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JollyDoc's Shackled City
- Thread starter JollyDoc
- Start date
Lela said:
There is an excellent article in Dragon #287 about Celestial motivations. Here are a few relevant quotes from it:
1. The Greatest Good for the Greatest Number: "Personal freedoms and desires are less important than those of the larger group."
2. The End Justfies the Means: "Acts of treachery, lying, and other morally suspect actions are acceptable if such small evils will bring about a greater good."
3. The Means Justifies the End: "This self-centered view is surprisingly common among the more powerful celestials. Creatures like solars and planetars often lack humility and consider their actions and goals more important than those of others."
4. Scourge of Evil: "Sometimes celestials are a little overzealous, but other celestials consider that to be evidence of their desire to do good."
Pez is more of a Biblical angel (e.g. ass-kicker) and not so much "Touched by an Angel."
JollyDoc
Explorer
UNWANTED ATTENTION
The disconsolate companions gathered their dead and loaded them onto the horses. They then set out on the two-day trek by foot back to Cauldron, with Pez making periodic forays overhead to scout the road. As the first day wore on, dark clouds gathered in the already overcast sky, and it began to rain. The downpour continued all day and through the night, showing no signs of letting up until the next evening, when they were within sight of Cauldron’s walls. Just at sunset, the clouds broke, allowing a hint of the dying sun’s last rays to show through.
Shensen parted from the group as they reached the eastern gates, stating that she had personal business to attend, but promising to find them again in the next few days. Wathros also turned aside before entering the city. He was going back to his cave to begin the process of calling another companion to him to replace Twosocks.
Pez, Ruphus and Gardrid passed through the city streets in silence for a time, but then Gardrid’s road took him lower into the town, towards Keygan’s shop and home. He bid his friends farewell, leaving them to make their lonely way back to the Temple and deliver their tale.
Jenya accepted the news with steely resolve. She thanked her brothers for returning Sarcem’s body and his holy mace, and then became all business, “The wands are vital,” she began, “We must recover them, and soon. The rains are already upon us, and the waters will begin rising. If we don’t have the means to turn them back, the entire city could be devastated. Also, when we find the wands, we will certainly find who is responsible for this, and I will see them brought to justice!”
_________________________________________________________
Gardrid opened the door to Keygan’s and began walking right past Tilly and Maple, heading towards the stairs to Jzadirune. He was still more than a little peeved with the halfling for choosing his woman over his friends, and he had no kind words for him at the moment. “Er…Gardrid,” Tilly called after him tentatively.
“Leave me be,” the dwarf waved over his shoulder, “I’m tired, and I’ve no mood fer yer excuses.”
“But, there’s something…” Tilly pleaded.
“Not now!” Gardrid barked, and then he opened the door under the stairs, and descended towards his kingdom.
He walked absently through the now familiar passages of the gnome ruins, until he arrived at the elevator shaft leading to the Malachite Fortress. He automatically reached for the lever to raise the platform, and then he stopped in his tracks, his mouth falling open in shock. The room was in shambles. The entire pulley system for the elevator was collapsed, broken timbers and lengths of chain scattered all about the floor. There was a large hole in the ceiling right above the shaft, where it appeared to have collapsed. The entire room was covered in a layer of dust. The only entrance to the Malachite Fortress was gone.
“Tilly!!!” the little rogue shuddered as he heard the battlerager’s thunderous bellows echoing up the stairs. He’d tried to warn him. This was going to be bad. “What in name of Hela Brightaxe happened to me elevator? Where’s Rusty? Where’s Sondor? What the Hell’s goin’ on here?”
Tilly gulped and held his hands out, both to calm the dwarf, and to ward off any potential blows. Maple had climbed the stairs to the bedrooms, and now stood quietly at the railing, trying to be inconspicuous.
“We weren’t home, Gardrid,” Tilly began, “Only Maple was here. She tried to stop them, but they wouldn’t listen. They must have waited until you were gone, and Rusty and Sondor had gone into town for supplies.”
