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Shackled City Epic: "Vengeance" (story concluded)
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<blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 1211445" data-attributes="member: 143"><p>Regarding the mood of the story: it's almost inevitable that this campaign will get "heavy," I think, given the nature of the source material. Thus far the modules in this campaign have already featured child abduction and slavery, torture, political manipulation, and decapitation/corpse mutilation. The triad of bad guys in "Flood Season" are a pretty nasty lot, and I suspect (based on the hints given in the Campaign Notes in the magazine's marginalia) that things are going to get even darker before too long. </p><p></p><p>And, of course, my characters all have considerable baggage of their own. I suspect that the personalities of Mole and Dannel will come to serve as a necessary balance to the seriousness of Zenna and Arun, as time goes on. As Dannel noted, you gotta keep those Lawfuls rooted in a bit of Chaos here and there. </p><p></p><p>And naturally, we'll learn more about each of the main characters as we go, including a few surprises... <img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f609.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=";)" title="Wink ;)" data-smilie="2"data-shortname=";)" /></p><p></p><p>* * * * * </p><p></p><p>Chapter 72</p><p></p><p>The results were swift. The white cords drew taut and a few snapped, the sound followed immediately by a series of louder snaps that seemed to come from within the walls. The ceiling, lost in shadows a good ten feet above, seemed to shiver, and then a black mess detached and fell onto the floor below. </p><p></p><p>Mole saw it coming, and without hesitation leapt forward through the open door, into the unknown beyond. </p><p></p><p>The heavy curtain fell across the floor; it was a net, blackened to blend in with the dark ceiling, weighted with small iron bells in the strands that made a loud clatter as they fell against the hard stone floor. The sound was loud enough to carry some distance, allowing the trap to serve both as prison and alarm at once. But fortunately, none of them had been snared by it. </p><p></p><p>Whatever relief they might have felt was tempered by the fact that Mole was separated from them, and further dampened by the shouts of surprise that came from beyond the open door. </p><p></p><p>Dannel was the first to react, slipping forward into the room. He only got one pace in, however, for as he stepped on the net, the material of it adhered to his boot, dragging at him, forcing him to arrest his progress lest he get further entangled. </p><p></p><p>“It’s sticky!” he said in warning to the others.</p><p></p><p>Arun came forward, still holding the chair, thrusting it before him like a farmer driving a plow. The dwarf caught up the edge of the net and thrust it ahead of him, pushing it back and clearing a path for them to the door. Dannel was knocked off balance and barely kept his footing, wrenching himself free of the net to fall against the near wall. Arun continued to push the net, which bunched up around the legs of the chair like a dislodged carpet. </p><p></p><p>Zenna and Illewyn came after him, rushing toward the open door. The sound of steel clashing on steel, followed by a sharp exclamation of pain, clenched Zenna’s heart with fear for her friend, and she rounded the door to find herself staring into the face of a lanky, muscular young man perhaps a year or two older than she. The man was clad in the familiar armor of the mercenaries that they’d fought at the Lucky Monkey, and in his hand he clutched a fat ceramic flask. </p><p></p><p>Man and woman stared at each other in surprise for a moment, then he hefted the flask to throw, at the same instant that Zenna recognized what it was. </p><p></p><p>Instinct took over, and mystic phrases rolled off of Zenna’s tongue as the energy of a spell flooded through her. The power focused into a single word, which Zenna felt echo through her mind as she spoke it. </p><p></p><p>“Drop!”</p><p></p><p>The man hesitated as the power of the spell hit him like the force of a blow. In response, his hand opened, and the flask fell from his hand. Belatedly he realized what he’d done, and he made a desperate grab for it, but was too late as the container struck the hard stone and shattered. </p><p></p><p>Flames exploded as the volatile alchemist’s fire erupted upon contact with the air. Instantly the man’s lower torso was sheathed in fire, and he stared down in horror, too startled even to scream as he staggered backward. Zenna, too, stumbled backward, lifting her hands to protect her face. Gobs of liquid flame caught on her cloak and trousers, eagerly claiming the fabric. Zenna could hear the sounds of confusion and melee mixed with the roar of the fire, the acrid tang of smoke, and the dancing shadows as the burning mixture consumed