#tried to depict a cloaker dnd 5e encounter

[m-for-musings]

Honey Webbing

Part XI — Read on AO3

TW: BLOOD, VIOLENCE, GORE, INJURY.

Minthara's boots splashed through the shallow pools of water that dotted the narrow, winding tunnel. The damp air clung to her skin, and the sound of her footsteps echoed eerily in the oppressive gloom. As she rounded a bend, her steps slowed, her crimson gaze narrowing. The path ahead had become particularly treacherous, the smooth stone slick with moisture, becoming increasingly slippery underfoot. Minthara paused, carefully surveying the diverging tunnels before her – one leading up, where faint rays of moonlight shined through, and the other angling sharply downward towards the darkness.

Her attention was immediately drawn to the lower passage, its surfaces scarred and marred, as if something had recently slipped down its slippery incline with great force. Curiosity piqued, Minthara leaned forward, peering cautiously into the gloom, but the tunnel took a sharp turn a few meters ahead, obscuring her view beyond the wet, glistening rocks and shallow flow of water. Minthara hesitated only a moment, weighing the risks. Reaching a gloved hand out, she tested the traction of the lower passage, her eyes narrowing in consideration. Whatever had traversed, it had likely been not in a subtle way. Minthara surmised that if Mera had indeed passed this way, the child had likely intended to take the upward path to safety. However, the perilous, slippery terrain had clearly sent the girl careening down the treacherous descent before her in a violent slide. Carefully, she began to make her way down the treacherous incline, her hands braced against the slick walls as she moved with cautious steps.

The descent proved to be more difficult than Minthara anticipated, and soon she found herself fighting to maintain her footing on the uneven terrain. More than once, she felt her balance falter, her heart pounding as she caught herself before taking a devastating tumble. The air grew colder, the darkness more oppressive, and the familiar echoes went to her encounter, reminding her of home; she was in the unmistakable atmosphere of the Underdark.

Despite her caution, Minthara's boots suddenly lost their purchase on the slick stone, sending her pitching forward. The drow’s heart leapt into her throat as she slid uncontrollably down the incline, her armor scraping against the wet rocks with a jarring cacophony, her fingers scrabbling uselessly for purchase, until finally, she plunged into a waist-deep pond at the bottom of the tunnel. Stunned, she emerged from the water, sputtering and shivering, her eyes narrowed with frustration. Minthara couldn't suppress a wince as a sharp pain shot through her lower back, a lingering reminder of her tumble down the treacherous incline. Cursing under her breath, she reached back to gingerly touch the sore spot, her fingers failing in probing the tender flesh through the layers of her armor.

Wincing again, she bent down, carefully retrieving her sword from where it had fallen in the shallow pond. The familiar weight of the blade in her hand was a small comfort as she rose. Doing her best to ignore the ache in her back, Minthara waded through the shallow pond, her keen gaze taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. While the environment was unmistakably characteristic of the Underdark, with its ominous bioluminescent mushrooms and shadowed walls, the specific location was not one she recognized. She scanned the muddy ground around the pond, and to her relief, she spotted a series of distinct footprints leading away from the water's edge. Her heart quickened – these had to be Mera's. Without hesitation, she followed the trail, her steps swift and purposeful as she tracked the girl's path through the immense subterranean cave hall, her brows furrowing as she studied the footprints more closely. They were erratic, uneven – as if Mera had been limping, the girl's desperation evident in the unsteady stride.

The footprints led Minthara deeper into the vast, cavernous chamber, her steps cautious and deliberate as she navigated the uneven terrain. Towering natural columns of jagged stone rose up from the ground, casting long, distorted shadows across the cave floor. Gaps and crevices pockmarked the surrounding walls, from which emerged large, gnarled mushrooms, the pale bioluminescence of their caps casting an eerie glow in the large cavern. Minthara crossed the entirety of the cavern, approaching the far wall to inspect its gaps. To her surprise, the seemingly impassable dead-end opened up into a deep, yawning chasm. She approached the edge of the precipice, peering down into the inky darkness below. The walls of the precipice were lined with a risky, mushroom-encrusted descent.

Her keen gaze swept over the precarious "ladder" of fungal outcroppings, her mind already calculating the risks and potential benefits of using this unexpected route. As she scanned the shadowed depths, a faint glimmer caught her eye – a Sharran symbol on the bottom, barely visible among the scattered remains of a long-dead cleric. Minthara's shoulders sagged ever-so-slightly as a flicker of relief crossed her features. That was an area Minthara recognized from the time she traveled along the ones who would be saviors of Baldur’s Gate: She was close to the Gauntlet of Shar. With its traps disarmed and its doors unlocked, it would be an easy route to return to the surface.

