The Ancient Bridge of Nebheth
A day and a half into their journey the adventurers reached the green marshland which borders the River Styx, the natural outskirt of the country of sorcerous villainy, Stygia. The party was within two miles of the bridge of Nebheth when they saw a large dust cloud in the distance, coming from the west. The keen-eyed Hyrkanian, Xacksmith, observed 2 chariots and many horseman, moving at high speed toward the bridge. Though the borderer could see a standard flying, he could not make out its colors in the thick dust. Tullweim, Grimnir, and Cuana recognized they were vastly outnumbered, and agreed the adventurers should speed across the bridge, rather than let the oncoming host with unknown intentions, meet them. And so, the 4 horses pressed to the bridge of Nebheth.
The bridge of Nebheth was of ancient design and appeared to be in poor repair. The ancient overpass was made of sun cracked wood and frayed hemp rope, and sat only inches above the surface of the water. Despite this, Tullweim and Xacksmith spurred their horses over the worn planks. Cuana rushed after his comrades but his horse stumbled with the sound of snapping wood and the Cimmerian was cast into the river. As the barbarian gathered his wits and swam back to the bridge, Cuana heard a large splash and saw his horse attacked by a giant crocodile, 20 feet long from snout to tail. The reptile’s maws crunched the bones of Cuana’s mount with a spray of crimson as the Cimmerian doubled his effort to reach the bridge. But not satisfied with a single horse, the reptile thrashed its tail and slammed onto the bridge. Planks gave way and the violence of the beasts’ collision caused Grimnir’s mount to rear and throw its rider. Cuana narrowly avoided the giant creature’s snapping jaw as he reached out a hand to the Aesir. Amid the sounds of breaking wood, another horse’s screams and snapping bones, the two men fled to the tottering bridge.
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Those who Delve in the Dark
Ishlan cried out triumphantly in the gloom and held up an ancient tome unearthed from over a century of debris. Xacksmith held his torch closer to the opening in the floor the priest of Ibis was rummaging through, when he heard movement coming from a nearby tear in the earth. In the same moment, 10 yards away Grimnir bellowed a battle shout which thunderously echoed in the fallen temple beneath the sands. Tullweim spun pantherishly at the Aesir shaman’s alarm and witnessed Grimnir and his wolf, surrounded in the dim torchlight by shambling horrors dressed in the decrepit tatters of men. The northern soldier was held fast from aiding his friend by skeletal arms which rose from one of the open maws snaking throughout the hidden temple’s floor. Xacksmith swore, shoved the lit torch into Ishlan’s already full hands, and drew his arming sword.
The Hyrkanian borderer tumbled past emerging arms, drew his large shield as he stood, and shoved his blade through the gullet of one of the horrors. Grimnir slashed his war sword across the gut of one of the risen dead as his wolf drug another down to the broken temple floor. The Aesir barbarian swung his two-handed greatsword in his crimson mist, like a pendulum of devastation, lopping off arms of bone, and kicked the still moving carcass back into the darkened abyss. But for every shambling terror which was stilled, 4 more rose from the cracked earth’s crust to threaten all who lived. Grimnir was quickly surrounded by groping shapes who yearned to add him to their army of corpses. The Aesir shaman bellowed again and struck one of the denizens of the dark, shearing bone from raked flesh. But those horrors which surrounded Grimnir struck in retaliation, bony caresses of death and hatred lacerated the northman’s hide. The shaman’s wolf was also in dire straits as the risen dead the beast had brought to the ground grappled the wolf. And with 5 unliving terrors assaulting it, Grimnir’s wolf let out an agonized, dying yelp, pulling long strands of withered flesh in its teeth from one of the creatures as another delivered it a mortal blow.
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The Oasis of Manithlal
Tullweim took a long drink from his water bag and wiped the seemingly endless stream of sweat from his brow. The Aesir could not fathom how anybody could live as the nomads do in the desert wastes of Shem. From the looks of Grimnir, the fellow Asgardian who traveled with them, and his wolf, Tullweim was not alone in these thoughts. But mounted on his horse in a sea of desert with no other signs of life as far as he could gaze, there was little else to do. Xacksmith chuckled at the sight of the two sun baked northmen, though even he frowned at how light his supply of water felt. The Hyrkanian asked how Tullweim always seemed to get him into a situation like this. The Aesir answered that he had not forced Xacksmith’s hand to ready his mount when they left Argos. But the barbarian could not help but remember the events which had sent the three of them into these badlands. It started with a farewell to a friend Tullweim would have died for, followed by the separation of a long-time ally he no longer trusted.
