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Lazybones's Keep on the Shadowfell/Thunderspire Labyrinth
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<blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 4844005" data-attributes="member: 143"><p>Chapter 53</p><p></p><p></p><p>Mara tried to react, dodge, do <em>anything</em>, but it was as if her muscles had been disconnected from her brain; all she could do was rock slightly, even that motion sending a sick surge of nausea through her body. </p><p></p><p>Something whistled over her head, and a small arrow sprouted in the troglodyte’s gut. The missile—obviously from Jaron’s bow—had hit something painful, for the troglodyte jolted, a hiss of mingled pain and anger coming from its jaws. It hesitated, only for a second or two, before fixing its attention on Mara again. </p><p></p><p>But that brief pause had given Mara the precious time she needed for the urgent signals from her brain to reach her body. As the club came down she rolled backward, out of its path. The stone club hit the ground hard enough to knock shards free that Mara could feel stabbing into her back. She kept rolling until a cold jolt hit her; she’d fallen into the stream. </p><p></p><p>Looking up, she could see that the troglodyte was following her. </p><p></p><p>Jaron paid a high price for his aid to Mara. Three trogs had surrounded him, and were pounding at him with their stone clubs. They were slower than he was, and his small size made him hard to hit, but they also weren’t exhausted, hungry, and sore from an untreated gash from an orc spear. All of those factors conspired against Jaron as he fell back, squeezing through the narrow opening left in the circle of enemies. For all his speed he took two glancing hits, the latter of which nearly tore his right arm from its shoulder socket. <em>One more of those…</em> he thought grimly, not finishing the thought as the trogs rushed after him. </p><p></p><p>Unfortunately, there really wasn’t anywhere for him to go, as the cliff wall loomed up ahead of him. </p><p></p><p>The four troglodytes that had gotten past Jaron and Beetle came toward the halflings from Fairhollow, expecting easy prey. Indeed, the halflings looked like what they were, terrified farmers and craftsmen, pale and malnourished, weakened from an arduous trek and nearing the breaking point. They too had nearly panicked and broken as Calder had, but Jaron’s example had given them enough steel, combined with the inherent fortitude of their race, to stand their ground. The slings that Jaron had crafted for them whistled, and those without hurled smooth stones that struck with deadly accuracy. The troglodytes had hides thicker than boiled leather, and were hardened by the harsh realities of their underground home, but they found themselves giving way before that barrage. One fell, and then another, dazed by sling bullets that had cracked into their heads. A third dropped its club as a stone snapped into its fingers, and it hesitated to recover the weapon with its other hand. The last one rushed forward, hoping to sweep the halflings aside with a single strong swipe of its club, but a stone slammed into its kneecap, crippling it. Swinging in vain at its tormentors, who fell back to form a wide circle around it, the trog was barraged with stones from all directions. One cracked it behind the slit of its ear, and it fell forward. Stunned but still struggling, it never saw the halfling that came up hefting a rock twice the size of his head, which made a solid thunk as it smashed into the troglodyte’s skull. </p><p></p><p>Mara was nearly swept away by the rushing water of the stream, but she was somehow able to drag herself up to the other side. Something flashed past her, a missile of some sort, but she couldn’t spare her attention from the troglodyte mauler, which reached the far bank and hesitated just a moment before following her in. The arrow in its gut was slowing it down, Mara saw, but she knew better than to underestimate its strength. </p><p></p><p>The stream was barely two paces across, and it barely came up to the trog’s knees, but as the current caught it the creature shifted a bit, adjusting to keep its balance. That was the moment that Mara had been waiting for. She darted forward. The mauler sensed her coming and lifted its club, but Mara met it before it could strike, seizing its arms with her hands, struggling now both against the stream pulling at her feet and the muscles of the troglodyte. The trog was stronger and seemed to realize this immediately, and it tore one arm free to grab hold of the woman and thrust her away. </p><p></p><p>Mara immediately released her hold and grabbed onto the clawed hand holding her, wrapping both of her hands around its wrists. She used its momentum and her own weight to pull it off balance. Both of them fell, the trog falling forward with a splash in the stream, Mara landing on her hip at its edge. She grimaced as the impact sent a fresh knife of pain through her already battered body, but forced herself to ignore it as she pushed herself up to see what had happened. </p><p></p><p>The