Shackled City Epic: "Vengeance" (story concluded)

[Lazybones]

Chapter 250

“We’re friends, don’t attack,” Zenna said, turning to see who had threatened them.

It was a dwarf, a powerfully built woman clad in a simple robe of soft homespun. The plain garment was that of a religious petitioner, an appearance reinforced by the symbol of Helm stitched in black threads across the chest, but no one would have mistaken this figure for a humble pilgrim. Her arms were corded with muscle, and she held a bastard sword one-handed with the point toward them, and the blade did not quiver in the slightest.

Arun did not flinch at the sword whose point was held a mere two hands from his face. “Adamantine, impressive,” he said, eying the long shaft.

“This ain’t a smithy, and these ain’t working hours,” she said. “What is your business here?”

“We’re here to see Jenya,” Dannel said.

“High Priestess didn’t say anything about no visitors.”

“Look, lady,” Hodge said, sidling forward toward her, until the blade shifted expertly, its point about an inch shy of plunging into his beard. “Um... that is...” His hand tightened around the haft of his axe, and flickers of flame began to appear around its head.

“Hodge!” Dannel said. “We mean no disrespect, madam,” the elf said. “I can assure you, we are long-standing friends of the High Priestess. I can only assume that you are a recent arrival, or you would know who we are.”

“Oh, I know who you are,” the dwarf said, with a wry grin. The sword came up with a snap to lay against her broad shoulder. “Come on then, into the church with you, enough of this damned sneaking around. I’ll go see if the High Priestess is still awake, but if she’d not, damned if you’re not coming back in the morning, no matter how urgent your business is.”

They followed her instructions, even Mole caught short of a snappy comeback by the abrupt nature of the dwarven woman.

* * * * * *

“And so we came here,” Dannel concluded, his voice echoing slightly off of the cavernous interior of the temple.

“The woman escaped,” Mole said.

Jenya Urikas paced across the floor in front of the great altar of Helm, her slippers padding silently on the huge blocks of white marble. She wore a troubled expression, and looked tired.

“And the woman was a cleric, you said?”

Zenna nodded. “She wore a skull icon, although I could not see more details.”

Jenya nodded. “Probably Cyric or Vesharoon. Either one introduces a new level of trouble for us, I fear.”

“I think that they were just hired assassins,” Dannel said. “And at least two of them won’t be giving us any more trouble, at least.”

“And the guard took away the bodies?”

“Yes. Though they weren’t much help, otherwise.”

“Stupid,” the dwarven woman—Beorna, she’d been introduced as—spat. She stood behind the High Priestess almost protectively, her arms folded in front of her chest. “If we still had access to them, we might have been able to figure out who sent them. Given how this town’s run, I’d not be surprised if they haven’t already been fed to that damned Watch of theirs.”

“Well, given that we’d just fought a major battle, we figured that picking a fight with the city authorities might be a bit much,” the elf replied dryly.

“And we might have an idea of who sent them,” Zenna said. She quickly summarized what they’d learned from Annah Taskerhill.

“The church of Kelemvor?” Jenya said, ceasing her pacing and sitting down on one of the pews in the front of the church.

“You don’t seem surprised at the suggestion,” Arun said.

“Over the last year, we’ve had... difficulties... with the clergy of the Lord of the Dead.”

“Difficulties?” Dannel asked.

“Embril Aloustinai—the leader of Kelemvor’s church here in Cauldron—“

“I’ve heard of her,” Zenna interrupted. By all reports, she was a mystic theurge like Zenna, one of the rare spellcasters who combined the arcane and divine paths.

Jenya nodded, not disturbed at the interruption, although Beorna frowned. “She’s always been an elusive figure,” the high priestess went on. “But in the last year, the higher ranks of the church have gotten more secretive, while at the same time gaining a larger share of influence over the city government. My sources suggest that Aloustinai is a key figure in the higher circles of power in Cauldron, and that she has the ear of the Lord Mayor.”

“During the crisis last year, with Sarcem’s murder and the theft of the wands of control water, Aloustinai offered nothing in the way of aid, despite the fact that she was then one of the only clerics in the town capable of creating the devices. And since then there’s been a clash between her order and Kristof Jurgenson, prior of the small church of Lathander located near the Hall of the Dead. The Kelemvorites have been constructing a great new spire atop their already-considerable cathedral, and Kristof charged that Aloustinai had deliberately designed her spire to block the rays of the morning sun from the House of the Morninglord.”

