Neverwinter Knight
First Post
Well, all of that is good news! And now that they've squared off against an opponent as strong as Big A., maybe they will pay another visit to 6-Finger-Joe and take back what's theirs!
Shackled City Epic: "Vengeance" (story concluded)
- Thread starter Lazybones
- Start date
Solarious
Explorer
Eh, at least we'll see an epiloge and a closure to some of the more pressing questions. Maybe a meteor will fall out the sky and kill Aurn? Nah. Too stupid of a way to die. 
Adimarchus should have smacked him with his Imploding Gauntlet, or at least smited him with the Ashen Blade and set his guts on fire. At least had half his levels eneverated! He got off -way- too lightly.
I'm also sad that the Heroes were overshadowed by the Travelers. But then, that's the price you pay when you loose your primary spellcaster, and the other party has two... I also agree that Dannel gets slaughtered too often. He didn't have much of an appreciable impact after that disaterous ambush in the Thirteen Cages module.
Still, don't you want to tie in the Ebon Triad? I've skimmed a few of them and they're pretty good! And you also get to insert those Spawns of Kyssus... although I don't think the party ever encountered them. Too tired to look back.
Anyways, thanks for one heck of a ride, Lazybones! Your stories are always enjoyable... although it would be nice to have a few aspects changed. But such is life: you gota take the good with the bad.
See ya next story hour!
Adimarchus should have smacked him with his Imploding Gauntlet, or at least smited him with the Ashen Blade and set his guts on fire. At least had half his levels eneverated! He got off -way- too lightly.I'm also sad that the Heroes were overshadowed by the Travelers. But then, that's the price you pay when you loose your primary spellcaster, and the other party has two... I also agree that Dannel gets slaughtered too often. He didn't have much of an appreciable impact after that disaterous ambush in the Thirteen Cages module.
Still, don't you want to tie in the Ebon Triad? I've skimmed a few of them and they're pretty good! And you also get to insert those Spawns of Kyssus... although I don't think the party ever encountered them. Too tired to look back.
Anyways, thanks for one heck of a ride, Lazybones! Your stories are always enjoyable... although it would be nice to have a few aspects changed. But such is life: you gota take the good with the bad.
See ya next story hour!
Richard Rawen
First Post
What he says:
. . . yep, what he said!
M < > <
Dungannon said:
. . . yep, what he said!
M < > <
It's been a fun ride. My favourite moments are a tie between the appearance of the Dracolich, the Travellers turning up so unexpectedly, and the running fight against the red dragon. You've got a good knack for writing good, dynamic fight scenes, and mixing in little moments that expand on characters.
I do agree that it felt a little abrupt at the end, but there's still room for an epilogue. And it can't be over yet! Graz'zt is still alive.![:]](http://www.enworld.org/forum/images/smilies/devious.png "Devious :]")
Overall, thank you for putting so much of your time into writing this. It has been a great story to follow.
I do agree that it felt a little abrupt at the end, but there's still room for an epilogue. And it can't be over yet! Graz'zt is still alive.
Overall, thank you for putting so much of your time into writing this. It has been a great story to follow.
Jon Potter
First Post
Lazybones said:
!!!!!!
Neverwinter Knight
First Post
Cool!!!Lazybones said:
Lazybones
Adventurer
Here we go again...
* * * * *
Shackled City Epic: "Vengeance"
Prologue
Clarity came gradually, like a roadside sign materializing out of a thick fog. He became aware of where he was, what he was, and who he was, in that order. His body was numb, a leaden appendage only loosely bound to the mind that shuddered with the inflow of memories of this place, the realization of what had happened.
With a great effort, he was finally able to move, but the attempt was cut short by the shackles that bound him against the wall of the chamber. The wall of his prison.
The room was circular and not spacious; had he been free, he could have crossed to any point by taking less than six steps. There was no door that he could see; his recollections did not include any details of this room, nothing useful that could help him escape.
Escape. He laughed, a sound that rattled in his chest so menacingly that he quickly clamped his mouth shut tightly enough to hurt. Pain… that was a good sign in a way, that he’d recovered enough to have sensation, but he knew that the feeling was just a precursor to what he would feel, in this place.
A sound, faint at first, then resolving into the measured tread of booted feet. The prisoner tensed, although there was nothing that he could hope to do; the shackles that bound him had been designed to hold fiends capable of ripping down the walls of fortified citadels. The part of his mind that had regained the capacity to think clearly whispered at power that he should have had, spells he could have cast to flee, but that part of his brain was a clean slate.
A door opened. Or rather, it was more exact to say that a part of the wall… retreated, widening from a point that became large enough to accommodate the figure that stepped into the cell.
He was ebon skinned, beautiful, of a height and approximate build with the prisoner, but there all similarity ended. He was attired in a shimmering raiment of dark, conservatively cut silks and trim leather that managed to look outrageously expensive without being festooned with gaudy baubles or other fancy decorations. He had six fingers on each hand, and youthful features that nevertheless bespoke a noble bearing and an epic self-confidence.
