Rel's Faded Glory III: Glory Reborn (FINAL UPDATE 6/22 - SHE'S DONE, BABY!!)

[Riggs]

I miss some posts and look what happened!

I've missed a few, so nice job on the posts, JB.

I recall the "holy crap!!" factor that we all shared when the beholder came through the ceiling. We all remembered the "Watcher" reference that Magdar gave us, but then there it was, dusting the roof and ready to kick our behinds. Yikes. I could have taken him though. Yep.

Then Hell. After we Albatrossed away, we then see we were perhaps better off trying to gnaw off the eyestalks of the Watcher. We were all saying things like, "Hell? Really? THE Hell? No kidding? Wow."

When Jalena spoke to us, I knew Marius was doomed. He has the Will save of a schoolboy and the Charisma to think he could handle it. haha. I even had Marius tell himself and the party that he was the most expendable since he was the least of the frontliners and had no magical ability to get us out. Really though, he was half-seduced with the voice, and when it was Lucy+Monica?? Jeez he didn't stand a chance at all! A quick memory of Lucy in Charlie's Angels wearing leather and Monica in Brotherhood of the Wolf wearing nothing was enough. Getting to roll at all was just bonus.

One mechanical aside, Marcus gave Marius a Will save boost there for the kiss, but what he hadn't yet looked up in his scrolls was that it was once per day, not once an hour or such. So Marius and Marcus thought Marius had the +9 or whatever the really good save boost was while in the back room there. Of course, he had nothing on but his smile.

 

[ledded]

Fabulous.


Just fabulous. It's been a while since I stopped in here, having lost the subscription when all the sub's died a while back. Glad I did too. You're doing great work here man, and I am now firmly re-subscribed.

 

[Rel]

Thanks for stopping by, Riggs and ledded. For my players, I strongly recommend reading ledded's Story Hour, particularly some of the recent updates! I haven't loved a shield wielding character so much since Captain Texas ("Kiss Abilene, evil doer!" *Wham*).

I also wanted to mention here that, although I led Marius down the path of temptation in a Rat-Bastardly fashion (the whole Lucy/Monica thing was just plain mean), Riggs did an awesome job of roleplaying and was a great sport about the predicament he found himself in. It turned what I thought would be a somewhat colorful sidetrack into a major plot point and one of my favorite things about this campaign. Thanks again, Riggs (and sorry about your soul ).

Here's another snippet and there might be another later this afternoon if I get a bit of time while my daughter naps.


“Well we’re in Hell alright. And not one of the nicer parts from what I understand.” The group listened to Marius expectantly. That bridge we saw out there is called ‘The Bridge of Regret’. There are people…well, the manifestation of their souls anyway, who are shackled to it, damned to hang there and contemplate their regretful actions for all eternity. The river itself is comprised of the tears of the damned.”

Marcus gaped in horrid amazement. “You mean…”

Marius cut him off, “Yes. We do NOT want to visit the headwaters.”

“What about that pyramid? Is it some kind of temple?” asked Speaks.

“Not a temple. A prison. And guess who’s inside: Bane.”

“That’s impossible!” Marcus interjected. “Bane is dead! St. Cuthbert himself smote him down!”

Marius held up a hand, attempting to calm Marcus from his dogma. “Smote he may have been, but according to Jalena killing off a god just isn’t that easy. Bane was somehow cast into Hell and a host of angels descended and made this Tomb around him. I guess it is supposed to somehow cut him off from his source of power or something.”

Lazarius jumped in this time, “But those devils are tearing it apart!”

Marius nodded his head in grave agreement, “Yep.”

Speaks’ brow wrinkled in contemplation. “But Bane has been dead…or, well, imprisoned I guess, for three hundred years. Why are they just now getting around to trying to open his tomb?”

“Nobody ever paid them, until now,” replied Marius. “You see, Hell is a rather mercenary place. Nobody does anything without compensation unless they have to. And the coin of the realm is souls. Those coins and that gem we found on those devils that attacked us? Those are the local currency.”

Marcus gasped in horror, “You mean those are souls?!”

Marius continued, “Not exactly. See, the rulers of Hell are these devil Lords. When the average damned soul is consigned to Hell, the minions of these Lords gather them up and return them to their masters. They are put into the large pens to await whatever fate the Lord decrees. But the Lords also issue currency against the value of these damned souls and use it to pay those who serve them. These coins can be cashed in for the souls in question, even at a great distance. That’s how those devils we fought were able to summon forth all those pitiful wretches who we had to wade through atop the mountain.”

Marcus cringed at the horror of it all, “My dear god. They literally traffic in the misery of the damned! This is an outrage!”

