The Forsaken Feast
Thirtieth Day of the Eight Month 292 AC
After healing yourself as much as is prudent as well as casting protections that would perhaps have served you better before meeting your last foe you press on into the ruined halls of Admiral Jacaelar, still master of Westheaven, in name if not in deed. The aftermath of horror that you witness there makes you glad for Dany's absence, for all her aid would have made the battle far less perilous.
"Why... why the
hells would they...?" Waymar asks, wide-eyed and pale as he had not been in the midst of battle. For a moment there is no sound save the whimpers of the "survivors" that litter the hall. A cruel thing to call the poor wretches.
"The presence of the Daughters of Zagreus looses all restraint in the celebrants," Tyene replies slowly. "It seems some of the admiral's guests had fouler desires than most. Fuck Tyrosh."
Even stoic Ser Richard gives a hearty agreement to that.
There is not much else to say besides offering that little healing you can give and directing whatever victims of the night's horror you find along the way to leave the manse as quickly as they can. Perhaps you should let this place burn down to ash and cinder, to be purged by fire. Not while there may still be victims to save... or their tormentors to drag to the noose. Guilt gnaws at you, for did you not instigate this madness for your own gain, however unknowingly?
Surprisingly you also manage to find a few men in the garb of gentry among those who hid and did not partake of this atrocity. Their eyes tell that tale more surely than babbled testimonies ever could. Half-a-dozen kept out of almost three score guests... the most senior of them is Laegor Galaelon, first mate aboard a galley called the Sea Witch. Though shaken by the monstrous deeds he has witnessed he is by far the most coherent witness you have of the night's events, beside Azema who had used her magic to flee at the first sign of peril.
"It was the wine," he tells you. "Can't drink it myself, get deathly sick if I do. Never thought I'd be thankful for it..." He shudders.
"So you just hid in a broom cupboard?" Waymar snaps at the man.
"What the fuck was I supposed to do? What was anyone..." Laegor's voice is breaking. As he struggles to collect himself Waymar looks embarrassed by his outburst.
As you all continue onward you come to a disturbing conclusion: Those who had fallen under the spell of the maenads had all been devoured or fled. With all the half-eaten corpses strewn about the halls it is hard to tell one from the other. The admiral himself at least is easy to identify, his bloated corpse as large as three other men put together. His belly had been split open as part of the dreadful feasting which he had obviously been partaking of.
"There's..." Waymar swallows. "Wisps of death magic gathering around them. I think we need to burn the bodies or else they will rise as hungering dead."
What do you do?
[] Burn the whole manse down hopefully purging the place of this night's evil
[] Gather the bodies and burn them separately, you still have use for this place and its treasures
[] Write in
OOC: Rather than trying to write down scenes of horror dreadful enough to make hardened adventurers sick to their stomachs I elected to leave most of it up to the reader's imagination. Hope it works.
