The Doomed Bastards: Reckoning (story complete)

[Lazybones]

So I got Keep on the Shadowfell this weekend. I've been reading it through; it's interesting, but definitely a lot of new concepts to sift through. I'm glad I got it on Amazon as there's no way it's worth $30 (IMHO/YMMV). I'll have to wait for the core rules release to see how it all fits together.

I have some story ideas with regards to KotS; stay tuned.

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Chapter 48

THE GUARDIANS


It began with surprising quiet.

The mummies shambled forward without battle cries or noisy declarations, their wrapped feet making a soft whisking noise on the stone floor of the chamber. Aerim and Falah stepped forward to greet them, taking up warding positions on the left and right flanks of their wedge. They communicated without words, each facing five of the oncoming undead, knowing that they alone would not be enough to stop the approaching undead, let alone their immortal master atop the dais.

The soft chants of the spellcasters sounded disproportionally loud in that context, and the magical assault they unleashed was anything but subtle. Ghazaran, reading a scroll stolen from the cache of the church of Soleus, invoked a mass cure serious wounds spell that tore through the ranks of the mummy warriors. But even as white light flared about their bodies, they lifted their swords and pressed forward to fulfill their eternal mandate, to keep that which they guarded safely bound. The spell damaged the creatures, but only marginally, and it did not even achieve that against the lich, the holy surge vanishing as it enveloped the undead lord.

In the immediate wake of the mass cure, the Seer unleashed a second assault, flinging a chain lightning into the ranks of the mummies. This spell, even more destructive than the first, slammed into the lead mummy on the right, continuing in an unbroken chain down their ranks before leaping across to the other file and continuing until all ten of the mummies had been hit. The first mummy, the one that had absorbed the full impact of the spell, staggered, the bandages covering its chest hanging in blackened strips. But it did not fall, and the others had withstood the attack much as they had the first, and kept on coming. The tail end of the bolt arced toward the lich, almost as an afterthought, but again the spell dissolved against some invisible barrier, and the wizard clicked his tongue in frustration.

And still the invaders were not finished; Navev joined his power to that of the other casters, invoking a field of chilling tentacles that sprung up out of the wall and floor along the left side of the room. The first two mummies, skirting the edge of that effect, avoided being snagged by the grasping tendrils, but the last three were all caught, struggling to free themselves as the tentacles twisted around their arms and legs.

And then the mummies were attacking. Aerim swept his blade into the first mummy, the one most damaged by the initial barrage of spells. His blade bit deep into its chest, and the creature fell, dust rising from its shattered ribs. The fighter did not hesitate, bringing his sword up into a ready stance, just in time to absorb the attacks of the fallen creature’s allies. Steel forged beyond the memory of living men clashed, drawing lines of blue and orange sparks that rained down on the combatants. Aerim was a blademaster, a legend brought back to life, but the mummies likewise possessed much of the skill that they had owned when living, and only the Duke’s heavy armor kept him from being cut down in that initial exchange. He kept moving, turning what might have been serious blows into glancing hits, grimacing as the mummy blades rang off his mail.

On the opposite flank, Falah faced off against the two mummies that had gotten around Navev’s chilling tentacles. The Razhuri fighter made good in the initial exchange, taking a hit that had just slid under his parry, twisting his own blade so that it sheared off a big chunk of the first mummy’s skull. The blow would have killed a living man, but the undead warrior barely seemed to feel it.

Two of the mummies on Aerim’s flank moved to bypass the warrior, who could do nothing to stop them, as heavily engaged as he was. One rushed toward Ghazaran, who had unrolled a second scroll. The mummy came on too quickly for him to release the magic of the scroll, but Parzad stepped between them, lifting a hand as he summoned a bolt of psychokinetic energy to stop the attacker. The gambit failed, the surge of psionic power shattering against the dark will of the mummy. Parzad made no move to evade as the mummy swept its sword down in a blinding arc. Ghazaran’s ally was knocked flying, a flare of bright red blood spraying out from the deep wound in his left shoulder. Parzad fell hard to the ground and did not get up.

