23. Chicken'n'Cyric (This is Your Brain on Cyric)

"Th..thank ye *cluck*. You have saved *cluck* me."

"G-G-Garrick, is that you doing impersonations again?"

While journeying southwest from Beregost on their hunt for Bassilus, the party had just taken out a ravenous dread wolf with a few well-aimed arrows, moments before it pounced on, oddly enough, a rather domestic-looking chicken in the wilderness. An odd, common-speaking but chicken-clucking voice had just wafted out of their midst, and all eyes were turned on Garrick, who during the last hour had shown off mediocre-quality impersonations of Eliminster, Drizzt Do'Urden, Ellesime (to which Jaheira remarked, 'Bard, you are annoying enough as yourself. Must you emulate the most annoying figures in all the Realms as well?') and all of his current companions (earning the amusement of Khalid, Imoen, and Onyx, the irriation of Jaheira, and several idle-or-perhaps-not-so-idle death threats from Viconia).

"No way!" the bard shrugged innocently. "Want me to do another one though?''

"If you dare," hissed a certain drow priestess, who shall remained nameless, "I shall pluck the strings from your harp, thread them through small holes I shall bore in your toes, and hang you upside down while flailing you with a poisoned tentacle rod!"

"Eeek!" Garrick stammered, "Forget I asked."

"Ooo," Imoen pursed her lips at Viconia, "That's not very nice!"

The drow hissed, "That's the point."

"'Tis the chicken itself!" Jaheira exclaimed, bending down over the fat white bird. She held her hands out to the bird, and her eyes grew glassy. "I cannot commune with it. Forsooth, 'tis no ordinary talking chicken."

Onyx thought, What is an ordinary talking chicken, then? Must be a druid thing...

The party members now watched as the chicken opened its beak and squawked, "I am indeed no ordinary talking chicken, and I am in need of your *cluck* help."

"AAAHHH!!" Garrick squealed. "Unholy magics are afoot! This chicken is possessed! This bird is FOUL!"

Jaheira glared, "Garrick..."

"Methinks I've taken too many blows to the head! Next thing you know, I'll be hearing hamsters speak!"

"Garrick!"

"Might we pose it first a query? Which came first, and what side of the road did it start on?"

"GARRICK!"

The chicken irritably squawked, "If you are quite *cluck* through with the thea*cluck*trics, pester jester, my situation is indeed quite *cluck* grave!"

"Er," Onyx looked down at the animal Jaheira held with her signature blend of tenderness and disapproval, "Tell me, good..um...chicken. What sort of help do you need?'

"Perhaps he's looking for a nice fire to roast over," Viconia offered, rubbing her slender hands, "Shall I conjure a flame blade?"

"Oh *cluck* no!!" the chicken flapped its wings excitedly. "I am Melicamp of Beregost, a *cluck* mage adept in the mystical arts. A...misread...incantation seems to be *cluck* the source of my troubling form. 'Tis been over a month since I *cluck* uttered a polymorph spell, and I simply cannot return to my normal *cluck* form! My only *cluck* recourse now is to find my master. Would you take me to the *cluck* tower near Beregost? The High *cluck* Hedge? 'Tis there we will find Thalantyr. He might...er...should be able to deal with *cluck* this."

Viconia snickered. "For being his apprentice, you seem rather unsure of his willingless to help you. Not that I would do anything for such a stupid mageling other than add him to some noodle soup."

"Oh!" Melicamp flapped nervously again, "'Tis nothing *cluck*...REALLY! Um, often the relationship between *cluck* apprentice and master is...strained. He will help, I am...eh certain."

"Sure thing," Onyx nodded.

" Iblith rivvel! " Viconia screamed and made a spitting gesture. "First we pour gold into the latrines of Lathander, now we make a detour for a chicken ?"

"Well, Viccy," Onyx answered, smirking inwardly as the drow growled at the nickname, "We should stop by anyway. Garrick, didn't you say that Thalantyr sells things of interest to adventurers?"

"Oh yes," the bard nodded eagerly, then when Viconia shot him a gaze that could kill, he hastily added, "But..uh..it's mostly mage-type stuff, and none of us are really that wizardly. And, uh...it'd...uh, probably be out of our budget anyway."

"It's worth a look, and practically on the way back," Onyx responded while catching nods of Jaheira and Khalid, "Speaking of which, Melicamp, we're hunting down a lunatic who's purportedly been...doing things to people, and I'd rather not tarry on that errand, lest he claim more victims in the meantime..."

"Ohhh!" Melicamp clucked excitedly, "Yes, I *cluck* saw him just the other *cluck* day in a small ruin to the south! He *cluck* saw me and rambled something about making *cluck* poltergiest poultry! I never *cluck* knew a chicken could run as fast as I did! I'll lead you back there if *cluck* it's my ride to the Hedge though!"

"Then, good chicken," Onyx smiled, "We're birds of a feather. Onward!"

