Mathew_Freeman
First Post
Three guesses, even.Lela said:
JollyDoc's Shackled City
Angcuru said:Anyone else find it a bit funny/ironic that the only remaining original party member is Tilly, the cowarly halfling thief-turned semi-brave warrior?
As Wulf Ratbane would be sure to remind us, you can't keep a good peck down. Particularly when said peck drops everything and runs at the first sign of trouble.
Great game JollyDoc. Both fun and totally unforgiving. Pez and Gardrid were great characters. Here's hoping that Caine and Ajax can live up to the standards set by their illustrious predecessors.
Morrow
Neverwinter Knight
First Post
I don't think this is funny or ironic. Cowards tend to survive longer in DnD.Angcuru said:Anyone else find it a bit funny/ironic that the only remaining original party member is Tilly, the cowarly halfling thief-turned semi-brave warrior?
That reminds me of all the arcane spellcasters I played...
MoonSaber
First Post
Neverwinter Knight said:
Shhh!
Don't give JollyDoc ideas, he has plenty of his own.
Honestly, you are more or less right, when he died against the dragon I think it had a lot to do with him trying to do something he shouldn't (save pez) it's not his specialty.
I think him escaping the last near TPK had more to do with generosity from JollyDoc, although maybe the demon did not wish to face someone who can summon allies outside the sanctum of the temple. (I can dream)
Joachim said:
Donno, both of mine have been pretty good to me. I originally had the subcompact but as my family has grown I gave up milage for space.
Angcuru said:
Ki is the essence of life in Japanese, or soul.
Ki means "To rise of come out from" and "a" refers to asia in Korean.
Although, I hadn't thought about the military term KIA before in regards to them, and I am a US Army vet, so that in itself is amusing.
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Amen! Don't forget this quote in Entropy's 3.5 write-up:Neverwinter Knight said:I don't think this is funny or ironic. Cowards tend to survive longer in DnD.
"As a chosen of the drow deity of undeath and vengeance, Entropy is truly a dreadful foe to behold. Though her power is extreme, she is a coward at heart and will rarely risk sacrificing her own life in the face of real danger."
Long live the coward!
JollyDoc
Explorer
Morrow said:
Thanks Morrow! And thanks to the rest of you for keeping this a lively SH, even in between updates. Hopefully new one will be up by tomorrow, and many questions will be answered. Here's a teaser...Rusty may be down, but not out, and our little dwarf friend shows that he could teach even Gardrid a lesson or two in the old cajones department.
JollyDoc
Explorer
The following post supercedes previous posts introducing Caine and Ajax.
THE OLD ORDER CHANGETH
Prologue:
Caine meditated alone in the small acolyte’s cell that had been provided for him by Jenya. She had offered one of the more comfortable guest rooms at the temple, but he had declined, asking for only the basics. He had arrived in Cauldron several days before, merely another stopover on his continuing journey. As was his custom upon reaching a new city or town, he had come to the goodliest church and offered them his services during his stay. This could include anything from tending the grounds, to running a soup kitchen for the homeless. Over the years he had performed many such services to multiple churches and this was but the most recent. Still, something felt different here. He couldn’t put his finger on it, couldn’t really even say what had brought him to this small frontier city. It certainly had not been on his way to anywhere. He just…found himself at the gates one day. He wouldn’t go so far as to say that he had been called, but he knew he belonged here. Something was going to happen, and it was going to be soon.
_____________________________________________________
Ajax paced the grounds of the temple for the hundredth time in a row. What was he doing here? Why had the Council sent him to such a gods-forsaken place? He knew better than to ever question a directive, but he could not help but feel that his talents and skills were being wasted. The High Priestess seemed to know who he was immediately when he had arrived two days ago. She almost seemed to be expecting him, yet she had not set him any specific tasks. He had tried to busy himself about the temple, but there was really nothing he could help with. He had wandered about town, hoping something would be revealed to him as to the nature of this mission, but he was equally disappointed. Although he was immortal, sometimes idle days could seem like an eternity.
__________________________________________________________
“I’m sorry to have disturbed you Caine, but I feel I may have need of your services after all,” Jenya said, seating herself at her desk, across from the strange beggar. He had come to the church offering to work, but asking for no compensation. Quite the contrary…the man had made a substantial monetary donation, one that seemed far beyond his means. Jenya was sympathetic to the plight of wanderers and the homeless, and ordinarily she would have provided such a person with a hot meal and a warm bed for a night or two, but this one was different…compelling some how. She had felt that it was necessary to have him stay on, though she did not know why. Until now. Now everything was becoming clear, including the appearance of the deva on her doorstep. Frankly, due to the events of the past several months, nothing much shocked the High Priestess any longer, though her dream last night came very close. It was more of a vision really…a horrific one. In it, she had witnessed Pez’ death. She instinctively knew it to be true, not just some nightmare. The details were not clear, though she knew he died valiantly, but at the hands of a great evil. The vision further urged her to send aid to him, though he was beyond aid. She could only surmise that some of his companions…the Bright Axes…yet survived. Again, she knew implicitly that this was the reason Ajax had been sent to her, and also this man Caine. Both had some important role to play here.
She told the story of the Bright Axes to Caine, being both succinct and direct. She told of their past exploits on behalf of the city, and of their recent undertaking to return the dwarven defender, Zenith Splintershield. She then told him of Pez’ death. “So now I come to the crux of my request,” she continued. “I would ask that you undertake to find any survivors of the Bright Axes, and see them safely home. I will send with you a protector, one whom I trust completely, and who is beyond reproach.”
Caine pondered her words for a few moments. Yes, this felt right. This was the sign. “I will do as you ask,” he replied, “but I would meet this companion you have chosen for me.”
Jenya moved to the door of her office, and ushered Ajax inside. She had already relayed to the deva the contents of her vision, and her expectations of him. He had agreed without hesitation.
Caine did not see the deva. Instead, he saw a nondescript, bald man in drab clothes who wore a symbol of the moon goddess Selune’ about his neck. While Caine thought it strange for a follower of Tyr to wear the sign of another, he did not question Jenya’s judgment. “I have traveled many years, and many miles, with many companions,” he said, rising to greet Ajax, “and of each one, I have asked an oath. I have foresworn violence, and I ask of you that you swear to harm no helpless or defenseless being or creature while in my company. Whether you accept or decline has no bearing on whether or not I will travel with you, but I must ask nonetheless.” Ajax considered the request. It was not in his nature to kill needlessly or brutally. On the surface, he saw no reason not to agree to the beggar’s terms, yet in the back of his mind he wondered what would happen if he should ever encounter one of his blood sworn enemies…a fiend. Still, he would swear the oath, and trust his conscience to guide him.
Day 0, AP (after Pez)
Wathros and Tilly sat huddled in a small side passage, darkness pressing in on them on all sides, for they dared not light a fire for fear of attracting predators, or worse yet, the she-devil. For quite some time neither had spoken. The shock of what had just happened robbed them of words to describe their feelings. It was Tilly who finally broke the long silence: “What now?” he croaked, his voice raw and ragged.
“We go back,” Wathros stated flatly, no trace of emotion in his voice.
“Back?” Tilly asked incredulously. “Are you crazy? We’ll be killed, just like the others!” His voice had started to rise in a panic.
“You misunderstand me,” Wathros continued calmly, “Not back to the shrine…back to Cauldron. We have no choice. We have failed. We have no hope of finding Zenith Splintershield on our own, and our friends are beyond our help.”
Tilly nodded silently to himself. To hear the words spoken aloud drove the fact home to him. His friends were dead, just like Salazar. Was he forever destined to live on while those he cared about died? Perhaps Maple was right. Maybe it was time for him to retire and settle down. Maybe the adventuring life was not for him after all. The two remaining Bright Axes gathered their gear and set out into the Underdark once more. To make haste, Wathros transformed himself into a large wolf, and Tilly rode on his back. Onesock ran with his master, and the miles passed in darkness.
Due to the speed of the wolves, they reached the Pit of Seven Jaws while daylight still remained, and by sunset, they had made their way back to Jarred’s clearing. The old bard greeted them warmly, but his smile faded as he realized how few had returned. “What has happened?” the hermit asked, “Where are the angelic knight, the noble savage, and the pious priest?” Though he did not wish to speak of it, Tilly related the tale, and when he’d finished, Jarred bowed his head and covered his eyes. “Alas!” he wailed, “Anduria has lost its greatest champions! Woe to our beloved kingdom! I will compose a great ballad of their heroism and valor! They will go down in Andurian history as legends!” And so Tilly and Wathros passed the night with Jarred, listening as he wove the story of their companions into an epic poem…a fitting eulogy.
