Gerontius dodges as flashing ribbons of color shoot out from one of the solars, but even as fast as he is, he is too slow. A beam zips through him and he gasps, and suddenly he’s been turned to stone. Inoke stands, gaping at the stub of his magical club clutched in his hand. Horbin, safe within the prismatic sphere, bites his lip. He cannot strike out against angels of Galador- he cannot!
Lillamere shape changes into a phase spider and dances away from the conflict, trying to get enough distance to do something without getting pounded. His crushing fist of spite is aggravating the solars, but it isn’t nearly enough... and it vanishes as Gelthanathese greater dispels it.
Horbin steps from his sphere and casts a mass heal. “Please, stop this!”
Inoke casts aside the stub. Beneath his cat-helm, his face contorts in sorrow. Deadly Avalanche is no more. “Fine!” he roars. “You destroy my weapon- I will take yours!” With a bellow he rushes in at Zuzuvel, groping for his mace!* The solar sneers and lands a tremendous blow on Inoke’s head, his mace ringing on the metal of the cat-helm. Inoke shakes his head- and keeps groping for the mace. He wraps his powerful left hand around Zuzuvel’s right wrist, capturing his arm, and though the solar punches him in the throat he manages to get his right hand on the mace’s haft.
Immediately he feels a draining sensation.**
Ignoring it, he wrestles with Zuzuvel, trying to pull the mace from him. Finally he succeeds! Then, to his shock, the mace itself speaks!
“How dare you!” it cries. ”You are not worthy!”
But for now he ignores its words and swings it to lay low the solar Zuzuvel!
“The Mace of St. John!” cries Molothon. ”How dare you!!” He launches himself forward, slashing at Inoke to staggering effect.*** The two begin a deadly duel. Horbin, meanwhile, has turned to Gerontius’ stoney form and cast a miracle to restore him to flesh! The halfling tumbles in, flanking with Inoke, and his daggers return to work, striking as precisely as a surgeon.
Lillamere, meanwhile, is trying to disintegrate solars left and right, but so far he hasn’t had much luck. He’s been considering his best bet on a good form to assume against the solars, and now he shape changes into a pit fiend. The solars shoot him furious glares. “You don’t like that, boys?” he taunts. “How about this?” He transforms again, this time into a titan- and joins the melee!
Gritting his teeth, Molothon- battered and flanked- pronounces a word of power, and Inoke goes blind. He gives out a harsh laugh in reply, using his synesthete power to overcome the difficulty instantly. Then he unleashes a deadly sweeping strike as Gelthanathese moves up, pounding both solars with the Mace of St. John.
Horbin just keeps healing. He weeps that things have come to this. He will not raise arms against the solars, but he will not forsake his friends either.
Gelthanathese, his frown dire as he watches Molothon teetering on the edge of unconsciousness, touches Inoke. The ground beneath the man cracks and opens up, and with a loud shout of dismay, the human- and St. John’s Mace- is dragged deep below the surface and imprisoned.
“Uh-oh,” Gerontius says, then laughs as he bluffs and stabs, bluffs and stabs. He twirls in and out, feinting and striking, looking like a dancer. Lillamere shifts from shape to shape, now turning into a black pudding to try to do to the solars’ weapons what Molothon did to Inoke’s mace. Together, they are wearing down the solars, and no matter how they try, the solars can’t overcome Horbin’s consistent mass heals. Of course, he can’t keep those up forever, either; and that becomes apparent as he switches to mass cure critical wounds.
Finally Gerontius lands another blow on Molothon’s vitals, and the solar gasps and collapses. Then, even while he dodges an attempt at imprisonment, Lillamere morphs into a pit fiend to continue his fight and keeps Gelthanathese distracted long enough for Gerontius to slit his throat from behind. Then, to stop the regeneration issue, Lillamere coup de graces them all.****
Horbin turns away.
***
10/12/370 O.L.G., 2 p.m, the Halls of Healing, Var[/b]
As the party regroups and rests at the halls of healing in Var, Inoke’s mind is racing with the possibilities now laid before him. He recalls the words of the mace well, they burn in his mind. “You are not worthy.” He had used the weapon after taking it from Zuzuvel, and although it suppressed his might slightly, it was the finest weapon he had ever laid hands upon, bristling with magical energy and holy power.
It was time for some serious thought on the topic. He manifested Schism, and began discussing things with himself, keeping separate viewpoints and not playing favorites. After a short time, it became clear that many things were contributing to his thoughts.
He thinks of Hobbes the Tabaxi and the Fruit of Heaven. He contemplates his treatment during his stint in the Forinthian Navy. He considers his Warmind training and the amount of discipline it requires. He smiles when thinking of the good he could do by bringing the orcs back into the light, and how perfect he is for the job. He has learned first hand from Horbin the MFKG Holy that the powers of light are very strong and worthy. He uncovers within himself a deeper desire to belong, to champion something, to be important.
Meanwhile, his other mind is thinking more negative thoughts, about his “gift” from chaos that made him stinky, how his friend Vail seems addicted to it and is always touching the obelisk. He reminds himself of the rush of strength and power that his barbarian roots provide, and how it is good to be free and have no one to answer to. He thinks of his friends and how they are fighting mostly on the side of Chaos. He thinks about how he just fought three Solars and remembers their words. “How dare you!”
Then, something deeper in his soul stirs and he comes to a realization. It was meant to be. How else can one explain what happened? Molothon destroying my Deadly Avalanche and then me actually being able to take the Mace of Saint John away from Zuzuvel the Solar? My mind is spoken for, but my soul is not. I must serve Galador and wield this mace and prove my worth.
He had done a remarkable amount of thinking in a very short amount of time, and he found himself excusing himself from the room to go talk to the mace in private. He quickly hashed out a deal with it whereby he would attempt to prove his worth by changing his ways and correcting the ways of the orcs and half-orcs in question. He went to a church of Galador shortly after, and donated some money for a nice sturdy holy symbol that he could wear in battle. The path ahead would be difficult, but he loved a good challenge.
Next Time: Our heroes are assassinated!
*One of Inoke’s feats can be used only with certain weapons, one of which is the greatclub. Since his club just got smashed, he went for a heavy mace, which still allows the feat to be used. This led to all sorts of interesting repercussions.
**This is because the mace was LG and he was not. Have a negative level, baby.
***147 hp of damage in one round.
****As a pit fiend, he could deal real damage to them; it was almost the only way that the party could finish the solars off.