Shackled City Epic: "Vengeance" (story concluded)

[Richard Rawen]

*twitch*

 

[Neverwinter Knight]

Bet he didn't see that coming!

Great stuff, Lazybones. Please keep it coming, it's all one big cliffhanger, now!

 

[HugeOgre]

Bet he didn't see that coming!

I know I didnt. In fact, Im not entirely sure whether big B got it in the face or the lycanthrope did. Maybe my reading was sloppy, but I thought it was the lycanthrope who got his head ripped off, and I was thinking HE was the imposter, but the way LB wrote it it sounds like Benzan just got lit up. Where oh where is Monday? Oh wait, that RAT BA#$@#%% is moving back to the other thread.

GRRRR

 

[Richard Rawen]

. . . Where oh where is Monday? Oh wait, that RAT BA#$@#%% is moving back to the other thread.

GRRRR

ya know that LB is a serious RB.
the thing is, I was really not all that interested in the Benzan/Dana romantic drama thingy. Don't get me wrong, I want to see it resolved, but the story arc with the Final Showdown with the Demon Prince and the whole future of whole group (minus Dana and Benzan) was mightily overshadowing the consistantly miserable Benzan.

Then you had to go and make it interesting... strike that, intriguing...

sheesh

 

[Elemental]

Oh, very nice.

 

[Lazybones]

Chapter 605

Within a storm of power, Graz’zt exalted.

Cal watched in horror as the expanding radiance engulfed each of his friends, paralyzing them, drawing their life energy along the insubstantial but very real links that connected them to the demon prince.

He had a dispel left, but he recognized the magic being wrought as an epic spell, and knew that his own paltry powers would have no chance against it. If only his patron had seen fit to include a disjunction in the blue book, then he might had a tiny fraction of probability…

Unless…

There had been one more spell in that book, an incantation of the highest valence, the summit of magical power that few mortal mages ever met. That spell now burned in his memory, taken in anticipation of this confrontation. But while he could possibly save one of his companions with it, what would that gain? There was nowhere left for them to escape to, no place they could run to hide from the dark lord of Occipitus.

But then, he looked deeper.

Callendes, lying on the ground, his ruined wing hanging over him in a bloody mess, stiffened and screamed as the wash of the epic spell caught him. Cal was now the last, and the gray radiance continued to expand, a last tendril of energy already creeping outward to engulf him as well. That sphere filled his vision, with the Prince just a dark blotch deep within.

There was no time left.

Cal cast the spell.

The spell vanished into the maelstrom. It was drawn to the Heart of Axion, the currents of magical power vanishing into the tiny gray orb, which flickered with the life of a miniature sun trapped within.

Cal sagged as the strain of the casting left him drained, and he stumbled back, falling upon his backside. He could only look at the light that expanded over him, promising oblivion.

But then, the power of the Heart flickered.

For Cal had cast his spell not at Graz’zt, but at the Heart itself. A spell that was the culmination of all of his years of study and craft, a spell of the highest arcane valence.

Freedom.

The epic surges around Graz’zt exploded outward in a new violence, but now they were wild, uncontrolled. The Prince screamed as several of the gray tendrils pierced his body, cutting swathes through the very core of his being. A gray fire surged from the Heart, which blazed now with an unrestricted fury and intensity, like a smoldering fire that had suddenly found a cache of fresh fuel.

The surviving companions were hurled back as the connection between them and the demon was suddenly and traumatically sundered. They rolled to a stop in an expansive ring around the Prince, whose screams grew as he clawed at the raging inferno burning within his eye socket. The skin around that opening began to melt and run, the ruined flesh abused once more by the intensity of a greater power. Graz’zt began to rise, drawn up by the flows of power, which grew more insistent and substantial as the entity within the Heart escaped the bonds that had held it captive.

And then, all at once, the glow, the surrounding power surge, it all just abruptly vanished. Graz’zt fell back, and something fell from a bloody claw, plummeting toward the ground.

The Heart of Axion struck the iron floor, and shattered.

Arun was the first to stand. Reaching down, he picked up his hammer, the heavy head sliding on the floor as he slowly started toward the crippled demon.

