JollyDoc's Shackled City: FINAL POST [Updated 11/2!!]
Mathew_Freeman
First Post
Very interesting! Looking forward to seeing how it comes together.
Neverwinter Knight
First Post
Maybe some community members from Birmingham, AL can help you with the house...Joachim said:
Joachim
First Post
JollyDoc said:
Which is right...about...now. Sorry for the wait.
RAGING BULL
Rusty watched in shock from his vantage point on the Ethereal Plane. Thinking quickly and taking advantage of his magical repertoire, he had made his escape when he realized that everyone was fleeing the scene.
Instead of fleeing, the dwarf’s curiosity got the best of him, and he stood in the corner watching the Ice Devil lop the priest’s head off. In a fit of rage and cruel humor, the Gelugon then turned to the render zombies, and engulfed them all in a spray of cold and ice. The gray-skinned carcasses froze over and then shattered due to the onslaught. Satisfied, the devil concentrated for a moment and disappeared, the familiar flash of white light signaling his departure.
Rusty snapped his fingers, and felt his body passing through the veil between the Ethereal and the Prime Material planes. All of his enemies were either dead or no longer present. The dwarf could hardly believe it. He had to get the others so they could gather the information they needed.
The Mystran started to run down the steps when his eyes passed over a pile of familiar rags and a simple well-worn walking stick. These items were once Caine’s, but the ascetic’s body was nowhere to be found. Rusty gathered up the items, a stunned expression on his faith. The dwarf felt the soft glow of a small light on his face. Jules’ hollow, but soothing, voice echoed in the hallway.
“Fear not, noble mortal. Caine has passed the Test. He shall be granted his final reward. His transgression has been forgiven, and he shall be allowed to return to the Choir. Tell your companions that while they may have lost a friend, their actions have earned the allegiance of one of the mighty servants of Good. He may have been struck down in this form, but he shall shed his mortal coil to become more powerful than you can possibly imagine.”
With a flash of light Jules disappeared. Speechless, Rusty clutched the rags to his face and wept. Another of his friends had been taken from him.
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The Bright Axes, bloodied and bruised, stood at the bottom of the stairwell. It was here that they would make their final stand. Grimm always carried a full stock of healing draughts, and the injured made good use of them.
A loud scream echoed down the stairwell. Tilly and Grimm looked at each other, and knew what that had to mean. Their enemies had captured Rusty, and the bastards must have just delivered their merciless coup de grace. Their resolve steeled by the death of their friend, the remaining heroic warriors awaited their fate, a look of renewed vigor in their eyes.
More than a minute later, the Bright Axes heard a single pair of heavy-booted footsteps proceeding down the stairwell. The group was surprised when they realized that the footsteps were not the furtive pace of someone expecting a fight, but something far more casual.
Surprise became joy when they saw Rusty turn the corner on the landing before him. Joy became confusion when they saw the tears the in dwarf’s eyes and the rags in his hands. Confusion became sorrow when they learned of the loss of their friend.
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The Bright Axes returned to the chamber at the top of the cathedral and began to search around. Aside from the headless corpse and the chunks of rotting gray render flesh in the room, the main feature that dominated their attention was the gothic cage hanging from the ceiling. Aided by Dalthan’s spell of flight, Grimm hovered to the cage, and unhooked it, gently lowering it to the ground. There was something very heavy about the cage, as though it weren’t empty…
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Kylon Daywalker, Captain of the Order of the Final Death and Paladin of the Lord of the Dead, had seen better days. He had been sent by Alphar Turran to quietly investigate strange rumors regarding the cathedral in a backwoods hick town. He had uncovered that the cathedral’s elders had, in fact, been worshipping an apostate god of evil and death. In turn, the cathedral’s elders figured out that he knew their secret, so they acted.
All of this explained why Kylon Daywalker, Captain of the Order of the Final Death and Paladin of the Lord of the Dead was summarily beaten within an inch of his life, stripped naked, stuffed into a dark box, and then suspended from the ceiling.
There was something unusual about this box, something…sinister. As a paladin, Kylon did not understand the definition of the word fear, but something about this cramped space made his skin crawl.
