Shackled City Epic: "Vengeance" (story concluded)

[Lazybones]

Although I find her attitude toward Hodge and Arun amusing, I'm starting to find the «hit first, ask question latter» attitude stale. That was the attitude or Arun. That was the attitude of Hodge. Now it is the attitude of Beorna. Isn't there one dwarf in the world that is a tactical genius or an accomplished strategist? Are all dwarves only stupid hitting machines? Beorna is a 11th level character. I find it hard to believe that she would still be a blindly heads-down rush-in type of person. After all, to get where she's at she has to have had a few brushes with death. Shouldn't she at least have developed some tactical sense?

There's more to Beorna than meets the eye. I don't want to give anything away, but I think you'll find that despite her tough talk, she's actually a pretty decent tactician. Give her until the end of the current book, and let me know if she still feels one-dimensional to you in this regard.

As for Zarik Dhor: he is (was) a half-black dragon minotaur Ftr4/Bbn4 (14HD total). He had Combat Reflexes, Exotic WP (chain), Imp. Bull Rush, Iron Will, Multiattack, Power Attack, and WF and WS with the chain. Remember that you can trip with an AoO, which he did on a few occasions. He didn't have Improved Trip but with a +30/25/20 FA with the chain (plus a +25 bite and gore) he hardly needed it.

* * * * *

Chapter 255

For all her earlier protests, Zenna dug deeply into her reservoir of power to treat the injuries they’d suffered in their brief but violent confrontation with Zarik Dhor. She also expended a good half-dozen charges from her recently recharged wand of cure moderate wounds. At this point, we’re going to qualify for a bulk discount, she thought grimly. At least Beorna could heal herself.

When she’d gotten to Hodge, she’d been surprised to find the dwarf in better shape than she’d expected. It turned out that the dwarf had made an investment of his own in Saradush: an iron flask nearly a quart in size, which the enterprising miner had filled to the brim with cure light wounds potions. Or at least mostly with potions; Zenna thought she smelled something else from the flask. But while there might be something vaguely sacrilegious in the idea of cutting healing potions with strong whiskey, as long as the dwarf’s concoction worked, preserving her own limited supply of healing, she was willing to accept it. And if the dwarf’s steps were a bit more unsteady after his “treatment,” at least he wasn’t going to bleed to death.

Thus fortified, the companions continued their way down Obsidian Avenue toward their destination.

Up close, the Church of Kelemvor was even more impressive than it had been from a distance. The structure was fashioned of gray volcanic stone, but there were no obvious seams in the stone, and the overall shape of the building had too many curves to be entirely natural. Atop the great dome of the first level—itself a good fifty feet in height—rose the tall cylinder that culminated in the great, slender spire that formed a point that was the highest spot in Cauldron.

Magic, Zenna thought.

“No honest hands made that,” Arun confirmed, a moment later.

“Let us be about this then,” Beorna said, starting toward the great double doors, each fifteen feet high and six feet across, that fronted the street. Zenna felt a strong feeling of unease as they approached the temple; in all the place was too quiet for even a weekday morning, the grounds around the temple sterile and empty, although the gardens that fronted the structure on its north side were pristine and meticulously trimmed. But it was as if the building emitted an invisible aura that kept the townsfolk at bay. Even the avenue in the general area was virtually unpopulated, with just a handful of pedestrians and a single horse-drawn cart visible nearby.

Beorna reached the double doors and pushed; the heavy door swung open easily at her pressure. With a half-glance to ensure that the others were following, she headed inside.

For all their travels and diverse experiences, the interior of the temple gave them pause. The place was huge. This single chamber, the central nave of the great cathedral where worshippers gathered to offer their prayers to the Eternal Judger, seemed to encompass the entire radius of the great cylinder that made up the bulk of the temple structure. The chamber seemed architecturally impossible, a dome over a hundred feet across, with the great spire atop its apex rising above even its considerable height. A narrow metal staircase curved up along the wall to their right, offering an apparent access to that spire and whatever chambers lay above.

