Shackled City Epic: "Vengeance" (story concluded)

[Lazybones]

Thanks, guys. The trip was a lot of fun; the Louvre was mind-blowing (as were the crowds), the Paris restaurants were excellent (lots of three-course meals), and we saw two plays in London. I did actually get out to the Science Museum in London but the Lord of the Rings presentation was sold out for that day (my fault for not booking ahead). So instead we checked out the adjacent Natural History Museum. There was a great outdoor display of photographs taken around the world from a helicopter by Yann Arthus-Bertrand; I encourage you to check it out at

http://www.yannarthusbertrand.com/yann2/affichage.php

RE the story: yes, it all sort of fell together with the gemsnatcher game. When I was doing the random rolls I had all but committed myself to writing out a scene where Mole lost the game, but then I came up with the idea for the final roll and the random number generator I was using came through with the dramatic finish.

* * * * *

Chapter 94

Celeste led them to another small private room, this one even more remotely situated at the end of a lengthy side-hall. As she held the door the four adventurers entered to find themselves facing an aged dwarf. In truth, the dwarf was venerable, his body a thin shell, his beard a sea of white that descended almost to his knees. It seemed as though the chain in which he was seated was the only thing keeping him upright at all, but they could just see the hints of silvery mail peeking out from under his robe and beard, hinting at a past more storied than the wretched condition in which he now found himself.

Arun nodded in deference to the elderly dwarf, who watched them under furrowed white brows as the four entered, with Celeste closing the door behind them. As the young woman turned to face the seated elder, he spoke, his voice like a stone slab being dragged across gravel. “These are the four of whom you spoke, Celeste?”

“Yes,” she said. Turning to the companions, she said, “Allow me to introduce Davked Splintershield.”

Dannel nodded, “I have heard the name,” he said. “Yours was the clan that occupied the hold under the city, the Malachite Fortress.”

Zenna betrayed her surprise as she shared a look with her companions. Although Dannel had not yet been with them then, she, Mole, and Arun had first-hand knowledge of that place, and the memories were not pleasant.

As if reading her thoughts, the old dwarf nodded, his dark eyes penetrating. “Yes, yes. It was a dark day, when we were forced to leave.”

“I had heard something about an expedition to the Underdark,” Dannel said.

The old dwarf’s expression clouded for a moment, and his eyes flashed, as if remembering something unpleasant. “Aye. My son, Zenith Splintershield, he thought he could defeat the horrors of the Underdark alone. And he is the source of my current suffering, though indirectly.”

“Your son? How is that?” Mole asked.

“Nay, I should not blame the boy,” the old dwarf said. “It is my own hubris that led me to this pass.” He sagged in the chair, air hissing from his tired lungs like from a punctured bladder.

“I was not a pleasant man, in my days of vigor and energy,” he said, when he could finally continue. “My greed and my pride blinded me to what was important, drove away my sons, which broke the heart of my wife. She tried to instruct me to my errors, but I ignored her. Finally the wench, on her deathbed, issued a curse in the name of the dwarven gods. It held that unless I reconciled with my sons, the life would bleed out from me, stealing what remained of my vigor much as I had stolen the love that had once existed between the members of my clan.”

“I ask for no absolution for what I was or what I did,” he said to them. He coughed, a sick sound that rattled in his chest. “But I am committed to spending what remains of my existence to righting the wrong that I perpetuated. I have met with my other sons, have begged their forgiveness, and had it granted. But Zenith...” he trailed off, his head sagging until his chin touched his chest, as if speaking the very name drew out what strength was left to him.

“Can’t you be healed?” Mole asked.

“I wish it could. Even the most powerful clerics of my faith have been unable to reverse what Marta wrought. Perhaps the gods found her words fitting—I cannot argue with her sentiment.”

“And Zenith’s fate?” Dannel asked.

“I pleaded with the boy not to abandon the Malachite Fortress,” Davked said. “Told him that his quest was a fool’s errand. But he was willful... and my own failings did not help. But I have consulted wizard and cleric alike, and their spells have revealed that my son yet lives, held captive in the Underdark.”

“The Underdark is not a place to visit lightly,” Zenna said. “Trust me, I know this.” She looked at Mole; the gnome had heard the same tales, told to them by their elder friends and relatives back home. Tales of god-dragons and dark dwarves, of terrible aberrations and things best left unmentioned.

