Shackled City Epic: "Vengeance" (story concluded)

[Lazybones]

Chapter 160

“I am not saying that she was false,” Morgan said. “I am merely suggesting that... whatever she was, she may have... altered... your perceptions.”

Zenna shook her head, but did not respond; she’d already made her feelings known in their discussion earlier that morning. Arun, however, was not so reluctant.

“She was a celestial,” he said with finality, ending the argument that they’d had since that morning in their camp, when Zenna and Arun had shared the news of Nidrama’s visit with the others.

Morgan subsided, but Zenna could tell that he still bore doubts. Zenna thought that she understood his feelings; the cleric’s initial reaction to the news had betrayed a deep disappointment, that a heavenly being would choose to appear to others in the group, rather than to him. To her, in particular. In the face of this rejection, perhaps it was easier to deny the reality of what had happened, to suggest that somehow the visit by the celestial was a false vision, something to confound and mislead them.

On the other hand, they could not afford to reject the warning brought by the deva. With a confirmation that Alek Tercival might indeed lie at the end of this road, they also had to deal with the threat confronted by this “Lord of the Demonskar” she had referenced. A major demon of some sort, Zenna surmised, from the clues Nidrama had given and from what she knew of the history of this place. She knew something of such things, from the tales of her father and his companions. And she carried the blood of demons in her veins...

She shook her head, angry at herself for allowing such thoughts to creep into the disciplined corridors of her mind. No, she would need control, with what lie ahead.

The trail had begun to rise shortly after they’d departed their camp that morning, although it was still negotiable without undue hazard. By midmorning they began to notice ruins shrouded by the jungle, nothing more than a few stone blocks or shattered flagstones overgrown with weeds and other growth. Everything was crumbling with great age. Arun examined the remnants of an ancient pillar, and frowned, although he did not share his thoughts with the others.

“What’s that?” Mole asked, drawing their attention up ahead.

The trail moved up a steady incline to a clearing, the far side of which was a rough-edged cliff perhaps thirty feet in height. Above them, beyond the cliffs, they could see the jagged outline of a high ridge through the jungle canopy; the outer rim of the Demonskar.

But what drew their focus was a large, dark opening, perhaps twenty feet across, in the cliff wall. Too regular to be natural, the opening was almost perfectly round, like a giant sewer pipe that had been broken off in some cataclysm.

“The round cave,” Dannel said, drawing their thoughts back to the silver plate he carried.

“And beyond, Vaprak’s Voice,” Mole added, remembering the rest of the crudely etched map.

“This ‘Vaprak’ don’t sound like no friendly sort,” Hodge grunted.

“He is the god of the ogres, and no, he’s not friendly,” Zenna told him.

For a moment, they stood there, drawing in their courage as they faced the dark opening that progressed who knew how far into the earth.

“That doesn’t look very appealing,” Mole finally said.

“Well, it isn’t going to get any easier by us standing here,” Arun finally said, starting toward the tunnel.

“Wait!” Zenna hissed. The others all turned toward her in alarm.

“What is it?” Dannel asked, an arrow already fitted to his bow.

“Shhh... cannot you feel it?” They looked around, but could not see what had alerted the tiefling. “We are not alone here.”

In response, a harsh, guttural laughter sounded from the forest edge, near the mouth of the huge pipe. It was echoed a moment later by another, deeper rumbling from within the dark opening, the hollow tunnel building and distorting the sound until it shook their souls to hear it.

Morgan’s glowing sword slid from its scabbard with an expectant hiss. “A welcoming party,” he said.

“There!” Zenna said, pointing.

They turned to see what she had seen, as its cloak of invisibility slid off from it like a slick of oil, revealing a monstrosity perched atop the jutting edge of the pipe, twenty feet above them. It had the look of a giant ape, but even before they heard the sick laughter that rumbled in its chest, they knew that what they looked upon was no natural creature. Its body was a knot of muscles and jutting edges of bone, and its black claws that clutched the pipe were rivaled only by the long teeth that protruded from its over-sized jaws. Its eyes were pinpricks of red light that flared malevolently as they stared down at the companions.

The demon laughed once more, and then attacked.

