“Wake up, Milo! We have to go now!” the druid yelled as she shook the small yet larger-than-life halfling awake. “I have Elida. We need to leave!” The Bard remembered now, he had been fighting a swarm of zombies hell-bent on breaching the walls of Innsmouth. The party had planned on coming to the city’s rescue but it seemed they had failed their mission before it had even begun.
The Bard thought for a moment. Looking around, the town was dark and quiet, seemingly deserted. Its many buildings cast long shadows into the streets and alleys. The party would come to their aid at any moment and this was the perfect choke-point to fight back the encroaching horde!
“Those chumps?!” the druid shrieked, “they’d be long gone by now. We’re on our own!”
“They wouldn’t leave me,” insisted the Bard, “they probably wouldn’t leave you either!”
“Have you seen the outside!? They wouldn’t even try! They left us.”
“Nuh-uh!” replied the Bard.
“Uh-huh!” answered the druid.
“Fine,” huffed the Bard, “we’ll find out soon enough.” Reaching out with his formidable psychic powers through space and time, he connected with the Boss. When can we expect your arrival? he messaged.
The Boss responded, Have you seen the outside?! We left you.
Son of a….
The trio raced across the water to the nearby shore, quickly leaving the doomed city behind. The gate had been thoroughly covered in undead but the dock was empty. Swimming might have been treacherous, but, with druid magic, walking across the water was as easy as taking a stroll on the beach.
For hours they ran until they finally found a secluded spot on the coastline. The journey was long and the black of night had overtaken them. Surely they were safe from the undead mayhem? But mere minutes passed before a rustling could be heard in the trees. The druid quickly took a battle position as the Bard dashed behind her in case enemies came from the rear. The noise grew louder, the trees shook, and finally a shape emerged from the forest. This shape wasn’t a cultist, these were their fellow heroes, reunited at last! They explained that they had lured as many zombies as they could away from the city, hopefully buying any inhabitants some more time. It was easy thanks to the help of a discarded amulet the Boss found. This, he explained, had given him the ability to bring undead under his control and had proven to be invaluable.
“It certainly was fortuitous,” remarked the warlock, “but such dark energies shouldn’t be trifled with. Best to take it off now.”
The Boss looked fondly at the amulet, its metallic eye shining in the moonlight. “Actually, I like it on. Who knows when we’ll need it again.”
The warlock frowned. “It reeks of black magic. You’re hearing voices in your head, and who knows what they can hear. I insist you remove it.”
The Boss sneered. “Now it comes to it. I don’t feel like parting with it. It’s mine, I found it, it came to me! It’s mine, my own, my precccccious.”
“It’s coming off NOW!” shouted the warlock.
“Nuh-uh!” replied the Boss.
“Uh-huh!” answered the warlock.
The metal-man spent the next few minutes watching the party form a flailing pile of limbs and dirt, fighting each other over the small amulet. While humorous, not unlike a drunken toddler cage fight, he began to wonder if destiny had really called to him to join THESE individuals.
When the dust cleared, the archer had the amulet in his hands and triumphantly tossed it into his pocket o’ holding. But after this fighting ended came a new noise. Once again a rustling could be heard from the tree line. There were no more heroes to be had though. This time it was a tall hooded figure that emerged, and trailing behind him was… a Beholder! Though it moved under its own power, its lifeless eyes showed it had died some time ago, another of the cultists’ undead minions. But without the sea of zombies that had protected him earlier, the heroes made quick work of this cultist and his terrible pet.
With this fresh victory under their belts the group was emboldened! Perhaps they could save the city after all! They vowed to head back at first light to lend their aid, cultists be damned!
As dawn approached, the heroes crept through the woods, back towards Innsmouth, leaving the exhausted Elida to recover, hidden among the trees. As they reached the edge of the forest they burst onto the field that led to the city ready to fight their way through the foul fiends!
Instead they found… nothing. No zombies. No survivors. No nothing. They could even be forgiven for thinking the whole thing had never happened if not for the thousands of footprints in the fresh soil.
Slowly they walked to the front of the city. Only the sound of the wind impeded their way. Cautiously they crept down the main street.
Still nothing.
Just when they were beginning to think the town had been spared after all, the Boss heard a… something. A wailing coming from the large warehouse at the end of the street. There must be survivors!
Quickly they ran to the front door and burst into the warehouse. “There’s no need to fear ladies and gentlemen, we fought back the hordes and are here to save yo…”
This moment had become somewhat awkward for two reasons. One, the group had not really fought any of the zombies and it was silly to take credit for it anyways. Also, the survivors weren’t “survivors” so much as they were one hundred zombies with associated cultists, among them the largest, scariest, bossiest cultist they had seen yet!
“Squeeeek,” said the opening door, coming to a slow stop.
“Hmm,” said the monk, quietly wetting himself.
“GRAAAH,” said the horde, each member climbing over another so that they might be the first to rip the heroes apart.
Thinking quickly, the druid and Bard cast spells that would hold the zombie army back, but it couldn’t last long! The heroes ran from the warehouse as fast as their legs could take them. Saving cities was noble and all, but that only applied to cities of the living. Fortunately, the zombies were slow and our heroes had a head start. They just might survive this after all!
With a shattering boom, the warehouse roof exploded outward and showered splinters and tiles onto the adventurers below. The head cultist had erupted from the warehouse and was now hovering in the sky.
“HAHA, RUN, RUN MY LITTLE SOWS!” he bellowed as a sickening green haze erupted from his fingers. “THE ALL-DEVOURING VOID COMES FOR US ALL!”
The green air was thick and threatened to choke the heroes in its sickening cloud. But our heroes were level 8 had fought this evil before and were wise to these dastardly spells. Doubling their fortitude, they pushed through the evil cloud and emerged on the other side with only minor injuries. Here they saw the front gate and their swift feet quickly saw them through it. Their adversary did not pursue them, whether because they outpaced him or simply because they were beneath his concern, the heroes did not know. They had made it out with their lives but they had failed at protecting the city, and worse, they had discovered their enemies were far stronger than they thought. The doomed city of Innsmouth would quickly shrink from view as they ran out of sight, but the echos of the cultist’s words would remain with them for much, much longer…
Warehouse in Innsmouth
2018-11-26