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Lazybones's Keep on the Shadowfell/Thunderspire Labyrinth
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<blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 4834285" data-attributes="member: 143"><p>Chapter 50</p><p></p><p></p><p>Carzen felt a fiery pain explode through his side as something jabbed hard into his body. Whatever it was didn’t penetrate his armor, but it felt as though he’d been kicked by a draft horse. </p><p></p><p>But he had bigger problems right at that moment. The demon on top of him, for one. It was flailing about wildly, and all Carzen could see, hear, and smell was the foulness of the thing looming over him. Something—a claw, an elbow, he wasn’t sure—bounced off the front of his helmet and bashed the back of his head off the floor hard enough for stars to explode across his vision even with his helmet protecting him. Had he not been wearing it, his brains would even now be splattered across the floor. </p><p></p><p>He tried to shift, move, do anything, but his arms were pinned against his body by the weight of the demon. The arm holding his shield was bent back at an uncomfortable angle, but he almost didn’t feel it against the more immediate pains that racked his body. He couldn’t breathe; it felt like a mountain had settled upon him. Everything started to grow vague, even the pain fading into a gray haze. </p><p></p><p>Awareness returned with a jarring suddenness. The first thing he felt was a relief as the weight atop him vanished, and a breath as sweet as the purest mountain air flooded into his lungs. That was followed by a return of all the pain he’d left behind a moment ago, and he groaned. </p><p></p><p>Belatedly he realized that the demon was gone, and he blinked, trying to recover his senses enough to learn what was going on. </p><p></p><p>It was Gez, looking down at him. The soldier was saying something, but Carzen’s addled mind wasn’t quite ready to assign meaning to the noises just yet. He blinked, and reflexively accepted the hand extended toward him. Actually getting up proved more difficult, but by the time he gained his feet, Gez all but propping him up, he could at least make sense of what he was seeing. </p><p></p><p>They’d won the battle. At least, that was his guess. Gral was tending to Surina, applying bandages to the arrow wounds in her chest, but it was a close call to guess which of them looked more seriously injured. Both of them would have had to give the prize to Vhael, who was checking the bodies of the fallen gnolls around them. The dragonborn’s body was covered in blood, mostly his own by the number of gashes that marked his scaly hide. Carzen had no idea what kept the dragonborn going; he’d met men, tough men, who would have been lying mewling upon the floor with even half so many cuts. </p><p></p><p>He looked down at the body of the demon at his feet. He wondered what had killed it; dozens of long scratches covered its body, no doubt inflicted by the Terrlen-werewolf, but none of the wounds appeared mortal. Grasping onto Gez to steady himself, he leaned over and pushed the demon over with a kick of his boot. </p><p></p><p>There it was, jutting from the demon’s body. The hilt of his sword, the blade buried almost to the quillons, covered in ugly black ichor that had spilled from the wound. Carzen remembered the impact in his side, rubbing absently at the soreness where the hilt of his own weapon must have jabbed into him when the demon landed atop him. </p><p></p><p>“That was some thrust,” Gez said. The soldier was the only one of them who didn’t appear to be hurt, although he favored his left side a bit as he came up beside Carzen to look down at the demon. “When that thing jumped on you, sir, I thought you were done for.”</p><p></p><p>Carzen looked around the room, taking in the scene of carnage. There were bodies all over, mostly here where they’d made their stand, but also on the far side of the room, near the passages. His eyes lingered on one body, and he started over there, despite the fact that he could barely stand, let alone walk. </p><p></p><p>“Sir?” Gez asked, starting after him, but hesitating as Carzen lifted a hand to forestall him. </p><p></p><p>Vhael looked up as Carzen limped past, but the dragonborn said nothing, and Carzen’s gaze did not shift from his goal. He swayed a little on his feet as he stood over the broken body of the man—now again just that—that had brought them here. In death, Terrlen looked at ease, his features placid despite the arrows that jutted from him, despite the gouges where the demon’s claws had torn big hunks of flesh from his body. </p><p></p><p>In some strange way, Carzen thought that Terrlen might have been the lucky one. </p><p></p><p>A subtle awareness stole upon him, and he turned to see Vhael standing there. One of the dragonborn’s eyes had swollen up until it was doubtful that he could see out of it, but the other regarded Carzen coldly. </p><p></p><p>“Well now, what now, general?”</p><p></p><p>Carzen knew what the other would say, but he still needed to hear it. “We go on. We’ll find a secure place to rest, recover our strength, and then go on.”</p><p></p><p>“None of this matters,” Carzen said quietly. “None of this can matter, not this much. No one will care what we do here, not my father, not the great lord of Fallcrest, not anyone. Even if we find those halflings, even if by some miracle we find them alive, no bards will sing the songs of our ‘great deeds’ here in this accursed place.”</p><p></p><p>Vhael shifted slightly, and for a moment Carzen thought he was going to topple over. But Vhael only leaned in, and spoke quiet words meant for Carzen’s ears alone. </p><p></p><p>“It matters to us,” the dragonborn said. </p><p></p><p>He turned and walked back toward the others. Surina was on her feet again, although she rested a clawed hand on Gral’s shoulder in a way that was obviously more for support than for camaraderie. Gez had taken up a gnoll’s cloak and was using it to try to extract Carzen’s sword from the body of the fallen demon. </p><p></p><p>“Get your things together,” Vhael said. “We’re moving out.”