"Purge at the Black Bowl"

"Purge at the Black Bowl"

Dain stood with his fellow Medjai warriors,
surrounded by Romm women coating their bodies with red and black
paint, making them into a grim visage of human tigers. Dain watched
the walls of stone that had been erected around the Rommish
settlements. A formerly nomad people had become encased in lead and
stone protected walls manned by Arrendran outcasts and expatriates,
fleeing from the undead hordes taking over both their lands.
The Arrendran's frowned on the Medjai's tribal superstitions, but
none could state that they had not stemmed the flow of undead into
the mountains, all except skyreach and the black bowl to which none
of the Medjai hade gained access to until now. Tareg and Qal had
their fellow mages had scouted the region in Wind form, and counted
numbers and troop movements.
Now was the proper time to attack, the undead ships had left on some
errand after the arrival of Salmas, some lord of the iron circle who
had delivered some strange artifact to the Dark keeper Xanthus,
overmaster of Arrendra and keeper of the spellstiched legions.
Dain had been given visions in his dreams, screaming black souls
tormented in some horrific ritual. Visions of Bones being crushed.
The slow, grating of teeth and nails, whispers of some vile chant
echoing through the valley as the screams of the victims
reverberated around the bowl. And then the black pool like some
amorphous creature overflowing across the cities, turning into steam
and suffocating the life out of Romm villages. He shook in disgust
thinking about it, goose bumps covered his flesh and he spit tabac
onto the ground.
Things had changed so much in the past year, lowlanders had fled up
here into Romm territory seeking their aid. Dain was disgusted by
them for the most part, he had tried to warn the nobles and they
disregarded him, even laughed at him. Look at them now, manning
posts on the walls with us, clinging to any hope that in the morning
their souls would still be theirs. Their cultured ways had made them
stupid, their decadence their downfall.
He thought of Thom Erekose, what a perfect example of lowlander
greed and corruption. And the man wasn't even raised by Arrendran's.
Amazing. He was a bastard son, legitimized only because another
bastard son died fighting his own people, all because of greed and
corruption and noble ties.
Only those willing to fight for the rights and lives of the people
should rule. Only then will they be free from corruption and false
alliances. There was one who had changed his mind about nobles of
late and her name was Aetherwyn. She had shown up in his camp
shortly after Dain had given a speech in Arrendra city with the
Rommish delegation about the danger of Surgotha's armies. The nobles
had laughed, stating that Arn could protect them from any foreign
menace.
He had watched her from the floor of the council chambers, quietly
watching him from a balcony. Later she had ended up following Dain's
delegation on the back of a grand white horse. When Dain had
confronted her on the trail, she had blatantly said she was going
with him and she agreed that Surgotha was a threat. He was
surprised, in the least that some lowlander women would come alone
into Rommish lands without escort. Aetherwyn said she needed no
escort.
Dain liked her bluntness, and fire. It reminded him of Tomoe. But
this woman didn't have the look of a warrior. She had proven herself
very capable in the last year. Her skill with imagery was
astounding, more powerful than Qal or Tareg in fact. She had refused
to join the Medjai, her role was with the tribe, protecting the
lowlanders and Romm while the Medjai were away with the soldiers.
She only asked one boon from Dain, when the lowlanders began coming
she demanded they call her Erwyn. The woman had been a great asset,
and her care for the wounded and infirmed had made her very popular
with the Romm. She had a gift for both mage craft and healing, which
impressed even the Priestess of the Reveler. They said she was
not "Skittish" like the other lowlander women, and many of the Romm
had already started calling her "The White Seer."
Erwyn refused to talk of her background to Dain or anyone else. He
suspected she may be on the run from some unwanted husband, or a
political marriage. Her mystery was hers, she was a valued asset
regardless so he kept his promise.
Qal put a hand on his shoulder.
"Shall we discuss tactics?" He asked.
"In the great tent." Dain replied hoarsely. Motioning to the other
Medjai, they nodded and began grabbing their equipment.
Qal had lost his weight and had matured well in the past year, and
his wife had given birth to twins, although she was no longer with
the Romm, she was killed by undead gathering herbs in the wood. The
mage had since lost much of his immaturity taking care of his
children, but he had found a new wife a spelldancer named Fhara, who
the Romm called Swiftknife. Both were Medjai now.
