The Black Sword, Chapter 1: The Eldritch Cave

Soirse was the last to arrive at the rendezvous point. A few yawning deciduous trees dotted the area between the two hills where the meeting was to take place. The river flowed calmly down from the north, making its way about twenty yards west of the lone cloaked figure who stood stark-still, waiting for everyone to arrive. The waxing moon showed little white ripples in Fenrir's fur as he jogged along at Soirse's side. They descended the hill.

As she passed, Soirse caught something in the corner of her eye. A young elf in dark leather armor hid still and silent behind one of the oaks. She grimaced, her anxiety toward the coming meeting exacerbated by his presence. Two others stood a cautious distance away from the cloaked man, a brown-skinned dwarf in gray robes and a tall, broad-shouldered man with long black hair and a thick tunic that clearly concealed some armor underneath.

Soirse took her place at Ghaleon's side and Fenrir at hers. The deathly still cloaked man raised his head, his face still shrouded by the shadow cast from his hood.

"You've all arrived," he began, "good. Malcolm, Ghaleon, Soirse -- you look surprised. I suppose you were unaware that yours were not the only letters." The three nodded in agreement. "I have need of all your services," he continued in a calm, flowing voice.

"Where can I find the sword? You said you could help, so help," Ghaleon growled, stepping forward and reaching for his weapon. The figure raised a hand.

"Stay your blade, Ghaleon. That is not a wise decision," he said, unrattled. "As I was saying, I have need of your services and you have need of my antidote."

"What would you have us do?" Malcolm inquired.

"My associates have lost track of some creatures, but they believe they've tracked them to a cave near the source of the Nerath, north of Rivermeet. You will be retrieving one for them, alive." The man sidestepped gracefully, a small metal cage behind him, "They rather resemble giant spiders, but with one twitching eye and bladed legs. You would do well to be careful of those." Malcolm shifted nervously. Soirse stared intently, trying to catch a glimpse of the man's hidden visage. Fenrir rumbled with a low growl. "Bring one back in this cage, alive, in one week."

"And where's..." Ghaleon began.

"Your antidote?" The man finished. He made a throwing motion, his cloak-sleeve trailing behind his hand. The parcel split into three in mid-flight, each part caught by one of the listeners. Soirse looked at the slender glass vial filled with viscous, clear fluid. "This should last you for about one week. If you bring the creature back, I'll give you the rest."

Ghaleon seethed, taking a step forward. He blinked, and when his eyes reopened, the man was gone. "I guess we're working together. Come on out, Tobias." The elf Soirse spotted earlier emerged from his hiding-place. "I'm Ghaleon, of Ebonheart manor, and this is my man Tobias Regai. Owes me a favor."

"Name's Malcolm. I'm looking to find my father -- never met him before, so it's just Malcolm for now."

"Soirse," Soirse answered, softly, "and this is Fenrir. He'll warm up to you once he gets to know you." Fenrir growled at the two men. "Anyway, seems we all have problems, so let's get this done so we can get back to solving them."

"Fine by me," Ghaleon answered with a smirk. "I've got everything we'll need in town. Let's go - Rivermeet's at least a day's journey."

***

Ghaleon hadn't much nobility left, but he still had land. His estate held sufficient provisions to supply the new company with a mule-cart and food for their excursion. Tobias, however, elected to remain behind, promising to accompany Ghaleon to their next meeting with the mysterious figure. By evening of the next day they had ridden past Rivermeet, declining to stop in the interest of time. Mid afternoon of the day after found them following a rustic trail through a patch of hills along the Nerath, now scarcely more than a stream.

"I think that's it," Soirse whispered, peering past a small thicket to a shallow indention on the near side of a tree-capped hill. Ghaleon nodded, steering the cart into the thicket.

"Dammit," he spat, a little too loudly, "kobolds." The three travelers huddled behind the cart near the far edge of the thicket. Ghaleon had the foresight to tie the mule to a tree several yards further back. "I knew this was going to be harder than it sounded."

