Merry Christmas...
COMES THE CRUSADER
Grim, Hawk, Shay, Giovanni and Storm stood in a loose circle, staring mutely at the tableau before them. Three…almost half their number…lay dead at their feet. It had happened so fast, a matter of moments really. True, the salamander and his elementals also perished, but at what cost, and for what purpose. They were no closer to finding Ondabar than they had been before…further really, for the effort would be more difficult and dangerous without the invaluable aid and companionship of their fallen friends.
“We need to regroup,” Hawk finally spoke. The others looked at him, but did not disagree. “We’re spent for now. If we continue on in our current condition, none of us will leave this place alive. That won’t help us or Ondabar…nor will it honor our fallen. Bring them.”
Silently, Grim bent and lifted Grubber easily across his shoulders. Giovanni and Shay carried Vladius, and Hawk cradled Dwilt, his brother-in-arms, on his final journey.
They retraced their steps through the temple and the howling passage beyond to the black portal. One by one they passed through, emerging once more inside the Whispering Cairn. When they stepped outside the tomb, the sun was still shining. Barely an hour had passed since they’d entered, yet it seemed like a lifetime. The corpse of Ilthane lay where she fell. As the others strapped their dead to their horses, Giovanni walked deliberately over to the dragon. Kneeling, he produced a thin beam of green energy from his finger, and began slicing through the wyrm’s neck with it. Within a few moments, he had beheaded the beast. Tying a length of rope around the dragon’s head, he attached the other end to his saddle horn, mounted his horse, and set out after his companions, dragging his gruesome trophy along behind.
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Drasek Dundragon rode along the mountain trail, deep in his own thoughts. He had only just arrived in Daggerford this morning, but already he had more questions than answers. His superiors in Baldur’s Gate had sent him to the frontier town after receiving word of a necromancer operating in the area. The church of Kelemvor took such rumors very seriously, and when a representative from the Cult of the Ascended Lovers in Daggerford had come to the temple in Baldur’s Gate, the clergy had acted in, what was for the typical bureaucracy, a more or less timely fashion. They had dispatched Drasek as an official Inquisitor into the matter. However, upon his arrival in the village, he had found it partially destroyed, by a dragon attack of all things. When he had questioned the local constable, a singularly unhelpful man named Cubbin, he had been directed to the garrison. The so-called garrison commander was a pimply-faced adolescent named Pyle. He had given Drasek the details of the attack, and then told him of a band of local adventurers who had gone in search of the dragon. Curious though he was about the wyrm, it was not his primary reason for coming to the fly speck town. He inquired about the necromancer, and Pyle informed him that indeed such an individual had taken up residence in an old, abandoned observatory some two months back. However, that worthy had been dealt with by the same band of adventurers. The ‘commander’ then informed him that there had been some sightings recently of ‘walking corpses’ in the nearby hills…again, the hills into which the adventurers had gone. So, it seemed if Drasek wanted any real answers, he was going to have to go in search of this band. He only hoped they had already dealt with the dragon, or this was going to be a one-way trip.
As he rounded a sharp bend in the trail, Drasek came to an abrupt halt. Ahead on the path, coming his way, was a mounted band. One was a dwarf, though he appeared much bulkier than any dwarf Drasek had ever met. Three appeared to be human, though one was darker of skin, like a Calishite. The last was an elven woman, though Drasek knew immediately that she wore an illusion about her. Concentrating on her face, he saw through the veil, noting with surprise that she was a drow! Immediately, he concentrated again, trying to sense an aura of evil about any of the group, finding none. Three pack horses trailed behind the group, with wrapped bundles across their saddles which looked suspiciously like bodies. One of the humans had a rope tied to his saddle pommel and its other end was attached to a severed dragon head! This then must be the group he was seeking, though it seemed they had met with misfortune in their quest.
Hawk drew the company up short as he spotted the rider on the trail below them. The man was dressed in gleaming mail and wore a dark cloak draped over his shoulders. A large hammer was strapped to his back, and he bore a shield on his left arm. Squinting his eyes at the insignia emblazoned on the shield, Hawk knew it to be that of Kelemvor, protector of the dead. The only Kelemvorites in these parts were the cultists who kept the Daggerford Boneyard, and they usually went about in green robes, chanting to themselves. This fellow certainly wasn’t one of them.
