JollyDoc's Shackled City

Neverwinter Knight said:

You're a teaser, JollyDoc.

Click to expand...

Yes, but it will be well worth the wait. I hope to have a new post up by Friday, or Saturday at the latest.

Pez just leveled up, so I thought you would enjoy the 8th level Archon. Maybe I should call him "Primetime" Pez. (Major changes have been underlined)

Pez (Dispenser of Justice)
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Medium Outsider (Archon, Good, Lawful, Native)
Hit Dice: 6d8+24 (54 hp)
Initiative: +5
Speed: 40 ft. (8 squares), fly 90 ft. (average)
Armor Class: 27 (+5 Dex, +6 armor, +6 natural), touch 15, flat-footed 22
Base Attack/Grapple: +6/+10
Attack: +2 silver greatsword +12 melee (2d6+7) or masterwork composite longbow +12 ranged (1d8)
Full Attack: +2 silver greatsword +12/+6 melee (2d6+7) or masterwork composite longbow +12/+6 ranged (1d8)
Space/Reach: 5 ft/5 ft.
Special Attacks: Spell-like abilities, spells, trumpet
Special Qualities: Damage reduction 5/evil, darkvision 60 ft., resistance to electricity 15, tongues
Saves: Fort +10, Ref +11, Will +11
Abilities: Str 18, Dex 20, Con 19, Int 14, Wis 20, Cha 16
Skills: Concentration +13, Escape Artist +14, Hide +14, Knowledge (Local) +9, Knowledge (Religion) +11, Knowledge (The Planes) +11, Listen +14, Move Silently +14, Sense Motive +14, Spot +14
Feats: Armor Proficiency (Light), Cleave, Power Attack
Environment: Cauldron (Vilhon Reach)
Organization: Solitary or troupe (Pez, Gardrid, Tilly, Wathros, Rusty)
Challenge Rating: 8 (XP: 29,000 + change)
Treasure: Goods
Alignment: Lawful Good


Combat

Spell-Like Abilities: 3/day -- detect evil, continual flame, message. Caster level 8th.
Spells: Pez can cast divine spells as a 8th level cleric. He has access to the domains of Air, Destruction, Good, Knowledge, Law, and War. The save DCs are Wisdom-based.
Typical Cleric Spells Prepared (6/5+1/4+1/4+1/3+1; DC 15 + spell level): 0--cure minor wounds (3), detect magic (2); 1st--command (2), cure light wounds, divine favor (2), obscuring mist*; 2nd--aid*, cure moderate wounds, sound burst (3); 3rd--cure serious wounds, dispel magic, gaseous form*, invisibility purge, magic circle against evil; 4th--divine power (2), freedom of movement, holy smite*
Trumpet (Su): Pez's trumpet produces music of utter clarity and, if he wills it, paralyzing awe. All creatures except archons within 20 feet of the blast must succeed on a DC 16 Fortitude save or be paralyzed for 1d4 rounds. The save DC is Charisma-based. The archon can also command his trumpet to become a +2 silver greatsword as a free action.

Major Magic Items

Cloak of resistance +1, gloves of dexterity +2, +2 mithral chain shirt, periapt of wisdom +2, 9 elixirs of hide


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Now, here's a question that I pose to the loyal readers of this SH. Help me optimize Pez even more. Which feat should I take for my 6th HD? As you can see I've gone with Cleave, but here are some possible choices:

a) Cleave (could always use the extra attack)
b) Improved Initiative (+9 on Init checks is pretty good)
c) Combat Expertise (never know when a 30+ AC will come in handy, esp. useful against incorporeal undead and touch attacks)
d) Alertness (Spot and Listen go to +16)
e) Blind-fighting (never caught flat-footed again by invisible attacker)

What do you guys think?

Personally, I'd choose between Improved Initiative and Combat Expertise. II is usually among the first feats I take, but 30+ AC sounds pretty good, too.

I'd say Improved Initiative or possibly Spell Penetration. As a Trumpet Archon, you're going to be using your spells more and more as you level, and the ability to bypass Spell Resistance is incredibly useful.

Failing that, Imp Init is never a wasted feat.

