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Shackled City Epic: "Vengeance" (story concluded)
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<blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 1029317" data-attributes="member: 143"><p>Chapter 14</p><p></p><p>The first bolt glanced off of Arun’s shield, skittering off one of the pillars with a noisy clatter. A heartbeat later, a second sliced out of the shadows in the direction of the fountain, clipping Mole on the side of the neck as it shot past. Had the unseen crossbowman’s aim been a few inches to the left, the gnome would have been in serious trouble, but as it was the bolt merely grazed her. </p><p></p><p>Arun’s reaction was quick and decisive. Rumbling some dwarven warcry, the paladin of Moradin hurled himself forward into a full-out charge toward the fountain and the source of the missiles. Mole hefted her crossbow and took careful aim, firing into the shadow where the bolt that had come at her had originated. Her return shot vanished into the shadows, although it was uncertain at first if she’d hit anything. </p><p></p><p>“Come on,” she urged the others, drawing her shortsword and rushing after Arun. </p><p></p><p>Zenna took a step after her, but hesitated. Ruphos had taken up his holy symbol, holding it in one fist while clutching the lamp and mace awkwardly together in the other. His expression had shifted to that vacant look that it took on when he was communing with his patron, a look that Zenna understood, even though the source of her power was the Weave, rather than the might of some god. His lips moved, although Zenna could not make out the words that issued from his lips. </p><p></p><p>Whatever spell he cast, it only took a few seconds, and she could not immediately determine the result. She did, however, see the crossbow bolt than sank with a meaty thunk into the back of his thigh. Ruphos staggered forward with the impact, barely keeping his feet as he clutched at the protruding bolt. The lamp, however, fell from his grasp, smashing onto the floor with a crash that was immediately followed by a blaze of burning oil that spread outward into a fiery puddle on the stone floor of the chamber. </p><p></p><p>Zenna’s eyes widened in horror and she scanned the end of the chamber and the tunnel from which they’d come, and where the bolt had to have originated. She could see nothing but shadows, though, continuing to shift as the magical globes of light twisted and danced. </p><p></p><p>The cleric also turned, limping heavily as he drew back from the spreading pool of flaming oil. He looked confused, and wasn’t able to react in time to avoid a second bolt that streaked from the shadows to catch him hard high in the chest. His armor absorbed some of the impact, but the bolt still sank several inches into his shoulder, and he cried out as he fell to one knee, blood fanning out across his tabard from the wound. He wavered there, only barely remaining upright, a stricken look on his face. </p><p></p><p>Zenna was already moving, rushing to Ruphos’s side. Although she could still not see their attackers, she knew that the skulks would reload quickly enough. She grabbed the cleric roughly by the shoulder, and felt something tear inside her as Ruphos screamed again in pain as she pulled at him. </p><p></p><p>“We’ve got to get to cover!” she yelled back, all but dragging him to his feet. The two of them lurched over to the shelter of one of the nearby pillars. Ruphos sagged to the ground against the base of the pillar as she released him, his face pale and his breathing labored. She was dimly aware of the noises of battle on the far side of the room, where Mole and Arun had engaged the original group of ambushers. Her attention, however, was fixed on those behind, and on the wounded man clinging precariously to consciousness at her feet. As if to confirm the threat, a bolt suddenly glanced off of the pillar less than a foot from her face, ricocheting wildly off into the shadows. Suddenly she caught sight of movement, and the gleam of metal glinting in the flame of the <em>dancing lights</em>. A rapier, a first appearing disembodied like the magical glows, until her eyes adjusted and she could make out the color-shifting form of the skulk holding the weapon. A moment later she spotted a second, even as it lowered its empty crossbow and drew its own rapier. </p><p> </p><p>Apparently they’d seen her as well, as they charged straight for the pillar that sheltered her and Ruphos, separating to come at them from both sides at once. </p><p></p><p>Zenna ducked back behind the pillar, her heart pounding in her chest, knowing that they would be on her in a few seconds. She glanced down and saw the Ruphos had lost consciousness, a bright red stain continuing to spread across his jerkin from the wound in his shoulder. </p><p></p><p>Steeling herself, she took a deep breath, and started walking backwards. </p><p></p><p>She was about six feet away from the pillar when the skulks appeared, one from around each side of the granite shaft. At this range, she could see them clearly, even though the shifting light and continuously changing color of their skin combined to make it difficult. They glanced down at the fallen cleric, clearly no longer a threat, and then at her. She