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Lazybones's Keep on the Shadowfell/Thunderspire Labyrinth
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<blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 4627555" data-attributes="member: 143"><p>Thanks for the posts, guys!</p><p></p><p>Today's more setup, Friday the cliffhanger, of course. <img src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" class="smilie smilie--sprite smilie--sprite1" alt=":)" title="Smile :)" loading="lazy" data-shortname=":)" /></p><p></p><p>* * * * * </p><p></p><p>Chapter 68</p><p></p><p></p><p>They were beaten, battered, and all around in pretty tenuous shape. Once Beetle and Jaron had pulled Devrem from the pit, the companions fell back to the comparative safety of the stairwell, where they bound their wounds and tried to catch a collective breath. Devrem used his magic to bring himself and Mara back from the brink of death, while the rest of them relied on more traditional remedies, cutting bandages from the clean cloths they carried in their mix of supplies. Most of the wounds they’d suffered were not as bad as they’d first looked, but Beetle had a deep puncture wound in his left hip where the dark stalker had stabbed him, and the gash across Elevaren’s chest, while not deep, was long and continued to seep fresh blood into the bandage that Jaron bound into place with strips of cloth torn from an extra cloak. “This is going to need a needle, and soon,” the halfling said, while the warlock looked vaguely into the distance, distracted by some internal concern. </p><p></p><p>“Once I have had a few minutes to recover my strength, I can use my magic to treat him,” Devrem said. The cleric sagged against the wall at the base of the stairs, looking… <em>deflated</em>. But the fire in his eyes was still there as he looked at Jaron. “That was just the outer temple, and the underpriest. The portal to the Shadowfell lies below, down that pit. The ritual is being completed… we don’t have much time left.”</p><p></p><p>“That pulse of power, that we felt near the end of the battle?” Jaron asked. Devrem nodded. </p><p></p><p>“I’m not sure what you expect us to do about it,” Mara said. The fighter sat on one of the broad steps, her head sunk almost against her knees. She did not look up. “We got our asses kicked, and we’re in no shape to take on Kalarel.”</p><p></p><p>“We have no choice,” Elevaren said, turning suddenly from his reverie and fixing his otherworldly eyes on his companions. His movement causes a twinge of pain that passed across his face for a moment, making him look almost human. “He must be stopped.” There was a renewed determination in him that seemed almost like an echo of Devrem’s fixation on his mission. </p><p></p><p>“Just getting down there is going to be a challenge,” Jaron said. “Those chains are slick with blood.”</p><p></p><p>“Rope!” Beetle said. The younger halfling had taken a pounding at the hands of the dark creeper, but his enthusiasm hadn’t waned, even with a wound in his side and a slight concussion from having his head smashed against the floor. Without waiting for a response, the halfling shot up and ran up the stairs, back toward the hobgoblin quarters. He wavered a bit negotiating the stairs, but he was gone before even Jaron could warn him to caution. </p><p></p><p>“You’re all insane,” Mara said, finally looking up, her expression grim, a smear of blood running down her check unnaturally bright against her pale skin. </p><p></p><p>“We could use your swords down there,” Devrem said, grimacing as he pushed off against the wall and tentatively rose to his feet. He’d recovered his staff, and leaned heavily against it as he looked down at her. </p><p></p><p>“We will understand, either way, my friend,” Elevaren said. He too stood, accepting Jaron’s help as he pulled his torn vest back into place over his bandaged shoulder. </p><p></p><p>“We may not succeed, but at least we will have tried,” Jaron said, taking up his bow from where he’d laid it against the wall nearby. </p><p></p><p>The three men stood there, watching Mara. Finally the fighter stood up, her face tight with pain. Elevaren moved to help her, but she shook away his offered hand. The warlock drew back, and waited. Mara looked at each of the men in turn, before her gaze settled on Devrem. </p><p></p><p>“We do this, and then I’m done with being a hero,” she said. She walked past the three of them back toward the chamber, limping slightly, and did not look back once she was past them.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Lazybones, post: 4627555, member: 143"] Thanks for the posts, guys! Today's more setup, Friday the cliffhanger, of course. :) * * * * * Chapter 68 They were beaten, battered, and all around in pretty tenuous shape. Once Beetle and Jaron had pulled Devrem from the pit, the companions fell back to the comparative safety of the stairwell, where they bound their wounds and tried to catch a collective breath. Devrem used his magic to bring himself and Mara back from the brink of death, while the rest of them relied on more traditional remedies, cutting bandages from the clean cloths they carried in their mix of supplies. Most of the wounds they’d suffered were not as bad as they’d first looked, but Beetle had a deep puncture wound in his left hip where the dark stalker had stabbed him, and the gash across Elevaren’s chest, while not deep, was long and continued to seep fresh blood into the bandage that Jaron bound into place with strips of cloth torn from an extra cloak. “This is going to need a needle, and soon,” the halfling said, while the warlock looked vaguely into the distance, distracted by some internal concern. “Once I have had a few minutes to recover my strength, I can use my magic to treat him,” Devrem said. The cleric sagged against the wall at the base of the stairs, looking… [i]deflated[/i]. But the fire in his eyes was still there as he looked at Jaron. “That was just the outer temple, and the underpriest. The portal to the Shadowfell lies below, down that pit. The ritual is being completed… we don’t have much time left.” “That pulse of power, that we felt near the end of the battle?” Jaron asked. Devrem nodded. “I’m not sure what you expect us to do about it,” Mara said. The fighter sat on one of the broad steps, her head sunk almost against her knees. She did not look up. “We got our asses kicked, and we’re in no shape to take on Kalarel.” “We have no choice,” Elevaren said, turning suddenly from his reverie and fixing his otherworldly eyes on his companions. His movement causes a twinge of pain that passed across his face for a moment, making him look almost human. “He must be stopped.” There was a renewed determination in him that seemed almost like an echo of Devrem’s fixation on his mission. “Just getting down there is going to be a challenge,” Jaron said. “Those chains are slick with blood.” “Rope!” Beetle said. The younger halfling had taken a pounding at the hands of the dark creeper, but his enthusiasm hadn’t waned, even with a wound in his side and a slight concussion from having his head smashed against the floor. Without waiting for a response, the halfling shot up and ran up the stairs, back toward the hobgoblin quarters. He wavered a bit negotiating the stairs, but he was gone before even Jaron could warn him to caution. “You’re all insane,” Mara said, finally looking up, her expression grim, a smear of blood running down her check unnaturally bright against her pale skin. “We could use your swords down there,” Devrem said, grimacing as he pushed off against the wall and tentatively rose to his feet. He’d recovered his staff, and leaned heavily against it as he looked down at her. “We will understand, either way, my friend,” Elevaren said. He too stood, accepting Jaron’s help as he pulled his torn vest back into place over his bandaged shoulder. “We may not succeed, but at least we will have tried,” Jaron said, taking up his bow from where he’d laid it against the wall nearby. The three men stood there, watching Mara. Finally the fighter stood up, her face tight with pain. Elevaren moved to help her, but she shook away his offered hand. The warlock drew back, and waited. Mara looked at each of the men in turn, before her gaze settled on Devrem. “We do this, and then I’m done with being a hero,” she said. She walked past the three of them back toward the chamber, limping slightly, and did not look back once she was past them. [/QUOTE]
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