Day 1, AP
Rusty came to, slowly and painfully. His entire body felt like one giant bruise. His head was pounding and dried blood was caked in his eyes. He pulled himself gradually to a sitting position and saw that he was in a cell of some sort, completely bare except for a bucket of stagnant water. He was naked except for a loincloth, with no sign of any of his gear, nor his Mystran amulet. He finished pulling himself to his feet by grasping the close-set bars of the cell. The hallway beyond was empty, and ran parallel, so that his view to either side was blocked after just a few feet.
Bits and pieces of memory began to return to him, and he remembered the fall of both Pez and Gardrid. Crying out in anguish and rage, he picked up the bucket and began hammering it against the cell bars, hoping some guard would appear so the he could vent his fury.
“Hey, you finally awake in there?” The voice came from somewhere to his right, perhaps from another cell.
“Who’s that?” Rusty shouted. “Where am I?”
The voice snorted brief laughter, “Well, I think you know exactly where you are. You’re a ‘guest’ of the frog-men. As to your first question, I’m White-Eye, also an unfortunate guest, wrongly imprisoned.”
“How long have I been here?” Rusty asked. “Did you see them bring anyone else in besides me?”
“They brought you in yesterday,” White-Eye responded. “You were pretty badly beaten up. They didn’t bring anyone else. Sorry.”
Rusty bowed his head against the bars. They meant the others were all dead. He was the only survivor, but who knew for how long. He had to get out of here.
“How long have you been here?” he asked White-Eye.
“Oh, I’d guess about five weeks now,” said White-Eye, “I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Just looking to find a few loose trinkets, if you know what I mean.”
“Don’t listen to him! He’s lying!” A new voice came from further down the hall to Rusty’s left. “He’s a spy for the kuo-toans! He locked himself in that cell just a few minutes before you woke up!”
“Who’s that?” Rusty asked suspiciously.
“Hah!” White-Eye laughed, “You’re a fine one to talk of spies, wizard! It’s you who loves the frog-men, not I! Now shut your yap!”
The exchange continued for several more minutes, and Rusty finally retreated to the back of his cell. The kuo-toans may have taken his holy symbol, but they could not so easily sever his link to his goddess. Praying softly to himself, he summoned Mystra’s gifts and began mending some of his wounds, the voices of his neighbors fading into the background.
Sometime later, Rusty opened his eyes as he heard bare footsteps, and the jingle of keys. Two kuo-toans stood outside his cell, one armored much like the ones they had fought in the temple, the other naked and carrying two buckets. The armored one unlocked the cell, and then stood behind the door as it swung open, while the second carefully set the buckets inside and retrieved the empty one. The door was relocked and the pair retreated without a word. One bucket contained more rank water, while the second held a nauseating assortment of fish heads, seaweed, snails and mollusks. Rusty smiled to himself. His meals would improve soon, and he would bide his time, noting the rotation of the guards until the right opportunity presented itself.
Day 2, AP
Ajax and Cain were on their second day out from Cauldron when they spotted the strange caravan coming over a rise towards them. A lone halfling was riding on a small pony, leading several normal size horses behind him. Trotting along side was a rather large wolf, gray in color with one white sock. A golden eagle perched on the saddle horn of one of the trailing horses.
“I believe we may have stumbled across our little lost lambs sooner than we expected,” Caine remarked with a smile to Ajax. Ajax stepped out into the middle of the trail and held up one hand in a gesture of peace.
Tilly drew his mount up several yards away from the pair of humans, eyeing them suspiciously. One could never be too sure of travelers on the road in these parts. “What do you think?” he whispered back to Wathros. In response, the eagle/druid took off into the air, circling low around the strangers. Tilly understood this to mean that if they tried anything funny, they would fry where they stood. He kicked his pony forward, and hailed them.
“You are Tillian Wanderfar?” the one who looked like a beggar asked.
“Who wants to know?” Tilly countered.
“I am called Caine. My companion is Ajax. We are sent on behalf of Jenya Urikas. We were told you might have need of our assistance.”
Tilly smiled in spite of himself. Leave it to Jenya to come through in a pinch. He dismounted, and motioned Wathros down. The druid landed, assuming his true form as he did.
“I’m afraid you are a little late,” Tilly said grimly, “We could have used your help a few days ago. Now, we are all that is left of our band.”
“Perhaps not,” Caine replied. “We know of your loss, but it may not be as complete as you think. Jenya has divined that one other lives still, and she has charged us with his rescue.”
“Do you know who it is?” Wathros asked.
“Alas, no,” Caine said, “We knew only that three yet lived, and here there are only two of you. Please, tell us your tale.”
Tilly and Wathros recounted their story once again, sparing no detail and when they were finished, Caine wiped a lone tear from his eye. “It is a sad story, to be sure, but perhaps with our assistance, you may yet tell a happier ending.”
“I’m not sure about that,” Tilly sighed, “And I’m not very enthusiastic about going back to Bhal-Hamatugn, but if there is any chance Gardrid, Rusty or Pez still lives, then we can’t leave them.”
“Agreed,” Caine nodded, “There is just one thing though. I am a pacifist, and I will not harm another living creature. I can aid you in many other ways, but I would ask of you an oath not to harm any defenseless creature while in my presence. Ajax has already sworn such.”
Tilly looked taken aback, “Well, I don’t know exactly what kind of help you can give if you’re no good in a fight, and I’m here to tell you that if I have the chance, I’m going to stick a knife in every frog-face I see, awake or asleep, armed or unarmed, ready or not!”
Wathros nodded in agreement, “Your oath is a fool’s choice. You have not seen the horrors that we have. Perhaps you will see things in a different light before all is said and done. As for myself, I believe in culling the weak from the herd.”
Caine simply smiled, “We shall see. Your choice is your own. It was fortunate that your foes did not share a similar philosophy when you left your friend behind. We should move on…our road is long.”
________________________________________________________
Rusty sat meditating quietly in his cell, waiting for the sound of the guards’ footsteps. They should be coming any moment. Indeed, he did hear footsteps approaching, but they were not the wet flapping of kuo-toan feet. Instead, it was an unsteady shuffling that Rusty heard, punctuated by an occasional low moan. He also heard a sharp hiss of fear come from White Eye’s cell. Suddenly, a shambling figure lurched to a halt before Rusty’s cell. It was humanoid, but beyond that Rusty could not tell, since it appeared to be wrapped head to toe in decaying, putrid bandages. Its eyes glowed a sickly yellow. It unlocked the door and then motioned Rusty forward, “Come,” it said in a thick, gravelly voice. Rusty approached cautiously, wishing now more than ever that he had his holy symbol. The thing shoved him unceremoniously in front of it, and down the cellblock passage. Shortly, they reached a descending stair, and beyond that, a damp corridor. This hall sloped steadily downward, and the water level on its floor rose gradually, until Rusty found himself wading through knee-deep liquid. They came to a room, lit by a floating brazier in the northwest corner. The chamber contained all manner of torture implements: shelves with scalpels, thumbscrews, and a large jar of salt. A well-oiled stretching rack stood along one wall, and a pair of manacles hung from the ceiling near the western wall. The water in the room came easily to Rusty’s chest. He was shoved into the chamber and towards the rack. The creature indicated in no uncertain terms that he should climb on.
“Yer more cracked than ye look!” Rusty laughed, but his laughter was cut short when he was cuffed soundly across the face. Wiping blood from his mouth, Rusty’s eyes narrowed, “Not quite a fair fight now is it? So, we’ll just have to take this up some other time.” With that, the priest turned and began moving through the flooded chamber as fast as he could, heading for a passageway on the far side. He could hear the torturer behind him, gaining rapidly. When he reached the archway, he found the water level to be shallower, and he broke into a dead sprint. The hall made two left turns and abruptly ended at a blank wall. “I’ll be damned,” the dwarf cursed, just as his pursuer caught up to him. With a growl, Rusty rushed forward, arms outstretched in an attempt to grapple the creature and shove him out of the way. However, he was stopped in his tracks by another powerful blow to the head, and another after that, and another…
“All right, all right,” Rusty wheezed, sagging against the wall, blood pouring from his nose and mouth, “Ye got me dead to rights.” The jailor seized him by the beard, dragging him bodily back to the chamber of horrors, and strapping him roughly onto the rack. “Now,” the creature rasped, “you will tell me who you are, what you are doing here, how many of you are there, where do you come from, and what do you want with Zenith Splintershield.”
