Hi all,
The quest was underway! As the shadowy horse snorted and pawed angrily, the Captain addressed it and, sensing no immediate relent on its part, shooed it off with an icy stare and some stern words. You continued down the tunnel, sloping deeper into the Underworld and myth.
Maugis created light on his staff that aided you in seeing your way - and each other. You'd changed- each had become more vague in appearance, more like some ancient being of legend in dress and visage and less like yourselves, but you could still recognize each other. Simple details like breathing, heartbeats or idle thoughts drifted into obscurity as you became more focused on your quest, and more a part of it.
Some of you recalled stories where people either tried too hard to remember who they were, and acted inappropriately on a quest as a result, causing havoc. Other stories were of people that lost their way on quests, losing their own identities and becoming absorbed into myth; even forgotten by their loved ones as their own past existence vanished, leaving a gap in reality but adding little or nothing to the realm of myth. There was much at stake on a quest like this- your own essences. To save a friend and strengthen a family, Cyroosta and others knew, you put yourselves on the bargaining table of the heroquest, and not just your mortal lives, either…
You then came to what seemed a gray mist; a gradually increasing haze in the air that left it bereft of colour and other sensations, somehow still dark and cold, and not wet like a fog, nor having any perceivable dimension or extent. In that haze you saw twisted, faint faces and bodies woven into its weft and swirling about. Cyroosta surmised that this was the Grey Zone: the boundary between the mortal realms and the hero plane. She remembered that Logic was the way through, and so she made incantations and predigitations in true Malkioni fashion to find the best route, as you linked hands in a line abreast with the wheelbarrow in the centre, Inyana still pushing it tirelessly forwards. Fortunately Cyroosta's guidance was superb, and you passed out of the Grey Zone before the spirits found special interest in you…
Another tunnel lay ahead, wider and blacker and more unreal. Again Maugis's staff-light was called forth. Soon, out of the shadows came three soldiers in drab charcoal-black scale armour, lances levelled at you from atop the backs of demon-horses, which you later learned were called Diokos. This was the Black Horse Troop; soldiers of Sir Ethilrist of legend and modernity alike. Ahappi addressed them, and one of them spoke back in good Seshnegi, questioning his claim that he was a quester and yet showing some restraint even as the mounted patrol bristled with arms, shadow-magic and hints of potential aggression.
The Captain, continuing to assert himself as a leader on the quest, accepted the soldier's challenge-but then a rock sailed in from the darkness and struck the Muse Roost soldier square in the gut, although it annoyed him rather than harmed him. He and his men shouted in alarm and the horses champed viciously in eagerness to charge into you, as they thought the attack originated from your ranks. But ?Boamund/Ahappi? had spotted the rock's course from the shadows nearby, and pursued that way, hearing what were either padded footsteps or whispers but finding nothing. You convinced the warriors that you had not done this foolish attack and continued with the challenge.
The soldier placed a rock atop his helmet and Ahappi threw a harpoon, knocking the stone cleanly off. The soldier hefted a light crossbow and fired it at the same target on Ahappi's head, but the shot went wide. Grim and visibly disappointed in his loss, but honest and honourable, the soldier agreed Ahappi had won and handed the Captain a token of their agreed prize: his black gauntlet, which faded into shadows as Ahappi took hold of it and became a faint Shadow rune atop the Captain's scaly hand-the folk magic of Darkness had been transferred as a heroquest-prize. Then the troop admitted that you might be the powerful questers you claimed, but said you'd need to speak to Sir Ethilrist to gain passage further on, and so they took you to what they called The Fortress of Bleak Austerity.
The fortress was an ancient castle, carved into cavern walls and with great walls of its own of old iron and stone. Gate guards let you in with scant ceremony, and you passed inwards, marvelling at the old stonework and stark simplicity of the castle- there were no decorations, no colour, just enough torches to see dimly by, and nothing but armed men and tools of war. Here and there you saw carvings in the stone of hellish nature- tormented bodies, demons (including the demon-horses aplenty, some of which walked on two legs in those carvings! You tried not to look too closely at the carvings, not only because they were disturbing to view but also because your hosts still seemed tight-lipped and wary of you, watchful of your actions inside their stony abode. At the keep, before the guard there opened the portcullis, he crossed his arms and forebade the dead man that he somehow sensed inside the wheelbarrow to enter. You had a brief discussion, then Inyana and Boamund stayed behind to watch it.
Soon the rest of you came to Ethilrist's audience chamber, which was vast and silent, somehow not echoing as you strode inside to behold many alcoves with statues, a giant black hellish hound lounging on the floor (you'd seen its image on the soldiers' shields and other heraldry, and the horses themselves had a canine aspect, too), a strange cloak that seemed made of wavy shadows, and then Sir Ethilrist himself, reclining on an old, blood-caked bed of nails. He bore a simple crown and fine robes of muted colours, and looked you over with a piercing stare that left you speechless as he surveyed you. He then addressed you, asking why he should care about trespassing questers and why he should not have your innards decorating his fortress. Ahappi replied at first, then Cyroosta and Maugis joined in answering his queries (with him interrupting them in outrage, challenging their right to speak and pointing out the discord within your group that was obvious to him). He was dry, almost humourless, severe and unkind, but there was the ring of honour and truth to his words. What seemed to reassure him most was that you did not threaten to steal his fort's secrets and probably would not survive your quest into hell anyway, so eventually he relaxed and agreed to let you pass through what he called The Shadowment, then he gave you a tour.
