Shackled City Epic: "Vengeance" (story concluded)

[Solarious]

Ohhhh, Planetar falls victim to the teleport trap! Gweeheheee. Thankfully, Planetars are all immune to acid, so things aren't hopeless for our fine feathered friend. Too bad she wan't around to help against the medusas, they're also immune to petrification and that aura might've saved someone. Oh well, we need the Friday cliffhanger, I say let the heroes suffer a moment without outside over-the-top help. They are, after all, +21CR nasties... good match for the two little helpers wating with the Egg....

Gah! Mole gets stoned! Silly little gnome, haven't you learned your lesson with Moltenwing? Curiosity blew up, polymorphed, damned, disintegrated, and baked (in their own juices, of course) countless gnomes! At least have the common sense to poke it with a 10' pole first! I love this modual, so many lethal nasties, so many heroes to kill. This encounter is pretty nasty, with constant multiple Fort saves to avoid stoning. Lots of other little 'gifts' along the way too, later on. And Embril is particularly nasty if certain precautions aren't taken.

I had something else nasty to say, but I forgot. I'll say it later once I remember. Later, Lazy!

 

[Neverwinter Knight]

Even as realization dawned upon them, several of the companions met the gaze of the medusae, and Cal, Mole, Benzan, and Dannel were all turned to stone.

Wow, Lazybones, I was really suspicious, when you let the party bypass the first fight completely & expected the Friday cliffhanger. But now half the party got stoned & there may be more failed saving throws coming up...

Great stuff !!!

 

[Dungannon]

Wow, wiping out the party's ranged attackers and their backstabber at the very beginning. Not an auspicious beginning for our Heroes.

 

[Neverwinter Knight]

I forgot: It's good they have a spare arcane spellcaster to cast all those stone-to-fleshs !!!

x)-<-<

 

[Lazybones]

I'm home sick today, and I have the update ready to go, so here's the resolution of the medusa ambush:

* * * * *

Chapter 397

“Don’t look at them!” Dana warned, too late, as fully half of them succumbed to the dreaded gaze attacks of the medusae. Lok and Arun, resisting the fell power of that stare, lowered their eyes to the floor, spreading out to attack the creatures before they could fully recover from the interruption of their statis.

“How we s’posed to fight ‘em, if we can’t see ‘em?” Hodge exclaimed, lowering his head behind his raised shield, awkwardly hefting his axe in the other. His frustration was reinforced a moment later when the medusae lifted their swords and flowed into a smooth, coordinated attack, easily avoiding the blind swings of the warriors as they moved into position.

Dana unleashed one of her greatest powers, a holy word that sanctified the dark confines of the crypt. She’d hoped to at least blind the medusae, to equalize the battle between them and the warriors, but their enemies were just strong enough for the potency of the word to wash over them without serious hindrance.

She paid for her action as two of the creatures leapt at her, flanking her and thrusting their slender shortswords at her. She twisted away from the first attack, but the second plunged a half-foot of steel into her side, piercing her liver and staggering her with a devastating sneak attack.

Rogues, too! she thought through the agony that pierced her. She felt a separate pain as a tiny puncture caught her arm momentarily as she fell back. The bite from one of the medusa’s snakes was minor, and fortunately Dana’s fortitude, hardened by the many trials she’d faced, was sufficient to resist the effects of the poison injected into her bloodstream by the bite.

But the medusae had far deadlier stings, and they quickly shifted to continue their attack. Knowing that she would never survive another coordinated attack, she spoke another word of magic, and opened a dimension door that took her away even as the two rogues stabbed through the empty space where she’d been standing an instant before.

The remaining two creatures had likewise elected to coordinate their attack, moving to flank Arun while attempting to protect their own flanks from a counterattack from Lok. One feinted at the paladin, distracting him, while the other stabbed her sword deep into a gab in the mithral plates protecting his side. Arun grunted in pain, but held his ground. The other one turned into an attack designed to drive Lok back, but the medusa clearly far underestimated the genasi’s fighting prowess. Her sword clattered harmlessly against the warrior’s shield, and in turn it was her that was driven back, bleeding profusely from a wide gash across her scaled torso.