“Who?” Gardrid roared, “What in the blazes are ye on about?”
“The Stormblades,” Tilly said, “You know, that bunch led by Annah Taskerhill. They’ve been in the Tankerd lots of times.”
Gardrid thought a moment, his brow wrinkling, “Yer mean that bunch o’ snot-nose rich brats who call themselves adventurers cause they rousted some kobolds a few month’s back?”
“Yes,” Tilly said quickly, trying to divert Gardrid’s anger from him, “They barged in here day before yesterday and told Maple they were sealing off the Malachite Fortress. They said it presented a danger to the city, what with there being an entrance to the Underdark down there and all.”
“Is that so?” Gardrid’s eyes narrowed dangerously, “Now you lissen’ up runt. Go an’ fetch Pez, and tell ‘im ter bring that tree-huggin’ elf wit him. Meet me at the Tankerd in one hour. We’ll just see who the most dangerous critter in the Malachite Fortress is…”
_______________________________________________________
Tilly rushed to the temple to tell Pez what had happened. The archon didn’t hesitate to go with Tilly. He knew the dwarf well enough to know that he wouldn’t be diplomatic in his dealings with the Stormblades, and if he hurt, or worse yet, killed one of them, it could get very bad. All four of that group were well connected. Their parents were members of the local aristocracy, and they had enough pull to have Gardrid locked away for life if he got out of line. Pez quickly went to find Wathros and sent Tilly on ahead to the tavern. He might need the druid’s skills if forcibly pacifying the battlerager became an option.
______________________________________________________
Gardrid threw open the doors of the Tipped Tankerd, and glared around at the late-afternoon crowd. The place was only about half-full. It was early yet, and the larger crowds wouldn’t be in until much later. Gardrid’s gaze immediately fell on a group seated at one of the tables near the bar. He recognized all of them, having seen them on several occasions during his shifts. Their leader was a woman named Annah, nice-looking, for a human, with dusky skin, and long black hair braided into numerous cornrows. She wore a rapier at her hip, along with a coiled coachman’s whip, and she had a finely crafted lute slung across her back. Across from her sat Zachary Aslaxin, who was rumored to be more than friends with Annah. He too wore a rapier, but he also wore a well-made chain shirt, and carried a kukri and a large bow. He wore a silver pendant around his neck, bearing the symbol of the church of Tempus. Next was Cora Lathenmire, a hot-tempered woman who Gardrid had run-ins with more than once, due to her tendency to let her fists do the talking if she was in a disagreement. Like her friends, she carried a rapier. It seemed to be the weapon of choice among the idle rich, but her breastplate armor was more than decorative. The last member of the group was a little weasel of a man named Todd Vanderboren. Gardrid knew him too. He was a troublemaker, always insulting people, then laughing in their faces and relying on his buddies to keep him out of trouble. No, Gardrid had never cared much for this group, and today, he cared for them even less.
The battlerager walked calmly up to the bar, where Rivek Mol, the Tankerd’s proprieter, was busy polishing glasses. “Here ya go, boss,” Gardrid said, laying a sack of coins on the bar, “This here’s fer any damages, and yer can have me resignation as well if ye want it after.” Rivek stared at him blankly as he walked away, and then a look of comprehension and horror dawned on his face as he saw the dwarf heading over to the Stormblade’s table.
At that moment, Pez and Tilly stepped into the bar, while Wathros, uncomfortable in such claustrophobic surroundings, waited outside. As Gardrid approached the adventurers, Todd looked up, and smirked, nudging Cora. “Well, well,” he said, “if it isn’t the King of the Dwarves, come to honor the lowly commoners with his presence. Your Majesty,” he finished, rising with a bow and a flourish. Pez tensed, waiting for the battlerager to draw his axe and start lopping off heads. Gardrid’s face turned brick red, and he slammed his hands onto the table top, toppling over several mugs in the process, “What do yer mean, invading me home and wreckin’ the place? Who do ya lugs think ye are? Ye owe me big time, and I’m expectin’ compensation.”
