I didn't even take time to respond. My face a mask of severity, I commanded Jenn and Topher: "We're going in hard."

The slightest tightening of Topher's lips told me he was suppressing a dirty joke. He barreled down the stone stairs, making a shambling ruckus in his chain mail. Jenn followed, just as noisily, but being a bit more careful as she descended. I was right behind them. My heart, still pounding from before, started beating faster. I tried to come to terms with the idea that we’d be killing these people.

I mean, they were nasty, child-snatching cultists, but people nonetheless.

We crossed the threshold into a wide hallway with stone sarcophagi, torches and pillars in repeated order along both walls. I found myself running exactly step for step in step behind Topher. After a quick emotional inventory, I realized why.

I was afraid. I didn't want the cultists to hear three sets of footprints. People who take children from the clutches of mothers are probably dangerous, and weren't going to mess around. My mind swam. Would I have to kill them to save this baby? Would they kill me in the process? Is taking this baby away from them even the right thing to do if the mother's having trouble providing for herself?

Damn it, now's not the time! I drew my longsword. I had to be ready. We'd be rounding the corner to the right, and they should be there. They had to have heard us coming. They'd be waiting. Surprise is gone. They outnumber us. They’re organized. They probably have dark magic that can kill us instantly….

Topher took the corner at speed, Jenn did the same at less speed, and I didn't. I stopped right before cresting the edge, my boots skidding slightly along the stone to a halt.

I was a coward.

No - I was being smart, I quickly told myself. I was going to assess the situation, like a smart guy. I peeked ever so slightly around.

Light was scarce; only a few candelabras lit this part of the mausoleum. A line of several pillars followed the rounded back wall, a block of stone serving as an altar sitting at the focus of the curve. Several benches were arrayed in ceremonial fashion.

I was relieved to see that the cultists, in hooded black robes and sitting on the benches, hadn't turned to look at our armored shock troops. The relief was short lived after I noticed two things. Firstly, the head cultist, facing the others, dressed in similar black robes, with a wicked looking dagger raised over his head, was standing over the altar, on which a swaddled baby laid. Second was a disturbing purple energy, billowing like smoke, flowing from the leader to the rest of the cultists. What the Hell was that?

-A concentrated field of ambient magical energy, coalesced by the leader and infused into the others- the information shot into my head. I didn't think I was trying to use the arcana skill, but apparently it thought otherwise. I was worried about doing too well on the check, but carried on regardless. So taking out the leader would stop the energy?

-No-

Huh. But would it stop the concentrated infusion of the energy?

-Yes-

There we go. What effects does the energy—

"What are you doing here?" bellowed the leader in a dark, raspy voice. "Get out! This place isn't meant for you!" He sounded like a melodramatic cliche. Silently, a shadow glided from behind a pillar, and a hint of candle glare off metal pierced the gloom.

Kevin skewered the leader in the back with his sword. Screaming in pained frustration, the leader took a blind swing at him with the dagger, which he narrowly ducked under. From his low stance, Kevin sprung towards the now off-balance leader, shouldering him in the chest. The leader stumbled back, away from the baby and the altar. Topher and Jenn were waiting for him.

Topher arced his large sword, but misjudged trajectory, the blade making a heavy "whoosh" sound. Jenn, however, brought her mace right into the small of the leader’s back, which made a metallic "thump" sound. He must be wearing armor under the robe.

The sitting cultists hadn't done anything to help. What were they waiting for?

The leader took a stab at Topher, the point of the blade piercing his chain mail and drawing blood. Topher roared. Even though it was more out of annoyance than actual rage, the sound was still frighteningly inhuman. The leader shouted over him, "Help me, you mindless morons!"

In startling unison, the cultists stood up. I had to do something - my friends would be overwhelmed once they made their way over the benches.

Think.

Think.

Think faster.

I was between the cultists and my friends before I realized what I was doing. The cultists were right in my face, three of them almost within reach, the others right behind them. I couldn't help but notice their hands were covered in misting purple energy. Their faces were completely placid, and their eyes glowed with more purple, completely covering them. Freaky. My soul-reaching limb plumbed the depths like oily lightning….

It grabbed a very specific 'color'. It grabbed a lot of a very specific 'color'. It was an incredible strain to drag it out of my soul. Once I did, however, I realized exactly what it was.

