A/N: Revisiting this over a year later, I've decided to go a less gory route than the module calls for and have toned-down descriptions in the previous chapter to match the style going forward. I fear that leaning too far into the horror aspect will make the story lose the quirkiness of our original one-shot. No need to reread chapter four unless you want a refresher. But the tag 'body horror' and M rating shouldn't apply anymore.

Previously:

Before Arlathan could finish the sentence, Varan turned on his heel and stalked over to the upside-down wash bucket. The other three watched him go with matching slack jaws and confusion. When a few moments passed, and the others made no move to follow him, the ranger barked, "We have approximately six hours of daylight left. I'd like to find this creature's lair before then."

"So does this mean you're going after the Gol'Goroth?" Hal asked timidly.

Varan's temperament had flipped completely. Zelyra, specifically, noted that while his outward expression was calm, his jaw was set. He had a wild look in his eyes that scared her. The ranger now agreed to the quest, not for the good of the people, but for some other purpose—perhaps something to do with the sword. Zelyra knew he was the opposite of greedy, so his reaction made little sense to her.

The druid surveyed her other two companions, and upon seeing resolute expressions echoed by each of them, she turned to Hal and said, "Yes, I suppose we are."

Hal graciously thanked each of them and started to return to his home. But then a sudden thought came to him, and he paused to say, "Whatever you do, don't let the frog's tentacles touch you."

"Why?" Arlathan asked.

"Because it is not a strike that stings. It paralyzes," the mayor explained grimly. "And those that fall under that paralysis find themselves at the mercy of the Gol'Goroth. His children desire flesh, and in its absence, their god plants his seed…."

Hal pointed shakily to the corpse of the first man, specifically, his empty eye socket.

Zelyra winced as the implication became clear. "Duly noted," she said.

The mayor finally left them then, and the four companions were left standing on a deserted street with an upside-down wash bucket trapping a flesh-eating frog that would supposedly lead them to a god.

Things could not possibly get any stranger…

The Cult of the Gol'Goroth

Chapter Five

The Cave

15 Elient (The Fading) 1484 DR / Day 6

Goldleaf village, near northeastern Neverwinter Wood

"His children desire flesh, and in its absence, their god plants his seed?!" Arlathan hissed as soon as Hal had left them. "Who says shit like that?!"

The four companions stood around the wash bucket trapping the tentacled frog as they discussed their next move. They needed to find Gol'Goroth's lair, but the mayor's tip of needing the strange creature to find it was a considerable risk. Meanwhile, the container rattled as its occupant flopped around inside, desperately seeking escape. Hayth growled and paced back and forth beside Arlathan anxiously.

"Someone whose word we should take with a grain of salt. Between your tracking skills and Hayth's nose, I don't think we need the frog," Zelyra said, pointing first to Varan and then to the dark-colored wolf. "We should just kill it. It's a crime against nature!"

The ranger folded his arms across his chest. "I agree on both accounts."

"Good riddance," Arlathan said, her nose wrinkled.

"How do you suppose we do that?" Krom asked.

The moon elf put a finger to her chin, fluttered her lashes, and thought hard before answering, "If only we had someone with a really big hammer that could go: SMASH!"

"I have a really big hammer!" the half-giant said with a wicked grin.

Varan sighed. "That's the point…"

Krom blew a raspberry in his direction.

"Yes, exactly! The frog would go: SQUISH! Just like that," Arlathan concluded.

"Are you sure you can hit a metal wash bucket hard enough to completely smash it and the frog?" Zelyra asked.

Krom sucked in a pitched breath. "Now you're just insulting me! Did you see what I did to that woman's face with my undercut?" he gestured to the crumpled body of the female cultist that lay a few yards away. "It's toast! Her jaw is halfway to her brain!"

Zelyra held up her hands in a peaceful gesture. "I'm not insulting your prowess, Krom. Flesh and metal are two totally different things. We just don't want to risk it getting away!"

The half-giant gripped his warhammer with both hands and replied, "It won't."

Krom lifted his weapon and made a few practice swings near the bucket, attempting to judge the force needed and the best angle to strike it. His companions looked on with varying expressions of encouragement and wariness. As a precaution, Varan subtly nocked an arrow in the bow he held at his side.

It never hurt to have a backup.

Noting the ranger's vigilance, Zelyra tucked a hand behind her back, out of Krom's sight, and called upon her inner fire. The flame crackled and sparked at her fingertips but did not burn. It was ready and waiting for her instruction. Varan's stern expression softened, and his upper lip quirked slightly.

