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Sniktch's Story Hour - City of the Spider Queen (Updated 04/25)
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<blockquote data-quote="Sniktch" data-source="post: 401475" data-attributes="member: 7704"><p><strong>The battle with Chahir</strong></p><p></p><p>Artimas gasped in astonishment as the men appeared in the room. He backpedaled away from the vampire before him, trying to keep Igor between himself and his foe. He could see a deadly dance starting between Malobar and the other foe. Then his ears picked up a rhythmic chanting from the back of the chamber, strange words that he could not quite comprehend. He threw himself backward to avoid the clumsy punches of his opponent trying to concentrate on the strange cadence he recognized as spellcasting. “Haste,” he thought as the spell concluded. Immediately a second chant began, and this time his eyes widened in alarm. “Lightning bolt!” he yelled, diving towards the open doorway. “Vampires, help!”</p><p></p><p>Malobar threw himself flat and rolled aside as the crackling arc of electricity leapt through the air. He felt his hair standing on end as the energy passed overhead. It continued past him, tearing a great gouge from Igor’s side and sending the zombie slumping to the floor, its unlife spent, before catching Artimas in mid-dive and slamming him to the floor, gasping for breath and smoking. Artimas pulled himself into a sitting position and began waving his hands and chanting in return, trying to fall into the words and flood the room with daylight. The pain of his wound proved to be too much, and he broke off, his spell miscast and wasted. Before he could rise to his feet a small form vaulted over him. Welby leapt to engage one of the vampires, plunging his dull gray blade forward and feeling the satisfying impact as it bit deep into undead flesh. </p><p></p><p>Malobar parried another blow and concentrated on the room around him. There was obviously another foe, a wizard, and invisible. His trained senses focused on the dust swirling through the room, the smell of his undead foes, anything that would help him locate the spellcaster. Yes! There, behind the sarcophagi, stood a third figure. Malobar could see the dust swirl as the figure began to wave its arms, could hear the low murmer as the spellcasting chant began once more. He caught another clumsy blow on his sword and twisted, sending the clumsy lesser vampire staggering past him. Not looking back, he rolled forward towards the stone coffins and towards the most dangerous foe.</p><p></p><p>Quinn held back for a moment as Grick plunged into the room, turning to face Jack, who had not moved from his seat near the wagon. “Are you coming? It sounds bad in there.”</p><p></p><p>Jack shrugged and began packing tobacco into his pipe. “Bah, I warned ‘im I weren’t to help if he disturbed the dead again.” Raising his voice, he shouted, “Ya hear that, graverobber? Enjoy yer reward.” He turned away, refusing to meet Quinn’s stare.</p><p></p><p>Quinn shook her head in disappointment and disbelief, then grasped her holy symbol and prepared to enter the tomb. Two more blinding bolts of crackling energy tore through the open doorway past her, then a burning figure in black robes stumbled out and fell into her arms, weakly coughing blood. She laid the tortured figure of Artimas upon the ground and fell within her prayers, calling the healing warmth to her hands that she might save his life. </p><p></p><p>Malobar stayed crouched behind the sarcophagus, watching as two more arcs of lightning flashed across the room. The agile halfling and swaying half-orc both easily dodged the spells, but Artimas had not been so lucky. The bolts sent him twitching and dancing right out of the doors. He pursed his lips and hopped to the top of the stone block before him, quickly tumbling along its length and scoring a stinging hit on the invisible mage. The figure stumbled backwards, then turned and began crawling up the wall! It must be another vampire. Malobar fumbled with his pouch for a moment before pulling forth a vial of whitish liquid and quickly swallowing it. As the potion of spider climb took effect he scuttled up the wall after the retreating mage.</p><p></p><p>Quinn relaxed as the healing power flowed from her hands and she saw the color returning to Artimas’ face as his wounds began to knit themselves together. She kissed her holy symbol, giving Dumathoin quick thanks, then moved to the mausoleum entrance again. Grick and Welby hacked with their swords at their opponents, and both appeared to be unharmed. Malobar hung from the wall by his feet and one hand, swinging wildly at the air. She thrust her holy symbol towards Grick’s opponent and yelled, “By the power of Dumathoin, begone, foul creature!” The undead let out a wailing howl as the wrath of her god descended upon it, reducing it to a fine ash that mingled with the dust swirling through the room. At the same time Welby hacked at his opponent once more, and the vampire dispersed into a fine mist as his blade struck home.