“Held captive by whom?” Arun asked.

Davked was wrought by a fit of coughing, and was unable to reply. Celeste stepped forward, and said, “The kuo-toa have him, in a fortress known as Bhal-Hamatugn.”

“So you want us to go into the Underdark, and recover your son for you,” Zenna said, her voice betraying her doubts about the endeavor.

The old dwarf nodded. “Yes. I will pay you well; my clan still has wealth and I will have little need for it where I will be going, all too soon. Four thousand in gold, or six thousand in arms and armor from the forges of my people, if you prefer. Plus Celeste here will sponsor your membership in the Cusp, and pay the annual fee... that’s worth a thousand right there.”

Zenna managed to keep her features neutral. “A fair sum, but our affairs keep us busy...” she offered noncommittally.

Mole lunged forward, “Now, let’s not be hasty...”

Zenna ignored her friend, and instead shifted her gaze to Celeste. “Tell me, what is your stake in this matter?”

Celeste seemed nonplussed at the direct question. “Davked and his kin are friends of mine, and I would see this curse lifted,” she said simply.

“Say we accept,” Dannel said. “How would we find this place, this ‘Bhal-Hamatugn’?”

Celeste replied, “Unfortunately, a local group of adventurers who call themselves the Stormblades—perhaps you have heard of them, that fellow Vanderboren is one of them—recently collapsed the tunnels that connect to the Underdark under the city. However, there is another access point to the north of here, near the hut of a hermit known as Crazy Jared. I can give you map that will lead you there.”

“I do not seek your aid lightly, and understand that this matter involves great danger and personal risk,” Davked said. “But I have not much time left to me, even without this damned curse rushing me along toward the grave. All I have left to me is my honor, and it demands that I right the wrongs that I caused, before I take them with me to my eternal rest.”

“I know something about honor,” Arun said. “And the price that it can demand,” he added, in an undertone. “Very well, I will lend my hammer to your cause, old dwarf.”

Zenna tried to hide a grimace. As usual, no planning, no discussion—just precipitous action.

She wasn’t really surprised when Mole quickly offered her support as well. But she was a bit surprised when Dannel added his assent. “It would do me good to get out from these walls for a time,” he said.

All eyes turned to her. As if I have a choice, now, she seethed inwardly. But she didn’t express that thought, instead saying, “It would seem that we are in agreement.”

The old dwarf nodded, a satisfied look in his eyes.

 

[Broccli_Head]

It would be interesting to learn what Zenna's hesitation is all about.
Clearly the rest of the "players" got the hook

 

[Lazybones]

It would be interesting to learn what Zenna's hesitation is all about.
Clearly the rest of the "players" got the hook

Remember, Zenna's the smart one

* * * * *

Chapter 95


Zenna was cold, and she knew that if she could feel the icy bite of the wind through the protection afforded by her demonic heritage, then the others had to be freezing. But they offered no complaint, trudging across the mountain trails as the hours passed slowly but inexorably.

The weather had been hit or miss over the last few days. For every hour of clear skies it seemed they had been faced with an hour of frozen downpour, with apparently no middle ground in between. At least it hadn’t been cold enough to snow, although the higher peaks to their right were already draped in a white shroud that seemed to dip closer to them the further north they marched.

Dannel’s wilderness skills were a godsend, and thus far he’d found them a dry and secure shelter every night of their travel, as well as enough food and fuel so that they’d barely had to dip into their iron rations. Even with the spacious boost provided by Mole’s magical backpack, which was now packed full of gear and supplies, Zenna was concerned that the Underdark might tax their resources.

The sudden clatter of metal directly ahead drew her out of her reverie. Arun was down, having slipped on a muddy patch of stone, part of a jagged bulge of rock that rose up out of the grond directly across their path. They were making their way through a high meadow at the moment, but even here there was more barren stone than grassy earth. Their trail led them to obstacles that had be surmounted at least a dozen times each day. Mole reached the dwarf before Zenna could, but Arun refused her offered help, lifting himself cumbersomely to his feet with yet more clanking and clattering.

