Upgrade your account to a Community Supporter account and remove most of the site ads.
Rocket your D&D 5E and Level Up: Advanced 5E games into space! Alpha Star Magazine Is Launching... Right Now!

Reply to thread

Message: <blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 2149834" data-attributes="member: 143">I was actually a little more generous when preparing the return of the "old" heroes (they're ECL 16/17), for a few reasons. I'll post the stats of the returning Travelers in the Rogues' Gallery, and talk a bit more about my reasoning there. To Mimic and the other readers who haven't read Travels through the Wild West: for all of you there will be exposition in the next few posts that will clarify who they are and their relationship to the Heroes of Cauldron.  I wanted to lay on the surprise, though, before that. <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=";)" />* * * * * Chapter 363Confronted by a new set of—apparently very dangerous—adversaries, Freija Doorgan did not hesitate.  Speaking the words of another spell, she conjured up a shimmering forcecage that engulfed the newcomers, surrounding them with solid walls of force that offered no escape.  The demon woman with her damned holy word was outside of the cage, behind it, but no matter; the prison was large enough to block the passage, and that was what Freija had sought to accomplish.  The dwarf paladin and the gnome were on her side of the wall, but both were far enough way to be discounted as threats of the immediate moment.  She looked around for Kaurophon, but the sorcerer had disappeared again.  No big surprise there, she thought; she’d had him pegged as a coward from the moment they’d met. “Finish the paladin!” she urged, although she suspected that the half-fiend had already fled.  In any case, there was no obvious response to her command. The force-prison’s walls were transparent, so she could see as the imp gestured in an obvious spellcasting motion, a suspicion confirmed a moment later as he disintegrated the walls of the forcecage.  Freija was already backing toward the exit, holding a prismatic spray at the ready. The succubus stepped forward.  “Destroy the fiend,” she said.  Another being became visible beside her—a perfectly formed, winged youth, clad in a golden breastplate, carrying a heavy mace in both hands.  The astral deva eagerly leapt at Nabthatoron, his body shining with the bright glow of a holy aura.  The demon growled and swept its augmented claw in a violent arc designed to crush its second celestial victim of the day, but this time the glabrezu’s attack was deflected as the angel parried the massive limb with his weapon. This time, Nabthatoron had met a foe that could give it a real fight. Ti’irok Coalfire stepped into the fray, defending his stricken haraknin by unleashing a terrible onslaught upon Arun with his massive sword Blackfire.  The unholy sword drove through the paladin’s defenses with ease, and within moments the holy warrior was on the brink of sharing the destruction already suffered by his companions. “Lok!” the imp cried in warning, but the jovoc was already rushing forward.  It was big for its kind, close to five feet tall, but it still looked puny against the hulking, muscular figure of the giant.  But that impression was broken a moment later as the small demonoid leapt forward through the giant’s guard, ignoring a late attack of opportunity that crushed hard into the armored plates covering its back.  The giant lifted the weapon to strike again, but could not complete its attack before its foe charged ahead and slammed his axe deep into the giant’s meaty thigh.  Coalfire roared in pain, and drove Blackfire down to sunder this annoying gnat. But somehow, the gnat refused to be smoten, taking the hit with a mere grunt before unleashing another series of deadly counterattacks. Everything seemed confused to Arun as he staggered and nearly fell, hovering on the brink of consciousness.  His friends, dead or dying… Fiends attacking fiends, another celestial appearing out of nowhere… whom were the enemies, and whom allies?  The hits from the giant had been incredible, and added to the impact of the horrid wilting had reduced him to the limits of even his incredible stamina.  Then he felt a presence next to him, and looked up to see the face of the succubus.  She wore a visage of evil, her body lean and seductive, clad in tight leather that accentuated the curves of her form.  Reflexively, Arun reached for his holy sword, but he was halted by her eyes, as their gazes locked.  Those eyes… those eyes were kind, sympathetic.And then a cold surge of positive energy rushed through him, healing his wounds.  With a shock he realized that he had been completely restored, the beneficiary of the most potent of healing spells. “Who… who are you?” he managed to ask. “A friend, Arun Goldenshield… a friend.”  She smiled, but the look became one of concern as she looked to her right.  “I fear that Lok may need your help with this one,” she said, indicating the giant. Arun nodded, but he hesitated for one instant more, looking down to where Hodge lay face-down a few paces away.  