Session #19 - Vrok Vrok 'Til You Drop

Katla turned away just as the warhammer began to fall.  It wasn’t the violence of it, or any moral conflict with killing Vincenes.  He was evil and deserved to die.  Instead it was a sense of fear, fear that Almont was killing a part of himself by his actions.  Bringing Vincenes back from the dead so that he would see Almont deliver the blow was more than simply gratuitous.  There was a savagery about it.  And even more concerning was the look in the cleric’s eyes.  Had they been filled with fire and rage Katla could have held out hope that it was an act driven by pain.  But Almont’s eyes were cold, his actions so methodical and calmly executed that the elf worried for his very soul.

 

The sound was that of a melon being crushed.  Donyxn and Kent looked on impassively.  When it was done Almont limped away to clean his weapon.  Kent walked over and watched as he methodically wiped down the warhammer.  He removed his flask, took a drink, and passed it to the priest.  “It’s done.  That means it’s in the past now.  Let it stay there brother, so that it doesn’t consume you from within.”

 

Almont took a drink and returned the flask to the dwarf.  “Do not worry yourself, brother.  Kiri-Jolith protects.  My path is forward, not in the past.”

 

Kent nodded and looked over his shoulder at Katla, who was absently looking at the sibriex.  “She doesn’t approve.”

 

Almont turned his gaze to the sorceress.  “No.  But she carries something inside of her, a deep wound that needs to be healed, some kind of wrong that needs to be made right.  I don’t know what it is, but I hope when her time comes to face those demons that she understands.”

 

The pair returned to Donyxn and Katla, and Almont completed a healing ritual.  The magic flowed through them, closing wounds and easing pains.  The others came away feeling fresh and strong, but Almont’s wounds were deep, and while he felt serviceable it would take more than one prayer to bring him back to full strength.  But this was not a safe place to rest, so for now it would have to do.

 

The four walked to the edge of the pit and regarded the sibriex, which returned each of their gazes with its multitude of eyes.  

 

“Release me and I will answer your questions,” it said.

 

Kent regarding the chains binding the demon.  “Looks to be one length of chain wrapped around and anchored in different spots.”  He followed its path with his eyes, eventually stopping at one of the infernal iron posts that anchored it.  “That’s the weak spot.”  He turned back to the sibriex and smiled.  “This will take a few minutes.  Why not answer my friend’s questions and I’ll have you out of here in no time.”

 

It would be accurate to say the sibriex stared at Kent for a few moments before responding, but given the slowly swirling parts of faces that came and went on its surface, in reality it was staring at all of them simultaneously.  

 

“Ask your first question.”

 

“Why did Yeenoghu bring the crokek’toeck to Avernus?  What is it transporting, and what is its purpose?” asked Almont.

 

Four of the six eyes the sibriex had trained on Almont closed, their lids sealing and disappearing into the demon’s skin as if they’d never been there.  What replaced them was a new opening that slowly enlarged, pus and foul liquid emerging from it as it grew.  It was a new mouth that now dominated one part of the sibriex’s surface.

 

“Yeenoghu keeps its plans to itself.  Though bringing a crokek’toeck to Avernus is no easy feat, so it must have its reasons.”  

 

“That hardly answers our question,” Katla said firmly.

 

The large mouth formed into a grin of sorts.  “The crokek’toeck is powerful, capable of both swimming under the surface of the Styx and transporting an entire army of demons within it.  But demons can be brought to Avernus by any number of portals that dot its surface…” The demon’s voice trailed off and it went silent.

 

“Finish your thought, demon,” said Almont.

 

“The crokek’toeck also exudes a potent bile, one capable of dissolving any metal, or so I am told.  So perhaps it has another purpose for being here as well.”

 

That was interesting, especially given their next question.

 

“There are said to be nine bars of adamantine lost somewhere on Avernus.  Where are they?”  Almont asked.

 

The large mouth closed and disappeared within the surface of the sibriex.  What replaced it were six smaller mouths that moved and spoke in unison, each with it’s own voice, creating a sound that was even more disturbing that the creature’s normal speech. 

