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Lazybones's Keep on the Shadowfell/Thunderspire Labyrinth
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<blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 4838185" data-attributes="member: 143"><p>Yeah, I didn't have a firm idea on where I was going to take Vhael when I started, but I'm finding it interesting to flesh out some of the concepts that Wizards included in the description of the dragonborn in the 4e Player's Handbook. In some ways they seem to represent a continuation of the ideals of the 1e paladin in terms of their code of honor. </p><p></p><p>* * * * * </p><p></p><p>Chapter 51</p><p></p><p></p><p>Mara could barely think about anything, except for the monumental effort involved in continuing to put one foot ahead of the other. Her side itched under the crude bandage where the troglodyte spear had grazed her. She wanted to douse her head into the waters of the lake again, but knew that if she stopped, she might not be able to get back onto her feet again. </p><p></p><p>They were fleeing along the shores of a vast underground lake, its edge rippling up against the lip of the narrow shore they’d been following for the last hour. The surface of the lake extended out for what might have been a hundred paces or a hundred miles away from them, a cistern that could have supplied the needs of a city like Fallcrest for years, if not centuries. </p><p></p><p>Only sheer will was keeping her going, and the other former slaves were even worse off. They’d eaten the last of the provisions carried by Jaron and Beetle at their last break, the meager rations doing little to salve the gnawing hunger they all felt. At least they had no shortage of water, Mara thought grimly, as she glanced back out over the lake. </p><p></p><p>She didn’t want to think about what would happen when they ran out of lamp oil. </p><p></p><p>Fear drove them, and there was no shortage of that, either. They hadn’t seen the lights of the duergar party pursuing them, but Jaron had reported earlier that the slavers had followed them down toward the lake, and Mara suspected that they would not give up easily. The lakeshore bent and twisted a convoluted path around the edge of the vast cavern, meaning that their enemies could be a mile behind them, or just a few hundred paces. </p><p></p><p>The duergar were like a whip lashing them forward, but their brief clash with a pair of troglodyte warriors shortly after they’d arrived at the lake had reminded them that more dangers lurked in these unexplored depths. The troglodytes, seeing that they were heavily outnumbered, had withdrawn after a brief exchange of missile fire, but things could have easily gone the other way had the ugly reptilian creatures pressed the issue. Mara had been the only one hit, grazed by a javelin as she’d rushed forward with her spear, and only luck had kept the wound from being far more serious. </p><p></p><p>Mara became dimly aware of a faint noise up ahead that tickled at her memory. She couldn’t quite identify it, and didn’t realize she had stopped until Jaron came up to stand next to her. </p><p></p><p>“Waterfall,” he said. “Probably an underground stream from above that opens onto the lake. I’ll go check it out, if you want to wait here.”</p><p></p><p><em>If you need to rest</em>, he didn’t say, but Mara could see the sympathy in his eyes. The ranger and his cousin probably walked three steps for each one that the freed captives took, the pair scouting ahead and behind them, alert for new dangers that might threaten the small column. Jaron in particular seemed particularly determined, the more so after he talked to each of his kinsmen, learning about what had happened to them, and to the absent cleric of Avendra. Mara could see his feelings for her in the way his jaw tightened when he spoke her name. She remembered when they had come for her, back at the Hold, and felt a cold chill on behalf of her friend. </p><p></p><p>“We’ll go together,” Mara said. “Better that we not get separated, now.”</p><p></p><p>Jaron nodded. Mara turned as Beetle came trotting up. For some reason, the halfling was soaked through; had he been swimming? “Trouble?” she asked the halfling. </p><p></p><p>“No luck,” Beetle said. “Fishes too fast, canna catch. You got more bread, Jayse?” he asked, eyeing Jaron’s pack for the tenth time since their last brief rest. </p><p></p><p>Mara sighed, but Jaron stepped between them and took his cousin’s arm gently. “Did you see the dwarves?” he asked.</p><p></p><p>“No dwarfs,” the halfling said. “But flickers, back along lake. Come this way.”