The place could have accommodated hundreds of worshippers without difficulty, but the place was uncannily silent. Their bootsteps sounded eerily loud on the marble floor, the center of which was designed into a massive mosaic depicting the scales of Kelemvor that was nearly sixty feet across. Tall windows of colored glass set high in the walls around the perimeter of the dome filled the center of the room with glorious light, drawing the eye to that design. Below the windows the walls had been covered with cloth hangings dyed in soft, unobtrusive colors, pale whites and grays that seemed to enfold and reassure. In the shadows along the edges of the room dozens of wooden pews had been pushed back to the walls, leaving the center of the chamber unobstructed. A set of double doors easily twenty feet across—it seemed nothing was of small scale in this place—was visible in the far wall, standing open to reveal a raised dais with an grand altar of some sort upon its surface.

The companions could not help but gape a bit as they looked about the place. Even the Moontower in Iriaebor could not compete with the quiet majesty of this temple, Zenna thought, and she could feel the constant thrum of power that seemed to reside in the very stones of the structure.

Beorna seemed less impressed, and was already walking out into the room when Dannel stopped her with a warning.

“Someone’s there,” Dannel said, drawing their attention back to the open doors and the dais beyond.

They all saw him as he stepped into the light, a tall human clad in a robe that did not fully conceal the hard lines of armor underneath. He had a sour look to him, as though everything he looked upon evoked disfavor.

“We’ve been expecting you,” he said, his nasal, pinched voice nonetheless filling the vast interior of the temple. Behind him, other figures appeared at the doors, armed men who resolved into grim-faced half-orc warriors, clad in full plate with shields and huge waraxes. They spread out before the priest, eight in all.

“Seems you can’t turn around in this town without tripping over an orc,” Beorna said, calmly drawing her sword.

“Priest of Kelemvor!” Dannel said. “We do not come seeking violence... we wish only to speak with Ike Iverson, on behalf of Jenya Urikas of Helm...”

But he never got a chance to finish, for two other forms appeared in the sanctuary behind the altar stone. They filled the doorway behind the cleric, and even though the doorway was ten feet tall, they had to duck as they stepped through.

“Stone giants!” Hodge exclaimed.

“Don’t do this!” Dannel shouted, but the intent of the others was clear even before the giants lifted their arms and hurled boulders at the companions.

 

[Guillaume]

There's more to Beorna than meets the eye. I don't want to give anything away, but I think you'll find that despite her tough talk, she's actually a pretty decent tactician. Give her until the end of the current book, and let me know if she still feels one-dimensional to you in this regard.

I trust you well enough LB. I'm sure that you have more than one surprise up your sleeve concerning Beorna and the other characters. It's just that her tough talk and initial actions do not impress me. They are too similar to what we have already seen. In other words, I'm sure that she will become as an interesting character as the others, but as for a first impression, it left me of ice.

Now where will these stone giants lead us ?

 

[Dungannon]

When she’d gotten to Hodge, she’d been surprised to find the dwarf in better shape than she’d expected. It turned out that the dwarf had made an investment of his own in Saradush: an iron flask nearly a quart in size, which the enterprising miner had filled to the brim with cure light wounds potions. Or at least mostly with potions; Zenna thought she smelled something else from the flask. But while there might be something vaguely sacrilegious in the idea of cutting healing potions with strong whiskey, as long as the dwarf’s concoction worked, preserving her own limited supply of healing, she was willing to accept it. And if the dwarf’s steps were a bit more unsteady after his “treatment,” at least he wasn’t going to bleed to death.

While I think your writing as a whole is great, it's the stuff like this that keeps me coming back and eagerly awaiting the next installment.

 

[Broccli_Head]

Wow...looks to be the end of the heroes. Suggestion..take out the priest first.

 

[Lazybones]

Got the day off work today, so I'll put up two posts: one now and one this afternoon. Gotta have a proper Friday cliffhanger...

* * * * *

Chapter 256

Although they had not come seeking a fight, the companions found one nonetheless as the great domed cathedral of Kelemvor exploded into the chaos of battle.