Even blind, the warriors were far superior in stamina and skill to the medusa rogues, and they were virtually immune to the poison injected by the nest of writhing serpents upon their heads. But as Dana disappeared, the other two medusae quickly moved to aid their comrades, surrounding the embattled warriors.

“Back to back!” Lok said, and Arun quickly moved to comply, making it more difficult—but not impossible—for the medusae to flank them.

Hodge, momentarily forgotten on the side of the room, still holding his shield up to protect his eyes, tried to intervene. He ran at the nearest medusa as it crossed the room from where it had stabbed Dana, but as he lifted his axe to strike, he momentarily drew the shield aside to get a bead on his target.

Unfortunately for him, the creature happened to be looking his way. It just wasn’t the dwarf’s day; despite his considerable fortitude the power of the medusa’s gaze filled him as he locked gazes with it. He joined the others in stony immobility, frozen in mid-charge, balanced precariously on one booted foot.

That left Arun and Lok. The dwarves did not take chances with their ability to resist the gaze attacks of their enemies, and they simply closed their eyes, trusting their other senses to guide their attacks. At least they didn’t have to worry about hitting their companions; the nearest statue was safely out of their immediate reach. But the medusae were under no limitations, and it quickly became clear that they were augmented by various magical enhancements. Upon realizing this Arun paused to unleash a dispel magic effect from his holy sword. He could not immediately tell if the spell was successful, and was quickly forced to focus upon defending himself as another stroke pierced his defenses, this time jabbing painfully into his shoulder before he could get his shield around in time.

A few feet away, Lok was having an easier time of it. He’d established a defensive stance, and even without the ability to see his enemies, he seemed to be able to anticipate their attacks. Numerous strikes glanced off of his adamantine armor or his heavily enchanted shield, doing no damage. In turn, his own counters were devastating, with only the enhanced quickness of the medusae enabling them to dodge back and avoid being cut in twain by the genasi’s mighty axe. Even so, after the first few exchanges Lok remained unhurt, and both medusae bore serious wounds. He focused more on one, hoping to bring it down quickly, but the injured creature shifted to a more defensive posture, letting its companion direct the assault.

A rush of air and a flapping of wings announced the arrival of a new combatant to the melee, as an avian humanoid entered from the altar-chamber to the east, hovering above the melee in the center of the chamber. Several of the medusae glanced up at it, but the avoral, immune to petrification, was unfazed. It in turn unleashed a barrage of magic missiles that seared into the back of one of the creatures attacking Lok, drawing angry hisses from the serpents dancing in a mad gyration atop its angular skull.

Arun took quick advantage of the distraction, slamming his sword deep into the shoulder of one of the medusae. The creature staggered back, the holy blade crushing bone and tearing muscle as it ripped through its body, but the paladin paid a heavy price as the one behind him stabbed him again, sliding its sword up over an overlapping plate and deep into his back. The paladin spun and tried to hit it with his backswing, but the medusa had already drawn safely back, hissing gleefully as blood fountained down over his greaves to puddle at his feet.

The avoral came to his aid, diving low enough to seize the medusa he’d injured with its powerful hind claws. The creature shrieked and tried to break free, its snakes biting at the outsider’s legs, but it was not enough for it to break free as the powerful talons pierced its scaled flesh and bit deep into its body.

Its struggles ended for good as Arun turned back and drove the full length of his holy avenger through its body.

Lok, meanwhile, continued to maintain his impenetrable defense. He finally took a hit, a blow that found a crease in his defenses to score a cut on his weapon arm, but it was barely a scratch, even with the ability of the medusa rogues to exploit with sneak attacks. The medusa in turn received more than a scratch in payback, and when its head finally rolled to a stop about ten feet away, a look of frozen disbelief was forever locked on its face.

A roar from the east announced yet more reinforcements; a trio of celestial lions that bounded into the fray, leaping at the remaining two adversaries. One ran afoul of a deadly stare and was turned to stone, but the other two leapt upon the medusae, unleashing devastating attacks with their powerful claws and teeth. The avoral lifted back into the air and resumed its bombardment with magic missiles, which unerringly darted around allies to blast into the flesh of the medusa rogues.

It ended quickly.

Dana reappeared cautiously from the chamber to the east. Her caution was more than simple prudence; she represented the only hope for the recovery of those who had been petrified.

“Are they all slain?”