Tareg had bought his brothel ship and was about to start his
business, when the undead ships came he had to flee to save his
worldly goods. That ship was stowed in some seaside cliff cave near
Valenz, sealed in the cave by spells. Tareg had been infuriated at
the thought of picking up the adventuring life again, instead of
traveling the world with Gregor and a crew of Rommish women. But,
heroes have no time limit, and when needed they must arise.
Tareg and Gregor stood near Dain, Tareg had a grim look on his face
as he studied Qal's map. Gregor just grinned, thumbing his axe,
looking forward to the coming conflict. That dwarf showed no fear,
he was good for morale. The Medjai stood in full array as the group
discussed tactics.
There were also a few groups Arrendran adventurers present that had
proven themselves useful in the past, The spelldancers, the Rommish
spell thieves. The Mageknights numbering ten, from Arrendra ; The
Righteous Fist, a band of twenty Clerics of The hand of Mercy from
Pompasta; The Shades, five stealthy cutthroats from Badherra's
underworld; And the Seven, a motley group of adventurers once
sponsored by Arn, all of which were from outside of Arrendran lands.
They had all been thrown together with the Romm, and all had proven
themselves viable allies in the fight with the undead minions and
the Knights of the Black Gauntlet.
As the group began discussing what was to be done, The White Seer
came in. She was wearing a long flowing robe of white, and her face
was hidden in a hood resembling a nuns habit. Dain stood and greeted
her.
"I'm sorry this is a council meeting, please leave us."
"I intend to go. So I think I should be here." She replied.
Dain grinned and approached her, putting in another mouthful of
Tabac leaf , he stood looking at her arms crossed.
"You've never gone out before. I don't want your life on my hands.
Your too valuable here." He adjusted his mouth, and spit wiping his
lip.
"Are you sure?" He whispered. His slate gray eyes looking into hers.
She stared back at him, looking at him with her clear blue eyes, she
came closer putting a hand on his breastplate. She gently felt the
face of the High Reveler's imprint on his armor with her fingers and
smiled. He felt the magical tatoo on his shoulder throb. Laughter
and bells echoed in his ears only he could hear, just barely. The
Weaver of Destinies was watching him again. Why did she deem to
taunt him?
"I think I've stayed safe long enough. I feel as if I can do more."
She said.
Dain shrugged, unsure. What was this woman doing to him? The others
waited . One of the Mage Knights stood up.
"I'll fight by your side." He said bowing. He moved over to her,
resting his two bladed sword across his arms, his glassteel armor
glistened in the torchlight. His name was Varis, she had healed him
a few months back, his wound was feared fatal.
Others began standing.
"The White Seer." They said , saluting her with their weapons.
"The White Seer." Others intoned, soon it was heard chanting
throughout the council tent. Dain put a hand on her shoulder.
"I think it's decided." He said smiling wryly. The Weaver of
Destinies had spoken. He thought to himself, or was it the Trickster?
He clasped his shoulder and walked her over to the map. The planning
went on for two hours and then the group left for skyreach.

The march to skyreach was done mostly at night, facilitated by
portal stones used by the Medjai. Speed was essential. But there
were no portal stones in the black mountains, so the group was on
their own from skyreach. The taking of skyreach had been easy,
defended by a few members of the Guardians of the black gauntlet,
and some burned ones. Which were taken care of by the clerics with
little problem. There seemed to be no resistance. The enemies
forces had congregated near the bowl, miles away.
After the battle of skyreach, Dain and his men took rest in the old
burned chapel, the walls were good insulation from the wind. He
asked the White Seer for her help in scrying the Black Bowl. She
agreed. Moving the men out of the chapel he waited quietly with Qal
and Tareg for her to sit. She took a crystal cup of blue hue out
from her satchel, and a vial of silverish liquid. She poured the
liquid mercury into the bowl and muttered in Draconic. The bowl
began to glow into a bright blue hue and the seer relaxed,
concentrating. The walls began to flicker with blue shadows as her
trance increased.
What she viewed was horrific. Slaves were being dragged to the bowl,
and forced to march down into the lowest portion of the valley.
There the Dark Summoner Xanthus was feeding the bodies into a
crushing mechanism. The victims were forced to watch as their own
bodies were lowered feet first into the malicious contraption,
breaking bone, nails and teeth against the circulating, bone
crushing serrated wheels of the demonic machine.
