Shackled City Epic: "Vengeance" (story concluded)
- Thread starter Lazybones
- Start date
Lazybones
Adventurer
*ego mollified* Thanks guys! We authors are a fragile lot 
* * * * *
Chapter 49
Arun Goldenshield drained the last dregs of ale from his tall mug, wiping the foam from his jaw—his clean-shaven jaw—before dropping the stein noisily on the table before him. The tavernkeeper shot him an inquiring look from where he stood behind the bar, polishing the bottles and mugs lined up in neat rows on the shelving against the wall. Arun shook his head, and ran his fingers across his jaw. The stubble was starting to itch; it was time to shave again. The thick, full beard of the dwarven tavernkeeper seemed to mock him, but the man was a good enough chap. Shield dwarves and gold dwarves didn’t always have the best of relations, but the tavernkeeper had come even farther from his own home than Arun had, and he showed respect to the symbol that the paladin wore about his neck. Respected the symbol, anyway, if not the man.
Arun harrumphed, refusing to indulge himself with self-pity. It had been a long tenday for him, after returning from the Malachite Fortress. Unlike Zenna he had not spent that time with regrets and soul searching; the line between Good and Evil had been clear down there, and he’d unleashed his share of righteous smiting of the latter in a cause that had been both honorable and just. The captives had been freed, and the corrupted half-dwarf behind it slain. Of course, he’d fallen before Kazmojen had been finally defeated, but at least he’d weakened him enough for his comrades to finish the job...
The paladin harrumphed again, his armor creaking as he adjusted himself. The metal plates fit him like a second skin, now, and he rarely left his room, even just to come down here for an ale or three, without it on. He admitted that the Helmites—or more accurately, whoever they’d hired out to do the work—had done a fine job with it. Kazmojen’s armor had taken a pounding in their battle, and burned to boot when Mole and Fario roasted the regenerating brute, but it had been restored lovingly to service, and further etched with the design of the Soul Forger, right across the front of the breastplate. Arun had been rightfully honored when the clerics had presented him with it, and his old battle-scarred suit of scale armor had quickly found its way into the discard bin.
The tavernkeeper shot him another glance, followed by a not-so-subtle look at the single window high along one wall of the common room. Arun refused to rise to the bait. He knew it was early, that another whole day lay out there in wait. Dwarves had nothing against spending time in dark, crowded place under the earth, and he himself enjoyed time spent in prayer and contemplation, but even he had to admit that he was mostly hiding here, enjoying the company of fellow dwarves, strong drink and songs. No one knew him here. No one knew what he had done.
Abruptly he pushed the bench back from the table and rose. What was he doing here, anyway? There was no evil to be confronted in the dingy depths of a dwarven tavern. He harrumphed again, but his heart wasn’t in it. Where else could he go?
He turned to head back to his room, but even as he left his table the outer door burst open, and Mole charged in, almost colliding with him in her rush.
* * * * *
The morning sunlight had been replaced by thick gray clouds that had gathered overhead as the companions gathered at the northern gate of the city. Not dark enough yet to promise more rain, they nonetheless encouraged them to haste as they rode through the massive stone arch that formed a tunnel through the thick city wall. The reinforced doors at each end of the tunnel were open, and the guards paid little heed to their progress as they rode through. Beyond the city lay a winding, sometimes steep road that would take them down the mountainside into the foothills beyond, and further yet into the plains that formed a narrow belt between the Alamir Mountains and the vast Forest of Mir. Near Cauldron, the foothills and the creeping edges of the wood came close together, enough so that the easy ride across the plains would be the shortest and easiest part of their ride. First, they had to get down from the mountains.
Zenna glanced back at Arun, who looked ill at ease on his horse. Mole said that the dwarf had readily agreed to accompany them, but he’d barely said five words to Zenna, and a storm having nothing to do with the inclement weather seemed to hang over the paladin. Still, she was glad to have him with them, going into a potentially dangerous situation like this one.
Illewyn, on the other hand, was an unknown quantity. The woman was in her mid twenties, fit enough if hinting slightly toward a pudginess that would probably grow more developed as youth retreated into middle age. Her shoulder-length black hair was tied neatly back into a knot, but even though she now wore a chain shirt over her clerical robes, and a light horseman’s mace hung at her belt, she definitely did not radiate the martial air of a battle-priest. In some ways, she reminded Zenna of Ruphos, who similarly had been forced to take up a role for which he had not been prepared.