Annah smiled condescendingly, “Now, now, I’m sure a ‘hero’ such as yourself, who has done so much for our fair city, can see the rational in wanting to eliminate such an obvious threat as a direct passage to the Underdark. I’m equally sure that you would have gotten around to taking care of it yourself, but your duties have kept you occupied. Consider it a favor, and…no thanks necessary.”
“Th…thanks?!” Gardrid stammered, spittle flying from his mouth, “I’ll be given ye thanks!” He reached for his axe-handle, and all four Stormblades tensed, hands dropping to their weapons.
“Peace,” Pez said calmly, stepping up and laying a restraining hand of Gardrid’s shoulder, “My friend means no harm. He is just angry, and understandably so. I’m sure this is all just a misunderstanding that can be cleared up without any bloodshed or violence.”
“There is not misunderstanding, Tyrant,” Zachary sneered, “The tenets of the Battle Lord teach us that no challenge should be avoided. I’m certain that your blind god’s belief is that you should carry his word to the poor souls of the Underdark, so that they can be brought into the light. Bah! We merely did what you didn’t have the guts to do.”
“Yes,” Annah agreed, “so why don’t you run along now, little angel, and go back to babysitting the poor orphans. Let the real heroes handle the dirty work.”
Pez’ face went stony, and spreading his wings, he leaped atop the table, reaching behind his back to draw out his trumpet as he landed. With one mighty blast, Annah and Cora went rigid. Todd and Zachary were momentarily taken aback by the suddenness of his action. Pez squatted down in front of Annah, and took her chin in his hand, tilting her face up to his, “You should be more considerate, and keep a civil tongue in that pretty little head of yours when addressing your betters.” He then stepped off the table and headed for the door, “Come on Gardrid, we’re done here.”
Gardrid hesitated for a moment, and then turned towards the door, calling over his shoulder, “Yeah! What he said!”
The four of them had gathered back on the street, when the tavern doors banged open, and the Stormblades stepped out, “Not so fast, cowards,” Zachary said, “I believe we still have business.” He then uttered several holy words, and gestured imperiously at Gardrid. For the first time in his life, the battlerager felt cold fear clutch his heart. Why he should fear this skinny human, he had no idea. He only knew he must get away from him as quickly as possible before something terrible happened. He turned on his heel, no thought for his comrades in his mind, no thought besides flight.
“So much for the King,” Zachary snorted in contempt.
“And now for you, fly-boy” Todd shouted, leaping at Pez and trying to wrestle him to the ground.
“Unhand me!” Pez bellowed, and then he too began uttering words of power, and as Todd’s hands slipped from the archon, he found himself barely able to maintain his footing. His movements seemed…clumsy. He couldn’t make his feet move in a coordinated manner. He stumbled backwards and sat down hard in the middle of the street.
“I don’t know what you did to me, peasant,” he hissed, “but you’ll pay dearly for it.” He lurched to his feet again, and rushed at Pez, head down and arms spread wide. Pez stepped back, willing his trumpet into sword form again. As Todd closed, Pez swung the blade, flat side out, and struck the man hard across the forehead, knocking him to the ground once again.
Tilly began moving forward, intending to help his companion, when his eyes suddenly locked on Annah’s penetrating gaze. For a moment, he hesitated, and then he heard her musical voice speaking words to him that he could not understand. In that moment, he realized that Annah was a very dear friend to him, and he couldn’t understand why he would ever think of harming her, or allowing her to come to harm.
“Tilly, my most trusted companion,” Annah cooed, “Why are you here, involved in this nonsense? You should be home, with Maple. She needs you. Run along home now. Don’t concern yourself any further with this business.”
In the back of his mind, Tilly felt that something was wrong with what Annah was saying, but then he realized it was true…Maple did need him. He needed to get home. He turned his back on the imbroglio and headed for Keygan’s.