Beorna’s scowl deepened. “Sounds pretty petty, if you ask me,” she snorted.

“So what happened?” Mole asked.

“Nothing; Kristof’s tiny congregation lacks both wealth and power, and Aloustinai runs in the noble circles with the powerful. But the whole affair helped confirm the impression of arrogance and heedlessness of the leadership of the church of Kelemvor.”

“Although perhaps,” Dannel said softly, “some are dissatisfied at the increase of their position, as their own power and prestige has suffered... some setbacks recently.”

As his words provoked a momentary silence, Beorna stepped forward with a menacing look. “I don’t think I favor your implication, elf,” she began, her arms coming down to her sides, her hands tightening into fists.

Jenya forstalled her with a firm sweep of her hand. “No, he has the right to speak his mind,” she said. Turning to Dannel, she said, “It is true that there is some history here, and it may be clouding my judgment. But given what you’ve told me, it would be reasonable to seek out more information, and find your own answers.”

“We’d hoped you could assist us in that effort,” Zenna said. “Perhaps a commune...”

Jenya nodded, although it seemed that the gesture was accompanied with some reluctance. “I attempted such a communion with Helm shortly after I rose to this position, and had granted the power needed for such an act. I received little in the way of helpful information...”

“Maybe you did not know the proper questions to ask,” Zenna suggested.

“I will seek again, but I will need time to prepare for the ritual, at least a full day. In the meantime, you should stay here, under the protection of the church. I will have quarters prepared in the acolytes’ quarters in the rectory; goodness knows we’ve not been able to gain new recruits in recent months. ”

“And tomorrow, we’ll go pay a visit to the Temple of Kelemvor,” Arun said.

“From what I hear, Aloustinai has been away from Cauldron for the last tenday,” Jenya said. “But Ike Iverson, her second, should be there. I will send Beorna with you, as my representative.”

The dwarven woman shifted. “High Priestess...”

“I know your concern,” Jenya said. “But I think that this errand may be consistent with your mandate.” The dwarf woman nodded.

“It’s settled, then,” Jenya went on. “Come, I will see to your quarters.”

But Arun forestalled her. “There’s one other matter I wanted to speak to you about, priestess.”

The others turned to face him. “Yes, Arun?” Jenya asked.

Arun turned to Mole, who nodded, withdrawing a long, slender object wrapped in soft cloth from her bag of holding. Arun took the weapon from the gnome and held it out before him. Jenya, curious, drew back the cloth to reveal a weathered hilt—the hilt of the holy bastard sword they’d found on the Plain of Cysts on Occipitus.

“Morgan used this blade,” Arun said, “But he urged us to bring it back with us... he believed that we would have greater need of it than he.”

Jenya took the blade, a bit awkwardly, for it was nearly as tall as she was, and heavy for a sword of its size. The sword slid easily from the fine leather scabbard they’d had made for it in Saradush, revealing a blade that blazed with a pure white radiance.

“It’s... beautiful,” Jenya said.

Arun cleared his throat. “It is a holy sword, priestess. We have the weapons we need, and you have given much to defend this town from shadow... I grant it to you, to use as you see fit.”

Jenya looked surprised, and even Beorna was taken aback, although her eyes remained fixed on the impressive sword. But the dwarf woman finally realized that Jenya had turned to face her, and she lowered her head in deference.

“Templar... I bestow this gift upon you, then, that you might wield it in the service of your mandate.”

Beorna’s head came up. “I accept, and swear to wield this blade with honor in the service of the Vigilant One.”

 

[SolidSnake]

And so the plot thickens...BUMP!

 

[Lazybones]

Chapter 251

The morning was bright and crisp, with the morning sun already a blazing white ball in a sky of cloudless blue. It looked to be a glorious late summer day, although the occasional breeze coming down off the mountains hinted at the approach of autumn.

The companions, accompanied by Beorna, walked down Obsidian Way around the broad outermost curve of the bowl of the town. Below them to their right the city sloped down in concentric rings to the still waters of the central lake. The lake was visible occasionally in the breaks in the rows of buildings made by the steep alleys that led down to the lower avenues that ran in tighter circles around the interior of the caldera. Ahead their destination was clearly visible beyond similar breaks in the line of buildings. The tall spire of the Temple of Kelemvor was a landmark visible from most sites throughout the town.

