Broccli_Head
Explorer
She should have used shocking grasp!
Shackled City Epic: "Vengeance" (story concluded)
- Thread starter Lazybones
- Start date
Lazybones
Adventurer
Indeed, that might have been a good alternative, but it also would have required her beating an SR20 check (only 15% chance at her current level).Broccli_Head said:
In the module, the erinyes is advanced, and is CR9. I reduced Aushannna to a "standard" model, but even so the party, already battered by Margh-Michto, was fairly well outmatched in this encounter. Fortunately there was a slight balancing mechanism in that the statue only calls her to the Prime for a limited amount of time. Really the best they could hope for here was a stalemate.
Of course, had Arun taken bless weapon instead of protection from evil as his second spell, the course of the encounter might have been quite different, and Dannel might be sporting a nice new magical bow. As it is, things are only starting to look worse for the companions as one cliffhanger resolves into yet another, as the situation grows even worse (!) for the poor battered adventurers...
* * * * *
Chapter 123
Awareness came with the song. It filled her, carried her stirring consciousness along with its melody, pulling her out of the blackness into a brightness that was painful at first. She recoiled, but the song would not release her. Finally she found the brightness give way to a confused medley of vague colors and blurred images. The song was still there, a comforting presence, holding her in its embrace.
“She’s coming around,” came a voice through the song, a familiar voice that she couldn’t quite place.
The song stopped, leaving behind a sense of sadness and loss. “Zenna,” came another voice. “Zenna, come back to us,” it said, insistent. Feeling a bit of annoyance—why couldn’t they just leave her alone?—she stirred through the veil of gray that still separated her from the voices, and opened her eyes.
She was lying on her back, supported by a soft object beneath her. She was cold, and wet; the sensations brought memories of the kuo-toa temple and their grim battles inside. She looked up and saw Dannel, holding her against him, cradling her head in his lap. Mole was standing beside him, and as she turned her head—a mistake, that, as her vision swam out of focus for a moment—she caught sight of Hodge in another part of the room.
“Arun?” she managed to ask.
“Here,” came the familiar voice, and with an effort she turned to see the dwarf, with a look more tired and worn that she could ever remember seeing on the face of the holy warrior.
“Arun was able to heal you,” Dannel said. “At least a little.”
“It wasn’t easy,” the paladin said. “That damned curse still has you in its grasp, and it resists my every effort. I admit I have fully depleted my powers, and I wasn’t sure even that would be enough to bring you back to consciousness.”
“At least you’re alive,” Mole pointed out. To Zenna’s eyes, even her friend seemed unnaturally grim, her clothes ragged from the treatment they’d suffered of late, although at least they seemed dry.
Dry? Zenna thought. She tried to get up, but found it was an impossibility even before Dannel placed his hand firmly on her shoulder to restrain her. “How long?” she asked.
Her companions shared a look that did not go unnoticed by the tiefling. “We’ve been here the better part of a day, I think,” Dannel said.
Zenna looked around as best she could from her limited vantage. It seemed like they were still in the kuo-toa temple; at least the floor was dry, which meant that at least they had left the high priest’s quarters. An odd blue flame flickered in a crude bowl that dangled from the ceiling by a rusted iron chain. She suddenly remembered something. “The demon?”
“Gone,” Dannel said. “Or at least, it teleported away, and didn’t come back.”
“After it put Dannel and you down, Arun really laid into it,” Mole said. “After it vanished, Hodge was able to help me get free of that damned rope, then we were able to stabilize you and Dannel.
“We cannot stay here,” Zenna said, but even as she spoke the words, she saw the look that passed between the others. “There’s something else you’re not telling me.”
Arun looked to Dannel, and for some reason, that made her angry. Gathering her will, she forced herself up to a sitting position, ignoring both Dannel’s attempt to restrain her and the resistance of her own body. She thought she did a fairly good job of it, trying to conceal the way that the movement caused the room to spin dangerously around her, and the pounding in her head that felt like a pack of dwarf miners excavating a vein of gold.
Dannel and Arun’s little game of looks—clearly neither of them wanted to share whatever bad news they were keeping—finally frustrated the wizard, and she turned to Mole. “Tell me,” she said, firmly.
“Well... you see, there’s this dragon...”
* * * * *
As the others filled her in on what had happened, Zenna considered that perhaps it would have been better to remain unconscious, unaware of what was transpiring around them.
Angrily she shook off such sentiments; they were going to need to focus all of their efforts to survive this situation, and there was no time for idle whims or the indulgence of self-pity. Her body hurt and her head throbbed, but she wasn’t going to let that stop her either. Caught up in her own musings, she failed to notice the concerned looks from the others, but if she had, she would have thrown them back in their faces. They were all beaten and bruised, and all had the same things at stake. Success was life, failure a nasty and unpleasant death.
After they’d fought off the devil—and there was no way to confirm that she was in fact gone for good, but no sense worrying about it, if she came back they were finished in any case—those of them left standing had tended to Zenna and Dannel as Mole had described. There was no healing magic left to them, to the best that could be done was to carefully bind their wounds and place them in a dry place, wrapped in what was left of their cloaks. They’d retired to one of the antechambers off of the hall where they’d battled Margh-Michto; the floors seemed slightly higher there and the floors of the side chamber were clear of standing water. Again they’d lamented the loss of the supplies in Mole’s magical backpack, but there was nothing to be done for that now either.
