Chapter 4.11: A Fear of Heroes

“I don’t think we handled that situation very well”, Oslando says.
He breaks the silence that fell upon them when they left Zamazel behind. Even though he didn’t say anything when the injustice occurred, he feels like he can no longer keep it to himself.
“We got what we wanted”, Dargothoth says without turning around to look at the half-elf. “We know where to go and we got a magic arrow. You should be pleased. You are one step closer to becoming the hero you want to be.”
Oslando picks up the pace to walk past the cleric and stop in front of him.
“I don’t want to bring peace to this world if it means I have to do it like this. You might think that our purpose justifies all means, but I don’t. I have tolerated much these last few days, but I’m getting sick of the way you think you can just do anything you want. These things have consequences.”
They have all stopped walking. Mero stands beside the half-elf, while the others stand next to Dargothoth.
“Maybe we went a bit overboard”, Lyssa says, secretly hoping that they will notice her pirate pun, “but I can’t say he didn’t had it coming. He only had himself to blame.”
Mero shakes his head.
“I think we should have been nicer to Zamazel”, he says carefully, trying to keep the peace. “We didn’t have to force him to give up the only thing he has left of his family.”
Bruq is glad with the prized possession, but can’t help not to feel at least a little bad about how he acquired it.
“Maybe you’re right, Mero”, he responds, “but this arrow can give us a serious advantage in battle. This could be our ticket out when a battle comes we otherwise couldn’t win. Besides, look at what that demon hunted! Young wolves… and he couldn’t even manage to take them down without our help. Such a pristine arrow would be wasted on him.”
The half-elf looks at the satyr with disbelief.
“You know, Bruq, if I didn’t know better, I would say I’m hearing Dargothoth talking instead of you.”
The hunter is dumbstruck. He wants to respond, to tell Oslando he’s completely wrong and that there’s nothing evil inside of him, but he can’t produce a single sound.
“And he should be proud of it”, the cleric says and he lays his hand on the satyr’s shoulder.
Bruq looks at him and pulls his shoulder away.
“Maybe… maybe we were wrong”, he stammers. “It just felt like the right thing to do, you know? It felt like he deserved to be punished for bringing the title of hunter to shame.”
The half-elf sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.
“I understand that you felt that way, but if we are going to do this our entire time in Abaddon, we’re going to make a lot of enemies. Besides, if he was supposed to live up to some honourable code of hunters, you should too.” He turns his head to Lyssa. “You wouldn’t want to sail a ship with a crew that shifts their morals whenever it suits them, right?”
She turns a strand of hair between her fingers.
“That would be problematic”, she says.
Suddenly, they hear screaming in the distance, coming from their destination. They can’t see what is going on inside the black building, but they doubt it will be anything pleasant.
“We should go now and find out what is going on in there”, Oslando says. “I would rather have our blessings sooner than later. Maybe if we can help with whatever is happening, they are more likely to grant us one.”
They start walking again, faster this time.
“Well, it is the temple of fear”, Mero says. “Maybe it’s supposed to sound like someone is scared.”
There is another scream, louder this time. Actually, now that they are coming closer, it sounds like multiple people screaming.
“I’m not going to leave it to chance, Mero.” Oslando draws his flaming sword. “Let’s go!”
He runs and the others follow. The clinging of their metal armors and the clashing of items in their backpacks are drowned out by the increasing volume of panic in front of them.
The building isn't very large. Its black roof rests on pillars made of the same kind of stone. Sharp curves form the corners of the roof and braziers with purple flames stand left and right of the entrance. No light comes from inside. It’s unnaturally dark, even for a building without windows. A barrier of magical darkness separates them from the horrid howls and pleas of mercy.
They enter, weapons drawn and ready to face whatever hides in the gloom.