The boulders thrown by the giants hurtled into the companions like balls fired at a line of waiting tenpins. One narrowly missed Beorna, who had calmly lowered the tip of her blade to the marble floor, sinking to one knee as she pressed her forehead against the crossguard. The boulder caromed off of the ground and nearly took Hodge’s head off, the dwarf’s curses resounding loudly in the chamber as the miner-turned-warrior fumbled with his spear.

The second boulder struck Dannel in the hip, the glancing impact still enough to knock the elf backward, spinning full around before he was able to stabilize. Gritting his teeth against the pain, the Harper arcane archer said, “So be it,” and lifted his bow, opening his mind to the song of power that bound him to the weapon, and the long shafts that carried death to his enemies.

The half-orcs rushed forward, moving together like veterans, their ferocious cries of battle filling the cathedral more strongly than any choral hymn could have done. That song was a melody of violence, and the half-man, half-orc brutes slavered at the anticipation of it, the clash of blades and the screams of pain that were part and parcel of the dirge of war.

That song was interrupted briefly by a roar of flame as Zenna hurled a fireball into their midst, the brilliant orange burst engulfing the giants, the cleric, and most of the warriors. When the flames had faded none of them had gone down, but all sported burns, many of which were serious.

“Destroy the wizard!” the cleric commanded the giants, followed by the mystic words that invoked a divine spell. But even as his protective ward settled about him, the robed priest staggered back as an arrow slammed deep into his shoulder. He barely managed to lift his shield to deflect the second shot from Dannel’s bow. The giants each withdrew a second boulder from the huge sacks slung across their hips, and lifting them in both hands hurled them at Zenna. The tiefling did not have time to cast another spell or dodge, and both boulders struck her. Fortunately both hits were just glancing impacts, one grazing her left shoulder, and the other smashing her leg, but the impacts were still devastating, and she was knocked roughly prone.

Their damage done, the giants lifted their clubs and followed in the wake of the half-orc warriors.

Arun and Hodge moved forward to intercept the charge of the half-orc veterans. Hodge set his spear, and looked over his shoulder at Beorna, who had not moved from her position of devotion. “Yer want to join the battle or not, woman!” he yelled, but he then had to turn his attention to the enemy as the half-orcs rushed into them. The lead warrior tried to turn aside the point of Hodge’s spear with his shield, but the canny dwarf eased the spearhead under the half-orc’s guard, the warrior’s own momentum driving him against the enchanted steel. The half-orc screamed in pain, but Hodge had to drop the weapon and unlimber his axe as another pair of warriors leapt in and attacked him, forcing him back before the ferocity of their assault. Fortunately his new heavy armor protected him from the worst of the initial attacks, although one blow managed to crush his left wrist painfully even through the protective bracer he wore.

Just a few paces away, guarding his friend’s flank, Arun met several other warriors. The dwarf took the first stroke from a waraxe on his shield, but even as the second glanced off the edge of the barrier, striking his breastplate, the third was moving to flank him, abandoning his charge to gain the advantage of position.

Zenna pulled herself painfully to her feet in time to see the last pair of warriors moving around the flank of the bulwark formed by Hodge and Arun. Seeing a relatively soft target in front of them, one gestured to his fellow, and both ignored Beorna to come running at her.

Swallowing back her fear, she waited until they were nearly on top of her, before unleashing a color spray. For a moment she feared that they would resist the spell overcoming her with their axes before she could escape... but then the blazing lights faded enough for her to see both warriors, stunned by the blast.

But the respite would only be momentary, she knew, already retreating to give her more room.

Mole had been darting to help Arun and Hodge, but when she saw Zenna threatened she changed her course to aid her friend. Knowing Zenna’s tactics, she recognized her preparations and waited for the color spray to temporarily incapacitate her enemies before she rushed in. The stunned half-orc could not defend himself as she slid her rapier into his body through a tiny gap in his armor. The brute groaned as blood fountained out of the deep thrust, but as his head cleared he turned on her, his ferocious expression promising revenge for the injury. His fellow recovered a moment later, and took a step after Zenna, before his attention was drawn by a sudden movement to his left.

