Runemaster 9

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The odd men didn't seem to be following after her, but Nyssha ran down a few corridors at random, just to be sure. When she stopped, she found herself surrounded by empty nooks that must have once housed rich folks' favorite possessions. Each alcove in this hall looked much less spacious, and they were arranged one atop the other, with hardly a foot of space.

There were even some time-weathered, dusty plaques on some of them, likely detailing what items had once been there. Most of them were too weathered to read, but she found one that was barely readable: "The loyal Gerda, handmaiden of Avengarde, dutifully follows her master beyond the gates of death, to serve in eternal felicity."

She'd heard of nobles ordering that their servants be buried with them, whether they were already dead at the time or not. There were a couple conveniently morbid religions that called for that sort of thing so that the noble dead could continue living off others in their heavenly realms. She hadn't heard of anyone who'd done it more recently than hundreds of years ago, though, which gave her a general idea of how long ago good ol' Gerda was placed here.

That did not, however, explain where Gerda had gone. Looking more closely, she noticed signs of something having been dragged across the dust and stone. Someone had removed this body, and probably others, recently enough that the trails left behind in the dust had yet to be covered over by additional dust. The bodies of the dead were considered sacred by most in the region, and the law had cruel punishments in store for anyone who removed a corpse from its final resting place.

That hadn't stopped whoever was down here stealing corpses from the deep recesses of the crypt, where enforcers were unlikely to discover the theft. But why? What use was there for a lowly maidservant's corpse? It wouldn't even be worth anything on the black market. A noble corpse, maybe; there were certainly enough kinky beliefs about how to acquire noble blood that there was a market for it. But a long-dead servant of some secondary noble house was completely useless.

Nyssha idly fingered the Wylder stone in her pocket, wondering whether the mysterious figure had anything to do with the missing corpses. If she hadn't been wary of the Wylder already, this discovery certainly would have put her hackles up. As it was, though, it just confirmed what she already suspected: the Wylder could not be trusted.

After resting awhile, Nyssha turned back the way she'd come. She was too deep in this maze to ever hope to get out without some sort of map. She'd been careless before, letting the excitement of being "chosen" overshadow the suspicious nature of the invitation. Now she'd be sure to tread more carefully than she ever had before, as the sort who collected corpses were often the same folks creating corpses.

As she crept carefully down the passageway, she stopped frequently to listen for signs of other humans. She used her lantern sparingly and followed the pull of the stone as it led her, turn by turn, toward the Wylder. Whatever, or whoever, the Wylder might be, she'd have to discover his secrets and get out as soon as possible.

As she rounded one more corner, dancing shadows alerted her to torches ahead, her first real sign of other people down here. Not including Yarrel and Jost, of course. They were as clueless as her, likely more clueless. She stopped to listen at the corner, and a great, booming voice drifted down the hall toward her, "... riches and glory beyond your wildest dreams! What say you?"

After a brief silence, a familiar voice replied, "Way I sees it, gov', ye've told us lots 'bout riches, but I ent seen a smidge 'o gold er grabbables. What's ta say ye ent laggin' us on?"

There was an audible crack of breaking bone and a yelp of pain as Jost apparently got his answer. "Fool. Question not the providence that has brought you to me, for you stand before the greatest riches, far beyond gold or petty baubles. For my riches fade not, neither do they fester. Eternal, incorruptible. This treasure offer I to you, the greatest of all: immortality."

A shiver ran through Nyssha's spine. She knew what this was: she'd duped a fair share of priests in her day, and this sounded a whole lot like their sort of spiel. But what kind of priest was so strapped for acolytes that he'd be recruiting gutter trash in a crypt? She thought back to the missing bodies in the other hallway, wondering whether it wasn't acolytes that they were interested in.

Returning her attention to the other room, she nearly snorted when she heard Jost's reply, "Yeah, think I'll pass, mate."

There was a frantic commotion, but Nyssha never knew what happened next, for at that moment, a heavy hand landed on her shoulder. "What have we here?" came an icy voice, "Another rat scurrying after scraps of glory left in our master's wake?"

Nyssha tried to break free, but the hand held her fast, dragging her toward the flickering torchlight ahead. The room they entered was everything she expected from corpse-stealing death priests. Dusty tapestries depicted horrendous scenes so detailed they practically dripped with blood. Battlefields, heinous murders, and worse.

