Phealafarian Frontiers : 24 : Beneath Wyrmspath Fort
Steel rang and snow churned as the battle for Wyrmspath Fort reached its breaking point. The yard was a chaos of shattered timbers, churned frost, and screaming steel. Tobias stood locked against a towering bugbear, its bulk looming over him as Borglins swarmed at his flanks, their crude blades darting in, testing for weakness. Every step he took was contested. Zaryth fought at his side, shield raised and stance unyielding, her movements precise as she drove the smaller creatures back with disciplined, punishing strikes that left bodies crumpled in the snow.
Above them, Thomas scrambled up the watchtower, boots slipping on frost-slick wood, fingers numb as he hauled himself higher. From the vantage point, the battlefield snapped into brutal clarity. He braced, steadied his breathing, and fired. The shot cracked like thunder across the yard and struck the bugbear Tosk was carrying squarely in the head. The creature went limp at once, its massive frame slackening mid-swing. Tosk barely broke stride—he roared and swung the corpse like a grotesque hammer, smashing another Borglin into the ground with bone-shattering force.
Along the ramparts, Guardian’s eldritch power flared, violet light tearing through the gloom. One Borglin was caught full in the blast and hurled bodily from the wall, spinning skyward for a heart-stopping moment before crashing lifeless into the snow beyond the fort, limbs bent at impossible angles.
Zaryth broke from Tobias’ side just long enough to clear his flank, cutting down the remaining Borglins that pressed him. She pivoted back toward the bugbear they faced, eyes hard, and together they pressed it without mercy. Steel rang, breath steamed, and with a final, brutal exchange, Zaryth struck true. The beast staggered and collapsed, shaking the ground as it fell.
The yard fell into a tense, unnatural hush, broken only by the whistle of wind through shattered timbers and the laboured breathing of the living. Eldrin’s arrow sang once more, streaking through the cold air to drop the last visible Borglin as it tried to flee across the yard, its body skidding to a halt in the snow.
Tosk, now returned to his normal size, stomped toward a nearby shack where one of the Borglins had vanished during the fighting. He tore the door open with a splintering crack—only to find the room empty. Letting out a frustrated snort, he stormed back out, trunk lashing.
Eldrin leaned in to take a closer look, eyes scanning the cramped space. He peeled back a threadbare rug, revealing a hatch set into the floor, half-hidden and hastily concealed. A glance passed between the party. Weapons were readied, ropes tightened, and they gathered themselves—along with their bound Borglin prisoner—before descending into the darkness below.
Beneath the fort, the air turned damp and stale, thick with the scent of mould and old smoke, though noticeably warmer than the killing cold above. The tunnel sloped downward into a rough-hewn cavern lit by guttering lanterns that cast long, wavering shadows across stone walls. Borglins waited for them there, weapons raised, eyes gleaming in the half-light.
The fight was brief but chaotic. Tables were overturned, benches shattered, boots skidding across slick stone as the party fought with acrobatic desperation. Erisa vaulted over obstacles, Eldrin loosed arrows at arm’s length, and steel rang in tight quarters. The Borglins were cut down quickly, leaving only echoing breath, dripping water, and the coppery scent of blood.
Their captive finally spoke more freely once the dust settled, naming himself Dandadan. He eyed Guardian with open admiration, head cocked. “You throw magic good,” he said earnestly, nodding as if offering genuine praise.
Further in, Thomas spotted a caged wolf, ribs visible beneath its matted fur. It growled low, hackles raised, but hunger dulled its aggression. A tossed chunk of meat skidded across the stone. The wolf snapped it up and retreated, watching them with wary, intelligent eyes.
Tosk, meanwhile, pulled a rib of indeterminate origin from a nearby table and began gnawing on it contentedly, utterly unfazed by the carnage around him.
They pressed on, deeper into the cavern, and soon found more Borglins taunting a massive rat, jabbing at it with sticks and laughing. The rat, however, ignored them entirely, fixing its beady gaze squarely on Tosk as Steal Team 6 dispatched its tormentors. As Tosk approached, the rat abruptly turned and bolted through a hole in the cavern wall, vanishing into darkness.