“I’d sooner kiss yer mother!” Rusty spat, and then the torture began. How many hours it went on, Rusty did not know. He only knew that he eventually passed out from the agony…and that he never answered a single question.
Day 3, AP
Rusty woke to the familiar pain in his head. His eyes were nearly swollen shut, and his face felt ten times too big. Dragging himself to a sitting position, he began his daily prayer ritual, and immediately his pain eased as his wounds healed.
“Psst! You okay in there?” This from White Eye’s cell.
“No,” Rusty muttered, “but I will be. So, who’s the big fella with the mean left hook?”
“He calls himself Garekk,” White Eye said, a touch of fear in his normally cocksure voice. “He’s the frog-boys’ chief inquisitor.”
“You would know, wouldn’t you?” came the voice from their other block mate down the hall. “After all, you and he are big buddies!”
“Both of ya knock it off,” Rusty growled, “My head’s poundin’ enough as it is.”
“Watch yourself,” White Eye whispered, “He won’t give up until he breaks you. He’ll just keep coming back again and again.”
Rusty thought he had it figured out. He wasn’t sure exactly what Garekk was, but he was sure of one thing: he wasn’t among the living any longer. He was undead, and that realization actually brought a smile to the priest’s lips. Normally, with his holy symbol, he could call on the awesome, holy might of Mystra to blast the monstrosity into dust, or at least send it cowering back to its hole. Now, however, he would just have to resort to other means…
Just as White Eye had predicted, Garekk returned later in the afternoon. He unlocked Rusty’s cell, and stood outside, “Come,” he burbled.
“Nah!” Rusty said, moving to the back of the cell, “You come get me!”
Garekk gave a moan of anger, and lurched forward. As he rapidly closed the distance, Rusty began chanting, hurriedly calling up a charm of infliction, but the undead torturer was quicker than he appeared. He backhanded Rusty, rocking the dwarf’s head back to slam against the wall, dashing the spell from his lips. Undeterred, Rusty began again, but Garekk was right on him now, punching him in the gut, forcing the breath out of his lungs. Try as he might, Rusty could not complete his casting before the inquisitor hit him, over and over. In the end, the dwarf was slung like a sack over Garekk’s shoulder, and taken to the torture chamber once more. Though the examination went on twice as long this time, the stubborn priest uttered not one word.
Day 4, AP
Rusty now knew what he’d done wrong. The key was in the preparation. Long before he knew Garekk would come for him, he cast his spell, knowing it would last indefinitely until discharged. As he heard Garekk’s shuffling steps approaching, he hid his glowing fist behind his back.
“Come,” Garekk beckoned.
“Nope,” Rusty shook his head, “I’m ready to dance if you are, stinky.”
The jailor did not hesitate, rushing into the cell, arms outstretched. As he drew back to slap the dwarf, Rusty leaped forward, grabbing the creature’s face with his glowing hand. Garekk shrieked in agony, recoiling from the attack, both hands holding his smoking flesh. “How’d ya like that one, moldy?” Rusty laughed, hopping up and down, “There’s more where that came from, if ye want it!”
“Yeah!” Rusty heard White Eye cheer from the next cell, “Get him Rusty!”
Hissing, Garekk lunged forward again, but Rusty had time to prepare a second spell, and he grabbed the jailor’s wrist as he struck. The smell of burning flesh was nauseating, and Garekk wailed, but he did not retreat. He began raining blows upon the priest in earnest, sending him reeling from one side of the cell to the other, but Rusty was able to cast the occasional spell in between, and he gave as good as he got, taunting the inquisitor the whole time. Finally, the two combatants stood facing each other, both listing from side to side. Rusty was barely on his feet, and Garekk’s skin was burned down to the rotting bone in several places. But Rusty was out of spells. Even so, he kept one hand behind him, hoping to bluff the jailor into believing he was still dangerous. Indeed, Garekk seemed hesitant, but he risked one final assault, and Rusty’s bluff was called. The priest again went down, but this time Garekk left him unconscious in his cell. The inquisitor was too badly wounded to carry him, and so he retreated to his chamber to nurse his own wounds.
Day 5, AP
“I can’t believe that!” White Eye crowed. “You actually sent him running! He left you here!”
“Yeah,” Rusty said bitterly, “that’s the problem, I’m still in here. My plan didn’t work.”
“Are you kidding?” White Eye asked incredulously, “That was a major victory! I’ll be surprised if he comes back again.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Rusty muttered.
Garekk did not return that day, nor did the normal kuo-toan jailors who brought his food. Oh, they brought food to White Eye and the other prisoner, but they bypassed Rusty’s cell, glaring at him balefully. Rusty wasn’t overly concerned about starving. He called up a relatively simple spell, and before him appeared enough food to feed eight men, and pure water as well. He leaned back against his cell wall, a large drumstick in his hand, waiting for the inevitable, for he felt sure that now his captors saw him as a threat, and would eliminate him soon.
Day 6, AP
“There it is,” Tilly said quietly, peering out across the dark, underground lake at the dimly glowing, fish-like structure in the distance, “Bhal-Hamatugn.” The company’s trek through the mountains and subsequently through the Underdark had been tedious, but uneventful. Tilly and Wathros had heard Caine’s tale of how he’d come to Cauldron, but Ajax remained tight-lipped. The tall warrior would only say that he worked for Jenya, and was here by her command. They both seemed determined to complete this mission, however, so Tilly and Wathros questioned them no further, instead relating to them every detail they could of the kuo-toan temple, and the dangers they faced there.
The canoe that Tilly and Wathros had used was still moored at the base of the cliff, and the group climbed in and began paddling towards the shrine. They saw no evidence of increased vigilance about the place as they approached, and they were able to reach the main staircase without any sign of opposition. Cautiously, they made their way inside, and found the entry hall equally deserted.
“I don’t like this,” Tilly said quietly, “Where are they all?”
“Spread out,” Ajax said in a commanding voice that brooked no questioning, and he began moving towards the double doors at the far side.
“Careful,” Tilly warned, “Those are the ones I told you about.”
Suddenly, a raucous banging and shouting sounded from the passageway to the east, the one barred by a heavy, iron portcullis. “Hey out there!” a voice shouted, “Garekk, is that you? Come back and fight! I ain’t done with ye yet!”
“I believe that I recognize that particular ranting,” Wathros said, smiling. “I do believe that one of our dwarven friends is nearby.”
Tilly rushed quickly to the portcullis, and spun the handle in its center. The gate began to a rise, but with an earsplitting shriek of rusted gears. He reversed the crank, stopping it halfway, but leaving enough space for them to crawl underneath. Darting through, he ran towards Rusty’s cell.
“Rusty! You’re alive!” he shouted.
“Barely,” the dwarf grumbled, “which is more than I thought about you lot. Where’d ye get off to? Where’s Gardrid and Pez? Who’re these two? Somebody get me outta here and tell me what the Hell’s goin’ on!”
Tilly went to work on the cell lock, defeating it easily, and releasing his friend. Introductions were quickly made, and then they filled Rusty in on what had transpired.
“Damn it all!” the priest bellowed, “I knew those two were gonna be the death of me, but I didn’t think they’d go first. Well, what’re we standin’ around jawin’ fer? We got us a devil-lady to give some pay back to, and my kinsman to rescue!”
“Umm…Rusty. Aren’t you forgetting your old pal?” White Eye said, pressing his face against the bars of his cell.
“No! Don’t let him out! He’ll betray you!” Tilly peered quizzically down the hall towards the second prisoner, and began walking that way. When he reached the far cell, he was surprised to a see another halfling looking out at him.
“Who are you?” Tilly asked
“My name is Cherrit,” the prisoner replied, “I’m from Cauldron. I came here with a group of companions. We were ambushed and separated. I don’t know if the others are dead or alive.”
“I can sympathize,” Tilly said. We have found ourselves in a similar situation.
