Roderick
At long last, they arrived at the fabled city of Xulthar.
The ruins first appeared like a mirage against the blazing desert sun. As they drew near, however, the shimmering image became solid, and the grandeur of the city became impossible to deny.
Roderick stared warily at the towering city walls, the ancient, weathered stones standing as a testament to the city’s forgotten might. Portions of the wall had fallen into rubble, but the nearest gate was still intact, the massive arch standing open like a portal to some mythic realm. Through it stretched a wide avenue lined on either side by a colonnade of marble pillars, each more than thrice the height of a man and intricately carved.
“So this is Xulthar,” Laria whispered, her soft voice mingling with the forlorn whistling of the wind.
“Yes,” said Roderick as he eyed the massive gate. “We must be cautious.”
He dismounted and drew his sword, as if daring the evil forces within the fallen city to come out and challange him. None did. The ruins were as silent and empty as weathered bones. If any fell beast or eldritch creature lurked within, they did not haunt the outer gates.
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. On the other side of the wall, they found a well with a large stone trough for watering animals, and using some rope and their waterskins, they were able to draw some for themselves and their thirsty mount.
“Please, Master Roderick,” Laria urged. “I can draw the water.”
“Both of us can,” he answered gruffly, ignoring her protestations.
Even working together, it took nearly an hour before their camel’s thirst was fully sated. Leaving the dumb beast tied to a stunted tree near the well, they began their explorations deeper into the once-great city.
All around them, the ruins lay as testaments to the ravages of time and the brutality of the desert.
Laria clung to Roderick’s arm. “It’s magnificent,” she whispered. “But it’s also so haunting.”
Roderick nodded. “Aye, that it is. Take my dagger and get behind me. Who knows what dark sorcery we’ll find in this place?”
Her eyes wide with fear, she took the proffered dagger and obeyed, staying so close behind him that she practically walked on his heels. He considered leaving her back with the camel, but he didn’t want them to become separated–not in a place like this.
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 it his imagination? Their voices seemed to whisper on the wind, as if the ghosts of the city’s long-departed glory were still present, even now.
Laria shivered in spite of the hot sun. “Master, do you feel that? This place is haunted by an otherworldly presence.”
“The curse of the coin of Xulthar,” Roderick muttered, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword.
“What do 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 minted in this place.”
“The same curse that brought about the downfall of your family house?”
“Aye.”
Laria paused. “I do not know much about coinage or money, Master Roderick. I have never owned any in my life. But this place… it feels evil to me.”
*
Roderick nodded, his eyes scanning the surroundings for any signs of danger. “You sense it well, Laria. The curse of Xulthar is a dark magic that possesses its treasure, and all who use it. Those who bear the cursed coinage will eventually become corrupted and consumed by its power.”
Laria’s eyes widened in fear. “And you think this curse starts here?”
“Yes,” Roderick confirmed. “The coin of Xulthar was minted here, and this was once its epicenter. The dark magic seeped into the very stones of this city, corrupting everything it touches. That’s why we must be careful.”
Laria tensed, her grip on Roderick’s arm like a vice. A dust-devil swirled through the plaza ahead, and he watched it warily, ever on the lookout for danger. The plaza lay still beneath their feet–not a soul in sight–but something seemed to lurk in the shadows just beyond his vision.
The sun beat down upon the stones of the plaza, baking them in its merciless heat. Up ahead, Roderick could make out a massive stone structure looming at the far end–a temple of such size that it seemed as if it had been hewn from the very heart of the mountain itself.
The pair advanced steadily but cautiously towards the temple, their sharp eyes scanning for any sign of ambush or hidden danger. But there was nothing but silence surrounding them apart from the clack of their footsteps echoing off the temple walls. Every step they took drew them closer to whatever destination awaited them inside.
Somehow, Roderick knew that this was the final destination of his quest. For good or for ill, his fate would be decided here.
The two crossed the square quickly but cautiously, their every sense alert for any sign of an ambush or some other danger. But there was no sound apart from their own footsteps echoing off the stones.
Laria suddenly stopped, and Roderick paused and turned towards her. “Are you alright?”
Laria shook her head, her breathing ragged. “I feel like we’re being watched,” she whispered, her eyes darting around the plaza.
Roderick’s hand went to his sword hilt, ready to draw at a moment’s notice. “Stay behind me,” he said, edging closer to the temple’s entrance.