</p><p></p><p>“The wizard is invisible and crawling across the ceiling! Help me!” All eyes turned to follow Malobar as he crawled, across the ceiling now, still stabbing furiously at the air. A spray of stinging bolts leapt from mid-air and thudded painfully into the four heroes now in the room. Grick roared and leapt onto the wall, using his enchanted slippers to charge into the fray. Welby dropped to his knees and began rummaging through his pack. Quinn fell into prayer again, this time calling a ray of pure light that she sent in the direction of the magic missles’ appearance, which hit nothing before scoring a blackened groove in the stone. Meanwhile Artimas stepped back into the room beside her and added a spell of his own, trying to cancel the effects of other spells in the room. He felt his counterspell knock down two of the wizard’s defenses, but unfortunately the being remained invisible.</p><p></p><p>Malobar heard the vampire cursing as its movements abruptly slowed, and then he heard a voice in his mind. “Serve my will, elf. Kill the wizard, and all those who dare oppose me.” Malobar stiffened, trying to resist the attack on his mind, but the assault continued. Although the mental battle took only seconds, it felt like hours to the rogue, and sweat began to drip down his face. Finally, he could not resist the powerful will brought against him, and he leapt from the ceiling, his glittering blade flashing towards Artimas as he fell.</p><p></p><p>Grick saw the elf fall from the battle and begin attacking Artimas, and stopped, confused. He had lost track of the opponent! He tensed, waiting for a sign of his enemy’s presence, and then heard the chant resume from one of the far corners of the room. He ran towards the noise as another forked tongue of lightning slammed into Quinn and Artimas, slashing at the empty air and hoping to make contact. A laugh came from his side, and then, as he furiously tried to catch the taunting noise, six arrows of acid streaked through the air and impacted, one after the other, into the armored figure of Quinn.</p><p></p><p>Welby finally found what he wanted in his pack and stood, a glass vial in each hand. He went into a blur of activity, pulling the stopper from one vial after another and sending the blessed water splashing through the air. Most of it fell to the ground or soaked the furious half-orc, but one splash of water struck another figure, and the air was filled with a howl as smoke began to rise from the point of impact.</p><p></p><p>Artimas fell away from the furious attack of Malobar, holding his side where the elf’s magic weapon had opened a wicked, bleeding wound. He pulled a wand from his belt and waved it at the elf. No effect. He expended more energy from the wand, ducking to avoid a whistling strike, and this time the magic took hold. Malobar froze, held by the magic for a little while, at least. Artimas turned and staggered towards the slumping form of Quinn. Above him the battle raged in full on the ceiling, Grick now tracking the creature by the smoke from its wounds as Welby still furiously splashed holy water into the air. He bent to examine Quinn’s wounds and found that the acid had done grevious harm, eating through her armor, clothing, flesh, and muscle to expose the flesh of her ribs. “My turn, my friend,” he muttered, then fell into prayer to Arawn. “This one is not ready to journey to your realm, mighty lord. Grant me the strength to heal her wounds so that she may help to send the cursed spawn back to your bosom.”</p><p></p><p>Quinn grimaced as the healing energy mended the burnt hole in her chest. She opened her eyes once more and took stock of the battle. Artimas had collapsed beside her, blood seeping from the cuts he had received from Malobar. Grick still ran about the ceiling, roaring in pain each time another volley of silver darts materialized and blasted into him. Welby turned to her and shook his head, all of his holy water expended. Quickly she knelt by Artimas, healing him again so that the enchanted wounds would stop bleeding. Then, calling upon her god to consecrate the crypt with holy energy, she turned and scanned the ceiling for the smoking, still invisible vampire. Finding him after a few seconds, she rose her holy symbol and focused her will. “Dumathoin, grant your servant the strength to vanquish the unholy! Return this evil man to the death he has cheated!”