Rage.

The 'color' inside my soul, which the limb removed, was pure, uncensored rage. It squirmed and wrenched against my grip, bits of it spilling into my body. I knew instantly that the other colors were other emotions, but didn't have time to dwell.

I could feel the rage flow into my arms, and I instinctually held them wide. It filled my lungs, and I inhaled air to cool it. My legs tensed at the intensity of it. I knew I was going to burst if this stayed in me. I had to get rid of it.

I howled, spewing rage into the darkened house of the dead. With more strength than I knew I had, I drove my arms together, my open left hand assaulting the sword wielding right one.

Noise exploded from the clap. Thunderous, cacophonous noise. It sent a shockwave out from me, blowing all the candle flames sideways. In the more immediate area, it had much the same effect on the cultists.

I gawked for just a moment at their sprawled bodies - the spell was strong enough to send the closest ones flying back, cascading them into the others behind. They all laid in a tangled heap, along with the benches that had survived the blast.

Did I really have that much rage hiding in my soul?

The baby started crying in reaction to the noise, snapping me from my wonderings. Good. Up until now, he had been worryingly silent. The cultists started to untangle themselves - that was also good, as it meant I wasn't a murderer quite yet, even if they didn't have any sense of sentience in their eyes.

Topher yelled at me. "Was that Thunderwave, man? Warn us next time!" He sidestepped a thrust from the leader. "Pretty cool, though."

I yelled back. "Take out the leader!" I was relieved I hadn't blown my voice out. "He's doing something to the cultists!"

"Will do," said Jenn, swinging but missing. "But you need to get the baby out of here! Now!"

"We'll handle the rest," said Kevin. "No prob."

I nodded and ran to the altar. The baby's squished face was crinkled from crying. As gently and quickly as I could, I picked him up, holding him against my chest with my forearm, his head supported by the crook. "I got you, lil' bro," I said with a touch of levity. He cried at my face in response.

"Blessings of life upon you!" enunciated Jenn. I turned to see a yellow light flash from her left hand, which was now holding some sort of silver medallion, her mace on the floor beside her. The light passed through me, filling me with a comfortable warmth. It must have been a Bless spell. It was a good choice.

I had my own way of helping. I was pretty sure Kevin could do more damage with a sneak attack than Topher or Jenn could do with their weapons, so the choice of who was clear. Now I had to speak with sincerity.

"Kevin, you got this." I said.

"Uh, yeah. Okay," he said back, parrying a thrust.

Did it work? "I… are you inspired?"

He just looked confused. "Um, sure. I'm great. Now get the fuck out of here."

The clump of cultists had just about sorted themselves out. I took off.

"No! Stop him! Get that baby back!" shouted the leader.

I ran past the heap, baby close to my chest. A hand with a purple glow swiped at my leg in response, missing by inches. I could feel my skin crawl and tingle in response to the proximity of the energy. I did not want to get hit by that. I rounded the corner.

"Close the portcullis!"

That wasn't good. Why hadn't they closed it to begin with? Kevin said he hadn't seen a way to operate it. Was there a lever farther in? Why would it be designed like that?

A loud "clank" followed by chains rattling let me know the answers to those questions wouldn't help me. At the end of the hallway, in front of the staircase that led to daylight, the portcullis lowered. I pumped my legs harder, my mouth streaming a line a expletives in time with my steps while my mind's eye ran those old PSAs about Shaken Baby Syndrome.

I couldn't make it through in time. There was no way. I had to think of something. I had to get the baby to safety. Maybe I could slide it along the floor to the other side of the portcullis just before it closed?

Yes, Jack. Roll the baby like a bowling ball across the hard stone floor underneath a falling half-ton mass of wrought iron and have him careen into the stairs.

The portcullis closed, pointed ends sliding into small grooves with a resolute clank. I stopped just in front of it, very little daylight showing through its metal lattice. The baby continued his dreadful screams. New plan. I turned around to see the half-dozen hooded crazies, jogging in unison towards me with a strange, almost mechanical gait. Each was holding out a glowing hand.