They’d quickly searched both of the rooms adjoining the priest’s chamber, to see if anything useful could be found there. The rooms contained a number of moldering scrolls and books in cubbies excavated in the walls, but most fell apart at their touch and none of it made any sense to them in any case. Mole had found some treasure in heavy ceramic pots present in both chambers; already paranoid from earlier experience, she used the cleric’s pincer staff to force the lids open. This precaution proved quite valuable when magical glyphs exploded at the rough treatment, sending out painful blasts of sonic energy. Thankfully Mole was able to avoid the worst of the effects thanks to the added distance provided by the staff, but it was still a close call. The treasure included a small fortune in coins and precious items, but even Mole could not draw much enthusiasm for the find, given the grave nature of their situation.
Their situation grew yet graver when Hodge and Arun ventured out onto the platform to verify that no further dangers lurked out in the temple, and to evaluate the chances of recovering the weapons that they’d lost in the flood earlier. The place seemed quiet as they strode out onto the platform, but the paladin caught sight of movement in the shadows at the far end of the chamber. His shouted warning came even as a dark form lifted from the shallow waters covering the entire chamber floor, rising into the vast open space of the temple center upon the beat of powerful black wings.
Even Arun wasn’t foolish enough to linger, and he trailed Hodge only by a pace as the two dwarves rushed back into the priest’s chamber. Mole, who’d been tending to the unconscious Zenna, looked up as they returned, and instantly gauged the situation by the looks on their faces.
“What is it?” she asked.
“D...dd...dragon!” Hodge spat, clinging to that narrow line between mere fear and outright panic. Arun looked grim but moved with quick efficiency, reaching over and grabbing the dirk from Hodge’s belt. In a smooth motion he jammed the dagger into the narrow crack of the door, wedging it deeply into place with a solid blow from his hammer.
“That won’t hold it long,” the paladin said. “Move quickly!”
His words shook Hodge to action, and the second dwarf rushed to where he’d left his pack. Trailing profanities, he started digging for something, even as Mole rushed over to Arun. The gnome had recovered Zenna’s dagger, and brought Margh-Michto’s lengthy pincer staff with her as well, the forked end trailing behind her as she dragged the cumbersome device. Arun worked swiftly, wedging the jagged pincers of the staff into the narrow space between the foot of the door and the uneven surface of the floor, stepping back to force them into place with another blow from his hammer. Then he shifted and struck the staff a foot below the joint with the pincers, breaking the length of the staff off in his hand.
Even as he hefted the staff, the door shuddered with a solid impact from without. The crude wedges held, but Arun was quick to take the second dagger from Mole’s hand and hammer it into place higher up in the lintel, reinforcing his work.
The door thrummed once more, then grew quiet.
“The other door!” Mole exclaimed, already rushing in that direction, Arun a few paces behind. Hodge emerged from the antechamber bearing a number of iron wedges, miner’s spikes. But before any of them could reach the second door that led out onto the platform outside, it swung roughly open, revealing the head of the dragon on its long, sinuous neck.
Lazybones
Adventurer
Chapter 124
“Well, I know you managed to overcome it, somehow, or we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” Zenna observed.
“Sheesh, will you let me finish the story?” Mole said, returning to her narrative.
* * * * *
Its hide was as black as night, is head angular and malicious, with twin horns jutting from its forehead and jaws lined liberally with razor-sharp teeth. Its head swiveled back and forth as it scanned the chamber for its enemies, but they missed Mole, who had darted reflexively into the shadows where the wall met the floor, the dragon’s field of view partially blocked by the opening of the door. The dragon did catch sight of Arun and Hodge, however, and opened its jaws in an angry roar.
Before it could move more fully into the chamber, however, Mole, using her magical boots to cast her into the air in a broad leap, sprang up from behind the door, her sword slicing upward in a fast arc that caught the dragon off guard. In the instant that the gnome sprang past, the dragon’s neck jerked up, revealing a shallow but nonetheless bleeding gash a foot beneath the base of its skull.
The dragon had immediately turned toward the gnome, who landed with a splash and tumbled forward. For a terrible instant Mole looked upon the full rage of the creature, and saw death glistening in the ebon orbs of its eyes. But then it was knocked to the side as Arun impacted the door, thrusting it closed. The dragon, caught off guard, with only its head and neck thrust through the door, was at first caught off balance, and it drew reflexively back, its head clearing the door a moment before it slammed shut hard. Hodge, sending a plume of water up around him with every splashing step, arrived with a spike that Arun slammed into the doorjam with a quick blow from his hammer. The door thrummed with the impact of the dragon a moment later, and the spike slipped out half its length as the door trembled. But both dwarves hurled themselves against the narrow portal, setting another spike and driving the first one back into place. The door continued to pound, for the better part of a minute, but held, the inexorable equation of leverage versus force working out in favor of the companions. A fizzing spray of angry green droplets emerged from under the thin crack at the base of the door, acid that sizzled and bubbled as it hit the water, but the construction of the door in its heavy stone threshold meant that the dragon’s breath could not reach the spikes set into the jam on this side.