its fuel. But her attention was more immediately drawn to stamping out the flames before they captured her entire outfit. With her bare hand she smothered the little burning droplets, her innate resistance to fire thankfully protecting her from more than just minor burns. The flames died out, but she coughed as the smoke filling the room continued to grow denser. Confused, she looked around—and realized that the net had caught fire, and flames were even now spreading aggressively outward through the small antechamber. </p><p></p><p>“We’ve got to get out of here!” Illewyn said, drawing her attention back up as the cleric grasped her arm. Zenna looked around, and realized that she and the cleric were alone in the room. With her head starting to swim, she staggered toward the door to the room where Mole—and presumably the others—had vanished. </p><p></p><p>She entered into the midst of a still-raging melee. The bodies of two guards lay bloody on the floor, including the charred figure of the man who’d been caught in the fire, one side of his face caved in by a blow from Arun’s hammer. Mole lay on her side on the ground, propping herself up on one elbow, blood from several wounds streaking her clothes. She was warded by Arun, who continued to exchange blows with another guard. Dannel fought the last defender by the only other door that exited the place, forcing the man to fight him rather than attempt flight. Zenna saw that the elf was favoring his side, where a patch of red indicated that at least one of the defenders’ thrusts had scored. Even as she watched the warrior made a desperate lunge at Dannel, forcing him back a pace, before turning and darting toward the door and escape. </p><p></p><p>She didn’t hesitate; calling upon a cantrip she clouded the mind of the enemy fighter for a few moments, dazing him long enough for Dannel to run him through with a deadly thrust of his sword. In the same heartbeat Arun laid into his foe with a mighty blow of his hammer, crushing his breastbone with an audible and ugly snap. Both brigands collapsed, gasping out their last moments upon the floor. </p><p></p><p>Zenna moved quickly to where Mole lay, followed a step later by Illewyn. “Are you all right?” Zenna asked, noticing that Mole had drawn out a potion vial. </p><p></p><p>“I will be in just a moment,” she said, uncorking the vial and downing its contents quickly. The magic worked as expected, and the gnome’s wounds closed immediately, allowing her to stand up, if still a bit groggily. </p><p></p><p>“That was pretty foolish, all around,” Zenna said sternly. </p><p></p><p>Mole flushed slightly. “Well...”</p><p></p><p>“At least we avoided the trap, and killed the guards without any of them getting an alarm out,” Dannel suggested.</p><p></p><p>“Others might have heard the clatter,” Illewyn said. She had closed the door to the net-chamber behind them, but wisps of smoke continued to drift in from around the jamb. </p><p></p><p>“Well, if they didn’t, no doubt someone will smell the smoke,” Zenna observed. “We should be quick.”</p><p></p><p>“For once, that’s something I can agree with,” Arun declared, leading them to the door. Mole paused only long enough to quickly search the bodies, an action that proved fruitful as they discovered several more healing potions that hadn’t benefited their previous owners. She also found a few more clay flasks of alchemist’s fire, which covertly made their way into her <em>handy haversack</em>. Zenna caught sight of the maneuver, however, and shook her head wryly. </p><p></p><p>The door led onto a small chamber with two other exits. The first was securely locked, and Mole’s efforts to work it open met with failure. Electing to leave it for the moment, rather than draw attention by attempting to force it, they turned to the other door. Beyond that portal lay a long hallway, extending to their left and right for as far as their light penetrated. A few more doors were visible in either direction. </p><p></p><p>Dannel bent to examine the floor briefly. “Some faint tracks this way,” he said, indicating the left passage. “Someone came through here wearing muddy boots.”</p><p></p><p>“All right then,” Arun said, leading them in that direction. The passage curved slightly to the right, then straightened and ran another forty feet or so before ending in a trio of closed doors. </p><p></p><p>They started in that direction, but hadn’t gotten very far when the door in the wall to their right at the end of the passage opened, and a small figure stepped into the corridor. He was a halfling, clad in a bright red cloak and with a serious expression fixed on his face. At first he didn’t notice the adventurers, apparently preoccupied by some other matter, but as he turned from the door he looked up and saw the quintet standing about twenty feet ahead of him. Instantly his expression changed, souring into a look of clear disapproval.</p><p></p><p>“What’s this?” he said. “How did you get in here?”