Kylon became aware that the box was moving. His captors had finally decided that they would deal with him. The paladin began whispering a prayer to Kelemvor, asking the God the Dead to forgive his shortcomings and ultimate failure. His soul at peace, Kylon awaited for the death blow to come.
A crack of light spewed into the cage, and the door opened. Kylon squinted at the change in lighting, and did not struggle when an ogre pulled him out of his portable cell.
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Grimm shrugged at the naked human he pulled out of the cage. “He’s alive, but he’s had the dung beaten out of him, that’s for sure.” Gingerly, the half-ogre laid the human down and stepped back.
Rusty looked over the man’s wounds, noting that nothing was permanent and uncurable. “You’re lucky, there, laddie. I’d be willin’ to think that the High Priest here was gonna be using you in some sort of sacrifice.”
Still squinting, his eyes adjusting to the light, Kylon looked around. His heart skipped a beat when he saw Ike Iverson’s body and Ike Iverson’s head twenty feet away. “You…did this?” the paladin queried.
A small, angry voice piped up. “Yeah, we did this. And we lost one of our friends in the process. So, if you were in any way in league with these bastards, then you are going to look no different than Ike over there.” Kylon knew that the halfling was not threatening. He was merely informing the paladin of their intentions.
Hands outstretched in a gesture of peace, the paladin spoke. “My name is Kylon Daywalker and I am a servant of Kelemvor, the True God of the Dead. I was sent here as a part of an ‘internal’ investigation of our church, and I discovered that our church elders in Cauldron were not what they seemed. My cover was blown, and they punished me my placing me in this box. You have saved me, and I owe you my life, no doubt. If you are of Good heart, and if you will have me, I wish to remain with you until that debt has been repaid.”
The Bright Axes looked at each other. They had never been granted such an offer of help. After a moment of consideration (and a spell to detect the taint of evil from Rusty) they accepted Kylon’s offer.
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Having completed their search of the entire cathedral complex, the Bright Axes headed back to the Temple of Tyr. The group had made several interesting discoveries, including the recovery of the body of Todd Vanderborn, one of the Storm Blades. It was rumored that Todd had been slain at the hands of a wizard during one of the Storm Blades contract adventures. The group carried the body with them. Maybe Jenya could help.
Kylon was happy to discover his old equipment, including his armor, shield, and trusty sword. Donning his old equipment, Kylon felt his resolve returning.
Under normal circumstances, traveling through the city to the Temple of Tyr would not be hazardous.
Today was very, very different…
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The Bright Axes passed through the market district. They were trying to make haste to the Hall of Justice, but the crowd was making that difficult. That, and Grimm’s appetite. The half-ogre had wandered off from the group to purchase a roast chicken. Kiko shook his head. “Great. Always thinking with his stomach.”
A large black shape passed overhead. Great wings bore the creature aloft, and the bystanders in the market looked up in confusion. With a loud thud the beast landed on the ground. Roughly humanoid, the massive creature sported a pair of large horns sprouting from its forehead, and its face was somewhat bovine in nature. Black scales covered the creature, detailing that this being’s lineage included those of reptilian blood. Draconic blood.
The minotaur hefted a long chain covered with cruel barbs, spikes, and blades. The beast bellowed, startling the crowd.
Chaos erupted. The commoners milling about rushed off in all directions, completely parting until there were none between the Bright Axes and the draconic monstrosity. Grimm was still separated from the group, and the rushing crowd hindered his return to his companions. The half-ogre angrily threw the remnants of his half-eaten chicken on the ground. There was killing to be done.
The minotaur scowled at the adventurers in front of him. Pointing a meaty finger, the creature spoke, “BRIGHT AXES!!! NOW IS THE DAY OF YOUR DOOM!! You stole from me the opportunity to give my sire the death he so richly deserved!!”
Utterly confused, the adventurers looked and shrugged. Rusty spoke up. “What in the Nine Hells are you on about? Who was your ‘sire’?”
