Hammerhead
Explorer
Hey, gfunk, was the missing section omitted from my PDF or was there simply an error in posting it?
BTW, Havok's HPs are wrong.
BTW, Havok's HPs are wrong.
JollyDoc's Age of Worms (Updated 11/30, Epilogue!)
JollyDoc
Explorer
GIANTS AND DRAGONS AND…GOLIATHS? OH MY!
The maze of menhirs was much as they had remembered it from their previous visit and beyond, the beach was still a ships’ graveyard. One other thing had not changed…Grogriss Spit-Eye and his crew were still marooned. They denied having seen Darl Quethos return that way. All they knew was that the storms had suddenly ended. True to their word, the League returned them to Calimport via Faust’s use of Teleportation…no questions asked. Then the team took their leave of Tilagos for the last time, with Longsaddle as their destination.
Malchor Harpell was very pleased to see them again, and eager to hear all that they had accomplished and learned. To their surprise, and to his own, he knew all about the Order of the Storm and the exact location of Kongen-Thulnir…it was an ancient city ruled by giants, located in Skull Gorge. The arch-mage confessed that he had not known this information the day before. In fact, he had suddenly found himself in possession of much knowledge that he had not previously possessed. New books and scrolls had mysteriously appeared in his library. He thought these phenomena to be a direct result of the League’s use of the Library of Last Resort. Much that was lost had been returned to the world. Even the very nature of some forms of magic had changed, he explained. The school of Polymorph, which had allowed Faust to travel in the form of a stone giant, and Giovanni to win the battle against the Swords of Kyuss by virtue of his beholder aspect, had been radically altered. Arcanists the world over had discovered that use of that particular magic now truly turned the user into the subject creature, stripping him of all of his own magical abilities. This was in all likelihood only the first of such revisions that would be discovered, for better or worse. This would be a great boon for the forces of Good in the world, but also for those of Evil. Specifically, if the League now knew where Dragotha’s phylactery could be found, it was a good bet that the dracolich also knew. Malchor urged them to make all haste to Skull Gorge, and the group resolved to do just that after a few days of much-needed rest. Most of them. When the League had finished their tale, Pavel stepped forward, and laid his axes upon Malchor’s desk.
“I’m done,” the dwarf said with a tone of finality. “I wasn’t able to do what you hired me for, and I’ll not be acceptin’ yer money. These folk are truly heroes, and I’m in awe of’em. They deserve better.” Despite the protests of the others, he said not another word, instead simply turning and leaving. Malchor sighed.
“A man’s personal demons can be a far greater foe than any of flesh and blood. Let him go my friends. This is one battle that no one can fight for him.”
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It was during this respite that a servant informed Grubber one morning that he had a visitor. Puzzled, the priest followed the man into the lush gardens of the Ivy Manor, where to his amazement, he found another goliath awaiting him. He was bulkier than Grubber, and taller by almost a foot, and though his features looked younger, he was disfigured by heavy outgrowths of liths, stone-like deformities not uncommon among goliaths. Something about him seemed familiar to Grubber.
“It’s really you,” the younger goliath said in a strangely cultured accent. “After all these years. Do you not remember me?”
Grubber shook his head slowly, “It seems that I should, yet I cannot say why.”
“It’s been almost twenty years since last we met,” the other replied. “I was only a small boy. Grubber, I am Makaleth…your brother.”
Grubber was stunned into silence. Indeed he had once had a younger brother by that name, though like the rest of his family, ‘Big Mak,’ as they’d called him, had been lost to him when he was exiled. “How?” The priest whispered.
Makaleth sighed, “It is a long story, and a difficult one for me to tell. Not long after you…left, our tribe was attacked by a band of mountain giants. Our people were wiped out except for me and one other. Do you remember Ike? The one they called Dark Uncle?”
Grubber did remember the taciturn warrior. He had once been an adopted member of their tribe, having been orphaned as a child and raised by humans. He had disappeared for several months when Grubber was just a boy, and when he had returned, he was greatly changed. He barely spoke at all, and refused to take up arms when the tribe was threatened, claiming only that he was waiting for his doom to find him. In time, he had been left to his own devices, still a member of the tribe, but living in almost self-imposed exile.
“He did not fight when the giants came,” Makaleth continued, “but he took me to a safe place until the battle was over. Afterwards, we journeyed north. Through many lands we passed, finally reaching the cold lands of the north. There, he left me on the doorstep of a temple to Helm, claiming that his own faith had abandoned him. I never saw him again. The priests took me in, and cared for me, sharing with me their beliefs and doctrine. In time, it became obvious that I had been…touched by the Watcher. Though not a priest like them, I could still access the divine power of Helm simply by meditating. They called me Favored, and so I have been. In time, through study and Divination, I remembered the truth of my past, and remembered also that I still had family…you my brother. I have devoted the last several years of my life to finding you, and in doing so, I also know of the road that you are now upon. The time has come for us to be family again, and for me to join you on your quest…if you will have me.”
Grubber was at a loss for words. He never dared dream that he would ever see any of his family again, and now Grumbar had blessed him and brought his little brother back to him. Solemnly they embraced, words no longer necessary.
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Malchor was, of course, able to provide a realistic portrait of the skyline of Kongen-Thulnir as seen from the lip of Skull Gorge. Using this as a reference point, Storm teleported the League, along with their newest member, to that spot, thus beginning the hunt for Dragotha’s phylactery.
When they arrived they were greeted by the vista of an arid wasteland broken only by the occasional rock formation or copse of scrub oaks, stretching to the horizon in all directions save one. In that direction, the land dropped away into the immense gulf of Skull Gorge. It stretched as far as the eye could see to the east and west, a boggling gash in the face of the world. The wind blowing over the strange rock formations perched on the canyon’s lip made a hollow, moaning sound.
One-hundred feet below the top of the cliff, an immense, ruined city of stone lay nestled in a wide, open cavern. Hundreds of multi-leveled buildings and towers rose inside this cave, creating a vertical cityscape of spires, battlements, and stone bridges. Spires of rock protruding precariously from the cliff’s lower face rose up before the cityscape. Some of these spires were barren, capped only by the odd bush or rock formation, but two supported large castles of their own, and connected to the main city via slender bridges of stone.
Smoke rose from several parts of the ruined city, and many of the buildings were recently damaged or destroyed. The source of this damage was readily apparent, for the city of Kongen-Thulnir was under siege by dragons!
“Looks like we arrived just in time,” Hawk said. “Dragotha’s forces are already here. The fact that they are STILL here makes it a good bet they haven’t found the phylactery yet. We still have a chance. Faust, can you get us down there?”
The psion peered cautiously over the edge. In several areas of the city he could see giants active in the ruins, some manning various siege engines, while others ran for cover. There was a narrow trail that wound down from the rim of the canyon to a single gate far below. That section of the city seemed relatively abandoned.
“There,” he said. “That’ll be our insertion site. Gather round me.” The others formed a tight circle around the élan, and in the blink of an eye found themselves standing just on the city side of the gate, a forty-foot tall, two-story structure made of bronzewood poles bound with heavy chains. A sixty-foot tower with a battlement roof and many loopholes watched silently over the area. Nearby, water flowed from a cistern into an aqueduct that traveled under a bridge and over the cliff’s edge. There was nothing living in sight.