</p><p></p><p>“How far?” Mara asked. “How long until they reach us?” They couldn’t see them from here, but if they were closing the distance, their own lights might soon give them away. </p><p></p><p>The other members of their company had gathered around, hoping for good news but expecting the opposite from their faces. They’d armed themselves as best they could, with broken-off stalagmites to serve as crude clubs, or with smooth rocks collected along the lakeshore. Some of the halflings had fashioned simple slings from straps and bits of leather provided by Jaron, and two carried knives loaned by Beetle, who seemed to have an endless supply secreted about his person. But they looked like what they were, a haggard band of refugees on the brink of collapse.</p><p></p><p>“How long, Beetle?” Jaron repeated, his own face grim. Looking down into his quiver, Mara saw the ends of only a half-dozen shafts.</p><p></p><p>Beetle frowned, and counted out something on his fingers. “Maybe half hour,” he finally said. </p><p></p><p>A grim tension surged through the group; one of the miners cursed, and several of the halflings looked ready to burst into tears. It was more responsibility than Mara wanted, but her uncle had taught her that things rarely turned out the way that you wanted, and that you had to face the reality rather than the hoped-for alternative. </p><p></p><p>“Come on,” Mara said, hefting her spear in what she hoped was a confident gesture. </p><p></p><p>The sounds of the waterfall grew louder as they continued, until they came around another bend in the cavern and saw it in a deep niche ahead, a torrent of water plummeting down some thirty feet from a gap in the cliffs above. The light of the lamp fashioned sparkles out of the droplets that fell away from the dark cascade, a brief glance of beauty in this otherwise dark place. The water fell into a pool that gathered slightly above them, overflowing into a channel that descended a short slope into the lake. They’d have to wade across there, but the little stream was only a few paces across, and didn’t look too deep. </p><p></p><p>Mara sniffed, and frowned. “This place stinks of trogs.” She scanned the area, but didn’t see anything. “Let’s go,” Mara said, starting forward. “Harek, Calder, help the halflings…”</p><p></p><p>She didn’t get a chance to finish, as Jaron cut her off, shouting a warning. Mara turned to see a troglodyte step out of a niche in the cliffs not ten feet away, where he’d blended so well with the surrounding stone that her gaze had initially passed right over him. The trog held a big stone club, which it lifted above its head as it charged. </p><p></p><p>Jaron had an arrow fitted to his bow in an instant, but before he could aid Mara, cries from the other halflings drew his attention back toward the lake, where more troglodytes were rising from the shallow waters of the lake, nearly a dozen of them, surging forward in a wave toward the terrified fugitives.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Lazybones, post: 4838185, member: 143"] Yeah, I didn't have a firm idea on where I was going to take Vhael when I started, but I'm finding it interesting to flesh out some of the concepts that Wizards included in the description of the dragonborn in the 4e Player's Handbook. In some ways they seem to represent a continuation of the ideals of the 1e paladin in terms of their code of honor. * * * * * Chapter 51 Mara could barely think about anything, except for the monumental effort involved in continuing to put one foot ahead of the other. Her side itched under the crude bandage where the troglodyte spear had grazed her. She wanted to douse her head into the waters of the lake again, but knew that if she stopped, she might not be able to get back onto her feet again. They were fleeing along the shores of a vast underground lake, its edge rippling up against the lip of the narrow shore they’d been following for the last hour. The surface of the lake extended out for what might have been a hundred paces or a hundred miles away from them, a cistern that could have supplied the needs of a city like Fallcrest for years, if not centuries. Only sheer will was keeping her going, and the other former slaves were even worse off. They’d eaten the last of the provisions carried by Jaron and Beetle at their last break, the meager rations doing little to salve the gnawing hunger they all felt. At least they had no shortage of water, Mara thought grimly, as she glanced back out over the lake. She didn’t want to think about what would happen when they ran out of lamp oil. Fear drove them, and there was no shortage of that, either. They hadn’t seen the lights of the duergar party pursuing them, but Jaron had reported earlier that the slavers had followed them down toward the lake, and Mara suspected that they would not give up easily. The lakeshore bent and twisted a convoluted path around the edge of the vast cavern, meaning that their enemies could be a mile behind them, or just a few hundred paces. The duergar were like a whip lashing them forward, but their brief clash with a pair of troglodyte warriors shortly after they’d arrived at the lake had