“And thus we reached a stalemate,” Mole said, concluding her account of the battle. “We reinforced both doors with everything we had, but there haven’t been any more attempts to force entry that we can detect. It’s still out there, though, waiting for us... or at least it was a few hours ago.”
“How do you know that?” Zenna asked.
“I used that potion we found, remember? In the ruins where we battled Triel Eldurast, under Cauldron. It gives the power of seeing things over a distance. It worked great, but that dragon was still sitting out there on one of the higher balconies, watching. I think it sensed me watching it, for it stirred and made an awful roar—the kind that doesn’t sound like it was very pleased with the situation, or planning on leaving anytime soon.”
“At least there haven’t been any more kuo-toa,” Zenna said. She tried to walk, and was able to manage a few steps before she reached the edge of a great stone basin set into the center of the floor. It offered a welcome respite. The basin was filled with several feet of water, and as she stared into it, the blue light of the magical flame glistening off its surface, she felt as though she could just sink into it, all of her problems falling away...
“Zenna!”
Dannel’s voice of concern shook her out of her reverie, and she straightened, drawing away from the elf’s reassuring hands. She wanted to lose herself in his embrace, but knew that if she let her guard down, even for a moment, she would collapse.
She turned to where the others had laid her pack, against the wall. Grateful that she was able to make it without falling, she knelt and undid the clasps, revealing her spellbook—carefully wrapped in oilcloth—nestled inside.
“It’s gonna be tough,” Hodge growled. “Betsy’s out there in the water somewheres, the elf ain’t go no more arrows, and half our knives are stuck in them doors.”
Zenna looked up at her friends. They were all beaten down, ragged and exhausted. She remembered that she hadn’t eaten in over a day, and her stomach rumbled. It was almost comical, through the haze of pain and stiffness that suffused her body. But there was no choice, except to give up, and that was no choice at all.
She reached up to her throat, to the symbol that hung there around her neck, her finger tracing the one cut there in silver. “I need some time,” she told the others. “Then we’ll have to see about that dragon.”
“Well, I know you managed to overcome it, somehow, or we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” Zenna observed.
“Sheesh, will you let me finish the story?” Mole said, returning to her narrative.
* * * * *
Its hide was as black as night, is head angular and malicious, with twin horns jutting from its forehead and jaws lined liberally with razor-sharp teeth. Its head swiveled back and forth as it scanned the chamber for its enemies, but they missed Mole, who had darted reflexively into the shadows where the wall met the floor, the dragon’s field of view partially blocked by the opening of the door. The dragon did catch sight of Arun and Hodge, however, and opened its jaws in an angry roar.
Before it could move more fully into the chamber, however, Mole, using her magical boots to cast her into the air in a broad leap, sprang up from behind the door, her sword slicing upward in a fast arc that caught the dragon off guard. In the instant that the gnome sprang past, the dragon’s neck jerked up, revealing a shallow but nonetheless bleeding gash a foot beneath the base of its skull.
The dragon had immediately turned toward the gnome, who landed with a splash and tumbled forward. For a terrible instant Mole looked upon the full rage of the creature, and saw death glistening in the ebon orbs of its eyes. But then it was knocked to the side as Arun impacted the door, thrusting it closed. The dragon, caught off guard, with only its head and neck thrust through the door, was at first caught off balance, and it drew reflexively back, its head clearing the door a moment before it slammed shut hard. Hodge, sending a plume of water up around him with every splashing step, arrived with a spike that Arun slammed into the doorjam with a quick blow from his hammer. The door thrummed with the impact of the dragon a moment later, and the spike slipped out half its length as the door trembled. But both dwarves hurled themselves against the narrow portal, setting another spike and driving the first one back into place. The door continued to pound, for the better part of a minute, but held, the inexorable equation of leverage versus force working out in favor of the companions. A fizzing spray of angry green droplets emerged from under the thin crack at the base of the door, acid that sizzled and bubbled as it hit the water, but the construction of the door in its heavy stone threshold meant that the dragon’s breath could not reach the spikes set into the jam on this side.
“And thus we reached a stalemate,” Mole said, concluding her account of the battle. “We reinforced both doors with everything we had, but there haven’t been any more attempts to force entry that we can detect. It’s still out there, though, waiting for us... or at least it was a few hours ago.”
“How do you know that?” Zenna asked.
“I used that potion we found, remember? In the ruins where we battled Triel Eldurast, under Cauldron. It gives the power of seeing things over a distance. It worked great, but that dragon was still sitting out there on one of the higher balconies, watching. I think it sensed me watching it, for it stirred and made an awful roar—the kind that doesn’t sound like it was very pleased with the situation, or planning on leaving anytime soon.”
“At least there haven’t been any more kuo-toa,” Zenna said. She tried to walk, and was able to manage a few steps before she reached the edge of a great stone basin set into the center of the floor. It offered a welcome respite. The basin was filled with several feet of water, and as she stared into it, the blue light of the magical flame glistening off its surface, she felt as though she could just sink into it, all of her problems falling away...
“Zenna!”
Dannel’s voice of concern shook her out of her reverie, and she straightened, drawing away from the elf’s reassuring hands. She wanted to lose herself in his embrace, but knew that if she let her guard down, even for a moment, she would collapse.
