Shackled City Epic: "Vengeance" (story concluded)

[Lazybones]

Chapter 423

What had started as a random encounter with a pack of demons had suddenly gotten a lot more serious, as the nalfeshnee ensnared three of the companions with its fell power.

The nalfeshnee wasn’t taking any chances, flying farther back, calling more aid to its cause. The air around it shimmered as it drew upon the power of the Abyss, opening into a pair of rifts that disgorged another pair of vrocks. The summoned demons let out loud screeches, happy to join the developing battle. One dove at Lok, clawing at him, while the second dove at the rug, which had nearly settled to the ground. As soon as it had gotten close enough, it let out an ear-splitting screech, but the companions were able to resist its effect.

The other vrocks dove in to exploit their advantage, except for the three that continued their mad dance above. Cal, recognizing the danger of that ritual, opened his mouth to issue a warning, but before he could speak another diving vrock let out another screech, and he fell onto his back, stunned.

Dana, hovering in the air about twenty feet above the ground, drew the attention of the other two diving vrocks. Surrounded by mirror images, they looked like a horde of demons, and they quickly flanked her, eagerly tearing with claws and bite. The priestess had called upon the divine power of Selûne, but her weapons were not enhanced to pierce the demons’ damage resistance, nor did she have another spell with the potency of the holy word.

So she did the only prudent thing, and dimension doored to a safe distance.

Arun drew his holy sword, but the vrocks kept their distance, tormenting him with evil cackles and cruel hisses. They could feel the power building above them even if the mortals could not, and they waited for the power of their fellows to be unleashed. Beside him, Beorna uttered a prayer to Helm, whose blessing reached across the planes to fortify them and hinder their enemies. She then crossed over to Dannel, grabbing the dazed elf’s quiver with its cargo of holy arrows.

“These might have more effect!” she said to Arun, as she and the paladin stepped off from the carpet onto more stable ground. The vrocks above continued pacing them, but did not immediately attack; they were joined a moment later by the two that had threatened Dana. All now were protected by mirror images, and had infused themselves with heroism. Another issued a shriek, and while the dwarves again resisted it, Cal was again stricken, unable to move.

“What are they waiting for?” Beorna asked, firing through a mirror image.

Her question was answered a few seconds later. When the dance of the vrocks reached its height, a terrible sound filled the air, like a roll of tough fabric being ripped apart. A wave of sizzling energy spread outward from the three linked vrocks, enveloping all of the companions, with the exception of Dana, in its radius. Each of the companions was blasted by the terrible energies of that wave, and while no one was killed outright, even the dwarves found themselves hard hit by the effect. Before they could fully recover the rest of the vrocks were upon them, diving and clawing with all four of their taloned limbs. The dwarves held their ground, laying about them with their swords. One of the vrocks dove onto the carpet, where Cal was just beginning to stir from the effects of the demons’ terrible cries. It seized hold of him roughly and started to lift him into the air. Arun quickly leapt to the gnome’s aid, charging into the vrock, smiting it in the back with his holy sword. The vrock immediately dropped the gnome and teleported away.

Beorna found herself hard-pressed as two vrocks tore at her. Her adamantine armor and inherent toughness made it difficult from the vrocks to seriously harm her, but they had her flanked, and both released clouds of spores that sifted through the small openings in her mail, burrowing painfully into her flesh. One vrock nailed her with a claw that snagged in her visor, piercing her forehead and nearly taking out her eye. She was already reeling from the energy blast from the dance of ruin, and could not take much more punishment. Her own counterattacks struck images, and the demons laughed at the futility of her counterattacks.

But the templar was not alone. Lying on his back, Cal tossed a dispel magic into the midst of the vrocks. Their magical powers sloughed off of them, with mirror images vanishing from two, and a third seeming to fade slightly as its heroism was removed. Screeching in anger, the demons redoubled their attacks, hoping to overcome the dwarves through brute force. They were reinforced by the three diving down from their aerial dance, conjuring added defenses as they came.

Once the true location of her foe was revealed, Beorna did not hesitate. Channeling the power of Helm into her sword, she smote the demon that had struck her, taking off the arm that had struck her just below the shoulder. The demon screeched and started to fall back, but having bled her opponent she was not going to let it get away that easily. Her follow-up strike was a thrust that tore into its belly, disemboweling it. The demon’s screams turned into gurgling hisses as it collapsed to the ground, flopping about as it bled out the last of its life.