“Well met,” Drasek said, raising is right hand palm-up. “You appear to be in need of assistance.”
“Who are you?” Hawk asked, suspicion in his voice.
Drasek could see that the man wore the insignia of an officer of Waterdeep, and that he also bore a symbol of Torm. A man of honor then. “I am Drasek Dundragon,” he replied, “Inquisitor of the church of Kelemvor in Baldur’s Gate. I am seeking a group of individuals known as the League.”
“You’ve found them,” Hawk said. “What is it that you want from us?”
“I was sent to investigate claims of a necromancer operating in this area. I was informed that your group was responsible for removing his presence. I was also informed that you might have knowledge about increased sightings of undead of late. As you may know, Kelemvor considers the undead an abomination, and dictates their destruction whenever found.”
Hawk nodded. “You are speaking of the necromancer Filge. My colleagues did indeed remove his threat some months back, before I joined them. The undead you mention are another story entirely…a long one not meant for the road. As you can see, three of our number have fallen. We came in search of an ally and mentor who was investigating an ancient cairn nearby. It seems a dragon of our acquaintance was also looking for him. The dragon we dealt with,” he gestured towards the grisly trophy. “However, once we entered the cairn, we found a previously unexplored section that we believe our friend was searching. The tomb, it would seem, is not as abandoned as we thought. Ancient guardians still remain, and it was one of these, an elemental lord from the Plane of Fire, that laid our team mates low. We defeated him, but at great cost. We are returning now to Daggerford to put our friends to rest…or at least two of them.”
“Two?” Drasek asked. “I thought you said three fell.”
“So they did, but we have all made our wishes known to one another should we fall in battle. Dwilt Riddick, and the wizard Vladius were very clear that should they depart this world, the wished their souls be allowed to travel on. The priest, Grubber, however had received a premonition from his god Grumbar, that his work in this life was far from finished. It is he that we wish to return to the living.”
“Then you do need my help,” Drasek said. “I can oversee the interment of the two, and the third…I can restore him. Kelemvor teaches that those who depart before their time should be allowed to come again to this life. I will accompany you to Daggerford and speak with my fellows in the Cult of the Ascended Lovers.”
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The rag-tag band entered Daggerford at noon and proceeded directly to the center of town, where repairs were already underway on the ruined businesses and dwellings there. All work came to an abrupt stop, however, when the League and Drasek entered the commons. Several garrison soldiers were present, overseeing security for the construction crews, and among them was Pyle. As the commander hustled over, Giovanni hefted Ilthane’s head and tossed it at the soldier’s feet.
“Mount it on a pike on the town wall,” the warlock said. “It was won at much cost.” By this time, quite a crowd was gathering around the adventurers, and many gasps met the sight of the remains of the dragon.
“Sir,” Pyle stammered, saluting Hawk, “what are your orders?”
The civilar looked down at him. “My orders stand, commander. We have unfinished business at the Whispering Cairn, but first, we have friends to bury.”
Abruptly, Hawk spurred his mount and he and his fellows started out of the square, towards the Boneyard on the edge of town. Pyle rushed over to the other gaping soldiers, ordering them to mount up, and then hurrying to assume an honor-guard position at the head of the procession. Many towns’ folk trailed behind in silence.
When the make-shift funeral parade reached the Boneyard, they were greeted at the iron gates by one of the green-robed cultist. She nodded silently to Drasek, and then looked at the cloth-bound bodies.
“Acolyte,” Drasek addressed her, “we have duties to attend. These men died with honor, and so will be sent to our Lord with all rites and rituals…save one. The goliath priest called Grubber shall be returned from the underworld by me. It is not yet his time.”
The acolyte nodded again, and then led the procession deep into the Boneyard and to a large mausoleum.
Dwilt and Vladius were laid in their final resting place. The garrison soldiers lifted their swords in salute. Dwilt was dressed in his old uniform, and Pyle had one of his men bring a Waterdhavian banner from the fort, and this was draped over the former-civilar. Once the words were spoken, and the mausoleum sealed, Drasek had the acolytes place Grubber’s body before it, and in front of all those gathered, he performed the sacred ritual that would return the dead to life. When Grubber drew breath and sat up, all of the spectators gasped in awe, and many holy warding signs were made upon breast and brow.