She turned to where the others had laid her pack, against the wall. Grateful that she was able to make it without falling, she knelt and undid the clasps, revealing her spellbook—carefully wrapped in oilcloth—nestled inside.
“It’s gonna be tough,” Hodge growled. “Betsy’s out there in the water somewheres, the elf ain’t go no more arrows, and half our knives are stuck in them doors.”
Zenna looked up at her friends. They were all beaten down, ragged and exhausted. She remembered that she hadn’t eaten in over a day, and her stomach rumbled. It was almost comical, through the haze of pain and stiffness that suffused her body. But there was no choice, except to give up, and that was no choice at all.
She reached up to her throat, to the symbol that hung there around her neck, her finger tracing the one cut there in silver. “I need some time,” she told the others. “Then we’ll have to see about that dragon.”
You know, I read all the way through the Travels through the Wild West and I *still* think this is one of the worst situations you've ever stuck your characters into. Ouch.
Even when the other group was actually *in* the Abyss, I held out more hope for all of them surviving.
Great writing as always, LB.
Even when the other group was actually *in* the Abyss, I held out more hope for all of them surviving.
Great writing as always, LB.
Broccli_Head
Explorer
Glad I saved this one for last! Love the story and can't wait until the cliffhanger tommorrow.
Gosh LB, you've put my new favorite party in a real pickle...if you had a group of players you'd definitely be a nominee for RBDM![:]](http://www.enworld.org/forum/images/smilies/devious.png "Devious :]")
Gosh LB, you've put my new favorite party in a real pickle...if you had a group of players you'd definitely be a nominee for RBDM
Lazybones
Adventurer
Thanks for the kudos, readers.
* * * * *
Chapter 125
The sound of metal striking metal throbbed dully throughout the huge temple chamber, muted by the slab of stone blocking its transmission.
But Dhorlot heard it.
The sound echoed once again, and then the heavy stone portal scraped slowly open, revealing a dark chamber beyond.
That was fine. Dhorlot did not fear the darkness. Dhorlot, called “the dragon-father” by the kuo-toa, was the darkness, was death as he lifted his body smoothly from its perch on the edge of the balcony high above, and glided out into the vast internal space of the chamber. Though it was sacrilege to the fish-men—and who cared, most of them were dead now, along with that puffed-up fool Margh-Michto—the drake spread its wings to arrest its flight and settled onto the shoulder of the massive statue of Blibdoolpoolp.
The doorway was quiet. No doubt the invaders were lurking inside, waiting for him to rush in again, hoping to ambush him. Well, he would show them a surprise or two...
And then a tiny figure walked into the open out of the doorway.
The dragon’s eyes narrowed as he recognized the gnome who had cut him. The gash in his sinuous neck was a scratch, a trifle, but it still hurt, and it throbbed a bit as he adjusted his position on his perch atop the statue, as if to remind him of the indignity wrought upon his majestic person.
The gnome walked calmly out onto the platform, blissfully unaware of the death that waited directly above her. She put her hands on her hips, surveying the shadowy depths of the cavernous temple chamber. Finally, she spoke, her voice echoing in the vast confines of the place.
“Well then, run off have you, mister dragon? Can’t say I blame you! There’s still plenty of this to go around!” She drew out her tiny sword, and waved it in an elaborate flourish. “We killed a red drake that was, dare I say, somewhat bigger and meaner than you on the way here. Far better for you to play the coward!”
Dhorlot’s eyes narrowed, though he did not make the slightest noise to give away his position as he leaned downward, his hind claws holding him steady on his perch, his long neck twisting until his dagger-shaped head was directly above the puny gnome with her insane threats. His jaws opened wide, and a sibilant hiss came from deep within his body. The gnome did not hear, already continuing her diatribe with another series of threats and insults, culminating with a rather provocative ditty about the ancestry of dragons that was accompanied by a little dance, her hips shaking in a twisting pattern.
The song was cut off as a gout of acid engulfed the gnome, obscuring her from view momentarily in a spray of greenish droplets that splashed up as the dragon’s breath hit the solid stone of the platform. For a heartbeat the loud splash and hiss of the acid obscured all other sound, then a terrible scream erupted from where the gnome had been, a cry that quickly drained away into nothing. When the back blast from the spray had settled enough to see, there was nothing left but an unpleasant pile of smoking detritus where a vibrant, living creature had been moments before.
A shadow shifted in the depths of the doorway, and something shot up at the dragon. Dhorlot felt an annoying pinprick of pain as a heavy quarrel stabbed into his thick, muscular torso. He considered blanketing the doorway in darkness, but he’d already spent over a day waiting these intruders out, and did not want to give them a chance to barricade themselves in the high priest’s former chambers again. Already hungry, the dragon was also impatient, still too young to have developed the long view of time common among the elders of his race.
Plus, he wanted them to see the death that was coming for them.
The dragon leapt from the shoulder of the statue, spreading his wings to catch the air and slow his descent. He landed heavily on the platform, his claws sending up tendrils of wispy smoke as they splashed in the remnants of acid that had lingered on the damp stone in the aftermath of its breath attack. In the shadows of the chamber beyond the doorway, there was a flicker of movement, but no one immediately moved to slam and barricade the door. And now, it was too late.