I did a mental burst of D&D mathematics. With leather armor and dexterity, I had an Armor Class of 13. If I assumed a +2 to each of their attacks, they'd need to roll an 11 on a d20 to hit me - or a 50% chance. If I could pose disadvantage on their attacks, that would make it a 25% chance to hit. There were six of them, so I'd be taking one and a half hits every combat round - six seconds. Assuming minimal damage from glowing hands - say, two to four hit points a hit - with my eight hit points, I'd be down and bleeding out in six to eighteen seconds. Not good. I usually took comfort in the ease with which I did math. This time, not so much.

There was no sign of intelligence in their eyes. I couldn't reason with them. The best I could do would be to find a choke point, but the closest thing would be a corner. I looked at my options….

Success! Against a corner was a sarcophagus - the higher ground would pose disadvantage to attack rolls (wouldn't it? I cursed myself for not reading the rulebook thoroughly). I could fight back for a bit, maybe cast a healing spell on myself if need be - though that Thunderwave was exhausting.

Wait…

If I cast Thunderwave while they surrounded me, I should be able to knock most of them back again - then I could buy time by running back to my friends. Excellent! I had a plan.

I turned, screaming baby in one hand and longsword in the other, toward the sarcophagus in the corner. I leapt up, toes narrowly clearing the edge. I silently apologized to a mister Burnfield for the inconvenience of having me stand atop him. Backing into the corner, I readied my sword. The cultists closed in, hands outstretched.

I had to make sure they were close before I cast. The first few came into reach, and I danced over their grasping arms. One tried to climb up the sarcophagus, but I planted a heel right into her nose. She fell, blood spattering around. When she stood up again, her face was still emotionless, though her nose was broken.

Things were going good. I kept dancing around their attacks, and brought my sword down on one - I didn't have time to worry about if I became a murderer or not. The metal pierced flesh, spewing blood from the man's shoulder. He didn't even flinch. Maybe things weren't going good.

There was a sickening sound, similar to bones cracking. I turned and saw the lady I'd kicked. Her nose was righting itself, snapping in small increments. It had stopped bleeding, as well.

So a war of attrition wouldn't end in my favor. I had to Thunderwave to give myself breathing room to run back to the others. My unseen limb readied itself…

…But I'd need at least one free hand to cast the spell. Crap. I could drop the longsword, no big deal. I had a dagger as backup. But would the baby be affected by the spell? Is he considered to be in my inventory, and therefore safe? Would the magnitude of the point blank noise deafen his underdeveloped ears?

-Yes, no, and probably-

Gee, thanks, arcana skill.

Great. My only recourse is to hope my friends take out the leader before I die. I stabbed at a hand that was getting too close, drawing blood and pushing it back… but not quite far enough. It grazed my shin, causing a prickling sensation to flare up and down my leg. I didn't think it did any real damage, but it was still too close for comfort. Their placid faces kept staring at me with their glowing purple eyes, never tiring, never wavering. It wouldn't be long before I messed something up.

All at once, their heads jerked forward, as though they'd all been smacked upside them simultaneously. Their eyes closed for the first time since I'd been watching, and they slumped to the ground, groaning - the first noise they'd made, as well. The leader must have been dealt with.

I leapt over them, landing just past the sprawled robes of one. Maybe they could be reasoned with, now. I took a second of consideration, and sheathed my sword.

They started standing. Their hands weren't glowing anymore, and neither were their eyes. Wait, not quite. Their eyes had a little bit of purple around the edges. With confused looks, they started murmuring variations of "What happened?"

Were they unaware of their condition? Were they trapped by the leader? How could I use this?

The murmurs became shouts. "Why don't we have the Ware? What happened to Railford?" That must be the leader. Noted. "Who's responsible for this?" The shouts became more angry. This wasn't good, but at least they sounded like people, now - maybe they could be reasoned with.

One, in a rage, pointed a finger at me. "Hey, you and your cronies did this! What gives you the right?" This really wasn't good. They started to surround me, blocking off the path to my friends.

Another one pounded his fist into his hand. "We'll show them, Jeremy! They can't take what's ours!"

I had to take control. In a booming voice, I commanded, "Stop this! Have you lost your minds? I have a child!" I showed them the baby (who had never stopped screaming, by the way). I was banking on the idea that they needed him for their ritual. "Would you endanger his life? Think about this!" I had my head tilted slightly towards the far end of the hallway, in hopes my friends would hear me.

