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<blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 7490168" data-attributes="member: 143"><p>Chapter 200</p><p></p><p>Something big and bulky shot past Quellan’s face. It struck the troll and knocked it off of him. The troll collapsed to the floor, the jaws that had seemed so deadly a moment ago transformed into a shattered wreckage. The other one started in surprise, allowing Quellan to tear his arm free and smash it a backhanded blow with his mace. Stumbling clear, the cleric turned to see what unexpected ally had saved him.</p><p></p><p>What he saw almost caused him to drop his weapon. The thing that had knocked the trolls off of him was the altar stone. The huge block had risen up on its supporting “limbs” and had joined the battle. The mark of the book carved into the central stone was glowing like a halo, adding to the surreal nature of the scene as it clomped down off the platform toward the trolls.</p><p></p><p>Quellan was so amazed that he almost failed to see the troll charging at him. He heard its cry of triumph and belatedly brought his shield around, but before it could take advantage of his distraction something flew past the cleric and engulfed the troll’s head. It was the altar drape, the linen cloth animated by the same power that had given life to the huge stone.</p><p></p><p>“They seek the vault!” a familiar voice called. Still slightly dazed, Quellan looked over to see Akhenon gesturing a few feet away. The dwarf cleric appeared to be unhurt, but the half-orc could see that his good fortune would not last long. Even with the <em>animated objects</em> attacking the trolls, the numbers were still against the priests and getting worse by the second. The <em>wall of fire</em> had dissipated, either dispelled or intentionally allowed to fade so that Akhenon could shift his concentration to the other spell. Either way, trolls were still pouring out of the hole in the floor. There were at least a dozen in the room now, and Quellan had no idea how many were still waiting below.</p><p></p><p>“Fall back to the inner chambers!” Akhenon called. Quellan ran after him, dodging a troll that was grappling with an animated censer-chain. He barely got clear before the creature tore the chain to pieces, the broken links clattering on the floor like a cascade of dropped coins.</p><p></p><p>Quellan was almost to the door when a hint of unfamiliar motion out of the corner of his eye drew his attention back toward the center of the temple. Another intruder had arrived, this one different from the horde of trolls that had preceded him. The most obvious distance was that he was floating in mid-air, hovering a good five feet above the gaping hole of the sinkhole. He was smaller and thinner than the trolls, his frame obscured by a long, cowled cloak that concealed his features within generous folds of black cloth. Quellan couldn’t see his face, but he could feel the figure’s gaze on him as he twisted around in mid-air, calmly surveying the chaos of the battle within the temple.</p><p></p><p>The screams of the trolls followed the two clerics as they rushed through the door and slammed it shut behind them. Akhenon shot the latch, an iron bolt that would have looked quite secure against a normal foe, but which was less than impressive against what they had already seen.</p><p></p><p>“That won’t hold them,” Quellan said.</p><p></p><p>“No,” Akhenon acknowledged. “Can you hold them off for a few moments?”</p><p></p><p>Quellan nodded. “Is this the only way in?”</p><p></p><p>“Yes.”</p><p></p><p>The dwarf started to turn away, but Quellan quickly said, “There’s a spellcaster out there.”</p><p></p><p>“I saw. I will be right back. Do not let them win through to the Vault.” Without waiting for a response Akhenon hurried off.</p><p></p><p>Quellan reached over and grabbed hold of a heavy cabinet standing nearby, dragging it to rest against the door. Even as he settled it into place the door shuddered against a heavy impact, and then another. The latch held, but Quellan could imagine the trolls gathering their numbers in anticipation of a serious assault. He could still hear the ponderous thuds as the animated altar continued its defense of the temple, but he doubted it would last long against the unidentified caster whose magic had burrowed a route into the heart of Ironcrest’s defenses.</p><p></p><p>He thought about what he could do to stop such a foe. His own magic was less suited to an arcane duel than the more destructive potency wielded by Xeeta, but she was with Bredan, lured far away from the true goal of their enemy. It was only blind fate that had brought him and Akhenon back here…</p><p></p><p>The thought tugged at him, but another hard impact against the door shook him from his reverie. Leaning against the cabinet, adding his own weight to the solidity of the barrier, he closed his eyes and reached up to touch his holy symbol. He opened himself to the power of his god, drawing upon a spell he had never cast before, but which he prayed would aid them in holding back the dark horde that threatened the temple.</p><p></p><p>The holy symbol began to glow, echoed a moment later by the matching symbol graven into his shield. Other sigils appeared around him, the open book sparkling into being on the door, the cabinet, and the surrounding walls. A pair of books even took shape hovering in the air around his head. Words seemed to form upon the blank pages, constantly shifting before they could take on solid form.</p><p></p><p>Even as Quellan’s spell took effect, the sounds of fighting from beyond the door suddenly ceased.</p><p></p><p>Quellan tensed, expecting another assault upon the door, but when the enemy made its gambit it was subtle, catching him off-guard.