Marius rolled his eyes, “Well this IS Hell we’re talking about! And before you get all weepy, remember that you don’t wind up here without having done some pretty bad stuff.”

Marius’ sarcasm seemed to falter just a bit at the end of his statement. Speaks filled the ensuing silence, “But who is paying the devils to break open the Tomb of Bane? And why?”

“Well, the local Lord is the one doing the actual paying. But Jalena says that he just recently got a massive influx of new souls from somewhere. The devils he has been paying have complained a lot about the ‘quality’ of these souls, whatever that means. But the Lord has been spreading the cash around generously so they don’t complain too long or too loud. And devils from all over Hell are starting to respond to his largesse. Devils are going to be thick on the ground around here in the very near future.”

Lazarius was already in motion, packing his few belongings into his Haversack, “Then let’s get the…well, the Hell out of here!”

 

[Rel]

Marius spent a few more moments in quiet discussion with Jalena before the party exited her lair. They paused outside along the mountainside and took a long look across the River of Tears. It spilled along within its rocky banks, filling the air with a salty smell. It was not nearly so large as the Fodor, but still to imagine that it was filled by the tears of the damned was simply stunning.

They had debated as to whether they could simply Teleport directly from Jalena’s lair or if there were something special about the promontory that required them to use it as their point of departure. Lazarius had no definitive answer but he felt it most prudent to return to the lookout and so they had to retrace their path along the river.

They made it back to where the river intersected the road and paused briefly at the edge of the Bridge of Regret. Cathal turned and dashed up the road toward the pass, his magical boots carrying him faster than a horse. The others looked nervously back the other direction, across the bridge, for any signs of approaching devils. As they gazed that way, something caught Lazarius’ eye and he felt his stomach plunge. He stepped onto the bridge, walking away from the others. “Uncle?”

The man had died before he was born, but there were portraits of him all over his childhood home. Manilux Rameous was head of his house and among the most successful merchants of his day. His business had survived the Slave War and near collapse of the Empire, only to emerge strong as many of his rivals had been destroyed in the war. He was eventually appointed to be the governor of the scattered towns of the Northlands from Aquae Sulis to Bremmerton by the Emperor. He held that post for a dozen years but relinquished it when the barbarian attacks became too fierce. He departed the Northlands with the last of the Legions that left Glynden some 30 years ago. It is said that his wagon creaked under the weight of the silver he took south with him, but he died before he could enjoy his retirement, leaving riches to his family and one small, mysterious chest.

Lazarius discovered this chest as he explored the basement of his family’s manor as a youth. It bore some strange markings and an intricate lock. But Lazarius was a clever boy and discovered that while the lock still held, the hinges were badly rusted. They gave way to a little prying with a dagger and inside he found a torn document written in faded brown ink and a medallion.

His father had discovered him rooting around in the storeroom and quickly banished him from it, sweeping the parchment and medallion back into the chest and carrying them back to his personal quarters. Lazarius never saw that medallion again, but Speaks drew a sketch of one just like it for him many years later. It was the medallion worn by the orcish worshippers of Bane. He knew in that moment that his uncle had been part of the Cult of Bane but had never spoken of it to the others.

“Uncle, it is I, Lazarious Rameous, your great nephew, son of Tyminnes Rameous. I see that your worship of Bane has brought you to this.” The man he looked upon was little more than a skeleton. His skin stretched tight over ribs, his head hung down with a few limp, pitiful strands of hair still clinging to it. He was chained to one of the many pillars that made up the bridge supports as were many others, though the manacles on either side of Manilux remained empty.

The head rose slowly to reveal a pair of eyes that burned with insanity that can only come from decades of damnation, “WHAT OF IT, WHELP?! Do you think it surprises me to find others of my line damned? Ours has ever been a family of individuals, smart but easily tempted by the easy path. So welcome to Hell. I hope you enjoyed the pleasures that your sins brought you in life.” The wretched soul that was once his forefather glared hatefully at Lazarius who could not bear such a site. He cast his eyes downward and saw his uncle’s name carved into the pillar and knew that he would hang here for eternity.

“I am not among the damned, Uncle. I came here of my own free will and I shall return to our world in the same manner.” By now, the rest of the party, save Cathal, had walked down the bridge and come to stand behind the Wizard. Though they looked askance at one another when Lazarius used the words “own free will”, none contradicted him.

“It happens, Uncle, that I have come across some of the coins of this realm. These coins and gems that buy souls. Perhaps yours might be bought and you could be removed from your eternal vigil here on the Bridge of Regret?”

