Chapter 42: Begone

"High and dry."​

A familiar, female scream tears through your thoughts as you're rudely awakened. You bolt upright in the darkness, with sleep clinging to you hard. You still feel bloated, a little intoxicated, and nowhere near as alert as you should. Especially given the severity of the noise that cuts into your sleep. Looking around with your pulse already racing, you instinctively reach for your holy symbol. It's cold to the touch, but reassuringly right where it should be around your neck.

There's another scream. A different female voice. You race to remember where you are, what's happened, and why you're asleep in a bed instead of on the floor of some stone nightmare.

There's an explosion and something very colorful visible through the darkness for the briefest of moments.

The cavern is illuminated. Everything hits you at once.

You drank. You didn't show restraint. You gambled. You didn't trust in the Gods. You accepted the gift of a demon. You failed to thank Them for Their blessing. You overate. You didn't once think of how you might be disgracing their vessel. You slept in the home of a monster.

Yech was more understanding of your needs and humanity than anyone who's ever called you a friend.

I made a friend.

You're healthier right now than you've been in years. There's no hangover. No lingering pain. The cavern lights up again, and this time you see everything clearly.

Ofelia and Celegwen are right at the entrance. They're covered in paint and strips of paper, while dodging a huge barrage of explosives from Yech. He leisurely reclines in his throne, and looks entirely unamused. Waving only a single hand about, he detonates various traps set around the cave without a second's hesitation. Ray is at the back of the cave, terrified of the noise. He's whining intensely— but you can hardly hear his complaints over the terror being emitted from the two women.

Finding your strength immediately, you stagger out of bed, and run towards the center of the cave where you know there's no danger. Your head doesn't swim. The floor doesn't give way. All of the water and food probably helped enormously with avoiding any lingering effects from the alcohol, though you have no idea how long you were asleep for. You find your voice instantly.

"Stop! Leave them alone!"

The skeleton grins at you. With a downwards sweep of his hands, the explosions stop. "What? I fucking warned you. I warned them, too, but these bitches apparently don't know how to listen—"

Ofelia and Celegwen both stop their screaming, and glare at the demon lord as they catch their breath. They're itching for a fight— weapons drawn— but they couldn't look more exhausted.

Did they not rest at all...?

As you're looking to Ofelia and Celegwen with no small measure of concern, you can't help but notice them tensing and bracing to attack the demon lord.

Yech is on edge— literally leaning now over the edge of his throne— and beginning to gesture again as they move.

"STOP!" There's no immediate pain accompanying your outburst. You pause, too relieved to speak any further.

It seems to surprise everyone else, too. While they're stunned into silence, only Ray continues to make a sound— whining continuously with his ears and tail down.

"Stop— stop fighting." Walking across the cavern towards your dog, you glare at your friends as you reprimand them. Your voice resumes its usual, timid cadence, with no sign of a slur. "I need to take care of Ray. He's terrified of thunder, and he doesn't know what's happening. Keep away from each other's throats for at least another minute. Please."

Celegwen immediately takes your word, lowers her staff and sword, and looks altogether ashamed of herself. It's not just the multi-colored paint and paper stuck to her, either.

Ofelia seems far more irate. Still bristling, she stays her hand— but still brandishes a dagger.

Leering at you from across the cave, Yech hollers as you kneel down next to Ray. "These other mutts are a lot less well-behaved, Richard! You should have kept the fucking leash on them—"

"Shut UP!" Ofelia practically screams, glaring between you all in distress.

The two begin a shouting match, somehow outdoing one another's insults with each passing second.

You simply can't pay them any mind. Ray's practically crying. You sit down on the cave floor, murmuring to him with as much love as you can. "Ray. Easy. Easy, boy. It's okay. It's Richard. I'm here. Nothing's going to hurt you. Come here, big guy. It's alright." Despite his enormous size, you take Ray into your arms like a puppy. "Hey. Easy." He rests his head on your shoulder— still whining— while you try and calm him down. "Good boy, Ray."

