Neverwinter Knight
First Post
You are such a teaser, JollyDoc...JollyDoc said:
JollyDoc's Shackled City: FINAL POST [Updated 11/2!!]
Joachim said:
Are you kidding? Right now, he's probably my favourite character in the SH--partly because I've always wanted to try the Planar Champion class, and partly because a good tank is always entertaining to play or read about. Something I am a bit curious about--why does he have a Headband of Intellect +4?
beer_motor
First Post
Grimm is pretty tough, and I think Richard made a very good move in trading that ring of major fire elemental control for Houshang's free action ring. But for some reason, I've always felt like Richard was/is a cleric player, and whenever he's doing something else, my brain always has a hard time coping.
Joachim said:
So you had the whole 'wearing the headband for most of that level so you get extra skill points' houserule eh?
Intelligence has always been shortchanged by the rules in terms of items and skill points. No one except for wizards (or other int prime requisite classes) would bother upgrading it after lvl 1. Then again, I can't exactly see people trying to put more ability increases into anything other than their prime req except maybe for con or dex.
Neverwinter Knight
First Post
What is this thread doing at the bottom of page 2?
Nothing - it belongs at the top! C'mon JollyDoc, write us some story, please !!!
Nothing - it belongs at the top! C'mon JollyDoc, write us some story, please !!!
JollyDoc
Explorer
Neverwinter Knight said:Nothing - it belongs at the top! C'mon JollyDoc, write us some story, please !!!
Ah, I thought I would soon be getting my hand slapped by you NWK. Never fear, an update is in progress, in which I will be concluding Thirteen Cages in a little exerpt I like to call CATACLYSM! 'Nuff said...
JollyDoc
Explorer
Had to break this one in two. Turning out longer than I had thought. Don't worry, Part 2 will appear shortly.
CATACLYSM, Part 1
“We’re running in circles,” Rusty grumbled as he kicked the limp form of Thearynn in frustration. “And each of these bastards we deal with uses up that much more of our resources. Gunther and I are running thin on prayers, and I’m sure Houshang and Dalthon could use a rest as well. We need to finish this thing and find this tree before we’re too exhausted to do anything about it.”
“I have an idea,” Gunther said, his face a mask of thoughtful contemplation. “We’ve seen one of these Soulcages before, right?” His companions nodded, not following his logic. “Well then I have a prayer that can lead us to the nearest Soulcage.” Rusty’s eyes suddenly brightened in understanding. “Locate Object! Yer right boy! It stands to reason that if we find a Soulcage, then we’ll find the tree! Let’s be about it then!”
_____________________________________________________
Shebelith Regidin allowed himself a faint smile as he heard the door to his study quietly open. Keeriv, the big shator demodand cocked his bulbous head in a gesture that conveyed both alertness and mild confusion. Much like a trained dog, Shebelith thought. Keeriv himself thought that the man seated so calmly before him while a squad of dangerous enemies waltzed casually into his chambers was a mad man. Yet he suffered the fool in silence, for Dyr’ryd had commanded that he attend the human, and the twins were not to be defied lightly.
“I believe our expected company has finally arrived,” Shebelith drawled, taking another sip of brandy from his snifter. Keeriv stared intently at the archway leading to the study, his claws clenching and unclenching, but no one appeared, though he could clearly smell their insufferable stench. “Oh do come in!” Shebelith sighed in mock exasperation. “There’s no sense skulking about in there.”
Finally, a figure emerged from the shadows. He was a hulking specimen, almost equal in size to the shator. His sloping brow and bovine nostrils betrayed his ogrish heritage. Heavy armor covered his rippling musculature, and a deadly looking coil of barbed chain dangled from one hand. “Ah! Grimm Graaka is it?” Shebelith exclaimed. “I’ve waited a long time to meet you and your companions.” One by one the Bright Axes formed up tensely behind Grimm, a look of wary expectation on their collective faces. “If you are one of the Cagewrights,” Grimm said in a voice full of low menace, “then your one chance at ever leaving this room again is to take us to the Tree of Shackled Souls now and show us how to destroy it.”
Shebelith chuckled as he sipped his drink once more. “Come now. Surely you don’t think it can be that easy? Destroying the Tree is out of the question at this point. It’s far too late. Events have already been set in motion, and they can’t be stopped. Cauldron is doomed, and Turmish as a whole will follow. You and your friends, however, don’t have to become casualties of war.” The loremaster steepled his fingers under his chin. “You stumbled upon Thifirane’s little gathering, so I know you are aware of what she had hoped to accomplish by calling together that particular assemblage. Unfortunately for her, your untimely arrival quelled that little tête-à-tête. Perhaps not so unfortunate for me. You see, I am in the singular position to offer you that which Thifirane sought to bestow upon her hirelings. You could all become lords in our New Order. Think of it! Lands to call your own. Power beyond what you could imagine. Untold wealth at your fingertips! Put aside this petty quest, and see reason. What, after all, do you owe the cattle of Cauldron? What have they done for you? Have you not been blamed numerous times for the misfortunes of the townsfolk? Do the nobles not sneer at you when you presume to invade their inner circles? You could crush them all beneath your boot heels!”
