into Erwen-Elk’s antlers.
Xylon, Varien and Radegast approached the
corpses. They were clad in ranger’s leathers, four male and one female, and
their bodies were riddled with arrows, several of the shafts having broken
during their rapid descent.
Radegast examined the ropes while Xylon
pulled out an intact arrow and investigated.
“Elvencraft,” Radegast said of the
finely-twisted cord.
Xylon nodded. “These are Elven arrows,
too.” He looked around at the trees that crowded the perimeter of the clearing.
“Now, what elves yet live in Neverwinter Wood?”
Then he made a mental connection and felt a
sudden chill.
“The Eldreth
Veluuthra ,” he whispered, looking pointedly at Radegast.
“No,” Radegast said.
“The who now?” Varien asked.
Xylon sighed. “Elven supremacists,” he
said.
“Wait, aren’t all elves supremacists?” Bob
asked.
“Racist,” Xylon said casually. Then he answered. “Sure, most elves consider
themselves superior to the other races of Faerun, but those in the ranks of the
Eldreth Veluuthra take it to a very extreme
conclusion – they seek the eradication of other races, particularly humans,
from our realms.”
“Wait,” Varien snickered. “If Xylon and his
ilk are considered the greatest form of life in Faerun, then we’re all doomed.”
Radegast’s blood ran cold, and then began
to run very, very hot.
“There are militant groups in many ancient
Elvenwoods,” Xylon explained. “Ardeep Forest, Neverwinter Wood, and so on. But
they have sympathizers in every civilized Elven city and realm. No doubt elves
of like mind live on in Evermeet as well. And so these extremist groups hide in
the darkest reaches of the forest, supported by their wealthy friends.”
Radegast was lost in her memories of
growing up half-caste in Evereska, where she was taught that elves were the
pinnacle of Creation in every classroom by sneering tutors who often singled
out the half-elf child as an example of the dangers of miscegenation between
elves and humans. How her classmates taunted her whenever the headmaster, who
had allowed Radegast entry into the school on the strength of her pureblooded
mother’s righteous indignation, looked the other way.
“So they don’t like humans,” Varien
shrugged. “I’d like to see them try to-”
“It’s not just that,” Xylon nodded in
Radegast’s direction. “They view half-elves as an abomination, to be killed on
sight-”
Radegast screamed, her rage causing a few
loose leaves to tumble from the branches overhead.
“THIS KIND OF INSANITY IS WHY I LEFT
EVERESKA!” she shouted, and, balling her first, punched the trunk of the
gallows tree, casting thunderwave .
The blast shook leaves from trees in every
direction. Their branches waved wildly.
Then Radegast’s scream was echoed by the
hollow croaking of two hidden creatures, whose branch-like limbs were steady in
the face of her raging magic.
Forest walkers.
“Oh, shi-” Radegast said.
The forest walkers charged. Each of the
creatures had four limbs that terminated in sharp claws, and they propelled
themselves on twisted roots that erupted out from their trunks to find purchase
on the ground, slithering like snakes as they pierced the loam and dragged
their boles forward over the leaves and logs.
Radegast stood her ground and stabbed with
her rapier, sending a spray of hot sap squirting from one of the forest
walkers. “Light it up!” she shouted at the casters.
“On it!” Xylon rushed forward until he was
standing directly beneath one of the hulking creatures. He pulled out his flint
and tinder and frantically tried to get a spark to light the creature aflame.
The elven wizard looked up as the forest
walker bent over him with a creak.
“Left turret, fire!” Bob shouted, casting firebolt at the approaching creature.
“Right turret, fire!” Alec shouted, casting
firebolt but cursing as it spun
askew, hissing into the leafy perimeter.
Varien smiled and pulled Talon from its
scabbard, swinging the ringing blade as he cast divine smite. The sword bit deeply into the first creature, radiant
energy sending bark curling away from the wound.
The forest walker let out a croaking roar,
swinging its limbs at Varien. The paladin got his shield up in time to block
the first strike, but the second hit him across the midsection. The paladin
issued a hellish rebuke that sent
flames conjured from the depths of the Nine Hells slithering around its body.
Erwen-Elk backed up, pawed the ground, and
charged with a snort as the Trevelyan brothers held on for dear life. Erwen-Elk
reared up and collided with the second forest walker, knocking the creature to
the ground with a sickening thud that sent leaves and berries flying
everywhere.