Krom rose to his full height, and the high noon sun at his back cast a long shadow over the ground. He took a deep breath, muscles tensing as he focused his strength and fury into the impending strike. Then, with a roar, he swung. The warhammer whistled through the air, a blur of iron and power. But at the last moment, his aim faltered. Instead of the satisfying crunch of metal and flesh, the hammerhead struck the ground beside the bucket, sending a shockwave through the earth and spraying dirt and pebbles in all directions.

The sound had the terrified villagers of Goldleaf rushing to secure their windows and doors. As for the impact—the bucket flipped and rolled wildly until it eventually landed face-up a few feet away from its original placement. [1]

"Youmissed!"

"Oh no…"

"Gods' help us."

"Shit."

The words flew out of the four companion's mouths unbidden. But that was about the extent of their response. Krom stared at the overturned bucket in a daze. Arlathan's jaw flopped open in amazement, and though they had prepared themselves for such a scenario, Zelyra and Varan were sluggish in reacting as well in the wake of such a spectacular failure.

The frog, however, quickly regained its bearings and seized the opportunity to escape. It launched itself from the bucket with a quick, desperate leap. The creature landed nimbly a few feet away, the tendrils on its back twitching and sensing the air. Then, with astounding speed, it darted away towards the edge of town, its unsettling, hollow croaks echoing like a taunt.

Varan was the first to break out of his stupor. The ranger took off without waiting to see if his companions would follow. He chased the eyeless creature between shuttered-up buildings and past deserted market stalls. His sharp eyes never lost sight of it, even as it bounded over a low fence and disappeared into the dense, shadowy forest—the far northeastern recess of Neverwinter Wood.

The ranger's boots thudded against the ground as the scents of the village gave way to the familiar earthy, damp aroma of the forest. The sunlight filtering through the canopy created a patchwork of light and shadow, making it difficult to track the tiny creature. But years of training in Neverwinter Wood allowed Varan to keep pace.

Back in Goldleaf, Krom remained frozen before the empty bucket. Hayth growled low in his throat, sensing the urgency of the situation, but the half-giant did not react until Arlathan repeated, "How?! How did you miss?"

"DAMN IT!" Krom roared, slamming his weapon into the ground in sheer exasperation and causing the earth to quake again. The metal wash bucket clattered noisily as it finally settled, a mocking reminder of his failure. He rounded on it, kicking the thing with enough force to send it soaring across the clearing, where it smashed into the side of a nearby house. The inhabitants inside gave a terrified shriek.

"Sorry about that!" Arlathan shouted in apology.

Unsurprisingly, the moon elf didn't get a response.

"Come on, Krom, get ahold of yourself!" Zelyra shrieked. "We need to help Varan!"

The half-giant took a deep breath and nodded. "You're right. Let's go," he rumbled, already starting to follow the ranger's last known path.

Hayth pawed at the dirt and whined.

"Wait—Hayth has his scent. Show us," Arlathan commanded.

The sleek black wolf took off, nose to the ground.

With Hayth leading the way, the trio left the village and plunged into the forest. The dense canopy quickly swallowed them up in shadow. The path was treacherous, with roots and thick underbrush constantly threatening to trip them up, but the Wood was their element. They knew how to counter its tricks. Resolutely, they pressed on.

Meanwhile, Varan used the boots of spider climb entrusted to him by the Circle to move like a shade through the trees. The forest grew darker and more oppressive the further he pushed. He could hear the frog's croaks echoing eerily through the woods, guiding his pursuit. And then, a flicker of movement caught his eye.

He held his breath. The frog had paused, disoriented by some thick underbrush. Seizing the opportunity from his perch in the tree above it, Varan nocked an arrow and drew back his bowstring fluidly. But as he took aim, the creature sprang into action again, its tendrils flailing as it darted toward a dense thicket. The ranger let the arrow fly anyway. It narrowly missed its target and embedded itself into a tree with a dull thud. Undeterred, Varan darted after it, the thrill of the chase sharpening his focus.

The ranger continued gaining ground, but the frog somehow managed to avoid all obstacles despite its lack of eyes. Arrow after arrow missed. The tendrils on the abomination's back danced in the air as it leapt, completely nonchalant, occasionally striking out at insects to consume. Varan pushed himself even harder. After his extensive training to be a sentry for the Circle of Swords, he would be damned to be outwitted by a frog!

