In the throes of his unconsciousness, Edward has a vision. He is knelt atop a large dais before a crowd, indistinct in race or creed, the wash of voices fills his ears. Before him stands an incredibly tall humanoid, wreathed in smoke, a gleaming crown floating above their head. It takes no time for him to recognise the apparition of his patron, Xarturas, who leans down placing a hand upon Edward's shoulder, before offering a hand to lift him to his feet. His touch is very hot, but does not burn the young warlock. The smoked figure gestures towards a series of thrones situated upon the dais, one noticeably larger than the others. The two move to the thrones, and the cacophonous cheers of the crowd swell as they take their seats. The warmth where Xarturus had placed his hands has now spread, and his whole arm tingles with itchy heat. Sat in his own throne he looks up at his patron beside him, looks up at the crown above their head, and sees a pair of curled horns that keep it aloft.
In the dark cavern of the iceberg, Amarion and Mornington rush to Edward's side, while Crom keeps watch to make sure no further threats encroach. Amarion can see that Edward is still breathing and prepares to use his divine healing to bring him back from the brink. But as he leans in, smoke and embers begin to rise from Edward's eldritch-blackened hand. Suddenly, Edward's entire right arm bursts into flames, from hand to shoulder, orange light flickering from the surrounding ice. His clothes and some of his hair begin to catch and Mornington quickly removes his cloak, snuffing out the flames. Edward's eyes open wide, and with a startled gasp he sits bolt upright. Help was given, and help was received, as he feels vitality flow within him. Amarion can see that Edward is still not in the best of shape, so performs his holy magic all the same, but as he does the cloak still draped over Edward begins smoking once more. Mornington pulls it free and reveals that Edward's entire arm is now blackened, as had been the case when his eldritch magic backfires, but now reaching all the way to his shoulder. Further to this, his hand is cracked like molten rock, bright embers dancing from the crevices. Concerned, he quickly takes some old sail from the cultists' supplies and fashions a quick bandage for his arm, covering forearm to shoulder so as to not catch fire from his ember spewing hand. Amarion also reluctantly revives Brogmim after requested to, the two share a mutual disgust for each others nature before Brogmim transforms to a rat and crawls his way into a pouch on Edward's backpack.
Crom starts to hear faint whispers, and soon discovers a great concern. All of the cultist bodies have quickly decayed to bones, and each of their unrested spirits begin to coalesce, forming more banshees, far too many for the party to handle. They gather themselves and quickly move for the tunnel barricaded with ship parts, the only viable option at this point. Crom, Amarion, and Mornington all slam into the barricade, attempting to smash their way through as they hear the cries of tortured spirits growing in the cavern behind them. Eventually, the barricade gives way and they barrell into the tunnel, running from the undead spirits.
A ways down the tunnel they encounter another barricade, this one older, and far more crudely constructed. It takes them no time to dismantle it, but as they pass the threshold it created, they realise the nature of the tunnel changes. The surface of the walls changes from that of one worked by pickaxes, to one far more natural, existing cavities within the iceberg, glacial curves and undulations. They approach a fork, the tunnel to their left is quiet but has disturbed frost floating in the air, to the right they hear the faintest of voices. Taking the tunnel to the right, they continue before finding another fork, both paths more reverberant than previous areas. Down the left they hear the sound of moving water, down the right the voices, low and rough with occasional punctuated babbles. They go right once more.
The tunnel begins to widen considerably and they realise they are approaching whatever is emitting the voices in a large cavern ahead. Mornington calls upon his Familiar Spook, the green tinged bat appears into the material, before scouting ahead. As Mornington's senses are replaced by his familiar's, he is shocked to hear that the voices speak in the common tongue. Gruff and garbled still, but nonetheless, they may not be monstrous as they had first assumed. Just before returning Spook, Mornington hears the term 'cultist' uttered and a lot of dissatisfaction surrounding it. The party make a plan, they wish to boldly walk in, loudly exclaiming their hatred for the cultists they have encountered, in the hope of finding allies with common ground.