Minthara's head snapped up at the faint sound of movement, her senses immediately on high alert. Gripping the hilt of her sword, she cautiously turned towards a shadowed alcove nearby, her crimson eyes narrowing as she scanned the craggy recess. For a heartbeat, there was only silence - then, another hustle sound in the shadows. Minthara tensed, her muscles coiled like a predator ready to strike. As Minthara cautiously approached the alcove, her gaze fell upon the huddled figure wedged deep within one of the craggy gaps in the wall. There, cowering in the shadows, was Mera, the half-drow girl's features etched with a mix of fear and pain.

"Finally," the drow woman growled, her tone sharp with impatience.

“Y-you’re…” The girl’s eyes were wide in surprise as she recognized Minthara.

"The ‘hag’, yes.” Minthara sharply mocked, the impatience still lingering in her words. “Come out, now. I’ll get you back to the surface." When the girl made no move to obey, Minthara's jaw tightened, her free hand pointing a threatening finger towards the alcove. "Don't make me come in there and get you, child. Your father is waiting."

Minthara's eyes narrowed as she watched Mera shrink back into the alcove, the girl's features etched with pure terror. Frustration bubbled within the drow - why couldn't the child just come along?

"Petulant child, this is no time for games," she growled. "We need to-"

But Minthara’s words died in her mouth as she noticed the shift in Mera's gaze, the girl's wide eyes fixed not directly on her, but on something behind her. A chill ran down her spine, and she whirled around, her sword raised and ready. There, silently descending from the cavernous ceiling above, was a monstrous sight to behold. A vast, shroud-like form unfurled, a gaping maw of needle-sharp teeth emerging from within the undulating folds of its leathery bat-like wings. Once spotted, with a guttural snarl, the Cloaker surged forward, its cavernous maw gaping wide.

Instinctively, Minthara reached within, calling upon the paladin power that had always answered her in times of need. But to her horror, she felt nothing - no warm glow of radiance, no surge of holy energy to bolster her attacks.

"No..." the drow woman breathed, her crimson eyes widening as the realization dawned on her. The voices in her nightmare didn’t lie: she had broken her sacred oath, and with it, gone were the blessings of a paladin. She was on her own.

Gritting her teeth, Minthara steeled her nerves and met the Cloaker's charge head-on, her sword flashing in the dim luminescence of the mushrooms as she unleashed a flurry of vicious strikes. But the creature was fast, impossibly so, its undulating form evading her blows with a fluid grace that bordered on the supernatural. Minthara's breath came in ragged gasps as she was forced to continually dance out of the way of the Cloaker's gaping maw, its needle-sharp teeth snapping at her with unrelenting ferocity. A misstep, a momentary lapse in focus, and those jaws would close around her, rending her flesh with agonizing ease. Desperately, she sought an opening, a weakness she could exploit. But the Cloaker seemed to anticipate her every move, its shadowy form shifting and undulating in a way that defied rational comprehension. Minthara felt her muscles growing weary, her movements beginning to slow, sending a sinking feeling of dread settled in the pit of her stomach.

A sharp pain lanced through Minthara's shoulder as the Cloaker's jagged teeth found their mark, and she let out a hiss of pain, her sword slashing wildly in retaliation. Finally, her blade landed a hit, slicing through the Cloaker's leathery "wing" with a spray of viscous ichor. The creature let out an exasperated screech, its form rippling and distorting, until with a final shudder, it vanished into the gloom. A duplicate.

Minthara stared, panting, at the empty space where the Cloaker had been. Her heart pounded in her ears, and a growing sense of unease crept up her spine. If that had been a mere duplicate, then where was the real creature? Her gaze snapped towards the alcove, where Mera still cowered. "Get down!" the drow shouted, her voice sharp with urgency. "Stay away from the walls!" Mera flinched at the order, but to Minthara's relief, the girl obeyed, her movements jerky and reluctant as she left the relative safety of her hiding place. Keeping her own sword drawn and ready, Minthara quickly positioned herself between Mera and the vast cavernous chamber, her keen eyes scanning every shadow for any sign of the true Cloaker.

"Put your back against mine, and keep watch!" she commanded, and Mera complied, the trembling girl pressing her back against Minthara's as they stood, braced for the creature's return.

"There's no way out," Mera protested, her voice barely above a whisper. "The tunnel is too slippery to climb back, I tried!"