reminded them that more dangers lurked in these unexplored depths. The troglodytes, seeing that they were heavily outnumbered, had withdrawn after a brief exchange of missile fire, but things could have easily gone the other way had the ugly reptilian creatures pressed the issue. Mara had been the only one hit, grazed by a javelin as she’d rushed forward with her spear, and only luck had kept the wound from being far more serious. Mara became dimly aware of a faint noise up ahead that tickled at her memory. She couldn’t quite identify it, and didn’t realize she had stopped until Jaron came up to stand next to her. “Waterfall,” he said. “Probably an underground stream from above that opens onto the lake. I’ll go check it out, if you want to wait here.” [i]If you need to rest[/i], he didn’t say, but Mara could see the sympathy in his eyes. The ranger and his cousin probably walked three steps for each one that the freed captives took, the pair scouting ahead and behind them, alert for new dangers that might threaten the small column. Jaron in particular seemed particularly determined, the more so after he talked to each of his kinsmen, learning about what had happened to them, and to the absent cleric of Avendra. Mara could see his feelings for her in the way his jaw tightened when he spoke her name. She remembered when they had come for her, back at the Hold, and felt a cold chill on behalf of her friend. “We’ll go together,” Mara said. “Better that we not get separated, now.” Jaron nodded. Mara turned as Beetle came trotting up. For some reason, the halfling was soaked through; had he been swimming? “Trouble?” she asked the halfling. “No luck,” Beetle said. “Fishes too fast, canna catch. You got more bread, Jayse?” he asked, eyeing Jaron’s pack for the tenth time since their last brief rest. Mara sighed, but Jaron stepped between them and took his cousin’s arm gently. “Did you see the dwarves?” he asked. “No dwarfs,” the halfling said. “But flickers, back along lake. Come this way.” “How far?” Mara asked. “How long until they reach us?” They couldn’t see them from here, but if they were closing the distance, their own lights might soon give them away. The other members of their company had gathered around, hoping for good news but expecting the opposite from their faces. They’d armed themselves as best they could, with broken-off stalagmites to serve as crude clubs, or with smooth rocks collected along the lakeshore. Some of the halflings had fashioned simple slings from straps and bits of leather provided by Jaron, and two carried knives loaned by Beetle, who seemed to have an endless supply secreted about his person. But they looked like what they were, a haggard band of refugees on the brink of collapse. “How long, Beetle?” Jaron repeated, his own face grim. Looking down into his quiver, Mara saw the ends of only a half-dozen shafts. Beetle frowned, and counted out something on his fingers. “Maybe half hour,” he finally said. A grim tension surged through the group; one of the miners cursed, and several of the halflings looked ready to burst into tears. It was more responsibility than Mara wanted, but her uncle had taught her that things rarely turned out the way that you wanted, and that you had to face the reality rather than the hoped-for alternative. “Come on,” Mara said, hefting her spear in what she hoped was a confident gesture. The sounds of the waterfall grew louder as they continued, until they came around another bend in the cavern and saw it in a deep niche ahead, a torrent of water plummeting down some thirty feet from a gap in the cliffs above. The light of the lamp fashioned sparkles out of the droplets that fell away from the dark cascade, a brief glance of beauty in this otherwise dark place. The water fell into a pool that gathered slightly above them, overflowing into a channel that descended a short slope into the lake. They’d have to wade across there, but the little stream was only a few paces across, and didn’t look too deep. Mara sniffed, and frowned. “This place stinks of trogs.” She scanned the area, but didn’t see anything. “Let’s go,” Mara said, starting forward. “Harek, Calder, help the halflings…” She didn’t get a chance to finish, as Jaron cut her off, shouting a warning. Mara turned to see a troglodyte step out of a niche in the cliffs not ten feet away, where he’d blended so well with the surrounding stone that her gaze had initially passed right over him. The trog held a big stone club, which it lifted above its head as it charged. Jaron had an arrow fitted to his bow in an instant, but before he could aid Mara, cries from the other halflings drew his attention back toward the lake, where more troglodytes were rising from the shallow waters of the lake, nearly a dozen of them, surging forward in a wave toward the terrified fugitives. [/QUOTE]
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