Hammerhead
Explorer
Octurus is dead for good? Man, that's surprising. I figured Sepoto would just bust out a Rev/Rev to bring him back into the fight right away.
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JollyDoc's Savage Tide-Updated 10/8!
- Thread starter JollyDoc
- Start date
JollyDoc
Explorer
SUNDAY TEASER
1) Deciding Lavinia might be too much of a liability when they faced her brother, the Legion goes after Vanthus first
2) The Death Knight, however, is not undefended. His minions take a toll on the heroes until Tower Cleaver discovers the joys of Ghost Touch!
3) Vanthus is finally bearded in his lair and the outcome is...less than satisfying.
4) Negotiations are opened with Lilianth, and once again the Legion illustrates the painful Diplomacy void left in their ranks when Anwar died.
1) Deciding Lavinia might be too much of a liability when they faced her brother, the Legion goes after Vanthus first
2) The Death Knight, however, is not undefended. His minions take a toll on the heroes until Tower Cleaver discovers the joys of Ghost Touch!
3) Vanthus is finally bearded in his lair and the outcome is...less than satisfying.
4) Negotiations are opened with Lilianth, and once again the Legion illustrates the painful Diplomacy void left in their ranks when Anwar died.
JollyDoc
Explorer
SIBLING RIVALRY
By the time Mandi rejoined the others, Daelric had already revived Octurus from death. The Maztican’s mind was once again intact, but the same could not be said for his ruined face. It was beyond the priest’s ability to heal the horrific damage, but he assured Octurus he would do his best to restore what he could, given time. The demon hunter seemed to accept this news gravely, and simply tore a length of cloth from his cloak and wrapped it completely about his head, leaving only his eyes exposed.
“I’m relieved to see you back among the living and the sane again,” Mandi said, then went on to explain to the group all that had transpired with S’Sharra and Belshamoth.
“It is my thought,” she concluded, “that Vanthus should be our primary target. Though Lavinia has suffered much at her brother’s hands, I am still concerned about her…objectivity concerning him. I won’t have my hands tied when we finish him once and for all.”
No one disagreed with her reasoning, as even those among them that had never met the elder Vanderboren felt a personal enmity towards him for all the trouble he had caused them.
Belshamoth had shown Mandi another long bridge connecting the building which held his domain from that of the fallen deva. He explained that from the center of this span they would be able to see the small islet where Vanthus currently resided. Stretching across a searing chasm that ended in a river of lava spilling out from the caldera was another, much shorter and narrower bridge. A single small building of stone and iron squatted atop a stony pinnacle protruding from the lava at the far end of the bridge. The companions gathered around Mandi, linking hands as the sorceress called upon her magic to transport them across the gulf, placing them directly before the doors of the structure. No sooner had the momentary disorientation of transdimensional travel faded, however, than total darkness engulfed them. Worse, the gloom did not just block out light, but it seemed to physically seep into their flesh, burning as if it were acid poured on their skin. As the Legionnaires cast about, searching for the source of the evil magic, six deeper shadows loomed up on both sides of the bridge. They were insubstantial things with long, curving horns and bat-like wings that seemed formed of vapor. With earsplitting shrieks, they swooped around the group, slashing out with hooked talons that passed through armor and shields as if they were nothing, and the wounds they left were ugly, purulent rents, oozing black ichor mixed with blood.
Mandi recognized the fiends as shadow demons, creatures used as assassins by both demon lords and powerful mortals. They were not a threat to be taken lightly, and if Vanthus commanded such servants, then perhaps he had become more of a threat than she had imagined. Though taken by surprise, her allies were quick to respond to the attack. A flare of brilliant light surged from Daelric’s upraised fist, and the demons quailed before it, two of them scratching at their eyes as the righteous power struck them blind. Octurus, Sepoto and Tower Cleaver met the assault with steel, and though their weapons seemed to pass through the incorporeal bodies of the fiends, the shadow demons still reacted as if in pain, and one of them shattered into fragmented mist before one of Cleaver’s mighty blows.