A golden altar stood atop a central dais, with complex arcane patterns etched into the floor all around it.

Jost's body lay crumpled nearby, his blood running into the grooves of the pattern in the floor. Nyssha couldn't be sure, but wherever his blood touched the pattern, she thought she saw a dull glow pulse and fade, as with the beat of his heart. Yarrel was nowhere to be seen.

Nyssha's captor's hand dug into her pocket and retrieved the Wylder's stone. After examining it, he presented it to the priest, one hand still holding her in a vicelike grip. "Master, I present the quarry we considered lost," he said, his voice dripping with pride, "The enchantment is nearly faded, but it is certainly her."

"Well, well," intoned the priest, considering her, "It takes considerable willpower to resist the call so long. What is your name, child?"

A glib response leapt to Nyssha's lips, but as her eyes fell on Jost again, she barely caught herself. Still, she didn't generally share her name with creepy cultists. She hadn't even learned what they wanted. In the end she decided to go with an old alias, "Alora," she declared, then she curtsied sarcastically and added, "Now, what can I do for—"

"Silence." The priest hadn't raised his voice, but a sudden weight pressed upon Nyssha's chest, and air refused to enter or leave her lungs. "Do you think me a fool, child? Another lie shall be the end of you. Do you understand?"

The pressure dissipated enoug for Nyssha to nod her understanding as she sucked desperately at the air.

"Good. Now, your name?"

"Nyssha," she croaked, her glare sharp enough to draw blood. And then, even as she looked on, it did draw blood, or so it seemed: a thin line opened in the priest's forehead, blood dripping down his nose. Despite the apparent wound, the priest seemed unworried. In fact, as the trail of blood dripped past his mouth, he licked at it and moaned in pleasure.

Then the wound opened wide to reveal jagged teeth jutting from a black maw. "This one is known to us," the new mouth rasped, "Bring her forth, for she shall be mine."

The priest fell to his knees in pain and apparent ecstasy, "It shall be done, my lord." Crimson tears flowed from his eyes, and he mad laughter burst from his lips. "My life for the Father!"

Nyssha's attention was dragged away as she again found herself struggling against the iron grip of her captor. She sent an elbow into the man's ugly face, stomped his toes, and even managed to twist around enough to land a knee to his nethers. Her struggles elicited hardly a grunt, and she soon found herself directly before the priest. A wicked grin split his face—literally. The new mouth that had started with mere teeth and upturned lips swiftly became a gruesome scene of ripping flesh as the line of mouth continued spreading until the line of his mouth spread from ear to ear.

The priest's laughter was cut short as his face was split in two, twisting in on itself. The grotesque mouth turned inward and devoured what was left of the priest; as flesh chewed up by the mouth, new meat and sinew emerged on the other side, forming into a head, then a long, sinuous neck. A spindly torso was followed by six crooked legs, seemingly at random. In a moment, the priest's whole body was consumed, and a new creature stood in his place, tongue lolling contentedly as it stared hungrily at Nyssha.

Throughout this process, Nyssha had barely avoided vomiting by focusing on the things she'd do to these people when she escaped, but the sight of its final form proved too much.

Horror, she thought as she lost her lunch, That's what this is. A nightmare.

The nightmare bowed. That was what it seemed like, anyway, lowering on all six legs at once. "Greetings, blessed one," the creature said in a childlike voice, "I will be brief, as even my current vessel, created as it was by the blood and faith of my devoted, cannot contain my will for long."

With each word, Nyssha's mind was filled with images and impressions that threatened to overwhelm her. Pain, blood, and sinew. Death. And wretched, writhing life. All these were revealed in countless scenes of suffering.

"I am the Undying," the creature continued, its voice squeaking and halting, "I was birthed with the world, and my every end is but another beginning. Serve me, and you shall—" It coughed suddenly and disgorged a bloody lump. When it continued, its voice was deeper, "you shall not only leave this crypt with your life, but also with wealth beyond your wildest dreams.

"These years you have struggled, alone, against awful odds awfuller evils. If you were mine, you should no longer carry these mortal cares. You would be protected. Perfected—"

"Yeah, like that bloke in the dress?" Nyssha turned to see Jost pushing himself to his knees, only to slip in his own blood and collapse into hacking coughs. "One of the creature's limbs shot out, stabbing through his arm, eliciting another scream as the creature screamed, "That is enough from you, fool."