“I know you,” Grubber said as he looked upon his savior.
“Yes,” Drasek replied. When a soul was returned from the after-life, it knew exactly who had called it.
“You have my thanks,” the goliath said, bowing. He then looked at the mausoleum and at those of his friends that remained. Understanding showed in his eyes, and deep sadness.
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Later that evening, the group gathered at the Blackstone Inn, and Hawk gave to Drasek their long tale, leaving out no detail. It was late into the night by the time he was done.
“This is much to digest,” Drasek said finally. “It answers many questions, but reveals so many more. This Age of Worms you speak of bodes ill for not just this small town, but indeed for all of Faerun. My duty is clear. If you will have me, I will join your crusade to crush this undead menace before it can take root and fester in our world.”
The members of the League welcomed the inquisitor eagerly, and then retired for the night, for in the morning, it was their intent to return once more to the Whispering Cairn.
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The League stood once more at the intersection where they had faced the Earl of Coalchester. They had searched the salamander noble’s quarters, and uncovered several valuable treasures, including a wand capable of rendering others invisible, and four decanters of valuable Scarlet Ambrosia, an efreeti brandy. The door directly to the south led to yet another dead end, leaving only the passage and door to the west to be investigated.
The doors led to a large, two-tiered hall, which shone with purple light from four chandeliers. A large, black sphere hung between them. The chandeliers seemed to be sculpted with small humanoid figures in silvery metal. A second-floor gallery with arches and spiral-striped pillars ran the length of the hallway to a second set of large double doors. The black, tile floor seemed to absorb the light from the chandeliers, and even sound in the chamber was muted and dull. Two more sets of doors stood in the north and south walls of the upper gallery.
The team elected to ignore the main floor for the moment, instead moving up the stairs to the northern gallery. They approached the doors there, and once Shay had assured them the portals were safe, they ventured through. Beyond was a small but well-appointed room with a delicately arched ceiling. The walls were painted with garden scenes featuring two Wind Duke lovers. The center of the room contained a large urn with a dark, red glaze and gold decorations. Six, small boxes, each carved of some black substance bound with corroded metal, lined the back wall. Chairs sat in each corner.
Shay moved cautiously to the urn, running his hand lightly over its surface, and the seal which held the cap on. Finally, convinced there was no trap, he grasped the lid and removed it. Instantly, a blue-black beam of energy lanced out at him, barely missing him as he somersaulted backwards. Rolling to his feet, he grinned sheepishly at his team mates.
“Allow me,” Giovanni said dryly, and he called upon his innate magic to create a dispelling field around the urn, negating the deadly trap. Shay then peered inside the vessel, and saw it filled with fine ashes.
“It’s a burial chamber,” he said. “These boxes here must contain the wealth the Wind Dukes buried with the dead,” he continued eagerly. Rubbing his hands together, he bent to examine the first box, then pulled out his lock-picks and quickly undid the latch. Inside was a set of three clay tablets carved with strange glyphs.
“What do you make of these?” he asked, holding them out. Grubber came over, taking one of the tablets and examining it closely.
“The language looks familiar, but I’m not sure…” He then began a brief prayer, asking Grumbar to grant him comprehension. When he looked at the tablets again, their words were clear.
“They’re love poems,” he said sadly. “It would seem a beloved mate was laid to rest here.”
“How romantic,” Grim said sarcastically. “What’s in the other boxes Shay? Anything useful?”
Drasek had been watching all of this unfold with increasing unease. Finally, he spoke up.
“Just a moment. What exactly do you think you’re doing?”
Grim stared at him blankly. “Looking for treasure, something that might help us on our quest. What does it look like?”
“It looks like you’re robbing a tomb,” the inquisitor said flatly. “I was led to believe you were in this place looking for your mentor. He obviously is not in this room. You yourselves said these Wind Dukes were not creatures of evil, but rather champions of Law. What right do you have to plunder their burial place?”
Grim drew himself up, and began stalking towards Drasek, “And just what gives you the right to think you can come in here barking orders at us? We just met you yesterday.”
“Yes,” Drasek replied, unruffled by the dwarf’s intimidation attempt, “and I did you a great service by returning your companion to you.”
