Fan Fiction: Master Says (Chapter 4)

[Xeang]

(Editor's Note: I'm posting 1 chapter at a time because of word limit requirements)

Chapter 4: TIGER GOES HUNTING​

After an hour or so I left the inn feeling the best I had since the beginning of my adventures.

I walked by Linus who had returned to his steps, but less hunched over. He even smiled at me and said, “With your help I reckon Korthos will finally be able to defeat the Devourer cult and their pet Dragon.” I said, “I hope the scroll I found can really help against that Dragon.”

“Sigmund Bauerson will find a way to use the dragon scroll you found. He’s off in the Wavecrest Tavern if you want to chat with him,” said Linus. “I have already met him, thank you,” I told Linus. I didn’t bother to mention that Sigmund Bauerson wouldn’t give me a time of day – or night – at this point.

Not only did I still have more to do to impress this Bauerson, but I still needed more silver to get a room at his inn. I had no bedroll or blankets except those beneath the cold sea in the sunken Wanderer. I asked if Linus may have any more work for me. He said, “no,” but pointed me up path to a Kaja Bauerdatter who had, according to Linus, been making loud pleas to every passerby for the last two hours. She was clearly upset about something.

Hmm, I pondered. “BAUERdatter? Any relation to BAUERson?” I asked. If this was a sister or relative of Sigmund, helping her might really get his attention. Before Linus could even answer I was moving up path to meet her.

Kaja Bauerdatter bore a striking resemblance to Sigmund including match-striking red hair. She twisted and turned looking for someone to help her. As she spied me she called out to me.

Her voice trembled, “I swear to Siberys, there’s unholy wailing comin’ from Heyton’s Family Crypt. No one wants to check on it, for fear of the Sahuagin and their cronies. But what could they want with Heyton’s crypt? Oh dear, why won’t anyone go down there and see?!?”

“Heyton’s Family Crypt?” I inquired, “Shouldn’t you talk to a Heyton about this?”

She answered me as though schooling a child. “Ma da used to tell me stories of the Heytons. Hundreds of years ago when the Sahuagin first came, Bjorn Heyton fought ‘em tooth and nail. And when he died, his children fought them. And when they died, their children fought them.” Then she paused before pleading with her heart, “Oh, Lars…Lars Heyton was the last of them, and I was…well never mind that. He’s gone missing, and everyone thinks he’s dead. But I know he’s still alive. What if this wailing has something to do with it? You have to go and look!”

“Very well, if it’ll ease your mind, I’ll check out the Crypt for you,” I said.

“Oh, you will? You’re so brave!” She declared in hope.

“Master says, ‘to be brave or not to be brave’ is like Yin and Yang Pad Thai: Sometimes it’s best not to eat too spicy a meal so you can come back happier and eat another day….” I said back to her until I saw a confused look on her face. She didn’t know master. “Oh, sorry, never mind.…” I rambled in response to her look. She smiled weakly back at me.


I turned to the massive crypt built into the side of a cliff amongst a plethora of grave stones. This ancient home of bones had stood for centuries filling its depths with the bodies of Heytons. Two impressive iron gates both swung open when I pulled on them. I stepped in. As my eyes adjusted to the torch lights within, I heard strange and unsettling echoes coming from deep within the crypt. Another gate stood immediately before me by the passage leading in and in front of it a grim-face man glared at me.

“I haven’t seen you before,” the man’s grate voice whispered. “You’re new to Korthos? Hmm….” As my eyes adjusted the dim lighting I saw before me a small, thin wisp of a man with his arms folded standing guard by the second gate. He had seen battle or tragedy as a long scar cut across his forehead over his eye and onto his cheek. It added to his stern demeanor as he addressed me. “Well, you should go back up to the village. This crypt is falling apart. You could trip on some rubble and…hurt yourself,” his voice feigned concern.

“You’re the Crypt Keeper?” I exclaimed, “Aren’t you supposed to be maintaining this place?”