The other mummy lunged at Ozmad, but the ogre mage made no move to defend himself, barely flinching to avoid the sweeping blade. He took a deep gash across his belly that spurted red, but his attention was focused hard upon the lich, which watched with a cold, empty expression in its flickering red eyes. The mummy lifted its bloody sword to strike again, stepping close enough so that the trailing edges of funereal wrappings nearly brushed against the ogre’s legs as it moved, but still the ogre’s attention did not waver.

What he was waiting for came so suddenly that he nearly missed it, but the ogre mage was a wily and experienced veteran of magical duels. He was not entirely sure of just what spell the lich was casting, but based on the strength of the mass inflict it had opened with, it would be potent and devastating in its impact. The ogre felt his own magic surge in response, and he felt the sudden sense of loss as the multiple overlapping wards that surrounded him abruptly vanished. The mattock in his right fist suddenly exploded in size, growing until it almost dragged him down, its long shaft like that of a lance, the massive black head as heavy as a sledgehammer’s.

Ozmad rushed forward, shouldering the mummy warrior aside. He took another grazing hit that burned like fire along his flank, but he ignored that wound as a mere distraction, his attention focused entirely on the lich. The thing waited patiently for him upon the dais, its only concession to his rush a slight tightening of skeletal fingers upon the light mace at its side. With the bulk of the ogre rushing toward it, it seemed as though the lich would be utterly shattered by the sheer force of that charge.

The ogre lowered the head of his weapon, so that it was almost like a battering ram. But his goal was not so much to attack as it was to bring the lich within close reach. And indeed as he tromped up atop the dais, the lich suddenly shifted a pace to the left, as Ozmad’s antimagic field disrupted its displacement spell. Ozmad shifted his now-unwieldy mattock, but not quickly enough. The lich lifted its mace, and with surprising speed smashed the head of the weapon into the ogre’s body, striking his elbow, forearm, and hip in quick succession. The creature was far stronger than it looked, and Ozmad nearly lost its grip on his weapon as its left arm went limp.

But the ogre was strong as well, even without his magical enhancements bolstering him. He swept his weapon around, crushing one of the long black metal ends into the lich’s body, just under its left arm. Bones shivered from the force of the impact, but the lich was as tough as old leather, and it kept its footing. Ozmad struck it again, dragging it even closer, keeping it well within the radius of his antimagic field. The two seemed locked almost in an embrace, with the lich looking almost like a child up close against the ogre, lashing out with precise blows from the almost tiny mace in its hand. Every time it hit, Ozmad grunted, and as it smashed him in the side he nearly staggered as a blossom of pain announced a rib giving way. Now seriously injured, the ogre refused to retreat, and hooked the lich from behind with his good right arm, crushing the skeletal thing against his body. Within the antimagic field, he was secure from the paralyzing effects of its touch, and the lich could not immediately break free. The arm holding its mace was caught in the grapple, leaving it unable to counterattack.

Amurru’s allies attempted to come to its aid. One of the mummy warriors, tearing free from the chilling tentacles, rushed at the ogre from behind. Ghazaran, reading from another scroll, called down a flame strike that engulfed several of the mummies. The cleric had been given a respite against its foe by Jasek, who had attacked the mummy after it had struck down Parzad, before it could follow up against the cleric. Parzad continued to bleed out upon the dark stone of the floor, but for now Ghazaran ignored him, addressing the more immediate threat.

The cleric’s spell sent a flood of heat rushing through the chamber. It should have turned all four of the mummies caught in the blast into pyres, but when the holy flames dissipated they revealed them barely scorched. The divine power infused in the spell had done some damage, but far less than the cleric had expected. And of course the edges of the flames had vanished as they had hit the edge of Ozmad’s antimagic field, doing no damage to either the ogre or his undead foe.

“They are resistant to fire!” Ghazaran announced to his companions. “You must help the ogre, if he falls, the lich will destroy us!”

 

[Lazybones]

Chapter 49

THROUGH THE GAUNTLET


The Seer’s lips tightened into a scowl. “You owe me for this,” he said, pointing and firing off a disintegrate that hit the mummy right as it reached the edge of the ogre’s defensive aura. The creature was transformed instantly into a cascade of fine ash.