Dhorlot, the Dragon-Father, had come to kill.
Author’s note: I downgraded Dhorlot one age category, from Young Adult to Juvenile. A Young Adult black dragon would wipe the floor with this party even if they were at full strength. For some reason the builders of this mod seemed obsessed with putting in CR9+ encounters throughout Bhal-Hamatugn, even though the default party is supposed to be 7th level at this point.
* * * * *
Chapter 125
The sound of metal striking metal throbbed dully throughout the huge temple chamber, muted by the slab of stone blocking its transmission.
But Dhorlot heard it.
The sound echoed once again, and then the heavy stone portal scraped slowly open, revealing a dark chamber beyond.
That was fine. Dhorlot did not fear the darkness. Dhorlot, called “the dragon-father” by the kuo-toa, was the darkness, was death as he lifted his body smoothly from its perch on the edge of the balcony high above, and glided out into the vast internal space of the chamber. Though it was sacrilege to the fish-men—and who cared, most of them were dead now, along with that puffed-up fool Margh-Michto—the drake spread its wings to arrest its flight and settled onto the shoulder of the massive statue of Blibdoolpoolp.
The doorway was quiet. No doubt the invaders were lurking inside, waiting for him to rush in again, hoping to ambush him. Well, he would show them a surprise or two...
And then a tiny figure walked into the open out of the doorway.
The dragon’s eyes narrowed as he recognized the gnome who had cut him. The gash in his sinuous neck was a scratch, a trifle, but it still hurt, and it throbbed a bit as he adjusted his position on his perch atop the statue, as if to remind him of the indignity wrought upon his majestic person.
The gnome walked calmly out onto the platform, blissfully unaware of the death that waited directly above her. She put her hands on her hips, surveying the shadowy depths of the cavernous temple chamber. Finally, she spoke, her voice echoing in the vast confines of the place.
“Well then, run off have you, mister dragon? Can’t say I blame you! There’s still plenty of this to go around!” She drew out her tiny sword, and waved it in an elaborate flourish. “We killed a red drake that was, dare I say, somewhat bigger and meaner than you on the way here. Far better for you to play the coward!”
Dhorlot’s eyes narrowed, though he did not make the slightest noise to give away his position as he leaned downward, his hind claws holding him steady on his perch, his long neck twisting until his dagger-shaped head was directly above the puny gnome with her insane threats. His jaws opened wide, and a sibilant hiss came from deep within his body. The gnome did not hear, already continuing her diatribe with another series of threats and insults, culminating with a rather provocative ditty about the ancestry of dragons that was accompanied by a little dance, her hips shaking in a twisting pattern.
The song was cut off as a gout of acid engulfed the gnome, obscuring her from view momentarily in a spray of greenish droplets that splashed up as the dragon’s breath hit the solid stone of the platform. For a heartbeat the loud splash and hiss of the acid obscured all other sound, then a terrible scream erupted from where the gnome had been, a cry that quickly drained away into nothing. When the back blast from the spray had settled enough to see, there was nothing left but an unpleasant pile of smoking detritus where a vibrant, living creature had been moments before.
A shadow shifted in the depths of the doorway, and something shot up at the dragon. Dhorlot felt an annoying pinprick of pain as a heavy quarrel stabbed into his thick, muscular torso. He considered blanketing the doorway in darkness, but he’d already spent over a day waiting these intruders out, and did not want to give them a chance to barricade themselves in the high priest’s former chambers again. Already hungry, the dragon was also impatient, still too young to have developed the long view of time common among the elders of his race.
Plus, he wanted them to see the death that was coming for them.
The dragon leapt from the shoulder of the statue, spreading his wings to catch the air and slow his descent. He landed heavily on the platform, his claws sending up tendrils of wispy smoke as they splashed in the remnants of acid that had lingered on the damp stone in the aftermath of its breath attack. In the shadows of the chamber beyond the doorway, there was a flicker of movement, but no one immediately moved to slam and barricade the door. And now, it was too late.
Dhorlot, the Dragon-Father, had come to kill.
Author’s note: I downgraded Dhorlot one age category, from Young Adult to Juvenile. A Young Adult black dragon would wipe the floor with this party even if they were at full strength. For some reason the builders of this mod seemed obsessed with putting in CR9+ encounters throughout Bhal-Hamatugn, even though the default party is supposed to be 7th level at this point.
Lazybones
Adventurer
You know me too well 
I'm at an on-site training event all this week, so this may be the only chance I get to post for a while.
* * * * *
Chapter 126
“I do NOT sound like that!” Mole whispered, indignant.
Zenna, lost in the intense concentration required to maintain both her silent image and the accompanying ghost sound cantrip, did not respond. But Dannel, standing in the shadows directly beside the door out to the platform, turned and lifted one finger to his lips in warning.
They watched as the illusory Mole offered her challenge to the dragon, and Mole had to stifle another complaint as Zenna embellished her figment’s challenge with the crude song and swaying dance. But they all started in surprise when the illusion was engulfed with a spray of acid that swallowed it up, splattering fat drops of acid that reached as far as the doorway where the companions huddled, crouched, waiting and watching in the shadows.