Amarion, Crom, Edward, and Mornington all stride into the cavern ahead, loudly talking to each other about the cultists they have slain. They see ahead in the darkness a small campfire snuffs out and they hear figures quickly moving in the darkness, skittering into hiding. As the party approach the centre of the cavern, and their sources of magical light illuminate the space, an unexpected series of structures come into view. One wall of the cavern is the hull of a fair sized ship, one that must have crashed and imbedded itself into the iceberg. The hull has a large hole at ground level, plenty of room for a person to walk through, and situated around are several crude structures, almost like a small shanty town. They are made of old wood, rope, broken ship parts, and there's even a crude tent made of an old sail. There are two more exits to the cavern, excluding the one the party have entered from. However, they are more of the same, ice tunnels leading deeper into the iceberg.
Mornington hails to those that are hiding from them, mentions the cultists again, and makes clear that they are hoping to ally against them. A long quiet draws out before finally a voice replies. "Well you see, we hate those damn cutlists 'cos they got no meat on 'em. You on the other hand....". The cavern grows more tense as everyone's body language shifts. Mornington continues to try and find an easy middle ground, he offers them rations, tries to convince them to show themselves, tries to reason. The deep, glugging voice that replies speaks like a lowly commoner, and remains confrontational toward the Bard. He states that they only like food that's raw, that still has blood pumping through it, he warns them not to threaten them or they'll call for the mage. Crom's knuckles whiten around his axe, and his posture stoops as his anger builds. His assumption being that they mean the necromancer Teo Ramu. The tent flap draws to the side slightly, the party now notice the slight reflections of eyes in the darkness. The voice calls out to them that it looks like they are out of options, and it's time for dinner to be served.
A figure stumbles forth from the hole in the ship's hull, Mornington raises his lantern, casting it in stark light. What stands before them could barely be called human, but human it once was. A bloated corpse of a man, arms mutated into that of a crustaceans. His distended belly is covered in algae, his remaining garments sea soaked, and his back, neck, and head appear to be writhing with worm-like parasites. He screams a battle cry as he rushes toward them, two others emerge from the darkness of the crude structures around the ship, and the party have a fight on their hands.
The doomed sailors rush in to close the distance and Amarion and Crom are locked in melee, each side circling the other looking for an opening. One of the bloated crab-men has an entire missing arm, in its place is a mass of writhing worms that latch onto Amarion's shield and begin trying to envelop it. Blows are exchanged and Mornington uses Vicious Mockery to psychically throw off their opponents, leaving them flailing their arms in useless assaults. Edward conjures forth an illusion to Cause Fear in the infested humans, smoke billows out from his hands and collects into a giant horned figure above him, glowing eyes pierce into the wavering souls of the men before them, and with it their courage wavers. Two are visibly frightened by the effect and become incredibly distracted. Crom slices through the back of one of the sailors, severing some of the worms in half. They writhe around before forming new mouths at their severed ends and bite back into the flesh of the man, his eyes bulge, he screams, then enters a mouth-foaming rage.
With half of the sailors in fear, tactical maneuvering, and well placed spells, the battle soon starts to turn. Crom slices through the belly of one of the crab-sailors, spilling briny water across the floor, and with it, several worms. They wriggle away as the body of the sailor slumps to the floor dead. Amarion takes down the sailor latched to his shield as it turns in fear, caught flanked between the two heroic fighters. Edward lines up ready to throw an Eldritch Blast at his enemy, but something goes wrong. The magic turns on him, his hand aches in pain as the cracked blackness of his hand crumbles away, embers flying, revealing a deep red skin beneath with black nails. He cannot control his arm, and it jerks to one side, launching purple fire towards Mornington. It strikes the bard, a look of horror on his face as he sees what has happened to Edward. The warlock regains control and successfully fires at his enemy. The one remaining sailor loses his nerve, between the piloting force of the worms within him, he flees toward the ship hull and falls into a crawl.
"No please, we had no choice, it was the only way to survive, the only way to live." Crom and Amarion catch him, and run him through with sword and boot.
Worms writhe across the icy floor, and into the darkness beyond.
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