Zenna absently adjusted her new bracers, thin silver guards more ornamental than defensive. She hadn’t gotten quite used to them, and they chafed where her wrists met her hands. Still, given the power they possessed, she would learn to adjust.

Last night, after Jenya had shown them to the room that they would share, Mole had opened her bag of holding to reveal a surprising collection of magical goodies that she’d pilfered from the bodies of the two slain assassins. Zenna didn’t know how she’d managed such a thorough looting in the handful of moments between the battle’s end and the arrival of the Watch, who’d taken the bodies of the villains into custody pending their investigation. Her mouth tightened. No doubt that “investigation” would end up in a dusty file folder somewhere, while some politically connected guard officer would be wearing the half-orc assassin’s armor and carrying around his magical sword before too long. She wouldn’t have been surprised if they even cleaned the bloodstains out of the sorcerer’s robe and sold it...

But in the meantime, she and Mole had examined their prizes. They hadn’t found anything revealing clues about the assassins’ identities or their employers—not that Zenna had expected to find such—but they had been exceptionally well equipped. In addition to a few healing potions, they found matching pairs of rings and amulets with minor protective properties; a pair of gauntlets that enhanced one’s strength; the bracers she now wore, which surrounded their wearer with a defensive aura; and finally a cloak that seemed to reinforce the physical presence, the charisma, of its wearer. That morning over breakfast they’d apportioned out the new items among the group. The dwarf templar had been absent from that gathering, although Jenya had stepped in briefly to greet them. They met Beorna again at the main gate, looking impatient to be about their business.

Beorna had changed since their last meeting, clad now in a suit of adamantine full plate fitted to her like a second skin, the symbol of her god featured prominently upon her breastplate. Her new sword was slung across her back, twin to the adamantine blade she’d already carried. Zenna wondered at this woman. She seemed to radiate a devotion to her chosen faith that the tiefling had seen in many of the servants of the Vigilant One she’d known. At the same time, however, there was a sort of somber depth to her, deeper currents that Zenna could not read. As a woman who herself had long kept shields up around her private emotions, Zenna was quick to recognize the same in others.

Beorna walked in the company of the two dwarves, not quite ignoring the others, but not attracting idle conversation from them, either.

“So, axeman,” she said to Hodge, as they made their way down the avenue. “Last night... would you truly have lifted that weapon of yours against me?”

Hodge shot her a hard look under shaggy brows; clearly the vulgar miner was taken a bit aback by the woman, and hadn’t quite figured out how to deal with her. “I nae be wantin’ to kill a woman dwarf...”

Beorna snorted. “Well then, you really are as dumb as you look. A woman’ll slide steel into your intestines as fast as any man, faster if you’re too mooney-eyed to notice she’s carrying a blade.”

“I don’ raise me axe unless I be meanin’ to use it,” Hodge said, trying to recoup something from the exchange. “An’ you or anyone else give me reason, then they get a taste o’ the blade.” He lifted the heavy axe, and its head burst into flame.

“Strong words,” she said. “A potent weapon, to make one wonder at the steel of the man who bears it.” She gave him an appraising look that caused him to flush at her scrutiny. “Tis a pity that you have not mastered the art of bathing. As for the rest, we shall see.”

She turned her gaze toward Arun, who’d feigned disinterest in the conversation. “And what of Golden Boy?” she asked, speaking to Hodge, although her voice had been pitched to carry clearly. “I was not aware that they were now accepting beardless youths into the Order of the Hammer.” Though her words were biting, her tone was light, and she’d looked at Arun differently since the exchange with the holy sword the previous night.

Arun’s look was hard, but he did not reply.

“Cat got your tongue, boy?” she said, with a broad grin that seemed slightly salacious.

“Arun’s slain giants, demons, and even a few dragons,” Mole said, piping into the conversation.

“Oh?” Beorna responded, with a raised eyebrow. “An impressive list.” Chuckling as if remembering some private joke, she turned her attention back ahead to the road.

“And what of yourself, Templar?” Zenna asked. “What great deeds should we know of from your résumé, if we are to accept you into our company?”

Beorna did not turn nor shift her stride, and for a moment Zenna thought she was ignoring her. But then the dwarven woman said, “I walk the path of Justice,” she said. “That is all you need know of me.”

Dannel glanced over at her and shrugged, as if to say, Not so different from all the other Helmites we’ve known, is she?