continued to retreat, moving at a deliberate pace, even though her instincts told her to run. </p><p></p><p>The skulks exchanged a glance and came for her, warily but with their intent clear. </p><p></p><p>She’d readied the spell, and the words came pouring from her lips, her hands weaving a pattern that echoed the complex matrix of the Weave that powered magic in the Realms. The skulks realized what she was doing and rushed at her, but before they could draw close enough to strike her <em>color spray</em> engulfed them. The blaze of light lasted only a heartbeat, but when the afterimage had faded, both skulks were lying on the ground, unconscious. </p><p></p><p>As Zenna reached for her dagger, she felt a surge of memory of another encounter on the road to Cauldron, a memory accompanied by a surge of revulsion. But there was no way around it; the spell only incapacitated a foe for a few seconds, and she had no illusions about what these skulks would do to her and her friends if they got a second chance. </p><p></p><p>A short time later she was crouching beside Ruphos. His breathing had grown weaker, but at least he still lived to draw breath. Gently she took his head and drew it back until his mouth opened, and then she upended the vial given to her by Jenya into the dying cleric. </p><p></p><p>There wasn’t much liquid in the vial, not enough to choke him, and almost as soon as it entered his body the healing power infused into the fluid began its work. Zenna gritted her teeth and yanked the bolt out of Ruphos’s shoulder, twisting it free of the torn links of chain of his armor shirt. Even as she drew it out, the wound closed, the flow of blood ceasing. She attended to the bolt in his leg in the same fashion, aiding the healing magic as it finished its work. </p><p></p><p>Ruphos opened his eyes. The healing potion had been potent; the man’s serious wounds had been fully cured. For a moment he just looked up at her, something flashing deep within those deep brown eyes as she stared at her. The scrutiny was enough to make Zenna suddenly blush, and she quickly drew back, rising into an awkward crouch. He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by another voice from behind the mage. </p><p></p><p>“Are you all right?”</p><p></p><p>Zenna and Ruphos turned to see Mole, a look of concern on her face. She looked unhurt, although the shortsword in her hand was slick with blood. She glanced down at the two dead skulks, regarding them with a matter-of-fact appraisal that seemed odd coming from a girl who would still be considered a teenager, by human standards. As Ruphos nodded, and got up, Mole gestured back toward the fountain. </p><p></p><p>“We got one, but the second fled into the tunnel. Arun chased after him, but we’d better help him! Hurry!”</p><p></p><p>She darted back toward the tunnel, the others close behind.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Lazybones, post: 1029317, member: 143"] Chapter 14 The first bolt glanced off of Arun’s shield, skittering off one of the pillars with a noisy clatter. A heartbeat later, a second sliced out of the shadows in the direction of the fountain, clipping Mole on the side of the neck as it shot past. Had the unseen crossbowman’s aim been a few inches to the left, the gnome would have been in serious trouble, but as it was the bolt merely grazed her. Arun’s reaction was quick and decisive. Rumbling some dwarven warcry, the paladin of Moradin hurled himself forward into a full-out charge toward the fountain and the source of the missiles. Mole hefted her crossbow and took careful aim, firing into the shadow where the bolt that had come at her had originated. Her return shot vanished into the shadows, although it was uncertain at first if she’d hit anything. “Come on,” she urged the others, drawing her shortsword and rushing after Arun. Zenna took a step after her, but hesitated. Ruphos had taken up his holy symbol, holding it in one fist while clutching the lamp and mace awkwardly together in the other. His expression had shifted to that vacant look that it took on when he was communing with his patron, a look that Zenna understood, even though the source of her power was the Weave, rather than the might of some god. His lips moved, although Zenna could not make out the words that issued from his lips. Whatever spell he cast, it only took a few seconds, and she could not immediately determine the result. She did, however, see the crossbow bolt than sank with a meaty thunk into the back of his thigh. Ruphos staggered forward with the impact, barely keeping his feet as he clutched at the protruding bolt. The lamp, however, fell from his grasp, smashing onto the floor with a crash that was immediately followed by a blaze of burning oil that spread outward into a fiery puddle on the stone floor of the chamber. Zenna’s eyes widened in horror and she scanned the end of the chamber and the tunnel from which they’d come, and where the bolt had to have originated. She could see nothing but shadows, though, continuing to shift as the magical globes of light twisted and danced. The cleric also turned, limping heavily as he drew back from the spreading pool of flaming oil. He looked confused, and wasn’t able to react in time to avoid a second bolt that streaked from the shadows