Nyssha's guard grabbed her head with one hand forcibly wrenched her attention back to the abomination.

"My priest was an unfortunately imperfect vessel from his inception," the creature conceded. It shuddered and one of its legs rapidly decayed and was sucked back into the body with a squelch, "Yet you are blessed, a perfect vessel for my divinity. You could not be better if I had made you myself."

A chill ran up Nyssha's spine. A perfect vessel? she thought of all the street kids who'd gone missing. Had they just been more vessels for this creature to inhabit? And what about the ones who did come back? She shuddered to think that this evil had ever left the tomb, had ever walked the streets—

Eidholm. If Death truly walked the streets there, then this had to be him. In that moment, she knew what she had to do. She would fight against this thing to the death... or preferably, to the death of Death.

"I'm flattered," she declared. She made a show of looking the creature up and down and added, "but I can't say you're my type." As she spoke, she carefully palmed her dagger as she braced herself for a blow.

"Silence!" The thing screeched, its words half in her mind and half in her ears. It wasn't the attack she expected, but her head blazed with pain despite the lack of a physical blow. Apparently, it had harmed her mortal captor, too, and she seized the opportunity. As the big man's grip on her head loosened ever so slightly, Nyssha twisted around and jammed the dagger into his neck then swiftly pulled it free to throw it at the grotesque face of Death.

Nyssha was sure he'd block it, so the moment she threw it, she reached for the cudgel at the guard's waist, now slick with blood. Fumbling it free, she turned around and... What?

Jost was now on his feet, the blood around him flowing back toward him in hair-thin streams. He was grabbing at two of the avatar's legs as some of the strands of blood wrapped around the other legs, forming cords that somehow subdued the abomination. Jost's eyes flashed her way for an instant, containing an intensity she never would have imagined from the apparently flippant man.

Then he flashed her a goofy smile and went back to straining against the god-creature. That's when she realized that he was losing. His muscles tensed and veins bulged, but the avatar was slowly gaining the upper hand... or appendage, anyway. One of its legs burst free of the bloody bindings and stabbed through Jost's thigh. He grunted in pain, but the blood that burst from the wound didn't splash to the ground, instead wrapping around the invading limb and hardening to hold it fast.

Nyssha hoisted the heavy cudgel high above her head, intending to rush to his aid, when she finally spotted Yarrel approaching from behind the monster. She blushed in spite of herself at the sight, for he was naked aside from a thick loin cloth. Scribbled lines and patterns covered every inch of exposed skin, glowing with green and purple light. His eyes were closed, and she could see his mouth moving even though she couldn't hear what he might be saying over the sounds of struggle.

But it seemed the avatar could hear. Its head morphed and reformed with its eyes pointed backward, and one of its limbs was sucked away, giving Jost a little more breathing room. As its eyes fell on Yarrel, however, it redoubled its efforts to escape. Nyssha was forced to endure another psychic assault as Death let out another screech, but she felt great satisfaction at the fear she heard in its voice.

Still, Yarrel slowly advanced, step by step, toward the conflict. Nyssha could finally hear his voice, chanting the same nonsensical sounds over and over as he closed the distance between himself and the god.

When Yarrel was within ten feet of the creature, it gave up the struggle, its limbs sucking into its body or cracking off as it severed them itself. Those were the limbs that it couldn't get free of Jost's hold. As soon its limbs disappeared, it once more morphed, this time into a long, sinuous line that slithered toward Nyssha and the black hall behind her.

Freed from the counter-pressure of his opponent, Jost collapsed to the ground, panting heavily. cursing under his breath, he shot to his feet and ran after the retreating snake. Tendrils of blood whipped out ahead of him as he ran, but he cursed as he realized that the snake was too fast.

She wasn't any good with a cudgel, but she knew she couldn't let this thing escape. She swung it with all her might at the slithering avatar and was thrown completely off balance, falling on her face before the deranged god.

It was little more than a face with a snake's body, but that was enough for it to smirk, "You bow to my will? Good!" the little god said, desperation causing its voice to quake as it added in a rush, "I accept your devotions, and I vow to wield your vessel well against this foe."

