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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 2806933" data-attributes="member: 143">Chapter 519The walled courtyard of the Temple of Helm in Cauldron was a beehive of activity, with a dozen torches driving back the night, glowing brightly on polished armor and bare weapons.  Acolytes and Hammers in their blue tunics ran around as though they could do anything to help with what Cal needed.  The gnome stood impatiently as the dwarves argued, tapping his feet, aware of the seconds ticking off in his head.  When he’d teleported into the courtyard of the Temple—the church itself and the rectory were both protected against magical teleportation much as the Rest was—he’d intended to simply grab Arun and return.  Beorna had been with him, and he was happy to have her sword as well.  But the noise of dwarven fighters arming and armoring themselves was more than enough to wake the entire temple community, among them Arun’s former cohort, Balthazar Hodge, and another dwarf, a cleric of Moradin from his attire, mussed now as he hastily donned his heavy armor while continuing his argument with Arun.“We should attend you on this mission, Chosen,” the cleric was saying.  “The Soul Forger has called you…”“My friend has called me,” Arun interrupted him, as Beorna helped him buckle the straps of his own armor.  “I would feel better if you remained here in my absence, to help watch over the people of the city.  As we were just reminded, many threats yet lurk in this place, threatening the recovery.”He glanced at Hodge, but the dwarf only shook his head.  It was difficult to tell if he’d been asleep or not; he always looked the same whether falling into bed or tumbling out of it.  “Don’t bother layin’ that favored o’ the gods charm on me, I’m goin’,” he said.  He shook off an acolyte who was helping him into his greaves.  “Arright, I kin do the rest meself,” he growled, accepting his waraxe from a Hammer who had sense enough to quickly withdraw.  “Never thought I’d be workin’ fer an outfit where a bunch o’ humans be helpin’ ter dress ye,” he muttered. Arun smiled, taking his helm from another Hammer and settling it upon his head. He’d changed in the relatively short time they’d last met, Cal could see, as the paladin turned toward him.  The marking upon his brow was the most obvious aspect of that, of course, but there was something else, a new aura of authority that hung about him like a familiar cloak.  Chosen…  There was a tale here, to be certain.  But right now, as the seconds since his arrival stretched into minutes, he had to go. “I can take all four of you,” Cal said.  “But whoever’s going, we’ve got to go now.”  His imagination had always been fluid, but he didn’t need much prompting to picture what might be happening in Ember Vale as they spoke.  He was not so much a fool as to deny the dwarves time to armor up, and he knew enough about Arun to know that letting the temple staff and his own Hammers help them was an expediency he would not have otherwise preferred.  Beorna had not offered a comment thus far, except to issue commands to her staff.  Now she drew her adamantine sword, an eager look on her face beneath the heavy black helm of that same metal, marked with the sigil of her god upon the brow. “Very well,” Arun said to the cleric, taking up a golden warhammer that seemed somehow… right in his hand.  Cal wondered about the disposition of the paladin’s holy sword, but he did not waste the seconds to ask as he gestured for the dwarves to gather around him.  “We may need immediate mobility,” he said, touching each of them with his wand of flying, infusing them with its power. “Bah, how tough can a bunch o’ giant bugs be,” Hodge opined, although he looked a bit leery.  The other dwarves looked at him, but said nothing.  Cal gestured again, and they all locked hands, adjusting so that they could quickly recover their weapons once the gnome’s spell of transportation was complete. “We’ll go right to the center of the village,” he told them, and then teleported them across Faerûn. They materialized exactly where he’d intended.  The dwarves lifted their weapons and stepped away from the gnome, looking around. The situation was one of utter chaos.  Alien noises—chittering, a constant buzz, high-pitched squeaks—overlaid familiar sounds of destruction.  Overhead shadowy blips the size of wagons darted across the edges of their vision before vanishing.  Their attention was drawn toward a massive crash directly ahead, in the direction of the main gate of the village.  That barrier was now just gone, some of the heavy log constructs pounded into the dirt, other parts of it scattered around in a broad radius.  But the sound had come from a long two-story structure, the village inn, its front half torn away by the massive beetle that was laying waste to the building. Somehow it must have become aware of them, for as the companions looked up at the monstrous thing, easily forty feet long and slightly taller than the building it was crushing, the beetle turned back into the street and charged straight toward them.</blockquote>

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