Session #61
When Ratchis, Beorth and Gunthar returned, they found Kazrack to be a good deal more pale and wounded than they left him.
“What happened?” Beorth asked.
“Kazrack and Anarie went to retrieve a breast plate from one of the dwarven dead in one of the front chambers and were attacked by that strange priestly ghast who could call upon an unnatural darkness and seems to go incorporeal at will,” Martin explained.
“Until a moment ago I was paralyzed,” Kazrack said weakly. “And I am still not feeling very goo…”
The dwarf fell forward and heaved. His wounds began to bleed afresh. His spell of Endurance had worn off and his body could no longer deal with the damage it had sustained.
With a word to his goddess, Ratchis was stabilized his stocky friend.
“Uh-huh. Uh-Huh,” Rondar’s voice ranged from a gargle to a shrill clucking. “I told ‘em not to go.”
Ratchis snarled at the lanky man.
“Well, I guess we’ll have to drag the dwarf behind us underwater,” Gunthar said. “You drag him, pig-f*cker. I don’t want to be saddled with stumpy little grunt like some kind of bloody poofter.”
“We aren’t going anywhere,” Ratchis replied. “We’ll rest again, in the storeroom and go when we have retrieved our spells and miracles and when Kazrack can move under his own volition.”
Gunthar rolled his eyes.
“Maybe we can just wait for the monks to get everything and ambush them on the way back and take it from them,” Martin suggested.
“Hey! That’s not a bad idea!” Rondar’s Osiris-apple bounced up and down excitedly. “I, uh… don’t really want to go down into the water.”
“That kind of cowardly maneuver is worthy of a better man than the likes of you, dough-boy,” Gunthar said. “But the problem is…”
“There may be another way out we don’t know of and then we’ll be waiting here for nothing,” Ratchis said.
“Not to mention that how would be get the information we need from the monks about where the Maze is?” Beorth reasoned.
“Okay, okay… It was just an idea, and admittedly a bad one,” Martin acquiesced.
The two allied parties sealed themselves into the storage room and spent the night taking turns watching, though most of the watching fell to the Fearless Manticore Killers.
Balem, 19th of Sek – 565 H.E.
In the morning, or the closest approximation to morning that could be made as none of them had seen the sun in days, Ratchis used his spell of Lesser Restoration on Kazrack, and in addition a good amount of healing was passed around to strengthen everyone for the challenges to come.
Anarie used alter self to give herself gills and a protective layer of blubber, which made Kazrack balk, his natural distrust of arcane magic coming to the surface.
“I’ve stuffed fatter girls than that,” Gunthar commented, and the elf maid sneered.
Martin cast water breathing three times and soon everyone was making their way through the frigid murky water, following the trail that Beorth, Gunthar and Ratchis had taken the day before.
It took them slightly longer than before, as Martin and Anarie kept bobbing away from the others, clutching their air-filled sealed clay plots holding the precious spellbooks, but eventually, they emerged from the water in the great chasm, coming up the stairs to the huge stone double doors.
“What does it say?” Martin asked, seeing that the doors were etched with dwarven runes.
“Chamber of the Guard Lore,” Kazrack replied. “It is the common way to refer to a temple dedicated to our deity that taught us of mining and the secrets of the earth. He is also guardian of runes.” (1)
“All those runes say just that?” Martin asked with incredulity.
“No, there are also runes of protection, and if they are magical they may protect the temple against being entered,” Kazrack explained. “Does anyone mind if I go first?”
“I insist!” Gunthar said with a smirk.
Rondar’s laugh echoed out across the dark water behind and below them.
“Wait, I’m not sure if that is such a good idea,” Ratchis said to his dwarven companion.
“Doesn’t it make most sense that a dwarven priest would not set off any glyphs or whatever in a place like this,” Schlolmo suggested, he was wringing water from his mustache.
Ratchis grunted, but then cast detect magic to check the doors and the surrounding area. “Go ahead,” he finally said. “I don’t see anything.”
