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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 1170206" data-attributes="member: 143">Chapter 57Tongueater cackled madly as his foe collapsed, bleeding his life out from a terrible gash in his side.  Even as Dannel landed on the hard wooden floor the apeman was turning to face Arun and Mole, whose attacks thus far had done little in the way of damage.  “You next, dwarf,” he said, leering as he hefted his falchion.  The blade dripped crimson, droplets of Dannel’s blood falling to splatter on the floor at the lyncanthrope’s feet. Illewyn turned immediately toward the downed elf, but before she could go to his aid, a heavy dragging noise drew her attention back around to the barricade.  One of the bandit rogues had taken advantage of the distraction from his leader’s attack to close, and even as Illewyn lifted her mace he lunged at her, stabbing with his rapier.  The cleric cried out and fell back, bleeding from the puncture wound in her chest.  Zenna knew that the priestess needed help, but she also knew that Dannel, if he wasn’t already dead, would be so shortly.  Dodging around the melee between the cleric and her attacker, she knelt at the fallen elf’s side, already digging into the satchel at her side for the remaining healing potions she kept there.  But her heart froze as she felt a wetness there, and her fingers brushed shards of broken glass.  Even before she looked into the bag, she knew what she would find.  “By Moradin’s beard!” Arun cried, calling upon the divine power of his patron in unleashing a terrific blow from his hammer that smacked squarely into Tongueater’s chest.  The lyncanthrope clearly felt that blow, but his inhuman constitution, combined with the froth of his rage, let him shrug off that hurt as well.  Even with two arrows stuck in him, and the battering he’d taken from the dwarf, the apeman still seemed almost unstoppable.  Mole took advantage of the dwarf’s attack to move into position behind the bandit leader, but once more her slashing sword failed to do more than scratch his unnaturally tough hide.  Tongueater ignored her, focusing instead on bringing down the dwarf.  Zenna felt tears form in her eyes, and angrily shook them away as she looked down at the dying elf.  He was dying, she saw, blood pouring from his savaged side in a fountain, his lips flecked with blood as his last breaths slipped raggedly from his body.  She looked around for succor; there was none, her companions engaged in their own life-or-death struggles.  The potions she’d carried were destroyed, broken when the bandit had knocked her against the wall.  She felt a sickening helplessness, the same that she’d felt when she’d seen Ruphos run through by Kazmojen...A faint clink sounded through the raging sounds of battle all around her.  She looked down to see that the icon she carried, the holy symbol of Azuth, had fallen from her pocket.  She reached down, and everything around her seemed to slow down, the world around her frozen in an instant outside of time.  Then she touched the amulet, and felt a surge of power flow through her, unlike anything that she’d felt before... and yet, somehow connected to the arcane powers that she’d channeled ever since she was a girl.  Blue light flared around her hand.  Her eyes open in wonderment, she touched the hand to Dannel’s side, and watched as the bleeding stopped, and the terrible wound closed.  He was still grievously hurt, but she had no doubt now that he would live. Then her surroundings rushed back in around her, as she heard Mole’s scream.  The titanic struggle between Tongueater, Arun, and Mole had raged on while Zenna had fought to save Dannel’s life.  The gnome cursed in frustration as the mighty lyncanthrope ignored her feeble attacks; even with his focus on the dwarf, she was unable to find a weakness with her sneak attacks from behind.  Arun stood his ground before the apeman’s assault, but it was clear once more that his foe outmatched him.  Hammer and falchion exchanged strikes again, and Arun was driven back, hard pressed.  Then Tongueater abruptly hurled himself forward, opening his massive jaws as wide as they could to snap down on the dwarf’s head.  Mole, unable to do anything to stop it, could only scream in frustration. On the far edge of the battlefield, just a few short steps away, Illewyn found herself engaged in her own desperate struggle.  Unable to break away from her attacker, a lanky, lean-faced young man with twin scars on his cheeks, she took another hit from that dancing rapier.  She felt a coldness in her gut that reflected the hot burning pain she felt from the two wounds she’d taken.  Her own counters had been easily parried by the rogue, who smiled a dark smile as he came at her again. “Sorry, pretty lady, but I’m going to have to kill you now,” he said.  He barked out a short laugh, savoring the fear he was inflicting upon his enemy. That hesitation proved costly, as Illewyn stepped back and called upon the power of her patron.  A light shone in her eyes for just an instant as the divine power of Helm entered her, and when it was gone her wounds had faded, and she stood strong and uninjured again.   “I will not be defeated by the likes of you,” she said in a clear voice.  The rogue snarled, realizing his mistake, and leapt forward to the attack once more.  But the cleric met him boldly, and this time her mace caught him squarely across the shoulders, driving him back this time. As she heard Mole scream, Zenna looked up to see Tongueater leap onto Arun, snapping his massive jaws onto the dwarf’s head, looming over his smaller foe like a giant.  Something snapped inside the tiefling, and she felt a guttural snarl escape her lips as she leapt up and threw herself at the lyncanthrope’s back.  Too many times had she watched, helpless, while her comrades were killed or injured by their enemies.  Now, at least, she had the power to do something about it. The magic came quickly at her call, and as she laid her hands upon the apeman, shivers of electrical energy shot from her into Tongueater’s body.  The apeman roared and straightened, Arun falling away before him as he released his hold on the dwarf.  Twisting around, Tongueater didn’t hesitate, sweeping his falchion around in a deadly arc.  Zenna knew it was coming, knew that she could not escape that stroke.  Still, reflex had her diving to the side, and she did not cry out when pain exploded through her body.  “Zenna!” Mole cried out, as her friend went down.  Her quick dive had probably saved her life, but as the falchion clipped her, and she fell to the ground, she slumped and did not get back up.  Mole screamed and hurled herself at their enemy, this seemingly unstoppable foe, stabbing at him with her sword.  Once more the stroke did nothing; she may as well have been hacking at a tree.  “Your turn now, little one,” he said.  But Mole could see that the bandit leader was hurt, and hurt bad.  His chest now heaved with exertion, and trails of dark blood ran down his body from his wounds.  From between his legs, Mole saw a dark shadow rise back up off the ground, lifting his mighty hammer with both hands.  Tongueater sensed it too.  He turned back toward the dwarf, the falchion coming back up, more slowly now, as the lyncanthrope called upon a last reserve of strength to destroy these foes.  Too slowly. Arun, his face bloody with the cuts torn open by the apeman’s teeth, cried out as he brought his hammer down in a last mighty stroke.  Driven by his full strength, with everything that the battered dwarf had left in him, the head of the hammer sank into Tongueater’s chest with enough force to drive the powerful lyncathrope to his knees.  A loud crack filled the room, as the blow crushed through the creature’s resistances and snapped his breastbone.  For a moment, Tongueater knelt there, staring into the dwarf’s eyes with unconcealed hatred.  His fingers dug at his pouch for another potion, but the vial fumbled from the bloody digits and fell to the floor. “This isn’t done,” he hissed, his voice twisted into a gurgle.  “The Masters will do for you...”And then he slumped forward, dead.</blockquote>

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