Mole was riding behind the cleric, chattering on about some random topic. Zenna didn’t bother to listen in, instead turning her attention back to the road ahead.
As they reached the first bend in the road, the first of many as it switchbacked its way down the mountain upon which Cauldron perched, Zenna caught sight of a squat column formed at the next bend, a jumble of boulders stacked haphazardly in a pile. Beside that natural pillar there was a horse and rider, apparently waiting for them. A suspicion grew in her even before they drew close enough for her to identify the rider, who simply sat there on his mount, waiting without greeting or hail as they approached.
“Dannel,” Zenna said, finally reining in a few paces away, the others close behind her.
The elf looked much the same as when he’d taken leave of them an hour before, although now he carried a considerable composite longbow across his lap, with a quiver packed full of long shafts jutting out from behind his shoulder. His horse was a powerful roan, looking like a Shaar breed, perhaps, with its muscular shoulders and hindquarters. It snorted at the other horses, and it sounded like a challenge.
“What are you doing here?” Zenna asked, a hint of impatience creeping into her voice.
The elf lifted his palms, as if to place her at ease. “I was looking to get out of the city for a time, and would share the road with you, if you are willing.”
“Hey,” Mole began, but Zenna cut her off. “I think you’d better be straight with me, starting right now,” the tiefling said.
“You want I should tie this fellow around this pillar?” Arun growled. “He certainly looks stringy enough for a few knots to hold.”
“Peace, dwarf,” he said, but his eyes were like shards of glass, hard and edgy. But he shifted his gaze back to Zenna. “Very well, Zenna, I will be honest with you. There are two reasons that I wish to accompany you.”
“The first is as I said before. The urgency of your departure, your weapons and the manner that you carry them, and the presence of the cleric of Helm, tells me that the nature of the High Priest’s situation is serious. I meant what I said, I wish the cleric no ill, and if he is in danger, I would offer my aid to his cause.”
“And the second reason?” Zenna prodded.
“I’ve been asked to watch over you,” he said.
Zenna nodded to herself. So Esbar Tolerathkas had more than a passing interest in her, it seemed. Part of her felt a surge of fury at the presumption of it, setting a... a guardian over her, as if she was some possession to be monitored. But she also had to admit that the road ahead might be dangerous, if the threat was something that the High Priest of Helm could not handle.
“We ride swiftly,” she said. “You’ll have to keep up as best you can.”
He smiled at her, that same enigmatic smile as before, as she kicked her mount forward again. The others followed behind her, with Mole already engaged in a new conversation with the elf as he fell into the line. Arun brought up the rear, and Zenna could already hear what was sure to be a long day of grumbling begin from that direction.
She urged her horse into a canter, and they continued as quickly as was safe down the side of the mountain.
* * * * *
I'll post Dannel Ardan's stats in the Rogues' Gallery thread shortly.
* * * * *
Chapter 49
Arun Goldenshield drained the last dregs of ale from his tall mug, wiping the foam from his jaw—his clean-shaven jaw—before dropping the stein noisily on the table before him. The tavernkeeper shot him an inquiring look from where he stood behind the bar, polishing the bottles and mugs lined up in neat rows on the shelving against the wall. Arun shook his head, and ran his fingers across his jaw. The stubble was starting to itch; it was time to shave again. The thick, full beard of the dwarven tavernkeeper seemed to mock him, but the man was a good enough chap. Shield dwarves and gold dwarves didn’t always have the best of relations, but the tavernkeeper had come even farther from his own home than Arun had, and he showed respect to the symbol that the paladin wore about his neck. Respected the symbol, anyway, if not the man.
Arun harrumphed, refusing to indulge himself with self-pity. It had been a long tenday for him, after returning from the Malachite Fortress. Unlike Zenna he had not spent that time with regrets and soul searching; the line between Good and Evil had been clear down there, and he’d unleashed his share of righteous smiting of the latter in a cause that had been both honorable and just. The captives had been freed, and the corrupted half-dwarf behind it slain. Of course, he’d fallen before Kazmojen had been finally defeated, but at least he’d weakened him enough for his comrades to finish the job...