Ehilrist's tour featured narration focussing on recounting his deeds as Sir Ethilrist and the formation of “my Black Horse Troop” after heroic quests into Hell. Ahappi fell silent listening to these deeds, but Cyroosta was distracted by the sight she caught of a shrine to Arkat in his audience chamber-the veil of questing had fallen from her eyes momentarily, and she perceived that “Ethilrist” was just some priest and there was no audience chamber or crown, but this building in the fortress (which was small and not a giant castle as it seemed) was a temple that must be part of the Atroxic Church (an ancient sort-of-predecessor/parallel to the Rokari Church, but also with hints of the World of Losers movement's self-harm and suffering themes). The tour made it clear, especially to Cyroosta, that this was not a fully functional city but rather a military camp for the Black Horse Troop mercenaries that Big Ron/Baronet Mudlark had secured-surely at no meagre price!
Returning to the audience chamber/church, Ethilrist reminded you that (1) your resurrection quest was blasphemy, but he did not care about that; and (2) more importantly, your saints and gods had all led to Malkion's betrayal, and for those and other sins you must make penance. He pointed to the bed of nails and bade the three people that had spoken to him to recline thereupon. Ahappi did and found it restful, arising unharmed and inspired; Ethilrist was impressed. Cyroosta groaned and shifted and arose bloodied; Ethilrist faintly grinned in approval. Maugis stoically persevered with minimal injury, and then Ethilrist abruptly sent you onwards with his soldiers. You bandaged yourselves as best you could.
You rejoined Inyana and Boamund to learn that the shadowy humanoid thing that had hounded you long ago in Fort Mudlark (and perhaps was the thing that had thrown a rock at the soldier earlier) had crept up on them and tried to run off with the wheelbarrow and Baronet's body, but Boamund chased it down, knocked the wheelbarrow over, and scared it off with furious bluster before it could carry the body away. Inyana had fainted and Boamund was calmly soothing her now that she was awake again. You watched more carefully for this dark thief as the patrol led you to The Shadowment. It was a break in the fortress walls that was vast, and entirely filled with deep black darkness that shed waves of frigid air-it was Hell Darkness; strong, magical, pure essence of the rune of Darkness. Ahappi took a breath and strode in, vanishing but passing through with little harm. All the others then passed through safely, too, although Inyana quailed and cried out as she passed through but Boamund heroically pulled her through. Again Maugis's magic light was quenched, and he recast it as you investigated Hell.
Hell was as you expected it to be. Dark, cold, and usually silent- but with outbursts of shrieks of pain and fear from the souls that suffered here outside the Court of Silence, which must lay much further down the path you followed. There were souls passing along that path, whom you could occasionally see shadows or faint outlines of. Deeper in the shadows off the path, now and then you caught glimpses of terrors that befell those condemned to suffer out here-demons ripping people asunder again and again, wandering dead, monsters and worse, all preying on lost souls. To lose your way on the path here would be to end up as them. This was purgatory- the souls walking the path were Malkioni, and perhaps others from pagan or heathen religions, too, that sought their way to their respective afterlives. But some would get waylaid for various reasons. And other souls suffering here were sent here either by their enemies or their religions, by rituals of excommunication or sundering of religious ties, to become truly hopeless spirits. Some, you shuddered to think, were heroquesters from centuries past, that had come this way but failed… now eternally to repeat that failure.
Eventually you came to a river that crossed the faint rocky path in the dark. You were alone on the path, but could see souls in the distance passing along the path across the river. You had to find a way across, but you saw a robed person washing their ragged clothes in the waters on the far shore. Maugis spied that it was not some innocent travelling soul-its face, hidden in its cowl, was rotting with worms and was horrifying to behold, and its eye sockets were focused on you. You paused to reflect on your quest-myth and thought this might well be Malia, or her servant at least. You addressed it and Inyana strode into the river with the wheelbarrow. It leapt up, howling as its face deformed like a floppy mask, its jaw distending and showing an empty void inside. But none of you shrunk before its wail and fled, although Inyana panicked and lost grip of the wheelbarrow, floundering in the current as the spectre clawed at her, trying to push her into the waters to be washed of (or in?) the filth it had wailed about. Maugis prayed; Ciddar dove into the waters and dragged the wheelbarrow back; Ahappi jumped in to battle the ghost with Boamund but found their weapons oddly useless (only unarmed spirit-binding would cause it to falter, you found); and Inyana struggled to avoid the ghost. Although it was a frightening struggle with some embarrassing hijinks, you bonded together as a team/family to battle the horror and prevailed, smashing it into the waters where it fell to pieces and was carried off. Maugis showed power in his duty to his community by parting the stream's waters, aiding the others to cross, then he jumped across, with Cyroosta's hand pulling him to safety. It seemed your feelings had unusual potency here. But so did the river. It turned out to be full of flesh-eating worms, which began to gnaw at your exposed skin, and you had to quickly brush them off or use magic to cleanse them, as Maugis did. And soon you were all across the river; Ciddar and Boamund had hauled the wheelbarrow across together.
You ventured on across the barren landscape, Cyroosta watching for twists and turns in the path. A withered underworld-forest stood before you, formed of grey, leafless little trees and skeletal bushes. What would lie therein?
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