You make slow movements, trying not to startle your dog any further. In a matter of minutes, he's breathing normally again and permits you to scratch his ears. ("That's right, you just calm down. Everything's fine. Ssshhh.") You're acutely aware that the rest of the cave is completely silent as you do so, but you don't take your attention off of your dog for a minute.

After awhile, you gingerly take Ray's head off from your shoulder, ease him back off of your lap, and pat his side. As he regains a semblance of his stalwart demeanor, you try to offer your dog a smile. "It's okay, boy. Good boy, Ray. Stay. Easy. Rest. It'll be alright."

You turn back around.

Mercy, this is so immature—

You hardly know how to process it. The demon lord has not left his throne. The hollow sockets of where his eyes surely once were are glaring at the halfling with extreme discrimination. Ofelia is glaring back, her hair dripping with paint, her cloak plastered with confetti. They are essentially engaged in a mockery of a staring contest, while making increasingly complex and obscene gestures at once another. You open your mouth to speak, but catching your eye on Celegwen derails your thoughts immediately. She's not looking at the staring match. She's looking at you, and her jaw is hanging open.

"Father?" She looks you up and down, unable to close her lips. "This— this is conjuration— extremely skilled conjuration. Is this the demon's doing...?"

You cringe away from the scrutiny on reflex. It takes you a moment to remember the events that transpired before your heavy sleep, and you can't help but glance down.

Your frame has entirely filled out. Gone is the emaciation, jutting bone, and sickly pallor. You look as healthy as you felt when you were utterly drunk— and probably heavier than you're comfortable with. In addition, it's obvious that you're still bloated from binging so heavily on the sorcerer's work. Even the new shirt is tight, and there's a fair bit of wine clinging to you from the hug you gave to Yech. The black fabric you're wearing conceals the worst of the liquor, but you're doubly embarrassed— aware that you probably still smell of alcohol and the demon.

Crushing dread sinks into you as you struggle to say something in reply. You put a hand to your chest, against your holy symbol. Firm muscle still sits beneath the cold metal and soft fabric, but you're hardly comforted.

I haven't felt the Gods since I last invoked Mercy. I knew I was losing myself to Her, AND that I needed to do something, but...

Would Agriculture still be able to work through me? After I failed to thank Her, and indulged in the gifts of a demon?

Would Flesh still see fit to bless me, were I to retool this form?

I feel fine. I feel fantastic. I wouldn't have even noticed if she hadn't said anything, but—

As quickly as your thoughts were racing, you only now register that Yech is still reclining in his throne— seemingly respecting your request to hold off attacking. It doesn't stop his disgust with your present company, or the extremely rude gestures he keeps throwing at Ofelia.

Ofelia has walked over to you, right alongside Celegwen. The halfling shoots another obscene motion back to the demon before giving you an incredibly strange look. Her words are stranger still. "I knew it."

You can't help but stammer— taking a step back— almost afraid of what she might say. "You— you knew what?"

The halfling's look intensifies as she looks you up and down. "That you'd look better with some weight on you."

There's heat coming to your face, and you can't stop it. She's looking at you with something you've never seen on a woman before. You put up your hands— trying to interrupt, to stop whatever she's going to say next, utterly flustered— but she isn't listening. Ofelia points an accusing finger at Yech, but doesn't take her eyes off of you. "Did he do this?"

The demon lord lolls his head off the back of his throne, pouring more wine into his gaping maw as he leers at you all. His voice is cloying and altogether unamused as he shouts, "you're welcome, you fucking bitch!"

Celegwen looks skeptical. A great deal of concern is pointed towards you. "His skill as a conjurer is immense, but this—" To your abject horror, she pokes your soft side with the end of her staff. To add insult to the motion, she keeps her distance— as if your flesh could jump out and attack her at any moment— and sighs deeply. "I can't help but worry for your... blessings, Father. What have you been doing here? You trusted this demon...? We waited for hours without any word. We suspected that you had been coerced into warding us away for longer."

Ofelia simply will not stop staring at you. It's making you insanely uncomfortable, and Celegwen's questions aren't helping matters at all.

Yech is shooting you a gesture that looks like he wants to hang himself.

You can't help but share the sentiment.