The paladin harrumphed again, his armor creaking as he adjusted himself. The metal plates fit him like a second skin, now, and he rarely left his room, even just to come down here for an ale or three, without it on. He admitted that the Helmites—or more accurately, whoever they’d hired out to do the work—had done a fine job with it. Kazmojen’s armor had taken a pounding in their battle, and burned to boot when Mole and Fario roasted the regenerating brute, but it had been restored lovingly to service, and further etched with the design of the Soul Forger, right across the front of the breastplate. Arun had been rightfully honored when the clerics had presented him with it, and his old battle-scarred suit of scale armor had quickly found its way into the discard bin.
The tavernkeeper shot him another glance, followed by a not-so-subtle look at the single window high along one wall of the common room. Arun refused to rise to the bait. He knew it was early, that another whole day lay out there in wait. Dwarves had nothing against spending time in dark, crowded place under the earth, and he himself enjoyed time spent in prayer and contemplation, but even he had to admit that he was mostly hiding here, enjoying the company of fellow dwarves, strong drink and songs. No one knew him here. No one knew what he had done.
Abruptly he pushed the bench back from the table and rose. What was he doing here, anyway? There was no evil to be confronted in the dingy depths of a dwarven tavern. He harrumphed again, but his heart wasn’t in it. Where else could he go?
He turned to head back to his room, but even as he left his table the outer door burst open, and Mole charged in, almost colliding with him in her rush.
* * * * *
The morning sunlight had been replaced by thick gray clouds that had gathered overhead as the companions gathered at the northern gate of the city. Not dark enough yet to promise more rain, they nonetheless encouraged them to haste as they rode through the massive stone arch that formed a tunnel through the thick city wall. The reinforced doors at each end of the tunnel were open, and the guards paid little heed to their progress as they rode through. Beyond the city lay a winding, sometimes steep road that would take them down the mountainside into the foothills beyond, and further yet into the plains that formed a narrow belt between the Alamir Mountains and the vast Forest of Mir. Near Cauldron, the foothills and the creeping edges of the wood came close together, enough so that the easy ride across the plains would be the shortest and easiest part of their ride. First, they had to get down from the mountains.
Zenna glanced back at Arun, who looked ill at ease on his horse. Mole said that the dwarf had readily agreed to accompany them, but he’d barely said five words to Zenna, and a storm having nothing to do with the inclement weather seemed to hang over the paladin. Still, she was glad to have him with them, going into a potentially dangerous situation like this one.
Illewyn, on the other hand, was an unknown quantity. The woman was in her mid twenties, fit enough if hinting slightly toward a pudginess that would probably grow more developed as youth retreated into middle age. Her shoulder-length black hair was tied neatly back into a knot, but even though she now wore a chain shirt over her clerical robes, and a light horseman’s mace hung at her belt, she definitely did not radiate the martial air of a battle-priest. In some ways, she reminded Zenna of Ruphos, who similarly had been forced to take up a role for which he had not been prepared.
Mole was riding behind the cleric, chattering on about some random topic. Zenna didn’t bother to listen in, instead turning her attention back to the road ahead.
As they reached the first bend in the road, the first of many as it switchbacked its way down the mountain upon which Cauldron perched, Zenna caught sight of a squat column formed at the next bend, a jumble of boulders stacked haphazardly in a pile. Beside that natural pillar there was a horse and rider, apparently waiting for them. A suspicion grew in her even before they drew close enough for her to identify the rider, who simply sat there on his mount, waiting without greeting or hail as they approached.
“Dannel,” Zenna said, finally reining in a few paces away, the others close behind her.
The elf looked much the same as when he’d taken leave of them an hour before, although now he carried a considerable composite longbow across his lap, with a quiver packed full of long shafts jutting out from behind his shoulder. His horse was a powerful roan, looking like a Shaar breed, perhaps, with its muscular shoulders and hindquarters. It snorted at the other horses, and it sounded like a challenge.
“What are you doing here?” Zenna asked, a hint of impatience creeping into her voice.
The elf lifted his palms, as if to place her at ease. “I was looking to get out of the city for a time, and would share the road with you, if you are willing.”
“Hey,” Mole began, but Zenna cut her off. “I think you’d better be straight with me, starting right now,” the tiefling said.
