Shackled City Epic: "Vengeance" (story concluded)

[Lazybones]

Chapter 505

Just getting back up to the city streets had been a challenge for the dedicated dwarf. The broken drainpipe had been flooded with a steady rush of water from the wet streets above, threatening to dislodge him every time he took a step. He was soaked through by the time he emerged into the open air once again, but he ignored the physical discomfort he felt in face of the gravity of his mission.

He did not divert himself to seek out the Watch. Convinced that his hunch about the medusa’s destination was correct, he’d ran directly toward the cistern that he and Beorna had helped build shortly after their return to the town. He encountered no one out on the street, and within a few minutes he’d reached Lava Avenue, and could see his destination ahead.

And the two figures creeping up to it.

He kept his sword in its scabbard, to avoid drawing their attention, and continued at a more measured pace toward the two stalkers. Their backs were toward him, but he could not effectively mute the telltale clank of his heavy armor, and the woman—the medusa—turned and looked at him before he’d crossed half of the distance between them.

“Yield, or die,” he said, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword. He did not truly expect them to comply, but he hoped to distract them from their purpose.

The medusa drew back her hood, fixing him with the fell power of her gaze attack. Arun did not flinch, his inherent dwarven fortitude combined with the dedication of his calling allowing him to easily resist being petrified by that gaze. Still, he did not tempt fate, averting his eyes as he drew his sword and started forward. A ring of bright golden light surrounded him as the sword blazed out of the scabbard, a halo against the night and the storm.

The medusa muttered a command in Undercommon, and the grimlock leapt off the platform and charged at the paladin. It drew a pair of long black knives from the harness at its waist, and a low, guttural sound emitted from deep within its chest as it flew into a tightly controlled battle-rage.

Arun stood his ground, and let the enemy come to him. The first dagger thrust was turned by his breastplate, and he quickly counterattacked.

There were few evil creatures upon or beneath the surface of Toril that could withstand a full attack from Arun. The grimlock acolyte was not one of them.

Arun stepped over the carcass, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the surrounding darkness. The “battle” with the grimlock had taken all of about five seconds, but the medusa was gone. Wary of a trap, he rushed up to the platform. The water in the cistern, level with the lip of the container, was a sheer plane broken by the patter of raindrops, glowing in reflection of the light of his sword. Arun leaned forward and stabbed his blade deep into the water, peering into its depths. Nothing. He paused for a moment, just a moment, to scan for Taint. There was a faint, indistinct aura that clung about this place, but not enough to pinpoint the presence of the medusa. Had she fled, and taken the gnomish device for use at a later time?

Arun knelt upon the edge of the cistern, and removed his helm and shield. With one hand balancing himself on the stone rim, he dipped low, stabbing his head beneath the surface of the water, thrusting the sword deeper with his other hand.

There—just barely visible, below; a gray object that did not belong.

Arun did not hesitate; taking a deep breath, he leapt into the cistern, vanishing beneath the surface of the water with a mighty splash.

Weighed down by his armor, he sank to the bottom of the cistern like a stone. His sword brightening the dark waters, he immediately turned and pushed forward to the location of the object. It was the gnomish keg, held in position by several heavy stones securely fastened to it, quivering with the force of the water that was pouring from it. Arun did not know how much of the tainted water it had to produce for the fell disease to be potent, and did not intend to wait to find out.

He tugged at the throngs holding the keg, drawing aside one of the stone blocks, revealing the deep brown wood beneath. The light of his sword glimmered off of a golden rune set into the wood. Standing, he braced himself over it, and lifted his sword, both hands wrapped around the hilt.

A surge in the water alerted him. He turned, narrowly avoiding a stabbing thrust of steel that sliced into his cheek as he ducked back. The wound burned like fire, and as the sword came around with him he looked up into the face of the medusa, snakes writhing in a halo around her alien features, the light shining through her translucent skin. Her weapon was a slender rapier of black metal, its blade oozing green droplets that formed tiny plumes in the water as she wielded it.

Arun tried to bring his sword up to stab her, but the water impeded him. The medusa dove at him, her mouth open in a silent scream as she dug her fists into his hair, dragging her face down to his in a sick parody of a lover’s embrace. Arun felt a cold feeling creep into his bones as the medusa’s gaze swallowed him up, followed by pinpricks of agony as the serpents upon her head stabbed their tiny fangs into his forehead and temples.