As Kazrack pushed on one of the great stone doors, the half-orc Friar of Nephthys cast a blessing on a handful of pebbles he had collected. (2)
The great door creaked open on its rusted hinges, as weighted chains could be heard within the walls to rattle and then settle, easing the great weight of the door. A dim low-burning light escaped from the chamber beyond, and Kazrack entered first, having only opened the door a few feet. The others followed.
The chamber was enormous; Greater in size than any save the lowest level of the Necropolis of Doom. It was nearly 100 feet to the huge raised altar section at the far end that seemed like was at least 50 feet deep itself. The chamber was sixty feet wide and six columns that were ten feet in diameter created a corridor up the chamber leading to the altar, while there were two raised alcoves reached by narrow stone steps on each side on the walls. Narrower columns that held the bas-relief forms of armored dwarven guardians flanked the entrances to these adjacent rooms. Similar statues stood on semi-circle pedestals on their side of the huge stone double doors the party entered through. The ceiling appeared to be nearly forty feet high at its tallest point. The marble floor, while covered in dust now, appeared to have once been highly polished and slick.
Braziers that burned brightly by each of the columns, up in the small balconies that framed the shadowy raised alcoves and upon the altar illuminated the great chamber. Kazrack continued to move forward, confident that no harm could come to him in this place protected by his gods, but in a moment he stopped in his tracks. He could now see that upon a stone ramp that led up to the altar was the huge statue of a mastiff. Broad-shouldered with a big blunt head, the rear portion of it seemed stubbier, like hounds that bred for attacking. He could recognize it as Aitan-Abel, the hound of Lehrothronar. The dog statue stood six feet at the shoulder; The top of its head nearly nine feet off the ground.
And if the mastiff were not already familiar to him from the religio-historical tales often told to him by his father in his youth, the great statue, over twenty-five feet high of the great dwarven god of mysteries. It was carved to display his long priest robes, his beard braided intricately, his eyes shone like silver-fire in the brazier light, an arm outstretched before him at a slightly downward angle, palm out as if in warning, or a gesture that said, “wait”. Upon the palm was carved an eye.
Kazrack was puzzled by the statue because he could see other parts of it that seemed to stick out from the left and right, as if it had multiple facets, and it seemed that the feet of the statue did not touch the altar, but instead hovered on a dark shadow.
As he began to move forward again, the rest of the Fearless Manticore Killers carefully coming in behind him at a distance, their allies even more cautious a voice called out from the inner alcove on the left. “Stop! Go no further!”
“Who is in the holy place of my people?!” Kazrack called up, as three figures appeared at the balcony before the alcove. It was clear they were monks, dressed in simple robes of black and in brown leather sandals.
A short stocky monk stepped forward, letting his cloak fall away. He was olive-skinned and clean-shaven, and his muscles were defined as if he were the perfect example of the peak of human physical condition. Even at this distance, Kazrack could see the detailed tattoos on the man’s shoulder’s and arms, but he could not make out what they were.
“I am called Hamfast, and I am a master of my order. We have been waiting for you, son of Rak-Kazum,” the monk replied. “I am known to one of your number, Beorth, Ghost-hunter of Anubis, though in this light I cannot tell if he is with you now.”
“I am here,” Beorth said, stepping forward, craning his neck to get as good a view as he could. He could not remember meeting this man, but he knew he had from his own painstakingly re-created notes. (3)
“I feel honored that you would be waiting for me,” Kazrack said. “Though I am uneasy that you would violate this sacred place. What are you waiting for?”
“First, let me warn you not to step any further forward than you already have,” Master Hamfast said. His voice was a tight as a fist. “The guardian of this holy chamber may not recognize you as one of its own and will certainly not recognize your companions. Secondly, let me put your fears to rest about our defiling this holy place of your kin. As Beorth knows we would not disturb the resting place of the dead, or any holy places, and have even toiled against those that would come here to plunder.”