The short-lived battle was fast and furious, with the outcome anything but preordained. Though the shadow demons absorbed blow after blow from the Legion’s warriors, most of the strikes may as well have rent clouds. At one point, Gregor found himself beset on all sides by the fiends. The druid used his magic to create a bombardment of rock and stone, but the debris simply fell straight through the demons. In desperation, he tried to extricate himself by transforming into a great condor, but one of the creatures literally dragged him from the air, nearly tearing his wings from his body as it did so. Gradually, however, the efforts of Cleaver, Sepoto and Octurus began to take their toll on the demons, and several well placed force bolts from Mandi, which impacted solidly despite the fiends’ incorporeality, ultimately sealed their fate.
Silence settled over the span, broken only by the churning river of magma below and the constant whine of the Abyssal wind. Daelric began tending to the wounds of his allies, but to his horror he found that the vile lacerations would not close.
“Perhaps we should return to the Sea Wyvern,” he said to Mandi. “I can pray to Shaundekal for guidance on how to mend these ills.”
“There is not time for that,” the sorceress snapped. “Vanthus is here. No doubt he has been alerted to our presence by now. If we leave, we may not find him again. We press on!”
At her nod, Tower Cleaver proceeded to rip the door of the building from its hinges. The stench from the chamber beyond was terrible. Human corpses, piled like cordwood, filled the room. It was clear from their expressions that they did not die well. A single door stood on the opposite wall, and a bloody idol of Demogorgon stood against the north wall, its baboon heads staring with hungry malevolence. The broken remains of a desk, a chair, and several cabinets lay against the southern wall. As Cleaver took in the scene, several ghostly forms began to rise from the heap of bodies, moaning and wailing as they came, their hooked fingers reaching for him…
_________________________________________________________________
The creature that was once Vanthus Vanderboren crouched, hidden in the shadows of the inner chamber as he watched his dread wraith minions arise. He feared they would fare no better against his enemies than the shadow demons had. He had gravely misjudged Lavinia’s hirelings, imagining them to be as inept as the Jade Ravens. Now, here they were, having pursued him to the Abyss itself! Could their loyalty to Lavinia be so strong?
‘Master,’ the servants of Socothbenoth whispered in his ear, ‘do not fear. Our Lord has sent us to protect you. The mortals shall not have you before He does.’
“Bah!” the death knight scoffed in irritation. “Your brethren were not able to stop them, and they were twice your number. How do you expect to prevail?”
‘The spirits of your former crew will harry and weaken the mortals, and then we shall strike!’ the shadow demons laughed. Vanthus remained silent. He had his doubts. The so-called Legion would come for him soon. He had been abandoned to this desolate place, and no one could help him now. Demogorgon had promised that he would have access to the fleshforges of Lemoriax so that he could transform Lavinia as he had been transformed, but instead he had been told to come here, to Divided’s Ire, to await the pleasure of the Prince of Demons. Then, no sooner had he arrived at this madhouse, than his crew was slaughtered when they were caught in the crossfire between S’Sharra and Kululblax, and as Vanthus attempted to escape, that whore Lillianth had stolen Lavinia from him. Without his fellow Lemorians by his side, he had stood no chance against the marilith and her faction. Now he was alone, awaiting his own inevitable fate…
___________________________________________________________________
The wraiths poured forward, passing through the walls of the building as if they were nothing, swarming out onto the bridge, eight of them in all. Sepoto struck out fruitlessly as they passed, their incorporeal forms shedding his blows as easily as the shadow demons had. Then the undead were among them, their spectral hands swiping at the Legionnaires, leaving the touch of the grave in their wake. Suddenly, once more, darkness blanketed the span as three more of the shadowy fiends flew from the wall of the building, adding their own chaos to the melee. Abruptly, a swath of white fire swept through the assailants, conjured by Gregor to skillfully leave him and his companions untouched as the flames engulfed their enemies. Two of the wraiths shrieked in mortal agony as their bodies were consumed. The others, however, continued to dive and swoop among his companions, no weapon able to pierce them. In that moment Mandi slapped her forehead, unable to believe her own stupidity. It was a very basic spell, so basic in fact, that she had almost forgotten it.
