Rats Among Spires

I wave my sword around, admiring the feel in my hands. It's near impossible to see in this lack of light, but apparently it's made of the same rosy material as the chosen's armour. They call it stoler. The blade short and impossibly thin. "Useless against anything more solid than water. Swing it against a person and it'll snap like your arm after I get through with beating you for using it against a person. Only use it against spirits and ghosts, or you're paying for it out of your own coffers." Andre explained.

I arch my head straight up, staring at the arch trees stretching beyond the blackness of the sky. After studying their attack patterns for a while, Andre determined the beastmen have set up camp around one of the three closest arch trees that each have their own names apparently. Zendari, Jerrod, and Laude. Named after famous or maybe just hated lunatics, although I've never heard of them.

The Eclipse rangers are to head for Zendari since its the most likely to hold the beastmen, and it has the easiest escape route according to the vauge maps we have.

The plan is simple. The temple sent out another carriage full of templars armed to the teeth, announced it's leaving to Denmeer to spread Sol's will thanks to the failure of last time. The beastmen will do one of two things. Attack it because they think it's a trap containing the chosen again and the leader will want two new shiny helmets for his collection, or attack it because they don't suspect a trap at all.
I would've pointed out that one of the beastmen's informants could be among the nobility and they would know this whole carriage trap is a diversion meant to sneak the scouts into the Spires, but they didn't seem to want my opinion. Besides, they probably would've put me on trial and sentenced me to immediate death, suspecting that I was who I was accusing them to be. Those nobles have a truly despicable pride about them after all.

The massive scouting force sits just outside what we assume the Spire's boundary to be, waiting for dawn's first light. It's far too dark in there for anyone but a dwarf to see and we only have one of those. So for now, we sit and rest while we can. During the journey over, Toross attempted to make conversation with Scars, but she's pretty close lipped with anyone not allowed to know her secret.
And surprisingly Stoler didn't bother to keep his broken eyes on me through the whole trip! Honestly, it was a pleasant moonlit march across the verdant fields of Solaris, ignoring the impending doom awaiting us in the Spires.

Most of the duke's rangers, a few of the templars, Wal and Naz decide to sleep while they can. The rest of us sit around munching on a few shitty rations, since making too much noise is a poor idea, until eventually the Sun's light peaks over the Dragon's Crest mountains many many months Southeast from here. Fuck, the world is huge.
Instead of pondering the incredible vastness of Kalth, I begin waking Wal and Naz. "It's time to go."

Naz groans and grumbles something, but remains sleeping. Great. I wave Scars over and request, "Splash him please. Coldest water you can manage."

A smile cracks out from under her helmet. She holds one hand out and pulls the other back, mimicking an archer and goes 'pew' as an arrow of water slams Naz in the face. Before I could blink, he's standing as though he already was. With water still dripping off his beard he growls with the grave authority of age, "You do that again Segugek. And I will bury you so far beneath the ground, dwarves could dig for a million years and still never find you."

A million? Bold of you to threaten me with words that mean nothing to me. I turn to Scars and wave my finger in a circle. She pulls back and 'pew!'

An almost solid wall of dead brambles and thorns marks the border of the Spires. We chop through the long dead branches, and more fall into place, almost as if the world itself is telling us to stay the fuck out. Naturally we'll ignore those warnings. Eventually, the branches are nothing more than a path to be trampled underfoot, leading the way to a relative clearing.

For the most part, it's a standard forest. Trees of all kinds rise from the ground, blocking our view of anything further than a stone's throw away. The underbrush is suffocating and thorny, intruding on most possible paths through the trees. But the ghastly and somehow unnatural fog that permeates the area set it apart. Oh and the incomprehensible rock, for lack of a better word, in front of us.
It's surface is rough like a stone, yet soft and almost squishy in others. Spindly crags jut out from the strange formation mimicking a spider's legs or perhaps some other appendage. Though there's nothing on the rock that could conceivably be a skull, one hollow is unmistakably an eye socket. It watches with sticky and pulsating hatred, hoping to crush me to shreds with nothing but it's empty stare.

The world around me darkens, holding my gaze on the stone as it drags itself from the shallow tomb encasing it. It's legs slam in the ground with a sickening crunch, as though everyone around me has been impaled. It glides forward, gaining size beyond possibility until I'm nothing more than a speck before the socket, insignificant as a bite of dust.
I shake my head and cast away the illusions with a curse, the world returning to how it's supposed to be. I hold myself in place, preventing my legs from running the other way. Every feeling I have begs me to run, but I will myself forward, ensuring to give the rock a wide berth. Wal takes a shaky breath and says, "Restore yourselves. This demon is long dead."

