Report: Heart of Malice

General Summary

Three times. Three times have we faced off against this most powerful foe. The first resulted in a minor victory, driving the Black Fox from his lair. The second, on this island… a rout. This time there would be no retreat. Not for us, and certainly not for that three horned demon. Each time before we faced him alone, with nothing but our own strength, but this time… this time was different. Friends and tenuous allies from across the lands had come to the call to free Bear Island, and put down this threat: Conscripts from Halueth Telamon, Dame Bongardin of the Knights of Malaster, Runidiri elves, Tenari elves, and their fearsome animal spirits Nago the Boar, Tiltup the Otter, and Cerenos the Stag.
  Each contingent had their own part to play, whether it was attacking Terror the ice demon, closing the Hellgates, or our party’s own quest to slay Malice himself. The most painful part was not knowing how the others fared. Simply by reading this, the reader can rest assured that myself, Robin, Stiks, Ryth, and Russell survived. But the deeds of our friends deserve greater detail, and so we shall start at sea…

The sting of the salt spray pierced through my layers of heavy clothes. I’ll never understand how sailors devote themselves to such a cold, cruel mistress. Nevertheless I was thankful for the strong arms of those sailors making tight the rigging whilst the three Runidiri druids wove spells into the sails to propel us forwards. Glancing out I could just barely make out the smaller craft around us, a fleet drawn from fishermen, barges, and a scant few warships, none of which were as large as ours and even that felt too small. Despite the whipping winds we could all feel that this was the calm before the storm. We were to be in the first wave of the landings, to clear the way for the great Runidiri Animal Spirits that followed close behind. I could feel their individual blessings flowing through me, bolstering our strength. They were different from that of Celestines, not as warm, but perhaps more palpable. At least at this moment.

I tore my mind from thoughts of my chained god, distractions would not do now, the devilish cackling that floated towards us on the cold wind made that painfully evident. Far too quickly the sound became shapes. Held aloft by leathery wings the imps came into full view and my skin crawled. Suddenly I was painfully aware of the empty feeling about my neck, where once my holy pendant hung, a problem for another day.

Stiks scoffed openly as the fowl creatures came into view.

“This all ya got Malice? Little flying rats?” He yelled into the cutting wind, a smirk on his face. I knew it to be bravado. His defense against the fear that gripped all our guts.

Little… but deadly, as we were soon to find out. As the first wave hit, we engaged conservatively, knowing our day was long and fearing the battle that awaited us deeper within the island. However the mood changed as Ryth let out a cry of anguish as one of the demons clawed him across the back, the skin turning necrotic nearly instantly. Stiks’ mood shifted quickly, dropping the javelin he had been fooling around with, and positioning himself to defend his friends and the exposed druid at the front of the ship. An imposingly tall figure took up position on the other side of the druid, and I couldn’t help but smile at the flamboyantly colored clothes flapping in the wind, seemingly brighter than normal against the grey morning.

 Weapons danced through the cutting wind in the practiced hands of seasoned warriors, but it was evident far too quickly it wasn’t enough as I watched five of the winged imps engage with Russel his imposing frame blocking the vulnerable druid behind him. Saving our strength for Malice wouldn’t matter if we couldn’t even make landfall. I turned my focus inward for a moment, putting aside the icy wind around me and focusing on the warmth within. Divine words danced upon my lips as I called to my God. Bound or not, it did not matter as an explosion of fire tore through the leathery wings of a group of imps before they could reach the prow. As the cries of the hellspawn diminished another sound caught my ear, a familiar arcane incantation drifted through the wind moments before another explosion as Ryth matched my fireball with his own. Stiks let out a joyful holler and raised his flaming sword over head in exaltation.

“Gods I love when ya’ll do that!” Stiks yelled over the sounds of battle, his face shifting to that of surprise as a buzzing arrow whipped past his ear to take out an imp coming for his back.

“Thanks Aunty Bee!” He yelled, bringing his sword around to finish off the gimped creature.

“Pay attention Stiks!” Aunt Robin yelled back, as she strummed her bow like a harp, singing out each imp’s death as they fell from the sky in droves… and yet more came. All the firepower we could muster would not prevent the chaos of a close quarters battle.

A sudden warmth from behind me brought my attention back to the prow of the ship. At first I thought one of our fireballs had caught the boat, but it didn’t take me long to recognize that Russell was simply up to his old tricks. Like a human torch he blazed brightly, as every imp who dared approach him fell like moths to a flame. For a moment, things seemed to be turning in our favor.