A troop of diminutive, greenish creatures milled about the narrow cave entrance at the base of the indentation. They wore leather tunics, but little else covered their gnarly, scaled skin. They had elongated snouts with beady eyes set deep in their heads. Most wielded small spears or crossbows, but few had them readied. An older-looking kobold dressed in a mass of red robes gestured wildly, arranging his followers facing the cave entrance. He gibbered in some language unknown to the new adventurers.

"We need to hit them fast, before they realize we're here. What can you two do?" Ghaleon took charge.

"Druid initiate," Soirse said, "Fenrir's my muscle."

"Good, you can cover us and keep us healthy. Make sure your mutt doesn't bite me in the ass." Soirse glared at Ghaleon for the remark.

"I don't know how to explain it," Malcolm said, "so I'll do my own thing."

"Fine. Soirse, send in the dog. We'll take the archers first. Malcolm, do whatever the hell you want. Let's go." On that word, Ghaleon drew his longsword and whipped around the side of the cart. Soirse rose and directed Fenrir forward. A few quick gestures with his stubby fingers, and Malcolm shimmered with a faint purple glow for a moment. Then, with an uncanny agility, his short limbs flailed out, clinging to a tree and pulling him up like a spider.

The kobolds quickly diverted their attention to their sudden assailants. Crossbow bolts launched in haste missed the charging warrior, and he closed on the left-flank bowmen rapidly. He swung his blade, but his short target ducked as the steel passed overhead. His compatriot was not so lucky, and a gash through the shoulder left him incapacitated. The spearmen charged the oncoming wolf, brandishing their weapons in an attempt to scare the fearless animal. Though his teeth found flesh as he dragged one of the kobolds to the ground, Fenrir was quickly surrounded.

Ghaleon weaved and parried as the crossbowmen dropped their bows and began to stab wildly with daggers. His longer, stronger sword easily deflected their blows, and though his foes were quick he was able to land the occasional cut. The older kobold shifted from shouting his incomprehensible language to chanting it. Extending a claw toward Ghaleon, he struck the final syllable as a thin black ray streaked from his finger toward the warrior. The beam hit when Ghaleon was in mid-swing, and at the moment it did, he felt all strength leave him. The sword nearly flew from his hand, and he struggled to lift it while dodging the kobold daggers thrust in his direction.

Fenrir had managed to bring down another kobold, but his right side was red from two telling spear wounds. Soirse began to encant a spell of her own from behind the cart. The grass under the spearmen's feet began to thicken and writhe, twisting into strong vines that rose and bound the attackers. Darting backward, the wolf was able to avoid a similar fate.

Three blasts of purplish-gray energy streaked from the treetops to the chests of the dagger-wielding bowmen plaguing Ghaleon, sending them tumbling to the ground. Malcolm clung to the branch by one hand, producing arcane gestures with the other. Ghaleon grasped his sword, grunted, and with what strength remained in him he charged the robed kobold, running him through with his steel. Fenrir easily subdued the vine-bound spearmen, and those that escaped the spell fell back into the cave at a run. The adventurers had won the day.

When the sorcerer fell, Ghaleon felt his strength return, "I hate magic," he growled as he wiped his blade.

"It saved your life," Malcolm jabbed, approaching from the grove.

Soirse ignored the others, running to tend to Fenrir's wounds. She knelt at the beast's side, whispering a few magical words and covering the punctures with her glowing hand. When she removed it, the wounds were gone. Her hand moved up to scratch her faithful companion behind his ears.

"I could use a little of that too, you know," Ghaleon called out. Soirse just shook her head, smiling, and joined the group. "What we're looking for is inside," he added. The three paused at the narrow entry for only a moment, then walked into the cave.

Inside, the light quickly faded and the air grew stale. Ghaleon retrieved a torch from his pack and lit it, only to see Malcolm clambering along the low ceiling. "Out of harm's way," the dwarf whispered. The adventurers each did his best to stay quiet, eyes darting, searching for motion as far as the torch would illuminate. Malcolm gazed further, eyes unhindered by the dark. A loud clang resounded throughout the cave as Ghaleon stumbled back, foot narrowly missed by a rusted steel bear trap.