That movement came from Beorna. Lost in the devotions to her god, she now drew upon the power of Helm to aid her. First, she began to grow, her body expanding under the familiar effects of an enlarge person spell. Then, even as she reached a height of ten feet, looming over even the considerable bulk of the half-orcs, she drew the divine power of her patron into her. For a moment she seemed to glow, the bright light of Helm shining about her.

She moved straight forward, toward the embattled dwarves and the warriors facing them, and behind them, the approaching giants.

Hodge and Arun laid about them with their weapons, returning the assaults of the mercenaries with deadly force. Hodge delivered a crushing blow with his flaming axe that drove one of his enemies back two steps, but the half-orcs were as heavily armored as the two dwarves, and appeared to be possessed of an equal stamina. Arun seemed intent on countering with a sheer volume of attacks, his holy sword slashing about him as though it was a light dagger, and while the half-orcs tried to deflect those strokes with their shields, the paladin seemed to find the smallest gaps in their defenses more often than not.

Both dwarves fought with bravery and tenacity, but outnumbered six to two, it seemed as though even that might not be enough.

The cleric, meanwhile, was finding it difficult to conjure up his spells. Every time he launched into a new incantation, arrows struck, punching through his heavy armor as if it were cheap leather. He’d managed a potent curative that had eased the burning pains from the fireball, but as another arrow sank into his thigh, he began to fear that this confrontation might prove disastrous.

Darting back into the shelter of the doorway, he pulled a scroll from his pouch and began to read.

Pursued by one of the half-orcs, Zenna was quickly running out of room to retreat. But she was not lacking for options, conjuring up a spell that struck just as the half-orc was lifting his axe to cut her down. The hold took effect, freezing him with a ferocious look on his face that was belied by the fear that suddenly shone in his eyes as she calmly stepped forward, sparks already starting to dance around her outstretched hand.

Mole, meanwhile, found herself outmatched by her foe. Rolling with a cut from his axe that she wasn’t quite fast enough to dodge, she shifted from an attack posture—her rapier wasn’t likely to hurt him much, now that the advantage of surprise was lost—and started a twisting, tumbling defense. The half-orc swung at her again, narrowly missing, and a counter a few moments later came nowhere near her as she tumbled around him in a tight loop, feinting with her rapier in attacks designed to confound rather than to harm.

Buying her time.

Beorna arrived at the line of battle at the same time as the giants, the three huge foes standing over the melee between the other two dwarves and the half-orcs, the latter groups like children in contrast to the titans behind. The giants lashed at her with their clubs. The templar dodged the first stroke, but the second landed heavily on her arm, drawing a grunt of pain from her.

Then she lifted her sword, and returned the favor. Her blade came crashing down onto the first giant’s chest, slicing through the thick, oily hides he wore easily, digging a deep furrow in his torso. Even as the giant staggered, blood pouring from the violent wound, she shifted from her backswing and stepped in again, driving the length of the blade into the giant’s body, sliding it into the narrow gap between two of his ribs. The giant gurgled in pain and fell backward... and collapsed onto the polished marble, pouring out the last of its life through the two huge holes in its body.

For a moment, the intensity of the melee eased, as both sides sensed that the battle had taken a decisive turn. But the half-orcs continued to press the assault even in the face of this deadly new adversary, redoubling their efforts to cut through the armor of the dwarven defenders.

Arun took hits that drew blood even through his magical armor, but the only result seemed to be to drive the paladin into a greater fury of battle. He sliced out with his sword, cutting under a half-orc’s helm to sever the throat beneath, and even as the warrior fell he continued his swing into the next one, crushing his side in a blaze of holy light that drove him back, whimpering. Hodge, too, finally took down one of his enemies, his flaming axe sundering his breastplate and smiting him down to the ground.

“Stand still!” Mole’s opponent growled in frustration, as the gnome nimbly avoided another attack. The half-orc was a skilled combatant, though, and he adjusted, stepping to the side just as Mole tumbled into reach. Lifting his axe to strike, he suddenly staggered, turning to reveal a long arrow stuck deep into his back. A moment later a second shaft hit, burying itself in the half-orc’s throat, and the warrior crumpled. Mole saluted Dannel, and after a quick look to confirm that Zenna’s adversary was down, leapt into a somersault that carried her quickly toward the rapidly-diminishing line of foes facing the dwarves.