If there’s anything hostile in these mountains, it’ll hear us coming a dozen miles distant, Zenna thought to herself. Thus far, however, their luck had held, and they had encountered nothing more threatening than a large mountain cat that had growled at them a few times from the safety of a nearby outcropping before withdrawing.

Arun returned to the stone ridge, clambering awkwardly up the slick stones using his hands as well as his feet, while Mole surmounted the barrier in a few magically-enhanced hops. Zenna fell somewhere in between, climbing up the rocks carefully and methodically until she reached the summit of the ridge. It wasn’t all that high, perhaps fifteen feet above the level of the meadow at its highest point, giving her an unobstructed view of what looked like an endless sequence of ridges, valleys, and hills stretching ahead of her as far as she could see. Dannel had insisted that they were following the trail indicated on the map, but Zenna had to admit that the mountains all looked alike to her eyes.

She saw Dannel up ahead, the elf returning from one of his frequent scouts. With all the coming and going he did, he had to be covering twice the distance that the rest of them were in a given day, but she had to admit that the ranger was now in his element, more at home among the stark mountain landscape than in the civilized confines of Cauldron. Dannel had kept all of their spirits up, singing songs or playing his flute at their camps each night. Even Arun had let up on his criticisms; the dwarf had seemed quiet of late, Zenna mused, even more so than was usual for him. Mole had shared with her what had transpired between them in the dwarven tavern and afterward, shedding some light on the complex machinations in the mind of their friend. Perhaps she understood better what drove the man, she thought.

“I think that we may have some company up ahead,” Dannel reported, once they’d joined him back on the meadow floor. “I detected a faint smell of woodsmoke on the breeze when the wind shifted a short while ago, although I did not see any signs of habitation up ahead.”

“You think?” Arun interjected. “Bah—what’s the use of all them elfy skills of yours, if you cannot be certain? Let me go on up ahead, and I’ll smoke ‘em out, if there be anything hostile waiting for us along the trail.”

Dannel laughed. “I am sure that any foe would depart in haste at your coming, ser paladin! But I doubt it’s an ambush, else they wouldn’t have had a fire burning where it could be detected by anyone approaching. Best to be cautious, though, then to blunder into trouble.”

There was no denying that advice, so they continued on their way, passing out of the far edge of the meadow and into a long ravine that followed the course of what was probably a watershed, waiting patiently for the spring thaw to channel a deluge of water into the lowlands. At the moment there was only a trickling spring winding its way through the hills. Dannel said that the ravine offered a shortcut around a line of rough terrain to the north; they would be able to circumvent that obstacle and rejoin their general course without giving up too much in the way of time.

They hadn’t gone very far along the twisting course of the ravine, however, when Mole raised her hand. “Do you hear that?” she asked.

Zenna listened, and a faint noise, barely distinguishable from the background noise of the wind through the hills, reached her ears. “What is it?” she asked.

“Trouble,” Dannel reported, stringing his bow and drawing out a long shaft from his quiver. “Come!”

The elf led them quickly down the length of the ravine toward the source of the noise, moving swiftly and stealthily across the rocks. Arun fell behind, and Zenna suspected that this was a deliberate ploy on Dannel’s part, so that the noisy passage of the dwarf wouldn’t provide undue warning to whoever or whatever lay ahead. Mole, hopping from boulder to boulder using the magical powers of her boots, had no difficulty keeping up, but Zenna wasn’t quite so adept and found the distance between her and the elf slowly widening.

They reached a bend in the course of the ravine, and just like that the sounds grew more distinct, even as their source became obvious.

A battle raged before them, situated within a small campsite constructed at the bend in the streambed. Scattered about were the ruins of a heavy canvas tent, a shattered frame of what might have been a mining sluice, and a slain mule, its slashed body lying awkwardly across the course of the stream, forming an impromptu dam. A dwarf was fighting off a strange creature shaped almost like a gaunt, violet-skinned hound, with a pair of tentacles tipped with sharp ridges jutting from its shoulders. As Zenna’s eyes widened in surprise, she saw the creature shimmer and shift, its outline twisting as it seemed to travel back and forth a few paces without actually moving.

Dannel had already drawn his bow and fired, aiming at the hindquarters of the beast so as not to threaten the embattled dwarf. His shot was accurate, but the shot passed through empty air as the monster shifted again a pace to the left.