“What’s wrong with plundering?” Rondar said, a little too loud. Gunthar shoved an elbow in the lanky man’s gut, while both Ratchis and Martin the Green threw angry looks at him.
“And as to what we are waiting for,” the monk continued. “We need you to enter the place we have been seeking so that we might gain its lore.”
“Well,” Kazrack cleared his throat. “Why would I help you?”
“Because even if you got in you would not be able to gain what you have come here to learn,” the monk paused. “And this we have…”
“And that is?”
“The dwarven name of Hurgun’s Maze.”
Kazrack was silent for a moment, and then he replied with a question. “What makes you think we do not already know this?”
“You would not bother asking that question if you knew,” Hamfast replied.
“And you seek Hurgun’s Maze to use it to try to communicate with Anubis?” Ratchis asked. The half-orc stepped forward, stepping just past Kazrack.
“Approach the altar no further!” Master Hamfast said, his voice firm and steady. “If you trust me in nothing else, trust me in that.”
Ratchis looked from the monk over to the shadowed altar.
“And yes, of course. That is why we seek this place. We told this to Beorth months ago,” Hamfast continued.
Kazrack and Ratchis looked to Beorth, and the three of them walked away to join Martin and speak where the monks could not hear them. Anarie hung back with Kismet to keep an eye on the others and on the other raised alcoves, while Scholmo moved a bit more forward to listen to the warriors and watch-mage speak.
“If you know the name in dwarvish, we should drive the monks away,” Ratchis hissed his suggestion.
Kazrack nodded, but mouth a “no”.
The Fearless Manticore Killers were silent for a long moment, each considering the situation on his own.
“I think these monks are telling the truth, but they are not telling the whole truth,” Kazrack said.
Beorth and Martin nodded.
“In fact, I think they need to be led by a dwarf to achieve their aim, and thus want me.”
“Is it just you they need or any dwarf?” Beorth asked.
“Just a dwarf, I suspect,” Kazrack speculated. “I am not very special as dwarves go.”
At that moment Gunthar stepped forward and shoved his way through the gathered adventurers to address the monks.
“I’m tired of all this cow filth,” he said, and looked up to Master Hamfast. “Have you seen a sword?”
The monk’s eyes widened, as Gunthar cried out. He leapt back, barely avoiding being skewered by a long arrow. Instead, the shaft sliced through his shoulder, sending a rain of blood across the floor.
Everyone turned to see where the arrow came from.
“Ah, yes…” Hamfast said. “We did not get to mention that there is someone else we have come in conflict with.”
At the balcony at the front of the first alcove on the left stood a tall lanky figure with long white hair, dressed in rustic brown and green and holding a long bow.
“Tanweil!” Martin the Green cried out.
Debo immediately roared, pulling his great sword from the from sheath on his back, rushing towards the stairs to the new foe; an anxious smile growing on his twisted face.
“Wait! We should discuss things first!” Kazrack called out to the mysterious warrior. “We may not have a reason to fight.”
Ratchis hurried to intercept the barbarian, hoping to cease hostilities. Gunthar followed, his own intentions unclear.
Anarie quickly ducked behind one of the huge pillars to cast defensive spells on herself, and did not see the squat barbarian reach the Tanweil.
There was a flurry of movement from the lanky warrior. He dropped his bow and seemed to claw at Debo with both hands and then lean forward, perhaps head-butting him (?) and then spun around quickly. Debo’s body jerked as if he were struck several times, and then he was tripped by something falling backwards onto the stairs, stunned.
“What the hell did he do to you, Debo?” Gunthar called out, as Tanweil, a blur of movement managed draw his bastard sword to block the blow of Ratchis’ great axe; the half-orc realizing that diplomacy would not be an option now.
Beorth made his way around the opposite stairway and up towards Tanweil. “Kazrack is right! We must talk! Tanweil, stop!”
Frederick not sure what else to do, raised his voice in a rousing drinking song regarding victory over one’s foes.