A commotion in the crowd drew her attention to the left side of the street. They were nearing one of the massive gates in the city wall, one of four that each gave onto a narrow road that wound its way down the side of the volcano, each heading in a different direction into the surrounding lands.

There was a definite motion in the group of people moving along the street, away from the direction of the gates. And a moment later, she realized why.

There was a massive creature standing there, coming forward toward them. He—assuming it was a he—stood easily nine feet tall, with muscles corded like tree trunks. He was humanoid in form, but his face was unlike anything that could even be remotely called human; the shape of his features were clearly draconic, and a pair of massive horns with a slight curve jutted from the sides of his head. Instead of scales, black fur covered his exposed skin, creating an odd juxtaposition that hinted at a mixed racial ancestry. He was clad in a shirt of chain links pulled tight over the vast spread of his chest, and he carried a length of chain that trailed a huge, spiked ball that scratched noisily on the cobbles in his wake.

Zenna’s first thought was to wonder how this... thing had gotten through the gates of the town unhindered by the guards.

Her second thought was that it was coming straight toward them.

There was a slight stir of activity as the companions readied themselves for a confrontation. The monstrous stranger came forward until he stood before them, dominating the street about twenty paces distant.

“Of course, the one time we need the Watch around, they’re nowhere to be found,” Dannel said dryly.

“This smacks of a set-up,” Zenna returned quietly, and the elf nodded.

Mole, never one to pass up the opportunity to look trouble in the eye—although she barely came up to its knee in this case—stepped forward, but before she could utter a no-doubt creative and provocative greeting, Beorna had eclipsed her.

“Ho now, what’s this?” the dwarf said. “I don’t know who or what you are, ugly, but you’d best be moving along.” She rapped the shoulder plate of her armor with the blade of her sword, and then gestured with it down the street.

The giant beast peered at them intently. When it spoke, its voice was a bellow that rebounded off the fronts of the buildings that faced the street.

“Did you kill the dragon-father?”

Hodge’s face was limned in the red glow of the flames that engulfed the head of his axe. “Well now, that’s a tough one... we’ve killed a fair num’er o’ drakes, it true... could yer be a bit more specific, now?”

Zenna bit back a curse. She glanced at Beorna, but the dwarven priestess wasn’t even bothering to hide her mirth at Hodge’s comment. Dwarves! She stepped forward quickly, lamenting the lack of anyone in her group who possessed any skill at diplomacy whatsoever.

“Careful, Zenna!” Dannel whispered, but he didn’t otherwise act to hinder her. Well, that was something at least, but as she looked up at the giant hulk looming over them, a part of her wished that he’d made an effort to stop her.

“We seek no trouble with you, mighty one,” she said, raising her hands to show that they were empty, drawing the monstrous warrior’s attention to her. As she did, she twisted her hands subtly in the gestures that triggered one of her spells. “We respect your power,” she went on, bowing her head, her cowl concealing her face momentarily as she quietly uttered the arcane incantation that summoned the magic. “What is your name, great warrior?”

The dragon-kin looked at her with suspicion, the links of his huge spiked chain rattling slightly with the movements of his fists. “I am Zarik Dhor,” he said, his chest swelling with pride. “Dhorlot the Black was my father.”

Currents of power flowed out from her into him, carrying a powerful enchantment designed to snare his mind and bind him to her. But as the spell took hold, it slid from a will that to Zenna felt like a solid wall, fashioned of granite blocks. She drove at the wall, abandoning subtlety, but each mental thrust simply glided from the considerable discipline of his mind.

But she got a reaction. The dragon-man’s eyes widened as he realized that he was under attack, and with a mighty roar he leapt forward with surprising quickness, the chain snapping forward with blinding speed. There was no time for Zenna to duck or dodge, and the heavy iron sphere at the end of the chain slammed into her with colossal force, knocking her roughly backward to land hard on the smooth stone cobbles of the street.

 

[Mimic]

Nice work... hope those new magical bracers do their job...

 

[Lazybones]

Chapter 252

True to form, the companions found themselves confronted with another dire foe out for their blood.

But this time, the setting was a very public one, smack dab in the middle of one of Cauldron’s busier streets. Nearby townsfolk screamed and scattered, leaving the six adventurers to face the rage of the half-dragon, half-minotaur warrior named Zarik Dhor alone.