The Aesir remembered the day clearly. It had only taken few weeks for the riches and women given for saving Argos’ king to feel trite and transitory. Cuana had left the group, saying he could no longer stomach Dhak’s vile company. Tullweim was nursing an aching crown owed to one last night of drinking with his Cimmerian friend, when a servant informed him of a visitor. The Argossean man presented to him was not what the Aesir was expecting. The man introduced himself as Saevio, a follower of Ibis, and wished to hire the adventurers. Tullweim told the Argossean he would rouse his companions, or what was left of them. Grimnir and Xacksmith came out of their quarters looking similarly in pain from a night of revelry. Dhak, however, remained in his chambers. Tullweim didn’t have the will to force the Stygian to hear whatever Saevio had to say and told the Argossean to speak his matter anyhow.
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The Ancient Path
Malleus coughed and gagged as he painfully expelled the remaining saltwater from his lungs. Hollan once again shouted curses at the sea, livid the siren had again vanished from their grasp as Abizar and Cortos warily cast their eyes about in case the demon reappeared to bewitch them again. When the Cimmerian steadied himself the adventurers quickly discussed their options. Malleus pointed to the forested ridge to the south of the larger island which terminated at a sheer cliff with a rope bridge spanning the distance to a smaller isle. It was decided they would take some of the wreckage of the beached Stygian ship along with several of the tall trees to use as a raft and cross the harbor to the larger island. Hours of heavy labor passed and the party was able to craft a crude vessel which would carry them and keep their bodies out of the shark infested waters. The adventurers held their breath as they launched their raft into the waters and silently prayed to Crom, Set, Ymir and any other god they could think of to keep the ghost whale from surfacing. They did not care if the gods answered their prayers or if their craft was too small for the undead leviathan to bother with as they landed their vessel on the large island’s shore.
The air was thick with moisture and from the beach of the island the adventurers could see nothing but crowded jungle. The ground was dense with creepers, ferns, and brightly colored blossoms. The tropical surroundings were much like those the adventurers had seen in their travels through the seas but the past encounters earlier in the day left all apprehensive of the alien nature of these islands. The parties’ goal was to reach the cliffs on the island where a rope bridge connected to a third island with sheer peaks on all sides. Despite their nervousness the adventurers pushed into the jungle in the direction of the cliff. After a bit of travel the party was surprised to find fresh water and an obvious trail. Abizar warily tested the water and found it to be drinkable with no obvious threats guarding it. The Stygian filled his waterskin as the Aesir, Cimmerian, and Hyrkanian examined the path. The trail looked as if it was a road thousands of years ago, but now the jungle had overtaken it. No signs of recent human passage could be found along the road and the adventurers believed following it would take them to their destination. After drinking from the pool the party set out onto the road surrounded by jungle, the chattering of monkeys and the cries of birds.
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To Rest on an Unknown Isle
Abizar asked the priest of Set his name and was told the Stygian was called Khonsirdais. The sorcerer then asked why the Dagon’s Valour was attacked. Khonsirdais shook his head and said Captain Iufenamun acted against the priest’s wishes. The Captain had spoken of once serving on a vessel which was pirated by the Dagon’s Valour in the past which resulted in a major setback to his career. Sighting it again after all those long years had enraged the Captain and he had decided to sink the ship as some form of revenge. Abizar smiled and said the priest was better off sailing with them. He then asked Khonsirdais where the galley was headed. The priest spoke of having hired Captain Iufenamun’s ship to take him to a nameless isle. Khonsirdais showed Abizar a map he possessed and said he suspected great treasure to be found there. The Stygian sorcerer called Hollan to see the map the priest held. It took little convincing for the Aesir to decide to set a new course but Hollan demanded possession of the map. Seeing no other option the priest handed the scroll to Abizar.