“Save your breath, Cagewright,” Grimm said flatly. “I’ve heard this all before, and from those with more to offer than you could ever dream of. Tell me where the Tree is. I won’t ask you again.” For just a fraction of a second, Shebelith’s eyes narrowed in anger, the first sign of emotion that he’d shown. “This is your last chance,” he said in a voice barely louder than a whisper. Houshang took a half step forward, his lips parting to speak, and then abruptly, he felt a grip like iron clamp down on his shoulder. “I know what ye’re thinkin’,” Rusty hissed from behind him, “and if ye open yer yap, I’ll shove this hammer into it.” The Red Wizard sighed. The Cagewright’s offer didn’t sound half bad. “Oh well,” he said. “If you can’t beat them, join them, and if you can’t join them, morph them!” With that, his hands flashed up, fingers moving with blinding speed. The words of a spell came pouring from his mouth, and Shebelith’s eyes widened as he came to understand the nature of the magic being wrought. In a flash of light, the loremaster disappeared. Where he’d been seated, only a disembodied eye ball lay, looking this way and that.
“About time,” Ike muttered as he pushed past his companions, unlimbering his war hammer as he went. “All that blather was making my head hurt.” Keeriv was still staring dumbfounded at what was left of his erstwhile master when the goliath swept his feet out from under him. As he crashed to the floor, the shator was jarred back to his senses. “You dare lay hands on me, slave?” the demodand spat. His brow furrowed in concentration, and in the blink of an eye, two farastu demondands stood behind him. “You, destroy him!” Keeriv commanded the first. “You, undo this weave,” he said to the second, indicating Shebelith’s eye. Without a word, the farstus moved to obey. The second reached down and grabbed the eye ball, and as he touched it, magic flashed again. Once more Shebelith appeared, his face now filled with unconcealed fury. With a gesture, the loremaster cast his greatest spell, and everyone in the room, including Keeriv and the farastus, froze where they stood. Shebelith took a moment to compose himself. It wasn’t in his nature to lose control like that. Emotion led to carelessness, and the Cagewright was anything but careless. The Time Stop spell he had cast would last for a full minute. Ample time. His next spell was a summoning, at the end of which a frog-like hezrou demon appeared next to Grimm, as frozen as the half-ogre…for the moment. Next came three blade barriers, their whirling blades motionless as they separated the room into three components, leaving Ike alone with Keeriv, Tilly and Grimm with the hezrou and one of the farastus, and Gunther and Houshang with the second. Dalthon had remained outside Shebelith’s rooms, watching the company’s retreat should reinforcements arrived. Now the sorcerer stood trapped in time just beyond the door. Shebelith cast one final spell, rendering himself invisible, while at the same time creating an illusory double of himself standing in the very spot where he was when the Time Stop took effect. Then the loremaster walked casually out into the hall, and positioned himself right behind Dalthon.
Grimm wasn’t sure what had just happened. One moment the Cagewright had been rendered impotent, and the next the group was separated by three whirling walls of blades, and now there was a hezrou standing right next to him. Suddenly, his stomach began to churn, and he felt his gorge begin to rise as the stench from the demon struck his nostrils. He could see that Houshang and Gunther were similarly affected as they clutched at their stomachs and struggled not to retch. To his amazement, even the two farastus looked greener than normal. The demondands didn’t even try to fend off their nausea. They simply emptied the disgusting contents of their stomachs at their feet, licked their lips and continued advancing towards their victims.
As the first farastu stalked towards him, Grimm stuck one large finger down his own throat, producing a fountain of emesis. For a brief moment, the nausea abated, and he swung his chain in a desperate effort to fend off the demodand. His first blow rocked the creature back on its heels, and his second threatened to take it completely off its feet, but as he tried to retract the chain for a follow-up, it stuck fast to the sticky tar-like slime that coated the farastu’s body. The demodand grinned toothily at the half-ogre, and then vomited a second time.
Kiko still stood in the doorway, just in front of Dalthon, watching the chaos ensue around him. His companions were cut off from one another, and the Cagewright was safe behind three blade barriers, where he could pick them off one by one. The monk closed his eyes for a moment, gathering his spirit, his ki, to him, focusing past the mayhem that surrounded him. When he opened his eyes, time seemed to slow down. The shouting and sounds of battle faded into the background. He could see the movements of the combatants in every detail. Even in the whirling vortices of the blade barriers, he could see the individual blades revolving. Then he was in motion. To those watching, he must have seemed like a blur rushing past them. Twisting his body in multiple directions at once, he slid between every razor-sharp blade of the first barrier, not a single one touching his skin. Then he was past the second, and the third. He was directly in front of Shebelith and his shator servant before they even knew what was happening…or so he thought. As he reached for the loremaster’s throat, the enormous right hand of Keeriv shot out and wrapped itself completely around his thigh. The demodand slammed Kiko to the floor, driving the air from his lungs, and then buried his left hand squarely into the monk’s midsection.