“Cleaver!” she called. “To me!”
The big minotaur snorted, turning in the midst of the melee towards the sorceress. Like a juggernaut, he waded through the combatants until he stood by her side. Immediately, she laid her hands upon the blade of his axe, chanting arcane words as she did so. When she lifted her hands, the axe head shimmered for a moment, then became as insubstantial as the wraiths they fought.
“Now,” Mandi said, “I think you will find your efforts much more effective.”
Snarling, Cleaver turned back towards the fray, lifting the enchanted blade high above him. With a mighty swing, he clove across two of the shadow demons and one of the wraiths simultaneously. To his satisfaction, it was if the axe were hewing corporeal flesh, and the wraith simply exploded. His battle howl filling the air, he let the momentum of his blow carry him onward, cleaving a second wraith, then a third and a fourth, obliterating each as he went. The tide changed swiftly, and though the wraiths and demons showed no sign of relenting, their battle was already lost.
Vanthus saw it all, and knew that he was finished. His only choice now was how he would meet his end. For a brief moment he considered flight, but he knew that would only be a temporary solution. If the mortals did not hunt him down again, it would only be a matter of time before Demogorgon sent his own forces after the death knight. No, it would be now. Steeling his resolve, he leaped forward to the outer door, a flaming sword brandished in one hand and a fiery sickle clutched in the other.
“It is me you seek!” he cried. “Come then, and you shall know the true power of Demogorgon’s chosen!”
Tower Cleaver turned towards the sound of Vanthus’s voice, shadowy ichor dripping from his blade. His lip curled in a menacing snarl as a low growl started in his throat.
“Cleaver, no!” Mandi screamed. “He’s mine!”
The sorceress streaked past the minotaur and the others like a comet. As she went, her voice lifted, shouting an incantation. From thin air, a huge, disembodied hand formed, and before Vanthus could react, it seized him in its grasp, his bones popping as it began to squeeze and crush.
“Cowards!” the death knight gurgled. “Do you fear to face me as men? Is this all you have?”
Mandi’s brow furrowed as she tightened the grip on her spell. She would not waste words on the filth. She could taste his destruction like cold vengeance. He could not escape her grip, and slowly, the fire began to fade from his eyes.
“Cleaver!” she called over her shoulder. The barbarian came quickly to her side, the last of the shadow demons falling before him.
“Before he dies, take his head!” she commanded. Tower Cleaver snorted enthusiastically, and stepped up to the helpless death knight.
“You don’t know who you are dealing with!” Vanthus shrieked.
“I kill gods,” Cleaver said, matter-of-factly, “death knights mean nothing to me.”
_______________________________________________________________
The hezrou bowed low.
“It is true, mistress,” its toad-like throat burbled. “They have…requested and audience with you. They say they wish to barter for the human female’s life.”
Lillianth leaned back on her coils, steepling her thirty fingers together.
“Have they now?” the marilith said aloud. Then, she turned to where Lavinia Vanderboren lay beaten and disheveled within an iron cage. “There must be more to you than meets the eye, woman, to have so many contend for your seemingly insignificant life.”
Lavinia did not respond. There was no reason to. The demon could pull her thoughts from her mind if she wanted to. She still maintained hope that Mandi and the Legion were truly coming for her, but her emotions and dreams had been so manipulated since her captivity that she could no longer be sure of what was real and what was twisted nightmare. The cage she occupied hung from a thick chain bolted to the ceiling of the chamber, and it was suspended above a churning pool of lava below. A small walkway around the pool was the only solid ground in the room. Other cages hung nearby, but only two others were occupied. One held a desolate looking angelic being while the second contained a large, insectile devil. The other occupants of the chamber included the marilith herself, a sinister, skulking black-skinned demon with a horn protruding from the back of its skull, and a half-dozen or more of the vile hezrous.