The huge warrior was an imposing adversary, but the companions had faced down tougher foes, and been thrust into deadlier confrontations and survived. Even as Zenna went down, and Dhor whipped his lethal chain up around his head in a rushing arc, the dwarves rushed to attack. Beorna lifted her sword and called upon the power of Helm, invoking her patron’s divine favor to guide her strokes in the melee. Arun and Hodge didn’t bother with such niceties, leaping forward to directly assail the huge monster. The chain, however, gave it an incredible reach, and before they could close to striking range it swept the weapon down into both of them. Hodge grunted and staggered as the heavy ball clipped his shoulder, and Arun took an equally devastating hit a few seconds later as it clanged into his shield with enough force to dent the magically reinforced steel.

But the dwarves were made of stern stuff, and they pressed their attack. Hodge thrust his spear at Dhor’s chest, but underneath the chain links of his armor the draconic minotaur was possessed of an incredibly thick hide, combining the gifts of both sides of his ancestry. The thrust had no apparent effect.

Arun darted in and slashed with his holy blade at one of Dhor’s muscular thighs. His chain armor did not reach so low, but even so the paladin’s powerful stroke only barely injured the giant warrior, drawing a shallow gash across the limb. Dhor held his ground, altering the swirling circle forged by his spiked chain to bring the heavy head to bear at the enemy at his feet.

Mole darted in to Zenna’s side. “Are you all right?” she asked, as the tiefling slowly pulled herself up, clutching at her wounded chest.

“I will be,” she said, forcing the words out through clenched teeth. “Go, help them!” she urged her friend, staggering back out of the range of the melee and the long reach of that spiked chain. Dannel watched her with concern, but thankfully he did not rush in to aid her; better by far that he continued doing what he was doing, in this case firing arrow after arrow in a rapid blur into the hulking form of Zarik Dhor. Zenna thought she heard the stirrings of a melody as she neared the elf, the twanging of his bowstring a musical sound followed by the siren song of each arrow as it sliced through the air toward its target.

Shaking her head to clear it of such fancies, she turned and summoned the words of one of her spells through the pain that still knifed insistently through her battered body. There would be time for healing later; right now they had to deal with the threat.

And Zarik Dhor seemed indefatigable, a deadly foe that continued to lay about him with powerful swings of his chain. Hodge rushed in with his axe raised to deliver a strong blow to the half-dragon’s side, but the heavy ball came crashing down, and the dwarf folded, struck with a critical hit that sent him to the ground. Seeing his friend struck down, Arun lunged with his sword, this time aiming for the thick mass of the huge warrior’s torso. But again Dhor demonstrated his blinding speed, and the chain came down in a deadly sequence of blows, the warrior snapping the chain in a vigorous action that sent the ball pounding down repeatedly into the paladin. The first blow came in low, tangling Arun’s legs in the chain and flinging him roughly onto his back. Then, before he could recover, Dhor snapped the spiked ball back down, slamming it into Arun’s body with incredible force. There seemed to be no way that even Arun could absorb such punishment, but still Dhor attacked again, twisting his wrists and whirling the chain around once more, driving the iron head down toward the paladin’s head.

Somehow, the battered dwarf found the breath and the energy to roll out of the way, and the chain slammed into the cobbles scant inches behind him, crushing several paving stones into rubble.

Beorna’s yell announced her arrival to the fray, the sunlight gleaming dully on the long length of her adamantine sword. But Dhor had still more surprises, and as she charged he swept out his chain in a wide arc that skittered across the cobblestones. The armored dwarf was unable to evade the chain as it snaked around her ankles, and as Dhor drew his weapon up with a rough jerk she joined Arun, falling facedown on the street.

Zenna focused her mind through the pain, and drew upon the energies of a spell. Her scorching ray extended in a twisting blast of fire that arced over the battlefield into the upper body of the draconic warrior. Tough as he was, he appeared to lack any particular resistance to fire. Zenna, lost in the depths of her concentration, drew deeper upon her reservoir of energy, and through the sheer force of her will maintained the spell, launching a second ray of flame into him. She’d never managed two blasts from the same spell before, and exulted in her power as the second ray of flame drew a black line across Dhor’s muscled body.

But even though she was out of the reach of the spiked chain, Dhor had another surprise in store. The half-dragon opened his great jaws wide, and as Zenna’s eyes widened in realization, he unleashed a great gout of acid that shot unerringly toward her.