Houshang wiped his dripping mouth with the back of his hand. He sorely regretted that third mutton sandwich he had eaten before setting out this morning. His stomach now blissfully empty, he tried to focus on more immediate matters. Beside him, Gunther was still dry-heaving. The farastu that was boxed in here with them was trying to get control of its own nausea so that it could begin rending the little dwarf limb from limb. In the next section, Tilly was similarly incapacitated, while Grimm wrestled with the second farastu, trying to free his weapon from its hide. All the while, the hezrou was circling the combatants, looking for on opening. Ike still stood trapped in his own prison of blades, seemingly unsure of what to do next. The oaf. The shator himself seemed even now to be preparing to send Kiko’s soul on its final voyage. Houshang had tried to tell them that they should perhaps listen to the Cagewright’s offer, but this group was far too noble for such things. He would be all too happy to finish this assignment and be shed of these do-gooders once and for all. Still, he had to make sure most of them survived to complete the mission in the first place, or otherwise he would never be able to return to Thay, and would surely be hunted down for his failure. All these thoughts passed thru his mind in an instant, and as the nearby farastu finally seemed to regain its composure, Houshang struck. A vivid spray of multi-colored light fanned out from his fingertips, the individual rays of energy arcing towards the far side of the room. Amazingly, none of the beams struck the other Bright Axes, as the red wizard molded and sculpted the magic around his allies. A beam of brilliant blue struck the farastu, and crackling electricity raced across its body, sending it into uncontrollable spasms of jerking and jittering. As the energy faded, so did the farastu, returning to Carceri as its life-force on the Prime was snuffed out. A yellow ray barely caressed Keeriv as it passed, but it was enough. As the shator raised its arm to crush Kiko, its entire form suddenly stiffened, its skin hardening to the consistency of stone. Kiko stared up in astonishment at the statue that was but a moment before his would-be executioner.
Ike shook his head to clear his momentary confusion. He would have to give it to the shator. The big brute was a wiley bastard. He would be sure to mention that when he stood over his broken body. The goliath slowly looked around, only to find himself completely caged in by walls of twirling blades. The battle raged around him, but immediately before him, just on the other side of one blade barrier, stood the Cagewright, staring smugly down at Kiko. Unfortunately, his shator sparring partner seemed to have become the victim of one of Houshang’s spells. Ah well, he would just have to settle for feeling the arterial spray of Shebelith’s severed jugular as payback. Without a thought, Ike stepped directly into the blade wall, barely feeling the thousands of tiny blades that sliced into his tough hide. When he emerged on the far side, he looked like a nightmare. Hundreds of wounds criss-crossed his entire body, oozing blood in rivulets from head to toe. The goliath didn’t seem to notice. He raised his hammer in a two-handed grip, and swung for the hills. To his utter amazement, the blow missed. One moment, Shebelith seemed to be a heartbeat away from a crushed skull, and the next, the loremaster was standing right where he had been, that smug smile still plastered on his face.
Tilly was on his hands and knees, praying for death, as it would at least be a welcome relief from the endless heaving of his stomach. At the same time, he knew death was coming for him. He could feel the hezrou’s slow approach, stalking him, relishing the kill. Tilly hadn’t survived this long by giving up, however. The hezrou now stood directly over him, its hot saliva dripping onto his back. Its stench was overpowering, threatening to send the halfling into another bout of retching. With a monstrous effort of will, Tilly threw himself into a roll, tumbling between the hezrou’s legs, and rolling to his feet behind the demon. With a scream of rage, he stabbed his blade into the base of the monster’s spine, aiming for the most vital spot he could reach.
Dalthon watched from the door, struggling with self-doubt over what he should do. The sorcerer was no coward, and he certainly didn’t fear death. After all, he’d faced it several times already. No, his indecision stemmed from the fact that he feared the wrong choice might lead to the death of one of his friends. Nidrama had laid a heavy burden on him when she had charged him with ensuring that the Bright Axes survive to destroy the threat of the Cagewrights once and for all, and he felt that duty acutely each time they entered battle, feeling that he was personally responsible for each of his friends. Finally, he made up his mind. The Cagewright was the key. He must be eliminated for them to have any chance. Dalthon took one step thru the doorway so that he had an unobstructed view of the loremaster. Then he raised one finger and uttered the words to the deadly spell he intended. A ray of black light lanced from his fingertip, traveling unerringly towards Shebelith. It struck the Cagewright dead-on, but instead of immediately killing him as it was supposed to do, the magic simply dissipated. “A nice parlor trick,” said a soft voice from directly behind Dalthon. “Now here’s one of my own.” Ice cold hands wrapped around the sorcerer’s throat, and his body went stiff as waves of pain like fiery knives raced through every nerve of his body. After a moment that seemed like an eternity, the pain vanished, and Dalthon collapsed to the floor, his breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps, his vision blurred and fading.