Varan was so focused on his quarry that he did not even realize that the others were catching up to him until motes of flame and a few hurled apples joined his aerial assault. [2] These ranged attacks came from Zelyra and Arlathan, who had difficulty keeping up with the light-footed ranger and their larger, barbarian companion. Hayth remained behind with them while Krom dashed forward. In just a few short minutes, he caught up with Varan and eventually surpassed the ranger in speed.

The half-giant's breath came in heavy, controlled bursts as he maintained his pace. Mud and tangled roots might have hindered most travelers, but Krom's sheer size and strength pushed him onward. As he ran, he reached back to grasp the javelin strapped to his back. And with the frog just within striking distance, he saw his moment. The creature leapt over a fallen log, its tendrils twitching with every movement. The barbarian stopped abruptly and hefted his javelin in a fluid motion. His eyes locked onto the frog, calculating the distance and the arc needed to strike true. This time, he would not miss, for this was vengeance.

The javelin sliced through the misty air with a sharp whistle, a deadly missile of iron and wood. The frog, mid-leap, had no chance. After eluding many an arrow, mote of flame, and magically slung apple, its luck finally ran out. The javelin struck it squarely, impaling it mid-air with a sickening thud. The force of the throw carried the creature through the air, ultimately pinning it to a tree trunk with a final, ghastly croak.

Krom let out a whoop of triumph and approached the tree where the strange creature was pinned. Its tendrils twitched feebly before going limp. The forest fell silent, and the echo of the frog's death cry faded into the mist. Varan, Zelyra, Arlathan, and Hayth caught up with him, saw the creature impaled to the tree, and slowed their pace, all breathing heavily. They watched wordlessly as Krom stepped forward and yanked the javelin free. The lifeless body of the frog slid off the iron tip and fell to the ground. Krom looked down at it and allowed himself a moment of satisfaction.

The hunt was over. He had proven his strength and skill once again.

But then Arlathan fanned herself and said, "I still can't believe you missed the bucket…"

Krom's shoulders sagged. "Can we never bring that up again—please!" he whined.

"You missed a stationary target," Varan deadpanned through ragged breaths.

"But impaled a moving one," Zelyra countered, attempting to raise the half-giant's spirits. "One that none of the rest of us could hit."

The ranger scowled. "It was luck."

"It was vengeance," Krom growled, narrowing his eyes.

"We all miss sometimes," Zelyra tried, sensing an argument brewing.

"Yeah, but not him," the half-giant mocked, pointing at Varan. "Mister Overachiever! Ha! Arrogant is more like it…"

Zelyra exchanged a helpless glance with Arlathan, but the moon elf was too busy watching the impromptu squabble. It took a sharp elbow to bring her back to her senses.

"Krom, you don't really mean that. You're just coming down from another rage," Arlathan said. She then turned to Varan and added, "And you, well, you're just really bad at talking to people. You're not very nice sometimes, and it hurts people's feelings."

Zelyra slapped a hand to her forehead, but Arlathan was not done.

The moon elf continued, unfazed. "You both missed, and you're both pissed about it. Krom just so happened to get the kill shot. But guys—it's just a frog! Instead of turning this into a contest, let's just be thankful that the freak of nature is dead. Something tells me we have bigger amphibians to fry."

"Well, I wouldn't have put it in such ineloquent terms, but yeah…" Zelyra muttered.

"When have I ever been eloquent?" Arlathan replied. "Hello? I was raised by wolves."

"I thought that was a joke," Varan muttered.

The moon elf shrugged and did not elaborate any further.

"Wolves aside—Arlathan has a point. Something about this environment is trying to turn us against each other! If we're going to solve the mystery of what's happening in this village, we can't let it get to us," Zelyra said.

Both men had the decency to look remorseful.

Krom turned to Varan and muttered, "Well, I'm sorry…for what I said in anger."

"And I'm…sorry for…" the ranger struggled to get the words out.

"Being really bad at talking to people," the barbarian supplied with a laugh as he clapped Varan heartily on the back. The half-elf nearly buckled under the strength of it. "We're good, Varan. We'll always be good."

Varan averted his gaze but managed a hint of a smile.

"So…the frog's dead. What now?" Arlathan asked.

"We follow Hayth," Varan supplied, pointing to the wolf curiously circling the impaled frog and marking its scent. The ranger was sure that where there was one frog, there would be more. He voiced that concern to his companions.

Arlathan approached her animal companion and spoke to him softly. She then listened to him in turn. After a few moments of this, the druid straightened and regarded her friends. "He has the scent. The trail continues north, and it's quite strong. Apparently, these frogs make the same journey back and forth between the Gol'Goroth's lair and the village often." she said.