Arun was hit in the back as a vrock tore at him with claws and bite in a violent fury. The paladin merely took the hits, letting the demon get its fill of him before he abruptly turned and tore into it with a full attack. This demon too paid the price for the loss of its mirror images, and within a few seconds it joined its comrade bleeding out upon the cracked Carcerian soil.

During the entire battle with the vrocks, no further attacks had been forthcoming from the nalfeshnee. The reason for this was the running battle that the demon had been engaged in with Dana. After opening her dimension door to take it out from the grasp of the vrocks, she’d reappeared a few hundred feet behind the giant demon. Its back had been to her, but she quickly got its attention with a flame strike that ravaged it despite its inherent resistance to fire. Turning, the demon countered with a dispel that canceled the power of her boots, sending her plummeting to the ground. Fortunately she hadn’t been that far up, only about sixty feet off the ground, but even so she landed hard, collapsing into a roll that ended with her dusty and bruised, but alive.

Looking up, she saw that the demon wasn’t quite finished with her yet. It hurled its power at her, seeking to destroy her reason, but the attack slid effortlessly off of the iron discipline of her mind.

Nice try, demon, she thought, forcing her battered body to obey her commands as she pulled herself to her feet. The demon was trying another tack, and as she started limping away—let it think it’s got me—a bolt of lightning shot down from the clear skies above, slamming painfully into her back right between her shoulder blades.

“Okay, that’s it,” she said. The demon had not fallen for her ruse, and indeed had pulled away some, and was now pretty far away. But not far enough, as she fired a beam of searing light that blasted into its chest. For the already battered demon, it was too much, and it fell to the ground to land in a massive rumble of dust and sound.

Dana could see that vrocks were still swarming over her friends, and saw the familiar glow of Arun’s sword as the paladin fought them off. Ignoring the stabbing pains that continued to shoot up her legs, she called upon the power of her boots again, and lifted off into the sky toward the battle.

She saw Lok, still floating in the air, caught up in the aftereffects of the nalfeshnee’s stun. He did not look to be seriously hurt; the vrock that had been attacking him had returned to where it had come from, its summons by the greater demon having expired. She flew on, approaching the area near the grounded magic carpet where Arun and Beorna were still fighting against the remnants of the demon forces.

The demons were losing, she saw. Only their mirror images were keeping the last few vrocks in the fight; two had already been brought down, and while the dwarves looked to have taken a beating they fought on with indefatigable vigor. And the rest of her friends were recovering from the effects of the nalfeshnee’s smite; as she drew near she saw Dannel shake his head, reaching for his bow.

Hoping to tilt the odds more in their favor, she cast a dispel magic onto the battle, trying to focus the center of the spell high enough so as to catch up the vrocks in its effect without stripping any remaining buffs from her companions.

She needn’t have bothered; the demons were already growing tired of this fight which had claimed a number of their fellows, including their leader, without much in the way of result for their side. As Arun connected with one demon, nearly taking off its left leg, the four demons let out a loud but non-magical screech and without further preamble teleported away.

“Is everyone okay?” Cal asked, scratching his arms where some of the vrock spores had taken root and started to burrow into his flesh.

They’d all taken a beating, especially from the blast from the dance of ruin. Beorna nearly collapsed a few moments after the vrocks departed, her entire body aflame with the painful infection of vrock spores across her face, arms, and upper torso. Already thin tangles of vine-like growths dangled from her skin. Arun and Lok were likewise affected, but Dana purged them with a bless spell that killed the spores and caused the painful affliction to ease. After that it was a simple matter of applying healing, which all of them sorely needed.

“Well, we survived the welcoming committee,” Beorna said when they were done, cleaning her blade of demonic ichor. They spent a few minutes cleaning off the magical carpet as best they could, and then piled back aboard, carefully resorting their stores to make sure that nothing fell off the edges.

“This was just a roving band, probably opportunistic raiders,” Cal said. “What we really have to worry about are the organized groups. We’ll have to be extra careful from here on out.”

Dannel shuddered. Neither he nor Mole or Lok spoke of the things they’d seen while under the effects of the nalfeshnee’s power, and no one pressed them on the matter.

Leaving yet another bloody battlefield behind them, the companions rose up into the air upon their magical conveyance, and soon were on their way once more. Mole glanced back, once, at the bloody wreckage that had been eight demons, already just vague mounds on the blasted plain.

“Wherever we go, it always seems to end the same way,” she sighed.

“We brave evil in its den, so that others may live without experiencing what we just did,” Arun said.

