Shackled City Epic: "Vengeance" (story concluded)
- Thread starter Lazybones
- Start date
Lazybones
Adventurer
Hey, glad to see you're still reading, Padril. I may need you again in about a year (at the current pace of writing), when I finish The Shackled City and need a PDF conversion... 
Thanks for the kudos.
* * * * *
Chapter 171
That same evening, in a dimly lit chamber deep within the fastness of Vaprak’s Voice, another discussion was taking place.
“The covey is sundered! We are undone!”
“Oh, do shut up, Olomasta. You always had a flair for drama. Has Kymzo reported back yet?”
The hag subsided into a chair and looked up at her sister, and nodded. “They have taken shelter in the pipe, near the overlook. But they will be back, Tribata, and we only have three giants left to guard us... and with our sister slain, we can no longer come together, to access the powers of the covey!”
Tribata’s mouth twisted in disapproval. “All that you say is true. And I’d only credit two giants to our cause; Dugobras may defend himself and his forge, but he won’t stir beyond for our sakes.”
Olomasta twisted her hands in a gesture of agitation. “What of the nerra? Will he help us?”
Tribata shook her head, and leaned in closer to her sister, her voice cast lower. “I spoke to him briefly—he is content to watch the Mirror, along with several of his kin. I will not press him, for if he senses that we are no longer in a position to command power, he will turn on us.”
Olomasta’s hand-wringing intensified. “Then what are we to do?”
“We are not without resources.”
“Your prize? You still control him?”
“Yes. And tomorrow, I will perhaps claim another.”
“But... why haven’t they removed the spell?”
Tribata’s smile was an evil thing. “I do not believe they can. That one, the spell-caster... there was something odd about her, but did you observe how she only used magical wands during the battle, and did not engage us with her own spells? I suspect—and this is confirmed by what the giants told us—that she is little more than a talented apprentice.”
“But those others... they killed the giants so easily...”
“Yes. The dwarves may cause difficulty, their natures resist our magic, and that one, that foul little thing that killed Sminelpa, I believe he is consecrated to a god, which will further enhance his resistance. But again, we are not without resources...”
“You mean...”
“Yes. After all, this concerns Him as well, does it not? Summon Kyzmo here to us. Tell him I have a message for him to deliver...”
And her cackle filled the room, sick with the promise of more blood to come.
Thanks for the kudos. * * * * *
Chapter 171
That same evening, in a dimly lit chamber deep within the fastness of Vaprak’s Voice, another discussion was taking place.
“The covey is sundered! We are undone!”
“Oh, do shut up, Olomasta. You always had a flair for drama. Has Kymzo reported back yet?”
The hag subsided into a chair and looked up at her sister, and nodded. “They have taken shelter in the pipe, near the overlook. But they will be back, Tribata, and we only have three giants left to guard us... and with our sister slain, we can no longer come together, to access the powers of the covey!”
Tribata’s mouth twisted in disapproval. “All that you say is true. And I’d only credit two giants to our cause; Dugobras may defend himself and his forge, but he won’t stir beyond for our sakes.”
Olomasta twisted her hands in a gesture of agitation. “What of the nerra? Will he help us?”
Tribata shook her head, and leaned in closer to her sister, her voice cast lower. “I spoke to him briefly—he is content to watch the Mirror, along with several of his kin. I will not press him, for if he senses that we are no longer in a position to command power, he will turn on us.”
Olomasta’s hand-wringing intensified. “Then what are we to do?”
“We are not without resources.”
“Your prize? You still control him?”
“Yes. And tomorrow, I will perhaps claim another.”
“But... why haven’t they removed the spell?”
Tribata’s smile was an evil thing. “I do not believe they can. That one, the spell-caster... there was something odd about her, but did you observe how she only used magical wands during the battle, and did not engage us with her own spells? I suspect—and this is confirmed by what the giants told us—that she is little more than a talented apprentice.”
“But those others... they killed the giants so easily...”
“Yes. The dwarves may cause difficulty, their natures resist our magic, and that one, that foul little thing that killed Sminelpa, I believe he is consecrated to a god, which will further enhance his resistance. But again, we are not without resources...”
“You mean...”
“Yes. After all, this concerns Him as well, does it not? Summon Kyzmo here to us. Tell him I have a message for him to deliver...”
And her cackle filled the room, sick with the promise of more blood to come.