</p><p></p><p>The vampire fell from the ceiling, suddenly visible and shrieking. She advanced towards it, brandishing her holy symbol, and it dispersed into a small cloud and sank into one of the sarcophagi. The room fell silent once more, the friends, exhausted by their victory, collapsed to the floor and did not move for several moments. Then they rose, weakly congratulating each other, and started into the chores that winning brings.</p><p></p><p>Grick toppled the engraved slabs from the two sarcophagi, shattering them on the floor. In each they found a vampire deep in torpor but rapidly healing from its wounds. Artimas stepped forward and handed Grick two wooden stakes, then turned and left the tomb. After Grick staked the two vampires and ensured their second death, the companions found several sacks of coins in one of the coffins. Artimas returned with a disgusted look on his face. “Jack fell asleep. He’s out there sleeping against the wagon with his pipe in one hand. What a waste.”</p><p></p><p>“We not share with him, then,” stated Welby as he started to lift a heavy sack. </p><p></p><p>Artimas stopped him. “Allow me. Come, my servants, carry these sacks to the wagon.” Four skeletons marched into the chamber, their bones gleaming in the moonlight, and began to lift the bags from the coffin and carry them from the room. The companions’, used to these silent minions by now, searched the rest of the chamber, looking for anything they had missed. Malobar approached Artimas, who was kneeling over the still form of his servant Igor.</p><p></p><p>“My apologies for wounding you, Artimas. I did not mean to cause you harm.”</p><p></p><p>“Don’t think of it. You had no control over yourself – the vampire dominated your will. Come, it is nothing to be ashamed of. Few have the strength of mind to resist a true vampire, especially one so ancient. If you had truly meant to harm me, you would share his fate.” He gestured towards the fallen Igor as he said this, then bent and placed hands upon the rotting carcass. “Arawn, renew the tide of unlife. This one has not yet paid in full for the suffering he caused.” Artimas bent and placed a small onyx gem in between Igor’s ruined lips, then began casting a spell. As he finished, the remains of the Mask trembled and twitched, and then the zombie struggled slowly to its feet, reanimated once more. Artimas picked up the fallen torch and handed it back to the zombie. “Come, Igor. Follow me.”</p><p></p><p>They left Jack sleeping by the wagon, guarded by the four skeletons, and then together, they approached the doors leading into the hillside.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Sniktch, post: 401475, member: 7704"] [b]The battle with Chahir[/b] Artimas gasped in astonishment as the men appeared in the room. He backpedaled away from the vampire before him, trying to keep Igor between himself and his foe. He could see a deadly dance starting between Malobar and the other foe. Then his ears picked up a rhythmic chanting from the back of the chamber, strange words that he could not quite comprehend. He threw himself backward to avoid the clumsy punches of his opponent trying to concentrate on the strange cadence he recognized as spellcasting. “Haste,” he thought as the spell concluded. Immediately a second chant began, and this time his eyes widened in alarm. “Lightning bolt!” he yelled, diving towards the open doorway. “Vampires, help!” Malobar threw himself flat and rolled aside as the crackling arc of electricity leapt through the air. He felt his hair standing on end as the energy passed overhead. It continued past him, tearing a great gouge from Igor’s side and sending the zombie slumping to the floor, its unlife spent, before catching Artimas in mid-dive and slamming him to the floor, gasping for breath and smoking. Artimas pulled himself into a sitting position and began waving his hands and chanting in return, trying to fall into the words and flood the room with daylight. The pain of his wound proved to be too much, and he broke off, his spell miscast and wasted. Before he could rise to his feet a small form vaulted over him. Welby leapt to engage one of the vampires, plunging his dull gray blade forward and feeling the satisfying impact as it bit deep into undead flesh. Malobar parried another blow and concentrated on the room around him. There was obviously another foe, a wizard, and invisible. His trained senses focused on the dust swirling through the room, the smell of his undead foes, anything that would help him locate the spellcaster. Yes! There, behind the sarcophagi, stood a third figure. Malobar could see the dust swirl as the figure began to wave its arms, could hear the low murmer as the spellcasting chant began once more. He caught another clumsy blow on his