Big City Darkened Nights

Loading the crossbow, the Hobgoblin slows noticing the one Human isn’t moving.

In awe the man stands watching more than treasure spill out of the

saddlebag. A red smoke like light is also coming out forming a strange phantom cloud between the nervous horses.

As Carr rolls from under the last horse the Orc chops down gashing the back of the scale body armor.

Unhurt Carr tumbles once more getting to his feet.

Ready to fire the crossbow the Hobgoblin keeps looking back to the growing red cloud.

Almost in the cloud, the man pokes it with his sword.

The Hobgoblin loudly speaks. “Look! What is it?”

The cleric stops chanting to look up, unsure of what to make of it. As it gets bigger the clearing glows red. Catching the Orc’s attention enough to stop his attack. Even Carr stops and lets his guard down curious of the red cloud.

A sour sulfur smell accompanies the dark red, misty cloud. It seems to move for the standing man. Stepping back the man tries to fan it away. The cloud completely envelops him. Going limp the man drops his sword before collapsing on the ground.

All stare unsure of what to do, the Orc surveys the group, noticing Carr standing there as well.

Distracting, the Orc points at the cloud. Not thinking Carr shrugs. The Orc takes advantage kicking Carr’s legs out from under, knocking the young rogue to the ground.

Walking cautiously over to the downed man the Orc bends down to check on him, “He’s breathing.”

Seeing it start to cover the Orc the cleric alerts him, “Get away!”

Immediately a magical dart shoots out from the misty cloud piercing the cleric’s throat.

Clutching dart and neck the cleric falls over backwards letting out a muffled gurgling cry.

Scared and wanting to run the horses stomp about braying and whinnying.

The Orc stands up in the red mist punching at it uselessly, only to collapse to the ground.

Carr tries to stand and run, but his body feels too heavy, “What’s going on?” His eyelids get as heavy as lead, sending him into a magical sleep.

Partially paralyzed and alone the Hobgoblin fires the crossbow. The bolt sails right through the cloud. Causing it to turn and drift towards him.

In fear the Hobgoblin uses his arms and hands to drag himself into the trees, praying to his God.

“Maybe you’ll meet him,” a raspy female voice radiates from the cloud.

A shiver washes across the crying Hobgoblin staring helplessly paralyzed by poison and fear.

The misty cloud begins to change into something more tangible. Long claw tipped fingers stretch out towards him attached to arms of a bluish skin. The mist fully transforms into a tall lean, female humanoid, with pointed ears surrounded by black straw like hair.

Hoping his life isn’t over the Hobgoblin musters out, “Who are you?”

“Tetra,” She smiles wide, revealing brown, fanged teeth. Kneeling beside the Hobgoblin her bright red eyes mesmerize him while staring into his soul.

Easily she wraps her fingers around the Hobgoblin’s neck, “I’ve got a wonderful plan for you.” She starts mumbling an incantation.

Slipping into unconsciousness the Hobgoblin’s body begins to slowly change, his limbs shrivel up disappearing into his leather armor. His face horribly distorts and shrivels.

Stopping the spell she strokes the distorted head of the Hobgoblin, before pulling him out of his armor though the neck hole. The Hobgoblin is no more having been changed into a large, sickly yellow Larva.

She kisses the Larva’s distorted face and takes it back to the red light that still emanates from the saddlebag.

Tossing the larva into the light it disappears.

Bending down she repeats the chant transforming the bigger Human. Next the axe wielding Orc, getting rid of their Larva forms into the light.

She checks over the cleric, barely alive but good enough to transform.

Taking the cleric Larva, she checks out the main Orc, shaking her head with disappointment at his death. Looking at Carr she pauses.

Kneeling beside Carr places her hand on his chest, “You’re not evil or pure of heart.” She studies Carr, “Maybe I can find a use for you.” She wraps her long blue fingers around his throat.

A voice rings out from the trees. “Not that one! Hag!” Followed by loud creaking branches.

Tetra looks around, “Who’s going to stop me?”

Lots of creaking tree branches and rustling foliage surrounds the clearing.

A deep and dry voice slowly answers, “We are.” An old Treant, and another living tree step forward, “You’ve plenty of Larvae. Go back to your plane.”

She stands with hands on hips speaking confidently, “Only two of you? I can easily set you on fire. How about that?”

The forest becomes very noisy as the several more Treants reveal themselves.

Knowing she’s out numbered hesitantly agrees. “Perhaps you’re right. I do have enough for now.”

Cautiously she picks up the last Larva and both disappear into the red light.

A different Treant speaks, “Ochre, why this one?” Pointing a long leafy twig at Carr.

Ochre, the tallest of them, ambles over to the red light, “I’ve a feeling in my roots about this one.”

Stretching a branchy arm out he reaches into the saddlebag. Using his twiggy fingers pulls out a torn bag, spilling treasure all around. The red light is seeping out of a tear.

With a simple flic of the limb Ochre tosses the bag into the fire.

Wild and fantastically colored flames surround the bag as it catches fire.

Ochre turns away from the fire, the other Treants can’t help but watch.

The bag only burns half a minute before exploding. So loud its’ heard all the way to the Orc’s territory and Halford’s city. Hot embers, burning pieces of wood and valuables scatter. The bag and fire are no more.

The horses receive minor cuts, three panic passing out. Two try to run, one almost breaks the reins.

A Treant questions with feminine tone, “What are you doing? Trying to set the woods on fire?”

Stamping their roots around the Treants spread out smothering any flame or ember. Also having to knock embers and impaled trinkets from themselves, with their branchy arms.

Snuffing out a few pieces of burning wood Ochre answers, “Quickest way to destroy that portal to Hell. Who knows what else could come?”

Darkening the woods all the loose embers are smothered out. With a nod to each other the Treants noisily creak away returning into the forest.

As Carr lay unconscious dew settles in with the quiet. Calmer and conscious the horses need care beyond noticeable injury. Two of them are permanently deafened, Bolt and the other two have ringing in their ears.