SolidSnake
First Post
Lazybones said:
You can't do this to me!!!!!
Lazybones
Adventurer
Chapter 172
Zenna stirred to the bright glow of morning visible in the mouth of the pipe off in the distance, her nostrils full of the smell of roasting meat. Her body was a bit stiff from sleeping on the hard stone floor of the pipe, her mind was clear, the horrors of the day before faded a bit into the amorphous terrain of memory. That lasted as long as it took to sit up and see Morgan, still lying bound where they’d left them the night before.
“He’ll need food and water,” she said to her companions, stretching her muscles in an effort to take out some of the lingering kinks.
“Fed ‘im earlier,” Hodge said, stirring a few slabs of sloth meat in a small iron pot over an equally diminutive fire. There wasn’t much more than scrub growth out in the canyon, anything larger smothered by the noxious gases that were given off by the pool below. But Dannel, using his magical slippers to walk along the canyon walls, had found enough dried brush to support a small fire. Hodge added a generous portion of ground pepper to the meat, which they’d salted and stored in Mole’s bag of holding. Zenna wondered if the stuff would even be edible, once the dwarf had finished with it.
The familiar whistle of Vaprak’s Voice began again, building quickly into the loud roar that seemed to shake the pipe with its passage. To her surprise, Zenna realized that she’d completely toned it out the night before, and had managed to sleep a full night through that cacophony. She was surprised that her hearing wasn’t damaged; another benefit of her otherworldly heritage, perhaps?
During the blowing of the winds, they could not converse, so she knelt down across from the dwarf. Mole, she saw, was in her bedroll, but Dannel and Arun were absent.
When the noise had trailed off, she asked, “Where are Arun and Dannel?”
Hodge pointed toward the exit of the pipe. “They went ta take a quick looksee, just a few minutes ago, a’fore yer woke. Ah, here they be comin’ now.”
Zenna looked up to see the pair silhouetted in the nimbus of light in the mouth of the pipe. Dannel remained near the mouth, keeping a close watch, but Arun returned to their small camp. Mole, she saw, was stirring; the gnome had fashioned wax plugs for her ears from an old candle so that she could sleep over the noise of the Voice.
“Anything?” Zenna asked.
“Quiet,” Arun said. “Real quiet.”
“Hey!” Mole said, coming over to the fire. She snatched the little bag of pepper just as Hodge was about to add another dash of the spice to his creation. “A little goes a long way, you know!”
“Bah, yer all have no sense o’ flavor,” the dwarf complained.
“Is that the last of the meat?” Arun asked. The other dwarf nodded.
“How are we on supplies?” Zenna asked.
“There’s still one more sack of ground meal in the bag of holding, some potatoes and carrots, and about a half-pound of coffee, and another pound of the mixed nuts...”
“Ate those,” Hodge interrupted. Mole shot him a glare before continuing.
“As I was saying... a few spices, some salt—if we find another edible animal, we can preserve it—and I had some raisins in there, if someone hasn’t found them and eaten them...”
“Mole,” Zenna interrupted. “How many days’ worth of food do we have left?”
“Oh. Well, if we can keep Hodge out of the bag of holding, maybe three days.”
“We’ll be all right,” Arun said. “The elf can help us find edible foodstuffs in the jungle, if it comes to that.”
Zenna looked up at the paladin with surprise. Praise between the dwarves and elf hadn’t been overly generous, but she realized that they had all come to rely upon each other, and that their relationship had developed into mutual respect. It was a gratifying feeling, but still didn’t remove the sense of anticipation as they prepared to head once more into danger.
“So, what’s the plan for today?” Mole asked cheerfully. “We go in, beat up the bad guys, and take their stuff, right?”
“Aye! That sounds ‘bout right!” Hodge agreed.
“We will need to be wary of the magic of those hags,” Arun said, with a meaningful glance toward the captive Morgan.
They all turned toward Zenna, but the tiefling found herself distracted. There was something odd... a feeling that tickled on the edges of her perceptions...
Her eyes widened slightly as realization hit. “We’re being watched,” she said.
Even as the others reached for their weapons, there was a sizzle in the air, and two... things materialized at the opposite edges of their camp. The light from the pipe mouth barely illuminated their dark forms, but Zenna needed no such augmentation to clearly discern them. They were about the size of a full-grown human, gaunt almost to the point of being skeletal, their faces twisted into a permanent snarl of hatred. Their weapons were vicious claws and teeth that protruded from their angular jaws, and their black bodies were covered with a slick ooze that was the color of congealed blood.