The hezrou shrieked in agony as Tilly’s blade severed its spinal cord. It fell to the ground in a writhing heap, twisting and jerking in anguish. It cursed the Cagewright for summoning it to this gods-forsaken plane, and even though it knew it would be able to return to the Abyss upon its death here, it still wanted revenge and the taste of blood. Calling on its own unholy magic, it conjured an inky black cloud that engulfed the enemies around it, including Tilly, Gunther and Houshang. All of them felt the cold, greasy feel of the Abyssal taint course thru them, sapping their strength and leaving them with a hollow feeling inside. The blight washed over Grimm as well, but the half-ogre already bore a dark mark on his soul in the form of the red, smoking eye in his left eye socket. With a growl, he finally wrenched his chain loose from the farastu. He turned, and flailed repeatedly at the convulsing hezrou, until the demon began to fade from this plane of existence. Turning once more, Grimm met the charge of the farastu, seizing its upraised hand in one fist, and slamming his own chain-wrapped knuckles into the side of its head.
Kiko leaped to his feet and charged towards Shebelith. There was no way that the Cagewright could elude him and Ike for much longer. Once more, however, the loremaster was not were he seemed to be. Kiko’s strike fell just short, and Shebelith continued to smile. Kiko immediately dropped into a defensive stance, preparing himself for the magical assault he knew would come, but as he studied the loremaster, something caught his eye. There was a tapestry on the wall behind Shebelith, depicting some horrid scene of Carceri. However, Kiko found that he could see part of the tapestry through the man, almost as if he were translucent. It was at that moment that Kiko realized they had been duped. “Ike,” he shouted, “it’s an illusion! Everyone,” he cried, turning towards his companions, “ware the Cagewright! He walks unseen among us!”
Rusty heard Kiko’s warning at the same time that he saw Dalthon fall. Backing quickly away from the door, he fished a small pouch of ointment from his belt pouch and smeared it into his eyes, muttering the words to a prayer as he did so. Instantly, he saw the invisible form of Shebelith standing over Dalthon. “He’s here!” the priest shouted.
Houshang seized Gunther by his robes and hauled the young dwarf to his feet from where he’d still be dry heaving. “Come on my friend,” the red wizard chided, “time to buck up now. We’ve work to be about. Do as I do. You won’t even have to think about it.” Quickly, the wizard launched a volley of sizzling magic missiles towards the farastu. Gunther nodded. The spell was such a simple affair, that it would not require much concentration on his part. He sent his own barrage on the heels of Houshang’s, buffeting the demodand as it struggled to fend off Grimm.
Shebelith was not worried. He knew they’d find him sooner or later. The fact was, they were still separated, weakened, and confused. They would still be easy prey. The sorcerer was as good as dead, and now the dwarf priest would soon be following. So it was that he was totally unprepared when he heard Dalthon speaking from the ground at his feet. Not only speaking, but casting! As he looked down in surprise, he was suddenly seized from behind by a thick, black tentacle that wrapped completely around his waist and dragged him back out into the hallway, where an entire nest of similar tentacles waited, grasping and seeking.
Tilly wiped the ichor from his blade as the hezrou disappeared, thankfully taking its nauseating stench with it. Feeling his strength slowly returning, he stood, assessing the situation. Grimm and the farastu were nearby, face-to-face and toe-to-toe. Quickly, Tilly crouched, circling behind the demodand, picking his spot. Grimm saw his little friend moving into position, and at just the right moment, he gave ground, allowing the farastu to move him back, thereby overbalancing itself. It was then that Tilly struck, coming from beneath the creature and spilling its guts as his blade surgically eviscerated it. With a final howl, the demodand returned home.
Like two behemoths, Grimm and Ike waded thru the interdicting blade barriers towards the far side of the chamber were Shebelith was apparently trapped. The wounds they suffered seemed grievous, but the warriors didn’t slow. In the hallway, the Cagewright hung helplessly in the grip of the tentacles of Evard, the life slowly being crushed out of him. The loremaster’s hands were pinned, so that he could not make the gestures necessary to unleash his most powerful spells. Still, his face betrayed no emotion. The calm smile still played across his lips. After all, not all prayers required genuflection and clasped hands. Some required only a word…a blasphemous word! The raw force of the spell struck like a hammer blow. Ike was stopped in tracks, paralyzed by the pure power of the evil inherent in the utterance. Rusty was dazed by the after shock, and Dalthon, already weakened unto death, slipped into unconsciousness. Once more, Grimm’s unholy taint protected him. He stepped to the doorway and gazed calmly at Shebelith. “You were warned,” he said, and then there was no further need for words.
