Thanks for all the support! It's stuff like this that motivate me to keep writing, and writing, and writing...
Tonks said:
Great beginning LB! I know you aren't a fan of alignments, but could we get your thoughts on which of these guys are more G/N/E aligned in your opinion so far?
I don't want to be coy, but I'm going to defer on this question for now because a) to share too much might reveal some spoilers; and b) some of them are still coming together in my own mind. At this point I just have a sketched out list of some broad plot ideas for way down the road, and some of the characters might evolve considerably before then. Suffice it to say that there will likely be more than a few surprises with regards to these characters.
I'd be interested in hearing what you the readers think at this point with regards to character alignment thus far. Might help me gauge if I'm getting the personalities across as intended.
But I'll share one: Ukas is CN. Heh, maybe that one was a bit too obvious.
I managed to punch out a good chunk of story today. As always my schedule is unpredictable, but if my current pace keeps up, I may be able to eventually commit to a regular M-W-F update schedule like I did with
The Shackled City. The posts are tending to be a bit longer than usual for me thus far, but I'm sure there will be the usual crop of cliffhangers for those folks who gave me my ENWorld custom title.
For now, here's the conclusion of the first encounter:
* * * * *
Chapter 5
THE GUARDIANS
“We are pretty damned screwed,” Dar said, as he struggled to keep his feet as the gargoyle ravaged his back. He was already starting to feel woozy from loss of blood.
But then the weight fell away from him. He spun to see the gargoyle frantically struggling, trying to dislodge the weight of the Mad Elf from its back. The elf had gotten a dagger from somewhere, and was thrusting it in rapid succession into the gargoyle’s neck. Thus far he didn’t seem to be doing a lot of damage, but he’d certainly distracted it.
There was no time to be grateful for his opportunity, as Dar’s second foe surged at him again. “To the hells with it,” the fighter growled, shucking his shield and taking up his sword with both hands. He met the gargoyle’s rush with a loud cry, using his full strength to drive the blade hard into its chest. The sword hit the creature’s stony hide and kept going, piercing its chest. Dar kept pushing, driving the gargoyle back, ignoring its claws as they tore at his arms. He didn’t stop until the crossguard of the sword met its skin, until the gargoyle toppled over backwards. Its body cracked, crevices expanding outward from the terrible wound, and it crumbled into dust as it died.
“Well, that’s one,” Dar said, swaying as he stood over the creature’s remains.
Varo’s enemy, stung by the cleric’s power, regarded him with a new caution. The priest just stood there, waiting, a nasty look in his eyes. For a full second, two, the adversaries just watched each other. Then, with a shriek, the gargoyle rushed forward. Varo again just waited, and as the gargoyle slashed at him, he reached forward and seized the creature’s skull with his hands. Once more the dark power of his god flowed at his call, and the gargoyle staggered as cracks spread out across its head. Its black eyes flashed, and its body came apart as the second
inflict spell ended it.
Navev, paralyzed by the claws of the gargoyles, could do nothing to avert his death as the gargoyles took him from the field of battle. But even as he lifted higher into the air, he felt a sudden weight tug at him.
The gargoyles felt it too, and looked down to see Velan Tiros holding onto the warlock’s ankle, the aged marshal’s weight dragging the two of them down despite the efforts of the two gargoyles. The marshal’s magical sword shone in his other hand, but the gargoyles were too far out of reach for him to bring it into play. For a moment, the scene was almost comical, the two creatures and two humans fluttering along drunkenly, lurching back and forth in the general direction of the mausoleum. That image lasted only until Tiros’s original foe slammed into the marshal from behind. The gargoyle had been seriously wounded, but when Tiros had gone to Navev’s aid, it had been quick to rejoin the fight. The force of the impact was enough to jar Navev from the grasp of the two flying gargoyles, and all three of them—Navev, Tiros, and Tiros’s enemy—fell hard to the ground in a heap.
Tiros’s sword went flying from his grasp. He tried to stand, but took a claw hard across the face, and collapsed. He did not get up.
The two gargoyles that had seized Navev flapped to the ground almost casually a few feet away. The one that had taken down the marshal got back to its feet, and reached down to put a final end to what it had begun.
All three gargoyles turned as a loud cry echoed across the battlefield.
Ukas the barbarian came rushing forward, holding a massive granite grave marker above his head. The gargoyles shrieked and turned to face the charging half-orc, but all the first one got was fifty pounds of stone slammed down upon its head. The blow drove the gargoyle’s skull down to where its liver would have been, if it had been a normal creature. The creature crumbled and came apart, its gemstone eyes clattering to the ground at its feet.