“Heh, who has time for menial chores with Korthos’ impending doom? The Sahuagin want to destroy the village, and the only safe people are those who join their Devourer cult.” He paused again scrutinizing me. Then he stated, “Mark my words, in a month’s time, the only people left in Korthos will belong to the cult.”

I challenged his fatalism. “We’ll see. But for now I need to make sure there are no cultists in the crypt. Let me pass!” I demanded.

“Fine!” He turned and pulled down a lever opening the second gate. Then he added, “Don’t come crying to me after you trip in the dark and break your neck!” It wasn’t even worth pointing out to him that if I broke my neck I can’t come crying to anyone…. I stepped past him while he continued to mutter something at me.

Now that I passed ‘Crypt Keeper Downer,’ I paid more attention to the crypt. ‘Strange,’ I thought. ‘Sarcophagi lined the wall, but they were broken open and empty. Where did the bodies go?’ I about turned back to ask our friendly keeper. But I thought better of it and continued on. As I approached a turn in the hallway, my trained senses detected a draft coming from nowhere. No wait! From the left!

I studied the wall searching for something out of place. But though I knew something was wrong, I could find nothing. After a bit I continued down the passage before me. More broken, empty crypts. Some stairs led down deeper into the vault. Suddenly I heard murmured voices and the chinking of some pick hitting stone.

A torch revealed two men, one in white robes kneeling and working on something with tools. Another in a crimson robe stood by him supervising and instructing: “Hurry it up!” he said. “The Sahuagin need more corpses!”

I went into stealth mode and moved in closer to learn more. But a dozen paces away the torch light revealed my shadow. The crimson robed one sputtered, “What? No one from the village supposed to be in this crypt! Kill the spy!”

The white robed cultist stood up, but then he went right back down as I tripped him with a ‘Back Thigh Trap’ throw. The work tools fell out of his hands and clanged to the ground as I clobbered him with a knee to the head. ‘If he wasn’t brain dead for joining the cult,’ I thought to myself, ‘he’s just brain dead now.’

Two more white robed cultists came around the corner from the sounds of combat. They did not prove much stronger. They were villagers, farmers, merchants that were either captured and forced to be cultists or enchanted and deceived by promises of eternal glory and power. They were not fighters. Both the devourer disciple and the minion fell quickly to my skills and freed from their captivity.

The one in crimson robes was no match for my dragon style either. He lasted a bit longer. An elbow to his face made dark blood gush down his chest. ‘Good thing his robe is crimson,’ I thought a bit to flippantly. Two men dead. Granted cultists. Maybe I crossed the line too far. I chastised myself for my irreverent attitude towards death. Somewhere inside me I was angry. I didn’t even know why. But a burning rage toward all that had happened to the village and the people, all the death to the sailors by the dragon…oh let’s be honest…all the crummy things that had happened to me…were making me lash out. What was happening to me? Who am I? This was not my training. But it was me. Or inside me.

Then it dawned on me. I was being Tiger. The art of the White Lotus Monastery studied 5 primary animals along with four elements. The animals – Tiger, Leopard, Crane, Snake and Dragon – each represented a different fighting style both with unique techniques, but also in strategy. The two cat styles relied more on strength, agility and explosiveness. The Crane and Snake were internal animals more focused on Qi Na (locking), Dim Shui (Poison Hand) and used balance and deception respectively. But the Dragon would combine both internal and external powers.

Over all our style, Pai Te Lung, was Dragon. And this meant we infused the flavor of the Dragon--circular motion, waist whipping and powerful pin point strikes in most everything. But as the master’s at the temple taught, “the Dragon is wise. Wise enough to know that dragon style is not always the answer. The dragon changes shape to become the elements of victory. If one animal strategy doesn’t work, change to another. Or become a rock to bash them on the head behind. Or become a horse carriage to run them over. Become whatever that best works."

The virtues of the Tiger are fearlessness and ferocity. And this is what I realized I had become. I had channeled my fury into being the Tiger who could contain and use such emotions and energy. I smiled at the thought that I was practicing my art well and I fantasized going back and telling this story to Master Icku and hear his praise.

