Shackled City Epic: "Vengeance" (story concluded)
- Thread starter Lazybones
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Lazybones
Adventurer
As a matter of fact, I did do a generic stat block for the grimlocks. I'll add the stats after the update. The one that Arun soloed was an adept; I didn't stat that one out but just add 4 levels or so of adept to the default.HugeOgre said:
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Chapter 518
Cal came awake suddenly. He was a light sleeper, but there was always still that brief moment of disorientation, when dream had not yet fully faded, and reality had not yet fully settled around him. But his years as an adventurer had honed his awareness, and within a few seconds he was already gathering his magical items, placing each in its proper place upon his person.
As of yet, he wasn’t sure what had awakened him.
Taking up a tiny brass lamp invested with a continual flame, he quickly headed up the narrow stairs that connected the tower’s three above-ground and two below-ground levels. Now that he was fully awake he could better sense what had alerted him, a subtle vibration through the stones of the tower, not really a deep sound, the rumbling of an earthquake, but something else, something that his long experience told him likely equated to trouble. If it was a direct assault upon the tower, then the many multilayered wards upon the place would have warned him, but that alone did not mean safety.
He paused only momentarily at the top of the stairs; first to cloak himself in greater invisibility, an action that had become almost instinctive to him. Like his ability to teleport, his advancing talents as an archmage had grown to the point where he could summon that power without preparing the spell in advance, up to four times a day. Once protected from casual view, he spoke the password to bypass Dana’s glyph, one of many that protected the tower and its inhabitants. The door itself was of hardened steel set deep into the surrounding stone threshold with sheltered hinges, but the complex lock responded quickly to Cal’s expert hands. Shuttering the lamp, tucking it into one of his many pockets, he stepped out onto the roof of the tower.
The night was warm for the season. Although the moon had set, the stars twinkling high above cast enough light through the thin gauze of cloud cover high above to allow him to at least make out in general the outlines of buildings, walls, and in the distance, the low hills that hovered on the horizon to the north and east.
The landscape clearly showed the work of human hands, the random curves and dips of the land shaped into more regular patterns that resulted from deliberate cultivation. In the years since Ember Vale had begun around the nucleus started by Cal and his companions, farms had sprung up along the roads to the east, west, and north. Most of the farmers still lived within the walls of the village itself—this area, still known as the Fields of the Dead, was far from tame—but Cal could see the low forms of at least a half-dozen barns and other compact structures out to about a half-mile beyond the walls, beyond which point the night made everything vague, even to his sharp gnomish eyes.
And he could also see the source of what had alerted him.
In the near-darkness it looked like a barn itself, a massive oblong shadow cloaked in black that blended with the deep of the night. But then it moved, skittering—that was the best word he could think of to describe its motion—across the plowed expanse of a field, and as he watched, it crashed into a low barn that stood between the field and the adjacent road. The barn was a sturdy structure—Lok had helped in the building—but it gave way before the… thing… in a loud crash of shattering wood that carried clearly to him even across the intervening quarter-mile or so that separated him from its location.
A few lights appeared in windows in the village below. Apparently others had heard it as well. But Cal was already casting, blending shadow and ether to conjure an ally to his side. The shadow conjuration resolved much faster than a typical summoning spell, and within seconds a bralani stood beside him, hovering on an invisible current of air.
“Go out there and investigate what that thing is, quickly,” he instructed it. “Do not engage, and report back to me in thirty seconds.”
The bralani nodded, transforming itself into a whirlwind that lunged into the air above the tower. Even as the shadow-creature sped off into the night to obey his commands, his mind was darting nimbly down other paths. Dana was out, inaccessible on Sigil. He worried about her; she’d kept to her word in terms of the updates via sending, but those brief reports hadn’t really elaborated on the subtext that Cal could sense was there. Lok was upon Faerûn, or more precisely under it; and that was the problem. Cal was all too familiar with the scattering effect upon teleportation magic in the dark places beneath the surface of the world.
Cal was not without other friends, but most of them were protected against casual scrying, and had to be contacted through more complicated processes that he did not have time for at the moment. That left two options, but either would involve a percentage of failure.
The bralani came speeding back exactly upon schedule, but by the end of its appointed thirty seconds Cal had already cast another spell, summoning a quintet of lantern archons, their shining glow dimmed somewhat by the infusion of shadow-stuff that gave them substance. They hovered around him, awaiting command, as the bralani knifed down and resumed its humanoid form a few feet before him.
“The intruder is a gargantuan stag beetle,” the shadow-outsider report. “It is not alone; there are a number of equally enormous centipedes approaching this settlement from the north and west.”
Cal nodded; the information confirmed what he’d already suspected. “Attempt to distract the beetle away from the village,” he commanded the bralani. It nodded, and sped off in another whirlwind of focused air. “Tell the villagers in the structures below this tower that Cal instructs them to take shelter in the cellars, under a heavy table or other such cover,” he said to the archons. The archons likewise moved quickly to obey, but he was already running toward the door that led back down into the tower. He could still hear the sounds of destruction coming over the battlements as the beetle continued its swath of destruction. And he thought he heard something else, a distant buzz or hum that did not improve his feelings about this situation one whit.
Wasting no stray movements, he darted swiftly down the stairs, two levels down to his study. The ornate mirror was where he had left it, and it took only a few seconds to cast the spell. Fortunately he had not used his greater scrying spell on the previous day, so he still had it burning on the periphery of his memory. There were a number of spells that he would have chosen differently had he expected combat this day, but such musings were a waste of time at this juncture. Besides, one of the things that Cal had learned, as he and his friends had ascended to the heights of power, was that they could expect to be attacked at any time.
His reflection in the mirror grew cloudy, and then resolved into a new scene. It was dark, utterly so, but Cal directed a message toward the figure his sensor was focused upon. The man he’d scryed had been asleep, but a moment later, he got a reply, and the information he needed.
“The Traveler’s Rest is under attack. I will be there in thirty seconds,” he whispered, turning away from the mirror and rushing toward the stairs once more, toward the secured chamber beneath the tower outside of the effect of the dimensional anchor that Dana had bound to the citadel.
* * * * *
Grimlocks and leader:
Grimlock Barbarian 5/Rogue 5
Str 16, Dex 14, Con 14, Int 10, Wis 8, Cha 6*
*note: most of the grimlocks are suffering from the effects of the Vanishing and have a lower Cha score.
Atk +15/+10 melee (1d8+3, admantine battleaxe)
AC 16 (+2 dex, +4 natural), hp 83
Fort +9, Ref +10, Will +4
SA: blindsight 40’, immunities, scent, fast movement, uncanny dodge, trap sense +2, improved uncanny dodge, rage 2/day, evasion, sneak attack +3d6
Feats/Skills: Alertness, Dodge, Great Fortitude, Track, Weapon Focus (battleaxe), Climb +11, Craft (traps) +5, Disable Device +7, Escape Artist +7, Hide +8*, Listen +13, Move Silently +7, Spot +3, Tumble +7
Equipment: adamantine battleaxe
When raging: Atk +17/+12 (1d8+5), AC 14, hp 107
The Chosen, Medusa Adept 4/Ranger 3/Rogue 3
Str 10, Dex 16, Con 12, Int 12, Wis 14, Cha 20*
*currently at 10 due to the effects of the Vanishing, including robe bonus
Fort +8, Dex +15, Will +13
Atk +17/+12/+7 melee +1 corrosive adamantine rapier (1d6+1+1d6 acid) and +11 melee snakes (1d4 plus poison)
AC 18 (+3 dex, +3 natural, +2 amulet), hp 80
SA: petrifying gaze (DC 13), poison (DC 14, Str1d6/2d6), evasion, favored enemy (aberration), trap sense +1, sneak attack +2d6
Feats/Skills: Endurance, Point Blank Shot, Precise Shot, Track, Two-Weapon Fighting, Weapon Finesse, Bluff +9, Climb +6, Concentration +8, Diplomacy +4, Disguise +6 (+8 acting), Hide +9**, Intimidate +5, Knowledge (Underdark) +8, Listen +8, Move Silently +15, Search +4, Spot +15, Survival +9
** +4 due to the effects of the Vanishing
Spells (3/3/1): 0/detect magic, 0/ghost sound, 0/light, 1/command, 1/comprehend languages, 1/obscuring mist, 2/invisibility
Equipment: +4 robe of charisma, +1 corrosive adamantine rapier, 2 potions of cure critical wounds, potion of haste, +2 amulet of natural armor, dull gray ioun stone (infected with the Vanishing)
Lazybones
Adventurer
Chapter 519
The walled courtyard of the Temple of Helm in Cauldron was a beehive of activity, with a dozen torches driving back the night, glowing brightly on polished armor and bare weapons. Acolytes and Hammers in their blue tunics ran around as though they could do anything to help with what Cal needed. The gnome stood impatiently as the dwarves argued, tapping his feet, aware of the seconds ticking off in his head.
