Roderick
At long last, they arrived at Xulthar.
The ruins first appeared like a mirage against the blazing desert. As they drew near, however, the shimmering image became solid, and the grandeur of the abandoned city became impossible to deny. The ancient, weathered stone walls stood as a testament to Xulthar’s forgotten might. Portions had fallen into rubble, but the gate was still intact, the massive arch standing like a portal to some mythic realm. Beyond it stretched a wide avenue lined with colonnades of marble pillars, each one more than thrice the height of a man.
“So this is Xulthar,” Laria whispered, her soft voice mingling with the wind.
“Aye,” said Roderick as he eyed the massive gate.
He dismounted and drew his sword, as if daring the evil forces within the fallen city to come out and challenge him. None did. The ruins were as silent as weathered bones. If any fell beast or eldritch creature lurked within, they did not haunt the walls.
Laria dismounted behind him, and together they passed through the gate and into the city. The footsteps of their camel echoed on the dusty cobblestones. Near the gate, they found a well with a large stone watering trough, and using their waterskins, they drew for themselves and their thirsty mount.
“Please, Master Roderick,” Laria urged. “I can draw the water.”
“So can I,” he answered gruffly, ignoring her protestations.
Even working together, it took nearly an hour before the camel’s thirst was fully sated. Leaving the dumb beast tied to a stunted tree in the courtyard of an abandoned caravanserai, they embarked together to explore.
All around them, the ruins stood as silent testaments to the ravages of time. Laria clung to Roderick’s arm and stared about in wonder.
“It’s magnificent,” she whispered. “But it’s all so haunting.”
“Aye, that it is. Take my dagger and get behind me. Who knows what evil we’ll find in this place?”
She took the proffered weapon and obeyed, staying so close behind him that she practically walked on his heels. He considered leaving her with the camel, but it seemed unwise to separate from each other.
As they ventured deeper into the city, they came to a massive central plaza, now desolate and partially covered in sand. Roderick imagined he could hear the echoes of merchants from every corner of the world, hawking their exotic wares. Or was that just his imagination? Their voices seemed to whisper in the wind, as if the ghost of the city’s glory was still present.
“Master, do you feel that?” Laria asked. “I sense a strange presence in this place.”
“The curse of the coin of Xulthar,” Roderick muttered, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword.
Laria frowned. “What do you mean?”
“This place was once the center of trade and commerce for the known world,” he told her. “Now, it is haunted by the same sorcerous evil that has cursed all the coinage that issued from here.”
“The same curse that brought about the downfall of your family?”
“Aye.”
Laria paused. “I don’t know much about money, Master Roderick. I have never owned any coin in my life. But I do not like this place. It feels… as if something heavy is weighing down my soul.”
Roderick nodded, his eyes scanning the empty plaza for danger. “You sense it well, Laria. The coin of Xulthar weighs heavily on those who bear it. Many have been corrupted and consumed by its curse.”
“And you believe the curse started here?”
“Aye,” he confirmed. “Although the city lies in ruins, it was doubtless minted here, though whether by men or magic, none can say. But I think it must have been magic, for according to the legends, all the inhabitants of Xulthar perished in a single day.”
Laria tensed her grip on Roderick’s arm. A dust devil swirled through the plaza ahead, and he watched it warily, ever on the lookout for danger. The plaza lay still, without a single soul in sight, but something seemed to lurk in the shadows beyond his vision, by the ruins on the plaza’s edge.
The sun beat down on the two travelers. Up ahead, Roderick could make out a massive stone structure looming at the far end of the plaza—a temple of such magnificent size that it seemed to have been hewn from the heart of a very mountain. They advanced cautiously toward it, scanning the surrounding ruins for any sign of hidden danger. But the only sound to break the silence was their own soft footsteps on the sandy ground.
Somehow, Roderick knew that this temple was the final destination of his quest. For good or for ill, his fate would be decided here.
Laria suddenly stopped.
“Are you all right?” asked Roderick, his hand on his sword.