Arun had tried to stabilize him with a trickle of healing energy, but the paladin’s powers had been drained over the course of this very long day, and he’d only managed the faintest hint of curative power.  He did not know if his cohort yet lived.  “My friend…”  “I will do what I can,” the woman promised.  Arun nodded, and taking up his sword, rushed back into the fray. The archer Benzan tracked the retreating conjurer, waiting for the slightest move that would indicate a spell being cast, ready to disrupt it with a well-placed arrow.  It looked like she was intent on retreat, though, so he decided to just go ahead and unleash a full barrage. But before he could release his shot, he was distracted by the intensity of the fray in the middle of the room.  The astral deva had laid into Nabthatoron solidly with his heavy mace, landing punishing blows that had caved in segments of the demon’s torso.  But the demon responded with an equally vigorous counterattack, tearing with its smaller claws, and finally catching the celestial hard with a sweep of its adamantine claw.  The impact knocked the angel off-balance, sending him fluttering awkwardly to the ground to land in a half-crouch, shaking his head to clear it. Unfortunately, he was still within the glabrezu’s reach, and the adamantine claw came up to deliver a crushing blow before the demon’s adversary could recover. Benzan shifted his aim, releasing his arrow and immediately drawing another, directing his rapid-fire stream of arrows at the glabrezu.  Again the shafts slammed into it with the force of shots from a ballista.  Each missile released a bright glow like that of a miniature sun as it vanished into the demon’s body.  The demon, transfixed, could not respond, and finally a last arrow slammed into its chest, piercing its heart before it exploded out from its back in a spray of white light and ichor.  Nabthatoron regarded its enemies with an incredulous look, and then expired, falling backward across the Cagewright’s meeting table with enough force to crack the heavy stone object in two.  The room shook with the impact, momentarily drawing the attention of everyone in the room to the fallen fiend. Benzan looked at his handiwork, glanced at the quiver at his hip, and shook his head. “Damn, those holy arrows are expensive, too.”Ti’irok Coalfire was slowing, bleeding from several serious wounds.  It limped now, the Achilles tendon on its left ankle deeply scored by Mole’s knife.  It faced two implacable foes that inflicted devastating wounds upon it, for all that neither could reach higher than the giant’s waist.  Lok had taken several mighty hits that should have killed him, but clad in adamantine plate, tougher than any mortal creature had a right to be, he simply absorbed the impacts and fought on.  Arun, meanwhile, restored to health, smote his holy sword through the giant’s leg, hewing at it as though he were a mad lumberjack hewing at the bole of an ancient oak.  A few feet away, Aszithef stood powerlessly in a defensive stance, blind and deaf, trying to fight off the aftereffects of the holy word.  At her feet lay the two other haraknin not banished by the spell, utterly helpless as their bodies refused to obey their commands.In the face of that assault, there was only one possible outcome.  The giant finally surrendered, dropping its sword as it fell to its knees, unable to stand on its battered legs.  “I yield!  Spare my servants, and we will surrender to you!” Lok, suspicious, kept his axe at the ready.  Arun, tired of the slaughter, lowered his sword, but did not relax his vigilance.  “Command your ‘servant’, then, to drop her weapon,” he directed.The giant said something in a language they did not comprehend.  Aszithef, apparently at least partially recovered, heard and responded in kind, and then dropped Coldburn to the ground.  Even in defeat, unarmed and still unable to clearly see, the haraknin bore a noble air, standing defiant. “The mage got away,” Benzan said, as the warriors took the defeated mercenaries into custody, divesting them of weapons and other valuable gear.  “And there was another guy with her… he went invisible, I think.”“Keep watch,” the succubus said to the deva, who nodded and took up a warding position at the far exit.  She knelt beside Hodge, and turned her attention to him, healing the dwarf.  The battered warrior stirred, and as he caught a glimpse of his savior his eyes widened, and he exclaimed a startled curse. The woman sighed.  “Cal, I think we can drop the veil now.”“Very well,” the imp said, waving his hand.  Instantly the “demons” changed form.  The imp was replaced by a stout gnome clad in a rich blue robe, with numerous pouches dangling from various belts, and an array of wands jutting from a bandolier at his waist.  The jovoc warrior became a dwarf clad in plate armor of dark adamantine… or at least he looked like a dwarf, for when he removed his full helm his features were revealed to be of a consistency and color similar to granite.  The archer did not change form, but the succubus was revealed to be an attractive human woman of middle age, clad in comfortable garments in brown and green, with a silvery cloak and the sigil of a crescent moon at her throat.  “Who are you people?” Arun asked, even as Mole exclaimed, “Uncle Cal!”</blockquote>

Verification