With violent grace, Erwen-Elk trampled the
prostrate forest-walker, splintering its limbs and sloughing its bark-like
armor from its trunk.
Xylon found himself half-enveloped by the
creature’s leafy fringes. “Uh, it’s not what it looks like!” He backpedaled as
the forest walker attacked, catching a whipping hit across the shoulders as he
ran. He pulled out his crossbow and began fiddling with it.
The second forest walker lashed out with
its roots, pulling itself upright, and began landing whomping hits on
Erwen-Elk.
From his vantage point, Bob cast down a firebolt that struck the creature at
such close range that there was an explosion of crispy bark and burning splinters.
Alec followed up with a second flaming bolt, setting the creature’s
leaf-shrouded head aflame.
“It’s tinder time,” Varien snarled, swiping
left and right with his sword in sweeping strikes.
Talon slashed a cut so deep into the first
forest walker’s trunk that the creature folded in on itself with a shower of
matchwood. Varien’s second swing severed the other forest walker’s lowermost
arm, which crashed to the ground, oozing sap.
Erwen-Elk backed away, but the second
forest walker managed to hit him with a vicious uppercut that knocked him right
out of wildshape. The Trevelyan brothers fell into a heap on the ground.
Erwen picked himself up, dusted leaves from
his bearskin cloak, and fished some silver coins from his pocket.
He cast heat
metal on the coins in his fist until they began to glow.
“Money is the root of all evil,” he said to
the approaching forest walker.
He flung them furiously. The molten coins
peppered the creature, which staggered back under the barrage of bullion
bullets.
“Aha!” Radegast vaulted up the wounded
creature’s knobbly trunk until she stood atop its shoulders, and then stabbed
down with the rapier into its upturned face. A crack of lightning pierced the
forest as the creature swayed and fell back in a heap.
As Erwen bent to pick up his coins here and
there, Alec fired a fruitless firebolt
into the already smouldering body of the forest walker. “It’s fine, I didn’t
want to shoot anything anyway!”
The forest was silent save for the
crackling of burning wood.
The party collected themselves, eyeing the
woods for signs of reinforcements.
As she passed by the smouldering bodies of
the forest walkers, Radegast’s ears perked up. The hissing and spitting of the
embers seemed to form words, whispered in Sylvan.
She bent down near the blackened head of
the dying forest walker.
“Grandfather…” the scorched creature hissed. “Grandfather…”
Radegast straightened up and eyed her
companions. “We should be… not here.”
“Too late for that,” Xylon said.
"Fool!" she snapped, then let out a heavy sigh. “Sorry, I get snappy when I’m upset. I shouldn’t be rude.” “Is this about the Eldreth Veluuthra ?” Xylon asked. Radegast ground her teeth. "Go screw your mother. Nine out of ten uncles agree she's a good time."
The party continued east, fighting against
the environment the whole way.
The branches and leaves of the trees above
their heads rubbed against each other, whispering in Sylvan, “The Grandfather sleeps…The Grandfather
sleeps.”
Radegast cursed as a tangle of brambles
snagged her clothing for the twentieth time.
“You want us to leave?” She shouted in
Sylvan. “Stop keeping us here!”
Varien and Alec continued to hack away at
the thick underbrush with their swords as the party made its painful way
through endless thorn bushes and fallen logs.
“Now, if I remember the map…” Erwen
muttered to himself.
“Map?” Varien said. “When did you see a
map?”
“Didn’t Ragnar copy Gundren’s map?” Bob
asked. “I thought I saw a sketch of his once.”
“Keep pressing on,” Varien said. “Xylon’s
girlfriend has a date with my steel.”
The temperature began to drop noticeably,
with frost beginning to dapple the leaves of plants. The party’s breath fogged
as they slogged on through the wet undergrowth. Erwen estimated that they had
covered about 8 miles in 4 hours, a lamentable pace.
The wind picked up, and on it was the
keening sound of a woman’s voice, eerie and ethereal.
“Xylon….” It said in a singsong voice. “Xylon…”
“Daddy’s almost home,” Xylon muttered.
“Were those forest walkers Agatha’s doing?”
Varien asked. "Or is she in league with those elven supremacists?"
“Bunch of inbred buttholes,” Radegast said. “I’m
sure this bitch has plenty of friends in the forest.”
