Shackled City Epic: "Vengeance" (story concluded)
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Lazybones
Adventurer
A somewhat special milestone today: 400 chapters! I was tallying up my master word doc earlier today, and where I am in the story now (well into book XI), I've just passed 500,000 words for the complete Shackled City story. That's compared to 462,000 words for the complete Travels, 100,000 for the average fantasy novel... and 560,000 for Tolstoy's War and Peace. 
Thanks to all my readers who stuck with me for so long!
Now, back to our regularly scheduled armageddon:
* * * * *
Chapter 400
Night descended upon The Lucky Monkey, and the refugee camp that had been extracted from the jungle surrounding it. The place looked almost unreal in the filtered moonlight that made it though the scattered cloud cover above; more an illusion than a real outpost, the jungle crowded close around the structures as if eager to reclaim this clearing for itself. It was quiet, even the animals of the forest apparently content to go about their business in silence on this dark eve. The night was not entirely empty; vigilant watchers stared into the night from concealed positions in the summits of trees, or in shelters installed in the crevices upon the roof of the roadhouse. And high above, another kept watch as well.
Behind the roadhouse the jungle encroached hard upon the structure, despite the obvious efforts over the years to trim back the growth. There was a low mound where a waste trench had been dug earlier and covered over, and a faint smell of ordure still hung over the place, discouraging visitors.
There was absolutely no warning. One moment the small clearing behind the roadhouse was empty, the next it was full of sound and light. A massive figure rose up over the mound, twelve feet tall, a miniature sun immolated in a nimbus of living flame.
Ndulu had arrived.
The guards atop the roadhouse had barely time to register their doom before the balor lifted his hand and transformed the night into a sea of flame. The firestorm descended in sheets upon the building, engulfing huge swaths of it in flame, transforming the sturdy structure into a pyre. Even as those inside became dimly aware through the haze of sleep that something was wrong, the demon lord strode into the flames, lifting its huge sword and sweeping away a twenty-foot face of the structure with a single mighty sweep of the burning weapon. Several people were killed instantly as the outer wall exploded into their room, and others looked up from their beds, frozen in terror as they were suddenly exposed to a face out of their worst nightmares.
An avian cry shattered the night sky, as an avoral—this one called by Dana’s planar ally spell to guard the night—dove toward the demon. It fired magic missiles at the demon’s back as it dove, but the little violet streaks vanished as they entered the fell aura of power surrounding it. Still crying out its alarm, it pulled out of its dive and winged over the forest before turning for another pass. Its course took it briefly over the road that ascended into the mountains, toward Cauldron.
Suddenly it staggered in mid-flight, spinning awkwardly aside to reveal a black-fletched arrow embedded deep in its breast. Its wings pounding fiercely in an effort to regain control, it flew away from the road, where the arrow had originated. A moment later a lightning bolt rose up from the same area to slam into it, but the avoral was not injured by the energy that flared briefly around it.
“Fool, it’s a celestial, immune to electricity!” Thifirane Rhiavati said to the man standing beside her, a resurrected Ssythar Nahazir. The yuan-ti pureblood hissed something in return, but did not offer further comment.
“Let me show you how to do it, sorcerer,” Thifirane said, lifting her hand, focusing upon the avoral as it tried to get away. It had nearly disappeared back over the forest canopy before a thin green ray erupted from the wizard’s finger, flashing instantly through the night, hitting the outsider and disintegrating it.
The remaining Cagewrights turned toward the sounds of destruction that continued to rise from the location of the nearby roadhouse. Screams now added to the sound of breaking wood and shattering glass, a cacophony that sounded out over the jungle night. The trees blocked a direct view of the site, but they could see the bright glow that rose from the flames, and they knew that the balor was already well into its work. There were eight of them there on the road. In addition to Thifirane and Ssythar, they included Kyan and Viirdran, the two oddly juxtaposed elves. There was a heavily armored man clad in full plate and shield, a bare bastard sword easily balanced in his right hand, his bare face marked with a web of red tattoos. The warrior was shadowed by a huge four-legged beast the size of a man, a mere mound of fur in the night shadows. Embril and her spellweaver cohort were present. Finally there were three others who were felt rather than seen, individuals so at one with the night that even the sharpest-eyed would have failed to see them standing there on the road. These three simply hovered at the edge of the gathering, as if bored with the proceedings.
“Go, kill everything,” Embril said, the tall, lean form of the spellweaver looming behind her, its pale flesh like scoured bone in the diffuse moonlight. “With one exception. The priestess—Jenya Urikas. She is to be taken, and brought to me at Shatterhorn.”
“What?” Thifirane exclaimed. “You abandon us now?”
