Session 23 (Part Five)
WARNING! This game has pretty much been PG-13 for its entire run. The next couple of Sessions veer into R-rated territory. I will try to handle this as tastefully as possible, but ye have been warned!
Turnabout is Fair Play
Sextus tried not to fidget. Even though the day wasn’t too warm, sweat still rolled down his back. The bard glanced left and right. His companions crouched behind rocks and scrub brush, tense as a taught bowstring. He risked a quick glance down and noted his own hands clenched tight around the stock of his crossbow. Slowly raising his eyes and making every effort to keep the small movement unnoticed by the enemy’s raven spies, he focused on the approaching caravan.
At least a score of cadaverous undead lead the column, shuffling along at an unhurried pace. He noted with disgust the tunics and uniforms that marked Glynden townsfolk and militia. An ox-drawn wagon followed the undead with what looked to be a human drover. The next conveyance in line sent an involuntary shiver down the bard’s spine.
It was an ivory-colored chariot, drawn by skeletal horses. As the bard squinted in the bright sunlight, he realized the chariot was composed entirely of bone. Two dark-clad figures rode in the chariot, one tall and one short. Clues and snippets of clues raced through the younger Scipio’s head. ‘Were they finally about to confront the mysterious “R”? Was the other figure in the chariot his brother’s former paramour, Abigail?’
He stole a look at his brother. Quintus crouched on the other side of the road. He had invoked shape-changing magic a few turns of the minute glass before the caravan hove into view and nascent wings sprouted from his shoulder blades. The bard noted that Quintus’s face bore that look of stubborn determination he got when his mind was focused on a single goal.
A commotion on the bridge snapped his attention back to the caravan. The column had stopped in the middle of the span. Sextus’s mind raced. ‘Had they been discovered?’
A shouted command floated across the gorge, but Sextus couldn’t make it out. Just to his front, Rowan hissed, “We will never get a better chance…now!”
Quintus tensed, and then invoked words of power while weaving his hand in a complex pattern. The glowing pellet of a fireball streaked towards the bridge and exploded amidst the lead element of undead, engulfing them and the front of the lead wagon in writhing flame. The sorcerer launched himself into the air, willing his ungainly wings to raise him.
Rowan stood and snapped off several shots in rapid succession. His first arrow lanced through remnants of Quintus’s fireball and hit the shorter of the two figures in the chariot in the throat. The black-clad figure dropped with a strangled cry. The second shot hit the taller figure squarely amidships, knocking it out of the back of the chariot.
With rousing battle cries, Cragen, Junior Tribune Metallus and Optio Bato broke cover and charged towards the center of the bridge. Cragen pulled up short, raised his hammer and called upon Moradin’s power. Violet light shone from the head of the weapon and reduced the few undead that hadn’t succumbed to Quintus’s fireball to crumpled piles of bone and sinew.
Sextus added a crossbow bolt to the mix and began singing, his rich baritone voice rising above the din of battle. He quickly reloaded and began looking for another target. Drusilla followed suit, striking a zombie further down the column.
(DM’s Note: The opening salvo of the ambush was masterfully done. The combination of Quintus’s fireball, followed by Cragen’s turning essentially wiped out the entire undead vanguard of the caravan. In addition, Rowan’s first arrow was a critical hit on one of the BBEGals, which came within a whisker of killing her. Alas, as happens so often with our intrepid band, fate has a habit of turning against them.)
Quintus raised fifteen paces off the ground, giving him an angle to see the entire caravan. Several details charged through his mind in rapid succession. There was something happening at the back of the caravan, with figures darting to and fro. He also saw the two chariot occupants crouched behind the vehicle. One seemed to be drinking a vial while the other was making casting motions. Another figure, clad in archaic-looking dark armor, was moving to intercept Cragen, Metallus and Bato with another contingent of Glynden provided zombies and skeletons. Then, the elder Scipio’s stomach churned. The lead wagon was on fire and the pitiful cries of young children assaulted the sorcerer’s ears. “By the light…NO!”
Anger galvanized Quintus and he sent another fireball screaming toward the enemy, targeted to avoid more collateral damage on the remaining wagons. Unfortunately, the 2-pace high parapet of the bridge partially shielded some of the enemy, so the blast was not as effective as the first. Still, the enemy ranks were thinned further.
An arrow from Rowan knifed between the two Emorians and hit the armored figure full in the chest. The missile shattered on the armor, however, barely leaving a scratch. The junior tribune and optio attacked in unison, but their attacks failed to breach the enemy’s defense. Bato’s eyes narrowed as he noted the old-style Jewel City armor the man wore and widened as the Berylian helmet, with its horsehair crest, came up – revealing two crimson eyes. The man swung an ancient bronze sword, crying out in a piercing voice as he struck Metallus a crushing blow.
The junior tribune staggered, badly hurt. The insidious cry turned his blood to ice water in his veins. An overwhelming vision for pain and torment washed over the young officer and he turned and fled. The hard-bitten Bato felt bile rise in his gorge as a fear he had not experienced in fifty pitched battles gripped him uncontrollably. He followed his young charge in headlong flight, receiving a vicious cut in the back as he ran. Cragen’s dwarven blood helped him fight off the numbing fear, but it still gnawed at his mind.