“Watch your tongue,” Xylon hissed. “We have to play this nice and easy or else
we’re going to pay dearly.”
He found the trail to Agatha’s lair.
The forest grew dark and still as the trail
wound deeper into the trees. Heavy vines and thick layers of moss like bridal
lace draped the branches, and the air grew colder still. Rounding a bend in the
trail, the party saw a clearing open up, with a large tree stump converted into
a dwelling place, its roof made of a screen of warped branches woven into a
domelike shelter.
The party stopped at what seemed like a
respectful distance away from the hovel.
“Okay,” Xylon turned to his friends. “I’m
going to go in there alone. Don’t do anything stupid.” He looked directly at
Varien. “Don’t do anything at all.”
He squared his shoulders, took a deep
breath, and headed for the door.
“It’s been a while since we ate,” Erwen
said. “I’m going to go forage for food.” He disappeared into the forest.
Xylon opened the door to Agatha’s lair and
peeked inside.
“Honey, I’m home,” he said, his voice
ringing in the empty hovel. The furnishings were much the same as the last time
he’d seen them – Xylon noted the bejeweled comb lying on the dresser where
Agatha had left it. The rest of the room was sparsely furnished, with chests,
shelves, a table, and a reclined couch, all of it fine elvencraft.
“Agatha, it’s cold in here,” Xylon said,
looking around. “Can’t you get a fire going?”
There was a flickering of cold light behind
him. Xylon turned as Agatha’s spectral shape took form. His mood eased as he
got a full glimpse of the banshee’s considerable bosom that spilled over her
tightly-cinched bodice.
“Baby, you’ve still got it where it
counts,” Xylon whispered.
“You were wise to return to me, my
gentleman caller,” Agatha’s voice was like the sound of icicles forming.
“But of course,” Xylon said. “How could I
stay away?”
The edge of Agatha’s horrid mouth twisted
in what might have been a smile.
Outside the hut, Varien reached out with
his divine sense and detected the presence of undead, not inside the hovel
itself, but a few yards away on the western edge of the clearing.
The rest of the party was hunkered down by
a small fire. Radegast’s eyes narrowed at the paladin. “Xylon said to stay
put,” she hissed.
Varien was already unsheathing his sword.
“The undead stalk these woods. I can smell it.” He strode into the dimness.
Varien could see a small dancing light hovering
in mid-air several yards from the hovel. It seemed to drift and dance to its
own inner music, bouncing through the air seemingly oblivious to his approach.
“Whatever you are, you’re dead and should
have stayed dead,” Varien muttered. He swung his sword.
The tiny orb whizzed out of the way and
blinked out of sight, reappearing several feet away.
“Nuh-uh-uh,” he heard a spectral voice say.
Varien swung again, this time nicking the
creature. Sparks flew.
“Fool!” the orb hissed, and then disappeared.
“You’re not getting away that easy!” Varien
said, charging ahead.
“So,” Agatha breathed. “What of our
arrangement?”
“Yes,” Xylon said. “The treasure at Old Owl
Well. I found a few things that might interest you.” He pulled out the crystal
ball and held it out.
Agatha’s cold eyes went wide. She passed a
spectral hand through the seeing stone and it drifted up from Xylon’s hands.
She stared into it, lost in thought.
“There you are…” she whispered.
“Yes, well, I took a look through that
crystal ball and I have to say I didn’t find it particularly helpful,” Xylon
said. “Is it part of a set? Are there more of them out there?”
“More questions,” Agatha hissed, not taking
her eyes off the crystal ball. “I believe our arrangement was the treasure for
the location of Wave Echo Cave.”
“Well, that is true,” Xylon said. “But I
believe I’ve shown you nothing but the strongest loyalty. I brought you that
heirloom comb, for example, and I held up my end of our bargain. What if we
were to substitute the Wave Echo Cave location for more information about these
crystal balls.”
“Loyal,” Agatha repeated. “Well, yes, you
have been that…” She turned to face Xylon.
“I’m dying to know more about that crystal
ball,” Xylon said.
“Dying, yes,” Agatha said, her attention once
again drawn to the seeing stone. “Very well. This crystal ball is one of three,
crafted by the Ancient Netherese, to spy on the elves of Illefarn. When used in
concert, these crystal balls reveal the location of the ancient elven
stronghold of Sharandar, lost for centuries in the depths of Neverwinter Wood,
a fortress that no longer wants to be found.”