stream had done its work; the troglodyte was still struggling, but it was now fifteen feet away, still sliding down the smooth course of the stream toward the spot where it dumped into the lake. She knew that she hadn’t hurt it, not really, but hopefully the other wounds it had taken would give it pause. </p><p></p><p>She looked over to see what had happened with her charges, expecting a grim and bloody scene. She found it, but it wasn’t quite what she had expected. </p><p></p><p>Dead and dying troglodytes were scattered about, but other than the impaled corpse of Harek, none of the bodies seemed to belong to those on her side. Two trogs had chased Jaron, backing him up against the cavern wall, but before Mara could intervene the reptilian warriors came under a barrage of stones, hurled by the slings of the halfling villagers. The trogs raised their arms to protect their heads, but one took a glancing shot across the brow that Mara could hear cracking bone even ten feet away. The other one staggered through the storm of rocks only to take an arrow through the throat from Jaron’s bow. It crumpled, even as the second absorbed several more hits and fell to its knees, then onto its face. </p><p></p><p>Mara glanced left, looking for the troglodyte spear-thrower and the wounded mauler, but anything beyond the shore of the lake was lost in shadow, and she couldn’t make out either foe. She kept low, wary of what had happened to Harek, and called out to Jaron as the last troglodyte that had been left standing on the shore toppled over. </p><p></p><p>“I don’t see them,” Jaron said in response to her, his magical goggles giving him far superior vision in the near-darkness. “I think they’ve retreated, for now.”</p><p></p><p>Mara agreed with the halfling’s unspoken addition, <em>But they may be back, with friends.</em> “We’ve got to get out of here while we can.”</p><p></p><p>Jaron was checking the halfling villagers, who still looked tired and scared, but had been bolstered by their successful stand against the troglodytes. “Beetle?” he asked, looking up as his cousin appeared from back along the lakeshore path, where three trogs had chased him. The halfling had a growing bruise along the left side of his face, but he was whistling as he cleaned blood off his knife. At Jaron’s question, the halfling rogue gave a thumbs-up. </p><p></p><p>“Any sign of Calder?” Jaron asked. Beetle shook his head. </p><p></p><p>“We can’t go back for him,” Mara said. “There’s a good chance that the slavers heard the sounds of this battle. We’ve got to get out of here, now.”</p><p></p><p>She helped the halflings make their way across the stream, and then led the small column of survivors along the lakeshore path, resuming their desperate flight toward escape.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Lazybones, post: 4844005, member: 143"] Chapter 53 Mara tried to react, dodge, do [i]anything[/i], but it was as if her muscles had been disconnected from her brain; all she could do was rock slightly, even that motion sending a sick surge of nausea through her body. Something whistled over her head, and a small arrow sprouted in the troglodyte’s gut. The missile—obviously from Jaron’s bow—had hit something painful, for the troglodyte jolted, a hiss of mingled pain and anger coming from its jaws. It hesitated, only for a second or two, before fixing its attention on Mara again. But that brief pause had given Mara the precious time she needed for the urgent signals from her brain to reach her body. As the club came down she rolled backward, out of its path. The stone club hit the ground hard enough to knock shards free that Mara could feel stabbing into her back. She kept rolling until a cold jolt hit her; she’d fallen into the stream. Looking up, she could see that the troglodyte was following her. Jaron paid a high price for his aid to Mara. Three trogs had surrounded him, and were pounding at him with their stone clubs. They were slower than he was, and his small size made him hard to hit, but they also weren’t exhausted, hungry, and sore from an untreated gash from an orc spear. All of those factors conspired against Jaron as he fell back, squeezing through the narrow opening left in the circle of enemies. For all his speed he took two glancing hits, the latter of which nearly tore his right arm from its shoulder socket. [i]One more of those…[/i] he thought grimly, not finishing the thought as the trogs rushed after him. Unfortunately, there really wasn’t anywhere for him to go, as the cliff wall loomed up ahead of him. The four troglodytes that had gotten past Jaron and Beetle came toward the halflings from Fairhollow, expecting easy prey. Indeed, the halflings looked like what they were, terrified farmers and craftsmen, pale and malnourished, weakened from an arduous trek and nearing the breaking point. They too had nearly panicked and broken as Calder had, but Jaron’s example had given them enough steel, combined with the inherent fortitude of their race, to stand their ground. The slings that Jaron had crafted for them whistled, and those without hurled smooth stones that struck with