Lazybones
Adventurer
Hey, thanks for the kudos, Eric! Glad you're enjoying the story. I've recently gotten back into SH reading (ENW is blocked at my job, so I DL the threads to text on my USB drive), and I've found some real gems of late. The only down side is that when I get sucked into someone else's story, I'm not writing mine.DSC-EricPrice said:For more than a couple of years now I thought story hour was home to PBeMs, and so never gave it much attention. This weekend however, I stumbled upon the beginning of this tale. In a word, your writing Lazybones is nothing less than
CAPTIVATING.
Don't believe me? I read as much as I absolutely could this weekend. Each time I set myself about going to take care of my chores I found some excuse to come back and read some more. Now I am 17 pages into the story, and eager to finish the rest.



Anyway, I promised my readers carnage this week... a post a day, starting now!
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Chapter 451
With a faint shimmer the two groups of companions materialized upon the bleached white expanse that was the summit of the great skull crag that dominated the center of Occipitus. They found themselves in the midst of the storm that enfolded the citadel, but instead of familiar rain and wind, they encountered only a strange darkening of the ambient light combined with a tickle of power that made the hairs on their arms and on the backs of their necks stand on end.
“Taint,” Arun said, drawing his holy sword. The paladin was a veritable beacon of magical buffs, focused upon him more than the others due to his ability to harm the demon prince with his holy sword. As for the others… well, their efficacy would have to be proven in the encounter. They had prepared their best weapons and tried tactics, but against this foe all were cognizant that their best may not be near enough.
Their misgivings about their method of transportation had proven unfounded as Dana and Morgan appeared a mere sixty feet or so away from Cal and the others, the hulking form of the marut and the sleeker figure of the zelekhut behind them. Each step made by the marut made the ground tremble beneath their feet.
“Well, there goes any chance of surprise,” Dannel said, as the two groups rejoined.
“There never was any chance,” Morgan said simply. “He knows that we are here.”
“Let us be about this, then,” Beorna said.
“Come,” Morgan said, leading them across the skull, toward the front side where a tendril of smoke rose up into the air from below, ahead of them out of sight beneath the curvature of the white summit.
“Watch your step,” Cal said, as the slope grew more treacherous. The zelekhaut unfurled segmented metallic wings from its back as a caution, while the marut simply plodded forward, its weight acting as an anchor, for now.
“Perhaps we should affix some ropes,” Dannel suggested, but before the others could comment Mole pointed to the destination Morgan was leading them to, a great crack in the surface of the skull, starting only a few inches across but widening to nearly ten feet by the time that it joined with one of the cavernous eye sockets that they knew connected to the Hall of the Flame below. On their last visit that opening had been filled with deadly plasms that issued regularly from the pillar, rising through the gap into the sky above. They had made an approach from this direction incredibly hazardous, but with the plasms gone their access to the interior of the citadel was currently open.
“Stay together, and I’ll use my feather fall to slow our descent,” Cal said, as they made their way carefully to the nearest point where the crack was wide enough to accommodate them.
They had already discussed their approach, and possible tactics, utilizing the best of their own skills, as well as the abilities of Morgan and his outsider allies. Peering through the gap, Mole reported that the great chamber below seemed empty. Arun confirmed that the Taint was strong here, an overwhelming aura that prevented him from singling out individual creatures. Morgan said that Adimarchus was here, close; perhaps waiting for them to show themselves before he made his appearance.
Most of the group dropped through the opening, using Cal’s spell to drift safely to the ground sixty feet beneath the crack. Dana remained aloft, using the magical powers of her boots to give her some distance from the others, while Cal slid through the crack and started walking on the upper side of the domed chamber, using his spider climb spell. The zelekhut likewise spread its wings and remained aloft, long spiked chains emerging from its wrists as it flew, while the marut merely drew upon its power and opened a dimension door directly to the chamber floor.
“Well, this is different,” Mole said, as she landed gently upon the floor.
The huge chamber was dominated, as before, by the swirling pillar of surging plasma flame that continued to issue black threads of smoke that rose up through the skull-eye into the sky above. But everything else about the place had been changed. Where on their last visit here the rest of the chamber had been barren, empty, now it was occupied by stone forms that appeared to have risen directly from the floor and the walls. These figures, of varying shapes and sizes, resembled statues or bas-reliefs, although their design was blocky, unfinished. It was as though a sculptor had begun work on each only to grow bored with the project, moving on to the next one. The only exception was the faces; these were captured in perfect detail, almost as if they had been cast from the original living models and used to carve incredibly detailed reproductions. There were dozens of them, forming an intermittent forest throughout the chamber.
“Cagewrights,” Dannel said, recognizing some of the faces.
“Umm… I think this one’s Arun,” Mole said, indicating a squat form that did indeed seem to resemble the dwarf. The sculpture’s helm hid most of its face, but they could see that its jaws were spread wide, frozen in a silent scream. They found other familiar faces; the Heroes of Cauldron were all represented, captured in expressions of turmoil and torment. A short distance away they encountered a winged, skeletal form that could only have been the Dark Myrakul, and across from it, a robed figure that bore the face of Jenya Urikas, her face twisted into an evil scowl.
“Blasphemy,” Beorna said, turning away from the figure of her slain superior.
“Madness,” Cal said, as they spread out across the room. “These would be the faces of those who touched him—or whom he touched—in his captivity.”
“I don’t like this,” Mole said, staring at a depiction of herself that was little more than a piteous ball, her face peering upward from the compressed mass of stone, looking small and utterly alone.
“Stay alert,” Morgan warned. “I sense His presence here.”
On the far side of the room, facing the pillar of fire, a great throne of stone had formed out of the floor. In front of the seat was another stone figure… no, two of them, they saw, half-melted into each other. They looked vaguely humanoid, but with misshapen features; it was difficult to determine more, as they were formed in a supplicant pose, bent over on their knees before the empty stone throne. Lok knelt briefly beside the pair, noting that while their bodies were indistinctly represented, both had six fingers on each hand.
“Adimarchus! we have come for you!” Morgan cried, his voice echoing throughout the chamber.
“Wonderful,” Dannel said, tensing his bow, a cold iron arrow already fitted to the string.
Behind the throne something stirred.
“The staircase!” Mole warned, directing them to the chamber’s only exit, other than the opening through which they’d entered.
A slithering sound accompanied by the clink of metal announced the arrival of a familiar foe. The marilith Byakala moved forward slowly into the light, her six swords held in a ready position, forming a ring of steel around her body.
The warriors and the inevitables moved to face the demoness, forming a half-circle on the near side of the stone throne.
“Byakala!” Cal said, the gnome’s voice echoing through the chamber from high above. “You don’t have to do this… we’ve come to destroy Adimarchus! Join us, and you can be free!”
The marilith’s expression was almost one of regret. “I was never truly free, so long as He existed,” she said.
Lifting her swords high, she unleashed a keening wail that combined rage and despair.