“He’s up above, on the statue!” Hodge hissed, his hands tight on the haft of his weapon. With Betsy missing, he carried the heavy shaft of the high priest’s broken pincer staff, its ends shorn in iron plate by Arun, now a crude but functional quarterstaff.
Dannel slipped into the narrow gap of the doorway, keeping his thin body close to the reassuring presence of the stone portal. He carried Hodge’s huge crossbow cradled in his hands, and even as he stepped momentarily out of the darkness of the chamber he raised the heavy weapon, sighted, and fired, drawing back into the room a moment after the quarrel left the weapon. He handed the empty bow to Hodge. They didn’t really expect to have time to reload the cumbersome weapon, but Hodge nonetheless took up his crank and started drawing back the thick string. Dannel, meanwhile, had drawn up a second weapon from where it dangled from his belt; Zenna’s light crossbow, with a bolt already slotted into the firing channel. It was a matter of a few seconds to ready the bow for firing.
A loud thump announced the arrival of the dragon outside. Even though they’d expected it, the sudden appearance of the dragon outside the narrow slit of the door sent a sudden tremor of fear through all of them. Fortunately this drake was not of an age yet to inspire the supernatural terror for which dragons were known; nonetheless, each of them felt a moment of hopelessness in the face of the considerable danger that confronted them. Dhorlot was not an especially huge specimen, clearly still in that nebulous border zone between adolescence and adulthood, but all of the adventurers knew that size, in this case, meant little. This was a dragon, a member of the species known above all in the Forgotten Realms for its ferocity and durability.
But the companions, battered as they were, were also experienced veterans, and the moment’s hesitation was just that, a moment that was quickly replaced by the execution of the plan that they’d developed earlier.
“Now!” Arun shouted, hefting his warhammer. The dwarf started toward the door, but was not the first to exit; that was the golden-scaled form of Clinger, the paladin’s otherworldly mount. Called once more from the celestial realms where it resided, its wounds healed by its rejuvenative time there, the giant lizard charged into the dragon. Though the two creatures were of like size, the dragon’s wings and long tail gave him an edge, and Dhorlot’s superior mass was evident from the first collision. The celestial lizard smote the black drake, seizing his throat with a powerful bite, trying to bring the dragon down with an incapacitating hold in the first rush. But Dhorlot, even relatively young though he was, was still far too powerful to fall to such a ploy, and within moments had both torn free from the bite and seized the lizard in his muscular foreclaws.
But before the dragon could counter the charge of its adversary, Arun and Hodge were out of the doorway, and launching their own attacks upon the dragon. The two dwarves split and came at the creature from the sides. Hodge thrust his staff at his flank like a spear, but the dragon’s struggles caused the weapon to glance harmlessly off his hide. His skin was corded and thick like boiled leather armor, and even though it hadn’t taken on the hardness of steel plate that would come with age, it was still incredibly resistant to physical assault. On the far side, Arun’s attack did not even connect, as the dragon’s tail lashed out unexpectedly, forcing the paladin off-balance even as he was hefting his hammer for a powerful blow.
The rest of the companions were not idle, each with a role that had been set in the discussion that had followed Zenna’s reawaking an hour earlier. Dannel stepped into the doorway again and fired Zenna’s light crossbow, biting off a curse as the dragon’s movements caused the shot he’d targeted at his head to narrowly miss and shoot off into the darkness. Mole darted out beside him like a shadow, her magical boots carrying her in great strides as she broke to the left, circumventing the base of the massive statue to approach the melee from the rear.
Zenna’s body felt leaden as she stepped up behind Dannel, taking his place as he leaned to the side and reached for a fresh bolt. After refreshing her spells she’d laid as much healing as she could bring to bear on her friends, but with the mummy’s curse still holding its iron grip on her, she herself could not benefit from the divine power she channeled. She tried to call upon the words of a spell, and for a moment she felt a surge of panic as exhaustion overcame her, driving the trigger phrases and gestures required to tap the stored energy from her mind. Taking a deep breath, and clasping the silver amulet at her throat, she focused what was left of her strength and tried again.
The dragon responded to the attacks upon him with a terrible fury. He directed most of the force of his assault upon the lizard grappling with him, ripping deeply into its golden hide with his vicious claws. The lizard, motivated by its hatred of all things evil, tried to press its attack, but the onslaught gave the dragon enough room for his head to strike down on his sinuous neck, his jaws seizing the lizard’s shoulder and literally tearing it free, hurling it across the platform. The dragon roared in triumph as his foe tried to rise, but failed, slumping wearily to the hard stone, bright celestial ichor flowing freely from its deep wounds. The two dwarves tried to press their attacks again, but the dragon buffeted them with his wings, driving them back.
Zenna completed her spell, calling forth a coruscating beam of flame that erupted from the palm of her outstretched left hand. The scorching ray flared over the dragon’s chest, drawing from him a roar of pain as the heat of the flames penetrated his thick hide. The dragon, his eyes full of rage, started toward the tiefling standing unsteadily in the narrow doorway, but before he could close to attack the wizard’s allies threw themselves at the dragon in a furious all-out assault. Hodge cursed as his blow again glanced harmlessly off the dragon’s shoulder, but this time Arun’s powerful stroke hit true, slamming into the dragon’s body with enough force to draw an audible crack as bone gave way before the hammer’s iron head. Even as the dragon drew back reflexively, nearly trampling Hodge underfoot, a tiny form darted in from behind, finding a very... vulnerable spot in the dragon’s anatomy, and sinking a foot of very sharp steel into it.
