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The Fall of Civilization
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<blockquote data-quote="the Jester" data-source="post: 7465283" data-attributes="member: 1210"><p>The first changes go unnoticed, as Vann-La is in the front of the group, face forward, looking ahead. But eventually, the others see- her eyes have turned scarlet and gleaming. </p><p></p><p>“Maybe we should be careful about these things,” Hkatha says, fingering the amulet around his neck and nodding at Vann-La's new sword.</p><p></p><p>“I think we're fine,” the elf responds, and continues to lead the party onward, <em>Killing Spree</em> in hand. </p><p></p><p>*** </p><p></p><p>A pause to confer on strategy leads to a decision: they will seek a way down and try to find the death knight- and perhaps the beholder- that their rituals told them was there. “Even though it's not Arawn, it sounds like one of his generals,” Heimall states. “At least if we destroy it now, there's no chance of Arawn calling another death knight to help him when we finally find him.”</p><p></p><p>So, Vann-La leading, the heroes find their way down. They are not unopposed. A horde of grimlocks attacks them in one place, which holds signs of the beholder's sometime presence. Demons and undead strike them from the wings. But our heroes make their relentless way forward until, at last, they find the death knight, Cardinal Fell. </p><p></p><p>Fell broods at a font sticky with half-dried blood. He wears mail beneath a tattered tabard that is adorned with the Black Sun, symbol of Bleak. A wicked-looking flanged mace hangs at his side. Three billymen- naked demons devoted to Bleak, with the bodies of men but the heads of goats- move restlessly around the room, their chests painted with the same symbol. Two churning nightmares hang in the air, formless, fanged, tentacled, ever-changing, radiating terror. A black firepit emits black flames that give off no light.</p><p></p><p>The party's light sources dim, their illumination growing feeble and drawing in close to the source. </p><p></p><p>Fell turns, straightening, and draws his mace. “Strangers!” he cries. “I, Cardinal Fell, welcome you!” The billymen start to move toward Vann-La. “I have been looking for another sacrifice!” His loud cackle echoes through the dank chamber as the billymen thrust their hands upward, stabbing at the sky.</p><p></p><p>More billymen appear. </p><p></p><p>“Uh-oh,” says Vann-La, and strikes, cutting one of the new arrivals' head from its body in a single stroke, then advancing into the center. <em>Killing Spree</em> lashes out, emitting a quiet moan as it tastes blood. </p><p></p><p>The others attack as well. The summoned billymen fall easily, and Torinn rushes to engage the death knight. </p><p></p><p>“I will give your soul to Bleak!” the black cardinal howls, and summons an inky blob of darkness that launches itself onto Torinn's head. Then, while the dragonborn is blinded, Fell hits him with a mighty blow, smiting him. </p><p></p><p>The churning nightmare creatures send rivers of pure fear into our heroes, threatening to strip away their will to fight. “You can do it!” cries Heimall. “GIT!” -and Vann-La disembowels one of the billyman summoners. Spells detonate, flames and force alike ripping into the strange phantasmal slayers. Ligir's gun barks, and the death knight staggers back. </p><p></p><p>And heals itself. </p><p></p><p>“Lester's arm!” swears Torinn. “Stop that!!” </p><p></p><p>Fell gnashes his teeth, promises, “I will keep you alive for a week of torture!”, and unleashes a blast of <em>unholy flames</em> at the party. </p><p></p><p>Vann-La staggers, but Torinn uses his <em>healing word</em> to keep her from falling. Heimall contnues to shore the party up as well. No one is close to falling- except Cardinal Fell. </p><p></p><p>The party presses in, Heimall fending off the last phantasmal slayer with <em>Gut-Ripper</em> as Hkatha's magic finishes the last billyman. The death knight continues to fight back, but Torinn, Heimall, and Vann-La close in on him from three sides. </p><p></p><p>“Arawn will kill you all!” the cardinal shrieks. “Even now, he kills the last of the dwarves in the mountains! There is no one left to rescue you!”</p><p></p><p>“We aren't the ones in need of rescue,” Torinn retorts, landing another blow.</p><p></p><p>“Aagh! You fools,” Cardinal Fell spits, “none of you will survive! This is the end for you!”</p><p></p><p>“It's the end for someone, all right,” Vann-La says, and stabs the death knight through the throat. Fell staggers back, gasping, unable to speak for tbe moment, wobblind and barely still afoot- and an iron pan slams down on its head from behind, crunching through the bones of the skull and flattening the body to the ground. </p><p></p><p>“Oi, you talk too much,” Cook exclaims. </p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>The party is troubled by Fell's words about the dwarves, but uncertain what they can do about it. After all, they don't even know their way out of this place. </p><p></p><p>“We should go up,” Ligir says. “Try to help those dwarves.” Cook nods in agreement. </p><p></p><p>“Agreed,” Hkatha answers, “but we need to kill that beholder first.”