“Which way now?” Grimm asked Gunther as the companions regrouped and recovered. “It’s that way, beyond the altar,” Gunther replied. He indicated a plain, black stone blocked engraved with the Carcerian Eye, which stood alone beneath a font on the far wall of Shebelith’s study. Grimm approached the altar slowly, feeling an odd pull from it. In some way, it felt familiar to him, comforting. At the same time, the glowing orb in his head ached, and smoke began to billow from it in clouds. Somehow, the altar was tied to Occipitus. Grimm knew this instinctively. He also knew that it would grant him power should he touch it…bow before it. Without a word, he raised his chain and shattered the granite block into a hundred fragments. A hidden door stood revealed behind it. “This way,” he said quietly, and stepped through the door.
CATACLYSM, Part 1
“We’re running in circles,” Rusty grumbled as he kicked the limp form of Thearynn in frustration. “And each of these bastards we deal with uses up that much more of our resources. Gunther and I are running thin on prayers, and I’m sure Houshang and Dalthon could use a rest as well. We need to finish this thing and find this tree before we’re too exhausted to do anything about it.”
“I have an idea,” Gunther said, his face a mask of thoughtful contemplation. “We’ve seen one of these Soulcages before, right?” His companions nodded, not following his logic. “Well then I have a prayer that can lead us to the nearest Soulcage.” Rusty’s eyes suddenly brightened in understanding. “Locate Object! Yer right boy! It stands to reason that if we find a Soulcage, then we’ll find the tree! Let’s be about it then!”
_____________________________________________________
Shebelith Regidin allowed himself a faint smile as he heard the door to his study quietly open. Keeriv, the big shator demodand cocked his bulbous head in a gesture that conveyed both alertness and mild confusion. Much like a trained dog, Shebelith thought. Keeriv himself thought that the man seated so calmly before him while a squad of dangerous enemies waltzed casually into his chambers was a mad man. Yet he suffered the fool in silence, for Dyr’ryd had commanded that he attend the human, and the twins were not to be defied lightly.
“I believe our expected company has finally arrived,” Shebelith drawled, taking another sip of brandy from his snifter. Keeriv stared intently at the archway leading to the study, his claws clenching and unclenching, but no one appeared, though he could clearly smell their insufferable stench. “Oh do come in!” Shebelith sighed in mock exasperation. “There’s no sense skulking about in there.”
Finally, a figure emerged from the shadows. He was a hulking specimen, almost equal in size to the shator. His sloping brow and bovine nostrils betrayed his ogrish heritage. Heavy armor covered his rippling musculature, and a deadly looking coil of barbed chain dangled from one hand. “Ah! Grimm Graaka is it?” Shebelith exclaimed. “I’ve waited a long time to meet you and your companions.” One by one the Bright Axes formed up tensely behind Grimm, a look of wary expectation on their collective faces. “If you are one of the Cagewrights,” Grimm said in a voice full of low menace, “then your one chance at ever leaving this room again is to take us to the Tree of Shackled Souls now and show us how to destroy it.”
Shebelith chuckled as he sipped his drink once more. “Come now. Surely you don’t think it can be that easy? Destroying the Tree is out of the question at this point. It’s far too late. Events have already been set in motion, and they can’t be stopped. Cauldron is doomed, and Turmish as a whole will follow. You and your friends, however, don’t have to become casualties of war.” The loremaster steepled his fingers under his chin. “You stumbled upon Thifirane’s little gathering, so I know you are aware of what she had hoped to accomplish by calling together that particular assemblage. Unfortunately for her, your untimely arrival quelled that little tête-à-tête. Perhaps not so unfortunate for me. You see, I am in the singular position to offer you that which Thifirane sought to bestow upon her hirelings. You could all become lords in our New Order. Think of it! Lands to call your own. Power beyond what you could imagine. Untold wealth at your fingertips! Put aside this petty quest, and see reason. What, after all, do you owe the cattle of Cauldron? What have they done for you? Have you not been blamed numerous times for the misfortunes of the townsfolk? Do the nobles not sneer at you when you presume to invade their inner circles? You could crush them all beneath your boot heels!”
“Save your breath, Cagewright,” Grimm said flatly. “I’ve heard this all before, and from those with more to offer than you could ever dream of. Tell me where the Tree is. I won’t ask you again.” For just a fraction of a second, Shebelith’s eyes narrowed in anger, the first sign of emotion that he’d shown. “This is your last chance,” he said in a voice barely louder than a whisper. Houshang took a half step forward, his lips parting to speak, and then abruptly, he felt a grip like iron clamp down on his shoulder. “I know what ye’re thinkin’,” Rusty hissed from behind him, “and if ye open yer yap, I’ll shove this hammer into it.” The Red Wizard sighed. The Cagewright’s offer didn’t sound half bad. “Oh well,” he said. “If you can’t beat them, join them, and if you can’t join them, morph them!” With that, his hands flashed up, fingers moving with blinding speed. The words of a spell came pouring from his mouth, and Shebelith’s eyes widened as he came to understand the nature of the magic being wrought. In a flash of light, the loremaster disappeared. Where he’d been seated, only a disembodied eye ball lay, looking this way and that.
