Shackled City Epic: "Vengeance" (story concluded)

[Lazybones]

We - all - love Mole, right?

I do; it was hard, really hard to kill her in the Moltenwing scene, but it just fit too well with the arc her character had taken. Of all my characters, Mole is the one I imagine most looking over my shoulder when I write, occasionally pointing out, "Oh, have me do that, it would be soooo cool...

I just wanted to say that I am So Glad I went back and read the Travellers story... fantastic stuff in it's own right, but now that the Heroes and Travellers are together, it has been so gratifying to watch the character interactions. I very much look forward to your continued weaving of this tale!

Thanks! Glad you enjoyed the earlier story, it was a lot of fun to write.

Glad to see that Mole is having some emotional repercussions from her resurrection and the death of her best friend. This is an aspect that's often missing from story hours: the impact that being dead and then brought back to life has on a character.

I spent a lot of thought on this scene, and the ones coming up. Sketching out battles is much easier that scenes like this, but it's worth it for the depth they add to the characters. I'm glad you guys enjoy them, since we have another character development post today:

* * * * *

Chapter 389

“All right, HEAVE!” Arun enjoined, punctuating his words as he put his own back into the effort of lifting a thirty-foot segment of roughly shaped wood, easily about two feet thick, into place along the central axis of one of the new barracks buildings. This segment was going to serve as the basis for most of the structure’s slanted roof, which would be a simple but functional affair that would hopefully keep the people sleeping beneath it dry and warm. Two pulleys attached to nearby trees provided the leverage that lifted the heavy log into the air, with another pair of ropes attached directly to the log guiding it gradually into its proper place. Two young humans assisted Arun on one lifting rope, while another pair worked with Hodge on the other. Two more men were on the guide ropes, while two others waited on narrow platforms near where the log would rest, ready to fix it into place.

“A little more, a little more… okay, that’s it!”

The men on the pulleys released their thick ropes, letting out groans from the concerted effort. On the far side of the building, Hodge walked stiffly over to a nearby barrel, taking a dipperful of water that ended up more in his beard than his throat. Arun paused to verify that the log had settled properly in its place, nodding to the carpenters before moving to join his friend.

“They should ‘ave somethin’ real to drink,” the dwarf groused, splashing another dipperful of water into his face. “A man drinkin’ water while buildin’… ain’t natural.”

Arun smiled. The two dwarves saw Lok walking by carrying a log not all that much smaller than the one they’d just spent work and sweat lifting into place. Arun was strong, but the genasi’s strength, augmented by the powerful magical belt he wore, was something phenomenal.

Hodge winced. “Now that ain’t right,” he said. “Bloomin’ showoff.” He straightened, cracking his back, muttering something unpleasant about age and hard labor.

“You all right?” Arun asked.

The other dwarf straightened, and bristled. “Course I’m all right! Take off all those damned magical doo-dads yer wearin’, and I’ll still thrash yer from ‘ere to tenthday! Bah! They may not ‘ave a drop o’ anythin’ worth drinkin’ in this godsforsaken hole, but damned if a workin’ man ain’ goin’ to get a bite o’ somepin’ hot to put in his gullet.”

“We were going to help putting up the base logs for the new watchtower.”

“I won’ be long,” Hodge grumbled, not turning as he trudged through the muddy mess that was the open clearing that now stretched for about a hundred yards between the front of the Lucky Monkey and the edge of the forest, newly retreated.

“Your friend is quite… interesting.”

Arun turned to see Dana Ilgarten, walking through the mud toward him. The paladin bowed his head in respect, a gesture that was warmly reciprocated.

“Hodge is a loyal friend,” Arun said. “Too loyal, perhaps.”

“How many times has he been raised since he took service with you?”

Arun raised an eyebrow. “Twice in the last year,” he said. “Been a lot of close calls, besides.”

The priestess nodded. “His soul is tired. Being brought back from beyond the veil is a… difficult experience.” She passed her hand through the air, and a blue glow briefly outlined her fingers. “We clerics can restore the body, heal the mind. You can rush into battle, get beaten down to within an instant of death, then get healed back to full health in a heartbeat, ready to rush into the fray once more.” She snapped her fingers. “The gods grant us great power, but that does not remove the fact that we are mortal. We can only be stretched so far before we break… that is true for the strongest among us, as well as the weakest.”