“Tell me more,” Xylon said. “I know you
thirst for knowledge. I too am thirsty.”
“Oh, Xylon,” Agatha said, her expression
darkening. “A fool always betrays his intentions.”
“What do you mean?” Xylon gulped.
Agatha sneered. “One of your companions is
outside being very naughty.”
Xylon sighed and took a peek out of one of
the hovel’s windows. He could see Varien off in the distance, swinging his
sword at a twinkling piece of light that flickered in the darkness. “Cheeky!”
Varien shouted as the creature dodged his attack.
“Damn it,” Xylon hissed. He cleared his
throat. “Baby, listen, I need your help. You might have noticed that I look a
little different than when I saw you last.”
Agatha looked him up and down. Xylon felt a
thrill shiver its way from head to toe.
“I was cursed,” he continued.
“Cursed?” Agatha said, floating up towards
the ceiling of her hovel. “I know all about curses.”
“I am separated from my magic,” Xylon said.
“I couldn’t defend myself. Otherwise I would have abandoned my companions and
visited you alone, as you prefer. But the Order of the Gauntlet…”
“The Gauntlet?” Agatha snarled. “What of
them?”
“They bid us discovered the secrets of Old
Owl Well.”
“And what did you find there?”
“An ancient evil that we promptly killed.”
“And what of the Red Wizard?”
“Oh, he’s dead,” Xylon said. “Pierced and
in pieces.”
“That’s delicious,” Agatha said.
“And so there was this crystal ball, and a
set of very fashionable robes,” Xylon said, indicating his cursed cloak.
“Ah, cursed robes,” Agatha drew so close
that Xylon thought he would freeze to death. “Excellent.”
“And so my friend out there, he’s really
salty when it comes to things necromantic. His hometown was wiped out by the
undead, you see. We try to keep him on short leash, but…”
Agatha moaned in exaggerated sympathy. “Oh
dear,” she said.
“Which makes me wonder,” Xylon continued.
“If I can somehow be of service to you again. My friend won’t trouble you
inside your hovel.”
“Hovel?” Agatha snapped.
“Domicile, palace, house…” Xylon stammered. “Certainly not a hovel.”
Agatha turned to view Varien outside.
“Perhaps your friend would prefer to make himself useful as one of my servants
in the afterlife.”
“Ha ha,” Xylon chuckled nervously. “That
would be a sight to see.”
“Well, well,” Agatha turned back to the
wizard. “Netherese magic can be problematic, it’s true.” She stroked the neck
of Xylon’s robe. The wizard’s teeth chattered.
“Can you help me?” Xylon pleaded.
“What are you offering me in return?”
Agatha said.
“My services are already yours,” Xylon
said.
“Ah, but you and your friends have already
caused much trouble in these woods of late.”
“What, those tree creatures? They attacked
us!”
“No, I speak of the way your friends
decimated the Cragmaw goblins and sacked their castle.”
“Oh, well, that was just business,” Xylon
said.
“Your friends’ actions have destabilized
the power structure of the forest,” Agatha said. “I fear for the safety of many
who pass through my domain.”
“We’ll gladly go on a quest to procure the
other two crystal balls,” Xylon said. “But without my magic, I am a sitting
duck.”
“Are you asking me to remove your curse?”
Agatha whispered in Xylon’s ear, sending a rime of frost into his hairline.
“I will do anything you command,” Xylon
said.
“Well then, I can’t have you at anything
less than your best, my lovely elf,” Agatha extended a clawed hand that rapidly
took corporeal form, and with a hissed incantation ran it down the length of
Xylon’s cloak, tearing it from his body. Xylon felt necrotic wounds open along
his chest, but figured they were superficial.
He could feel his attunement to the cursed
cloak shatter like ice.
Xylon raised a hand and tentatively cast a ray of frost into the ceiling and was
rewarded with a flash of icy energy. It began to snow inside the hut.
“That feels better,” Xylon said. “Much
better.”
“Now,” Agatha’s voice deepened. “Bring me
the Scrying Stones of Sharandar.”
“And where might they be?” Xylon asked.
“One was lost in the forest, but I trust in
your abilities to locate it once more,” Agatha said. “The other is located in
the Dread Ring, where even now, more Red Wizards of Thay seek it.”
“Sounds easy enough,” Xylon said.