Krom shook his head. "I don't know how you do that."

"We all have different strengths to bring to the table," Arlathan replied with a wink.

. . .

Now that they were not on a wild chase, the companions could take proper stock of their surroundings. As they slowly but surely approached the Lair of the Gol'Goroth, the atmosphere around them grew increasingly oppressive. Neverwinter Wood seemed to close in on them. The ancient trees were twisted into grotesque shapes, their branches resembling clawed hands reaching out to ensnare the unwary. A thick, unnatural fog clung to the ground, muffling their footsteps and muting the colors of the world into a palette of grays and sickly greens.

Hayth's keen nose was locked onto the scent trail, his movements swift and silent. Varan followed the wolf with a cautious stride, his eyes scanning the surroundings for signs of life. They had not encountered any cultists since leaving town, which was putting him on edge. Where were they? His twin blades, smaller than your average scimitar but considerably larger than a dagger, were sheathed in the leather hostler attached to his back. The ranger was ready to draw them or nock an arrow in his longbow at a moment's notice.

Behind him, Zelyra moved with a poise that belied her concern. Her connection to the natural world was both a comfort and a source of unease in this place where nature seemed corrupted. She'd felt something similar when the group passed by the scarred lands near Mount Hotenow two days prior. Nature was trying to tell her something. The druid briefly paused and attempted to dig her hand into the earth, listening as she had before. But something was blocking her. Zelyra then recalled the conversation she'd shared with Arlathan that day. Listening is hard, the other druid had claimed. Today, that resonated. The half-elf whispered a soft prayer to the First Circle, beseeching the nature pantheon for guidance.

Meanwhile, Arlathan followed closely. Her elven beauty seemed almost out of place in this dark, twisted landscape. Her gaze frequently darted to Hayth as the wolf led them further into the Wood. The moon elf trusted his keen nose as much as his ears. Hayth would sense any incoming trouble long before the rest of them. Lastly, Krom brought up the rear, his massive warhammer resting on his shoulder. His imposing presence comforted his companions as it was a bulwark of strength in the face of the unknown.

The group continued deeper into the forest for nearly twenty minutes before noticing strange carvings in the bark of a few trees—the face of a frog with empty eye sockets. More signs of cult-like activity emerged in the form of primitive altars constructed from twisted branches, bones, and stones stained with dark, dried blood. Small totems of bone and sinew dangled from the trees around them, swaying eerily in the wind. And yet, they still did not encounter any more cultists. They saw no sign of life at all. The Wood was unnervingly silent.

Though the party did not investigate long, the visage was burned in Zelyra's consciousness. "That was just gross," she whispered to Arlathan, though the half-elf was unsure why she needed to lower her voice.

The other druid nodded. "Very gross."

"Do you think that was the blood and bone of an animal or…?"

Zelyra left the other insinuation unsaid.

"I think I'd rather not know," Arlathan replied.

The pair walked on, thankful to leave the strange alters behind them.

Soon after, the forest seemed to part, revealing a massive cave mouth. Stalactites and stalagmites lined the top and bottom of the opening, giving it the appearance of a snarling maw, ready to devour any who dared to enter. The low, rolling fog seeping from the entrance only added to that effect. The crunch of bones underfoot sent shivers down their spines as they drew closer. The ground was littered with the skeletons of hundreds, if not thousands, of frogs, their bones bleached white and arranged in patterns that hinted at dark rituals and sacrifices. It was impossible to avoid.

Varan knelt, examining the bones with a critical eye. "This isn't a good sign," he muttered, glancing back at his companions.

"There's so many…" Arlathan muttered.

"This isn't something you've seen in the Wood before?" Zelyra asked with a grimace.

Krom shook his head. "Giant spiders, sure. Your errant malevolent fey, absolutely. But a frog lord and his horde of demon spawn? This is new."

"Frog God," Arlathan corrected.

"Sorry, guess we'll refer to him 'amphibious-o-god-u-s,'" Krom mocked.

Varan sighed heavily and muttered a pained 'why?' under his breath.

"How often does the Circle patrol these northeastern woods?" Zelyra inquired, her thoughts racing to connect the various timelines they'd been given for the attacks.

"Not very often," the ranger admitted sheepishly. "We only venture this far north once a season to check on the state of things. But now that Gauntlgrym has been reclaimed, that could change."

"And there were no reports of swarms of frogs tormenting any neighbors of the Wood last season?" she pressed.

"Obviously not," Varan snorted.