“You want I should tie this fellow around this pillar?” Arun growled. “He certainly looks stringy enough for a few knots to hold.”
“Peace, dwarf,” he said, but his eyes were like shards of glass, hard and edgy. But he shifted his gaze back to Zenna. “Very well, Zenna, I will be honest with you. There are two reasons that I wish to accompany you.”
“The first is as I said before. The urgency of your departure, your weapons and the manner that you carry them, and the presence of the cleric of Helm, tells me that the nature of the High Priest’s situation is serious. I meant what I said, I wish the cleric no ill, and if he is in danger, I would offer my aid to his cause.”
“And the second reason?” Zenna prodded.
“I’ve been asked to watch over you,” he said.
Zenna nodded to herself. So Esbar Tolerathkas had more than a passing interest in her, it seemed. Part of her felt a surge of fury at the presumption of it, setting a... a guardian over her, as if she was some possession to be monitored. But she also had to admit that the road ahead might be dangerous, if the threat was something that the High Priest of Helm could not handle.
“We ride swiftly,” she said. “You’ll have to keep up as best you can.”
He smiled at her, that same enigmatic smile as before, as she kicked her mount forward again. The others followed behind her, with Mole already engaged in a new conversation with the elf as he fell into the line. Arun brought up the rear, and Zenna could already hear what was sure to be a long day of grumbling begin from that direction.
She urged her horse into a canter, and they continued as quickly as was safe down the side of the mountain.
* * * * *
I'll post Dannel Ardan's stats in the Rogues' Gallery thread shortly.
We're still out here, LB.
Just because I only make it to the Story Hour forum once a week doesn't mean I quit reading. Your story hour is one of my favorites.
For every one person that posts regularly on a story hour, I'd say there are five or six lurkers that just read it. And keep up the good work.
Just because I only make it to the Story Hour forum once a week doesn't mean I quit reading. Your story hour is one of my favorites.
For every one person that posts regularly on a story hour, I'd say there are five or six lurkers that just read it. And keep up the good work.
Black Bard
First Post
Banished...
Sorry, Lazy... I had a bad time with the boards since the recent changes, I just couldn't log in... Even then, I was reading your story...
And what I can say? Wonderful!!!
As Durgannon, I'm indeed very curious about the half-elves...
And, Lazy... Thanks for finally putting in an Elf in the story!! He seems to have his lot of mysteries too...
BTW, I think Dannel's stats have a missing feat...
Sorry, Lazy... I had a bad time with the boards since the recent changes, I just couldn't log in... Even then, I was reading your story...
And what I can say? Wonderful!!!
As Durgannon, I'm indeed very curious about the half-elves...
And, Lazy... Thanks for finally putting in an Elf in the story!! He seems to have his lot of mysteries too...
BTW, I think Dannel's stats have a missing feat...
Lazybones
Adventurer
Ah, you're right. I'll add WF(longbow).Black Bard said:
RE the half-elves: I'm somewhat at the mercy of the module writers, here; I don't want to bring back F&F only to have them be critical to the plot of a later module. They don't appear in "Zenith Trajectory," and if they don't appear in the next mod either, I might just bring them back of my own accord. That's one reason I brought in Dannel; as another character that's "outside of the plot" so to speak, I have more flexibility with what I can do with him.
As for Dannel's mysteries... well, let's just say that I have some interesting plans for this character.
We've been in character development mode for a while now, and as Arun would say, it's time to crack some heads!
* * * * *
Chapter 50
The sun had already fallen below the horizon as the five riders approached their destination. The roadhouse was a looming shadow, framed by the tall trees of the forest that stretched out before them as far as they could see to the north and south. The road that led past the inn was swallowed up by the wood within a hundred yards, a black tunnel that seemed to promise doom for anyone foolish enough to essay that route at night.
The roadhouse itself was a sprawling, two-story structure, nestled at the rear of a wide clearing along the forest’s edge. As they drew nearer they could see that a side building stood adjacent to the main building, probably a stables or storehouse by the look of it. The windows on both the first and second stories were all shuttered, although faint glimmers of light from around the edges were a possible indicator that the building was still occupied.
The night was close about them, and deeply quiet. Their horses, winded from the long ride, breathed heavily as they approached at a walk.
