Shackled City Epic: "Vengeance" (story concluded)

[Lazybones]

Chpater 351

“How much farther?” Mole asked plaintively.

“We are growing near,” Nidrama said.

The gnome grumbled and hopped up onto a small stone shelf on the side of the tunnel, hastily tugging off a boot and shaking out the pebble that had worked its way inside. The delay allowed Arun and Hodge to pass her, but she quickly recovered her position, her magical boots allowing her to easily outdistance the plodding dwarves.

A deep, thrumming vibration that seemed to come from everywhere around them followed the companions as they delved deeper into the volcano beneath the ruined city of Cauldron. They’d spent the better part of an hour in the maze of lava tubes that burrowed through the depths of the mountain. A thick, sulphrous stench hung in the air, and the temperature had risen until all of them were covered in a sheen of sweat. A few aftershocks had shaken them at first, but as they penetrated further the force of the quakes seemed to fall off, until the omnipresent vibration was broken by only an occasional shudder of the ground beneath their feet.

They were a small company again, five against many, with the deva taking Beorna’s place at the head of their column. Jenya Urikas and Arun’s followers had been quick to suggest their aid, but the companions had rejected both. While Jenya’s powers would have been a great boon, the priestess had depleted her reservoir of clerical spells in the evacuation of Cauldron, and for all her determination and resolve, she was not a warrior. Arun was even more blunt with Ambelin and his other Hammers; knowing that bravery alone would not help his followers survive against the Cagewrights, he’d simply cut them off, ordering them to accompany Jenya down the mountain.

So it fell to Dannel, Arun, Hodge, and Mole to continue their fight against the darkness threatening Cauldron. Already exhausted and battered in the fight to evacuate the city, there was nothing to do but press on; Nidrama had been clear that the Cagewrights were hours, not days, from successfully completing the transformation of Cauldron into a permanent gateway to Carceri. Nidrama had brought with her a magical wand that she used to treat the worst of their injuries, but despite the welcome potency of the device, it could do little to address the deeper haze of fatigue and emotional exhaustion that suffused them all. As Jenya and her escorts had taken their leave, following the long string of refugees down the mountain, Mole had provided foodstuffs and waterskins from her bag of holding. Their meal had been a silent and hasty one, and they paused barely a quarter-hour before setting out under the direction of the celestial.

Nidrama had seemed to know exactly where she was going. She’d led them on a circuit of the volcano’s rim, outside the perimeter of the city’s walls. Those massive malachite bastions still stood, but they could hear the chaos continuing within as the vacant city burned, and the cries of demodands filled the empty streets. Above, the vortex-cloud continued its ochre spiral, with flashes of yellow light flickering within like streaks of lightning. They encountered nothing, neither friend nor foe, and finally the celestial led them down a twisting trail that descended about a half-mile down the volcano’s face. There they finally encountered a dark shaft that speared into the mountain’s depths, a lava tube that spewed out a constant emission of ugly yellow smoke.

“The Cagewrights accessed their citadel by magical means,” she’d explained. “The shifting of the earth has opened a direct route, now. We must make haste.”

That had been over an hour ago. Since then the shaft had undulated through the mountain, meeting and merging with other tunnels driven through the rock by the pressures of lava and water. At times the way was clear and easy; at others it narrowed to only a few paces across, or grew so steep that they had to use ropes to avoid what could have been a deadly fall. Driven beyond complaint at such mundane obstacles, the companions merely faced each obstacle and negotiated it before pressing on.

After Nidrama’s evasive reply to Mole’s question, Dannel hastened his pace until he was walking alongside the deva. The celestial seemed as distant as ever, her expression hardened as she pondered matters beyond mere mortal ken. Her once-pristine tunic and armor had surrendered now to the inevitability of the dirt and smoke of the volcanic tunnels, and even her perfect features showed more than a hint of strain. Likewise the aura of power that had surrounded her before had seemed to dim somehow, although her otherworldly origin was still obvious in the way she carried herself, and in the depths that shone in her eyes when she turned her gaze briefly to the elf. Her sword, naked in her hand, cast flickering echoes of light upon the smooth stone walls around them as they walked.