But while Ozmad had been granted a respite, the others were still hard pressed by their foes. Falah and Aerim still faced two mummies each, and there were two others that had nearly broken free of Navev’s chilling tentacles. The mummy that Ozmad had knocked down got up and leapt at the Seer, who drew back in sudden alarm, while Jasek darted back just in time to avoid being cut in half by the mummy he’d attacked. “If you have a scroll that can stop these things, now would be the time to use it!” he yelled, trying to protect his side, where a red blossom had appeared where the tip of the mummy’s sword had scored him.

Falah took another hit, and fell to one knee, his khopesh clattering on the floor as it fell from his grip. The mummies brought their swords up together, and the Razhuri’s career would have come to an immediate end at that point had Zafir Navev not been present. The undead warlock lanced a slashing eldritch blast into both mummies, knocking them off their feet and back into the reach of his chilling tentacles. The mummy warriors started to get up almost immediately, but the tentacles slowed their efforts, snaking around their legs and arms.

Aerim, infused with the unnatural power of the Bloodways, was a bit more durable than the other fighter, but even he could not absorb the degree of damage that the two mummy warriors were dishing out for long. He was forced to withdraw, luring the pair after him with a series of feints, retreating back toward the corner of the chamber, trying not to leave himself open to a full attack. But there just was not enough real estate in the place for that strategy to work for long, and as the walls reared up behind him, it was clear that he’d run out of time.

With obvious reluctance, despite the fact of his allies falling all around him, Ghazaran withdrew a small crystal from the pouch at his neck. It pulsed in his hand even as he uttered the words from another scroll taken from the cache at his hip. The Seer fell down just a pace away, clutching his hip where a mummy’s sword had bitten deep even through his stoneskin, but the cleric paid him no heed. The words upon the scroll flashed with blue light and vanished, and as the spell released the crystal in his fist flared with an echo of white light, transforming his hand into a shining beacon. The crystal amplified the power of the spell from the scroll, and that white light was echoed again as holy eruptions appeared around each of the mummies, sundering the dark energies that sustained their existence in unlife. All but two of the mummies collapsed into heaps of bone and fragments of alchemically-treated fabric as the mass cure wrought its effects. The two survivors came under immediate attack as the cleric’s spell gave the warriors a second wind, and both fell within seconds, hacked apart by magical blades backed by mundane strength.

The lich was unaffected, protected within Ozmad’s antimagic field, but it could clearly see that the battle had gone against it. The ogre had driven it forward, smashing his prisoner against the nearest wall, smashing bones with the force of the impact. Ozmad’s own body bore numerous wounds, but the ogre fought on with an unprecedented ferocity, refusing to release his captive. For a moment it looked as though the ogre would emerge victorious, but his charge had jostled his arm enough to allow Amurru to break free. The lich fell back into the back of the alcove. Ozmad turned, a bit dazed, and started toward it, but as Amurru retreated into the corridor at the rear of the alcove, it slipped out of the antimagic field. The lich cast a spell, and suddenly just wasn’t there, without flicker or afterimage to hint that it had ever been there at all.

Ghazaran’s final mass cure had brought Parzad back from death’s door, and as the ogre returned to them he had already started to go to work with another of his many healing wands. All of them had taken serious injuries in the brief but bloody fray. Ozmad kept his distance, so that his antimagic field would not interfere with the cleric’s healing.

“You should have used that crystal right off,” the Seer was saying, although the cleric, focused on his task, seemed to pay him little heed. “Had you given it to me, my lightning would have obliterated the entire group at the start. Instead, your... allies nearly died, and all of us could have all been killed, had Ozmad not rushed the lich and neutralized its magic. With the creature still ahead of us, it would be prudent to share all resources that might ensure our success.”

“I have only one more of the Tears, and it is not here; I have already promised its use to another,” Ghazaran said. He glanced at Aerim; the Duke met his gaze with a cold stare that did not waver. Finally, the cleric glanced down at the small crystal in the palm of its hand. It no longer glittered, and looked almost opaque, clouded through with gray. “I would have liked to have kept this one for the last confrontation, but its use was necessary here. It does mean that we will not have that resource to call upon when we reach the Ravager’s prison.”