 

[Lazybones]

Chapter 506

The medusa, driven by her insanity, held the paladin in her grip, attacking with enchanted steel, venom, and the dark power of her gaze attack all as one. Against such an onslaught, any defender would have been hard-pressed to survive.

But the gods shone their blessings upon the paladin, and none more than his sturdy patron, who infused the knight with the power of the forge, the iron of the anvil, and the might of the hammer. Arun snarled and reached out with his free hand, locking it around the medusa’s throat. The creature did not retreat, her serpents snapping at the fingers that tightened into a fist around her scaly neck. If anything, her grip upon him tightened, her own fists yanking at his black hair, drawing them even closer.

And then Arun brought up his other hand, and thrust the length of his holy sword deep into her body.

The medusa quivered as the blade entered her, then she began to thrash with an inescapable agony as the paladin drove the sword deeper. It pierced her, and a shaft of light penetrated her as it emerged from her back. Even as her struggles deepened she still forced Arun to meet her eyes, willing him to die, trying to drag her enemy down with her into oblivion. But Arun’s fortitude was unflinching, and she wailed with frustration and anguish as her power slid harmlessly off of the dwarf’s resistances.

Arun drove the sword a last foot, until the crossbar slammed hard into her chest. The medusa’s struggles ceased, and she drifted, her eyes now lifeless and harmless. Blood floated in around them in a spreading plume.

Arun began to feel the first stirrings of what he knew would become an insistent need, as the gulp of air he’d taken began to burn in his lungs. He lifted a leg and kicked the medusa free of his sword, the slain creature drifting back to settle to the floor on the opposite side of the cistern. The whole thing would have to be drained and cleansed before refilling, now, he knew, but his more immediate concern was the vessel that continued to pour out its pesitilence a few feet away.

He returned to the keg, braced his feet, and with a single powerful drive of his sword he pierced the wooden container. There was a tiny flash as the magical steel drove through the golden rune, and then the thing just came apart, bits of wood floating about in an eddy.

The need was growing greater, now. Arun sheathed his sword, and with a powerful kick he leapt up and grabbed the edge of the cistern with a gauntleted fist. When he drew himself up, that first breath was a relief, filling his lungs with cold purity. He clung there, for a moment, holding onto the side of the cistern, letting the raindrops fall upon his face. His head turned to the east, where the horizon above the town’s wall had just begun to brighten with the promise of the coming new day.

 

[Lazybones]

Chapter 507

The hearing was held within the private chapel in the Temple of Helm. It was low-key, and the only individuals in the chamber, with the exception of a few witnesses called to testify, were dwarves. The pews had been temporarily replaced by two tables covered with white linen cloths. Arun Goldenshield sat at one, clad in a simple gray robe belted at the waist with a length of cord. At the other, Umbar Ironhammer sat as both Adjudicant and Prosecutor, his heavy iron symbol of Moradin laid out on the table in front of him.

Beorna sat to Arun’s left, clad in a long white robe that prominently bore the sigil of Helm across its chest. She was serving as Arun’s Advocate, but as the hearing progressed, her expression grew more tempestuous, as her ability to hold her anger in check steadily eroded.

But even that was better than Hodge, who’d been ejected before the end of the hearing’s first hour.

There were not many witnesses called. Arun had refused to allow Beorna to issue sendings to their friends, who could offer testimony on the paladin’s behalf. “There are greater matters at stake,” he’d told her.

“Greater than your honor?” she’d replied, trying to sting him. But he’d only turned and returned to the hearing room. His face had been a stone mask during the entire proceedings, but when Umbar opened by reading the charges against him from the parchment scroll he’d originally delivered upon his arrival, something flashed in his eyes.

They’d had two days to prepare a defense, but Arun had spent most of that time helping the Watch seal the new entrance to Jzadirune, and in draining and refilling the cistern. Beorna had lost her temper, suggesting that Arun was not taking the dwarven cleric’s mission seriously, but both knew that the charge was not true. Hodge had suggested a more direct course of action, suggesting that they could use the cleric’s bloated head to close the pipe leading down into the abandoned gnome fortress.