</p><p></p><p>There is silence for a moment, then Vann-La sighs. “Hkatha's right. If we don't get it now, Arawn will bring it to us later, and we'll have to fight them both at once.”</p><p></p><p>“We might not have time, if we're going to help those dwarves,” Torinn objects. </p><p></p><p>“Well, we don't know where they are or how far away they are. Not to mention that we don't know how to get to the surface. And we're here now. We've seen signs of the beholder. We have an idea of which direction to look in.” The Kree shrugs. “I think it makes sense.”</p><p></p><p>Hkatha adds, “And if we can find it when we're fresh, we're far better off than if we face it after we've had to hack our way through hundreds of Arawn's minions.”</p><p></p><p>The party agrees, given the impracticality of helping the dwarves, that they don't have any real choice. </p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>The beholder is a deadly threat, but our heroes do manage to catch it when they are fresh. The eye tyrant is attended only by a pair of grimlock heroes, who put up a good fight but can't sustain the sort of attention that the party delivers to them. </p><p></p><p>The beholder's eye beams cut through the chamber it's in. It levitates up out of reach, keeping enough distance between the group and itself that it falls to the two wizards and the cleric to keep it off-balance enough that it can't entirely decimate the group. Once Vann-La, Summer, Cook, and Heimall take the elite grimlocks out, Hkatha casts <em>fly</em> on Vann-La, and <em>Killing Spree</em> moans again. </p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>After days underground, the party finally finds its way out, but not as expected. Instead they find a set of teleport coordinates that appear to be on the surface. </p><p></p><p>“Perfect!” says Iggy. “We can get out of this place and get on with the job!”</p><p></p><p>And thus they came to see the remains of poor Pesh City, one of the proudest cities of humanity for thousands of years. A truly great metropolis, run through with the exotic smells of pungent Peshan spices and the smoke of strange rugs. Decadent, infamous for being home to the Dance of the Seven Veils, well-known haven for many a pirate with a cup of discretion, draped in the colorful silks and brightly-colored fabrics it was known for. </p><p></p><p>No longer. </p><p></p><p>Now a shattered and burnt place, with almost no buildings still standing. Ash and death reigned over the ruin. The only colors were gray and black. The exotic flora and fauna was dead and burnt. This was no more than the well-gnawed corpse of a city.</p><p></p><p>And to both the northeast and northwest, mountains. </p><p></p><p><em><strong>Next Time:</strong></em> The fortress of Arawn!</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="the Jester, post: 7465283, member: 1210"] The first changes go unnoticed, as Vann-La is in the front of the group, face forward, looking ahead. But eventually, the others see- her eyes have turned scarlet and gleaming. “Maybe we should be careful about these things,” Hkatha says, fingering the amulet around his neck and nodding at Vann-La's new sword. “I think we're fine,” the elf responds, and continues to lead the party onward, [i]Killing Spree[/i] in hand. *** A pause to confer on strategy leads to a decision: they will seek a way down and try to find the death knight- and perhaps the beholder- that their rituals told them was there. “Even though it's not Arawn, it sounds like one of his generals,” Heimall states. “At least if we destroy it now, there's no chance of Arawn calling another death knight to help him when we finally find him.” So, Vann-La leading, the heroes find their way down. They are not unopposed. A horde of grimlocks attacks them in one place, which holds signs of the beholder's sometime presence. Demons and undead strike them from the wings. But our heroes make their relentless way forward until, at last, they find the death knight, Cardinal Fell. Fell broods at a font sticky with half-dried blood. He wears mail beneath a tattered tabard that is adorned with the Black Sun, symbol of Bleak. A wicked-looking flanged mace hangs at his side. Three billymen- naked demons devoted to Bleak, with the bodies of men but the heads of goats- move restlessly around the room, their chests painted with the same symbol. Two churning nightmares hang in the air, formless, fanged, tentacled, ever-changing, radiating terror. A black firepit emits black flames that give off no light. The party's light sources dim, their illumination growing feeble and drawing in close to the source. Fell turns, straightening, and draws his mace. “Strangers!” he cries. “I, Cardinal Fell, welcome you!” The billymen start to move toward Vann-La. “I have been looking for another sacrifice!” His loud cackle echoes through the dank chamber as the billymen thrust their hands upward, stabbing at the sky. More