A Dead Dwarf?

The group had been resting after storming the werewolves den. Everyone had well and truly gotten comfortable some even dozing. All except Gohzrik who tried to rest but tossed and turned...and then physically disappeared.

He was gone for hours. No note, no reason given. No indication of any sort as to where he might have been.

The next time any of the party sees Gohzrik, it is him suddenly appearing mid air falling face first into the dirt of the cave, with two arrows sticking out of his leg and back, and he doesn’t move aside from ragged draws of breath. His heavy form collapsing with a deeply ominous -thud-

His shield is missing and the dwarf’s lightning armor lies shattered into tiny pieces all around him.

Rahsaan is the first to reach him, to roll him over and inspect his friend, but Gohzrik breathed his last breath just seconds before the Aasimar reaches him.

So endeth the sad tale of the once cursed dwarven fighter, Gohzrik Ironblood of clan

——————————————-
...Or does it?

Tiny brown fungi and white capped mushrooms slowly begin to rise up like an organic chalk line around the dwarf’s body which already was cool to the touch. The old blood caked on the spears and pooled in the nearby arena-like pit congealed and was rapidly absorbed by the fungi surrounding him turning the mushrooms a dark crimson color.

Gohzrik’s chest rises slowly as bits of the fungi enter his mouth, and he opens his eyes, surprise written across his face.

Rahsaan stepped back, uncertain of what was happening. The rest of the party having been alerted by the sudden arrival stand to take note, some considered drawing weapons.

Gohzrik raised himself up, onto his hands and knees and coughs once, releasing hundreds of fungal spores from his mouth. Reaching around, he withdraws the arrows sticking out of him and tossed them aside, but no blood oozes from the wounds, only more spores.

He raises his head and looks around at the group of adventurers. The unspoken question hung loudly on everyone’s lips, “What in the hell?”

Eylylyn after gathering her wits and gripping her black staff had Mal at her side, moved slowly closer to inspect ‘Gohzrik’. She reached out a mage hand and poked him. Seeing that he didn’t lash out at her, she moved closer and placed her gnome hand on the dwarfs forehead. It was cool to the touch, this coupled with the greying skin coloration and lack of blood flow aligned itself to her growing theory and suspicion. As a final test, she checked for a pulse, and slowly pulled her hand away nodding to Mahlajai.

There was no pulse.

Mal looked back at Gohzrik and asked what everyone else had been been thinking. “Would you like some water?”

Gohzrik blinked slowly. His mind racing trying to process all that happened. As the party’s djinn offered water Gohzrik started to nod before getting up in a hurry and racing towards the edge of the arena where he expels most contents of his stomach and more than a few spores. He stayed at the edge of the arena looking it over it has a couple of tears fell, only turning around once the tears had stopped. He looked briefly at the party before staring at the ground. When he spoke his voice was raspy and quiet.

“I couldn’t do it. The dwarves are all but dead. Gomar is dead. Badan is dead. My God Muamman Duathal is dead. I died with them...”

No no no no no no no no

The words repeated in Rahsaan's mind as Gohzik's body lay still, his healing inadequate to handle those who had perished. Before he could properly react, Gohzrik breathed once more. Still unable to speak, he stumbled back wordlessly as different fungus enwrapped the dwarf's remains. As his friend sat up at the end of his reformation, the four letter word Rahsaan mouthed was far stronger than "hell".

Though as the dwarven situation is explained, his expression turned pitying as the monk reached out to the dwarf's mind and said, "Are you certain? This was not some nightmare? I myself was subject to cruel visions back in the dwarf kingdom, and the magic here is still unreliable. That is where my arm was twisted, so there may be . . ."

A tearful glance from the dwarf silenced him, as everything Gohzrik had just gone through unfolded before Rahsaan in only a few seconds. The Aasimar gasped, "No . . . that was real." He pinched himself, then grew even more worried, "All of it. I am so sorry."

“You died with them? Then how are you he-“ Zahrys breaks off as he feels for a pulse; seeing what Eylylyn must have just noticed. “You have no pulse.”

Zahrys steps back for a moment in thought. “How is this possible? What exactly happened? Is there any way we can help your people? Was it Strahd???”

Zahrys looks around to his friends. Yes, I suppose they really are actual friends after all.

“The rest of you move away,” Zahrys commands as he stares solemnly at Gohzrik. “Are you okay if I try to cast Revivify on you? With the peculiar things that seem to be happening to you and with the way magic seems to be acting strangely here, I can’t know exactly what may happen. I could just as easily accidentally make a fireball go off on top of us, but I’m willing to try if it’s worth the risks to you.”

Zahrys gives Gohzrik a lopsided grin and states softly, “We will definitely always need you. If it weren’t for you, I doubt I’d have had a moments reprieve when fighting that red dragon to remember what I didn’t even realize Grerard had been teaching me since I was a toddler. You sure did take a beating. And refused to give up. What do you think?”

Gohzrik stood quietly for a minute processing the barrage of questions from the party’s cleric. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair before speaking.

“Uh... well. Truth be told I’m only still alive, well no... still here thanks to Psilofyr.”