When he’d teleported into the courtyard of the Temple—the church itself and the rectory were both protected against magical teleportation much as the Rest was—he’d intended to simply grab Arun and return. Beorna had been with him, and he was happy to have her sword as well. But the noise of dwarven fighters arming and armoring themselves was more than enough to wake the entire temple community, among them Arun’s former cohort, Balthazar Hodge, and another dwarf, a cleric of Moradin from his attire, mussed now as he hastily donned his heavy armor while continuing his argument with Arun.
“We should attend you on this mission, Chosen,” the cleric was saying. “The Soul Forger has called you…”
“My friend has called me,” Arun interrupted him, as Beorna helped him buckle the straps of his own armor. “I would feel better if you remained here in my absence, to help watch over the people of the city. As we were just reminded, many threats yet lurk in this place, threatening the recovery.”
He glanced at Hodge, but the dwarf only shook his head. It was difficult to tell if he’d been asleep or not; he always looked the same whether falling into bed or tumbling out of it. “Don’t bother layin’ that favored o’ the gods charm on me, I’m goin’,” he said. He shook off an acolyte who was helping him into his greaves. “Arright, I kin do the rest meself,” he growled, accepting his waraxe from a Hammer who had sense enough to quickly withdraw. “Never thought I’d be workin’ fer an outfit where a bunch o’ humans be helpin’ ter dress ye,” he muttered.
Arun smiled, taking his helm from another Hammer and settling it upon his head.
He’d changed in the relatively short time they’d last met, Cal could see, as the paladin turned toward him. The marking upon his brow was the most obvious aspect of that, of course, but there was something else, a new aura of authority that hung about him like a familiar cloak. Chosen… There was a tale here, to be certain. But right now, as the seconds since his arrival stretched into minutes, he had to go.
“I can take all four of you,” Cal said. “But whoever’s going, we’ve got to go now.” His imagination had always been fluid, but he didn’t need much prompting to picture what might be happening in Ember Vale as they spoke. He was not so much a fool as to deny the dwarves time to armor up, and he knew enough about Arun to know that letting the temple staff and his own Hammers help them was an expediency he would not have otherwise preferred.
Beorna had not offered a comment thus far, except to issue commands to her staff. Now she drew her adamantine sword, an eager look on her face beneath the heavy black helm of that same metal, marked with the sigil of her god upon the brow.
“Very well,” Arun said to the cleric, taking up a golden warhammer that seemed somehow… right in his hand. Cal wondered about the disposition of the paladin’s holy sword, but he did not waste the seconds to ask as he gestured for the dwarves to gather around him.
“We may need immediate mobility,” he said, touching each of them with his wand of flying, infusing them with its power.
“Bah, how tough can a bunch o’ giant bugs be,” Hodge opined, although he looked a bit leery. The other dwarves looked at him, but said nothing. Cal gestured again, and they all locked hands, adjusting so that they could quickly recover their weapons once the gnome’s spell of transportation was complete.
“We’ll go right to the center of the village,” he told them, and then teleported them across Faerûn.
They materialized exactly where he’d intended. The dwarves lifted their weapons and stepped away from the gnome, looking around.
The situation was one of utter chaos. Alien noises—chittering, a constant buzz, high-pitched squeaks—overlaid familiar sounds of destruction. Overhead shadowy blips the size of wagons darted across the edges of their vision before vanishing.
Their attention was drawn toward a massive crash directly ahead, in the direction of the main gate of the village. That barrier was now just gone, some of the heavy log constructs pounded into the dirt, other parts of it scattered around in a broad radius. But the sound had come from a long two-story structure, the village inn, its front half torn away by the massive beetle that was laying waste to the building.
Somehow it must have become aware of them, for as the companions looked up at the monstrous thing, easily forty feet long and slightly taller than the building it was crushing, the beetle turned back into the street and charged straight toward them.
The walled courtyard of the Temple of Helm in Cauldron was a beehive of activity, with a dozen torches driving back the night, glowing brightly on polished armor and bare weapons. Acolytes and Hammers in their blue tunics ran around as though they could do anything to help with what Cal needed. The gnome stood impatiently as the dwarves argued, tapping his feet, aware of the seconds ticking off in his head.
When he’d teleported into the courtyard of the Temple—the church itself and the rectory were both protected against magical teleportation much as the Rest was—he’d intended to simply grab Arun and return. Beorna had been with him, and he was happy to have her sword as well. But the noise of dwarven fighters arming and armoring themselves was more than enough to wake the entire temple community, among them Arun’s former cohort, Balthazar Hodge, and another dwarf, a cleric of Moradin from his attire, mussed now as he hastily donned his heavy armor while continuing his argument with Arun.
“We should attend you on this mission, Chosen,” the cleric was saying. “The Soul Forger has called you…”
“My friend has called me,” Arun interrupted him, as Beorna helped him buckle the straps of his own armor. “I would feel better if you remained here in my absence, to help watch over the people of the city. As we were just reminded, many threats yet lurk in this place, threatening the recovery.”
He glanced at Hodge, but the dwarf only shook his head. It was difficult to tell if he’d been asleep or not; he always looked the same whether falling into bed or tumbling out of it. “Don’t bother layin’ that favored o’ the gods charm on me, I’m goin’,” he said. He shook off an acolyte who was helping him into his greaves. “Arright, I kin do the rest meself,” he growled, accepting his waraxe from a Hammer who had sense enough to quickly withdraw. “Never thought I’d be workin’ fer an outfit where a bunch o’ humans be helpin’ ter dress ye,” he muttered.
Arun smiled, taking his helm from another Hammer and settling it upon his head.
He’d changed in the relatively short time they’d last met, Cal could see, as the paladin turned toward him. The marking upon his brow was the most obvious aspect of that, of course, but there was something else, a new aura of authority that hung about him like a familiar cloak. Chosen… There was a tale here, to be certain. But right now, as the seconds since his arrival stretched into minutes, he had to go.
“I can take all four of you,” Cal said. “But whoever’s going, we’ve got to go now.” His imagination had always been fluid, but he didn’t need much prompting to picture what might be happening in Ember Vale as they spoke. He was not so much a fool as to deny the dwarves time to armor up, and he knew enough about Arun to know that letting the temple staff and his own Hammers help them was an expediency he would not have otherwise preferred.
Beorna had not offered a comment thus far, except to issue commands to her staff. Now she drew her adamantine sword, an eager look on her face beneath the heavy black helm of that same metal, marked with the sigil of her god upon the brow.
“Very well,” Arun said to the cleric, taking up a golden warhammer that seemed somehow… right in his hand. Cal wondered about the disposition of the paladin’s holy sword, but he did not waste the seconds to ask as he gestured for the dwarves to gather around him.
“We may need immediate mobility,” he said, touching each of them with his wand of flying, infusing them with its power.
“Bah, how tough can a bunch o’ giant bugs be,” Hodge opined, although he looked a bit leery. The other dwarves looked at him, but said nothing. Cal gestured again, and they all locked hands, adjusting so that they could quickly recover their weapons once the gnome’s spell of transportation was complete.
“We’ll go right to the center of the village,” he told them, and then teleported them across Faerûn.
They materialized exactly where he’d intended. The dwarves lifted their weapons and stepped away from the gnome, looking around.
The situation was one of utter chaos. Alien noises—chittering, a constant buzz, high-pitched squeaks—overlaid familiar sounds of destruction. Overhead shadowy blips the size of wagons darted across the edges of their vision before vanishing.
Their attention was drawn toward a massive crash directly ahead, in the direction of the main gate of the village. That barrier was now just gone, some of the heavy log constructs pounded into the dirt, other parts of it scattered around in a broad radius. But the sound had come from a long two-story structure, the village inn, its front half torn away by the massive beetle that was laying waste to the building.
Somehow it must have become aware of them, for as the companions looked up at the monstrous thing, easily forty feet long and slightly taller than the building it was crushing, the beetle turned back into the street and charged straight toward them.
Neverwinter Knight
First Post
Ho Lazybones! This is not even the heart of the trouble, yet! Thank's for the great update & happy holidays!!!
Lazybones
Adventurer
Thanks, NWK! Hope everyone had a great holiday. I'm off work today with a stack of bills sitting on one side, and Call of Duty 2 and Battlestar Galactica season 2 on the other.
Guess which side I'm starting first?
* * * * *
Chapter 520
The surrounding buildings shook as the beetle charged down the street. The avenue was barely wide enough to accommodate it, and as it came it tore awnings, overhanging eaves, and porches free from their moorings, leaving them as trampled wreckage in its wake.
The dwarves did not hesistate, using the power Cal had granted them as they lifted off and flew directly at the massive vermin. The gnome remained behind, cloaking himself in greater invisibility almost as a reflex as he too rose into the air, careful to remain far from any structure that might threaten a collapse. He saw a number of the huge flying forms alter their course and immediately dive toward the dwarves; giant wasps, he saw, as they drew nearer. But even though he’d fought such creatures before, he’d never seen wasps this large; one could have carried off an elephant without straining itself.
