Unbound

Clink.

Clink.

Clink.

“Alrigh’ Engineers! Last time I checked our maps we got one last door left- unless you got any fresh ideas wit that weird phasin’ door we still ain’t opened yet Fairweather?”
“Yeah I ain’t touchin’ that thing until I find us some adamantite lockpicks. I’m pretty fond o’ not cookin’ my hands up.”
“Y’all heard the burglar- let’s go git that last door!”

 The valiant and often foolhardy souls of the ever infamous Great Downwards Engineering Company trudged off to that final door left marked on their crude working map. This had been one of the weirder pockets of Rappan Athuk the adventuring company had encountered. It wasn’t quite Hell and it wasn’t quite Rappan Athuk but yet was both at the same time- and everyone was keen to just move on to a place whose geography straddled less outer planes. Every time Agamemnon and Shades has passed through the lazy white mists of the teleporting rooms they had felt an odd tug, almost as if some barely noticeable hand, talon or hook was pawing at their bodies between the millisecond phases. It was never a comfortable feeling, and both divine spellcasters were keen on never feeling it again any time soon. Bracing themselves for what was hopefully the last teleportation, the clerics of Darach Albith and Thyr grimaced, and let the Hell magic do its work.

Clink. 

Clink. 

CLINK. 

Something was different this time. Something horribly different. The ghostly tug of the mists became a frighteningly sharp pain in both Shades’ wrists. Everything was dark and the air was dead. And the smell. Bofred above the smell. It was an iron-rich tang of ancient rust or fresh blood that was more than likely a gruesome mix of the two. Shades could feel nothing under his feet, and could feel his entire weight hanging from the two white hot spots of screeching pain. He looked above to see a great ghastly meathook hooped through both his wrists, piercing right between the two major bones of each forearm. Blood oozed thickly down the metal and flesh. The hook itself was attached to a heavy oily chain that swung lethargically in the dead dank air. Shades activated his Boots of Levitation to ease the pain and weight, and to give his claws something solid to plant themselves on, grateful that he hadn’t been too quick in returning them to Hanabi today. He then started trying to free his hands, every tug and wiggle a new burning stab into both wrists.

CRASH CLINK JINGLE CLICKETY CLINK CLACK JINGLE CRASH 

A frighteningly inhuman shape swooped through the dank and the dark, lithely swinging from chain to chain. Shades tugged and wiggled faster but the thing was swift. It loomed in front of the struggling Tengu soon enough.

“We will have none of that here,” the creature hissed, “You need to stop right now.” Shades stopped his boots’ slow upward levitation, but kept them hovering. His eyes were now adjusting to the dimly lit darkness, and now that the horrid thing was but a few metres away he could make out some details.

The creature had the same basic body plan of the drider monsters from one of Frey’s epics that featured her former Drow captors- a humanoid torso melded onto the gross bulbous abdomen of a giant web-spinning spider. This creature was decidedly even less Drow than a typical drider though. In fact the humanoid part of it more closely resembled the chain devils the Company had encountered in their earlier expeditions, but had four humanoid arms instead of two. The spidery part only had four legs, but they were sharp mechanical things that could have easily functioned both as weapons or as locomotion. Shards of metal and mechanical augmentations peppered its entire body, and gleamed menacingly in the dim light.

Later on Laniss would identify this creature as a particularly awful type of kyton. But Laniss was neither here nor there. No one from the Great Downward Engineering Company was. Shades was a lone struggling piece of meat dangling off a hook, one of several he could now spot in the distance. The kyton pulled a greasy black book from its pack, which proceeded to gush an awful black kind of liquid, and opened it.

“Lord Mayor Pezzack Highroost of the Calaelen Dominion, Chosen of Thyr, I see,” the kyton read, metallic scrapes punctuating the hisses and growls of its voice.
“Yeah and what’s it to you?!” The Chosen of Thyr spat.
“Interesting, but you have nothing of use to us. I shall let you be.”