Kismet and Schlomo hid behind one of the statues near the door, while Martin joined Anarie.
Ratchis leapt back, ready to charge to the mysterious attacker, but Gunthar did not hesistate. He swung his long sword, but Tanweil ducked right into the follow-up blow from the short sword, but the foul-mouth warrior grunted as he felt a numbing pain up his arm, as if the blade had struck something much harder than armor or human skin.
“What tha…?”
Anarie swung out from behind the colum hissing her arcane incantations, “sagitta magicus,” and two arrows of light went flying from her fingers, but Tanweil still moving with incredible speed seemed to not pay them heed. The arrows dissipated against his chest with no apparent effect. He leapt up off the balcony seeming to glide down toward the elfin maid, landing deftly to continue his charge at her.
But suddenly with a burst of speed of his own, Beorth was there to block his path, calling to his god he drove his sword down onto the warrior, feeling something like thick hide give way beneath the blade. (4) The paladin looked at the ground and was shocked to see green-hued blood dripping from the mysterious warrior.
“Spherus Igneus,” Kismet chanted and sent a sphere of flame at Tanweil, but with seeming weightlessness he leapt as it passed beneath him.
“Foul servants of the dragon,” Tanweil hissed.
Debo groaned and shook his head and leapt to his feet, grabbing his sword on the way.
“Get ‘im, Debo!” Rhondar cheered from the safety of the doorway, where he had crept to during the chaos of the battle.
“Gunthar! Call Debo off!” Kazrack called out, even as he moved forward to join Beorth, and Ratchis charged at Tanweil ignoring the his dwarven companion’s tactical suggestion, but Tanweil spun around, easily parrying the blow, but this allowed Anarie to cast expeditious retreat and hurry past back towards Debo and away from the fight.
Tanweil spun around on one foot, and then brought his weight down on the other leaning forward as he let out a huge breath. A green noxious clinging gas roiled from his lips, surrounding Beorth, Ratchis and Debo. Ratchis clutched at his own mouth trying to cover it, but he could feel the stuff burn as it permeated his pores. Debo took a step forward and dropped, unconscious. Beorth coughed blood and swayed, but kept his feet.
Before anyone could react, Tanweil leapt again, seeming to fly up to the opposite alcove from which he had emerged.
“If we are not even going to try diplomacy, we should at least not chase a flying opponent!” Kazrack continued shouting his tactical suggestions. “Fall back to one of the alcoves and let him come to us.”
“That’s a good idea!” Rhondar agreed nodding vigorously, walking cautiously over to the opposite alcove from where the action was taking place; the one Tanweil had first emerged from. The lanky coward put away his sword and drew his crossbow.
“Bah! He can’t get us all!” Gunthar spat, moving towards the steps.
Kismet made her ball of flame chase Tanweil up the steps, and Beorth followed it, still coughing.
Schlomo took a shot with his crossbow, but it hit too low and struck the balcony wall.
“Beorth! Fall back!’ Ratchis echoed Kazrack for the first time, as the dwarf hurried over to the alcove Rhondar was making for. Anarie went over there as well.
But it was too late, Beorth had barely made it up the left-side stairway when Tanweil leapt down on him. The man’s bastard sword slammed into the paladin’s neck, only Beorth’s helmet kept him from having his head forcibly removed from his shoulders. (4) There was an unpleasant sound of metal crunching beneath the blow and as Beorth began to fall backward, and upper-cutting blow from the blade hurried him along his way, blood blossoming explosively from his wounds. He lay at the bottom of the steps unmoving.
Frederick stopped singing. “The monks are on the move!” he warned everyone, as he made his way to the great doors which were still slightly ajar.
Unsure what else to do, Martin the Green decided Kazrack’s plan was best and hurried over to the alcove, but from the corner of his eye he saw one of the monks heading over to the altar they had warned against. And then he saw movement that made his head turn to make sure he was not hallucinating. The great statue of a dog that stood at the front of the altar moved with a great grating sound like stone against stone, even though the movements of the thing were fluid like living flesh of stone. It leapt to one side to give chase to the monk, and looking back to make sure the dog was on his tail, the monk turned towards the general melee and poured on the speed.
