Shackled City Epic: "Vengeance" (story concluded)
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Lazybones
Adventurer
Man, if you ever get a chance to go to Portland, be sure to check out Powell's City of Books. In addition to about 1000 square feet of Fantasy-Sci Fi fiction, there's a ton of d20 stuff including an extensive selection of out of print 1st and 2nd edition D&D material. Sweet bookstore!
* * * * *
Chapter 33
“Now, promise me that you won’t do anything that stupid again!” Zenna said, still hovering protectively over her friend.
“I promise, as long as you promise to not let me!” Mole swore. The rogue looked much better now that Ruphos had fully restored her using the wand, although she was still pale and her gaze never quite made it back to the statue that loomed over all of them in the center of the room.
Battered by their struggle against the chain-monster, the companions had taken some time to rest and recover. Arun and Ruphos had consumed the potions give to them by Jenya, healing most of the damage they’d taken from the chain-monster’s attacks. Ruphos reported that the healing wand was nearly depleted of power, another reminder that they had to be especially careful from here on out.
Finishing their search of the room, Fellian uncovered another secret door, a panel in the wall opposite the one through which they’d entered. Leaving that for the moment, they elected to take a quick look behind the barred northern doors. Arun lifted the heavy bar, laying it carefully to the side before returning to face the thick portals.
“Clearly this was designed to keep something out,” Fellian commented.
“Careful,” Zenna cautioned. After what had just happened to Mole, no one offered a comment this time.
Arun pushed open one of the doors. They were thick, with several layers of thick planks reinforced with sturdy bands of iron. That, at least, explained why nothing had been drawn by the noise they’d made in the room. As soon as Arun was able to get the door open enough to see the dark space beyond, they could hear a whistling sound, a cavernous noise of air moving through vast spaces underground.
Ruphos’s torch cast a fitful glow in a radius just bright enough to indicate that the space beyond was much greater. They stood upon a broad stone ledge facing a gaping chasm, over which a stone bridge arced over to the far side. All around them was a great dark, with other faintly audible sounds in the distance that could have been anything.
“What is this place?” Ruphos breathed.
“The Underdark,” Arun said.
Most of them started at that, for most of the surface-dwellers of Faerûn had at least heard of that vast network deep under the sunlit surface of the world, a place full of terrible dangers and strange wonders in the legends and fables of those above. It was the home for some of the most powerful and mysterious races of the Realms; the drow, the duergar, the illithids, and others whose names were known only to sages.
“Are you certain?” Zenna asked. “I did not realize that we were that far underground.”
Arun looked up at her. “I know,” he said. “I can smell it in the air, feel it... all my people can. There are numerous places where the network connects to the surface world, like under the Great Rift where the holds of the gold dwarves lay.”
“We’ve heard stories,” Mole said. “None of them made it sound like a very nice place.”
“Indeed,” Arun said, his hand tightening noticeable on the haft of his great hammer.
“Let us return to the fortress,” Ruphos said, his voice tight. “Our goal does not lie within these tunnels.”
Grimly, they turned and retreated to the statue-chamber, closing and rebarring the heavy doors behind them. Next they made their way to the secret door, Fario opening it to reveal a short passage beyond that culminated in two plain wooden doors.
The half-elf warrior led the way, with Arun clunking along close behind. The nimble strides of the half-elf contrasted sharply with the heavy steps of the dwarf, but the effectiveness of both had been proven already on this mission. The others followed as they made their way to the doors. Fario listened at both, but shook his head.
“Let’s try this one,” Mole suggested, starting toward the right door. Arun, however, blocked her with his shield. The girl looked up at him with a frown.
“Look, I appreciate you saving my life and all, but you don’t have to coddle me.”
“No,” the dwarf replied. “But if there’s trouble behind that door, the elves and I should go in first.”
“He’s right, Mole,” Zenna said. “You don’t have to prove anything to us.”
Mole looked up at all of them, nodded—somewhat reluctantly, it seemed—and gave way.
Fario nodded to the dwarf, and opened the door.
Immediately a potent stench overwhelmed the companions, and they looked upon a dank chamber decorated in a disturbing fashion. Nooks had been carved into the walls, and were festooned with an array of polished skulls of various shapes and sizes. In between those grisly ornaments, poorly cured hides were stretched and fastened to the walls. The center of the room was dominated by a great chair apparently fashioned from bones, its high back surmounted by a great draconic skull. Behind this, in the far corner, they could see a nest of carrion and sprouting fungi, likely the source of the rank odor that filled the place.
“Disgusting,” Fario said.
“The quarters of the master of this place, perhaps?” Fellian suggested.
“In any case, he doesn’t seem to be at home,” Ruphos said. “We’d best press on.”
“We should check it out, make sure there’s nothing of importance here,” Mole said. She started forward, but again Arun forestalled her.
“We’ll come back if need be,” the dwarf said. “First things first.”
The gnome sighed, and fell in with the others as they moved to the second door. Once again Fario took up a position against the portal, checking to make sure that the others were ready before he pushed it open.
This room was both lit and occupied. Another of the iron cages dangled from the ceiling, this one containing a small, two-foot beetle with glands behind its eyes that shed a ruddy, reddish glow. The place was clearly a guardroom, with four beds about the perimeter and a table and benches in the center. A pair of hobgoblins sat at the table, eating and drinking, while another pair were sleeping in two of the beds. A single door in the far wall was the only obvious exit.
The hobgoblins looked up as the door opened, and quickly grabbed their weapons as they spotted the intruders.
“Brak-geddek!” one of the cried, as they leapt to the attack.
“Here we go again,” came Mole’s voice from within the knot of adventurers.
* * * * *
Chapter 33
“Now, promise me that you won’t do anything that stupid again!” Zenna said, still hovering protectively over her friend.
“I promise, as long as you promise to not let me!” Mole swore. The rogue looked much better now that Ruphos had fully restored her using the wand, although she was still pale and her gaze never quite made it back to the statue that loomed over all of them in the center of the room.
Battered by their struggle against the chain-monster, the companions had taken some time to rest and recover. Arun and Ruphos had consumed the potions give to them by Jenya, healing most of the damage they’d taken from the chain-monster’s attacks. Ruphos reported that the healing wand was nearly depleted of power, another reminder that they had to be especially careful from here on out.