Arun nodded, watching as Hodge walked up the steps into the front door of the Monkey, not bothering to wipe his feet on the mat laid out before the door to catch the mud.

“I’ve asked him to remain behind several times now, but he’s stubborn. A common trait among our kind, I’m told,” he added with a smile.

“The people here will need defenders, when we go,” Dana said.

Arun shook his head. “I’ve tried that tack. Like I said, stubborn.”

“I could try to convince him, if you wish.”

Arun looked at her, confirming for himself just what she was offering. She met his gaze squarely, hiding nothing.

“I don’t know if he’d forgive me, for that.”

Dana put her hand on his shoulder. “I suppose it comes down to what you believe, paladin. Do you feel that every adult should have the ability to choose for themselves, knowing the risks of what course they would undertake, or is it necessary sometimes to protect them from the consequences of those choices?”

The priestess nodded in respect and walked on, leaving Arun behind with a troubled look on his face.

 

[Solarious]

Oh, I can imagine that face too. Great, now she's going to haunt me all the time in my mind now. I blame you if I end up with Mole-like characters in anything I write in the future.

Not that its a bad thing. No. >_>

Now then. Back to making the lives of our heroes difficult.

 

[Lazybones]

We'll get back to the non-stop danger in a moment, but first, our heroes go... shopping!

* * * * *

Chapter 390

The headquarters of the Guild of Mages in Waterdeep was situated in a tower, but that description was wholly inadequate to describe the majesty and sheer impact of the place. Leaving aside the architectural impressiveness of the great vaulted Guildhall, with its vaulted arches and doomed ceilings towering some fifty feet above the marble tiles below, the place was frequented by some of the foremost masters of the arcane in all of Faerûn, who added their own considerable mystique to the drama of the location. Various subtle magical effects were visible to the common visitor, but to one capable of sensing the subtle currents in the Weave wrought by the practice of magic, the entire structure seemed a blazing font of all forms of magical energy.

Most visitors never saw more than the main hall, to the private quarters used by visiting Guild mages situated in the higher reaches of the tower, the most skilled gifted with views that spanned the entire breadth of the sprawling metropolis. Or the workshops layered with protective wards, designed both to keep prying eyes out, as well as to keep certain things in. Even those wards were minor castings compared to those surrounding the ancient vaults in sublevels as far beneath the guildhall as the topmost tower chambers were above it. Those deep chambers were rarely even mentioned in casual conversations where someone might hear, and they spawned all sorts of rumors in nearby taprooms, and worried glances followed by a hasty sign to any of a hundred deities as passersby hurried on their business past the mighty home of the Guild.

The Guildhall was typically busy on this chill day of early winter. A cold gust and a colder rain off the Sea of Swords presaged another nasty storm in the days ahead, but inside the hall it was warm and comfortable. Conversations in half a dozen languages filled the cavernous interior of the space, as Guild mages talked and did business with merchants, apprentices, and petitioners of two score nations and regions scattered across Faerûn. Maybe sixty or seventy people were here altogether, men and women representing all of the major races of the Realms, and every time a handful left by either of the ornate gilded double doors at the ends of the hall, another handful would trickle in to maintain continuity of the ongoing buzz of activity.

Hardly anyone paid heed to the pair of gnomes who entered the Guildhall shortly after the service of the midmorning tea. They had the look of veteran travelers, and the fact that they were not soaked with rain suggested that they had arrived via magical means, rather than by more conventional modes of travel. The younger of the pair, a curious-eyed girl, was clearly impressed by the diverse wonders of the setting, but the other, a man well into middle age, awkwardly bearing a standard or weapon wrapped in cloth, seemed to know exactly where he was going, and he directed them across the hall toward a marble counter at the far end.

The guards, both the obvious ones and those more dire, noted the two and continued their vigilance. Unlike at most guildhalls throughout the city, weapons were not expressly forbidden here, for the simple reason that the members of the Guild had plentiful means at their disposal for dealing with such conventional threats as blades and arrows.