“Bring them before me,” Lillianth commanded, interrupting Lavinia’s wanderings. “At the very least, this should be entertaining.”
Several minutes later the hezrou returned, this time escorting the six mortals that had invaded Divided’s Ire, slain Kululblax and reached some sort of accord with Belshamoth. Lillianth knew they were dangerous, possibly lethal and not to be underestimated, but she had not been chosen to lead Graz’zt’s armies because she was a fool. She would lead them still if not for the treachery of the demon prince’s son, Athux. Yet she was immortal. Time was something she had plenty of, and it would only be a matter of time before she marshaled her own army, with the aid of the wretch Vanthus Vanderboren, and marched on Azzagrat to take her revenge on her former commander. Drawing herself up to her full height and brandishing the deadly arsenal of weapons she clutched in her six hands, she addressed her petitioners.
“Know this before you open your mouths, mortals: if you are wasting my time, flaying you alive will be the least of the torments I will inflict upon you.”
The minotaur bristled at that, and Lillianth smiled. A loyal dog, nothing more.
“We have come to entreat you to release the woman you hold captive,” the elf sorceress said.
“Perhaps we can reach some sort of bargain.”
“And what would you have that could possibly interest me?” Lillianth sneered.
“Name your price,” Mandi answered without hesitation.
“My price?” Lillianth replied, her eyes going wide. “I’ll tell you my price. Holding the Vanderboren woman gives me leverage over her brother…leverage with which I intend to exact from him an army of undead. What can you offer me that is worth that?”
Mandi remained silent for a long moment. Then, with a decisive nod she reached into the haversack slung across her shoulder.
“Perhaps I do have something that might interest you at that,” she said. Lifting her hand from the haversack, she held aloft Vanthus Vanderboren’s severed head and then casually tossed it at Lillianth’s tail.
“I can see there will be no reasoning with you,” the sorceress said softly, “so shall we move on to diplomacy by other means?”
By the time Mandi rejoined the others, Daelric had already revived Octurus from death. The Maztican’s mind was once again intact, but the same could not be said for his ruined face. It was beyond the priest’s ability to heal the horrific damage, but he assured Octurus he would do his best to restore what he could, given time. The demon hunter seemed to accept this news gravely, and simply tore a length of cloth from his cloak and wrapped it completely about his head, leaving only his eyes exposed.
“I’m relieved to see you back among the living and the sane again,” Mandi said, then went on to explain to the group all that had transpired with S’Sharra and Belshamoth.
“It is my thought,” she concluded, “that Vanthus should be our primary target. Though Lavinia has suffered much at her brother’s hands, I am still concerned about her…objectivity concerning him. I won’t have my hands tied when we finish him once and for all.”
No one disagreed with her reasoning, as even those among them that had never met the elder Vanderboren felt a personal enmity towards him for all the trouble he had caused them.
Belshamoth had shown Mandi another long bridge connecting the building which held his domain from that of the fallen deva. He explained that from the center of this span they would be able to see the small islet where Vanthus currently resided. Stretching across a searing chasm that ended in a river of lava spilling out from the caldera was another, much shorter and narrower bridge. A single small building of stone and iron squatted atop a stony pinnacle protruding from the lava at the far end of the bridge. The companions gathered around Mandi, linking hands as the sorceress called upon her magic to transport them across the gulf, placing them directly before the doors of the structure. No sooner had the momentary disorientation of transdimensional travel faded, however, than total darkness engulfed them. Worse, the gloom did not just block out light, but it seemed to physically seep into their flesh, burning as if it were acid poured on their skin. As the Legionnaires cast about, searching for the source of the evil magic, six deeper shadows loomed up on both sides of the bridge. They were insubstantial things with long, curving horns and bat-like wings that seemed formed of vapor. With earsplitting shrieks, they swooped around the group, slashing out with hooked talons that passed through armor and shields as if they were nothing, and the wounds they left were ugly, purulent rents, oozing black ichor mixed with blood.