“About time,” Ike muttered as he pushed past his companions, unlimbering his war hammer as he went. “All that blather was making my head hurt.” Keeriv was still staring dumbfounded at what was left of his erstwhile master when the goliath swept his feet out from under him. As he crashed to the floor, the shator was jarred back to his senses. “You dare lay hands on me, slave?” the demodand spat. His brow furrowed in concentration, and in the blink of an eye, two farastu demondands stood behind him. “You, destroy him!” Keeriv commanded the first. “You, undo this weave,” he said to the second, indicating Shebelith’s eye. Without a word, the farstus moved to obey. The second reached down and grabbed the eye ball, and as he touched it, magic flashed again. Once more Shebelith appeared, his face now filled with unconcealed fury. With a gesture, the loremaster cast his greatest spell, and everyone in the room, including Keeriv and the farastus, froze where they stood. Shebelith took a moment to compose himself. It wasn’t in his nature to lose control like that. Emotion led to carelessness, and the Cagewright was anything but careless. The Time Stop spell he had cast would last for a full minute. Ample time. His next spell was a summoning, at the end of which a frog-like hezrou demon appeared next to Grimm, as frozen as the half-ogre…for the moment. Next came three blade barriers, their whirling blades motionless as they separated the room into three components, leaving Ike alone with Keeriv, Tilly and Grimm with the hezrou and one of the farastus, and Gunther and Houshang with the second. Dalthon had remained outside Shebelith’s rooms, watching the company’s retreat should reinforcements arrived. Now the sorcerer stood trapped in time just beyond the door. Shebelith cast one final spell, rendering himself invisible, while at the same time creating an illusory double of himself standing in the very spot where he was when the Time Stop took effect. Then the loremaster walked casually out into the hall, and positioned himself right behind Dalthon.
Grimm wasn’t sure what had just happened. One moment the Cagewright had been rendered impotent, and the next the group was separated by three whirling walls of blades, and now there was a hezrou standing right next to him. Suddenly, his stomach began to churn, and he felt his gorge begin to rise as the stench from the demon struck his nostrils. He could see that Houshang and Gunther were similarly affected as they clutched at their stomachs and struggled not to retch. To his amazement, even the two farastus looked greener than normal. The demondands didn’t even try to fend off their nausea. They simply emptied the disgusting contents of their stomachs at their feet, licked their lips and continued advancing towards their victims.
As the first farastu stalked towards him, Grimm stuck one large finger down his own throat, producing a fountain of emesis. For a brief moment, the nausea abated, and he swung his chain in a desperate effort to fend off the demodand. His first blow rocked the creature back on its heels, and his second threatened to take it completely off its feet, but as he tried to retract the chain for a follow-up, it stuck fast to the sticky tar-like slime that coated the farastu’s body. The demodand grinned toothily at the half-ogre, and then vomited a second time.
Kiko still stood in the doorway, just in front of Dalthon, watching the chaos ensue around him. His companions were cut off from one another, and the Cagewright was safe behind three blade barriers, where he could pick them off one by one. The monk closed his eyes for a moment, gathering his spirit, his ki, to him, focusing past the mayhem that surrounded him. When he opened his eyes, time seemed to slow down. The shouting and sounds of battle faded into the background. He could see the movements of the combatants in every detail. Even in the whirling vortices of the blade barriers, he could see the individual blades revolving. Then he was in motion. To those watching, he must have seemed like a blur rushing past them. Twisting his body in multiple directions at once, he slid between every razor-sharp blade of the first barrier, not a single one touching his skin. Then he was past the second, and the third. He was directly in front of Shebelith and his shator servant before they even knew what was happening…or so he thought. As he reached for the loremaster’s throat, the enormous right hand of Keeriv shot out and wrapped itself completely around his thigh. The demodand slammed Kiko to the floor, driving the air from his lungs, and then buried his left hand squarely into the monk’s midsection.