“Oh sh*t,” Gunthar muttered. Schlomo hurried over to defend Beorth, but Tanweil did not leap down to finish the paladin, rather he jumped back down off the side of the steps onto the main level, taking stock of his opponents. Kazrack hurried back down the steps, having seen what happened to Beorth.
Ratchis kept the strange white-haired young man in his right eye as he hurried over apply a minor orison on Beorth to him from bleeding to death.
The monk came whizzing past between Gunthar and Kazrack, and the foul-mouth Neergaardian managed a shallow cut against the one called Maynard, who Beorth might have recognized as one of the two that came for him months before, if he could remember anything at all.
Kazrack, however, was too busy putting his weapon down and walking towards Tanweil with arms open. “I will be your hostage,” he said to the incredible warrior. “Our goals need not be in conflict. Put down you weapon as I have done mine, or even put it to my neck, but let us talk.”
“Wow, that dwarf is crazy,’ Rhondar’s gurgled, drooling in amazment.
“Help me find the sword,” Tanweil said, his voice was gurgling hiss that did not seem to sync up with the way his lips moved. “It is all I want.”
The crackle of Kismet’s sphere of flame could be heard as she rolled it towards Tanweil despite the moment of exchanged words. There was near silence for a half-second, but it was shattered by Gunthar’s below. The great dog statue that had been chasing the monk reached him grabbing the Neergaardian in its stony teeth and shaking him as easily as a normal dog would to a tawny rabbit. It dropped him, and Gunthar did not move again. The thing turned its blind eyes towards Kazrack and Tanweil.
“The other two monks are making a break for it,” Frederick pointed to where Hamfast and his other underling were leaping up on to the great altar area. The bard hurried over to where Beorth lay, but keeping an eye on the dog.
Tanweil leapt again floating down towards the altar. Kismet’s ball of flame bounced after him, as Ratchis sprinted towards the altar to catch up to the monks Frederick had pointed out. Leaving the bard and Schlomo to watch Beorth, and at the same moment, the monk that had led the dog to this area stopped beside them, crouching into a fighting stance.
“Somebody come help me protect the paladin,” Frederick cried, holding his rapier out feebly. “I am no good at this stuff.”
As if in answer, the stone dog barked, or at least everyone assumed it did, for the bark was so loud that all other sound seemed to cease to exist compared to it. Anarie stumbled backward dropping her bow, and clutching her ringing head. The reverberation knocked, Kazrack, Rhondar and the monk before Frederick to their rear ends. Hamfast’s companion up in the altar area fell as well.
Kazrack scrambled to his feet and ducked behind one of the columns.
“If your heart is pure you need not fear the dog,” he called out to his companions. “The monks are our real concern. Tanweil did not strike me down when he had the chance; leave him be.”
“Crazy,” Rhondar muttered of the dwarf as he climbed to his feet as well. The golem of Aitan-Abel turned and noticed the activity upon the altar, as Tanweil leapt on the ramp the dog had once occupied, as Ratchis paralleled up a shallow set of step to this raised area on the right.
“Master! It is returning to the altar,” Maynard cried out to Hamfast as he leapt to his feet, and then called to the stone beast, moving before it. “Over here! Over here!” He then had to immediately leap, as Kismet turned her ball of flame to roll through his position.
Now that the dog was menacing the people on the altar, Martin risked scrambling from the relative safety of the raised alcove and made his way to the dying Gunthar. He began to bind the man’s wounds.
Kazrack made his way towards the monk near Frederick and Beorth, but the monk took off for the altar, coming dangerously close to the dog.