“Something is watching us,” she whispered, her eyes darting to the ruins. “I can sense it.”
“Stay behind me,” Roderick muttered, edging closer to the entrance of the temple.
The massive stone doors stood slightly ajar. Roderick drew his sword and slowly pushed them open enough to step inside.
The interior of the temple was shrouded in thick darkness, but as their eyes adjusted, they saw that it was as empty as the plaza. The silence was so complete that the sound of their own breath echoed through the somber and solemn halls.
Roderick’s heart thrummed as he advanced with sword in hand, the echoes of his footsteps sounding thunderous in his ears. He wanted—nay, he needed to learn the truth about the curse that had brought his family to ruin. Keeping that thought in the forefront of his mind, he pressed onward, steeling himself for whatever fate awaited him inside.
Laria
Laria shuddered under the oppressive weight of the darkness inside the temple. The eerie, prickling sensation which she’d felt out in the plaza was ten times worse in here. With each muffled footstep on the dusty stone floor, she felt as if she and Roderick were walking to their doom.
In the center of the temple, beneath an enormous dome, stood a massive altar hewn from a solid block of black marble. Chills ran down Laria’s spine as they approached it. She could feel the presence of something dark and malevolent.
“We shouldn’t be here, Master Roderick,” she said urgently. “Please, let’s—”
Suddenly, the chamber shook with a violent tremor. Laria gasped in fright as a monstrous creature emerged from the shadows between the pillars. Its form changed and shifted, sometimes appearing as a man, sometimes as a monstrous beast.
“Get back!” said Roderick, standing between her and the monster.
But the beast did not charge. Instead, it moved calmly between them and the black altar, as if to shield it from them—or perhaps to shield them from it.
“Leave this place, mortals,” the shapeshifting creature bellowed in a voice that rumbled throughout the temple. “Xulthar holds secrets long forgotten, dark and forbidden knowledge that should never be brought to light.”
Laria peered at the monster. She sensed that this beast had once been a man.
“What are you?” Roderick called to it. “Are you friend or foe?”
The creature’s form shifted and solidified into a human form, confirming Laria’s premonition. His eyes glowed with unearthly light as he spoke.
“I am the high priest of the temple of Xulthar. Many have I thwarted who sought to unlock the power of the black altar. Is that what you seek? The dark and ancient magic that made the name of Xulthar feared throughout the world?”
“No,” Roderick said quickly. “I seek not for power, but to pull it down.”
The priest paused, and the smoke and mist around him slowly dissipated.
“That is well,” he said, his voice softening. “Xulthar was once a city of great power. But its rulers delved into forbidden arts, seeking to unlock the secrets of the gods themselves. Their arrogance was their downfall.”
The priest began to pace, his shadowy form flickering with spectral energy.
“The last king of Xulthar unleashed a calamity that laid waste to the city. In pursuit of immortality, he sacrificed hundreds of human souls upon this altar, unleashing dark powers that slew the remaining inhabitants in a single day. Their forms were twisted by dark magic, transforming them into mindless slaves.”
“Did the king achieve it?” Laria asked. “Immortality, I mean.”
The priest nodded. “Indeed he has—but only within Xulthar’s walls. The city is now cursed, its very foundations infused with dark sorcery. But through the coin of Xulthar, the Dark King’s power and influence has spread throughout the world, enticing men with false promises of power and shaping the course of nations from afar.”
Roderick’s eyes widened. “My father lost everything for speaking openly of the curse.”
“Indeed,” the dark priest replied in an uncanny voice.
“What does the Dark King seek now?” Laria asked, her fear beginning to subside.
“To enslave the world,” the priest answered grimly. “And to undo the bond that chains his immortal form to Xulthar. Now, the stars have nearly aligned for one last sacrifice.”
“One last sacrifice?” Laria asked, a sense of dread welling in the pit of her stomach.
