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Message: <blockquote data-quote="BLACKDIRGE" data-source="post: 813329" data-attributes="member: 1953">Ok here is part two of the final installment. Only one more to go before the big finish. Hope you like.**************************************************Scourge of the Arch-Fiend, Part IIGrummok's meeting with Kezekia Tormtor had left him reeling. The staggering revelation that Jen Kedar Everhate was the master of the Baalzebul cabal was surprising to say the least. And to make matters worse the guild master had been operating under Grummok’s careful scrutiny without that gargoyle having even the slightest hint of his nefarious activities. There was no doubt that Jen Kedar would have to be removed but Grummok was no fool and he knew that Jen Kedar was an assassin without peer. As eager as the gargoyle was to spill the drow assassin’s blood, he could not rush blindly in and brazenly challenge the guild master. Jen Kedar was far too wily for such a bold tactic and Grummok would likely be slain by the horde of sycophants and loyal retainers that surrounded Jen Kedar at all times. Even if he were to isolate the guild master, Grummok had serious doubts in his ability to defeat Jen Kedar in single combat. The last time anyone had tried that, the would be usurper found himself screaming until his throat bled in the vast dungeons beneath the guild house, as Jen Kedar’s master torturer wrung every last ounce of agony from the unfortunate soul before he was finally allowed the dignity of death. Grummok had no desire to end his days under the careful ministrations of torturer’s blade; therefore he would have to be very cautious when he finally made his move against Jen Kedar. Although rage and a burning need for vengeance threatened to consume the gargoyle, his mind, honed sharp by years of experience, worked in the slow and deliberate manner of a trained professional. If there were a way to topple Jen Kedar from his lofty perch then Grummok would find it, even if it took him years to do it. Another problem lurked on the horizon that Grummok had very little hope of resolving in a way that would grant him anything but pain and loneliness. Hek’s involvement in the vile cult of Baalzebul could not go overlooked and if Grummok were to take down Jen Kedar, Hek must follow his new master. The human had willingly sacrificed friendship and his future by accepting the fiendish patronage of the archfiend and Grummok knew that Hek’s sin would not go unpunished. Matron Kezekia would not strike at Jen Kedar directly for fear of retaliation from his noble house, but Hek had no such political shield to protect him. If Grummok did not deal with Hek himself then the misguided human would most likely spend the rest of his years beneath house Tormtor at the mercy of the cruel priestesses of Lolth. If Hek was to die it would be clean and quick and none would strike the final blow but Grummok. These thoughts weighed heavy on Grummok’s mind as he made his way from the Tormtor compound back to the city of Erelhei-Cinlu. The streets were thronging with all manner of humanoid detritus but all gave the brooding gargoyle a wide birth as he made the long trek back to the Ghetto of Artisans and his home. Upon reaching the sprawling manse that he had recently claimed as his own Grummok’s head became filled with a loud discordant ringing that rose up suddenly and then diminished to a quiet buzz in the back of his mind. Snapped from his brooding reverie the gargoyle was instantly alert for he instantly recognized the sudden noise in his mind as the magical alarm he had placed on his demesne. The alarm would sound if anyone other than Grummok entered the building and would warn the gargoyle silently when he was within one hundred yards of his home. Grummok’s home was a simple affair consisting of a single squat tower surrounded by a spiked iron fence. The tower was roughly forty feet in diameter and rose some thirty feet into the air. Constructed of polished granite the slick seamless sides of the tower were next to impossible to climb for all but the most skilled intruder. The top of the structure featured over a dozen stone statues very similar in size and shape to Grummok himself. The gargoyle could easily hide amongst these “faux gargoyles” seeming to be nothing more than a simple statue. There was but one visible entrance to the tower, from the gate a walkway of crushed white stones led up to a large set of ironbound oaken doors, which could be barred form the inside with a massive adamantine rod. Other hidden entrances and egresses also existed but were known only to Grummok.The tower was apparently windowless but this was simply a clever magic facade. The windows of the tower, of which there were six evenly spaced about the upper floor, were masked by a simple glamer that allowed only those on the inside to see and see out of them. The widows them selves were constructed of magically