Finishing their search of the room, Fellian uncovered another secret door, a panel in the wall opposite the one through which they’d entered. Leaving that for the moment, they elected to take a quick look behind the barred northern doors. Arun lifted the heavy bar, laying it carefully to the side before returning to face the thick portals.
“Clearly this was designed to keep something out,” Fellian commented.
“Careful,” Zenna cautioned. After what had just happened to Mole, no one offered a comment this time.
Arun pushed open one of the doors. They were thick, with several layers of thick planks reinforced with sturdy bands of iron. That, at least, explained why nothing had been drawn by the noise they’d made in the room. As soon as Arun was able to get the door open enough to see the dark space beyond, they could hear a whistling sound, a cavernous noise of air moving through vast spaces underground.
Ruphos’s torch cast a fitful glow in a radius just bright enough to indicate that the space beyond was much greater. They stood upon a broad stone ledge facing a gaping chasm, over which a stone bridge arced over to the far side. All around them was a great dark, with other faintly audible sounds in the distance that could have been anything.
“What is this place?” Ruphos breathed.
“The Underdark,” Arun said.
Most of them started at that, for most of the surface-dwellers of Faerûn had at least heard of that vast network deep under the sunlit surface of the world, a place full of terrible dangers and strange wonders in the legends and fables of those above. It was the home for some of the most powerful and mysterious races of the Realms; the drow, the duergar, the illithids, and others whose names were known only to sages.
“Are you certain?” Zenna asked. “I did not realize that we were that far underground.”
Arun looked up at her. “I know,” he said. “I can smell it in the air, feel it... all my people can. There are numerous places where the network connects to the surface world, like under the Great Rift where the holds of the gold dwarves lay.”
“We’ve heard stories,” Mole said. “None of them made it sound like a very nice place.”
“Indeed,” Arun said, his hand tightening noticeable on the haft of his great hammer.
“Let us return to the fortress,” Ruphos said, his voice tight. “Our goal does not lie within these tunnels.”
Grimly, they turned and retreated to the statue-chamber, closing and rebarring the heavy doors behind them. Next they made their way to the secret door, Fario opening it to reveal a short passage beyond that culminated in two plain wooden doors.
The half-elf warrior led the way, with Arun clunking along close behind. The nimble strides of the half-elf contrasted sharply with the heavy steps of the dwarf, but the effectiveness of both had been proven already on this mission. The others followed as they made their way to the doors. Fario listened at both, but shook his head.
“Let’s try this one,” Mole suggested, starting toward the right door. Arun, however, blocked her with his shield. The girl looked up at him with a frown.
“Look, I appreciate you saving my life and all, but you don’t have to coddle me.”
“No,” the dwarf replied. “But if there’s trouble behind that door, the elves and I should go in first.”
“He’s right, Mole,” Zenna said. “You don’t have to prove anything to us.”
Mole looked up at all of them, nodded—somewhat reluctantly, it seemed—and gave way.
Fario nodded to the dwarf, and opened the door.
Immediately a potent stench overwhelmed the companions, and they looked upon a dank chamber decorated in a disturbing fashion. Nooks had been carved into the walls, and were festooned with an array of polished skulls of various shapes and sizes. In between those grisly ornaments, poorly cured hides were stretched and fastened to the walls. The center of the room was dominated by a great chair apparently fashioned from bones, its high back surmounted by a great draconic skull. Behind this, in the far corner, they could see a nest of carrion and sprouting fungi, likely the source of the rank odor that filled the place.
“Disgusting,” Fario said.
“The quarters of the master of this place, perhaps?” Fellian suggested.
“In any case, he doesn’t seem to be at home,” Ruphos said. “We’d best press on.”
“We should check it out, make sure there’s nothing of importance here,” Mole said. She started forward, but again Arun forestalled her.
“We’ll come back if need be,” the dwarf said. “First things first.”
The gnome sighed, and fell in with the others as they moved to the second door. Once again Fario took up a position against the portal, checking to make sure that the others were ready before he pushed it open.
This room was both lit and occupied. Another of the iron cages dangled from the ceiling, this one containing a small, two-foot beetle with glands behind its eyes that shed a ruddy, reddish glow. The place was clearly a guardroom, with four beds about the perimeter and a table and benches in the center. A pair of hobgoblins sat at the table, eating and drinking, while another pair were sleeping in two of the beds. A single door in the far wall was the only obvious exit.
The hobgoblins looked up as the door opened, and quickly grabbed their weapons as they spotted the intruders.
“Brak-geddek!” one of the cried, as they leapt to the attack.
“Here we go again,” came Mole’s voice from within the knot of adventurers.
Broccli_Head
Explorer
Thanks for another update, Lazybones!
I am really getting into the story and the Adventure Path. Maybe I'll like start another d20, FR campaign!
I am really getting into the story and the Adventure Path. Maybe I'll like start another d20, FR campaign!
Lazybones
Adventurer
Still ahead in the story, so I'll keep a' postin'...
* * * * *
Chapter 34
Fario and Arun leapt through the doorway almost together, meeting the hobgoblins as they rose from their benches to attack. Fario darted forward, and in some unspoken harmony ducked just in time for Fellian’s arrow to slice over him and hit one of the hobgoblins in the shoulder. Unfortunately, the arrow failed to penetrate the warrior’s heavy armor, but it distracted it just enough for Fario to draw first blood, a quick slice to its leg from his longsword that scored through the layered banded armor.
Arun rushed at the second hobgoblin, which rushed around the table to meet him. The dwarf almost casually batted away its thrust with his shield, following with a punishing blow from his hammer that crumpled the hobgoblin’s breastplate, driving it roughly to the ground.
The dwarf turned to aid Fario, but the battle was already wrapping up. The two sleeping hobgoblins had stirred quickly once the melee had started, but they were slow to react, reaching for their weapons clumsily as they tried to shake off the haze of sleep. One managed to draw its sword just in time to take two hits from Zenna and Mole’s crossbows, collapsing back into its bed as it bled out its last moments. The second picked up a javelin and hurled it at the adventurers, narrowly missing Fellian. It reached for its sword, but dropped the weapon as the half-elf’s return shot lodged in the meat of its arm. It tried to pick up the scabbarded blade with its other hand, but came up short as Ruphos confronted it, his mace raised to strike.