“You seem suddenly well-informed,” Dannel said, ignoring the warning in that look. “I cannot help but wonder what we might have been able to accomplish, had we been given this intelligence earlier, before all this started.”

The celestial stopped abruptly and turned, but Dannel was ready, and he did not flinch as he faced her.

“I have not deceived you, mortal elf… I was clear on the limitations we face, and the Compact that binds our intervention in your reality.”

“Odd… I haven’t seen our enemies bound by that pact; it seems that they’ve had all kinds of otherworldly help since we’ve started this whole mess.”

“You barely know enough to demonstrate your own ignorance. The actions of the Cagewrights have been governed by a complex set of rules… and if they succeed in what they do now, they will change the very nature of this realm with those governing strictures. That will bring a reaction, and they know it; but it will be too late for the millions caught in between as this realm is reshaped by the legions of Carceri.”

Dannel did not look satisfied. “And you say that your… friends, they couldn’t do anything to stop this? Why do we pray to these gods of ‘good’, anyway?”

“Dannel,” Arun said, the warning clear in his tone.

“They do what they can,” Nidrama said, her voice underlaid with a tinge of deep sadness.

“Yes, they cannot interfere directly, you said earlier. And yet it would seem that you’re interfering now, just a bit.”

The deva met his gaze squarely. “I made my choice, Dannel Ardan, much as you have. And I have paid the price for my action. I am no longer what I was… I have been expelled from the Host, and am now diminished… ‘fallen’, I believe, would be your term for it.”

The elf did seem somewhat taken aback by that revelation, and did not have an immediate reply. Finally Mole said, “Does that mean… does it mean that you’re mortal now, one like us?”

Nidrama shook her head. “It means that I am what I am. Come, we do not have time to waste in this idle chatter. The first test is not far, I think.”

They moved down the corridor in silence once more, and indeed, within a few minutes the light of Nidrama’s sword glinted off of metal in the side of the tunnel ahead. As they neared the source of the reflection, alert to any wards or organized defenses, their illumination revealed a large metal portal, so dark as to be almost black, recessed deep into the surrounding volcanic stone. The door was surmounted by a crudely shaped figure that resembled a gargoyle or demon, a grim decoration that seemed to follow them with black eyes as they cautiously approached.

“Adamantine, or I’m a gnome,” Hodge said, indicating the door. The dwarven miner-turned-fighter had grown uncharacteristically quiet of late, and his hands tightened heavily upon the shaft of his axe as he regarded the black barrier.

“Let me see what I can see,” Mole said, starting forward, but Nidrama forestalled her by lowering her sword to block her progress.

“Wait,” the deva said. “There is still power left to me, and our chances may be improved if we are protected.”

She came to each of them in turn, briefly touching them and laying defensive magics upon them. When she came to Dannel, she paused briefly. “You accept my aid?”

“I’m not a fool,” he said. Taking up his bow, he added, “Let’s be done with this.”

“Some of the wards are but temporary, and will need to be renewed before each encounter,” she said, as she finished her ministrations.

“Assuming that our enemies give us the chance,” Arun said.

“Well, as the official Party Scout, I will do my best to see that you guys are forewarned,” Mole said, offering a mock-salute.

Hodge mumbled something dark about being in the hands of crazy gnomes.

Nidrama, meanwhile, had already started toward the portal, the others following close behind.

They were ready for anything, but it was still something of a surprise when the stone figure atop the door suddenly glowed and blasted a pair of shimmering black rays into the chest of the approaching deva.

 

[Lazybones]

Chapter 352

The black streams of liquid energy coruscated into a flare of gray as they impacted the deva’s chest, intersecting her defensive wards in a chaotic storm of energy. The rays only lasted a second, but even as they faded, and the celestial staggered back, she cried, “The door! Quickly!”

Mole was already moving, leaping into a twisting cartwheel that wove a sinuous line up to the portal, an evading course just in case the guardian had any more tricks up its sleeve. It took her just another two seconds to complete the journey, and as she snapped back up into a ready crouch, she lifted her hands to reveal a small object that she pointed at the implacable adamantine barrier.