Their death was slow, and their cries of terror as they watched
their bodies disintegrate echoed through the valley.
Undead were capturing some black liquid from a strange pulsating
purple and red funnel device, and gathering liquid into small vials
and loading them into boxes laced with clay holders to keep the
glass protected. Xanthus was surrounded by spellstiched undead, each
assisting their master with his incantation. The Guardians of the
Black Gauntlet were guarding the entrance of the valley and Burned
Ones ferried the captive slaves down the valley path to the black
altar. Xanthus also had the use of a portal, placed by a circular
ring of obsidian, in which he was transporting the liquid. Where it
lead to was unknown.
Aetherwyn tried to move closer to the portal in her vision but she
felt the cold fingers undeath grip her heart, she heard laughter in
her thoughts, she gripped her neck and struggled with her invisible
bonds. She was lifted from the ground, her feet kicking.
"Fools!" A malevolent voice boomed. A form of dark shadow appeared
gripping Aetherwyn by her throat, as it materialized.
"No one will stop us, Raastible will rule." The fiend said, throwing
The white seer to the floor. As it moved the shadow seemed to come
alive with a blue inner light, like a glowing blue skeleton cloaked
in shadow energy. Its eyes glowed with a pulsing blue strobe like
energy.
"It is our time! Fools, feel the wraith of the lord of death!" It
struck out at Dain, but the Romm countered the shadow things claw
attack with his great pick, there was a loud rumble like thunder,
and Dain's ears popped as a shockwave of purple energy flowed
through the ruin. Sparks of violet and indigo energy intermixed with
the shadow beasts skeletal blue aura and the beast reared back,
hissing an infernal curse.
Qal and Tareg cast disruption spells on the beast and it sneered in
rage, billowing with black tendrils of smoke. It moved for the
mages, clawed hands of death outstretched.
The beast screamed and the burly Medjai heaved a second blow across
the beasts shadowy chin. Another clack of sonic disruptive energy
retorted from the pick as it hit its target. Smoky residue chaffed
off the undead and filtered into the air, as its body evaporated
into a screaming vapor. And then after a disturbing screech of
infernal agony, it was gone.
Dain and Qal moved to Aetherwyn, Qal was saying something Dain did
not understand, and he stood up feeling helpless.
The clerics of the Hand of Mercy ran into the room.
"What happened?"
"Ghoulshadow, see to the seer." He said. The adepts moved to
Aetherwyn and began healing her.
Dain kicked her scrying bowl and moved outside, cradling his pick.
He shouldn't have let her come. He thought to himself sadly.
He heard horns in the distance as the sun came up over the eastern
mountains. The horns of the dead. The Guardians of the Gauntlet were
coming with their soulstitched and corpse sworn.
Tareg stood by Dain, glaring at the mountain pass.
"What do we do?" He asked.
"We fight."

The Medjai prepared themselves, hiding in the brush and rocks. The
Arrendran adventurers made a line and formed squares, mages in the
middle. Soon a cloud of dust crept up the valley trail leading to
the bowl and soon like a cloud of shadow a deathknight formed at the
vanguard of a great horde of undead soulstitched cavalry, followed
by a group of Burned ones on foot running behind like rabid dogs
slavering at the mouth.
The Clerics burst forward with disruption spells, and the mages with
fireballs. The clerics managed to shatter most of the soulstitched
cavalry, turning them to ash. The rest slammed into the braced
fighters, who lashed out with their weapons. The Medjai jumped into
the fray, cutting off the rest of the undead. Three mages levitated
themselves from the fray, casting Searing bolts toward the
Deathknight. Dain pushed through the crowd with his pick, moving
toward the mounted undead warrior, who was busy cleaving through the
Arnian adventurers.
As the big warrior crushed the head of a burned one with his pick,
another on tackled him and gripped him in a vicious bear hug. Dain
went down like a slab of meat, hitting the ground with a resounding
thump.
Dain couldn't get the beast off of him, and its burning claws were
cutting into the back of his breastplate. He gazed into the glazed
eyes of a dead fighter next to him, a shattered lance jutting out
the side of his neck. His vision faded, and then a flash of light
erupted from one of the clerics of the hand of mercy and the undead
crumbled to the ground around Dain. The priest helped him up with a
great pull and was off, leaving Dain staggered.
