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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 2742900" data-attributes="member: 143">Thanks for the feedback. One problem is that I am lazy (thus the moniker <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=";)" /> ), and don't always do as much editing as perhaps I should. Part of it is the context; naturally I am not as incentivized to be as thorough in posting on a message board as I might be if I intended to market this material (not that it helped me sell my novels!). Generally I just write the story in fits (I usually squeeze it into breaks and slow spells at work), building up anywhere from 10-20 posts worth of material ahead of where I am currently posting. When it actually comes time to post a chapter I usually give it a quick pre-read for obvious errors before posting. I've actually noticed some of the things you mentioned when I go back and read old chapters on my PocketPC (I keep the whole thing in a Microsoft Reader file); if I could access ENWorld through my work firewall, I might be able to go back and edit old chapters. I can at home, of course, but that would cut into my NWN and BF2 time.  <img src="http://www.enworld.org/forum/images/smilies/nervous.png"  class="smilie" loading="lazy" alt=":heh:" title="Nervous Laugh    :heh:" data-shortname=":heh:" /> Maybe I should put a note on my computer at work: ARUN !=BEARD. But my supervisor might get suspicious.  <img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f600.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=":D" title="Big grin    :D"  data-smilie="8"data-shortname=":D" /> Yeah... I've commented on this before in the thread, but basically I agree with you. When I started the story, I had no plans to kill any of the characters specifically (although killing off clerics of Helm just started to feel natural after a time  <img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f61b.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=":p" title="Stick out tongue    :p"  data-smilie="7"data-shortname=":p" /> ). When I devised the idea to kill off Zenna it was part of a desire to shake up the story, which had started to feel somewhat stale. Others had commented that they didn't feel like the main characters were in real jeopardy, which stole from some of the drama, and I felt her abduction/death really tied the heroes into the plot. That was before I had made the final decision for the old group from Travels to enter the story (although that was always in the back of my mind, given Zenna and Mole's pedigree). Dana will get a chance to shine a little later; she's effectively an 18th level cleric since her PrCs stack with her cleric levels. I've been rereading Sepulchrave's story hour lately, which highlights the power of high-level pure casters, although it's unlikely that my suffering heroes will ever reach the potency of Mostin or Shomei.  <img src="http://www.enworld.org/forum/images/smilies/devious.png"  class="smilie" loading="lazy" alt=":]" title="Devious    :]" data-shortname=":]" /> Thanks again for the posts!* * * * * Chapter 497Arun felt a crushing pain in his wrist, and despite himself felt his holy blade wrenched from his hand by the grimlock behind him.  He twisted to see the grimlock fall back, clutching the sword, and so the knife thrust from the one ahead of him failed to find the narrow opening in his visor, instead glancing off of the side of his helm. Ignoring that attacker, Arun drove forward at the one who’d stolen his sword.  The grimlock tried to withdraw, and Arun took a hit to his side from a grimlock axe that felt damned painful.  But the paladin called upon the power of Moradin, and with a dwarvish cry of battle he smote the creature with a punch from his gauntleted fist.  His fist crunched solidly into the creature’s face, and it staggered, dropping its stolen treasure. Arun bent to recover it, taking multiple attacks of opportunity from the surrounding grimlocks as he did so.  Every breath, now, was driving sharp needles of pain through his battered torso; he was tough, but the beating he was taking was phenomenal.  Beorna looked up into the face of the monster standing over her, unable to react quickly enough to stop it from a deadly blow to her head.  But before it could strike, a ray of searing light blasted into its face.  Its eyes were not susceptible to light, but the holy light ravaged its hide, filling its sensitive nostrils with the sweet stench of its own burning flesh.  The beam distracted it only for a moment, but that was enough for Beorna, who swept her sword around with a desperate surge of strength, catching the grimlock in the kneecap.  The preternaturally sharp sword tore through the limb, severing it, driving the creature to the ground. The grimlock beneath her was still tearing at her, one of its hands clutched in her hair, the other wrapped around her body, its foul breath hot against her neck as it tried to seize her with its bent teeth.  She slammed her head back against its face, which quieted it somewhat, but it refused to release its grip. So, focusing her concentration, she called upon Helm to enlarge herself. The grimlock’s squeals as her mass increased eightfold were quite rewarding.  Her magical growth had put her within reach of the grimlocks that were assaulting Hodge, so she lashed out with her boot, delivering a heavy blow to the back of the neck of the nearest.  Hodge took advantage of the distraction, bringing his already bloody axe down into the skull of the grimlock, crushing it in a spray of blood and brains. “Get up from that one, ye blasted bugger!” he shouted.  The dwarf had stood his ground against his enemies, laying about him with his oversized axe.  This was the second he’d dropped, including the one whose arm he’d severed, and who had returned to the fray in time to take an uppercut that clove through six ribs and laid open its chest.  That one lay on the ground, now, its struggles continuing even as the lake of blood around its torso grew inevitably.  But that still left two, and Hodge was winding down rapidly.  His defensive stance had given him a second wind, but he knew from experience that the added burst of vigor would not last long, and his axe already felt like an anvil in his hand.  The two remaining grimlocks had shifted to keep him flanked, and continued to press him with their axes, looking for a momentary opening for a devastating sneak attack that would put the dwarf down.  A retreat would have been timely, the dwarf thought, but there was nowhere to go, so Hodge just kept fighting, laying into the nearest with a tired sweep that still tore a foot-long gash in the creature’s gut. Arun rose, drawing upon the power of Moradin until it felt like he would burst.  Infused with Order’s Wrath, he laid about him with his sword, hewing at the gray-skinned monsters that ringed him in and pressed at him from every direction.  Blood filled the air in a fine spray as his sword flashed brilliantly in his hand, each blow opening a deadly wound.  The grimlocks should have fallen like stalks of wheat harvested by the scythe, but in their rage they remained standing with wounds that should have left them screaming upon the barren stones.  Only outright death would forestall them, and Arun gave them that, the paladin himself lost within his own rage, caught in the intense flood of battle, ignoring the blows that continued to rain upon him, dealing out destruction.  Finally, only one foe stood before him.  The dwarf, still half-blinded by sweat and blood that splattered his visor, lifted his sword in challenge, but the adversary raised his hand. “Peace, warrior,” Umbar said.  “This battle is won.”Arun lowered his blade, took a heaving breath, and collapsed.</blockquote>

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