The Seer’s lips tightened into a dour expression. “I am nearly out of higher-order spells. Let us hope that the lich has no further surprises of its own.”

“It will be waiting for us, ahead,” Ozmad said. He had taken up his mattock again, but without the enchantment that allowed him to reduce its size, he could barely hold it in his right hand. His left arm was still obviously broken, although he flexed it slightly, grimacing as his natural regenerative powers worked upon the damaged limb .

“Is there anything else you would tell us, cleric, about what lies ahead?” the Seer asked.

But Ghazaran merely turned from healing Falah’s wounds, and nodded to the ogre mage. “If you would like me to treat your injuries, you will have to let down your protective aura.”

The ogre shook his head. “I will be well enough within a few minutes. We are close to our destination; I can feel it. We must continue, and it would be wise to remain within the radius of the antimagic field for as long as it lasts. The cost in terms of the loss of our magical abilities is more than offset by the protection that it will offer.”

“A sound precaution. Shall we, then?”

They gathered together and set out again, all of them remaining within the bubble of antimagic wrought by the ogre’s magic. Even the Seer entered that radiance, reluctantly, as it meant that his spells and items would be of no avail so long as the ogre’s spell persisted. But it also meant that the lich would be unable to strike them with its own magic.

By the time that they reached the end of the far passage, the ogre had recovered sufficiently to carry his huge weapon in both hands. He cradled it before him like a scepter, the long black blades atop the mattock extending out above him like the markings of legionary standard, almost scraping the ceiling above. The weapon was almost as long as he was tall, but within the antimagic field it was just an oversized tool, its magical properties suppressed.

The corridor ended in another of the vault doors that deposited them into a large square chamber. Deep alcoves were set into each of the walls, but their attention was drawn to the floor, which was detailed in an intricate pattern that resembled the corridors of a maze. Just looking at it caused their heads to swim, but nothing else happened as the ogre led them across the chamber toward the nearest of the alcoves.

“Remain close,” Ozmad rumbled. He did not have to repeat himself.

Jasek’s sharp eyes detected a hidden panel in the far wall of the alcove in the left wall. He could not immediately discern the means of operating the secret door, but Ozmad solved the problem with a few powerful swings of his mattock of the titans. Even without its magical powers, the adamantine blades made short work of the thin stone, and soon there was an opening large enough for even the ogre to step through without being crowded.

The chamber beyond the door was slightly larger than the last, but it seemed much smaller due to the clutter of materials that filled it. The place was obviously a magical laboratory, with dozens if not hundreds of strange and wondrous items laid out on the low stone tables that stretched across the breadth of the room, or were arranged upon the shallow shelves built into the walls. Some of the items were easily recognizable, ancient scrolls and wands of bone or ebony, sitting among weapons that still looked sharp despite their obvious age. There were books, too, ancient tomes resting on the shelves along the far wall, bound in cracked and faded leather, plates of wood or metal, or even, in a few cases, the scales of some long-dead creature.

“Wondrous!” the Seer hissed, his expression covetous as he started toward the nearest of the worktables.

“Remain within the field!” Ghazaran warned, but the wizard paid little heed. “These items fall within my remit, per our bargain!” the mage said. He stopped beside a cluster of parchment scrolls, and reached for one with reedy fingers.

But as he touched the scroll, it... moved. Animated by some unseen force, it slid away from him, across the table. Frowning, the wizard reached for the next scroll, but it too moved away, followed a moment later by the rest.

“Looks like the owner of this place doesn’t want you messing with his stuff,” Jasek said. His words were light, but there was a hint of an edge in his tone, and his hands clenched.

“There is a entity here,” Ghazaran warned. Falah and Aerim had raised their weapons, but they remained close to the ogre, and the potential protection of his aura of antimagic.