The half-orcs had been paid well, but never had they faced a trio of foes like this. Hodge was hurting now, his breath coming in gasps as blood trickled out from the gaps in his armor where half-orc axes had struck. But as Beorna dispatched the second giant much as she had the first, and turned her attentions to the remaining warriors, their heart for the fight evaporated. The survivors drew back, another falling as Arun’s blade crushed armor plate, and finally turned to all-out flight.

Meanwhile, the cleric emerged from his position of cover, his wounds mostly healed, now surrounded by a shifting field of mirror images. He’d readied a dispel to remove the enchantments boosting Beorna, but as he saw his second giant go down, and his hired warriors fleeing, he abandoned that tactic. Instead, he started running toward the stairs.

“Escaping cleric!” Mole shouted.

“I see him,” Dannel said, lifting his bow and taking aim.

 

[Lazybones]

Chapter 257

“That cleric really wanted to get up those stairs,” Mole observed, tugging another pair of iron-studded gauntlets from one of the dead warriors. The two dead giants had proved disappointing for treasure, but the warriors had glowed brightly to Zenna’s detect magic spell, a veritable treasure trove of magical goodies.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he has friends up there,” Dannel commented, reloading his quiver from the spare he kept in his pack. The cleric had headed up the stairs with single-minded determination, and had nearly gotten to the door on the landing thirty feet above the floor; fortunately for them his heavy armor had slowed him enough for the ranged attacks from those below—primarily Dannel’s arrows—to bring him down.

“Then that is where we shall go,” Beorna said, already moving toward the stairs, her boots thumping loudly on the marble floor, blood from the bodies scattered in the center of the room leaving a red splat with each step. Still enlarged, she made an impressive sight.

“Wait!” Zenna said, resisting the urge to add you fool!. “We’ve taken a beating, and we need to heal and recover.”

“Evil does not wait for the hand of justice to descend,” she said, but she paused at the foot of the stairs. “Any foes up there have no doubt heard the sounds of the fray. Already the High Priest is likely preparing for our arrival, and our delay only strengthens his hand.”

“Iverson’s not the High Priest,” Zenna said absently, but she was already focused on helping her injured friends, and herself. She saw Hodge take out his jug and quickly walked over to him. “Let me,” she said, and she laid a hand upon him, drawing upon a potent healing spell. She’d initially reserved that slot for a discern lies spell for their interview with Iverson, but from this encounter the intentions of the church of Kelemvor were now clear.

“It still makes no sense,” Dannel said, sliding his own healing wand back into its pouch after treating his own injuries. “Why would the most powerful and prestigious church in Cauldron do this, hire assassins to kill us?”

“Church o’ death,” Hodge said, as if that explained it. The dwarf sucked in a breath as Zenna’s cure critical wounds flowed through him with the shock of a glacial pool, closing his multiple wounds and driving the pain and weakness of his injuries from him. “Aye, that’s the stuff!” he said, favoring Zenna with a broad smile. That didn’t stop him from taking a covert swig from his “jug o’ healin’,” though, Zenna observed when he thought she wasn’t looking.

“The Kelemvorites are not evil,” Zenna said. “They take their duties as guides in the transitions between worlds seriously, but while they venerate death, they hate those who practice it without discernment.”

“Well, these are clearly evil,” Arun said, walking to join Beorna. She greeted him with a faint nod.

“You fought well, Forger-knight,” she said simply.

“And you, warrior-maiden of the Hand,” he replied.

She raised an eyebrow at the appellation, but did not reply, instead turning toward the stairs. They creaked a bit under the weight of her enlarged form, but they held.

Zenna looked down at Mole. “Here we go again.” The gnome’s only response was a grin, and the speed with which she dashed after the others, still tucking loose items she’d collected into her bag, testified to her eagerness to see what dangers lay ahead.

With a sigh, Zenna threw up her hands and followed. Given enough time, she could have used her powers of clairvoyance to scan the interior of the spire above and see what, if anything, awaited them there, but as it was the impatience of her companions would not allow for such cautious—and reasonable—tactics. She only hoped that their haste would not get them killed.