“Surrender or die,” he commanded. The hobgoblin looked at the center of the room, where the last of its companions had just fallen to Fario’s sword, snarled, and complied.
* * * * *
“Tell it that it had better reveal where those children are, or there’ll be this to answer to,” Arun said, hefting his warhammer.
Zenna spoke to the hobgoblin in its own tongue, repeating Arun’s question. The hobgoblin snarled, uttered something, and spat. They’d pulled the arrow from its arm and allowed it to wrap the wound in an old shirt, but it was clearly still in a lot of pain. That clearly hadn’t overcome its sour attitude toward them, however.
“Enough of this!” Arun shouted, grabbing onto the hobgoblin by the throat and dragging it roughly to its feet. Ruphos took a step forward, but frowned, turning away but saying nothing as the dwarf hefted his hammer and ended it with a single punishing blow. The two half-elves regarded him with unreadable expressions.
“I don’t expect we’ll get much out of him now,” Fellian commented.
“Enough!” Arun repeated, his anger growing rather than easing now that the last enemy was dead. “We’ve wasted enough time here. Come on, let’s find those captives!”
Zenna shot a concerned look at Mole, but the gnome was already falling in behind the dwarf as he crossed to the far door and all but threw it open. Beyond it, rather than more enemies to crush, lay another long corridor, running along the edge of a deep chasm that dropped off to the left. The elves shared a look but took up their weapons and moved to follow.
Zenna looked at Ruphos, who still hadn’t moved. “Are you all right?” she asked, touching his shoulder with her hand.
He looked at her and smiled sadly. “Sorry. This hasn’t been easy for me... all of this.”
“I don’t think it has been, for any of us,” she said. “Come, we’d better catch up to the others.”
He hesitated. “Could I ask a favor?”
“What is it?”
“Would you lower your cowl for a moment? I’d like to look at you, the real you, for a moment.”
She bit her lip. “There’s no time...”
“Please, just for a moment.”
She glanced at the door—the others had already gone—and nodded, pulling back her cowl. She flushed slightly at his stark gaze, but he only looked, and finally nodded.
“Thank you,” he said. “And I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For judging when I had no right,” he said. He took up his mace, and lifted his torch. “Let’s go.”
He hurried after the others, and Zenna followed him, lifting her cowl back into place as she departed.
* * * * *
The corridor south of the guardroom ran along the edge of a deep chasm to their left. A chill seemed to rise up from somewhere below, and a faint dampness hung in the air.
Across the chasm, perhaps thirty or forty feet across from them, rose a sheer cliff wall atop which stood the black stone walls of the Fortress. Ahead a stone bridge stretched across the gap, and some distance beyond that they could see windows high in the fortress wall overlooking the chasm, narrow slits through which a faint light could be seen.
Arun had headed straight ahead, toward the bridge, but instead of turning to cross it he instead turned right, to where a stone door was recessed into a short passage opposite the bridge. The corridor also continued ahead along the edge of the chasm for a good distance, ending in what looked like another door about forty feet beyond the bridge.
As Zenna and Ruphos hastened to rejoin their companions, the wizard glanced up at a tall dwarven statue set into the high wall to her right, facing outward toward the chasm. The statue, nine feet tall and fashioned out of white marble, depicted a female dwarven warrior, clad in plate armor and brandishing a dwarven urgosh. Another statue, of a similarly clad male warrior, stood on the opposite side of the bridge. Zenna stared at the statues in amazement; the stonework was incredible, and somehow these silent sentinels did not contain the foreboding that clung to the warrior statue they’d encounter earlier.
But there was no time for further reflection on the matter, as Arun was already opening the door.
The heavy stone door opened slowly, revealing yet another passage beyond. Arun grunted and started down the corridor, barely hesitating as Zenna caught up to him.
“Slow down, Arun. We’re not going to help anyone if we rush into danger unprepared.”
“I’ve had enough of tiptoeing around this place,” the dwarf returned. But he waited until everyone was ready before he started down the passageway. Behind them, Ruphos eased the heavy door shut.
Ahead of them, the passageway split into two branches, heading to their left and right. Arun headed toward that intersection, but hesitated, the others coming to a halt behind him.
“What’s the matter?” Mole asked.
“Something’s not right here,” the dwarf said. “The echoes are wrong...”
He didn’t get a chance to elaborate, as a metallic grinding noise suddenly filled the corridor. Its source wasn’t immediately evident, but it was close, and it seemed to come from somewhere behind the wall to their right.
Frowning, Mole reached out and touched the wall... and her hand passed through it as if it wasn’t there.
“An illusion!” she said.
“Get back!” Arun shouted, heading toward her even as the noise grew louder. Mole’s eyes widened and she stepped back, but not quickly enough as a metallic figure emerged from the wall, swinging a massive iron hammer that came crashing down toward her.
* * * * *
Chapter 34
Fario and Arun leapt through the doorway almost together, meeting the hobgoblins as they rose from their benches to attack. Fario darted forward, and in some unspoken harmony ducked just in time for Fellian’s arrow to slice over him and hit one of the hobgoblins in the shoulder. Unfortunately, the arrow failed to penetrate the warrior’s heavy armor, but it distracted it just enough for Fario to draw first blood, a quick slice to its leg from his longsword that scored through the layered banded armor.
Arun rushed at the second hobgoblin, which rushed around the table to meet him. The dwarf almost casually batted away its thrust with his shield, following with a punishing blow from his hammer that crumpled the hobgoblin’s breastplate, driving it roughly to the ground.
The dwarf turned to aid Fario, but the battle was already wrapping up. The two sleeping hobgoblins had stirred quickly once the melee had started, but they were slow to react, reaching for their weapons clumsily as they tried to shake off the haze of sleep. One managed to draw its sword just in time to take two hits from Zenna and Mole’s crossbows, collapsing back into its bed as it bled out its last moments. The second picked up a javelin and hurled it at the adventurers, narrowly missing Fellian. It reached for its sword, but dropped the weapon as the half-elf’s return shot lodged in the meat of its arm. It tried to pick up the scabbarded blade with its other hand, but came up short as Ruphos confronted it, his mace raised to strike.