"Celegwen." You put a hand to the end of her staff— firmly pushing it aside— and look at her with no small measure of embarrassment. "Stop it. This is unbelievable— Ofelia, you too. Please stop looking at me. I'm sorry for keeping you waiting. You know how important my mission here is. I can explain everything, just—" You'd feel like a hypocrite to tell them to show any restraint towards you, so you don't finish the sentence. Instead, you glance over to Yech. He's making a scene on his throne, and directs such a rude gesture towards Ofelia that the heat in your face redoubles. "Yech!"

"What?! You saw the look that whore was giving you?!"

"Don't call her—"

"Get these bitches out of here, Richard. I'm not going to stand for it. No fucking way. You're alright, but they've got to go!"

Ofelia's fury at Yech's motions (he's doing something with his hips now) seems to reach its peak. "Some fuckin' lord you are! I've seen orcs with better manners than you— you—!"

A series of profanities so explicit comes forth from her that you try to shut them out. A quick Mercy under your breath gets you through the worst of it.

Utterly confused by your exchange with the demon— and by the entire situation you all seem to be in— the rogue looks up at you (despite the request you just made). She parts her lips to speak.

Unable to deal with the heat in your face and your extreme embarrassment, you stop her before another word can leave her lips. "Ofelia. I mean it. Stop looking at me. You're making me extremely uncomfortable. I'm still the same person that you saw yesterday. Please show me the same respect you always have." You glance back to Celegwen, to her staff, and to the look on her face. "That goes for you as well, Celegwen. I shouldn't have to say this." With an extremely heavy sigh, you put a hand to your temple. There's a dull headache. "This is a demon. Not a halfling lord, and not an orc. He showed me an extraordinary amount of hospitality and has healed me with as much skill as I could hope for. Please try to understand. Please let me explain." For good measure, you shout over to your host. "Yech! Permit me to at least explain what's happened to my friends. Please."

The demon lord drips with wine, and gives you a motion that says 'stick it up your ass, as it's much nicer now and better suited to that sort of thing,' but he doesn't interrupt.

Celegwen gasps slightly and tenses as he begins to make another elaborate gesture. You mistake it for another obscenity at first, before realizing he's produced an endless stream of wine directly over his mouth. Yech laughs through it.

If nothing else, he seems preoccupied for the moment. You kneel down, give Ray a little more attention, and explain everything to your friends. You keep it brief, but there's no punches pulled. You get into the heavy drinking, your wager with the demon lord, your failed gamble, your overeating, the demon's capabilities as a sorcerer, his unexpected kindness, how he respected your encounters with the Catalyst (all 31 of them), and how he even left you unharmed while you slept with your defenses completely down.

By the time you're finished, Yech can't help but interject with a slow clap from the opposite end of the cave. He wipes a few droplets of wine from his eyes as if they were tears, then leers at Ofelia while sucking off the remainder.

A groan, a roll of her eyes, and a glare is all directed at him. Keeping her gaze off of you (finally respecting your wishes), Ofelia can't help but comment, "so he's all bark and no bite, is what you're saying?"

Celegwen has been frowning the entire time you've been talking, and finally speaks up. "No, Ofelia. His power is tremendous. This— what he's done for Father Anscham— would kill a lesser sorcerer several times over. This is no mere hospitality. I fear he wants something. Perhaps he wishes to merely display his power to threaten us, or—"

"...or he genuinely means well." You finish Celegwen's sentence with a sigh, looking to her earnestly. "Why are you so distrustful of him, after hearing all of this? If Yech had wanted to harm me, he could have— would have done so by now." You give Ray's ears one more scratch before standing properly upright again.

The elf looks up to you, her face wrought with concern. "I want to trust your judgement, Father. I do not doubt that you were able to win over this demon as quickly as you have, but..."

Ofelia can't help but spit out, "but he's a fuckin' creep, and the smell of wine and somethin' dead is all over you. It doesn't sit right." The halfling's expression softens, as her eyes dart over you. She catches herself, and settles on Ray. "I'm glad yer okay, though. Really. I was worried sick out there."

"Did you get any rest? Anything at all? I explicitly told him to send you aid." No one seems to take your notes seriously.