Well, she wasn’t going to be a target again. Pausing to summon a spell, she felt a sudden backlash of power that caused her to miss a step, and nearly fall before she regained her balance.

“What is it?” Dannel asked.

“Be warned, this entire place is protected with a ward,” she said. “It appears that no invisibility magic will function in here.”

The elf shrugged. “Well, it’s not like we’re going to be surprising anyone anyway, not with them,” he said, gesturing toward the dwarves who were nearly at the top of the stairs.

True enough, Zenna thought, but she still didn’t like it as they hurried to catch up to the others.

The door at the top of the stairs led to small chambers that looked like personal quarters for the higher-ranking clergy of the temple. On seeing that they were empty, the companions gave them a cursory look—in Mole’s case, “cursory” involving the transfer a several items to her bag of holding—before continuing up a second stair that continued up into the spire above the temple fane.

As they made their way up the narrow steps, Beorna’s hulking form blocking the view ahead, Zenna felt a cold chill creep up over her. She looked up at Arun, and saw that he was affected by it, as well.

“There is a deep taint here,” the paladin said.

Zenna cast a spell, conjuring a potent protective aura around her that extended to those nearest on the stair. “If you can, stay close to me,” she said. “My spell will provide some protection against evil.”

Several of the others cast spells as well. Beorna laid several protective wards upon herself, then turned and touched Arun, adding some protection to him as well. Thus fortified, they pressed on.

“Do you smell that?” Mole asked softly. Zenna took a deep sniff, and regretted it as the stench of rot filled her nostrils. She fought the urge to gag.

“Undead,” Dannel said.

“The followers of Kelemvor abhor the undead,” Zenna said, but her words were not convincing even to herself. It was obvious to all of them that a deep evil had taken root in this place, and while none of them—well, none except for Beorna, Arun, and probably Mole—were eager to proceed, they swallowed their fears and pressed on.

Finally the stairs opened onto a chamber ahead; they had to be inside the spire now, a good sixty feet or more above the level of the street below. The interior of the spire was a single great hollow chamber, rising nearly a hundred feet above them. Other than a small, low platform in the center of the floor, the chamber was empty of either furniture or decoration. The place was mostly dark, with only a few tiny slits providing illumination. But Dannel’s and Mole’s sensitive eyes adjusted quickly, allowing them to see what the others, with their darkvision, had already detected.

The room was occupied. Five hulking forms stood arrayed around the central dais; giants, Zenna thought, until one turned and she saw that its features were bestial, its face dominated by a set of huge jaws. Then she realized that the sickly waft of decay came from them, and as she saw them shift awkwardly she realized what they were. Zombies, among the least of the undead, but these were huge and no doubt far more dangerous that their man-sized equivalents.

But then she saw the two forms atop the dais, and realized that there were far greater threats here, waiting for them. One was a vague outline of darkness that hovered a foot above the smooth surface of the platform, an undead wraith, a creature of shadow whose very touch was death. The second Zenna recognized instantly as a fiend, although she could not identify the exact species. It was a bony creature that at first glance appeared to be a skeleton, a gaunt thing vaguely humanoid in form, but with an oversized, distended skull, and a long tail that jutted up over its back and above its head, tipped with a wicked stinger that was no doubt infused with some deadly venom.

There was no sign of Ike Iverson, but Zenna had a feeling that the cleric had to be around somewhere. She looked up into the shadowy heights above them, but the top of the spire was a jumble of struts and structural supports, a tangled jumble even with her darksight to pierce the shadows. She spotted something dangling down from the pinnacle of the spire, a long, black object that hung there like some fiendish chrysalis. As her gaze lingered in that direction, she felt a sudden, terrible feeling wash over her, a sense of foreboding that almost threatened to overwhelm her.

Beorna had already stepped forward, her gleaming blade lifted high above her head in both hands in a symbol of defiance. “Prepare for your destruction, fiends!” she roared, in challenge.

But before she or the rest of them could take further action, a spiraling column of liquid fire tore down from the heights above and slammed into them with the force of divine retribution.

