Black Bard
First Post
I acquired Fiend Folio this weekend, and from what I saw, it'll be a tough encounter...
Good luck to our heroes!!!
Good luck to our heroes!!!
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Shackled City Epic: "Vengeance" (story concluded)
- Thread starter Lazybones
- Start date
Lazybones
Adventurer
Chapter 21
“Mole!”
The gnome saw her friend’s gaze shift, realized what it signified even as she dropped her bow and dove ahead to the side, out of the doorway. She felt the hot pain explode in her back even as she started to move, and knew that she’d been too late to react. Instead of dropping into a smooth roll that would have brought her back to her feet, she landed hard, sprawled on the stone, the impact launching a new wave of agony through her lower body. She tried to order her body up, but the pain fought her, freezing her muscles and slowing her movements. She did manage to pull herself up enough to look behind her, enough to see the creeper that was coming for her, its features obscured in shadow, its knife wet with her blood.
Arun and Ruphos were caught up in their own struggles as the battle in the chamber raged on. Having slain one adversary, Arun faced off against the other. Even seriously wounded, the dwarf was stronger and deadlier than the creeper, but its magical shadow-cloak made it difficult to discern its true location in the poor light. Already two punishing hammer-blows had gone astray, smashing only through empty shadows. The creeper was a canny opponent, darting in and out of the dwarf’s reach, stabbing with its small but still dangerous weapon. Although the dwarf’s armor had thus far protected him from another wound, it was uncertain which combatant would land the next, possibly deadly, blow.
Ruphos, meanwhile, had faced his adversary with bravery. He had height and reach over the smaller creeper, and his mace was a more formidable weapon that the creeper’s dagger. But the creeper’s shadow-cloak gave it a significant edge, one that it used to full advantage.
And the creeper wasn’t alone.
The cleric swung his mace in a determined blow that caught only empty shadows, overextending the priest as the weapon smashed against the wall hard enough to strike sparks. The creeper was quick to take advantage, darting in and stabbing Ruphos in the leg, leaving him with a shallow but painful wound. Ruphos quickly recovered and attacked again, more cautiously. This time he hit something solid, but the creeper darted back, not hurt seriously if it had been at all. Ruphos, gritting his teeth in determination, took a step after it, but staggered as a crossbow bolt from the skulk caught him solidly in the shoulder, almost in the exact spot where he’d been hit earlier.
“Aargh!” he cried in pain. The creeper cackled and leapt forward, and the priest hurriedly brought up his mace to defend himself. But instead of attacking him, the creeper took advantage of his distraction to slash at his off hand, knocking the torch out of his grasp.
The torch flared as it landed on the adjacent table, but while it remained lit it grew much dimmer, and the shadows throughout the room abruptly deepened.
Ruphos stumbled backward, and in desperation lashed out blindly with his mace. He felt a solid impact as he his something hard, but it took him several long seconds to realize that the shadows in front of him had stopped moving, and that a dark form lay huddled at his feet.
Mole struggled to get her injured body to obey her, to get up before the creeper could reach her. It looked like a race that she was doomed to lose, but then, she saw a tall form rise up behind the creeper, and leap at it.
“Stay away from her!” Zenna shouted. She’d unclasped her cloak, and swept it out over the creeper’s head, catching it up in the folds of the garment. The creeper snarled and drew back, tearing a long rent in the heavy fabric with its sharp knife, fighting free.
“I’ll kill you, woman,” it hissed, turning toward her. Zenna, her face ashen, drew her dagger but did not back down.
Mole was not idle with the time that her friend had bought her. Digging in her pouch, she found the vial that Jenya had given her, and downed its contents in a single gulp. She felt as if someone had poured a cold waterfall through her body, its touch washing away the pain and weakness she’d felt. Leaping up, she drew her sword and charged at the creeper from the side. With its attention distracted between her and Zenna, the creeper was just a heartbeat slow to react, a heartbeat that cost it as Mole thrust the full length of her sword into its side. The creeper let out a strangled hiss as it stiffened, and fell to the floor.
Arun seemed to be slowing as he lost blood, while his creeper opponent, encouraged by the fact that the dwarf hadn’t been able to land a second blow, continued to dart in and around him, seeking an opening. Finally the hammer came around in a wide arc that overextended the dwarf, and the creeper gleefully leapt in to strike a finishing blow.
That was a mistake.
Abruptly Arun shifted, reversing the hammer and driving it hilt-first into the center of the shifting mass of shadows that shrouded the body of the creeper. The nimble creature tried to dodge, but wasn’t quite fast enough as the hilt crashed like a spear into his face with enough force to crush bone. The creeper fell, its defensive screen of darkness dissolving into wisps of black that quickly faded, still struggling as it tried to get up, to get away.