to catch him hard high in the chest. His armor absorbed some of the impact, but the bolt still sank several inches into his shoulder, and he cried out as he fell to one knee, blood fanning out across his tabard from the wound. He wavered there, only barely remaining upright, a stricken look on his face. Zenna was already moving, rushing to Ruphos’s side. Although she could still not see their attackers, she knew that the skulks would reload quickly enough. She grabbed the cleric roughly by the shoulder, and felt something tear inside her as Ruphos screamed again in pain as she pulled at him. “We’ve got to get to cover!” she yelled back, all but dragging him to his feet. The two of them lurched over to the shelter of one of the nearby pillars. Ruphos sagged to the ground against the base of the pillar as she released him, his face pale and his breathing labored. She was dimly aware of the noises of battle on the far side of the room, where Mole and Arun had engaged the original group of ambushers. Her attention, however, was fixed on those behind, and on the wounded man clinging precariously to consciousness at her feet. As if to confirm the threat, a bolt suddenly glanced off of the pillar less than a foot from her face, ricocheting wildly off into the shadows. Suddenly she caught sight of movement, and the gleam of metal glinting in the flame of the [I]dancing lights[/I]. A rapier, a first appearing disembodied like the magical glows, until her eyes adjusted and she could make out the color-shifting form of the skulk holding the weapon. A moment later she spotted a second, even as it lowered its empty crossbow and drew its own rapier. Apparently they’d seen her as well, as they charged straight for the pillar that sheltered her and Ruphos, separating to come at them from both sides at once. Zenna ducked back behind the pillar, her heart pounding in her chest, knowing that they would be on her in a few seconds. She glanced down and saw the Ruphos had lost consciousness, a bright red stain continuing to spread across his jerkin from the wound in his shoulder. Steeling herself, she took a deep breath, and started walking backwards. She was about six feet away from the pillar when the skulks appeared, one from around each side of the granite shaft. At this range, she could see them clearly, even though the shifting light and continuously changing color of their skin combined to make it difficult. They glanced down at the fallen cleric, clearly no longer a threat, and then at her. She continued to retreat, moving at a deliberate pace, even though her instincts told her to run. The skulks exchanged a glance and came for her, warily but with their intent clear. She’d readied the spell, and the words came pouring from her lips, her hands weaving a pattern that echoed the complex matrix of the Weave that powered magic in the Realms. The skulks realized what she was doing and rushed at her, but before they could draw close enough to strike her [I]color spray[/I] engulfed them. The blaze of light lasted only a heartbeat, but when the afterimage had faded, both skulks were lying on the ground, unconscious. As Zenna reached for her dagger, she felt a surge of memory of another encounter on the road to Cauldron, a memory accompanied by a surge of revulsion. But there was no way around it; the spell only incapacitated a foe for a few seconds, and she had no illusions about what these skulks would do to her and her friends if they got a second chance. A short time later she was crouching beside Ruphos. His breathing had grown weaker, but at least he still lived to draw breath. Gently she took his head and drew it back until his mouth opened, and then she upended the vial given to her by Jenya into the dying cleric. There wasn’t much liquid in the vial, not enough to choke him, and almost as soon as it entered his body the healing power infused into the fluid began its work. Zenna gritted her teeth and yanked the bolt out of Ruphos’s shoulder, twisting it free of the torn links of chain of his armor shirt. Even as she drew it out, the wound closed, the flow of blood ceasing. She attended to the bolt in his leg in the same fashion, aiding the healing magic as it finished its work. Ruphos opened his eyes. The healing potion had been potent; the man’s serious wounds had been fully cured. For a moment he just looked up at her, something flashing deep within those deep brown eyes as she stared at her. The scrutiny was enough to make Zenna suddenly blush, and she quickly drew back, rising into an awkward crouch. He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by another voice from behind the mage. “Are you all right?” Zenna and Ruphos turned to see Mole, a look of concern on her face. She looked unhurt, although the shortsword in her hand was slick with blood. She glanced down at the two dead skulks, regarding them with a matter-of-fact appraisal that seemed odd coming from a girl who would still be considered a teenager, by human standards. As Ruphos nodded, and got up, Mole gestured back toward the fountain. “We got one, but the second fled into the tunnel. Arun chased after him, but we’d better help him! Hurry!” She darted back toward the tunnel, the others close behind. [/QUOTE]
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