Zenna knew what they were immediately. Demons. But even as she opened her mouth to issue a warning, both the creatures and her friends leapt to the attack.
Zenna stirred to the bright glow of morning visible in the mouth of the pipe off in the distance, her nostrils full of the smell of roasting meat. Her body was a bit stiff from sleeping on the hard stone floor of the pipe, her mind was clear, the horrors of the day before faded a bit into the amorphous terrain of memory. That lasted as long as it took to sit up and see Morgan, still lying bound where they’d left them the night before.
“He’ll need food and water,” she said to her companions, stretching her muscles in an effort to take out some of the lingering kinks.
“Fed ‘im earlier,” Hodge said, stirring a few slabs of sloth meat in a small iron pot over an equally diminutive fire. There wasn’t much more than scrub growth out in the canyon, anything larger smothered by the noxious gases that were given off by the pool below. But Dannel, using his magical slippers to walk along the canyon walls, had found enough dried brush to support a small fire. Hodge added a generous portion of ground pepper to the meat, which they’d salted and stored in Mole’s bag of holding. Zenna wondered if the stuff would even be edible, once the dwarf had finished with it.
The familiar whistle of Vaprak’s Voice began again, building quickly into the loud roar that seemed to shake the pipe with its passage. To her surprise, Zenna realized that she’d completely toned it out the night before, and had managed to sleep a full night through that cacophony. She was surprised that her hearing wasn’t damaged; another benefit of her otherworldly heritage, perhaps?
During the blowing of the winds, they could not converse, so she knelt down across from the dwarf. Mole, she saw, was in her bedroll, but Dannel and Arun were absent.
When the noise had trailed off, she asked, “Where are Arun and Dannel?”
Hodge pointed toward the exit of the pipe. “They went ta take a quick looksee, just a few minutes ago, a’fore yer woke. Ah, here they be comin’ now.”
Zenna looked up to see the pair silhouetted in the nimbus of light in the mouth of the pipe. Dannel remained near the mouth, keeping a close watch, but Arun returned to their small camp. Mole, she saw, was stirring; the gnome had fashioned wax plugs for her ears from an old candle so that she could sleep over the noise of the Voice.
“Anything?” Zenna asked.
“Quiet,” Arun said. “Real quiet.”
“Hey!” Mole said, coming over to the fire. She snatched the little bag of pepper just as Hodge was about to add another dash of the spice to his creation. “A little goes a long way, you know!”
“Bah, yer all have no sense o’ flavor,” the dwarf complained.
“Is that the last of the meat?” Arun asked. The other dwarf nodded.
“How are we on supplies?” Zenna asked.
“There’s still one more sack of ground meal in the bag of holding, some potatoes and carrots, and about a half-pound of coffee, and another pound of the mixed nuts...”
“Ate those,” Hodge interrupted. Mole shot him a glare before continuing.
“As I was saying... a few spices, some salt—if we find another edible animal, we can preserve it—and I had some raisins in there, if someone hasn’t found them and eaten them...”
“Mole,” Zenna interrupted. “How many days’ worth of food do we have left?”
“Oh. Well, if we can keep Hodge out of the bag of holding, maybe three days.”
“We’ll be all right,” Arun said. “The elf can help us find edible foodstuffs in the jungle, if it comes to that.”
Zenna looked up at the paladin with surprise. Praise between the dwarves and elf hadn’t been overly generous, but she realized that they had all come to rely upon each other, and that their relationship had developed into mutual respect. It was a gratifying feeling, but still didn’t remove the sense of anticipation as they prepared to head once more into danger.
“So, what’s the plan for today?” Mole asked cheerfully. “We go in, beat up the bad guys, and take their stuff, right?”
“Aye! That sounds ‘bout right!” Hodge agreed.
“We will need to be wary of the magic of those hags,” Arun said, with a meaningful glance toward the captive Morgan.
They all turned toward Zenna, but the tiefling found herself distracted. There was something odd... a feeling that tickled on the edges of her perceptions...
Her eyes widened slightly as realization hit. “We’re being watched,” she said.
