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Shackled City Epic: "Vengeance" (story concluded)
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<blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 1840797" data-attributes="member: 143"><p>Chapter 257</p><p></p><p>“That cleric really wanted to get up those stairs,” Mole observed, tugging another pair of iron-studded gauntlets from one of the dead warriors. The two dead giants had proved disappointing for treasure, but the warriors had glowed brightly to Zenna’s <em>detect magic</em> spell, a veritable treasure trove of magical goodies. </p><p></p><p>“I wouldn’t be surprised if he has friends up there,” Dannel commented, reloading his quiver from the spare he kept in his pack. The cleric had headed up the stairs with single-minded determination, and had nearly gotten to the door on the landing thirty feet above the floor; fortunately for them his heavy armor had slowed him enough for the ranged attacks from those below—primarily Dannel’s arrows—to bring him down. </p><p></p><p>“Then that is where we shall go,” Beorna said, already moving toward the stairs, her boots thumping loudly on the marble floor, blood from the bodies scattered in the center of the room leaving a red splat with each step. Still <em>enlarged</em>, she made an impressive sight. </p><p></p><p>“Wait!” Zenna said, resisting the urge to add <em>you fool!</em>. “We’ve taken a beating, and we need to heal and recover.”</p><p></p><p>“Evil does not wait for the hand of justice to descend,” she said, but she paused at the foot of the stairs. “Any foes up there have no doubt heard the sounds of the fray. Already the High Priest is likely preparing for our arrival, and our delay only strengthens his hand.”</p><p></p><p>“Iverson’s not the High Priest,” Zenna said absently, but she was already focused on helping her injured friends, and herself. She saw Hodge take out his jug and quickly walked over to him. “Let me,” she said, and she laid a hand upon him, drawing upon a potent healing spell. She’d initially reserved that slot for a <em>discern lies</em> spell for their interview with Iverson, but from this encounter the intentions of the church of Kelemvor were now clear. </p><p></p><p>“It still makes no sense,” Dannel said, sliding his own healing wand back into its pouch after treating his own injuries. “Why would the most powerful and prestigious church in Cauldron do this, hire assassins to kill us?”</p><p></p><p>“Church o’ death,” Hodge said, as if that explained it. The dwarf sucked in a breath as Zenna’s <em>cure critical wounds</em> flowed through him with the shock of a glacial pool, closing his multiple wounds and driving the pain and weakness of his injuries from him. “Aye, that’s the stuff!” he said, favoring Zenna with a broad smile. That didn’t stop him from taking a covert swig from his “jug o’ healin’,” though, Zenna observed when he thought she wasn’t looking. </p><p></p><p>“The Kelemvorites are not evil,” Zenna said. “They take their duties as guides in the transitions between worlds seriously, but while they venerate death, they hate those who practice it without discernment.”</p><p></p><p>“Well, these are clearly evil,” Arun said, walking to join Beorna. She greeted him with a faint nod. </p><p></p><p>“You fought well, Forger-knight,” she said simply. </p><p></p><p>“And you, warrior-maiden of the Hand,” he replied. </p><p></p><p>She raised an eyebrow at the appellation, but did not reply, instead turning toward the stairs. They creaked a bit under the weight of her <em>enlarged</em> form, but they held. </p><p></p><p>Zenna looked down at Mole. “Here we go again.” The gnome’s only response was a grin, and the speed with which she dashed after the others, still tucking loose items she’d collected into her <em>bag</em>, testified to her eagerness to see what dangers lay ahead. </p><p></p><p>With a sigh, Zenna threw up her hands and followed. Given enough time, she could have used her powers of <em>clairvoyance</em> to scan the interior of the spire above and see what, if anything, awaited them there, but as it was the impatience of her companions would not allow for such cautious—and reasonable—tactics. She only hoped that their haste would not get them killed. </p><p></p><p>Well, she wasn’t going to be a target again. Pausing to summon a spell, she felt a sudden backlash of power that caused her to miss a step, and nearly fall before she regained her balance. </p><p></p><p>“What is it?” Dannel asked. </p><p></p><p>“Be warned, this entire place is protected with a ward,” she said. “It appears that no <em>invisibility</em> magic will function in here.”