As they neared the massive stone doors, they saw that they had been left slightly ajar. Roderick pushed them open, his sword at the ready, and stepped inside.
At first, the interior of the temple was shrouded in darkness, but as their eyes adjusted, they saw that it was empty. The only sound was their own breathing amplified in what seemed like an echo chamber for centuries-old whispers that refused to die away completely.
Roderick’s steps faltered, and he stopped in his tracks. The musty air was heavy with tension and anticipation; he could feel the weight of both his hope and dread pressing down on his shoulders. Through sheer willpower, he forced himself to take another step forward. His heart thrummed in his chest as he advanced through the cave, the echoes of his own footsteps thunderous in his ears. He wanted – needed – to find some kind of answer that would break the curse which 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 the cursed temple.
Laria
Laria shuddered under the oppressive weight of the darkness inside the temple. The eerie, prickling sensation of dark sorcery 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 they were walking into the jaws of a trap.
In the center of the temple, beneath an enormous dome, stood a massive altar hewn from a solid block of black marble. A sense of dread came over Laria as they approached it. She could feel the presence of something dark and malevolent here, a force that had lain dormant for centuries.
“We shouldn’t be here, Master Roderick,” she said, frightened. “Please, let us–“
Suddenly, the chamber shook with a violent tremor. Laria gasped in fright, and Roderick drew his sword as a monstrous creature emerged from the shadows between the cloisters. Its form changed and shifted, sometimes appearing as a man.
“Get back!” Roderick told Laria, putting himself between her and the monster.
But the monster did not charge. Instead, it moved calmly in front of the sorcerous black altar, as if to shield it from them–or perhaps to shield them from it.
“Leave this place, mortals,” the shapeshifting creature warned 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 fell to the ground, clutching Roderick’s leg in terror. She had a premonition that this beast had once been a man.
“Ho, there!” Roderick called to it. “Are you friend or foe?”
The creature’s form shifted and solidified into something unmistakably human, confirming what Laria had sensed. His eyes gowed with an unearthly light as he spoke.
“I am the chief high priest who guards the black altar of the ancient city of Xulthar,” he boomed. “Many have I thwarted who sought to unlock its powers. 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 beast paused, and his human form solidified. “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 led to their downfall.”
The creature began to pace, his shadowy form flickering with spectral energy.
“The priests of Xulthar unleashed a calamity that laid waste to the city,” he continued. “In pursuit of immortality, the last king of Xulthar sacrificed thousands of human souls upon this altar, unleashing dark powers that slew the remaining inhabitants in a single day. Their forms were twisted by dark sorcery, turning them into mindless, undead slaves.”
“Did the king achieve immortality?” Roderick asked.
The priest nodded. “Indeed he has–but only within Xulthar’s walls. The city is now cursed, its very foundations infused with dark energy. But through the coin of Xulthar, the Dark King’s power and influence has spread throughout the world, enticing men with promises of power and manipulating the course of nations from afar.”
Roderick’s eyes grew wide. “The accursed coin of Xulthar! My father lost everything for revealing that the coin was cursed!”
“Indeed,” replied the malevolent priest in an uncanny voice.
Laria, sensing danger, clung to Roderick for protection. “What does this Dark King seek?” she asked.
“To enslave the world,” the priest answered darkly. “And to release himself from the bond that chains his immortal form to Xulthar. And now, the stars have nearly aligned for one last sacrifice upon this altar.”
“One last sacrifice?” Laria asked nervously.
“Yes. All that is needed for the Dark King to complete his spell is to sacrifice a soul that is pure and uncorrupted by money or coin. Then his immortality will transcend Xulthar’s borders, and his evil reign will be unleashed upon the world.”
Lari gasped as the priest’s glowing eyes pierced her. “One pure and uncorrupted by money or coin?” she asked in a trembling voice.
“Yes,” the priest said sadly. “One such as yourself.”
A wave of cold dread swept over Laria. She felt a strange sense of disconnection from the other people in the room–it was as if she stood apart, an outsider looking in. She began to piece together why her captors had sought her out: her soul was indeed uncorrupted by wealth or power, for she had never owned anything in her life as a slave–not even herself. Her gaze darted to Roderick, silently pleading not to let her fall into the clutches of this great evil.
“We have to stop him,” Roderick said, his jaw set. “But we need to know more about this curse and how to break it. 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 against what I must ask of you.”
As if in response, his form shifted and contorted, revealing the grotesque, inhuman monster beneath. Laria felt a shiver run down her spine as she looked upon the twisted flesh and bone of the cursed priest.