 

“An infernal flying fortress crashed south of here, in the field of burning pits.  A portion of it still juts out of the ground.  It was said to have been the fortress of Zariel herself.  What you seek was once there, but I cannot say if it still is.  I have answered your two questions as agreed, priest.  Now fulfill your part of the bargain and free me.”

 

“Got it,” Kent shouted with a wave and a smile.  With one last tug on the prybar the link snapped with a loud pop.  Now disconnected from the post the weight of the chain dragged it into the hole, the sibriex spinning as it unraveled. 

 

When the demon was free it levitated up over the crest of the pit and hovered, eyes scanning in every direction.  “I suggest you do not linger here.  It will not be safe for much longer.”  With that it headed off to the north.

 

Katla and Almont’s magic reserves had been depleted in the battle, but there was no time to rest.  They would need to make do. 

 

They saw three options available to them that would help further their aims.  They could return to Bel with the information they learned from the sibriex.  They could also head south and try to catch up with Madhi to claim the soul coin bounty on the recently deceased Smiler, as they would certainly need the coins to fuel their vehicles.  Or they could seek the adamantine bars.  Ultimately they agreed that seeking the bars made the most sense, reasoning that returning to Bel with both the information and the bars would put them in a better position but also because last they’d heard the Wandering Emporium was down south, so perhaps they would encounter it on the way to or from the wrecked fortress.

 

As they headed south the sand grew a bit thicker.  Small crevasses and holes dotted the landscape, most of which burned with orange and red flames, though a few burned in purple and black like hot bruises.  Kent and Donyxn were more and more comfortable driving their machines, so the holes provided no significant obstacles.  

 

After a few hours the wreck of the fortress rose from the horizon, a black shard shaped vaguely like a sword stuck into the ground.  The size of it only became apparent as the journey continued – it took much longer than expected to get to the location, the monolithic wreck growing larger and larger with each passing minute.

 

They parked a few hundred feet away and marveled at the scale of it, over 300 feet of metal protruding from the ground at a twenty-degree angle.  “Given the size of it, I’d say there’s at least another hundred fifty feet of this stuck in the ground in order for it to be held up like this,” Kent observed.  “How are we supposed to find some metal bars in something this big?  We could spend weeks exploring it.”

 

Holes of various sizes dotted the surface, some of which were close enough to ground level to afford entrance.  It was hard to tell if anyone or anything had been here recently, the constant wind and deeper sands having already almost completely erased the tracks of their own vehicles in a matter of minutes.  

 

“Looks like we have company,” Donyxn said, looking to the sky.

 

The others looked up and saw what appeared to be a half dozen vultures slowly circling.  

 

“They’re just vultures, Donyxn.  Nothing to worry a big strapping tiefling like yourself,” Kent jibed.  

 

Donyxn continued to stare intently.  “They’re not vultures…” he said, his voice trailing off as he unslung his bow. 

 

The creatures dove toward the party and as they closed the gap the others could now see what Donyxn’s enhanced vision had already revealed to him.  Their feathered wings were indeed bird-like, but their fanged beaks and taloned hands and feet marked them as more humanoid than avian.  It wouldn’t be until much later that they learned the name for their assailants:  Vrocks.

 

During their time fighting together the four adventurers had devised their own set of tactics designed to best utilize each of their strengths.  Generally their objective was to kill as many opponents as rapidly as possible, reducing the number of things that could in turn attack them.  Sometimes this meant wiping out weaker opponents quickly so that all four could focus on the one or two powerful enemies that remained.  Other times they did the opposite, taking out the most powerful creature first before addressing the others in turn.  The vrocks, however, had their own tactics, and things broke down quickly.  The party’s failure to follow their own tried-and-true methods almost cost them their lives.

 

The vrocks dove from the sky, a pair headed straight for Lola while the other four each picked out their own individual target.  The melee quickly devolved into a series of one-on-one battles, each defined by its own sheer brutality.  Lights flashed as magic weapons and spells battled sheer animalistic ferocity.  Splatters of blood and ichor criss-crossed the sand as both sides quickly realized they had underestimated the other.  