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Necrozyte crouched like a spider on the cliff face high above the city. From that vantage, the fiendish dragon had a clear view of the newcomers’ arrival, though she herself remained unseen by virtue of the magical ring that she wore. Brazzemal had told her that Dragotha suspected others would be searching for the phylactery, and that she should stay posted near the main gate for just such an eventuality. Perhaps by slaying these would-be thieves she would be able to further ingratiate herself with the dracolich, so that she might learn his secrets for eternal life, and thus have all the time she needed to take her revenge on the Chromatic Dragon. Gathering herself, she sprang into the air, and glided silently downward, towards the unsuspecting fools.
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Grubber’s skin began to tingle a split-second before Storm cried out her warning. The goliath had woven a spell of foresight over himself before they had left Longsaddle, and it now screamed at him of impending danger. Storm, he recalled, had permanently ensorcelled herself with ability to see the invisible. Before he could react, the drow began the words to a spell, conjuring an orb of crackling electricity into her hand. She hurled it straight up, seemingly at nothing, but suddenly there was a deafening roar, followed by a tremendous crash. Mak, who stood several yards away, abruptly collapsed to the ground, the wind driven from his lungs, and twin streams of blood spraying from his nose. What in Grumbar’s name was happening?
Quickly, Grubber chanted, purging any form of invisibility with the words of his prayer. In horrified amazement, he took an involuntary step back as the form of a huge, green-scaled dragon suddenly materialized directly in front of him, on top of Mak! A smoking hole pierced the dragon’s hide near its chest, and though its sides heaved with respiration, its tongue lolled as if it were stunned.
Makaleth was bit stunned himself. One moment he had been standing in the midst of his new allies, and the next it felt as if a house had landed on his back. Fortunately, one of the rings that he wore allowed him to wriggle free from his predicament, though the sight of the dragon, as well as its impact, left him a bit shaken.
Necrozyte held no such mesmorization for Hawk. The civilar lifted Quaero and drove the blade into where he thought the dragon’s heart should be. Steaming, green blood spurted from the wound. Behind him he heard Storm’s voice raised in the tell-tale cadence of another spell. A second sizzling ball of lightning sailed past him, striking the still-addled wyrm in the skull, obliterating its right eye. The next thing Hawk knew, Faust was beside him. The psion hurled his own ball of energy, this time fire, onto the helpless beast, and then immediately knelt down beside the barely breathing dragon. Extending one finger, he touched the dragon’s snout, and the moment he did so, the digit turned black. An instant later, the entire dragon crumbled to dust, leaving behind only a silver ring and an emerald amulet. As Faust stood, he seemed to literally swell with power.
“You have been assimilated,” he spoke in a cold, clipped tone, and it was then that Hawk noticed that his eyes had turned bright green, and his skin appeared almost scale-like.
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Grazzilfek watched the scene unfold with a combination of awe and loathing. He had heard of, and to a small extent witnessed, the prowess of these mortals, but he would never have believed they could have bested Necrozyte so easily! Well, where strength had failed, guile would triumph. He stepped from the shadows of the alley and called out…
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“My lords! Over here!” The group turned, prepared for another attack. What they saw was a cloaked and hooded figure standing in the deep shadows at the mouth of what would be a narrow alley for giants.
“It is I!” The shadowy, diminutive creature shouted. “Your friend! The Ominous Fabler!”
“The ominous what?” Mak asked.
“It’s the fool!” Giovanni said, surprised, “Prince Embuirhan’s court jester! What is he doing here?”
Hawk held up a hand to keep any of his band from approaching.
“Something doesn’t seem right,” he said quietly. “Hold your positions.” He then called out across the square, “If you are who you say you are, then why are you here? How do you know this place?”
“I have been searching for you, my lords!” The Fabler called back. “When I saw you at the Prince’s gala, I recognized the stuff of heroes right from the start! It has taken me all this time to track you down, and now that I have, I wish to make you an offer. I wish to accompany you as a chronicler of your adventures, so that future generations will know every detail of your fight against the Age of Worms!”
Hawk glanced suspiciously at his comrades. “That still doesn’t explain how you found this city,” he called back.
“Fair enough!” The Fabler answered. “You deserve an explanation. My true name is Grazzilfek. My real master is the a thane of the stone giants named Kolvant Granitebones. His tribe once ruled this city. My liege experienced a terrible vision not long ago, wherein he beheld Kyuss’ return. While he prepared a pilgrimage here to recruit the aid of the Gorgelords, he sent me into the world to learn what I could of the Age of Worms. My journeys took me to Starmantle, just as you were drawn there.”
“Who are these Gorgelords that you speak of?” Hawk asked.
“They are a group of hill and fire giants who remain faithful to the current King of the Gorge, Achaime Silvereye,” Grazzilfek replied. “They comprise one of three groups operating within the city. The second are the Gorge Crawlers, a group of hill giant dissidents who split from the Gorgelords. The last are the Tiamikal Nul-Shada, the hunters of Tiamat’s children. They are a secretive order dedicated to the slaughter of dragons.”
Hawk turned to his friends. “I’m not sure if we can trust him or not, but he seems to be fairly knowledgeable of this area. Perhaps we can pry some more information from him. Quaero can place him within a Zone of Truth.” The others nodded their agreement, and they began to cross the square to where the Fabler waited. They were still several yards away when Giovanni heard a familiar voice in his mind. ‘Master,’ it was Dawn’s Light, his armor, speaking to him telepathically, ‘beware! He is not among the living!’
“Wait!” Storm hissed, stopping abruptly just as the warlock was preparing to warn the others. “Grubber! Do you see?” The sorceress knew that the priest had placed a True Sight spell upon himself, just as she had. At her words, he looked closely at Grazzilfek. At first, he appeared to be a somewhat sinister-looking gnome-like humanoid, with a prodigious nose, beady eyes, and pointed ears, but as Grubber’s Sight pierced that illusion, he saw what was beneath. His eyes were actually empty sockets with fat green worms writhing within, his flesh sallow and rotten.
“He’s a spawn!” The goliath shouted.
“No! Wait!” The Fabler stammered, as he started to back away.
“Stop where you are!” Havok commanded, and at his words, familiar worm-like tendrils erupted from the ground all around Grazzilfek, wrapping around his arms and legs and holding him firmly in place. Far from being distraught by this, the creature actually smiled.
“Another time then, my friends,” he said, and then he simply vanished.
“It’s Dragotha!” Faust said, “If he knows of this place, then surely he must have expected that we would come here also. His minions are going to be after us at every turn. We have to find that phylactery quickly!”
“Agreed,” Hawk said, “but this place is huge. We can’t search every building. We don’t have time. If these Gorgelords are as loyal to their king as the Fabler implied, then perhaps they will agree to help us if we plead our case to them.”
“But how will we be able to tell them from the other factions?” Giovanni asked.
“A good question,” the civilar replied, “but if I were in charge of a military unit loyal to a ruler under siege, I would make sure that I held onto the cities main defenses. I say we start with the gatehouse.”
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“Hello the Gate!” Hawk called out as the group stood before the brooding tower. “We come in peace! We are here to aid you in your struggle against the wyrms, but we need to speak to your king! Will you hear us out?”
The silence persisted for a few moments more, but then a gruff voice called from somewhere within the tower, “We not coming out! Dragons waiting for us! If you want king, go to palace in King’s Enclave!”
“What about the undercity?” Hawk called back. “We saw the stairs leading there on our way here! Who holds it?”
