Lord of the Ruins happy.'
'Sacrifices? This is worse than a sacrifice,' said Shal, pointing at the body that lay under the purple cloth.
'I'm afraid that's probably the gnoll version of a pretty gruesome practice,' said Ren. 'I don't have any love for orcs or kobolds, but if they have similar altars, you'll find equally dead bodies but less gruesome.'
Tarl's face paled visibly, and his hands clutched the edge of the wooden altar. His usually clear, deep voice tremored noticeably as he spoke. 'You don't mean to suggest there are more altars like this? More of these sites of abomination?'
'I'm sorry,' said Ren. 'But this priest says it was all done for the Lord of the Ruins. As I understand it, all the creatures in the uncivilized parts of the city worship him.'
'Worship?' Tarl spat and shook his hands as if to shake off some clinging coat of slime. 'Worship a creature that is not of the gods? A creature that demands blood sacrifices? What powers does this abominable beast possess that it can demand such horrors?'
8
'You're the priest. You tell us.' Ren waved his free hand toward the altar, clamped the gnoll's neck a little tighter, and began to question the creature again. The gnoll was obviously responding to Ren's questions, but Shal and Tarl could only look on, uncomprehending.
'He says there's temples like this everywhere the Lord of the Ruins' power reigns. He says the pool makes him feel strong.'
Ren paused as the gnoll grunted and continued with its explanation.
'What was that? Why you-!' Ren slammed the top of the gnoll's head with his free hand.
'What?' Tarl and Shal reacted in unison.
'The filthy piece of dog meat said we'd all become sacrifices to the pool.'
'I can't stomach any more of this,' Tarl said firmly. 'As I serve Tyr, let this be the first of many such temples to be destroyed by my hand.' Without waiting for the others to join him, Tarl raised his hammer up next to the diorama. The heavy end slammed powerfully into the crescent-shaped pool, sending a shower of gold droplets in all directions.
'Acid!' screamed Tarl, and he shook his hammer-hand where the flesh was searing from the contact with the drops.
Ren and Shal had leaped back instinctively as Tarl's hammer came down. Mere inches from where they stood, shimmering acid was burning through every piece of wood and cloth it hit. Where the acid landed on stone, it was sizzling and spattering like water in hot grease.
Shal quickly summoned forth a skin of water from the Cloth of Many Pockets and poured it generously over Tarl's right hand, which was already raw in two places, and then over his hair, which was smoking where a drop had landed.
Enraged, fury and agony blending in his screams, Tarl lashed out again and again at the blasphemous altar, hammering with all his might until the lower end splintered and collapsed. Still he wasn't satisfied. He dropped to his knees and pounded at the miniature fountain, the hexagon, and the rest of the diorama till only splinters and fragments remained.
By then, the gnoll was screaming steadily in reaction to the destruction of the altar. Ren chopped down hard on its head again. This time, its body slumped and its hyena head lolled loosely from side to side. Unwittingly, Ren had snapped the creature's neck. Remorseless, he pushed the dead gnoll to the ground beside him and moved to calm Tarl.
The cleric had not stopped hammering, even after the diorama was pulverized. Nor did he stop now in response to the coaxing of his friends. It was not until the cloth-covered corpse balancing on the crux of the altar slid down onto his arms that he finally dropped his head and stopped. Pulling his arms loose from underneath the body, Tarl turned and faced Ren and Shal. 'I–I'm sorry. I couldn't help myself.'
As one, they spoke to comfort him.
'I'm sorry,' he repeated. 'I've heard of altars to Bhaal and other gods whose worship I cannot fathom, but never have I seen anything so repugnant as this. I-' Tarl paused, distracted. 'The priest-what happened?'
The gnoll's body was lying on the ground behind Ren and Shal. Its jaundiced face looked even more pinched and grotesque in death than it had in life, and the fervent yellow of its eyes had been replaced by a dull umber glaze. 'He's dead,' Ren said matter-of-factly. 'I didn't mean to kill him, but I can't say I'll stay awake nights over it.'
'No,' said Tarl. 'He would've killed us without a second thought.'
'He probably would have skinned us alive with one of those meat tenderizers,' added Shal, pointing to the row of torture implements that filled a wooden cabinet against the far wall of the big room.
'By Bane and Bhaal and all that's perverse…' Ren's curse came out almost in a whisper as he eyed the morbid array of tools. Despite his lifelong habit of quickly examining everything within eyeshot upon entry to a room, he had not seen what filled the cabinet. 'Gnoll religion… You're right, Tarl. It goes against nature. It's an abomination.'
'Are you okay?' Shal asked suddenly, reaching for Tarl's acid-marred hand. She didn't want to think about gnoll religion or gnoll justice anymore. She'd seen enough of both, and she was worried about her friend. She poured more water over the burned spots. 'What about your head? Does it hurt?'
Though Tarl had not been conscious of it until Shal brought it up, the spot on his head continued to sting, as did the two raw wounds on his hand. 'I have a salve that should help.' Tarl met Shal's gaze and spoke earnestly. 'I'll be all right. I'm sure I'd be worse off if you hadn't reacted so quickly.'
Shal released Tarl's hand and reached up and ran her fingers through his thick, silvery hair till she found the spot where the acid had splashed. He flinched as she located the jagged, finger-length depression where the hair and flesh were burned off. She poured a little more water on that spot and then on his burned hand. She completely missed the smile Tarl flashed at Ren as she asked him to give her the salve so she could apply it for him.
'Not here' snapped Ren. 'If your salve smells anything like that infernal poultice you put on me last night, the gnolls will pick up the scent in a minute.'
'He's right,' said Tarl, sobered by Ren's words. 'In fact, we're lucky they haven't heard us. The walls here must be pretty thick-better insulated than the rest of this rat trap of a fort.'
'Don't underestimate the gnolls.' Ren pointed back to the curtained hallway from which they'd come. 'They probably did hear us. The lazy, bloodthirsty bastards are probably just waiting for us to come out. Fact is, I was hoping we'd find another way out of here. Let's look behind those curtains.'
Ren's instincts were good. There was a door behind the curtains, and it led to a covered crawlspace that apparently ran behind the temple, between it and the stockade. They remembered no such corridor from the map, but the temple hadn't been on the map, either. They were pleased to find that the passageway skirted the full length of the temple. When they finally reached its end, they found themselves well beyond the entrance they had used when Ren first stormed inside. No party of gnolls lay in wait at either doorway, but the three didn't feel any worse for having taken the precaution.
Ren whispered, 'The gnolls are gonna be up and around just as soon as the midday heat has passed. We've got to find what we came for and get out of here before they discover the mess we left back there.' He pointed to their left and whispered again. 'The bedroom should be that way. Stay close to the walls like we did when we came in.' The faintest hint of embarrassment showed in his expression when he added, 'And don't go looking for trouble!'
Ren moved like a shadow among the cartons and rubble that cluttered the way along the makeshift square. Shal followed, aware as always that she was no match for Ren in terms of stealth. She watched and admired his careful movements, realizing she admired even more his presence of mind and worldliness, especially his