Houshang wiped his dripping mouth with the back of his hand. He sorely regretted that third mutton sandwich he had eaten before setting out this morning. His stomach now blissfully empty, he tried to focus on more immediate matters. Beside him, Gunther was still dry-heaving. The farastu that was boxed in here with them was trying to get control of its own nausea so that it could begin rending the little dwarf limb from limb. In the next section, Tilly was similarly incapacitated, while Grimm wrestled with the second farastu, trying to free his weapon from its hide. All the while, the hezrou was circling the combatants, looking for on opening. Ike still stood trapped in his own prison of blades, seemingly unsure of what to do next. The oaf. The shator himself seemed even now to be preparing to send Kiko’s soul on its final voyage. Houshang had tried to tell them that they should perhaps listen to the Cagewright’s offer, but this group was far too noble for such things. He would be all too happy to finish this assignment and be shed of these do-gooders once and for all. Still, he had to make sure most of them survived to complete the mission in the first place, or otherwise he would never be able to return to Thay, and would surely be hunted down for his failure. All these thoughts passed thru his mind in an instant, and as the nearby farastu finally seemed to regain its composure, Houshang struck. A vivid spray of multi-colored light fanned out from his fingertips, the individual rays of energy arcing towards the far side of the room. Amazingly, none of the beams struck the other Bright Axes, as the red wizard molded and sculpted the magic around his allies. A beam of brilliant blue struck the farastu, and crackling electricity raced across its body, sending it into uncontrollable spasms of jerking and jittering. As the energy faded, so did the farastu, returning to Carceri as its life-force on the Prime was snuffed out. A yellow ray barely caressed Keeriv as it passed, but it was enough. As the shator raised its arm to crush Kiko, its entire form suddenly stiffened, its skin hardening to the consistency of stone. Kiko stared up in astonishment at the statue that was but a moment before his would-be executioner.
Ike shook his head to clear his momentary confusion. He would have to give it to the shator. The big brute was a wiley bastard. He would be sure to mention that when he stood over his broken body. The goliath slowly looked around, only to find himself completely caged in by walls of twirling blades. The battle raged around him, but immediately before him, just on the other side of one blade barrier, stood the Cagewright, staring smugly down at Kiko. Unfortunately, his shator sparring partner seemed to have become the victim of one of Houshang’s spells. Ah well, he would just have to settle for feeling the arterial spray of Shebelith’s severed jugular as payback. Without a thought, Ike stepped directly into the blade wall, barely feeling the thousands of tiny blades that sliced into his tough hide. When he emerged on the far side, he looked like a nightmare. Hundreds of wounds criss-crossed his entire body, oozing blood in rivulets from head to toe. The goliath didn’t seem to notice. He raised his hammer in a two-handed grip, and swung for the hills. To his utter amazement, the blow missed. One moment, Shebelith seemed to be a heartbeat away from a crushed skull, and the next, the loremaster was standing right where he had been, that smug smile still plastered on his face.
Tilly was on his hands and knees, praying for death, as it would at least be a welcome relief from the endless heaving of his stomach. At the same time, he knew death was coming for him. He could feel the hezrou’s slow approach, stalking him, relishing the kill. Tilly hadn’t survived this long by giving up, however. The hezrou now stood directly over him, its hot saliva dripping onto his back. Its stench was overpowering, threatening to send the halfling into another bout of retching. With a monstrous effort of will, Tilly threw himself into a roll, tumbling between the hezrou’s legs, and rolling to his feet behind the demon. With a scream of rage, he stabbed his blade into the base of the monster’s spine, aiming for the most vital spot he could reach.
Dalthon watched from the door, struggling with self-doubt over what he should do. The sorcerer was no coward, and he certainly didn’t fear death. After all, he’d faced it several times already. No, his indecision stemmed from the fact that he feared the wrong choice might lead to the death of one of his friends. Nidrama had laid a heavy burden on him when she had charged him with ensuring that the Bright Axes survive to destroy the threat of the Cagewrights once and for all, and he felt that duty acutely each time they entered battle, feeling that he was personally responsible for each of his friends. Finally, he made up his mind. The Cagewright was the key. He must be eliminated for them to have any chance. Dalthon took one step thru the doorway so that he had an unobstructed view of the loremaster. Then he raised one finger and uttered the words to the deadly spell he intended. A ray of black light lanced from his fingertip, traveling unerringly towards Shebelith. It struck the Cagewright dead-on, but instead of immediately killing him as it was supposed to do, the magic simply dissipated. “A nice parlor trick,” said a soft voice from directly behind Dalthon. “Now here’s one of my own.” Ice cold hands wrapped around the sorcerer’s throat, and his body went stiff as waves of pain like fiery knives raced through every nerve of his body. After a moment that seemed like an eternity, the pain vanished, and Dalthon collapsed to the floor, his breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps, his vision blurred and fading.