Suddenly I heard words coming from what I thought was the dead acolyte at my feet. He was still alive. His mouth filled with blood, so he spoke like a sponge was in his mouth. But I made out his words, “Death is not an obstacle to the devourer!” Then his head clunked on the stones and he lay still again.

This woke me from my introspective journey. I listened. There was more plinking coming from further down in the crypt. More cultists likely breaking tombs and stealing bodies. But for what purpose? What are these cultists up to? It bore more investigation and I best be about it.


The hallway divided left and right. To the right was a door. I pursued that direction. After opening the door, a slanted hallway led down to a large burial crypt. I heard chanting. It was a Sahuagin. I wondered, ‘Were they the true leaders of this Devourer cult or the humans that played alongside them?’ He was performing some kind of ritual. A staggered corpse stood by him on his own. A zombie? I heard stories of such things back at the cloister. On the altar was the corpse of another Heyton. , “Come, dead son of Korthos. Rise and do my bidding!” exclaimed the Sahuagin Necromancer. The altar glowed with dark power as the Sahuagin continued, “Kill! Kill everyone in Korthos! Kill any who would help them!” They were raising the dead to be their slaves and their army! This must be stopped!

I rushed toward the Sanhedrin to intervene his terrible ritual. The zombie was too slow to stop me and I came full force with a flying kick to the necromancer and sent it reeling. But I was too slow to stop the ritual. From the name plate on the tomb, Horace Heyton sat up on the altar and turned toward me, its dead yellow eyes latching onto me.

The zombies were slow having just returned to un-life. I moved so one zombie was always behind the other as they pursued me. In this way I only had to fight one at a time. My kicks and punches went deep into their soggy bodies. They did not moan in pain. But eventually their bodies fell apart inwardly and outwardly.

The Sahuagin though was getting a second wind, so I picked up an arm of Horace Heyton that had fallen off and beat the Sahuagin across the face with it. “Korthos will be overrun with its own dead,” the Sahuagin cackled trying to capture victory at the hands of his own foreseen demise. “You can’t stop us…(gak)” I stuffed the arm of Horace in his mouth and down his throat silencing his speech. Soon all was silent in this crypt room. I then released my fury on the altar until it stopped glowing. A crest of a snake appeared from the destroyed altar and I took it in case it might be useful later.

I could hear more cultists about their evil work from further inside the crypt. Soon I found another room with another necromancer raising another important Heyton. It croaked, "Kragwulf Heyton, in life you served the light. But in death you shall serve the Devourer. Har. Hah-ha!,” the Sahuagin gloated. I kicked myself for being too late again even as I kicked two more undead and a puffed up Sahuagin. Kragwulf returned as a skeleton and I found it satisfying to hear his bones crack even as I once broke bricks in training. Tiger loves to break bones.

Another crest dropped out of the altar when I smashed it. I took it too. There might still be other altars elsewhere in this crypt. The further I went into the crypt the more ancient the Heytons I was crossing. I was picking up a theme here. These were the crests, I reasoned, that would likely open the final burial place of some grand crypt with the first and most famous of all the Heytons in it – Bjorn Heyton. They must have something even more diabolical planned in raising him!

I fought through another half dozen cultist breaking into the standing crypts along the sides of the walls. They worked hard. But as mentioned they proved little work for me to dispatch them. I had lost count of how many I had sent to their final reward. I was so far past the line; it did not even matter to me anymore.

It was then I saw and alcove to the right with a magical force preventing entry. There were three sockets on the side of the wall inviting the crests to fill them. But I only had two of the three. So I continued up some step even deeper into the mountain side.

There it was! I had found the third chamber. The plaque above it read Bjorn Heyton. It was Bjorns! But then he was not the final Heyton behind the force barrier I had crossed. Who was behind the barrier in the final chamber then?

I raced down the tunnel to this deepest chamber and there waylaid the Sahuagin and an undead minion performing the ritual to animate Bjorn Heyton. Fearlessly I sailed into them with elbows, knees, punches and kicks breaking bones and spines and skulls. When I was finished I put the remains of Bjorn back into his standing crypt, destroyed the altar and found the final third crest.