 

[SolidSnake]

They turned to see what she had seen, as its cloak of invisibility slid off from it like a slick of oil, revealing a monstrosity perched atop the jutting edge of the pipe, twenty feet above them. It had the look of a giant ape, but even before they heard the sick laughter that rumbled in its chest, they knew that what they looked upon was no natural creature. Its body was a knot of muscles and jutting edges of bone, and its black claws that clutched the pipe were rivaled only by the long teeth that protruded from its over-sized jaws. Its eyes were pinpricks of red light that flared malevolently as they stared down at the companions.

The demon laughed once more, and then attacked.

Man! You really like to take the fight to the PCs...no waiting for them to enter the ruins, eh LB?

 

[Rugger]

They turned to see what she had seen, as its cloak of invisibility slid off from it like a slick of oil, revealing a monstrosity perched atop the jutting edge of the pipe, twenty feet above them. It had the look of a giant ape, but even before they heard the sick laughter that rumbled in its chest, they knew that what they looked upon was no natural creature. Its body was a knot of muscles and jutting edges of bone, and its black claws that clutched the pipe were rivaled only by the long teeth that protruded from its over-sized jaws. Its eyes were pinpricks of red light that flared malevolently as they stared down at the companions.

The demon laughed once more, and then attacked.

LB, that's some Damn Fine Prose (TM) ya got there! I will be yoinking that for my game...

And man do characters in your stories typically NOT do well vs demons...

-Rugger
"I Lurk!"

 

[snappyapple]

Only ONE demon? Why I do suspect there's more to this than meets the eye.

 

[Lazybones]

Only ONE demon? Why I do suspect there's more to this than meets the eye.

Because there is!

* * * * *

Chapter 161


Even as the bar-lgura demon cackled its monstrous laugh, Dannel drew, aimed, and fired. The steel-tipped arrow found its target, knifing through the giant ape-demon.

The creature was unaffected; the arrow had simply vanished into it without a trace.

Zenna was the first to realize what had happened. “It’s an illusion,” she warned. “Remember the noises—in the forest!”

The companions looked around for the inevitable assault, but before they could act the world around them was plunged into shadowy darkness. Voices filled the darkness, calling out, seeking direction, and again it was Zenna, who was all too used to the power of the darkness spell, who cut through the din with a warning. “Spread out... get outside of the radius of the spell!”

She heard the clink of metal and the trod of footsteps that indicated that the others were moving, but over that she could discern the clear voice of Morgan, calling upon the power of his god. She did not speak Celestial, but she could see the results a moment later as a brilliant shine of daylight exploded from his uplifted sword, banishing the darkness and filling the clearing with its radiant glow. The light revealed the companions spread out in a ring, facing outward as they had each sought their own way out of the darkness.

Unfortunately it also revealed a trio of bar-lgura demons, already closing in on them with great loping strides.

The ape-demons had been drawn to the loudest of them, and two hurled themselves at Arun and Hodge, leaping upon the dwarves to rend with claws and bite. The third was making a beeline for Morgan, although it drew back as the bright light erupted out from his sword, snarling as the holy light burned its eyes.

The cleric saw it, and turned to face the demon, lowering the sword until it pointed toward its chest. “Prepare to be sent back to the pits of the Abyss, demon!” he shouted.

Arun barely had time to lift his hammer before a demon leapt onto him, its weight threatening to bear him to the ground beneath it. With a dwarvish cry he drove it back with his shield, giving himself enough room to wield his hammer. Pain shot up from his hip where the demon’s claw had slammed into him with crushing force, but the demon’s other attacks had been turned by his magical armor and shield. But his elation turned into concern as his hammer glanced harmlessly off the magical hide of the bar-lgura, the creature’s unholy laughs reinforcing the futility of the attack.

Hodge, on the other hand, had a magical weapon, but he also was less fortunate in the face of the second demon’s rush. A claw clipped the side of his head, opening a bloody gash across his temple, and as he tried to raise his shield the bar-lgura tore his arm aside and bit down on his exposed shoulder. Hodge cried out in pain, and tried to chop at it with his axe, managing only a feeble blow that failed to penetrate its hide.