Wathros didn’t like the look of this at all. These people were talented spell-casters, and they had already severely shifted the odds in their favor. He wasn’t about to become the next casualty. He conjured a small ball of flame into the palm of his hand, and raised it, poised to strike, “I warn you humans,” he said, “make no hostile action towards me, or you shall pay with your lives.”
Annah began walking casually towards the druid, “Come now, surely you don’t want to harm us. We are allies…friends.” Wathros felt the magic wash over him, but he was an elf, resistant to such paltry charms. His resolve tightened and he shook off the spell. “So be it,” he spat, and as Annah approached nearer, he struck at her with the flame, scorching her across her beautiful face. With a shriek, she clutched at her burned skin and retreated several paces.
“Enough!” Pez shouted, “This is foolish! You are all letting a simple disagreement turn into violence. Are you mad?”
“It is you who have turned this deadly!” Zachary shouted, “Your man has injured Annah! For that he will pay!”
“A truce then,” Pez offered, “Lower your weapons, and we shall lower ours.”
“You first,” Zachary spat, “and tell your friend to dismiss his spell.”
“Very well,” Pez replied, sheathing his sword, “Wathros, do as he asks.”
“I think not,” the druid said calmly, “I do not trust these city-dwellers. They have started these hostilities. Let it be them who disarms first.”
“As you wish!” Todd yelled, on his feet again, and now drawing his rapier and lunging at Pez. The archon shook his head, and in an instant, his trumpet was in his hand again. He blew it directly in Todd’s face and the man stopped dead in his tracks.
Gardrid had run for several blocks when the fear in him began to abate. It was then that he realized what had happened, and the fear was replaced with a boiling rage. He immediately began retracing his steps at a dead sprint.
Wathros hurled the fire in his hand at Annah a second time, as she tried to uncoil the whip from her belt. It struck her hand, scalding it. Zachary cried out in anger, drew his rapier and charged at the druid. Just as the flame reappeared in his hand, Wathros was struck. Zachary thrust his blade deep into his side. At that moment, Annah circled behind the elf and snapped her whip around his knees, yanking him from his feet. He quickly tried to stand, but as he did, Zachary stabbed him again, this time in the leg, hobbling him. By this time, Cora had arrived to help surround the druid. She drew back her own sword, and ran through his back with it. Wathros collapsed to the cobblestones, unmoving.
Suddenly, an inarticulate cry of rage split the air. Barreling around the corner came Gardrid, axe out and blood in his eyes. As he neared Todd, the little man started to stir, but the dwarf didn’t give him a chance. He slammed the flat side of his axe-blade into his skull, and Todd dropped as if pole-axed. Gardrid continued his rush, bull-rushing straight into Zachary, and then hammering the man with the shaft of the axe as he tried to back away. Cora and Annah both brought their rapiers up, preparing to attack. Pez moved in, greatsword in hand. Just then, horns sounded from both ends of the street. City guard streamed onto the avenue, surrounding the combatants. “Everyone, drop your weapons!” the sergeant commanded. As the complied, the guardsmen began clapping them all in iron, and then marching them off towards the jail.
The disconsolate companions gathered their dead and loaded them onto the horses. They then set out on the two-day trek by foot back to Cauldron, with Pez making periodic forays overhead to scout the road. As the first day wore on, dark clouds gathered in the already overcast sky, and it began to rain. The downpour continued all day and through the night, showing no signs of letting up until the next evening, when they were within sight of Cauldron’s walls. Just at sunset, the clouds broke, allowing a hint of the dying sun’s last rays to show through.
Shensen parted from the group as they reached the eastern gates, stating that she had personal business to attend, but promising to find them again in the next few days. Wathros also turned aside before entering the city. He was going back to his cave to begin the process of calling another companion to him to replace Twosocks.