“Surrender or die,” he commanded. The hobgoblin looked at the center of the room, where the last of its companions had just fallen to Fario’s sword, snarled, and complied.
* * * * *
“Tell it that it had better reveal where those children are, or there’ll be this to answer to,” Arun said, hefting his warhammer.
Zenna spoke to the hobgoblin in its own tongue, repeating Arun’s question. The hobgoblin snarled, uttered something, and spat. They’d pulled the arrow from its arm and allowed it to wrap the wound in an old shirt, but it was clearly still in a lot of pain. That clearly hadn’t overcome its sour attitude toward them, however.
“Enough of this!” Arun shouted, grabbing onto the hobgoblin by the throat and dragging it roughly to its feet. Ruphos took a step forward, but frowned, turning away but saying nothing as the dwarf hefted his hammer and ended it with a single punishing blow. The two half-elves regarded him with unreadable expressions.
“I don’t expect we’ll get much out of him now,” Fellian commented.
“Enough!” Arun repeated, his anger growing rather than easing now that the last enemy was dead. “We’ve wasted enough time here. Come on, let’s find those captives!”
Zenna shot a concerned look at Mole, but the gnome was already falling in behind the dwarf as he crossed to the far door and all but threw it open. Beyond it, rather than more enemies to crush, lay another long corridor, running along the edge of a deep chasm that dropped off to the left. The elves shared a look but took up their weapons and moved to follow.
Zenna looked at Ruphos, who still hadn’t moved. “Are you all right?” she asked, touching his shoulder with her hand.
He looked at her and smiled sadly. “Sorry. This hasn’t been easy for me... all of this.”
“I don’t think it has been, for any of us,” she said. “Come, we’d better catch up to the others.”
He hesitated. “Could I ask a favor?”
“What is it?”
“Would you lower your cowl for a moment? I’d like to look at you, the real you, for a moment.”
She bit her lip. “There’s no time...”
“Please, just for a moment.”
She glanced at the door—the others had already gone—and nodded, pulling back her cowl. She flushed slightly at his stark gaze, but he only looked, and finally nodded.
“Thank you,” he said. “And I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For judging when I had no right,” he said. He took up his mace, and lifted his torch. “Let’s go.”
He hurried after the others, and Zenna followed him, lifting her cowl back into place as she departed.
* * * * *
The corridor south of the guardroom ran along the edge of a deep chasm to their left. A chill seemed to rise up from somewhere below, and a faint dampness hung in the air.
Across the chasm, perhaps thirty or forty feet across from them, rose a sheer cliff wall atop which stood the black stone walls of the Fortress. Ahead a stone bridge stretched across the gap, and some distance beyond that they could see windows high in the fortress wall overlooking the chasm, narrow slits through which a faint light could be seen.
Arun had headed straight ahead, toward the bridge, but instead of turning to cross it he instead turned right, to where a stone door was recessed into a short passage opposite the bridge. The corridor also continued ahead along the edge of the chasm for a good distance, ending in what looked like another door about forty feet beyond the bridge.
As Zenna and Ruphos hastened to rejoin their companions, the wizard glanced up at a tall dwarven statue set into the high wall to her right, facing outward toward the chasm. The statue, nine feet tall and fashioned out of white marble, depicted a female dwarven warrior, clad in plate armor and brandishing a dwarven urgosh. Another statue, of a similarly clad male warrior, stood on the opposite side of the bridge. Zenna stared at the statues in amazement; the stonework was incredible, and somehow these silent sentinels did not contain the foreboding that clung to the warrior statue they’d encounter earlier.
But there was no time for further reflection on the matter, as Arun was already opening the door.
The heavy stone door opened slowly, revealing yet another passage beyond. Arun grunted and started down the corridor, barely hesitating as Zenna caught up to him.
“Slow down, Arun. We’re not going to help anyone if we rush into danger unprepared.”
“I’ve had enough of tiptoeing around this place,” the dwarf returned. But he waited until everyone was ready before he started down the passageway. Behind them, Ruphos eased the heavy door shut.
Ahead of them, the passageway split into two branches, heading to their left and right. Arun headed toward that intersection, but hesitated, the others coming to a halt behind him.
“What’s the matter?” Mole asked.
“Something’s not right here,” the dwarf said. “The echoes are wrong...”
He didn’t get a chance to elaborate, as a metallic grinding noise suddenly filled the corridor. Its source wasn’t immediately evident, but it was close, and it seemed to come from somewhere behind the wall to their right.
Frowning, Mole reached out and touched the wall... and her hand passed through it as if it wasn’t there.
“An illusion!” she said.
“Get back!” Arun shouted, heading toward her even as the noise grew louder. Mole’s eyes widened and she stepped back, but not quickly enough as a metallic figure emerged from the wall, swinging a massive iron hammer that came crashing down toward her.
Lazybones
Adventurer
Chapter 35
The automaton had the look of a bulky, armored gnome, with a nasty pincer at the end of one metal arm and a huge iron hammer one the other that made Arun’s weapon seem a toy by contrast. As it appeared through the illusory wall it attacked Mole, driving that weapon downward with great force.
At the last instant the gnome hopped back, out of the direct path of the hammer as it smashed into the floor with enough force to crack the hard black stone. Even though the move saved her life, the hammer’s edge still clipped her with enough force to send her sprawling.
Even faced with such a strange and deadly foe, the companions did not hesitate. Fario and Fellian attacked as one, flanking the creature as they hacked at it with their swords. Fario eschewed his typical two-swords style for a single thrust from his longsword in an attempt to penetrate the thing’s armor, but despite his best efforts his blade merely scratched off of the automaton’s thick metal skin. Fellian fared no better, even though the metal monstrosity was turned partly away from him toward his companion.
Arun, partially blocked from the automaton by Fario, turned and ran through the illusory wall to come at it from behind. As he passed through the illusory barrier, though, he found himself face to face with a second automaton. This one was clearly damaged, with several rents in its metal skin, an instead of attacking immediately, it simply stood there, making a whirring noise and spinning its pincer arm in a continuous motion.
Arun didn’t question his good fortune, instead hefting his hammer and launching himself at the thing. “There’s one more in here!” he shouted, to warn his companions.