Even as the others reached for their weapons, there was a sizzle in the air, and two... things materialized at the opposite edges of their camp. The light from the pipe mouth barely illuminated their dark forms, but Zenna needed no such augmentation to clearly discern them. They were about the size of a full-grown human, gaunt almost to the point of being skeletal, their faces twisted into a permanent snarl of hatred. Their weapons were vicious claws and teeth that protruded from their angular jaws, and their black bodies were covered with a slick ooze that was the color of congealed blood.
Zenna knew what they were immediately. Demons. But even as she opened her mouth to issue a warning, both the creatures and her friends leapt to the attack.
Broccli_Head
Explorer
I think that they're babaus. IIRC, they look like skeletons.
Lazybones
Adventurer
Bingo! Bone fiends (osyluth) are devils. Not that this would stop me from siccing them on my poor characters, however...Broccli_Head said:
* * * * *
Chapter 173
Faced with sudden assault by a pair of babau demons that had teleported in to interrupt their breakfast, the companions quickly reached for their weapons.
Even as Zenna shouted a warning to her companions and tried to rise, the nearest babau leapt at her, exploding out of its crouch like an uncoiling spring. Pain exploded across her face as it raked her with its claws; it was incredibly strong, and she was flung backward, narrowly avoiding falling into their fire.
The babau could not press its advantage as Arun charged into it. He brought his hammer solidly into its chest, driving it back a step, but the creature only shot him a sinister grin.
“Resistant...” Zenna groaned as she tried to pull herself up, her voice wet with blood from the deep gashes in her cheek and jaw.
Hodge leapt up so quickly that the frying pan went flying, but the dwarf’s concerns were on other matters than breakfast as he lifted his magical axe and charged at the second demon. The demon snarled at him, but instead of rushing forward to meet the dwarf, it turned suddenly to the side. Hodge’s stroke missed it entirely, as the demon charged toward the prone form of Morgan.
The cleric, still gagged and blindfolded, was apparently unaware of the threat as the demon reached down for him with its razor-sharp claws. But instead of tearing the unarmored priest to shreds with its raking slashes, it only cut the bonds holding him, opening one small gash his bicep where a claw cut too deep. For a moment the cleric just lay there, the trickle of blood oozing from the fresh wound adding to the tally of old cuts and scars crossing his body, but then he stirred into action, tearing off the remaining restraints and reaching up to pull off the blindfold covering his face.
“Bragh! Die, demon!” Hodge yelled, tearing into the babau’s back with his axe even as the creature turned to face him. This time he connected with it, but even the magical axe seemed to do little to the creature, and as he drew the weapon back he saw that some of the red gunk covering its body had stuck to the blade, which hissed with the potency of a strong acid.
The blow had clearly drawn the creature’s attention, however, and it lunged for the dwarf with its claws. It failed to see the tiny figure that rolled into place behind it, but it felt the thrust of Mole’s sword as it cut deeply into a tendon in its exposed leg. The demon screamed and spun on the gnome, aborting its assault upon Hodge. Before she could react it had grabbed her, its claws tearing painfully into her sides as it lifted her toward its slathering jaws.
Zenna felt a sense of helplessness as she watched Arun battling the other demon; few of the spells that she had remaining could hope to harm the thing, and the two combatants were too closely intertwined to risk a color spray. She turned to see Morgan rise, the cleric tearing off his gag as he drew back from the battle raging between the other demon and Mole and Hodge. Morgan was casting around with his eyes, clearly looking for something. Then, the cleric’s gaze met hers in a look that was pure venom. For a moment, Zenna thought that the dominated knight would rush her, to kill her with his bare hands if need be, but then he turned and ran full-out down the corridor.
Straight toward Dannel, who was running at full speed in the opposite direction, toward the melee. He already had an arrow fitted to his bow, and as he saw the cleric he drew and took aim, but hesitated short of releasing his shot. Morgan did not stop, and Dannel had to leap to the side in order to avoid being overrun. With one last look back at the fleeing priest, the elf turned back toward the melee.
As the babau’s claws raked his armor, Arun knew that he would need help to overcome this foe. His first blow had landed solidly but had hurt it little if at all. Holding his shield up in an effort to forestall the demon’s attacks, he called upon the power of Moradin. Pain erupted in his leg as the demon dragged his shield aside and clawed through his defenses, but through an effort of will his concentration held, and he felt the divine potency of his patron flow through him into his warhammer, transforming it into a weapon of Good. With a loud roar, he lifted the weapon and drove it into the demon’s body once more, gratified this time as it screamed in pain, staggering backward with a hiss of ugly black smoke rising from the point where the hammer’s head had struck.