"You know what this is?"

"Indeed. I've fought them before, but never one that could boast consciousness after death."

"It's still conscious? Are we in danger?"

"As far as I can tell, no. It simply knows we're here. I would not advise further interaction as it may rise again. Let us be gone."

That's more than I need to hear. I look back to check on the others, finding Maheed and Scars paralyzed. "Naz. Help Scars."

Naz sets his axe on the ground and speaks softly to Scars. She's mostly fine, just a bit spooked by the demon. Maheed on the other hand is on the verge of hyperventilating. His hands tremble on his weapons, his knees buckle and he falls back. I take his arm and say, "Maheed."

He jolts, clearly broken out of some trance. He looks between me and the demon. Barely above a whisper, he says, "It had a hold of me."

"It had a grip on all of us. We have to push past it and we'll be fine."
If only that was convincing. I still feel it's stare smearing the back of my head.

Maheed shakes his head frantically and says, "No, it spoke to me! It!.. Well..."

I turn to the others. The duke's rangers have moved on towards their target. The templars followed after them, but Stoler stayed behind to keep an eye on us for a little longer I suppose. "Did it speak to anyone else?"

No one reacts. Toross asks, "Why did it find him so special?"

"That's what I'm wondering."
I face Maheed again. "What did it say to you?"

"It-"
He looks away and licks his lips, nervous. No, this is different. He's lying. "I don't know. It made only strange sounds."

I lean in and whisper, "We will discuss this later."
Then loud enough for the others to hear. "It stopped when I touched you right? Must be the work of the siphon. Keep close to me until we've left, then return if we find anymore."
He nods and scrambles to his feet with my help. "Let's move. We've wasted enough time here."

With Maheed holding on to my arm, we hurry to catch the others, Stoler leading the way. The stare of the demon sticks to the back of my head as we fight our way through thorns and brush. Even with our saurian leather cloaks protecting us from the worst of the plant's wrath, the branches themselves still war against our progress, doing whatever they can to hinder us. Wal and Naz march through the thorns, holding the branches aside with their shields, allowing Scars and Toross to pass unhindered while Maheed and I slink through gaps. I swipe more and more spiderwebs from my face, groaning from the inconvenience. Fucking spiders. 

The sickly green fog that permeates the Spires grows more dense as we venture deeper, but retreats from us. Almost as if it's falling back to gather its friends before ambushing us. I was joking, but considering the stories I've heard about this place, the very air itself might be out to kill us. Surely not though, that'd be ridiculous. I'll keep an eye on it just in case.

Grunts of effort and heaves of strain creep through the branches. Feet scuffle over dead leaves and dirt, steel carves into flesh just beyond our expanse of thorns. Stoler says, "Sounds like our men are fighting without us. We should not keep them waiting."

A few steps closer and Maheed suddenly swipes at his ear. Not just Maheed. Everyone bats at their ears as though something is attempting to crawl inside. I ask, "What? What is it?"

"You don't hear them Segugek? The whispers?"

Stoler explains, "They're illusions crafted by the dead. I can see the tendrils of mana coming from ahead."

Interesting. I'm assuming a 'tendril' is a tether of some kind meaning Stoler let these ghosts attach themselves to us. "And you saw fit to let the dead place their hold on us?"

Lifelessly, he retorts, "They are of no danger to us heretic."

"How can you be so sure? This is the Spires. Even the mundane here may draw blood."

With a pinch of spite he bites back, "The same reason you do not fear the very ground will swallow you whole. The dirt is still dirt, trees are still trees, and mana is still mana. Harmless."

Clearly not, if everyone is suddenly hearing whispers! What if it were some other spell!? We could all be dead! Before I have a chance to word those thoughts in a way one could read as 'respectful,' we finally break through the sea of thorns into a somewhat open patch of trees.
Pale gray trunks hold up a dense canopy of drooping purple pine needles so low that if I were to stand on my toes, my head would brush against them.
The duke's men and the rest of the templars fight against corpses. Rotten elves and men with only most of their limbs, circle our scouts searching for a weak point they can toss themselves at. They fling themselves at our scouts and are swiftly impaled by halberds or swords, but it does nothing to stomp their bloodlust. Even with a spike driven through their heart, they gnash their teeth and swipe their claws before they're dismembered.