They’d found a few more items infected with the Vanishing upon the medusa’s body. There was no more insights as to why the creature had been so consumed with infecting herself and her people with the strange illness, and spreading it to others. Having gained some insight into madness through the whole ordeal with Adimarchus and the Cagewrights, Arun realized that no logic or reason would apply in this case, so he let it go as just another threat that had required the blade to purge.

“At some point, we should conduct a thorough search of the tunnels under the city,” Arun had suggested, in his quarters the night before the hearing. “If Cauldron is going to be safe in the long term, then we must be certain that other threats are not brewing beneath us.”

“You might want to apply as much concern to your own affairs as to the citizens of Cauldron,” Beorna had retorted. “I cannot believe you are allowing yourself to be subjected to this travesty of justice.”

“It is part of the code which I have sworn to uphold.”

“The code of the same order that threw you out on your ass? Where were they when fiends were overrunning Cauldron? Where were they when the portal from Carceri was opening? Where were they when we battled Adimarchus? You do not need to prove yourself to anyone, Arun! You have sacrificed…”

He’d interrupted her by clasping her hand tightly in both of his, and holding it close against his heart. “I know you do not understand, Beorna, but I must ask that you defer to me in this case. I will need you by my side tomorrow… but for tonight, let us not pass our time in argument.”

And now, as Beorna scowled openly, Umbar Ironhammer looked up and fixed the accused with a stern gaze.

“Arun Goldenshield,” he began, “In the past few days, I have been witness to your courage and determination in service of the people of this human town. It is clear from those witnesses that this tribunal has heard that the people of Cauldron have adopted you gladly, and that you have found a new home here.” The cleric’s eyes shifted momentarily toward Beorna, who met his look with a stare that could have cut glass. But the priest turned his attention back to Arun. “It is also true from the accounts submitted in your defense, that you have held true to the ideals of the faith of our people, and continued to struggle against evil, darkness, and corruption in our shared world.”

“But one of the bulwarks of our people is the Law. We the golden dwarves live in a realm where the tides of shadow dwell constantly beyond our fortifications, waiting only for the slightest relaxation in our vigilance. Our enemies would deny us land, provender, and life alike. This, I know, you understand, perhaps more than most.”

“You have not denied the fundamental charge against you, that you acted with deliberation against the terms of your exile. Perhaps it was not your intent to breed a heretical cult of the All-Father in this place, but ultimately it was your actions and choices that allowed this course of events to develop.”

Beorna opened her mouth to speak, but Arun grabbed her arm with his hand, forestalling her. With a look of disgust on her face, she subsided.

“Therefore, Arun Goldenshield, this tribunal finds you guilty as charged. Your punishment will be merely to obey the strictures placed against you by the full body of the High Order of Moradin. You shall forever eschew the wearing of the sigil of Moradin, or any other accountrements of that faith. You will not claim to be a paladin of the All-Father, nor shall you proselytize in advocation of the faith. In light of your defiance of the initial judgment of the High Order, it is required that you submit to a Mark of Justice.”

 

[HugeOgre]

This will be interesting. I wonder if the spell will even work? I guess if it does we'll know it truly is the will of the All Father, eh?

 

[Solarious]

And... the expected conclusion. Even after saving the city of Cauldron (again), Aurn gets subjected to a Mark of Justice. This is it... Aurn's inglourious ruin! His unrighteous dowfall! Screaming and kicking all the way down a long fall from heroic deeds! Bwahahahaha!

...

Who am I kidding? i'm still waiting for Aurn to suffer a glourious death at the hands of some nasty monster... at the blade/magic of Graz'zt, perhaps? He's long overdue for death and suffering. Bring on the nasties!

Which reminds me, we're about due to a Demon Interlude soon! What horrors and tortures will dear husband have to suffer baying at his heels? I hope it makes him scream repeatedly and loudly!

 

[Lazybones]

This will be interesting. I wonder if the spell will even work? I guess if it does we'll know it truly is the will of the All Father, eh?

More than you know...

* * * * *

Chapter 508

“What!” Beorna said, shaking off Arun’s restraining arm to come forward to the space before the Inquisitor’s table. “After what you’ve heard, what you saw below the city… you would still spit upon this man’s honor in this way?”

