Battered and bruised, we continued onwards. Normally I think we would stop to rest if we were this sore, but our focus continued to be to find the young people still trapped here and bring them to safety.
Further along the corridor we found the young men still missing and managed to tear them free from vines that tried to bind them here. Kyrah helped their battered selves down the corridor to join with those already waiting with Corinna. Volkan's apprentice was with them, which I’m glad to see. Hope is an important commodity in these times.
Helikaon’s new dragon friend helped us investigate ahead and found the dining hall where Demetria was waiting. We decided to circle round in case we could find a better tactical position in case negotiations went sour. Some sound surprise tactics helped us pass two more of the goatlings through a crude kitchen. We were about to pass on when something caught my eye in the offcuts and bones heaped to one side.
A hand.
The feast about to be served was human flesh. This witch sickens me. Removing her madness can only bring peace to this grove.
A sweep of a bedchamber unearthed some riches put aside in a small chest, including an odd pendant. Theo’s eyes widened and his skin paled at the sight of it. The bas relief etched on the surface was one of his family crest. It is clear this is of huge personal importance to him.
As we found our way to the feast hall it turned out Demetria was expecting us. She called us all in, even those lurking outside to see the ceremony. Four of the girls, promised youth and power were with her, as well as a thick chested, six armed Gygan. She boasted of her power, revealing her patron, Lutheria, as the source of Alke’s foretold doom, then, as if she had revealed nothing more telling than a prediction of the weather, invited us to join the mad feast.
Alke stood firm in face of the revelations thrown her way and coolly told the girls of what we had found in the kitchens and that the feast was of their friends and lovers. They turned on Demetria and it was then that battle was joined.
Fang and flame, blade and sorcery. The battle was fierce and intense, but began to swing in our favour given our greater numbers. As the battle reached its height, the mad druid grasped her gygan bodyguard and, crying out to Lutheria, vanished into the wooden table, which still pulsed with life. Braz, grappled in the arms of the gygan, was dragged along with them and was gone too.
A striding voice came echoing from the cavern we had left behind, Lutheria’s chill voice, as awful as when it taunted us in our dreams.
This isn’t over. What awaits us in that grove?