“Slaves!” The giant called back. “Not worth saving!”
“What do you think?” Hawk asked, turning back to his companions.
“It looked to me like the palace was under heavy attack when I saw it from the canyon’s edge.” Faust said. “However, I saw another large structure, closer by and accessible by a bridge from the undercity. It too was under attack, but by a smaller group of dragons. Perhaps we should start there. If its occupants are besieged, they might be more agreeable to aiding us if we first help them.”
The others agreed, and the group made their way back to the large handholds carved into the cliff face that acted as a giant ladder descending to the undercity. When they reached the bottom, they found the body of a blue dragon lying in a bloody heap at the base, its teeth, horns and claws removed. The undercity itself was filthy and reeked horribly. It seemed to have been spared the brunt of the dragons’ attack, however. The buildings formed a hive of overlapping walls, zigzagging alleys and claustrophobic tenements. They seemed to have been modified for use by normal-sized creatures, and many of their roofs scraped against the low cavern ceiling.
Nearby, a natural stone bridge, twenty-feet wide and ten-feet thick, connected to a stone pinnacle, atop which squatted a one-hundred foot tall tower. The building appeared heavily fortified, with catapults and ballistae visible upon its battlements. As the League watched, a flight of four large black dragons, led by a huge green dragon swooped and dove around the tower. At that moment, however, one of the blacks spied the company as they stood on the edge of the precipice, and as one, the flock wheeled towards them.
The dragons were still over one-hundred feet away when Havok drew first blood. A spear of emerald, eldritch energy lanced out at the lead green. The wyrm howled, but beat its wings faster, streaking towards the group.
“Grubber!” The warlock called over his shoulder. “We could use some help here! In about five seconds we’re about to be covered up in acid!”
“I’ll handle it,” Mak said, placing one hand on his brother’s shoulder just as the priest was preparing his spell. Nodding, Grubber instead drew his maul, stepping to the fore with Hawk to meet the assault. Mak began chanting, his voice a thunderous cadence. As he completed his prayer, the skin of his new-found friends took on a lustrous sheen as the protective barrier settled over them.
At that moment, the black dragons reached the ledge. Two of them dove right for Hawk, one of them sinking its jaws into his sword arm, while the other tore into his leg. The two remaining lunged for Grubber, but the goliath met them head on, his maul crushing the foot of the nearest. Suddenly, a wall of green fire roared up out of nowhere, the flames within it looking like a mass of writhing, green worms. The perilous flames caught three of the dragons in their midst, and they shrieked as their skin began to crackle. Havok looked down at his hands, which had conjured the fire, wondering what it was that he was becoming.
By this time the green dragon was hovering just beyond the edge of the cliff, a safe distance from the wall of fire, but not so safe from the arc of lightning that Storm cast between it and two of its black minions. The green’s wings were tattered shreds, and its skin was charred. Screaming in rage and agony, it folded its pinions, and dove into the canyon, disappearing into the mists below. One of the blacks whipped its head towards the drow who had dared attack its leader. Hissing, it sprang at her, seizing the sorceress in its jaws, crushing her mercilessly.
Hawk wrenched his arm free from the grip of the dragon in front of him, bringing his shield up to deflect its counter attack, and then slashing three quick blows across its neck. With a gurgle, the wyrm collapsed. Never pausing, the civilar turned on the beast still worrying his leg, and hammered Quaero into its skull, forcing it to release him.
Seeing Storm’s predicament, Havok hurled an eldritch blast at her assailant, blowing a hole through one flank and out the other. The drow nodded her thanks as she tumbled free. The warlock then turned and produced a nest of worm-tentacles around the two remaining dragons. Though they struggled mightily, the wyrms could not free themselves from the rubbery appendages, leaving them as sitting ducks when Grubber unleashed a radiant burst of energy, burning one of them to cinders in a flash, and blinding the other. The goliath closed on the remaining black dragon, Hawk moving to flank. Both of them struck simultaneously, as Havok released one final blast, slaying the beast instantly.
The way to the tower was momentarily clear. “Go!” Hawk commanded, and he started across the bridge, the others following. They were half way across the span, and could see the giants manning the siege engines atop the fortress, when a great gust of wind rushed up from the canyon below them. Five huge shadows in the mist below rapidly resolved themselves into ascending green dragons!
“Run!” Hawk shouted. Havok had other plans. Pulling a scroll from his belt, he quickly read the words. As he spoke the last one, his body became translucent and indistinct. He then sank out of sight into the very stone of the bridge.
Grubber was the first to heed Hawk’s advice, and ran full out to the massive iron doors of the tower. Unfortunately when he reached them, they were shut tight, and locked.
“Move!” Faust shouted from behind him, and the goliath didn’t hesitate. Suddenly, a thin green beam of light struck the door, and it simply vanished, leaving a gaping hole in the wall.
“Quick! Get inside!” Faust cried, but this time his voice came from INSIDE the building. The resourcefulness of the psion never ceased to amaze Grubber. As Mak came up behind him, they both stepped to the doorway…and abruptly came to a halt. Standing inside the large room beyond were six very angry looking giants, four of them brutish and wearing hide armor, the other two black-skinned with fiery red hair dressed in chain shirts.
Storm rendered herself invisible as Hawk held the bridge, making sure all of his companions were safely across. Then, from behind he heard a large ‘thunk’ and a whistling in the air. Looking up, he noted two things. First, far above the fray circled an enormous red dragon. Second, a large bag of some sort had just been fired from one of the catapults on the tower roof…and it was coming directly towards him. It landed a few feet in front of him, and exploded into a great gout of greenish-yellow ichor that appeared to issue from severed insectile heads that were contained within. The fluid completely covered the civilar, and for a moment he felt his limbs seize up. The sensation passed quickly, and he was on the move. It seemed the giants were not as happy to be rescued as they had hoped, and he didn’t intend to stay where he was and be a target for artillery practice.
The dragons had reached the level of the bridge, and Storm still stood alone in its midst. Hawk had assumed she had fled once she disappeared, but she hadn’t had the time. Now the nearest of the huge wyrms turned its massive head towards her, sniffing the air, its heightened senses detecting her presence though it could not see her. Opening its mouth, it breathed forth a cloud of noxious, yellow gas. Quickly the sorceress dove forward, rolling away from the fumes. As she regained her feet, she pelted full speed towards the tower.
Within the tower itself, the giant welcoming committee moved to greet their guests. Two of the hill giants blocked Grubber and Mak at the door, while the other two boxed Faust into one corner. At that moment, the beating of wings drew the attention of the goliaths to their rear. There, a dragon hovered only a few feet away. It breathed its toxic breath, engulfing them completely, as well as the hill giants opposing them. So potent was the cloud, that it managed to pierce the protective magic Mak had woven upon himself, and great boils began to rise on his skin. The giants had no such defenses, and they howled and shrieked as their flesh blistered.
Hawk closed to the goliaths just as the acidic breath of the dragon was dissipating. No sooner had he reached their side than one of the fire giants moved to aid his wounded brethren. The squat giant slammed his greatsword down at Hawk’s feet, missing the civilar by bare inches. Across the room, the second fire giant had joined the pair of hill giants hemming in Faust. The psion was trapped.