The Seer, wary now, stepped back. But even as his boots scraped against the stone floor, the various items on the tables and nearby shelves began to rattle and shift, as if everything in the room had become possessed. And then, everything flew into the air, weapons and wands and scrolls alike dancing wildly around the chamber. It looked like utter chaos, but it was obvious that there was an intelligence behind it, a fact made obvious a moment later as one of the weapons, a gleaming shortsword, suddenly spun and dove straight toward the Seer, making a beeline toward the wizard’s heart.

 

[Lazybones]

Chapter 50

THE AMALGAMATION


The wizard lifted a hand to cast a spell, but the sword was much faster, driven by an invisible hand.

There was a blur of motion, and the sword clanged loudly as Aerim deflected it with a sudden sweep of his long blade. The sword kept going through the parry, and its edge glanced off of the Seer’s arm. The hit would have sliced his bicep down to the bone, but the wizard’s stoneskin protected him, to a degree.

“Get back, man!” Aerim warned, thrusting the mage behind him. He looked into the mass of items swirling above. His eyes were drawn to an axe that seemed to shift malevolently, but the more immediate danger turned out to be a wand of faded bone that was suddenly pointing toward them, its head flaring with magical energy.

The sword was not done, either; it stopped just a few feet past the Seer, spinning in mid-air so that the point was aimed once more at the wizard’s heart. But before it could launch itself again, the weapon suddenly trembled, and fell onto the surface of the adjacent table with a loud clatter.

The bone wand fired off a lightning bolt, but the blazing arc likewise died as it struck the edge of the advancing antimagic field that accompanied Ozmad. The others formed a wedge close around the ogre mage, pressing in close between the tables so that they could remain within the effect. The menacing axe had started toward Aerim, but now it spun away, as if wary of the aura that had caught up the sword. The sword lay there harmlessly until the ogre and his coterie were well past; then it sprang back into the air, joining the swirl that remained a good distance from the ogre mage’s position.

Ozmad led them across the room in a slow but steady progression, ignoring the chaos above and around them. The amalgamation followed them, but could not affect them within the protective bubble of disruptive energy. They left it behind as they approached the room’s only evident exit, another heavy door set into the wall to their right. The others watched, wary of some surprise, as Falah and Jasek worked the mechanism, and then they were through, leaving the animated magical laboratory behind them.

What they encountered next drew a startled breath from all of them.

The chamber was vast in a way that made even the huge cavern of the stone guardians seem pedestrian by contrast. The place was a huge dome, a hemisphere carved in perfect symmetry from the odd, swirling stone of the complex.

There was no doubt in any of their minds that they had found their destination.

Most of the chamber was dominated by a vast pyramid that looked solid, at first glance. A second look revealed it to be made up of an energy that subtly shifted and shimmered. Beams of colored light emerged from openings along the perimeter of the room, two visible from their current position, one red, one yellow. The color of the beams faded into the gray mass of the pyramid, although occasionally a tendril of that color twisted through the barrier before disappearing. A gantry of silvery metal ran around the edge of the room about fifteen feet above them, its spars anchored directly into the curving wall, and providing access to the openings where the colored beams emerged. There was no way to tell how far back those round tunnels went, or where the energy beams originated.

“There it is,” Ozmad said, and it was only then that the others realized that the guardian had already proceded them here.

The lich stood at the base of the pyramid, an insignificant ant against the backdrop of such a huge and eternal thing as the barrier. It stood near a discoloration in the stone, a line of black smear that ran across the floor, reaching almost into the barrier like the branch of a dead tree. The pyramid was opaque, but each of them could almost see the stirring within the barrier, almost like a child waiting to be born.

“Remain within the antimagic field,” Ozmad directed, unnecessarily, as all of them had felt the bite of the lich’s magic. All save Navev, but the mummy had faded back into the shadows, and was almost invisible in the doorway behind them.

“Step aside or be destroyed, guardian,” Ghazaran said, his voice echoing oddly within the chamber. The place was a perfect dome, but the pyramidal barrier did something odd to sounds, causing a weird reverberation that twisted and distorted them before they returned.