The clear note of her chime of opening sounded loud in the confines of the subterranean chamber. The waves of magical energy released from the item sank into the door, and the portal opened, swinging ponderously wide on recessed hinges to reveal a dark passageway beyond.

“Come on,” she urged, standing in the doorway, gesturing for the others to follow. Shooting a cursory glance down the passage—it seemed empty—she returned her efforts to urging her companions forward.

The adventurers quickly passed through the door and out of the line of sight of the warding statue above the portal exterior. In all, maybe six seconds had passed since Nidrama had been hit, and no further blasts had been forthcoming in that quick interval. The light of Nidrama’s sword revealed that the corridor, a rough-hewn shaft maybe twelve feet across, continued straight ahead for as far as they could see. There was just enough irregularity to the passageway to suggest that it had its origins in volcanic action, although it had obviously been crafted by intelligent hands to accommodate the door.

The door started to swing shut, but Arun grasped hold of it, and Hodge was quick to secure the jam with a pair of hastily driven spikes. Despite their commitment to braving the defenses of the Cagewrights, none of them wanted their escape route blocked if it came to a retreat.

“Oh, damn,” Mole said.

The others turned. “What is it?” Dannel asked.

Mole held up the magical chime, clearly revealing the crack that ran through its length. “Fellian said its power was limited, but I was really hoping that it had a few more charges left.”

“Well, if we come to another door like this one, we’ll have to improvise,” the elf said.

“Come. Remain alert,” Nidrama said, leading them down the passage.

“Who put ‘er in charge?” Hodge growled to Arun, but the paladin only shrugged and followed the celestial deeper into the complex.

They hadn’t gone far when the tunnel began to curve slightly to the right. Shortly thereafter, they came to a fork, with a side tunnel jutting off at a right angle to their right. Ahead, they could see that the main corridor began to veer right once again, perhaps following parallel to the side passage.

“Which way?” Dannel asked, glancing down both passages.

“This seems like the main tunnel,” Nidrama said, pointing forward, but she glanced down the side passage, adding, “Though I like not the possibility of leaving a foe behind to catch us unawares.”

“What’s that smell?” Mole asked.

“What?” Hodge said. “I don’t smell anythin’.”

“Based on past experience, I’d be shocked if your olfactory senses were functioning normally,” Dannel said dryly.

“Which way, Mole?” Arun asked.

“Side passage, I think,” the gnome reported. She sniffed at the tunnel, and wrinkled her nose. “Yuck. Smells kinda oily, I think.”

The elf archer and dwarf paladin shared a look. “Demodands?” Dannel suggested.

“Like as not,” the paladin replied. “Nidrama’s right; we don’t want them coming up on us from behind. We’d better check it out, but carefully.”

“I’ll go on ahead,” Mole said. She disappeared into the shadows, vanishing within five paces. The others followed slowly, wary of any danger.

The tunnel continued for perhaps fifty feet, before appearing to end in a blank stone wall.

“Mole?” Dannel asked.

“I’m here,” came the gnome’s voice, softly, from somewhere nearby.

“There’s somethin’ not right ‘bout that there wall,” Hodge said, clanking as he moved forward. The dwarf had never mastered the art of being quiet in armor, and every movement he made seemed to resound down the length of the passage.

“It’s a curtain, designed to look like a stone wall,” Mole said. “Be quiet, there’s…”

But they never got to hear what she was going to say, for the dark curtain was roughly drawn aside by an oily claw, revealing the unpleasant visage of a farastu demodand beyond.

 

[Lazybones]

Chapter 353

Uncommonly, Arun was the first to act; through the gifts provided via his spiritual link to Moradin he’d detected the taint of the fiends even as Mole had begun her warning, and as the curtain came back his holy blade hissed from its sheath, filling the corridor with its pure gleaming radiance. The paladin did not hesitate, leaping at the creature even as he noted the two others hovering behind it. He felt the surge of battle pounding in his veins, but he resisted the urge to unleash his final smite evil… there were others for whom he intended that final retribution. Even without that added holy power, however, the sword struck true, opening a terrific gash in the creature’s chest that spewed forth an ugly spout of black ichor.