The eyes blazed with lust and desire for a thing so often dreamt of, so coveted and yet not to be hoped for. “ANYTHING!! I shall do ANYTHING!!!” He panted with quivering breath and stared at his savior nephew.

“What can you tell me about the Cult of Bane?”

“I had little to do with them. They contacted me after the War and told me that a strong governor would be needed in the Northlands if they were to be held together as the Empire fought so desperately for survival. They told me that if I only just made a pact to do a favor for them occasionally, they could assure my appointment to a governorship.

What choice did I have?! Other merchants were failing all around me! I was in debt to the government and they told me those debts would be forgiven if I was made governor. So I met with them and…and made their pact. The things they did to me in that ceremony…but I did it for my FAMILY!”

Lazarius shook his head, “What did they ask in return?”

“At first, nothing. I settled into governing the northlands and the silver began to flow from the mines like water! I was blessed! But then, one autumn night, a man in brown robes came. He wore a strange pendant beneath his robes that he brought forth when we were alone. It was the sign I was told to look for.”

Lazarius nodded in recognition. “A twisted copper ring with three spokes running to the center, wavy like water…or fire?”

“The very one. He wanted…unborn children. He said that the Cult was recruiting and it was best to have the child from birth. But I think I knew even then that his intentions were more sinister than that.” Manilux hung his head and his chest rattled with sobs of regret.

“And you provided them?” Lazarius asked, already cringing at what he knew the answer would be.

Manilux’s voice quivered and his eyes grew distant, “It was so easy. I just sent for a young guardsman from Glynden, a man who I knew to have a pregnant wife, to come and serve as my runner for a few months. They never arrived and were never found. It was only a few times over the course of a dozen years…”

The party shook their heads in disgust and their contempt for this pathetic wretch was easily visible in their faces. But what punishment could they exact upon him that was worse than what he faced.

“After that I went home, back to Emor. I used my riches gained in the north to have a palatial villa built, but I never lived to see it completed. And the Cult never contacted me again, but the damage to my soul was done. And here I have remained until now. Now you have come to deliver me from my torment!” His voice rang with fervent, monomaniacal hope.

“Perhaps, Uncle. ‘Perhaps’ is what I said. I’m not sure that we have enough of the local coin to buy your freedom. And in any event, we’ve got to get out of here quickly now. It may be that we will have time and opportunity later to see to your release. For now, we must go.”

Manilux body writhed with superhuman strength, fueled by his rage and insanity, but his bonds held as he hurled the most vile curses from his lips at his deceitful nephew. He strained and blood ran from his wrists and ankles as he tore them open against the unforgiving iron of his bindings. It didn’t take long for his strength to run out. Hell is a place that breeds resignation and no place is that more true than the Bridge of Regret. Manilux hung limply from his chains, his blood and tears running down to fall upon the bridge that had soaked up so many gallons of them over the span of eternity.

None of the party could bear to look upon the man any longer and their gazes sought other places to rest. Lazarius found himself staring at the vacant post to the left of that of his great uncle. He saw that a name was carved there, indicating the person for whom the pillar and chains were destined: Solvaria Rameous. His sister.

Speaks too looked upon one of the vacant pillars and saw a name engraved for the one who would come to hang there in time: Titus Pontius Macer.

 

[BSF]

Rel,
Very, very nicely done here. If I ever end up sending PCs to Hell, I hope I can do it the same justice you have.

 

[Rel]

Rel,
Very, very nicely done here. If I ever end up sending PCs to Hell, I hope I can do it the same justice you have.

Much of the credit should go to the gang here at ENWorld. I drew a lot of inspiration for the Hell material from one of the threads you kindly linked to earlier.

A couple GM notes are in order regarding the end of the last update:

First up, Lazarius was not hugely shocked to see his sister's name on the post next to Uncle Manilux. Solvaria, his older sister, has long been known to have a dark side. In his words she is "spiteful, dangerous and scheming...she wants power no matter how she achieves it". She is very beautiful and is not bashful about using this beauty to get what she wants. And he has long suspected that she has dabbled in dark magic of some sort. But her current whereabouts was unknown to him. Until now.

Marius is good at keeping his ear close to the ground in Emor and had heard rumors that the high ranking Senator Pontius had recently taken a new, young, gorgeous wife, almost immediately after his previous wife died under mysterious circumstances. He knew only the first name of this new wife: Solvaria. After seeing her name upon the post on the Bridge of Regret, he and Lazarius put two and two together and came up with a full house. This bodes ill for things back in the Empire because Pontius is a close friend and advisor to the son (Flavius) of Emperor Dartalus II. The Emperor is in very poor health and word on the street is that Flavius is almost certain to succeed him in the near future, which will elevate Pontius' status even further. But at the moment, the party knows nothing specific and even if they did, they're still in Hell.