“A service we paid for!” Grim said, his voice rising. “We didn’t ask you to come with us. You invited yourself. This is our team, and if you don’t like the way we do things, you can go back to where you came from!”
“I may do just that,” the paladin said coldly, “but I won’t allow you to desecrate this place.”
Grim growled low in his throat, his hand going to the handle of his axe. At that moment, Hawk stepped between the two.
“Calm down, both of you,” the civilar said. “Grim, he’s right. It’s wrong for us to take these things. How would you feel if your family’s tomb were desecrated?”
Grim’s mouth dropped open, “Hawk, you know what we’re up against here! We can use every tool we can find, even if it means selling it in order to buy something we CAN use! You’re going to let this yahoo come in and start dictating his rules and morals on us?”
Hawk placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “The ends do not justify the means. We are no better than our enemies if we stoop to this level.” Behind him, Grubber nodded, but Giovanni and Shay remained silent, a furtive look passing between them. Storm also held her peace.
Grim considered for a moment longer, then “Fine…but only because you say Hawk, not because of this do-gooder.” He hooked a thumb at Drasek. “Looks like we’re done here. Let’s go.” He shouldered past the paladins, and out the door. One by one the others followed, but Shay was the last. Wistfully, he looked over his shoulder at the chamber, then narrowed his eyes and nodded silently to himself.
The doors on the southern gallery led to a wide, downward sloping passage, which traveled due south for several yards, before abruptly turning east. The hall was pitch-black.
“Curse this darkness,” Grubber grumbled. “It’s high time we shed some light in this forsaken place.” With a word, the goliath suddenly lit up like a small sun, shedding celestial brilliance all about him.
“Don’t you think that’s a bit much,” Shay said, shading his eyes, which burned from the glare even behind his darkened goggles.
“Perhaps,” the priest replied, “but not only will this light our path, but should we meet any more outsiders with evil intent, or undead, the light will burn the flesh from their bones, given enough time.”
The group rounded the corner, and saw that the passageway continued on another ninety feet or more before opening into a large chamber. From the light of Grubber’s beacon, they could see that the room had small columns around its edges which partially concealed carvings on the walls. Pale, white light glowed from two large, wheel-shaped chandeliers, casting overlapping shadows throughout the room. Blue metal double doors stood at the top of a flight of stairs opposite the main entrance, guarded by two warrior figures with raised double-swords. A single doorway rested in the south wall, and a second pair of double doors lay to the north, both also guarded by warrior statues. Crouched in the middle of the chamber, shielding its multiple eyes from the blinding light of Grubber’s spell, was the same, huge spider that had attacked them in the temple chamber above.
“You’re not gettin’ away this time!” Grim shouted, and with a roar he tore down the entire length of the hallway at a dead run.
“Grim no!” Hawk shouted after him, but to no avail. The burly mineral warrior surged into the room, but the spider stepped to meet him. Reaching out one massive fore-limb, it gently caressed the dwarf’s arm, and then shadows swirled around the two of them. When the darkness had cleared, only Grim remained, yet somehow the dwarf knew he had been lucky. He had felt a strange pull in the center of his chest, and a moment of disorientation, as if reality was warping around him.
“Fool!” Hawk said as he and the others entered the chamber. “We don’t know what this creature is or what it’s capable of. We’ve already lost two down here, do you want to make it three?”
“Aye, aye cap’n!” Grim saluted, then turned away grumbling.
The chamber itself, though richly carved, held nothing of any help in determining which way Ondabar had gone, if indeed he had even made it this far. Purely by random determination, the group chose the southern, smaller door to investigate first.
A small room beyond contained two suits of dusty, archaic armor, resting in front of a small shrine, apparently long abandoned. A weapon stand before the armor lay empty except for flakes of rust. Behind the armor, the altar was loaded with dusty offerings from years past. Two statues of regal Wind Dukes sat in small nooks above the shrine, and a door was painted on the wall to the right.