But unfortunately for Arun, his sword stuck in the wound, the adhesive black slime that covered it folding around the blade and wrenching it from his grip as the demodand flailed back. It drew the curtain back with it, showing a dank chamber beyond, as well as clearly revealing the other two fiends.

Dannel’s first arrow knifed through the air, slamming into the chest of one of the demodands, but his arrows, despite their magical potency, were not aligned to Good, and the steel-tipped shaft did little damage. While the elf considered Alakast, Hodge and Nidrama were already coming forward, their weapons raised to strike.

But before they could close to melee, the demodands unleashed their own fell powers.

A wave of fear swept through the tunnel. This tactic had proven effective in the past, but this time, fortified by Arun’s protective aura of courage, all of the companions resisted the driving wave of incipient panic. Another blasted Nidrama with a ray of enfeeblement, but the beam of energy dissipated against the deva’s spell resistance. The last demodand, the one that Arun had grievously wounded, recovered enough to add a final defensive effort, conjuring a billowing fog cloud of sickly gray vapors into the corridor that had quickly engulfed the entire melee in a concealing murk.

The cloud turned all of the combatants into vague dark outlines within the gray, with even Nidrama’s flaming sword and Arun’s holy weapon doing little to drive back the clinging mists. But the warriors at the fore did not pause, driving into the ranks of the demodands. Nidrama’s voice sang out a clarion cry to battle in the Celestial tongue, a note that sent a tremor of fear through the demodands even as she materialized from the fog and laid into one of the creatures with a powerful two-handed strike. The great blade, infused with her holy power, tore through its defenses easily, cleaving deep into its shoulder and nearly taking off its left arm. The demodand tried to counter with a claw and bite combination, but its assault merely flailed harmlessly against the shining lines of her breastplate, and the agility of her defense.

Hodge met the next demodand, the one that Dannel had lightly injured with his arrow. The dwarf’s weapon had no holy properties, but he more than made up for that with a critical strike that dug deep into its side, staggering it. But like his fellow dwarf he had difficulties keeping ahold of the weapon, as it adhered to the farastu’s slimy hide. The two creatures twisted about in an odd tug-of-war, the dwarf holding onto the haft of his weapon, the farastu trying to pull away, all the while hacking at the dwarf with its vicious long-fingered claws.

Dannel’s first instinct was to move forward through the fog to join his companions, but he hesitated; there was a faint buzz of warning in the back of his mind that caused him to draw back, toward the mouth of the corridor. As the fog thinned, he peered back down the passageway. The darkness was nearly absolute; the fog effectively blocked the faint light from the warriors’ weapons.

But there was nothing wrong with his ears, and the sick sticking plop of a farastu demodand’s tread upon stone was all too familiar.

“More of them, from behind!” he yelled, summoning his song as he withdrew Alakast from his Efficient Quiver, focusing the power of a light spell upon the quarterstaff. The weapon seemed to thrum in his hand as he faced a trio of farastus that appeared in the mouth of the side tunnel from the corridor beyond. The quarterstaff had been created to destroy evil outsiders, and maybe somehow it could sense that it had been brought forth to further that purpose.

But there was no time for further musings on that, for even as the light exploded from the staff, the farastus spotted him and charged eagerly forward, claws extended. Dannel was no coward, but he also knew that he alone would last mere seconds in a close melee with three demodands. Hoping that his friends would be able to come quickly to his aid, he withdrew back into the relative shelter of the fog cloud.

The demodands followed him inside.

Just a few paces away, the elf’s companions continued their struggle against the first cohort of demodands. With an angry cry, Arun ripped his sword from his injured foe’s body, fighting off its flailing claws before thrusting half the length of the blade through its throat. The demodand fell, ichor bubbling up from its jaws, nearly ripping the sword from the paladin’s grasp once again. He turned to help Hodge, but then Dannel’s warning carried, muted, through the fog.