“Then let me out,” Cherrit begged, “but don’t free that other one! He’s a spy!”
“What do you make of this Rusty?” Caine asked calmly, listening to the two prisoners bicker back and forth.
“I’m not sure,” the priest shrugged, “White Eye here’s been decent enough, but both of’em keep accusin’ the other of sidin’ with the frog-men, though truth to tell, we all been treated about the same.”
“Allow me,” Caine replied, and he uttered a short, arcane phrase. He then moved first to White Eye’s cell, and next to Cherrit’s. What he saw was not unexpected, but still disappointing. He would like to have greater faith in mankind, but these two showed him that caution was still warranted. The auras that surrounded them both were deep crimson, the color of evil.
“Neither of them are to be trusted,” he remarked to his companions, “but neither can we leave them here to die.”
He moved back to Cherrit’s cell, “You say you are from Cauldron. I can send you back there if you wish it. We cannot have you free to follow us.”
Cherrit’s eyes narrowed, “But I don’t wish it. As I told you, my companions may still be in this area. It would be…dishonorable…to abandon them.”
“I’m sure,” Caine replied knowingly, “Then we shall transport you to the far side of the lake. You can begin your search there.”
“I don’t suppose I have a choice,” Cherrit said bitterly.
“Not really,” Caine said, “I’d like to introduce you to a friend of mine.” The sorcerer pulled back his cloak, and a glowing ball of purest light drifted into view before him. “This is Jules. He will see you safely on your way.” The glowing ball vanished briefly, reappearing in the cell next to Cherrit. Before the halfling could protest, Jules touched him, and both vanished.
“Now, what shall we do with you?” Caine asked White Eye.
“I..I’m not from Cauldron,” the man stammered, “I’m a traveler.”
“Yes, I can see that,” Caine said serenely, and then he uttered another short phrase. Instantly, White Eye’s face changed to an expression of friendliness and warmth. “Now,” Caine continued, “my dear friend, you may be on your way. Please do not return here, for it is far too dangerous. The swim across the lake is not a long one. It’s best you start now.”
“Yes, yes of course,” White Eye said grinning, “Take care now you lot. Best of luck!” With a wave and a grin, he ran from the cellblock and towards the main entrance.
“What did ye do?” Rusty asked suspiciously.
“Merely convinced him of my good nature and intent,” Caine smiled. “Now, which way?”
“I got an idea,” Rusty said slyly, “We ain’t goin’ thru that temple again. I might have us a short cut, and I got an old friend I need to settle up with.”
______________________________________________________
Rusty led the way down into the dungeon, and towards the interrogation chamber, warning his companions of what awaited them. When they reached the chamber, Ajax stepped forward, scanning the apparently unoccupied room. His keen eyes were able to discern the truth of the situation. Crouched beneath the water in the far corner was Garekk. “There!” Ajax shouted, and as he did so, the inquisitor rose up, his horrible visage twisted in rage…and perhaps fear. So terrible was his presence that Onesock began whining piteously, tail tucked between his legs, his legs locked and quivering in terror.
Ajax leaped into the air, somehow flying, but with no visible method. He landed in front of Garekk, who had retreated a step into the far hallway. Drawing his sword, he slashed at the creature, connecting solidly, but not inflicting nearly as much damage as he might have imagined.
“Jules, come,” Caine called, and the glowing ball again appeared, hovering in the air in the center of the room. Suddenly, a beam of pure light lanced out, striking Garekk in the chest. He roared, more out of anger than pain, for the familiar’s beams were more of a nuisance than anything. Ajax used the momentary distraction to leap over the jailor’s head, landing behind him, and leveling two more blows at his exposed back.
“Come on!” Rusty shouted, and began wading across the room, eager for his retribution. Tilly, however, found that the water level in the room was well over his head. Nevertheless, he began swimming across, making his way to a table near the far exit, and clambering atop it. Wathros was more pragmatic. He shifted his form to that of a crocodile and sank beneath the surface, intending his assault to be a rude surprise. Caine stayed back, even though he knew the creature they fought to be undead, and therefore had no moral compunctions about seeing it destroyed. He was no warrior himself though. He instructed Jules to keep up his assault, and the little archon did just that, lancing a beam directly into Garekk’s eyes. The jailor howled, grabbing at his burned orbs, and at that moment, Wathros seized one of his legs, biting and ripping at it savagely. Garekk leaned over, flailing at the water, hammering his fists down on the crocodile. Behind him, Ajax continued to chop at his rotting flesh, sending bits and pieces flying, but failing to deliver any real damage. The deva and the druid continued to press the assault, not letting up for a moment. Tilly sought to get away from the melee, realizing he would be more hindrance than help in the water-filled chamber, but he caught a glancing blow from one wildly swinging arm as he retreated. Then, Rusty was there, a nimbus of light surrounding his upraised fist. “Eat this!” he cried, and he slammed his hand into Garekk’s face. Garekk screamed, then gurgled, crumbling to dust, which floated on the surface in a scummy film.
“Rusty,” Tilly’s voice came weakly from behind, “Something’s wrong.” Rusty whirled around, and he saw that that was an understatement. Tilly’s flesh, where Garekk had touched him, was starting to rot. He looked and saw that Wathros was similarly affected. Quickly, he wove spells about them to arrest the spread of disease, and sure enough, the rot stopped, but it did not heal. “I don’t know what evil this is,” Rusty said, “but that’s all I can do fer now.” He bandaged their wounds, and they left the room, coming to the dead-end that Rusty had found days ago. It was short work for Tilly to locate a cleverly hidden door in the blank wall. Opening it, they were stunned to find the great temple on the other side. They had entered it from the lowest level, just to the right of the dais. There were three armored kuo-toans present before the dais, engaged in some sort of prayer ceremony, but there were no guards present on the balconies.
“That’s them!” Tilly shouted, “Stop them before they call her!” Ajax charged into the room, rushing towards the priests, but before he could reach them, each one launched a bolt of electricity from its hand, each bolt blasting into the warrior. Ajax was not seriously injured, but he was taken aback nonetheless, for he had surrounded himself with a protective aura, which was supposed to impede such minor magics. He did not know why it had failed to stop this, but he knew he had to end this threat quickly. Tilly was right behind him, and quickly took up a flanking position behind one of the priests. The kuo-toan began casting another spell, but before it was completed, Tilly stabbed through its armor. It squealed, its spell dying on its lips. Wathros, to, lumbered into the chamber, still in crocodile form. He began swimming through the shallow water surrounding the dais, and then rose up to snap at a second priest. The kuo-toa got its shield up just in time to deflect the attack, but Wathros found his jaws stuck to the shield, held there by some sort of adhesive.
Tilly darted forward, intending to finish his opponent, but the priest had recovered, and slammed his shield at the halfling. Tilly’s sword stuck fast to the shield, and was ripped out of his hand. Another of the priest’s drew out an iron morning star from his belt, and began swinging wildly at Ajax, who dodged deftly to the side, but unfortunately Rusty had just joined the fray at that moment, and the heavy weapon connected solidly to his shoulder.
Wathros was amused at this turn of events. If it were he, he would not choose to be attached to a rampaging crocodile. He began twisting his body violently around in a death roll, pulling the kuo-toa from its feet. He felt the priest’s arm snap as it was wrenched around, still stuck in the grips of the shield. With one powerful bite, Wathros crushed the shield completely, then fastened his jaws about the hapless kuo-toa’s skull.
Tilly circled his foe, his shortsword now his only weapon. The kuo-toan had drawn its own weapon, and was waiting for an opening. Suddenly, its legs were swept out from under it as Onesock barreled into it from behind. As the priest fell, Tilly pounced on him, slashing his throat.
Ajax stepped behind the final priest, sweeping his sword under its legs as he went. It fell, sprawling in the water, and he moved in for the kill, but the kuo-toa pointed one finger at him, and he felt another blast of electricity course thru him. Onesock was there again, leaping on the priest’s back as he tried to rise. Ajax didn’t let the opportunity go to waste this time, and he impaled the creature.