"We did not trust any of it, and made due with the remaining rations." Celegwen frowns harder. "It did not help that I was inebriated."

Picking a few pieces of confetti out of her hair, Ofelia sneers at Yech. "Glad you two had some fun, at least."

You want to try and reassure your friends further, but you're entirely at a loss for words. Now that the women are aware that you were drinking and eating like a King while they waited on the forest floor, the animosity between the three of them seems to have only intensified.

There's still a chance here for reconciliation.

"I'll find a way to make it up to you both. Thank you for waiting as long as you did. I know you must have been worried, but— really—" You pause as the demon lord cuts short his everlasting wine fountain, wipes himself down uselessly, and rolls off of his throne onto the floor. He's clearly putting on a show for the women, which is not helping matters at all. It really takes the steam out of your sails. Your sentence ends lamely. "...everything is fine."

With a nasally drawl, Yech calls out, "hey! Sleeping beauty! Confetti was right on time. Let's do this shit! Get over here and we'll go again. And get the broads out of here, for the last fucking time!"

You can't help but look to Ofelia and Celegwen. It isn't for permission. You can make your own decisions. You're just worried about the strain on them. Between the paint, confetti, hunger gnawing at their faces and their obvious exhaustion, you feel like an abysmal friend to have left them so high and dry. Apology is written all over your face before you even start to speak.

Ofelia groans again, and interrupts before you can get the chance to ask her to leave. "You've gotta be kiddin' me. Seriously, Richard?"

"Please, try to be understanding, Ofelia. I'll do everything I can to get you both more..." With a wince, you don't quite want to finish your sentence. You look around the cave again. It's quite nice, despite the lack of traditional walls or paneling.

The demon lord's taste is phenomenal. These are the most comfortable accommodations I've seen since we've entered the ruins. We aren't going to get much better than this.

Ofelia's frown deepens. "Anythin' is better than bein' stuck with this jerk. Come on, Gwen. We don't need to stick around to see anymore of this—"

The elf holds up a finger, shushing the smaller woman with a single gesture. It's not a spell, but it might as well be.

"Are the mutts GONE yet, Richard?!" Yech screeches, laughing hysterically as he sets up a more formal gambling area for you both.

Ofelia lets out an incredibly bothered sound, despite Celegwen's efforts to stop her protest. Still, the sorceress glances to you. You know it's not to scrutinize you. She merely looks concerned. "Father, will you permit me to dissipate the liquor on and around on your clothing before we go? Forgive me for being so disrespectful, but it is entirely unbecoming of you."

There's little heat left in your face. It's been replaced with a lingering sense of shame as your friends continue to lay into your decisions.

She's absolutely right.

"Go ahead, Celegwen. Thank you."

There's a quick tap of her fingers to the end of her staff. The gnarled wood is gently laid against your shoulder before pulling the liquor up and off of your new clothes. Impressed, you pull slightly at your collar, and confirm that it's cleaner than when you first got it.

Celegwen offers you a sincere smile. Tilting her head slightly, paint drips from her hair onto the tattered, thin sleeves adorning her dirty shoulders. "I will see to both of us once we have left. Please be careful, Father. I am sure this will all be worth the effort."

You frown, walk over to Yech, and gesture to the two women. To your delight, Ray picks himself up and cautiously walks behind you. Yech's groan at your approach is immediate and intense. "Talk about needy. What the fuck do they want now? Another sleepover? Get your ass over here. We've got business—"

"Yech..." You look down at the drunken lord, who's sitting beside a far nicer table and set of drinks than the previous day. The thought of imbibing anything else puts your attention towards your stomach, but you press on. "My friends were too intoxicated to accept your hospitality last night."

"All of you sorry sacks were! Isn't that just great? Here—" He presses a glass of beer towards your hands.

You allow him to hold the drink aloft, while looking back to Ofelia and Celegwen with understandable concern. "I'm imploring you— as our host— to please provide them with the bare minimum to survive. Halflings and elves have different needs from humans, Yech, but we all— but we all need food, water, and shelter. It's been weeks for me, and months for them without. I know you wouldn't turn a blind eye to someone in your domain. Not even women."