“Dead as dead can be,” Lok said, cleaning his axe calmly. Nearby, Arun nodded in thanks to the avoral. The outsider landed next to him, regarding him intently with its alien stare, before extending a wing out over the paladin’s smaller frame. Arun felt its feathers brush over his face, followed by a surge of healing energy as it purged him of pain and healed his wounds. The paladin bowed deeply, and the creature let out an acknowledging screech before returning to its plane of origin. Dana ordered the lions to scout out the area for other foes, but their time too was limited, and within about a minute they had likewise returned to whence they came.

The three companions gathered in the center of the room, surrounded by the petrified forms of their friends. Suddenly the crypt felt a whole lot smaller, and menacing.

“Now what?” Lok asked.

But Dana had already removed a small ceramic jar from her belt pouch, and as the dwarves watched she knelt beside the diminutive petrified form of Cal. The jar contained about an ounce of gray ointment, which she deftly applied onto the stone surface of the gnome’s body. The salve quickly seeped into the gnome’s skin, clothes, and even his weapons and other gear, which began to shimmer faintly. By the time she’d finished, the gnome’s rigid outline had begun to soften, and within a few more moments he’d been restored to living flesh.

“That was a decidedly unpleasant experience,” he said, stretching his muscles to shake out the last lingering effects of his petrification.

“Do you have enough salve for the others?” Arun asked.

“No, I only had the one dose,” the priestess admitted, “Which is why I used it on Cal.”

“I can break the enchantment, but I do not have the required spell in memory,” Cal said. “I will have to rest and study my spellbook.”

“Then we must retreat,” Lok said.

“Cal and I can teleport us all back to the Monkey,” Dana said.

“Our enemies may not wait quietly for our return,” Arun said.

“It cannot be helped,” Cal said. “Lok, Arun, please move our petrified friends into two close circles.”

The warriors complied, and within a few moments they had completed the necessary preparations. Cal glanced over at Dana. “Be certain that you take a good look around, and fix this place in your memory.”

Dana nodded, understanding. “I have.”

“Then let us be quit of this foul locale… for now.”

The gnome and priestess of Selûne uttered words of magic, and with their companions disappeared from Shatterhorn.

 

[Solarious]

Ah, the pleasures of high-level adventuring. When the going gets though, just Teleport out. Hopefully, our favorite punching heroes will be able to enlist the aid of Jenya for a thorough de-pertification. Then we can get back to the action quickly to launch a deadly Cagewight ambush/offensive, putting them into a pretty pickle.

Anyhow, waiting for the next logical step.

 

[Lazybones]

Chapter 398

Embril Aloustinai turned over a piece of rock with her foot, a frown as deep as a canyon etched on her otherwise fair and even alluring features.

“You are not listening, Embril!” came a shrill, almost panicked voice. “A planetar… do you know what that means! And on top of that, the destruction of the Egg… disaster! Our enemies close upon us!”

Embril looked up, fixing the speaker with a desultory look that momentarily quieted her. Thifirane Rhiavati had fallen far, to be certain. The once unflappable noblewoman—and powerful mage—was clad in a hastily-donned dressing robe that failed to conceal the gaunt flesh that clung tightly to her bones beneath. Her hair, which she’d always taken a considerable vain pride in, hung in a confused tangle around her face. Blood trailed from a gash in her forehead just below the hairline, a cut from a fragment of the Egg when it had exploded outward, most likely—but the woman seemed to not even feel it. She already had an old bandage secured across the center of her forehead. Embril was glad for that, at least; the eye-graft that had been a gift from Lord Vhalantru had been… troublesome, but the organ with its nasty potency had begun to rot in its new home shortly after the beholder’s death, leaving an ugly gray scar upon the wizard’s face as a reminder of the fate of those too proud to admit the possibility of failure.

“Panic will not solve our problems, my dear,” Embril said, calmly. “And we will yet obtain our objective… I have seen it.”

The conviction in the woman’s voice did not arrest the doubts of the wizard. “The Egg…”

Embril waved her hand dismissively. “The Egg of Merrshaulk was a potent boon,” she said. “But it is one we inherited, not one that we crafted for ourselves. And if it could not even contain the celestial, then its viability was limited in any case. To be honest, we were not going to remain much longer in this place.”

“Embril,” came the voice of another speaker, across the room. “Viirdran requires more healing.”