He turned to Eylylyn

“You weren’t lying when you said those seeds would help me be more Druidic.”

He looked back to Zahrys.

“Nothing more can be done for my people now, the ones who remain anyway. I am sure they are still making their way to Krezzik only now with the forces to reclaim their city. The defense minister refuses to accept them as refugees due to his men’s racism.”

He looked down at the ground and spat.

“It wasn’t Strahd. It was that filthy Caliban, probably with help from the mage he serves. If I see either of them again I am killing them. I should have shot them full of arrows when we first met.”

He clenched his fist and focused his gaze back on Zahrys.

“Your God is still alive. I am certain she will heed your call. I do believe my ability to serve you all would be hampered if I chose to stay dead.”

Zahrys nods solemnly to Gohzrik before turning to the rest of the group and stating, “I know magic has been finicky at best around here, but I do believe we need to try this before moving on. I’d advise the rest of you stand back a little further than you are.”

Zahrys sighs heavily, grins grimly as he turns back to Gohzrik and starts to reach his hand out to touch him. Zahrys pauses a moment and turns back to the group. He smiles sheepishly and tosses a healers kit toward the group, “If this goes... shall we say... worse than I think it will go, do be ready to patch me up as well please.”

Zahrys turns back to Gohzrik, hold his hand out, hesitates a moment and then grabs Gohzrik roughly by the side of his neck. He prays, “Ezra... Lady beyond the Mists... hear my call on behalf of this friend of mine. He needs help only you can give. Let him be restored from this affliction.”

As he finishes his prayer, Zahrys feels divine power leave himself and channel into Gohzrick. A golden light flashes brightly; temporarily encompassing both friends to where no one can see them before quickly imploding into a dark glowing purple-black light that then focuses on Zahrys’ hand. As it focuses on Zahrys’ hand, he cries out in surprise more than pain. He looks down at his throbbing, aching hand to see the same dark purple-black light seep into his ebony skin. It disappears for a moment before coming back again to form a spiked, horned helmet with a serpent with sharp fangs interwoven in it. For the moment Zahrys soared to look at it, he could have sworn the serpent was moving though he couldn’t pin it down.

His gaze locks onto Gohzrik, worries for his friend. Despite his hand, he smiles gently as he sees Gohzrik looking better than he had just moments earlier. A little blood seeps out of wounds that had mere moments been open and dried as those same wounds begin closing. He sees something peculiar on his friends neck.

Zahrys gasps before excitedly says, “Well now... it looks like My Lady is pleased with our choice together to try this... How’s your neck feel,” Zahrys says as he grins. “You’ve got a dimly glowing Shield with a long sword over it which also has a sprig of belladonna. It’s the same color as the bright light that first came over us.”

Zahrys’ gaze turns more grim as his eyes narrow and he continues, “While this pleases me greatly I’m now more than a little concerned... What does the name Psilofyr mean anything to you? I sense there’s more to this whole situation than even meets our understanding in this situation... Mercurion! Voriel! You two may know of this too. What do you know of Psilfyr? As I finished my prayer to Ezra, I felt that Gohzrik is not just Gohzrik... It felt like there was another being sharing his body. This presence didn’t seem wholly good or evil... It felt like he wanted me to know he was there... I’m not sure if that’s good or more unsettling... I didn’t get the impression that he meant me or any of us harm necessarily. I dare speak of this with you all openly because he can probably hear my thoughts anyway. I’m not sure it was in fact Psilfyr himself or a... representative of his. What do you know? Especially you Voriel as you share bodies with a mortal as well.”

Eylylyn had been watching in muted horror, checking her friend out of pure reflex as shock took hold of her, then breathing a bit easier when some color returned to Gohzriks features. She stared up at him, extending her own arcane senses after the priest did his work, then perked up as she seemed to remember something.

"If you dispel magic on yourself first you should be able to cast normally after. Whatever is doing this, it's an active effect. Let me know when you're ready and I'll assist."

She turned back to the Dwarf and took in his obviously battle worn appearance with a frown.

"How did this happen? One moment you were here, the next you were gone! And we lost one of our strongest allies? Did the Dwarves teleport you or was it that thing in your shield? I told you not to trust it!"

Aspen stands near the back of the party, watching intently but unable to contribute any magic or knowledge of magical beings.
She can only empathize with her friend who must now live with the memory of failing to save his people and a dark intention to take revenge on whoever did this to them.

When the cleric mentioned that everyone around should back up, Rahsaan realized that a few of the children they had rescued were also woken by the urgency of the group. He went over to them to reassure them that Gohzrik was fine, doing his level best to block their view their view as Zahrys worked his miracle. He was dispersing the cheese he had found to the kids when Voriel heard his named called. He handed a young girl an entire wheel, telling her to share as he walked back toward the group, "Psilofyr . . ." He thought out loud, stroking his chin.

"I didn't have much interaction with him because he isn't a human deity. While he can get his roots in places others may find undesirable, I can say he isn't evil, just concerned with spreading his spores and ensuring they survive above all else."

He looked to the dwarf, and given that the empathy had been replaced with a mix of curiosity and confusion Voriel was the one speaking, "Though odd to find a shoot of him here, though. Dwarves didn't hold him in any real regard- Psilofyr followers were sentient fungus, plants, and sometimes slime. I wouldn't think of you as an ideal host."