hardened material known as “glasssteel” and were unbreakable by any means short of powerful magic. Somehow someone had gained entrance into Grummok’s domain, a place he thought all but impregnable. In addition to his magical silent alarm, Grummok had installed many deadly magical and mundane traps throughout his home. Only a very skilled rogue would be able to bypass those traps…or an assassin. Grummok grinned viciously standing outside the iron gate that led to his home. So Jen Kedar thought to strike first, did he? Grummok mused. The gargoyle was pleased that he would have someone to vent his frustration and anger on. He knew he had little to fear, for besides Jen Kedar himself there was not an assassin in the city that could even hope to match Grummok in stealth or skill at arms. And since Jen Kedar would not attack Grummok openly – the drow assassin would consider it uncouth – there was very likely a skilled but overconfident young assassin awaiting the gargoyle up there in the dark. Still smiling, Grummok launched himself into the air and alighted upon the roof of his tower. He would take his time with this one, the gargoyle thought viciously. Grummok moved among the statues on the top of his tower making his way to the very center of the stone rooftop. The statue closest to the center of the roof was a depiction of a drow priestess in full ceremonial dress. Grummok reached out and grasped one of the stone spider legs that mad up the statues elaborate headdress and with a barely perceptible movement rotated it slightly to the left. In answer to Grummok's manipulations a five-foot square of stone swung silently up on oiled hinges n the center of the roof. Grummok moved quickly to the shadowy aperture and soundlessly stepped into the darkness dropping from sight. Seconds after the gargoyle disappeared the stone lid of the hidden trap door closed as silently as it had opened leaving no trace of its existence. The top level of Grummok’s consisted of a single cavernous room, serving as an armory and trophy room for the gargoyle assassin. Lining the walls were dozens of enchanted weapons and armor all taken from past victims and arrayed here as grim testament to Grummok’s unrivaled skill and perseverance. Grummok’s own personal gear was kept in a large wall mounted case, trapped with every bit of nastiness the gargoyle’s fiendish mind could concoct. In fact the entire room was trapped both magically and with more mundane methods. Every single suit of armor and weapon displayed had some manner of trap upon it, running the gamut from poison gas to acid sprayers almost any conceivable creature could be effected and neutralized if not killed outright by at least one of the devilish contraptions. It was into this menagerie of trophies and carefully hidden death that Grummok descended. From his secret entrance on the rough that led to the trophy chamber the gargoyle dropped the twenty feet from the ceiling to the floor with barely a whisper of noise. The room was empty and as Grummok’s keen vision pierced the gloom that shrouded the chamber he noticed nothing out of miss. But something was wrong and the warning tingle of danger that he had learned to trust these many years jangled his nerves like an electric shock. The attack materialized from the very air itself and almost caught Grummok off his guard. The slightest whisper of a blade sliding from its sheath and the almost imperceptible sound of a sleeve rustling as the arm within moved to hurl that blade was like a thunderclap through the silence to Grummok’s ears.The gargoyle whirled around as the missile sped towards him and with the speed of a striking serpent Grummok’s clawed had shot and slapped the incoming dagger from the air to send it clattering across the stone floor. Grummok’s assailant, who had been concealed by magical invisibility, had revealed himself due to the peculiar limitations of invisibility magic, which failed the instant its user made an aggressive attack through blade or spell. “Oh, Grummok. I was sure I had you there.” Hek’s voice was soft and slightly mocking and Grummok could here that quivering edge of madness wavering in the almost whispered tones. Hek stood against the west end of the room between two armor stands and was clutching a brace of throwing daggers in his left hand while his right cradled the magical fire dagger that had become his signature weapon. The human looked ill used; his haggard face was deeply lined and gaunt, framed by limp gray streaked hair that hung from his scalp in tangled snarls and clumps. The human assassin looked like he hadn’t slept in days and the slump of fatigue was painfully evident in his posture. But regardless of his appearance a fire burned in Hek’s eyes and Grummok had no doubt that the flames that fuelled Hek’s dementia would grant him all the strength and speed he would need. Grummok was currently armed only with his claws and teeth and he knew that Hek was a knife thrower without peer, able