It failed on both counts, as the dwarf’s hammer came up and then down one more time.
The skulk, meanwhile, observing how the battle was turning, and not seeing any response from the dark stalker since the magical darkness had fallen over the back of the room, decided that discretion might, in this case, be the better part of valor. Following the curve of the wall, it started backing toward the back of the room, holding its loaded crossbow before it like a shield.
It didn’t, apparently, work quite as well as a shield, as a bolt from Mole’s bow caught it in the leg just above the knee. Combined with the wound it had already suffered, the new injury was just about too much for the hapless creature to bear. Dropping the crossbow, it fell hard against a table, sending crockery flying to the ground with a crash. Righting itself through a titanic effort, it tried desperately to get away, ignoring the painful scratches to its feet as it stumbled over the broken glass and pottery shards that littered the floor.
It made for the darkness, and the relative sanctuary that it offered, but came up short as the dwarf stepped into view, a light hammer cocked and ready to hurl in its hand. The dwarf shook his head.
The skulk slumped to the ground, beaten.
“Mole!”
The gnome saw her friend’s gaze shift, realized what it signified even as she dropped her bow and dove ahead to the side, out of the doorway. She felt the hot pain explode in her back even as she started to move, and knew that she’d been too late to react. Instead of dropping into a smooth roll that would have brought her back to her feet, she landed hard, sprawled on the stone, the impact launching a new wave of agony through her lower body. She tried to order her body up, but the pain fought her, freezing her muscles and slowing her movements. She did manage to pull herself up enough to look behind her, enough to see the creeper that was coming for her, its features obscured in shadow, its knife wet with her blood.
Arun and Ruphos were caught up in their own struggles as the battle in the chamber raged on. Having slain one adversary, Arun faced off against the other. Even seriously wounded, the dwarf was stronger and deadlier than the creeper, but its magical shadow-cloak made it difficult to discern its true location in the poor light. Already two punishing hammer-blows had gone astray, smashing only through empty shadows. The creeper was a canny opponent, darting in and out of the dwarf’s reach, stabbing with its small but still dangerous weapon. Although the dwarf’s armor had thus far protected him from another wound, it was uncertain which combatant would land the next, possibly deadly, blow.
Ruphos, meanwhile, had faced his adversary with bravery. He had height and reach over the smaller creeper, and his mace was a more formidable weapon that the creeper’s dagger. But the creeper’s shadow-cloak gave it a significant edge, one that it used to full advantage.
And the creeper wasn’t alone.
The cleric swung his mace in a determined blow that caught only empty shadows, overextending the priest as the weapon smashed against the wall hard enough to strike sparks. The creeper was quick to take advantage, darting in and stabbing Ruphos in the leg, leaving him with a shallow but painful wound. Ruphos quickly recovered and attacked again, more cautiously. This time he hit something solid, but the creeper darted back, not hurt seriously if it had been at all. Ruphos, gritting his teeth in determination, took a step after it, but staggered as a crossbow bolt from the skulk caught him solidly in the shoulder, almost in the exact spot where he’d been hit earlier.
“Aargh!” he cried in pain. The creeper cackled and leapt forward, and the priest hurriedly brought up his mace to defend himself. But instead of attacking him, the creeper took advantage of his distraction to slash at his off hand, knocking the torch out of his grasp.
The torch flared as it landed on the adjacent table, but while it remained lit it grew much dimmer, and the shadows throughout the room abruptly deepened.
Ruphos stumbled backward, and in desperation lashed out blindly with his mace. He felt a solid impact as he his something hard, but it took him several long seconds to realize that the shadows in front of him had stopped moving, and that a dark form lay huddled at his feet.
Mole struggled to get her injured body to obey her, to get up before the creeper could reach her. It looked like a race that she was doomed to lose, but then, she saw a tall form rise up behind the creeper, and leap at it.
“Stay away from her!” Zenna shouted. She’d unclasped her cloak, and swept it out over the creeper’s head, catching it up in the folds of the garment. The creeper snarled and drew back, tearing a long rent in the heavy fabric with its sharp knife, fighting free.
“I’ll kill you, woman,” it hissed, turning toward her. Zenna, her face ashen, drew her dagger but did not back down.