Beorna nodded. “We’ll teach these bastards what it means to interfere in the lives of those under our care,” she said, her eyes as sharp as the adamantine steel of her sword.

 

[Lazybones]

Chapter 424

“Ah, but there are so many asylums on Carceri,” the cambion said, leaning back in a chair that creaked alarmingly to hold his bulk. He made a gesture with one a finger topped by a three-inch, lacquered nail, and the succubus standing at his left shoulder popped a white globe roughly the size of an eyeball into his mouth. To his right stood a massive minotaur with glowing red eyes, who had stared menacingly at the intruders since the beginning of the interview. “I would so love to help you, my dear, but you understand how these things are.” He shrugged, the movement causing the layers of fat draped down from his bloated neck to jiggle unpleasantly.

“We are grateful for your time, master Cymberion,” Dana said. “If we were referred to you in error, then I certainly apologize for disturbing you. If, however, your superior recollection can direct us to the particular locale we seek, then we would be most grateful.” The priestess made her own gesture, and Cal quickly stepped forward, laying a small package of scrolls onto the low table that separated them from the cambion and his entourage.

The cambion leaned slightly forward, even the small movement requiring an obvious effort from the bloated fiend. He shifted the scrolls with a long fingernail, enough for him to read the names of the spells written in Cal’s neat hand on the outside of the parchment.

“Hmm… yes, well, I am sympathetic to your plight, as you may well understand. I myself had a cousin who was wrongfully imprisoned over a trifling matter, some decades ago. A terrible inconvenience! But let me see, let me see…” He touched his chin with a long nail, displacing a fold of bloated flesh. But he also made a subtle movement with his eyes, and a rail-thin figure clad entirely in black—they never did discover his race or particular purpose—detached himself from the wall of the cramped booth and quickly moved to the curtained entry, standing where he could scan the rest of the tavern outside.

Cymberion leaned forward conspiratorily, his belly flopping out over the edge of the table. Dana leaned forward as well, although she had to will herself not to gag at the demon-spawn’s foul breath, which smelled like the inside of a sewer.

“Skullrot is not easily found, my dear. Its master cloaks it in a powerful dweomer… one does not stumble upon it, nor can one utilize the… usual spells of location-finding to discern its location. Indeed, the only way I have heard of reaching it is to be escorted there by one who knows the way.”

Dana’s gaze dropped down to the scrolls in the middle of the table, and the cambion, observing the gesture, was quick to continue. “Now, there might be someone who can be of assistance to you, I think. Have you heard of Harrowfell? Ah, no matter, I can easily direct you to that place; many of my clients make use of the shattered stone that is the citadel’s most prominent feature. Its current owner is a marilith named Byakala. She has a certain… shall we say, interest in the most famous resident of Skullrot, and it is quite likely that she knows its location.”

Cal and Dana shared a look; they had a good idea to whom the cambion was referring.

Dana stood back, her manner indicating that she considered the exchange acceptable. “Very well, master Cymberion. If you could direct your instructions to my valet… I thank you for your time, and trust that your discretion in this matter will be up to its reputed standard.”

The cambion nodded. The scrolls had disappeared somewhere; it was probably best not to dwell upon where the creature had hidden them. “Of course, my dear. I hope that we will have the opportunity to do business again, if your interests bring you back to Carceri.”

The succubus knelt beside Cal and whispered in his ear; from the way that the gnome flushed it was clear that she’d passed on more than just the location of the marilith’s hold. Then the black-clad figure drew aside the curtain and ushered them out, so quickly that they barely had time to glance back before the heavy black fabric was drawn shut behind them. The others stood as they reappeared in the back of the tavern’s common room; a few nearby fiends cast idle glances their way, but no one took any further action to hinder them.

“Let’s get out of here,” Cal said.

They made their way out of the crowded tavern back to the main hall of the Bastion of Lost Hope. The fortress was really a small town, a sprawling complex packed into the space within the massive black basalt walls. The three warriors formed a wedge in front of the others, moving those who did not make way for their party with hard looks bolstered by a few inches of drawn steel. They did not speak until they were clear of the gatehouse, warded by a pair of goristro demons that cast hard looks at them. Even then, the companions did not linger. The citadel was located on a wide shelf nestled in between a range of ugly black peaks, within a range of mountains it had taken them two hours to ascend even with the magic carpet. Oddly, the temperature was exactly the same as it had been in the lowlands, obviously this place did not follow the rules of their home-plane with regards to geography and climate.