Here's another one you might want to consider: Thick Skinned (from Savage Species). +2 to your in-place DR is pretty significant (increasing your in-place DR by 40% for the cost of a feat is not bad), and it would increase your survivability at higher levels somewhat when you have DR 12 (or more if you take the feat multiple times) rather than DR 10.

You probably already know about my affinity for both Blind-Fighting and Combat Reflexes. Both are great feats, and Joachim had both. Going against the grain here, I am not as keen on Improved Initiative as the others posting here. No offense to anyone previously posted, but I am used to going last in initiative always anyways, and kind of prefer it.

I think if you took Alertness you would be disappointed when you got to higher levels. With Joachim I took Skill Focus (Concentration) and Combat Casting. Once I got past level 5 I couldn't fail a casting defensive check, but by the time I reach 15th level, they both looked like wasted feats, and I only got a small handful (throw in Iron Will that I took at 9th, giving Joachim a ridiculously high Will save, and you have 3 wasted feats out of 5 at that point). If you were going to take a skill-boosting feat, I would take Stealthy, considering your penchant for being the party scout.

Cleave is never a bad thing, though.

What the heck. I am bored at work, and Gardrid just reached 8th level, too. Gfunk shouldn't be the only one having fun...

Gardrid Craghammer (Slayer from Glaugathor)
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Medium Humanoid (Dwarf)
Hit Dice: 8d12+32 (89 hp)
Initiative: +2
Speed: Move 30' (6 squares), Climb 20' (4 Squares)
Armor Class: 19 (+2 Dex, +6 Armour, +1 Deflection), 13 touch, 19 flat-footed
Base Attack/Grapple: +8/+12
Attack: +1 Great Axe +13 melee (1d12+7) or +1 Silver Heavy Flail +13 melee (1d10+6)
Full Attack: +1 Great Axe +13/+8 melee (1d12+7) or +1 Silver Heavy Flail +13/+8 (1d10+6)
Space/Reach: 5 feet/5 feet
Special Attacks: None
Special Qualities: Uncanny Dodge, Improved Uncanny Dodge, Rage 3/day, DR 1/-, Trap Sense +2, +2 verses spells, spell-like abilities, and poison, 60' darkvision, Stonecunning, +1 to hit goblinoids and orcs, +4 to AC verses Giants
Saves: Fort +11, Ref +5, Will +7
Abilities: Str 18, Dex 14, Con 18, Int 10, Wis 14, Cha 8
Skills: Knowledge(Dungeoneering) +5, Knowledge(Nature) +7, Listen +13, Survival +9, Swim +0
Feats: Power Attack, Cleave, Iron Will
Environment: Cauldron or Jzadirune (Vilhon Reach)
Organization: Solitary or Troupe (Gardrid, Pez, Tilly, Wathros, Rusty, Raphael)
Challenge Rating: 8
Treasure: Goods
Alignment: Chaotic Good

Before you stands a strange looking, unattractive, and exceptionally odorous dwarf. His hair has been cut in mohawk style, which along with his beard has been dyed bright orange. His face and ears are spotted with piercings, and large tatoos cover his arms. In his hands he carries a huge axe. His face becomes a rictus of rage, slobber begins rolling off his lips, and he charges!

The battlerager Gardid Craghammer is one of the Slayers of Glaugathor, a strange lodge of battleragers whose internal system to delineate rank is based on the most powerful creature slain by the individual slayer. While only short of beard, Gardrid's rank and title has swollen immensely since he and his clansman, Rusty Anvilbreaker, decided to leave Glaugathor in search of adventure in Cauldron.

COMBAT

Rage: Gardrid can rage 3/day, gaining a +4 bonus to Strength and Constitution, +2 morale bonus to Will saves, and -2 to AC. Gardrid's rage lasts for 9 rounds.

EQUIPMENT

+1 Great Axe, +1 Silver Heavy Flail, +1 Chainmail, Ring of Protection +1, Cloak of Resistance +1, Slippers of Spider Climbing, Ring of Feather Falling, Amulet of Health +2, 2 Oils of Bless Weapon, 6 Potions of Cure Moderate Wounds

Hey Gfunk,did you consider taking Extend Spell for your feat?

Those cleric buffs are going to be more useful the more they last.And it also paves the way toward Persistent Spell.I know you won't reach the high levels a pure cleric does,but even extended or persistent low level buffs like Divine Favor,Aid etc are going to help you a lot.