The deathknight turned, hacking toward Dain from his saddle, but
through some turn of fate missed the warrior by inches.
A ray of green energy hit the death knight and catapulted him out of
his saddle, fifteen feet onto the hard earth behind the fighting, a
green glow emitted from his chest and he screamed in agony.
Aetherwyn, moved forward through the crowd, healed from her injury,
she faced the death knight. With a fluid motion she raised her
hands, arcane energy poured forth, and small starlight bursts of
yellow light shot down from the sky and engulfed the deathknight in
a swirling mass of divine fire, like a glowing cyclone. Two other
clerics of the Hand of Mercy joined in calling fire from the heavens
in a whirling cloud of destruction swallowing the deathknight and
lifting his screaming form into the air. Dain ducked as a burning
dagger flew from the beasts arsenal over his shoulder and stuck in
the ground behind him like a splinter of a falling comet.
When the spell subsided, the deathknight was a pile of gray ash and
charred armor and his skull pommeled sword lay shattered among his
remains..
The men rallied around the White Seer, their energy renewed by their
sight of Aetherwyn. Dain and the Medjai and the Arrendran
adventurers made short work of the remaining undead. Horns sounded
from the mountain. Dain looked up his breathing heavy. Sweat poured
into his eyes, his legs shook. A green magical light shot up from
the mountain and entered the clouds above, forming a whirlwind of
clouds.
"Someone's casting a spell from the mountain." One of the clerics
stated.
"Lets not give then a chance to reinforce. Lets go." Tareg said. A
cleric cast a spell on Dain and the barbarian felt renewed. He
hefted his pick over his shoulder, get the horses we ride for the
Black Bowl. Qal and Tareg looked toward the area. Grim determination
on their faces. Qal was wounded, his spelldancer leathers covered in
blood from a gash in his shoulder. His weapons were black with dried
blood. Dain realized his ear was hacked off. The barbarian bit his
lip, and pulled a potion from his satchel. Offering it to the mage
spelldancer with calloused bloodstained hands.
Qal gulped it down and he felt his wounds closing.
"Exasperating, isn't it?" The mage smiled.
"I've still got spells left too, I'm saving them for that undead
loving asshole over there slinging death spells."
"Payback." Dain said slapping Qals shoulder.
"Payback brother, don't worry about the ear I'll get it restored."
The group made their way up the trail, with little resistance. As
they reached the entrance to the top of the bowl. They stopped a
huge archway made of black standing stones covered in infernal
runes, ten times the height of a man. Black Iron doors rested in
between. Barring their entrance.
"Giants must have made those." Dain said.
"More like fiends my friend." Tareg replied. Dain felt a chill go up
his spine as he viewed the runes on the megaliths.
A sentry called out from the cliff side to their right. And arrows
began falling from the top of the arched entrance. The heroes took
cover and a few fell from well placed arrows.
One of the Arnian adventurers blew a horn of blasting at the front
of the door. A great thunderclap resounded around the bowl, causing
boulders to fall from the canyon walls. The blast of sonic energy
created a cone of destruction that shattered the door and the ground
beyond and the bones of the men and horses its had contact with .The
Medjai surged forward.
Knights of the Black Gauntlet sprang to action, they opened the
great doors. Unleashing a frenzy of spellstiched zombies toward the
freedom fighters. Fifty of Abraxes best drew steel, with great axes,
two handed swords and mauls they charged the ragtag army.
Androjen, a young Medjai, called on the High Reveler and pulled off
his shield. The other heroes moved aside, as he called for room.
"I will take the vangaurd!" Androjen screamed.
The young adventurer braced the shield of his ancestors in front of
his body and said some archaic word. Blades flashed all around the
front of the shield, and swirled around his body like some slashing
field of force.
"Follow me!" He charged into the oncoming ranks of the Knights of
the black Gauntlet like a living field of blades. Hands, fingers,
heads and limbs flew in showers of blood as the young adventurer
piled through the evil knights. Many backed off and began running
only to be caught in the heroes wave of oncoming death. The other
heroes behind mopped up what was left as Androjen pushed himself
forward onto the ridgeway.
The medjai and their companions moved forward, pushing their way
into the fortified trail. Dain glanced over the edge of the walled
trail, it was like a great fortified rampart heading to the shallow
of the bowl below.