“We have a destination,” Cal told the others. “But we’ve been on Carceri now for at least ten hours, with a battle to boot; we need rest, first.” Dana opened her mouth to speak, but thought better of it, shaking her head and turning away.

“I take it we are not going to take advantage of the high-class accommodations available in the Bastion,” Dannel said.

“Something tells me that folk don’t sleep too soundly in there,” Cal said. “No, let’s take the carpet back down to that valley we passed on our ascent. Then, we’ll see if the prized possession of the Harper High Mage meets our needs.”

 

[Lazybones]

Chapter 425

On Carceri, there was no cycle of night and day, so the sky outside was exactly the same ugly shade of red and brown as the companions rose from their rest and gathered in the lower chamber of their citadel for the “morning” meal. Dana had prepared a heroes’ feast for them, so at least the provisions were of exceptional quality, particularly by Carcerian standards.

“We could have really used this, back in the early days,” Lok said, running a hand along the smooth black stone.

“Indeed,” Cal said. “But instant fortresses are not cheap, nor are they easy to come by. In fact, when he learned where we were planning on taking his, Jarthel almost demanded it back. I had to turn over the drow’s spellbook, and both of Rhiavati’s books, to him as security before he’d agree.”

“The Harpers owe us,” Dana said. “We would have done at least as much for them, if it had been Jarthel, or Cylaria, who’d been dragged off to another plane as a captive.”

“So what is the plan for today?” Arun asked.

“The cambion gave us enough specific information for us to teleport directly to Harrowfell,” Cal said.

“You trust that… creature?” Beorna asked.

“Of course not. But it’s the only good lead we have. Based on the reactions we got from others at the Bastion when we asked about Skullrot, I think that we’re not likely to get better information.”

“No one wants to mess with a Prince,” Arun said. “Especially not one holding a god captive.”

“First a cambion, then a marilith,” Beorna said, her expression sour. “These creatures are for spitting upon holy blades, not for coy words and deals. They are corrupt, and negotiating with them only invites their corruption to spread.”

“I like it little better than you… less, likely, since I had to treat with that grotesque monstrosity directly,” Dana said. “But it is but a means to the end we seek.”

“A philosophy of chaos,” Beorna scowled.

“You knew what we were about here when you agreed to join us, templar,” Dana said, not giving one inch in the argument. “Yesterday you agreed to play your role, and now you question the morality of it?”

Beorna glanced over at Arun. “You have been silent for some time, paladin of Moradin. Does my understanding of the Soul Forger’s creed reflect an erroneous view of its dogma? Do I stand alone with my concern?”

Arun met her gaze squarely, although there was feeling in his eyes as he regarded her. “Long have I had to follow my own path, alone. Thus I have had to learn to interpret the doctrines of my faith according to the commands of my heart, rather than the theological dicta of the high clerics. I am not disciple of moral relativism, nor do I believe in the whim of the moment as justification for actions that violate my beliefs. But I do not feel shame in what I have done.”

“Perhaps you would feel more comfortable wading through the blood of a neverending sea of fiends,” Dannel said. “For you could swing your sword until your strength gave out, Beorna, and not make a dent in the evil of this place. It is only prudence to use stealth and cunning, rather than brute strength, in these circumstances.”

Beorna’s expression darkened. “I am not a fool, elf…”

“Friends,” Cal said. “We cannot afford to drive a wedge between us, not here, not now, even if that wedge is merely one of words and ideology. I agree that allowing ourselves to compromise our beliefs is a dangerous path, and one best avoided. Believe me, templar… I understand whereof I speak; this is not the first time that we have sojourned to the Lower Planes. But I will respond to you now as I did to my companions then. It is not right to fight evil with evil. We cannot descend to become what we fight, in the name of justice. But we face a foe of unspeakable power and utter depravity. Adimarchus has already nearly cast our home into an apocalypse of planar war. If he escapes his prison, lost in his madness, I fear for what dark days may follow.”

The conversation ended on that note, and the companions completed the meal and busied themselves with their preparations. Weapons and spell components were checked and double-checked, and then the company followed Cal out of the citadel onto the surrounding plain. A word of command from the gnome archmage caused the instant fortress to collapse upon itself in a matter of seconds, leaving a small black cube that he placed into an inner pocket of his tunic.

“Everyone ready?” he asked. They formed into their two groups, around him and Dana. They cast their usual suite of protective spells, joined hands, and then the spellcasters teleported them to the next destination in their journey.