The dwarf appeared to be having similar difficulties. “Stand still, ye blasted beastie, so I can smack ye!” he roared. He was wielding a long-handled spade like a battleaxe, but the creature’s constant shifting was making it difficult for him to land a blow. It, however, had no such hindrance, and it lashed out at the dwarf, scoring a painful blow across his torso that drove him back roughly.

“Right! I’ll do yer for that one!” the dwarf yelled, jabbing upward with the shovel, catching the creature under the jaw as it snapped at him with its massive teeth. This time the blow connected, and the displacer beast hissed in sudden pain. It drew back reflexively, but clearly the attack had only momentarily discomfited the creature.

“Come on, we’ve got to help him!” Mole shouted, springing forward toward the melee.

“Mole, no!” Zenna cried in warning, but of course it was already too late. She drew out her magical wand of burning hands, but held back, first calling upon her magic to protect herself with mage armor. Prudently. Unlike her heedless friends...

Even as Dannel nocked and drew his second arrow, she could hear the clanking announcing Arun’s approach. For once, she found the noise very reassuring. But at the same time, she became aware of another noise, coming from further down the ravine...

“Watch out, there’s another one!” she warned, unslinging her crossbow from across her back.

Dannel’s second shot was equally ineffective, foiled again by the displacement properties of the creature. The elf cursed and started forward, his bow in one hand while he drew his sword with the other.

The dwarf cried out as the displacer beast savaged him, taking multiple hits to his body and only narrowly avoiding a snap of its jaws that would have turned his throat into red shreds. He refused to go down, however, even with blood splattering on the rocks about him with every movement. Mole reached the battle and leapt forward with a sudden heave. She had targeted the creature’s back, but was prepared when its form shifted and she landed a pace away from its new location. Continuing the momentum of her charge, she thrust her sword into its side, drawing a howl of pain from it as the blade bit deeply through real flesh and muscle.

Enraged, the displacer beast turned to face this new threat.

Zenna moved toward the melee in Dannel’s wake, loading her crossbow as she went. She looked nervously to her right, where the stream bent again around a rough outcropping of jumbled boulders. As if summoned by her gaze, a second creature suddenly materialized atop the heap, carried there by a single great leap from the space beyond. In dawning horror she realized that its tentacles and jaws alike were dripping with crimson, fresh blood that dripped from it in fat gobs.

The creature let out a great roar, and immediately leapt into the fray.

Charging right toward her.

 

[wolff96]

Mmm... Displacer Beasts.

Always one of my favorite monsters. Although I like *using* them, not fighting them. Heh.

 

[Lazybones]

Chapter 96

The companions, coming to the aid of a dwarf caught in a dire struggle against a pair of displacer beasts, found themselves engaged in yet another violent melee.

Zenna held her ground against the charge of the second displacer beast, although her legs felt like gel and her entire body shook with fear. The magic came at her call, however, and a blaze of colors engulfed the creature. Its displacement power was not enough to move it from the path of her spell, and it hurtled forward blindly, the momentum of its charge carrying it ahead. Zenna spun and leapt to the side, but something heavy crashed into her, and she went flying, landing hard in the rocks, pain jabbing into her side from the force of the impact.

Mole dodged the first lashing tentacle that slammed down toward her, grimacing as the blow snapped the rock she’d been standing on in two. Suddenly her brave charge to aid the poor hapless dwarf didn’t seem quite so reasonable as it had a few moments ago. That decision seemed even more ill-favored a heartbeat later, as the displacer beast’s huge jaws snapped forward, catching her on the shoulder and lifting her painfully into the air. She found herself flying—and not in the good way—before something hard smashed into her back, and she could feel her flesh tearing as the sharp ridges of the beast’s tentacle ravaged her cloak and armor. For a moment a flash of fear punched through her... oh no, not my magical pack! Then pain penetrated thought, and everything broke apart as she landed head-first in the wooden wreckage of the sluice.

Dannel’s let out a harsh cry and rushed into the beast that had so battered his friend, stabbing with his slender sword. In close quarters his blow struck more truly than his arrows earlier, although he cut only into the beast’s shoulder, and not its heart as he had intended. The creature snarled and lunged at him, but abruptly staggered as the dwarf smashed his spade two-handed into the back of its skull. The displacer beast stood there a moment quivering, uttered a plaintive cry, and collapsed.