Dain stayed in the rear, observing the scene below amidst the
fighting. He pulled Qals shirt back to gain his attention. Tareg
also stayed, holding his knees for support. He was tired of all this
running up hills, he was out of breath. A spellstiched lurched
forward from the fighting crowd around them and Tareg grappled with
it as it charged, momentarily surprised. Dain grabbed the undead by
its weapon harness and with a great throw flung the flailing beast
over the rampart wall. Tareg leaned back against the wall, breathing
hard. Holding his hand up in thanks.
Aetherwyn moved forward near Dain pointing toward a black obelisk in
the center of the great bowl. When Dain saw it his blood ran cold. A
great line of people stood in line, whipped into submission by
burned ones. A priest stood at the top of the small temple in front
of the obelisk. Some evil contraption was hovering below a slide
covered in blood. The screams of the victims could be heard from
where they were standing. They echoed across the canyon walls. The
heroes faces went white.
Men, women and children were being fed into this contraption, feet
first. As they slid down the slide alive their feet were caught in a
grinding contraption of crushing, and teeth like slashing wheels. It
was like a human meat grinder. As the screaming victims were slowly
shredded into this harvester of flesh, their essence was filtered
into some funnel-like beaker held by spellsticthed below. The black
amorphous essence was then being stored into clay beakers in the
back of a wagon. Boxes of the stuff were already stored.
He watched a female being lowered into the vile machine, a
lowlander by her looks. She slid down quickly and she screamed as
the machine caught her feet, it gripped her and her body flopped
forward into the air, she tried desperately to flail her arms , for
someone or something to help her, a desperate attempt. Her body was
slowly shredded, Dain could hear the bones popping from her joints
and the grinding and breaking of her bones as she was slowly
engulfed in the flowing blades. Her head stopped screaming as her
chest was engulfed, there was no air for the sound to come out, just
the shocked expression of infernal pain and anguish. Dain vomited.
He was so shocked he couldn't move. His legs shook uncontrollably.
Qal grabbed him and steadied him. Tareg just stood awestruck.
"This is …truly abyssal evil. How is this possible? Is there truly
evil such as this? It's incomprehensible." Qal said.
"That is the Soul Vice." Aetherwyn said, tears running from her
eyes. "I have had visions of it."
"So have I." Dain said, wiping his mouth he spit out his ruined
Tabac.
"If the gods exist why do they let things like this happen?" Tareg
asked.
Aetherwyn grabbed his hand.
"That my friend, is why we are here." She said.
Dain grabbed old faithful and fought his way through the crowd his
companions following him. As they made their way down the guarded
rampart trail, the slaves below saw them and heard the song of the
Arrendran bard Riordan, calling on the heroes of the past. He had
stayed at the lip, seeing what was going on below, he felt an
overwhelming need to sing, and the song of heroes echoed over the
canyon and seemed through divine grace, to reach the ear of all who
was not undead.
As the slaves below saw the mass of fighting Romm, Arnian, and
Arrendran alike fighting their way down into the bowl, a lone slave
grabbed his chain and jumped on a burned one. Clubbing his jaw and
sending his chin skittering across the canyon floor.
En mass it seemed the other captives fought for their lives. They
picked up stones, sticks and whatever was handy and swarmed their
captors. If they were going to die they were going out as heroes
with a fight. As the crowd swarmed over their captives, the victims
at the top of the temple grabbed the priest of the Keeper of the
Dead he was so shocked he lost his spell, as he was dragged to the
ground and strangled by an enraged victim. The priest struggled with
his assailant, but the man's grip was strong. He fell to the floor
of the temple roof. His victim, grabbed him and scissor gripped him
with his legs. The Arrendrans hot breath choked out a curse into the
priests ear.
"That was my wife you just murdered priest, you will go ask for her
forgiveness now." He breathed.
His guards struggling with the frenzied mob, could not reach their
master. The priest grabbed frantically for some purchase as the man
rolled for the bloodstained slide.
The Arrendran laughed as the priest let out a mumbled whimper, as
one of his spells once again failed under the strain of the great
mans arms.
"You fool, we will be dammed to an eternity of torment if you throw
us in there, your wife is gone! Don't throw your life away fool."
"The hand of mercy protects me, although she will not protect you."