“Incoming from above!” he shouted in warning. One of the wasps shifted its flight somewhat toward him, but even the good eyesight possessed by the vermin could not penentrate his invisibility.
Beorna and Arun met the beetle together, launching attacks upon its broad head from both sides as it charged. Arun’s hammer smashed into its head with a resounding crack, but the beetle appeared more discomfited by the powerful slam that Beorna unleashed upon it with her two-handed blade. That second hit cracked the bug’s thick hide, and it immediately twisted its head toward her, seizing her in its huge mandibles as it continued its headlong charge. Hodge, who had been just a few seconds slower than the others in lifting up off the ground, was caught in that rush and was trampled beneath it, bouncing off its armored belly before being knocked roughly aside by a churning leg as thick as the trunk of an ancient oak. Arun glanced off of the beetle’s top as it surged past him, but he quickly recovered and darted back toward its head, where Beorna was struggling to get free of the beetle’s powerful grip.
Umbar was out of the immediate path of the beetle, the dwarf cleric having lifted up and to the side before calling upon the divine power of Moradin to strengthen him. He lifted his hammer and started back toward the beetle, but was diverted as several of the gargantuan wasps dove at him. The priest met the first pass with a raised shield and a powerful swing, but was knocked roughly aside by the second wasp, which slammed its stinger hard into his back. The dwarf’s heavy armor saved him from being impaled, but as he spun around again a thin trail of blood trailed from the thin crack that the stinger had punched through the layered plates. The dwarf lifted his hammer, looking for another target, but barely had time to get his shield up before a third wasp dove onto him, driving him down a full dozen feet with another powerful sting that hit his shield with enough force to dent the magical steel.
Arun streaked through the air a few scant feet over the multicolored expanse of the beetle’s armored carapace, his hammer glimmering brightly in his hand. He saw Beorna, struggling mightily in the beetle’s grip, its mandibles like the jaws of a steel trap as they crushed her within her armor. Only the fact that she was clad in adamantine had kept her from being cut in half by those inexorable pincers, but even that protection could not preserve her indefinitely. Seeing Arun, she groaned and called upon the power of Helm, drawing the god’s strength into her as she heaved at the crushing jaws. Arun assisted her by delivering a precise strike that cracked one of the mandibles, loosening its grip enough for the templar to fall free. She had dropped her sword when it had seized her, but she did not hesitate in drawing her long dirk, thrusting it with all her might into the underside of the beetle’s long head.
The beetle complained loudly at the assault upon it, releasing a high-pitched screech that echoed painfully in the helmets of the warriors. But Arun, positioned now to inflict some serious damage, launched into a full attack upon it. His hammer came down in a punishing series of blows, leaving the beetle’s head pocked with great oozing cracks. But its sheer size ensured that it would take more than even Arun’s best to kill it. Twisting its body in the middle of the street, its movement caving in the front of the house on the far side of the avenue, it reared up and caught up Arun against its jaws. With its mandibles damaged from the attacks upon it, it failed to get a grip in the dwarf, but that did not hinder it from driving forward, the paladin struggling but failing to break free before it drove its head—and Arun with it—into the front of the building on the near side of the street. The stone building was stoutly built. It had been Lok’s smithy, until that moment; one of the first buildings to be constructed back when the village had been founded almost twenty years ago. But as the massive beetle drove into it with its unwilling passenger, the entire front of the building vanished in a cloud of pulverized stone and mortar, followed by a crash like the sound of the world breaking.
“Arun!” Beorna cried, knowing that the paladin would not hear her.
Guess which side I'm starting first?
* * * * *
Chapter 520
The surrounding buildings shook as the beetle charged down the street. The avenue was barely wide enough to accommodate it, and as it came it tore awnings, overhanging eaves, and porches free from their moorings, leaving them as trampled wreckage in its wake.
The dwarves did not hesistate, using the power Cal had granted them as they lifted off and flew directly at the massive vermin. The gnome remained behind, cloaking himself in greater invisibility almost as a reflex as he too rose into the air, careful to remain far from any structure that might threaten a collapse. He saw a number of the huge flying forms alter their course and immediately dive toward the dwarves; giant wasps, he saw, as they drew nearer. But even though he’d fought such creatures before, he’d never seen wasps this large; one could have carried off an elephant without straining itself.
“Incoming from above!” he shouted in warning. One of the wasps shifted its flight somewhat toward him, but even the good eyesight possessed by the vermin could not penentrate his invisibility.
Beorna and Arun met the beetle together, launching attacks upon its broad head from both sides as it charged. Arun’s hammer smashed into its head with a resounding crack, but the beetle appeared more discomfited by the powerful slam that Beorna unleashed upon it with her two-handed blade. That second hit cracked the bug’s thick hide, and it immediately twisted its head toward her, seizing her in its huge mandibles as it continued its headlong charge. Hodge, who had been just a few seconds slower than the others in lifting up off the ground, was caught in that rush and was trampled beneath it, bouncing off its armored belly before being knocked roughly aside by a churning leg as thick as the trunk of an ancient oak. Arun glanced off of the beetle’s top as it surged past him, but he quickly recovered and darted back toward its head, where Beorna was struggling to get free of the beetle’s powerful grip.
Umbar was out of the immediate path of the beetle, the dwarf cleric having lifted up and to the side before calling upon the divine power of Moradin to strengthen him. He lifted his hammer and started back toward the beetle, but was diverted as several of the gargantuan wasps dove at him. The priest met the first pass with a raised shield and a powerful swing, but was knocked roughly aside by the second wasp, which slammed its stinger hard into his back. The dwarf’s heavy armor saved him from being impaled, but as he spun around again a thin trail of blood trailed from the thin crack that the stinger had punched through the layered plates. The dwarf lifted his hammer, looking for another target, but barely had time to get his shield up before a third wasp dove onto him, driving him down a full dozen feet with another powerful sting that hit his shield with enough force to dent the magical steel.
Arun streaked through the air a few scant feet over the multicolored expanse of the beetle’s armored carapace, his hammer glimmering brightly in his hand. He saw Beorna, struggling mightily in the beetle’s grip, its mandibles like the jaws of a steel trap as they crushed her within her armor. Only the fact that she was clad in adamantine had kept her from being cut in half by those inexorable pincers, but even that protection could not preserve her indefinitely. Seeing Arun, she groaned and called upon the power of Helm, drawing the god’s strength into her as she heaved at the crushing jaws. Arun assisted her by delivering a precise strike that cracked one of the mandibles, loosening its grip enough for the templar to fall free. She had dropped her sword when it had seized her, but she did not hesitate in drawing her long dirk, thrusting it with all her might into the underside of the beetle’s long head.
The beetle complained loudly at the assault upon it, releasing a high-pitched screech that echoed painfully in the helmets of the warriors. But Arun, positioned now to inflict some serious damage, launched into a full attack upon it. His hammer came down in a punishing series of blows, leaving the beetle’s head pocked with great oozing cracks. But its sheer size ensured that it would take more than even Arun’s best to kill it. Twisting its body in the middle of the street, its movement caving in the front of the house on the far side of the avenue, it reared up and caught up Arun against its jaws. With its mandibles damaged from the attacks upon it, it failed to get a grip in the dwarf, but that did not hinder it from driving forward, the paladin struggling but failing to break free before it drove its head—and Arun with it—into the front of the building on the near side of the street. The stone building was stoutly built. It had been Lok’s smithy, until that moment; one of the first buildings to be constructed back when the village had been founded almost twenty years ago. But as the massive beetle drove into it with its unwilling passenger, the entire front of the building vanished in a cloud of pulverized stone and mortar, followed by a crash like the sound of the world breaking.
“Arun!” Beorna cried, knowing that the paladin would not hear her.
"So, how did you end up in Valhalla?"
"I performed many great deeds! I prevented a gate to Hell being opened, I was victorious over a cabal of crazed sorcerers, a red wyrm dragon, the mightiest of beholders and slew a fallen celestial."
"Really. Wow! So what mighty force of evil finally killed you?"
"A giant mumblemumble."
"Sorry?"
"A giant beetle....."
"I performed many great deeds! I prevented a gate to Hell being opened, I was victorious over a cabal of crazed sorcerers, a red wyrm dragon, the mightiest of beholders and slew a fallen celestial."
"Really. Wow! So what mighty force of evil finally killed you?"
"A giant mumblemumble."
"Sorry?"
"A giant beetle....."
Lazybones
Adventurer
Nice one, Elemental. 
* * * * *
Chapter 521
Hodge caught a glimpse of the destruction of the smithy out of the corner of his eye, but although he shared Beorna’s concern about the disposition of his friend and mentor, at that moment he had other matters more prominently on his mind.