Harrowfell was an ugly tower, perhaps ten paces across, squatting atop a stone bluff overlooking a blank, desolate landscape that extended to the horizon in every direction. The travelers from Faerûn materialized near the entrance, perhaps thirty paces from the dark archway that served as an entry to the tower. The place had an odd texture to it, which resolved into a quick realization from the companions that filled even their veteran composures with disgust.

“Armor, weapons, and bones,” Dannel said.

“An odd material for construction,” Cal said.

“I can feel the Taint from here,” Arun said. “Fiends nearby.”

“Well, let us not keep them waiting then,” Cal replied, starting toward the dark archway.

There was no stirring from the black maw of the tower, or any other sign that their arrival had been noted, as they crossed the bluff to the entrance. Up close the tower seemed even more menacing, and they hesitated for a moment there.

“Perhaps our… bodyguards… should wait here,” Cal suggested quietly.

“We stick together,” Beorna said, although her expression indicated what she thought of this venture.

They had not bothered with a veil this time; the marilith would be able to see through such magic with ease. They had, however, agreed to conceal any overt sighs of their faith or allegiances, another gesture that had not improved Beorna’s mood but which was so patently necessary here that even she could not dissent. With Cal in the lead, they entered the tower.

The place was empty save for a nine foot, v-shaped spike of black stone that appeared to have been jammed into the ground here like a dagger. The split stone oddly reflected the weak light that filtered in from outside, and when the eye turned away from it there seemed to be hints of movement briefly visible in its sheen.

“Fiends, on the walls,” Dannel warned, just loud enough for them all to hear. They looked up and saw them, babau and hezrou demons hanging from the interior walls of the tower, hissing warnings at the intruders upon seeing that they’d been detected. One babau shifted and a fat drop of red ichor dropped from it to land sizzling on the ground by their feet.

Why come you to Harrowfell? a voice echoed in their minds. They turned as a sibilant hiss of movement drew their attention to the sundered stone, around which a terrible monstrosity became visible. The marilith seemed to grow out of nothingness; the stone clearly wasn’t large enough to conceal her, yet there she was, coming around it into view. Her upper body was that of a woman, but her six arms and fiendish visage instantly ended any parallels that one might draw to a mortal creature. Each hand held a black-bladed sword with a jagged cutting edge, and behind her trailed the rest of her body, a mottled gray and black serpent’s tail that trailed for nearly twenty feet behind her. Her considerable presence filled the place, a power that whispered obedience and submission to her will. She was nearly nine feet tall, and they had to crane their necks to look into her black eyes.

“You do not belong here,” she said, her swords clinking slightly together as she moved, forming a crossing pattern of steel in front of her body. At her words, the demons above began to laugh, an eerie cackle that filled the confines of the tower.

“Uh oh,” Mole said.

 

[Lazybones]

Chapter 426

“I agree with your assessment, Lady Byakala,” Cal said, stepping forward. “But nevertheless, we have not come seeking a confrontation. Your citadel and your stone there are quite renown here on Carceri; a fiend at the Bastion recommended you to us.”

“The fee for its use is a minor magical item of a specified value, or a living humanoid, per individual use.” The marilith chuckled, sensing the discomfort that her words had provoked in them, especially the dwarves. There was some movement among the demons hanging above; possibly a preparation for an attack.

“We do not seek to use the stone,” Dana said.

The marilith regarded her coldly. “You would not be wise to attempt your powers upon me, priestess,” she said. She drew herself up to her full height, almost eclipsing the magical stone beside her. “I do not enjoy parlay with clients, and even less intrusions by those who have no purpose here. Speak your business, so I may be quit of you.”

Dana and Cal shared a look, but it was Arun, to their surprise, who stepped forward. The paladin was not a diplomat like Dana or brilliant arcanist like Cal, but he had the ability to weigh the moods and words of others, and he could likewise sense the growing tension between the two groups here that could explode into chaos at any instant. “We seek Skullrot,” he said plainly. “We were told that you might know its location.”

The marilith did not bother to hide her reaction to the name. “Much depends on your reply to this next question,” she hissed. “Why do you seek the asylum?”

For a moment the demoness and the paladin stood facing each other, the others on both sides deferring to the two who weighed each other, each evaluating what they could of the motives of the other. Finally, Arun said, “A companion of ours was taken by those who serve Adimarchus. We have reason to believe that he has been taken there.”

“So the Dreaming God is your enemy, then?”

