Ruin. That is what has become of him. That is what has become of this world. The heroes have failed, died, and been desecrated. Men and women like him were the ones they left. A beast-man monstrosity lay dead before him, and so did the heros. Reyauld was a hero, and a fool. There could be no good in this place.
"Where did these kids come from?" Alhazred asked. He didn't even bother to cast Wyrd Reconstruction. It wouldn't be worth the burn of the candle. "Their fighting was sloppy, at best."
Dismas responded with only silence. He flipped one of the bodies over to reveal a patch with an embroidered flame. Alhazred knelt by the now corpse as the spellfire burning the creature began to die down. "Well, they made for a good distraction at least." Lot of fools.
They were wasting time. "We need to move, the cry that thing let out was a distress signal." Dismas dryly responded, looking around. They had bigger fish to fry, and he wasn't going to let a few dead fools slow them. Although, their quarry would be much more difficult to fell now with half the party dead. Whatever that quarry truly was.
The Highwayman and the Occultist quickly made their way through the sewers away from the scene. Dismas heard scurrying and squeals echo in the distance. Best find the Devil before the entire might of the beast-men descended upon them. He dropped the occasional gold coin to mark their way back.
Eventually, the sounds began to grow distant, and if he listened hard, the usual sounds of the sewer were not even there. After a few more hours of traveling, Dismas spoke up, "We should camp. We're getting close." Alhazred's scholarly side seemed to agree with an exhausted huff. "I'll set up the ward," was his official response.
Alhazred began his unsetting chanting as Dismas made his own set of protections. Tripwires, camouflage, and a sweep of the area. Only then did he dare set up a small campfire that had its own wards of obscuration. The wood was rare and expensive; it would not do them well to waste it. Finally with the both of them done, they sat readily to eat a hot meal. Dismas scowled at the meat they had obtained within the sewers, but it was what they had.
Dismas watched as Alhazred muttered some incomprehensible words and made strange hand gestures towards the now cooked meal. Seemingly satisfied with it, Alhazred took a hungry bite. Dismas had no such customs nor magic to prepare his food. The Flame had abandoned him long ago; if it was ever with him in the first place.
The two ate their fill and sat by the fire until sleep took them. Only scant conversation between them. Dismas was replaying that woman's heart getting eagerly torn out and eaten earlier in the day. Alhazred spent his time intermittently casting wards of protection, strength, and speed on the both of them. His candle burned on top of its skull with every dark incantation he uttered. The wick was longer when they had first met.
"Alhazred," Dismas called; the screams of the woman echoed in his mind. "What happens when that candle burns out?" Alhazred paused for a moment. "I'll probably turn to sand, or my mind will be taken over, or that astral beast will finally take me. None are particularly fun options." Alhazred looked at the skull, looking the most unnerved Dismas had seen him. "The beast within, I suppose," was all Dismas replied with.
Alhazred looked at him confused, "Hmm? What do you mean by that?"
"Ahh," Dismas said, "I've seen you call fire from the stars on an army of bandits. I guess our own demons are scarier than anything outside." Alhazred considered this for a moment. "I suppose you're right. Whatever is behind this thing scares me more than any monstrosity we've faced." He paused, "except for the Shambler," he said half smirking, half serious. The shadows seemed to shift purposely behind him, as if trying to break from their confining second dimension.
A silence fell between them. As long as Dismas had known Alhazred, he had never seen the Shambler, but he had felt it. Brush up against his mind, laying in the dark between the spaces of reality. A great white shark. He was afraid of it and it wasn't even hunting him. He understood Alhazred's fear. At least now his mind was elsewhere.
Mention of the Shambler had brought Alhazred's thoughts into the present, as opposed to Dismas. "What do you think of this . . . Devil?" Alhazred asked, eager to get his thoughts off the previous matter. Ever since his first commune with the extra planes, that thing had hunted him.
Dismas stroked his chin, "Hmm, I'm not sure, to be completely honest. The quartermaster was quite vague. I'm not even sure they know what it is." This was usual though. 'Dismas, Alhazred, go kill this tough thing we know nothing about.' What wasn't usual was pairing them with a bunch of rookies straight out of bible school. "Why'd they send Keepers of the Flame with us?" Dismas voiced. Ordinarily, they would have some of the older members with them.
"I'm not sure," Alhazred responded. Why were they sent? "Maybe the Church just wanted to get rid of them," he said with an exhale of his nose. "And have us killed along with them. We're not the holiest bunch."
Dismas considered it. "We're not the best, but the Order needs everyone they can get. Besides, I don't think the Church has that much influence here. They were probably just desperate." Dismas paused a moment; a thought came to his mind. "When's the last time you've seen Paracelsus or Baldwin? The Order is stretched thin. They have more experienced people like you and I leading the rookies. That's probably it."
With that, a silence fell, and eventually, sleep for the both of them. Dismas was blessed with a dreamless rest.
