Travesty by the Roadside

The errant Knight stood on a hill overlooking the verdant, lush countryside of Allaria. It was a lonely stretch of road, with only a small roadside inn at the bottom of the hill, smoke billowing from its chimney. The air smelled fragrant with wildflowers, and a small doe emerged from the nearby wood to stare curiously at the Templar. It was hard to believe that a Shoggoth ravaged the countryside, plotting the destruction of the human race... but it was so, and the Templar had to find it, no matter the cost.

That morning, he had disquised himself thoroughly as the Merchant, and snuck out through the Eastern gate with only minimal trouble. In that time, the Templar travelled many miles, following the vile, inhuman scent of the Shoggoth that made the air tangy with corruption. As a Templar, he had been trained to detect and analyze the presence of demonic beings, and the Shoggoth left a trail that the Templar could follow even blindfolded. But though he knew he was on the right track, he had no way of knowing how close he was to his prey. That made the hunt that much more difficult... and dangerous.

I wonder what the King is doing about the situation, the Templar wondered. How much does he already know, through his network of spies and informants, as well as those poor wretches that survived the Shoggoth's killing spree? Perhaps they knew that Frederigo was the Shoggoth, though Earlath prayed not, for their father's sake. And how much did they know of the Templar himself, Earlath D'Honaire? He hoped that everyone assumed him dead, but a part of him worried that his father knew the truth, and the double weight of his sons' misfortunes may be just too much for the old knight to bear.

In any case, there was no time to dawdle. The Templar rode his charger down the side of the hill and to the roadside inn. He would need to replenish his supplies here, and find out if anyone had seen anything suspicious. He tied the charger to a small post and pushed open the fancy carved wooden door of the inn to step inside.

Immediately, he knew something was wrong. Roadside inns were typically a bustle of activity, food cooking, wenches gossipping, bards playing for their supper, children playing as merchants and families travelling from place to place stayed there for days on end... but this inn was silent as death. Only one man sat in the corner, his back turned, a tun of ale in his hand.

The Templar could smell food cooking too, but that was all. He walked toward the man in the corner. "Well met, brother," he said, placing his hand on the man's shoulder. "I would have a word with... whoah!"

The man fell back lifeless, the ale in his hand spurting everywhere. His eyes had been gouged out, as well as his heart, which had been removed and neatly placed on a small plate in front of him. The Templar cursed and sprang back, drawing his sword. This was the Shoggoth's work, no doubt about it.

Following his sense of smell, the Templar made his way to the back of the inn. There he found a sight that would haunt him for the rest of his life, even more than the sight of the Quadrodome's holiest altar splattered with blood.

The patrons and employees of the inn were here, men and women, all dead and hung on hooks from the wall. Blood trickled downward from their naked bodies and pooled in the corners of the room. A giant bubbling pot dominated one corner of the kitchen, emitting the cooking smell the Templar had heard earlier - but human limbs could be seen sticking out of the pot, limbs covered in blood and still twitching feebly as the broth continued to boil. Worst of all perhaps, was a little girl, no older than ten, who had been pinned by her hands and feet to a wooden table. Her torso was a mass of blood and organs, and her tear-streaked face was twisted in agony, as whatever inhuman beast that had done this had obviously picked at her while she was still alive.

The Templar suppressed a strong urge to throw up. This was no time to give in to weakness. He had already seen the true face of the beast, and none of this should come as any surprise to him.

"Damn it, Fred," he whispered. "What are you trying to accomplish? How many more innocents must die before you are satisfied?"

Suddenly the Templar heard a noise behind him. He spun around to see...

1. Fred.
2. Xalis.
3. Dredrik D'Honaire.
4. A survivor of the massacre at the inn.
5. A team of local town guards come to investigate.
6. the One Shoggoth.
7. Exotica.
8. a wood elf.
9. orcs.

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