</p><p></p><p>“We’ll be the one asking the questions, shorty,” Arun barked, even as Dannel chimed, “Lax guards.”</p><p></p><p>The halfling was clearly dissatisfied with both answers, but seemed disinclined to further parley. Moving quickly, he drew something out of a pouch at his waist, and started chanting a string of strange-sounding syllables. </p><p></p><p>“He’s spellcasting!” Zenna warned.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Lazybones, post: 1211445, member: 143"] Regarding the mood of the story: it's almost inevitable that this campaign will get "heavy," I think, given the nature of the source material. Thus far the modules in this campaign have already featured child abduction and slavery, torture, political manipulation, and decapitation/corpse mutilation. The triad of bad guys in "Flood Season" are a pretty nasty lot, and I suspect (based on the hints given in the Campaign Notes in the magazine's marginalia) that things are going to get even darker before too long. And, of course, my characters all have considerable baggage of their own. I suspect that the personalities of Mole and Dannel will come to serve as a necessary balance to the seriousness of Zenna and Arun, as time goes on. As Dannel noted, you gotta keep those Lawfuls rooted in a bit of Chaos here and there. And naturally, we'll learn more about each of the main characters as we go, including a few surprises... ;) * * * * * Chapter 72 The results were swift. The white cords drew taut and a few snapped, the sound followed immediately by a series of louder snaps that seemed to come from within the walls. The ceiling, lost in shadows a good ten feet above, seemed to shiver, and then a black mess detached and fell onto the floor below. Mole saw it coming, and without hesitation leapt forward through the open door, into the unknown beyond. The heavy curtain fell across the floor; it was a net, blackened to blend in with the dark ceiling, weighted with small iron bells in the strands that made a loud clatter as they fell against the hard stone floor. The sound was loud enough to carry some distance, allowing the trap to serve both as prison and alarm at once. But fortunately, none of them had been snared by it. Whatever relief they might have felt was tempered by the fact that Mole was separated from them, and further dampened by the shouts of surprise that came from beyond the open door. Dannel was the first to react, slipping forward into the room. He only got one pace in, however, for as he stepped on the net, the material of it adhered to his boot, dragging at him, forcing him to arrest his progress lest he get further entangled. “It’s sticky!” he said in warning to the others. Arun came forward, still holding the chair, thrusting it before him like a farmer driving a plow. The dwarf caught up the edge of the net and thrust it ahead of him, pushing it back and clearing a path for them to the door. Dannel was knocked off balance and barely kept his footing, wrenching himself free of the net to fall against the near wall. Arun continued to push the net, which bunched up around the legs of the chair like a dislodged carpet. Zenna and Illewyn came after him, rushing toward the open door. The sound of steel clashing on steel, followed by a sharp exclamation of pain, clenched Zenna’s heart with fear for her friend, and she rounded the door to find herself staring into the face of a lanky, muscular young man perhaps a year or two older than she. The man was clad in the familiar armor of the mercenaries that they’d fought at the Lucky Monkey, and in his hand he clutched a fat ceramic flask. Man and woman stared at each other in surprise for a moment, then he hefted the flask to throw, at the same instant that Zenna recognized what it was. Instinct took over, and mystic phrases rolled off of Zenna’s tongue as the energy of a spell flooded through her. The power focused into a single word, which Zenna felt echo through her mind as she spoke it. “Drop!” The man hesitated as the power of the spell hit him like the force of a blow. In response, his hand opened, and the flask fell from his hand. Belatedly he realized what he’d done, and he made a desperate grab for it, but was too late as the container struck the hard stone and shattered. Flames exploded as the volatile alchemist’s fire erupted upon contact with the air. Instantly the man’s lower torso was sheathed in fire, and he stared down in horror, too startled even to scream as he staggered backward. Zenna, too, stumbled backward, lifting her hands to protect her face. Gobs of liquid flame caught on her cloak and trousers, eagerly claiming the fabric. Zenna could hear the sounds of confusion and melee mixed with the roar of the fire, the acrid tang of smoke, and the dancing shadows as the burning mixture consumed its fuel. But her attention was more immediately drawn to stamping out the flames before they captured her entire outfit. With her bare hand she smothered the little burning droplets, her