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JollyDoc's Savage Tide-Updated 10/8!
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<blockquote data-quote="JollyDoc" data-source="post: 3964634" data-attributes="member: 9546"><p>“So…what now?” Gregor asked, looking around at the flat, featureless expanse of roof that Mandi had transported them to. They were atop the easternmost building of Divided’s Ire, with the western part obscured from view by the clouds of smoke and ash constantly belching forth from the caldera. High above them, winged shapes whirled and circled. It had been the sorceress’s hope that they might find an unassuming entrance into the prison from the rooftop, but it appeared they were not to be so fortunate.</p><p>“Plan B,” she shrugged as she held her hand palm down towards the stone. A beam of emerald energy flared forth, evaporating a ten-by-ten hole in the prison roof.</p><p>“Haven’t you people ever heard of stealth?” the druid snapped, throwing his hands up.</p><p>Sepoto smiled. “Of course we have, but we’ve found, over time, that the direct approach is so much more…entertaining.”</p><p></p><p>Looking down through the makeshift entrance, they saw below them a large, open expanse of cracked stone. To the north and west, two free-standing structures occupied the middle of the area. The nearest rose to a height twenty feet above the floor, with its entrance running from floor to ceiling. The further structure was forty-feet square. Its south face had a twenty-foot wide opening. Near its base were mounds of stinking offal mixed with feathers and bits of bone. Nothing living moved below, and so Octurus and Tower Cleaver leaped down the twenty-foot drop, the Maztican landing nimbly in a crouch, while the minotaur’s mass shook the floor around him, and added a few more cracks to the maze already there. Sepoto and Mandi drifted slowly to the ground via magical flight, while Gregor assumed the form of a great condor, shifting back to his true form as he alighted. That left only Daelric. The priest had been waiting for this moment, and he smiled at the startled looks on the faces of his companions as he unfurled a pair of beautiful, white feathered wings from beneath his cloak and soared down to meet them. The Traveler was well pleased with His favored one, and Daelric had seen in a dream that he was to be honored with the consummate token of Shaundekal’s pleasure. When he had awoken the next morning, the wings had simply sprung wholly made from his shoulders. This day, however, his joy was short-lived as he saw a half-dozen or more similarly winged forms erupt from the far building. Their entire bodies were covered with feathers, except for their taloned feet and claws, and their vulture-like raptor beaks. </p><p></p><p>“Vrocks!” Mandi swore, and enough of them to perform their much-feared Dance of Ruin twice over, if given the chance. Not if she could help it. Guttural words spilled from her mouth as she gestured towards the advancing flock. Simultaneously, all eight of the demons grabbed their heads as their minds became filled with a stunning cacophony of maddening whispers. Each of them plummeted to the floor, folding themselves into fetal balls and keening pitifully.</p><p>“Easy enough,” Mandi announced. “They’re all yours boys!”</p><p>Just then, Gregor pulled on the sleeve of her robe. “Yes, but what about that?”</p><p>He gestured towards the near building, where a huge creature was lumbering into view from around the corner. It bore the aspect of Demogorgon, but was obviously carved out of blackest obsidian. Mandi’s eyes widened. The last time she had seen such a construct was in the lair of the bar-lgura on the Isle of Dread. It was a Lemorian golem, but easily twice the size of the one that had killed Samson.</p><p>_______________________________________________________</p><p></p><p>S’Sharra looked up from her meditation as the diminutive quasit fluttered to her shoulder.</p><p>“What is it, my pet?” she asked, stroking the little demon’s head. “Visitors? Yes, I suspected as much.”</p><p>At that moment she heard the battle cry of the vrock sentries suddenly turn to shrieks of pain and agony. Creeping quietly to the shadows of the doorway, she peered out at the battle raging beyond. Just then, the patrolling Lemorian golem trundled past her, and she smiled. This was going to be fun.</p><p>____________________________________________________</p><p></p><p>“Octurus, Cleaver, follow me!” Sepoto cried, rushing towards the fallen vrocks. Though the golem was the more imminent threat, he knew that Mandi’s spell would not hold for long, and the last thing they needed was to be surrounded, fighting a battle on two fronts. He was confident that Mandi and Gregor could hold off the construct for just a few moments. The three warriors fell upon the stupefied demons like jackals, hacking and slashing at them as they lay helpless. </p><p></p><p>“Allow me,” Gregor said, stepping in front of Mandi as she prepared to cast a spell. Raising one hand above his head, he brought it violently down as he uttered his incantation. From out of thin air, a deadfall of rocks and logs appeared above the golem, crashing to the floor and burying it beneath the avalanche. </p><p>“Well done,” Mandi nodded approvingly, “but…” Her words trailed off as she felt magic crackle around her. In an eye-blink, she sensed several of her protective wards stripped from her, including her telepathic link to the crew of the Sea Wyvern. There was someone else present…someone far more dangerous than the vrock minions or the golem. </p><p>“Ware!” she cried, as she dabbed a bit of ointment on her eyes and spoke a word. Instantly, her surroundings leaped into crisp focus, allowing her to see even the now-invisible form of Daelric hovering nearby. Even so, she could spot no one else concealed on the battlefield. </p><p>“Daelric!” she called. “Purge this area! Now!”</p><p>Daelric cursed to himself. He hated doing that, knowing full well that his own concealment would be revealed by the ward, but he did not question, instead speaking the words to the prayer. Yet, even as he faded into view, he saw no similar manifestation of their hidden foe.</p><p>_______________________________________________________</p><p></p><p>S’Sharra watched the massacre, her expression grim. The vrocks were slaughtered one-by-one by the warriors, while the golem, when it tried to rise from the debris, was similarly cut down by fire from the elf witch. Ah well, she mused. There would be another opportunity. Melting back into the shadows, she called the quasit to her and vanished.