Mandi recognized the fiends as shadow demons, creatures used as assassins by both demon lords and powerful mortals. They were not a threat to be taken lightly, and if Vanthus commanded such servants, then perhaps he had become more of a threat than she had imagined. Though taken by surprise, her allies were quick to respond to the attack. A flare of brilliant light surged from Daelric’s upraised fist, and the demons quailed before it, two of them scratching at their eyes as the righteous power struck them blind. Octurus, Sepoto and Tower Cleaver met the assault with steel, and though their weapons seemed to pass through the incorporeal bodies of the fiends, the shadow demons still reacted as if in pain, and one of them shattered into fragmented mist before one of Cleaver’s mighty blows.
The short-lived battle was fast and furious, with the outcome anything but preordained. Though the shadow demons absorbed blow after blow from the Legion’s warriors, most of the strikes may as well have rent clouds. At one point, Gregor found himself beset on all sides by the fiends. The druid used his magic to create a bombardment of rock and stone, but the debris simply fell straight through the demons. In desperation, he tried to extricate himself by transforming into a great condor, but one of the creatures literally dragged him from the air, nearly tearing his wings from his body as it did so. Gradually, however, the efforts of Cleaver, Sepoto and Octurus began to take their toll on the demons, and several well placed force bolts from Mandi, which impacted solidly despite the fiends’ incorporeality, ultimately sealed their fate.
Silence settled over the span, broken only by the churning river of magma below and the constant whine of the Abyssal wind. Daelric began tending to the wounds of his allies, but to his horror he found that the vile lacerations would not close.
“Perhaps we should return to the Sea Wyvern,” he said to Mandi. “I can pray to Shaundekal for guidance on how to mend these ills.”
“There is not time for that,” the sorceress snapped. “Vanthus is here. No doubt he has been alerted to our presence by now. If we leave, we may not find him again. We press on!”
At her nod, Tower Cleaver proceeded to rip the door of the building from its hinges. The stench from the chamber beyond was terrible. Human corpses, piled like cordwood, filled the room. It was clear from their expressions that they did not die well. A single door stood on the opposite wall, and a bloody idol of Demogorgon stood against the north wall, its baboon heads staring with hungry malevolence. The broken remains of a desk, a chair, and several cabinets lay against the southern wall. As Cleaver took in the scene, several ghostly forms began to rise from the heap of bodies, moaning and wailing as they came, their hooked fingers reaching for him…
_________________________________________________________________
The creature that was once Vanthus Vanderboren crouched, hidden in the shadows of the inner chamber as he watched his dread wraith minions arise. He feared they would fare no better against his enemies than the shadow demons had. He had gravely misjudged Lavinia’s hirelings, imagining them to be as inept as the Jade Ravens. Now, here they were, having pursued him to the Abyss itself! Could their loyalty to Lavinia be so strong?
‘Master,’ the servants of Socothbenoth whispered in his ear, ‘do not fear. Our Lord has sent us to protect you. The mortals shall not have you before He does.’
“Bah!” the death knight scoffed in irritation. “Your brethren were not able to stop them, and they were twice your number. How do you expect to prevail?”
‘The spirits of your former crew will harry and weaken the mortals, and then we shall strike!’ the shadow demons laughed. Vanthus remained silent. He had his doubts. The so-called Legion would come for him soon. He had been abandoned to this desolate place, and no one could help him now. Demogorgon had promised that he would have access to the fleshforges of Lemoriax so that he could transform Lavinia as he had been transformed, but instead he had been told to come here, to Divided’s Ire, to await the pleasure of the Prince of Demons. Then, no sooner had he arrived at this madhouse, than his crew was slaughtered when they were caught in the crossfire between S’Sharra and Kululblax, and as Vanthus attempted to escape, that whore Lillianth had stolen Lavinia from him. Without his fellow Lemorians by his side, he had stood no chance against the marilith and her faction. Now he was alone, awaiting his own inevitable fate…
___________________________________________________________________
The wraiths poured forward, passing through the walls of the building as if they were nothing, swarming out onto the bridge, eight of them in all. Sepoto struck out fruitlessly as they passed, their incorporeal forms shedding his blows as easily as the shadow demons had. Then the undead were among them, their spectral hands swiping at the Legionnaires, leaving the touch of the grave in their wake. Suddenly, once more, darkness blanketed the span as three more of the shadowy fiends flew from the wall of the building, adding their own chaos to the melee. Abruptly, a swath of white fire swept through the assailants, conjured by Gregor to skillfully leave him and his companions untouched as the flames engulfed their enemies. Two of the wraiths shrieked in mortal agony as their bodies were consumed. The others, however, continued to dive and swoop among his companions, no weapon able to pierce them. In that moment Mandi slapped her forehead, unable to believe her own stupidity. It was a very basic spell, so basic in fact, that she had almost forgotten it.