They all looked at each other, not seeming pleased. One lady, the same one I had kicked before, took a step forward. Her face was dark - even darker with the dried blood. "Fine, then. Hand me the baby so we can pummel you. You wouldn’t want to see him hurt, right?“ The others nodded in fierce agreement.

Time to change tactics. I construed my face into a confident smirk. "You really want to challenge me? I could flatten you all with just a word. I did it before, remember?" I hoped they did, but there was definitely a chance they weren't conscious while they were on this 'Ware' stuff.

Their confidence seemed to waver a bit. Good, they did remember. A beat of hope flitted in my chest. At least until one said, "Yeah, and we all got right back up from it, remember?" He mocked me with the last word. The others smiled, confidence and mob mentality renewed. Crap.

One more chance. I really wasn't going to like this. Feigned psychosis in my eyes, I let a smile creep up my face. "Fine," I said. With a flash, I drew my dagger, and pointed it at the baby's chest. "Anyone comes closer, and I'll rip this bastard in half."

That got them thinking. They all took a step back, hands up in placating reassurance. Except one. "You came out here to get that baby," she said. It was the same bloodied one from before. "You wouldn't hurt it now. Give him to me and accept your fate like a man."

I had to keep control. Still with a smile, I looked her directly in the eyes. Time to sell it. "Thing about me," I said, "is I'm a coward." That much was true. "Always have been. Always will be, probably. You see, it's cowardice that lets me think that no life is intrinsically more valuable than another. Not intrinsically." Her smug expression slowly melted into hate. I was getting to her - just had to go deeper. "But the value that's placed on life is entirely up to whoever happens to have the power. Right now I—“ with a bit of flourish, I pointed the dagger to me and back to the crying kid, “—I have the power over this child. The value of his life is entirely up to me. And I'm coward enough to value my life more. I was fine trying to rescue him while my friends did the brunt of the work, but now that's passed." I couldn't believe how focused I was. All this was flowing out of me, impromptu. "Now you're forcing this choice. And I'll take the coward's way out, I promise." Wait, 'the coward's way out' usually meant suicide. Crap. Better press on quickly. "But enough about me. What you really need to ask yourself is," I lowered my brow and narrowed my gaze, "are you brave enough to see what this kid looks like on the inside?"

Overall, I'd give the speech a 6 out of 10. Fortunately, it was enough. The lady, fire still in her eyes, backed away slowly. God bless the deception skill (or would that be blasphemous, given the Ten Commandments?).

Clanking armor heralded Topher and Jenn's arrival. Menacing silence heralded Kevin's. Their weapons were bloody, their faces grave. "Back away from him, now," demanded Jenn.

I barely hid my anger. "Took you long enough."

Topher shrugged. "We got him down, but then he started glowing and regenerating. Took a bit."

They must have forced him to stop giving power to the others so he could take it for himself. Interesting.

"Glad you were able to handle yourself," said Kevin.

"Oh, yeah. No sweat," I lied.

"You won't get away with this," the bloody lady was staring at the ground, fists shaking. I surreptitiously put my dagger away and redrew my longsword. "You took away our Ware. You all deserve to die!"

“Bring it, bitch - I’ll cut you in half," said Topher with complete confidence.

It didn't stop them. The cultists erupted into a frenzy, clawing at us with everything they had. The bloody lady came for me. I stepped back, putting my sword between us, and turning so the baby wouldn't get hit. The blade sliced into her side, but she kept coming, purple eyes a haze with rage. I ducked under a swipe, holding the baby tight. Repositioning my legs, I thrust my sword upward with all the muscle I could.

It pierced right through her chest. Her mouth gaped open in shock. Her body started to slump. The fight had left her. The color drained from my face - I’d just dealt a mortal blow to a human being. She stared at me.

"You're… you're a monster."

She's trying to get into my head. Don't let her.

"Maybe," I said. "But for the record, I was bluffing—I would've never hurt this baby. You almost did. I know I'll sleep fine tonight. I wonder how good your rest will be." With that, I kicked her off my sword and onto the pile of the others Topher had been graciously making.

I looked down at the baby. He was still crying. I looked over to the lady. She was motionless. Her eyes stared blankly at the ceiling, like doll's eyes made of glass. I found my mind repeating a line I'd heard in my youth:

"…and when you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes into you."

I shook it off. Honestly, it sounded like a Russian Reversal joke.