“Did you see those baboons, on the road?” Mole asked.
Zenna glanced back at where the gnome was riding behind the priestess. “Baboons?”
“I saw them as well,” Dannel added. “A pack of them, hiding in the brush about a mile back, just watching us as we went past. Quite unusual.”
“It felt like they... I don’t know,” Mole said. “I didn’t like it.”
“Bah,” Arun said, dismounting awkwardly, his legs stiff from the unaccustomed riding. The horse seemed just as pleased to be free of its burden, and nearly pulled its reins free from the dwarf’s grip. Dannel quickly pulled up alongside the creature, and calmed it.
Zenna dismounted as well, and led her horse toward the roadhouse. With her darkvision she could clearly make out what appeared to be the front doors, and headed in that direction.
“Look at those!” Mole said, skipping ahead. She pointed at the various carvings set into the eaves and braces on the inn’s exterior, depicting monkeys in various active poses. One monkey was trying to crawl out onto a leaning branch to grab a banana hanging over a sleeping tiger, while another across from it sat blissfully unaware on a flat rock while the poacher behind it was eaten by an ankheg. Mole ran along the front of the building, enjoying the various carvings, but Dannel brought their attention back to their current grim situation a moment later.
“Look there,” he said, gesturing with his longbow. Zenna saw where he had pointed, could clearly see the fresh stains splattered against one of the front beams to the left of the doors. Her darkvision didn’t allow her to distinguish colors, but she could guess what had made the stains.
Dannel came forward, and crouched in the dirt of the path that led to the doors. “Been a scuffle here,” he said, probing the ground, his elven eyes allowing him to see the signs even in the near-darkness.
“Well, let’s go in and get this over with,” Arun said. His horse shied again, agitated. “Quiet, you blasted beast!” he growled at it.
“It’s not you,” Dannel said, observing all of the horses. “Something is setting them off.”
“We’d better leave them somewhere,” Zenna said. “Maybe the stables?”
They made their way over to the side building, passing around the edge of the roadhouse to the dark and silent structure. “I cannot see anything,” Illewyn said, as the night continued to deepen. “Let me call upon the power of Helm to brighten our way.”
“Hold a bit,” Dannel suggested. “We don’t want to give ourselves away, and a light spell will do that like a beacon, if anyone is watching.”
So they continued in darkness, reaching the stables without incident. Arun, still fighting his reluctant horse with one hand, pulled open the heavy front doors of the stables with the other. Mole peeked inside, and after declaring the place clear, they moved inside. The stables were musty with the odors of animals, but there were no horses present, and no other signs of trouble. Dannel drew down some feed from an overhead bin into a long trough that connected to several of the stalls that ran down one side of the interior, and urged the horses into them. Their mounts were still agitated, but Dannel was able to persuade them to enter the stalls, and he made sure that they were well-secured before he rejoined the others.
“With all the noise them beasts are making, no doubt the whole place knows we’re here,” Arun grumbled.
“Well, it’ll save you having to look all over for the bandits, Arun, if they come find us,” Mole offered.
“They may not even be around here, still,” Dannel said. “Most bandits don’t wait around for the authorities to arrive; they strike quickly and fade away into the shadows.”
“But they may not be expecting word to get out so quickly,” Zenna said. “We should be ready for anything.”
“A wise approach, in any situation,” the elf replied.
“We should hurry,” Illewyn said, clutching her mace tightly. “Sarcem may still need our help!” The way she said it, it was clear that the statement was as much a prayer as a suggestion.
“All right,” Arun said, leading them back outside toward the roadhouse. Zenna saw another entrance on the side of the building facing the stables, but Arun was heading straight back toward the front doors, unlimbering his shield and heavy hammer as he went, moving deceptively quickly for someone of his stature and heavy burdens.
Zenna hurried after him. “Maybe we might want to be a little bit circumspect,” she offered.
“Nothing wrong with a frontal assault,” the dwarf replied, frowning. “Sneakin’ about’s not my style.”
“If those bandits are still here, I have no doubt you’ll get your chance to demonstrate your prowess,” Zenna said. “But...”
“Shh,” Mole said, having run ahead to the doors during the exchange. “Hear that?”