Zenna realized that her spells would be of little use against these foes; the same resistances to elemental energy that she possessed would be shared by them, only in greater potency. Instead she ran to where Dannel was trying to take aim on the demon savaging Hodge. The elf looked up at her in puzzlement, but she ignored him and reached out to touch his bow, drawing upon her power as she did so.

“That might help,” she said.

Dannel nodded and took aim, releasing a shot that caught the demon high in the shoulder. The arrow, imparted with magical power through the bow by the agency of Zenna’s magic weapon spell, sank into the demon’s hide. The bar-lgura roared in pain, but the attack only made it redouble the violence of its assault upon Hodge.

Morgan took advantage of his adversary’s pause to call upon Helm once more, enlarging himself to twelve feet in height. He took a step toward the demon, but it grinned as it called upon its own fell power, stripping away the cleric’s spells, causing him to shrink back to his normal size, and the brilliant light upon his blade to fade to its normal pale glow. Barking out a foul laugh, it charged toward the priest.

Arun, recognizing that he had little chance against his foe with his mundane warhammer, held his ground against another vicious all-out assault from the demon. He shrugged off painful blows that tore skin and bruised muscle beneath his armor, but he avoided the creature’s powerful grasp, and drove it back again with a powerful shove of his shield. Rather than pressing his advantage with another attack, however, he stepped back and called upon the power of Moradin, asking his patron to bless his hammer. He felt the divine surge of energy pass through him into the weapon, but before he could attack the demon was on him again, biting and clawing.

Hodge found himself hard-pressed, unable to find a moment’s respite against the demon’s ferocious assault. He felt his body weaken as it ripped at him again with its claws and bite, tearing another gash along the side of his jaw, one black claw narrowly missing his eye. He stumbled back, knowing that another hit would finish him, but to his surprise the demon suddenly roared and drew itself up to its full height, clutching at its back.

Mole had entered the fray, giving the dwarf the opportunity to stagger back, blood oozing from his several wounds. Unfortunately for her, the noble gesture drew the demon’s full ire upon her, and its claws seemed huge as they reached down for her diminutive form.

“Back off!” Zenna yelled at it, firing a brilliant spray of colors into its face. She could feel the demon’s innate resistance fighting her spell, but was gratified as she saw it hesitate, momentarily confused by the color spray. But she knew that the spell would only stun it for a few seconds... and she had no further magic with which to hinder it.

That was okay for Mole, who fearlessly darted in and stabbed it again with her tiny sword, knowing full well what would happen when it recovered.

Morgan met the demon in a violent charge. The holy knight’s sword sang as it cleaved the air, biting deeply into the side of the bar-lgura, drawing great orbs of black ichor that steamed as they hit the ground, instantly charring the surrounding vegetation into ash. The demon countered with its own furious assault, but the cleric’s magical armor absorbed most of the strikes, leaving him virtually unscathed.

Arun took another hit from a claw that drove pain through his armor, but now, as he lifted the hammer infused with the power of his god, the demon looked in his eyes and knew fear. The hammer slammed into its shoulder with the force of an avalanche, snapping bones and driving the demon backward. Heavily wounded, it yet had fight left in it, and it snarled as it leapt up and charged him again, seeking either its own destruction or the utter annihilation of the man who dared to stand before it.

Mole cried out as the demon seized her in its claws, grabbing her and thrusting her into its huge, gaping maw. The rogue managed to twist in its grasp, however, and instead of chomping down on gnome flesh, its jaws closed on empty air as Mole kicked off its nose and broke free, somersaulting in the air to land on her feet. She was hurt, though, and without the advantage of surprise, there was little she could hope to do to it with her non-magical and tiny sword.

But before the demon could rush forward and tear her to pieces, it staggered as a long arrow slammed into its side. The demon spun, its face a rictus of fury, but before it could respond to the attack a second arrow found its throat, sinking to the feathers in the demon’s neck. Black ichor ran in a torrent from the wound down the creature’s chest, dripping through its matted black fur, causing its body to glisten in the bright morning light. It let out a cough, and then, slowly, toppled backward.