</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Lazybones, post: 4834285, member: 143"] Chapter 50 Carzen felt a fiery pain explode through his side as something jabbed hard into his body. Whatever it was didn’t penetrate his armor, but it felt as though he’d been kicked by a draft horse. But he had bigger problems right at that moment. The demon on top of him, for one. It was flailing about wildly, and all Carzen could see, hear, and smell was the foulness of the thing looming over him. Something—a claw, an elbow, he wasn’t sure—bounced off the front of his helmet and bashed the back of his head off the floor hard enough for stars to explode across his vision even with his helmet protecting him. Had he not been wearing it, his brains would even now be splattered across the floor. He tried to shift, move, do anything, but his arms were pinned against his body by the weight of the demon. The arm holding his shield was bent back at an uncomfortable angle, but he almost didn’t feel it against the more immediate pains that racked his body. He couldn’t breathe; it felt like a mountain had settled upon him. Everything started to grow vague, even the pain fading into a gray haze. Awareness returned with a jarring suddenness. The first thing he felt was a relief as the weight atop him vanished, and a breath as sweet as the purest mountain air flooded into his lungs. That was followed by a return of all the pain he’d left behind a moment ago, and he groaned. Belatedly he realized that the demon was gone, and he blinked, trying to recover his senses enough to learn what was going on. It was Gez, looking down at him. The soldier was saying something, but Carzen’s addled mind wasn’t quite ready to assign meaning to the noises just yet. He blinked, and reflexively accepted the hand extended toward him. Actually getting up proved more difficult, but by the time he gained his feet, Gez all but propping him up, he could at least make sense of what he was seeing. They’d won the battle. At least, that was his guess. Gral was tending to Surina, applying bandages to the arrow wounds in her chest, but it was a close call to guess which of them looked more seriously injured. Both of them would have had to give the prize to Vhael, who was checking the bodies of the fallen gnolls around them. The dragonborn’s body was covered in blood, mostly his own by the number of gashes that marked his scaly hide. Carzen had no idea what kept the dragonborn going; he’d met men, tough men, who would have been lying mewling upon the floor with even half so many cuts. He looked down at the body of the demon at his feet. He wondered what had killed it; dozens of long scratches covered its body, no doubt inflicted by the Terrlen-werewolf, but none of the wounds appeared mortal. Grasping onto Gez to steady himself, he leaned over and pushed the demon over with a kick of his boot. There it was, jutting from the demon’s body. The hilt of his sword, the blade buried almost to the quillons, covered in ugly black ichor that had spilled from the wound. Carzen remembered the impact in his side, rubbing absently at the soreness where the hilt of his own weapon must have jabbed into him when the demon landed atop him. “That was some thrust,” Gez said. The soldier was the only one of them who didn’t appear to be hurt, although he favored his left side a bit as he came up beside Carzen to look down at the demon. “When that thing jumped on you, sir, I thought you were done for.” Carzen looked around the room, taking in the scene of carnage. There were bodies all over, mostly here where they’d made their stand, but also on the far side of the room, near the passages. His eyes lingered on one body, and he started over there, despite the fact that he could barely stand, let alone walk. “Sir?” Gez asked, starting after him, but hesitating as Carzen lifted a hand to forestall him. Vhael looked up as Carzen limped past, but the dragonborn said nothing, and Carzen’s gaze did not shift from his goal. He swayed a little on his feet as he stood over the broken body of the man—now again just that—that had brought them here. In death, Terrlen looked at ease, his features placid despite the arrows that jutted from him, despite the gouges where the demon’s claws had torn big hunks of flesh from his body. In some strange way, Carzen thought that Terrlen might have been the lucky one. A subtle awareness stole upon him, and he turned to see Vhael standing there. One of the dragonborn’s eyes had swollen up until it was doubtful that he could see out of it, but the other regarded Carzen coldly. “Well now, what now, general?” Carzen knew what the other would say, but he still needed to hear it. “We go on. We’ll find a secure place to rest, recover our strength, and then go on.” “None of this matters,” Carzen said quietly. “None of this can matter, not this much. No one will care what we do here, not my father, not the great lord of Fallcrest, not anyone. Even if we find those halflings, even if by some miracle we find them alive, no bards will sing the songs of our ‘great deeds’ here in this accursed place.” Vhael shifted slightly, and for a moment Carzen thought he was going to topple over. But Vhael only leaned in, and spoke quiet words meant for Carzen’s ears alone. “It matters to us,” the dragonborn said. He turned and walked back toward the others. Surina was on her feet again, although she rested a clawed hand on Gral’s shoulder in a way that was obviously more for support than for camaraderie. Gez had taken up a gnoll’s cloak and was using it to try to extract Carzen’s sword from the body of the fallen demon. “Get your things together,” Vhael said. “We’re moving out.” [/QUOTE]
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