“Silence!” Minthara urged, all of her senses heightened as she tried to catch any glimpse or sound that could reveal the creature’s whereabouts.

After several moments of silent vigilance, the real Cloaker had given no signs of its presence. Either it was not immediately present, which was unlikely, or at least (and more probably) it was taking time to recover after using the duplicate, its most energy-consuming ability. Either way, it meant they had just enough time to make the perilous descent. Minthara turned to face Mera, her expression grave. The child was bruised, her clothing tattered, but Minthara could see no serious injuries – just the remnants of a harrowing fall, the cost of her desperate flight through these treacherous passages. Mera's wide eyes darted between the drow and the dead-end around her, her body tensing.

"Listen to me, girl," Minthara said, her tone brooking no argument. "We must move, and move quickly. The only known and safe way out lies in reaching that temple below. Stay close to me, and do exactly as I say. Understood?"

Without another word, Minthara turned and began to make her way towards the edge of the precipice, the mushroom-encrusted "ladder" their only means of escape. She could only pray that their gamble would pay off, and that the Cloaker would not catch them before they reached the ancient Sharran shrine. Minthara risked a quick glance over her shoulder, her gaze falling upon Mera's trembling form. The girl's movements were labored and agonizingly slow, her steps halting and unsteady.

"M-my ankle..." Mera's voice wavered, thick with the threat of tears. Tentatively, she reached down, pulling up the hem of her trousers to reveal a swollen, angry-red joint. The skin was inflamed and discolored, the girl's delicate features twisted in a pained grimace.

Without a word, Minthara moved to Mera's side, her brow furrowing as she examined the injured ankle. The joint was clearly sprained, if not outright broken.

“It happened when I slipped…” The girl begins to explain, but her words met only silence in response. Minthara's jaw tightened, her mind racing as she weighed their options. They were so close to the temple, so close to potential safety. But with Mera's injury, their progress would be painfully slow, leaving them vulnerable to the Cloaker's return. The drow glanced back towards the way they had come, her grip tightening on her sword. Time was of the essence, and she could not afford to be slowed down. Exhaling a heavy sigh, Minthara made her decision.

"Hold on to me," she commanded, "and don't let go, no matter what." The girl nodded, climbing onto Minthara’s back, tightly embracing her waist with her legs. The drow carefully inched her way down, crumbling mushroom protrusions, her own footing sure and steady as she leaped forth, landing firmly to the relative safety of the temple grounds below. Once at the bottom, just a few meters ahead, a wooden door stood half-open, a glimpse of a dimly lit dining room visible beyond.

Minthara's already battered body protested after carrying Mera's lanky teenage frame into her back. The drow’s muscles strained with the additional weight, the ache in her back flaring to life once more. Though the girl was small, the sheer effort of carrying her took a heavy toll on Minthara's half-recovered form.

With shaking legs, Mera carefully slid down from Minthara's back, both hands gripping tightly Minthara's free hand as she scanned the temple grounds with wide, fearful eyes. Minthara fought the instinct to pull away from the girl's touch, instead giving her a firm tug towards the open doorway.

"Come," the drow woman murmured, her voice low and urgent.

Mera hesitated for a heartbeat, her gaze darting back towards the shadows, as if the Cloaker might materialize from the gloom. But Minthara's grip on her hand was unyielding, and with a trembling nod, the girl allowed herself to be led towards the open door, her limping painful steps quickening to small one-foot jumps as they neared the relative safety of the adjoining chamber.

Just as they reached the threshold of the dining room, suddenly, before she could react, a monumental force slammed into Minthara from behind, knocking the breath from her lungs as she was sent hurtling through the open doorway. Minthara barely had time to register Mera's terrified scream before she hit the ground in a tumble, her vision momentarily blacking out from the impact. Shaking her head to clear the daze, she whirled around, only to find the Cloaker's gaping maw descending upon her, its razor-sharp teeth gleaming in the dim light as it let out a bone-chilling shriek.

Minthara parries, feeling the creature's fetid breath on her face, gagging on the noxious fumes that seemed to seep from its very pores. She pushes the creature back, her blade tingling when in touch with the creature's teeth, pushing it back enough for her to get back on her feet. The creature's fluid, ethereal movements had already proven a formidable challenge, and without her paladin abilities, she knew she would need to rely solely on her wits and combat prowess to overcome this foe.

When the Cloaker lunged again, Minthara pivoted, her blade flashing as she delivered a series of rapid strikes to the creature's flank. To her satisfaction, the Cloaker let out a pained roar, taking flight, disappearing between the ceiling’s uneven stones. Luckily enough, that was the real Cloaker this time.