I guess Joachim can inform you about these too,seeing that he is the cleric specialist of the group.

Barring metamagic feats you could go for Combat Expertise,II and Cleave ain't too shabby either.I have a special fondness towards Combat Expertise,since my Bladesinger used to utilize it to great effect.My teammates dubbed my character "AC elevator",since I used to adjust my AC almost every single round!

DUNGEONS AND DRAGONS

As it turned out, there was very little discussion on the matter. The others knew that Gardrid and Rusty would not be dissuaded from this mission. It was, after all, the very reason they had come to Cauldron. Furthermore, the others also knew that each of them owed their lives to the dwarves at some point or another, and they could not refuse to offer their assistance after all they had been through together.

Pez received permission from Jenya to take a temporary leave of absence. Tilly said his goodbyes to Maple, who was understanding, but still wiped tears from her eyes as her partner walked out the door. Wathros sent word to Shensen that his return would be delayed, and Raphael closed the shrine, posting a notice saying services would resume at a date to be announced. So it was, without fanfare, that the Bright Axes set out from Cauldron once again, journeying north, deeper into the mountains, following the map Celeste had given them. They were all mounted, save for Pez, who flew above and ahead of the group, scouting, and Wathros, who joined the archon in eagle form. The trip was a brief one, only taking two days, but it was not uneventful. The wilds around the frontier city were far from tame, and far from safe. Along the way the company encountered many dangerous and deadly creatures, including a land shark, a scavenging troll, hunting griffons, marauding ogres, and cunning displacer beasts. It was a harrowing journey, but the companions were veterans now, skilled at working together, and it was more unfortunate for these monsters and beasts that they encountered the Bright Axes than the other way around.

Several hours after dawn on their third day of travel, the company came upon a scenic alpine meadow. In its center sat a thatch hut surrounded by a low wooden fence crudely painted to look as if it were made of brick and mortar. Four thick posts had been driven into the ground at each corner of the fence, and a mixture of wood and fabric had been strung between them to form an unconvincing simulation of a stone tower. Here and there tufts of straw poked out of gaps in the walls of these ‘towers.’
As they gazed at the strange sight, something far stranger, and much more alarming suddenly drew their attention. With a whoosh of crimson wings, what was unmistakably a smallish (if one considered an elephant small) dragon soared over the ridge west of the hut, bearing down on it quickly. Just then, an old man dressed in tattered robes and carrying a silver rod ran from the hut, heading towards the party.

Tilly, guessing that the old man was the Jared they were looking for, spurred his war pony forward, trying to reach him before the dragon did. Behind and above him, he could hear the voices of Pez and Rusty raised in incantation. No doubt they were preparing themselves for the horrific battle that would come if the dragon was intent on this particular prey. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Wathros dropping out of the sky, and coming to land near his wolf, obviously taking up a defensive position. Just as Tilly reached the man, Pez swooped in behind him, “Are you Jared?” the archon shouted, “What is going on here?”
“It is fortuitous that you have arrived my knights!” the old man shouted, “The beast means to raze our fair kingdom! Onward my soldiers! Onward for Anduria!” He then raised his silver rod with a flourish, and in the blink of an eye his weather-stained garments became beautiful robes, rich enough for a king, and indeed a golden crown now sat upon his brow. Pez turned with a scowl towards Tilly and said dryly, “Wonderful. He’s mad. Make sure he doesn’t injure himself.” With that he took to the air once more and landed in front of the hut, shouting up at the approaching wyrm, “Here! I challenge you! Face my wrath if you will!”
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Gotrrod, for that was the dragon’s name, watched the scene below him with calm disdain. He didn’t know who these other humans were, only that they were interfering with his immediate goals. So be it, they could all roast together. Still, they did appear to be a well-armed lot and there was no sense taking unnecessary risks. He hovered in the air above the hut, his great wings churning up great clouds of dust on the ground, and he began calling upon his somewhat rudimentary arcane skills to gird himself a bit more effectively for combat.
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Rusty could not see the dragon well, hidden as it was within the swirling dust devil, but he could hear its voice chanting clearly. This was not the dragon tongue it spoke in, but the language of magic. It was a spell-caster, and it was preparing defensive magics against them. Thinking quickly, the priest called upon his own divine abilities and began weaving a counter spell, meant to negate the protections woven by the dragon.
Just then, he heard the old man shouting something from the middle of the field, and it took him a moment to realize that he was…reciting poetry.