Rusty had made his way to the top of the dais, and was busy furiously trying to open one of the doors there. He didn’t know where it led, but he knew from prior experience that the erinyes would be here any minute, and anywhere was better than here to face her. His companions joined him, and Cain quickly began casting fly enchantments on each of them in preparation for the coming conflict. Tilly pushed past Rusty, and began working at the lock with his tools. “Aha!” he cried as he felt the lock trip, and pushed open the door. His face fell, and turned white, however, when he beheld a kuo-toa wearing chitin-style plate armor standing on the other side in a sunken room, water lapping at his knees…
THE OLD ORDER CHANGETH
Prologue:
Caine meditated alone in the small acolyte’s cell that had been provided for him by Jenya. She had offered one of the more comfortable guest rooms at the temple, but he had declined, asking for only the basics. He had arrived in Cauldron several days before, merely another stopover on his continuing journey. As was his custom upon reaching a new city or town, he had come to the goodliest church and offered them his services during his stay. This could include anything from tending the grounds, to running a soup kitchen for the homeless. Over the years he had performed many such services to multiple churches and this was but the most recent. Still, something felt different here. He couldn’t put his finger on it, couldn’t really even say what had brought him to this small frontier city. It certainly had not been on his way to anywhere. He just…found himself at the gates one day. He wouldn’t go so far as to say that he had been called, but he knew he belonged here. Something was going to happen, and it was going to be soon.
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Ajax paced the grounds of the temple for the hundredth time in a row. What was he doing here? Why had the Council sent him to such a gods-forsaken place? He knew better than to ever question a directive, but he could not help but feel that his talents and skills were being wasted. The High Priestess seemed to know who he was immediately when he had arrived two days ago. She almost seemed to be expecting him, yet she had not set him any specific tasks. He had tried to busy himself about the temple, but there was really nothing he could help with. He had wandered about town, hoping something would be revealed to him as to the nature of this mission, but he was equally disappointed. Although he was immortal, sometimes idle days could seem like an eternity.
__________________________________________________________
“I’m sorry to have disturbed you Caine, but I feel I may have need of your services after all,” Jenya said, seating herself at her desk, across from the strange beggar. He had come to the church offering to work, but asking for no compensation. Quite the contrary…the man had made a substantial monetary donation, one that seemed far beyond his means. Jenya was sympathetic to the plight of wanderers and the homeless, and ordinarily she would have provided such a person with a hot meal and a warm bed for a night or two, but this one was different…compelling some how. She had felt that it was necessary to have him stay on, though she did not know why. Until now. Now everything was becoming clear, including the appearance of the deva on her doorstep. Frankly, due to the events of the past several months, nothing much shocked the High Priestess any longer, though her dream last night came very close. It was more of a vision really…a horrific one. In it, she had witnessed Pez’ death. She instinctively knew it to be true, not just some nightmare. The details were not clear, though she knew he died valiantly, but at the hands of a great evil. The vision further urged her to send aid to him, though he was beyond aid. She could only surmise that some of his companions…the Bright Axes…yet survived. Again, she knew implicitly that this was the reason Ajax had been sent to her, and also this man Caine. Both had some important role to play here.
She told the story of the Bright Axes to Caine, being both succinct and direct. She told of their past exploits on behalf of the city, and of their recent undertaking to return the dwarven defender, Zenith Splintershield. She then told him of Pez’ death. “So now I come to the crux of my request,” she continued. “I would ask that you undertake to find any survivors of the Bright Axes, and see them safely home. I will send with you a protector, one whom I trust completely, and who is beyond reproach.”
Caine pondered her words for a few moments. Yes, this felt right. This was the sign. “I will do as you ask,” he replied, “but I would meet this companion you have chosen for me.”
Jenya moved to the door of her office, and ushered Ajax inside. She had already relayed to the deva the contents of her vision, and her expectations of him. He had agreed without hesitation.
Caine did not see the deva. Instead, he saw a nondescript, bald man in drab clothes who wore a symbol of the moon goddess Selune’ about his neck. While Caine thought it strange for a follower of Tyr to wear the sign of another, he did not question Jenya’s judgment. “I have traveled many years, and many miles, with many companions,” he said, rising to greet Ajax, “and of each one, I have asked an oath. I have foresworn violence, and I ask of you that you swear to harm no helpless or defenseless being or creature while in my company. Whether you accept or decline has no bearing on whether or not I will travel with you, but I must ask nonetheless.” Ajax considered the request. It was not in his nature to kill needlessly or brutally. On the surface, he saw no reason not to agree to the beggar’s terms, yet in the back of his mind he wondered what would happen if he should ever encounter one of his blood sworn enemies…a fiend. Still, he would swear the oath, and trust his conscience to guide him.
Day 0, AP (after Pez)
Wathros and Tilly sat huddled in a small side passage, darkness pressing in on them on all sides, for they dared not light a fire for fear of attracting predators, or worse yet, the she-devil. For quite some time neither had spoken. The shock of what had just happened robbed them of words to describe their feelings. It was Tilly who finally broke the long silence: “What now?” he croaked, his voice raw and ragged.
“We go back,” Wathros stated flatly, no trace of emotion in his voice.
“Back?” Tilly asked incredulously. “Are you crazy? We’ll be killed, just like the others!” His voice had started to rise in a panic.
“You misunderstand me,” Wathros continued calmly, “Not back to the shrine…back to Cauldron. We have no choice. We have failed. We have no hope of finding Zenith Splintershield on our own, and our friends are beyond our help.”
Tilly nodded silently to himself. To hear the words spoken aloud drove the fact home to him. His friends were dead, just like Salazar. Was he forever destined to live on while those he cared about died? Perhaps Maple was right. Maybe it was time for him to retire and settle down. Maybe the adventuring life was not for him after all. The two remaining Bright Axes gathered their gear and set out into the Underdark once more. To make haste, Wathros transformed himself into a large wolf, and Tilly rode on his back. Onesock ran with his master, and the miles passed in darkness.
Due to the speed of the wolves, they reached the Pit of Seven Jaws while daylight still remained, and by sunset, they had made their way back to Jarred’s clearing. The old bard greeted them warmly, but his smile faded as he realized how few had returned. “What has happened?” the hermit asked, “Where are the angelic knight, the noble savage, and the pious priest?” Though he did not wish to speak of it, Tilly related the tale, and when he’d finished, Jarred bowed his head and covered his eyes. “Alas!” he wailed, “Anduria has lost its greatest champions! Woe to our beloved kingdom! I will compose a great ballad of their heroism and valor! They will go down in Andurian history as legends!” And so Tilly and Wathros passed the night with Jarred, listening as he wove the story of their companions into an epic poem…a fitting eulogy.
Day 1, AP
Rusty came to, slowly and painfully. His entire body felt like one giant bruise. His head was pounding and dried blood was caked in his eyes. He pulled himself gradually to a sitting position and saw that he was in a cell of some sort, completely bare except for a bucket of stagnant water. He was naked except for a loincloth, with no sign of any of his gear, nor his Mystran amulet. He finished pulling himself to his feet by grasping the close-set bars of the cell. The hallway beyond was empty, and ran parallel, so that his view to either side was blocked after just a few feet.
Bits and pieces of memory began to return to him, and he remembered the fall of both Pez and Gardrid. Crying out in anguish and rage, he picked up the bucket and began hammering it against the cell bars, hoping some guard would appear so the he could vent his fury.
“Hey, you finally awake in there?” The voice came from somewhere to his right, perhaps from another cell.
“Who’s that?” Rusty shouted. “Where am I?”
The voice snorted brief laughter, “Well, I think you know exactly where you are. You’re a ‘guest’ of the frog-men. As to your first question, I’m White-Eye, also an unfortunate guest, wrongly imprisoned.”
“How long have I been here?” Rusty asked. “Did you see them bring anyone else in besides me?”
“They brought you in yesterday,” White-Eye responded. “You were pretty badly beaten up. They didn’t bring anyone else. Sorry.”
Rusty bowed his head against the bars. They meant the others were all dead. He was the only survivor, but who knew for how long. He had to get out of here.
“How long have you been here?” he asked White-Eye.
“Oh, I’d guess about five weeks now,” said White-Eye, “I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Just looking to find a few loose trinkets, if you know what I mean.”
“Don’t listen to him! He’s lying!” A new voice came from further down the hall to Rusty’s left. “He’s a spy for the kuo-toans! He locked himself in that cell just a few minutes before you woke up!”
“Who’s that?” Rusty asked suspiciously.
“Hah!” White-Eye laughed, “You’re a fine one to talk of spies, wizard! It’s you who loves the frog-men, not I! Now shut your yap!”