Minthara knew Cloakers all too well; their ability of becoming invisible made them dangerous predators in the Underdark, even for the most seasoned of the warriors. Right now, she was its prey, and the creature could be anywhere. A sudden, shrill whisper brushed the edge of her hearing, sending a chill down her spine. Minthara whirled, her blade darting out only to be met with empty air. Her chest tightened with unease. She was being watched.

Slowly, Minthara continued to scan the darkness, every step cautious, senses hyper-alert. That's when she saw it again – a massive, transparent shape clinging to a column nearby, high above. The Cloaker unfurled its immense body, its long, whip-like tail lashing out with a sickening crack. Minthara barely managed to dodge the blow, the air whistling as the tail sliced through the space where she had just stood.

Lashing out with her blade, Minthara scored a deep gash along the Cloaker's flank, eliciting a shrill, agonized screech from the creature. But the monster was undeterred, its tail coiling around her leg in a vise-like grip. Minthara hissed in pain as the corrosive mucus on the appendage began to burn through her armor, searing her flesh. Yet she refused to relinquish her grip on her sword, bringing the blade down in a savage arc against the tail's thick hide.

The Cloaker let out another shriek, its hold momentarily loosening. But before Minthara could make another move, the creature set flight again, its powerful wings propelling it upwards as it dragged the drow woman painfully across the stone floor, making her lose her sword in the process.

Suddenly, a sizable rock came hurtling through the air, striking the Cloaker's hide. The creature let out a cry of pain, halting on its track. Minthara's gaze snapped towards Mera, her eyes widening as she witnessed the girl's desperate gambit.

She wanted to shout at the girl about the stupidity of drawing the monster's attention to herself, but the words caught in her throat as Mera ducks behind one of the crumbling statues and broken columns that dotted the area, grabbing another sharp-edged stone, her arm cocking back to throw.

The Cloaker's attention shifted, its cavernous maw gaping open in a ferocious roar as it let go of Minthara's leg and surged towards the girl. The drow surged to her feet, her wounded leg protesting, but she paid it no heed. She had to end this quickly.

Mera's aim was true once more, the jagged shard of rock plummeting towards the Cloaker's head. The monster let out a furious hiss as the projectile struck, preparing to leash out at the girl. Seizing the opportunity, Minthara unsheathed a dagger from her leg armor and surged forward, her gaze fixed on the monster. Ducking low, she slid past the advancing creature, her blade arcing in a vicious slash in the creature’s underbelly. But to Minthara's surprise, the monster, instead of reeling back from the blow, simply flew past her, its cavernous maw gaping open as it lunged towards the terrified Mera.

Without hesitation, Minthara leaped forward and violently pushed the girl aside, taking her place as the Cloaker’s target as the creature's jagged teeth sank into her shoulder. The drow let out a guttural cry of pain, but she refused to buckle, her dagger lashing out in a savage strike. The creature’s grip was relentless, and its tail and wings were now wrapped around her torso in a deadly embrace.

Desperately, she braced herself, driving her blade deep into the Cloaker's hide. The monster thrashed and shrieked, its tail tightening further, until Minthara felt a rib begin to crack. Gritting her teeth against the searing agony, she brought her blade down again and again, her vision blurring as the Cloaker's venomous secretions seared her skin.

Just when she felt her strength beginning to wane, Minthara summoned a final, desperate burst of energy. With a painful howl, she plunged her blade into the Cloaker's skull, piercing the creature's brain, twisting it just to be sure. The monster's thrashing grew wild and frenzied, then suddenly, it went limp, its coils loosening around Minthara's body.

"We must... keep moving," she rasped, her voice rough with exertion. Without waiting for a response, she pushed herself away from the Cloaker's corpse, determined to press onward despite her body's protests.

But the adrenaline that had fueled her could no longer sustain her. Minthara's steps faltered, and suddenly, she found herself collapsing to the ground, her vision blurring as the searing pain in her shoulder overwhelmed her. With a monumental effort, the drow woman turned her head, her eyes locking onto Mera's terror-stricken face. She wanted to offer the girl directions, to tell her how she could get to the surface from here, but the words caught in her throat, drowned out by the ragged sound of her own labored breathing. She cursed herself inwardly, berating her own weakness even as darkness began to creep at the edges of her vision. She had come so far, fought so hard, all to find this damn child - and now, when she finally did it, her strength was failing her in the last steps of the way. 

“You failed us, Minthara…”

… again.

< Part X || Part XII >