Arun pursued it, bringing the hammer around again in a wide arc that intersected with its torso just above its left hip. Again the blow told, but the hammer had also begun to smoke, coated now in the caustic red gel that covered the demon’s foul body. As Arun drew the weapon back again, the wooden shaft shivered, and the heavy iron head fell to the ground in a loud clatter.
Encouraged by this development, the demon snarled and hurled itself bodily at its disarmed foe.
On the far flank of the battle, a mere five paces distant, Mole’s eyes widened in fear as the demon drew her struggling body into its maw. An arrow from Dannel’s bow sliced into the melee and stuck in the demon’s body, but the missile may as well have struck an iron wall for all the damage it wrought to the abyssal creature. The gnome suddenly twisted her body up, lifting her legs and body up over the snapping jaws that narrowly missed tearing her in two. She followed the maneuver with a thrust of her sword that dug painfully into the demon’s maw as it opened again. The demon let out a terrible scream of pain and released its grip on the nimble rogue, who twisted enough to land on her feet, her sword smoking in her hand.
Frustrated, Hodge tossed his shield aside and took up the waraxe with both hands, driving it down into the demon’s back with his full strength. The blow was powerful but unfortunately inaccurate, glancing off of the heavily armored dorsal ridge of the demon. His curses, while colorful, proved equally ineffective, and it didn’t bother to turn, instead reaching down again for Mole, the only foe who had managed to hurt it thus far.
Arun held his ground even as sharp wedges of pain shot through his body where the demon’s claws scored him, penetrating through the gaps in his armor below his breastplate, tearing the chain links covering him there as though they were fashioned of flimsy wire rather than gleaming mithral. He reached for one of his light hammers, knowing that he had little chance of hurting it even with his full strength behind the blows.
“Arun!” Zenna cried, drawing his attention to the side. The tiefling rushed into the battle, holding Morgan’s bastard sword in its scabbard. She had taken custody of it in their flight from Vaprak’s Voice, and had kept it among her gear upon returning here and disarming the cleric. Morgan had looked for it on being freed from his bonds, but he’d failed to see it, half-concealed under Zenna’s bedroll.
The demon snarled and lashed out at her as she drew near. She took a solid hit on her shoulder and cried out, trailing blood freely from three deep gashes that tore long rents in her tunic. But she held her ground until Arun’s hand tightened around the hilt of the sword, and he drew its gleaming length free from the leather scabbard. Arun released his grip on his shield, and took up the sword in both hands. The demon, its beady eyes annoyed by the bright light shining from the sword, snarled and reached for the dwarf once more, but its charge died as Arun brought the sword around in a glittering arc, backed by his full strength, that intersected the demon’s neck and took its head off of its shoulders.
Arrows thudded into the second demon’s body, not harming it but distracting its attention, even as Hodge continued to rain down blows on its back. While neither assault inflicted serious hurts on the creature, they nonetheless provided openings that Mole continued to exploit, slamming her slender blade into tiny gaps in its defenses, piercing even its demonic resistances and drawing flows of black ichor that were beginning to coagulate into a pool of steaming demon blood at its feet. Mole bled from numerous injuries inflicted by the demon’s claws, and her face was twisted in pain, but she held her ground, facing its full fury with stoic determination.
Finally the demon, seeing the fate of its comrade, let out a final screech and with a sudden twisting of reality teleported out of the pipe to safety.
Lazybones
Adventurer
Chapter 174
The companions sagged as the adrenaline of battle faded. Wary of another assault, they quickly tended their injuries and their weapons. Arun’s hammer was ruined, while Mole’s sword was pitted and of little more use. And Hodge’s feelings were quickly made evident to all of them.
“Me axe!” he yelled. “Look what the bastards did ta me axe!”
Arun examined the weapon with a critical eye. The acidic goo had etched the sharp edge of the blade, and even pitted a small hole entirely through the surface, but the damage was relatively minor.
“I can repair it once we get back to Cauldron,” he said, handing the axe back. “Until then, it will have to suffice.”
The dwarf’s mood did not improve when he discovered that the pan containing his hard-earned breakfast had been upturned in the melee, depositing the sloth steaks into the fire.
