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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 1164077" data-attributes="member: 143">Chapter 55The hallway was dark with shadows.  Only just enough light filtered in through the one shuttered window in the hall and around the barrier to incrementally brighten the darkness.  Outside, the downpour continued, its patter against the roof a faint but constant backdrop to the developing confrontation inside. The first enemy to appear was a tall, lanky man clad in chainmail, his shield slung and carrying a torch in his off-hand, his longsword bare in the other.  Upon sighting the barricade he let out a shout to his comrades, but instead of retreating back to the cover behind the bend in the hall, or pausing to unlimber his shield, he raised his sword and charged.  It was the last foolish decision that this particular warrior, a nasty, cruel-hearted wretch named Lakus, ever made.  Dannel’s first arrow hit him on the shoulder, by sheer bad luck striking the iron buckle of his baldric and glancing aside.  The impact barely slowed the man, still infused with the false courage of alcohol, and he continued his rush into the death that awaited him.  Dannel’s second shot caught him less than ten paces later, the steel arrowhead this time penetrating the mesh of steel links that protected him, stabbing several inches into his torso.  Lakus felt the pain through his drunken haze, but it did not stop his rush.  As he neared the barrier, another bolt came up from a narrow slit where the table curved away from the wall, the opening there mostly blocked by a chair jammed into the space.  Mole’s shot caught the warrior in the leg, biting deeply into his thigh.  Once again he wavered, but kept coming on, limping.When Arun’s thrown hammer caught him in the face, though, he’d had enough.  Even as the first foe fell, an arrow slammed into the edge of the table, quivering with the force of the impact.  A moment later a second streaked through a gap in the barricade, narrowly missing Dannel.  A pair of bandit rogues had moved into position at the far end of the hallway, taking cover behind the bend in the hall on one side and an open doorway to a guestroom on the other.  The guttering torch lying on the floor beside the fallen warrior served as the only illumination, casting a fitful glow over the scene.  Unfortunately for the bandits, neither Dannel nor Mole needed more than that, as they returned fire.  But with the bad light and the fact that both sides had good cover, no one scored a hit in the first exchange. “Stalemate?” Mole asked, as she drew back to reload. “I wouldn’t bet on it,” Arun replied, peering around the edge of the far side of the barricade, his warhammer at the ready. Behind them, Illewyn, without a missile weapon, and unable to see clearly in near-darkness, reached out with a prayer, calling down the blessing of Helm upon the besieged companions. Down the hall, the light of more torches appeared around the bend in the hallway.  But instead of more warriors or Alleybashers appearing, the light revealed a group of three baboons, each nearly the size of a wolf, the source of the hooting and barking noises that erupted anew as the companions caught sight of them.  That cacophony was echoed by a deeper, stronger cry that sounded from somewhere further down the hall, and as that sound faded, the creatures dashed down the hallway, their claws clacking against the hardwood floors as they came.  “Let them have it!” Dannel cried.  He fired the opening shot, but his arrow narrowly missed as one of the baboons darted to the side, the long shaft bouncing up from the floor to carom harmlessly into the far wall where the hallway turned.  He didn’t bother to curse his ill luck, however, and was already drawing out another arrow as the others joined the barrage.  Zenna had taken up position standing over Mole, and fired a bolt from her own bow that caught a baboon solidly on the shoulder.  Mole took aim at the same one, hitting it in the leg.  The baboon, seriously injured now, fell behind the other two, which hurled themselves forward at the barrier.  One snarled at lunged at Mole through the gap near the base of the barricade, its claws drawing gashes in the wooden chair jammed into the opening as it tried to get to the gnome.  Mole let out a small shriek despite herself, drawing back just as one long furry limb shot through and tried to grab her.  The second ape tried to clear the barrier entirely, leaping up, its claws seeking purchase on the lacquered edge of the table.  But Arun was waiting for it, and his hammer smacked solidly into it before it could clear the obstacle.  The ape, stunned by the blow, tried to get back up, but was too late as Dannel leaned over the edge of the table and fired an arrow into its side.  Zenna tried to hold the chair in place with her foot even as the baboon redoubled its efforts to slip through.  Its jaws snapped at them, but its body was just too big to fit through the opening.  It only managed to wedge itself into place, which cost it as Mole fired her bow point-blank into its furry hide.  The baboon screamed and drew back, but Zenna stepped forward and fired again, hitting it with a meaty thunk that drove it to the ground, half-conscious and bleeding. The third ape, with two bolts stuck in it, made it belatedly to the edge of the barrier.  It scrambled up despite its wounds, but even before it cleared the edge of the table a dwarven arm lifted over the barrier, and the heavy hammer came down.  Hammer met apish skull, and the creature slumped heavily to the ground. Even as the furious but futile assault from the baboons ended, however, Dannel shouted and pointed down the hallway.  There, another figure had stepped into view, bracketed by the torches carried by the pair of warriors who stood behind him. He was a tall, powerfully-built figure, standing easily seven feet in height.  He wore a vest of boiled leather set with fat metal studs, revealing muscular arms that were marked with scars and metal piercings.  He bore a falchion, a heavy, ugly weapon that he scratched upon the floor as he moved.  But most terrible was his face, the visage of a baboon, featuring garish colors that shone evilly in the torchlight, and massive jaws that sported long, uneven teeth.  “Time for you to die, meddlers,” he croaked, and he laughed a cruel, terrible laugh. Tongueater had arrived.</blockquote>

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