The warrior-priest steeled himself and stepped forward, invoking Moradin once again. Holy power ripped through the ranks of advance undead. Numerous zombies and skeletons collapsed, including the undead horses powering the bone chariot. The crimson eyes of the dark warrior locked on Cragen and a low-pitched laugh rumbled from beneath the helm as he advanced towards the dwarf.
Sextus fired at the man, but the bolt flew wide. Drusilla also missed and bitterness washed across her pretty face as she moved up next to Rowan.
Quintus cursed as the air before him rippled and three skeletal bats, shreds of leathery flesh hanging in tatters from their wings, emerged from nothingness before him. The flying terrors darted to the attack. Only one breached the sorcerer’s defensive
shield, but Quintus felt some of his strength slip away as the tiny creature landed a chilling bite. He wanted desperately to add his combat power to the struggle below, but he soon found himself fighting for his life against the nasty little bats.
Rowan cursed as he saw both Emorians run headlong from the fray. He moved forward, searching for targets. He wanted to finish one of the two charioteers, but they were deftly using the vehicle for cover. He settled on sending another arrow towards the armored fighter. This one struck true, but seemed to have a negligible effect on his inexorable advance towards Cragen.
The dwarf’s eyes widened as he saw a nearly naked Röse crash into a knot of undead clustered around the chariot. The huge barbarian lashed out with sword and fist, dropping a zombie. A number of the ungainly creatures turned and began lashing the Brigante with their fists. Cragen hesitated for a moment, torn between meeting the assault of the armored warrior and helping embattled barbarian. Gritting his teeth, he sent Moradin’s faith rolling towards Röse and raised his shield to deflect the overhand blow from the enemy fighter.
Half of the Brigante’s attackers melted away, but the power of dark warrior’s strike hammered through Cragen’s defense, driving him to his knees. Worse, the piercing cry that accompanied the attack shook the sturdy dwarf to his very core. Eyes wild with panic, Cragen leapt to his feet and ran from the menacing figure, casting shield and hammer aside as he fled.
Sextus yelled in defiance and sent another bolt towards the implacable armored man. It sank half its length into the warrior’s left side, but had no visible effect. Drusilla also scored a hit, but she might as well have been pelting him with peebles.
Rowan in stood slack-jawed disbelief for a moment at the three front-line fighters streamed past him, running up north along the Lords Road with wild abandoned. His moment of inattention cost him dearly, as a dark-swathed figure rose from behind the chariot and leveled a wand at the ranger, speaking a word of power. The potent effect caused Rowan, Sextus and Drusilla to join the rout.
Quintus twisted awkwardly in the air, his clumsy magical wings no match for the speed and quickness of the undead bats. He managed to get off a
magic missile, splitting the effect between two of the three bats. They disintegrated into a shower of bone, but the third darted around his defenses and bite him again, stealing more of his strength. A black and while blur flashed past the sorcerer and the third bat exploded into tiny pieces. Quintus’s joy at
Severus’s intervention was replaced by angst as he noted the turn of events below. The sorcerer’s spirit sank even more as three more bats materialized slightly above him and dove to the attack.
Despite Cragen’s help, Röse was in trouble. Fresh bodies from the rear of the column were reinforcing the thinned ranks of the zombies. One of the drovers hopped up on the middle wagon and sank a bolt into the barbarian’s left thigh. The dark warrior, fresh from routing the companions at the front of the caravan, turned his attention to the desperately fighting Brigante. Röse howled in inarticulate battle cry and gave into the rage of his forefathers. Sword and fist dropped another zombie, but two more crowded in to rip at the barbarian.
Quintus suffered two more bites before he and
Severus dispatched the flitting bats. He began to gather his will to support the bloodied Röse, but the shorter charioteer was quicker. An invisible force from the raised wand hammered at the sorcerer’s psyche. Fear overcame reason and Quintus turned and flew to the north as fast as his ungainly wings would take him. The figure behind the chariot smiled beneath its scarf and turned its attention to the last remaining foe. The taller figure to its side began casting a spell.
Röse stood for a moment, bloody, battered and indomitable in the middle of a magical and physical storm. He shrugged off raking claws, hammering fists and invocations from both charioteers while lashing back at his enemies. The assault of the dark warrior, however, proved to be his undoing.
For the third time in a turn of the minute glass, a fearful cry rent the air. The bronze sword plunged deeply into Röse’s body, staggering the Brigante and forcing him back against the bridge parapet even as terror welled up in his breast. Surrounded, with no avenues of escape and gripped by mindless despair, the barbarian turned and hurled himself off the bridge. Fifty paces below, frothing water and jagged rocks waited to embrace the son of the Western Wilds.
(DM's Note: Never have I seen a worse round of saving throws! Some of the party even had the benefit of Sextus's song, to no avail. The save DCs weren't too horrible - mostly 14-17 - but the rolls were just awful. Most of them were in the 2-4 range. Gotta love my boys 
)
To Be Continued…
Next: Session 24 (Part One) – Sorrow of Sorrows
Enjoy!
~ Old One
![:]](http://www.enworld.org/forum/images/smilies/devious.png "Devious :]")
!