Time stopped for Nyssha, and she felt a wicked burst of pain as a foreign influence entered her body. It wormed its way through her blood vessels, starting at her feet and spreading from there all the way to her brain, where it whispered sweetly as it sought to control her entirely.

No! Nyssha thought furiously, I refuse! You can't have me!

The wicked god's cackle filled her mind, but before she could give into despair, she heard another voice, booming in its brilliance, but comforting in its words:

Pact Request – DENIED

Source 257 has requested a pact with host entity, Nyssha [Unknown].

Host has rejected request, and Source 257 will be expelled.

Accord #4258 dictates that a pact cannot be attempted upon a technicality.

Source 257 has broken the accords.

Punishment shall be administered immediately.

With those words still booming in her mind, Nyssha felt a sudden rush of awareness as the world came into focus once more. The little god's influence was expelled from her body, and she sucked in a desperate gulp of air.

The snake-thing writhed on the ground, screeching in pain, but its voice no longer had the psychic power it had before. Now it was just a fat snake having a muscle spasm.

Jost whistled in appreciation. He stepped on its tail, "Dint think I'd catch ya. Thought we'd lost for sure." He turned a curious eye to Nyssha, "He ain't even stabbin' me. What'd you do to 'im?"

"I—" Nyssha had no idea what had just happened, so she just shrugged, "I said no?"

Jost laughed, but his mirth was interrupted by the approach of a still-chanting Yarrel. "Oh yeah, eyes open, missy. Yer gunna love this next bit."

Jost stepped aside to make room for Yarrel, who fell to his knees before the still-writhing godling. It didn't respond, even as Yarrel reached down and took its tail in one hand and bringing it to his mouth. Still chanting, he held the ugly creature to his lips as his hands pressed in on it from all angles. The glowing lines on Yarrels face flowed across his skin and onto the creature before him. As they did, its skin sizzled and shrunk, compressing with the pressure of Yarrel's hands until it was a fist-sized ball.

Then the chanting ceased as Yarrel shoved the ball into his mouth and swallowed.

After he spent a moment choking it down, Yarrel began chanting again, different words this time, and the remaining glowing patterns swirled across his skin to focus on his stomach, where they were sucked beneath his skin, lighting up his body from within.

Nyssha gaped openly at the sight. Never mind that he'd just swallowed a mound of disgusting flesh, or that said mound of flesh was the size of a fist. But he had just eaten a god! Death himself, devoured just like that.

After a while of chanting, he sat back on the ground, "It's done." He let himself fall back into a lying position and groaned, "I always hate that part."

Jost raised an eyebrow at Nyssha, "Ya see? Right wonky, innit? Yarr here's a—"

Yarrel raised an exhausted hand to stop him, "Shut it, you dolt. We can't be telling everyone we meet who we are." He craned his neck just enough to see Nyssha from where he lay, "Even if she did save our lives." He gave her a nod of appreciation before letting his head fall back down.

"Yeah, how'd ya do that, anyhow? I thought he'd hit the shades, fer sure."

Nyssha thought back, wondering at the weird voice in her head. Death himself had tried to take her as a host? There was that flash of consciousness between moments, and the god had been... punished? What did that even mean?

She didn't let any of her confusion show on her face, though. Pasting on a confident smirk, she shrugged apologetically, "I'm a woman of many wonders. I can't be telling everyone I meet who I am."

Yarrel's body shook as he huffed a laugh, "Fine, fine... point taken. We'll leave your secrets alone if you'll treat ours the same." Yarrel crunched himself to a sitting position and looked Nyssha right in the eyes, "But whatever you did, it was effective, and I think you could be an asset to our team."

He smiled savagely, "How would you like to kill some gods?"

Nyssha mouth dropped open, not because of what he said, but because of the golden, flowing script that appeared in the air in front of her.

Quest Received: Godkiller (Part 1)

DESCRIPTION: A strange man in a crypt has invited you to join his ragtag group whose purported purpose is to slay evil gods. Should you accept, you will learn more about the inner workings of the world than you ever thought possible and will gain access to unique resources to help you succeed. Reject this opportunity, and it will never be offered again.

This is a chain quest. New and updated information will be discovered as you progress in the chain, and partial rewards will be earned as you complete each step in the chain.

REWARDS:

Limited Admin Privileges

(2) Words of Power (Unique)

Do you accept? (Y/N)

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