to unleash a barrage of daggers in mere seconds and with deadly accuracy. Hek had made no move to throw another dagger so Grummok carefully backed away from the human slowly making his way to the other end of the room and the rack of weapons that hung there. Grummok spoke as he moved trying to buy himself a few seconds before Hek attacked again. “Are you just Jen Kedar’s errand boy Hek, or do you satisfy his…other needs as well?” Hek smiled at Grummok’s barb, a thin and cruel stretching oh his lips that contained not a hint of amusement, and stepped away from the wall. “Jealous? I find it hard to believe that I once thought you to be some one worthy of emulation, Jen Kedar has shown me the error of that belief.” Hek’s flung another dagger at Grummok with a casual underhand movement to punctuate his last remark. The throw was almost half hearted and Grummok sidestepped the missile with ease.“Jen Kedar is a fool, there is nothing in his future but death. Do you know Hek that house Tormtor is aware of your new master’s illicit ideology? How long do you think they will tolerate his little cult? The priestesses of Lolth are not known for their open minds when it comes to alternate forms of worship.” Grummok had reached the far end of the room and the weapons rack, the gargoyle snatched the first weapon he could get his hands on, a longsword that once belonged to a minor drow noble Grummok had slain over twenty years ago. The blade was unfamiliar but Grummok was not ignorant of the longsword and the enchanted blade would give him a very valuable reach advantage when the fighting began an earnest.  “Ahh, you are of course referring to your tell all session with Matron Kezekia earlier today. Well, my old friend you needn’t worry yourself on my account, we are well protected from that pompous bitch.” Hek spat contemptuously. “Our master has much more influence in the city than you can possibly imagine, the Lord of Illusions will see his faithful through, have no doubt.” Hek had moved away from the wall and was casually advancing on Grummok, he had cast two of the three daggers he had had in his left hand and now held the last in a downward fighting grip. “Can you actually use that thing, Grummok?” Hek said raising his eyebrows at the longsword the gargoyle held in his right hand. “Come and see.” Grummok said casually and twirled the blade through the air in a showy “X” pattern. Hek complied with a grin and rushed the gargoyle leading with a backhanded slash with the flaming dirk he held in his right hand. Grummok let him come and blocked the obvious dagger slash with his sword while slapping Hek’s second blade, which was darting in under Grummok’s sword at his vulnerable midsection, away with the flat of his left hand. Hek disengaged immediately after his initial flurry ducking a return slash from Grummok’s sword as he tumbled away. Grummok let him pull back using the opportunity to scramble over to another weapons rack and pluck a small mithral buckler from the wall. Felling a little more confident against Hek’s twin blades Grummok moved in aggressively holding his buckler against his midsection and slashing furiously with his sword. Hek was a lighting blur of parries as his daggers turned aside each and every stroke of Grummok’s blade. The human assassin fought back fiercely turning his parries into ripostes and soon Grummok found himself backpedaling as Hek’s blades rang off his buckler and sword. Hek had always been fast but Grummok had learned through long association with the human the he relied upon his speed too much. This was not a detriment against a slower opponent but Grummok was anything but and as the gargoyle gave ground Hek became bolder and bolder leaving him more vulnerable after each attack. Most warriors would not be quick enough to take advantage of Hek’s split second oversights but Grummok’s keen eyes and finely honed reflexes were more than enough to turn the tide of battle.As Hek darted in with a double thrust aimed at Grummok’s throat the gargoyle spun his body to the side allowing Hek’s thrust to sail past its target. Surprised by the sudden change in his rhythm Hek was momentarily off balance and his speed simply was not enough to retract his blades and vulnerable hands in time to save them from Grummok’s blade. The wickedly sharp drow longsword arced up in vicious undercut swing slicing clean through Hek’s right wrist and sending his severed hand, still clutching the flaming dagger, twitching to the ground. Grummok followed his cut by pivoting his body back to face Hek and slamming his buckler with all his might into the human’s stunned face. The crunch of cartilage and bone as Hek's nose and cheekbone shattered horribly loud in the echoing space of the trophy room. The force of Grummok’s blow knocked Hek of his feet where he lay in stunned silence blood jetting in crimson spurts form his ragged stump.Grummok did not press his advantage, stepping back while Hek struggled to his knees cradling his savaged wrist to his chest. The humans face was quickly darkening with the swelling trauma inflicted by Grummok’s punch buckler. Hek’s eyes were vacant and distant as he tried to focus on his enemy; he still clutched a dagger in his left hand although the blade trailed listlessly from his slack left arm.