"So, this is a recent phenomenon," Zelyra mused. Despite what Hal told the dwarves, she privately recalled. The druid had her suspicions from the beginning, but she was almost certain now that none of the mayor's claims held up—aside from the fact that the town actually was plagued by strange frogs. "If only we could have gotten the townspeople to talk to us. All we've got going for us is Hal's word."

"They're terrified," Arlathan replied.

Zelyra hummed lowly.

Oblivious to her fellow druid's mounting doubt, Arlathan suddenly spouted, "The average toad can lay between 3000 and 6000 eggs per nesting."

"How do you know that?" Krom asked curiously.

The moon elf blanked. "I dunno, probably some strange lesson from Bael." [3]

"No, Arlathan's right. I recall that lesson as well. Not all the eggs survive, but a fair amount will," Zelyra said. "So, that explains the vast number. But I guess it's not really the number of skeletons here that concerns me. It's the state of them."

"They're bleached. The canopy doesn't let in much light, so these bones must have been loooong exposed to the elements," Krom surmised.

"Exactly!" Zelyra said. "But as Varan said, these weren't here last season."

Arlathan shrugged. "They could be young frogs."

"All killed at once and left to rot?" Varan cut in, his voice dripping with suspicion.

The druid threw her hands up. "I don't know! I'm grasping at threads, same as you!"

"Maybe we're overthinking this," Krom offered pointedly. "Or maybe it's something that will be revealed to us if we stop making guesses andjustenter the cave."

But Zelyra was not deterred. "No, nothing about this adds up! Hal gave the dwarves a totally different story than what he told us. He originally tried to blame some elven sorceress that lived in these woods decades ago, which would have been long enough for these skeletons to succumb to the elements," the druid ranted. "Then, today, he blames it on a frog god and claims that these attacks only started within the past few weeks. That's not long enough for a corpse to…decompose in the way that these have."

"Hal Neelow is a fabricator," Varan muttered.

At the same time, Arlathan said, "Well, Morista did mention necromancy. I know nothing about it myself, but I imagine a sorceress could have some control over decomposition." [4]

Varan abruptly straightened. "There was no sorceress! That's all a lie," he spat, starting towards the cave mouth.

Without thinking twice, Zelyra hurried to catch up with him. She reached out and grasped his elbow, bringing the ranger's hurried steps to a halt. "Varan, I—" she fumbled for the right words. Not for the first time, she suspected Varan knew more than he was letting on. Why he couldn't share that with the rest of the group was beyond her. Finally, the half-elf settled on the truth. "What are you not telling us?" she whispered.

The ranger noticeably tensed under her hand, and his shoulders sagged slightly. "Nothing that would affect the legitimacy of this quest," Varan replied honestly. He finally turned to look at her, his blue eyes dim in what little afternoon light made its way through the canopy of gnarled branches above them. "As I've said, I'm not ready to talk about it," he pleaded.

Zelyra frowned. "But it's eating you alive," she whispered. "Talking helps—"

"Talking helps for you," the ranger interrupted, firmly but gently. "For others, it's easier to just bury it."

The druid disagreed but decided to leave it alone for now. She released Varan's arm and turned back to find Krom and Arlathan standing several paces back, attempting to look like they were minding their own business and doing a very poor job at it.

"So…" Arlathan started awkwardly. "We're left with angry nature spirit or 'amphibious-o-god-u-s,' otherwise known as the Gol'Goroth."

"Yup," Zelyra replied, popping the 'p' in mild frustration.

"Or…maybe the missing wizard is involved," Krom mused.

Arlathan snapped her fingers. "That's right! What was his name again?"

"Er-something," Zelyra tried.

"Erstod," Varan supplied.

All three of his companions turned to look at the ranger in surprise. He had been guarding the wash bucket with Hayth when the mayor had mentioned the missing town wizard and, therefore, should have had no way of knowing their name.

"Right…Erstod," Zelyra repeated slowly.

Arlathan and Krom shuffled awkwardly.

"Well, only one way to find out," the half-giant said, gesturing pointedly to the cave.

Hayth paused at the threshold, his nose twitching as he sniffed the air. The wolf let out a low, warning growl that Arlathan quickly interpreted. This was not an abandoned cavern. The companions saw it for themselves a moment later. The cavern was illuminated by glowing torches mounted along the walls, casting flickering shadows that danced and writhed. Whispers echoed down the path, their origins indiscernible, filling the air with an eerie sense of foreboding.

"Keep alert for any suspicious movement," Varan whispered. "This is the cultists' domain. There is no telling what might lie ahead."