---------

Just as evening fell, the party came within sight of a copse of trees through which they could faintly see stones, but more importantly, hear mad voices.

"Heh Hurh Hehh!! Heh Hurh Hehh!"

"Uuuuuhhhhh...."

"Uuuuhhhhh...."

Melicamp, now perched on Onyx's roomy, splintmailed shoulder, squawked, "That's *cluck* Bassilus all right. And his zombies."

The party peered through the trees, and just past them they could see the stone ruin. It was a druidesque stonehenge ruin, a large crude circle of stone slabs, mostly sticking vertically out of the ground, some set horizonally across others to create little 'gates' to nowhere, like little false portals offering nothing. Just like where this madman's ravings take him. Nowhere. How fitting , Onyx mused.

Within the circle was surely Bassilus, the madman himself, a bulky, pale-faced redheaded man with the outfitting and emblem of a Cyricist cleric. He held a heavy golden hammer, a broad shield, and wore chainmail bearing the Dark Sun. Around him were a half-dozen moaning zombies, and about a dozen crossbow-wielding skeletons around them. As Bassilus rambled, he gestured theatrically, occasionally patting or hugging the zombies (often causing bits of undead goop to rub on himself, which he didn't seem to mind at all), and addressed them as familial relations.

"Heh Hurh Heh!" he laughed, a maniacal twinkle in his eyes. "Gather round, my famlily, good ol' brothers and sisters, let's have a song or a dance! So nice for you all to join me. Heh Hurh Heh!" he slapped one of the zombies on the shoulder. "Oh brohter Thurm, why not grace our ears with a ripping tale of the old days! Always a delight!"

"Uuuuuuuuhhhhhh....." the back-slapped zombie moaned.

"O, heh!" Bassilus guffawed, his eyes rolling in different directions, "Don't hesitate on my account. Some of the others may never have heard them. Ain't that right, my family?"

"Uuhhhhhh...." 'Thurm' continued to moan.

"Hold your peace then!" Bassilus twitched and spun away, seemingly annoyed. "I remember a time back at Zhentil Keep when you'd sooner die than be quiet! Heh hur heh! You...would sooner...um....heh huh....I'll wait till you feel like telling them youself, I don't remember the old days so well."

Hidden behind the trees, Onyx's face twisted in horror. He....he thinks they're his family . But they're locals he killed and reanimated...did his family die too? Did he kill them? In his delusion now, he sees them brought back? He felt a bitter mix of anger and pity in his stomach.

Bassilus continued babbling, "Those were the days, back at the ol' Keep. Hey Thurm, remember our old pals Monty & X? Now there were some friends who didn't mind talking, no sir at all....couldn't shut up...Heh Hurh Heh?"

Onyx's eyebrowss nearly shot up to his hairline. Monty & X? Montaron and Xzar? Are they Zhentarim then? Interesting...and scary. I wonder if Jade is still in their pleasant company? If they're investigating the mines, wouldn't that rule out the Zhentarim being behind it?

"Worry not, jaluk, , I'll spare your barbarian brain the effort of concocting a crude battleplan," the voice of Viconia whispered in his ear suddenly. She had been behind another tree; Onyx marveled at how quietly she had slipped beside him. Even when he turned to her, she was nearly invisible in the darkness, her black cloak over her armor and hair, and her ebony-skinned face peering out. An appropriate skill for a Sharran, I suppose. Even her dark eyes barely glinted in the darkness.

"I notice you now keep your lips together as you speak," Onyx smiled, "Afraid those bright white teeth will give you away?"

"Stow it, rivvel paladin, the art of shadowwalking is far beyond you. Your own fangs glare out like a crescent moon. But I suppose a divine champion feels it necessary to announce his presence with superfluous light wherever he goes, mmm?" she purred.

"I was simply curious," he said nonchalantly. "You were saying?"

Viconia continued, "Well, paladin of your undead-fearing Lathander, can your holy powers not just destroy this madman's horde with your mere prescence?"

Betraying no hint of offense, Onyx simply shook his head, "I've not such power...yet."

Viconia sighed. Was this human simply too dense to understand her insult, too meek to address it, or too impassive to care? Any of the three infuriated her. "Then, squire ," she snickered with disdain, "If you can somehow break that fool's hold on the undead, I shall turn them from the sway of the Mad God to that of the Nightsinger."

"24-1 instead of 6-19," Onyx smiled, "Sounds good. If I can't reason with him."

"What!?" Viconia snarled. It was impressively quiet-but-feral. "There is no reason to this Cyricist! He is insane!"

"Precisely," Onyx whispered, "If he were a lucid evil, and knew what he were doing, it would almost surely be futile to change his ways with a few words."

Viconia smiled. "Few of your paladin brothers, Sir Onyx, seem to understand the waste that is preaching before the avowed evil. I am glad you have spared me such lecturing - for it has spared me the bother of slaying you, of course."

"Of course," Onyx chuckled. "And as he is delusional...I might have a ruse that will get him to come along nicely. It's worth a try. Don't worry, it may cost only my hide."