Havok, now invisible as well as in spirit-form drifted up from the stone to find himself alone. He could see the battle raging at the tower base, and there were dragons all around him. On the roof of the tower, a pair of fire giants was opening fire on the dragons with the ballistae. The harpoon-like missiles ripped through the thin membranes of the dragons’ wings, but otherwise inflicted little damage. It just so happened that three of the dragons were hovering on the left side of the bridge at approximately the same level. Havok used the opportunity to manifest another wall of worm-like flames in mid-air, catching all three.
Grubber didn’t like the way the odds were stacked against him and his companions. Six giants in front of them, and five dragons behind. It was time to level the playing field. Praying to Grumbar, and earning himself a mild sneer from Mak, he unleashed his trademark Storm of Shards, catching all of the giants, and three of the dragons in its blast radius. Three of the hill giants went down, their already grievous wounds from the dragon’s breath making them vulnerable. Grubber smiled with satisfaction as he saw one of the dragons shaking its head violently, and the three remaining giants suddenly clawing at their eyes. They were all blinded.
Faust nodded his approval at Grumbar’s tactics. Now he only had a blind fire giant and an equally blind hill giant to contend with. The bigger problem, in his estimation, was the dragon at the door. The psion reached into the wyrm’s mind and pulled out the memory of its own death, which just so happened to be imminent. As if pole-axed, the dragon dropped from the sky, plummeting into the gorge.
Mak and Hawk now faced only one opponent. The big goliath drew his bastardsword and rammed it into the giant’s gut, while Hawk stepped deftly behind and severed its spine. Only two more remained.
Outside, another green dragon swooped to take the place of its fallen comrade, while two more began winging towards the roof. Storm, still invisible by the doorway, targeted the approaching dragon with a bolt of searing lightning, which immediately arced to the second, blind dragon, and then to the pair of giants harrying Faust. The blast momentarily stunned the hill giant, leaving it addled. The same happened to the blind green dragon, but the effect was much more dramatic. Unable to keep itself aloft, it began to fall, disappearing into the mists below.
Havok was proud of the coordinated effort his friends were providing. They were like a well-oiled machine. Only one dragon remained in their immediate vicinity, and the warlock quickly targeted it with a searing eldritch blast. He then summoned a second wall of green flames across the bridge, directly between the dragon and his own comrades.
Havok’s flame wall proved only a temporary respite. Enraged, the dragon rushed through it, but Mak and Hawk were waiting for it. As the goliath met its charge with his blade, Hawk drove Quaero into the sensitive area between its right foreleg and its chest, piercing its heart.
Meanwhile, Grubber charged Faust’s position, slamming his maul into the base of the hill giant’s skull, and dropping it in one blow. He then whirled to face the last fire giant, breaking both of its knees. As the giant fell, the goliath delivered a fatal uppercut with the hammer to its chin.
On the roof, the battle between giants and dragons raged. A group of four hill giants released one of the catapults, scoring a direct hit on one of the charging wyrms. As the heads in the bag exploded, coating the dragon with their vile contents, the beast suddenly went rigid, its body completely paralyzed, and it fell into the gorge, its race run. The remaining dragon unleashed its breath upon the catapult crew, engulfing three fire giants as well, who were manning ballistae. Despite their burning flesh, the fire giants still managed to open fire on the dragon, driving two more bolts into its hide. Below, Havok decided to aid the giants in their struggle, launching a spear of eldritch energy into the dragon. Roaring in rage, the dragon folded its wings and dove towards the spot from which the blast had come. Unfortunately, it passed harmlessly through the ghost-like form of the warlock. Havok blasted the brute with a second energy bolt, and then calmly floated completely thru the dragon to emerge on the far side. There, he saw Faust calmly step through his wall of fire, seemingly oblivious to the flames. The psion, however, did not see him, and so did not exclude him from the blast of the enormous energy ball he dropped onto the dragon. Fortunately for Havok, the fiery explosion swept harmlessly through him. Just then, another catapult load from the rooftop struck the dragon, paralyzing it as it had its sister. The helpless wyrm was easy prey for one final fire wall courtesy of Havok.
Back in the tower, Hawk and Storm, closely followed by the goliath brothers, made their way quickly up the stairs to the trapdoor leading to the second level. The barracks there was empty, and a second stair led to the roof. The foursome rushed up it.
Two ballista bolts, each as long as his body, skipped off the stone bridge at Faust’s feet.
“This is the thanks I get?” the psion shouted, shaking his fist at the giants on the roof. To repay their courtesy, he created a massive ball of ice and frigid air on the battlements, engulfing one of the catapult crews as well as the two fire giants manning the forward ballistae. Both of the latter toppled from the roof, bouncing off the bridge before tumbling into the chasm below. Two of the hill giant catapulters met similar fates.
At that moment, the roof door blew open, and Storm flew up through it, gaining altitude rapidly, and then dropping a massive fireball, that spread across the entire area. Two more hill giants succumbed to the blast. Two more giants, one fire and one hill, quickly moved to the door to prevent any more enemies from coming through. Seeing Hawk on the stairs below, they hammered at him, but the civilar absorbed their blows easily with his shield, before counter-attacking, delivering a flurry of lightning-fast blows to the fire giant, which toppled backwards, spilling its entrails on the ground. Above, Storm loosed a second ball of energy, this time electrical, and the four remaining hill giants fell, their hearts suddenly stilled.
When Faust transported himself to the roof via Dimension Door, he found only one enemy remained, a single fire giant. He was momentarily disappointed…until the giant charged towards him, slamming into him and sending him plummeting over the edge of the roof, and into the abyss of the gorge.
“No!” Hawk cried, as he, Mak and Grubber surged up through the door. They rushed the giant, surrounding him as he struck madly at them. A glancing blow caught Hawk’s arm, momentarily numbing it, but the veteran recovered quickly, and he and his goliath companions made quick work of the tower’s last defender.
Faust fell, and fell, and fell. He could not see the bottom of the gorge, but what he did see was the dragon rushing up directly beneath him. It was the one Storm had stunned, now recovered and rejoining the fray.
“Remember me?” Faust said as the dragon drew close, and he plucked the memory of its death at his hands from its psyche. It was then that the psion finally saw the floor of the gorge approaching, and when only fifty feet remained between himself and a bloody impact, he stepped between dimensions again, reappearing on the tower roof.
The maze of menhirs was much as they had remembered it from their previous visit and beyond, the beach was still a ships’ graveyard. One other thing had not changed…Grogriss Spit-Eye and his crew were still marooned. They denied having seen Darl Quethos return that way. All they knew was that the storms had suddenly ended. True to their word, the League returned them to Calimport via Faust’s use of Teleportation…no questions asked. Then the team took their leave of Tilagos for the last time, with Longsaddle as their destination.
Malchor Harpell was very pleased to see them again, and eager to hear all that they had accomplished and learned. To their surprise, and to his own, he knew all about the Order of the Storm and the exact location of Kongen-Thulnir…it was an ancient city ruled by giants, located in Skull Gorge. The arch-mage confessed that he had not known this information the day before. In fact, he had suddenly found himself in possession of much knowledge that he had not previously possessed. New books and scrolls had mysteriously appeared in his library. He thought these phenomena to be a direct result of the League’s use of the Library of Last Resort. Much that was lost had been returned to the world. Even the very nature of some forms of magic had changed, he explained. The school of Polymorph, which had allowed Faust to travel in the form of a stone giant, and Giovanni to win the battle against the Swords of Kyuss by virtue of his beholder aspect, had been radically altered. Arcanists the world over had discovered that use of that particular magic now truly turned the user into the subject creature, stripping him of all of his own magical abilities. This was in all likelihood only the first of such revisions that would be discovered, for better or worse. This would be a great boon for the forces of Good in the world, but also for those of Evil. Specifically, if the League now knew where Dragotha’s phylactery could be found, it was a good bet that the dracolich also knew. Malchor urged them to make all haste to Skull Gorge, and the group resolved to do just that after a few days of much-needed rest. Most of them. When the League had finished their tale, Pavel stepped forward, and laid his axes upon Malchor’s desk.
