A report from the Orlmarthings who were there.
I
Sacred Time 1618
After Orsten drove off the Wild Hunt with the good winds, we found that Dinestan had taken a grievous wound to his hand, crippling his ability to use his bow. Senulf gave him some aid, but the wound remained. We continued ahead, past the dark forest, where we found the Procession of the Dead along the Path of Silence. We joined the Dead in their march towards Havan Vor.
Desrik spoke with some of the marching dead, but learned only things that could help him in the Inner World, for the dead knew nothing of our quest or goals.
A horribly mangled and mutilated Dundealos chieftain: “I was Derinith Horseman, Chief of the Blue Jay clan until I met my doom fighting Lunar sorcery and demons at Jaldonkill. As I died, I watched as they killed the women and children, and tortured the men, offering sacrifices to their Bloody Goddess. Avenge me!”
A Volsaxing thane bearing the marks of spears and arrows: “I was Brolulf Boldhelm, a thane of the Volsaxing tribe. My king fought the Lunars and I died defending him. They swept us aside as though we were not there. The Red Moon rises above all Glorantha and it spells the doom of gods and men.”
The Procession of the Dead had a profound effect on Dinestan, and he carried away a deep realization of the doom of all mortals.
We arrived at the River of Swords and the Bridge of Bones, guarded by the giant Janak. As Janak judged us, Desrik spoke up and betrayed us, convincing the demon that Sarlanth was a liar and then fleeing across the bridge. Sarlanth defended himself against the giant and leapt to safety, grabbing up Desrik by the throat and forcing a promise out of him.
Once safely past the Perjurers Bridge, we entered the massive gates of Havan Vor. The City of the Dead was surrounded by a stone wall covered in brightly colored murals and bas reliefs depicting protective gods and demons. A great open gate lead into the City and towards the great tower of Havan Vor. Around the gate were carved powerful protective spells that placed the city under the authority of entities variously named Darhudan and Darhudana, Grandfather and Grandmother Mortal, Daka Fal, and Havan Vor.
The City was vast with hundreds of thousands of tombs, mausoleums, monuments, crypts, sarcophagi, urns, and other buildings of the dead. Above everything loomed the black tower of Havan Vor with its all-embracing gates. Throngs of the Dead silently watched us as we followed our guide to the tower. Some Dead appeared stately and comfortable as though preparing for a feast; others were emaciated or rotting, eating ashes or drinking filthy water. These glared at us with malevolent hatred.
Our guide spoke up: “Those Dead whose kin performed the funerary rites wait in comfort for the judgment in Havan Vor. Those who had no funerary rites must wait without food or drink and learn to hate the world of the Living for their lack of care and respect. Enough questions; we must go to Havan Vor. There you must demand entrance from the gatekeepers of Havan Vor.”
We came upon the great gates into the tower of Havan Vor, guarded by a beautiful bare-chested and winged demon bearing a key and flaming sword: Culsulva. She spoke to us, “Why have You come to the Court of No Return? What makes you travel the road from which no traveler goes back?”
Sarlanth answered true, that we had come to enter the Pit of the Lunar Hell and free Hofstaring Treeleaper. Culsulva vanished briefly into the tower, then reappeared and simply said, “Enter.”
Inside, we came into the grim Court of Silence, a vast hall, with hundreds of doors leading out. High above, thousands of gods watched us from the rising gallery. In the center, upon a great dias, sat Darhudan, mirror-faced King of the Dead upon his high throne. To one side sat his sister Darhudana and on the other sat his scribe.
Our guide leaned in and whispered to us: “You must not let the gods plead for you if you wish to be sent to Lunar Hell. You must reject the protection of your gods and demand to choose your own path. You must demand to be cast into the Pit.”
Darhudan wore a crown of darkness set with golden jewels in it and his face was a black mirror. He was garbed in a voluminous black robe that bore magical signs upon it. He had a great key ring with keys for 500 doors, each of which lead to another part of the Underworld.
As we approached, the King of the Dead became like Orsten and addressed us: “This is the realm of shadows, of sleep and perpetual night. Here you must confront your deeds in the world of Men. Those who were honest and fair will have their gods to plead for them. The wicked will stand alone, condemned.”
Before we could speak, Darhudan turned his mirror-face to each of us, showing us our good deeds and wicked failures. Then he said: “Who shall plead for these mortals?”
Sarlanth spoke up, demanding that we choose our own path, that we be thrown into the Pit of Hell. He shoke the Court of Silence with his demand, and he changed something that never changes.
Shocked, Lady Darhudana screamed at us: “Not since the Disrupter ransacked my hall have the Living dared challenge me so!”
Then Darhudan turned to Dinestan and spoke a prophesy: “The Hidden Kings shall reveal themselves, The Master of the Dragon shall be Prince of the House. The Prince shall relight that which was extinguished. And with that all Glorantha shall be sundered.”
Darhudan returned to his throne and ordered that we be cast into the Pit: “The gate to Hunger, Madness, Fear, and Disease stands open wide and for you it shall be easy to pass. To retrace your steps, to climb back to the open air – there the struggle and the labor lies.”.
A great clamor of demons rushed for and wrapped their dark and flaming claws around us. They dragged us to a great, locked iron door, which other demons opened, and cast us in to Utter Darkness. The door slammed shut behind us and we were doomed.
We found ourselves in a dark corridor, pitch black, and no light would guide us. We fumbled our way forward. We sensed the attention of powerful guardians all about us. Finally, we came out in a great swamp filled with demons and other monsters feasting on the Dead. Dinestan looked for safe way through the swamp, and found one.