Morgan’s blade still shone brightly despite the black demonic blood that now marked most of its length. The demon had turned to brute force to overwhelm this foe, but the cleric’s shield always seemed there to turn a claw, and the snapping jaws were met again and again by a sweep of the shining sword. Finally, the demon darted back and called upon its power, seeking to lay some terrible spell upon the priest.

But the power, whatever its nature, faltered against the grim will of the Helmite, and as he strode forward the mighty sword came down once more, and ended it.

Arun’s breath burned in his chest as the demon pressed its attack again. The two combatants exchanged blows that drove though hide and armor alike, but neither faltered in the face of destruction. The demon drove the paladin back with a blow that crushed the dwarf’s weapon arm, threatening his grip on his weapon. As Arun drew back to regain control of the hammer, the bar-lgura howled and leapt atop him, its jaws opening in a huge arc to enfold his face and rip it from his torso.

But the paladin stood his ground, and as the gaping maw drew down upon its target, Arun drove the hammer with his full strength into the fetid opening. The demon choked as teeth exploded and the hammer’s broad head crushed its throat, but the sound drew off into a gurgle as the force of its charge combined with the dwarf’s strength drove the weapon up through its head and into the tangled mess of corruption that served as its brain.

Relative quiet returned to the clearing as the companions drew together, facing the bodies of the three slain demons, the only sound the soft chants of healing spells. Morgan was the first to turn toward the dark opening of the pipe, after calling upon the power of Helm to purge his wounds and wiping the demon-blood off of his sword with an old rag.

“Let us be about this, then,” he said, leading them into the darkness, the light of his sword showing them the way.

 

[Dungannon]

I wonder if one of those bar-iguras was the same one Zenna & Mole's family defeated back in TttWW.

 

[Lazybones]

I wonder if one of those bar-iguras was the same one Zenna & Mole's family defeated back in TttWW.

Which one? The one that they fought in the battle where Cal died (Book I)...

Benzan knew that this was it, as the demon charged him. If he fell, then Lok was surely dead, and likely his companions after that. He held his ground, waiting, and then, as the demon leapt, he darted ahead and to the side, his blade coming around in a sweeping arc.
The magically enhanced scimitar bit into the side of the demon’s neck, its own momentum driving the blade deeper as Benzan swept past it. One claw caught him hard as he passed, drawing a line of blood across his hip, but he spun with the impact and landed safely a few feet away.
The demon took by far the worst of that exchange, yet somehow managed to remain standing. It turned and locked gazes with the tiefling, and to Benzan’s horror he could hear the thing’s voice in his mind.
Your flesh will yet be mine, brother, the voice said, and it came at him yet again, sheer hate alone driving it now.

Or the pack they battled in the alleyways of Zelatar (Book VIII)?

Cal felt a tremor of fear as the demon hurtled over Lok and landed right in front of him, but having regained his equilibrium, he was far too experienced to give into hesitation. The demon’s claws reached down for him, but they tore with futility against the just-enacted defense of the gnome’s stoneskin. Frustrated, the demon’s eyes flared as it called upon its inherent magic, but before it could invoke the power, Cal lifted a wand and fired it into the demon’s face.
Demons have a potent resistance against most forms of energy. But their weakness is sonics, and Alera’s gift, the sonically-substituted Melf’s arrows stored in the wand, exploited that fact. The sonic arrow pulsed with energy as it blasted into side of the demon’s head, the vibrations blasting away flesh as the missile bored inward, continuing its work mercilessly. The demon roared in pain, unleashing its power in an attempt to dispel the penetrating hurt, but it failed.
“You’ve got the violent carnage thing down, demon, but when it comes to magic, you’re an amateur,” Cal said coldly, firing another blast into its torso.

 

[Dungannon]

I was thinking about Book I. I'd forgotten about Book VIII.

 

[monboesen]

Man if only this band of adventurers had more members like Morgan. Theres a man fit to fighting their terrible foes. No ECL, wonky class, race or feat decisions. Just a premium package to put the hurt on the enemies for once.

 

[Lazybones]

Man if only this band of adventurers had more members like Morgan. Theres a man fit to fighting their terrible foes. No ECL, wonky class, race or feat decisions. Just a premium package to put the hurt on the enemies for once.