The exchange continued for several more minutes, and Rusty finally retreated to the back of his cell. The kuo-toans may have taken his holy symbol, but they could not so easily sever his link to his goddess. Praying softly to himself, he summoned Mystra’s gifts and began mending some of his wounds, the voices of his neighbors fading into the background.
Sometime later, Rusty opened his eyes as he heard bare footsteps, and the jingle of keys. Two kuo-toans stood outside his cell, one armored much like the ones they had fought in the temple, the other naked and carrying two buckets. The armored one unlocked the cell, and then stood behind the door as it swung open, while the second carefully set the buckets inside and retrieved the empty one. The door was relocked and the pair retreated without a word. One bucket contained more rank water, while the second held a nauseating assortment of fish heads, seaweed, snails and mollusks. Rusty smiled to himself. His meals would improve soon, and he would bide his time, noting the rotation of the guards until the right opportunity presented itself.
Day 2, AP
Ajax and Cain were on their second day out from Cauldron when they spotted the strange caravan coming over a rise towards them. A lone halfling was riding on a small pony, leading several normal size horses behind him. Trotting along side was a rather large wolf, gray in color with one white sock. A golden eagle perched on the saddle horn of one of the trailing horses.
“I believe we may have stumbled across our little lost lambs sooner than we expected,” Caine remarked with a smile to Ajax. Ajax stepped out into the middle of the trail and held up one hand in a gesture of peace.
Tilly drew his mount up several yards away from the pair of humans, eyeing them suspiciously. One could never be too sure of travelers on the road in these parts. “What do you think?” he whispered back to Wathros. In response, the eagle/druid took off into the air, circling low around the strangers. Tilly understood this to mean that if they tried anything funny, they would fry where they stood. He kicked his pony forward, and hailed them.
“You are Tillian Wanderfar?” the one who looked like a beggar asked.
“Who wants to know?” Tilly countered.
“I am called Caine. My companion is Ajax. We are sent on behalf of Jenya Urikas. We were told you might have need of our assistance.”
Tilly smiled in spite of himself. Leave it to Jenya to come through in a pinch. He dismounted, and motioned Wathros down. The druid landed, assuming his true form as he did.
“I’m afraid you are a little late,” Tilly said grimly, “We could have used your help a few days ago. Now, we are all that is left of our band.”
“Perhaps not,” Caine replied. “We know of your loss, but it may not be as complete as you think. Jenya has divined that one other lives still, and she has charged us with his rescue.”
“Do you know who it is?” Wathros asked.
“Alas, no,” Caine said, “We knew only that three yet lived, and here there are only two of you. Please, tell us your tale.”
Tilly and Wathros recounted their story once again, sparing no detail and when they were finished, Caine wiped a lone tear from his eye. “It is a sad story, to be sure, but perhaps with our assistance, you may yet tell a happier ending.”
“I’m not sure about that,” Tilly sighed, “And I’m not very enthusiastic about going back to Bhal-Hamatugn, but if there is any chance Gardrid, Rusty or Pez still lives, then we can’t leave them.”
“Agreed,” Caine nodded, “There is just one thing though. I am a pacifist, and I will not harm another living creature. I can aid you in many other ways, but I would ask of you an oath not to harm any defenseless creature while in my presence. Ajax has already sworn such.”
Tilly looked taken aback, “Well, I don’t know exactly what kind of help you can give if you’re no good in a fight, and I’m here to tell you that if I have the chance, I’m going to stick a knife in every frog-face I see, awake or asleep, armed or unarmed, ready or not!”
Wathros nodded in agreement, “Your oath is a fool’s choice. You have not seen the horrors that we have. Perhaps you will see things in a different light before all is said and done. As for myself, I believe in culling the weak from the herd.”
Caine simply smiled, “We shall see. Your choice is your own. It was fortunate that your foes did not share a similar philosophy when you left your friend behind. We should move on…our road is long.”
________________________________________________________
Rusty sat meditating quietly in his cell, waiting for the sound of the guards’ footsteps. They should be coming any moment. Indeed, he did hear footsteps approaching, but they were not the wet flapping of kuo-toan feet. Instead, it was an unsteady shuffling that Rusty heard, punctuated by an occasional low moan. He also heard a sharp hiss of fear come from White Eye’s cell. Suddenly, a shambling figure lurched to a halt before Rusty’s cell. It was humanoid, but beyond that Rusty could not tell, since it appeared to be wrapped head to toe in decaying, putrid bandages. Its eyes glowed a sickly yellow. It unlocked the door and then motioned Rusty forward, “Come,” it said in a thick, gravelly voice. Rusty approached cautiously, wishing now more than ever that he had his holy symbol. The thing shoved him unceremoniously in front of it, and down the cellblock passage. Shortly, they reached a descending stair, and beyond that, a damp corridor. This hall sloped steadily downward, and the water level on its floor rose gradually, until Rusty found himself wading through knee-deep liquid. They came to a room, lit by a floating brazier in the northwest corner. The chamber contained all manner of torture implements: shelves with scalpels, thumbscrews, and a large jar of salt. A well-oiled stretching rack stood along one wall, and a pair of manacles hung from the ceiling near the western wall. The water in the room came easily to Rusty’s chest. He was shoved into the chamber and towards the rack. The creature indicated in no uncertain terms that he should climb on.
“Yer more cracked than ye look!” Rusty laughed, but his laughter was cut short when he was cuffed soundly across the face. Wiping blood from his mouth, Rusty’s eyes narrowed, “Not quite a fair fight now is it? So, we’ll just have to take this up some other time.” With that, the priest turned and began moving through the flooded chamber as fast as he could, heading for a passageway on the far side. He could hear the torturer behind him, gaining rapidly. When he reached the archway, he found the water level to be shallower, and he broke into a dead sprint. The hall made two left turns and abruptly ended at a blank wall. “I’ll be damned,” the dwarf cursed, just as his pursuer caught up to him. With a growl, Rusty rushed forward, arms outstretched in an attempt to grapple the creature and shove him out of the way. However, he was stopped in his tracks by another powerful blow to the head, and another after that, and another…
“All right, all right,” Rusty wheezed, sagging against the wall, blood pouring from his nose and mouth, “Ye got me dead to rights.” The jailor seized him by the beard, dragging him bodily back to the chamber of horrors, and strapping him roughly onto the rack. “Now,” the creature rasped, “you will tell me who you are, what you are doing here, how many of you are there, where do you come from, and what do you want with Zenith Splintershield.”
“I’d sooner kiss yer mother!” Rusty spat, and then the torture began. How many hours it went on, Rusty did not know. He only knew that he eventually passed out from the agony…and that he never answered a single question.
Day 3, AP
Rusty woke to the familiar pain in his head. His eyes were nearly swollen shut, and his face felt ten times too big. Dragging himself to a sitting position, he began his daily prayer ritual, and immediately his pain eased as his wounds healed.
“Psst! You okay in there?” This from White Eye’s cell.
“No,” Rusty muttered, “but I will be. So, who’s the big fella with the mean left hook?”
“He calls himself Garekk,” White Eye said, a touch of fear in his normally cocksure voice. “He’s the frog-boys’ chief inquisitor.”
“You would know, wouldn’t you?” came the voice from their other block mate down the hall. “After all, you and he are big buddies!”
“Both of ya knock it off,” Rusty growled, “My head’s poundin’ enough as it is.”
“Watch yourself,” White Eye whispered, “He won’t give up until he breaks you. He’ll just keep coming back again and again.”
Rusty thought he had it figured out. He wasn’t sure exactly what Garekk was, but he was sure of one thing: he wasn’t among the living any longer. He was undead, and that realization actually brought a smile to the priest’s lips. Normally, with his holy symbol, he could call on the awesome, holy might of Mystra to blast the monstrosity into dust, or at least send it cowering back to its hole. Now, however, he would just have to resort to other means…
Just as White Eye had predicted, Garekk returned later in the afternoon. He unlocked Rusty’s cell, and stood outside, “Come,” he burbled.
“Nah!” Rusty said, moving to the back of the cell, “You come get me!”