“I’m done,” the dwarf said with a tone of finality. “I wasn’t able to do what you hired me for, and I’ll not be acceptin’ yer money. These folk are truly heroes, and I’m in awe of’em. They deserve better.” Despite the protests of the others, he said not another word, instead simply turning and leaving. Malchor sighed.
“A man’s personal demons can be a far greater foe than any of flesh and blood. Let him go my friends. This is one battle that no one can fight for him.”
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It was during this respite that a servant informed Grubber one morning that he had a visitor. Puzzled, the priest followed the man into the lush gardens of the Ivy Manor, where to his amazement, he found another goliath awaiting him. He was bulkier than Grubber, and taller by almost a foot, and though his features looked younger, he was disfigured by heavy outgrowths of liths, stone-like deformities not uncommon among goliaths. Something about him seemed familiar to Grubber.
“It’s really you,” the younger goliath said in a strangely cultured accent. “After all these years. Do you not remember me?”
Grubber shook his head slowly, “It seems that I should, yet I cannot say why.”
“It’s been almost twenty years since last we met,” the other replied. “I was only a small boy. Grubber, I am Makaleth…your brother.”
Grubber was stunned into silence. Indeed he had once had a younger brother by that name, though like the rest of his family, ‘Big Mak,’ as they’d called him, had been lost to him when he was exiled. “How?” The priest whispered.
Makaleth sighed, “It is a long story, and a difficult one for me to tell. Not long after you…left, our tribe was attacked by a band of mountain giants. Our people were wiped out except for me and one other. Do you remember Ike? The one they called Dark Uncle?”
Grubber did remember the taciturn warrior. He had once been an adopted member of their tribe, having been orphaned as a child and raised by humans. He had disappeared for several months when Grubber was just a boy, and when he had returned, he was greatly changed. He barely spoke at all, and refused to take up arms when the tribe was threatened, claiming only that he was waiting for his doom to find him. In time, he had been left to his own devices, still a member of the tribe, but living in almost self-imposed exile.
“He did not fight when the giants came,” Makaleth continued, “but he took me to a safe place until the battle was over. Afterwards, we journeyed north. Through many lands we passed, finally reaching the cold lands of the north. There, he left me on the doorstep of a temple to Helm, claiming that his own faith had abandoned him. I never saw him again. The priests took me in, and cared for me, sharing with me their beliefs and doctrine. In time, it became obvious that I had been…touched by the Watcher. Though not a priest like them, I could still access the divine power of Helm simply by meditating. They called me Favored, and so I have been. In time, through study and Divination, I remembered the truth of my past, and remembered also that I still had family…you my brother. I have devoted the last several years of my life to finding you, and in doing so, I also know of the road that you are now upon. The time has come for us to be family again, and for me to join you on your quest…if you will have me.”
Grubber was at a loss for words. He never dared dream that he would ever see any of his family again, and now Grumbar had blessed him and brought his little brother back to him. Solemnly they embraced, words no longer necessary.
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Malchor was, of course, able to provide a realistic portrait of the skyline of Kongen-Thulnir as seen from the lip of Skull Gorge. Using this as a reference point, Storm teleported the League, along with their newest member, to that spot, thus beginning the hunt for Dragotha’s phylactery.
When they arrived they were greeted by the vista of an arid wasteland broken only by the occasional rock formation or copse of scrub oaks, stretching to the horizon in all directions save one. In that direction, the land dropped away into the immense gulf of Skull Gorge. It stretched as far as the eye could see to the east and west, a boggling gash in the face of the world. The wind blowing over the strange rock formations perched on the canyon’s lip made a hollow, moaning sound.
One-hundred feet below the top of the cliff, an immense, ruined city of stone lay nestled in a wide, open cavern. Hundreds of multi-leveled buildings and towers rose inside this cave, creating a vertical cityscape of spires, battlements, and stone bridges. Spires of rock protruding precariously from the cliff’s lower face rose up before the cityscape. Some of these spires were barren, capped only by the odd bush or rock formation, but two supported large castles of their own, and connected to the main city via slender bridges of stone.
Smoke rose from several parts of the ruined city, and many of the buildings were recently damaged or destroyed. The source of this damage was readily apparent, for the city of Kongen-Thulnir was under siege by dragons!
“Looks like we arrived just in time,” Hawk said. “Dragotha’s forces are already here. The fact that they are STILL here makes it a good bet they haven’t found the phylactery yet. We still have a chance. Faust, can you get us down there?”
The psion peered cautiously over the edge. In several areas of the city he could see giants active in the ruins, some manning various siege engines, while others ran for cover. There was a narrow trail that wound down from the rim of the canyon to a single gate far below. That section of the city seemed relatively abandoned.
“There,” he said. “That’ll be our insertion site. Gather round me.” The others formed a tight circle around the élan, and in the blink of an eye found themselves standing just on the city side of the gate, a forty-foot tall, two-story structure made of bronzewood poles bound with heavy chains. A sixty-foot tower with a battlement roof and many loopholes watched silently over the area. Nearby, water flowed from a cistern into an aqueduct that traveled under a bridge and over the cliff’s edge. There was nothing living in sight.
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Necrozyte crouched like a spider on the cliff face high above the city. From that vantage, the fiendish dragon had a clear view of the newcomers’ arrival, though she herself remained unseen by virtue of the magical ring that she wore. Brazzemal had told her that Dragotha suspected others would be searching for the phylactery, and that she should stay posted near the main gate for just such an eventuality. Perhaps by slaying these would-be thieves she would be able to further ingratiate herself with the dracolich, so that she might learn his secrets for eternal life, and thus have all the time she needed to take her revenge on the Chromatic Dragon. Gathering herself, she sprang into the air, and glided silently downward, towards the unsuspecting fools.
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Grubber’s skin began to tingle a split-second before Storm cried out her warning. The goliath had woven a spell of foresight over himself before they had left Longsaddle, and it now screamed at him of impending danger. Storm, he recalled, had permanently ensorcelled herself with ability to see the invisible. Before he could react, the drow began the words to a spell, conjuring an orb of crackling electricity into her hand. She hurled it straight up, seemingly at nothing, but suddenly there was a deafening roar, followed by a tremendous crash. Mak, who stood several yards away, abruptly collapsed to the ground, the wind driven from his lungs, and twin streams of blood spraying from his nose. What in Grumbar’s name was happening?
Quickly, Grubber chanted, purging any form of invisibility with the words of his prayer. In horrified amazement, he took an involuntary step back as the form of a huge, green-scaled dragon suddenly materialized directly in front of him, on top of Mak! A smoking hole pierced the dragon’s hide near its chest, and though its sides heaved with respiration, its tongue lolled as if it were stunned.