“Go on, we’ll finish off this lot!” Hodge said, although at the moment it was taking his full effort just to keep his grip on his axe. The demodand took advantage of his distraction to blast the dwarf with a ray of enfeeblement, and as Hodge weakened it finally yanked itself free, the dwarf’s primary weapon firmly attached to its body.

“Gimme that back, ye bloomin’ bloody bastard!” Hodge cried, hurling himself against the demodand. This might not have been the best strategy, for the creature’s sticky hide caught on the dwarf’s armor and stuck the two combatants together. Fiend and dwarf crashed together to the ground in a tangled heap, limbs jutting awkwardly out in every direction.

Arun, however, had already vanished back into the fog.

Nidrama had taken her first hit, a solid blow that drew a bright line of red across her shoulder from one of her opponent’s claws. But the farastu was far worse off, and its situation continued to deteriorate as the deva brought her heavy greatsword around and crashed it into the demodand’s other side, giving it now two serious wounds that continued to drip trails of hot ichor down its body.

The three reinforcement demodands snarled and slowed as the fog cloud engulfed them. Spreading out, lashing the tendrils of mist as they sought out the elf, one sensed a hint of movement along the wall to its right. Turning, it caught the long shaft of Alakast in the side of its head as Dannel whipped it up in a quick snapping gesture that knocked it roughly off-balance. But the demodand was quick to recover, leaping at the elf, trying to wrest the deadly staff out of his grasp. It got another solid hit for its trouble, but still managed to lay its sticky claws upon the wooden shaft, wrestling with Dannel for control of the weapon.

Its two fellows took advantage of Dannel’s plight to spread out and take him from the flanks. Dannel saw them coming and released Alakast suddenly, darting along the wall back down the corridor before he could be fully surrounded. The nearest farastu ran him down, tearing with its claws, but the nimble elf avoided its grasp with only a few minor scratches for his trouble. As he retreated the fog faded with surprising suddenness, and he turned to see all three demodands following him, the first snarling as it tossed Dannel’s brightly-glowing quarterstaff over its shoulder.

“Great,” he said, to no one in particular. His hand had dropped reflexively to the hilt of his sword, the one he hadn’t drawn in anger for… how many months now? But even as his fingers tightened on the hilt, he knew that he’d have no chance to even hinder the farastus with that weapon, not with the kind of damage resistance that the fiends possessed.

His other hand had already reached back, to his magical quiver, and he spoke the command that caused his longbow, strung and ready, to slide out of the extradimensional space within. But before he could draw out an arrow, the farastus were upon him. It was all he could do to keep from being surrounded in the initial rush. One of the farastus took a moment to shoot him with a ray of enfeeblement, but Dannel had been expecting something like that, and he was able to narrowly dodge the thin stream of negative energy.

The other two farastus reached for him with their claws, but before they could strike the faint clink of metal from within the fog alerted Dannel a moment before Arun appeared suddenly, charging full-speed toward the melee. Ignoring the one standing to the side, that had fired the ray, the paladin caromed into the one that Dannel had struck earlier with Alakast. Arun’s shield hit the farastu in the back, sticking with a sick sucking sound, shifting his momentum to lift the demodand up off its feet. For a split second the paladin was actually holding the monstrous creature up above him, the fiend struggling in surprise, and then Arun’s holy blade clove through its neck, flaring with bright white light as it tore into the tainted fabric of the farastu. Its cries were cut off abruptly, and as its head fell limply to the ground a few feet away, Arun tossed its body—his shield still stuck to it—to the side.

The two remaining fiends turned to face the paladin, the elf temporarily forgotten in the face of this obviously more dangerous foe. Arun’s charge had put him in a disadvantageous position, with the fiends able to flank him easily, tearing at him with their claws.

Dannel lifted his bow to fire, but a huge sound from behind suddenly filled the corridor. Back behind them, at the intersection of the two passages, something new had arrived. The north wall there, seemingly solid when they’d passed it before, had exploded outward, revealing a hulking form that was almost lost in shadow at the edges of the light cast by Arun’s dancing sword.