Meanwhile, Cortos and Malleus were debating what to do with the remaining Stygians and their Kushite slaves on the Wrath of the Driving Seas. The Cimmerian told the Stygians they could serve on the Dagon’s Valour or take their chances on their sinking galley. Several of the soldiers decided in that instant to throw away their careers and become pirates. Cortos then turned his lockpicks to freeing the chained slaves. A few precise turns and the bolts were undone. Unable to speak in the Kushites tongue, the Cimmerian ordered one of the Stygians to translate what the barbarian said. Malleus offered freedom to live an ardent life of slaying and looting on the Dagon’s Valour to the Kushites. Used to endless rowing and a whip’s kiss on the Stygian galley the former slaves all cheered in agreement. Once the new crew were aboard the Dagon’s Valour, Hollan chose a Kushite named Hajaga to be the spokesman for the Kushites and the Aesir chose the Stygian called Kehpfa to translate Hollan’s orders. The sails were again unfurled and the damaged ship sped with the wind.
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Taking the Dagon’s Valour
It was a chance comment of Cuana’s to King Conan in Velitrium which had led the Cimmerian, Dhak, Tullweim, and Xacksmith to sail a road of blood and slaughter on the Western Ocean. Cuana casually let it known that his wanderlust desired something different. The barbarian also let the King of Aquilonia know of the troubling behavior of his companions, the Stygian had always been a black-hearted fiend but the Aesir’s continued practice of carving into his arms was most troubling. Conan said he knew the solution to all that ailed Cuana. He told tales with great mirth followed by great melancholy of how he sailed as Amra, and the mighty battles on the high seas he took part in. The Cimmerian King stated he knew a man in Messantia by the name of Argentio who could get the adventurers onto a pirate ship, but warned they should take care, and not let their names be known as it could have deadly repercussions if a powerful merchant sought vengeance for booty lost. So Cuana told his fellows of the King’s offer and all agreed. The Cimmerian would be known as Malleus, the Aesir would take the alias of Hollan, the Hyrkanian as Cortos, and the Stygian would be called Abizar. The adventurers set out to the capital city of Argos, Messantia, the very next day.
In Messantia the adventurers met Argentio, a fat merchant who had introduced them to a pirate named Balthazar, captain of the ship, Dagon’s Valour. Balthazar was not keen on admitting land-lovers to his vessel but it was obvious Argentio had some hold over the captain and within a few days the adventurers were surrounded by glistening blue waters as far as their eyes could see. They had several weeks of riding the swells and looting fantastic ships which carried fortunes in cargo to and from distant lands. In the beginning of their seaborne adventures the party were considered lowly deckhands and spent their time scrubbing the deck and performing menial chores while most of the veteran crew did little but lie about and drink. Some hazing had taken place but a cracked skull or two caused by the now bearded Aesir and massive Cimmerian had quickly put the practice to an end. Tensions on the ship had increased in the last few weeks as Balthazar had stayed clear of all known shipping lanes for some time. And though there were several merchant ships seen, the order to attack was never given. The captain had set his crew on a course with an unknown destination.
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The Wretch’s Boon
Tullweim heavily set the bardiche haft on the ground and used the weapon as an aid to keep his bruised and bloodied body steady. Cuana offered to patch the Aesir’s wounds and the barbarian nodded in agreement. Xacksmith asked of the groaning from the altar-hut but before Dhak could answer, the Stygian was stricken by tormenting agony. The sorcerer’s head felt as if it was aflame and the demonic mark on his chest burned as if all the fires in hell were about to burst forth from Dhak’s black heart. As the Hyrkanian moved to aid the bewitched Stygian another figure lunged from a nearby hut. For a brief moment Xacksmith doubted his eyes as he witnessed a Hyborian woman with tawny locks and blue eyes, dressed in the manner of of a Pict, charge the sorcerer with a spear. The woman howled as she plunged the point of the weapon deep into Dhak’s belly. The Hyrkanian responded by slamming the hilt of his arming sword onto the woman’s skull, robbing her of her senses. Xacksmith quickly bound the woman with the rope he carried. The Stygian’s blurred vision began to clear as he spoke aloud in the Demonic tongue of his master, “Dekanawidah, Lord of worms, a sacrifice has just made herself known to me.” Dhak plunged his arming sword into the unconscious woman while intoning further dark words in the horrid tongue of infernal creatures.