The other name they saw, Titus Pontius Macer (don't confuse him with the senator), was significant mostly to Speaks. In case you don't recall (and I'd be impressed if you did), Macer was the undead guy who the party (then Speaks, Scar and Raven) battled in the heart of the abandoned Temple of Bane, deep in the Darkwood. His journal revealed how the Cult had been aligned with the Druids against the Elven Dark Druids and how the remnants of the Cult had fled west, probably toward the City of Endless Summer, after pretty much everybody began to attack them.

The eyebrow raising part of the whole business is not the fact that Macer would earn himself a spot on the Bridge of Regret next to other known Bane worshipers, but the fact that he wasn't already there. This led to a quick exchange between Speaks' player and Lazarius' player (who also played Raven) that went something like this:

Speaks: "Wait...Macer? But we killed him! Didn't we?"

Lazarius: "Yeah, we even cut off his head and carried it away in a bag."

Speaks: "What did we do with that bag?"

Lazarius: "I don't recall giving it to anybody. Did we lose it?"

Speaks: "Wait a second...we lost it when the Dark Druids attacked us outside the Temple as we were leaving. That was when the Dire Owls carried us to safety, wasn't it?"

Lazarius: "Oh yeah...we left behind the bag with the head in it. Damn. That Macer guy is one tough bastard!"

Speaks: "I think we'd better find out what happened to him. After we get out of Hell I mean."

So it looks like the party has a bit of information gathering to do if they can make it out of Hell. Look for an update later today that describes the attempt. But I'll go ahead and warn you that a member of the party suffers...

A Fate Worse Than Death!!!

*cue dramatic music*

 

[BSF]

The RBDM help in one hour thread was a great thread. Plenty of inspiration in it. But you did a great job taking that inspiration and running with it. The fact that you were able to toss in a couple of teasers for the game on the bridge is golden and I dig that. All in all, a dem fine job sir. Yes, a dem fine job.

 

[Rel]

Cathal was the one who noticed the devils coming up the road in the distance. They had lingered too long on the Bridge of Regret and now a column of Hell’s minions was coming from across the river, deeper into the badlands. They turned to flee back up into the pass toward the ascent to the promontory when Manilux called out weakly to Lazarius.

“Tell your sister that I’m waiting for her…”

The Wizard did not look back.

They made it up into the pass and if the column of devils had spotted them they certainly did not seem to be picking up their pace. Marcus did peer into the distance and note that the approaching group of devils were carrying digging tools and were no doubt on the way to aid in the destruction of the Tomb of Bane. The warrior-priest of St. Cuthbert knew that he must somehow fight his way home and warn his church that Bane was in danger of being set free. And he would lead a Crusade back to Hell to stop that from happening if he had to.

They made their ascent up the pitted black stones and gazed down once more at the crowd of Hell-spawn that were hacking intently at the pyramid. The mass of devils had grown noticeably just in the day that had passed since they’d been there and they knew that at least one more column of devil was about to join the effort. They had no way of guessing how long the Tomb, constructed by the hosts of Celestia, would withstand the assault of the minions of Hell, but they all felt a sense of urgency.

“Ok, listen up,” said Lazarius, “I don’t think I can Teleport us anywhere outside the City of Endless Summer. I’m guessing that the City’s tie to Bane is what brought us here in the first place so I’ve got to take us back into the City and then we’ll have to fly out while we’re still in bird form.”

Speaks interjected, “With the Watcher still floating around, not to mention those Wyverns, I think we should probably consider NOT leaving the City as birds. You guys don’t really fly all that well.”

Marius nodded, “Yeah, let’s just sneak out the same way we came in. The place looked like it was nearly empty and hopefully they won’t be waiting for us when we return. Speaking of which, where are we returning to?”

“The Forge,” replied Lazarius.

“The Forge?! That’s where we departed from! If they’re keeping an eye on any place in the City, that’ll be it!”

“I know that,” explained the Imperial War Wizard, “but it was the only place that we spent more than a couple of moments and we at least gave it a cursory search before they found us. It’s our best shot of getting back without a mishap. And look where the last mishap brought us!” Lazarius explanation was punctuated as a wave of lightning rolled across the battered and bruised sky of Hell.

“I suppose you’ve got a point,” said Speaks, “But let’s make sure we’re all ready to do battle if we have to.” Everyone nodded. When they were ready, all but Lazarius joined hands and a moment later they were birds again. They flitted to the Wizard’s shoulders and he said a single, unintelligible word. They were elsewhere.