“Yes. All that is needed is to sacrifice a soul that is uncorrupted by money or coin. Then the Dark King’s immortality will transcend Xulthar’s borders, and his evil reign will be unleashed upon the world.”
Laria gasped. “A soul that is uncorrupted by money or coin?” The priest’ s glowing eyes seemed to pierce her as he answered.
“Yes,” he said sadly. “One such as yourself.”
Cold sweat broke out on the back of Laria’s neck. She suddenly felt a strange disconnection from the rest of the room, as if she were an outsider looking in. It was clear to her now why the slaver had sought to bring her to this place: her soul was indeed uncorrupted by wealth or power, for she had never owned anything in her life—not even herself.
“We must do all we can to stop him,” said Roderick, his jaw set. “Can you help us, priest?”
“Nay,” said the priest, “for my will is bound to the Dark King’s, and I cannot so much as lift a finger against him. Even now, my mind and body strain from the effort it takes to hide you from him, and of the thing that I must ultimately ask.”
As if in response, his form shifted and contorted, revealing the grotesque, inhuman monster beneath. The sight of twisted flesh and bone filled Laria with revulsion.
“What do you want from us, priest?” Roderick asked.
The priest bent painfully over, his sinewy muscles straining in silent agony, “To break the curse that binds my will to his, releasing me from this accursed city and freeing my spirit to depart this mortal realm.”
“Y—you want to die?” Laria asked.
“Yes!” the priest shrieked, the sorcerous smoke billowing all around him. “Though my soul be consigned to an eternity of torment, it cannot be worse than my life as an immortal slave. My mind… the Dark King’s will… you cannot possibly imagine…”
“What must we do?” Roderick asked bluntly, cutting his babblings short.
The priest groaned, and the smokey tendrils of his ever-shifting form rose nearly to the cupola of the dome. “You must… you must… sever the heart of Xulthar from…”
At that moment, a sudden tremor made the walls of the temple shake. The priest of the black altar screamed in unholy pain.
“He knows! My will… the Dark King… he knows you are here!”
Roderick grabbed Laria’s hand. “Come!” he shouted. “Let us leave this place!”
She needed no urging. Together, they ran past the ancient pillars that lined the hall. But before they could reach the exit, the heavy stone doors slammed shut of their own accord.
Roderick
As Roderick and Laria skidded to a halt, a deep, cold voice echoed through the shadow-shrouded halls.
“So, Roderick, you have come to try your luck against me,” it boomed. “You are foolish indeed—just like your father.”
The Dark King stepped out of the shadows, his red glowing eyes blazing with bitter mirth. As with the high priest of the black altar, his form was shrouded in smoke and mist, though he did not shift between forms. He had the body of a giant, and towered so high above them that Laria seemed like a small child by comparison. His arms were hidden in the black folds of his cloak, but his hood was pulled back to reveal a face like boiled leather, with a massive, gem-encrusted crown resting upon the top of his hairless head.
“And you,” he said, sneering at Laria. “My precious little sacrifice, a soul oh so pure. Like a pretty little lamb led blissfully to the slaughter, your beloved knight has brought you to me!”
“Stand back!” shouted Roderick, shielding Laria as he raised his sword. But the Dark King only laughed.
“So brave,” he mocked. “But alas, the foe you face is no mere mortal. I have mastered powers beyond your puny comprehension!”
The dust of the temple stirred and formed strange shapes in the air. Seemingly out of the the very stone floor itself, dozens of skeletal warriors rose and drew swords, their bones animated by the darkest sorcery. Roderick’s breath caught in his throat at the grisly sight.
The Dark King pointed at him and Laria with a twisted, deformed finger. “Kill the warrior,” he commanded, “but bring the sacrifice to me, unharmed.”
Roderick did not hesitate. He lunged into an attack, smashing his undead enemies with a determination not to admit defeat. Laria stayed close behind him, out of reach of the creatures’ grasping fingers, and as many tried to grab her found their boney arms shattered by Roderick’s sword.