They quieted, and could hear what the sharp-eared gnome had; a muffled sound from inside, a series of crashes and clattering noises, punctuated by the odd sound of breaking glass.
“Sounds like someone’s tearing up the place,” Dannel said.
“We have to get in there!” Illewyn added.
“Well?” the dwarf said, looking impatiently at Zenna. The tiefling in turn nodded at Mole, who checked the door efficiently before testing it, pushing the handles and dropping to the ground to peer under the tiny space at the bottom.
“Locked,” she said, “And I think there’s something stacked up behind it, as well.”
“A barricade, eh?” Arun said. “Well, I think I can take care of that.” He hefted his hammer, and stepped forward.
“Wait a moment,” Zenna said. “By the time we bludgeon through, everyone inside will be waiting on the far side. Mole?”
The gnome, who was thinking the same thing, nodded and ran along the face of the roadhouse to their left, the others quickly following behind. She paused a few dozen paces beyond the doors, under one of the heavy wooden shutters.
“Why this one?” Dannel asked.
“There’s no light shining from around the edges,” Mole explained. “Boost me up.”
The window was only about six feet off of the ground, so the elf was easily able to lift the gnome up to reach the shutters. Mole stood on his shoulders while she examined the thick wooden planks covering the window underneath. They were fastened somehow from inside, but Mole drew out her dagger, working it into the narrow gap between the two planks and drawing it open enough to reveal the latching mechanism. She dug into one of her pouches and drew out a small metal tool, which in turn slipped through the gap and slid easily into the metal clasp that held the latch. A few seconds later, a faint click sounded, and Mole swung the shutters open.
“All right, hold on for a second,” she said, sliding up the window and crawling inside. She disappeared into the darkened space, and was only gone for a few seconds before she returned to the window, leaning out over the sill toward them. She gestured for them to come nearer; from behind her, the muffled sound of laughter could briefly be heard from somewhere beyond.
“I’m in a private alcove set off from the common room of the inn by a curtain,” she said. “There’s a bunch of people in there, having a bit of a party. Bandits, by the look of them, all armed and armored. They’re wearing these red sashes around their wrists, and they seem to be at least a little drunk.”
“Was there any sign of Sarcem?” Illewyn asked. “He’s an older man, balding, in a white clerical robe.”
“No, I didn’t see him,” Mole said. “C’mon, get up here, we can take them by surprise.”
Dannel nodded, but Arun looked up at the window dubiously. “I can’t just hop up there,” he said. “I’ll go around to the main doors.”
“They’ve got a pretty big barricade against them,” Mole said. “It would take even you some time to bash through, and there may be more of them around, not to mention that ‘apeman’.”
“Come on, dwarf, we can get you up there, if we work together,” Dannel said.
“I don’t know, he’s pretty heavy,” Mole said from above. “Lots of ale, you know.”
Arun’s eyes narrowed under the brim of his helm. “Take my shield,” he commanded, handing the heavy sheet of plate steel up to Mole. This was followed quickly by the dwarf’s heavy warhammer, then he turned to Dannel. It was clear that he wasn’t going to ask.
The elf grinned. “All right, girls, grab his legs, we just need to boost him to the sill.” He stood before the window and formed a box with his hands, bending so that the dwarf could use him as a step to reach the window. The smile erased as Arun’s weight settled on him, and even with Zenna and Illewyn adding their strength, the three of them were barely able to lift the dwarf high enough to reach the windowsill.
“Gods... dwarf... you... weigh... a hundredstone!” Dannel grunted, fighting to lift the dwarf higher. Arun grabbed the edges of the windowsill with his thick hands and started to pull himself up, while the three below added their strength from below. Slowly, the dwarf rose, until he’d managed to clamber halfway into the window, his head and shoulders through and his legs dangling out behind.
“Come on!” Mole hissed, glancing with concern at the curtain. The dwarf was making a fair amount of noise, although at least he was keeping his cursing under his breath.
Arun grunted and with a heave fell through the window, landing on the floor with a loud clatter of metal that seemed to fill the place with sound.
Mole was at the curtain in an instant, but even before she peeked around its edge, she could hear the voices change, followed by the sounds of activity and the familiar noise of weapons being drawn.
The bandits were coming.
Broccli_Head
Explorer
Oops! Gotta hate them noisy dwarves!
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