Garekk gave a moan of anger, and lurched forward. As he rapidly closed the distance, Rusty began chanting, hurriedly calling up a charm of infliction, but the undead torturer was quicker than he appeared. He backhanded Rusty, rocking the dwarf’s head back to slam against the wall, dashing the spell from his lips. Undeterred, Rusty began again, but Garekk was right on him now, punching him in the gut, forcing the breath out of his lungs. Try as he might, Rusty could not complete his casting before the inquisitor hit him, over and over. In the end, the dwarf was slung like a sack over Garekk’s shoulder, and taken to the torture chamber once more. Though the examination went on twice as long this time, the stubborn priest uttered not one word.
Day 4, AP
Rusty now knew what he’d done wrong. The key was in the preparation. Long before he knew Garekk would come for him, he cast his spell, knowing it would last indefinitely until discharged. As he heard Garekk’s shuffling steps approaching, he hid his glowing fist behind his back.
“Come,” Garekk beckoned.
“Nope,” Rusty shook his head, “I’m ready to dance if you are, stinky.”
The jailor did not hesitate, rushing into the cell, arms outstretched. As he drew back to slap the dwarf, Rusty leaped forward, grabbing the creature’s face with his glowing hand. Garekk shrieked in agony, recoiling from the attack, both hands holding his smoking flesh. “How’d ya like that one, moldy?” Rusty laughed, hopping up and down, “There’s more where that came from, if ye want it!”
“Yeah!” Rusty heard White Eye cheer from the next cell, “Get him Rusty!”
Hissing, Garekk lunged forward again, but Rusty had time to prepare a second spell, and he grabbed the jailor’s wrist as he struck. The smell of burning flesh was nauseating, and Garekk wailed, but he did not retreat. He began raining blows upon the priest in earnest, sending him reeling from one side of the cell to the other, but Rusty was able to cast the occasional spell in between, and he gave as good as he got, taunting the inquisitor the whole time. Finally, the two combatants stood facing each other, both listing from side to side. Rusty was barely on his feet, and Garekk’s skin was burned down to the rotting bone in several places. But Rusty was out of spells. Even so, he kept one hand behind him, hoping to bluff the jailor into believing he was still dangerous. Indeed, Garekk seemed hesitant, but he risked one final assault, and Rusty’s bluff was called. The priest again went down, but this time Garekk left him unconscious in his cell. The inquisitor was too badly wounded to carry him, and so he retreated to his chamber to nurse his own wounds.
Day 5, AP
“I can’t believe that!” White Eye crowed. “You actually sent him running! He left you here!”
“Yeah,” Rusty said bitterly, “that’s the problem, I’m still in here. My plan didn’t work.”
“Are you kidding?” White Eye asked incredulously, “That was a major victory! I’ll be surprised if he comes back again.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Rusty muttered.
Garekk did not return that day, nor did the normal kuo-toan jailors who brought his food. Oh, they brought food to White Eye and the other prisoner, but they bypassed Rusty’s cell, glaring at him balefully. Rusty wasn’t overly concerned about starving. He called up a relatively simple spell, and before him appeared enough food to feed eight men, and pure water as well. He leaned back against his cell wall, a large drumstick in his hand, waiting for the inevitable, for he felt sure that now his captors saw him as a threat, and would eliminate him soon.
Day 6, AP
“There it is,” Tilly said quietly, peering out across the dark, underground lake at the dimly glowing, fish-like structure in the distance, “Bhal-Hamatugn.” The company’s trek through the mountains and subsequently through the Underdark had been tedious, but uneventful. Tilly and Wathros had heard Caine’s tale of how he’d come to Cauldron, but Ajax remained tight-lipped. The tall warrior would only say that he worked for Jenya, and was here by her command. They both seemed determined to complete this mission, however, so Tilly and Wathros questioned them no further, instead relating to them every detail they could of the kuo-toan temple, and the dangers they faced there.
The canoe that Tilly and Wathros had used was still moored at the base of the cliff, and the group climbed in and began paddling towards the shrine. They saw no evidence of increased vigilance about the place as they approached, and they were able to reach the main staircase without any sign of opposition. Cautiously, they made their way inside, and found the entry hall equally deserted.
“I don’t like this,” Tilly said quietly, “Where are they all?”
“Spread out,” Ajax said in a commanding voice that brooked no questioning, and he began moving towards the double doors at the far side.
“Careful,” Tilly warned, “Those are the ones I told you about.”
Suddenly, a raucous banging and shouting sounded from the passageway to the east, the one barred by a heavy, iron portcullis. “Hey out there!” a voice shouted, “Garekk, is that you? Come back and fight! I ain’t done with ye yet!”
“I believe that I recognize that particular ranting,” Wathros said, smiling. “I do believe that one of our dwarven friends is nearby.”
Tilly rushed quickly to the portcullis, and spun the handle in its center. The gate began to a rise, but with an earsplitting shriek of rusted gears. He reversed the crank, stopping it halfway, but leaving enough space for them to crawl underneath. Darting through, he ran towards Rusty’s cell.
“Rusty! You’re alive!” he shouted.
“Barely,” the dwarf grumbled, “which is more than I thought about you lot. Where’d ye get off to? Where’s Gardrid and Pez? Who’re these two? Somebody get me outta here and tell me what the Hell’s goin’ on!”
Tilly went to work on the cell lock, defeating it easily, and releasing his friend. Introductions were quickly made, and then they filled Rusty in on what had transpired.
“Damn it all!” the priest bellowed, “I knew those two were gonna be the death of me, but I didn’t think they’d go first. Well, what’re we standin’ around jawin’ fer? We got us a devil-lady to give some pay back to, and my kinsman to rescue!”
“Umm…Rusty. Aren’t you forgetting your old pal?” White Eye said, pressing his face against the bars of his cell.
“No! Don’t let him out! He’ll betray you!” Tilly peered quizzically down the hall towards the second prisoner, and began walking that way. When he reached the far cell, he was surprised to a see another halfling looking out at him.
“Who are you?” Tilly asked
“My name is Cherrit,” the prisoner replied, “I’m from Cauldron. I came here with a group of companions. We were ambushed and separated. I don’t know if the others are dead or alive.”
“I can sympathize,” Tilly said. We have found ourselves in a similar situation.
“Then let me out,” Cherrit begged, “but don’t free that other one! He’s a spy!”
“What do you make of this Rusty?” Caine asked calmly, listening to the two prisoners bicker back and forth.
“I’m not sure,” the priest shrugged, “White Eye here’s been decent enough, but both of’em keep accusin’ the other of sidin’ with the frog-men, though truth to tell, we all been treated about the same.”
“Allow me,” Caine replied, and he uttered a short, arcane phrase. He then moved first to White Eye’s cell, and next to Cherrit’s. What he saw was not unexpected, but still disappointing. He would like to have greater faith in mankind, but these two showed him that caution was still warranted. The auras that surrounded them both were deep crimson, the color of evil.
“Neither of them are to be trusted,” he remarked to his companions, “but neither can we leave them here to die.”
He moved back to Cherrit’s cell, “You say you are from Cauldron. I can send you back there if you wish it. We cannot have you free to follow us.”
Cherrit’s eyes narrowed, “But I don’t wish it. As I told you, my companions may still be in this area. It would be…dishonorable…to abandon them.”
“I’m sure,” Caine replied knowingly, “Then we shall transport you to the far side of the lake. You can begin your search there.”
“I don’t suppose I have a choice,” Cherrit said bitterly.
“Not really,” Caine said, “I’d like to introduce you to a friend of mine.” The sorcerer pulled back his cloak, and a glowing ball of purest light drifted into view before him. “This is Jules. He will see you safely on your way.” The glowing ball vanished briefly, reappearing in the cell next to Cherrit. Before the halfling could protest, Jules touched him, and both vanished.
“Now, what shall we do with you?” Caine asked White Eye.
“I..I’m not from Cauldron,” the man stammered, “I’m a traveler.”
“Yes, I can see that,” Caine said serenely, and then he uttered another short phrase. Instantly, White Eye’s face changed to an expression of friendliness and warmth. “Now,” Caine continued, “my dear friend, you may be on your way. Please do not return here, for it is far too dangerous. The swim across the lake is not a long one. It’s best you start now.”
“Yes, yes of course,” White Eye said grinning, “Take care now you lot. Best of luck!” With a wave and a grin, he ran from the cellblock and towards the main entrance.
“What did ye do?” Rusty asked suspiciously.
“Merely convinced him of my good nature and intent,” Caine smiled. “Now, which way?”