They awoke when their bodies told them. Their circadian rhythm was the only time keeping device in the tunnels. They gathered their materials and were off. The silence tipped Dismas off that they would encounter The Devil soon, or at least, as much as a devil could be to these beast-men. He shuddered at the thought of what such a barbaric amalgamation of things could name as their own antithesis of evil.
The pair continued further into the sewers until they eventually began to hear sloshing and sucking noise. Dismas held up his fist, signaling stealth. Their torches were similarly enchanted as the campfire wood so the light would not give them away. Speed and surprise would be their ally. Whatever this thing was, it would be in for a bad day.
They crept their way down the tunnels until they reached a large chamber. It would have been pitch black if not for their obscuring flame. Dismas nearly wretched as he saw the thing. Alhazred did, but the thing didn't notice.
It was a writhing mass of flesh. Unformed, forming, and deforming constantly. It was a squirming mass of sin. Taking up most of the chamber, its undeniable presence was truly a testament to The Ancestor's crimes. Heads with maws larger than Dismas himself formed, turned into undulating masses of organs turned into sharp masses of bone turned into squirming legions of fleshy worms. It was a curse to behold.
Dismas wasn't sure how to even approach it. How could he kill something without form? Definite form, at least . . . well, fire hurts everything, and it would cause unbearable pain to it, if it had nerves. The large amount of surface area would provide much more space to burn. As for himself, he would cut and shoot until it bled to death. No fluids flowed from the mass, so that probably meant that blood was still flowing within. Something had to keep its cells alive.
When Alhazred had recovered, Dismas signaled him. "Burn it." He did just that. He began his calculated chants and thrust his arms out. The object of his study floated in front of him with a red glow in its eyes. The candle burned brightly; trading power for life. Alhazred felt the familiar weakness, but it was a worthwhile trade for the abilities it granted, and it would continue to be. "G'NATH ELDRATCHANAR F'THGYLL GRY'NDOT!" He screamed with finality.
He opened a portal to the stars, and their fire came through. Limited as his own ability was, the infinite and cold indifference of the celestial bodies coursed through as the scorching rage of Alhazred. The Devil burned. Maws of unclean flesh screamed. The universal pain of heat brought by an uncaring star. An uninterested universe used to undo.
Dismas wasted no time. His pistol loaded with scattershot, he began to carve and shoot into the thing. It screamed from the flame and drew back, and Dismas began to cut and shoot his way through the mass of flesh. Alhazred began to fire curse after curse upon the being, weakening and slowing it. Icy tentacles raged from their summoned portals and struck with abandon. Dismas, swapping between scatter and precision shot, shot and cut with his long dagger into the vulnerable spots of the flesh. Organs and muscles chosen over bone and skulls. He shot eyes out and drew blood from arteries.
But this ease would not last, "It's recovering!" Dismas yelled. "Hold it down!" Alhazred abandoned his abyssal artillery and summoned tentacles from the ground. They grappled the flesh, but could only cover so much area. Dismas would have to make due.
A scream echoed from a dozen toothy maws at once. Rage. Three heads of separate, malformed beasts struck at Dismas. He managed to dodge two, but the third head of a large dog met its mark. It bit into his arm, and the thing's infection was set. Dismas stabbed the head in retaliation, and it let go.
Most of the beast was occupied with trying to extinguish the flames or held down, and large swaths were burned beyond recovery, but yet still, a multitude of worms spit streams of digestive juices at Alhazred. Luckily he managed to hide behind a pillar, and his wards took care of the rest. Alhazred retaliated with his icy tentacles. Dismas could take another hit or two before he needed healing. He strangled the worms with his own legion of otherworldly beings.
As the fight went on, Dismas noticed a loud thumping sound. There it was. He loaded a precision shot and fired into the beast. A massive splattering of blood and screams followed. "The heart, Alhazred! There!" Dismas yelled and pointed.
But before Alhazred could destroy the formless flesh, a mouth the size of both of the men descended upon Dismas. Doing his best to protect Dismas from the beast and his own spell, Alhazred opened a directed and smaller portal of fire onto it. It seemed to be just enough for Dismas to dodge out of the way . . . and directly into the flesh.
"Dismas!" Alhazred screamed. But it seemed that his worry was unfounded, as the flesh began wailing almost immediately. Dismas had fought his way to the heart, and dived right in. His dagger 'Lightning' was put to its namesake. Alhazred held back as the thing started to slow, and eventually, die.
Dismas peeled his way out from his original entrance point. Good thing for the scarf that covered his mouth. Alhazred ran up to him; he didn't need to ask if he was okay. He simply cast Wyrd Reconstruction. Immediately, Dismas' wounds went through several weeks of healing, but the poison would have to be dealt with by an apothecary. There was only so much Alhazred could do. He was lucky that he didn't cause Dismas to internally hemorrhage.
"Thanks," Dismas said, wiping the filth from his eyes. "Let's get out of here." Alhazred couldn't agree more.
I've been feeling like writing lately. It's a good outlet which I definitely need at the moment. I'll do my best to stick with it, but we'll see how much school and work agrees with that.