 

[Rel]

A “pop” accompanied their arrival in the Forge and barely a moment passed before the party stood assembled, weapons bristling and spells readied. A heartbeat passed, then another. No enemies awaited them. They breathed.

They all gazed upward at the hole in the ceiling that the Watcher had disintegrated with its gaze. They quickly moved to the perimeter of the room where they could not be directly seen from above.

“Let’s check that door where the bloody (GM Note: This isn’t meant as invective, the Ogres were literally covered in blood) Ogres came from before we leave,” said Marius.

“Why?! You were all worried that we might be found! Let’s just leave,” implored Lazarius.

“We’re going to make a lot of noise as we depart. Marcus sounds like a walking metalworks. If they’re behind that door, I say we ambush them instead of them ambushing us,” explained Marius.

Not all the group agreed with this idea but they knew that a lengthy argument would probably draw more attention than a brief battle. They formed up around the door.

(GM Note: This may seem a bit incautious but the party had layered on the buff spells before leaving Hell, including some rather short term stuff. So they figured that if a fight was going to happen, they’d be better off dictating the timing.)

The smell slammed into them as soon as Marcus opened the set of large doors. It seemed to rush out into the Forge like a plague and they felt their throats constrict against the putrid odor of carrion and their eyes watered. Marius wiped away the tears to find an enormous room stretching off into the darkness beyond their torchlight. The shallow arch of the domed ceiling rose above and was supported by carved columns. And the floor was piled with bodies.

Hundreds, possibly thousands of them. Orcs. And mostly women and children from the look of them. They were not dead more than a few days at most and the floor was thick with a couple of inches of partially congealed blood. It was an abattoir. It suddenly became clear where the influx of souls to pay the devils had come from. The companions reeled at the horrible stench of death and the enormity of the evil that had taken place here. Then something moved.

“They’re Undead!” called Speaks. “Get back!”

Marius scrambled back out into the Forge followed by Cathal who pulled shut the left door. Speaks stepped into the breach and called upon the Wild to bring forth the little creatures of the world, whose duty was to cleanse the corpses of the dead and clean the land of their taint. Marcus too fell back but stopped in front of the Druid who was vulnerable while he did his magic.

They came lurching out of the darkness, clawed hands outstretched and faces still holding the horror of their dying screams. The undead Orcs tried to swarm past Marcus but he smote one and then another as they moved toward Speaks. But there were many, many of them and in a moment they were all around him, grabbing and clawing, seeking revenge against any living thing for what had been done to them.

Marius fell back again before the onslaught of undead, regretting that they’d ever opened that door. Cathal held fast near the doorway, waiting for an opportunity to push back the enemy if the opportunity presented itself.

Marcus held his mace high and the cross of St. Cuthbert flashed as a wave of holy energy surged outward. Those undead closest to him halted their advance, cringing away from the light of righteousness. Then the air became abuzz with a Swarm of Insects as Speaks’ call was answered. He wasted no time readying another of his magics to cut off the advance of the zombie horde.

The tide of evil undead began to wash away from the party as those exposed to the holy light of St. Cutbert attempted to escape its caustic rays. Cathal and Marcus both smote down those who fled before them. But for every one of the hideous abominations that they sent to flight, two more lurched toward them.

Speaks let his magic go to cut off their advance and a magical hedge, thick with briars and thorns appeared in front of them, forming a Green Blockade. Marcus redoubled his efforts and held aloft his mace once again, sending the latest wave of undead crashing back upon itself, even as another group surged forward. Cathal moved across Marcus’ path and grabbed the door pull with one hand and slashed down another zombie with his blade.

Marius and Lazarius both nervously stood in the Forge, their eyes glued to the hole in the ceiling, afraid that at any moment it might darken with the shadow of the Watcher. Speaks stepped back, hovering near the double doors into the abattoir and waiting, hoping that his Swarm would slow the advance of the undead.

Marcus let out a cry, “In the name of St. Cuthbert, I banish your unholy forms from this world!” A powerful wave of silver energy surged outward from the Cleric and smashed into the oncoming undead, burning them where they stood with white flames, leaving only dust behind. Cathal pulled the door shut and the Forge was enveloped in silence once again.

“Let’s get out of here! NOW!!” cried Lazarius. This time there were no dissenting votes.

 

[Rel]

Speaks used a minor magic to Shape the Wood of the door in such a way as to hold against the thumping coming from the other side. Then they quickly retreated across the Forge to the doorway that led down to the long passage away from the City, back to the Foundry. They moved along the broad corridor and soon found themselves approaching the intersection where the passage had split as they entered the City.