When the beetle had run over him, caroming off its underbody and a slashing leg, he’d bounced hard off the ground and rolled to a stop in the middle of the street. His friends were putting the fight to the big bug, he knew, but even as he pulled himself to his feet—that “pop” he heard from his back couldn’t be good, but he’d worry about that later—his attention was drawn back to the ruined gate of the village.
His eyes widened as a horde of giant centipedes literally poured through the gap, with those unable to immediately fit merely sliding over the wall to either side as though the fifteen foot stockade were a merely incidental obstacle. And it probably was, to bugs that were forty feet long if they were a foot! The dwarf suddenly became very aware of the fact that he was standing alone, very alone, in the middle of the street, as the flood came directly at him. But then he remembered himself, and he lifted his axe with a snarl. The straps of his shield had gotten snagged and torn from their moorings in his little misadventure with the beetle, so he shook it off, taking up the handle of the axe in both hands. He placed his feet with deliberation, taking up a defensive stance right were he was. Damned if he was going to move for a bunch of bugs!
“Arright, you ugly mothers, c’mon and get it!”
A stream of liquid energy infused with black wisps of shadowstuff tore through the night sky, arcing through the giant wasps assuaulting Umbar. The wasps suffered the full effect of the shadow evocation, the simulated chain lightning blasting through all three of those attacking the priest before culminating in a fourth that had started over to join in the commotion. But although it was obvious that the strike had driven them into a fury, to Cal’s disappointment none of them fell.
Umbar joined in the barrage, calling upon a flame strike that blasted two of the wasps heavily, including the one that had been the focus of Cal’s spell. That wasp was suffering now, its body blackened from the dual impacts, but it continue to buzz angrily at the dwarf, its abdomen darting ahead of its body with its deadly sting. Umbar drew back, but took another hit from the second wasp, and yet another from the third. Unable to outmaneuver the massive wasps, he was begin battered around like a child’s ball, and while his heavy armor had protected him thus far from being impaled, Cal knew from experience that those heavy blows had to be hurting him regardless.
“Get out of there!” Cal shouted, risking drawing attention to himself to forestall what he saw to be an inevitable outcome.
Umbar appeared to see it as well, for as he spun away from the latest impact he dove down, moving toward the base of the tower and the cover that it offered. But he had only covered a fraction of the distance when the fourth wasp shot down, intersecting the path of the cleric’s flight. It did not stab with its sting, but rather seized him with the hooked ends of its legs, holding him fast before turning and flying off rapidly with its passenger.
Cal began a casting to intervene, but adjusted his plan when he saw the other three wasps heading toward him, their wings beating with enough power to buffet him even fifty yards distant. They could not see him, he knew, but he’d already long since recognized that there were not only ordinary vermin, but that something… or someone… was directing them.
You’ll have to take care of yourself, he thought, before his mind shifted from Umbar’s plight to the pending difficulties of his own.
The cloud of dust and debris continued to surge around the head of the beetle as it drove deeper into the wreckage of the forge. There was no sign of Arun within that chaos, although with the beetle’s mass in the way it was unlikely that the glow of his magical hammer would have penetrated out into the night outside the ruined structure.
Beorna rose up off the ground, her sword a black slab in her hands. Her heart pounded with dread for Arun, but after the beetle had rammed the paladin into the building she’d known that her dagger wasn’t going to be enough to stop it. She’d recovered her sword, narrowly avoiding being trampled by the beetle’s surging hind legs, and now emerged from under it, moving forward parallel to its massive body until she was abreast of the point where its broad head joined to its body. Most of the head was lost in the wreckage of the ruined building, which the beetle continued to thrust against, as if intent upon reducing the forge to a mere smear upon the landscape of the town.
And somewhere within that building was Arun.
“By Helm!” she shouted, her loud cry sounding over the cacophony of the beetle’s destruction of the forge. Her sword came down in a powerful arc, driven by the templar’s considerable strength into that joint at the base of the beetle’s chitinous skull. The thing was just too damned big for her to decapitate it, but nevertheless her sword pierced deeply, her own weight driving it and her downward, cutting an opening easily eight feet long in the side of the beetle’s body. Black ooze erupted from the gap, splattering her as the beetle reared upward, turning toward her.
Beorna did not flinch, only bringing her sword up to strike again.
Hodge spat a gob of blood to clear his throat, sweeping his axe into the thick body of a centipede as it knifed past him. Blood splashed onto him from his other side, whipped by the gyrations of another centipede that he’d cut in half moments after it had delivered a painful bite to his shoulder. Twisting multisegmented bodies were everywhere, and he was lost in a writhing mass of bodies that were so intertwined that he could not tell where one ended and another begun. The heads, though… those he looked out for, for in addition to bludgeoning him with their bodies, the centipedes’ true danger lay in their envenomed bites. His body burned with the poison he knew coursed through his veins already from the three hits that had gotten through his armor, but there was nothing to be done about that, so he ignored it. Besides, he was a dwarf; he was damned if he was going to let a few bug bites do him in.
“Yer want more? C’mon then, yer bloody bloomin’ bastards!” He swept out his axe to meet a diving head, shearing half of it away, driving the centipede back chittering furiously. “Oh, yer want a piece?” he shouted, turning as a long body snapped against his back, nearly causing him to lose his footing. Thus far he’d maintained his stance, mostly because the sheer size of the creatures was hindering their own ability to swarm over him. He chopped into the body as it twisted past him, his axe unleashing a spray of blood and gore that fountained across his already befouled features.
“I got plenty fer all a---AAARG!”
Hodge staggered forward, nearly falling as a centipede head drove into him from behind with the force of a piledriver. The burning sensation in his torso intensified a dozen times over as the thing pumped what felt like a gallon of flaming hot oil into his body. Something hard clamped onto his leg, but he barely felt it through the numbness that seemed to fall over him like a blanket. No. He was… a… dwarf…
“That the best yer got…” he mumbled, as he turned, his fists tightening on the bloody haft of his axe. Bodies slammed into him, and something glanced hard off of his helmet with enough force to dent the steel, but he had his gaze focused on the centipede that had stung him, its long body already lifting for another strike.
“Come… an… get… it…” he managed, the words barely audible as he brought the axe—suddenly it seemed so heavy—up above his head.
The head snapped forward, jaws coming wide to engulf him.
* * * * *
Chapter 521
Hodge caught a glimpse of the destruction of the smithy out of the corner of his eye, but although he shared Beorna’s concern about the disposition of his friend and mentor, at that moment he had other matters more prominently on his mind.
When the beetle had run over him, caroming off its underbody and a slashing leg, he’d bounced hard off the ground and rolled to a stop in the middle of the street. His friends were putting the fight to the big bug, he knew, but even as he pulled himself to his feet—that “pop” he heard from his back couldn’t be good, but he’d worry about that later—his attention was drawn back to the ruined gate of the village.
His eyes widened as a horde of giant centipedes literally poured through the gap, with those unable to immediately fit merely sliding over the wall to either side as though the fifteen foot stockade were a merely incidental obstacle. And it probably was, to bugs that were forty feet long if they were a foot! The dwarf suddenly became very aware of the fact that he was standing alone, very alone, in the middle of the street, as the flood came directly at him. But then he remembered himself, and he lifted his axe with a snarl. The straps of his shield had gotten snagged and torn from their moorings in his little misadventure with the beetle, so he shook it off, taking up the handle of the axe in both hands. He placed his feet with deliberation, taking up a defensive stance right were he was. Damned if he was going to move for a bunch of bugs!
“Arright, you ugly mothers, c’mon and get it!”
A stream of liquid energy infused with black wisps of shadowstuff tore through the night sky, arcing through the giant wasps assuaulting Umbar. The wasps suffered the full effect of the shadow evocation, the simulated chain lightning blasting through all three of those attacking the priest before culminating in a fourth that had started over to join in the commotion. But although it was obvious that the strike had driven them into a fury, to Cal’s disappointment none of them fell.
Umbar joined in the barrage, calling upon a flame strike that blasted two of the wasps heavily, including the one that had been the focus of Cal’s spell. That wasp was suffering now, its body blackened from the dual impacts, but it continue to buzz angrily at the dwarf, its abdomen darting ahead of its body with its deadly sting. Umbar drew back, but took another hit from the second wasp, and yet another from the third. Unable to outmaneuver the massive wasps, he was begin battered around like a child’s ball, and while his heavy armor had protected him thus far from being impaled, Cal knew from experience that those heavy blows had to be hurting him regardless.
“Get out of there!” Cal shouted, risking drawing attention to himself to forestall what he saw to be an inevitable outcome.
Umbar appeared to see it as well, for as he spun away from the latest impact he dove down, moving toward the base of the tower and the cover that it offered. But he had only covered a fraction of the distance when the fourth wasp shot down, intersecting the path of the cleric’s flight. It did not stab with its sting, but rather seized him with the hooked ends of its legs, holding him fast before turning and flying off rapidly with its passenger.