</p><p></p><p>The elf shrugged. “Well, it’s not like we’re going to be surprising anyone anyway, not with them,” he said, gesturing toward the dwarves who were nearly at the top of the stairs. </p><p></p><p><em>True enough,</em> Zenna thought, but she still didn’t like it as they hurried to catch up to the others. </p><p></p><p>The door at the top of the stairs led to small chambers that looked like personal quarters for the higher-ranking clergy of the temple. On seeing that they were empty, the companions gave them a cursory look—in Mole’s case, “cursory” involving the transfer a several items to her <em>bag of holding</em>—before continuing up a second stair that continued up into the spire above the temple fane. </p><p></p><p>As they made their way up the narrow steps, Beorna’s hulking form blocking the view ahead, Zenna felt a cold chill creep up over her. She looked up at Arun, and saw that he was affected by it, as well. </p><p></p><p>“There is a deep taint here,” the paladin said. </p><p></p><p>Zenna cast a spell, conjuring a potent protective aura around her that extended to those nearest on the stair. “If you can, stay close to me,” she said. “My spell will provide some protection against evil.”</p><p></p><p>Several of the others cast spells as well. Beorna laid several protective wards upon herself, then turned and touched Arun, adding some protection to him as well. Thus fortified, they pressed on. </p><p></p><p>“Do you smell that?” Mole asked softly. Zenna took a deep sniff, and regretted it as the stench of rot filled her nostrils. She fought the urge to gag. </p><p></p><p>“Undead,” Dannel said. </p><p></p><p>“The followers of Kelemvor abhor the undead,” Zenna said, but her words were not convincing even to herself. It was obvious to all of them that a deep evil had taken root in this place, and while none of them—well, none except for Beorna, Arun, and probably Mole—were eager to proceed, they swallowed their fears and pressed on. </p><p></p><p>Finally the stairs opened onto a chamber ahead; they had to be inside the spire now, a good sixty feet or more above the level of the street below. The interior of the spire was a single great hollow chamber, rising nearly a hundred feet above them. Other than a small, low platform in the center of the floor, the chamber was empty of either furniture or decoration. The place was mostly dark, with only a few tiny slits providing illumination. But Dannel’s and Mole’s sensitive eyes adjusted quickly, allowing them to see what the others, with their darkvision, had already detected. </p><p></p><p>The room was occupied. Five hulking forms stood arrayed around the central dais; giants, Zenna thought, until one turned and she saw that its features were bestial, its face dominated by a set of huge jaws. Then she realized that the sickly waft of decay came from them, and as she saw them shift awkwardly she realized what they were. Zombies, among the least of the undead, but these were huge and no doubt far more dangerous that their man-sized equivalents. </p><p></p><p>But then she saw the two forms atop the dais, and realized that there were far greater threats here, waiting for them. One was a vague outline of darkness that hovered a foot above the smooth surface of the platform, an undead wraith, a creature of shadow whose very touch was death. The second Zenna recognized instantly as a fiend, although she could not identify the exact species. It was a bony creature that at first glance appeared to be a skeleton, a gaunt thing vaguely humanoid in form, but with an oversized, distended skull, and a long tail that jutted up over its back and above its head, tipped with a wicked stinger that was no doubt infused with some deadly venom. </p><p></p><p>There was no sign of Ike Iverson, but Zenna had a feeling that the cleric had to be around somewhere. She looked up into the shadowy heights above them, but the top of the spire was a jumble of struts and structural supports, a tangled jumble even with her darksight to pierce the shadows. She spotted something dangling down from the pinnacle of the spire, a long, black object that hung there like some fiendish chrysalis. As her gaze lingered in that direction, she felt a sudden, terrible feeling wash over her, a sense of foreboding that almost threatened to overwhelm her. </p><p></p><p>Beorna had already stepped forward, her gleaming blade lifted high above her head in both hands in a symbol of defiance. “Prepare for your destruction, fiends!” she roared, in challenge. </p><p></p><p>But before she or the rest of them could take further action, a spiraling column of liquid fire tore down from the heights above and slammed into them with the force of divine retribution.