“Cleaver!” she called. “To me!”
The big minotaur snorted, turning in the midst of the melee towards the sorceress. Like a juggernaut, he waded through the combatants until he stood by her side. Immediately, she laid her hands upon the blade of his axe, chanting arcane words as she did so. When she lifted her hands, the axe head shimmered for a moment, then became as insubstantial as the wraiths they fought.
“Now,” Mandi said, “I think you will find your efforts much more effective.”
Snarling, Cleaver turned back towards the fray, lifting the enchanted blade high above him. With a mighty swing, he clove across two of the shadow demons and one of the wraiths simultaneously. To his satisfaction, it was if the axe were hewing corporeal flesh, and the wraith simply exploded. His battle howl filling the air, he let the momentum of his blow carry him onward, cleaving a second wraith, then a third and a fourth, obliterating each as he went. The tide changed swiftly, and though the wraiths and demons showed no sign of relenting, their battle was already lost.
Vanthus saw it all, and knew that he was finished. His only choice now was how he would meet his end. For a brief moment he considered flight, but he knew that would only be a temporary solution. If the mortals did not hunt him down again, it would only be a matter of time before Demogorgon sent his own forces after the death knight. No, it would be now. Steeling his resolve, he leaped forward to the outer door, a flaming sword brandished in one hand and a fiery sickle clutched in the other.
“It is me you seek!” he cried. “Come then, and you shall know the true power of Demogorgon’s chosen!”
Tower Cleaver turned towards the sound of Vanthus’s voice, shadowy ichor dripping from his blade. His lip curled in a menacing snarl as a low growl started in his throat.
“Cleaver, no!” Mandi screamed. “He’s mine!”
The sorceress streaked past the minotaur and the others like a comet. As she went, her voice lifted, shouting an incantation. From thin air, a huge, disembodied hand formed, and before Vanthus could react, it seized him in its grasp, his bones popping as it began to squeeze and crush.
“Cowards!” the death knight gurgled. “Do you fear to face me as men? Is this all you have?”
Mandi’s brow furrowed as she tightened the grip on her spell. She would not waste words on the filth. She could taste his destruction like cold vengeance. He could not escape her grip, and slowly, the fire began to fade from his eyes.
“Cleaver!” she called over her shoulder. The barbarian came quickly to her side, the last of the shadow demons falling before him.
“Before he dies, take his head!” she commanded. Tower Cleaver snorted enthusiastically, and stepped up to the helpless death knight.
“You don’t know who you are dealing with!” Vanthus shrieked.
“I kill gods,” Cleaver said, matter-of-factly, “death knights mean nothing to me.”
_______________________________________________________________
The hezrou bowed low.
“It is true, mistress,” its toad-like throat burbled. “They have…requested and audience with you. They say they wish to barter for the human female’s life.”
Lillianth leaned back on her coils, steepling her thirty fingers together.
“Have they now?” the marilith said aloud. Then, she turned to where Lavinia Vanderboren lay beaten and disheveled within an iron cage. “There must be more to you than meets the eye, woman, to have so many contend for your seemingly insignificant life.”