The kyton didn’t move from its place among the chains, but turned its attention to its slimy book. Shades felt a brief rush of relief amongst his rising panic. He started trying to free himself again. A low chittering from above grew ever louder. Shades looked up to see a swarm of tiny spidery looking things clambering down his chain. They had sharp stabby mechanical legs like the kyton, but their abdomens were throbbing humanoid hearts, and their delicate mouthpieces were all blades. They descended down the chain, and started to swarm all over him. A few of them worked together to make off with Shades’ shield. With an agonizing effort Shades ripped one arm out of the meathook and tossed one of the little blighters away. But the rest of them, one by one, all found a place they liked, scraped their little mouthblades together, and dug in.

The pain was a hot seething fluid sensation, flooding every sense Shades had.

CRASH CLATTER CLINK CLATTER CRASH HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEY! HEY YOU! SPIDERY FUCKIN’ CHAIN THING! THIS AIN’T LEAVIN’ ME BE YOU LIAR! 

For a moment the horrible chittering heart-spiders stopped, and the kyton turned its attention back to the writhing screeching Tengu, which now had significant pieces missing.

“I’m sorry. You would not possibly be calling me... rude, would you?” the kyton crooned, its eyes alight with menace.
“Not rude- but mistaken as to what leavin’ one be actually fuckin’ means. How about leavin’ me fuckin' be in the same number o’ pieces you found me in huh?!” Shades didn’t have many options here, but apparently arguing the semantics of a Lawful creature’s own words was the one he was currently taking. Running away certainly wasn’t an option right now, as not only was there no ground to run on, but there was now very little tissue connecting Shades’ feet to his legs. He channeled some of Thyr’s healing power into this dark frightful place, but there was still so much missing flesh even then.

“Everything needs to be catalogued and studied.”
“So much for nothing of use to you! If I ain’t o’ use then why the blazes am I gonna be junkin’ up your fuckin’ catalogues LET ME THE FUCK GO.”
“...Indeed.”

The kyton stalked closer, breathing in sharp rasps. One of its humanoid arms snaked forward, and planted its cold pallid fingers somewhere around the Tengu’s abdomen. Shades tried to bat the thing away with his free but tattered arm, but wielding strength is an action that is highly dependent on having enough muscle mass. An expression of intrigue and light surprise crossed the kyton’s face, as its fingers massaged at one spot in particular.

SHADES??? SHADES ARE YOU HERE IT’S MORTIMER 

A familiar voice bellowed in the darkness below Shades somewhere. Shades screeched back something incoherent, and the enormous orc started climbing up the chain he was on. The tengu was surprisingly close given the immensity of the dark dank space enveloping them, but he was still a fair climb away.

“I apologize Lord Highroost. It appears that I was... mistaken.”

With a quick jab the kyton slipped its fingers somewhere in Shades’ gut, and pulled out a thick knot of entrails. Amongst the bloody handful shone a plain but gorgeous golden ring. The kyton shook the meat off of it, and grinned a grin no one but another kyton would ever want to see.

“And now I shall, as you say, ‘let you the fuck go’.”

One of the horrid heart-spiders cut out enough of Shades’ still hooked arm to free it, and he began to fall. He tried to activate his Boots of Levitation, but there was literally not enough meat keeping his feet and legs together. Desperately he gripped at them with his bloodied weak hands, and forced just enough magic through them to slow his fall by a fraction. It wasn’t by a useful fraction, mind, so he yelled in terror the whole way down.

Mortimer could hear the noise, though it resonated sort of damply in the dead air of this place. He readied his infamous magic backpack, lifting it up so that it might cushion some of Shades’ fall. With a dash of timing and luck, a mass of feathers and blood and bone hit the intended target, and Mortimer was able to collect it as it bounced off. There was a flash of thick white mist, and the sturdy warrior found himself in a room carved from a familiar hellstone. The rest of the Company were there, with looks of varying degrees of relief across their faces.

Shades got up and out of Mortimer’s grip, and checked himself in a panic. The pain was gone. His arms were whole and healed. His feet were quite solidly connected to his legs- in fact his everything felt quite solidly connected to his everything else. There was absolutely no sign that anything adverse had happened to the Chosen of Thyr at all.

Nothing at all, except for the terrifying memories, and a great angry ragged scar that now raked across his chest.