“Do not forget, we have a greater goal,” Embril said, her voice like a silken purr. “I must attend to the completion of our plan. Do not fear, dearest Thifirane, you shall not lack for your reward when the Master is restored to us. Go! Instruct these fools what it means to interfere with the Cagewrights. Destroy the pathetic remnants that they seek to protect. Slay every man, every woman, every child, every animal that breathes its life at the sufferance of a civilized soul. I suspect that you will not have much to do, once the balor finishes its work, but I am finished with equivocation! They must be ended.”
“They shall rue their decision to interfere in the whims of Adimarchus!” the tattooed warrior exclaimed. “They shall be made to suffer for their crimes!”
“What of the demon?” Viirdran asked, flexing his muscles, his hands drifting close to the hilts of his twin rapiers.
“He has his own interest tonight. The balor is compelled by the Compact to obey its obligation, but you would be wise not to trust its forbearance,” Embril said with a chuckle. “Of course, it has been called, not summoned, so its fate on this plane is binding upon it. If it were not to return to Graz’zt’s side, to report what it knows…”
The Cagewrights each nodded, understanding the theurge’s implication clearly.
“Let it wreak destruction… and pick up the pieces. But Urikas! She must be recovered, alive, that is my mandate to you!”
“Well, if we hope to find her alive, we’d best hasten,” Viirdran said, turning toward the refugee camp. The others joined it, but Thifirane paused, glancing back over her shoulder, meeting Embril’s gaze momentarily before the woman called upon her power, and along with her unnatural companion teleported away.
But even as the Cagewrights made their way toward the burning roadhouse, the Heroes of Cauldron were already finding themselves in a world of hurt.
Thanks to all my readers who stuck with me for so long!
Now, back to our regularly scheduled armageddon:
* * * * *
Chapter 400
Night descended upon The Lucky Monkey, and the refugee camp that had been extracted from the jungle surrounding it. The place looked almost unreal in the filtered moonlight that made it though the scattered cloud cover above; more an illusion than a real outpost, the jungle crowded close around the structures as if eager to reclaim this clearing for itself. It was quiet, even the animals of the forest apparently content to go about their business in silence on this dark eve. The night was not entirely empty; vigilant watchers stared into the night from concealed positions in the summits of trees, or in shelters installed in the crevices upon the roof of the roadhouse. And high above, another kept watch as well.
Behind the roadhouse the jungle encroached hard upon the structure, despite the obvious efforts over the years to trim back the growth. There was a low mound where a waste trench had been dug earlier and covered over, and a faint smell of ordure still hung over the place, discouraging visitors.
There was absolutely no warning. One moment the small clearing behind the roadhouse was empty, the next it was full of sound and light. A massive figure rose up over the mound, twelve feet tall, a miniature sun immolated in a nimbus of living flame.
Ndulu had arrived.
The guards atop the roadhouse had barely time to register their doom before the balor lifted his hand and transformed the night into a sea of flame. The firestorm descended in sheets upon the building, engulfing huge swaths of it in flame, transforming the sturdy structure into a pyre. Even as those inside became dimly aware through the haze of sleep that something was wrong, the demon lord strode into the flames, lifting its huge sword and sweeping away a twenty-foot face of the structure with a single mighty sweep of the burning weapon. Several people were killed instantly as the outer wall exploded into their room, and others looked up from their beds, frozen in terror as they were suddenly exposed to a face out of their worst nightmares.
An avian cry shattered the night sky, as an avoral—this one called by Dana’s planar ally spell to guard the night—dove toward the demon. It fired magic missiles at the demon’s back as it dove, but the little violet streaks vanished as they entered the fell aura of power surrounding it. Still crying out its alarm, it pulled out of its dive and winged over the forest before turning for another pass. Its course took it briefly over the road that ascended into the mountains, toward Cauldron.
Suddenly it staggered in mid-flight, spinning awkwardly aside to reveal a black-fletched arrow embedded deep in its breast. Its wings pounding fiercely in an effort to regain control, it flew away from the road, where the arrow had originated. A moment later a lightning bolt rose up from the same area to slam into it, but the avoral was not injured by the energy that flared briefly around it.
“Fool, it’s a celestial, immune to electricity!” Thifirane Rhiavati said to the man standing beside her, a resurrected Ssythar Nahazir. The yuan-ti pureblood hissed something in return, but did not offer further comment.
“Let me show you how to do it, sorcerer,” Thifirane said, lifting her hand, focusing upon the avoral as it tried to get away. It had nearly disappeared back over the forest canopy before a thin green ray erupted from the wizard’s finger, flashing instantly through the night, hitting the outsider and disintegrating it.