“But there must be something we can do,” Roderick insisted, his hand on his sword hilt. “Some way to break the curse?”
“There is,” the priest said, his voice strained. “And if you succeed, then my soul shall be released from this accursed temple, and I shall be free to depart this mortal realm.”
“What must we do?” Laria asked, her eyes wide with terror.
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 the Dark King’s crown!”
The monster who had once been a man screamed in unholy pain, and the walls of the temple shook with fearful fury. “He knows!” the priest howled. “My will… the Dark King… he knows you are here!“
Laria shrieked in fright as the monster shifted and grew. Roderick grabbed her hand.
“Come on!” shouted Roderick. “We have to get out of here!”
Laria needed no urging. Together they ran past the ancient pillars that lined the hall all the way to the entrance. But just as they were about to reach it, the stone doors slammed shut with a loud crash.
Roderick and Laria stared in shock at the closed door that blocked their way out. Before they had a chance to react, the air about them began to ripple with dark energy. Suddenly, a deep, cold voice echoed throughout the temple chamber.
“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 eyes blazing with bitter mirth. Laria gasped in terror as he turned those eyes on her.
“And you!” he said, the leathery skin of his skull-like face pulled back into an ugly sneer. “My pretty little sacrifice, a soul oh so pure. Like a lamb to the slaughter, your beloved knight has brought you to me!”
“Stand back!” shouted Roderick, placing himself between the Dark King and Laria as he drew his sword. But the Dark King only laughed.
“So brave,” he said in a cruel voice. “But alas, this is no mere mortal you face. I have mastered powers beyond your comprehension!”
Suddenly, the dust of the temple stirred and began to form strange shapes in the air. Out of thin air, skeletal warriors rose up from the dust and took their places around Roderick and Laria.
The Dark King raised his hand and pointed at them with a twisted, deformed finger. “Kill him,” he commanded, his voice dripping with malice. “But bring her to me alive.”
Roderick did not hesitate–he lunged forward, his broadsword slicing through the air with a fierce determination as he fought off wave after wave of undead monstrosities.
But it seemed that no matter how many creatures Roderick felled, more would take their place–and still, more coming in an endless stream of horror from within the bowels of this cursed temple. Slowly but surely, Roderick was forced backwards towards the wall by sheer numbers alone. His chest heaved with exertion and beads of sweat dripped down his brow as he fought on relentlessly, even as hope began to fade from his eyes.
Laria soon saw that there was no escape–no chance at victory against such overwhelming odds.
“Roderick!” she shouted, urging him to fall back behind the pillars while she searched desperately for some avenue of escape. But the only other way out beside the entrance were the stairs leading down to the crypt.
The crypt! Laria suddenly remembered her time as a slave in the city, when her first master had sometimes sent her to help wash the Great Temple’s floors. Where there was a crypt, there were sometimes catacombs–and surely a city as vast and ancient as Xulthar must also have an equally vast and ancient maze of catacomb tunnels running beneath.
“This way!” she shouted, pointing to the stairs that led down to the crypt. “We can escape through here!”
Roderick hesitated only briefly. With a final burst of energy, he swung his sword in a wide arc, taking out at least half a dozen skeletal warriors in one fell swoop. As the other undead creatures fell back, Laria grabbed his arm and pulled him away. Together, they stumbled down the stairs and shut the door to the crypt behind them.
The Dark King’s maniacal laughter reverberated throughout the crypt as Roderick and Laria made their escape into the catacombs. With a shared breath of trepidation, they clung to each other tightly before venturing forward, into the musty catacombs.
“We must keep going,” Roderick murmured grimly, his hand grasping Laria’s tightly, “no matter what horror waits for us.”
Roderick
The air was heavy with the stench of decay, and the darkness seemed to claw at Roderick’s very soul. He knew that each step might lead them into a trap, but the inhuman screeching of their pursuers drove him and Laria forward, like rats fleeing a pack of dogs.
Fortunately, the deeper into the tunnels they ventured, the more their enemy was forced to spread out. If he was forced to turn and fight, at least he would not have to face the entire horde. Perhaps he could even defeat them in detail. But what unknown horrors lurked in the forgotten depths of these cursed catacombs?
Lights glowed around the next corner. He and Laria approached it cautiously, and saw that it came from some sort of magically infused gemstone, doubtless meant to lighten the underground paths. Instead, their eerie glow only served to deepen the shadows all around them.