Cal began a casting to intervene, but adjusted his plan when he saw the other three wasps heading toward him, their wings beating with enough power to buffet him even fifty yards distant. They could not see him, he knew, but he’d already long since recognized that there were not only ordinary vermin, but that something… or someone… was directing them.
You’ll have to take care of yourself, he thought, before his mind shifted from Umbar’s plight to the pending difficulties of his own.
The cloud of dust and debris continued to surge around the head of the beetle as it drove deeper into the wreckage of the forge. There was no sign of Arun within that chaos, although with the beetle’s mass in the way it was unlikely that the glow of his magical hammer would have penetrated out into the night outside the ruined structure.
Beorna rose up off the ground, her sword a black slab in her hands. Her heart pounded with dread for Arun, but after the beetle had rammed the paladin into the building she’d known that her dagger wasn’t going to be enough to stop it. She’d recovered her sword, narrowly avoiding being trampled by the beetle’s surging hind legs, and now emerged from under it, moving forward parallel to its massive body until she was abreast of the point where its broad head joined to its body. Most of the head was lost in the wreckage of the ruined building, which the beetle continued to thrust against, as if intent upon reducing the forge to a mere smear upon the landscape of the town.
And somewhere within that building was Arun.
“By Helm!” she shouted, her loud cry sounding over the cacophony of the beetle’s destruction of the forge. Her sword came down in a powerful arc, driven by the templar’s considerable strength into that joint at the base of the beetle’s chitinous skull. The thing was just too damned big for her to decapitate it, but nevertheless her sword pierced deeply, her own weight driving it and her downward, cutting an opening easily eight feet long in the side of the beetle’s body. Black ooze erupted from the gap, splattering her as the beetle reared upward, turning toward her.
Beorna did not flinch, only bringing her sword up to strike again.
Hodge spat a gob of blood to clear his throat, sweeping his axe into the thick body of a centipede as it knifed past him. Blood splashed onto him from his other side, whipped by the gyrations of another centipede that he’d cut in half moments after it had delivered a painful bite to his shoulder. Twisting multisegmented bodies were everywhere, and he was lost in a writhing mass of bodies that were so intertwined that he could not tell where one ended and another begun. The heads, though… those he looked out for, for in addition to bludgeoning him with their bodies, the centipedes’ true danger lay in their envenomed bites. His body burned with the poison he knew coursed through his veins already from the three hits that had gotten through his armor, but there was nothing to be done about that, so he ignored it. Besides, he was a dwarf; he was damned if he was going to let a few bug bites do him in.
“Yer want more? C’mon then, yer bloody bloomin’ bastards!” He swept out his axe to meet a diving head, shearing half of it away, driving the centipede back chittering furiously. “Oh, yer want a piece?” he shouted, turning as a long body snapped against his back, nearly causing him to lose his footing. Thus far he’d maintained his stance, mostly because the sheer size of the creatures was hindering their own ability to swarm over him. He chopped into the body as it twisted past him, his axe unleashing a spray of blood and gore that fountained across his already befouled features.
“I got plenty fer all a---AAARG!”
Hodge staggered forward, nearly falling as a centipede head drove into him from behind with the force of a piledriver. The burning sensation in his torso intensified a dozen times over as the thing pumped what felt like a gallon of flaming hot oil into his body. Something hard clamped onto his leg, but he barely felt it through the numbness that seemed to fall over him like a blanket. No. He was… a… dwarf…
“That the best yer got…” he mumbled, as he turned, his fists tightening on the bloody haft of his axe. Bodies slammed into him, and something glanced hard off of his helmet with enough force to dent the steel, but he had his gaze focused on the centipede that had stung him, its long body already lifting for another strike.
“Come… an… get… it…” he managed, the words barely audible as he brought the axe—suddenly it seemed so heavy—up above his head.
The head snapped forward, jaws coming wide to engulf him.
Lazybones
Adventurer
Chapter 522
The axe and the centipede struck at the same time. A gout of blood erupted from the centipede’s head, and one of its mandibles went flying, severed by the magical sharpness of the blade. But even though it did not get a solid bite, the centipede’s head caromed hard off of Hodge’s arm, knocking the axe flying and spinning the dwarf nearly half around. Hodge looked around for his weapon, half-blinded by the bloody gore that caked the front of his helmet, but all he saw was the writhing mass of centipede bodies, both the ones still living and the still-moving ones he’d killed.
“Hodge!” came a loud, familiar voice from above. “Get out of there… fly upward!”
It was the gnome, his voice augmented by some kind of magic. The dwarf looked up, but couldn’t see anything except the wide open black of the night sky. Then he saw something… a small bead of golden light, falling from above toward him. For a moment the distractions of noise and blood and centipedes slamming into him faded into the background, as he watched the bright object descend. It fell to the ground right in front of him, a shining gold pellet perhaps the size of his thumbnail.
Fly!
Something clicked in his mind, and even through the haze of violence he felt a sudden flash of embarrassment. He’d forgotten that he was still empowered by the gnome’s magic!
A loud chittering drew his focus back to his surroundings. A pair of centipedes had risen up out of the mass, and were driving at him from his left and right, jaws gaping. Instinctively he leapt up, trusting the magic to know what he wanted to do. It did, the still-active fly spell carrying him straight upward.
But the centipedes did not give up their prey so easily; several lunged upward, their upper bodies extending dozens of feet into the air as they snapped at the dwarf’s feet. Bereft of his shield and axe, Hodge could only flail his legs as he willed himself upward.
“Faster, ye damned spell!” he shouted to the air.
And then, below him, the night exploded into day, as Cal’s second shadow evocation erupted into the blazing sphere of a delayed blast fireball. The centipedes were vaporized by the blast, and when it faded a circle forty feet across had been scorched into the street, that radius full of the steaming carcasses of the centipedes. A few still twitched, parts of their bodies outside of the area of the blast, but the impact had been devastating nevertheless.
Hodge looked down in amazement. Now that was something!
But then he heard a loud buzzing coming nearer, and he realized that his troubles were only just beginning.
Beorna flew backward in a desperate surge as the beetle surged up over her, slamming its flat head downward in an attempt to crush her against the paving stones of the road. A jutting segment of hard cartilage glanced hard off her shoulder, yanking her roughly down and around, but she continued her flight, narrowly darting out under its looming form moments before the beetle impacted the ground. The blow was hard enough to crack the pavement, but even though the force of it had to have injured it, it quickly lifted up its body, spreading its damaged jaws as it drove again toward Beorna.
It didn’t have far to go. The templar was surging forward to meet it, timing her stroke precisely to cleave her blade deep into the center of its gaping maw. A huge hunk of its jaw went flying with the first stroke, and she did not relent, spinning into another swing that crunched mightily into the other side of its maw before erupting out of the side of its head in a spray of blood and jagged fragments of shattered chitin.
Despite its incredible size, the beetle was clearly feeling the effects of its wounds. Its front end was now a bloody ruin, but it still thrust itself forward, using its head as a battering ram as it drove into Beorna. The templar was unable to get out of its way in time, and the impact of its considerable mass drove her roughly back, flying straight until she caught the protruding edge of a building’s roof that jutted out over the street. With a cry she twisted and fell in a clatter of roof tiles and wood fragments, landing with a jarring thud upon the ground below. She grimaced, clutching onto her sword with one hand; the other lay at her side, her shoulder dislocated by her collision with the roof.
She staggered to her feet, looking up to see the beetle charging straight toward her, with no place for her to go to escape it.
The axe and the centipede struck at the same time. A gout of blood erupted from the centipede’s head, and one of its mandibles went flying, severed by the magical sharpness of the blade. But even though it did not get a solid bite, the centipede’s head caromed hard off of Hodge’s arm, knocking the axe flying and spinning the dwarf nearly half around. Hodge looked around for his weapon, half-blinded by the bloody gore that caked the front of his helmet, but all he saw was the writhing mass of centipede bodies, both the ones still living and the still-moving ones he’d killed.
“Hodge!” came a loud, familiar voice from above. “Get out of there… fly upward!”
It was the gnome, his voice augmented by some kind of magic. The dwarf looked up, but couldn’t see anything except the wide open black of the night sky. Then he saw something… a small bead of golden light, falling from above toward him. For a moment the distractions of noise and blood and centipedes slamming into him faded into the background, as he watched the bright object descend. It fell to the ground right in front of him, a shining gold pellet perhaps the size of his thumbnail.
Fly!
Something clicked in his mind, and even through the haze of violence he felt a sudden flash of embarrassment. He’d forgotten that he was still empowered by the gnome’s magic!
A loud chittering drew his focus back to his surroundings. A pair of centipedes had risen up out of the mass, and were driving at him from his left and right, jaws gaping. Instinctively he leapt up, trusting the magic to know what he wanted to do. It did, the still-active fly spell carrying him straight upward.