Ratchis could now see that Hamfast had made it to a door tucked in the rear left side of the raised altar area. He seemed to be examining it carefully. He could also see now that the great statue of Lehroronar was raised nearly three feet off the altar and was set on smaller jagged metal wheel with another smaller one protruding from the altar at a ninety-degree angle. There was obviously some machinery to the thing, and he could see that here on the right side the statue had a different face, and had an extra set of arms in a different position. The angle of the great statue directly above him made it difficult for him to determine specifics.
Tanweil hurried past the monk that was holding his ground between Hamfast and the approaching dog. The monk stepped to one side and laid a high kick right in Tanweil’s face, but Tanweil did not slow. He poured on the speed, and Hamfast turned too slow to block the deathly blow to his gut. The monk stumbled back against the door clutching at his own entrails as they bulged out. There was a blast of electricity as the monk’s shoulder hit the warded door, and his body jerked several times before sliding down to not move anymore.
The dog ran up the ramp onto the raised area and snagged Maynard jerking him back and forth and tossing the crumpled corpse off the altar.
Beorth’s eyes fluttered, and he could hear Frederick’s soft singing, and the bard’s calloused hands on his neck and side.
“What is happening?” the paladin asked.
“I dunno. They’re all up there fighting, except Kazrack, and Gunthar’s dying and… and…and…”
Suddenly Tanweil’s head jerked to the left and he stared at a stained pewter holy fount mounted on the wall there on the left side of the raised altar area.
“I found it!” He hissed and leapt into the fount, reaching down to draw a great gleaming bastard sword. “I found it!"
The dog slammed the flat top of it head into the guarding monk, and the stumbled backward and retreated some, endeavoring to keep a defensive posture up.
“Master, it is as it was before. Nothing can stop it,” he called to Hamfast, who miraculously was dragging himself across the altar floor to other side of the room to get away from both Tanweil and the dog.
“Surrender and I will heal you,” Kazrack said, cutting off Hamfat’s retreat. He held his flail above his head. Ratchis had his bow out and hurried over.
“Do you know the name of the Maze?” he asked the dying monk. His only reply was to choke out a bubble of blood.
Tanweil leapt off the holy water font and glided down off the altar to the main level.
“He’s got the sword!” Schlomo cried out.
“Come help me guard the door,” Beorth said, limping off towards the great doors to the chamber. He winced in pain with each step. “He has the sword. We can’t let him out.”
“Oh, no…” Frederick hesitated, and then followed. “I guess we need the sword for the plan.”
Ratchis looked up as the shadow of the great dog came over him. He leapt to one side, but still felt most of the brunt of the thing’s headbutt. The half-orc ran away from it hoping to lead it away from Kazrack. He could see the other monk, withdrawing from the altar to get away from the dog.
Suddenly Kazrack noticed that Hamfast had tried to take the moment of danger as a chance to begin to heal himself. The monk seemed to be in a deep meditation, and had his hands to his open gut. Kazrack started as he saw innards and sinew suck back into the wound. He brought down his flail, and the monk turned, absorbing most of the blow on his muscular shoulders. The monk’s robe tore revealing his many goat and goat-head tattoos on his olive flesh.
“I said, surrender and I will cure you,” Kazrack repeated with a grunt.
Frederick hurried through the door and began to try to close it from the outside, while Schlomo pushed from the outside. Beorth stood right before the crack of the door, blocking it. He could see Tanweil’s long-legs pulling him closer and closer across the great marble floor stained in fresh blood. He could see Anarie and Martin struggling to save Gunthar’s life, while Debo lay apparently lifeless in the center of the floor. Closer to the altar was the shadowy outline of the broken body of Maynard.
The great stone dog continued to chase Ratchis, and barked again, and again Anarie’s sensitive elven ears seemed more affected than anyone else, holding her head and swaying. Martin’s cry in astonishment was drowned out, as her hands left Gunthar’s body just as they were tying off a critical wound.
“Only you can calm it,” Hamfast croaked to Kazrack, dragging himself further away from the dwarf. “Only you can keep it at bay.”