The remaining Cagewrights turned toward the sounds of destruction that continued to rise from the location of the nearby roadhouse. Screams now added to the sound of breaking wood and shattering glass, a cacophony that sounded out over the jungle night. The trees blocked a direct view of the site, but they could see the bright glow that rose from the flames, and they knew that the balor was already well into its work. There were eight of them there on the road. In addition to Thifirane and Ssythar, they included Kyan and Viirdran, the two oddly juxtaposed elves. There was a heavily armored man clad in full plate and shield, a bare bastard sword easily balanced in his right hand, his bare face marked with a web of red tattoos. The warrior was shadowed by a huge four-legged beast the size of a man, a mere mound of fur in the night shadows. Embril and her spellweaver cohort were present. Finally there were three others who were felt rather than seen, individuals so at one with the night that even the sharpest-eyed would have failed to see them standing there on the road. These three simply hovered at the edge of the gathering, as if bored with the proceedings.
“Go, kill everything,” Embril said, the tall, lean form of the spellweaver looming behind her, its pale flesh like scoured bone in the diffuse moonlight. “With one exception. The priestess—Jenya Urikas. She is to be taken, and brought to me at Shatterhorn.”
“What?” Thifirane exclaimed. “You abandon us now?”
“Do not forget, we have a greater goal,” Embril said, her voice like a silken purr. “I must attend to the completion of our plan. Do not fear, dearest Thifirane, you shall not lack for your reward when the Master is restored to us. Go! Instruct these fools what it means to interfere with the Cagewrights. Destroy the pathetic remnants that they seek to protect. Slay every man, every woman, every child, every animal that breathes its life at the sufferance of a civilized soul. I suspect that you will not have much to do, once the balor finishes its work, but I am finished with equivocation! They must be ended.”
“They shall rue their decision to interfere in the whims of Adimarchus!” the tattooed warrior exclaimed. “They shall be made to suffer for their crimes!”
“What of the demon?” Viirdran asked, flexing his muscles, his hands drifting close to the hilts of his twin rapiers.
“He has his own interest tonight. The balor is compelled by the Compact to obey its obligation, but you would be wise not to trust its forbearance,” Embril said with a chuckle. “Of course, it has been called, not summoned, so its fate on this plane is binding upon it. If it were not to return to Graz’zt’s side, to report what it knows…”
The Cagewrights each nodded, understanding the theurge’s implication clearly.
“Let it wreak destruction… and pick up the pieces. But Urikas! She must be recovered, alive, that is my mandate to you!”
“Well, if we hope to find her alive, we’d best hasten,” Viirdran said, turning toward the refugee camp. The others joined it, but Thifirane paused, glancing back over her shoulder, meeting Embril’s gaze momentarily before the woman called upon her power, and along with her unnatural companion teleported away.
But even as the Cagewrights made their way toward the burning roadhouse, the Heroes of Cauldron were already finding themselves in a world of hurt.
Lazybones
Adventurer
Chapter 401
The Lucky Money burned, a bonfire that lit up the surrounding jungle.
The balor used its power of telekinesis to snap a load-bearing support, bringing down an expanse of burning roof onto a room full of screaming, helpless civilians. The demon took delight in the sudden halt to their screams—though their panic had been quite satisfying too. It knew that its assault would provoke a response, and it found itself looking forward to that as well.
Even so, the ferocity of that counterattack took it somewhat off-guard.
* * * * *
“What’s happening?”
“Man can’t even get a bloomin’ night’s sleep ‘round ‘ere…”
“An all-out attack…”
“It’s destroying the inn…”
“Cagewrights…”
“I told you that they would not sit around and wait for us to return…”
“It’s evil, overwhelming… a greater demon…”
“A balor, I’d expect; I only got a glimpse of it…”
“A balor? You’ve got to be kidding!”
“The refugees will be slaughtered…”
“Hells, we’ll be slaughtered!”
“Arun, wait! We must prepare before we face it…”
“Jenya, get the people out, we’ll do our best to hold it off…”
* * * * *
A compact figure appeared in the ruin of the second story hallway, now open to the outside, and the widening swath of ruin and destruction wrought by the demon. Already about a quarter of the structure had been destroyed, and the screams of those trapped in the rubble echoed those of the people trying desperately to escape the crumbling structure. A man appeared in the ruin of the common room below, clad in a blue tunic, thrusting a longspear at the demon in an act of futile defiance. The head of the weapon melted as it entered the nimbus of flame that surrounded the demon’s body, the steel bending uselessly off its armored hide. His sacrifice was in vain as the demon barked a laugh, separating the man’s head from his shoulders with a casual swipe of his massive sword.
“Pathetic. I was led to believe that there would be some resistance, at least…”
Even through the chaos it had created, the demon’s sharp senses detected the charge of another man who’d appeared in the upstairs hall, this one a brown-skinned dwarf, pushing through the dangling wreckage of ruined beams and shattered masonry. It also recognized the power in the sword that the man carried; power that could hurt it. The demon recognized this foe as one of those that had been shown to it, one the enemies who had caused so much difficulty for the Cagewrights. Not one of those that its master bore such a fierce hatred for, but that wouldn’t save him against the balor’s power. The demon enjoyed destruction, but it was eager to join in combat against real foes that could give it something of a challenge before they fell to its terrible might.