The second creature shook off the effects of Zenna’s color spray just in time to see Arun charging right for it. The beast lashed out with its tentacles, but they glanced off of the dwarf’s shield or the bright plates of his heavy armor. The beast’s form continued to shift, but Arun had judged its true location based on the source of those strikes, and when the hammer came down it connected with solid flesh.

That made it mad.

Zenna shook her head, trying to clear it of the fuzziness born of the pain that continued to shoot through her battered body like jolts of electricity. She felt something jar her boot, and looked up to see the displacer beast all but on top of her, snarling at it battled with Arun.

Without hesitation, she opened her mind to her magic, calling upon the words of a spell. The creature apparently didn’t hear her over the noise of its clashes with the paladin, who deflected another tentacle strike with his shield before taking a punishing stroke that glanced off of the side of his helmet. Zenna could feel her skin crinkling with the magical power she’d called as she reached out for the hind leg of the displacer beast. Her hand passed through it, but as she swept outward, she felt her fingers brush against rough skin, and she released the power of her spell.

The displacer beast roared as the electrical energy from Zenna’s shocking grasp tore through it. Snarling, it made the mistake of rounding on the mage, who drew back in alarm as the tentacles lashed out at her. One caught her on the arm and tore away a long strip of flesh, while the second snapped across her back, driving her roughly down into the rocks. Zenna crumpled, lying there unconscious and bleeding.

The creature had removed that threat, but its assault had left it vulnerable to the assault from the dwarf. Arun charged right into the side of the creature, bringing his hammer down in a deadly arc. Again the dwarf was able to strike through the displacement effect, and the beast staggered as its spine snapped with an ugly crack. Its tentacles flailing aimlessly, it fell backward and spent out the remainder of its existence thrashing about among the rocks.

Arun was quick to reach Zenna’s side, and calling upon the divine power of Moradin stabilized her.

The battle had been brief but bloody. Two of the companions had gone down, and the battered dwarf was barely standing. Still, he managed to make his way to a bundle laid out among the ruins of his camp, and from within it he drew out a massive single-bladed axe and a fat leather pouch. From the latter, he drew out a small vial and quaffed it. Despite the blood caked onto his garments from the rents in his tough hide, the dwarf regarded them calmly, leaning slightly upon the axe, his hands slick with blood as they tightened on the shaft of the weapon.

Dannel had brought Mole around with a dose of healing energy from his wand, and now handed her a potion as she gingerly propped herself back up. Ignoring the dwarf, he rushed over to Zenna, his concern written on her face as he used more healing to bring her back to consciousness.

Arun, the side of his own face bloody where a swipe of a tentacle had caught him, turned to the dwarf.

“Well met,” the paladin offered.

“Well met yerself,” the dwarf replied, spitting a gob that was more blood than saliva against the rocks.

“Don’t mind him, he’s always like that,” Mole said, dusting herself off as she rose and stepped in between the two dwarves. “I’m Mole, he’s Arun, the elf is Dannel, and his girlfriend over there is Zenna.”

“Balthazar Hodge,” the dwarf replied, though he didn’t offer his hand or make any other gesture of greeting. “Call me Hodge.”

“Hodge? That doesn’t sound like a dwarven name,” Mole opined.

“That’s cause I’m really a fairy elf princess,” the dwarf spat. “HAR!” he roared, his laughter more than a little jarring.

“That’s a good one!” Mole enthusiastically offered. She glanced back and saw that Dannel was helping Zenna carefully to her feet. “So, you a miner or something?” she asked, glancing about the ruins of the camp.

“Gotta check on me helpers,” the dwarf said, hefting his axe as he headed down the ravine toward the bend around which the second creature had appeared. Mole and the others followed.

The rest of the campsite was in worse condition than the first area. A second mule lay dead, along with more battered equipment and another tent. Worst of all was the battered remains of a pair of humans, clearly dead even before Zenna moved to examine the bodies.

“I’m sorry about your friends,” Dannel said.

“Don’t be,” the dwarf said, spitting noisily again. “Said ‘ey could handle ‘emselves, ‘ey did. Guess ‘ey was wrong.”