But the centipedes did not give up their prey so easily; several lunged upward, their upper bodies extending dozens of feet into the air as they snapped at the dwarf’s feet. Bereft of his shield and axe, Hodge could only flail his legs as he willed himself upward.
“Faster, ye damned spell!” he shouted to the air.
And then, below him, the night exploded into day, as Cal’s second shadow evocation erupted into the blazing sphere of a delayed blast fireball. The centipedes were vaporized by the blast, and when it faded a circle forty feet across had been scorched into the street, that radius full of the steaming carcasses of the centipedes. A few still twitched, parts of their bodies outside of the area of the blast, but the impact had been devastating nevertheless.
Hodge looked down in amazement. Now that was something!
But then he heard a loud buzzing coming nearer, and he realized that his troubles were only just beginning.
Beorna flew backward in a desperate surge as the beetle surged up over her, slamming its flat head downward in an attempt to crush her against the paving stones of the road. A jutting segment of hard cartilage glanced hard off her shoulder, yanking her roughly down and around, but she continued her flight, narrowly darting out under its looming form moments before the beetle impacted the ground. The blow was hard enough to crack the pavement, but even though the force of it had to have injured it, it quickly lifted up its body, spreading its damaged jaws as it drove again toward Beorna.
It didn’t have far to go. The templar was surging forward to meet it, timing her stroke precisely to cleave her blade deep into the center of its gaping maw. A huge hunk of its jaw went flying with the first stroke, and she did not relent, spinning into another swing that crunched mightily into the other side of its maw before erupting out of the side of its head in a spray of blood and jagged fragments of shattered chitin.
Despite its incredible size, the beetle was clearly feeling the effects of its wounds. Its front end was now a bloody ruin, but it still thrust itself forward, using its head as a battering ram as it drove into Beorna. The templar was unable to get out of its way in time, and the impact of its considerable mass drove her roughly back, flying straight until she caught the protruding edge of a building’s roof that jutted out over the street. With a cry she twisted and fell in a clatter of roof tiles and wood fragments, landing with a jarring thud upon the ground below. She grimaced, clutching onto her sword with one hand; the other lay at her side, her shoulder dislocated by her collision with the roof.
She staggered to her feet, looking up to see the beetle charging straight toward her, with no place for her to go to escape it.
Lazybones
Adventurer
Chapter 523
Cal heard the buzzing of the wasps well before Hodge detected them coming. Still protected with greater invisibility, he nevertheless knew that whoever was directing the vermin would be able to guide them to his general location as long as he was casting spells. He’d already used a major image to distract the three wasps that had come after him, sending them on a futile hunt around the tower, but he knew that tricks and misdirection would only keep them at bay for so long.
And besides, Hodge, now hovering sixty feet above the street, made an all-too-inviting alternative target.
The wasps had spotted the dwarf as well, and made directly for him while he tried to collect his bearings. Using his rod to empower the spell, Cal disintegrated the first one, but the next two merely flew through the haze of fine ash left behind by the spell.
“Fly down, take cover!” he warned the dwarf.
“Fly up! Fly down! Make up yer bloody mind, gnome!” he shouted, but he nevertheless complied, descending behind the cover of the partially intact roof of the inn. One of the wasps followed him, but the other headed for the source of the spell, buzzing loudly toward the point where the disintegration ray had originated. It stabbed its stinger ahead of it, but it passed through only open air. It quickly turned and headed back to join its fellow in attacking the dwarf.
It only got a little way, though, before another green ray impacted it, disintegrating it as well.
Hodge ducked behind one of the inn’s chimneys, but the maneuver granted him only an instant’s respite as the wasp stung through the construction, knocking the dwarf back along the roof in a shower of shattered bricks. Hodge slid back and tumbled off the roof, but fortunately he remembered this time that he could still fly, and he recovered before he hit the ground below. He tried to dart behind the building, but the wasp was right on him following close behind as it tried to maneuver into position for thrust from its stinger. Hodge, already bitten and battered to the brink of unconsciousness, felt no desire to stop and engage it. He took the corner in a tight turn only moments before the wasp clipped the building, knocking hunks of wood and shattered masonry free from the structure. The turn had not slowed it significantly, and there was no place else for Hodge to go as the wasp descended upon him. Its stinger knifed forward…
And vanished, as Cal’s third disintegrate ended it.
Hodge drifted down the six or seven feet back down to the ground, breathing heavily as he glanced up at the sky. “Took ye bloody well long enough,” he groaned.
The colossal beetle clearly wasn’t planning on stopping as it charged straight toward Beorna and the building right behind her. The templar could not move her left arm, but she lifted her sword in her right, spitting out a challenge that ended in another invocation of Helm. But before the beetle absorbed the full span of her vision she caught sight of a streak of movement behind it, and felt a surge of relief pass through her.
Arun, covered in dust and blood, shone nevertheless in the bright nimbus of golden light that emanated from his hammer as he flew directly at the beetle from behind. Ignoring its lumbering bulk as he passed above it, he rose up about fifteen feet above before descending in a steep dive toward the back of its head. The cry of the Chosen of Moradin shattered the night as he drove his warhammer with both hands into the flat center of its head, smashing a plate of chitin the size of a dinner table and driving it down several feet into the soft mush below. The beetle’s brain, a tiny lump uncomplicated by mammalian features, was somewhere within that crushed mass, but it took a few moments for the insect’s body to get the message that it was dead. Beorna leapt aside as the beetle caromed hard into the house behind her, half of the structure collapsing in upon itself in a loud crash of wood, glass, and bricks. The thing actually rebounded, staggering out into the street before it collapsed in a noisome heap.
Arun flew down to where Beorna lay, knocked prone from a random blow from one of the beetle’s thick legs in its death throes. “Are you all right?” he asked, helping her up. She grimaced as the motion stabbed pain through her injured shoulder.
“Shoulder… dislocated…” she managed to say. “Yank it back in for me.”
Arun did as directed, adding a flow of healing magic that eased the templar’s injuries. The paladin himself was in worse shape, his body battered from his treatment as a dwarven battering ram by the beetle, so she immediately started channeling her own magic into him, the soft blue glow fading from her hands into his body.
“What about the others?” Arun said, not pausing to enjoy the relief that Beorna was offering, already looking about for more foes. The sky was clear of wasps, however, and the only other vermin that still moved were a few centipedes that were clearly in the last throes of life.
“Umbar was carried off by one of the wasps,” Beorna said. “I saw Hodge… over there, by the main gate.” She didn’t have to be more specific; they could both see the scorched mass of dead centipedes that dominated the street.
“We’d better start looking for them,” Arun said, lifting up into the air once more, Beorna only a moment behind him. But even as they rose up above the wreckage of the village’s main street, Arun caught sight of Umbar flying through the night sky toward them. A moment later, Hodge emerged around the corner of the ruined inn, walking with a clear limp, gesturing for them to join them rather than flying up to meet them.
Umbar joined Arun and Beorna as they landed in the street a short distance off from the blasted circle of bugs.
“Not natural, all this flyin’ about,” Hodge grumbled, as Beorna healed some of his wounds.
“Where’s Cal?” Arun asked.
“I am here,” the gnome said, materializing out of the sky above them, before drifting down to hover a foot above the ground, enough so that he could meet the dwarves at eye level.
“Where did those vermin come from?” Umbar said. He looked battered but apparently had already healed himself, as he seemed no more the worse for wear from his encounters with the wasps. “We have huge insects in the Rift, but I’ve never seen an attack upon a settlement like that.”
“It was a coordinated assault,” Cal said. “There was an intelligence behind the vermin, directing their attacks.”
“Who would have a motive to assault you?” Umbar said.
“We have made more than a few… enemies,” Cal replied. “There’s one in particular, who would have an incentive to seeing myself and my companions dead.”
He looked at Arun as he said it, and the paladin nodded; he knew who the gnome meant. Beorna, too, frowned, her expression darkening. But Arun merely turned, sliding his hammer into the sleeve that lay across his back. “The people here will need help. We should check for survivors.”
The five of them turned to the task of helping the battered people of Ember Vale, who began to trickle out of their cellars, looking around in bewildered amazement at the destruction that had been wrought upon their village.
* * * * *
In the overgrown thicket behind the ridge, a little over a mile from Ember Vale, the Shaman of the M’butu opened his eyes. His black hide was slick with icy droplets of sweat that clung to him like frozen tears. But despite the lack of clothing the cold of the night did not touch him. He was momentarily disoriented, but his iron control did not falter, and he merely swayed for a few seconds before he had fully recovered from the j’kala trance. The drug would hinder him for some hours yet, but he had learned to deal with that.
The odd white moon of this Reality had set, leaving the dell cloaked in a deep darkness, but the Shaman did not need its light to sense his surroundings, or to see his Soldiers keeping their silent vigil around him.