Arun hesitated again before replying, but this time the marilith was inscrutable, giving no clue as to her own feelings. Dana finally said, “We do not wish to see him escape from his bonds.”

The marilith chuckled. “Nor do I, priestess. Nor do I.”

She turned, her massive body trailing behind her as she slipped around the far edge of the broken shaft. “The masters of Skullrot will not be as… welcoming… as I have been.”

“We are determined,” Arun said, and there was nothing but truth in his voice.

“So I see. Well then, perhaps… perhaps we can reach terms.”

The demons hanging from the walls seemed a bit disappointed, but the companions were relieved as the immediate tension ebbed somewhat. The negotiations with Byakala lasted nearly an hour, and ended with the companions handing over another portion of their magical wealth, in the form of another pair of scrolls and an attuned gemstone from Dana. In truth, the price was lower than they’d expected, and afterward Cal had suggested that the marilith likely had some sort of grudge against the current owners of the prison.

“It may be a trick,” Dannel said, later, as they sped over the blasted wasteland that was Carceri. To increase their speed and save time, only half of the companions rode upon the magic carpet; Dana, Arun, and Beorna were all wind walking alongside, easily pacing the slower magical conveyance. With the lightened load the carpet was able to manage a higher speed, and they elected this time to travel at a higher altitude, trading a wider line of sight for the greater risk of drawing attention from aerial predators.

“Perhaps,” Cal said. “Demons are certainly master liars, and I doubt any of us would have been able to tell if she was weaving falsehoods. But they do understand power, and I think that she knew that we have a good share of it ourselves. It looks like she’s made quite a fief for herself around that magical stone, and I doubt that she’d be willing to give it up unless it were necessary. If I were in her place, I’d not want to risk having us return to Harrowfell seeking blood.”

“Perhaps,” the elf said, but he didn’t look convinced as they continued their progress high above the surface of Carceri.

But this day luck was with them, and they detected nothing either in the air or upon the ground below as they made their way steadily in the direction that Byakala had indicated. The demoness had scoffed at Cymberion’s contention that the place could only be found by one who had already visited; the site of the citadel was real and stable enough, she said; it was just magical detection that was thwarted by the potent enchantment laid upon it. The landmarks that the marilith had described were easy enough to follow.

Almost twelve hours had passed since leaving Harrowfell when their route took them over a vast swamp. The stench of rot reached them even flying hundreds of feet above the ground, and the misshapen growths of diseased trees jutting from the mire seemed to be clawing at them, frustrated by their inability to reach into the sky and draw them down into their embrace.

“I am real glad we don’t have to walk through that,” Mole said, bending out over the edge of the carpet to look down at the landscape passing below.

“We’re going to need to stop soon,” Cal said, looking over at the insubstantial forms of Dana and the warriors floating through the air nearby. Those on the carpet could take turns resting, but those under Dana’s spell had no such luxury.

“Look!” Dannel said, pointing at the swamp ahead of them.

Peering through the murk, they could see what the elf had detected, sprawled across the swamp, half-buried in mucky pools and stacked atop muddy hillocks.

“Demodand bodies. Lots of ‘em,” Mole said.

“It looks like a battle was fought here, not too long ago,” Lok said.

“I wonder why,” Mole said.

“The army of fiends,” Dannel said.

“Yes,” Cal said, knowingly. “We must be nearing the place where the gate between worlds was to be opened by the Ritual of Planar Joining.”

“I don’t understand,” Mole said.

“When the portal failed to open, the fiends must have turned on each other,” Cal said. “While not as chaotic as demons, demodands are nevertheless nasty, cruel, and selfish. No doubt they were gathered here with promises of a new world to conquer, an escape from this,” he said, indicating the whole of their surroundings with a wave of his hand. “Bring this many together, and then disappoint them…”

“It looks like there were thousands of them,” Mole said.

“Good thing they didn’t make it through to Faerûn,” Dannel said.

“Indeed,” Lok agreed.

They progressed further over the landscape, holding their noses against the smell of decay and corruption that rose up off the battlefield in waves. The swamp seemed endless, stretching out over the horizon as far as they could see in any direction. Cal called out to Dana, urging her to join them upon the carpet, but the wind walking priestess ignored him, drifting out ahead of them, all but forcing the dwarves and the others to follow her.

“Stubborn,” Cal grumbled.

“I think we can all understand her feelings,” Lok commented quietly. “She remembers Delem…”

Cal nodded.

