Chapter Text
Mollymauk ran on intuition. He’d learned to trust his gut, learned to trust the lost part of himself that seemed to know so much more than he did. And there was something about this forest that sent chills up his spine. He was unsure if the others felt it, was unsure if he should warn them, being unable to articulate exactly what it was he knew.
Forests usually oozed life, but this one smelled of death. The plant creatures they’d fought earlier: “blights,” spoke of corrupted blood having watered this soil. Still, they pushed on through the wilds of Wildmount, and Molly did not resist, for whatever beast, or fiend, or corruption that lay in the heart of this forest had to be dealt with.
“Look!” Nott’s shrill voice pierced the night. “Up ahead!”
And soon enough they could all see it, stepping forth into an overgrown clearing. A massive, crumbling manor greeted them, looking as if it had been abandoned for decades.
“I wonder who lived here?” Jester asked, doing a little hop as if nothing excited her more than exploring this terrible, terrible place.
“No one good,” Molly answered without thinking.
His bad feeling had increased to the point where it was like someone screaming in his head. On a nearby tree, a raven crowed, and Caleb jumped in surprise, reaching instinctually for Nott.
“Easy…” Fjord purred. “I don’t like it either, but we agreed to find what it is that’s poisoning this here forest, and something tells me the answer is in there.”
So they entered through doors hanging off hinges, moving slowly for fear the ceiling would come down on top of them. Beauregard took the lead, knowing her reflexes were the best of the group. This entire place gave her the creeps, and she really wished Yasha hadn’t taken off again right before they’d agreed to take this job. The whole party seemed off, Mollymauk being the worst of them. The obnoxious purple tiefling sported a thousand-yard stare.
If Beau had to give a name to the aesthetic of the manor’s previous owners she’d call it “Gothic Sheik.” Sure there was a dead thing floating in a jar but it had a frill on it so it was stylish.
“What do you think happened to the owners?” she mused. “Do you think they died? We could find a body.”
“Now, wouldn’t that be exciting,” Fjord said, sarcastically.
“Totally!” Jester agreed, much less sarcastically.
Through a large, arched door they entered a high-ceilinged study. On the wall facing them was a massive painting so faded and covered in dust that its subjects could barely be discerned. It depicted a man and woman, severe but beautiful, dressed in the clothes of the aristocracy.
Nott was the one to move towards it, cautiously, tensed as if expecting an attack.
“Are you alright Molly?” Caleb asked, softly.
The closest to the door, the tiefling buried his face in a clawed hand. “Yes, yes… It’s just this bloody headache’s come out of nowhere.”
At the base of the ornate, golden frame, Nott swept her hand across a dust covered plaque.
“Silas and Delilah Briarwood,” she said. “I suppose they owned this place.”
“I think we should leave,” Molly said, abruptly. “I have a very, very bad feeling about this.”
“Seconded,” said Caleb. “I do not think we are supposed to be here.”
“Now hold on a—” Fjord didn’t get to finish.
Blue energy erupted from the center of the room. The furthest away, only Caleb, Molly, and Nott were able to stay on their feet as a shock wave exploded outwards. The air smelled like ozone and burning fabric, and a woman collapsed to the floor at the origin of the explosion. The energy did not dissipate, crawling up the walls and ceiling, crackling over their clothes.
The woman was within arms reach of Fjord who pushed himself into a kneeling position. Gently, he turned her over, revealing a middle-aged human with black hair punctuated by streaks of white. Her lips were wet with blood and she gasped for every breath. In her hand, she clutched something made of green glass.
Pulling her into his lap, Fjord examined her wounds. Small puncture marks pierced her torso.
“I’ll be,” he said, as the others approached, getting to their feet. “I’ve only ever seen one once in my life but I think these are from a gun.”
The woman let out a choked sound that may have been a laugh. “You’re not what I expected,” she rasped, “but I’m afraid you’ll have to do.”
“Do for what?” Beau demanded.
“Saving the world,” came the muted answer. “I need you… I need you to destroy what I created. Fix…”
She trailed off, eyes sliding closed.
“Hey! Hey!” Fjord shook her. “Jester!”
The blue tiefling dropped to her knees, pressing her hands to the woman’s chest.
“What are you talking about?” Fjord asked. “Who the hell are you?”
“My name… is Doctor Anna Ripley. And sadly, I don’t have enough time left to explain.” Her eyes flickered to Jester, as the divine energy began to pool in her palms. “I wouldn’t waste a spell on me, darling.”
From across the room, Molly’s eyes met hers. Grabbing Caleb by the shoulder he tried to move them towards the door. They didn’t get far. She smiled at him, then brought the green glass to her chest, clutching it with both hands. Then, she exploded, her body ripped apart by a surge of blue energy larger than the last.
Before they blacked out they all heard Anna Ripley’s last words hanging in the air.
“Good luck.”