With a triumphant rumble, Tosk produced a mouse from his fur—Joturn—and sent it scurrying after the fleeing rat. Minutes passed in awkward, increasingly uncomfortable silence. Guardian slowly realised that Joturn was neither familiar nor trained animal, but simply… a mouse. When Joturn eventually returned, Tosk tucked it back into his fur as if nothing were amiss. The rest of the party, thoroughly unimpressed, wordlessly moved on.
A rope bridge soon stretched before them, swaying slightly over a deep chasm studded with jagged rocks far below. One by one, they crossed with painstaking care, knuckles white, Thomas even securing a guide rope to steady the crossing. Once everyone was safely across, Tosk simply walked over without hesitation, earning a mix of stunned silence and embarrassed looks.
Beyond the bridge, they reached the bank of an underground river, black water rushing past with a low, relentless roar. Three Borglins stood at the water’s edge, hurling stones at something unseen beneath the surface, while a larger Borglin rummaged through crates on a raised platform nearby.
The party struck from concealment. Arrows and spells cut down the Borglins at the shore as Tobias and Tosk charged to finish the rest. The larger Borglin grabbed a spherical object and hurled it. It detonated in a thunderous blast, tearing into both of them and throwing snow, water, and debris into the air. The creature reached for another without hesitation.
A heavy bang echoed from the far side of the cavern. A door burst open, splintering, and an Alpha Bugbear stormed into view, its roar shaking dust from the ceiling. It crossed the ground in brutal strides and brought its morningstar down on Zaryth—once, then again. The Triton reeled, bloodied and suddenly in grave danger.
The party rushed to her side, instinctively clustering together. Inspired by the Bugbear’s roar, the Borglin hurled another explosive straight into their midst, the blast ripping through the group in a concussive wave.
Tosk roared and grew once more, muscles swelling as he lunged upward to seize the bomb-throwing Borglin. With a bellow, he hurled it into the river. Three massive frogs surged from the black water and dragged the screaming creature under, the surface churning violently before going still.
All eyes turned to the Alpha Bugbear.
The creature loomed over them, chest heaving, matted fur slick with blood and meltwater. Its roar echoed through the cavern, raw and furious, as it hefted its morningstar once more, daring them to come closer. The air felt thick, every heartbeat loud in their ears.
Guardian blinked across the battlefield in sharp flashes of magic, appearing beside fallen allies just long enough to pour healing light into torn flesh before vanishing again. Each reappearance left frost swirling in his wake. Sweat beaded on his brow as he pushed himself harder, keeping the party standing through sheer force of will.
Tobias stepped forward to meet the Alpha head-on, planting himself between the monster and the others. The morningstar crashed down again and again, each blow jarring his arms to the shoulder, teeth rattling with the impact. He gritted through the pain, turning strikes aside by inches, boots skidding across slick stone as sparks flew from steel on iron.
The Bugbear fought like a cornered beast, lashing out with brute strength and reckless fury. It bellowed in defiance even as fresh wounds opened across its body, refusing to yield ground, refusing to fall.
Then Tobias saw it—a momentary hitch in the creature’s stance, a fraction of a second where its guard dropped.
He surged forward.
With a decisive, brutal strike, his blade bit deep and severed the Bugbear’s left arm at the shoulder. The limb hit the stone with a wet, final thud. The Alpha staggered, dropped to its knees, and roared in agony, the sound raw and breaking.
Tobias did not hesitate. He raised his blade once more and brought it down in a clean, merciless arc, taking the creature’s head from its shoulders. The body slumped forward, lifeless, the echo of its roar fading into the cavern’s depths.
The cavern would have fallen silent, if not for the thrashing in the river behind them. Moments later, even that faded, leaving only dripping water, settling dust, and the echo of their breathing beneath Wyrmspath Fort.