It was… big. Muscles the size of tree trunks knotted in its arms and legs as it stepped out into the corridor from the secret passage that had concealed it. Silvery links of flowing mail covered its torso, stretched across a chest broad enough to use as a banquet table. The echoes of light danced upon the length of a long, curving falchion, six feet of flawless gray steel within which a miasma of wavering lines seemed to flow and intersect, trapped within the metal. And its face…

The face of the newcomer was that of no normal creature. It was a bestial face, with bovine features that terminated in powerful jaws and a pair of jutting ivory horns. The face of a minotaur, but this monstrosity resembled an ordinary minotaur in the way that Arun resembled an elderly dwarven merchant. Its eyes were twin points of rage that seemed to glow as they drank in the scene before them.

Gau had arrived, and she was not pleased.

 

[Broccli_Head]

so where's Mole? She's like missed 3-4 rds of combat.

 

[Lazybones]

so where's Mole? She's like missed 3-4 rds of combat.

Don't worry, I haven't forgotten her.

* * * * *

Chapter 354

Dannel spun at the noise of the minotaur’s arrival, and even as he took in the fierce appearance of the creature, he was fitting an arrow to his bowstring.

Time seemed to slow around him, as the song filled him and the minotaur lowered its flat head, its steps shaking the ground as it charged.

First arrow…

Damn, that thing’s huge…

The arrow struck the creature in the meat of its left arm, but even though it dug deep into the muscle, the jutting shaft looked painfully tiny against the thickness of the limb. The minotaur took its first step forward, its eyes locking onto Dannel with an almost audible click.

It’s raging… make it tough to stop…

Even as the thought came and went, his second arrow was fitted and fired. He’s aimed lower, hitting it solidly in the thigh, and again the shot appeared to have no effect. If anything, its charge continued to pick up momentum… a second step, a third, a fourth, the corridor seeming to tremble now at its passage.

Fool! You aren’t going to be able to slow it down… Your only chance is to hit a vital organ!

His third arrow punched through the armor covering its chest, sinking deep into the minotaur’s body. Its stare never wavered, and Dannel wondered if it was even feeling the hits. He’d seen barbarian warriors lost in battlerage before, men who’d taken a dozen arrows, men who’d killed several enemies before their bodies realized that they were dead.

The minotaur was only a few paces away, now. The falchion came up, its cutting edge gleaming as it caught the light.

Dannel lifted his bow, his fourth—and last, he knew—arrow in place. He drew the string back, drawing the bow taut. The song screamed in his ears, filling him with power, passing through him into the bow, into the arrow.

The bowstring snapped.

Time unfroze.

All he saw was a blur. He was vaguely aware of the impact as his body caromed off of the wall… it had been several paces behind him… pain, as a slivered rib stabbed through his lung…

Then nothing.

* * * * *

Even as the minotaur barbarian appeared to change the dynamic of the melee on the far side of the fog cloud, the rest of the group was still having difficulties against the first cohort of demodands. Nidrama had crippled her adversary, scoring a third hit against her hapless foe, but the injured creature, confronted with one of its most hated enemies, refused to withdraw. Instead the monster hurled itself at the celestial, taking another hit that nearly finished it in the process, but managing to lock the sticky fingers of one oozing claw around the crossguard of the deva’s flaming sword. With its other hand it swatted her breastplate, doing no damage but snagging handfuls of her garment that clung to its foul limb. Nidrama’s mouth tightened in disgust as the weight of the creature—now clinging to life only through stubbornness—threatened to drag her down off her feet.

Hodge, meanwhile, was already enjoying that fate, as he and the demodand wrestled upon the floor a few feet away. The constant stream of profanities in dwarvish and common seemed to match the ugly sounds coming from the demodand’s jaws. The demodand had the advantage of having natural weapons that could hurt the dwarf, while the dwarf’s axe was securely pinned to its body, but it was in turn hindered by the fact that its own adhesive slime was sticking its limbs to Hodge’s armor, clothes, flesh… and even more than a bit of his wiry beard.