The mage attending at the counter, a stout human clad in long purple robes, nodded in greeting as he caught sight of the elder gnome. “Master Calloran,” he said, directing the gnome to his left, where the counter was situated about a foot lower, suited to one of his stature. “A pleasure to see you this day. Does this visit perhaps presage your agreement—finally—to accept a position within the Guild?”

“If and when I make that commitment, Kerates, you’ll be the first to know, on my word,” Cal replied. “No, I am afraid my business this day is more… prosaic.”

“Well, as always, the Guild is happy to entertain your business,” Kerates said with a smile. “You always do find such interesting artifacts in your travels.”

Cal unslung his magical backpack, and drew out his borrowed bag of holding beside it, placing the carefully wrapped form of Mindbite beside it. The weapon seemed to quiver in his hand as he placed it down, and the gnome felt a brief pang of uncertainty that he quickly quashed. Kerates, who sensed at least part of the exchange, raised an eyebrow in interest.

Five minutes later, that subtle expression had been replaced by a look of open amazement. The mage hurriedly called a clerk from the storeroom behind him, whose eyes widened in turn as he caught sight of the materials that were laid out in a crowded but orderly display across the entire spread of the counter, in some cases stacked several feet high. They included an array of weapons, suits of armor, gloves, bracers, glittering jewels, a whole slew of rings and amulets on a leather throng, and other assorted marvels.

“We’ve had a busy tenday,” Cal explained, as he and Mole lifted a heavy breastplate—mithral—onto a pile of similar items. Mole dug around in the bag of holding to see if they’d missed anything, half her body disappearing into it for a few moments before she reappeared. A number of other mages had gathered around, curious as the pile of gear had grown.

“I do not appreciate being mixed in with all of this… debris,” came a muffled voice from atop the pile. Kerates looked in surprise at Mindbite, still secure in its linen wrappings, and then at Cal, who merely shrugged.

“We’re going to need a few things,” the gnome said casually. “I brought a list. A few are divine in orientation, but I assume that the Guild script is still valid on the Temple Mount.”

Kerates grabbed the clerk, by the arm, drawing his attention away from the heaped items. “Um… you’d better get Master Umbright down here, and tell him he’d better clear his afternoon calendar.”

It was rather late in the day, with the overcast sky already deepening to twilight, when Cal and Mole reappeared in the back part of their room at the Lucky Monkey, where a small open space had been roped off with a sign requesting that it not be disturbed.

“That was fun,” Mole said, with a grin.

“Let’s find Jenya, she’ll know what do with these supplies,” Cal replied, lifting Lok’s bag of holding onto the bed with a grunt.

“The look on all those mages’ faces… and the expression on that cleric when you gave her a Guild script for one hundred thousand gold pieces…”

Cal smiled. “Yes, I have to admit… I’ve never in my life carried around this much wealth. Good thing we weren’t jumped, eh?”

“Pffbbbbt. Like any rogues were going to go after us…”

“It’s good to see you smile again, Mole.”

Mole flushed slightly. “Well… I’m not saying I’m through all that stuff I talked about this morning. But I do feel better… and there’s no way I’m going to let the guys jump back into trouble without me. Maybe I’ll just be a little more careful, that’s all.”

“Sounds like a plan. Now come on, we’ve had a long day, let’s find the others and get something hot to eat.”

“Ugh, more of Dana’s gray stuff, I bet,” Mole said, with a face.

“Now, now, niece, is that the trust you show in your dear uncle? We spent the day in Waterdeep, after all. Rest assured, some choice viands made their way into my magical backpack; after all, heroes require quality fare to prepare themselves for struggles of life and death.”

“Just don’t let Hodge know,” Mole said with a giggle. “He’ll eat the backpack and all!”

They opened the door and almost ran into Dana, who was coming down the hallway in a hurry.

“Dana!”

“Good, you’re back. We have a name and location for the Cagewright redoubt: a place called Shatterhorn.”