He looked to Zahrys, "As to why, from my own experience an immortal speaks through a mortal in this manner because they need to. There can be many reasons, but the two most common are they cannot manifest out of weakness, or choose not to do so in order to hide."

Back to Gohzrik, "Still, between the two if you he still lives, or more continues to exist."

Finally, he looked to the wizard, "Rahsaan actually saw all our dwarf friend experienced. I can share it with you, unless Gohzrick would rather tell the story himself."

Gohzrik stares at Eylylyn as Zahrys cast his spell. Once finished bowed towards Zahrys as the glow of his magic faded away.

“You have my thanks friend.”

He closed his eyes and shook his head.

“You know Lyn, a part of me hope this version of you believed in gods. You don’t have to follow them, or think they are all powerful to acknowledge their existence. You didn’t believe in curses either at one time so why keep your mind so closed on this front? My shield held a god and I was his emissary. He was the dwarven god of lightning and travel. That’s why he could take me to where the dwarves were fighting for their lives. I’d trust him again in a heartbeat. He’s the only reason the dwarves weren’t fully wiped out.”

He sighed and look to Zahrys and Voriel as they discussed Psilofyr.

“I believe only a small part of him exists within me. I received his seeds from the elven realm... where time slowed down and Strahd could never reach. I think he chose me back then because he wants me to take down Strahd. Strahd has broken the natural cycle of life and death and I am to be Psilofyr’s weapon to restore order. Him living in me will not change what we set out to do from the start.”

He stared at the ground.

“Please share what I saw Voriel. It’s possible there is something I wouldn’t think to mention that may be of use if one of you saw it. I can’t even accurately describe that abhorrent creature...”

Voriel shrugged with a slight wince, "Well, if you say so."

He turned to Eylylyn and met her gaze. A flurry of images unfolded before the wizard . . .

A thunderous voice spoke to Gohzrik, calling upon him to fulfill his sworn oath to his God and King. With wordless acceptance, he blinks only to find himself in a cavernous tunnel surrounded by both friend and foe . . .
Creatures of formless shadow danced around the Muamman faithful, slicing through their flesh with savage prescision . . .
A great scaled maw burst from the earth- tearing many dwarven warriors in two. This was only the leading blow from a Giant rock wyrm, diving through the rock as easily if it was still water, pulling both warriors and pieces of warriors below the surface before diving back underground and causing an earthquake to form in its wake causing still more dwarves to fall to their deaths.

The King orders a retreat as he cleaves through one of the shadow fiends. The dwarves hustle though the cave, scores of thousands falling to both battle and to the earthquake caused by the wyrm only to find an endless crevasse stretch before them . . .
Suddenly, a bolt of lightning. A bridge of light forms. A transparent, radiant dwarf stands at the other side of the crossing bekoning them forward. Their God has not abandoned his faithful in their hour of need . . .
The King, Gomar, Badan, Gohzrik, and mere hundreds of other dwarven warriors make it across bearing only their weapons and armor . . . but a great crash sends soldiers on the bridge flailing into the depths. Gohzrik turns to see A familiar Caliban standing on a higher ledge, the inhuman creature smirking at the work his boulder had done. Two others begin their own assault, targeting not the dwarves but the center of the narrow bridge connected to the sides of the chasm to trap the rest of the dwarves behind. The dwarven deity seeing this, used its body as a bridge to allow the remaining survivors a chance to cross. The Caliban leader continued his barrage of stones pummeling the god enraged his plan had been foiled. Gohzrik returned fire at the Caliban leader, his arrows finding their mark and left the leader momentarily distracted. The dwarf deity used the bought moment of reprieve to try further securing himself and held on just long enough to buy the needed time for the last of the dwarves to cross before crying out to Moradin to remember him and falling to the abyss as he was bombarded by a renewed surge of siege weapons.

The dwarven leadership looked on in dismay, seeing their god fall. Their loved ones-countless women and children dead. Untold numbers of warriors gone-never to rise again. The weight of the moment gripped their hearts thoughts. They were now a broken people. The moment lasted until another deafening strike caused fissures to form surrounding Broken Chain and his brothers, who began to fall before they could even gasp . . .
Gohzrik grabbed hold of the king at the last moment and pulled him to safety, watching helplessly as Badan and Gomar disappear into the darkness beneath them . . .
The King is inconsolable as he falls to his knees, his will to fight extinguished. An arrow clangs across the stone, narrowly missing its target . . .
With a cry Gohzrik takes hold of Broken Chain in his arms, lifting him up to carry him to safety . . .
An arrow lodges itself in his thigh. He does not waver . . .
Another pierces his back . . . Still, he stomps forward . . .
A third slices the side of his neck. Gohzrik's vision goes dark, never hearing the sound of his body fall upon the equally cold rock . . .


While the wizard processed the events, Voriel's eyebrow rose and he turned back to Gohzrik,
"Not to throw salt on the wounds but . . . why didn't you just drag the king? It would have been faster and those brutes would have had to choose their targets."