Lavinia did not respond. There was no reason to. The demon could pull her thoughts from her mind if she wanted to. She still maintained hope that Mandi and the Legion were truly coming for her, but her emotions and dreams had been so manipulated since her captivity that she could no longer be sure of what was real and what was twisted nightmare. The cage she occupied hung from a thick chain bolted to the ceiling of the chamber, and it was suspended above a churning pool of lava below. A small walkway around the pool was the only solid ground in the room. Other cages hung nearby, but only two others were occupied. One held a desolate looking angelic being while the second contained a large, insectile devil. The other occupants of the chamber included the marilith herself, a sinister, skulking black-skinned demon with a horn protruding from the back of its skull, and a half-dozen or more of the vile hezrous.
“Bring them before me,” Lillianth commanded, interrupting Lavinia’s wanderings. “At the very least, this should be entertaining.”
Several minutes later the hezrou returned, this time escorting the six mortals that had invaded Divided’s Ire, slain Kululblax and reached some sort of accord with Belshamoth. Lillianth knew they were dangerous, possibly lethal and not to be underestimated, but she had not been chosen to lead Graz’zt’s armies because she was a fool. She would lead them still if not for the treachery of the demon prince’s son, Athux. Yet she was immortal. Time was something she had plenty of, and it would only be a matter of time before she marshaled her own army, with the aid of the wretch Vanthus Vanderboren, and marched on Azzagrat to take her revenge on her former commander. Drawing herself up to her full height and brandishing the deadly arsenal of weapons she clutched in her six hands, she addressed her petitioners.
“Know this before you open your mouths, mortals: if you are wasting my time, flaying you alive will be the least of the torments I will inflict upon you.”
The minotaur bristled at that, and Lillianth smiled. A loyal dog, nothing more.
“We have come to entreat you to release the woman you hold captive,” the elf sorceress said.
“Perhaps we can reach some sort of bargain.”
“And what would you have that could possibly interest me?” Lillianth sneered.
“Name your price,” Mandi answered without hesitation.
“My price?” Lillianth replied, her eyes going wide. “I’ll tell you my price. Holding the Vanderboren woman gives me leverage over her brother…leverage with which I intend to exact from him an army of undead. What can you offer me that is worth that?”
Mandi remained silent for a long moment. Then, with a decisive nod she reached into the haversack slung across her shoulder.
“Perhaps I do have something that might interest you at that,” she said. Lifting her hand from the haversack, she held aloft Vanthus Vanderboren’s severed head and then casually tossed it at Lillianth’s tail.
“I can see there will be no reasoning with you,” the sorceress said softly, “so shall we move on to diplomacy by other means?”
Neverwinter Knight
First Post
Greatest way to bargain, ever !!! ![:]](http://www.enworld.org/forum/images/smilies/devious.png "Devious :]")
Way to go with the death knigth. No Dragotha tactics, but very efficient!
Way to go with the death knigth. No Dragotha tactics, but very efficient!
JollyDoc
Explorer
SUNDAY NIGHT TEASER
1) The battle with Lillianth ends with the permanent demise of one Legionnaire, but it isn't the Legion that dispatches the marilith.
2) Lavinia is freed and the mission to Divided's Ire comes to a close with unforseen aid guiding the team towards the next leg of their quest to prevent the Savage Time.
3) Lavinia is returned home, but the Legion has another destination...Pazunia, the first layer of the Abyss.
4) The Legion seeks an audience with a certain information broker, and though the price is high, it is well worth it, especially when an old aquaintance makes an appearance.
1) The battle with Lillianth ends with the permanent demise of one Legionnaire, but it isn't the Legion that dispatches the marilith.
2) Lavinia is freed and the mission to Divided's Ire comes to a close with unforseen aid guiding the team towards the next leg of their quest to prevent the Savage Time.
3) Lavinia is returned home, but the Legion has another destination...Pazunia, the first layer of the Abyss.
4) The Legion seeks an audience with a certain information broker, and though the price is high, it is well worth it, especially when an old aquaintance makes an appearance.