"Of course. Any person that calls a frog their God must be mad," Arlathan muttered.

The entrance chamber was vast, with a ceiling that disappeared into the darkness above, and the walls and cavern floor were slick with a strange, dark blue substance. Various depictions of the Gol'Goroth were painted on the rare uncoated surface. The images were crude yet evocative, primarily rendered in white chalk. However, where the eyes of the Gol'Goroth should have been, there were only dark voids painted with blood that had dried to a rusty brown.

The air was cold, but a sweet scent wafted from the strange blue ooze. Arlathan instantly found herself transfixed by it. As the party paused to reassess their surroundings, the moon elf moved closer to the wall. The scent grew stronger, filling her senses with a strange, almost hypnotic desire. She reached out tentatively, her fingers trembling as they brushed against the viscous substance. It was cool to the touch, sending a shiver down her spine.

"Arlathan, what are you doing?" Varan's voice briefly cut through the haze, but it was too late. Compelled by an overwhelming urge, the moon elf scooped up a small amount of the ooze and brought it to her lips. The moment it touched her tongue, a wave of euphoria washed over her, drowning out the warnings and concerns of her companions.

"Arlathan, no!" Zelyra shouted, rushing to her side, but the moon elf had already swallowed.

For a brief, horrifying moment, Arlathan's eyes glazed over, her pupils dilating as dark magic took hold. All worries and fears melted away, replaced by a blissful contentment. The visions that danced behind her eyes were surreal and mesmerizing, filled with kaleidoscopic patterns and swirling colors. But as quickly as it came, the joyful feeling was wiped away. Her mind was flooded with terror—twisted, chaotic images of Gol'Goroth's form, its tentacles writhing in the darkness, and its impossibly malevolent glare piercing her soul. She saw glimpses of otherworldly landscapes where reality seemed to warp and twist under the weight of eldritch power. A dark pit, swarms of toads, and a giant monstrosity at its center—

Arlathan stumbled back, nearly tripping over Hayth as she clutched her head, trying to fend off the maddening visions. The wolf let out a low-pitched whine. "I...I think I see it," the druid murmured, her voice trembling with awe and terror. "The Gol'Goroth...it's calling to me."

"Snap out of it!" Krom bellowed, his voice like thunder in the confined space. He reached out, gripping her shoulder with a hand nearly the size of her forearm. The physical contact, the sheer strength of his presence, helped anchor her back to reality.

Arlathan blinked, shaking her head as if to clear it. The euphoric haze faded, leaving only profound unease. She looked at her companions, their faces etched with concern and fear. "I'm sorry," the moon elf whispered, her voice weak and unsteady. "I don't know what came over me."

"Well…what did it taste like?" Krom asked.

Arlathan thought momentarily before replying, "Uh, not bad actually."

The half-giant made a contemplative noise. "Huh."

"What is this stuff?" Zelyra asked curiously, stepping closer to the wall to peer at the strange substance.

"Don't touch it!" Varan snapped.

Zelyra drew her hand back sharply. "I wasn't!"

"You were so," the ranger replied, sounding like a disciplinary parent.

The half-elves stopped to scowl at one another.

"We should keep moving," Krom cut in. "Stay close, Arlathan, and don't let that stuff distract you again."

Arlathan nodded weakly.

The passage quickly narrowed, funneling the party into a single file line as they ventured further into the cave. The air was still thick with that same sweet, intoxicating scent. Fortunately, the party had adapted, and the urge to consume the ooze no longer plagued their minds—especially after seeing how it affected Arlathan. They moved cautiously, their senses heightened, every creak and whisper putting them on edge.

After traveling down the narrow path for what seemed like an eternity, the way opened into a large room with two massive stone pillars near the center. The party halted, taking in the strange scene before them. The flickering torchlight revealed movement along the walls: dozens of albino squirrels scattered about, their ghostly white fur and faintly glowing red eyes making them appear otherworldly. And yet, they seemed calm and docile, some running across the floor, others eating from various pools of the slime. Only a few watched the party with mild curiosity as the party passed by.

"Strange," Arlathan murmured, her brow furrowing. "They don't seem hostile."

Hayth sniffed the air cautiously, his hackles raised as he stayed close to her side.

"I don't trust 'em, and I don't think the wolf does either," Krom said.

"Why are they here instead of the forest?" Zelyra wondered.

"An easy meal for the Gol'Goroth, perhaps," Arlathan suggested.

"Stay alert," Varan replied, his voice low. "But leave them be for now."