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="JollyDoc, post: 3964634, member: 9546"] “So…what now?” Gregor asked, looking around at the flat, featureless expanse of roof that Mandi had transported them to. They were atop the easternmost building of Divided’s Ire, with the western part obscured from view by the clouds of smoke and ash constantly belching forth from the caldera. High above them, winged shapes whirled and circled. It had been the sorceress’s hope that they might find an unassuming entrance into the prison from the rooftop, but it appeared they were not to be so fortunate. “Plan B,” she shrugged as she held her hand palm down towards the stone. A beam of emerald energy flared forth, evaporating a ten-by-ten hole in the prison roof. “Haven’t you people ever heard of stealth?” the druid snapped, throwing his hands up. Sepoto smiled. “Of course we have, but we’ve found, over time, that the direct approach is so much more…entertaining.” Looking down through the makeshift entrance, they saw below them a large, open expanse of cracked stone. To the north and west, two free-standing structures occupied the middle of the area. The nearest rose to a height twenty feet above the floor, with its entrance running from floor to ceiling. The further structure was forty-feet square. Its south face had a twenty-foot wide opening. Near its base were mounds of stinking offal mixed with feathers and bits of bone. Nothing living moved below, and so Octurus and Tower Cleaver leaped down the twenty-foot drop, the Maztican landing nimbly in a crouch, while the minotaur’s mass shook the floor around him, and added a few more cracks to the maze already there. Sepoto and Mandi drifted slowly to the ground via magical flight, while Gregor assumed the form of a great condor, shifting back to his true form as he alighted. That left only Daelric. The priest had been waiting for this moment, and he smiled at the startled looks on the faces of his companions as he unfurled a pair of beautiful, white feathered wings from beneath his cloak and soared down to meet them. The Traveler was well pleased with His favored one, and Daelric had seen in a dream that he was to be honored with the consummate token of Shaundekal’s pleasure. When he had awoken the next morning, the wings had simply sprung wholly made from his shoulders. This day, however, his joy was short-lived as he saw a half-dozen or more similarly winged forms erupt from the far building. Their entire bodies were covered with feathers, except for their taloned feet and claws, and their vulture-like raptor beaks. “Vrocks!” Mandi swore, and enough of them to perform their much-feared Dance of Ruin twice over, if given the chance. Not if she could help it. Guttural words spilled from her mouth as she gestured towards the advancing flock. Simultaneously, all eight of the demons grabbed their heads as their minds became filled with a stunning cacophony of maddening whispers. Each of them plummeted to the floor, folding themselves into fetal balls and keening pitifully. “Easy enough,” Mandi announced. “They’re all yours boys!” Just then, Gregor pulled on the sleeve of her robe. “Yes, but what about that?” He gestured towards the near building, where a huge creature was lumbering into view from around the corner. It bore the aspect of Demogorgon, but was obviously carved out of blackest obsidian. Mandi’s eyes widened. The last time she had seen such a construct was in the lair of the bar-lgura on the Isle of Dread. It was a Lemorian golem, but easily twice the size of the one that had killed Samson. _______________________________________________________ S’Sharra looked up from her meditation as the diminutive quasit fluttered to her shoulder. “What is it, my pet?” she asked, stroking the little demon’s head. “Visitors? Yes, I suspected as much.” At that moment she heard the battle cry of the vrock sentries suddenly turn to shrieks of pain and agony. Creeping quietly to the shadows of the doorway, she peered out at the battle raging beyond. Just then, the patrolling Lemorian golem trundled past her, and she smiled. This was going to be fun. ____________________________________________________ “Octurus, Cleaver, follow me!” Sepoto cried, rushing towards the fallen vrocks. Though the golem was the more imminent threat, he knew that Mandi’s spell would not hold for long, and the last thing they needed was to be surrounded, fighting a battle on two fronts. He was confident that Mandi and Gregor could hold off the construct for just a few moments. The three warriors fell upon the stupefied demons like jackals, hacking and slashing at them as they lay helpless. “Allow me,” Gregor said, stepping in front of Mandi as she prepared to cast a spell. Raising one hand above his head, he brought it violently down as he uttered his incantation. From out of thin air, a deadfall of rocks and logs appeared above the golem, crashing to the floor and burying it beneath the avalanche. “Well done,” Mandi nodded approvingly, “but…” Her words trailed off as she felt magic crackle around her. In an eye-blink, she sensed several of her protective wards stripped from her, including her telepathic link to the crew of the Sea Wyvern. There was someone else present…someone far more dangerous than the vrock minions or the golem. “Ware!” she cried, as she dabbed a bit of ointment on her eyes and spoke a word. Instantly, her surroundings leaped into crisp focus, allowing her to see even the now-invisible form of Daelric hovering nearby. Even so, she could spot no one else concealed on the battlefield. “Daelric!” she called. “Purge this area! Now!” Daelric cursed to himself. He hated doing that, knowing full well that his own concealment would be revealed by the ward, but he did not question, instead speaking the words to the prayer. Yet, even as he faded into view, he saw no similar manifestation of their hidden foe. _______________________________________________________ S’Sharra watched the massacre, her expression grim. The vrocks were slaughtered one-by-one by the warriors, while the golem, when it tried to rise from the debris, was similarly cut down by fire from the elf witch. Ah well, she mused. There would be another opportunity. Melting back into the shadows, she called the quasit to her and vanished. [/QUOTE]
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