 

[Broccli_Head]

"Call in a Flamestrike on my position!"

 

[Lazybones]

Chapter 258


Zenna felt the backblast of heat, intermixed with divine power, as the spillover from the flame strike poured into the stairwell where she and Dannel were standing. Her magical defenses, combined with her innate resistance to fire, had helped her resist much of the effect, and Dannel had dodged quickly back, likewise avoiding the full force of the flames. The dwarves, in the van, had taken the full force of the blast. But as the flames cleared she could see that Arun and Beorna appeared to be only slightly wounded, and Hodge, while his upper body was charred, was already reaching for his jug for a bit of restoration. Even as she watched, the templar lifted one hand and unleashed a blast of searing light that sank into the undead form of the wraith. Mole, of course, had tumbled out of the radius of the blast and had vanished somewhere along the perimeter of the chamber.

The five hulking gray render zombies started toward them, while the wraith sank into the platform, disappearing from view. The bone devil chittered something in its Infernal language, but seemed content to hold its ground for the moment, no doubt preparing some dread power from the hells to unleash upon them.

“Look!” Dannel hissed, drawing Zenna’s attention up toward the ceiling high above. Where the elf had seen only a shifting shadow, Zenna could clearly identify the figure hovering there above them, near the black object she’d seen earlier. It was a man, clad in full plate armor, surrounded by a bevy of mirror images, sparking with the aura of protective wards. Zenna realized that this had to be Iverson, and that he’d just become visible with the unleashing of his potent blast of divine fire.

Dannel was already lifting his bow to fire. Beorna and Arun stepped forward to face the oncoming zombies. Hodge took a deep swallow from his jug and then dithered, reaching for his crossbow before eschewing it for his longspear.

Zenna felt as though time froze around her, as her thoughts raced through the options available to her. She still had most of her spells left, even after the confrontations with Zarik Dhor and the lesser priest below, but she knew that Iverson was a powerful cleric, obviously prepared for them, and that he no doubt had other fell magics at his call. The physical foes she entrusted to her allies, but she knew she had to do something to deal with him...

She had a dispel remaining, but doubted that her power could pierce the stronger potency of the high priest’s magic. For a moment she thought of Kaurophon, who had mastered her so easily, and doubt filled her.

Then Iverson began to incant again, and she just did it, just hurled her spell at him the way a desperate man might throw his knife at a charging swordsman.

That part of her that was sensitive to the Weave could feel the energies of her spell impact the layered wards that Iverson had conjured around him. Her heart froze in her chest as she felt the spell sliding from each of his wards like water striking glass. He was literally armored in magic, and her own puny abilities paled in contrast to the level of skill he commanded.

But then, just as she was about to give up, the last threads of her spell found something pliable, a current of energy that extended outward from the man, into the very air around him. As the dispel snapped those strands, Iverson’s air walk spell ended.

The enemy cleric fell fifty feet to the floor below, landing in a quite satisfactory cacophony of metal and pain just beside the room’s central platform.

Ike Iverson got up slowly, clearly hurting, although Zenna knew too much to mark him out of the fight just yet. “The cleric!” she cried, alerting her friends to the danger.

But Arun and Beorna had their own difficulties. The shambling render zombies were slow and cumbersome, but they were strong, a fact proven as one slammed a meaty claw into Beorna’s side. They seemed to focus more on her, her enlarged size making her a more obvious target. Arun intercepted one as it was about to seize her from behind, tearing a huge gash in its leg with a powerful swing of its sword.

Beorna seemed more than able to handle herself even against the remaining four renders, at first; her blade, backed by the full force of her augmented strength, tore incredible wounds that even the already dead renders could not ignore. One fell back after taking a pair of hits that laid its body cavity open, one arm dangling uselessly from nearly severed tendons. But the undead life force that powered it was likewise strong, and it slowly recovered and came forward again, reaching for its living foe’s flesh with its remaining claw. The others pounded at her repeatedly, but her armor, fashioned from one of the most durable metals known on Faerûn, held against their assaults.