 

[Lazybones]

Chapter 253

Zenna hurled herself aside, but even as she moved, her cloak billowing out behind her, she felt the first fat globules of acid impact her side, followed instantly by a burning sizzle of hot pain. The magic of her cloak had helped her avoid the full force of the blast, but that was of little consolation at the moment as Dhor’s acid tore mercilessly through the sleeve of her tunic and seared the white flesh beneath. Big yellow drops had landed on her side, each a white-hot point of fire as they wrought their deadly work. Her lungs were seared as she drew in the poisonous vapors from the acid, and mercifully the pain eased as she fell into unconsciousness.

Dannel was quick to rush to her aid, but at the moment the entire group appeared to be in quite dire straits. Hodge was out of the fight, and both Arun and Beorna were down, while the wounds that Dhor had suffered seemed puny, and appeared to have slowed the massive warrior little as he whirled the chain in a great circle above his head.

“All you die!” he roared, and it seemed that the very walls of the buildings on Obsidian Avenue shook with his pronouncement.

“Not so fast,” Beorna said, pulling herself up, her armor clanking slightly at her movements.

“Aaaarrrgh!” Dhor screamed, whipping his chain about his head once more, driving it to an almost insane velocity, before swinging it down at Beorna.

The dwarf woman made no move to avoid the blow. It slammed into her with colossal force, sounding a loud ringing noise as iron hit adamantine.

Beorna was unmoved.

“That the best you got, ugly?” she shouted, lifting her sword and running forward. To her right, Arun was getting back up as well; his movements drew Dhor’s attention and the chain swept around again, slamming into his body, driving him back down to his knees. The paladin had taken three solid hits now, and even with his incredible fortitude it was clear that he could not take another.

But he got up.

A nimble form tumbled into the deadly radius of the spiked chain, approaching Dhor from behind. Mole had circled around the melee, moving at the fast pace augmented by her boots, and now she somersaulted forward, coming up into a springing leap that carried her up onto Dhor’s back. Her rapier drove unerringly into her chosen spot, sinking in and out of the warrior’s torso so quickly that at first it looked as though she’d missed. By the way that the half-dragon reared up and roared in pain, however, it was quickly clear that she’d accomplished her objective.

Beorna laid into Dhor with a mighty two-handed stroke of her sword. The holy blade tore through mail links and leathery hide as though neither were there, savaging the organs beneath. Red blood and garish entrails showed through the three-foot gash in the giant warrior’s belly, and he staggered back, droplets of blood now flecking the space before his jaws as he drew in labored breaths.

But the half-dragon, driven on by his rage, did not go down. He lifted the spiked chain again, seeking to drive it into his foes without finesse, now, crushing them through brute strength.

An arrow slammed into his chest, followed within four heartbeats by another. Dannel having healed Zenna with his bardic powers, bringing her back to the edge of consciousness, had resumed his barrage.

Zarik Dhor began to feel the cold hand of death tighten around him. His wounds were dire, and he could feel the blood pumping out of his body through the red haze of his rage. He felt that he was already dead, only his hatred and passion for revenge keeping him standing now, and that was already bleeding out of him along with the substance of his life. But before he would go, he would take at least one of these enemies, the slayers of Dhorlot, with him.

Looking down, fighting to focus his eyes through the blood and the fog that had descended upon his vision, he searched for the one that had been described to him, the dwarven knight with the silvery armor and the sword of light.

He saw him just as the sword was thrust to the hilt into his body.

 

[Dungannon]

he searched for the one that had been described to him, the dwarven knight with the silvery armor and the sword of light.

Ooooh, now we gotta wonder who sent the brute.

 

[Lazybones]

Ooooh, now we gotta wonder who sent the brute.

Heh, it's not like there's a shortage of candidates, as Zenna and Mole noted in Chapter 249.

* * * * *

Chapter 254

Beorna looked down at the carcass of Zarik Dhor. Blood and grime slaked the dark surface of her mail, and sweat damped her thick hair down against her scalp. “Tis a shame,” she said. “He was a worthy adversary.”

“He damn blasted pounded us all into next week!” Hodge said, spitting loudly as Arun helped him up. “I kin stand,” he said, though his spittle left a red spot on the cobbles, and he seemed more than a bit unsteady as he bent to recover his axe. “Me head still feels like a bunch o’ gnomes are ‘avin’ a party in there,” he grumbled.

“I don’t think that this fellow’s appearance was a mere coincidence,” Dannel said.