Those companions found themselves rather busy at that moment, so they could not immediately move to the aid of the dwarf. Zenna helped Mole up to her feet, pulling her out of the raging melee. Mole dug her healing potion out of her pouch, uncorking the vial and downing the precious fluid in a single gulp.
Ruphos joined the half-elves in attacking the automaton, smashing at it with his mace. His attack had no greater luck than theirs, however, clanging against its hard outer shell without effect.
“This thing’s invulnerable!” he cried.
“Keep attacking! Find a weakness!” Fario shouted back.
The automaton turned toward him, as if drawn by his words. The thing’s pincer arm shot out and snapped around his body, holding him fast within its iron grasp. Thus held, there was little that the half-elf could do as the huge hammer came up, poised to strike.
“No!” Fellian cried, knowing that there was nothing he could do. But then, before the killing blow landed, the automaton abruptly hesitated, a quiver passing through its metallic body as the heavy hammer head simply hung there in the air. The thing did not release its tight hold on Fario, however, and the elf’s struggles seemed of little use against its solid grip.
Trying to capitalize on what they’d learned from the pulverizer above in Jzadirune, Zenna shouted a command in gnomish for the automaton to cease its attacks and release Fario. This one, however, did not respond, and suddenly its hesitation ended, and it lurched once more into motion, the hammer-arm drawing back.
“Helm, grant me your strength!” Ruphos cried, leaping forward once more, his weapon clutched tightly in both hands. To the surprise of everyone—perhaps including the cleric—the armored front of the construct buckled as the steel head of his mace crashed into it with a ringing crash of concussive force. The construct twisted awkwardly, and its grip loosened just enough for Fario to pull free of its vice-like pincer. The half-elf did not retreat, hefting his sword again in both hands as he assaulted it from the flank opposite Fellian. This time he drove his blade deep into one of the rents in its side opened by Ruphos’s strike, and an angry clang of broken metal issued from somewhere deep inside its frame as the sword crunched in.
Mole, recovered from her injury, circled around the edges of the melee with the automaton, and darted through the illusory wall to check on Arun. She immediately saw the dwarf engaged with the second construct, the two apparently engaged in a titanic exchange of hammer-blows. Arun had landed a solid hit that had crushed one side of its armored shell, but the automaton had in turn shaken out of its mechanical funk to land a crushing blow to the dwarf’s shield-arm. Mole could see that the dwarf was hurt, his shield hanging low instead of kept up in its usual protective stance before him. As she appeared the hammerer tried to catch the dwarf with its pincer-arm, but Arun was able to dodge back narrowly in time to avoid being caught.
“I’ll help distract it!” Mole said, drawing her sword and rushing around the automaton’s flank.
“No!” Arun cried, but it was too late; the gnome was already past it, tumbling quickly past it before it could react to her sudden appearance. She came up smoothly into a ready stance, poking at its backside with her sword. The feeble assault did no damage, but it certainly did get its attention; the automaton wheezed and with a grinding of metal gears it spun to face her. Before it could strike, however, Arun roared and came up behind it, bringing his hammer down in a powerful blow that crushed through the remnants of its armor and savaged the gearwork within. With a final clatter of noise, the battered construct leaned over and crashed heavily to the ground.
“That was foolish,” Arun said, shaking his hammer at the gnome.
“Maybe, but it worked!” she returned. “Come on, the others are still fighting theirs!” Again, before he could do anything to stop her, she darted back through the illusory wall.
Arun followed, but his hammer wasn’t needed. The automaton, perhaps damaged by the attacks from Ruphos and Fario, had managed only one tentative swing against Fario before freezing again, and by the time it shook free the three companions were able to do enough damage to destroy it. Mole reported that the second one had been destroyed as well, so the six companions stood there over the ruins of the first automaton, catching their breath.
“Those things were tough!” Ruphos exclaimed, checking Fario’s injuries. The grasp of the pincer-arm hadn’t hurt him seriously, though the outcome would have been quite different had its hammer connected with him.
“That was an impressive strike, priest,” the half-elf observed. “I thank you.”
Ruphos nodded. “It is a power granted by Helm, the feat of strength. Though I had never called upon it before.”
“Well, now you have,” Arun said. “Shall we see what these things were guarding?”
The automaton had the look of a bulky, armored gnome, with a nasty pincer at the end of one metal arm and a huge iron hammer one the other that made Arun’s weapon seem a toy by contrast. As it appeared through the illusory wall it attacked Mole, driving that weapon downward with great force.
At the last instant the gnome hopped back, out of the direct path of the hammer as it smashed into the floor with enough force to crack the hard black stone. Even though the move saved her life, the hammer’s edge still clipped her with enough force to send her sprawling.
Even faced with such a strange and deadly foe, the companions did not hesitate. Fario and Fellian attacked as one, flanking the creature as they hacked at it with their swords. Fario eschewed his typical two-swords style for a single thrust from his longsword in an attempt to penetrate the thing’s armor, but despite his best efforts his blade merely scratched off of the automaton’s thick metal skin. Fellian fared no better, even though the metal monstrosity was turned partly away from him toward his companion.
Arun, partially blocked from the automaton by Fario, turned and ran through the illusory wall to come at it from behind. As he passed through the illusory barrier, though, he found himself face to face with a second automaton. This one was clearly damaged, with several rents in its metal skin, an instead of attacking immediately, it simply stood there, making a whirring noise and spinning its pincer arm in a continuous motion.
Arun didn’t question his good fortune, instead hefting his hammer and launching himself at the thing. “There’s one more in here!” he shouted, to warn his companions.
Those companions found themselves rather busy at that moment, so they could not immediately move to the aid of the dwarf. Zenna helped Mole up to her feet, pulling her out of the raging melee. Mole dug her healing potion out of her pouch, uncorking the vial and downing the precious fluid in a single gulp.
Ruphos joined the half-elves in attacking the automaton, smashing at it with his mace. His attack had no greater luck than theirs, however, clanging against its hard outer shell without effect.
“This thing’s invulnerable!” he cried.
“Keep attacking! Find a weakness!” Fario shouted back.