But then, the cannon. I can’t put to words the feeling that tore through the air as it fired. It was as if I could feel the screams of a thousand tortured souls penetrate my body, and the impact lifted me from my feet. For a moment I thought we had been hit, but no, no it was far worse. Cries from starboard directed my gaze to what was once a fellow ship, but now was no more than debris in a churning ocean. I looked about furiously, survivors, we had to look for survivors! But the cold reality set in quickly, there would be none. I felt as though the cold waters of the ocean ran through my veins as I came to realize the destructive power of the weapon that had just been unleashed upon our allies. A familiar bellow reminded me that I had to keep my head about me in that moment and I turned again to look at the front of the ship where our Churches champion had engaged with a new kind of demon. A much larger demon.

“Get over here and fight me like a man ya stinkin’ demon!” Stiks yelled as he struggled against the demonic chains that pulled at his leg. Still… more came. Just as we would batter back one wave, the Hellcannon let loose again, the chilling screams taking another of our allied vessels down to the depths. There was no time for tears, but I whispered a prayer to Celestine, hoping against hope that their souls would find rest.

The tide turned more dire still as the Hellcannon found our ship, and while our much larger vessel held strong many of us aboard did not. I was grimaced as I picked myself up from the deck, a nauseating pain in my side told me all I needed to know, so I did not look as I tore the splintered decking from my abdomen. I wretched at the pain, but quickly managed a small mending spell to stop the bleeding. I picked myself up, and looked about the ship. Russell stood over a prone elf druid, the crispy bodies of seemingly countless imps piled around him. He was taking the brunt of the assault by the winged creatures, and it was showing, blood flowed freely down his face, and he clutched at his side, but still the fire about him burned.

Stiks now stood between two of the larger demons, when the other had arrived I wasn’t sure. He cursed loudly as he struggled against the fiery chains restraining his limbs.

“Boss!” He cried, “I could use a hand if you got one!”

“What do you think I’m doing you loud mouth. Did the monks never teach you to temper your yelling?” Ryth called back as he dodged the flailing chains of the larger demons. His weapons danced about him in a mesmerizing pattern as he moved with fluid grace about the deck of the rocking boat.

“They definitely tried!” Stiks called back as he tore free of a chain long enough to slice the arm off one of the chain demons, the spray of the ocean hissing against the hot metal of his flaming sword.

“I’m going to have words with that mentor of yours when we finally find him, as I truly do not understand what they were teaching you.” Ryth breathlessly called back.

I couldn’t help but laugh at their dialogue, how we had all come together could only be the divine work of Celestine herself. Laughing hurt, and as the metallic taste of blood found its way to my lips I coughed and grimaced.

A cheerful cry directed my attention forward, and as I struggled to see through the mist before us a sense of hope sparked anew within me as I caught a glimpse of shore. We were nearly there.

We had sent hundreds of imps back to the Hells from whence they came.We were nearly at the shore. We had nearly made it… and then came another barrage of the Hellcannon. We lost another allied boat, and took another hit, this time targeting the back of our ship, the back, where Aunt Robin was.

A deeper sense of dread tore at my heart as I turned about to survey the wreckage. The blast had killed one of the druids, that much was obvious from his dangling body. The other was surely injured, but alive judging from his movements. This all mattered little to me as I scanned desperately for Aunt Robin. I attempted to make my way towards the back of the boat, but the debris was piling up about me and my legs were shaky beneath me from the blood loss. A chill greater than any ocean air grew within me until I heard the familiar sound of a thousand tiny wings. I ran to the side of the boat nearly pitching over the railing of the ship in my haste. But there I saw a sight that warmed my heart. Waist deep in the white capped sea Aunt Robin took aim, steadied by a thousand tiny bees tugging at her damp robes. She let loose a volley of arrows that tore through the chains holding Stiks, undeterred by the rolling ocean about her. She flashed me a smile that carried with it more love than I’d known from anyone and gave me a look to say ‘I’m fine’ I returned the smile, but blood at the corner of her mouth did not go beyond my notice.

I turned back to the ship and steeled myself.

As Saint Massimilian’s ghostly sword cut down the last of the imps on deck, I finally let myself breath… it was over. We had driven back the imps, and had made landfall. We picked ourselves back up, and licked our wounds. It was but a second of relief however, as landfall was not the end, and the Hellcannon was still belching fire and brimstone at the remaining fleet. We sprinted towards the next objective, loosing spells, arrows, swinging mighty weapons as we made our way up the beach. We made it, but not without our own losses as well. Grey Blossom, the head ranger of the temple of Akil’Zon fell in our assault, along with others of his kin. May Celestine guide their souls.

But in the end, we reached the Hellcannon, drove off the demonic forces manning it, and crippled it, rolling it down the beach into the sea. Great cheers went up from the survivors as we watched it swallowed beneath the waves. Then it was time for the Spirit beasts. They made landfall and made short work of the remaining devils on the beach. Knowing that our landing area was now safe, we could make for our ultimate destination: The Reincarnation Chamber.

