No Choice at All

Emerging out of the vertical watery portal first, Fortu draws his massive sword and, although slightly disoriented from the mind-bending dimensional trip, looks around the Givrad void for potential trouble. He’s not eager to fight anymore of those gigantic Hooked Horrors again after nearly having his throat ripped out last time. Thankfully there’s nothing of immediate concern, other than the disorienting sky, odd gravity, pool of dried blood beneath his feet and the dark crimson trail of it leading away.

Liga Bur and Arowe emerge next, reassured by Fortu’s stalwart presence. The canny Halfling immediately confirms Fortu’s suspicion that it’s the slaughtered camel’s blood and follows the trail until it splits. One bloody trail leads back to the portal to Fissa and Estrid’s pool, the other to wherever Hetzabah has taken her son to raise his army.

Although Liga Bur has no interest in pursuing Sir Briefadel, he still notices the words, scrawled in blood on the path beneath each of the portals. The writing under the one the evil Eldrich Knight and his Mother went through reads, ‘Chase me to Hell!’ and the one leading back to Fissa reads, ‘Run back to Daddy!’.

The astonishingly tall and slender Elf; Arowe smiles. The overwhelming hate that he’d felt for Sir Briefadel has, thankfully, faded to a more rational level and he can see the goading messages for what they are. 

As soon as Rifkin and the others are safely through, they all head to the portal they all first entered the Givrad Void and prepare to swim back. The Bard hesitates for a moment, before Fortu’s about to step in.

“I hope Magritte has got those Nixies in place, otherwise some of us are going to drown at the bottom of that hundred foot, underwater pipe!”

Running his tongue around the circular scar inside his cheek, Fortu merely smiles, confident in his magical armours special ability. He knows that he’s safe from drowning while wearing the helmet and that the armour will allow him to swim upwards as if he were completely unburdened.