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Lazybones, post: 1840797, member: 143"] Chapter 257 “That cleric really wanted to get up those stairs,” Mole observed, tugging another pair of iron-studded gauntlets from one of the dead warriors. The two dead giants had proved disappointing for treasure, but the warriors had glowed brightly to Zenna’s [I]detect magic[/I] spell, a veritable treasure trove of magical goodies. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he has friends up there,” Dannel commented, reloading his quiver from the spare he kept in his pack. The cleric had headed up the stairs with single-minded determination, and had nearly gotten to the door on the landing thirty feet above the floor; fortunately for them his heavy armor had slowed him enough for the ranged attacks from those below—primarily Dannel’s arrows—to bring him down. “Then that is where we shall go,” Beorna said, already moving toward the stairs, her boots thumping loudly on the marble floor, blood from the bodies scattered in the center of the room leaving a red splat with each step. Still [I]enlarged[/I], she made an impressive sight. “Wait!” Zenna said, resisting the urge to add [I]you fool![/I]. “We’ve taken a beating, and we need to heal and recover.” “Evil does not wait for the hand of justice to descend,” she said, but she paused at the foot of the stairs. “Any foes up there have no doubt heard the sounds of the fray. Already the High Priest is likely preparing for our arrival, and our delay only strengthens his hand.” “Iverson’s not the High Priest,” Zenna said absently, but she was already focused on helping her injured friends, and herself. She saw Hodge take out his jug and quickly walked over to him. “Let me,” she said, and she laid a hand upon him, drawing upon a potent healing spell. She’d initially reserved that slot for a [I]discern lies[/I] spell for their interview with Iverson, but from this encounter the intentions of the church of Kelemvor were now clear. “It still makes no sense,” Dannel said, sliding his own healing wand back into its pouch after treating his own injuries. “Why would the most powerful and prestigious church in Cauldron do this, hire assassins to kill us?” “Church o’ death,” Hodge said, as if that explained it. The dwarf sucked in a breath as Zenna’s [I]cure critical wounds[/I] flowed through him with the shock of a glacial pool, closing his multiple wounds and driving the pain and weakness of his injuries from him. “Aye, that’s the stuff!” he said, favoring Zenna with a broad smile. That didn’t stop him from taking a covert swig from his “jug o’ healin’,” though, Zenna observed when he thought she wasn’t looking. “The Kelemvorites are not evil,” Zenna said. “They take their duties as guides in the transitions between worlds seriously, but while they venerate death, they hate those who practice it without discernment.” “Well, these are clearly evil,” Arun said, walking to join Beorna. She greeted him with a faint nod. “You fought well, Forger-knight,” she said simply. “And you, warrior-maiden of the Hand,” he replied. She raised an eyebrow at the appellation, but did not reply, instead turning toward the stairs. They creaked a bit under the weight of her [I]enlarged[/I] form, but they held. Zenna looked down at Mole. “Here we go again.” The gnome’s only response was a grin, and the speed with which she dashed after the others, still tucking loose items she’d collected into her [I]bag[/I], testified to her eagerness to see what dangers lay ahead. With a sigh, Zenna threw up her hands and followed. Given enough time, she could have used her powers of [I]clairvoyance[/I] to scan the interior of the spire above and see what, if anything, awaited them there, but as it was the impatience of her companions would not allow for such cautious—and reasonable—tactics. She only hoped that their haste would not get them killed. Well, she wasn’t going to be a target again. Pausing to summon a spell, she felt a sudden backlash of power that caused her to miss a step, and nearly fall before she regained her balance. “What is it?” Dannel asked. “Be warned, this entire place is protected with a ward,” she said. “It appears that no [I]invisibility[/I] magic will function in here.” The elf