The automaton turned toward him, as if drawn by his words. The thing’s pincer arm shot out and snapped around his body, holding him fast within its iron grasp. Thus held, there was little that the half-elf could do as the huge hammer came up, poised to strike.
“No!” Fellian cried, knowing that there was nothing he could do. But then, before the killing blow landed, the automaton abruptly hesitated, a quiver passing through its metallic body as the heavy hammer head simply hung there in the air. The thing did not release its tight hold on Fario, however, and the elf’s struggles seemed of little use against its solid grip.
Trying to capitalize on what they’d learned from the pulverizer above in Jzadirune, Zenna shouted a command in gnomish for the automaton to cease its attacks and release Fario. This one, however, did not respond, and suddenly its hesitation ended, and it lurched once more into motion, the hammer-arm drawing back.
“Helm, grant me your strength!” Ruphos cried, leaping forward once more, his weapon clutched tightly in both hands. To the surprise of everyone—perhaps including the cleric—the armored front of the construct buckled as the steel head of his mace crashed into it with a ringing crash of concussive force. The construct twisted awkwardly, and its grip loosened just enough for Fario to pull free of its vice-like pincer. The half-elf did not retreat, hefting his sword again in both hands as he assaulted it from the flank opposite Fellian. This time he drove his blade deep into one of the rents in its side opened by Ruphos’s strike, and an angry clang of broken metal issued from somewhere deep inside its frame as the sword crunched in.
Mole, recovered from her injury, circled around the edges of the melee with the automaton, and darted through the illusory wall to check on Arun. She immediately saw the dwarf engaged with the second construct, the two apparently engaged in a titanic exchange of hammer-blows. Arun had landed a solid hit that had crushed one side of its armored shell, but the automaton had in turn shaken out of its mechanical funk to land a crushing blow to the dwarf’s shield-arm. Mole could see that the dwarf was hurt, his shield hanging low instead of kept up in its usual protective stance before him. As she appeared the hammerer tried to catch the dwarf with its pincer-arm, but Arun was able to dodge back narrowly in time to avoid being caught.
“I’ll help distract it!” Mole said, drawing her sword and rushing around the automaton’s flank.
“No!” Arun cried, but it was too late; the gnome was already past it, tumbling quickly past it before it could react to her sudden appearance. She came up smoothly into a ready stance, poking at its backside with her sword. The feeble assault did no damage, but it certainly did get its attention; the automaton wheezed and with a grinding of metal gears it spun to face her. Before it could strike, however, Arun roared and came up behind it, bringing his hammer down in a powerful blow that crushed through the remnants of its armor and savaged the gearwork within. With a final clatter of noise, the battered construct leaned over and crashed heavily to the ground.
“That was foolish,” Arun said, shaking his hammer at the gnome.
“Maybe, but it worked!” she returned. “Come on, the others are still fighting theirs!” Again, before he could do anything to stop her, she darted back through the illusory wall.
Arun followed, but his hammer wasn’t needed. The automaton, perhaps damaged by the attacks from Ruphos and Fario, had managed only one tentative swing against Fario before freezing again, and by the time it shook free the three companions were able to do enough damage to destroy it. Mole reported that the second one had been destroyed as well, so the six companions stood there over the ruins of the first automaton, catching their breath.
“Those things were tough!” Ruphos exclaimed, checking Fario’s injuries. The grasp of the pincer-arm hadn’t hurt him seriously, though the outcome would have been quite different had its hammer connected with him.
“That was an impressive strike, priest,” the half-elf observed. “I thank you.”
Ruphos nodded. “It is a power granted by Helm, the feat of strength. Though I had never called upon it before.”
“Well, now you have,” Arun said. “Shall we see what these things were guarding?”
Broccli_Head
Explorer
Arun fights one automaton alone and more or less defeats it, while the rest of the group...the other 4 or 5...finish another.
Told you he was the best!
Told you he was the best!
Lazybones
Adventurer
Chapter 36
“It’s a difficult decision,” Fellian said.
“Once more, we’re nearly out of resources,” Zenna said. “I don’t know if we can handle another big fight.”
“I came down here to get those children,” Arun growled. “And I’m not leaving without them.”
“But it not only them that we have to consider, now,” the tiefling mage pointed out.
The six companions stood in a circle, their expressions betraying that fact that they were all too aware of the multiple sets of eyes watching them from the far side of the room.
* * * * *
Less than an hour had passed since their battle with the hammerer automatons, enough time for their circumstances to change dramatically. The corridors beyond the illusory walls and the construct ambush had been a dead end, leading only to empty cells that showed no recent signs of occupancy. They had all begun to feel the sense of urgency that was driving Arun, a gnawing worry that lingered in the gut. Already they had seen horrors, enough to drive imaginings about the fate of the captive children, and the others that had been taken from Cauldron in recent tendays...
They wasted no time, returning to the passage that ran alongside the chasm, following it to the heavy door at its end. This time their eyes all drifted to the high walls of the fortress on the far side of the stone bridge, and the light that filtered from the narrow slits high in that wall. It was clear that this might be their ultimate destination, but after finding the empty cells none of them wanted to leave any possibilities unexamined behind them.
The door had led to another guardroom, occupied by a pair of less-than-vigilant hobgoblin guards. The adventurers were quick to take out their frustrations on these creatures, but the noise quickly brought reinforcements in the form of another pair of guards accompanied by a one-armed, black-skinned hobgoblin carrying a red-hot poker in his remaining hand. The battle that followed lasted a bit longer, and when it ended Fellian was limping heavily, a blow from the leader’s sword having penetrated his defenses.
Once more they had overcome foes, but this victory had only created new dilemmas for them.
The room that the hobgoblin reinforcements had come from was decorated as a grisly torture chamber, lit by an ugly glow that issued from a crude open-faced iron oven. Inside they had found a battered human woman who introduced herself as Coryston Pike, a resident of Cauldron who had been abducted from the city a few tendays ago. She was able to direct them to the cellblock adjacent to the guardroom, where they found four other ragged captives. When asked about the children, Coryston and the others said that they’d been taken to the “bazaar,” the chamber across the bridge where the half-dwarf slaver Kazmojen conducted his nefarious dealings in the suffering unfortunates who had been stolen from the city above.