The other two gargoyles swung out to flank the barbarian, their claws extended. Ukas took a beating, blood spraying from his wounds until his attackers were splattered with red smears. But somehow the barbarian remained standing, swinging blindly about with the headstone. He clipped a gargoyle hard across the shoulder, knocking it back, but the blow also was the final straw for the beaten old slab, which came apart in a shatter of debris.
As if that wasn’t bad enough, another shriek announced the arrival of yet another gargoyle behind him. The creature still trailed the barbarian’s chain, tangled hopelessly around its leg, but it still looked as though it had a lot of fight left in it.
Ukas turned and saw it coming. The barbarian’s left eye was swollen and covered with blood, half blinding him, and his left arm was a mess of shredded flesh, with the white of bone showing at one gory point. But the half-orc raged on, and he laughed as more foes came upon him.
Swarming upon the half-orc, the gargoyles failed to notice another threat, until it was standing right behind them.
“Hey, ugly.”
The gargoyle turned in time to take two feet of blue steel through its gut. The gargoyle screamed and collapsed as Dar drove Tiros’s magical weapon into its body. The second gargoyle broke away from the half-orc and leapt at the fighter from the side, but Dar whipped the sword up and took its left claw off at the wrist.
“Damn,” the fighter said, grinning now despite his still-serious wounds.
Varo had helped the elf put down the last gargoyle on their side of the battlefield, using another spontaneous
inflict spell to kill the creature. The elf skittered off as the cleric ran toward the others, careful to give the still-battling combatants a decent berth as he made his way toward where Tiros and Navev had fallen.
The remaining gargoyles continued to press their attack. Ukas seized one in a choke-hold, tightening his grip even as it continued to savage his limbs with its claws. Dar was struck by the other claw of the one he’d hurt, and he nearly went down, barely recovering in time to avoid its next rush. It leapt into the air and dove down on him, and it was luck more than anything else that brought his sword up in time to meet its descending body. The two collided, hard, and this time when the fighter fell, he groaned and lay there, unable to rise.
The gargoyle stepped forward, itself critically hurt. No blood came from the severed stump of its right hand, but cracks covered its body from the rough treatment it had suffered.
It reached for Dar, but then its head exploded as an
eldritch blast caught it an inch below its right ear. Navev lay in a bloody heap, the red glow shining eerily from his eyes, but at least he was moving.
The battle was over. Ukas stood over his last foe as it crumbled, wavering as his rage began to wane. He would have died, most likely, had not Varo reached him in that moment with a healing spell. Even with that intervention, he could barely stand.
Tiros, likewise battered to within an inch of his life, recovered his sword from where it lay beside the bleeding Dar. The cleric, now armed with a slender ebon wand, came to the fighter’s aid next, and brought him back to full consciousness. The fighter looked at both the wand and the marshal’s sword, which vanished with a flick of his wrist.
“Been holding out on us?” he asked, the comment directed to both the cleric and the marshal. He started to rise, but only made it to a crouch as blood oozed anew from several deep gashes in his arms and torso.
“Hold still,” Varo said, applying more of the magic of his device. “This wand and another were in the box that Valus gave me. They are among the least potent of their kind, but they will save your life if you stop floundering about and let them work.”
“What about that sword?” Dar said.
“One of the guards smuggled it to me,” Tiros said. “We should get moving—the mists obscure this place, but no doubt the Duke’s men monitored the battle, and if they suspect that I hold
Valor, they will no doubt take it as a prize for their master.”
Dar wiped a hand over his face; the gesture only ended up smearing more blood across his features. He grimaced, and stood. With more of Varo’s healing taking effect, he could now do so unassisted. “How much power does that thing have?”
“It was fully charged, but another battle like that, and that will be it,” Varo said, returning to Tiros and Navev.
“Damn,” the fighter said, looking around. “We haven’t even gotten inside yet, and already we’ve gotten our asses kicked.”
“At least we survived,” Tiros replied. He looked tired, but also determined as he wiped blood of his arms with a dirty rag. Varo healed him until all of his cuts stopped bleeding and sealed shut, then turned to help Navev. The half-orc recovered his chain from the ruin of the last gargoyle. There was no sign of the elf, but they could almost
feel him nearby, watching. And in any case, as long as Tiros wore the ring bound to the mad creature’s collar, there was no place else he could go.
All that was left of the gargoyles was green rubble and their gemstone eyes, ovoids of black jet. Dar started picking up the latter, dropping the precious stones into a pouch.
“What are you doing?” Tiros asked.
“Getting paid,” the mercenary answered.