It was clear that this enemy was not prepared for battle. Though clearly a warrior, he wore only a hastily donned chain shirt, not the heavy armor that might have given him a chance against the balor’s assault.
As the man reached the end of the hall, the demon snapped out its flaming whip, intending to divest this foe of his dangerous weapon. The eager tongue of the whip snapped the warrior’s wrist exactly as intended, but somehow he yanked away, ignoring the tongues of flame that bit at him, avoiding being entangled in the sinuous strands, carefully crafted from the flayed hides of a hundred victims.
There was nowhere for the warrior to go as the hallway suddenly ended, but to the demon’s minor surprise he simply leapt out over the gaping ruin, landing heavily in a jumble of roofing tiles and wooden beams a few feet from where the balor stood. Ndulu felt an explosion of pain that lanced up his left leg into his body as the dwarf gashed the limb with his holy sword, a cold iron blade that burned with the pure divinity that was anathema to its kind, even to the mightiest of their race.
Furious, the demon unleashed a power word that gratifyingly impacted the warrior, knocking him roughly prone, stunned. Inwardly the demon was pleased; a more powerful foe would have been able to shrug off the effects of the magic, and likely would have been some trouble with that damned holy blade.
“A valiant effort, knight, but doomed to fail…” the demon droned, its words mocking.
Light flared from within the building, resolving into a quintet of brilliant white globes that rose out of the gaps in the structure. The five globes of light rose up into the air, firing beams of golden light that seared into the demon. They caused obvious damage, even through its many defenses, but the marks they made in its hide were barely scratches to one such as it.
“Lantern archons, how droll,” the balor said, rising up to its full height, chuckling. “Is this the best you fools can manage?”
But others were joining the fray now, the response that Ndulu had been expecting to provoke. Two more warriors appeared at the edge of the ruined common room. They charged toward the demon, but the debris impeded their rush. One, a dwarf with a large waraxe, stepped on a solid-looking piece of roofing and broke through, entangling himself momentarily. The other, clearly possessed of outsider blood, actually made it close enough to attack with his own axe, but the weapon glanced off of the malignant radiance of the balor’s unholy aura.
The balor turned to deal with this new threat, but even as it shifted a missile streaked from above, striking it solidly in the shoulder. The demon instantly spotted the source, an elf archer lurking in the ruins of the hallway above. Ordinarily a mere bowman would have not given it pause, but the arrow was also blessed with holy power, from the way that it burned in its hide. These were enemies that clearly had experience in battling fiends, although Ndulu doubted that they had ever faced the likes of it, one of the lords of the Abyss.
They had managed to hurt it, although the injuries thus far were mostly pinpricks, scratches. But still, enough was enough.
Ndulu called upon the full power of the Abyss, speaking a word of blasphemy. It watched with gratification as its foes collapsed, one after another, paralyzed. The lantern archons popped out of existence; what was left of them might be found as a bright-colored smear on a rock somewhere in Celestia. None of them could resist it, and now they were as good as dead, helpless to do anything to stop it.
The Lucky Money burned, a bonfire that lit up the surrounding jungle.
The balor used its power of telekinesis to snap a load-bearing support, bringing down an expanse of burning roof onto a room full of screaming, helpless civilians. The demon took delight in the sudden halt to their screams—though their panic had been quite satisfying too. It knew that its assault would provoke a response, and it found itself looking forward to that as well.
Even so, the ferocity of that counterattack took it somewhat off-guard.
* * * * *
“What’s happening?”
“Man can’t even get a bloomin’ night’s sleep ‘round ‘ere…”
“An all-out attack…”
“It’s destroying the inn…”
“Cagewrights…”
“I told you that they would not sit around and wait for us to return…”
“It’s evil, overwhelming… a greater demon…”
“A balor, I’d expect; I only got a glimpse of it…”
“A balor? You’ve got to be kidding!”
“The refugees will be slaughtered…”
“Hells, we’ll be slaughtered!”
“Arun, wait! We must prepare before we face it…”
“Jenya, get the people out, we’ll do our best to hold it off…”
* * * * *
A compact figure appeared in the ruin of the second story hallway, now open to the outside, and the widening swath of ruin and destruction wrought by the demon. Already about a quarter of the structure had been destroyed, and the screams of those trapped in the rubble echoed those of the people trying desperately to escape the crumbling structure. A man appeared in the ruin of the common room below, clad in a blue tunic, thrusting a longspear at the demon in an act of futile defiance. The head of the weapon melted as it entered the nimbus of flame that surrounded the demon’s body, the steel bending uselessly off its armored hide. His sacrifice was in vain as the demon barked a laugh, separating the man’s head from his shoulders with a casual swipe of his massive sword.