The hezrou shrieked in agony as Tilly’s blade severed its spinal cord. It fell to the ground in a writhing heap, twisting and jerking in anguish. It cursed the Cagewright for summoning it to this gods-forsaken plane, and even though it knew it would be able to return to the Abyss upon its death here, it still wanted revenge and the taste of blood. Calling on its own unholy magic, it conjured an inky black cloud that engulfed the enemies around it, including Tilly, Gunther and Houshang. All of them felt the cold, greasy feel of the Abyssal taint course thru them, sapping their strength and leaving them with a hollow feeling inside. The blight washed over Grimm as well, but the half-ogre already bore a dark mark on his soul in the form of the red, smoking eye in his left eye socket. With a growl, he finally wrenched his chain loose from the farastu. He turned, and flailed repeatedly at the convulsing hezrou, until the demon began to fade from this plane of existence. Turning once more, Grimm met the charge of the farastu, seizing its upraised hand in one fist, and slamming his own chain-wrapped knuckles into the side of its head.
Kiko leaped to his feet and charged towards Shebelith. There was no way that the Cagewright could elude him and Ike for much longer. Once more, however, the loremaster was not were he seemed to be. Kiko’s strike fell just short, and Shebelith continued to smile. Kiko immediately dropped into a defensive stance, preparing himself for the magical assault he knew would come, but as he studied the loremaster, something caught his eye. There was a tapestry on the wall behind Shebelith, depicting some horrid scene of Carceri. However, Kiko found that he could see part of the tapestry through the man, almost as if he were translucent. It was at that moment that Kiko realized they had been duped. “Ike,” he shouted, “it’s an illusion! Everyone,” he cried, turning towards his companions, “ware the Cagewright! He walks unseen among us!”
Rusty heard Kiko’s warning at the same time that he saw Dalthon fall. Backing quickly away from the door, he fished a small pouch of ointment from his belt pouch and smeared it into his eyes, muttering the words to a prayer as he did so. Instantly, he saw the invisible form of Shebelith standing over Dalthon. “He’s here!” the priest shouted.
Houshang seized Gunther by his robes and hauled the young dwarf to his feet from where he’d still be dry heaving. “Come on my friend,” the red wizard chided, “time to buck up now. We’ve work to be about. Do as I do. You won’t even have to think about it.” Quickly, the wizard launched a volley of sizzling magic missiles towards the farastu. Gunther nodded. The spell was such a simple affair, that it would not require much concentration on his part. He sent his own barrage on the heels of Houshang’s, buffeting the demodand as it struggled to fend off Grimm.
Shebelith was not worried. He knew they’d find him sooner or later. The fact was, they were still separated, weakened, and confused. They would still be easy prey. The sorcerer was as good as dead, and now the dwarf priest would soon be following. So it was that he was totally unprepared when he heard Dalthon speaking from the ground at his feet. Not only speaking, but casting! As he looked down in surprise, he was suddenly seized from behind by a thick, black tentacle that wrapped completely around his waist and dragged him back out into the hallway, where an entire nest of similar tentacles waited, grasping and seeking.
Tilly wiped the ichor from his blade as the hezrou disappeared, thankfully taking its nauseating stench with it. Feeling his strength slowly returning, he stood, assessing the situation. Grimm and the farastu were nearby, face-to-face and toe-to-toe. Quickly, Tilly crouched, circling behind the demodand, picking his spot. Grimm saw his little friend moving into position, and at just the right moment, he gave ground, allowing the farastu to move him back, thereby overbalancing itself. It was then that Tilly struck, coming from beneath the creature and spilling its guts as his blade surgically eviscerated it. With a final howl, the demodand returned home.
Like two behemoths, Grimm and Ike waded thru the interdicting blade barriers towards the far side of the chamber were Shebelith was apparently trapped. The wounds they suffered seemed grievous, but the warriors didn’t slow. In the hallway, the Cagewright hung helplessly in the grip of the tentacles of Evard, the life slowly being crushed out of him. The loremaster’s hands were pinned, so that he could not make the gestures necessary to unleash his most powerful spells. Still, his face betrayed no emotion. The calm smile still played across his lips. After all, not all prayers required genuflection and clasped hands. Some required only a word…a blasphemous word! The raw force of the spell struck like a hammer blow. Ike was stopped in tracks, paralyzed by the pure power of the evil inherent in the utterance. Rusty was dazed by the after shock, and Dalthon, already weakened unto death, slipped into unconsciousness. Once more, Grimm’s unholy taint protected him. He stepped to the doorway and gazed calmly at Shebelith. “You were warned,” he said, and then there was no further need for words.
“Which way now?” Grimm asked Gunther as the companions regrouped and recovered. “It’s that way, beyond the altar,” Gunther replied. He indicated a plain, black stone blocked engraved with the Carcerian Eye, which stood alone beneath a font on the far wall of Shebelith’s study. Grimm approached the altar slowly, feeling an odd pull from it. In some way, it felt familiar to him, comforting. At the same time, the glowing orb in his head ached, and smoke began to billow from it in clouds. Somehow, the altar was tied to Occipitus. Grimm knew this instinctively. He also knew that it would grant him power should he touch it…bow before it. Without a word, he raised his chain and shattered the granite block into a hundred fragments. A hidden door stood revealed behind it. “This way,” he said quietly, and stepped through the door.
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