Hodge finally started forward, but before he could reach his friends a shimmering white wall of solid ice appeared directly in front of him. The wall of ice divided the chamber in twain, with Zenna, Hodge, and Dannel on one side, and Beorna and Arun on the other.

With all of the bad guys on their side of the wall.

And if that wasn’t bad enough, shadowy arms rose out of the floor at Beorna’s feet, followed a moment later by the body of the wraith. As it plunged its claws through her armor into her body, the templar screamed, her very life force riven from her body by the sinister touch of the undead monstrosity.

 

[Mimic]

Can't wait to see how this turns out. I think Mole is going to take out the cleric. Everyohe always forgets about her... until its too late.

 

[Lazybones]

Can't wait to see how this turns out. I think Mole is going to take out the cleric. Everyohe always forgets about her... until its too late.

Unfortunately for Mole, osyluth have damned good spot/listen rolls.

* * * * *

Chapter 259

Zenna, Dannel, and Hodge heard the templar’s scream, and knew that they had to get through or around that wall of ice, and quickly.

Dannel didn’t hesitate, turning to the wall behind him, and using his slippers of spider climbing to run up the wall. He quickly gained enough height to see over the fifteen-foot high wall, and through the raging melee in the center of the room, took aim at his target.

Beorna stabbed her sword through the wraith at her feet, but her sword passed harmlessly through it to clang loudly against the floor below. She tried to draw upon the power of Helm, but in this place, consecrated to darkness, the bright light of her patron seemed like a mere trickle, barely enough for the undead swarming around her to even notice.

And then a cold wave of death descended over her, and for the first time she felt a tremor of involuntary fear.

Arun felt the cold touch as well, and he was in a position to see its source: the cleric Iverson, unleashing a powerful burst of negative energy. Several of the wounded zombies glowed briefly with a pale red light, their wounds knitting shut, and the priest himself seemed fortified, his own hurts eased by his spell. Arun had no idea how that could be, unless the man himself was undead, but he had more immediate concerns. His route to the cleric was blocked by the surging zombies, and anyway, an ally beside him was in danger.

He turned and lunged forward at the wraith, taking a hit from the render behind him but shrugging it off. The undead creature screeched, a terrible, hollow sound as Arun’s sword tore through the fabric of its being. It started to sink back into the floor, but Arun followed his initial swing with a low sweep of his sword that bisected the glowing red points of its eyes, and with a final whisper it disintegrated into wisps of fading blackness.

Beorna looked down at him. “Thank you,” she said.

Arun nodded. “Let’s get that cleric!” he urged.

Meanwhile, unseen by the cleric or his undead servitors, Mole had circled around the edge of the chamber, nearly invisible in the shadows. On Iverson’s fall she’d adjusted her course and now came at him from behind, her dark cloak trailing behind her, her soft boots making barely a whisper on the stone floor.

Iverson, already preparing another spell, did not detect her.

But the bone devil turned, and she looked up in horror as it fixed her with its terrible, evil gaze. Then it was gone, and the chamber around her was replaced by the interior of a hemispherical wall of ice, shutting her off from the battle. Rendered all but harmless, she hacked at the thick ice in vain.

Then something occurred to her, and she reached for her bag of holding.

The initial wall of ice blocking off the stairs suddenly began to glow brightly at a single point along its length. The ice retreated as Zenna’s scorching rays blasted through it, providing an opening that Hodge leapt through, his flaming axe bright in his hands, shivering as he passed through the thick plane of frozen air that remained in the breach in the ice wall. Zenna followed, although she remained on her side of the wall, and she began once again to work her magic.

Iverson took an involuntary step back as an arrow from Dannel’s bow slammed into his shoulder. His mirror images had served their purpose, absorbing most of the elf’s shots thus far, and his armor, reinforced with a shield of faith, had taken care of the others until this one had wormed its way through. He was not hurt seriously, though, and his earlier mass inflict spell had restored most of the damage he’d taken in the fall earlier.

In the space between heartbeats he called upon a quickened divine favor to prepare him for melee, and then unleashed a destruction upon the priestess of Helm who was thus far holding up well against the battering his undead were working upon her.

A vortex of unholy fire gathered, surging as it swept up Beorna in its eager grasp.