 

It was Katla who ultimately turned the tide.  Pulling the Staff of Nezznar from the sheath on her back, the sorceress exuded sticky webbing from its head.  While the webs didn’t harm the vrocks, they did force a few of them to the ground and kept them out of the fight for valuable seconds as they struggled to free themselves.  This allowed the others to concentrate their attacks on the unrestrained demons and soon the numbers turned in their favor.  Eventually four vrocks lay dead on the ground while a fifth, still cocooned in webbing, was being stomped to death by Lola.  The remaining demon attempted to escape, but the adventurers were not feeling generous as arrows and bolts of magic energy pursued it and took it from the sky. 

 

When it was all over, Katla was on her knees, blood flowing from a multitude of wounds.  The others had never seen the sorceress in such bad shape.  

 

“We need to get someplace secure,” Almont said.  

 

Donyxn nodded, his eyes scanning the surface of the wrecked fortress.  “There,” he said pointing toward a hole in the side.  They mounted their vehicles and headed to the opening.  It was large enough to move the Devil’s Ride inside, and small enough that the Tormentor could be parked in front and block it from the outside.

 

They found themselves in a metal-walled chamber that appeared to be some kind of storeroom.  Broken shelves lined the walls, some of which had collapsed into the room.  An assortment of metal boxes were strewn about, all of which had been forced open.  Sand from outside covered the floor deeply in the area around the opening, thinning out further into the room.  Pebble-sized holes dotted the walls and allowed light to enter, bright circles spotting the walls and floor.  A distant rhythmic thumping sound at two-second intervals seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

 

After clearing away a space everyone sat down for a meal, Almont’s magic allowing him to conjure up fresh food and water.  

 

“This thing is huge,” Kent said, chewing on the tasteless food.  “How are we going to find these damned bars?”

 

“I have an idea about that,” Almont replied, standing and walking to spot a dozen or so feet away from the others.  There he kneed, placing his warhammer on the ground with the head down and the handle sticking straight up.  He removed the skull-faced medallion of his god from under his armor, placing it on the hammer’s head, and began to pray.

 

The cleric’s eyes rolled back into his head and everything went dark.  When he could see again he was no longer in the wrecked fortress in Avernus, but instead in a stone hall facing Kiri-Jolith on his throne of skulls.  The air was refreshingly cool after a week or more on Avernus.  Even if his god didn’t have the information Almont sought, the act of communing would be worth it just for this moment of respite.

 

“Speak, my son,” Kiri-Jolith’s voice boomed in his head.

 

“We seek nine bars of adamantine, lord, that we will trade for information we need to save Elturel.  We have been told the bars are in this machine.  Can you tell me where to find them?”

 

Kiri-Jolith sat silently, spinning his massive sword on it’s tip, the sound of the metal tip grinding against the stone boring into Almont’s mind.  

 

“The command deck of this cursed machine is at the top, the portion that looks like a sword’s guard.  There, behind the nine-pointed symbol, you will find that which you seek.”

 

Almont bowed his head in thanks.  As he did so the images of Vincenes’ final moments flashed into his head.  Did I do the right thing?

 

“That one will trouble you no further, my son.  Because your blessed hammer took his life, I was able to reach into Avernus and pluck out his soul.”  Kiri-Jolith held a fist-sized crystal in his hand, slowly rolling it around as he gazed at it.  The god looked at Almont and closed his fist, the crystal shattering as he ground it to dust.  A spectral wisp rose from the god’s hands and dissipated.  Almont thought he could hear the quiet sound of Vincenes’ distant scream fade away.

 

Back in Avernus the cleric’s eyes refocused.  Knowing that Vincenes would not be returning to some kind of life in hell put his mind at ease.  

 

Almont shared his vision with the others.  They agreed that after taking their rest they would use Katla’s staff to give them all spider climb abilities so they could trek to the command deck.  Their path forward decided they set the watch schedule and got some rest.