Chapter Six: The Muster of Caltlikrath

Dozens of spiders, as far as you can see right now. But you could disengage from them easily enough.

You hear a muttered expletive, and then a raspy voice says, in a calm, measured tone: "Do not attack me. They have roused the dead heart. That which is awakening must be destroyed. You will need my help."

"Later is the time for explanations. We should act while it still writhes in confusion." A shadow detaches itself from the tunnel wall and starts to creep forward cautiously.

Leth can't really suss out the raspy-voiced person's intentions.

While Zangua smashes and dices spiders, Mordred watches the newcomer's approach. The figure is tall, but their overall size is hard to discern, as they are wearing some sort of ghillie suit covered in vines and foliage. Mordred can make out the whites of large human eyes but little else.

"I have been waiting out the Black Beast for a long time," the person says. "You have accelerated my plans."

You see the glint of blades in the person's hands, hanging from their belt, and slung across their body as they draw nearer to Felor's light.

More dirt and spiders fall from the ceiling as the moaning changes in pitch and intensity. Far from aggressive, however, the spiders now scuttle back to the walls.

"It is a wrong thing upon this land, and it should not be here." The figure moves surprisingly quietly down to the end of the tunnel. He has dark, almost black skin and a shaved head, and wears clothing and shawls covered in camouflaging vegetation. A hand axe with an ornately carved head hangs loosely from his right hand; in his left he holds a curved, broad-bladed throwing knife. A short sword and a dagger are attached to his waist, and two spears are slung across his back. "It comes. Help me to destroy it."

The hunter gives Mordred a long look, narrowing his eyes slightly, then marches toward the tunnel from which the terrible moaning sounds still emanate.

The hunter shrugs as he strides down the tunnel. "I have not done battle with a fiend such as this before. We shall learn together."

Foul winds carrying odors of death and old rot buffet you as you follow him down the tunnel. It opens up after a short distance and decline into a vast chamber, 70' wide, into which a thick, tangled column of old roots descends from the ceiling, forming a clotted, sprawling, web-strewn knot in the center of the chamber floor. Brownish-yellow slime drips in ropy strands down the column of roots and bubbles out from bends and cracks in the old wood. The moaning seems to be coming from the dark center of this mass of roots.

The female human squats in front of the tangle of roots, holding her male counterpart by the neck and hair as he lies face down beside her, seemingly trying to push him inside of it. There is blood streaking up her forearms and pooling around them.

To your left, an ancient, mummified human corpse leans against the wall, a pile of viscera and regurgitated blood, some of it fresh and some quite old and decayed, heaped at its feet.

The hunter stops and coolly surveys the scene. "The ritual is incomplete, but it cannot be stopped now. We will wait until the demon has fully manifested." He takes a drinking gourd out from his belt, twists off the top, and takes a long pull. He holds it out, wordlessly offering a drink to the party members.

Zangua takes a gulp of a very sweet and bracingly potent liquor. (Who's next?)

The hunter flips his axe in his hand while he watches the woman twist and shove her companion's head around inside the mass of roots. It appears his throat has been cut; at a few points she lets go with one hand to wipe blood on the roots.

"The spider-men you killed -- to the villagers, they are the 'black beast.' But there," he points with his axe, "in there is the dead heart of the true beast. This one, you have put her in a panic, and she awakens it now. The heart quickens. The beast comes. This was not my plan, but we will make the best of it."