sword and twisted, sending the clumsy lesser vampire staggering past him. Not looking back, he rolled forward towards the stone coffins and towards the most dangerous foe. Quinn held back for a moment as Grick plunged into the room, turning to face Jack, who had not moved from his seat near the wagon. “Are you coming? It sounds bad in there.” Jack shrugged and began packing tobacco into his pipe. “Bah, I warned ‘im I weren’t to help if he disturbed the dead again.” Raising his voice, he shouted, “Ya hear that, graverobber? Enjoy yer reward.” He turned away, refusing to meet Quinn’s stare. Quinn shook her head in disappointment and disbelief, then grasped her holy symbol and prepared to enter the tomb. Two more blinding bolts of crackling energy tore through the open doorway past her, then a burning figure in black robes stumbled out and fell into her arms, weakly coughing blood. She laid the tortured figure of Artimas upon the ground and fell within her prayers, calling the healing warmth to her hands that she might save his life. Malobar stayed crouched behind the sarcophagus, watching as two more arcs of lightning flashed across the room. The agile halfling and swaying half-orc both easily dodged the spells, but Artimas had not been so lucky. The bolts sent him twitching and dancing right out of the doors. He pursed his lips and hopped to the top of the stone block before him, quickly tumbling along its length and scoring a stinging hit on the invisible mage. The figure stumbled backwards, then turned and began crawling up the wall! It must be another vampire. Malobar fumbled with his pouch for a moment before pulling forth a vial of whitish liquid and quickly swallowing it. As the potion of spider climb took effect he scuttled up the wall after the retreating mage. Quinn relaxed as the healing power flowed from her hands and she saw the color returning to Artimas’ face as his wounds began to knit themselves together. She kissed her holy symbol, giving Dumathoin quick thanks, then moved to the mausoleum entrance again. Grick and Welby hacked with their swords at their opponents, and both appeared to be unharmed. Malobar hung from the wall by his feet and one hand, swinging wildly at the air. She thrust her holy symbol towards Grick’s opponent and yelled, “By the power of Dumathoin, begone, foul creature!” The undead let out a wailing howl as the wrath of her god descended upon it, reducing it to a fine ash that mingled with the dust swirling through the room. At the same time Welby hacked at his opponent once more, and the vampire dispersed into a fine mist as his blade struck home. “The wizard is invisible and crawling across the ceiling! Help me!” All eyes turned to follow Malobar as he crawled, across the ceiling now, still stabbing furiously at the air. A spray of stinging bolts leapt from mid-air and thudded painfully into the four heroes now in the room. Grick roared and leapt onto the wall, using his enchanted slippers to charge into the fray. Welby dropped to his knees and began rummaging through his pack. Quinn fell into prayer again, this time calling a ray of pure light that she sent in the direction of the magic missles’ appearance, which hit nothing before scoring a blackened groove in the stone. Meanwhile Artimas stepped back into the room beside her and added a spell of his own, trying to cancel the effects of other spells in the room. He felt his counterspell knock down two of the wizard’s defenses, but unfortunately the being remained invisible. Malobar heard the vampire cursing as its movements abruptly slowed, and then he heard a voice in his mind. “Serve my will, elf. Kill the wizard, and all those who dare oppose me.” Malobar stiffened, trying to resist the attack on his mind, but the assault continued. Although the mental battle took only seconds, it felt like hours to the rogue, and sweat began to drip down his face. Finally, he could not resist the powerful will brought against him, and he leapt from the ceiling, his glittering blade flashing towards Artimas as he fell. Grick saw the elf fall from the battle and begin attacking Artimas, and stopped, confused. He had lost track of the opponent! He tensed, waiting for a sign of his enemy’s presence, and then heard the chant resume from one of the far corners of the room. He ran towards the noise as another forked tongue of lightning slammed into Quinn and Artimas, slashing at the empty air and hoping to make contact. A laugh came from his side, and then, as he furiously tried to catch the taunting noise, six arrows of acid streaked through the air and impacted, one after the other, into the armored figure of Quinn. Welby finally found what he wanted in his pack and stood, a glass vial in each hand. He went into a blur of