 

[Neverwinter Knight]

Nice interlude, Lazy! I agree with the above posters. Staying with the refugees would be a much nicer way for Hodge to leave the group !!!

But on another topic: You're not going to start off SoS with a cliffhanger, or are you?

 

[Solarious]

But on another topic: You're not going to start off SoS with a cliffhanger, or are you?

Well, what do you think? This -is- Friday, after all. All I wonder is who will get to them first: the Giants, or the Will o' the Wisps. Has anyone noticed Wisps are incredibly fun when combined with the Ghost tempate?

What happened to Mindbite anyways? Was it sold? Inglorious end for such a nasty little weapon... maybe it'll come back to haunt Cal for selling it. Yeah, that'll be nice.

 

[Lazybones]

Chapter 391

Dawn was just breaking over the mountains when the adventurers convened in a small room on the upper storey of the roadhouse. The Lucky Monkey and the camp surrounding it were already beginning to stir into activity, but stern-faced Hammers ensured that no one approached this room. The place had once been a small meeting room, but the table and chairs had already been removed for use in the camp, and the few remaining pieces of furniture—a sideboard, a small cabinet, and a weathered chest—had been pushed into a corner to leave most of the floor space open. Even so, with ten heavily armed and armored people in the room it was getting a bit crowded. Two stood apart from the others near the door; Jenya Urikas, clad in white, with Beorna a hulking warder in her shadow.

Cal stepped onto the chest, drawing the attention of the others to him.

“Today we are going to face powerful enemies. We’ve already tussled with a number of the Thirteen, and we know what they are capable of. They’ve been dealt a serious blow, but don’t think that you can let your guard down; it’s almost certain that the remaining Cagewrights have a few surprises left up their collective sleeves, and that they’ll be ready for our visit.”

“We’ve all faced foes of this strength before, so you know what I’m going to say, but I’ll say it anyway. Enemies this strong will have attacks that can kill in an instant. Your fortitude, reflexes, and strength of will may all be challenged.”

“We have a plan, and you know what you need to do. But you also need to be ready to adapt, to change up your tactics based on what they throw at us. We will need to combine our diverse abilities to best effect. Those of you who have fought together for a while know best what your companions can do, but we’ll need to bring both groups together to work as a single unit. We did well in the Cagewright stronghold under Cauldron, but to be honest, there were a few instances where we were sloppy, and it almost cost us dearly.”

“Yer not plannin’ on talkin’ them to death, eh gnome?” Hodge interjected.

“You’d be surprised how much talk is in that little body,” Benzan replied, to general laughter.

Cal smiled. His eyes met those of his niece briefly. “It takes a certain kind of craziness to do what we’re about to do,” he said. “The kind that leads someone to prod a hornet’s nest with a stick,” he added, glancing over at Benzan, “to see what will happen. But do not forget that what we’re doing here is vitally important, and if we don’t succeed, people are going to suffer, and die. Good people, people like the ones you’ve all had a chance to meet over the last few days. People who no longer have homes thanks to the mad dreams of an imprisoned godling.”

“Those dreams will come to an end,” Lok said, his fist tightening against the haft of his axe.

“You all know the plan, and the contingencies we came up with last night,” Cal continued. “Timing is important; the preparatory spells we will cast are of limited duration. But rushing into an ambush will give the Cagewrights an easy victory. So we go in, swiftly but methodically, and we hit hard with everything we’ve got.”

“Sounds like a plan!” Arun said, lifting his blessed holy avenger. “To victory, for Moradin, for Cauldron, and for Zenna!”

“For Zenna!” the others replied, lifting their weapons in an echo of the dwarf’s cheer. Benzan did not join in the shout, but his eyes burned with a cold fire, and his fingers were tensed white around the thick shaft of his magical longbow.