Mole was not idle with the time that her friend had bought her. Digging in her pouch, she found the vial that Jenya had given her, and downed its contents in a single gulp. She felt as if someone had poured a cold waterfall through her body, its touch washing away the pain and weakness she’d felt. Leaping up, she drew her sword and charged at the creeper from the side. With its attention distracted between her and Zenna, the creeper was just a heartbeat slow to react, a heartbeat that cost it as Mole thrust the full length of her sword into its side. The creeper let out a strangled hiss as it stiffened, and fell to the floor.
Arun seemed to be slowing as he lost blood, while his creeper opponent, encouraged by the fact that the dwarf hadn’t been able to land a second blow, continued to dart in and around him, seeking an opening. Finally the hammer came around in a wide arc that overextended the dwarf, and the creeper gleefully leapt in to strike a finishing blow.
That was a mistake.
Abruptly Arun shifted, reversing the hammer and driving it hilt-first into the center of the shifting mass of shadows that shrouded the body of the creeper. The nimble creature tried to dodge, but wasn’t quite fast enough as the hilt crashed like a spear into his face with enough force to crush bone. The creeper fell, its defensive screen of darkness dissolving into wisps of black that quickly faded, still struggling as it tried to get up, to get away.
It failed on both counts, as the dwarf’s hammer came up and then down one more time.
The skulk, meanwhile, observing how the battle was turning, and not seeing any response from the dark stalker since the magical darkness had fallen over the back of the room, decided that discretion might, in this case, be the better part of valor. Following the curve of the wall, it started backing toward the back of the room, holding its loaded crossbow before it like a shield.
It didn’t, apparently, work quite as well as a shield, as a bolt from Mole’s bow caught it in the leg just above the knee. Combined with the wound it had already suffered, the new injury was just about too much for the hapless creature to bear. Dropping the crossbow, it fell hard against a table, sending crockery flying to the ground with a crash. Righting itself through a titanic effort, it tried desperately to get away, ignoring the painful scratches to its feet as it stumbled over the broken glass and pottery shards that littered the floor.
It made for the darkness, and the relative sanctuary that it offered, but came up short as the dwarf stepped into view, a light hammer cocked and ready to hurl in its hand. The dwarf shook his head.
The skulk slumped to the ground, beaten.
Broccli_Head
Explorer
Did I tell you that I really like Arun!?
So are creepers, skulkers, and dark stalkers in the new Fiend Folio?
I remember creepers and dark stalkers from the old 1st Ed. days...
So are creepers, skulkers, and dark stalkers in the new Fiend Folio?
I remember creepers and dark stalkers from the old 1st Ed. days...
Black Bard
First Post
Great, Lazy!!!
I wonder how much life Arun still had at the end of the combat... This fellow is bold as a stone...
I wonder how much life Arun still had at the end of the combat... This fellow is bold as a stone...
Lazybones
Adventurer
Well, remember that I did let them all level before that encounter, but even so, those 1d3+1+2d6 sneak attacks are nasty. And Zenna was right about the stalker's javelin killing her if it had hit; they get +3d6 sneak attack damage (plus regular damage, and the weapon was poisoned to boot). She's still 1st level, with all of 5 hit points.Black Bard said:
Ah, I must be getting soft on my characters in my old age...
* * * * *
Chapter 22
The four companions, bleeding and battered, gathered wearily in a small chamber adjacent to the room where they’d battled the creepers. The room had been sealed by one of the gnome doors, but the automaton had made short work of it, surviving the blast of flames triggered by its opening. The skulk prisoner was on the floor between them, a defeated look on its face. The pulverizer automaton was in the corner, quiescent for now. Despite being seriously damaged, it was still a potentially potent weapon, one that they obviously did not want to leave lying around.
They’d been weakened, and their resources were all but depleted. Ruphos was out of healing spells, having used his final osiron to stabilize the skulk and keep it from bleeding out from the two punctures in its side and leg. Arun had not been pleased with that, but they’d needed answers, and none of them felt particularly like seeking out and challenging the mysterious leader of the creepers that had fled during the battle. Particularly not after the skulk had given them a description of the creature, the “stalker” named Yuathyb.
“We are fortunate that the leader did not join immediately in the attack,” Mole commented. “One more skilled enemy in that melee, and things might have been different.” Zenna nodded, but she remembered a javelin that had sped from the darkness, and the power she’d called upon in response, and shuddered.
“Your reprieve is going to be very short, skulk, unless you start talking, real fast now,” Arun said to the prisoner in Undercommon. The dwarf’s injuries were still serious, although he’d called upon the power of his patron god to stop the bleeding and ease his pain somewhat, and that and the escape of the enemy leader had not left him in a forgiving mood.