deadly accuracy. The troglodytes had hides thicker than boiled leather, and were hardened by the harsh realities of their underground home, but they found themselves giving way before that barrage. One fell, and then another, dazed by sling bullets that had cracked into their heads. A third dropped its club as a stone snapped into its fingers, and it hesitated to recover the weapon with its other hand. The last one rushed forward, hoping to sweep the halflings aside with a single strong swipe of its club, but a stone slammed into its kneecap, crippling it. Swinging in vain at its tormentors, who fell back to form a wide circle around it, the trog was barraged with stones from all directions. One cracked it behind the slit of its ear, and it fell forward. Stunned but still struggling, it never saw the halfling that came up hefting a rock twice the size of his head, which made a solid thunk as it smashed into the troglodyte’s skull. Mara was nearly swept away by the rushing water of the stream, but she was somehow able to drag herself up to the other side. Something flashed past her, a missile of some sort, but she couldn’t spare her attention from the troglodyte mauler, which reached the far bank and hesitated just a moment before following her in. The arrow in its gut was slowing it down, Mara saw, but she knew better than to underestimate its strength. The stream was barely two paces across, and it barely came up to the trog’s knees, but as the current caught it the creature shifted a bit, adjusting to keep its balance. That was the moment that Mara had been waiting for. She darted forward. The mauler sensed her coming and lifted its club, but Mara met it before it could strike, seizing its arms with her hands, struggling now both against the stream pulling at her feet and the muscles of the troglodyte. The trog was stronger and seemed to realize this immediately, and it tore one arm free to grab hold of the woman and thrust her away. Mara immediately released her hold and grabbed onto the clawed hand holding her, wrapping both of her hands around its wrists. She used its momentum and her own weight to pull it off balance. Both of them fell, the trog falling forward with a splash in the stream, Mara landing on her hip at its edge. She grimaced as the impact sent a fresh knife of pain through her already battered body, but forced herself to ignore it as she pushed herself up to see what had happened. The stream had done its work; the troglodyte was still struggling, but it was now fifteen feet away, still sliding down the smooth course of the stream toward the spot where it dumped into the lake. She knew that she hadn’t hurt it, not really, but hopefully the other wounds it had taken would give it pause. She looked over to see what had happened with her charges, expecting a grim and bloody scene. She found it, but it wasn’t quite what she had expected. Dead and dying troglodytes were scattered about, but other than the impaled corpse of Harek, none of the bodies seemed to belong to those on her side. Two trogs had chased Jaron, backing him up against the cavern wall, but before Mara could intervene the reptilian warriors came under a barrage of stones, hurled by the slings of the halfling villagers. The trogs raised their arms to protect their heads, but one took a glancing shot across the brow that Mara could hear cracking bone even ten feet away. The other one staggered through the storm of rocks only to take an arrow through the throat from Jaron’s bow. It crumpled, even as the second absorbed several more hits and fell to its knees, then onto its face. Mara glanced left, looking for the troglodyte spear-thrower and the wounded mauler, but anything beyond the shore of the lake was lost in shadow, and she couldn’t make out either foe. She kept low, wary of what had happened to Harek, and called out to Jaron as the last troglodyte that had been left standing on the shore toppled over. “I don’t see them,” Jaron said in response to her, his magical goggles giving him far superior vision in the near-darkness. “I think they’ve retreated, for now.” Mara agreed with the halfling’s unspoken addition, [i]But they may be back, with friends.[/i] “We’ve got to get out of here while we can.” Jaron was checking the halfling villagers, who still looked tired and scared, but had been bolstered by their successful stand against the troglodytes. “Beetle?” he asked, looking up as his cousin appeared from back along the lakeshore path, where three trogs had chased him. The halfling had a growing bruise along the left side of his face, but he was whistling as he cleaned blood off his knife. At Jaron’s question, the halfling rogue gave a thumbs-up. “Any sign of Calder?” Jaron asked. Beetle shook his head. “We can’t go back for him,” Mara said. “There’s a good chance that the slavers heard the sounds of this battle. We’ve got to get out of here, now.” She helped the halflings make their way across the stream, and then led the small column of survivors along the lakeshore path, resuming their desperate flight toward escape. [/QUOTE]
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