Fantastic Tales from the realm

Chapter III

The brain-dead quartet

Faehana woke with a start as his conscious mind graced him with its presence once more, his breaths ragged as he struggled in the clutches of the Ettin 'Gods below!' he cursed as the creature continued to lumber on. As his analytical mind finally decided to return from its violence induced vacation, Faehana's expression turned into a frown of curiosity as he swivelled his head wildly to look at where he was being taken. His eyes locked onto the towering cream cathedral, its masonry cracking as vines weaved their way through the supports and threatened to consume the entire sanctuary. 'It's a Church of Doors!' he exclaimed with excitement.

'Oi keep it quiets! I's was sleepin' before youse tried to skip the toll!' one of the heads hissed before looking back at its companion 'Can I's club it? It's too louds It is'

'No's! The miss asked for peoples who wouldn'ts pay the toll alive!' the second head rebutted.

'But it's only be a soft clubbin'. Swears' the second replied.

'I's knows you. You don't soft-club' the first retorted, shaking its head.

'Wait, who's this miss?' the sage interrupted confused and intrigued.

'Ohs she's great. She's gives us foods for youse' the second began, his voice cheery at the talking point.

'And she's told us to keep our traps shut!' the first hissed in reply.

'What's the Church of Doors?' inquired Kalwala from across the way.

'It's an old religion that believed its churches could grant a worshipper access to the spiritual realm through its various doorways inside' Faehana succinctly explained as the Ettin's dropped their catches at their feet and pounded on the door

'Don't youse try to walk off on us. I's got my eyes on youse!' the one head instructed as a small man stepped out from behind the towering wooden doors. 'We's found these two, tryin' to skip the toll they's was' the first head reported as the second stared down at the Tiefling and elf. The man who stood before them, if you could call them a man was cloaked in a black robe, his spindly fingers grey and flaking. His breaths were laboured and the glint of blackened bone escaping the carefully wrapped cloak.

'The Mistress thanks you for your contribution, your portions are behind the church' the man carefully replied. To this, the Ettin's expression changed into a great wide grin as they nudged the party members into the church before turning to walk off 'We's gets a free feed!' the Ettin was last heard excitedly exclaiming. Kalwala and Faehana were led into the dark atrium of the church of doors. At the front of the atrium stood a raised dais, metal cages hung from the roof, their occupants weak and decayed. Pulsing arcs of green energy danced across the roof from contraptions across the church's roof. At the centre of the dais stood a person, their dark robes etched with patterns of dark rituals, carved down skulls tied across their robes as they immersed themselves in some form of text. It could be necromancy, can never be sure with the dark magics Faehana thought to himself before adding we're going to need some sort of distraction to break out of this creature's grip.

++++

Ugaburk looked on as the giants began to stride away 'This is it. Red Lady, Grandmaster of the Lanceboard. Grant me the strength and wisdom to execute this assault to your liking' he muttered to himself, a red horse piece in one hand as he finished the prayer. As he tucked the image of his goddess into a satchel he unhooked his shield from his back and onto his left arm he readied his greatsword and charged towards the church shield in front before coiling back and slamming the heel of his boot into the centre of the large doors. The doors exploded inward as the boot connected with reinforced wood and the War Cleric stepped in, all eyes snapping away from the Frankenstein contraptions towards his majestic entrance. Using the distraction created by Ugaburk's entrance the Sage rose from the iron grip of the servant and spewed a fiery stream of electricity at his captor, the energy illuminating. At this, the servant simply laughed before a gauntleted forearm assaulted his skull. At this the magic-user spun around, their sharp features still partially obscured by the torn hood.