“Pathetic. I was led to believe that there would be some resistance, at least…”
Even through the chaos it had created, the demon’s sharp senses detected the charge of another man who’d appeared in the upstairs hall, this one a brown-skinned dwarf, pushing through the dangling wreckage of ruined beams and shattered masonry. It also recognized the power in the sword that the man carried; power that could hurt it. The demon recognized this foe as one of those that had been shown to it, one the enemies who had caused so much difficulty for the Cagewrights. Not one of those that its master bore such a fierce hatred for, but that wouldn’t save him against the balor’s power. The demon enjoyed destruction, but it was eager to join in combat against real foes that could give it something of a challenge before they fell to its terrible might.
It was clear that this enemy was not prepared for battle. Though clearly a warrior, he wore only a hastily donned chain shirt, not the heavy armor that might have given him a chance against the balor’s assault.
As the man reached the end of the hall, the demon snapped out its flaming whip, intending to divest this foe of his dangerous weapon. The eager tongue of the whip snapped the warrior’s wrist exactly as intended, but somehow he yanked away, ignoring the tongues of flame that bit at him, avoiding being entangled in the sinuous strands, carefully crafted from the flayed hides of a hundred victims.
There was nowhere for the warrior to go as the hallway suddenly ended, but to the demon’s minor surprise he simply leapt out over the gaping ruin, landing heavily in a jumble of roofing tiles and wooden beams a few feet from where the balor stood. Ndulu felt an explosion of pain that lanced up his left leg into his body as the dwarf gashed the limb with his holy sword, a cold iron blade that burned with the pure divinity that was anathema to its kind, even to the mightiest of their race.
Furious, the demon unleashed a power word that gratifyingly impacted the warrior, knocking him roughly prone, stunned. Inwardly the demon was pleased; a more powerful foe would have been able to shrug off the effects of the magic, and likely would have been some trouble with that damned holy blade.
“A valiant effort, knight, but doomed to fail…” the demon droned, its words mocking.
Light flared from within the building, resolving into a quintet of brilliant white globes that rose out of the gaps in the structure. The five globes of light rose up into the air, firing beams of golden light that seared into the demon. They caused obvious damage, even through its many defenses, but the marks they made in its hide were barely scratches to one such as it.
“Lantern archons, how droll,” the balor said, rising up to its full height, chuckling. “Is this the best you fools can manage?”
But others were joining the fray now, the response that Ndulu had been expecting to provoke. Two more warriors appeared at the edge of the ruined common room. They charged toward the demon, but the debris impeded their rush. One, a dwarf with a large waraxe, stepped on a solid-looking piece of roofing and broke through, entangling himself momentarily. The other, clearly possessed of outsider blood, actually made it close enough to attack with his own axe, but the weapon glanced off of the malignant radiance of the balor’s unholy aura.
The balor turned to deal with this new threat, but even as it shifted a missile streaked from above, striking it solidly in the shoulder. The demon instantly spotted the source, an elf archer lurking in the ruins of the hallway above. Ordinarily a mere bowman would have not given it pause, but the arrow was also blessed with holy power, from the way that it burned in its hide. These were enemies that clearly had experience in battling fiends, although Ndulu doubted that they had ever faced the likes of it, one of the lords of the Abyss.
They had managed to hurt it, although the injuries thus far were mostly pinpricks, scratches. But still, enough was enough.
Ndulu called upon the full power of the Abyss, speaking a word of blasphemy. It watched with gratification as its foes collapsed, one after another, paralyzed. The lantern archons popped out of existence; what was left of them might be found as a bright-colored smear on a rock somewhere in Celestia. None of them could resist it, and now they were as good as dead, helpless to do anything to stop it.
Solarious
Explorer
I'm starting to miss posting after every update... must remember this exists!
Just kidding. I went to my school prom yesterday, couldn't really do anything besides get a shower and colapse on my bed afterwards. So here I am, making up for it. 
Whee! The Cagewights actually have a brain and attack the heroes when they teleport away from their stronghold! Unfortunately, we don't get to see our resident half-elf vampire monk/shadowdancer eviscerate them.
This does, however, mean lady-dwarf templar beatdown, so not all is bad.
This also means innocents screaming... and dying... and burning to death alive... buried under flaming rubble... ![:]](http://www.enworld.org/forum/images/smilies/devious.png "Devious :]")
Yeah, not all is bad.
And then, there was Blasphemy, the bane of all good heroes, lethal enough to neutral ones, and especially deadly to those who have died recently or suffer from the LA syndrome. Also good for swating annoying summoned monsters, since all of them are instantly banished by the spell. That's one little thing about the Summon Monster series - they don't die, they're just sent back.
Anyways. Friday cliffhanger!
Go TPK!