“Be on your guard,” Agatha warned. “The Eldreth Veluuthra stalk the forest in
search of the unworthy. You should choose your traveling companions more
wisely. And the Dread Ring is to the southeast. It is no place for the
fainthearted.”
“Dread Ring, Red Wizards, southeast, got
it.” Xylon was still reveling in the magic coursing through him again.
He turned to Agatha. “One last thing. The
acquaintance I mentioned. He says his city was destroyed by a necromancer. It
was the City of Lorelei. Have you heard anything about that?”
Agatha shook her head. “I have answered
enough of your questions today, my handsome elf. Prove yourself worthy and I
may yet tell you more.”
Xylon watched as Agatha turned back to the
crystal ball, cradling it and staring into it.
He knew what he had to do.
“By the way,” he said, edging towards the
door. “Do you feel like it is getting hot in here?”
He cast fireball
in the centre of Agatha’s hut.
“Damn ghost!” Varien snarled. “Get back
here!” He was rapidly running out of patience as the tiny orb kept toying with
him.
Then he felt a sudden heat on his back. He
turned to see Agatha’s hovel blowing its stack.
The woven roof burned away instantly as the
fireball blasted up and out, mushrooming into the air over the forest and turning
the dimness to blinding daylight for a few moments.
“Well,” Radegast said, getting to her feet.
“Looks like Xylon is back on his bullshi-”
Inside the hut, Xylon stood in a pocket of
safety, watching the fire rage against the banshee’s belongings.
The flames parted to reveal Agatha still
floating in mid-air, glowering at Xylon with the look of a woman scorned.
“This,” Agatha said as the fire danced in
her eyes. “Will not be a pleasant end for you.”
She turned incorporeal and flew right
through Xylon and the door to her burning home to parts outside.
Xylon lunged for the crystal ball, catching
it before it could shatter on the ground.
Outside, the party members were scrambling
into fighting stances. A second orb twinkled into existence and immediately
zoomed towards Radegast, Alec and Bob, while Varien was suddenly on the
receiving end of a shock attack from the tiny ball of light.
Then he could see the banshee in all her
terrifying glory, floating above the forest clearing.
“Yes!” Varien said, raising his sword.
“YOU DARE?” Agatha shrieked. “YOU DARE
INVADE THE HOME OF AGATHA, THE GHOST OF NEVERWINTER WOOD? YOU DARE TO RAISE
YOUR WEAPONS AND STAND AGAINST ME?”
“Yes, yes, and yes!” Varien said.
“I WILL NOT AGAIN BE BETRAYED,” Agatha
cried out, and then began to scream an anguished, inarticulate, howl that
drowned out the sounds of the flames and caused the party members to grip their
heads and cover their ears in agony.
Radegast fell to her knees, blood flowing
from her ears, nose, and eyes. She pitched sideways and sprawled on the ground,
unconscious.
Inside the hovel, Xylon staggered, trying
to stay conscious as the echoes of Agatha’s wail drilled into him, loosening
his teeth in their sockets and threatening to turn his eardrums to icy splinters
of agony stabbing into his brain. He felt his knees give out as a wave of
darkness swept over him like a veil. He stumbled halfway out the door, blood
flecking his lips as he coughed.
With the last of his strength he kept the
crystal ball from falling to the floor.
Varien shook his head to clear the ringing
echo of the banshee’s wail and cast a Vow
of Enmity on the banshee. “This forest will be cleansed of you before the
night is through!” he promised. He swung his sword with righteous fury and connected
with Agatha, a divine smite that send
a blast of radiant energy rippling through the creature.
Agatha screamed.
Bob reached Radegast and rolled her over.
“Oh, this doesn't look good,” he said to Alec.
“We’ve got other things to worry about,”
Alec said, pulling his sword. “Watch out!”
One of the orbs zigzagged past the fighter
and stopped over Radegast’s unconscious body. A ray of spectral light blasted
out, making the bard convulse.
Radegast’s teeth clenched and she began to
sweat blood, but she appeared to be able to resist the creature’s life draining
ray.
Bob got up and ran until he could see both
Xylon’s and Radegast’s bodies. Then he cast a twinned healing word on the two of them.
Alec cast a fire bolt at the orb, which dodged easily. “You’ll have to do
better than that!” the creature laughed.
Radegast coughed and sat up. She stared at
the orb. “Looks like you didn't have the balls to take me out!”
“Now that hurt,” the orb said
plaintively.