“I got an idea,” Rusty said slyly, “We ain’t goin’ thru that temple again. I might have us a short cut, and I got an old friend I need to settle up with.”
______________________________________________________
Rusty led the way down into the dungeon, and towards the interrogation chamber, warning his companions of what awaited them. When they reached the chamber, Ajax stepped forward, scanning the apparently unoccupied room. His keen eyes were able to discern the truth of the situation. Crouched beneath the water in the far corner was Garekk. “There!” Ajax shouted, and as he did so, the inquisitor rose up, his horrible visage twisted in rage…and perhaps fear. So terrible was his presence that Onesock began whining piteously, tail tucked between his legs, his legs locked and quivering in terror.
Ajax leaped into the air, somehow flying, but with no visible method. He landed in front of Garekk, who had retreated a step into the far hallway. Drawing his sword, he slashed at the creature, connecting solidly, but not inflicting nearly as much damage as he might have imagined.
“Jules, come,” Caine called, and the glowing ball again appeared, hovering in the air in the center of the room. Suddenly, a beam of pure light lanced out, striking Garekk in the chest. He roared, more out of anger than pain, for the familiar’s beams were more of a nuisance than anything. Ajax used the momentary distraction to leap over the jailor’s head, landing behind him, and leveling two more blows at his exposed back.
“Come on!” Rusty shouted, and began wading across the room, eager for his retribution. Tilly, however, found that the water level in the room was well over his head. Nevertheless, he began swimming across, making his way to a table near the far exit, and clambering atop it. Wathros was more pragmatic. He shifted his form to that of a crocodile and sank beneath the surface, intending his assault to be a rude surprise. Caine stayed back, even though he knew the creature they fought to be undead, and therefore had no moral compunctions about seeing it destroyed. He was no warrior himself though. He instructed Jules to keep up his assault, and the little archon did just that, lancing a beam directly into Garekk’s eyes. The jailor howled, grabbing at his burned orbs, and at that moment, Wathros seized one of his legs, biting and ripping at it savagely. Garekk leaned over, flailing at the water, hammering his fists down on the crocodile. Behind him, Ajax continued to chop at his rotting flesh, sending bits and pieces flying, but failing to deliver any real damage. The deva and the druid continued to press the assault, not letting up for a moment. Tilly sought to get away from the melee, realizing he would be more hindrance than help in the water-filled chamber, but he caught a glancing blow from one wildly swinging arm as he retreated. Then, Rusty was there, a nimbus of light surrounding his upraised fist. “Eat this!” he cried, and he slammed his hand into Garekk’s face. Garekk screamed, then gurgled, crumbling to dust, which floated on the surface in a scummy film.
“Rusty,” Tilly’s voice came weakly from behind, “Something’s wrong.” Rusty whirled around, and he saw that that was an understatement. Tilly’s flesh, where Garekk had touched him, was starting to rot. He looked and saw that Wathros was similarly affected. Quickly, he wove spells about them to arrest the spread of disease, and sure enough, the rot stopped, but it did not heal. “I don’t know what evil this is,” Rusty said, “but that’s all I can do fer now.” He bandaged their wounds, and they left the room, coming to the dead-end that Rusty had found days ago. It was short work for Tilly to locate a cleverly hidden door in the blank wall. Opening it, they were stunned to find the great temple on the other side. They had entered it from the lowest level, just to the right of the dais. There were three armored kuo-toans present before the dais, engaged in some sort of prayer ceremony, but there were no guards present on the balconies.
“That’s them!” Tilly shouted, “Stop them before they call her!” Ajax charged into the room, rushing towards the priests, but before he could reach them, each one launched a bolt of electricity from its hand, each bolt blasting into the warrior. Ajax was not seriously injured, but he was taken aback nonetheless, for he had surrounded himself with a protective aura, which was supposed to impede such minor magics. He did not know why it had failed to stop this, but he knew he had to end this threat quickly. Tilly was right behind him, and quickly took up a flanking position behind one of the priests. The kuo-toan began casting another spell, but before it was completed, Tilly stabbed through its armor. It squealed, its spell dying on its lips. Wathros, to, lumbered into the chamber, still in crocodile form. He began swimming through the shallow water surrounding the dais, and then rose up to snap at a second priest. The kuo-toa got its shield up just in time to deflect the attack, but Wathros found his jaws stuck to the shield, held there by some sort of adhesive.
Tilly darted forward, intending to finish his opponent, but the priest had recovered, and slammed his shield at the halfling. Tilly’s sword stuck fast to the shield, and was ripped out of his hand. Another of the priest’s drew out an iron morning star from his belt, and began swinging wildly at Ajax, who dodged deftly to the side, but unfortunately Rusty had just joined the fray at that moment, and the heavy weapon connected solidly to his shoulder.
Wathros was amused at this turn of events. If it were he, he would not choose to be attached to a rampaging crocodile. He began twisting his body violently around in a death roll, pulling the kuo-toa from its feet. He felt the priest’s arm snap as it was wrenched around, still stuck in the grips of the shield. With one powerful bite, Wathros crushed the shield completely, then fastened his jaws about the hapless kuo-toa’s skull.
Tilly circled his foe, his shortsword now his only weapon. The kuo-toan had drawn its own weapon, and was waiting for an opening. Suddenly, its legs were swept out from under it as Onesock barreled into it from behind. As the priest fell, Tilly pounced on him, slashing his throat.
Ajax stepped behind the final priest, sweeping his sword under its legs as he went. It fell, sprawling in the water, and he moved in for the kill, but the kuo-toa pointed one finger at him, and he felt another blast of electricity course thru him. Onesock was there again, leaping on the priest’s back as he tried to rise. Ajax didn’t let the opportunity go to waste this time, and he impaled the creature.
Rusty had made his way to the top of the dais, and was busy furiously trying to open one of the doors there. He didn’t know where it led, but he knew from prior experience that the erinyes would be here any minute, and anywhere was better than here to face her. His companions joined him, and Cain quickly began casting fly enchantments on each of them in preparation for the coming conflict. Tilly pushed past Rusty, and began working at the lock with his tools. “Aha!” he cried as he felt the lock trip, and pushed open the door. His face fell, and turned white, however, when he beheld a kuo-toa wearing chitin-style plate armor standing on the other side in a sunken room, water lapping at his knees…
Mathew_Freeman
First Post
Good reading! Very interesting stuff. And I'm liking the way Caine is turning out, he's making an excellent support character.
sithramir
First Post
Cool update. I've made a few exalted characters and they seem pretty cool although no chance to play them.
Just would like to note that Entropy has made her first real appearance in my campaign! My group has acquired a powerful artifact the Gnarlpaw's fang which turns you into a werewolf lord but anyways, a legend lore and vision has shown them two possible futures.
One of them involves entropy and my other necromancer character Armaghast destroying all the purple knights of cormyr. The second one showing Armaghast and another blackguard female fighting blurred out forms.
In an attempt to avoid the first they have gone to the Undying temple where entropy is staying (one of my characters also wants the revenance as he's a necromancer and works for her).
lets just say the entrance into the crypt i created with thousands of ghouls leaving barely enough room for them to walk through along with all the other creepy stuff was great. The sessoin ended with the doors to the temple opening and entropy introducing herself and taking off her hood hehe. Should be quite interesting even though i'm pretty positive all my characters will die next session.
I wish you could read it on my story hour but i'm 6 weeks behind now so that sucks....Thanks for the character thougH!
Just would like to note that Entropy has made her first real appearance in my campaign! My group has acquired a powerful artifact the Gnarlpaw's fang which turns you into a werewolf lord but anyways, a legend lore and vision has shown them two possible futures.
One of them involves entropy and my other necromancer character Armaghast destroying all the purple knights of cormyr. The second one showing Armaghast and another blackguard female fighting blurred out forms.
In an attempt to avoid the first they have gone to the Undying temple where entropy is staying (one of my characters also wants the revenance as he's a necromancer and works for her).
lets just say the entrance into the crypt i created with thousands of ghouls leaving barely enough room for them to walk through along with all the other creepy stuff was great. The sessoin ended with the doors to the temple opening and entropy introducing herself and taking off her hood hehe. Should be quite interesting even though i'm pretty positive all my characters will die next session.
I wish you could read it on my story hour but i'm 6 weeks behind now so that sucks....Thanks for the character thougH!
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