The skulk looked up at them. “If you swear upon your gods to set me free, I tell you everything.” This one spoke a halting Common, enough for them to understand it through its thick accent.
Arun frowned, but Ruphos quickly stepped in. “Our need is great, and time is short,” he said, more to the dwarf than to the prisoner. “We accept your terms, skulk, but all deals are void, if your words are false.”
The skulk, however, seemed to have lost any motivation to dissemble. It spoke quickly, incorporating some words in Undercommon that the dwarf translated for the rest of them. They learned that the first skulk captive they’d taken had indeed misled them, directing them here to the lair of the stalker and its creeper minions rather than to the true location of the lift that provided access to the Malachite Fortress below.
“Tricky,” Mole said. “Of course, we could have uncovered this, perhaps, if we’d brought the last prisoner with us, instead of bashing its skull in.”
Arun did not respond in words, but his snort was a comment of sorts. The skulk, however, did respond, letting out a high-pitched whine and covering its head with its arms. “Hey, stop that, shut up,” the dwarf said, kicking the skulk almost absently. The skulk subsided, its expression a mixture of fear and surly discontent.
On prodding, however, it revealed the rest of what it knew. The children, along with a number of other captives stolen from the city by the skulks and their creeper allies, were being held by a half-breed part-dwarf—the skulk could not be more specific—who commanded a significant force of hobgoblin renegades in the citadel deep underground. Apparently this creature and its followers were the ultimate driving force behind the abductions that had been going on in Cauldron, selling the captives to foul merchants who came up into the Malachite Fortress from the endless tunnels of the Underdark.
“This must be ended,” Arun said, his hand tightening around the haft of his hammer as he spoke.
“Yes,” Ruphos said. He turned to the skulk.
“We cannot let him go,” Mole said. “He’d probably go right to this slaver... where else could he go?” The skulk drew back and let out a hollow noise from the back of its throat.
“You promise,” it said. “You swear.”
“I know,” Ruphos said. “And the followers of Helm keep their word. I will personally intervene on your behalf with the city authorities, but we must take you into custody until this is finished.”
“You sure you wouldn’t rather just deal with it now?” Arun said, hefting his hammer. But he didn’t press it when Ruphos shook his head.
“So you want to go back up?” Zenna asked, divining where Ruphos was going with this.
The cleric nodded. “We must retreat, if only briefly. I know that time is short,” he said, forestalling Arun’s interjection, “and I will return with you to face this slaver and his minions, but if we go on as we are, with our resources depleted, battered and wounded, we will be slaughtered to no gain.”
Arun stared at him for a lengthy interval, then finally nodded. “You speak the truth, priest.” He turned to the skulk and roughly dragged it to its feet. “Okay, we’re leaving, and you keep quiet and don’t try anything, skulk. Remember,” he added, hefting his hammer, “all I need is an excuse. The priest wants to keep you alive, but I made no such promise.”
The skulk whimpered but offered no resistance as they gathered up their gear and set out once again.
Broccli_Head
Explorer
Lazybones said:
If this were a movie, Arun would be played by a famous actor. He's got all the best lines
Lazybones
Adventurer
Ah, if only Samuel Jackson were shorter...Broccli_Head said:
If this were a movie, Arun would be played by a famous actor. He's got all the best lines
I'm ahead in the story at the moment (boring stretch at work... summer lull), so I should be able to manage a post per day (weekdays, anyway) for a little while, starting now:
* * * * *
Chapter 23
A soft patter of rain, just a drizzle, really, could be heard against the sides of the house and the shuttered windows, the sound broken occasionally by a determined gust of wind that whistled past and departed on its way.
Only a faint, gray light made it through the narrow slats in the drawn shutters, but a single flame augmented that from a lamp atop one of the side tables, occasionally flickering as some small draft made it through the heavy boards.
That light shone on the six people gathered in the center of the chamber in Ghelve’s Locks, standing in a circle near the partly-adjacent portal that led down to Jzadirune. Seven, if you counted the prisoner, the skulk kneeling on the floor under the watchful stare of Morgan, the undercleric of Helm.
“And so we returned here, but only to renew our supplies and possibly gain aid, before we head back to confront this slaver and his gang,” Ruphos said. “Time is short, and the children might have already been taken beyond our reach.”
Jenya Urikas nodded, the lamplight highlighting the determination written clearly on her features. “You have done well, Ruphos—all of you. When your message arrived, we came as quickly as we could, though not, I regret, quickly enough to give you more aid. We took Ghelve into custody; the locksmith, it seems, was no longer inclined to hide the truth, and he quickly admitted to us what he’d done.”