But before he could reach Graz’zt, the Prince stumbled back, falling into the embrace of his throne. The demon drew aside the iron seat, and manipulated something in the hollow space beneath.

Arun brought up his hammer, and charged.

Graz’zt turned, and hissed something, a sound that bubbled between the ruined hole that had been his mouth. The flesh covering the right side of his face had melted, dripping in long trailing bulbs that occasionally parted to reveal the white skull beneath. There was no way he could have still lived, had he been a mortal creature. His other eye was thick with a milky film, but somehow he still sensed the approach of danger. A dark opening appeared in the air beside the throne, which the demon hurled himself through, vanishing from view. Arun rushed forward, apparently intent on pursuit regardless of where their foe fled, but just before he reached it, the portal slid shut and dissolved.

Graz’zt was gone.

 

[Lazybones]

Regarding Graz’zt: I used the version in the Book of Vile Darkness as a starting point, with some modifications. I gave him the same DR as Adimarchus; i.e. 15/good and cold iron. Beorna and Arun could do full damage when they hit, but everyone else almost needed a crit to do anything more than token damage. He was weakened somewhat from epic casting and his fracas with Athux; draining Malad’s life force brought him almost back to full strength, but he still had 5 negative levels when this encounter took place. He did not have his magical shield; this was lost in the destruction of Zelatar, and I bumped his natural AC bonus down a few points. This was more than compensated for by the addition of Synesyx, which in addition to its intelligence is a suit of +5 morphic light fortification scale mail.

Finally, the Heart of Axion was obviously a major artifact in its own right. In addition to possessing the power of a rod of absorption and a gem of seeing, it provided a constant mind blank effect and could fuel the casting of epic spells, as we saw in the story.

So Graz’zt ended up being a pretty tough hombre in the end, even diminished as he was. As he appeared here, I would have put him around CR 25. His AC was in the low 40s even without his unholy aura, and even with the negative levels factored in he could still muster 4 attacks per round that were almost guaranteed at least 3 hits against any of the companions. Basically, anything that faced a full attack from him was in serious trouble.

 

[Neverwinter Knight]

Wow, Lazybones, wow. Freedom - this time it's us that didn't see it coming. Once again your plot twists leave us in awe !!!

But that guy still sort of lives, so it's not over, yet. Really looking forward to your next updates!

 

[Lazybones]

Thanks, NWK!

* * * * *

Chapter 606

Benzan tried to pull away, to dodge, to evade, but with the werelion holding him fast, the creature’s own strength far outweighing his own, there was nothing he could do.

The white fire did not burn, but it pierced him with a chill that plunged down to the core of his bones. He would have fallen, had not the lyncanthrope continued to hold him firmly.

And then it was gone, although it took a few more seconds for him to be able to see clearly through the brilliant afterimage of light that blazed across his vision. The werelion released him, and as he did Benzan could see that a soft white glow lingered around him, replacing the ugly green nimbus of the dimensional anchor.

Dana was there, the aftereffects of the spell on his vision giving her a white halo as well. Or was she glowing too? He could not be certain, but he thought he saw relief in her eyes, shrouded within a hard exterior that she kept carefully neutral.

“Why?” Benzan asked.

“I’m sorry. We… I... had to be sure. The moonfire reveals all falsehoods; I’m sure I don’t have to explain further, given our foe.”

Benzan nodded, but a lingering twinge of disquiet lingered. Clearly he hadn’t been the only one changed during his captivity; Dana was like a dagger, its hard steel edge barely constrained in its sheath. He wondered what had happened to her, what had happened to all of his friends, in the time that had passed since he’d been taken. For that matter, how long had that been? His own mental processes had become a jumble, and he knew enough to understand that the process of being tortured had likely stolen a good part of his reason, his sanity. At times, it felt as though it had been mere days that he’d been in Graz’zt’s fortress, but seconds later, it seemed like it had been his entire life, with the memories of what had come before just vague outlines.

“Come on, let’s get back to Corumbos,” she said, leading them back toward the clearing, the werelion at her side. Benzan followed.