The words seems to echo in the dwarf’s head for a moment and he was certain they were true, but then he thought perhaps too certain, and he shook his head to clear it. (5)
He slammed his flail into Hamfast again, and again the monk dropped and stopped moving, blood oozing out from under him.
“Over here, dog!” the other monk cried, kicking over one of the braziers near the edge of the altar. “Over here!”
Ratchis took advantage of the distraction and ran off the altar in direction of the door.
“We don’t work for the dragon,” Beorth said, calmly to Tanweil as the man approached, slowing to a determined march. The paladin held his sword up. “We want to slay it.”
The door behind Beorth closed with an echoing thump.
“Beorth! Let the sword go!” Ratchis cried to his companion, hurrying to get there.
The remaining monk turned towards Kazrack and speaking an arcane word he pointed a finger at the dwarf, shooting a sickly green ray at him. Fortunately, it fell short. The monk made a quick turn and the dog came into view from behind him and bit deep in the dwarf, but not worrying him as much as he had the other.
Kazrack pulled free and fell down.
“Loyal servant of Lehrothronar,” he pleaded in dwarven. “The monks are the enemies of your master. The monk that attacks me is the true enemy! Save your wrath for him!”
The dog as if obeying leapt over and slammed him again. The monk attempted to tumble away, but the dog snapped its powerful jaws on him and forced him to his knees. The dog worried the monk for a second and them him drop motionless.
Rhondar fired his crossbow at Tanweil from the safety of the alcove he had not left, since arriving at. The bolt skidded across the floor, coming short.
“Sagitta Magicus,” Kismet chanted from behind the nearby flanking statue. The bolts of light fizzled as they struck Tanweil.
“Nothing will stop me from slaying her,” Tanweil whispered, and he deftly leapt over Beorth’s attempt to trip him, coming down sword first. There was a burst of blood, and Beorth crumpled.
Schlomo turned from where he had pushed the door, and slammed his warhammer into Tanweil’s knee.
“If you’re going to get out of that door with that sword you are going to have to kill me,” Schlomo said.
“Oh! Schlomo, no!” Kismet cried out. She chanted her magic words again, and again she struck him with her magic missiles. Schlomo saw a brooch about Tanweil appear and crumbled to the floor.
Ratchis charged at Tawneil, but the tall man leapt aside and turned, putting the hand-and-a-half sword between them. Beorth began to crawl away, whispering a prayer, as Schlomo moved to cover him.
The half-orc moved to parry Tanweil’s blows with his hammer, but it was no use. The sword flashed twice, and in a moment he was unconscious and bleeding out as well.
“You would think that a half-breed like you would under the need to destroy all traces of your hated origin,” Tanweil hissed, and stepped over him to engage Schlomo who still blocked the door.
“I’ll say it again,” Schlomo gritted his teeth. Kismet leapt out from behind the statue, casting a spray of color at Tanweil. The warrior was momentarily stunned. “You have to come through me to get to the door.”
Beorth dragged himself to his feet again, and sloppily swung at Tanweil, who moved aside. The poor paladin, twisted his leg as he tried to land the blow and cried out. It convulsed in pain with every step he took. (6)
Tanweil grunted as a crossbow struck his rear left shoulder. Rhondar had come off the steps and flanked.
Throwing his sword around him woozily Tanweil tried to keep his enemies at bay, but Schlomo stepped in and brought his hammer down right on Tanweil’s crotch. The tall warrior roared an inhuman roar. (7)
“Martin, get one of those animals out of your bag!” Kismet called out, as she drew her bow and brought an arrow to it.
“Lehrothronar, please aid me if I am a worthy servant and my fellow servant off of me,” Kazrack beseeched his god, as he focused his pure divine into the stone dog. (8)
The dog bit him again, and he barely was able to jerk out of its jaws.