activity, pulling the stopper from one vial after another and sending the blessed water splashing through the air. Most of it fell to the ground or soaked the furious half-orc, but one splash of water struck another figure, and the air was filled with a howl as smoke began to rise from the point of impact. Artimas fell away from the furious attack of Malobar, holding his side where the elf’s magic weapon had opened a wicked, bleeding wound. He pulled a wand from his belt and waved it at the elf. No effect. He expended more energy from the wand, ducking to avoid a whistling strike, and this time the magic took hold. Malobar froze, held by the magic for a little while, at least. Artimas turned and staggered towards the slumping form of Quinn. Above him the battle raged in full on the ceiling, Grick now tracking the creature by the smoke from its wounds as Welby still furiously splashed holy water into the air. He bent to examine Quinn’s wounds and found that the acid had done grevious harm, eating through her armor, clothing, flesh, and muscle to expose the flesh of her ribs. “My turn, my friend,” he muttered, then fell into prayer to Arawn. “This one is not ready to journey to your realm, mighty lord. Grant me the strength to heal her wounds so that she may help to send the cursed spawn back to your bosom.” Quinn grimaced as the healing energy mended the burnt hole in her chest. She opened her eyes once more and took stock of the battle. Artimas had collapsed beside her, blood seeping from the cuts he had received from Malobar. Grick still ran about the ceiling, roaring in pain each time another volley of silver darts materialized and blasted into him. Welby turned to her and shook his head, all of his holy water expended. Quickly she knelt by Artimas, healing him again so that the enchanted wounds would stop bleeding. Then, calling upon her god to consecrate the crypt with holy energy, she turned and scanned the ceiling for the smoking, still invisible vampire. Finding him after a few seconds, she rose her holy symbol and focused her will. “Dumathoin, grant your servant the strength to vanquish the unholy! Return this evil man to the death he has cheated!” The vampire fell from the ceiling, suddenly visible and shrieking. She advanced towards it, brandishing her holy symbol, and it dispersed into a small cloud and sank into one of the sarcophagi. The room fell silent once more, the friends, exhausted by their victory, collapsed to the floor and did not move for several moments. Then they rose, weakly congratulating each other, and started into the chores that winning brings. Grick toppled the engraved slabs from the two sarcophagi, shattering them on the floor. In each they found a vampire deep in torpor but rapidly healing from its wounds. Artimas stepped forward and handed Grick two wooden stakes, then turned and left the tomb. After Grick staked the two vampires and ensured their second death, the companions found several sacks of coins in one of the coffins. Artimas returned with a disgusted look on his face. “Jack fell asleep. He’s out there sleeping against the wagon with his pipe in one hand. What a waste.” “We not share with him, then,” stated Welby as he started to lift a heavy sack. Artimas stopped him. “Allow me. Come, my servants, carry these sacks to the wagon.” Four skeletons marched into the chamber, their bones gleaming in the moonlight, and began to lift the bags from the coffin and carry them from the room. The companions’, used to these silent minions by now, searched the rest of the chamber, looking for anything they had missed. Malobar approached Artimas, who was kneeling over the still form of his servant Igor. “My apologies for wounding you, Artimas. I did not mean to cause you harm.” “Don’t think of it. You had no control over yourself – the vampire dominated your will. Come, it is nothing to be ashamed of. Few have the strength of mind to resist a true vampire, especially one so ancient. If you had truly meant to harm me, you would share his fate.” He gestured towards the fallen Igor as he said this, then bent and placed hands upon the rotting carcass. “Arawn, renew the tide of unlife. This one has not yet paid in full for the suffering he caused.” Artimas bent and placed a small onyx gem in between Igor’s ruined lips, then began casting a spell. As he finished, the remains of the Mask trembled and twitched, and then the zombie struggled slowly to its feet, reanimated once more. Artimas picked up the fallen torch and handed it back to the zombie. “Come, Igor. Follow me.” They left Jack sleeping by the wagon, guarded by the four skeletons, and then together, they approached the doors leading into the hillside. [/QUOTE]
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