shrugged. “Well, it’s not like we’re going to be surprising anyone anyway, not with them,” he said, gesturing toward the dwarves who were nearly at the top of the stairs. [I]True enough,[/I] Zenna thought, but she still didn’t like it as they hurried to catch up to the others. The door at the top of the stairs led to small chambers that looked like personal quarters for the higher-ranking clergy of the temple. On seeing that they were empty, the companions gave them a cursory look—in Mole’s case, “cursory” involving the transfer a several items to her [I]bag of holding[/I]—before continuing up a second stair that continued up into the spire above the temple fane. As they made their way up the narrow steps, Beorna’s hulking form blocking the view ahead, Zenna felt a cold chill creep up over her. She looked up at Arun, and saw that he was affected by it, as well. “There is a deep taint here,” the paladin said. Zenna cast a spell, conjuring a potent protective aura around her that extended to those nearest on the stair. “If you can, stay close to me,” she said. “My spell will provide some protection against evil.” Several of the others cast spells as well. Beorna laid several protective wards upon herself, then turned and touched Arun, adding some protection to him as well. Thus fortified, they pressed on. “Do you smell that?” Mole asked softly. Zenna took a deep sniff, and regretted it as the stench of rot filled her nostrils. She fought the urge to gag. “Undead,” Dannel said. “The followers of Kelemvor abhor the undead,” Zenna said, but her words were not convincing even to herself. It was obvious to all of them that a deep evil had taken root in this place, and while none of them—well, none except for Beorna, Arun, and probably Mole—were eager to proceed, they swallowed their fears and pressed on. Finally the stairs opened onto a chamber ahead; they had to be inside the spire now, a good sixty feet or more above the level of the street below. The interior of the spire was a single great hollow chamber, rising nearly a hundred feet above them. Other than a small, low platform in the center of the floor, the chamber was empty of either furniture or decoration. The place was mostly dark, with only a few tiny slits providing illumination. But Dannel’s and Mole’s sensitive eyes adjusted quickly, allowing them to see what the others, with their darkvision, had already detected. The room was occupied. Five hulking forms stood arrayed around the central dais; giants, Zenna thought, until one turned and she saw that its features were bestial, its face dominated by a set of huge jaws. Then she realized that the sickly waft of decay came from them, and as she saw them shift awkwardly she realized what they were. Zombies, among the least of the undead, but these were huge and no doubt far more dangerous that their man-sized equivalents. But then she saw the two forms atop the dais, and realized that there were far greater threats here, waiting for them. One was a vague outline of darkness that hovered a foot above the smooth surface of the platform, an undead wraith, a creature of shadow whose very touch was death. The second Zenna recognized instantly as a fiend, although she could not identify the exact species. It was a bony creature that at first glance appeared to be a skeleton, a gaunt thing vaguely humanoid in form, but with an oversized, distended skull, and a long tail that jutted up over its back and above its head, tipped with a wicked stinger that was no doubt infused with some deadly venom. There was no sign of Ike Iverson, but Zenna had a feeling that the cleric had to be around somewhere. She looked up into the shadowy heights above them, but the top of the spire was a jumble of struts and structural supports, a tangled jumble even with her darksight to pierce the shadows. She spotted something dangling down from the pinnacle of the spire, a long, black object that hung there like some fiendish chrysalis. As her gaze lingered in that direction, she felt a sudden, terrible feeling wash over her, a sense of foreboding that almost threatened to overwhelm her. Beorna had already stepped forward, her gleaming blade lifted high above her head in both hands in a symbol of defiance. “Prepare for your destruction, fiends!” she roared, in challenge. But before she or the rest of them could take further action, a spiraling column of liquid fire tore down from the heights above and slammed into them with the force of divine retribution. [/QUOTE]
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