In the center of the room stood a makeshift stone sculpture of the strange frog god, Gol'Goroth. The crude craftsmanship did nothing to lessen the palpable sense of madness and malevolence the artist had attempted to capture. The most striking feature of the statue was the pair of massive jet gemstones set into its eye sockets, their dark surfaces reflecting the torchlight with an almost hypnotic gleam.

"Look at those gems," Zelyra whispered, her eyes wide. "They must be worth a fortune."

"Touching them might trigger something," Varan warned, his gaze sweeping over the docile squirrels once more. "We shouldn't push our luck."

Despite the ranger's warning, the allure of the gemstones was hard to resist. Arlathan stepped forward, reaching out to touch one of the gems. As her fingers brushed against the cold surface, the albino squirrels all turned to look at her in unison. The moon elf hesitated, the weight of their collective gaze unsettling her, and slowly backed away from the statue with her hands raised in a peaceful gesture. The squirrels quickly went back to their business.

The party poked about the chamber for a few more minutes, finding nothing else of note, before deciding to leave it. They were nearly through when the sweet, intoxicating scent that had filled the air began to change, transforming into a foul, acrid stench that burned their nostrils and made their eyes water. The companions physically felt their stomachs drop. The light emanating from the torches seemed to retreat closer to the flame, and the shadows deepened.

The reaction from the squirrels was immediate and violent. Their docile demeanor vanished in an instant, replaced by a frenzied madness. They shrieked and chattered, their red eyes blazing with a malevolent light as they swarmed toward the party with terrifying speed.

"Defend yourselves!" Varan shouted, drawing his twin blades with a swift, practiced motion.

Zelyra and Arlathan began casting spells, summoning protective barriers and energy blasts to fend off the oncoming horde. Arlathan prayed to Silvanus, the Oak Father, allowing her to conjure vines that lashed out at the squirrels, attempting to hold them back. Meanwhile, Zelyra called out to Talos, the Stormlord. The druid threw both palms out in an offensive gesture and unleashed a thunderous force to push the creatures away, but their sheer number was overwhelming.

Krom swung his warhammer with deadly precision, crushing any squirrel within reach. His powerful strikes sent the small creatures flying, but for every squirrel he struck down, more seemed to take its place. Hayth leapt into the fray with a fierce growl, his jaws snapping and claws raking at the attacking rodents.

The battle was chaotic and brutal, the air filled with the sounds of combat and the maddened screeches of the squirrels. Amid the chaos, Arlathan suddenly felt a sharp pain in her stomach. The final effect of the ooze she'd ingested earlier was finally catching up to her. She doubled over, clutching her abdomen as waves of nausea washed over her.

"Not now," the moon elf gasped, struggling to maintain her focus.

Varan noticed her distress and quickly moved to cover her, slashing through the horde of squirrels with a ferocity born of desperation. "Arlathan, stay with us!" he urged, his voice strained with effort.

But Arlathan couldn't hold it back any longer. She fell to her knees and retched violently. A small, grotesque frog emerged from the mess, its skin glistening in the dim light. It flopped on the ground, its empty eye sockets looking up at the moon elf blankly as it croaked weakly. This was the same kind of frog that Krom had skewered with a javelin not one hour ago—the same creature that had burst out of a poor man's skull!

Hayth let out a low growl and pounced on the frog as it was still reeling from its untimely birth. The wolf's teeth tore into the abomination with ease. Soon, all that was left was blood, guts, and vomit on the cavern floor. But the sight of the frog had driven the squirrels into an even greater frenzy. They attacked with renewed vigor, their sharp teeth and claws tearing at anything they could reach. Arlathan, still reeling from her vomiting, struggled to regain her footing.

"Protect Arlathan!" Zelyra cried as she batted away at the swarms with a combination of scimitar and wooden shield. Near her, Krom swung his warhammer in a wide arc as Hayth turned his fangs back on the swarms of squirrels. The combined effort held the squirrels back, allowing Arlathan to breathe.

"We need to get out of here!" the half-giant bellowed.

"Agreed," Varan said, his blades flashing as he cut down another wave of squirrels. "Everyone, head for the exit!"

With the party rallying around Arlathan, they fought their way through the swarms of albino squirrels, their combined strength and resolve pushing them forward. Hayth led the way, his sharp senses guiding them through the chaos. At last, the group tumbled into a small adjoining chamber. The foul stench dissipated here, and with it, the squirrels' strange frenzy subsided. What few had survived the party's assault scurried back into their nesting ground to lick their wounds.