“There’s something ahead,” Dannel said, drawing their attention forward once again. It was not long until they could all see what the sharp-eyed elf had spotted, rising up out of the swamp ahead in the distance.

It was a citadel, obviously massive even from their current range, growing exponentially more impressive as they drew closer. The place was set atop an outcropping of rock that rose up out of the swamp. In the garish half-light of the Carcerian sky the place had the look of baked adobe, rather than cold stone. Skullrot comprised a thick central core, rising high up into the sky like a tower, before splitting into four spires that curved outward before coming back together, bending to almost touch several hundred feet above the mire below. Black gobs hung on the sides of the structure, resolving into iron cages that appeared to be fixed to the exterior walls at random intervals. Those cages moved, slightly, although there was no wind.

There was sound, at first a vague stir on the air, becoming a cacophony of screams and mad gibberish that grew louder as they drew closer. It was as if the walls of the citadel were porous, allowing the noise to pass through clearly, and Cal grimly stated that it was not an illusion; what they were hearing was coming from inside the place.

Skullrot.

They had arrived at their destination.

 

[Neverwinter Knight]

Wow - I come back from vacation to find the story has progressed to Skullrot! Great description of the place, Lazybones. I don't remember dungeon mag. being so vivid.

Also, I am surprised they did not have another violent encounter beyond the first demons. Or maybe it is here that their luck has run out ?!?


Keep 'em coming!!!

 

[Krafus]

Wow, there's been a lot of updates... I liked the battle between the heroes and the demons. Btw, is Skullrot the final dungeon?

 

[Lazybones]

Also, I am surprised they did not have another violent encounter beyond the first demons. Or maybe it is here that their luck has run out ?!?

I was going to include the encounter with demodands and the aasimar paladin en route, but decided that was ultimately "filler" and decided to get straight to the finale.

Btw, is Skullrot the final dungeon?

Let's just say that there are a few loose ends that haven't been wrapped up yet.

Update on Monday.

 

[Lazybones]

I wrote a bit today, first time in nearly a month. It was only about half a page, but hopefully now that my summer night class is (mostly) written out and formatted the way I want it, I may have more time to put into the story every now and again. Normally I try to write at least a little bit every day; after putting it down for a while it's hard to begin again, so I usually have to force it a bit. But the stuff I wrote today wasn't too bad, although like anything written "cold" it will probably take some revisions before you guys end up seeing it here. I just finished a MAJOR project at work, and while I have a few other things on my plate, at least the intensity of the last few weeks has ebbed somewhat.

All the stuff I'm posting now is about two months old. Today we set the scene... things are going to happen pretty quickly for a while, starting...

now.

* * * * *

Chapter 427

“Look, Dana and the others are landing,” Lok said.

Cal guided the carpet down to the hillock of exposed, muddy earth that the wind walkers were descending toward. A narrow, treacherous path led up the outcropping, although the only possible entrance that they could see was a narrow balcony that jutted out over the swamp; they’d need the carpet to get up there.

“Not very welcoming,” Cal mused.

Dana materialized, followed by Arun and Beorna. As soon as her body had returned to substantial form she collapsed, falling to her knees in the mud, sucking in tired breaths. Arun, somewhat better off due to his considerable dwarven fortitude, moved to help her, but she held him at bay with an outstretched hand.

Cal had the carpet hover a foot or two above the muddy ground, close enough to the others to reach out and touch them. “We need to rest,” he said. “We should head off, find a place to erect the fortress. The inhabitants of the place have seen us, no doubt, but that cannot be helped.”

“No,” Dana said, gaining control enough to look up, although she as yet did not try to rise. “We go in, now.”

“Dana, don’t be a fool,” Cal said. “You can barely stand, and the dwarves, for all their strength, are surely little better off. And even those of us who rode the carpet all day need sleep…”

“Benzan is in there,” Dana said, plainly. “I understand what you are saying, and I know the wisdom of your words. But rested or not, we cannot afford to wait. As you said, they know we are coming, and we cannot give them more time to take him away from us.”

Cal looked at her, and then at the faces of his friends.

“I suppose you are going to tell me that you are going ahead, whether or not we elect to join you,” the gnome said sardonically.

Dana did not respond, but her feelings were clear in her eyes; she could not have concealed them if she’d wanted to.

Cal sighed. “So be it,” he said. “But we go in prepared.”

“And not alone,” Dana said.