His initial gambit had failed. He would have to sacrifice much for the next effort. The Shaman did not welcome that sacrifice, nor what the ritual would do to him, but the price would be paid. He did not trust the messenger of the Six Fingered Man, but for a chance for freedom for his people, no price was too high to pay.
The Shaman settled back upon the rough earth. The first attack had been just a probe, to test the defenses of his enemy. He would rest, gather his strength. His enemy might flee, or otherwise seek escape, but he did not believe that it was so. His intital attack had given him some degree of insight into his enemy. No, it was more likely that this first attack would alert them, drive them to caution, and perhaps draw the foes of the Six Fingered Man together.
In other words, exactly what the Shaman of the M’butu wanted.
Cal heard the buzzing of the wasps well before Hodge detected them coming. Still protected with greater invisibility, he nevertheless knew that whoever was directing the vermin would be able to guide them to his general location as long as he was casting spells. He’d already used a major image to distract the three wasps that had come after him, sending them on a futile hunt around the tower, but he knew that tricks and misdirection would only keep them at bay for so long.
And besides, Hodge, now hovering sixty feet above the street, made an all-too-inviting alternative target.
The wasps had spotted the dwarf as well, and made directly for him while he tried to collect his bearings. Using his rod to empower the spell, Cal disintegrated the first one, but the next two merely flew through the haze of fine ash left behind by the spell.
“Fly down, take cover!” he warned the dwarf.
“Fly up! Fly down! Make up yer bloody mind, gnome!” he shouted, but he nevertheless complied, descending behind the cover of the partially intact roof of the inn. One of the wasps followed him, but the other headed for the source of the spell, buzzing loudly toward the point where the disintegration ray had originated. It stabbed its stinger ahead of it, but it passed through only open air. It quickly turned and headed back to join its fellow in attacking the dwarf.
It only got a little way, though, before another green ray impacted it, disintegrating it as well.
Hodge ducked behind one of the inn’s chimneys, but the maneuver granted him only an instant’s respite as the wasp stung through the construction, knocking the dwarf back along the roof in a shower of shattered bricks. Hodge slid back and tumbled off the roof, but fortunately he remembered this time that he could still fly, and he recovered before he hit the ground below. He tried to dart behind the building, but the wasp was right on him following close behind as it tried to maneuver into position for thrust from its stinger. Hodge, already bitten and battered to the brink of unconsciousness, felt no desire to stop and engage it. He took the corner in a tight turn only moments before the wasp clipped the building, knocking hunks of wood and shattered masonry free from the structure. The turn had not slowed it significantly, and there was no place else for Hodge to go as the wasp descended upon him. Its stinger knifed forward…
And vanished, as Cal’s third disintegrate ended it.
Hodge drifted down the six or seven feet back down to the ground, breathing heavily as he glanced up at the sky. “Took ye bloody well long enough,” he groaned.
The colossal beetle clearly wasn’t planning on stopping as it charged straight toward Beorna and the building right behind her. The templar could not move her left arm, but she lifted her sword in her right, spitting out a challenge that ended in another invocation of Helm. But before the beetle absorbed the full span of her vision she caught sight of a streak of movement behind it, and felt a surge of relief pass through her.
Arun, covered in dust and blood, shone nevertheless in the bright nimbus of golden light that emanated from his hammer as he flew directly at the beetle from behind. Ignoring its lumbering bulk as he passed above it, he rose up about fifteen feet above before descending in a steep dive toward the back of its head. The cry of the Chosen of Moradin shattered the night as he drove his warhammer with both hands into the flat center of its head, smashing a plate of chitin the size of a dinner table and driving it down several feet into the soft mush below. The beetle’s brain, a tiny lump uncomplicated by mammalian features, was somewhere within that crushed mass, but it took a few moments for the insect’s body to get the message that it was dead. Beorna leapt aside as the beetle caromed hard into the house behind her, half of the structure collapsing in upon itself in a loud crash of wood, glass, and bricks. The thing actually rebounded, staggering out into the street before it collapsed in a noisome heap.
Arun flew down to where Beorna lay, knocked prone from a random blow from one of the beetle’s thick legs in its death throes. “Are you all right?” he asked, helping her up. She grimaced as the motion stabbed pain through her injured shoulder.
“Shoulder… dislocated…” she managed to say. “Yank it back in for me.”
Arun did as directed, adding a flow of healing magic that eased the templar’s injuries. The paladin himself was in worse shape, his body battered from his treatment as a dwarven battering ram by the beetle, so she immediately started channeling her own magic into him, the soft blue glow fading from her hands into his body.
“What about the others?” Arun said, not pausing to enjoy the relief that Beorna was offering, already looking about for more foes. The sky was clear of wasps, however, and the only other vermin that still moved were a few centipedes that were clearly in the last throes of life.
“Umbar was carried off by one of the wasps,” Beorna said. “I saw Hodge… over there, by the main gate.” She didn’t have to be more specific; they could both see the scorched mass of dead centipedes that dominated the street.
“We’d better start looking for them,” Arun said, lifting up into the air once more, Beorna only a moment behind him. But even as they rose up above the wreckage of the village’s main street, Arun caught sight of Umbar flying through the night sky toward them. A moment later, Hodge emerged around the corner of the ruined inn, walking with a clear limp, gesturing for them to join them rather than flying up to meet them.
Umbar joined Arun and Beorna as they landed in the street a short distance off from the blasted circle of bugs.
“Not natural, all this flyin’ about,” Hodge grumbled, as Beorna healed some of his wounds.
“Where’s Cal?” Arun asked.
“I am here,” the gnome said, materializing out of the sky above them, before drifting down to hover a foot above the ground, enough so that he could meet the dwarves at eye level.
“Where did those vermin come from?” Umbar said. He looked battered but apparently had already healed himself, as he seemed no more the worse for wear from his encounters with the wasps. “We have huge insects in the Rift, but I’ve never seen an attack upon a settlement like that.”
“It was a coordinated assault,” Cal said. “There was an intelligence behind the vermin, directing their attacks.”
“Who would have a motive to assault you?” Umbar said.
“We have made more than a few… enemies,” Cal replied. “There’s one in particular, who would have an incentive to seeing myself and my companions dead.”
He looked at Arun as he said it, and the paladin nodded; he knew who the gnome meant. Beorna, too, frowned, her expression darkening. But Arun merely turned, sliding his hammer into the sleeve that lay across his back. “The people here will need help. We should check for survivors.”
The five of them turned to the task of helping the battered people of Ember Vale, who began to trickle out of their cellars, looking around in bewildered amazement at the destruction that had been wrought upon their village.
* * * * *
In the overgrown thicket behind the ridge, a little over a mile from Ember Vale, the Shaman of the M’butu opened his eyes. His black hide was slick with icy droplets of sweat that clung to him like frozen tears. But despite the lack of clothing the cold of the night did not touch him. He was momentarily disoriented, but his iron control did not falter, and he merely swayed for a few seconds before he had fully recovered from the j’kala trance. The drug would hinder him for some hours yet, but he had learned to deal with that.
The odd white moon of this Reality had set, leaving the dell cloaked in a deep darkness, but the Shaman did not need its light to sense his surroundings, or to see his Soldiers keeping their silent vigil around him.
His initial gambit had failed. He would have to sacrifice much for the next effort. The Shaman did not welcome that sacrifice, nor what the ritual would do to him, but the price would be paid. He did not trust the messenger of the Six Fingered Man, but for a chance for freedom for his people, no price was too high to pay.
The Shaman settled back upon the rough earth. The first attack had been just a probe, to test the defenses of his enemy. He would rest, gather his strength. His enemy might flee, or otherwise seek escape, but he did not believe that it was so. His intital attack had given him some degree of insight into his enemy. No, it was more likely that this first attack would alert them, drive them to caution, and perhaps draw the foes of the Six Fingered Man together.
In other words, exactly what the Shaman of the M’butu wanted.
Lazybones
Adventurer
Chapter 524
Cal and the dwarves got no sleep the rest of that night, in the aftermath of the attack on Ember Vale. The house that the beetle had slammed into in its final rush had collapsed in upon itself, trapping a family in a tenuous space beneath sagging supports in the cellar. Umbar summoned an earth elemental to help excavate the survivors before the structure collapsed. Others in the community had been injured in the attack, but thanks to Cal’s advance warning, no one lost their lives.
There was another close call in the wreckage of the town inn. The entire front facing of the building had been torn away, revealing the ruins of the common room on the first floor, and a row of sleeping rooms directly above. Arun and Beorna had been helping to free a young man who’d been pinned under the common room’s long bar by a fallen beam, when a loud creaking sound drew their attention around in alarm. Two of the heavy struts supporting what was left of the ceiling had buckled against the beetle’s assault, and the third was bent, the weathered wooden pillar cracked a few feet above where it vanished into the floor.