“Well, he does look kinda like that black dragon we killed in Bhal-Hamatugn,” Mole said, looking up from where she was giving the corpse a good looting.

A number of people had reappeared on the street, and were casting cautious but curious looks at the slain warrior. Zenna looked down the street. “I think that a patrol of the Watch is coming,” she said.

“Convenient timing, as always,” Dannel said with disgust.

The patrol was led by a familiar face, a sergeant named Skylar Krewis who they’d helped escape a riot in front of the town hall a few months back. Surrounded with a motley band of hard-eyed mercenaries that in some cases seemed more orc than human, it was reassuring to see him at least nominally in charge.

“Why am I not surprised to see the lot of you in the middle of trouble again?” Krewis said, as he caught sight of them.

“If the lot of you were doing your jobs properly, this brute would’ve never gotten into the city,” Beorna said.

A few of the half-orcs muttered darkly, but the sergeant kept a grip on his temper. “Times are difficult for all of us, priestess,” he told her. Turning back to the others, he said, “Now, who would like to tell me what happened here?”

Dannel served as spokesman, delivering a summary of their encounter with Zarik Dhor. A few locals had appeared, corroborating his account for the most part. In the meantime the half-orcs gathered around the body, exchanging crass comments amongst themselves and generally ignoring the proceedings.

In the end there was no reason to hold them, so after sending a townsman to fetch a heavy cart to carry off the corpse, Krewis bid them go. “Be careful,” he told them. “Trouble seems to follow in your wake.”

“We’re getting used to it,” Arun replied. The companions moved off, Mole’s attention focused on her bag of holding, where she’d tucked her latest finds.

“He had a lot of money on him,” she reported once they’d moved off a short distance from the guards. “Gold coins, Calimshite mint, most still pretty shiny.”

“A payoff?” Arun asked.

“Perhaps,” Dannel replied. “It seems he had his own reasons for wanting us dead, but it does stretch the bounds of coincidence that he’d just appear like that.”

“But no one knew that we would be there this morning, except the priests at the temple,” Zenna noted.

“None of them would aid one such as that,” Beorna said.

“I’m not suggesting they did,” Zenna said. “But it’s clear that whoever our foes are, they have the ability to track our movements.”

“Well then, let’s be about our business,” Beorna replied. “We still have some answers to get from this Ike character.”

Zenna shook her head. “We’re too battered; Hodge and Arun are still seriously hurt, and you took a good pounding as well, priestess. We should withdraw, and restore our strength before pressing ahead with our mission.”

Beorna snorted. “Bah, that tussle was barely a warm-up.” She turned to the dwarves with a critical eye. “You boys can’t take much punishment, eh? Come on, Beorna’ll make it all better, and maybe we can actually get something done here, rather than waiting for the next bad guy to show up and try to kill the lot of you.”

“We can press on,” Arun said. “Only a fool would head into a dangerous situation injured, but we have healing magic of our own.”

“We just replenished our wands and stock of potions,” Zenna insisted. “We should not waste them needlessly.”

“Just stay back and let us dwarves handle any problems, seer,” Beorna said to her. “Clearly your approach to... ‘negotiation’ could use a bit of polish, eh?”

As opposed to rushing in and hacking everything to bits, and getting stomped in the process! Zenna thought, but she held her tongue. Instead she replied, “As you wish, then. I will do what I can, but do not complain if you find ourselves depleted in the next encounter.”

“Bah, those Kelemvites are no warriors,” Beorna said. “If they offer any trouble, we’ll be able to handle it.”

Those would be fateful words, as it turned out.

 

[wolff96]

Half-Dragon, Half-Minotaur Barbarian? Ouch. And either some fighter levels or rather high-level to have all those feats. I counted an Exotic Weapon Proficiency, Combat Reflexes, and possibly Improved Trip in there -- which would add Combat Expertise to the list as well.

That's a nasty foe.

-------------

Beorna, by the way, rocks. You can never go wrong with dwarves, apparently, LB. Great writing.

 

[Guillaume]

Beorna, by the way, rocks. You can never go wrong with dwarves, apparently, LB. Great writing.

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?

I love LB's story hour, I've been following it since the beggining. However, I tend to agree with Zenna, these guys need to learn to think things through. They've lost many a friends along the way. Many of them have flirted with death more than once. They should have learned to be careful by now. At the very least, they should learn to be careful soon. Their luck will run out at some point. It almost did with the assassins !