Makaleth was bit stunned himself. One moment he had been standing in the midst of his new allies, and the next it felt as if a house had landed on his back. Fortunately, one of the rings that he wore allowed him to wriggle free from his predicament, though the sight of the dragon, as well as its impact, left him a bit shaken.
Necrozyte held no such mesmorization for Hawk. The civilar lifted Quaero and drove the blade into where he thought the dragon’s heart should be. Steaming, green blood spurted from the wound. Behind him he heard Storm’s voice raised in the tell-tale cadence of another spell. A second sizzling ball of lightning sailed past him, striking the still-addled wyrm in the skull, obliterating its right eye. The next thing Hawk knew, Faust was beside him. The psion hurled his own ball of energy, this time fire, onto the helpless beast, and then immediately knelt down beside the barely breathing dragon. Extending one finger, he touched the dragon’s snout, and the moment he did so, the digit turned black. An instant later, the entire dragon crumbled to dust, leaving behind only a silver ring and an emerald amulet. As Faust stood, he seemed to literally swell with power.
“You have been assimilated,” he spoke in a cold, clipped tone, and it was then that Hawk noticed that his eyes had turned bright green, and his skin appeared almost scale-like.
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Grazzilfek watched the scene unfold with a combination of awe and loathing. He had heard of, and to a small extent witnessed, the prowess of these mortals, but he would never have believed they could have bested Necrozyte so easily! Well, where strength had failed, guile would triumph. He stepped from the shadows of the alley and called out…
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“My lords! Over here!” The group turned, prepared for another attack. What they saw was a cloaked and hooded figure standing in the deep shadows at the mouth of what would be a narrow alley for giants.
“It is I!” The shadowy, diminutive creature shouted. “Your friend! The Ominous Fabler!”
“The ominous what?” Mak asked.
“It’s the fool!” Giovanni said, surprised, “Prince Embuirhan’s court jester! What is he doing here?”
Hawk held up a hand to keep any of his band from approaching.
“Something doesn’t seem right,” he said quietly. “Hold your positions.” He then called out across the square, “If you are who you say you are, then why are you here? How do you know this place?”
“I have been searching for you, my lords!” The Fabler called back. “When I saw you at the Prince’s gala, I recognized the stuff of heroes right from the start! It has taken me all this time to track you down, and now that I have, I wish to make you an offer. I wish to accompany you as a chronicler of your adventures, so that future generations will know every detail of your fight against the Age of Worms!”
Hawk glanced suspiciously at his comrades. “That still doesn’t explain how you found this city,” he called back.
“Fair enough!” The Fabler answered. “You deserve an explanation. My true name is Grazzilfek. My real master is the a thane of the stone giants named Kolvant Granitebones. His tribe once ruled this city. My liege experienced a terrible vision not long ago, wherein he beheld Kyuss’ return. While he prepared a pilgrimage here to recruit the aid of the Gorgelords, he sent me into the world to learn what I could of the Age of Worms. My journeys took me to Starmantle, just as you were drawn there.”
“Who are these Gorgelords that you speak of?” Hawk asked.
“They are a group of hill and fire giants who remain faithful to the current King of the Gorge, Achaime Silvereye,” Grazzilfek replied. “They comprise one of three groups operating within the city. The second are the Gorge Crawlers, a group of hill giant dissidents who split from the Gorgelords. The last are the Tiamikal Nul-Shada, the hunters of Tiamat’s children. They are a secretive order dedicated to the slaughter of dragons.”
Hawk turned to his friends. “I’m not sure if we can trust him or not, but he seems to be fairly knowledgeable of this area. Perhaps we can pry some more information from him. Quaero can place him within a Zone of Truth.” The others nodded their agreement, and they began to cross the square to where the Fabler waited. They were still several yards away when Giovanni heard a familiar voice in his mind. ‘Master,’ it was Dawn’s Light, his armor, speaking to him telepathically, ‘beware! He is not among the living!’
“Wait!” Storm hissed, stopping abruptly just as the warlock was preparing to warn the others. “Grubber! Do you see?” The sorceress knew that the priest had placed a True Sight spell upon himself, just as she had. At her words, he looked closely at Grazzilfek. At first, he appeared to be a somewhat sinister-looking gnome-like humanoid, with a prodigious nose, beady eyes, and pointed ears, but as Grubber’s Sight pierced that illusion, he saw what was beneath. His eyes were actually empty sockets with fat green worms writhing within, his flesh sallow and rotten.
“He’s a spawn!” The goliath shouted.
“No! Wait!” The Fabler stammered, as he started to back away.
“Stop where you are!” Havok commanded, and at his words, familiar worm-like tendrils erupted from the ground all around Grazzilfek, wrapping around his arms and legs and holding him firmly in place. Far from being distraught by this, the creature actually smiled.
“Another time then, my friends,” he said, and then he simply vanished.
“It’s Dragotha!” Faust said, “If he knows of this place, then surely he must have expected that we would come here also. His minions are going to be after us at every turn. We have to find that phylactery quickly!”
“Agreed,” Hawk said, “but this place is huge. We can’t search every building. We don’t have time. If these Gorgelords are as loyal to their king as the Fabler implied, then perhaps they will agree to help us if we plead our case to them.”
“But how will we be able to tell them from the other factions?” Giovanni asked.
“A good question,” the civilar replied, “but if I were in charge of a military unit loyal to a ruler under siege, I would make sure that I held onto the cities main defenses. I say we start with the gatehouse.”
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“Hello the Gate!” Hawk called out as the group stood before the brooding tower. “We come in peace! We are here to aid you in your struggle against the wyrms, but we need to speak to your king! Will you hear us out?”
The silence persisted for a few moments more, but then a gruff voice called from somewhere within the tower, “We not coming out! Dragons waiting for us! If you want king, go to palace in King’s Enclave!”
“What about the undercity?” Hawk called back. “We saw the stairs leading there on our way here! Who holds it?”
“Slaves!” The giant called back. “Not worth saving!”
“What do you think?” Hawk asked, turning back to his companions.
“It looked to me like the palace was under heavy attack when I saw it from the canyon’s edge.” Faust said. “However, I saw another large structure, closer by and accessible by a bridge from the undercity. It too was under attack, but by a smaller group of dragons. Perhaps we should start there. If its occupants are besieged, they might be more agreeable to aiding us if we first help them.”
The others agreed, and the group made their way back to the large handholds carved into the cliff face that acted as a giant ladder descending to the undercity. When they reached the bottom, they found the body of a blue dragon lying in a bloody heap at the base, its teeth, horns and claws removed. The undercity itself was filthy and reeked horribly. It seemed to have been spared the brunt of the dragons’ attack, however. The buildings formed a hive of overlapping walls, zigzagging alleys and claustrophobic tenements. They seemed to have been modified for use by normal-sized creatures, and many of their roofs scraped against the low cavern ceiling.
Nearby, a natural stone bridge, twenty-feet wide and ten-feet thick, connected to a stone pinnacle, atop which squatted a one-hundred foot tall tower. The building appeared heavily fortified, with catapults and ballistae visible upon its battlements. As the League watched, a flight of four large black dragons, led by a huge green dragon swooped and dove around the tower. At that moment, however, one of the blacks spied the company as they stood on the edge of the precipice, and as one, the flock wheeled towards them.