It was quiet. Almost too quiet along the way. We were lulled into a false sense of tranquility, as we reached a wide tunnel leading to the Reincarnation Chamber… and Malice. But before we could reach our ultimate foe a tormented spirit of Artos the bear spirit roared into the clearing, and with him 6 chained elven spirits: the previous bond partners of Artos. As we approached each of the elven spirits they called out to us, trying to show us the way to release their spirits.

While the rest of our party fought bravely against the invincible bear spirit, Russell and I moved to each in turn. Our minds were foggy from the battles we’d already faced, and we could not grasp the puzzle that stood between them and the afterlife. Or perhaps we were just sick of playing Malice’s twisted games, for free them we did, through sheer will and with liberal magic. As the final elven spirit was released, Artos’ ghost turned to mist and wafted away, leaving us alone with the flowers.

But these flowers hid a secret: any magic cast in them would bring about a surge of wild fey magic. Russell thought that he could unlock some hidden potential, and thus dashed into the flowers and let loose with a cantrip and suddenly vanished… fear again grasped at our tired hearts as we looked about for the new threat.

“Was he banished?” Aunt Robin yelled looking about.

“No, no far worse.” A small voice called from the flower bed. We all stared in confusion as a colorfully dressed halfling stepped out from behind a tall bunch of lilys’ “I’ve been made short!” Many of us couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of it. The once towering Russel, was now shorter than us all, barely three feet tall.

Ryth wiped a tear from his eye and ruffled Russels hair. “Look on the bright side little one, now we will certainly be able to tell you from the other clones of Malkor.”

His situation was quickly remedied with a potion from my pack, but the mishap provided some much needed levity, as we lingered in the healing spring, knowing that the next chamber we entered could very well be our last…

With reluctance, but even greater resolve our party left the comfort of the healing spring, knowing at that very moment our friends could be going toe to toe with another demon. As we stood before the entrance to the chamber, the grounds of our last defeat at the hands of the fowl demon , I spoke to my friends before. I cannot remember the words, they were not as important as the moment we shared. I looked to Stiks, Champion of a church we founded together to push out the corruption ravaging the land in the name of our Celestine. He gripped my shoulder as I spoke, nodding with that smirk of his as he went on to do the same to Aunt Robin and Ryth. I hoped my words inspired my friends as that simple gesture of his did for me.

I looked to Ryth as I continued my speech, he listened, always, but poured over his spell book all the same, checking and rechecking the precise aspects of each of his spells, examining the partial sword we now knew as a portion of the sword of Benedictus, the one Archangel that may still be an ally. A warmth spread in my chest at the thought.

I turned to Russel, he always appreciated a good show, and though I didn’t think my words were that, he listened all the same. He stretched and jumped, as if reminding himself how to move, his time as a halfling confusing his balance. Seeming satisfied he reached to his belt and brought a colorful piece of leather to his lips, closing his eyes and giving it a kiss he looked into the distance for a moment, back home I think. The leather was a part of his dear Daisies bridle I think. The elephant had not joined us, a smart decision for the way had been hard, but I could see it pained him to be so far from her.

Finally, my eyes settled on Aunt Robin. Unlike the others she looked right back at me wholly focused on my speech. The smile she gave me was worth far more than any words I could think of. This was it, our greatest challenge yet, a demon that strove to be one of the Seven demons so vile Baelfury himself locked them away. I had stopped speaking at some point, my speech concluded. Without another word we gathered at the mouth of the cave. Stiks dumped what seemed like an entire alchemical cabinet on his weapons, the flame on his sword growing in intensity. He pulled down his wolf mask and touched the carved flame at its center, a mark made for our fallen comrade at our first meeting with Malice. I smiled. Reaching within myself I recalled the divine words to a spell, directing it towards Aunt Robin and Ryth filling them with heightened vigor. And it was time and into the cave we went.

It was dark, the chamber had been stripped of all the warmth the spirit of Artos had fostered within it. What remained was a sickly heat like a fever that wouldn't break. And there in the center he waited. Malice stood 12 feet tall, three horns jutting from his leathery head, Artos’ corrupt Khasir embedded in his chest. He smiled wickedly and raised the arm once lost, now a prosthetic of rancid flame and pointed. At me.

In that moment I could not hear Stiks roar of challenge as he charged the demon. Could not feel the flames that burst about Russel. I knew nothing but look in Malices eyes as they met mine. A chill so complete only death itself could be responsible flooded my body as I stood stricken in place.

“DIE…” Malice’s cruel laughter echoed through the cave. I could feel my soul and my earthly form separating. I screamed denial in my mind. I wasn’t ready, there was too much to be done, I could not leave my friends to do this alone. Then another voice echoed through the cave.

“NO!”