“We can’t bring them into battle,” Mole said quietly, shooting a glance back at the far side of the room, where the five freed captives were sitting on the bunks of the slain hobgoblin guards, watching their liberators with wary expressions. “They’re not warriors—well, maybe that one.”
“That one” was a man named Kryscar Endercott, who despite his starved condition and the obvious scars that covered his body paced impatiently before the other captives. The armor he’d taken from one of the hobgoblins was missized and hung over his frame awkwardly, but he clearly knew how to move with it, and the sword and javelin he’d taken fit into his hands with easy familiarity. Endercott’s attitude was markedly different than that of the other prisoners, who were simple commoners caught up in terrible events through an accident of fate. He’d been a mercenary, or at least that’s what he told them, and by the way he moved and handled weapons it was clear that he had at least some experience as a warrior. There’s been a tense moment when he’d almost attacked them, before it became clear that they were here to free the prisoners. Even now, he seemed like a coiled spring, tense and ready to lash out at the slightest provocation.
“So what do we do?” Ruphos asked.
“We stop wasting time chatting about this,” Arun said. “Those others said that this ‘Kazmojen’ is conducting a sale for the children, may already be delivering them to a buyer as we speak. I am going to stop him—you may come or stay with them as you wish.” He started toward the door, a grim look etched into his face as if chiseled in stone.
“Arun,” Zenna said, stepping forward and putting her hand on the dwarf’s shoulder. The paladin glared at her, but did stop. “We’re with you on this, but we can’t just rush in. Those prisoners also said that the dwarf also had some sort of demon-hound with him, and more guards. We have to have a plan.”
The dwarf harrumphed, but further debate was interrupted as Coryston Pike rose and crossed to where the companions were gathered. Endercott was right behind her, bringing that hint of danger that he carried around with him like a shadow. The injured woman looked much better than she had when they’d found her strapped into a chair in the torture chamber. Zenna had given her the last of the potions that Jenya had given them; Fellian had insisted, even though he’d been seriously hurt himself and his own remaining magic had only barely been enough to stop the bleeding on his leg. Fortunately they’d found a few minor-strength healing potions on the hobgoblin torturer, but the half-elf cleric still looked wan and exhausted. Coryston, for her part, still had an obvious limp, but she’d told them that it was an old wound, suffered in a battle with a troll from her earlier adventuring days.
“For what it’s worth, we understand your situation,” Coryston said. She looked back at the other three captives, ignoring Endercott’s smoldering look. “You have to rescue the children, at least you have to try. We will wait here for your return, and trust in your skill.”
“I’m sorry that we just can’t let you make a break for the surface,” Mole said. “We’ve killed some of the guards, but there’s still... stuff... up there, stuff that’d make quick work of you guys, alone.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not staying anywhere, waiting for that halfbreed to come back and lock me up,” Endercott said. “I’m going with you, and I’ll see that bastard dead with my own eyes, and by my own hand, if necessary.” His hand tightened around the grip of the hobgoblin javelin he’d appropriated, as if daring them to challenge his statement.
Coryston sighed but did not respond to the mercenary. “I will stay with them, then,” she said. “I have some magic... not much, but it may be enough to offer some resistance if more guards return. It may also be of some help to you... if you are going to try to challenge Kazmojen in his lair, you may need the advantage of surprise.”
* * * * *
“Bah, this is a stupid idea,” Arun said, standing before the considerable iron-shod door on the far side of the stone bridge.
“Just let me do all the talking,” Zenna said. “And be ready for my signal.”
Arun grunted, but he didn’t offer anything more of a critique. Zenna turned to the half-elves and nodded. The pair gulped down half of the contents of the vials each carried, and quickly faded from view. The invisibility potions would not last for long, but the companions had already discussed their strategy and would not be lingering here.
She glanced back at Ruphos, and Endercott standing beside him. They were clearly discernable even through the magical disguises they wore. Ruphos looked scared but determined, and the mercenary had the scowl that Zenna suspected was a more or less permanent feature on his face.
Using her own spell of disguise self, Ruphos’s magical hat, and Coryston Pike’s own magic, Ruphos, Endercott, Arun, and herself all wore the faces of hobgoblin warriors. Zenna had felt a twinge of envy at Coryston’s talent; the woman, her magic derived from sorcery rather than the scholarly arts of the wizard, had been able to cast the spell of disguise repeatedly with little apparent effort, disguising herself in addition to Endercott and Arun before the companions had left.
“Ready?” she asked them.
“Let’s get this over with,” the mercenary spat, though Zenna could see that his hands were clenched tightly around the shaft of his javelin. Ruphos only nodded, as if he didn’t fully trust his own voice to offer agreement.
Zenna looked behind them at the shadow that she knew was Mole. Even with her darkvision, and knowing that she was there, she could barely see her friend, wrapped in her dark cloak in the lee of the stone railing of the bridge. Mole was their wild card, the whole of their reserves.
“All right then,” Arun said, and he reached up to pull open the heavy door.
* * * * *
Those who have read the module know that something big is coming... Those who don't... well, something big is coming.
Find out what next week, as The Shackled City continues!
“It’s a difficult decision,” Fellian said.
“Once more, we’re nearly out of resources,” Zenna said. “I don’t know if we can handle another big fight.”
“I came down here to get those children,” Arun growled. “And I’m not leaving without them.”
“But it not only them that we have to consider, now,” the tiefling mage pointed out.
The six companions stood in a circle, their expressions betraying that fact that they were all too aware of the multiple sets of eyes watching them from the far side of the room.
* * * * *
Less than an hour had passed since their battle with the hammerer automatons, enough time for their circumstances to change dramatically. The corridors beyond the illusory walls and the construct ambush had been a dead end, leading only to empty cells that showed no recent signs of occupancy. They had all begun to feel the sense of urgency that was driving Arun, a gnawing worry that lingered in the gut. Already they had seen horrors, enough to drive imaginings about the fate of the captive children, and the others that had been taken from Cauldron in recent tendays...
They wasted no time, returning to the passage that ran alongside the chasm, following it to the heavy door at its end. This time their eyes all drifted to the high walls of the fortress on the far side of the stone bridge, and the light that filtered from the narrow slits high in that wall. It was clear that this might be their ultimate destination, but after finding the empty cells none of them wanted to leave any possibilities unexamined behind them.