The demodand addressed this problem by snapping its jaws around Hodge’s shoulder, opening a considerable rip in his hide at the base of his neck. This only amplified the dwarf’s litany, and with a sudden surge he tore his arm free, using that opportunity to jam his fist into the creatrure’s gaping maw. Even though the punches weren’t doing a lot of damage, they seemed to make the dwarf feel better.

“You want a fistful o’ dwarf! Here, ‘ow’s that? You want more? ‘ere, ‘AVE SOME MORE, YOU SACK O…”

He paused as he noticed something odd; the creature wasn’t thrashing around so much any more. Drawing up (a considerable effort, as his body was still stuck to demodand all over the place), he saw that the fiend’s eyes had become gaping, bloody sockets. The thing looked to be dead.

Hodge looked at his fist in surprise. He didn’t think he’d hit it that hard.

“Aug, teach ye to mess with a dwarf,” he said, turning himself to the tricky (and painful) process of extracting himself from the fiend’s sticky clutches.

A few paces away, Mole grinned, but the sounds of battle behind through the fog were growing more intense, so she lowered her magical dagger—careful not to foul the sticky thing on her trousers—and darted back off into the cloying mists.

 

[Krafus]

Ouch. *winces* Poor Dannel. That blow - whatever it was - must have hurt. Just what was that "silvered rib," anyway?

 

[Dungannon]

That was actually "slivered rib", which I assume means a sliver of rib broke off and punctured a lung.

 

[Lazybones]

That was actually "slivered rib", which I assume means a sliver of rib broke off and punctured a lung.

That's right... just FYI, a crit from Gau (and with her falchion, those happen a lot) does 4d6+76+2d6 vicious (+2 large vicious falchion, 33STR with Greater Rage, plus 10 point Power Attack, doubled for two-handed weapon). If not for Nidrama's earlier aid spell, it would have killed him outright with points to spare.

Arun's going to have his hands full...

 

[Lazybones]

Chapter 355

Even before he saw the minotaur take down Dannel with a single swing of her massive falchion, Arun knew that his situation had suddenly grown real, real grim. He’d hurt one of the remaining demodands with a thrust that had torn open half its side, but he’d nearly lost his sword again, finally yanking it free in a spray of blood and rent flesh. Dannel was still intact, his armor holding against the minotaur’s swing, but by the way he’d hit the wall… Arun hoped he was just unconscious, and not dead.

But there was nothing the paladin could do for his friend at the moment, for the minotaur immediately turned her ire upon the next adversary.

Even aside from her hulking size and incredible speed, Arun could tell from the way she moved that the beast was a skilled combatant. He also knew that if he went toe-to-toe with her, even leaving aside the two demodands flailing at him with their claws, he’d be opening himself up to a ton of punishment. He hadn’t taken anything more than a few minor scratches thus far from the demodands, but the minotaur was another story entirely. But even if he’d wanted to retreat—the persistent fog offered concealment only a few feet away—the demodands would be all over him before he made two steps, and the minotaur had speed, and reach to boot. If they caught him in the fog, it would be over quickly.

So instead he grimaced and stepped forward, within the minotaur’s reach, and laid into her with everything he had. There was no holding back now; his first attack was a smite that cut deep into the minotaur’s flank, driving through her armor. That one she felt, as well as the follow-up backswing that Arun had intended to splay open the wound further, but which hit a foot higher, only adding a fairly minor tear along her ribs. He tried to keep it going, spinning into a third powerful attacks upon her, but his effort had been spent out and his sword only glanced harmlessly off her armor.

The huge falchion came up.

Arun had been expecting pain, but even so the terrific impact startled him. His armor held, although he could feel the sharpness stab into his torso as the hit buckled the mithral plate, a sound echoed by the crunch of bone underneath. It felt as though someone had reached into his lungs and stolen all of his breath out of him. He could do nothing as the curving blade came around again, and only a last-instant dodge kept him from losing his head. As it was, the falchion glanced off of his helm, again denting the metal, and the world spun around him as he staggered back. He was only distantly aware of the demodands clawing at him eagerly as he fought to recover from that devastating assault. Only pure idiot chance kept him from taking a third stroke, as a demodand in its attack moved into the descending path of the falchion, and the minotaur adjusted—slightly—to avoid decapitating her ally.