The dragons were still over one-hundred feet away when Havok drew first blood. A spear of emerald, eldritch energy lanced out at the lead green. The wyrm howled, but beat its wings faster, streaking towards the group.
“Grubber!” The warlock called over his shoulder. “We could use some help here! In about five seconds we’re about to be covered up in acid!”
“I’ll handle it,” Mak said, placing one hand on his brother’s shoulder just as the priest was preparing his spell. Nodding, Grubber instead drew his maul, stepping to the fore with Hawk to meet the assault. Mak began chanting, his voice a thunderous cadence. As he completed his prayer, the skin of his new-found friends took on a lustrous sheen as the protective barrier settled over them.
At that moment, the black dragons reached the ledge. Two of them dove right for Hawk, one of them sinking its jaws into his sword arm, while the other tore into his leg. The two remaining lunged for Grubber, but the goliath met them head on, his maul crushing the foot of the nearest. Suddenly, a wall of green fire roared up out of nowhere, the flames within it looking like a mass of writhing, green worms. The perilous flames caught three of the dragons in their midst, and they shrieked as their skin began to crackle. Havok looked down at his hands, which had conjured the fire, wondering what it was that he was becoming.
By this time the green dragon was hovering just beyond the edge of the cliff, a safe distance from the wall of fire, but not so safe from the arc of lightning that Storm cast between it and two of its black minions. The green’s wings were tattered shreds, and its skin was charred. Screaming in rage and agony, it folded its pinions, and dove into the canyon, disappearing into the mists below. One of the blacks whipped its head towards the drow who had dared attack its leader. Hissing, it sprang at her, seizing the sorceress in its jaws, crushing her mercilessly.
Hawk wrenched his arm free from the grip of the dragon in front of him, bringing his shield up to deflect its counter attack, and then slashing three quick blows across its neck. With a gurgle, the wyrm collapsed. Never pausing, the civilar turned on the beast still worrying his leg, and hammered Quaero into its skull, forcing it to release him.
Seeing Storm’s predicament, Havok hurled an eldritch blast at her assailant, blowing a hole through one flank and out the other. The drow nodded her thanks as she tumbled free. The warlock then turned and produced a nest of worm-tentacles around the two remaining dragons. Though they struggled mightily, the wyrms could not free themselves from the rubbery appendages, leaving them as sitting ducks when Grubber unleashed a radiant burst of energy, burning one of them to cinders in a flash, and blinding the other. The goliath closed on the remaining black dragon, Hawk moving to flank. Both of them struck simultaneously, as Havok released one final blast, slaying the beast instantly.
The way to the tower was momentarily clear. “Go!” Hawk commanded, and he started across the bridge, the others following. They were half way across the span, and could see the giants manning the siege engines atop the fortress, when a great gust of wind rushed up from the canyon below them. Five huge shadows in the mist below rapidly resolved themselves into ascending green dragons!
“Run!” Hawk shouted. Havok had other plans. Pulling a scroll from his belt, he quickly read the words. As he spoke the last one, his body became translucent and indistinct. He then sank out of sight into the very stone of the bridge.
Grubber was the first to heed Hawk’s advice, and ran full out to the massive iron doors of the tower. Unfortunately when he reached them, they were shut tight, and locked.
“Move!” Faust shouted from behind him, and the goliath didn’t hesitate. Suddenly, a thin green beam of light struck the door, and it simply vanished, leaving a gaping hole in the wall.
“Quick! Get inside!” Faust cried, but this time his voice came from INSIDE the building. The resourcefulness of the psion never ceased to amaze Grubber. As Mak came up behind him, they both stepped to the doorway…and abruptly came to a halt. Standing inside the large room beyond were six very angry looking giants, four of them brutish and wearing hide armor, the other two black-skinned with fiery red hair dressed in chain shirts.
Storm rendered herself invisible as Hawk held the bridge, making sure all of his companions were safely across. Then, from behind he heard a large ‘thunk’ and a whistling in the air. Looking up, he noted two things. First, far above the fray circled an enormous red dragon. Second, a large bag of some sort had just been fired from one of the catapults on the tower roof…and it was coming directly towards him. It landed a few feet in front of him, and exploded into a great gout of greenish-yellow ichor that appeared to issue from severed insectile heads that were contained within. The fluid completely covered the civilar, and for a moment he felt his limbs seize up. The sensation passed quickly, and he was on the move. It seemed the giants were not as happy to be rescued as they had hoped, and he didn’t intend to stay where he was and be a target for artillery practice.
The dragons had reached the level of the bridge, and Storm still stood alone in its midst. Hawk had assumed she had fled once she disappeared, but she hadn’t had the time. Now the nearest of the huge wyrms turned its massive head towards her, sniffing the air, its heightened senses detecting her presence though it could not see her. Opening its mouth, it breathed forth a cloud of noxious, yellow gas. Quickly the sorceress dove forward, rolling away from the fumes. As she regained her feet, she pelted full speed towards the tower.
Within the tower itself, the giant welcoming committee moved to greet their guests. Two of the hill giants blocked Grubber and Mak at the door, while the other two boxed Faust into one corner. At that moment, the beating of wings drew the attention of the goliaths to their rear. There, a dragon hovered only a few feet away. It breathed its toxic breath, engulfing them completely, as well as the hill giants opposing them. So potent was the cloud, that it managed to pierce the protective magic Mak had woven upon himself, and great boils began to rise on his skin. The giants had no such defenses, and they howled and shrieked as their flesh blistered.
Hawk closed to the goliaths just as the acidic breath of the dragon was dissipating. No sooner had he reached their side than one of the fire giants moved to aid his wounded brethren. The squat giant slammed his greatsword down at Hawk’s feet, missing the civilar by bare inches. Across the room, the second fire giant had joined the pair of hill giants hemming in Faust. The psion was trapped.
Havok, now invisible as well as in spirit-form drifted up from the stone to find himself alone. He could see the battle raging at the tower base, and there were dragons all around him. On the roof of the tower, a pair of fire giants was opening fire on the dragons with the ballistae. The harpoon-like missiles ripped through the thin membranes of the dragons’ wings, but otherwise inflicted little damage. It just so happened that three of the dragons were hovering on the left side of the bridge at approximately the same level. Havok used the opportunity to manifest another wall of worm-like flames in mid-air, catching all three.
Grubber didn’t like the way the odds were stacked against him and his companions. Six giants in front of them, and five dragons behind. It was time to level the playing field. Praying to Grumbar, and earning himself a mild sneer from Mak, he unleashed his trademark Storm of Shards, catching all of the giants, and three of the dragons in its blast radius. Three of the hill giants went down, their already grievous wounds from the dragon’s breath making them vulnerable. Grubber smiled with satisfaction as he saw one of the dragons shaking its head violently, and the three remaining giants suddenly clawing at their eyes. They were all blinded.
Faust nodded his approval at Grumbar’s tactics. Now he only had a blind fire giant and an equally blind hill giant to contend with. The bigger problem, in his estimation, was the dragon at the door. The psion reached into the wyrm’s mind and pulled out the memory of its own death, which just so happened to be imminent. As if pole-axed, the dragon dropped from the sky, plummeting into the gorge.
Mak and Hawk now faced only one opponent. The big goliath drew his bastardsword and rammed it into the giant’s gut, while Hawk stepped deftly behind and severed its spine. Only two more remained.