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Zifforian and Triffiel sensed life, something they had not sensed in centuries. They had once been Wind Dukes themselves, servitors who were assigned to watch over the tomb, an honorable post, if a dull one. They were supposed to have been relieved from their duty after two decades, but when that relief never came, they found the tomb had been sealed and warded. The accepted their fate stoically, spending centuries watching over the site, but eventually time and age drove them both mad, and into a lingering death. Now the wraiths still watched the tomb, but in their insanity, they failed to grasp the nature of that task. Recently, something was stolen while their attention was elsewhere, and the wraiths were obsessed with its return. The foot soldiers could not be allowed any further theft of the tomb’s treasures, but now it seemed as if they had returned for just that reason.
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Grim and Hawk had only just entered the room, when two large, black cloaked figures simply stepped out of the walls on either side of them. The wraiths flowed towards them, the walls behind them partly visible through their semi-transparent forms. One of them reached out, almost caressingly and placed its ghostly hand on Hawk’s chest. Instantly the civilar felt blinding pain and debilitating weakness overcome him. He felt as if his very soul were being drawn from him. At the same time, the wraith seemed to swell with vitality.
Grim swung his axe at his own assailant, watching in horror as the blade simply passed through the apparition. At that moment, blinding light filled the room, and the wraiths recoiled from it, shrieking in pain. The celestial light from Grubber burned them, but it also infuriated them even more. Grubber seized the moment to step behind Hawk and lay his hands on the civilar. He recognized the soul-draining effect for what it was, and he uttered a prayer that would counter it, restoring Hawk’s essence.
Drasek also recognized the undead dread wraiths, and he knew that sunlight was their bane. Calling out his own prayer, he unleashed a focused beam of searing light at one of the creatures, only to see it pass harmlessly thru the wraith.
“My thanks,” Hawk said quickly to Grubber, and then he launched himself at the quailing spirits. As he did so, he called out to Torm, “Here my cry, my Lord and smite down my opponents with your vengeance!” He plunged his blade into the nearest wraith, and felt solid resistance as it sank in. A flash of holy fire pulsed from the sword, and the apparition wailed in inhuman agony.
Still Grubber’s light seared and burned the wraiths. As one, they flew from the corner they had retreated two, flashing past Grim and Hawk and stepping through the walls into the larger chamber beyond, both moving unerringly towards Grubber. The celestial light had to be extinguished. One of them raked a clawed hand across the goliath’s chest, and though Grubber knew what to expect, the reality of the sensation almost buckled his knees where he stood.
“Now!” Havok cried as the wraiths appeared among them. “Let them have it!” In unison, he, Storm and Shay unleashed their attacks, the warlock with an emerald blast, the sorceress with streaking magic missiles, and the rogue with three well-placed arrows. Only Storm’s missile barrage seemed to have any effect at all. The nearest wraith hissed as the force-projectiles hammered into it.
Grim and Hawk followed the wraiths out of the small shrine and rushed to put themselves between the haunts and Grubber. Each continued to swing at the cursed creatures, most of their blows ineffective, but on occasion, as a portion of a wraith solidly materialized from the ethereal, connecting solidly.
Drasek held up his shield, Kelemvor’s symbol blazing. “By the Lord of the Dead, I command you back to the underworld from whence you came!” the inquisitor shouted, but to no avail. The wraith’s ignored his edict, attacking first at Shay as he struggled to knock another arrow. The rogue quickly fell backwards, rolling to his feet some distance away to put his safely out of reach of the spooks. The wraiths ignored the retreating rogue, intent only on Grubber, flowing around Grim and Hawk to reach him, and again touching him with their life-draining claws.
Grubber knew that, well-intentioned though they might be, the two warriors were not going to be able to save him if the wraiths were intent on his death. Stepping away from the apparitions, he called a prayer to his lips, and from the palm of his hand came a spray of diamond-like shards, comprised of pure holy energy. As the nearest wraith reached for him, it caught the full impact of the blast and shattered into a thousand motes of shadow.