Beorth swung his sword and Tanweil easily avoided the blow. He spun suddenly dropping the pommel of his sword on the top of the gnome’s head, dropping him to his bottom. He swung the sword down and then back up with a quick whip of his wrists, flicking Beorth’s chin painfully. The paladin fell backward in a burst of blood.
Schlomo was back on his feet almost immediately and swung his hammer. Tanweil leapt over the blow, and then growled angrily, as two magic missiles struck him from Anarie behind him.
Kazrack had scrambled over to the far right side of the raised altar area where a low burning hearth, an anvil and set of tools. He squeezed behind the tool rack, and the dock knocked them away with a sway of his great head.
Rhondar fired another bolt from his heavy crossbow, but it went wide. Schlomo raised his hammer to block Tanweil’s sword blow, but one blow cut deep into his arm, causing his guard to drop, and the follow up blow skewered him through the side. The tall warrior kind of flicked his sword to pull it free of the gnome.
“Schlomo!” Kismet screamed and let an arrow loose, but it bounced off the warrior with no visible effect.
“Have you no compassion at all?!?” Martin screamed after Tanweil, firing his crossbow and missing. “Or are you no better a creature than the dragon that made you?”
Anarie pulled her bow and fired an arrow at Tanweil as he pulled at the great door. The arrow bit into his back, and there was a spurt of green blood, but he did not let it slow him.
Kismet, Anarie, Rhondar and Martin began to bombard Tanweil with a barrage of bolts and arrows as the dragon-blooded warrior pulled at the door, but as if by some miracle of Bes, Frederick held it closed against that mighty will.
“You’re a selfish little worm, Tanweil!” Martin taunted. “What are you going to do once you’ve killed her? What then?”
The bolts and arrows continued to fall short or bury themselves into the door. The few that struck the man seemed to bounce off of him with no apparent effect.
Meanwhile, across the great chamber, Kazrack was making a break for it from where he had been penned in by the dog, but the animated recreation of Aitan-Abel was not having any of it. He pounced to one side as if he was just a dog of great size, but the resulting thud of his real weight reverberated throughout the room. Kazrack looked up just as the dog came down and swung his large head.
There was a sickening crunch and Kazrack saw a burst of his own blood entwined with twinkling stars and the most terrible pain he had ever suffered. He fell backward clutching at his beard.
Tanweil paused in his pulling, oblivious to the arrows falling around him and seemed to laugh at himself. He then stepped over three feet to the right and pulled on the other great door with one hand and it opened several feet. (9)
He chopped down through the opening and the others heard a horrific scream from Frederic.
”My arm! My arm!” the bard cried out.
Tanweil stepped through the door, and in a rare display of courage, Rhondar followed and fired a last bolt from his heavy crossbow.
Anarie slipped past the lanky rogue firing at her last view of Tanweil as he dove into the cold murky water.
She let out a sigh and looked down. There lay Frederick, the dying murmur of a song his bloody lips, his right arm removed at the elbow; blood blossomed around him as his eyes rolled back into his head.
End of Session #61
-----------------------------------------------------------
Notes
(1) Kazrack is referring to Lehrothronar.
(2) Magical Stone
(3) Beorth met Master Hamfast near the Pit of Bones back in the Interlude between Sessions #24 and #25.
(4) Tanweil scored a “Decapitation” critical effect, but the Beorth’s helmet lowered the effect to merely double damage.
(5) Monks of Rahkefet gain the ability to give suggestions as they rise in level.
(6) DM’s Note: Beorth suffered fumble effect that halved his speed.
(7) DM’s Note: Schlomo was able to take advantage of Beorth flanking Tanweil to make a sneak attack.
(8) DM’s Note: A turning attempt can be used for various devotions by means of needing to accomplish something based on faith. For example, a door may be warded to wait until someone uses such devotion power on the door as a sign of faith to the god in question, or good in general.
(9) DM’s Note: For several rounds, Frederick was able to continue to win the strength contest between him and Tanweil despite the latter’s great advantage in strength score. The players took turns rolling for Frederick.