Dhorlot felt pain everywhere as his enemies drove their attacks home. He knew that he had made a mistake by letting himself get surrounded, but his desire to crush them was now replaced by a profound desire to get away, to preserve his own life against these foes who had already proven themselves extremely dangerous.
Flapping its wings to give him a moment’s space from his attackers, the dragon called down a cloying cloud of darkness upon his own position, cloaking him from view and hopefully blinding his foes. Then he spun, feeling a reassuring impact as his tail hit something small and sent it flying. A sharp stinging pain penetrated his body a foot behind his right wing, but he ignored it and with a mighty leap, his wings beating powerfully, ascended into the air toward the far balcony. He did not head toward the low doors at the far end of the gathered waters, toward his lair; no, Dhorlot was set on complete flight, to return later once these invaders had retired from Bhal-Hamatugn. The dragon flew toward the middle balcony, and the main exit from the kuo-toa temple out into the myriad passages of the Underdark.
But even as the dragon arced painfully down toward the balcony, his lower claws extended to brace himself for a hard landing, Dannel emerged from the darkness at the edge of the platform. The elf lifted Zenna’s bow, and with an instinctive motion born of skill and practice, squeezed the trigger and fired. The bolt lanced through the air as the dragon, unaware of the danger, landed on the balcony and pushed at the heavy stone doors that formed the exit. He didn’t even feel the impact at first, as the bolt poked neatly through his hide, disappearing into the thick frame of his body. But Dhorlot immediately realized that something was wrong, as he heaved the doors open with his powerful claws. Air gurgled in his lung as fiery blood poured in through the rent opened by the crossbow bolt. The dragon, finally realizing what was happening, turned around in desperation, unwilling to accept the reality of his death even as the world around him grew hazy and indistinct. Finally, almost anticlimactically, he sank slowly down to the ground on the edge of the balcony, a final snort sliding from his nostrils before he quivered once and fell still.
I'm at an on-site training event all this week, so this may be the only chance I get to post for a while.
* * * * *
Chapter 126
“I do NOT sound like that!” Mole whispered, indignant.
Zenna, lost in the intense concentration required to maintain both her silent image and the accompanying ghost sound cantrip, did not respond. But Dannel, standing in the shadows directly beside the door out to the platform, turned and lifted one finger to his lips in warning.
They watched as the illusory Mole offered her challenge to the dragon, and Mole had to stifle another complaint as Zenna embellished her figment’s challenge with the crude song and swaying dance. But they all started in surprise when the illusion was engulfed with a spray of acid that swallowed it up, splattering fat drops of acid that reached as far as the doorway where the companions huddled, crouched, waiting and watching in the shadows.
“He’s up above, on the statue!” Hodge hissed, his hands tight on the haft of his weapon. With Betsy missing, he carried the heavy shaft of the high priest’s broken pincer staff, its ends shorn in iron plate by Arun, now a crude but functional quarterstaff.
Dannel slipped into the narrow gap of the doorway, keeping his thin body close to the reassuring presence of the stone portal. He carried Hodge’s huge crossbow cradled in his hands, and even as he stepped momentarily out of the darkness of the chamber he raised the heavy weapon, sighted, and fired, drawing back into the room a moment after the quarrel left the weapon. He handed the empty bow to Hodge. They didn’t really expect to have time to reload the cumbersome weapon, but Hodge nonetheless took up his crank and started drawing back the thick string. Dannel, meanwhile, had drawn up a second weapon from where it dangled from his belt; Zenna’s light crossbow, with a bolt already slotted into the firing channel. It was a matter of a few seconds to ready the bow for firing.
A loud thump announced the arrival of the dragon outside. Even though they’d expected it, the sudden appearance of the dragon outside the narrow slit of the door sent a sudden tremor of fear through all of them. Fortunately this drake was not of an age yet to inspire the supernatural terror for which dragons were known; nonetheless, each of them felt a moment of hopelessness in the face of the considerable danger that confronted them. Dhorlot was not an especially huge specimen, clearly still in that nebulous border zone between adolescence and adulthood, but all of the adventurers knew that size, in this case, meant little. This was a dragon, a member of the species known above all in the Forgotten Realms for its ferocity and durability.
But the companions, battered as they were, were also experienced veterans, and the moment’s hesitation was just that, a moment that was quickly replaced by the execution of the plan that they’d developed earlier.
“Now!” Arun shouted, hefting his warhammer. The dwarf started toward the door, but was not the first to exit; that was the golden-scaled form of Clinger, the paladin’s otherworldly mount. Called once more from the celestial realms where it resided, its wounds healed by its rejuvenative time there, the giant lizard charged into the dragon. Though the two creatures were of like size, the dragon’s wings and long tail gave him an edge, and Dhorlot’s superior mass was evident from the first collision. The celestial lizard smote the black drake, seizing his throat with a powerful bite, trying to bring the dragon down with an incapacitating hold in the first rush. But Dhorlot, even relatively young though he was, was still far too powerful to fall to such a ploy, and within moments had both torn free from the bite and seized the lizard in his muscular foreclaws.