Heh, I can't help it; when building characters, I get caught up in all the RP/plot possibilities, at the expense of butt-kickingness. I was the same way in PnP; I played in an all-monsters campaign where almost all races were allowed and ECL was only cursorily applied. While the others had bugbears, drow, lizardfolk, and other powergaming choices, my characters were a goblin rogue and a meglomaniac kobold necromancer. Though the goblin did have an ungodly hide/MS score.

Often, though, my storyhour characters eventually end up kicking butt despite starting with suboptimal builds. Although I think Dannel's a decent alternative AA build, and Arun, of course, is fairly good at laying on the smite, if we can only get him a decent weapon

* * * * *

Chapter 162

Zenna woke with a sense of clarity that was so stark, it was nearly painful. It was a sensation directed inward rather than outward; in fact she did not at first register the switch from subconscious to conscious perception, or that she was lying in her bedroll, looking up at the curving surface of the ancient pipe above her.

Excitement pulsed in her veins as awareness filled her. Yes, it’s so simple, she thought. The clear meaning of what Esbar Tolerathkas had tried to tell her had suddenly become fully evident to her... that the two powers she wielded, the arcane lyrics of magic contained in her spellbook, and the divine rituals she drew upon through her meditations... two sides of the same coin, anchored together in the oneness that was her being, her perception...

She finally looked to the side, saw Hodge keeping watch, a short distance away. That meant that there were at least a few hours of rest left, but despite the weariness of her physical body, her mental side was too flush with anticipation for sleep to reclaim her. Instead she lay there, running down corridors in her mind that had been shadowy, unknown before, but which now gleamed brightly with the shining light of revelation.

Finally, silently, she rose. Leaving her spellbook for now, she instead knelt and began her meditations. Her suspicions were confirmed as new avenues of power opened up before her.

Zenna had taken the first step down the path of the mystic theurge.

* * * * *

No hostile creatures emerged to threaten them during their rest in the dark fastness of the underground tunnel-pipe. Nonetheless, their rest was uneasy, due in no small part to the noise.

They had first detected the sound the previous day, on their second hour of trudging through the dark passage of the pipe. The pipe seemed to descend into the very depths of the earth, occasionally branching into side-corridors that they avoided, following the crude markings on the silver plate map. The sound was faint at first, a whistling through the corridors from very far away. It came and went with regularity, lasting a few minutes each time, and each time it grew just a bit louder, as they pressed on through the subterranean tunnels.

“Vaprak’s Voice, I’d presume,” Dannel had commented, upon one incidence of the sound.

“He doesn’t sound like he’s happy we’re visiting,” Mole had replied.

By the time they’d paused to set camp, the sound was a constant presence, loud enough to force them to raise their voices to speak when it came. They adapted to it, though, weariness giving them the ability to sleep through the disturbing phenomenon.

The next day they pressed onward, with Morgan’s sword drawn to give those without darkvision sufficient light to see by. The sound continued to grow louder as they progressed, until they could not speak at all during the minutes it filled the pipe with its echo. Finally, they saw a light up ahead, a pinprick in the distance that grew larger as they approached, until it was clear that they’d reached the end of the tunnel.

Just as they reached the opening, the loud wailing sound started up again, and for a full minute they huddled in the sides of the tunnel, barraged by the full force of Vaprak’s Voice. It was clear that the sound originated in the movement of winds through the pipes, and the large canyon that stretched out before them, but that did not reduce the supernatural horror inherent in the terrible cacophony. Mole, with her sensitive gnomish ears, was the worst affected, and she huddled against the side of the corridor for almost a minute after the sound faded, clutching her ears.

“Mole, maybe it would be best if you plugged up your ears with something,” Zenna suggested.

“No, it’s all right, I can handle it,” Mole replied. “I don’t want the first warning we have of bad guys creeping up on us to be a sword stuck through someone’s gut.”

She moved up to the lip of the pipe, joining Dannel and Morgan who were already scanning what lay ahead. The dwarves, who both seemed a bit more cautious of heights, remained a short distance back from the uneven edge.