Outside, another green dragon swooped to take the place of its fallen comrade, while two more began winging towards the roof. Storm, still invisible by the doorway, targeted the approaching dragon with a bolt of searing lightning, which immediately arced to the second, blind dragon, and then to the pair of giants harrying Faust. The blast momentarily stunned the hill giant, leaving it addled. The same happened to the blind green dragon, but the effect was much more dramatic. Unable to keep itself aloft, it began to fall, disappearing into the mists below.
Havok was proud of the coordinated effort his friends were providing. They were like a well-oiled machine. Only one dragon remained in their immediate vicinity, and the warlock quickly targeted it with a searing eldritch blast. He then summoned a second wall of green flames across the bridge, directly between the dragon and his own comrades.
Havok’s flame wall proved only a temporary respite. Enraged, the dragon rushed through it, but Mak and Hawk were waiting for it. As the goliath met its charge with his blade, Hawk drove Quaero into the sensitive area between its right foreleg and its chest, piercing its heart.
Meanwhile, Grubber charged Faust’s position, slamming his maul into the base of the hill giant’s skull, and dropping it in one blow. He then whirled to face the last fire giant, breaking both of its knees. As the giant fell, the goliath delivered a fatal uppercut with the hammer to its chin.
On the roof, the battle between giants and dragons raged. A group of four hill giants released one of the catapults, scoring a direct hit on one of the charging wyrms. As the heads in the bag exploded, coating the dragon with their vile contents, the beast suddenly went rigid, its body completely paralyzed, and it fell into the gorge, its race run. The remaining dragon unleashed its breath upon the catapult crew, engulfing three fire giants as well, who were manning ballistae. Despite their burning flesh, the fire giants still managed to open fire on the dragon, driving two more bolts into its hide. Below, Havok decided to aid the giants in their struggle, launching a spear of eldritch energy into the dragon. Roaring in rage, the dragon folded its wings and dove towards the spot from which the blast had come. Unfortunately, it passed harmlessly through the ghost-like form of the warlock. Havok blasted the brute with a second energy bolt, and then calmly floated completely thru the dragon to emerge on the far side. There, he saw Faust calmly step through his wall of fire, seemingly oblivious to the flames. The psion, however, did not see him, and so did not exclude him from the blast of the enormous energy ball he dropped onto the dragon. Fortunately for Havok, the fiery explosion swept harmlessly through him. Just then, another catapult load from the rooftop struck the dragon, paralyzing it as it had its sister. The helpless wyrm was easy prey for one final fire wall courtesy of Havok.
Back in the tower, Hawk and Storm, closely followed by the goliath brothers, made their way quickly up the stairs to the trapdoor leading to the second level. The barracks there was empty, and a second stair led to the roof. The foursome rushed up it.
Two ballista bolts, each as long as his body, skipped off the stone bridge at Faust’s feet.
“This is the thanks I get?” the psion shouted, shaking his fist at the giants on the roof. To repay their courtesy, he created a massive ball of ice and frigid air on the battlements, engulfing one of the catapult crews as well as the two fire giants manning the forward ballistae. Both of the latter toppled from the roof, bouncing off the bridge before tumbling into the chasm below. Two of the hill giant catapulters met similar fates.
At that moment, the roof door blew open, and Storm flew up through it, gaining altitude rapidly, and then dropping a massive fireball, that spread across the entire area. Two more hill giants succumbed to the blast. Two more giants, one fire and one hill, quickly moved to the door to prevent any more enemies from coming through. Seeing Hawk on the stairs below, they hammered at him, but the civilar absorbed their blows easily with his shield, before counter-attacking, delivering a flurry of lightning-fast blows to the fire giant, which toppled backwards, spilling its entrails on the ground. Above, Storm loosed a second ball of energy, this time electrical, and the four remaining hill giants fell, their hearts suddenly stilled.
When Faust transported himself to the roof via Dimension Door, he found only one enemy remained, a single fire giant. He was momentarily disappointed…until the giant charged towards him, slamming into him and sending him plummeting over the edge of the roof, and into the abyss of the gorge.
“No!” Hawk cried, as he, Mak and Grubber surged up through the door. They rushed the giant, surrounding him as he struck madly at them. A glancing blow caught Hawk’s arm, momentarily numbing it, but the veteran recovered quickly, and he and his goliath companions made quick work of the tower’s last defender.
Faust fell, and fell, and fell. He could not see the bottom of the gorge, but what he did see was the dragon rushing up directly beneath him. It was the one Storm had stunned, now recovered and rejoining the fray.
“Remember me?” Faust said as the dragon drew close, and he plucked the memory of its death at his hands from its psyche. It was then that the psion finally saw the floor of the gorge approaching, and when only fifty feet remained between himself and a bloody impact, he stepped between dimensions again, reappearing on the tower roof.
demiurge1138
Inventor of Super-Toast
...Wow. Excellent update. Open season on dragons indeed.
I also like how you worked the polymorph errata into continuity with the lore unleashed from the Library. A nice touch.
Demiurge out.
I also like how you worked the polymorph errata into continuity with the lore unleashed from the Library. A nice touch.
Demiurge out.
JollyDoc said:
Very nice. Good to see that Adimarchus left bountiful psychic trauma in his wake.
Ah . . . there's nothing quite like attempting to Assimilate a Huge Fiendish Old Dragon and rolling a crit. 40d6 temporary hit points and a +4 unnamed bonus to all stats? Why yes, thank you very much!
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Sunday Night Update
1. Due to family obligations, Grubber and Havoc were indisposed. We chose to struggle on with only 4 PC's . . . THAT WAS OUR FIRST MISTAKE.
2. After the debacle @ the guard tower, we do a little investigatin'.
Undercity -- check.
Gorgelord Palace -- check. (but mysteriously empty)
3. We relax in the Palace only to find that it magically fills with Giant hordes in the middle of the night. We parlay and manage not to upset them further. They direct us to the Citadel of the Weeping Dragon.
4. While convincing the sentries of the Citadel that our intentions are friendly we are attacked by Vermirox and pals. We manage to hold them off, but not until they give us a severe, unmitigated thrashing (some wounds can never be healed )
5. FINALLY, we convince Kagro Thundersmiter that we want to help. But see, they have this thing against letting non-watchers enter the Vault. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrr . . .
1. Due to family obligations, Grubber and Havoc were indisposed. We chose to struggle on with only 4 PC's . . . THAT WAS OUR FIRST MISTAKE.
2. After the debacle @ the guard tower, we do a little investigatin'.
Undercity -- check.
Gorgelord Palace -- check. (but mysteriously empty)
3. We relax in the Palace only to find that it magically fills with Giant hordes in the middle of the night. We parlay and manage not to upset them further. They direct us to the Citadel of the Weeping Dragon.
4. While convincing the sentries of the Citadel that our intentions are friendly we are attacked by Vermirox and pals. We manage to hold them off, but not until they give us a severe, unmitigated thrashing (some wounds can never be healed
)5. FINALLY, we convince Kagro Thundersmiter that we want to help. But see, they have this thing against letting non-watchers enter the Vault. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrr . . .
demiurge1138
Inventor of Super-Toast
Pride, or another so-called "castration"?gfunk said:Sunday Night Update
4. While convincing the sentries of the Citadel that our intentions are friendly we are attacked by Vermirox and pals. We manage to hold them off, but not until they give us a severe, unmitigated thrashing (some wounds can never be healed
Demiurge out.