Impossibly, the skeleton's eye sockets narrow. He seems to be sneering at Ofelia again. "You're an idiot, Richard. They can't be fucking trusted. These dumb bitches are going to tear up my whole fucking garden— I give them an inch, you watch them take a fucking mile!" He's complaining and drinking— but in his free hand, the sorcerer is almost immediately conjuring something new.

You almost feel bad for pressing the issue so firmly. Yech may be quick to whine, but he seems eager to host you and your friends now that he's laid eyes on you all.

Is this a limitation of his domain? Was the rain and mist actually the most he could manage?

The subtleties of his spells are entirely lost on you, and they are nowhere near as elegant or enchanting as Celegwen's. Your eyes climb along the walls of the cavern, adjusting to the darkness more readily. It was very hard to tell at first— and altogether impossible to last night— but the mist seems to be gone. Not only that, but there appears to be a fair number of spiderwebs along the walls— especially near the towering slope leading off into the horizon.

Yech wetly coughs. He likely doesn't have lungs anymore, but he sounds as if he's lost one— if only to get your attention. He's conjured a pink tent that's covered in depictions of small woodland animals. Alongside it is a huge stack of vegetables, an assortment of chopped wood, tinder, and several flasks of what you hope contains water. Everything has an obscene amount of pink and white ribbons on it.

Ofelia shouts from across the cave, "you have got to be shittin' me!"

"Don't just stare at it, Richard, be a fucking gentleman."

You almost laugh at the suggestion coming from such a crude demon, but you straighten your face, grab onto the supplies quickly, and gesture for Ofelia and Celegwen to follow you outside. Ray doesn't need any urging to snatch up a piece of tinder from you. He drools over the over-sized stick with extreme satisfaction as you both move towards the exit.

The women seem stunned again, and follow you while murmuring between themselves.

You don't particularly care to strain to make out their words during the lengthy hike away from the cave. As flustered as you are by everyone's continued harassment, it's hard to at least not notice how much stronger you feel. Helping Ofelia (as light as she is) was a grueling ordeal the day before. Hiking for a solid day was worse yet. Right now, though, you're able to almost effortlessly escort the large collection of camping materials Yech has conjured.

There's wind in your lungs to spare by the time you help to settle your friends at a new campsite. Ofelia makes a point of taking a handful of tinder from you, and fusses over making a fire with a huff. Her snappiness and active work to keep her eyes off of you is more than confusing.

Is this something I should feel happy about?

You settle on not dignifying her continued girlish behavior with a response.

Isn't she older than me?

Celegwen helps you unpack the remainder of the supplies at the closer camp site, and looks to you with legitimate appreciation. "Thank you, Father. We will be alright. Do not hesitate to contact us if there is any other delay— or anything more sinister."

"Really, Celegwen, I appreciate the concern, but Yech— Yech isn't as terrible as he seems. I hope we can all find a way to reconcile this soon, and— and of course, I will let you know if there's any other trouble." You bow your head slightly, murmuring almost too quietly for anyone around you to hear. "May the Gods watch over you both."

As you walk away— almost able to pretend that you're taking Ray out for a stroll— you can't help but overhear both women commenting on having a headache. You'd pray for their swift recovery, but you have more pressing matters to address.

Stepping back into the cave, a silent and massive explosion of confetti drops from the ceiling onto you. Ray jumps up to try to eat at the colored paper, but it disappears within moments. It's a relief that his nerves are faring much better, but with absolutely no amusement, you settle down next to Yech once more.

He parodies your expression, pulling at his bones as if to emulate your eye bags. His sarcasm isn't lost on you. "Why the long face, handsome?"

is it sarcasm? I can't remember the last time I looked in a mirror.

He drops the grimace and leers across the table, slamming two gorgeous dice to the table. "You got some hair up your ass after your girlfriends came back? Let's loosen you up a little bit." Two drinks quickly follow, spilling slightly onto the fine tablecloth.

The demon looks skyward, even though it's terribly dark, and there has been no natural light in his domain since you've entered it. "Time's a wasting."