“And lo! The brave knights of Anduria fair,
Faced the dragon, far from its lair.
They weaved their magic to defend their home,
To teach the beast no more to roam!”

Strangely enough, Rusty began to feel…inspired. Though the man’s words were nonsense, something about them stirred the warrior in him. He began to feel that indeed they would defeat this dragon and defend their…kingdom?

Pez continued to stare upward as the dragon hovered above. He wasn’t sure of the wisdom of this present course of action, but at least Jared was momentarily out of harm’s way. But then he heard a sharp intake of breath from the cloud overhead, and suddenly he was enveloped by heat and fire. The hut immediately ignited into a bonfire. Pez could feel his skin blistering and his hair smoldering. He nearly collapsed from the sheer pain, but he stayed on his feet, and for a moment, he had a clear view of the beast directly over him. Focusing through the pain, he hurled a sonic blast of magical energy at it. He had hoped to stun the dragon, causing it to fall to earth, but the creature was too strong for that. Still, it obviously felt pain from the sound burst, as it roared in rage. Knowing he would not be able to withstand another such assault, Pez leaped into the air, and soared low to the ground, out across the field towards Rusty, needing the healing abilities of the priest so that he could fight on.

Wathros watched the battle with dread, but also with a morbid curiosity. He had come to Cauldron seeking the ranger Oso, who had been sent by the Emerald Enclave to gather information about a marauding red dragon in the mountains nearby. Could this be that same creature? Somehow, the druid doubted it. Though this beast was impressive to be sure, he did not think that a body as powerful as the Enclave would concern itself with such an obviously young wyrm. No, this was probably the offspring of the monster they were looking for, but that fact was not at all reassuring. Whatever the case might by, Wathros knew that if he was going to have any chance to report this sighting to his superiors, he was going to have to survive here and now. He began a summoning spell, opening up a portal to the plane of air, and calling a creature forth that he thought might provide a distraction, and inflict some damage at the same time. Out of thin air, a small hawk appeared near the dragon. Wathros imparted his command mentally to the elemental, and it wheeled towards the beast, opening its beak, and spewing out a bolt of pure electricity. The druid then immediately began weaving another spell, intending to begin calling the lightning from the clouds above.

Tilly felt helpless. He was trying desperately to control his mount to keep it from bolting, while at the same time attempting to stay near the insane hermit and keep him out of harm’s way. Meanwhile, Pez was taking the brunt of the assault, and no one was able to assist him. Desperate, the halfling drew his crossbow from his saddle and lined up a shot, firing it almost blindly into the billowing dust storm. He was stunned to hear an answering screech from the dragon. He had actually hit it!
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Gotrrod was furious! These insects had actually caused him pain! How dare they?! Well, he would show them the error of their audacity. He would scorch the earth for miles around, and their bones as well. He could hear the sounds of spell weaving again, and knew that the one who commanded the lightning bird was attempting to summon even more magic against him. The puny creature was not going to get that chance. Beating his wings furiously, Gotrrod began winging his way out over the meadow.
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“Many thanks, my friend,” Pez said as Rusty mended the worst of his wounds. “What’re ye waitin’ fer?” the taciturn dwarf replied, “Get back in there, and try not to mess up my stitchery.” Pez nodded silently, and then gazed up at the looming shape of the dragon as it closed rapidly on Wathros’ position. He was the only one of the group capable of reaching the beast. He gathered himself, and steeled his resolve. He knew this might be his final act on this plane of existence, but he comforted himself with the knowledge that at least he might finally be able to return home to Celestia. Gripping his sword in both hands he took a running start and leaped skyward, pumping his wings mightily in a full out charge for the wyrm. At the last moment, the dragon caught sight of his approach. Its neck whipped about like a coiled viper and it struck at him, clamping down across his ribs and opening up new and terrible wounds.

From the ground Wathros watched Pez’ noble, if perhaps futile, charge. He tried to aid the archon in the only way he could, hurling bolts of lightning from the clouds, while at the same time directing his conjured elemental to continue its own electrical assault.