Umbar fixed her with a hard stare. “This matter is not within your jurisdiction, Templar of Helm. The warrior may refuse to comply with the sentence; he is already exiled, and as my authority outside of the Rift is limited by the bounds of the human laws of this region, the result would merely be decretum extundo."

“A decree of expulsion?” Beorna asked.

“Severing is a more accurate translation. The warrior would choose to fully sever himself from the dwarven people. He would be free to live his life as he pleased here among the surface world, but no dwarf of the Rift would even recognize him, for he would have foresworn them.”

Beorna turned to Arun, already knowing what she would find.

Arun stood behind her. He met her eyes, and while she did not agree, could not agree, with what she found there, she respected the man too much to defy his will further.

She stepped back.

“I accept the judgment of the tribunal,” Arun said. He carried his holy avenger, scabbarded in his hand. As Umbar came around his table the paladin knelt, and drew the sword, placing it point down upon the bare stone of the chapel.

“Are you certain you would not prefer a warhammer?” Umbar said, very softly, glancing down at the etched symbol of Lathander prominently featured upon the blade near where it joined the hilt. “As a weapon, such is not covered by the dictum.”

Arun shook his head fractionally. “It is part of who I am, another choice, perhaps.”

Umbar nodded. He intoned the words of the spell, a complex ritual that stretched on for severeal minutes. Arun knelt, immobile, while Beorna watched. A tear formed in the corner of the Templar’s eye, but the dwarf angrily blinked it away.

Finally, the priest of Moradin’s holy symbol began to glow. Arun did not blink as he lowered it to the paladin’s forehead, speaking the final word of his invocation to lay the mark of justice upon him.

A brilliant flare of golden light erupted from the iron symbol as it touched Arun’s forehead. Umbar staggered back, the symbol flying from his hand to land across the room, where it lay smoking in the corner. Arun’s body arched back, his mouth erupting in a silent scream as he stared up at the bare ceiling. A golden aura surrounded him like a bright halo, focused upon the bright star of pure energy that blazed upon his brow.

Beorna came instantly to him, but was driven back by the intensity of the aura, which surrounded him like a tangible wall. “What did you do!” she shouted, turning on Umbar.

“It… it was not I!” the cleric managed, his own eyes wide as he stared at the paladin.

The golden glow intensified until the two of them could no longer look, lest they be blinded by the intensity. The windows in the chapel, along with every other glass surface within the rectory, shattered. The ground and walls trembled, and a distant sound filled their heads, like the pounding of iron upon a forge.

Then the noise and light and confusion died. Arun was left, still kneeling, his head bowed, his hands still wrapped around the hilt of…

“By the gods…” Beorna breathed.

For the paladin’s sword, his holy avenger, had been replaced by a golden warhammer. Even with the fading of the holy radiance that had engulfed the paladin, it seemed afire, shining with an inner light.

“What in the hells is goin’ on…” Hodge yelled, bursting into the room. But as he saw what Beorna and Umbar had seen, he trailed off, for once at a loss for words.

Arun turned to gaze at them. The sigil branded into his forehead still glowed, a pale golden radiance that seemed almost alive. The hammer and anvil. The sign of Moradin.

While Beorna and Hodge looked on, still too stunned to respond, Umbar fell to his knees before Arun. “Forgive me,” he said, his earlier feelings overwhelmed by an intensity of adulation in his eyes. “I did not know… I did not see.”

“Forgive me, Chosen of Moradin.”

 

[HugeOgre]

I have to admit, I am not surprised. Still, it was nice to see the effect.

 

[Broccli_Head]

Finally...Justice!

 

[Neverwinter Knight]

Wow! I have to let this sink in a bit... Wow!

 

[Richard Rawen]

Too Cool!!!

I, like Huge Ogre, was not exactly surprised.
But it was still Gooooood Stuff.
Kinda like on a hot day full of hard work you know that a cold drink is going to hit the spot and yet when you finally quench that thirst it still feels so Gooooood!
Yeah, like that...
Darn good story telling, mostly from the culmination of "years" worth of character development and story arc coming together in a very clear way... the polls don't lie,
Arun kicks arse!

Blessings,
Richard
M < > <