Ahead the way looked clear in the direction toward the large set of doors where they had first encountered the Ogres. They slowed their advance and Marius led them up to where the sharp corner doubled back and ascended, presumably ending at ground level in the huge open courtyard and gardens of the City. The Imperial Explorer leaned around the corner and peered into the darkness of the passageway. “I don’t see anything.” A moment later, this was even more true as their Everburning Torches were snuffed.

“What?!”, cried Lazarius. He, Speaks and Cathal all fumbled for some other light source but none came quickly to hand. Then their torches flickered back to life and they saw before them a stone statue, holding the exact pose that Marius once held as he looked around the corner. Marcus rushed forward to aid his friend but found that there was little he could do for him in his present condition.

Cathal summoned his mystical Shield and dashed around the corner to face their adversary. He found himself staring down the corridor at the abominable form of the Watcher, floating some sixty feet away, its mouth grinning and eyestalks waving. The Brigante steeled himself and cried out in his native tongue, “You have not weakened us! I now fight with the strength of my fallen brother in arms!” He brandished his sword, which crackled with lightning.

Lazarius called upon his defensive magic and moved up near Marius as a half-dozen Mirror Images of the Wizard sprang into being around him. Speaks now knew only a fraction of what their adversary was capable of. But he reasoned that if it was called The Watcher, it would be better if it couldn’t see them. He called forth an Obscuring Mist that enveloped the entire party.

Cathal was only at the outer edge of the mist however and could see as a ray shot from one of the eyes of the Watcher and struck him. He felt it try to fill his veins with granite but he fought off the creature’s petrification magic. He was still reeling from the joy of having survived as Marcus dashed past him and boldly charged up to the creature, shield and mace in hand. Cathal too dashed forward, diving beneath the floating Watcher and coming to his feet behind it and slashing out with his blade in the same smooth motion. He struck and saw translucent gray ocular material ooze from the wound.

Lazarius burst through the mist with some trepidation but was heartened to find his allies already having brought the Watcher to battle. A crackling Orb of Electricity shot from the War Wizard’s outstretched hand but flew wide and missed the entire melee.

Speaks too hurried around the corner and burst from the mist. He saw Marcus and Cathal locked in battle with the creature and moved to enter the fight. As he did so, the creature floated from between the warriors and retreated further up the hallway, Cathal slashed another deep gash along its side as it passed and earned its ire. A trio of rays blazed from its eyes and struck the Brigante warrior but whatever horrible effects they held (Slow, Charm Person and Finger of Death in case you’re interested) were deflected by his righteous rage.

Marcus knew that they had to keep the creature engaged in close battle if they were to stand a chance so he raised his shield and charged, slashing out with his mace. His blow struck home and raised a tremendous welt along the side of the creature, just below one of the smaller eyestalks.

Cathal’s magical boots danced across the floor as he deftly maneuvered to flank the eyeball horror once again. The creature had learned that this human was a slippery enemy and turned its gaze away from Marcus. And thus its large, central eye was looking directly at Cathal as he brought his blade down in a two handed slash that clove deep into the eye and sent the Watcher crashing to the stone floor.

A celebration of their victory over the Watcher would have to wait however, as Lazarius heard the clash of large armored combatants approaching from the other direction, toward the Foundry Gate. He drew a veil of Invisibility (Improved) around himself and moved around the corner near the statue of Marius, hidden in the depths of the fog.

Speaks could not see the Ogres clearly yet, but he was fairly certain that Lazarius had retreated back around the corner from the echoes of his footsteps. He decided that he would have to chance it and summoned forth a nearly invisible sheen of Spike Stones, blanketing the floor back in the direction the Ogres were coming from. He called out in Elven to Lazarius, “Beware of the stone spikes in the corridor out here!” He hoped that the Ogres had had no occasion to study that language.

From the sound of things the Ogres must have charged into Speaks’ trap as they heard one of them howl in pain and yell, “They’ve trapped the hallway!” in Orcish. What looked to be a javelin, seemingly thrown at random, shot from the mist and clattered harmlessly to the floor. But a moment later it seemed far less harmless as it grew into a huge constrictor snake. It immediately coiled and bit at Speaks but the Druid leapt backwards out of its reach.

Marcus was closest to Speaks and struck at the snake with his mace, tearing away a cluster of scales where his weapon hit. Cathal too dashed over to aid the Druid and landed a powerful blow with his sword, which seemed as though it were guided by the spirits of his ancestors. (Cathal was hitting everything he swung at that night and doing great damage too.)

Lazarius crept closer to edge of the mist closest to the Ogres, wary of stepping on the spikes that covered the floor. He began to be able to see the large shapes clustered in the hallway, trapped by the Spike Stones that lay in front and behind them. “Since you’re all standing so nice and close…” muttered the Wizard as a crackling bead of light leapt from his hand and exploded in a Lightning Ball amid the mailed enemies. They shuddered and smoked as their bodies were wracked with electricity.