“What will happen to him?” Mole asked.
“He will stand trial,” Jenya said. “There were mitigating circumstances in his case, it seems, and clear coercion, but his actions still had very serious consequences. You will all be given a chance to speak, when he comes to judgment, but at the moment, we have a more pressing issue at hand.”
“We’d better get going then, and be about this business,” Arun said matter-of-factly. He looked better, since Jenya had healed him and the lingering injuries suffered by the others, but was still a sight with dried blood and grime caked on his armor and clothing.
“You’ve done the city a great service,” Jenya said. “But this is a matter beyond the mandate I set for you. By nightfall I can have a fully armed patrol of the city Guard here, along with priests from the churches of Lathander and Tempus, in addition to our own clerics of Helm. We will launch a raid that will teach these... these vermin that would trade in children a lesson...”
“Jenya,” Ruphos interrupted, stepping forward. “I fear that we may not have even those hours. I was... I was reluctant to do this, at first, but I’ve become convinced that there is an urgency here, that the slavers may already be escaping with their captives while we speak. And if we return with a overwhelming force, this dwarf-creature and his followers may elect to kill their captives and flee into the Underdark before we can stop them. We have to return, and quickly...”
Jenya looked at her cleric, betraying a slight surprise in her expression before she schooled her features back to calm control. She nodded, taking his hand and bowing her head in respect.
Morgan, however, stepped forward as well. “Ruphos may be correct in his assessment, but you should send me, instead, Jenya,” he said. “Ruphos is not a warrior, and his spells are depleted.” Indeed, he looked impressive in his breastplate and greaves, standing several inches taller than Ruphos, his thick arms well-muscled, his heavy steel mace ready at his hip.
Jenya looked indecisive, but Zenna quickly broke in. “We—the four of us—have made a good team,” she said. “Ruphos should be there, at the end.”
Ruphos turned and looked at her in surprise. Morgan, on the other hand, did not bother to conceal his own feelings toward the tiefling wizard.
“Yeah, he’s one of us,” Mole added.
Ruphos smiled at her, then turned to Arun. The dwarf harrumphed, glancing deliberately to the side. Finally, though, he said, “Suppose it couldn’t hurt to have him with us, again.”
Jenya nodded. “Very well, then,” she said. Morgan opened his mouth to say something, but Jenya forestalled him with a raised hand. “Morgan, I need you to help raise support from the churches, while I go speak with the Council and the Guard. Take this wretch,” she said, indicating the skulk, “back to the temple, and see that he is securely held.”
“I swore an oath to him,” Ruphos said, frowning.
“I know,” Jenya said. “I promise he will not be harmed, until this is over and we can determine what to do with him.”
“So looks like it’s back into the maw of danger for us,” Mole said. But she was smiling as she said it.
Jenya, however, looked serious. “I am sending you four only to scout, and to see if you can find and locate the prisoners. If you run into trouble, don’t be afraid to retreat. The forces of the city will be following you as quickly as I can have them sent.”
She reached down to her belt pouch. “I wish I’d thought to bring more from the temple stores,” she said, “but take these, in any case.” She handed out several glass vials, healing potions, one for each of them. To Ruphos, she presented a slender wand of polished wood carved with hundreds of tiny etched symbols. “This wand’s spell is only of the sort designed to treat light injuries, and is not fully charged, but use it to aid your cause.” The cleric nodded, and took the offered device.
Morgan came forward, and gave the younger priest a slight clout on the shoulder. “Good luck,” he said. “And watch your back.” The look he shot at Zenna lingered just long enough to not be subtle, then he returned and took up the skulk.
“Helm, shine the light of your guidance upon these brave travelers,” Jenya said, holding her holy symbol aloft briefly as she laid a blessing upon them. Each of the four felt the divine energy course through them, dispelling doubt and reinforcing their resolve.
“Good luck,” she said. “And be careful.”
The four companions nodded, and turned toward the secret door. But before they reached it, the red curtain leading to the front of the shop parted, and two men stepped into the room. Their appearance was a surprise, since none of them had heard the bell on the front door, or their footfalls as they entered the front of the shop.
They were tall men, clad in leather armor with long gray cloaks damp from the rain, their cowls up. They were armed, with slender swords at their belts and the protruding outlines of what might have been bows visible under their cloaks. Both were clean-shaven, with strong features that showed the sights of frequent exposure to the outdoors. One was black-haired, with penetrating brown eyes, while his companion, a few inches shorter and lean of figure, had reddish-brown hair with eyes as blue as mountain pools.
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