“If we hadn’t come along, looks like you would have had a bit more than you could handle yourself,” Arun said, clearly offended by the dwarf’s casual dismissal of his comrades’ death.

The dwarf shook his head in derison. “Dem beasties would nay be gotten de best o’ me, if’n I’d ‘ad a chance to get me fingers on ol’ Betsy here.” He patted the smooth steel flange of his axe, and spat. “What I deserve, I reckon, trustin’ to de likes of these to be keepin’ watch. Like as not ‘ey were watchin’ a bottle, ‘stead of their duty.”

“What language is he speaking?” Zenna whispered covertly to Dannel, who shrugged, as if the idiosyncrasies of dwarves was just another of those things beyond his understanding or control.

“Your axe is named Betsy?” Mole asked, fascinated by the strange dwarf and his unusual manner.

“Ay, she is! After a girl I knew once... now there was a wench, oy! But this Betsy be a mite easier to ‘andle, she be! HAR!”

The dwarf walked out into the ruined camp, occasionally stopping to poke at something with his axe. Arun moved over to the two slain humans, and after righting their bodies as best he could, started gathering stones for a cairn. Zenna quickly moved to help him, although she could barely move rocks that the dwarf lifted easily in one hand.

“There weren’t any others of your party?” Dannel asked.

“Nay, elf, just me an’ Daric an’ Morse, here.” He paused over the slain mule. “Best pair o’ mules I ever owned, too,” he lamented. “Blasted bloody bleeding bastards!” he roared, shaking his axe in the general direction of the dead displacer beasts.

“So, what are you going to do now?” Mole asked, glancing over to make sure that Zenna was fully involved in helping Arun, and therefore not likely to overhear the conversation. “Back to Cauldron?”

“Total bleeding loss,” Hodge was saying, scratching his thick hair with a hand crusted with dirt and blood—mostly his, of the latter. Belatedly he seemed to realize that he’d been asked a question, for he turned and regarded the gnome. Weighing the question, he finally spit. “Back to that cess-hole? Not blasted likely. No...” He regarded the gnome thoughtfully, and ran an appraising glance over her companions as well. “Yer all treasure hunters or somesuch? There ain’t much out thisaways, but stones and dirt.”

“Oh, no,” Mole said cheerfully. “We’re—”

“We’d best be making our way onward,” Dannel said, interrupting as he came up behind the two of them, his sword cleaned and sheathed and his bow ready again for any further sign of trouble. “There are other menaces in these mountains, and they may be drawn to this place by the smell of smoke and blood.”

“Right,” Hodge said, fixing the elf with a canny look. “Travelin’ north, are ye? I was thinkin’ of headin’ that way meself, maybe try my luck on the far side of these rocks, along the Lake.”

Dannel opened his mouth to say something, but Mole quickly said, “Wonderful, why don’t you travel with us, then! Strength in numbers, of course, and if we meet anything else that’s nasty you can use Betsy to teach them whatfor!”

“Just so,” Hodge said. “Lemme gather a few things.”

As he trudged off, Zenna came up, rubbing her slender hands together. “Guess what, Zenna?” Mole said. “Hodge is going to go with us!”

Zenna looked at Dannel with an expression that might have been accusatory. “Another dwarf. Wonderful,” she said dryly.

 

[Broccli_Head]

Sorry...double post!, but maybe it'll increase your views per post ratio!

 

[Broccli_Head]

Chapter 96

Zenna looked at Dannel with an expression that might have been accusatory. “Another dwarf. Wonderful,” she said dryly.

HAR! Me thinks the whole party should be dwarves!

 

[Liolel]

I haven't posted in this thread in a while but I want to say that this is great writing. Its intresting comparining this thread of a fictional account of the schackled city series to a account of the adventures really run in Jollydoc's thread.

 

[wolff96]

In the game I currently play in, I'm a dwarven barbarian. The party cleric is also a dwarf.

When we thought another player was going to join us, the only thing the player of the party mage said was, "Please, god, anything but another dwarf."

I still have no idea why he had a problem with that... I mean, we're obviously the superior race and all...

 

[Neverwinter Knight]

I haven't posted in this thread in a while but I want to say that this is great writing. Its intresting comparining this thread of a fictional account of the schackled city series to a account of the adventures really run in Jollydoc's thread.

I totally agree! Thanks for writing your story.