Grubber’s victory was short-lived as the second wraith swarmed after him. Grim, Drasek and Hawk continued to try and interpose themselves, but the creature was implacable. Its desire to douse the cursed light was all-consuming. Again and again Storm hurled magic missiles at it, shearing off bits of shadow-stuff with each volley. The three warriors continued to slash at, but on occasion, it would bat aside one of them, restoring its own un-life as it siphoned off their energy, and periodically, it would strike out at Grubber. The priest felt himself weakening. He quickly cast a prayer that would give him the endurance of a bear, temporarily shoring up his flagging life-force. Just as he did so, however, the wraith hammered him with both fists, and his legs collapsed beneath him. It leaned over, its cowled face lowering to his own, preparing to suck the last dregs of his life from him. Suddenly, Hawk and Grim were there. Shouting and slashing they drove the wraith back as Drasek knelt beside the fallen priest and used a prayer of restoration to bring him back from the brink. Together, Grim and Hawk drove their blades against the undead horror, while at the same time a final blast from Storm destroyed the creature once and for all.
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“I despair of ever finding him,” Grubber said, hanging his head between his knees as he slowly recovered from the wraiths’ assault. “How could even a wizard of Ondabar’s standing have survived this nightmare?”
“Until we find evidence of his destruction,” Hawk said calmly, “we owe it to him to keep searching.”
Finding nothing of assistance in the small shrine the wraiths guarded, the group crossed the larger chamber to the double doors to the north. The sight which greeted them on the other side momentarily shocked them into silence. To say it was incongruous was an understatement. A river surged through the tomb, its red water as bright as blood. A stone bridge crossed the water, but its pilings were undermined by centuries of erosion, and the arches seemed to be barely holding. In several places, the bridge tilted dangerously to one side. On the far side of the river was what appeared to be a fortified gatehouse, dimly visible and secured by an enormous rusted gate, which was at least fifteen-feet tall, and just as wide.
“Does anyone disagree with me when I say we avoid that bridge?” Giovanni asked rhetorically. “I can get us across, but we’ll have to go in turns. Grim, Hawk, Grubber, grab hold of me.” The three complied, and in an eye-blink they vanished, only to appear on the far shore of the river. Just as Giovanni turned to signal to Shay, Storm and Drasek that they were ok, the ground around him exploded. Surging up from the churned earth were two large creatures with wide bodies made of a pebbly, stone-like material. They had large, powerful mouths atop their heads, with three long arms, tipped with sharp talons, symmetrically positioned around their torsos. Between the arms were large, stone-lidded eyes. At their bases were three thick, short legs, each directly beneath an eye.
One of them immediately struck at Hawk, locking its massive jaws around his thigh. Though caught off guard, the civilar’s military training immediately took over. Shield in one hand, and sword in the other, he stabbed at the odd creature, unleashing an electrical jolt through his blade as it struck. The creature bled a thick, viscous ichor, but the electrical surge seemed to short-out, simply sparking and smoking across the monster’s rocky hide.
“So much for taking the safe approach,” Shay said. Knocking an arrow, he took careful aim and fired a shaft straight through one of the eyes of the creature attacking Hawk. Beside the rogue, Storm conjured an orb of crackling lightning to her hand and hurled it. The electrical ball struck the monster, but like Hawk’s sword, the shock seemed to have no effect.
Havok was a man who knew his limitations, and front-line fighting was one of them. Concentrating again, he willed himself back across the river, and in a moment he was standing with Shay, Storm and Drasek. He also knew his strengths, and distance fighting was his forte. He loosed an eldritch blast in a green burst at Hawk’s assailant, and was satisfied to see the creature recoil in pain from the civilar.
Meanwhile, Grim had his own problems. The second creature was hammering relentlessly at his shield, keeping him on the defensive. Suddenly, an image of Dwilt came to the mineral warrior’s mind, and he had an idea. Snaking his axe under his shield, he used the head of it to snag the creature’s foremost leg, and then pulled, hoping to trip up the ungainly beast. It looked as if, once down, it would be like a turtle unable to right itself. However, he underestimated the stability that the creature’s tripod-like stance gave it. Not only did his attempt fail, but the beast jerked its leg back, pulling the dwarf off-balance and sending him sprawling. As he tried to regain his feet, the monster sank its teeth into his shoulder.
Grubber unstrapped his maul and drove it into the body of Hawk’s opponent. He was just winding up for another blow, when the ground erupted again, and two more of the behemoth’s appeared, completely surrounding the trio. In a flurry of claws and teeth, all four pressed their attack, ripping and tearing at all of the harried warriors.
“I don’t have a clear shot!” Storm cried, knowing she couldn’t bring her most destructive magic to bear while her companions were trapped in the midst of the beasts.