Gotrrod wheeled about to confront Pez, swooping his wings down to keep him hovering in mid-air. Pez knew what was coming, and tried to bring his blade up to fend off the assault, but it was like holding out a twig to stop a charging bull. With teeth and claws the dragon tore into the warrior, like a cat pouncing upon a mouse. As Pez was thrown backwards, the wyrm followed up with a tremendous swipe of its tail, buffeting the archon end over end. He spiraled from the sky, hitting the ground in an unmoving heap. At that moment, the hawk-like air spirit dove at Gotrrod, spitting lightning at the dragon’s eyes. Gotrrod shrieked in rage and pain, and then snapped his jaws down upon the elemental, crushing it instantly.

Rusty watched as Pez fell, and cursed roundly. Urging his mount into a gallop he quickly closed to the fallen warrior. He was still alive, but just barely. Again calling upon his formidable powers of healing, the dwarf began mending Pez’ injuries. Shortly, Pez opened his eyes, and coughed up a gout of blood. He rose quickly to his feet, wiping his mouth and retrieving his sword. He didn’t say a word to the priest, only nodded again. “The Bright Lady’s blessin’ be upon ye lad,” Rusty said solemnly. He guessed he was sending his friend to his death, but what other option was there? Then, he heard Jared’s voice again calling out from the middle of the field.

“Like an angel of light,
The winged warrior took flight.
He looked into the dragon’s maw,
And his own death he foresaw.”

“He was struck from the sky,
And at the dark shore he did lie.
But he rose from the ground,
And his great trumpet did sound.”

“The battle was not done,
He would not stop till ‘twas won.
So once more he did fly,
And this time the dragon would die!”

Again, Pez felt himself stirred by the old fool’s nonsensical words. Beyond that, he felt stronger some how, and fearless. He felt those words to be true, portentous. He would indeed win victory this day!

However, at that precise moment, Gotrrod’s fiery breath engulfed the spot where Pez and Rusty stood, enveloping Wathros and Onesock as well. The wolf and the druid both immediately dropped to the ground, rolling over and over to try and extinguish the flames. Wathros quickly pulled a healing elixir from his belt, quaffing its contents to staunch his pain so the he would not lose his concentration on his spell. Gesturing once again, he rained lightning down upon Gotrrod, hoping to distract the dragon before it could gather itself for another attack. Rusty cast one final healing charm upon Pez and then turned his horse away, “Yer own yer own from here, boy! I can’t stand the heat!” Digging his heals into the horse’s flanks, the priest tore across to the other side of the field, where he could take a momentary respite and tend to some of his own grievous wounds.

Furious at the dragon’s relentless assault, and at their apparent inability to stop it, Pez flung his sonic blast skyward again. Yet again it failed to have the desired effect, but still the beast was injured. While it was still reeling, Pez flew at it once more. Gotrrod recovered just as the archon approached. He barrel-rolled underneath the winged warrior, biting at his leg as he passed. Then, coming up behind the archon, the dragon leaped full upon him. Pez was completely overwhelmed, and he felt himself slipping into blackness for the second time. He was unconscious as his body struck the ground near Wathros, bleeding profusely. The druid quickly scrambled over to his friend, feeling his thready pulse. He was no healer, but he was at least able to stop the hemorrhaging. As he stood up to renew his lightning assault upon the wyrm, he felt a shadow pass over him. He looked up just as Gotrrod’s mouth opened wide, and a blast of liquid fire was the last thing he saw.

Tilly looked on in horror. How could this be happening? First Pez, twice, and now Wathros and Onesock as well, for the wolf had been right by his master’s side as that last burst struck. What were they going to do? He looked around, trying to see if there was any hope of fleeing, or of finding cover. His eyes fell upon Gardrid. The battlerager stood rigid in the center of the meadow, his face a rictus of rage as he stared helplessly at the dragon and at his fallen companions. The dwarf began striding purposefully towards the carnage, screaming up at the beast in his native tongue, spittle and froth flying from his mouth.
“Gardrid! No!” Tilly shouted after him. It was suicide. He was walking to his death. Tilly spurred his horse into a run, closing the distance with the battlerager just as the dragon circled once, and then finally landed, only a few scant yards away.