“This place is evil,” Laria whispered behind him.
Roderick was inclined to agree, but they had no choice. With sword in hand, he stole quietly through the tunnels, trying not to awaken whatever fell creatures lurked in their depths. Trembling with fear, Laria followed close behind.
The tunnels had a winding, maze-like quality to them, and by moving swiftly they soon left the sounds of pursuit 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 this Dark King was the one responsible for his family’s fall. But it would not be enough to defeat him, here in these accursed ruins so far from his family’s lands. No–to truly right the wrongs he had endured, he would seize this Dark King’s riches and use them to restore his name, position, and honor. After he defeated him, of course.
No sooner had the thought entered his heart than the gemstone lights began to pulsate and throb.
“Master Roderick!” Laria gasped. “The lights–“
“I see them,” he muttered, guiding her by the hand. The air suddenly became heavy with the musty scent of decay, and the darkness seemed to close around them like a living thing. He could hear the faint echo of footsteps as they ran, and he was not sure if it was theirs or someone else’s.
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. “The way out can’t be far. We–“
Without warning, three undead skeletal warriors leaped out in front of them, their hollow eye sockets glowing with malevolent energy. Roderick slashed downward with his blade, shattering the scull of the first and causing its body to collapse into a heap of bones. With a mighty shout, he lunged before the other two could circle around, forcing them back. He moved with the skill and ferocity of a seasoned veteran, his muscles rippling with each swing of his sword.
“Roderick!” Laria suddenly called out from behind him.
He turned and saw three more of the undead creatures emerging from the tunnels in their rear. Laria screamed and kicked at them in a vain attempt to fend them off, but they grabbed her by her waist and lifted her off of her feet.
“Laria!” Roderick bellowed, his heart surging with rage. He hurried back to save her, but three more undead warriors emerged from the shadows between them. Though he hacked them all to pieces, his sword shattering bone and slicing through rotten sinew, the undead abominations carried Laria off faster than he could reach her.
Still, he fought with the fury of a cornered beast, his eyes ablaze with determination. As more of the skeletal warriors seemed to materialize out of the darkness itself, he roared and carved a path through them, his battle cries echoing through the catacombs.
At some silent command from their master, the warriors began to disperse. With dismay, Roderick realized that the Dark King’s sacrifice had already been procured, and there was no need for him to waste more of his minions when Laria was already in his hands. Instead, he seemed content to abandon Roderick to the horrors of the catacombs.
Even so, Roderick pressed forward, trying to retrace his steps back to the temple. As he rounded the next corner, a monsterous creature reared up in front of him, its form twisted and grotesque. Its eyes glowed red as it lunged at Roderick with its razor-sharp claws.
Roderick lifted his sword just in time to deflect the beast’s attack. He tried to parry into a riposte, but the creature was so quick and savage that the fight soon devolved into a contest of brute strength rather than of form. Roderick could barely hold his own against the onslaught, but he was a seasoned warrior, and he fought with the ferocity of a wounded lion.
“For father!” he shouted as his sword leaved through the beast’s leathery hide, splattering dark blood across the catacomb floor. The monster howled in pain and retreated to the shadows, leaving the way forward clear.
But the struggle was far from over. As Roderick pressed forward through the maze of tunnls, he encountered 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 depths of hell.
Roderick’s sword flashed in the pulsating light of the gemstones as he hacked and slashed, his blade a blur of of steel. Pushed to the brink of exhaustion, he fought for his life now, muscles burning with fatigue as deep cuts criss-crossed his body. But he refused to falter, driven by the imperative to reach the Dark King who now held Laria captive.
His strength almost entirely spent, he stopped trying to defeat the creatures and instead focused all his effort on pressing his way through. Up ahead, he saw the doorway that connected the crypt of the temple to the underground catacombs. He made a mad dash for it, ignoring the talons that clawed at his armor and grasped for his feet.
He stumbled over the threshold and collapsed on the cold stone floor, but the beasts of the catacombs did not pursue him. Instead, they snarled and hissed at him from the tunnels, held back by some unknown sorcery that kept them bound to the hellish depths beneath the city.
Roderick struggled to catch his breath, bleeding from a hundred cuts and wounds. None of them were too serious, though, and he soon recovered strength enough to stand. His armor now hung in useless tatters, but he was still alive, and still in fighting shape. He rested only a few more moments before dashing up the stairs to the black altar, where Laria was now doubtlessly bound.