"So much for quiet," he said, "but this could come in handy." He picked up the expended trap and stuffed it into his pack. The reverberations should have stopped after a moment, but sound continued to stir deep in the hole. Soirse's eyes widened. Something was coming.

The creatures seemed to come from everywhere at once, bone-blades cutting gashes across the adventurers' arms, legs, anything they could hit. Ghaleon and Soirse were forced back to back as the spider-beasts danced eerily around them. "We have to force through," Ghaleon groaned, surging forward and swinging his blade, chopping down one of the creatures. Soirse and Fenrir followed his momentum, running deeper into the cave.

Malcolm's bolts splashed against the cave wall, each illuminating for a moment as a slasher dodged out of its way. Their blades clicked against the floor as they came within the torchlight, wet, sideways eyes blinking arhythmicly. They skittered forward, popping up into the air and spinning with blades extended, slashing through the adventurers as they flew. A pair of them popped up toward Malcolm, cutting him across the back. With the second wave of attacks, Ghaleon was ready. As the first slasher flew toward him, he swung his blade, and it fell in two halves on the other side of him. Fenrir caught one by the leg as it began to leap, dragging it down and ripping it open. Malcolm's bolts finally hit home, felling another beast.

"Don't forget, we need one alive," Soirse cried.

"No trouble," Ghaleon responded, shifting his sword in preparation for the next onslaught. As another bug spun toward him, he brought down the flat of his blade with great force, sending the creature tumbling into a limp heap of blades on the cave floor. The chittering stopped. The clicking stopped. The attack was over.

"Great, we got what we came for," Malcolm sighed, dropping from the roof. "I -- ugh!" he cried, spying the bodies of two eviscerated kobolds just outside of the torchlight. "Let's just take the beast and go, before things get worse here." As the words left his mouth, a gurgling snarl left the deeper parts of the cave. A faint reddish light danced in that direction, becoming brighter by the second. Malcolm shuddered as rapid padding sounds became audible.

Ghaleon was more canny. Sidling forward, he pulled the bear trap from his pack and set it out with a huff. His smirk betrayed a hint of fear, "This should work."

The light arrived moments later. An imposing figure, half again as tall as Ghaleon snarled and drooled. Its body was covered in a lumpy, gray-green skin and its arms each terminated in two large, black claws. Its most disturbing feature, however, was its one red glowing eye. The black slit pupil was ringed by an undulating iris, ever changing into nauseating patterns.

Readying her scimitar, Soirse met its gaze. For a moment, she fixated on the iris. Her stomach turned, her grip loosened, and she vomited violently, dazed. The beast galloped forward on all four of its limbs, swatting Fenrir aside as it slashed at the druid with its jagged claws. Rolling with the blow, Soirse suffered only superifcial scratches. Growling at the monster, Fenrir charged forward but slunk away scared when the abomination turned to face him.

Malcolm loosed his blasts, grazing the creature's massive arms, but he too fell victim to its nauseating eye when he accidentally met its gaze. Meanwhile, Ghaleon charged forward but was buffeted back by an offhand claw slash. Battered and exhausted, the adventurers tried to regroup. Slowly backing away from the beast and averting their eyes, they hoped not to provoke it. It padded slowly toward them, keeping pace. Then it sunk back, tensed its muscles, and bounded forward after the group. As it began to leap, claws extended, the creature stopped in mid-air as a clank resounded throughout the cave. It fell flat on the ground and Ghaleon rushed up to plunge his sword through its head. It lay dead, its foot snared by his bear trap.

Prying it off the disgusting aberration's foot, Ghaleon returned the bear trap to his pack. Ever curious, Malcolm cut out its strange eye for further study.

Groaning as she clutched her many wounds, Soirse walked over and clubbed the subdued spider-beast, just to be safe. "Let's lock this thing up and move on." In no condition to argue, Malcolm and Ghaleon followed her out of the cave.