“We’re going to lose it!” Beorna said, crouched under one end of the fallen beam, using her legs to slowly push it upward. Arun was at the other end with a broken shaft of piling as a lever, pushing it up enough for the templar to drag the man out of his prison. As soon as he was free, Beorna pushed the broken beam out of her way, picking up the groaning man as she staggered toward the gaping open front of the inn, Arun just behind her.
Their efforts seemed to push the tottering inn over the edge; the beam sagged with a loud creaking noise, and debris rained down on them from above as the ceiling edge tilted a foot downward. Beorna was hit solidly by a small table that fell down from the sleeping room above; fortunately she was wearing her helmet, and she merely sagged a bit, protecting the injured man with her body.
Arun staggered against the creaking pillar, driving his hands against it, willing it to hold.
“Come on!” Beorna shouted back at him.
“Get him out!” Arun shot back.
Several other pieces of furniture and broken boards from the sundered front wall clattered down as Beorna navigated the mess of debris and staggered out into the open street beyond. Once clear, she immediately laid the injured man down in a space far enough away from the inn to be secure, and turned back to where Arun remained inside.
But the danger had passed. As the templar reentered the stricken structure, she was surprised to see Arun still standing against the strut, which now stood straight, undamaged, holding the remaining ceiling securely in place.
“What did you do?” she asked.
The paladin drew off his helmet, and ran a gauntleted hand along the length of the strut. “I’m not quite sure.”
By the time that all of the villagers had been safely gathered, and those that had suffered injuries had been treated, the eastern sky had brightened with the coming of dawn. Two homes, the inn, and the forge were either heavily damaged or destroyed, but the rest of the settlement had escaped damage. The main gate was a total loss, but that at least could be rebuilt swiftly with raw materials at hand.
The evidence of the battle was just those physical remains of buildings and fortifications, streaks of blood staining the ground and the blackened circle where Cal’s shadowed fireball had struck. The giant vermin had disappeared within a few minutes of the battle’s end. Cal had spent some minutes in the road where the outline of the fallen giant beetle could still be seen imprinted in the dirt. He finally found something; bending down, he lifted the dead beetle, now smaller than his forefinger. He looked at it for quite some time, thoughts swirling.
Fear and uncertainty was evident in the faces of the sixty people who gathered in front of the tower, even as the sun began to break above the horizon to the east. The dwarves were there, impressive with their heavy armor and weapons, and even Cal carried himself with an aura of somber dignity and presence as he stood atop a low masonry wall that separated the tower grounds off from the main road through the village. The people quieted, looking to their leader for reassurance, for despite the gnome’s short stature, his reputation among the common folk of Ember Vale had been certified over the last twenty years. He was the Archmage, and his words carried weight.
“Friends,” he told them, “We have suffered a violent assault upon our community. Thanks to the intervention of a few good friends,” he indicated the dwarves with a nod, and sixty faces turned briefly toward them, “no lives were lost. We do not know who or what was behind this attack, but rest assured, we will not cease looking until we uncover the responsible party. Our buildings have suffered damage, but those can be replaced. Of more importance is the healthy and safety of our people… that, we will ever fight to ensure.”
“Will there be more of them?” one of the villagers asked.
“In all honesty, we cannot be certain,” Cal said. “For today, I ask that you not go out into the fields. Those whose homes were destroyed should stay with friends; we will set up quarters in the Commons Hall for people who do not have other options. If you can, help with the rebuilding effort; we will try and get the gate up again first, and then work on salvaging what we can of the damaged structures. Give me a day, and we will do what we can to determine the nature and dimension of the threat.”
The faces of the villagers showed that they were not entirely reassured, but there was nothing that they could do except to shuffle off to their assigned tasks, or to return to their beds to catch up on lost sleep. The dwarves lingered, and accompanied Cal into the tower.
“A fine speech,” Umbar said. “So what is it you intend to do?”
“Right now, I intend to get about eight hours of sleep,” Cal explained. “And after that…”
He paused, his brow tightening as something seemed to flash through his thoughts.
“After that, we gather our forces, and take the fight to our enemy.”
Cal and the dwarves got no sleep the rest of that night, in the aftermath of the attack on Ember Vale. The house that the beetle had slammed into in its final rush had collapsed in upon itself, trapping a family in a tenuous space beneath sagging supports in the cellar. Umbar summoned an earth elemental to help excavate the survivors before the structure collapsed. Others in the community had been injured in the attack, but thanks to Cal’s advance warning, no one lost their lives.
There was another close call in the wreckage of the town inn. The entire front facing of the building had been torn away, revealing the ruins of the common room on the first floor, and a row of sleeping rooms directly above. Arun and Beorna had been helping to free a young man who’d been pinned under the common room’s long bar by a fallen beam, when a loud creaking sound drew their attention around in alarm. Two of the heavy struts supporting what was left of the ceiling had buckled against the beetle’s assault, and the third was bent, the weathered wooden pillar cracked a few feet above where it vanished into the floor.
“We’re going to lose it!” Beorna said, crouched under one end of the fallen beam, using her legs to slowly push it upward. Arun was at the other end with a broken shaft of piling as a lever, pushing it up enough for the templar to drag the man out of his prison. As soon as he was free, Beorna pushed the broken beam out of her way, picking up the groaning man as she staggered toward the gaping open front of the inn, Arun just behind her.
Their efforts seemed to push the tottering inn over the edge; the beam sagged with a loud creaking noise, and debris rained down on them from above as the ceiling edge tilted a foot downward. Beorna was hit solidly by a small table that fell down from the sleeping room above; fortunately she was wearing her helmet, and she merely sagged a bit, protecting the injured man with her body.
Arun staggered against the creaking pillar, driving his hands against it, willing it to hold.
“Come on!” Beorna shouted back at him.
“Get him out!” Arun shot back.
Several other pieces of furniture and broken boards from the sundered front wall clattered down as Beorna navigated the mess of debris and staggered out into the open street beyond. Once clear, she immediately laid the injured man down in a space far enough away from the inn to be secure, and turned back to where Arun remained inside.
But the danger had passed. As the templar reentered the stricken structure, she was surprised to see Arun still standing against the strut, which now stood straight, undamaged, holding the remaining ceiling securely in place.
“What did you do?” she asked.
The paladin drew off his helmet, and ran a gauntleted hand along the length of the strut. “I’m not quite sure.”
By the time that all of the villagers had been safely gathered, and those that had suffered injuries had been treated, the eastern sky had brightened with the coming of dawn. Two homes, the inn, and the forge were either heavily damaged or destroyed, but the rest of the settlement had escaped damage. The main gate was a total loss, but that at least could be rebuilt swiftly with raw materials at hand.
The evidence of the battle was just those physical remains of buildings and fortifications, streaks of blood staining the ground and the blackened circle where Cal’s shadowed fireball had struck. The giant vermin had disappeared within a few minutes of the battle’s end. Cal had spent some minutes in the road where the outline of the fallen giant beetle could still be seen imprinted in the dirt. He finally found something; bending down, he lifted the dead beetle, now smaller than his forefinger. He looked at it for quite some time, thoughts swirling.
Fear and uncertainty was evident in the faces of the sixty people who gathered in front of the tower, even as the sun began to break above the horizon to the east. The dwarves were there, impressive with their heavy armor and weapons, and even Cal carried himself with an aura of somber dignity and presence as he stood atop a low masonry wall that separated the tower grounds off from the main road through the village. The people quieted, looking to their leader for reassurance, for despite the gnome’s short stature, his reputation among the common folk of Ember Vale had been certified over the last twenty years. He was the Archmage, and his words carried weight.
“Friends,” he told them, “We have suffered a violent assault upon our community. Thanks to the intervention of a few good friends,” he indicated the dwarves with a nod, and sixty faces turned briefly toward them, “no lives were lost. We do not know who or what was behind this attack, but rest assured, we will not cease looking until we uncover the responsible party. Our buildings have suffered damage, but those can be replaced. Of more importance is the healthy and safety of our people… that, we will ever fight to ensure.”
“Will there be more of them?” one of the villagers asked.
“In all honesty, we cannot be certain,” Cal said. “For today, I ask that you not go out into the fields. Those whose homes were destroyed should stay with friends; we will set up quarters in the Commons Hall for people who do not have other options. If you can, help with the rebuilding effort; we will try and get the gate up again first, and then work on salvaging what we can of the damaged structures. Give me a day, and we will do what we can to determine the nature and dimension of the threat.”
The faces of the villagers showed that they were not entirely reassured, but there was nothing that they could do except to shuffle off to their assigned tasks, or to return to their beds to catch up on lost sleep. The dwarves lingered, and accompanied Cal into the tower.
“A fine speech,” Umbar said. “So what is it you intend to do?”
“Right now, I intend to get about eight hours of sleep,” Cal explained. “And after that…”
He paused, his brow tightening as something seemed to flash through his thoughts.
“After that, we gather our forces, and take the fight to our enemy.”
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