EDIT: And since no one has posted yet... I'll ask an additional question. What happened to the paranoid Conjurer Cagewight? You know, from Book IX, The Thirteen Cages? Mentioned in... eh... Chapter 358! The one with an Imp Sorceror as an apprentice, IIRC. Nasty, nasty encounter. Thearynn, that's the name.
Do we see him in the upcomming chapters?
Just kidding.
I went to my school prom yesterday, couldn't really do anything besides get a shower and colapse on my bed afterwards. So here I am, making up for it. Whee! The Cagewights actually have a brain and attack the heroes when they teleport away from their stronghold! Unfortunately, we don't get to see our resident half-elf vampire monk/shadowdancer eviscerate them.
This does, however, mean lady-dwarf templar beatdown, so not all is bad.
This also means innocents screaming... and dying... and burning to death alive... buried under flaming rubble... Yeah, not all is bad. And then, there was Blasphemy, the bane of all good heroes, lethal enough to neutral ones, and especially deadly to those who have died recently or suffer from the LA syndrome. Also good for swating annoying summoned monsters, since all of them are instantly banished by the spell. That's one little thing about the Summon Monster series - they don't die, they're just sent back.
Anyways. Friday cliffhanger!
Go TPK! EDIT: And since no one has posted yet... I'll ask an additional question. What happened to the paranoid Conjurer Cagewight? You know, from Book IX, The Thirteen Cages? Mentioned in... eh... Chapter 358! The one with an Imp Sorceror as an apprentice, IIRC. Nasty, nasty encounter. Thearynn, that's the name.
Do we see him in the upcomming chapters?
Last edited:
Lazybones said:
Does he eat Lord Elf's soul as well?
(Ah, Elf Only Inn, one of my favourite discontinued webcomics.)
Last edited:
Lazybones
Adventurer
Ah, that's 20 minutes of life I'll never get back...Elemental said:
I haven't written in his return as of yet, but anything's possible; I keep a list of "loose ends" that I can dig up later when things start to get better for the heroes.Solarious said:
Of course, that won't be the case this week.
* * * * *
Chapter 402
At the moment, it looked as though the Cagewrights rapidly approaching the burning roadhouse would find only their corpses of their enemies in the ruins.
Pleased with the sudden cessation of resistance following its blasphemy, the balor turned back to the dwarf knight with the holy sword. He was double incapacitated now, both stunned and paralyzed, but having felt the bite of the holy avenger, Ndulu wasn’t going to take any chances.
“Your skull will make a fine vessel for my blood wine,” the balor said, as it reached for him.
Another bite of stabbing pain interrupted him. Annoyed now, the demon turned to see that another archer had appeared around the far side of the building, a corner that still stood, toward the front of the structure. The man was invisible, or at least he thought he was; the shroud of greater invisibility he wore was nothing to the supernatural senses of the demon lord. Its annoyance was instantly replaced by eager anticipation as it recognized the attacker.
Ah, there you are…
The balor ignored a second stab of pain as another missile lodged in its arm. The tiefling was using holy arrows too, and fired from a bow designed to destroy creatures such as the balor to boot, but Ndulu was focused more on how he could use this enemy as a lever to win favor—and power—from his master. Spreading its wings, the balor leapt at its target, moving with a speed and ferocity far beyond that of any mortal creature.
The look on the tiefling’s face at its onrushing doom was quite satisfying.
The archer ducked back behind the corner of the building, which a moment later exploded outward as the balor swept his sword through it, sending shards of shattered masonry and wood flying out in a wide arc. The archer was falling back but really had nowhere to go. There were others in the clearing in front of the roadhouse, mostly civilians who screamed at the demon’s sudden appearance, rushing to get out of the way. But one did not flee; a woman who lifted her hand at the balor, calling forth a blast of searing light that unfortunately faded as it struck the demon’s unholy aura.
“Dana!” the tiefling called out, warning the woman, as if it wasn’t obvious that she was flirting with her own destruction. Ndulu had recognized her even before the tiefling’s words, however, and the demon leapt, covering half the distance that separated them even as its whip lashed out, wrapping around her torso. She screamed—gratifyingly—as the balor drew her in, immersing her in the aura of fire that surrounded it.
Its pleasure at her suffering was cut short, however, as she dimension doored out of its grasp. Angry, it turned to the tiefling, but before it could act he too transported himself away.
“Cowards… you cannot run from me,” the demon snarled. It had a good idea where the two had gone, however, and it summoned its own power to teleport back to where it had left its other helpless foes.
* * * * *
“I… I can’t, uncle Cal,” Mole said, a miserable ball of fear, huddling in the ruins of The Lucky Monkey, what was still left intact of the interior wreathed in thick smoke, watching helplessly as the demon engaged her friends. “Nothing we do hurts it, and none of them could resist it!” Her own heart had felt like it would freeze when the demon had spoken its blasphemy, although she’d been just far enough away that the sensation had passed, and she’d been able to react a few moments later.