Roderick’s chest heaved with exertion as beads of sweat flew from his brow. But no matter how many of the creatures fell, even more seemed to take their place. His battle cry echoed through the halls as wave after wave of the undead monstrosities fell like ripened wheat beneath his scything blade. Still, their sheer numbers forced Roderick to fall back. Hope began to fade from his eyes as he realized he could never defeat them all..
“Roderick!” Laria shouted, falling back between the pillars. She gestured to him urgently, and he realized that she was pointing toward a door. He had no idea where it led, but he bellowed and charged like a bull, scattering the skeletal warriors who stood in his way. Within moments, they had reached it, Laria using the dagger to pry the door open while Roderick fought with his back to the wall.
“Hurry!” he urged her as the undead creatures intensified their attack. Behind them, the Dark King laughed at their attempt to escape.
“There!” said Laria, finally getting some leverage. She pried the door open a crack, and Roderick threw it open, covering their rear as she ran down the crumbling stone steps beyond.
The door led to a crypt. For a brief, heartstopping moment, Roderick feared that they had plunged into an even greater peril. But the way to the crypt was clear, though the burning torches along the walls indicated that the place was not unoccupied—or perhaps the torches had been lit by the same sorcery that filled the temple.
Roderick had no time to waste on such trivial matters, though. The way ahead was lit, and that was all that mattered.
Laria dashed ahead of him, through a wooden door that Roderick barred behind them. When he turned, he found that they were indeed in the crypt of the temple, with several large sarcophagi lining the long, dreary chamber. The torches were lit here as well, though when Roderick looked closer he saw that they weren’t torches at all, but large glowing gemstones embedded in the stonework.
“Where do we go now?” Laria asked frantically.
“The catacombs,” he answered as he sheathed his sword. “A city the size of Xulthar must have a veritable maze of them. Surely, the underground tunnels must—”
The sound of pounding fists and hacking axes echoed through the chamber as the Dark King’s minions attacked the door. Laria spun in fright, and with a shared breath of trepidation, they both ran to the opposite end of the chamber, where a dark doorway opened to the catacombs beyond.
Roderick
The air hung heavy with the stench of decay, and the darkness of the catacombs clawed at Roderick’s very soul. He knew that every step might lead them into an ambush, but the inhuman screeching of their pursuers drove him and Laria forward, like rats fleeing from a pack of hungry dogs.
Roderick hoped that the deeper they ventured, the wider the tunnels would diverge, forcing the enemy to disperse. If they came to a dead end and were forced to turn and fight, at least he would not have to face the entire horde.
But what unknown horrors lurked in the forgotten depths of these accursed catacombs?
Every now and again, they passed a glowing gemstone, much like the ones in the crypt. The light was dim, but there were just enough of the sorcerous stones that they never had to run in utter darkness for very long. Roderick did not know what sort of magic infused the stones, but their eerie glow set him ill at ease, knowing that if the lights were already lit, something else was also using them.
“This place is evil,” Laria whispered anxiously behind him.
Roderick was inclined to agree, but they had to press on until they found some way up to the surface. With sword in hand, he stole as swiftly and silently as he could, hoping not to awaken whatever fell creatures lurked in these depths. Trembling with fear, Laria followed close behind.
The tunnels had a winding, maze-like quality to them, and they soon left their pursuers far behind. In the eerie calm that followed, Roderick’s thoughts dwelt on the words of the eldritch priest who guarded the black altar.
There was no doubt in his mind that the Dark King was responsible for the downfall of his house and the disgrace his family had suffered. But it would not be enough to merely defeat him. How could it, when the ruins of Xulthar were so distant that most people doubted the Dark King’s very existence? No—to truly right the wrongs he had suffered, he would seize this Dark King’s riches and use them to restore his name, his position, his wealth, and his honor.
No sooner had the thought entered his heart than the gemstones began to pulsate and throb.
“Roderick!” Laria gasped. “The lights—”
“I see them,” he muttered, guiding her by the hand. The air grew even mustier, and the darkness seemed to close in on them like a living thing. He could hear the faint echo of footsteps in the dark, and he could not tell whether it was their pursuers or something far worse.