Coherent thought had left Gardrid. This whole time he had been forced to watch impotently as Pez fought alone, and fell. As Wathros threw all that he had at the dragon, and fell. No more. He would bring the dragon to him, even if it tore him to shreds. He would not let his friends’ deaths be meaningless. He hurled the most vile dwarven curses he could imagine at the monster, taunting it and cajoling it, and now it seemed to have had the desired effect. The beast was here, and blood red, killing fury was all that the battlerager felt.

Tilly angled his horse between Gardrid and the dragon, hoping to delay the dwarf long enough to snap him to his senses. He never got a chance, however, as Gotrrod lunged at him, raking him with its razor talons, and almost unseating him. Gardrid roared and rushed towards the dragon, who immediately turned on him and bit him savagely. The dragon moved with feline grace, leaping forward with blinding speed. Its fangs flashed, snapping repeatedly at Gardrid, while it buffeted Tilly with its sail-like wings. Its tail lashed like a whip, snapping into the battlerager as he staggered under the brutal assault. At that moment, Rusty, who had ridden back across the field to aid his friends, had been trying to maneuver around behind Gardrid, hoping to give the battlerager the last of his healing power, when he was struck full on by one of Gotrrod’s claw-tipped wings. The priest was knocked from his horse, and sprawled, unmoving, several yards away.

“A new warrior took up the fight,
A dwarf whose axe was burning bright.
Though battered and beaten by the dragon’s ire,
He would not succumb to the burning fire.”

Jared’s song rang out clear, causing all who heard it to hesitate for an instant. Gardrid’s heart began to swell with pride. Yes, he was indeed Hela’s shining Axe. He would not succumb. With another roar, he leaped at the wyrm, his axe blade whirling so fast as to appear as nothing but a blur. Gotrrod did not retreat, but met him head-on, ripping and tearing into the dwarf with renewed fury. Blood flew in fountains, through from whom, it was unclear. Tilly circled wide of the melee, fear a tangible taste in his mouth. Still, he knew Gardrid couldn’t maintain this pace for much longer. He would fall, and then it would be his own turn. He had to act now. Summoning a reserve of courage he did not know he had, he drew both his blades, and with a cry of pure desperation, he bounded upon the dragon’s back. Gotrrod hissed and spat, rearing up and whipping from side to side, trying to dislodge the halfling. Tilly plunged one sword into each of the wyrm’s ears, twisting them as they sank home. Gotrrod shrieked in agony, standing up to his full height on his hind legs. Tilly held on desperately, but then the dragon dropped straight backward, landing fully on his back, and crushing the small halfling beneath all his weight. The dragon rolled instantly to his feet, just as Gardrid came rushing in. Gotrrod breathed a torrent of flames upon the dwarf, pushing him away, and staggering him enough to move in for the kill. At that moment, Jared stepped between the combatants, “The dragon breathed its final breath, before it tasted lasting death!” With a snort of disdain, Gotrrod slapped the old man away with his tail, chuckling as the frail bag of bones did not rise again. He would feast this day, to be sure. He had just one minor detail to deal with. As he turned his attention one last time towards Gardrid, his eyes flew open in shocked surprise as the dwarf’s axe buried itself between them. A small wisp of flame and smoke escaped his mouth as he breathed his last.
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Gardrid staggered over to where Rusty lay. His friend was still alive, thank the gods. Rummaging in the priest’s belt pouches, he found several healing draughts. He drank one himself to keep from losing consciousness, then fed one to Rusty. The two of them then went to each of their companions. Wathros and Tilly were dead, there could be no doubt. Pez still clung to life, as did Onesock. “Get the paladin,” Rusty said curtly to Gardrid as he began trying to revive Pez. Raphael had remained behind in the jungle in case Jared’s place had been in trap. He would be the rear guard. Now it seemed the group had made a fatal error in leaving anyone behind.