Back in the other hallway, the melee with the giant snake became suddenly blanketed in utter darkness. Who was responsible was a mystery Speaks knew that the snake was his major concern for the moment. If it managed to get its coils around him, he would stand little chance against the creature. He transformed himself into a large bear and could immediately smell the snake’s scent in the air. His jaws surged out and closed on scale and meat, biting down on the serpent.

But the great snake was far from defeated. It turned its own jaws on the thick fur of the bear it now faced and its teeth sank deep. In the blackness, Speaks felt its coils encircle him and begin to squeeze the breath from his lungs. Cathal and Marcus could hear the struggle taking place nearby but were unable to pinpoint where. They moved blindly in the darkness, weapons outstretched trying to locate their enemy. They called out above the sounds of battle, “Wizard! They’ve shrouded us in blackness! Help!”

Lazarius carefully withdrew from the edge of the mist and peered intently in the direction of the melee. He could just barely make out the edge of the magical blackness that enveloped his friends. Pulling a coin from his purse, he infused it with Light and hurled it in the general direction of the fighting. His heart sank as a voice behind him whispered evilly, “Ah, there you are!” Out of the mist strode the towering figure of the Blue Demoness, her scythe raised high.

She struck at Lazarius but hit only one of his false Images. Her swing continued, cleaving through another such Image that burst like a soap bubble. (Note: If you’ve got some great ideas about how Invisibility and Mirror Image should interact, I wish you’d been there that night to help me out. As it was, I decided to give Lazarius the benefit of the doubt and rule that the glow from the light-coin – which is how she located him – was replicated on all the images and therefore they’d kick in.) She cursed in an unknown language and cried out in Orcish, “Over here!”

Meanwhile the battle with the snake continued, now with illumination provided by Lazarius’ coin. Speaks’ ursine muscles surged and his teeth and claws slashed at the reptile, finally managing to pull himself free of its serpentine grip. It lashed out at the bear again as the wounded Druid escaped its grasp but its teeth found only a bit of brown fur. It turned on Cathal as the warrior menaced it with his sword but failed to penetrate his magical Shield.

The Ogres, seemingly in response to the call of the Blue Demoness came charging toward Lazarius. The first managed to avoid the worst of the Spike Stones and drew close enough to strike at the spot indicated by the Demoness but his blow lacked precision against an unseen foe and only hit the floor. The second Ogre must have run through the thickest part of the Spike Stones and his feet and legs sustained terrible damage. Leaking blood, he slowed to a crawl and staggered toward the battle forming around the War Wizard. The third fared little better and limped after his comrade, anxious to get into the fight. Both were uttering a string of curses and threats as to what they would do to the Wizard when they got there but these were cut off in an instant as the area was shrouded in magical Silence. “Oh Hells!” Lazarius yelled soundlessly.

Cathal spun as he ducked beneath the darting jaws of the huge snake and swung his blade in an upwards arc with all his might. He felt it slow and then speed up again and blood poured down around him as the creature’s head fell from its neck. The head rolled over once and disappeared as the snake’s body shrank in on itself and became a staff.

Marcus knew that Lazarius was in trouble and dashed off into the misty melee as fast as his armor would allow. But now it was his turn to face the magical trap laid by Speaks. He felt the needle-like stone protrusions dig into and through his boots to slash open his ankles. The pain was tremendous and he his will alone could not help him move faster than a limp.

Lazarius knew that he would die if he stayed where he was. Invisible or not, the huge weapons wielded by the Ogres and Blue Bitch would find him if he held his ground. He weaved his way past their weapons, the magical Silence concealing his footsteps and moved back up the hallway in the direction they had originally come from. Once out of their reach and out of the Silence he cast a spell to allow himself to Fly.

Speaks, still in bear form, called upon the Wild to heal some of his wounds. He also moved to interpose himself between Cathal and the trapped area. Not speaking Elven, it seemed that Cathal and Marcus had both failed to get the warning he had yelled to Lazarius. The Brigante seemed to sense that the Druid was trying to tell him something and held back from running into the deadly mist ahead. Peering ahead, he saw the limping shadow of one of the Ogres pass deeper into the mist. Watching Marcus, similarly limping ahead toward the battle, Cathal suddenly understood what was going on.

Marcus felt like his legs were on fire from the pain of the Spike Stones. He gritted his teeth against the agony and moved forward, looking for an enemy to share his pain with. Ahead he spotted one and forced himself to keep going ahead, leaving a trail of blood in his path.