“Someone’s gunna pay,” he said, and he went and sat down by the mouth of the pipe, a thunderhead in his expression.
“I need some time to recover my spells,” Zenna said. She’d healed her wounds, but she still looked a mess, with dried blood caked on her face and down her arm. But in her own way, she reflected a determination that mirrored that on the vulgar dwarf.
“Well, now they have the cleric, too,” Arun said.
“I might have been able to bring him down without killing him,” Dannel said. “But as beat up as he was...”
“It wasn’t an accusation,” the dwarf said simply. “In your place, I would have done the same. He is not in control of his actions.”
“Yeah, he’s a jerk, but at least he’s OUR jerk,” Mole added. “Say, Arun, you wouldn’t happen to be able to do anything about this, could you?” She handed the dwarf her sword, but he only took one look and shook his head, returning the weapon to her. Glumly, the gnome tossed the pitted sword into the remains of their fire.
“What? No backup in the bag of holding?” Dannel asked her.
Mole shook her head. The elf knelt down beside her.
“Cheer up, Mole. As usual, we’re outnumbered, with few weapons and supplies, and basically trapped in a distant place confronted with a deadly enemy that can attack us at will. In other words, it’s an adventure!”
The gnome looked up at him, and after a moment grinned.
Arun came over to them. “What say you, dwarf?” Dannel asked.
The paladin’s face was limned in the bright light from Morgan’s sword as he lifted the blade to a ready position, and its gleam shone in his dark eyes. “We finish this,” he said.
* * * * *
In their shadowed chamber, the hag sisters Tribata and Olomasta stood waiting.
“He comes,” Tribata said.
The two creatures watched as the sound of footsteps because audible in the corridor. They grew louder, until a figure appeared in the doorway.
“Come forward, manling,” Tribata commanded.
“It is a risk,” Olomasta said, following her sister as she descended from the platform to meet him. “He may shrug off the magic, if we push him.”
“No, I don’t think so,” Tribata said. She remained on the lower steps, looking down at the battered man who came to stand before her. “Not if we lead him in a direction that he already wants to go.” She lifted her hand from under the cover of her dark cloak, revealing that she carried a golden chalice in her hand.
“Drink,” she said, offering the cup to Morgan.
As the cleric drank the offered elixir, Tribata’s eyes shone with anticipation. Finally, the man had drained the contents of the chalice, and she turned to her sister.
“Begin your preparations.”
As Olomasta hurried off to comply, the elder hag turned her gaze back to Morgan.
“We have little time, my little manling, and there is much for you to tell me, if we are to prepare a proper welcome for your friends.”
Morgan simply stood there, unable to do anything but obey.
The companions sagged as the adrenaline of battle faded. Wary of another assault, they quickly tended their injuries and their weapons. Arun’s hammer was ruined, while Mole’s sword was pitted and of little more use. And Hodge’s feelings were quickly made evident to all of them.
“Me axe!” he yelled. “Look what the bastards did ta me axe!”
Arun examined the weapon with a critical eye. The acidic goo had etched the sharp edge of the blade, and even pitted a small hole entirely through the surface, but the damage was relatively minor.
“I can repair it once we get back to Cauldron,” he said, handing the axe back. “Until then, it will have to suffice.”
The dwarf’s mood did not improve when he discovered that the pan containing his hard-earned breakfast had been upturned in the melee, depositing the sloth steaks into the fire.
“Someone’s gunna pay,” he said, and he went and sat down by the mouth of the pipe, a thunderhead in his expression.
“I need some time to recover my spells,” Zenna said. She’d healed her wounds, but she still looked a mess, with dried blood caked on her face and down her arm. But in her own way, she reflected a determination that mirrored that on the vulgar dwarf.
“Well, now they have the cleric, too,” Arun said.
“I might have been able to bring him down without killing him,” Dannel said. “But as beat up as he was...”
“It wasn’t an accusation,” the dwarf said simply. “In your place, I would have done the same. He is not in control of his actions.”
“Yeah, he’s a jerk, but at least he’s OUR jerk,” Mole added. “Say, Arun, you wouldn’t happen to be able to do anything about this, could you?” She handed the dwarf her sword, but he only took one look and shook his head, returning the weapon to her. Glumly, the gnome tossed the pitted sword into the remains of their fire.
“What? No backup in the bag of holding?” Dannel asked her.