As we crossed the swamp, we came upon a team of Mostali, taking a census of the Underworld. They spoke with us, counting us as mortals among the Dead, and spoke very curiously of the World Machine. They seemed completely unconcerned with the dangers around us or our presence in the Underworld. Very strange.
After taking our leave of the dwarves and crossing the swamp safely, we arrived at the Hellmouth: an enormous fortress, ringed with high jagged walls of iron. A high stairway lead to the only gate: the ravening maw of a great iron-fanged monstrous beast with three eyes. Its jaws opened and shut with a deafening clamor like the crack of a great iron whip. That iron maw could swallow an entire army and still hunger for me.
Our guide said to us: “Yonder is the Hellmouth. I may go no further. You must pass through and descend the great pit until you find King Hofstaring and his tormentors.”
We contemplated what to do, though it became obvious the only way forward was through the Iron Maw of the Hellmouth. One by one we entered it, and one by one we were torn apart, crushed, dismembered, and painfully tortured to death.
Beyond the Hellmouth, we found ourselves at the edge of a the Great Pit. A narrow staircase spiraled down the edge of the Pit into the blackness below. We began our descent. As we moved downward, we became separated from each other and totally alone. Our own individual fears and demons arose to tempt and defeat us, and almost did. But in the end, all of us, found our way to a ledge. From the ledge, deep below we could see the glimmer of fire and hear the faint screams of tortured men and women. We continued downward.
Time had no meaning to us, but we found ourselves at the bottom of the descent at a great stone bridge stretching across the unformed and chaotic Predark to the cratered, fiery Plateau of Suffering. The other side of the bridge was guarded by two great chimeric demons: Zugaz and Zaguz. Beyond them, at the center of the Plateau of Suffering we could see a Great Oven surmounted by a greater White Throne. To mollify them, we performed a play.
Once safely past Zugaz and Zaguz, the Hands of Hofstaring lifted into the air and pointed towards the center of the Plateau, towards the White Throne. We approached the Great Oven and White Throne. We passed a thousand fiery pits where a thousand souls were tortured by a thousand demons. The tortured Dead cried out to us for rescue, but we ignored them. Ahead, we could see the Emperor of Ash sitting upon the White Throne with his high Golden Sun Crown. We could see the great, grotesque chaos demon Ikadz the Torturer tending the Great Oven, poking and prodding at some man-like figure deep within its fires.
Torture is like air here; it is everywhere.
Pain is worn here like clothing;
Suffering is our bread; we are all well-fed.
Below the Oven and Throne, we came upon a group of small gods - Solar and Lunar gods - surrounding a stone altar. Upon the altar, was the wracked and bloody body of a man with no hands. The small gods arrayed against us numbered seven, like us. They were: a Yellow God, who read a strange spell from a great grimoire; a Chained God, who lay at the Yellow God’s feet; a Red-and-Silver-Blue Goddess, who seethed with fury and bearing a sacrificial knife; a White God with a Compass; a Yellow God with a Yard Stick; a Red God with a Right Angle; and a Blue God with a Plumb-Bob. The four smallest god held the man to the altar, the Red-and-Silver-Blue Goddess prepared to plunge the knife into his chest, the Great Yellow God read from his grimoire, and the Chained God lay in silence.
Desrik leapt forward, crying out:
“Wandering Sun, Jealous Stars,
I have a new Toy here, see it?
Test me, if you can.
A treasure for the right answer.”
The Red-and-Silver-Blue Goddess replied:
"“I am She who Dances On Ruins, I am the Drinker of Blood, and Righter of Wrongs.”
Desrik and the Goddess fought, the Goddess slashed at Desrik with her knife while Desrik tumbled and danced and dodged around her until she could slash at him no more. Then he simply plucked the knife from her hand.
The exhausted Goddess called upon her companions then, and we engaged them. They summoned up demons and ghosts to challenge us, but one by one we beat them back and threw them away from the man. When we cut down the last of the smallest gods, Desrik placed the Red Hands of Hofstaring next to the man on the altar. The Hands immediately rejoined their owner and healed him. Hofstaring leapt up, taking us all in his arms and shouted, “Come to me, my children!” The Great Yellow God stumbled then and the Chained God turned his head in surprise as Hofstaring prayed to Larnste.
With all of us hanging on to his arms and legs, Hofstaring leapt up. And up. And up. All the way to Karulinorean. Orlanth and Ernalda greeted us warmly and we feasted in the God’s Hall until we fell asleep beneath Minlister’s Pot.
When we awoke, we were home. A week had passed.
w
Sea Season, 1619
A bright new year had begun. We had returned successfully from the Underworld, having freed Hofstaring from the Lunar Hell as Sarlanth had promised Ernulsulva he would do. A shrine to the Hofstaring appeared among our other gods in Old Man Village. Desrik’s hands were bright red and a new rune, the moon /
, lay upon his chest where Redbird’s Golden Wheel had been. Everyone calls him Redhands Desrik now, with some respect.
Orsten came back with a madness, more fearful of the Inner Darknesses, small and large. But then, madness is not unusual for Kolatings.
Dinestan still bears a terrible scar on his right arm and hand, and though he regained the use of his bow, life brings him less pleasure now. The elders say he loss too much of himself in the Underworld and his soul seeks to return there.
And Sarlanth: he gained a wife. After refusing King Blackmor to his face one final time, and with great pomp, our chief and thanes rode to Greenstone, where Ernalsulva and Queen Entarios awaited us. Greenstone held a great feast for us and the terms of marriage were settled between Gordangar and the Queen. Sarlanth tasted deeply of the goddess’ bounty, again and again, from the pleasures of his new bride while we drank and ate in their honor in the feast halls of the Malani.