Up ahead, he caught a glimpse of what appeared to be sunlight, shining down through a distant shaft. His heart leaped with hope.
“This way,” he said, urging Laria forward. “We—”
Without warning, three undead skeletal warriors lunged from the shadows ahead, their hollow skulls glowing with malevolent energy. Roderick slashed downward, shattering the skull of the first and collapsing it into a heap of bones. With a mighty shout, he surged forward and forced the other two back. In the close quarters of the tunnel, he moved with the skill and ferocity of a seasoned veteran, his mighty thews rippling with every swing of his sword.
“Roderick!” Laria suddenly called out from behind him.
He turned and saw three more undead menaces emerging from the tunnels in their rear. Laria screamed and tried to defend herself with the dagger, but her blows glanced off of them harmlessly. Before Roderick could reach her, the Dark King’s minions grabbed her by her waist and lifted her off of her feet.
“Laria!” Roderick bellowed, his heart surging with rage. He rushed to save her, but three more undead warriors intercepted him from the shadows. Though he hacked them all to pieces, shattering their evil bones, their comrades carried Laria out of his sight.
He ran in hot pursuit, and when three more minions emerged around the corner, he fought with the fury of a cornered beast. Still, with each passing moment, more of them seemed to materialize out of the darkness itself. He roared in berserk frenzy as he carved a path through them, his battle cries echoing through the catacombs.
But it was too late. Laria’s cries faded until he could no longer tell which tunnel they had taken her through. At some silent command from their master, the skeletal warriors fell back into the darkness. The Dark King had no need to waste more minions when his sacrifice had already been secured. Instead, he seemed content to abandon Roderick to whatever deadly horrors lurked in these dank tunnels.
Even so, Roderick pressed forward, striving to retrace the path to the temple. But as he rounded the next corner, a grotesque and twisted creature suddenly appeared. Its eyes glowed malevolently as it lunged at Roderick with its razor-sharp claws.
Roderick lifted his sword just in time to deflect the attack. The beast was so brutal that the fight soon devolved into a contest of sheer strength. Roderick could barely hold his own, but desperation lent him wings, and he fought with the ferocity of a wounded lion.
“For House Valtan!” he shouted as his sword cleaved the beast’s leathery hide, splattering dark blood across the catacomb floor. The beast howled in pain and retreated, leaving the way forward clear.
But the fight was far from over. As Roderick pressed forward through the maze, he encountered many other fell beasts, each more fearsome than the last. They came at him from all sides, claws slashing and teeth gnashing like unspeakable horrors from out of the hellish depths.
His sword flashed in the pulsating light of the gemstones as he hacked and slashed, his blade a blur of blood and steel. Pushed to his physical limits, he fought for his life now, his thews burning with fatigue as the fell beasts’ blows cut deep. But he refused to falter, driven by his determination to reach the black altar before the Dark King made Laria his sacrifice.
His strength almost entirely spent, his armor hanging in tatters all about him, he focused all his efforts on pressing forward, fighting the fell beasts only if absolutely necessary. Around the next bend, he glimpsed the open doorway that connected the temple’s crypt to the underground catacombs. He dashed madly toward it, ignoring the claws that grabbed at his arms and the talons that grasped for his feet.
He stumbled over the threshold and collapsed on the cold stone floor, expecting to meet his doom. But the beasts of the catacombs did not pursue him. Some invisible barrier bound them to the hellish depths, and all they could do was snarl at him from the shadow of the doorway.
For nearly a minute, Roderick struggled to catch his breath. He must have been bleeding from nearly a hundred cuts and wounds. None of them were too serious, though, and he soon recovered enough of his strength to stand. His torn and tattered armor was virtually useless now, but he was alive, and still in fighting shape, if only just barely.
With no time to spare, he took up his sword and dashed up the stairs that led to the black altar, and Laria.
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