Pez, Ruphus and Gardrid passed through the city streets in silence for a time, but then Gardrid’s road took him lower into the town, towards Keygan’s shop and home. He bid his friends farewell, leaving them to make their lonely way back to the Temple and deliver their tale.
Jenya accepted the news with steely resolve. She thanked her brothers for returning Sarcem’s body and his holy mace, and then became all business, “The wands are vital,” she began, “We must recover them, and soon. The rains are already upon us, and the waters will begin rising. If we don’t have the means to turn them back, the entire city could be devastated. Also, when we find the wands, we will certainly find who is responsible for this, and I will see them brought to justice!”
_________________________________________________________
Gardrid opened the door to Keygan’s and began walking right past Tilly and Maple, heading towards the stairs to Jzadirune. He was still more than a little peeved with the halfling for choosing his woman over his friends, and he had no kind words for him at the moment. “Er…Gardrid,” Tilly called after him tentatively.
“Leave me be,” the dwarf waved over his shoulder, “I’m tired, and I’ve no mood fer yer excuses.”
“But, there’s something…” Tilly pleaded.
“Not now!” Gardrid barked, and then he opened the door under the stairs, and descended towards his kingdom.
He walked absently through the now familiar passages of the gnome ruins, until he arrived at the elevator shaft leading to the Malachite Fortress. He automatically reached for the lever to raise the platform, and then he stopped in his tracks, his mouth falling open in shock. The room was in shambles. The entire pulley system for the elevator was collapsed, broken timbers and lengths of chain scattered all about the floor. There was a large hole in the ceiling right above the shaft, where it appeared to have collapsed. The entire room was covered in a layer of dust. The only entrance to the Malachite Fortress was gone.
“Tilly!!!” the little rogue shuddered as he heard the battlerager’s thunderous bellows echoing up the stairs. He’d tried to warn him. This was going to be bad. “What in name of Hela Brightaxe happened to me elevator? Where’s Rusty? Where’s Sondor? What the Hell’s goin’ on here?”
Tilly gulped and held his hands out, both to calm the dwarf, and to ward off any potential blows. Maple had climbed the stairs to the bedrooms, and now stood quietly at the railing, trying to be inconspicuous.
“We weren’t home, Gardrid,” Tilly began, “Only Maple was here. She tried to stop them, but they wouldn’t listen. They must have waited until you were gone, and Rusty and Sondor had gone into town for supplies.”
“Who?” Gardrid roared, “What in the blazes are ye on about?”
“The Stormblades,” Tilly said, “You know, that bunch led by Annah Taskerhill. They’ve been in the Tankerd lots of times.”
Gardrid thought a moment, his brow wrinkling, “Yer mean that bunch o’ snot-nose rich brats who call themselves adventurers cause they rousted some kobolds a few month’s back?”
“Yes,” Tilly said quickly, trying to divert Gardrid’s anger from him, “They barged in here day before yesterday and told Maple they were sealing off the Malachite Fortress. They said it presented a danger to the city, what with there being an entrance to the Underdark down there and all.”
“Is that so?” Gardrid’s eyes narrowed dangerously, “Now you lissen’ up runt. Go an’ fetch Pez, and tell ‘im ter bring that tree-huggin’ elf wit him. Meet me at the Tankerd in one hour. We’ll just see who the most dangerous critter in the Malachite Fortress is…”
_______________________________________________________
Tilly rushed to the temple to tell Pez what had happened. The archon didn’t hesitate to go with Tilly. He knew the dwarf well enough to know that he wouldn’t be diplomatic in his dealings with the Stormblades, and if he hurt, or worse yet, killed one of them, it could get very bad. All four of that group were well connected. Their parents were members of the local aristocracy, and they had enough pull to have Gardrid locked away for life if he got out of line. Pez quickly went to find Wathros and sent Tilly on ahead to the tavern. He might need the druid’s skills if forcibly pacifying the battlerager became an option.