Gardrid retrieved one of the horses and rode quickly into the wilderness. Within an hour he had found Raphael and explained very briefly what had transpired. The paladin was grief and guilt stricken. They hurried back to the clearing and found Pez conscious again. Rusty was tending to Jared and had already bound Onesock’s wounds, though the wolf lay still as death. “Pez, I…” Raphael began, but he was silenced by a cold look from the archon. Pez didn’t blame the paladin, of course. It had been a group decision. He was just in no mood for meaningless apologies. He set Raphael to work helping Rusty and he went and gathered up Tilly’s and Wathros’ bodies. “What are ye about?” Gardrid asked, as he noticed Pez stripping off all of their gear. “I’m taking them back to Cauldron,” Pez answered, not looking at him. “I’m taking them to Jenya. Maybe she can…help.” “Help?” Gardrid asked incredulously, “I’m afraid they're a bit beyond that, less of course she’s got some last words to say over’em.” “She may be able to do more than you think,” Pez said. These people had been his responsibility. He should be lying here, not them. They had looked to him for leadership and guidance, and he had only succeeded in leading them to their deaths. He had to answer for that. He was beginning to understand what it meant to be truly mortal, and what it meant to suffer loss.

Wathros had carried a magical backpack, capable of carrying far more than it appeared. Pez emptied it completely, and then opening the center compartment, he carefully tucked Tilly into it. He then shouldered Wathros, and turned one final time to Gardrid. “See what you can learn from the old man. I’ll be back in a day…two at the most.” Spreading his wings, he then lifted into the sky, and quickly vanished over the tree line.
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When Gardrid returned to the others, he found Jared awake, and talking animatedly. “My noble and glorious knights!” he said, clapping his hands together gleefully, “You have made your king, and Anduria proud this day!” “Stop yer babblin’ old-timer,” Gardrid snapped. “What’s this Anduria yer on about? And in case ye didn’t notice, we lost two of our men in that fight! What kind of score did that dragon have with ye?” Jared’s face became somber for a moment. “Alas, I mourn the loss of your brothers-in-arms. Truly their exploits will be told in the annals of the kingdom for years to come. I know not why yon wretched beast struck. Great and powerful is Anduria, and its wealth is known far and wide. Dragons are avaricious creatures, and no doubt this one sought to add Anduria’s gold to its own trove. What is Anduria, you ask? Why…this!” Jared began making strange gestures in the air, and muttering arcane words. In an instant the meadow was transformed into rolling countryside, with bountiful farmland of tilled fields. In the distance a grand castle stood, pennants flying. “It’s a figment,” Rusty muttered aside, having recognized the spell cast by Jared, “This one’s nuttier than a bedbug.” “Look mister,” Gardrid said, turning again to Jared, a look of exasperation on his face, “We’re from Cauldron. We were sent to ye by a lady named Celeste. She said you could point the way to an entrance to the Underdark.” “Cauldron!” Jared shouted happily, “How is that town? It is certainly one of the finer ones in my realm. Are the resident’s carefree under the gentle hand of the Lord Mayor? I am cheered to see the city rebuilt after the long siege by the army of Kheltos.” “Er…whatever,” Gardrid said, shaking his head, “About that path to the Underdark?” “Indeed,” Jared continued, “It is located in a foul place known as the Pit of Seven Jaws. If some servant will fetch me pen and parchment, I can easily sketch you a map to the place. Why, just last week I sent five-hundred of Anduria’s finest to guard against an incursion by the mind flayers.” Rusty provided writing materials for the hermit, and while he was busy drawing asked about Zenith. “Know him?” Jared said, looking up from his work, “He bowed before this very throne before he left to battle the mind flayers of the Underdark. I sent five hundred of Anduria’s finest to act as the vanguard of his army.” “Ye sure got a lot of troops to loan out,” Gardrid said sarcastically, “Oh yes,” said Jared, “Anduria’s army is mighty. If you like, I can send a battalion with you as well.”
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Pez flew swiftly through the rest of the day and into the night. He arrived in Cauldron well after moonrise, and alighted upon the rooftop of the temple. He found Jenya alone in her study. She rose quickly, a stricken look upon her face as he deposited his dead companions on the floor before her. He told her the story of what befell them, “So you see,” he finished, “their deaths are upon my head. I beseech you to offer what aid you may.” Jenya looked sadly upon her old friend, “Do not take this on yourself Pez. They made their own choices, and laid down their lives willingly. You would have done the same in their place, and almost did from what you tell me. Still, raising the dead is no small feat. It is a costly process, and the gods do not look lightly upon petitioners being plucked from their realms. I shall have to ask the dead if they wish to return before I can complete this task.”