innate resistance to fire thankfully protecting her from more than just minor burns. The flames died out, but she coughed as the smoke filling the room continued to grow denser. Confused, she looked around—and realized that the net had caught fire, and flames were even now spreading aggressively outward through the small antechamber. “We’ve got to get out of here!” Illewyn said, drawing her attention back up as the cleric grasped her arm. Zenna looked around, and realized that she and the cleric were alone in the room. With her head starting to swim, she staggered toward the door to the room where Mole—and presumably the others—had vanished. She entered into the midst of a still-raging melee. The bodies of two guards lay bloody on the floor, including the charred figure of the man who’d been caught in the fire, one side of his face caved in by a blow from Arun’s hammer. Mole lay on her side on the ground, propping herself up on one elbow, blood from several wounds streaking her clothes. She was warded by Arun, who continued to exchange blows with another guard. Dannel fought the last defender by the only other door that exited the place, forcing the man to fight him rather than attempt flight. Zenna saw that the elf was favoring his side, where a patch of red indicated that at least one of the defenders’ thrusts had scored. Even as she watched the warrior made a desperate lunge at Dannel, forcing him back a pace, before turning and darting toward the door and escape. She didn’t hesitate; calling upon a cantrip she clouded the mind of the enemy fighter for a few moments, dazing him long enough for Dannel to run him through with a deadly thrust of his sword. In the same heartbeat Arun laid into his foe with a mighty blow of his hammer, crushing his breastbone with an audible and ugly snap. Both brigands collapsed, gasping out their last moments upon the floor. Zenna moved quickly to where Mole lay, followed a step later by Illewyn. “Are you all right?” Zenna asked, noticing that Mole had drawn out a potion vial. “I will be in just a moment,” she said, uncorking the vial and downing its contents quickly. The magic worked as expected, and the gnome’s wounds closed immediately, allowing her to stand up, if still a bit groggily. “That was pretty foolish, all around,” Zenna said sternly. Mole flushed slightly. “Well...” “At least we avoided the trap, and killed the guards without any of them getting an alarm out,” Dannel suggested. “Others might have heard the clatter,” Illewyn said. She had closed the door to the net-chamber behind them, but wisps of smoke continued to drift in from around the jamb. “Well, if they didn’t, no doubt someone will smell the smoke,” Zenna observed. “We should be quick.” “For once, that’s something I can agree with,” Arun declared, leading them to the door. Mole paused only long enough to quickly search the bodies, an action that proved fruitful as they discovered several more healing potions that hadn’t benefited their previous owners. She also found a few more clay flasks of alchemist’s fire, which covertly made their way into her [I]handy haversack[/I]. Zenna caught sight of the maneuver, however, and shook her head wryly. The door led onto a small chamber with two other exits. The first was securely locked, and Mole’s efforts to work it open met with failure. Electing to leave it for the moment, rather than draw attention by attempting to force it, they turned to the other door. Beyond that portal lay a long hallway, extending to their left and right for as far as their light penetrated. A few more doors were visible in either direction. Dannel bent to examine the floor briefly. “Some faint tracks this way,” he said, indicating the left passage. “Someone came through here wearing muddy boots.” “All right then,” Arun said, leading them in that direction. The passage curved slightly to the right, then straightened and ran another forty feet or so before ending in a trio of closed doors. They started in that direction, but hadn’t gotten very far when the door in the wall to their right at the end of the passage opened, and a small figure stepped into the corridor. He was a halfling, clad in a bright red cloak and with a serious expression fixed on his face. At first he didn’t notice the adventurers, apparently preoccupied by some other matter, but as he turned from the door he looked up and saw the quintet standing about twenty feet ahead of him. Instantly his expression changed, souring into a look of clear disapproval. “What’s this?” he said. “How did you get in here?” “We’ll be the one asking the questions, shorty,” Arun barked, even as Dannel chimed, “Lax guards.” The halfling was clearly dissatisfied with both answers, but seemed disinclined to further parley. Moving quickly, he drew something out of a pouch at his waist, and started chanting a string of strange-sounding syllables. “He’s spellcasting!” Zenna warned. [/QUOTE]
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