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Shackled City Epic: "Vengeance" (story concluded)
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<blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 1835168" data-attributes="member: 143"><p>Chapter 253</p><p></p><p>Zenna hurled herself aside, but even as she moved, her cloak billowing out behind her, she felt the first fat globules of acid impact her side, followed instantly by a burning sizzle of hot pain. The magic of her cloak had helped her avoid the full force of the blast, but that was of little consolation at the moment as Dhor’s acid tore mercilessly through the sleeve of her tunic and seared the white flesh beneath. Big yellow drops had landed on her side, each a white-hot point of fire as they wrought their deadly work. Her lungs were seared as she drew in the poisonous vapors from the acid, and mercifully the pain eased as she fell into unconsciousness. </p><p></p><p>Dannel was quick to rush to her aid, but at the moment the entire group appeared to be in quite dire straits. Hodge was out of the fight, and both Arun and Beorna were down, while the wounds that Dhor had suffered seemed puny, and appeared to have slowed the massive warrior little as he whirled the chain in a great circle above his head. </p><p></p><p>“All you die!” he roared, and it seemed that the very walls of the buildings on Obsidian Avenue shook with his pronouncement. </p><p></p><p>“Not so fast,” Beorna said, pulling herself up, her armor clanking slightly at her movements. </p><p></p><p>“Aaaarrrgh!” Dhor screamed, whipping his chain about his head once more, driving it to an almost insane velocity, before swinging it down at Beorna. </p><p></p><p>The dwarf woman made no move to avoid the blow. It slammed into her with colossal force, sounding a loud ringing noise as iron hit adamantine. </p><p></p><p>Beorna was unmoved. </p><p></p><p>“That the best you got, ugly?” she shouted, lifting her sword and running forward. To her right, Arun was getting back up as well; his movements drew Dhor’s attention and the chain swept around again, slamming into his body, driving him back down to his knees. The paladin had taken three solid hits now, and even with his incredible fortitude it was clear that he could not take another. </p><p></p><p>But he got up. </p><p></p><p>A nimble form tumbled into the deadly radius of the spiked chain, approaching Dhor from behind. Mole had circled around the melee, moving at the fast pace augmented by her boots, and now she somersaulted forward, coming up into a springing leap that carried her up onto Dhor’s back. Her rapier drove unerringly into her chosen spot, sinking in and out of the warrior’s torso so quickly that at first it looked as though she’d missed. By the way that the half-dragon reared up and roared in pain, however, it was quickly clear that she’d accomplished her objective. </p><p></p><p>Beorna laid into Dhor with a mighty two-handed stroke of her sword. The holy blade tore through mail links and leathery hide as though neither were there, savaging the organs beneath. Red blood and garish entrails showed through the three-foot gash in the giant warrior’s belly, and he staggered back, droplets of blood now flecking the space before his jaws as he drew in labored breaths. </p><p></p><p>But the half-dragon, driven on by his rage, did not go down. He lifted the spiked chain again, seeking to drive it into his foes without finesse, now, crushing them through brute strength. </p><p></p><p>An arrow slammed into his chest, followed within four heartbeats by another. Dannel having healed Zenna with his bardic powers, bringing her back to the edge of consciousness, had resumed his barrage.</p><p></p><p>Zarik Dhor began to feel the cold hand of death tighten around him. His wounds were dire, and he could feel the blood pumping out of his body through the red haze of his rage. He felt that he was already dead, only his hatred and passion for revenge keeping him standing now, and that was already bleeding out of him along with the substance of his life. But before he would go, he would take at least one of these enemies, the slayers of Dhorlot, with him. </p><p></p><p>Looking down, fighting to focus his eyes through the blood and the fog that had descended upon his vision, he searched for the one that had been described to him, the dwarven knight with the silvery armor and the sword of light. </p><p></p><p>He saw him just as the sword was thrust to the hilt into his body.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Lazybones, post: 1835168, member: 143"] Chapter 253 Zenna hurled herself aside, but even as she moved, her cloak billowing out behind her, she felt the first fat globules of acid impact her side, followed instantly by a burning sizzle of hot pain. The magic of her cloak had helped her avoid the full force of the blast, but that was of little consolation at the moment as Dhor’s acid tore mercilessly through the sleeve of her tunic and seared the white flesh beneath. Big yellow drops had landed on her side, each a white-hot point of fire as they wrought their deadly work. Her lungs were seared as she drew in the poisonous vapors from the acid, and mercifully the pain eased as she fell into unconsciousness. Dannel was quick to rush to her aid, but at the moment the entire group appeared to be in quite dire straits. Hodge was out of the fight, and both Arun and Beorna were down, while the wounds that Dhor had suffered seemed puny, and appeared to have slowed the massive warrior little as he whirled the chain in a great circle above his head. “All you die!” he roared, and it seemed that the very walls of the buildings on Obsidian Avenue shook with his pronouncement. “Not so fast,” Beorna said, pulling herself up, her armor clanking slightly at her movements. “Aaaarrrgh!” Dhor screamed, whipping his chain about his head once more, driving it to an almost insane velocity, before swinging it down at Beorna. The dwarf woman made no move to avoid the blow. It slammed into her with colossal force, sounding a loud ringing noise as iron hit adamantine. Beorna was unmoved. “That the best you got, ugly?” she shouted, lifting her sword and running forward. To her right, Arun was getting back up as well; his movements drew Dhor’s attention and the chain swept around again, slamming into his body, driving him back down to his knees. The paladin had taken three solid hits now, and even with his incredible fortitude it was clear that he could not take another. But he got up. A nimble form tumbled into the deadly radius of the spiked chain, approaching Dhor from behind. Mole had circled around the melee, moving at the fast pace augmented by her boots, and now she somersaulted forward, coming up into a springing leap that carried her up onto Dhor’s back. Her rapier drove unerringly into her chosen spot, sinking in and out of the warrior’s torso so quickly that at first it looked as though she’d missed. By the way that the half-dragon reared up and roared in pain, however, it was quickly clear that she’d accomplished her objective. Beorna laid into Dhor with a mighty two-handed stroke of her sword. The holy blade tore through mail links and leathery hide as though neither were there, savaging the organs beneath. Red blood and garish entrails showed through the three-foot gash in the giant warrior’s belly, and he staggered back, droplets of blood now flecking the space before his jaws as he drew in labored breaths. But the half-dragon, driven on by his rage, did not go down. He lifted the spiked chain again, seeking to drive it into his foes without finesse, now, crushing them through brute strength. An arrow slammed into his chest, followed within four heartbeats by another. Dannel having healed Zenna with his bardic powers, bringing her back to the edge of consciousness, had resumed his barrage. Zarik Dhor began to feel the cold hand of death tighten around him. His wounds were dire, and he could feel the blood pumping out of his body through the red haze of his rage. He felt that he was already dead, only his hatred and passion for revenge keeping him standing now, and that was already bleeding out of him along with the substance of his life. But before he would go, he would take at least one of these enemies, the slayers of Dhorlot, with him. Looking down, fighting to focus his eyes through the blood and the fog that had descended upon his vision, he searched for the one that had been described to him, the dwarven knight with the silvery armor and the sword of light. He saw him just as the sword was thrust to the hilt into his body. [/QUOTE]
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