The companions were thankful for the unexpected respite and fought to catch their breath as they assessed the new chamber. A solid iron door was to their left, while the path continued around a corner to the right. Wordlessly, they all agreed that that could be dealt with later. They had more pressing concerns.

Varan wiped his blades clean and sheathed them. His blue eyes scanned the chamber for new threats. Krom, though weary, stood ready, his warhammer resting on his shoulder. Arlathan leaned heavily against Hayth, still pale from her ordeal. Zelyra hurried to her side. "Are you alright?" the half-elf cried.

The moon elf wordlessly shook her head and sunk to her knees on the cavern floor.

"Do you want me to take a look at you?" Zelyra pressed, already reaching into the bag at her side, searching for the herbs needed for a healing spell.

Again, Arlathan shook her head.

"Well, as long as you're sure…" the half-elf said, sounding quite the opposite.

"But you just threw up a frog!" Krom exclaimed.

The reminder had Arlathan bowled over, retching for a second time between her legs, but her stomach was empty. "Don't eat the blue goo…" she said weakly.

"Take your time to recover," Zelyra said soothingly as she patted the moon elf's back. "We're not going anywhere until we're all ready."

Varan, ever the pragmatist, gave a grunt of agreement. "We can't afford to face what's ahead if we're not at our best." He paused briefly and added, "Just…stop touching things, please."

Arlathan briefly looked back on her actions of the day and frowned. First, the goo and then the gems. "That's fair," she admitted. "I don't have much of an impulse control."

The ranger sighed heavily. "So, I've noticed."

Hayth whined again and nuzzled the druid's side.

As they waited for Arlathan to recover, Zelyra and Varan moved closer to the wall to take a second look at the strange blue substance. The smell was quite pleasant, but neither half-elf had any urge to consume it as Arlathan had. And now, looking closer, Zelyra realized it resembled something she had seen earlier that day.

"This is the same stuff that was in Jeremiah's eye! I don't know how I didn't make the connection sooner," the druid frowned. "Ugh! The walls are covered in frog eggs!"

The words were said loud enough for the others to hear as well.

"Arlathan, you ate Gol'Goroth's seed!" Krom cried in disgust.

The moon elf made another retching sound. "Why did I think that was a good idea?" she moaned.

Something about Krom's phrasing made Zelyra's heart rate pick up. Suddenly, everything clicked. "Remember that strange comment Hal made about the Gol'Goroth spreading its seed?" the druid asked her companions. "I wonder if this is another method. If the Gol'Goroth's spawn doesn't get to you, the slime will!"

"That would explain why not every cultist we've seen was missing an eye," Varan said. The ranger's lip quirked again as he elbowed her lightly. "Good catch," he praised.

Zelyra blushed prettily and ducked her head. "Thanks," she said softly.

They took a few more minutes to rest up and gather their wits. Zelyra passed out a few wrapped rations. Aside from a few apples from Goldleaf's orchards, they hadn't eaten much that day. Slowly but surely, Arlathan's face regained its natural color. Eventually, with Hayth's help, the druid rose to her feet and gave a nod of thanks to her companions. "I'm ready," she announced, her voice steady.

"You're sure?" Zelyra checked, just to be sure.

The moon elf nodded resolutely.

Krom grinned and shouldered his warhammer. "Let's go. We have a wizard to find and a god to kill."

[1] Krom's player rolled terribly throughout the one-shot despite having good stats. His spectacular failure here is my nod to that :D My notes for this part of the session were: "Enter the cave, look out for the wizard. Lick blue goo. Throw up frogs. Attacked by albino squirrels. The barbarian sucks at hitting things." :P I may have switched up the order, but the premises are the same.

[2] This is a modified use of the spell magic stone. Arlathan is using the apples she picked up at the start of the previous chapter instead of pebbles for the component.

[3] The weird things you know when you roll high on a nature check, lol.

[4] Before anyone attacks me over this line, remember that this is from the perspective of a druid who has had little contact with weave practitioners (wizards/sorcerers) and would not know the difference. As far as Arlathan knows, the enigma that is nature (and the nature pantheon, by extension) supplies the Circle of Swords with their magic.

I know it's been over six months since I've updated The Grey Warriors. Unfortunately, writing took a major backseat after my husband and I experienced a very personal loss last December. I'm in a better mindset now and fully intend to pick up where I left off. I plan to finish this short story first, then return to the main one. This should only have about 3 or 4 more chapters plus an epilogue that will fully tie this into The Grey Warriors. I'm glad to be back! :)