</p><p></p><p>The only warning he got was a slight shimmer, not from the door, but in the stone of the surrounding jam. Before he could react the stone suddenly <em>withdrew</em>, leaving the door’s hinges suddenly hanging in mid-air. Several of the heavy iron bolts fell to the ground with a clatter. Almost immediately several sets of clawed hands thrust into the gap and pulled the now-anchorless door clear. The cabinet that Quellan had moved settled against the jam, leaving at least something of a barrier, but the trolls had already proven their ability to scamper over or around any obstacle.</p><p></p><p>The door was barely out of the way before another one of them sought to prove that anew. The troll hissed at Quellan as it hurled itself bodily through the doorway, trying to clear the cabinet in a single bound, but as it passed through the threshold it ran into the cleric’s spell. The glowing sigils he had conjured had faded after the casting but now they brightened again. The one that had settled on the door now hovered in mid-air, and as the troll struck it there was a radiant burst that seared the troll and caused it to scream in pain. Quellan quickly took advantage of its distraction, slamming it hard with his shield and knocking it back out of the doorway.</p><p></p><p>But he had gained only a momentary respite. The first troll had barely hit the ground when two others rushed over it, one even using its fallen ally as a stepping-stone. One grabbed onto the cabinet and pulled it over onto its side. Again the <em>spirit guardians</em> flashed, but this time the trolls were ready and gritted through the pain. Quellan noted that the holy power did not appear to be affected by whatever resistance the trolls’ embedded sigils granted them, but his magic clearly wasn’t going to be able to stop them on its own.</p><p></p><p>So he charged, pushing forward until he blocked the doorway with his sheer bulk, using the overturned cabinet as a shield for his legs. He struck the first troll with his mace, dazing it slightly but failing to bring it down. The second he smashed with the edge of his shield, knocking it off balance. He could see more trolls waiting behind these two, but for the moment they could not get past him.</p><p></p><p>His lips twisted into a snarl as he prepared for their counterattack, but to his surprise the trolls withdrew, the one he’d hit with his shield dropping back while the other one threw itself prone. Too late he realized what that portended, as he lowered his shield to see the dark-cloaked figure standing there not twenty feet away, its arm raised to point toward him.</p><p></p><p>A pulse of white energy filled his vision. His nostrils were filled with the sound of overcooked meat. He realized that he was on his back, several paces back from the open doorway. The cabinet had been shattered and was on fire. The glowing <em>spirit guardians</em> were gone.</p><p></p><p>Through a sheer effort of will, aided by the relentless endurance of his orcish bloodline, he managed to pull himself back to his feet. He was still holding onto his mace, though his muscles didn’t seem to want to work right as he tried to raise the weapon into a fighting position. But at least he would die standing, he thought as the trolls surged forward again.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Lazybones, post: 7490168, member: 143"] Chapter 200 Something big and bulky shot past Quellan’s face. It struck the troll and knocked it off of him. The troll collapsed to the floor, the jaws that had seemed so deadly a moment ago transformed into a shattered wreckage. The other one started in surprise, allowing Quellan to tear his arm free and smash it a backhanded blow with his mace. Stumbling clear, the cleric turned to see what unexpected ally had saved him. What he saw almost caused him to drop his weapon. The thing that had knocked the trolls off of him was the altar stone. The huge block had risen up on its supporting “limbs” and had joined the battle. The mark of the book carved into the central stone was glowing like a halo, adding to the surreal nature of the scene as it clomped down off the platform toward the trolls. Quellan was so amazed that he almost failed to see the troll charging at him. He heard its cry of triumph and belatedly brought his shield around, but before it could take advantage of his distraction something flew past the cleric and engulfed the troll’s head. It was the altar drape, the linen cloth animated by the same power that had given life to the huge stone. “They seek the vault!” a familiar voice called. Still slightly dazed, Quellan looked over to see Akhenon gesturing a few feet away. The dwarf cleric appeared to be unhurt, but the half-orc could see that his good fortune would not last long. Even with the [i]animated objects[/i] attacking the trolls, the numbers were still against the priests and getting worse by the second. The [i]wall of fire[/i] had dissipated, either dispelled or intentionally allowed to fade so that Akhenon could shift his concentration to the other spell. Either way, trolls were still pouring out of the hole in the floor. There were at least a dozen in the room now, and Quellan had no idea how many were still waiting below. “Fall back to the inner chambers!” Akhenon called. Quellan ran after him, dodging a troll that was grappling with an animated censer-chain. He barely got clear before the creature tore the chain to pieces, the broken links clattering on the floor like a cascade of dropped coins. Quellan was almost to the door when a hint of unfamiliar motion out of the corner of his eye drew his attention back toward the center of the temple. Another intruder had arrived, this one different from the horde of trolls that had preceded him. The most obvious distance was that he was floating in mid-air, hovering a good five feet above the gaping hole of the sinkhole. He was smaller and thinner than the trolls, his frame obscured by a long, cowled cloak that concealed his features within generous folds of black cloth. Quellan couldn’t see his face, but