Weak groans still issued forth from within the grim altar-hut and the Stygian entered after he wiped his blade clean and Xacksmith looked on in shock. Inside the disgusting daub-and-wattle hut decorated with skulls and other ghastly relics of past sacrifices and rituals laid a tortured form. Dhak asked the wretch if he could speak Aquilonian and the man answered in the affirmative, saying he could speak many tongues both noble and dark. The Stygian narrowed his eyes in response and asked who the man was. The mutilated man spoke through broken lips and stated he was a Ligurean druid who was captured by the Wolf Picts and was to be a great sacrifice to Machk’s demon masters. Dhak told of the slaying of the Pict shaman and the druid solemnly nodded stating it was strange days when the lights best chance was for evil men to war with evil men. The Ligurean then asked if the Stygian intended to slay the Paramount Chief of the Wolf clan, Sagoyaga. Dhak stated his blade indeed thirsted for Sagoyaga’s blood but Machk had let it known the Paramount Chief was near Velitreum with a strong force of warriors ready to put the fort to the fires and it seemed the Stygian would have to collect the Pict’s head another day. The Ligurean chuckled and said he could help the Stygian collect his trophy this day and to look for a white stag which would lead the party to their fate. The druid then used the last of his strength weaving a sorcerous incantation, the final words croaking with his dying breath.
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The Path to Osekowa
Only the occasional cries of a waking bird broke the heavy silence of the forest in the grey light of pre-dawn. In the distance Tullweim saw the group’s destination, a Pict village called Osekowa, home to Sagoyaga, the Paramount Chief of the Wolf clan. Sagayoga had managed to do what no previous savage had done, getting the disparate tribes of Pictland to set aside their differences and join together into an unstoppable, belligerent army of raging cutthroats and bloody-handed savages. It was he whose life needed to be brutally ended. Osekowa had a palisade around its perimeter like previously encountered Pict dwellings, but instead of completely surrounding the village, the palisade ended at the border of a swamp. Xacksmith spotted a lone sentry in the watch–hut guarding the gate of the palisade. Dhak suggested killing the sentry silently by bow-shot, but after a brief exchange with his companions it was decided the distance and number of shots required to kill the Pict watcher would give time to alert the savages in the village. The adventurers decided their best path to Osekowa would be through the nearby swamp, which the watcher’s hut was blind to. Cuana led the party as they crept toward the swamp, slid down into the murky water one by one, and waded toward the village, with only their heads showing from the surface of the murky depths.
The adventurers slowly made their way, tense in anticipation of the bloodshed to come, when the Aesir was grabbed by a hideous creature which burst from underneath the stagnant water. Tullweim fought with the creature, which looked as if it had once been human but now had an unusually long neck, webbed hands which ended in claws, scales, and pointed teeth. The foul abomination struggled to plunge the northman’s head under the water’s surface but the mighty Aesir’s strength was too much for it. Tullweim gritted his teeth, overcame the revulsion which threatened him and threw the horrid mockery of human life back. The other adventurers noticed 7 more of the horrid creatures emerge from the dark pools of water around them. Cuana drew and plunged his greatsword through the chest of one, then cried out in alarm as an alligator clamped down upon the Cimmerian’s arm. Dhak and Xacksmith pushed away the brutes which surrounded them and swam to a nearby protrusion of land. The Cimmerian pulled the alligator’s jaws open enough to free his bloodied arm then finished off the abomination which was still impaled on his sword. In a rush of movement Cuana slew a second servant in the swamp and plunged his greatsword through a third. Meanwhile 2 of the creatures wrapped their scaly arms around the Aesir, pulling him down into the hazy water below.