______________________________________________________
Gardrid threw open the doors of the Tipped Tankerd, and glared around at the late-afternoon crowd. The place was only about half-full. It was early yet, and the larger crowds wouldn’t be in until much later. Gardrid’s gaze immediately fell on a group seated at one of the tables near the bar. He recognized all of them, having seen them on several occasions during his shifts. Their leader was a woman named Annah, nice-looking, for a human, with dusky skin, and long black hair braided into numerous cornrows. She wore a rapier at her hip, along with a coiled coachman’s whip, and she had a finely crafted lute slung across her back. Across from her sat Zachary Aslaxin, who was rumored to be more than friends with Annah. He too wore a rapier, but he also wore a well-made chain shirt, and carried a kukri and a large bow. He wore a silver pendant around his neck, bearing the symbol of the church of Tempus. Next was Cora Lathenmire, a hot-tempered woman who Gardrid had run-ins with more than once, due to her tendency to let her fists do the talking if she was in a disagreement. Like her friends, she carried a rapier. It seemed to be the weapon of choice among the idle rich, but her breastplate armor was more than decorative. The last member of the group was a little weasel of a man named Todd Vanderboren. Gardrid knew him too. He was a troublemaker, always insulting people, then laughing in their faces and relying on his buddies to keep him out of trouble. No, Gardrid had never cared much for this group, and today, he cared for them even less.
The battlerager walked calmly up to the bar, where Rivek Mol, the Tankerd’s proprieter, was busy polishing glasses. “Here ya go, boss,” Gardrid said, laying a sack of coins on the bar, “This here’s fer any damages, and yer can have me resignation as well if ye want it after.” Rivek stared at him blankly as he walked away, and then a look of comprehension and horror dawned on his face as he saw the dwarf heading over to the Stormblade’s table.
At that moment, Pez and Tilly stepped into the bar, while Wathros, uncomfortable in such claustrophobic surroundings, waited outside. As Gardrid approached the adventurers, Todd looked up, and smirked, nudging Cora. “Well, well,” he said, “if it isn’t the King of the Dwarves, come to honor the lowly commoners with his presence. Your Majesty,” he finished, rising with a bow and a flourish. Pez tensed, waiting for the battlerager to draw his axe and start lopping off heads. Gardrid’s face turned brick red, and he slammed his hands onto the table top, toppling over several mugs in the process, “What do yer mean, invading me home and wreckin’ the place? Who do ya lugs think ye are? Ye owe me big time, and I’m expectin’ compensation.”
Annah smiled condescendingly, “Now, now, I’m sure a ‘hero’ such as yourself, who has done so much for our fair city, can see the rational in wanting to eliminate such an obvious threat as a direct passage to the Underdark. I’m equally sure that you would have gotten around to taking care of it yourself, but your duties have kept you occupied. Consider it a favor, and…no thanks necessary.”
“Th…thanks?!” Gardrid stammered, spittle flying from his mouth, “I’ll be given ye thanks!” He reached for his axe-handle, and all four Stormblades tensed, hands dropping to their weapons.
“Peace,” Pez said calmly, stepping up and laying a restraining hand of Gardrid’s shoulder, “My friend means no harm. He is just angry, and understandably so. I’m sure this is all just a misunderstanding that can be cleared up without any bloodshed or violence.”
“There is not misunderstanding, Tyrant,” Zachary sneered, “The tenets of the Battle Lord teach us that no challenge should be avoided. I’m certain that your blind god’s belief is that you should carry his word to the poor souls of the Underdark, so that they can be brought into the light. Bah! We merely did what you didn’t have the guts to do.”
“Yes,” Annah agreed, “so why don’t you run along now, little angel, and go back to babysitting the poor orphans. Let the real heroes handle the dirty work.”