“I will ward you with Helm’s power,” Jenya said, coming forward. Behind her Beorna scowled, her eyes hard as she looked at Arun. Restored to life by a resurrection spell from the high priestess, she’d resumed her role as Jenya’s guardian. In their gathering of the previous night they’d agreed that Beorna would remain behind to help protect the Jenya and the refugees from a retaliatory attack from the remaining Cagewrights. There had been another reason beneath the surface, one that none of them had spoken of openly. If their assault failed, and they were all destroyed, someone had to be left behind to carry on the fight, and ensure that the Cagewrights were not allowed to restart their vile plans. They’d contacted the Harpers and the hierarchs of the church of Helm, seeking aid, but by the time that any assistance arrived, it was likely that the issue would already be decided, for good or for ill.

Arun had been among those pressing the argument most forcefully on this issue, although Jenya had added her support for Beorna remaining behind. In truth Arun had been relieved when Beorna had reluctantly agreed; the templar had been drained by her return from death, and while she was still a formidable warrior, the paladin did not want to see her thrust back into a deadly situation. He had to fight the warring feelings inside him, and felt a moment of shame as he glanced over at Hodge. Dana’s words had ultimately led him to accept the choice made by his friend and cohort to remain with him; what right did he have to press Beorna to make a different one?

Beorna’s expression did not soften as she came over to him; she was still angry. “Watch your back,” she said, touching him to infuse a protective ward upon him. She took up the heavy shield that Cal had brought back from Waterdeep, and all but jammed it onto his arm. “You’ve made promises to me, and I will hold you to your oaths.” She checked his weapons and armor with an experienced eye, frowning as she twisted his scabbard back into its proper position.

“Beorna…”

She lifted her eyes to fix his. “Just come back.” She turned around without saying more, and returned to Jenya’s side. It was not the dwarvish way to show intimate feelings in public, but much was said in those simple words.

“Okay, time to fiend up,” Cal said, as he finished casting his own wards. He, Dana, and Jenya had prepared a virtual battery of protective spells earlier that morning, and the companions were now protected to varying degrees against fire and acid. Arun summoned a magic circle against evil, and Cal protected himself with stoneskin. Jenya had prepared several greater magic weapon spells, which she used to augment those arms of lesser power possessed by the group. Augmenting the benefits of those spells, their breakfast that morning had been a heroes’ feast conjured by Jenya, and thus fortified they were ready for the enemy.

Or so they earnestly hoped, at least.

“Are you sure that it’s necessary to go as demodands?” Benzan asked. “Damn if those things don’t stink.”

“Part of the effectiveness of the disguise,” Cal said. “One whiff, and few will want to take a closer look at us. And if anyone has the right to complain, it’s Mole and myself; your noses aren’t nearly as sensitive as ours.”

“Anything for the cause,” Mole said with a mock salute, holding her nose with her other hand.

“I still think it might be better to disguise ourselves as the dead Cagewrights,” Benzan persisted.

“We went over this,” Dana said. “It’s almost inevitable that those left know all about what happened to their peers. Better to be anonymous; it’ll give us a better chance to slip in undetected.”

“Not likely,” Benzan said, but he dropped the argument as Cal cast his veil spell, transforming them into the outward semblance of farastu demodands. The spell was thorough; even though all of them knew that the glamour was illusionary, the thick stench of the fiends still hung in the air, an echo that stained the senses.

There was more preparation to be made, but not here. The companions gathered in two close circles around Cal and Dana. All knew their place, and there was no more conversation as the companions tested their weapons and gear one last time. Finally, Benzan drew out his wand, and using its power made all of them invisible.

The air was filled with the soft sound of chanting, and then the eight companions teleported away.

 

[Lazybones]

What happened to Mindbite anyways? Was it sold? Inglorious end for such a nasty little weapon... maybe it'll come back to haunt Cal for selling it. Yeah, that'll be nice.

Yes, they sold the weapon; it didn't really fit with any of the characters. But who knows, maybe it will bear a grudge...

 

[Trahnesi]

Yes, they sold the weapon; it didn't really fit with any of the characters. But who knows, maybe it will bear a grudge...

I'm curious - what makes Mindbite so nasty?

 

[Lazybones]

I'm curious - what makes Mindbite so nasty?