Embril turned from the still-fuming wizard and walked across the room. It wasn’t easy—fragments of stone ranging from sharp slivers a few inches long to blocks the size of a child’s head littered the floor. She also had to step over the mangled corpse of a farastu demodand, split open almost from head to crotch to reveal a disgusting, sticky mess inside. Small puddles of acid that had until recently been inside the Egg of Merrshaulk filled subtle indentations in the floor, complemented by gobs of demodand slime that formed glistening slicks here and there. These obstacles required further adjustments. Embril appeared to pay no heed to such inconveniences, reaching the one who had requested her aid.

Kyan Winterstrike rose as she approached, nodding to the man resting against the wall beside her. The elf and her companion were an odd pair, for she was clearly a moon elf, while Viirdran was a drow, his fine robes marred by the vicious rents that had opened gaping holes in fabric and flesh alike. He’d already been stabilized by Embril, but still breathed laboriously, pain evident on his face.

Embril bent and channeled healing power into the injured man.

“They will be back,” Thifirane continued, still on the far side of the Egg—now just an uneven base upon its pedestal. “That planetar will be eager to treat with us again, I suspect.”

“I am quite certain you are correct,” Embril said, rising again, drawing out a small white cloth to clean one of her fingers of a smear of blood gathered from her brief contact with the drow blademaster.

“What are we to do, Embril?” Kyan asked.

“Gather Sorizan, and Xokek as well. And bring me Nahazir’s corpse to me as well… that useless fool may yet offer some benefit to our cause.”

“Xokek will not come willingly,” Viirdran said, the drow’s voice deep and thick, as though echoing from within a vast empty cavern inside his body.

“He will come,” Embril said.

“Where are you going?” Thifirane asked, as Embril walked toward one of the chamber’s less obvious exits. She had to know the answer already, and Embril smiled before turning at what it revealed of the woman’s fears.

“I must consult with my companion,” she said. “And I have too long neglected our other guest.”

“You are taking a very big risk with that, Embril,” Thifirane said.

Embril Aloustinai laughed at the comment. She did not share the reason for her mirth, but as she turned and walked away, she felt a grim thrill of sensation that was both pleasure and gut-clenching terror, in the same instant. Thifirane had once been among the highest in their cabal, but the destruction of her little make-believe world in Cauldron had clearly had a deleterious effect upon her.

For having forfeited their very mortal souls to their cause, what did it matter what they risked now?

 

[Lazybones]

Chapter 399

Embril entered a black chamber, a cyst many strides beneath the surface of the sunlit world above.

At first, it appeared that the place was empty, the center cleared, the perimeter marked by regular pillars and vague shadows that might have been furnishings or other random objects. But that was an illusion; this place was very much occupied.

Embril stepped forward, enjoying the chaotic surge of emotion that filled her upon entering this place. Thifirane was right, this was madness; yet she did not care, enjoying the sensations, reveling in her power and the insane dreams that had brought her to this conclusion.

She came forward almost to the edge of the glyphs drawn in powdered black metal upon the floor. For a split-second she had a mad impulse to break one of the thin lines that made up the diagram, but she was able to repress that feeling. Now that would have been true insanity, she thought with a quiet chuckle.

It appeared from the shadows in the corner of the room, looking at her with its usual inscrutable expression. Its skin was a chalky white, its face alien, its six arms bent in poses that would have been painful for her to duplicate with her two.

agitation

“I know, my dearest,” Embril cooed, walking over to it. “This is not comfortable for you, I understand. I would not enjoy it either, I suspect. But it is necessary… for our plans, yours and mine.”

The spellweaver said nothing, retreating a step until it was all but lost in the shadows once more.

“It holds you in contempt,” came a voice from within the diagram.

“Our interests coincide,” Embril replied without turning.

“Your mind is too small to conceive of its thoughts,” the voice continued. “Your
‘ally’ will betray you, it is only a matter of time.”

Embril turned to face the speaker, and smiled. “I do not pretend to understand it completely, but it knows the meaning of gratitude, at least.” She came forward, once again. “But enough meaningless chatter. I would treat with you, demon. Show yourself, if you would.”