The clearing was still shrouded in haze, lingering wisps of smoke from the fire storms clinging to the ground. Globs of melted iron that had been part of the foliage of the cube formed a rough hemicircle around the blasted interior, where the bodies of demons lay splayed in scorched and bloody poses.

The titan was there, waiting for them. Corumbos had returned to a smaller form, only slightly taller than Benzan, a perfect human ideal with features chiseled and defined. His half-plate was gone, replaced with a flowing white tunic, and despite having been in a violent clash just a few moments ago, there was not a spot of blood or gore upon him. He still bore his hammer, though, the oversized weapon at rest in his right hand.

“Is it done?” he asked, his voice melodious.

“It is done,” Dana said. “Open the gate to the Prime as I specified, and then our compact is concluded.”

The titan nodded and gestured, summoning a swirl of magic that even Benzan, with his limited magical abilities, could see like a beacon. Corumbos directed that magic into a tight wedge that sundered the barrier that separated worlds, opening another gate.

Without further comment, Dana took his hand and led him through, followed by the werelion. Benzan glanced back to see the titan already casting again, and then the gate closed, revealing a blank wall behind it.

He turned around and stared in amazement. They were in a vast, open chamber, beneath an ivory dome that reached its apex nearly eighty feet above them. Huge pillars of white marble rose up to support the dome, the space between them filled with huge open windows that let in soft natural moonlight, or arched corridors that led to additional wings of the building.

The place looked somehow familiar to him, but he could not identify what it was.

His attention was distracted as he saw that the great chamber was occupied. A dozen figures, men and women of several races, clad in silver robes, looked startled to see them—understandable, Benzan thought. A few cast spells, surrounding themselves with pale auras or summoning globes of glowing white light around the intruders. As Dana threw back her cowl and stepped forward, Benzan could see that her appearance had an equally dramatic effect upon them.

“Dana Ilgarten!” an elven man exclaimed. “What are you… I mean, why are…”

“Benefis, rouse the High Priest at once, and have him gather the Court of Stars in this chamber. I want a dimensional lock on the temple sanctuary, and magical shielding on each of us.” Almost as an aside to herself, looking at the shafts of pale moonlight that shone through the high windows, she added, “Highmoon would be better, but I guess we’ll take what we can get of the Lady’s blessing.”

The elf was just standing there, his mouth drooping open. “Well, did you hear me?” Dana exclaimed. “At once!”

The elf turned and ran, followed by the other acolytes. Benzan had finally realized where they were, as his eyes drifted up to see the sigil etched into the dome above, a glowing design in silver that shone brightly in the reflected moonlight.

They were in the Moontemple, in Iriaebor, Dana’s city of origin. In the Western Heartlands, in Faerûn, on the world Abeir-Toril.

Home. Just the thought of it almost overwhelmed him.

Dana did not turn back to him. The werelion walked a short distance away.

Benzan did not know what to do. The woman standing before him was like another person, one he had never met. She lacked the soft warmth he remembered of his wife, replaced by an iron shell of cold, emotionless purpose. He remembered how hard she had taken the loss of Delem, and the thought that he might have been the reason for that change broke something deep inside him.

“I had to do it,” she said, as if responding to his thoughts. “I had to focus on one goal, one thing alone, and drive out all else. I would have gone insane, otherwise.”

“Dana…”

“All that matters is that I got you out,” she said. “You’re safe, and…” She trailed off, and Benzan could see that her body was shaking.

Suddenly, none of it mattered. None of the torments, the anguish, the wall that had been driven between them by that terrible tragedy. He took her into his arms, just holding her.

“It’ll be all right,” he said, and for the first time in a long time, it felt true.

“Oh, Benzan!” she cried, the tears bursting out of her, as the shields and defenses she’d painstaking built around her loss and grief came crashing down. Benzan found himself crying too, and with each tear it felt as though a part of the stain clouding his soul was washed away.

She turned into his embrace, and held him there in the soft moonlight, under the silver dome.

 

[Sollir Furryfoot]

Yay!