It's a +4 defending guisarme (true neutral) with Int14, Wis14, Cha10, Ego14. It has a number of potent mental powers. Cal's really the only one who can safely use it, due to alignment issues, and he's not proficient. Likely it would have pressured him to take some fighter levels down the road. While Cal could handle a DC 14 will save without too much difficulty (I think he's currently +11 on Will), he recognized that the weapon would have quickly grown impatient with all the lawful and chaotic members of the group (as it states in the weapon description in the module).

I currently have no shortage of hooks in the plot, so I let this one slide. Plus it's worth 90,000gp, so they got a good trade in on it.

 

[Lazybones]

Chapter 392

The companions rematerialized on the edge of a bluff that rose out of the center of a broad jungle. The air was moist and heavy, but noticeably warmer than where they’d just departed, promising a sultry day once the sun had finished ascending into the bracingly blue sky above.

“The Mhair Jungles,” Cal reported, as the companions briefly scanned the unbroken sea of green that surrounded them. In the distance they could vaguely make out the approximate forms of mountains, many miles distant. But their attention was quickly drawn to their immediate destination, which dominated the bluff. Sprawled upon the outcropping was an extensive ruin, ancient stone grown over with crawling vines and other vegetation. The place looked to spread over several acres, but in turn was overshadowed by the massive spire that rose from the center of the ruin. That pinnacle, a rough formation of shiny black stone, had been sundered at some point in the ancient past, now rising in three spread fingers of rock that reached easily two hundred feet above them.

“Looks pretty run-down,” Mole’s voice came.

“There’s likely an entrance to an underground complex within the ruins,” Cal said. “Probably near the spire; our scrying was blocked anytime we came close to it.”

“Come on… the invisibility will only last for a few minutes,” Benzan said. “Let’s at least get into the cover of the ruin.”

They made their way cautiously—for they could not see each other through the tiefling’s magic—toward the ruin. Up close, the stone walls, rising some twenty feet into the air, looked even more imposing, the relics of some ancient but now lost civilization. But the place was clearly in an advanced state of decay, with huge slabs of rock littering the site where parts of the walls had given way, and numerous complete breaches evident. They headed toward one of those openings.

“Baboons,” Dannel said, drawing their attention to the side, where a half-dozen of the creatures sat in a row atop a fallen slab. The animals watched them silently, tracking their movements despite the invisibility.

“Probably don’t know what to make of us, with the glamour,” Benzan suggested.

“If they perceive us as fiends, they should be fleeing in terror,” Cal said. “This is definitely not natural… be watchful.”

“More inside,” Mole said. “They aren’t doing anything but watching, however.”

“I should put an arrow through one, see if that stirs them,” Benzan said.

“At least they’re being quiet,” Cal said. “Leave them be, for now.”

They made their way into the deep shadow of the walls, where the temperature dropped noticeably. Thin wisps of morning fog still clung to the ground close to the ruin, although it wasn’t really enough to hinder visibility that much. Thick interior walls partitioned the inside of the ruin into huge chambers, which looked as though they’d been roofed in at some point. Now, however, it was all open to the sky above, and weeds that were in some places taller than they were rose up out of massive cracks in the ancient stone beneath their feet.

“This stonework is very, very old,” Lok said. “There are many voices in the stone here… and much sadness.”

“Ancient civilizations rose and fell in these southern jungles, long before the rise of Netheril and the other old kingdoms of Faerûn,” Cal said. “Now degenerate creatures dwell within these primordial jungles; yuan-ti and other aberrations.”

“Them Cagewrights should fit right in,” Hodge said.

They probed deeper into the ruin, leaving behind the bright sunshine and green expanse of the jungle. In a few moments they found themselves in an empty chamber, maybe thirty feet across, with empty doorways on either side. “I think it’s time for stage two, Dana,” Cal said.

“We’ll keep watch,” Dannel said, accompanied by the clink of metal as the armored warriors moved to cover the two exits. Dannel, clad in his magical slippers, simply ascended the nearest wall, taking up a position high above them, his bow at the ready.

Dana began casting a spell, an intricate summoning ritual that went on for several minutes. The invisibility spells faded, leaving them each feeling exposed as they waited for the priestess to complete her spell.

But before she could finish, Dannel hissed a warning. “Aerial patrol, incoming!”