billymen appear. “Uh-oh,” says Vann-La, and strikes, cutting one of the new arrivals' head from its body in a single stroke, then advancing into the center. [i]Killing Spree[/i] lashes out, emitting a quiet moan as it tastes blood. The others attack as well. The summoned billymen fall easily, and Torinn rushes to engage the death knight. “I will give your soul to Bleak!” the black cardinal howls, and summons an inky blob of darkness that launches itself onto Torinn's head. Then, while the dragonborn is blinded, Fell hits him with a mighty blow, smiting him. The churning nightmare creatures send rivers of pure fear into our heroes, threatening to strip away their will to fight. “You can do it!” cries Heimall. “GIT!” -and Vann-La disembowels one of the billyman summoners. Spells detonate, flames and force alike ripping into the strange phantasmal slayers. Ligir's gun barks, and the death knight staggers back. And heals itself. “Lester's arm!” swears Torinn. “Stop that!!” Fell gnashes his teeth, promises, “I will keep you alive for a week of torture!”, and unleashes a blast of [i]unholy flames[/i] at the party. Vann-La staggers, but Torinn uses his [i]healing word[/i] to keep her from falling. Heimall contnues to shore the party up as well. No one is close to falling- except Cardinal Fell. The party presses in, Heimall fending off the last phantasmal slayer with [i]Gut-Ripper[/i] as Hkatha's magic finishes the last billyman. The death knight continues to fight back, but Torinn, Heimall, and Vann-La close in on him from three sides. “Arawn will kill you all!” the cardinal shrieks. “Even now, he kills the last of the dwarves in the mountains! There is no one left to rescue you!” “We aren't the ones in need of rescue,” Torinn retorts, landing another blow. “Aagh! You fools,” Cardinal Fell spits, “none of you will survive! This is the end for you!” “It's the end for someone, all right,” Vann-La says, and stabs the death knight through the throat. Fell staggers back, gasping, unable to speak for tbe moment, wobblind and barely still afoot- and an iron pan slams down on its head from behind, crunching through the bones of the skull and flattening the body to the ground. “Oi, you talk too much,” Cook exclaims. *** The party is troubled by Fell's words about the dwarves, but uncertain what they can do about it. After all, they don't even know their way out of this place. “We should go up,” Ligir says. “Try to help those dwarves.” Cook nods in agreement. “Agreed,” Hkatha answers, “but we need to kill that beholder first.” There is silence for a moment, then Vann-La sighs. “Hkatha's right. If we don't get it now, Arawn will bring it to us later, and we'll have to fight them both at once.” “We might not have time, if we're going to help those dwarves,” Torinn objects. “Well, we don't know where they are or how far away they are. Not to mention that we don't know how to get to the surface. And we're here now. We've seen signs of the beholder. We have an idea of which direction to look in.” The Kree shrugs. “I think it makes sense.” Hkatha adds, “And if we can find it when we're fresh, we're far better off than if we face it after we've had to hack our way through hundreds of Arawn's minions.” The party agrees, given the impracticality of helping the dwarves, that they don't have any real choice. *** The beholder is a deadly threat, but our heroes do manage to catch it when they are fresh. The eye tyrant is attended only by a pair of grimlock heroes, who put up a good fight but can't sustain the sort of attention that the party delivers to them. The beholder's eye beams cut through the chamber it's in. It levitates up out of reach, keeping enough distance between the group and itself that it falls to the two wizards and the cleric to keep it off-balance enough that it can't entirely decimate the group. Once Vann-La, Summer, Cook, and Heimall take the elite grimlocks out, Hkatha casts [i]fly[/i] on Vann-La, and [i]Killing Spree[/i] moans again. *** After days underground, the party finally finds its way out, but not as expected. Instead they find a set of teleport coordinates that appear to be on the surface. “Perfect!” says Iggy. “We can get out of this place and get on with the job!” And thus they came to see the remains of poor Pesh City, one of the proudest cities of humanity for thousands of years. A truly great metropolis, run through with the exotic smells of pungent Peshan spices and the smoke of strange rugs. Decadent, infamous for being home to the Dance of the Seven Veils, well-known haven for many a pirate with a cup of discretion, draped in the colorful silks and brightly-colored fabrics it was known for. No longer. Now a shattered and burnt place, with almost no buildings still standing. Ash and death reigned over the ruin. The only colors were gray and black. The exotic flora and fauna was dead and burnt. This was no more than the well-gnawed corpse of a city. And to both the northeast and northwest, mountains. [i][b]Next Time:[/b][/i][b][/b] The fortress of Arawn! [/QUOTE]
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