As my senses returned to me I saw before me the form of Ryth and Russel. The latter held his hand aloft, arcane energy emanating from it with a resonance more beautiful than any hymn I'd ever heard. And the smile slipped from Malice’s face. “Hey ya little minor demon, why don’t ya pick on someone your own size!” Stiks voice filled the chamber. He’d reached Malice while the demon had been casting the spell, and wasted no time delivering revenge on the beast. He slashed at my attacker once, twice, no five times moving with such speed I wondered if i’d cast my spell of haste on him by accident rather than Aunt Robin and Ryth as I’d intended. But no, this was all Stiks. I caught his eye for a moment as he moved and gave him a shaky thumbs up.

An eruption of green flames joined those of a golden hue spread by the blade of the warrior monk. Ryth had engaged Malice as well. Soon the slog battle began to bleed together.

Robin let loose with arrow after arrow, Stiks continued to wail on the demon blow after blow as Russell waded in dangerously close to the demon, his aura of flames licking at the Malices legs, while Ryth’s blade sang, dancing between the blows of our enemy. But Malices power had grown so, even being in his presence was drained us, and we were feeling the life sapped from bodies.

Yet finally we seemed to be gaining an edge, in a moment of hope Aunt Robin sank an arrow deep into Malices chest, her enchanted bees guiding it in just above the khasir he wore in mockery of the great beast contained within it. Malice let out a howl as the dark flames of his arm sputtered, giving way to a weaker red light. It seemed a minor thing, but Malice seemed diminished all the same.

Hope rising within us we pressed in, but the beast was not finished. Malice stepped back whipping a hot chain out before him, forcing Stiks and Ryth to disengage for a moment. From his chest a sickly light emanated, its beam catching Russel and stopping him in his tracks. He seemed to slump where he stood, his arms going limp at his sides, his eyes rolling back into his head. It lasted for what seemed an eternity, but was truly only a moment as he snapped back to reality. He coughed and wiped black blood from his lips before jumping back into the fray. Later he would tell me he experienced something like a dream in which he waded through a mix of twisted memories and disturbed visions in which he felt he’d failed a challenge again and again. This aligned with what the others reported as we were hit with the strange light over and over. If I were to be truthful I’m still unsure what Malice hoped to achieve with such attacks. Only a short year or two ago I’d have been certain it was the desperate attempt of a foolish demon to break our minds. Yet now I feel I can’t be quite as certain, some part of me believes it was not all within the demons control. A theory I would later test.

Obviously drained, his flaming arm all but vanished, Malice finally tripped up. With a dazzling flourish of dancing blades Ryth managed to spin around behind the towering demon, gaining a precious opening. With a feint of his off hand he drew the demon out wide. He followed with a deft kick that was pulled short, instead planting on the fiery creature's thigh and kicking off. Spinning in the air he leveraged the momentum, his dominant sword coming down hard on the demon’s other leg. Just as it bit into the leathery skin the magical horns upon Ryth’s helm pulsed as he funneled his very life force into the sword, a blade that already carried the essence of a god. It dove deep into Malice’s leg, slicing through muscle and tendon. With a howl Malice’s leg gave out beneath him and he dropped to a knee.

“Bring him down!” The elf called out breathlessly, noticeably drained from the powerful strike.

“You got it Boss!” Stiks returned as he brought the butt of his ax down on the head of the demon.

And then, he begged. The towering demon that had terrorized us for so long lay begging for his life at Stiks' feet.

“Please, I will tell you anything. I can tell you of the Archangels' plans, of the Seven. Whatever you like! Do not send me back there!”

With his sword leveled with the Malice’s skull Stiks turned to me. “Should we listen? See what he knows?” I knew he did not need my answer. And as he drove the flaming sword into the demon's open mouth, golden flames licking at the demon's lifeless eyes, we all breathed a collective sigh of relief.

We had done it. After three grueling fights against him, we had finally emerged victorious, and Malice was no more.

I couldn't help but linger on the memory of the pleading demon. What did it tell us of the Hells, that a being such as Malice would fear it so desperately? A thought I would pray on later. But for now, something about those visions bothered me. I still had a potion of dreams, and I chose to explore them. I ran again through the twisted memories, but this time, my strength was about me and I emerged from the dream feeling I had indeed conquered the thing. And another feeling, a weight on my chest. Not that of strain but the warmth of a medallion I'd not felt in too long. About my neck hung my Amulet, a gift I'd given perhaps in haste to my shackled God, now returned to me. I smiled.

A sickening crack jarred me from my thoughts and I turned to watch Stiks tear the last of the three horns from Malice’s dead skull and stick it in alongside the others, now arranged like snarling teeth on the decorated wolf mask he wore to honor a sacrifice.

“Rest now Flame.”

-Scribed by Jene Dark
Adventuring Party: Jene Dark, Robin Foster, Ryth Venali, Russell, Stiks
Date: 06JAN24

Report Date

19 Jul 2023