The pipe opened at the edge of a long, broad canyon that stretched out ahead of them in wide terraces that generally rose up to a crest far in the distance. The terraces were like steps sized for titans, promising a difficult course if they were to progress in that direction. The pipe jutted from a cliff wall some forty feet above the canyon floor; a narrow, treacherous path led down along the cliff to their right. Almost directly belong them they could see a pool full of thick, bubbling liquid. Noxious fumes rose from the pool, making them light-headed even this far up.

“Ugh, for once I am not grateful for having the gnomish gift of good hearing and smelling,” Mole said, holding her nose.

“That path doesn’t look all too safe,” Dannel said. “We’d better get a rope, and take our time.”

“The paladin may be in dire danger,” Morgan reminded him. “We cannot afford excessive delay.”

“Well, if you slip and fall into the pool, you won’t be helping him much,” Dannel said plainly. The point was too sensible to argue, so the cleric subsided.

It took them nearly a half-hour to navigate the difficult path down to the canyon floor, but their caution was rewarded as several of them stumbled and would have taken the quick way down but for the guide rope that Dannel and Mole strung along the route, attaching it to sturdier boulders along the way. The Voice came and went again during their trip, but they simply waited it out, continuing once the winds had died down. There was a loud whistle from the pool below during their descent, but it was apparently another trick of sound, for nothing hostile emerged to trouble them.

With the noise, stench, and the need to focus on their descent, none of them noticed the small creature that crept out of the pool and flew up toward the western wall of the canyon opposite them.

Dannel reached the bottom of the steeply descending path first, and after securing the rope to a nearby pillar of rock, he slipped out into the canyon, scanning the area for any signs of danger.

“Ah,” he said to himself almost immediately, drawing back to await the others.

Once they had all gathered safely, and Mole had reclaimed her rope, the elf reported what he’d seen.

“It looks like our foes may be expecting guests after all,” he told them, directing their attention to the far side of the canyon. There was a breach in the cliff walls there, a crevice that ran several dozen yards into the rock beyond. There, at the point where the breach began to narrow, they could see a huge iron portcullis blocking a corridor that appeared to lead deeper into the mountain beyond. The massive construct stood nearly twenty feet tall and eight feet wide, and while it did not look to be of exceptional quality in its manufacture, its sheer bulk made it a considerable obstacle.

Warily, the companions crossed the canyon, staying close to the cliff walls when they could, until they had reached the entrance of the breach.

“No guards,” Hodge said, looking around as though he expected enemies to burst from the stones at any moment.

“None that we can see,” Morgan corrected him.

“Look,” Mole said, drawing their attention upward. “There’s a little hole up there.”

They saw that she was right; a small opening, maybe a pace across, was visible a short distance above the top of the portcullis.

“A spy-hole,” Dannel suggested, drawing back the arrow he held in his bow, as if testing the potential for a shot.

“Well, if there’s bad guys beyond there, they already know we’re here,” Mole said, with a slight undertone of excitement that Zenna immediately recognized as a sign that the gnome had a plan brewing. Her suspicion was confirmed a moment later as Mole went on, “I suppose there’s only one way for us to find out...”

The elf caught on quickly too; he’d been around Mole long enough to know her ways. Shaking his head slightly, he opened his pouch and pulled out the magical slippers he carried therein. Mole was already taking off her boots.

“Just a quick look,” Zenna cautioned sternly. “Don’t risk yourself; we won’t be able to help you if there’s trouble.”

Mole put on a long-suffering look and nodded. “Yes, Mother. Don’t worry, I’ll just take a look, maybe see if there’s a counterweight for the portcullis.” Her eyes brightened, as though something had just occurred to her. “You know, I’d probably have a much better chance, if I was invisible...”

Zenna had to work to conceal her grin as she focused her thoughts on the incantation needed to invoke the spell.

With the others waiting in at least slight cover amidst a pile of boulders near the canyon wall, the invisible rogue spider climbed her way up the rugged cliff face. The surface was uneven and dangerous with loose stones half-buried in the sheer ascent, but Mole was light and a veteran climber, and the magical slippers she’d borrowed from Dannel made the climb a matter of child’s play for her. Soon she’d reached the small opening, which on close examination looked a bit snug even for her. Luckily she was fairly good at getting through small spaces, so after making sure her gear was secured and out of the way she crawled through.

And looked up into the face of trouble.

Oh, dear, she thought.