Bluish-green lights flicker through the pine's hanging needles like a dying flame, unnatural fog cascading down from the branches. Stoler heaves his greatsword onto his shoulder, takes one heavy step forward and is instantly tackled by three ghouls! He holds his ground, slamming them back with his fist and following up with his sword.

I glance at my flanks ensuring they're clear before sweeping the legs out from under a ghoul bashed by Stoler before it could regain its footing. As he falls to the ground I slam the rim of my shield into the spine, again, and again until the distinct sound of a shattered bone rings in my ear! It drags himself through the dirt in an attempt to catch me. It doesn't get far before Naz's axe falls, decapitating the ghoul. The corpse finally goes still, but the head still clamps his jaws, hoping a morsel of flesh will find itself between his teeth. I suppose the head is the key. "Protect the artists!"
Scars and Toross get between Wal, Naz, and I, an arrow knocked and water gushing behind me. "Advance for-"

A ghoul snarls behind me, so I rush back only to find nothing. The branches above rustle and snap as a ghoul falls from the tree above swiping at Scars with gnawed-off stubs as it smacks the ground with a thud. I plunge my spear into it's ass and pin it to the ground as Maheed stabs into the heart a few times. "The head! Go for the head!"

He buries his dagger into the ghoul's ear jerking it around, ensuring the corpses lies truly dead. "Sorry! I thought you said the heart."
What? When? He swings his sword at my head! I duck under my shield as his blade flies over me! What the fuck is he-
Sticky ichor and fuzzy mass splash over my head. Half of a cat-sized spider, fangs bared, curls on the ground dead, yellowish ichor spurting out of it. I glance up through the purple branches and catch the faint glimmer of spider web and dozens of soulless, hungry eyes feasting on me.

"Keep moving! We've got shit above us!"

Toross spins, arrow pulled back and ready to fire. "Where!?"

"I said above us! Don't waste your arrows, Maheed will cover us."

"Not the spiders, the monster you dolt!"

What the fuck is he talking about? What monster? Naz grumbles, "Now is not the time for your sick jokes Segugek, which is it!?"

What is this!? Maheed gasps like he's realized something. "It's the whispers! They sound like you!"

Must be because I've spoke the most. If it only started when the mana tendrils touched them, sounds like I just need to drain them. I reach over and tap all four of them. They each react as though a great weight has been yanked off of them and Naz breaths a heavy sigh of relief. After confirming the whispers have been cast out, I say, "If it happens again, give me a tap. Keep close and advance. Maheed, keep an eye on the spiders above us."

Our formation gets tighter and we march forwards, quickly disposing of any ghouls witless enough to attack us. Every now and then, they'll smack my shoulder to dispel the whispers and a surprising amount of ghouls are dropped from the trees as we pass under, all covered in web and all followed by opportunistic spiders. The yellowish ichor rains over my cloak again and again. Fucking spiders.

With most of the ghouls decapitated, the duke's men leave their protective circle and hunt the remaining corpses in small groups. One ranger sprints away from his squad before realizing no one else just heard whatever order he was just given. Before he can even take two steps back towards his group, a figure both real and imaginary, illuminous and dark, descends on him like an owl snatching a field mouse. An impossible number of deformed heads rasp an imaginary screech as very real claws take shape in the air and tear the ranger's throat out!
Scars' water blasts the ghost off the ranger and his squad swipe at the spirit with a stoler blade! The ghost mists around the attacks, burrows newly formed hooks into the ranger and glides off into the woods with impossible speed, an unholy fog and bloody ranger dragged close behind it!

The spirit doesn't return after every ghoul has been pacified. Some of their heads bite at our feet as we walk by, but the bodies lie lifeless. As they should be. Andre asks, "Any other casualties?"

No one speaks. He nods. "Good then. Stick together, and let's proceed. We've beastmen to find."

No acknowledgement other than that? A man is torn apart by a ghost and his corpse abducted and that's all he gets? Seems cruel to me, but what do I care? Scars takes a moment to stroke the pale gray bark of the trees around us. I approach her and lean in. "What is it?"

Shakily, she whispers under her helmet, "I should like to take some bark with us. Sprawling pines are not a common sight after all."

"Are you alright? Can you continue?"

She nods, but it's unconvincing. I reassure her, "If the ghosts frighten you, stick close to me. It seems like they can't affect me like the others."
She nods again, but says nothing. "Come. I'd grab some now, but my skin lacks any significant pockets. We'll grab some bark on the way out."
She nods once more, but not before stripping a loose chunk of tree skin and stashing it somewhere in her cloak.

Right then. Let's be off.