Mole shook her head. The elf knelt down beside her.
“Cheer up, Mole. As usual, we’re outnumbered, with few weapons and supplies, and basically trapped in a distant place confronted with a deadly enemy that can attack us at will. In other words, it’s an adventure!”
The gnome looked up at him, and after a moment grinned.
Arun came over to them. “What say you, dwarf?” Dannel asked.
The paladin’s face was limned in the bright light from Morgan’s sword as he lifted the blade to a ready position, and its gleam shone in his dark eyes. “We finish this,” he said.
* * * * *
In their shadowed chamber, the hag sisters Tribata and Olomasta stood waiting.
“He comes,” Tribata said.
The two creatures watched as the sound of footsteps because audible in the corridor. They grew louder, until a figure appeared in the doorway.
“Come forward, manling,” Tribata commanded.
“It is a risk,” Olomasta said, following her sister as she descended from the platform to meet him. “He may shrug off the magic, if we push him.”
“No, I don’t think so,” Tribata said. She remained on the lower steps, looking down at the battered man who came to stand before her. “Not if we lead him in a direction that he already wants to go.” She lifted her hand from under the cover of her dark cloak, revealing that she carried a golden chalice in her hand.
“Drink,” she said, offering the cup to Morgan.
As the cleric drank the offered elixir, Tribata’s eyes shone with anticipation. Finally, the man had drained the contents of the chalice, and she turned to her sister.
“Begin your preparations.”
As Olomasta hurried off to comply, the elder hag turned her gaze back to Morgan.
“We have little time, my little manling, and there is much for you to tell me, if we are to prepare a proper welcome for your friends.”
Morgan simply stood there, unable to do anything but obey.
Lazybones
Adventurer
Chapter 175
A short while later, the companions stood once more at the entrance to the complex of tunnels and chambers at Vaprak’s Voice. The bodies of the ettins that they had slain here the day before were gone, although dried blood still slaked the canyon floor, and the ruin of the portcullis had been removed. Nothing now stood in their way to entry.
“If you lend me the slippers again, I’ll go check on the guardroom above,” Mole suggested.
“I’ll go,” Dannel replied, moving swiftly up the cliff face. Finally he reached the narrow opening, and cautiously peered inside, finally inserting his entire head into the opening.
“Wouldn’t catch me doin’ that,” Hodge said.
The elf quickly descended to rejoin them. “Empty,” he reported.
“Maybe they all ran off,” Mole offered hopefully.
The others all looked at her, and she shrugged.
“Come on,” Arun said. He was mounted upon his giant lizard, which he’d called back from its celestial home upon their breaking camp. He still bore Morgan’s bastard sword, and he’d lent his magical shield to Hodge. They’d left all their excess gear, along with Morgan’s armor and shield, in a sheltered niche in the stones near the mouth of the pipe.
The paladin led them into the dark crevice and into the complex beyond. They tensed as they passed under the balcony of the guard post above, but Dannel’s report proved accurate, and no assault came upon them from that quarter. The complex was eerily quiet as they pushed on to the hemispherical chamber with the odd chair-sculpture in the center. Again the place was empty, with only trails of blood remaining as a reminder of the desperate struggle that had taken place here the day before.
“They came from that direction, originally,” Dannel said, indicating the corridor in the far wall. They headed that way, leaving the sliding double doors to their right alone after a wary glance.
The corridor led them still deeper into the complex, opening again after approximately thirty paces into a rectangular chamber. This one was clearly different from the last, however, in its décor; the most dominant feature was a quartet of tall pillars that rose up to nearly touch the vaulted ceiling above. They had the look of white marble, carved into the shape of flowing liquid. Each supported a large bulb of glass or crystal at its apex, within which constantly bubbling liquid could be seen. This liquid drained down through some interior channel to the base of each pillar, where it poured in an endless stream into a small basin there. The basins in turn had an opening that disgorged the liquid into channels that ran into the center of the room, where the substance gathered in a larger basin that was carved into the floor. A soft but constant noise of gurgling liquid was the only sound in the place. The same diffuse light from ceiling panels clearly lit the entirety of the chamber.
“What in the hells...” Hodge muttered.
“Remember, they offered us a drink before,” Dannel reminded them.
“Nobody touch anything,” Arun said. There were two of the sliding-door exits in the side walls, but even as he directed Clinger toward the one to their right, one of them slid open. Zenna thought she heard something; a flap of wings and a faint titter that might have been laughter.