Bob stood transfixed at the sight of the
banshee. "The things Xylon
puts his thing inside of..."
“YOU WILL NOT SOON
FORGET WHAT YOU SEE TONIGHT!” Agatha screamed and revealed her truly horrible
visage, letting her jaw hang askew as her flesh turned a deep, dead purple.
Agatha locked eyes with
Varien and the paladin saw in her horrible gaze a phantasmagorical replay of
the Shade of Lorelei.
Alec grinned. “Aha, you
can’t play with my mind, you hag!” Then he thought for a moment. “Unless you
were to use worms. I don’t do worms.”
Radegast got to her feet,
staggered over to Varien, who stood petrified, and grabbed his shoulders.
“GRIT…YOUR….TEETH….AND….WRECK HER!” She cast heroism.
Varien shook his head
and snarled at Agatha. He hefted Talon again and called down another divine
smite on the banshee, blasting her with a radiant attack and following
through with another heavy blow.
The banshee, weakened,
drifted back, covering her face as she screamed.
Varien used his Celestial
Light to further heal Radegast.
One of the orb creatures, that Varien now recognized
as a Will o’ Wisp, tried to zap him with a lightning attack that missed.
The second Will o’ Wisp hit Alec with a
lightning attack.
“You bitch!”
Xylon’s voice carried over the sound of the
melee. He staggered out from Agatha’s doorstep, a finger pointed at the
banshee.
“You’re frigid baby, time for you to warm
up to my charms!”
Another fireball
blasted forth, enveloping Agatha and several yards of combustible underbrush.
The party could hear her laughter from
within the flames, which suddenly snuffed out with a flourish.
“Fools!” Agatha cackled. “You will soon
learn the futility of your resistance!”
Alec swung his sword at the Will o’ Wisp,
missing, but he caught it on the backswing, sending it spinning wildly away
like a cricket ball.
Bob raised his hands. “Eat my radiant
light, you hag!” A guiding bolt
zapped out and connected with Agatha, blasting her midsection apart.
This time, Agatha’s scream was one of
agony. She twisted, holding her hands to her shattered body, parts of which
remained incorporeal while others looked all too solid. She moaned and
stuttered an invocation. Twin pulsating ribbons of necrotic energy suddenly
linked the banshee to her two Will o’ Wisp companions as she drained their
undead life force, snuffing them out in an instant and regaining some of her
strength.
“Okay, why don’t you eat some more!” Bob
shouted. “Hear the words of my god, Sune!” He sang out a holy incantation and
sent a second guiding bolt rocketing
towards Agatha.
There was an unearthly sigh as the bolt
connected with the banshee. The radiant bomb went off, sending shock waves
through Agatha’s bucking body. The banshee froze, arms outstretched, as she was
bathed in radiant light from her head down to her indeterminate spectral legs.
Flashes of light twisted Agatha’s features from her horrible undead visage back
to the beautiful elven maiden she had been in life, and back again, as though
she was losing control over her form.
She slowly drifted from the air over the
clearing down to ground level. As she settled onto the ground, parts of her
body began to flake off and disintegrate in the withering glare of the radiant
light.
She reached out a hand to Xylon.
“Xylon…” she whispered pleadingly as she continued
to disintegrate. “Why?”
And then she was gone, consumed by the
radiant fire.
“Looks like the banshee was,” Bob paused
for effect. “Banished.”
“Rest in peace,” Varien said. He turned to
Xylon. “Was it good for you?”
“Sorry it had to end this way,” Radegast
clapped a hand on Xylon’s shoulder. “And sorry to leave your bed so cold.”
“I’m sorry I started shit,” Xylon said.
“Well yes you did set her on fire.”
Radegast said.
“But I got some more answers, and got the curse lifted. It had to be this way.”
Varien watched Agatha’s hut as it burned. “Call
me crazy, but I still think this is a safer place to rest than beneath the
trees tonight.”
“I’m sensing a pattern here,” Bob said to
Xylon. “You sleep with things, they turn around and attack us, and then we have
to kill them.”
Xylon stared wistfully at what was left of
Agatha. “I never slept with her,” he murmured. “Flirted, yeah, but that was because
I wanted my powers back.”
“Well then,” Radegast said. “When we get
back to civilization we’ll have to find you a nice brothel.”
Snow began to gently fall in the clearing as
the last of the fires burned out.