Lazarius continued to move back away from the misty mass of enemies in front of him. As he did, he called upon another magic that would let him See Invisible enemies as he knew the Blue Demoness was wont to vanish at the slightest opportunity. Ahead he saw a flash of light in the mist, but could not make out who cause it.

Marcus was not so lucky. He caught the blaze of Searing Light emanating from the headband worn by the Demoness right in the chest. The burning from it was almost a welcome distraction from the pain in his feet. Almost.

Speaks stalked back and forth near the edge of the Spike Stones, sniffing the air for signs of any invisible enemies but finding none. Cathal knew that the battle was unfolding without him ahead and was not going to let that happen. He backed up and took a running leap, his magical boots propelling him much further than would be humanly possible. He soared nearly sixty feet but still landed within the area blanketed with those accursed Stones. His magically Stony Skin, enchanted by Lazarius before they left Hell, protected him somewhat but he still suffered enough damage to hobble him. As if to add minor insult to minor injury, a shadowy figure, partially obscured by the mist gestured in his direction with another magical compulsion of some kind but he resisted the effects once again.

Marcus could tell that he was not going to last much longer against these adversaries in light of the many wounds he’d sustained just getting to the fight. He called upon the Divine Shield of St. Cuthbert to deliver him from his enemies’ blows. And prayed.

In seeming answer to his prayers, the area in front of him exploded in crackling blue light as Lazarius unleashed more Lightning upon the Ogres and the Demoness. All of them looked badly wounded but none yet fell.

Speaks decided that he could no longer afford to wait while his companions fought up ahead. He took the form of a large Owl and silently flew ahead to the battle at the intersection. As he did so, he saw Cathal take another bound, deeper into the mist, and let go a battle cry.

The Brigante sailed inside the reach of the Ogre and slashed open his thigh with his crackling bastard sword. Caught off guard, the Ogre scrambled away from the enraged barbarian and guzzled down a vial of some liquid, vanishing from sight. The other enemies turned their attention to this latest arrival to the combat.

Marcus took advantage of the brief break to heal himself with the blessing of St. Cuthbert. Further up the hall, Lazarius came closer to engage the enemy once again, gliding safely above the ground where he was sure to avoid the Spike Stones. Speaks too was gliding above the ground and just when he needed a place to alight and survey the situation, he found one in the form of Marius’s petrified form peering around the corner.

The fog of war parted briefly and Marcus saw an Ogre lunge at him with its spear. But the creature was gone again before he could react and it hurt too much to give chase. Cathal had no better luck as he struck the area where his adversary had vanished and hit only air. Then he heard fresh cries of pain and new blood as the invisible Ogre retreated back through the Spike Stones.

Marcus gritted his teeth with resolve and made his torn feet move him forward to confront his attacker. His mace creased the creature’s armor and the Ogre cried out in pain. It felt good to inflict some hurt for a change instead of simply absorb it.

Lazarius was suddenly cast into Darkness but reacted in a brief moment, calling forth a magical Light upon another coin. He felt a breeze and sensed that someone invisible, and probably flying had just passed him, headed back toward the Forge. He cursed in frustration at that infernal Blue Bitch’s ability to evade him. He swore that he would not let her take him by surprise again today.

Cathal saw another hulking form looming in the darkness and tumbled past the creature’s spear to sink his sword into its hide and send it sliding to the ground, limp and dying. Speaks could still hear sounds of Lazarius cursing from up the hallway and flew in that direction but was batted fiercely to the ground by the mighty spear of the Ogre that Marcus faced. The Druid hovered on the edge of consciousness and retreated to the relative safety atop Marius’ arm.

Cathal limped over to aid Marcus but fell victim to the edge of the Spike Stone trap and suffered severe damage to his feet despite the Stone Skin that protected him. Marcus needed no help but that of his god however. He summoned up the Strength of his faith and let go a mighty blow against his Ogrish adversary and smote him down once and for all.

Lazarius hovered near the edge of the tattered remains of the Mist, his eyes peering through the darkness for any sign of the Demoness trying to return to the battle. Crackling death awaited her at his fingertips. She did not indulge him.

The only sound in the air was that of the ragged breathing of the party and then the brief command word given repeatedly as Marcus applied their Wand of Healing to the worst of their wounds. They awaited nervously for more enemies to arrive as they silently urged Speaks Spike Stones spell to go away allowing them to escape. At length it relented.

They procured an ore cart from the Forge and carefully loaded the statue of Marius into it and wheeled him north, past the gate and off into the darkness beyond. They were free of the grip of the City of Endless Summer. For a while at least.