Spitting, the minotaur roared, “YOU KNOW!! IN BAL-HAMATUN, MY FATHER SLEPT!! THE GREAT BLACK DRAGON, GLAURAUTH!! YOU SLEW HIM, AND TOOK MY CHANCE AT REVENGE!!”
Again, the Bright Axes did not know what was going on; they had never met a black dragon, at least not in Bal-Hamatun, shrine of the Kuo-Toans where they had rescued Zenith Splintershield. The truth was that there was a black dragon that resided in the temple, but said dragon decided to relocate once the Kuo-Toan priests had all been slaughtered.
Tilly, still emotional from Caine’s death, lifted his tiny blade. Bluffing the halfling taunted, “Yeah, bull-face, we killed your daddy. And this was the blade that did it, when I shoved it up his throat!”
The minotaur’s eyes grew wide at the taunt, and spittle and foam began to run freely from the beast’s jowls. Rage coursed through its veins, and it charged the halfling, head lowered.
At this point Tilly realized his folly. Never threaten a raging barbarian half-dragon minotaur with a nasty spiked chain. Sadly, he realized too late. The minotaur’s charge ended when it struck Tilly fully in the chest with its horns. One of the horn tips erupted out of Tilly’s back, and the halfling’s eye’s closed.
With a merciless snap of its head, the minotaur flung the halfling off of its head, and immediately began spinning its chain, turning its attention to Rusty. The dwarf thought it oddly coincidental that the minotaur had chosen to concentrate first on those who had actually been to Bal-Hamatun. It was almost as if he had been informed…
Rusty did not think for long. The minotaur’s spiked chain struck him three times, the final blow striking the dwarf in the neck. With a great tug, Rusty’s throat was ripped out, and the dwarf collapsed in a heap.
Stunned and shocked, Kiko, Kylon, and Dalthon sprung into action. The sorcerer began casting a spell and locked his hands together, his forefingers pointed at the minotaur. Three bursts of fire sprang out of his hands and struck the half-dragon in the stomach. The fire burned white hot, for Dalthon had maximized the effect of that spell.
Kylon charged the beast, but before he could get close, the minotaur reacted. With a mighty backhand, the paladin went flying into a nearby merchant’s kiosk, knocked senseless. Kiko had more luck, tumbling up to the beast, but his attacks were largely ineffective against the minotaur’s thick scalyhide.
It was beginning to look very grim for the Bright Axes. Or more appropriately, it was beginning to look very Grimm.
The half-ogre finally stepped through the crowd, casually twirling his spiked chain, sizing up the minotaur. Grimm noted the matching weapon in the half-dragon’s hands. He also noted the skill with which his opponent wielded the weapon. Considerable skill, coupled with the creature’s unbelievable strength, made this enemy very dangerous.
The half-dragon spat at Grimm. “I am going to rip the ogre out of you, half-breed! You are going to wish that you had never been born!”
Grimm sighed. If the minotaur was going to start throwing insults, at least he could be original. It was obvious that the minotaur was trying to goad him into doing something rash and stupid. The planar champion decided to respond to the taunts in kind, speaking in the tongue of dragons, “I was always under the impression that dragons would be above screwing cattle. But I am sure that your mother was a fine, beautiful heifer.”
The minotaur, ignoring Kiko’s punches and kicks, charged at Grimm in a rage. The two locked in combat, chains flailing. The strength and ferocity of the minotaur’s attacks was matched evenly by the skill with which Grimm wielded his chosen weapon. While the minotaur may have been proficient with the chain, Grimm was a master with it.
The two traded blows for many seconds, neither truly gaining the upper hand. This stalemate lasted until Dalthan regained the advantage for the heroes. Three more fiery bolts shot forth, this time striking the minotaur in the face. Stunned, and temporarily blinded, the minotaur staggered back. Grimm pressed the advantage, and after a few well-placed strokes the great beast fell the ground, dead.
Grimm looked around. The one they called Ajax was dead. Wathros was dead. Caine was dead. Now, Tilly and Rusty were dead. The original Bright Axes, the ones present at Bal-Hamatun, had met their end
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