Inwardly, Cal could not disagree with her niece’s pessimistic assessment. The balor was a deadly foe, and it possessed magic that could not be dodged or resisted. And even if he hadn’t already burned many of his most powerful spells in their earlier engagements at Shatterhorn, he did not have much in his arsenal that would even inconvenience the demon lord. Thus far the buffs he’d placed upon his allies had done little to protect them against the demon’s power. And if that wasn’t bad enough, a loud crash nearby was a reminder that the entire building was on fire, and was going to collapse down upon them before too long.
But he masked those feelings, knowing that his niece tottered on a precipice of self-doubt that could cost all of them. “We’ll do what we can,” he told her. “Our friends deserve no less.”
He began a complex spell, but before he could complete it the demon turned and charged out of the rubble toward the front of the building.
“Where’s it going?” Mole whispered, curious despite her fear.
Cal completed his spell, giving shape to shadowstuff that he drew across the ether, forming it into the outline of a bralani eladrin that he gave substance through his magic. As it took solid form, awaiting commands, Cal caught sight of a wisp of white moving through the building nearby, accompanied by a familiar clank of heavy metal.
Jenya, and Beorna! The pair were moving toward the ruined quarter of the building where their friends lay helpless, perhaps unaware that the battle had already shifted to the front of the building where Dana and Benzan had circled around to flank the demon.
“It’s got Dana!” came Mole’s voice, confirming his suspicions a moment later.
If it comes to this, so be it… we’ve given it a good run, the gnome thought. He turned to his shadow conjured eladrin. The creature had been good enough to drive away the smoke in their immediate vicinity, and Cal nodded gratefully as he took a clean breath before speaking.
“Go out the back of this structure, and gain altitude. There is a balor in front; I want you to distract it using your holy arrows. Do not engage it in melee unless you have no other option.”
The shadow-creature nodded, and in a rush of wind darted out toward the ruined rear entry.
Cal moved to the front entry to join Mole, when a loud crash from behind suggested that the battle had again shifted to their rear.
* * * * *
“Well, do we engage?” Viirdran asked, his rapiers balanced easily in his slender hands. The Cagewrights were still in the wood, having come off the road to approach the roadhouse from behind, though they were now close enough now to clearly see the rear of the building. Even from here they could feel the roar of the flames and taste the acrid smell of smoke thick on the air.
Even though they were not the targets of the creature, the veterans started as the balor suddenly reappeared in the midst of the ruins it had created, announcing its return with a loud roar.
“Mayhap we let the beast finish its assault,” Thifirane suggested, a feral grin on her features. “Then we go in and pick up the pieces. All of the pieces.”
“Their hearts will make interesting additions to my collection,” the armored warrior, Alurad Sorizan, said with a chuckle. The furry mound at his side, a massive dire badger, let out an accompanying growl.
“Await my signal to start the attack,” Thifirane continued. “Destroy the balor quickly… and then any others that remain.”
Cautiously, spreading out, they slowly approached the battlefield.
* * * * *
Ndulu materialized to find its two foes, the priestess and the tiefling, indeed where it had thought to find them, trying to aid their helpless companions. There were others here as well, another armored dwarf and a woman clad in the raiment of a high cleric of the god Helm. That last one Ndulu did not know, but it could instantly sense the power within her, as well as the fear that shone in her eyes as she looked up from where she knelt over that useless paladin.
But the Helmite’s companions did not hesitate, immediately launching a violent all-out assault upon the balor. The tiefling archer fired another one of those damnable holy arrows into the demon’s shoulder, but he’d already been luckier than he’d had a right to be, and his follow-up shot was more properly deflected by the still-coruscating potency of the unholy aura. The other woman, the servant of Selûne, tried to dismiss it in a gesture that was almost amusing in its futility.
The dwarf woman likewise gave her best effort, trying to smite him with an adamantine sword that the balor recognized (with some alarm, though it would never consciously admit such) had been infused with holy power. But her assault was equally useless, even the legendary hardness of the rare metal insufficient against its hide, infused with the essence of the darkest pits in the Abyss.
As she continued hacking at it in a foolish display of mulish persistence, the demon’s eyes focused on the high priestess. Something plinked against its shoulder, and the demon distantly noticed and dismissed the pathetic shadow-creation that hovered above, out of easy range.
Smiling, the demon uttered another blasphemy.
Solarious
Explorer
I wouldn't have it any other way.Lazybones said:Of course, that won't be the case this week.
Nuuuu! Mole is getting scared! Come'on, where is the Mole who would say "Ohhh! I want to do that!"? I need her to do something suitably insane and perhaps outright mad, like what happened with Hookface and the... err... 'sneak attack'.