“Remember that Grubber imbued us with fire protection,” Havok reminded her as he launched another eldritch blast. “He feared we might encounter more elementals, though it seems now that some sort of earth protection would have been in order.”
Storm nodded, beginning her spell as Shay continued to pepper the monsters with arrows.
Hawk was taking the worst of the assault. Even his battle-honed skill could not protect him from all sides at once. He reached for his belt pouch, uncorked a flask there, and upended it. Immediately, his body felt lighter than air, and he took flight, hoping to gain some altitude and a brief respite. However, as he rose, all four of the creatures struck at him, pulling him back to the earth, where he landed in a crumpled heap, unmoving. At that moment, Storm’s fireball exploded into the melee. As Havok had said, Grim and Grubber appeared to suffer no ill effect…but neither did the creatures.
Grubber raised his shield above his head to protect him from the teeth and claws all around him, as he knelt beside Hawk. It was obvious that the civilar was dead, but Grubber also sensed that his soul had not yet departed. He only had a moment to act. Calling on Grumbar, he spoke a prayer which would prevent the soul from leaving, returning life to Hawk, but leaving him unconscious. He had just managed to complete the spell when the attacks from the monsters broke through his defenses, battering him to the ground, engulfing him in the blackness as consciousness left him.
Grim was alone. All about him, the beasts roared and struck. His tower shield afforded him a greater measure of protection than his companions, but he knew it wouldn’t be enough. Eventually, they would overcome him. He saw, across the river, Drasek leap into the air, flying towards him. He only hoped the goody-two-shoes wouldn’t be too late.
“Hold still…perfect!” Shay cried as he fired another arrow, this one impaling the same beast he had partially blinded before. With a shriek, the monster collapsed. “Only three to one odds now,” he said in satisfaction. “Any takers?”
“My money’s on the dwarf,” Havok said as his emerald blast seared into another of the beasts.
“As is mine,” Storm replied, hurling a lighting ball this time, intentionally placing it so that Grim was outside the blast radius. This time, the electrical burst seemed to have some effect, and another of the monsters fell.
The deadly dance continued. Drasek closed to join the fray, but he had no sooner arrived than one of the remaining beasts sliced across his abdomen, nearly disemboweling him. The inquisitor was forced to temporarily retreat to heal his grievous wound. Still Grim fought on. He managed to hold his own, giving as good as he got, supported by artillery from Shay, Havok and Storm. After a moment, Drasek rejoined him, and the battle raged on.
“I have an idea,” Storm said, breathless from the work of expending so much magical energy. Reaching out to Shay, she uttered a spell, and the rogue faded from view.
“Strike at will,” the sorceress said to her unseen comrade. “The magic I wove will not fail just because you are on the offensive.”
Shay smiled. Concealment was his ally. With it, he could pick his target spots with uncanny precision. He set one foot on the bridge, just to lessen his margin of error as much as possible, but as he did so, the slippery stone caused him to lose his footing, and he tumbled over the side. However, as he fell, a ring that he wore on his left hand flared to life, slowing his descent to the gentle glide of a feather. Shay smiled again. Always prepared, that was his motto. As he landed gently on the sand, he sighted carefully, and loosed two arrows at one of the beasts, sinking them deep into the soft area just beneath its eyes. Just as his arrows struck, a green blast from Havok felled the creature with finality.
With only one attacker left, Drasek dove quickly to the ground, landing beside Grubber and laying his hands upon the priest, willing Kelemvor’s life-giving energy into the goliath. Grubber’s rasping breathing slowed and calmed, but he remained unconscious. Drasek thought he was safer that way for the moment. Just as he stood to assist Grim, the remaining beast struck him a fearsome blow, knocking him from his feet and sending him tumbling down the river embankment.
“Gotcha!” Shay shouted as the fully exposed flank of the creature was now in his view. Three shots he loosed, and each struck in the center of one of the monsters’ eyes. All three went dark, and with a groan, the behemoth tumbled into the river.
If i had known you would have been back so soon I prob would have went with Arme Geddon a Chaos Gnome and he was far from Law abiding ![:]](http://www.enworld.org/forum/images/smilies/devious.png "Devious :]")
Holocaust another Pyschic huh sounds crazy enough Does he summon air elemental 