The priestess cast spells of restoration to purge herself and Arun of their fatigue; Beorna used her own magic to do the same. Dana then began the familiar invocation of aid that would draw a powerful celestial to this place. The others kept watch while she cast her spell, scanning the surrounding swamp, their gazes drawn constantly back to the shadowy fortress that rose up out of the murk behind them. The light of Carceri was a constant, but down here at ground level, a dense miasma not unlike a brown fog hung in the air, blurring the outlines of anything more than a few yards distant. The air was foul, but at least it offered them some degree of concealment.

Dana’s summoning drew on for minutes, but finally she threw down her hands in exasperation. “There is no response,” she said. “I do not understand; I can feel the link to Selûne, strong even in this place. The spell should work.”

“I can call upon helpers, when it comes to it,” Cal said.

“Whatever potions or other limited-use items you have, don’t be afraid to use them,” Dannel said, drawing out and consuming a long-lasting potion of barkskin. Arun invoked a magic circle against evil.

“Dana,” Cal said, stepping over to the priestess, who was enchanting another quiver of arrows for the warriors.

She did not turn to him. “Don’t say it, Cal.”

“Dana,” he repeated, his tone firm, his voice compelling her to acknowledge him.

“We have to get him back.”

“We are all in agreement on that. But you’re the only one who can get us out of here… and you’re the only one who can bring a fallen friend back to life. We all depend on you, Dana.”

“I am not going to throw my life away!” she said, angrily. Seeing everyone look up, before turning quickly back to their preparations, she took a deep breath and looked down at him again. “All right, you’ve made your point,” she said. “I will not fail in my obligation to the group.”

“I know you won’t,” he said, touching her on the arm. “Come, let’s go.”

They boarded the carpet, which again sagged under their combined weight, and at Cal’s command rose up above the swamp toward Skullrot. As they drew closer, the sound of screams from inside became almost overwhelming. They could see that the cages contained skeletons and zombies, twisting uselessly within their prisons, reaching through the bars toward the carpet bearing the companions.

“Remember your training, and your experience,” Cal said softly. “Rely on the others, and work as a team.”

“Take out the leaders first, and then worry about the grunts,” Dannel added, testing his bowstring. In addition to his magical quiver, he’d hung a backup quiver full of holy arrows from his belt, secured to his thigh by a length of leather cord.

“Helm watch over us,” Beorna said, running a length of cloth over the black adamantine length of her sword. At that moment, it was difficult to determine whether blade or woman was stronger. Arun reached out and clasped his hand on her armored arm; after a moment she covered it with her own. Within their helmets, their eyes could not been seen, so the others could not know what passed between them in that moment.

“Hold on, Benzan,” Dana mouthed silently, her eyes focused on some vague point ahead of them.

“Hoo, boy, this is exciting!” Mole said, hopping up and down on the edge of the carpet.

They reached the edge of the balcony, and quickly dismounted. Cal commanded the carpet to cease flight, and Lok and Arun quickly rolled it up. It was bulky, but carefully rolled it fit into Lok’s spacious bag of holding. Of course, that also meant that it could not be accessed quickly if needed again.

Up close, they could see that the fortress was constructed from an insane composite of skulls, all of varying size and shape. The place had to include literally millions of them, held together by some sort of resin. They didn’t need to test to know that the result was likely more durable than any masonry construction, and the skulls allowed the sound from within to pass through, explaining why they had heard the cries of Skullrot’s inmates earlier. This close the noise was almost deafening, but the companions steeled themselves to the suffering in those plaintive cries.

There was a single heavy metal door in the wall before them. Mole checked it quickly for traps, shooting them a thumbs-up before turning invisible.

Dana had used her discern location and greater scrying spells again that morning, in Cal’s magical fortress. Again Benzan had been reported at Skullrot, although the spell was not more specific, and this time she had attempted to scry Embril Aloustinai, without success. Dana still had her locate object spell, and she cast it now, focusing on one of Benzan’s possessions.

“Inside,” she said, after a moment. Arun and Beorna moved to flank the door, while Lok approached it, his axe tucked under his shield arm, in easy reach.

“Ready?” the genasi asked, his voice soft, even.

One by one, the others nodded.

Lok opened the door, and the seven companions from Faerûn entered Skullrot.

 

[Elemental]

A question that just occurred to me. When Zenna went into Mystic Theurge, you said you thought the class was overpowered, and having a character in the story take it was a way of seeing how it panned out in practice. What do you think?

 

[Neverwinter Knight]

It's good to hear you starting to pick up the story again! You have sure spoiled us readers with your constant update schedule...