“It doesn’t have to be this way.” Grummok said, lowering his blade. There was a tiny hope within the gargoyle that some portion of the human’s former self remained. “The Tormtors want Jen Kedar they don’t care about you. Renounce whatever allegiance you have with Everhate and his master and I can protect you, but I cannot shield you from the clergy of Lolth if you do not turn away from Baalzebul.” Grummok paused, his words felt thick and slow and a colossal emptiness suddenly filled his heart and mind. He knew there was no other alternative than those that fate had placed firmly before him. “Hek, please don’t make me do this,” Grummok whispered, his voice filled with the agony that was now consuming him.Hek had climbed to his feet; his face shattered face pale with the anemia. The white doublet he wore over his mail shirt was stained a deep maroon from his severed wrist and whatever strength had filled the tortured human before had fled leaving little more than a battered disheveled husk. “Protect me…” Hek mumbled. His words were barely intelligible through his smashed lips and broken teeth. “Protect me like you did from those beasts at the fairer flesh? I have never been anything but a tool for you, assassin.” Hek hissed the last word like it had bitten his tongue. “If there ever was anything but stone in your heart you would have never have left me in that terrible place to begin with. No, I want no part of your protection, gargoyle.”Hek had begun shambling forward during his tirade, trailing a congealing line of blood across the floor. Grummok had lowered his sword and buckler watching the wounded human move towards him. Hek still held his dagger but it hung limply at his side seemingly forgotten. Grummok was almost taken in by Hek’s theatrics and was nearly skewered as the human suddenly lurched forward raising his dagger over his head to drive it into Grummok’s body while his defenses were momentarily lowered. The gargoyle reacted on pure instinct, his buckler came up to halt the course of the descending dagger while he stepped inside Hek’s defensive ring and drove his longsword clean through the human’s chest. Hek emitted a single guttural grunt as the keen drow blade transfixed him. The dagger Hek had been holding fell from nerveless fingers and he slid to the ground in boneless heap.Grummok stared down at his bloodstained blade in horror and then flung the weapon across the room in disgust. There was no honor or gain in this slaying, only pain. Grummok knelt down beside the stricken human who was breathing slowly through bubbles of saliva and blood. The wound was mortal and as Grummok rolled Hek over onto his back, his heart nearly broke at the pitiful sight that lay before him. Gone was the twisted snarl of hatred and madness that had played across the human’s features earlier, the eyes had softened and the bruised face of his old friend once again held the gentle stoicism of the man he had come to know and trust. Grummok was no stranger to death, he had been the cause of hundreds but this slow spiral into the void that Hek was now experiencing filled him with nothing but fear and emptiness. The gargoyle scrabbled at his belt eventually producing a potion vile that held a strong curative he hoped might save Hek’s life. But as he bent over the human’s prostrate from to administer the potion, Hek raised his left hand and placed it gently on Grummok’s own. “No…” Hek whispered his voice straining with exertion. “Let it end, Grummok, let it end.” Grummok looked down at Hek in horror, the humans face was a mask of pain, pain that Grummok desperately wanted to soothe. “Too much…too much…” Hek muttered, and his hand fell away from Grummok’s. The gargoyle held the potion over his dying friend in an agony of indecision but Hek’s voice rose up once more to settle Grummok’s mind. “If ever…” Hek’s voice labored, “you were my friend, then let me rest…let me sleep…” Hek’s voice trailed away and a final hiss of escaping breath passed between his lips, his eyes clouded and the tortured soul of Hekendel Oakheart was finally at peace. Grummok rose to his feet and stared down at the battered from of his friend. There was nothing but cold and hollow misery now. Anger could not find a hold yet; the new emotion of grief still claimed Grummok for the time being. But rage would come; Grummok took some small solace in that. He would embrace his rage like a lover when it came and ride the vicious wave of madness that would welcomingly consume him directly to Jen Kedar Everhate’s doorstep. And then there would be pain, pain and vengeance.</blockquote>

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