I know you can pull the fat out of the fire! You can do it!
But only after it manages to kill Aurn first. I can't believe he hasn't died yet! Everyone needs to feel the clammy touch of Kelemvor sooner or later.
Lazybones
Adventurer
Chapter 403
Again a terrible word sundered the gap between realms, unleashing another wave of foul energy that struck the minds of the companions like a hammer. Dana, Benzan, and Beorna were struck down, as helpless as their friends lying around them.
The balor looked at the cleric, who had not succumbed to its fell power. Spell resistance, it thought, recognizing the magic she’d summoned to protect her.
So be it. It would not protect her against having her head separated from her shoulders.
The cleric rose, determination clearly warring with terror in her eyes, the former barely holding out as she held the paladin’s holy sword up—not as a weapon, but as a talisman against an evil she could not resist.
“You cannot use that against me,” the demon hissed, lifting its own terrible sword.
“It is enough that you fear it,” the woman said, presenting her holy symbol with her other hand, and speaking her own word of power.
Ndulu roared, recognizing too late what she meant, unable to resist the power of the banishment spell that sent it screaming back to the depths of the Abyss.
Jenya sagged back, worn by the brief but terrible struggle of wills against the demon lord, looking around at the destruction that surrounded her, feeling the heat of the flames that continued to burn around the exterior—and gradually into the interior—of the roadhouse. The place was doomed; a single look was enough to prove that.
She turned to her friends and their allies; they had to get out of here.
She staggered back, pain exploding through her shoulder as an arrow slammed into her. She looked up to see a group of figures emerging from the forest: a heavily armored man accompanied by a huge dire badger; a dark elf bearing a slender sword; three rail-thin elves who seemed to drift in and out of her view, as if her brain refused to recognize their presence. Behind them, she could just make out the archer who’d shot her, and another figure, wreathed in dark robes, a shadowy figure impossible to clearly discern. She felt some sort of magical attack impact her defenses, dissipating as it struck her spell resistance.
“Surrender, Jenya Urikas!” the armored man said. “The judgment of Adimarchus is upon thee!”
She glanced down at the helpless adventurers lying all around her, paralyzed, unable to intervene.
She was alone.
Again a terrible word sundered the gap between realms, unleashing another wave of foul energy that struck the minds of the companions like a hammer. Dana, Benzan, and Beorna were struck down, as helpless as their friends lying around them.
The balor looked at the cleric, who had not succumbed to its fell power. Spell resistance, it thought, recognizing the magic she’d summoned to protect her.
So be it. It would not protect her against having her head separated from her shoulders.
The cleric rose, determination clearly warring with terror in her eyes, the former barely holding out as she held the paladin’s holy sword up—not as a weapon, but as a talisman against an evil she could not resist.
“You cannot use that against me,” the demon hissed, lifting its own terrible sword.
“It is enough that you fear it,” the woman said, presenting her holy symbol with her other hand, and speaking her own word of power.
Ndulu roared, recognizing too late what she meant, unable to resist the power of the banishment spell that sent it screaming back to the depths of the Abyss.
Jenya sagged back, worn by the brief but terrible struggle of wills against the demon lord, looking around at the destruction that surrounded her, feeling the heat of the flames that continued to burn around the exterior—and gradually into the interior—of the roadhouse. The place was doomed; a single look was enough to prove that.
She turned to her friends and their allies; they had to get out of here.
She staggered back, pain exploding through her shoulder as an arrow slammed into her. She looked up to see a group of figures emerging from the forest: a heavily armored man accompanied by a huge dire badger; a dark elf bearing a slender sword; three rail-thin elves who seemed to drift in and out of her view, as if her brain refused to recognize their presence. Behind them, she could just make out the archer who’d shot her, and another figure, wreathed in dark robes, a shadowy figure impossible to clearly discern. She felt some sort of magical attack impact her defenses, dissipating as it struck her spell resistance.
“Surrender, Jenya Urikas!” the armored man said. “The judgment of Adimarchus is upon thee!”
She glanced down at the helpless adventurers lying all around her, paralyzed, unable to intervene.
She was alone.
Solarious
Explorer
True. And Cal should have a number of spells still in reserve... one disintegrate and a couple of other spells were cast, but nadda else. If he delays the Cagewights for a couple of rounds with creative uses of his spells, the Blasphemy should wear out and we can have a good'ole'fashioned chaotic brawl.Dungannon said:
As for Mole... invisible cartwheel charging gnomes can be particularly hazardous to one's good health...
And Jenya to the rescue! Yay for high level NPCs to help the heroes when things go sour.
Normally, NPC rescues are bad form... of course, the Cagewights are launching an offensive after they smashed into the ruins and came back battered, so not all is bad. Even the toughest of adventuring parties need -some- help at one point or another!Awaiting next chapter of hero pain!
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