Pez’ face went stony, and spreading his wings, he leaped atop the table, reaching behind his back to draw out his trumpet as he landed. With one mighty blast, Annah and Cora went rigid. Todd and Zachary were momentarily taken aback by the suddenness of his action. Pez squatted down in front of Annah, and took her chin in his hand, tilting her face up to his, “You should be more considerate, and keep a civil tongue in that pretty little head of yours when addressing your betters.” He then stepped off the table and headed for the door, “Come on Gardrid, we’re done here.”
Gardrid hesitated for a moment, and then turned towards the door, calling over his shoulder, “Yeah! What he said!”
The four of them had gathered back on the street, when the tavern doors banged open, and the Stormblades stepped out, “Not so fast, cowards,” Zachary said, “I believe we still have business.” He then uttered several holy words, and gestured imperiously at Gardrid. For the first time in his life, the battlerager felt cold fear clutch his heart. Why he should fear this skinny human, he had no idea. He only knew he must get away from him as quickly as possible before something terrible happened. He turned on his heel, no thought for his comrades in his mind, no thought besides flight.
“So much for the King,” Zachary snorted in contempt.
“And now for you, fly-boy” Todd shouted, leaping at Pez and trying to wrestle him to the ground.
“Unhand me!” Pez bellowed, and then he too began uttering words of power, and as Todd’s hands slipped from the archon, he found himself barely able to maintain his footing. His movements seemed…clumsy. He couldn’t make his feet move in a coordinated manner. He stumbled backwards and sat down hard in the middle of the street.
“I don’t know what you did to me, peasant,” he hissed, “but you’ll pay dearly for it.” He lurched to his feet again, and rushed at Pez, head down and arms spread wide. Pez stepped back, willing his trumpet into sword form again. As Todd closed, Pez swung the blade, flat side out, and struck the man hard across the forehead, knocking him to the ground once again.
Tilly began moving forward, intending to help his companion, when his eyes suddenly locked on Annah’s penetrating gaze. For a moment, he hesitated, and then he heard her musical voice speaking words to him that he could not understand. In that moment, he realized that Annah was a very dear friend to him, and he couldn’t understand why he would ever think of harming her, or allowing her to come to harm.
“Tilly, my most trusted companion,” Annah cooed, “Why are you here, involved in this nonsense? You should be home, with Maple. She needs you. Run along home now. Don’t concern yourself any further with this business.”
In the back of his mind, Tilly felt that something was wrong with what Annah was saying, but then he realized it was true…Maple did need him. He needed to get home. He turned his back on the imbroglio and headed for Keygan’s.
Wathros didn’t like the look of this at all. These people were talented spell-casters, and they had already severely shifted the odds in their favor. He wasn’t about to become the next casualty. He conjured a small ball of flame into the palm of his hand, and raised it, poised to strike, “I warn you humans,” he said, “make no hostile action towards me, or you shall pay with your lives.”
Annah began walking casually towards the druid, “Come now, surely you don’t want to harm us. We are allies…friends.” Wathros felt the magic wash over him, but he was an elf, resistant to such paltry charms. His resolve tightened and he shook off the spell. “So be it,” he spat, and as Annah approached nearer, he struck at her with the flame, scorching her across her beautiful face. With a shriek, she clutched at her burned skin and retreated several paces.
“Enough!” Pez shouted, “This is foolish! You are all letting a simple disagreement turn into violence. Are you mad?”
“It is you who have turned this deadly!” Zachary shouted, “Your man has injured Annah! For that he will pay!”
“A truce then,” Pez offered, “Lower your weapons, and we shall lower ours.”
“You first,” Zachary spat, “and tell your friend to dismiss his spell.”
“Very well,” Pez replied, sheathing his sword, “Wathros, do as he asks.”
“I think not,” the druid said calmly, “I do not trust these city-dwellers. They have started these hostilities. Let it be them who disarms first.”
“As you wish!” Todd yelled, on his feet again, and now drawing his rapier and lunging at Pez. The archon shook his head, and in an instant, his trumpet was in his hand again. He blew it directly in Todd’s face and the man stopped dead in his tracks.