Returning I observed a small side passage near Bjorn’s chamber. I could see a chest out in the open on a small stone island with water surrounding it. It probably contained the Heyton’s family jewels and paraphernalia. A dead cultist lay next to it. Clearly the Heyton’s put this trapped chest there to foil any would be grave robbers. But I thought I best explore it incase there was something in it that could help me protect them.

I could tell there was something odd in the wall across from the chest. So I approached one step at a time, waited, then took another step. I was hoping my reflexes would help me avoid any danger. I was expecting some electrical trap because of the water. I splashed the water with a broken piece of tombstone and sure enough it triggered a device. Not electricity but rather acid sprayed from the wall even as gate slammed behind me trapping me.

The chest was a ruse. It held only a handful of gems and an ancient helm with the Heyton’s crest on it. There was a lever on the other side, so I leaped from the island over the water and pulled the lever. The gate raised again. I triggered the trap again with another stone and safely made my way back.

I returned to the room blocked by the magical barrier. Behind it were several cultists and undead along with the final Sahuagin Necromancer. He spoke to his disciples and I listened. Perhaps I could learn more of their plans.

“Korthos shall fall into despair when their own heroes strike against them!” It laughed. The Devourer Acolytes responded, “We shall not fail Devourer.”

The necromancer continued, “The Devourer requires more bodies for his undead army!”

“Yes my master,” the others responded in chorus.

“If the cult cannot supply more bodies, then they shall become the bodies!”

“We will not fail Devourer,” the acolytes continued the litany.

“No excuses! The cult must bring more corpses!” he lashed at them.

“We obey,” they chimed.

“The traitor did well to bring us here. This is the perfect place to begin Korthos’ final days.”

“Yes, my master,” they echoed.

The Sahuagin Necromancer finished his voice in crescendo, “The Heytons have ever been a nuisance. I shall enjoy perverting their remains against their own cause!”

“We obey, we obey, obey,” the followers continued to chant.

There is a traitor in Korthos Village! But that would have to be addressed later as the Necromancer was about to perform a final ritual -- on whom I did not know. I quickly placed the crests into their sockets. The barrier dropped, and I sprang into action to stop the Master Necromancer. I deftly leaped over the altar and began my flurry of blows. Even as I did I read the plaque out of the corner of my eye. “Kylanne Heyton d’Cannith,” it read. ‘Who was this, a matriarch?’ I pondered even as I reigned blows upon the Sahuagin’s head.

Surprised by my presence and my fury he fell back and I lost all thought of defense. What injuries I picked up I would learn later. For now all my spirit was on finishing him and then finishing him more. For even as I flip kicked the head of the Sahuagin Necromancer, sundering it in two, I continued to beat on him until I realized I was being beaten on by two zombies and zapped by spells of the acolyte caster.

The zombies kept my attention as the evil caster sent profane energies at me, scarring me. I was almost half strength but I did not even heal when the zombies fell. Instead I came upon him with a relentless assault not minding what happened to me. My ‘Fu Jows’ – my Tiger Claws -- shredded him in agony. In death he returned to the Devourer.

When it was over, I panted. I healed myself and explored the room. I reverently put back this matriarch into her crypt. Next to it was the true chest of the Heyton Family Crypt. I opened it to find any books or parchments that could tell me more. But I found little of help. Perhaps the residents of Korthos could tell me about these Heytons and Kylanne Heyton d’Cannith.

As I made my way out of the crypt, I realized that my bold actions may have just saved Korthos from a terrible fate and brought the Sahuagin’s fell scheme to naught. It’s good to be a Tiger.

Chapters 1 and 2: https://forums.ddo.com/index.php?threads/fan-fiction-master-says-chapters-1-2.119/
Chapter 3: https://forums.ddo.com/index.php?threads/fan-fiction-master-says-chapter-3.459/
Chapter 5: https://forums.ddo.com/index.php?threads/fan-fiction-master-says-chapter-5a.883/