The next morning, Tilly and Wathros were laid upon altars in the main chapel, purple shrouds draped about them. Jenya began the lengthy ritual, calling upon one of the most holy of Tyr’s powers…the return of the dead to life. She reached out across the span of the planes, touching the distant souls of the dead men. She asked each one if they desired to return to their lives and complete the quest they had set for themselves. Both answered affirmatively, and the ceremony was complete. Tilly and Pez were weak as newborn babies as they opened their eyes, but the priests of the temple healed their fatigue and their lingering wounds. By the next day they were ready, and eager to return to their friends and proceed with their mission.
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The reunion was a happy one, and many stories were swapped of the battle with Gotrrod, greatly embellished by Jared. The crazy hermit was saddened to see his ‘knights’ leave, but he wished them well, instructing them to report to the captain of the Andurian guard when the reached the Pit of Seven Jaws. The companions agreed indulgingly, and then set out once more into the mountains, headed north again.

They were on the road another day and a half before they came upon another alpine meadow. This one, however, was scarred by a forty-foot wide pit in its center. It was surrounded by low mounds of dirt and rock that had once filled it. A metal-grate, spiral stairway wound its way down along the inner surface of the hole. The bottom was some sixty feet below. The party began the descent cautiously, with Pez circling down to the bottom quickly, and Gardrid landing right behind him, having jumped from the top of the pit and floated harmlessly down using a magic bauble he had purchased.

No sooner had his feet touched the floor, than Gardrid heard a loud hiss coming from the dark recesses under the staircase. He could now see a large rift in the southern wall of the pit, and within this opening stood a monstrous beast with a reptilian body and seven snake-like heads topping seven long, sinuous necks. Gardrid recognized the creature as a hydra. He had seen dead ones in the trophy halls of his clan, and had been told horrific stories of what fearsome beasts they were, and how chopping off one of its heads merely made it sprout two more. While the battlerager was lost in his reverie, the hydra emerged from the shadows and lashed out at him, the jaws of one of its heads latching firmly onto his arm. Gardrid cursed in pain and anger. Gripping his axe in his free hand, he began chopping at the beast, opening great rents in its hide. However, as quickly as the wounds appeared, they began to immediately heal. Pez quickly rushed to his friend’s side, determined that no one else would fall on his watch. He leveled his great sword at the creature and drove it deep into its body.

The rest of the group began descending the stairs rapidly, hearing the sounds of combat below. They had made it about halfway down, when a blast of frigid air struck them from below. Several of the hydra’s heads had opened their mouths and breathed frost from them. Gardrid and Pez had also been struck. This was something Gardrid had definitely not heard of…cold-breathing hydras. Wasn’t just being a hydra bad enough? The dwarf redoubled his attacks upon the creature, inflicting several more telling blows, but taking several in return from the snapping teeth.

Tilly decided that he was not making good enough time. He’d made it just over halfway down the stairs when the breath weapon struck. He’d had quite enough of breathing reptiles to last him a life time, and he wasn’t going to sit around and wait for this one to finish him off. Grabbing the stair rail, he vaulted over the side, somersaulting in mid-air to land on his feet twenty-five feet below. Not to be outdone, Onesock also leaped over the railing, landing gracefully right in front of the hydra and not hesitating to start some biting of his own. Once again the hydra unleashed its icy breath, leaving a layer of frost on the skin of everyone. It continued to bite and snap, but its attacks were becoming slower and weaker. Despite its amazing recuperative powers, it was just losing too much blood to keep up, and one final blow from Gardrid’s axe ended its struggle altogether.

Beyond the hydra’s corpse the rift sloped away into darkness, leading deeper into the bowels of the earth.

I must say, that really was a tough encounter! A dragon out in the open has proven very deadly once again... That's something for Gardrid to talk to his battlerager buddies about! Is he keeping the head or is the damage too great?

Nice ryhming JollyDoc, the crazy hermit really came accross.

Great stuff!

I'm interested to know how great an effect the Bardic Music (I presume that was what it was?) had on the party. Were there any rolls that wouldn't have been made without it?