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Loose Ends
Tullweim leered at the men who had carried supplies throughout this journey and said, “leave now and we shall spare your lives.” Sir Gasparus’ retainers did not hesitate and fled like rabbits from wolves as Xacksmith checked Cuana’s still form for any sign of life. The Hyrkanian thought he caught the slightest of breaths from the Cimmerian and immediately went to work binding his many wounds. Tullweim was still furious at Sir Gasparus and the Pict the Aesir had taken as a lover, Arisawe, but when he caught sight of Xacksmith’s ministrations he stepped over to give what aid he could. The Hyrkanian was doubtful his work could help the Cimmerian in the short-term and Tullweim suggested using some of the poultice Cuana carried with him. At the same moment, Dhak checked Lady Coelia and found her to be still among the living. The Stygian roused the young noblewoman, gave her some water from his canteen, soothingly caressed her head and asked what had happened while the party was beneath the earth. Coelia told of being struck from behind and dimly heard the sounds of battle before she lost consciousness. The Stygian surmised that must have been the Ligureans attacking Gasparus and Arisawe and gestured to the druid’s bodies which laid strewn about, all with deep sword wounds. Lady Coelia gulped, then breathlessly inquired if the adventurers had succeeded in their task. Dhak responded in the affirmative, but not without cost. Tullweim then asked the sorcerer how he managed to convince the devil, Dekanawidah, to awaken the staff. The Stygian simply said, “I did what was necessary.”
After a quarter hour of work, Cuana was finally brought back from the brink of oblivion. The Cimmerian was pleased to see his companions had bested Arisawe and Gasparus. To which Dhak said there was work yet to be done with the treacherous pair and leveled a murderous glare at their unconscious foes. Knowing full well the results would not be pleasant, Cuana and Xacksmith convinced Lady Coelia to go with them into the mist, away from this place of deceit and death. The noblewoman agreed, casting a nervous look at the Aesir and Stygian. Dhak waited a few minutes, then instructed Tullweim to put Arisawe on the blood-stained altar. The barbarian laid the Pict on the ancient altar and held her down just as she stirred. The Pict shaman begged for her life, pleading for mercy as Dhak held his blade above her. The Stygian spoke in the Demonic tongue, giving the Pict’s soul to his new master as he plunged the sword through Arisawe’s chest. Tullweim was a bit shaken from witnessing the act of murdering a woman he had grown close to and asked why they had not put Arisawe to any questions of her and Gasparus’ betrayal. The Stygian replied that it was easier to do things this way. Dhak then used his control of the necromantic arts to speak with the dead Pict. Arisawe gasped in horror as her soul, which had left her body to demonic agony, was wrenched back almost as quickly.
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Blood and Smoke
The long weeks of travel had taken its toll on the journeyers. Each day consisted of traversing through trackless wilderness in blistering heat, swatting away strange insects, finding a defensible position to make camp, and hunting for whatever game could be found. Each night was full of strange sounds and restless sleep. Tullweim in particular had keenly felt the isolation and burden of this trip as his disturbing nightmares continued. The Aesir would wake gasping in the middle of the night, believing he had committed some unspeakable atrocity to his companions. Only after checking all in the camp could he lay back down, but still his mind was troubled. This day, Tullweim felt the heat acutely and his mind wandered far from where his feet landed. He barely heard Cuana call after him and was surprised to see his companions had stopped and were gathered around one of Sir Gasparus’ retainers, who lay face down in the ground.
The Cimmerian saw the strange daze his companion was in and moved to his side. The signs of a high fever were evident in the Aesir, his eyes were glassy, sweat poured down his face, and a faraway look was cast. Sir Gasparus’ retainer was in worse shape. His mind was addled and the weakened worker mumbled nonsense. Arisawe looked over the retainer and then Tullweim and found evidence of a red, bloated, insect bite. The Pict guide feared the barbarian and retainer had caught a deadly disease from the bite and suggested the group find shelter quickly so she could tend to them. Sir Gasparus furiously bemoaned the delay in their journey stopping would cause and suggested leaving the Aesir and retainer to whatever fate their gods had for them. Cuana refused and seemed about to strike the noble when Lady Coelia intervened, stressing the importance of having a warrior such as Tullweim to succeed in their task as well as a healthy retainer to carry their supplies. Sufficiently mollified, Gasparus berated the other retainers to lift their companion as Cuana guided Tullweim. Arisawe informed the group of an old Pict village nearby which she believed to be abandoned and where the 2 ill travelers could be treated.
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