The door had led to another guardroom, occupied by a pair of less-than-vigilant hobgoblin guards. The adventurers were quick to take out their frustrations on these creatures, but the noise quickly brought reinforcements in the form of another pair of guards accompanied by a one-armed, black-skinned hobgoblin carrying a red-hot poker in his remaining hand. The battle that followed lasted a bit longer, and when it ended Fellian was limping heavily, a blow from the leader’s sword having penetrated his defenses.
Once more they had overcome foes, but this victory had only created new dilemmas for them.
The room that the hobgoblin reinforcements had come from was decorated as a grisly torture chamber, lit by an ugly glow that issued from a crude open-faced iron oven. Inside they had found a battered human woman who introduced herself as Coryston Pike, a resident of Cauldron who had been abducted from the city a few tendays ago. She was able to direct them to the cellblock adjacent to the guardroom, where they found four other ragged captives. When asked about the children, Coryston and the others said that they’d been taken to the “bazaar,” the chamber across the bridge where the half-dwarf slaver Kazmojen conducted his nefarious dealings in the suffering unfortunates who had been stolen from the city above.
“We can’t bring them into battle,” Mole said quietly, shooting a glance back at the far side of the room, where the five freed captives were sitting on the bunks of the slain hobgoblin guards, watching their liberators with wary expressions. “They’re not warriors—well, maybe that one.”
“That one” was a man named Kryscar Endercott, who despite his starved condition and the obvious scars that covered his body paced impatiently before the other captives. The armor he’d taken from one of the hobgoblins was missized and hung over his frame awkwardly, but he clearly knew how to move with it, and the sword and javelin he’d taken fit into his hands with easy familiarity. Endercott’s attitude was markedly different than that of the other prisoners, who were simple commoners caught up in terrible events through an accident of fate. He’d been a mercenary, or at least that’s what he told them, and by the way he moved and handled weapons it was clear that he had at least some experience as a warrior. There’s been a tense moment when he’d almost attacked them, before it became clear that they were here to free the prisoners. Even now, he seemed like a coiled spring, tense and ready to lash out at the slightest provocation.
“So what do we do?” Ruphos asked.
“We stop wasting time chatting about this,” Arun said. “Those others said that this ‘Kazmojen’ is conducting a sale for the children, may already be delivering them to a buyer as we speak. I am going to stop him—you may come or stay with them as you wish.” He started toward the door, a grim look etched into his face as if chiseled in stone.
“Arun,” Zenna said, stepping forward and putting her hand on the dwarf’s shoulder. The paladin glared at her, but did stop. “We’re with you on this, but we can’t just rush in. Those prisoners also said that the dwarf also had some sort of demon-hound with him, and more guards. We have to have a plan.”
The dwarf harrumphed, but further debate was interrupted as Coryston Pike rose and crossed to where the companions were gathered. Endercott was right behind her, bringing that hint of danger that he carried around with him like a shadow. The injured woman looked much better than she had when they’d found her strapped into a chair in the torture chamber. Zenna had given her the last of the potions that Jenya had given them; Fellian had insisted, even though he’d been seriously hurt himself and his own remaining magic had only barely been enough to stop the bleeding on his leg. Fortunately they’d found a few minor-strength healing potions on the hobgoblin torturer, but the half-elf cleric still looked wan and exhausted. Coryston, for her part, still had an obvious limp, but she’d told them that it was an old wound, suffered in a battle with a troll from her earlier adventuring days.
“For what it’s worth, we understand your situation,” Coryston said. She looked back at the other three captives, ignoring Endercott’s smoldering look. “You have to rescue the children, at least you have to try. We will wait here for your return, and trust in your skill.”
“I’m sorry that we just can’t let you make a break for the surface,” Mole said. “We’ve killed some of the guards, but there’s still... stuff... up there, stuff that’d make quick work of you guys, alone.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not staying anywhere, waiting for that halfbreed to come back and lock me up,” Endercott said. “I’m going with you, and I’ll see that bastard dead with my own eyes, and by my own hand, if necessary.” His hand tightened around the grip of the hobgoblin javelin he’d appropriated, as if daring them to challenge his statement.
Coryston sighed but did not respond to the mercenary. “I will stay with them, then,” she said. “I have some magic... not much, but it may be enough to offer some resistance if more guards return. It may also be of some help to you... if you are going to try to challenge Kazmojen in his lair, you may need the advantage of surprise.”
* * * * *
“Bah, this is a stupid idea,” Arun said, standing before the considerable iron-shod door on the far side of the stone bridge.
“Just let me do all the talking,” Zenna said. “And be ready for my signal.”
Arun grunted, but he didn’t offer anything more of a critique. Zenna turned to the half-elves and nodded. The pair gulped down half of the contents of the vials each carried, and quickly faded from view. The invisibility potions would not last for long, but the companions had already discussed their strategy and would not be lingering here.
She glanced back at Ruphos, and Endercott standing beside him. They were clearly discernable even through the magical disguises they wore. Ruphos looked scared but determined, and the mercenary had the scowl that Zenna suspected was a more or less permanent feature on his face.
Using her own spell of disguise self, Ruphos’s magical hat, and Coryston Pike’s own magic, Ruphos, Endercott, Arun, and herself all wore the faces of hobgoblin warriors. Zenna had felt a twinge of envy at Coryston’s talent; the woman, her magic derived from sorcery rather than the scholarly arts of the wizard, had been able to cast the spell of disguise repeatedly with little apparent effort, disguising herself in addition to Endercott and Arun before the companions had left.
“Ready?” she asked them.
“Let’s get this over with,” the mercenary spat, though Zenna could see that his hands were clenched tightly around the shaft of his javelin. Ruphos only nodded, as if he didn’t fully trust his own voice to offer agreement.
Zenna looked behind them at the shadow that she knew was Mole. Even with her darkvision, and knowing that she was there, she could barely see her friend, wrapped in her dark cloak in the lee of the stone railing of the bridge. Mole was their wild card, the whole of their reserves.
“All right then,” Arun said, and he reached up to pull open the heavy door.
* * * * *
Those who have read the module know that something big is coming... Those who don't... well, something big is coming.
Find out what next week, as The Shackled City continues!
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