The prisoner had been ready to hate his captor, but as his eyes met those of the black-hued youth, the emotion drained from him like water from a punctured skin, replaced by a wave of admiration and even adulation. Had he not been bound, he would have knelt before the newcomer, and abased himself as an acolyte suddenly presented with the living avatar of his god.
“Graz’zt,” he was able to stammer out.
The youth laughed. “No, but the mistake is an honest one; His line breeds all too true.” His mouth twisted slightly in a hint of a frown; for some reason that sent a pang of sadness through the captive. He laughed again, the sound not harsh, but as light and pleasing as the soft melodies of his words. “No, I am Athux, scion of the ebon lord whose enmity you have so richly earned. And you are Benzan, Traveler of Faerûn, although I suspect that my father has a new identity prepared for you.”
At the man’s words Benzan felt a part of his own fire return, and he tugged his gaze away from Athux’s in a gesture that he knew was futile. “I will not be Graz’zt’s pawn.”
The cambion’s look was almost sympathetic. “It is already too late for that, Benzan,” he said earnestly. He reached out and touched Benzan’s cheek; the soft slide of Athux’s fingers sent a paroxysm of joy through the tiefling that drew a sob of despair from his chest.
“We will speak again, soon,” Athux said. He kept his gaze on Benzan as he drew back to the entry, then turned and vanished, the opening closing behind him in the blink of an eye.
Benzan felt a wave of revulsion pass through him in the wake of the false emotions that the demon had evoked in him. His strength left him, and he sagged down against his bonds, his body wracked with agonies both physical and mental as he cried for what he had lost.
And for what he had yet to lose.
* * * * *
Shackled City Epic: "Vengeance"
Prologue
Clarity came gradually, like a roadside sign materializing out of a thick fog. He became aware of where he was, what he was, and who he was, in that order. His body was numb, a leaden appendage only loosely bound to the mind that shuddered with the inflow of memories of this place, the realization of what had happened.
With a great effort, he was finally able to move, but the attempt was cut short by the shackles that bound him against the wall of the chamber. The wall of his prison.
The room was circular and not spacious; had he been free, he could have crossed to any point by taking less than six steps. There was no door that he could see; his recollections did not include any details of this room, nothing useful that could help him escape.
Escape. He laughed, a sound that rattled in his chest so menacingly that he quickly clamped his mouth shut tightly enough to hurt. Pain… that was a good sign in a way, that he’d recovered enough to have sensation, but he knew that the feeling was just a precursor to what he would feel, in this place.
A sound, faint at first, then resolving into the measured tread of booted feet. The prisoner tensed, although there was nothing that he could hope to do; the shackles that bound him had been designed to hold fiends capable of ripping down the walls of fortified citadels. The part of his mind that had regained the capacity to think clearly whispered at power that he should have had, spells he could have cast to flee, but that part of his brain was a clean slate.
A door opened. Or rather, it was more exact to say that a part of the wall… retreated, widening from a point that became large enough to accommodate the figure that stepped into the cell.
He was ebon skinned, beautiful, of a height and approximate build with the prisoner, but there all similarity ended. He was attired in a shimmering raiment of dark, conservatively cut silks and trim leather that managed to look outrageously expensive without being festooned with gaudy baubles or other fancy decorations. He had six fingers on each hand, and youthful features that nevertheless bespoke a noble bearing and an epic self-confidence.
The prisoner had been ready to hate his captor, but as his eyes met those of the black-hued youth, the emotion drained from him like water from a punctured skin, replaced by a wave of admiration and even adulation. Had he not been bound, he would have knelt before the newcomer, and abased himself as an acolyte suddenly presented with the living avatar of his god.
“Graz’zt,” he was able to stammer out.
The youth laughed. “No, but the mistake is an honest one; His line breeds all too true.” His mouth twisted slightly in a hint of a frown; for some reason that sent a pang of sadness through the captive. He laughed again, the sound not harsh, but as light and pleasing as the soft melodies of his words. “No, I am Athux, scion of the ebon lord whose enmity you have so richly earned. And you are Benzan, Traveler of Faerûn, although I suspect that my father has a new identity prepared for you.”
At the man’s words Benzan felt a part of his own fire return, and he tugged his gaze away from Athux’s in a gesture that he knew was futile. “I will not be Graz’zt’s pawn.”
The cambion’s look was almost sympathetic. “It is already too late for that, Benzan,” he said earnestly. He reached out and touched Benzan’s cheek; the soft slide of Athux’s fingers sent a paroxysm of joy through the tiefling that drew a sob of despair from his chest.
“We will speak again, soon,” Athux said. He kept his gaze on Benzan as he drew back to the entry, then turned and vanished, the opening closing behind him in the blink of an eye.
Benzan felt a wave of revulsion pass through him in the wake of the false emotions that the demon had evoked in him. His strength left him, and he sagged down against his bonds, his body wracked with agonies both physical and mental as he cried for what he had lost.
And for what he had yet to lose.
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