Viconia smiled. " I can live with that."

"Yes, precisely the idea."

The paladin signaled to the other four, and briefly whispered his plan.

A few moments later, Onyx strode into the clearing, and stood just outside the circle of stones, hands on hips.

Bassilus spun around, his eyes crossed, and pointed his hammer menacingly. "Who dares interrupt while I speak with my family. I'll have you heads if you're hear to harm the..."

"Son," Onyx bellowed an an authoritative voice, staring sternly at the man inside the stone cirlce. "It is I. Dad."

"No!" Bassilus stummbled backwards in fright, nearly knocking over one of his own skeletons. "It can't be! Is that you, Father? It cannot be otherwise, you haven't changed a bit in all these years?"

Onyx smiled inwardly, but maintained his paternal scowl. "Yes son, it certanily has been along time. How are you doing, my boy?"

Bassilus tittered nervously. "A-about as well as can be expected, I guess. It has been difficult but I've got most of the family back together," he waved his shield and hammer around, showing off his 'family,' "Some did not seem to recognize me at first, but I've helped them recall, Father, I've helped them recall."

"I'm proud of you son. Haven't seen ya since Zhentil Keep. Thank the gods we all got out safely."

"Yes, I thought it was frightening for a time because I thought I was the only one of use that survived. I thought I was the only one who...the only one. Wait...you lie! YOU LIE!!!! If you're my father, w-where's Fido?"

Fido? Onyx thought quickly. Well, here goes nothing!

"Here he is, son!" the paladin declared proudly, holding aloft the chicken that had been perched on his shoulder.

Doing his best to play along, Melicamp clucked, "Woof woof *cluck* bow wow!"

"Ah, good ol' Fido!" Bassilus cackled, slapping 'Thurm' on the shoulder and causing flakes of zombie-skin to fly about. "Doggie want a bone?" the mad priest looked around at his skeletal minions. "We've got plenty here, yes we do! Heh hurh heh! Hey...where's mom?"

Onyx gulped as Bassilus's gaze narrowed. Okay, here really goes nothing. Time to call for backup. He shouted one word over his shoulder.

"Dearest?"

The paladin stood there for a few awkward moments while Bassilus scowled, expecting the undead horde to began ambling toward him, but then a figure crept up beside him and threw back her hood to reveal an ebony face and ivory hair.

Viconia was seething. If that male ever addresses me as 'dearest' again, ruse or otherwise, I shall surgically remove what is 'dearest' to him. "Listen, you mongrel dog of a son!" Viconia snarled out loud at Bassilus, "You have disobeyed me for the last time! Take off that silly outfit this minute... OR ELSE!! "

"No, mommy!" Bassilus wailed, sweating with fear, his tongue wagging and spittle flying from his mouth, "I'm sorry! Please don't make daddy beat me again!"

"Do are your mother says..." Onyx barked, exchanging a stolen sidelong grin with Viconia, "...or else!" Of course, in this case I'd be more worried about 'mother' beating you.

"Yes father yesss...." Bassilus began to sob like a little boy. He set his hammer and shield upon a slab, and then threw his holy symbol to the ground. "Please don't hurt meeeee!" He held his head with his hands as if hurt, and Onyx noticed several large scars and even dents on his skull.

So it is that evil begets evil, down through the generations.

"Now, son," Onyx boomed, less threateningly and with compassion that was not entirely acted, "You must amend for your actions! Return to Beregost with us and atone!"

Bassilus whimpered, "Go to Beregost to atone for my crimes?" His whimpering became more guarded and angry. "Is it a crime to wish your family whole!? Whatever the method, I have created some measures of peace for myself!!!" His anger turend to raving. "Until you came!!! I will kill you all, and my family will help me do it!!!! Seize them!!!!!!!!!!!"

Bassilus gestured wildly, motioning his zombies and skeletons to descend upon his 'parents,' but they would not move.

The mad priest then looked down at his Dark Sun holy symbol in the dirt, and up to see his 'mother' holding aloft the Dark Moon, the holy symbol of Shar.

"Uh-oh..." were Bassilus's last, failry lucid words, as the drow woman gave a terrifying, foreign shriek and pointed at him, and the horde of undead surrounding the Cyricist converged on their former master. Before he could reach for his armaments or holy symbol, zombies restrained his limbs, and tore at his chainmail and into his flesh, gnawing upon it.

"Brains...Braaainnns!!!!...." groaned the zombie 'Thurm', and reaching with its gruesome claws at Bassilus's redheaded scalp, dug them deep into his head while he screamed, began ripping off fragments of skull, and then delved with its long claws into his brain tore out handfuls of grey matter and devoured it greedily.

"Brains gone bad, that is," Onyx added. "Remember, kids: This Is Your Brain on Cyric."

Viconia grinned wryly. "If the Mornginglord and the Nightsinger can agree on one thing, it's the abominable Dark Sun."