He said. The priest chanted and he felt his skin burning with the
keepers curse. The Arrendran held true, as his skin turned black and
burned with the agonies of hellfire from the priests spell. His skin
burst into blue flame as he rolled the priest onto the slide. The
two slid forward moving toward the blades of the soul vise. The
keeper flung forward, still casting his curse. The keepers eyes
widened as his right foot caught in the infernal grinder, his spell
ended abruptly as the machine began grinding his legs he screamed in
agony, the pain to overwhelming to continue. The priest looked into
the mans eyes, and although he too was being crushed to the machine
his face was calm. Blood poured from the keepers mouth. "Fool!
You've dammed us both." He said. Looking into the mad eyes of the
man holding him the priest saw he was not afraid.
"Hand Of Mercy give me death!" He said. The man's vision blacked
out and he felt a jumping sensation.
The man saw his body below him, a silver cord broke which connected
him to his body and he felt joy at the freedom he felt and the
overwhelming love. He watched as the keeper was engulfed and his
dead body was destroyed. He wasn't afraid. Small lights were moving
all around him. He looked across the bowl to see the Romm and their
allies fighting across the great field finishing off the undead and
their servants. Lights moved around the heads of the heroes. He
realized they were souls.
His body floated upward. From the carnage. Lights flowed all around
them. As he looked up he realized he could distinguish faces in the
globes of light around him. They swarmed across him and he felt
undying love. As he looked upward into the blue sky, he noticed
Solars everywhere. Thousands. The angels flew in circles above the
canyon, their great wings blotting out the sun. He realized they
were escorting souls. There was so much death in the canyon they had
come, like celestial escorts they escorted the souls into a
pulsating auroral light swirling above him.
He stopped and looked down, a celestial reached out and grabbed his
hand. She looked at him and began floating up towards the light. He
stopped. The celestial looked at him. "Why do you pause?" she asked.
He looked at the Soul Vise. He didn't speak, but the celestial
seemed to read his thoughts. She smiled.
"Your wife and child are already with the Hand of Mercy. They await
you."
"I don't have a child." He said confused.
"Your wife was with child when she passed. She did not tell you for
fear of breaking your heart further."
Bertram smiled. Overwhelming joy filled him. He ascended looking
forward to meeting his wife and daughter in the afterlife.
After the battle was over and the remnants of the undead had fled
through the portal nexus to parts unknown. The freedom fighters
destroyed the portal stones and cut off any way of reinforcements
from coming through. The people were free. Dain rested on the temple
mount, sitting over the side of the flagstones. Aetherwyn had
dispelled the soulvise. And members of his Medjai forces were seeing
to the wounded. Aetherwyn walked among them, tending wounds with
clerics of the hand of mercy. Her dress was covered in blood from
battle and tending wounds. He admired her beauty. And her bravery.
She had an air of nobility about her he couldn't deny. For the first
time in along time he felt he could feel for a woman again. Truly.
There were so many wounded to be helped he felt useless. He just
wanted to be alone to rest.
Qal plopped down next to him. Laughing.
"What is it?" Dain asked.
"A baker." Qal said.
"What are you talking about?" Dain said hoarsely.
"The guy that flung the keeper in the Soul Vise." Qal said laughing.
"He was a baker from Pompasta."
"That bard is making up a song about him already, can you believe
it? A baker, supposedly the best in town too."
"Damn." Dain said.
"I can't believe it. A baker stole my vengeance." Qal said throwing
rocks.
Dain looked at his friend and smiled.
"I'm sure you'll have another chance."
"Well good for him. Perhaps the people need a song about a baker
hero, to raise the spirits so to speak." Qal's shoulders fell.
"Fucking Baker. I'm outdone by a baker."
Dain felt tattoo burning and heard laughter and bells in his ears.
The trickster was at it again.
Dain began laughing. He stood slapped his friend on the shoulder.
Lets go see about that ear. Besides there are people in need don't
you feel the need to rest. Qal removed his rose colored glasses,
wiped them and put them on.
"I just want to go home and take a bath and sit in the smoke hut for
awhile."
"I agree." Tareg said. The three companions walked slowly toward the
wounded to help. Dain looked up into the sky. He swore he saw
shadows in the sky, like buzzards on the glide. But the sky was
clear. He heard laughter again, he ignored it and continued his
task.