The air within the summoning circle roiled and solidified into currents of black smoke that took on material form. Embril had to crane her head upward to meet the blazing red eyes that took shape within a massive visage, a terror beyond mere human imagining. Power was in those eyes, ancient power matched by a fury that threatened to bring down the walls and swallow up this place, deep below the surface of Faerûn.

That stare should have stripped the sanity from a human woman, but Embril merely laughed. “I hope that your stay with us has been… comfortable, my lord Ndulu.”

The trapped demon’s anger, if anything, intensified. “Your madness has truly consumed you, Embril Aloustinai, for you to call me here. You know who I serve!”

“Indeed.” She looked around the chamber. “Your master has come down quite a bit in the overall scheme of things, has he not? It would seem that his fall from power has affected you as well. To think, the mighty Ndulu, close in his master’s counsels, caught up in the binding of a mere mortal creature.” Indeed, the spell cast by her ally should not have been able to hold a creature of Ndulu’s power, but it could not know that the spellweaver had burned a wish spell to augment the potency of the calling enough to snare the balor, and to reinforce the summoning circle to hold it.

Ndulu exploded in a paroxysm of fury, fire and black power roiling off him in waves, but confined within the potency of the summoning diagram. Embril waited for it to spend its anger, which happened rather quickly… too quickly, perhaps.

“I do not know what you hope to gain from me, but you will never extract any benefit from this plan,” the demon said, once it had subsided. “You cannot keep me imprisoned forever, and my master will be quite pleased to hear of the failure of your aspirations when I return to his side.”

For a moment Embril’s weave of self-control cracked, if only slightly, and she shot an annoyed glance at the spellweaver. What had it revealed to the demon? Ndulu could not know what had transpired at Cauldron, for it had been confined here since the day before the commencement of the Ritual of Planar Joining. Could it have somehow gained access to information through the barrier of its prison?

No. It had to be playing her, reading whatever subtle clues she herself was projecting through her own defenses. Demons were uncanny at finding weaknesses in their foes, and this one was one of the greatest of its race, a mere step below the mighty Princes that ruled the diverse layers of the Abyss. She quickly regained control—the demon was regarding her intently, almost eagerly—and looked up again to meet its gaze squarely.

“You can tell Graz’zt anything you wish,” she said. “I am prepared to release you… but first you must agree to a service, to which you are bound to obey by the terms of the Compact.”

The demon’s laughter was a terrible thing. “Foolish little wench, you think to barter with me? I will have your flesh as a throw rug, but the rest of your body will continue to feel agonies long, long after…”

“Yes, yes, eternal torment, suffering of my soul, etcetera, etcetera,” she said. “But first, the service.”

“I will never deign to serve a weak mortal bitch who thinks her modest powers give her the right to treat with me,” the balor replied. “You can take your pet abomination and...”

Embril just stood there as the demon offered a series of vile threats and promises of destruction. It spoke for a full minute before it realized that she wasn’t listening; in fact she stood there, looking off to the side, tapping her foot with a bit of impatience.

“Go then, frail little mortal, go to your dreams of power, and the mad whispers of your dying god,” it finally said, its voice a deep hiss like metal dragged over stone. “Know that your patron will never be released, and that your little cabal will join him soon enough, your screams adding to the neverending dirge of the insane in the halls of Skullrot…”

“That remains to be seen,” Embril said. “But I have not yet made my offer.”

“Speak then! So that at least I may be spared your foolish prattle. You waste my time and yours.”

“Your master may disagree,” Embril said, with an enigmatic smile upon her face. She made a motion with her fingertips and spoke words of eldritch power. It was a minor spell she called upon, but it had an immediate effect as an image took form in the circle formed by her hand movements, an illusion that nonetheless took on clear resolution, suspended in the air between her and the demon. It wasn’t a very big picture, just large enough to clearly show the faces of the individuals depicted therein.

The demon was silent. Embril had not lied; its master would be very, very interested in what it had seen.

Embril let the illusion dissolve, and merely waited.

The two faced off for a long minute that crept into two, three… the mortal woman—powerful, but mad—and the ageless demon, lord of its kind.

Finally, it was the demon that spoke first.

“Speak your terms.”

 

[Solarious]

Alright! The Planetar survived and escaped!

However...

 

[Neverwinter Knight]

Boy, you're really handing it out to your PCs...Greater Balor, eh?