“Something comes,” the paladin said, drawing his mount back toward the center of the room, to give them both more room to maneuver.
“Zenna?” Mole asked.
“We have to wait,” the tiefling said. “The spells will only last a matter of minutes, and we must be certain it’s them...”
Their attention was drawn back to the corridor, where the pale light from above shone on long white bones. Four creatures stepped awkwardly into the room. They had a roughly humanoid shape, but with six arms apiece, and they looked... stretched, as if someone had taken a short human and tugged on his bones until he was seven feet tall. Zenna’s thoughts immediately flashed back to the silver plate, and the six-armed figure depicted on the etched scene upon it.
But her musings were interrupted, as the skeletons immediately moved to the attack.
A short while later, the companions stood once more at the entrance to the complex of tunnels and chambers at Vaprak’s Voice. The bodies of the ettins that they had slain here the day before were gone, although dried blood still slaked the canyon floor, and the ruin of the portcullis had been removed. Nothing now stood in their way to entry.
“If you lend me the slippers again, I’ll go check on the guardroom above,” Mole suggested.
“I’ll go,” Dannel replied, moving swiftly up the cliff face. Finally he reached the narrow opening, and cautiously peered inside, finally inserting his entire head into the opening.
“Wouldn’t catch me doin’ that,” Hodge said.
The elf quickly descended to rejoin them. “Empty,” he reported.
“Maybe they all ran off,” Mole offered hopefully.
The others all looked at her, and she shrugged.
“Come on,” Arun said. He was mounted upon his giant lizard, which he’d called back from its celestial home upon their breaking camp. He still bore Morgan’s bastard sword, and he’d lent his magical shield to Hodge. They’d left all their excess gear, along with Morgan’s armor and shield, in a sheltered niche in the stones near the mouth of the pipe.
The paladin led them into the dark crevice and into the complex beyond. They tensed as they passed under the balcony of the guard post above, but Dannel’s report proved accurate, and no assault came upon them from that quarter. The complex was eerily quiet as they pushed on to the hemispherical chamber with the odd chair-sculpture in the center. Again the place was empty, with only trails of blood remaining as a reminder of the desperate struggle that had taken place here the day before.
“They came from that direction, originally,” Dannel said, indicating the corridor in the far wall. They headed that way, leaving the sliding double doors to their right alone after a wary glance.
The corridor led them still deeper into the complex, opening again after approximately thirty paces into a rectangular chamber. This one was clearly different from the last, however, in its décor; the most dominant feature was a quartet of tall pillars that rose up to nearly touch the vaulted ceiling above. They had the look of white marble, carved into the shape of flowing liquid. Each supported a large bulb of glass or crystal at its apex, within which constantly bubbling liquid could be seen. This liquid drained down through some interior channel to the base of each pillar, where it poured in an endless stream into a small basin there. The basins in turn had an opening that disgorged the liquid into channels that ran into the center of the room, where the substance gathered in a larger basin that was carved into the floor. A soft but constant noise of gurgling liquid was the only sound in the place. The same diffuse light from ceiling panels clearly lit the entirety of the chamber.
“What in the hells...” Hodge muttered.
“Remember, they offered us a drink before,” Dannel reminded them.
“Nobody touch anything,” Arun said. There were two of the sliding-door exits in the side walls, but even as he directed Clinger toward the one to their right, one of them slid open. Zenna thought she heard something; a flap of wings and a faint titter that might have been laughter.
“Something comes,” the paladin said, drawing his mount back toward the center of the room, to give them both more room to maneuver.
“Zenna?” Mole asked.
“We have to wait,” the tiefling said. “The spells will only last a matter of minutes, and we must be certain it’s them...”
Their attention was drawn back to the corridor, where the pale light from above shone on long white bones. Four creatures stepped awkwardly into the room. They had a roughly humanoid shape, but with six arms apiece, and they looked... stretched, as if someone had taken a short human and tugged on his bones until he was seven feet tall. Zenna’s thoughts immediately flashed back to the silver plate, and the six-armed figure depicted on the etched scene upon it.
But her musings were interrupted, as the skeletons immediately moved to the attack.
SolidSnake
First Post
Lazybones said:
This is going to get really ugly. I was in a party that fought ONE of these things and we were nearly annihilated.
Similar Threads