he could feel the figure’s gaze on him as he twisted around in mid-air, calmly surveying the chaos of the battle within the temple. The screams of the trolls followed the two clerics as they rushed through the door and slammed it shut behind them. Akhenon shot the latch, an iron bolt that would have looked quite secure against a normal foe, but which was less than impressive against what they had already seen. “That won’t hold them,” Quellan said. “No,” Akhenon acknowledged. “Can you hold them off for a few moments?” Quellan nodded. “Is this the only way in?” “Yes.” The dwarf started to turn away, but Quellan quickly said, “There’s a spellcaster out there.” “I saw. I will be right back. Do not let them win through to the Vault.” Without waiting for a response Akhenon hurried off. Quellan reached over and grabbed hold of a heavy cabinet standing nearby, dragging it to rest against the door. Even as he settled it into place the door shuddered against a heavy impact, and then another. The latch held, but Quellan could imagine the trolls gathering their numbers in anticipation of a serious assault. He could still hear the ponderous thuds as the animated altar continued its defense of the temple, but he doubted it would last long against the unidentified caster whose magic had burrowed a route into the heart of Ironcrest’s defenses. He thought about what he could do to stop such a foe. His own magic was less suited to an arcane duel than the more destructive potency wielded by Xeeta, but she was with Bredan, lured far away from the true goal of their enemy. It was only blind fate that had brought him and Akhenon back here… The thought tugged at him, but another hard impact against the door shook him from his reverie. Leaning against the cabinet, adding his own weight to the solidity of the barrier, he closed his eyes and reached up to touch his holy symbol. He opened himself to the power of his god, drawing upon a spell he had never cast before, but which he prayed would aid them in holding back the dark horde that threatened the temple. The holy symbol began to glow, echoed a moment later by the matching symbol graven into his shield. Other sigils appeared around him, the open book sparkling into being on the door, the cabinet, and the surrounding walls. A pair of books even took shape hovering in the air around his head. Words seemed to form upon the blank pages, constantly shifting before they could take on solid form. Even as Quellan’s spell took effect, the sounds of fighting from beyond the door suddenly ceased. Quellan tensed, expecting another assault upon the door, but when the enemy made its gambit it was subtle, catching him off-guard. The only warning he got was a slight shimmer, not from the door, but in the stone of the surrounding jam. Before he could react the stone suddenly [i]withdrew[/i], leaving the door’s hinges suddenly hanging in mid-air. Several of the heavy iron bolts fell to the ground with a clatter. Almost immediately several sets of clawed hands thrust into the gap and pulled the now-anchorless door clear. The cabinet that Quellan had moved settled against the jam, leaving at least something of a barrier, but the trolls had already proven their ability to scamper over or around any obstacle. The door was barely out of the way before another one of them sought to prove that anew. The troll hissed at Quellan as it hurled itself bodily through the doorway, trying to clear the cabinet in a single bound, but as it passed through the threshold it ran into the cleric’s spell. The glowing sigils he had conjured had faded after the casting but now they brightened again. The one that had settled on the door now hovered in mid-air, and as the troll struck it there was a radiant burst that seared the troll and caused it to scream in pain. Quellan quickly took advantage of its distraction, slamming it hard with his shield and knocking it back out of the doorway. But he had gained only a momentary respite. The first troll had barely hit the ground when two others rushed over it, one even using its fallen ally as a stepping-stone. One grabbed onto the cabinet and pulled it over onto its side. Again the [i]spirit guardians[/i] flashed, but this time the trolls were ready and gritted through the pain. Quellan noted that the holy power did not appear to be affected by whatever resistance the trolls’ embedded sigils granted them, but his magic clearly wasn’t going to be able to stop them on its own. So he charged, pushing forward until he blocked the doorway with his sheer bulk, using the overturned cabinet as a shield for his legs. He struck the first troll with his mace, dazing it slightly but failing to bring it down. The second he smashed with the edge of his shield, knocking it off balance. He could see more trolls waiting behind these two, but for the moment they could not get past him. His lips twisted into a snarl as he prepared for their counterattack, but to his surprise the trolls withdrew, the one he’d hit with his shield dropping back while the other one threw itself prone. Too late he realized what that portended, as he lowered his shield to see the dark-cloaked figure standing there not twenty feet away, its arm raised to point toward him. A pulse of white energy filled his vision. His nostrils were filled with the sound of overcooked meat. He realized that he was on his back, several paces back from the open doorway. The cabinet had been shattered and was on fire. The glowing [i]spirit guardians[/i] were gone. Through a sheer effort of will, aided by the relentless endurance of his orcish bloodline, he managed to pull himself back to his feet. He was still holding onto his mace, though his muscles didn’t seem to want to work right as he tried to raise the weapon into a fighting position. But at least he would die standing, he thought as the trolls surged forward again. [/QUOTE]
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