But before the dragon could counter the charge of its adversary, Arun and Hodge were out of the doorway, and launching their own attacks upon the dragon. The two dwarves split and came at the creature from the sides. Hodge thrust his staff at his flank like a spear, but the dragon’s struggles caused the weapon to glance harmlessly off his hide. His skin was corded and thick like boiled leather armor, and even though it hadn’t taken on the hardness of steel plate that would come with age, it was still incredibly resistant to physical assault. On the far side, Arun’s attack did not even connect, as the dragon’s tail lashed out unexpectedly, forcing the paladin off-balance even as he was hefting his hammer for a powerful blow.
The rest of the companions were not idle, each with a role that had been set in the discussion that had followed Zenna’s reawaking an hour earlier. Dannel stepped into the doorway again and fired Zenna’s light crossbow, biting off a curse as the dragon’s movements caused the shot he’d targeted at his head to narrowly miss and shoot off into the darkness. Mole darted out beside him like a shadow, her magical boots carrying her in great strides as she broke to the left, circumventing the base of the massive statue to approach the melee from the rear.
Zenna’s body felt leaden as she stepped up behind Dannel, taking his place as he leaned to the side and reached for a fresh bolt. After refreshing her spells she’d laid as much healing as she could bring to bear on her friends, but with the mummy’s curse still holding its iron grip on her, she herself could not benefit from the divine power she channeled. She tried to call upon the words of a spell, and for a moment she felt a surge of panic as exhaustion overcame her, driving the trigger phrases and gestures required to tap the stored energy from her mind. Taking a deep breath, and clasping the silver amulet at her throat, she focused what was left of her strength and tried again.
The dragon responded to the attacks upon him with a terrible fury. He directed most of the force of his assault upon the lizard grappling with him, ripping deeply into its golden hide with his vicious claws. The lizard, motivated by its hatred of all things evil, tried to press its attack, but the onslaught gave the dragon enough room for his head to strike down on his sinuous neck, his jaws seizing the lizard’s shoulder and literally tearing it free, hurling it across the platform. The dragon roared in triumph as his foe tried to rise, but failed, slumping wearily to the hard stone, bright celestial ichor flowing freely from its deep wounds. The two dwarves tried to press their attacks again, but the dragon buffeted them with his wings, driving them back.
Zenna completed her spell, calling forth a coruscating beam of flame that erupted from the palm of her outstretched left hand. The scorching ray flared over the dragon’s chest, drawing from him a roar of pain as the heat of the flames penetrated his thick hide. The dragon, his eyes full of rage, started toward the tiefling standing unsteadily in the narrow doorway, but before he could close to attack the wizard’s allies threw themselves at the dragon in a furious all-out assault. Hodge cursed as his blow again glanced harmlessly off the dragon’s shoulder, but this time Arun’s powerful stroke hit true, slamming into the dragon’s body with enough force to draw an audible crack as bone gave way before the hammer’s iron head. Even as the dragon drew back reflexively, nearly trampling Hodge underfoot, a tiny form darted in from behind, finding a very... vulnerable spot in the dragon’s anatomy, and sinking a foot of very sharp steel into it.
Dhorlot felt pain everywhere as his enemies drove their attacks home. He knew that he had made a mistake by letting himself get surrounded, but his desire to crush them was now replaced by a profound desire to get away, to preserve his own life against these foes who had already proven themselves extremely dangerous.
Flapping its wings to give him a moment’s space from his attackers, the dragon called down a cloying cloud of darkness upon his own position, cloaking him from view and hopefully blinding his foes. Then he spun, feeling a reassuring impact as his tail hit something small and sent it flying. A sharp stinging pain penetrated his body a foot behind his right wing, but he ignored it and with a mighty leap, his wings beating powerfully, ascended into the air toward the far balcony. He did not head toward the low doors at the far end of the gathered waters, toward his lair; no, Dhorlot was set on complete flight, to return later once these invaders had retired from Bhal-Hamatugn. The dragon flew toward the middle balcony, and the main exit from the kuo-toa temple out into the myriad passages of the Underdark.
But even as the dragon arced painfully down toward the balcony, his lower claws extended to brace himself for a hard landing, Dannel emerged from the darkness at the edge of the platform. The elf lifted Zenna’s bow, and with an instinctive motion born of skill and practice, squeezed the trigger and fired. The bolt lanced through the air as the dragon, unaware of the danger, landed on the balcony and pushed at the heavy stone doors that formed the exit. He didn’t even feel the impact at first, as the bolt poked neatly through his hide, disappearing into the thick frame of his body. But Dhorlot immediately realized that something was wrong, as he heaved the doors open with his powerful claws. Air gurgled in his lung as fiery blood poured in through the rent opened by the crossbow bolt. The dragon, finally realizing what was happening, turned around in desperation, unwilling to accept the reality of his death even as the world around him grew hazy and indistinct. Finally, almost anticlimactically, he sank slowly down to the ground on the edge of the balcony, a final snort sliding from his nostrils before he quivered once and fell still.
Broccli_Head
Explorer
What's up with Dannel and his critical bow shots?! 
He seems to always save the day
He seems to always save the day
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