Gardrid had run for several blocks when the fear in him began to abate. It was then that he realized what had happened, and the fear was replaced with a boiling rage. He immediately began retracing his steps at a dead sprint.
Wathros hurled the fire in his hand at Annah a second time, as she tried to uncoil the whip from her belt. It struck her hand, scalding it. Zachary cried out in anger, drew his rapier and charged at the druid. Just as the flame reappeared in his hand, Wathros was struck. Zachary thrust his blade deep into his side. At that moment, Annah circled behind the elf and snapped her whip around his knees, yanking him from his feet. He quickly tried to stand, but as he did, Zachary stabbed him again, this time in the leg, hobbling him. By this time, Cora had arrived to help surround the druid. She drew back her own sword, and ran through his back with it. Wathros collapsed to the cobblestones, unmoving.
Suddenly, an inarticulate cry of rage split the air. Barreling around the corner came Gardrid, axe out and blood in his eyes. As he neared Todd, the little man started to stir, but the dwarf didn’t give him a chance. He slammed the flat side of his axe-blade into his skull, and Todd dropped as if pole-axed. Gardrid continued his rush, bull-rushing straight into Zachary, and then hammering the man with the shaft of the axe as he tried to back away. Cora and Annah both brought their rapiers up, preparing to attack. Pez moved in, greatsword in hand. Just then, horns sounded from both ends of the street. City guard streamed onto the avenue, surrounding the combatants. “Everyone, drop your weapons!” the sergeant commanded. As the complied, the guardsmen began clapping them all in iron, and then marching them off towards the jail.
After this fight, we were all speculating on what would have happened if he had a single, solitary monk in our party. I think the answer is, "The Stormblades would have received a grade A ass-kicking."
Unfortunately, as it stood we simply exchanged one for one.
Bards are broken!!
Unfortunately, as it stood we simply exchanged one for one.
Bards are broken!!
Lela
First Post
At this point, I see two things in your favor. One, you only used the flat of your blades, while they (nearly?) killed one your party members. Two, you attempted to leave the confrontation without violence and it was they who followed you, insisting on a fight. This is evidenced by a bar full of people (Gardrid, don't forget, your boss still has a sackfull of your coins and you did no damage).
On the other hand, they're noble born. And in spite of the fact that Pez is an allcolite (sp?) or Tyr in somewhat high regard, you just might be screwed because of it.
As a side note, if you get a chance in the future, kill those friggen scum buckets. They're the kind of bullies who give adventurers a bad name. And not in the good way.
Oh, yeah, one final thing. When I started reading this installment it occured to me that I could easily place a Pez-like NPC in a certain temple of Tyr in my next campaign. Though I can't garantee the party will ever meet him (they're writing most of the story, not me), it'll be right there waiting for them if they do. Think you could give us some stats to help me out, seeing as you did such a fine job writing up Entropy?
On the other hand, they're noble born. And in spite of the fact that Pez is an allcolite (sp?) or Tyr in somewhat high regard, you just might be screwed because of it.
As a side note, if you get a chance in the future, kill those friggen scum buckets. They're the kind of bullies who give adventurers a bad name. And not in the good way.
Oh, yeah, one final thing. When I started reading this installment it occured to me that I could easily place a Pez-like NPC in a certain temple of Tyr in my next campaign. Though I can't garantee the party will ever meet him (they're writing most of the story, not me), it'll be right there waiting for them if they do. Think you could give us some stats to help me out, seeing as you did such a fine job writing up Entropy?
Last edited:
Joachim
First Post
gfunk said:
If I hadn't failed my will save (by 1, to make things worse) then I wouldn't have run, and it would have been a Grade A ass-kicking for sure. The fight was turning in our favor when the guards arrived. Had they not, Pez and Gardrid would have whipped the snot out of the Storm Blades.
Thus far, Gardrid has had to make 2 Will saves. Both of which he failed by 1. 6th Level Feat = Iron Will.
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