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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 2766864" data-attributes="member: 143">Chapter 505Just getting back up to the city streets had been a challenge for the dedicated dwarf.  The broken drainpipe had been flooded with a steady rush of water from the wet streets above, threatening to dislodge him every time he took a step.  He was soaked through by the time he emerged into the open air once again, but he ignored the physical discomfort he felt in face of the gravity of his mission. He did not divert himself to seek out the Watch.  Convinced that his hunch about the medusa’s destination was correct, he’d ran directly toward the cistern that he and Beorna had helped build shortly after their return to the town.  He encountered no one out on the street, and within a few minutes he’d reached Lava Avenue, and could see his destination ahead. And the two figures creeping up to it.  He kept his sword in its scabbard, to avoid drawing their attention, and continued at a more measured pace toward the two stalkers.  Their backs were toward him, but he could not effectively mute the telltale clank of his heavy armor, and the woman—the medusa—turned and looked at him before he’d crossed half of the distance between them. “Yield, or die,” he said, his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword.  He did not truly expect them to comply, but he hoped to distract them from their purpose.  The medusa drew back her hood, fixing him with the fell power of her gaze attack.  Arun did not flinch, his inherent dwarven fortitude combined with the dedication of his calling allowing him to easily resist being petrified by that gaze.  Still, he did not tempt fate, averting his eyes as he drew his sword and started forward.  A ring of bright golden light surrounded him as the sword blazed out of the scabbard, a halo against the night and the storm. The medusa muttered a command in Undercommon, and the grimlock leapt off the platform and charged at the paladin.  It drew a pair of long black knives from the harness at its waist, and a low, guttural sound emitted from deep within its chest as it flew into a tightly controlled battle-rage.  Arun stood his ground, and let the enemy come to him.  The first dagger thrust was turned by his breastplate, and he quickly counterattacked. There were few evil creatures upon or beneath the surface of Toril that could withstand a full attack from Arun.  The grimlock acolyte was not one of them. Arun stepped over the carcass, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the surrounding darkness.  The “battle” with the grimlock had taken all of about five seconds, but the medusa was gone.  Wary of a trap, he rushed up to the platform.  The water in the cistern, level with the lip of the container, was a sheer plane broken by the patter of raindrops, glowing in reflection of the light of his sword.  Arun leaned forward and stabbed his blade deep into the water, peering into its depths.  Nothing.  He paused for a moment, just a moment, to scan for Taint.  There was a faint, indistinct aura that clung about this place, but not enough to pinpoint the presence of the medusa.  Had she fled, and taken the gnomish device for use at a later time? Arun knelt upon the edge of the cistern, and removed his helm and shield.  With one hand balancing himself on the stone rim, he dipped low, stabbing his head beneath the surface of the water, thrusting the sword deeper with his other hand.  There—just barely visible, below; a gray object that did not belong.  Arun did not hesitate; taking a deep breath, he leapt into the cistern, vanishing beneath the surface of the water with a mighty splash.  Weighed down by his armor, he sank to the bottom of the cistern like a stone.  His sword brightening the dark waters, he immediately turned and pushed forward to the location of the object.  It was the gnomish keg, held in position by several heavy stones securely fastened to it, quivering with the force of the water that was pouring from it.  Arun did not know how much of the tainted water it had to produce for the fell disease to be potent, and did not intend to wait to find out. He tugged at the throngs holding the keg, drawing aside one of the stone blocks, revealing the deep brown wood beneath.  The light of his sword glimmered off of a golden rune set into the wood.  Standing, he braced himself over it, and lifted his sword, both hands wrapped around the hilt. A surge in the water alerted him.  He turned, narrowly avoiding a stabbing thrust of steel that sliced into his cheek as he ducked back.  The wound burned like fire, and as the sword came around with him he looked up into the face of the medusa, snakes writhing in a halo around her alien features, the light shining through her translucent skin.  Her weapon was a slender rapier of black metal, its blade oozing green droplets that formed tiny plumes in the water as she wielded it.  Arun tried to bring his sword up to stab her, but the water impeded him.  The medusa dove at him, her mouth open in a silent scream as she dug her fists into his hair, dragging her face down to his in a sick parody of a lover’s embrace.  Arun felt a cold feeling creep into his bones as the medusa’s gaze swallowed him up, followed by pinpricks of agony as the serpents upon her head stabbed their tiny fangs into his forehead and temples.</blockquote>

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