But though he yet stood, Arun knew that he would never survive another attack like that one. One more hit would do him in.

Neither he nor the minotaur saw the subtle variation in the air, the slightest disruption as a shadow detached itself from the wall and slipped around behind Gau in a soft tumble. Through her rage, the barbarian was dimly aware of the slightest pressure, little more than that of a stiff breeze, that touched first her hip, then her back. Even as she shifted in response, growing aware of the danger, Mole made her presence known by stabbing her rapier—all twelve inches of it—into the small gap in Gau’s armor at the point where her right arm entered her torso.

Gau roared, again more in rage than pain, although the thrust had grazed her lung, and blood began to slowly seep into the injured organ. But the minotaur seemed barely hindered as she lifted her sword, and with expert precision sliced it over her shoulders and down her back to dislodge the gnome hanging there.

Mole swung narrowly out of the path of the blade, its edge sliding mere inches from her face as she hung on by two fingers, her body dangling out in open air. Kicking out, she passed under the minotaur’s arm before snapping her body out and clambering up its shoulder, using her horn as a pivot to settle her back behind the minotaur’s neck. Gau shifted her sword to her right hand and tried to grab her with her left, but again she only clasped empty air.

The minotaur snapped her head forward in an attempt to dislodge the gnome, but Mole held on, stabbing Gau again with a cut that was only a nuisance, this time. Arun could not help her, tangled in the grasp of the two demodands, and although Mole had thus far kept her huge foe in check thus far, her luck could not hold out against Gau’s sheer strength and speed for long. This was confirmed a second later as the falchion shot out suddenly in a sharp upward thrust. Again Mole dodged, but this time the blade drew across her torso before she could get out of its way, leaving a nasty bleeding gash across her body.

Still, the gnome held on.

“Athaladras!” came a clear cry from the fog, a moment before Nidrama appeared, her wings driving her forward in great pulsing beats, her sword held out before her like a pike. Gau snarled but took the hit, a driving thrust that sank a full foot into the meat of her left shoulder before the deva’s onrushing momentum was spent.

For a moment, the two combatants just remained there, facing each other; the minotaur spitted on the edge of the celestial’s sword, the deva hovering in the air, dwarfed by an enemy almost twice her size. A rank burning smell filled the air as the sword’s flames seared Gau’s flesh.

And then the falchion came around, and clove into the celestial’s breast. Nidrama’s armor crumpled and she fell back, too-bright blood issuing from the deep gash in her body.

She fell hard and did not stir.

Gau roared in triumph as she turned back to Arun. The paladin, teeth gritted against the surges of pain that threatened yet to overcome him, had fought free of one farastu, and ignored the other still clinging to his side as he drove his sword through the first fiend’s face. The demodand fell back, and Arun yanked his weapon free, trying to turn to confront the minotaur. Every breath he took drove a knife of pain through him, and the world around him was starting to grow dim, only his sword clearly defined against the shadows.

An awkward clanking sound behind him gave him hope, however. Hodge appeared from the fog, looking a sight with his armor and clothes covered in farastu slime and blood, his beard a fouled ruin that had been splayed across the lower half of his face in a gooey mess.

“Right then,” he said, regarding the minotaur, lifting his axe. “Yer be wantin’ some o’ this, now?”

Gau laughed and charged. Or rather, started to charge, for as she launched into her first stride, Mole leaned around and cut open her jugular with a long stroke of her dagger.

 

[drs]

Hey!

Been reading fairly steadily for the past week and have finally caught up. Not enough praise can be heaped upon you Lazybones; great writing, great characters, great story, all great. Really enjoying it, eagerly awaiting updates like the rest now .

Oh yeah, Mole and her window-tumbling-20-rolling-goo-throwing-dragon-stabbing-cheekiness would have to be my favourite chr .