The lich did not move. “Turn away from this madness,” it said, its voice hollow but strong, and utterly determined. “You know not what you do here. The Ravager is a being of primal destruction; it cannot be controlled. What you will unleash upon the world will return against you a thousandfold, leaving only grief and rage in its wake.”

“We are fully cognizant of the consequences of our actions,” the cleric returned. The lich focused its glowing eyes upon the man, and after a moment, it nodded.

“So be it. But I cannot allow you to do this.”

The companions shifted, expecting some sort of attack, but the lich merely reached back and thrust a skeletal hand against the barrier behind it. Something flashed in its hand, and they could see its fingers sliding into the pyramid. The result was immediate; ripples of color spread out from the point of contact, and they could sense something deeper, a disturbance within the field.

“We must intervene,” Ozmad said, starting forward, the others forming a tight ring around the ogre. But they had barely covered a half-dozen steps when the lich’s actions resulted in a more immediate and dramatic response.

The only warning they had was a slight bulging in the barrier. It pushed back against the lich’s touch, strong enough to force the undead guardian back several steps. And then there was a blurring, or perhaps a tearing, as something came through the area of distortion. It came through like a charging dragon, trampling Amurru into the ground without seeming to even notice that the lich was there. The barrier snapped back into its usual position behind it.

“The Ravager!” Jasek exclaimed, looking up at the monstrosity with wide eyes. It was certainly as big as a dragon, built like some freakish combination of fiend and wolverine, its six clawed legs built to burrow and rend, its angular face broken by a massive jaw that was generously populated with razor-sharp teeth. Claws, teeth, and eyes were all utter black, devoid of color, while its hairless body was a heavy red, deepening the higher on its body one looked, until its crest bore the color of freshly spewn blood. Its flesh bulged with ridges of bone, as though plates of armor had been inserted under the skin. It was fearsome, and it exuded an aura of sheer destruction that only intensified as it fixed its eyes upon those that had intruded upon its slumber.

“No, this is but a spawn of the beast,” Ozmad explained. The others shot an incredulous glance between the ogre mage and the creature—this thing was just an offspring of the Ravager? “It would appear that the guardian has chosen to release one of those within its remit, in order to keep the greater entity confined.”

But there was no time for further consultation or consideration, as the creature recovered quickly, and lowered its head as it charged toward them.

 

[Lazybones]

Chapter 51

SPAWN OF THE RAVAGER


They barely had time to lift their weapons before the monstrous creature slammed into them.

It did not slow in its rush, just snapped its head around as it barreled into them, scattering the group as it tore by. The defenders managed a few hits; Aerim’s sword bit into its shoulder a moment before he was knocked flying, while Falah’s khopesh opened a gash in one of its legs, before the Razhuri vanished under its pounding claws. Ozmad brought up his mattock like a lance, but the impact of the creature nearly tore the weapon out of his grasp. The ogre was flung aside like a wooden pin in a game of bowls, and he took down Ghazaran as well, knocking the cleric onto his back. Jasek and Parzad hurled themselves out of the creature’s path, narrowly avoiding the churning claws, and the Seer simply turned and ran, moving out of the rush of its charge, and not looking back until he was at least ten paces clear. His first action once free was to invoke an invisibility spell, and he vanished from view in mid-step.

The spawn’s rush took it almost to the wall, and it lifted its frontmost claws to bite into the stone, lifting its head a good fifteen feet off the ground, almost brushing the bottom of the metal gantry above. It twisted its head almost full around, and no sooner had it marked its targets than it was pushing off, leaving deep gouges in the wall at it spun its body to face them again. It was remarkably fast for a creature of its size.

The companions were slowly getting to their feet. Some had been hurt more seriously than the others; Falah staggered as his left leg nearly gave way under him. The Razhuri had been trampled under the creature’s claws, and blood spurted from a series of deep gashes in the savaged limb. Despite the grievous wound, the fighter stumbled toward where his sword had fallen, grimacing against the pain. Aerim seemed less injured, and the fighter even managed a flourish with his great blade as he took up a defensive stance, waiting for the creature’s second rush.

Ozmad barely looked at the creature as it turned around and started toward them again. “We must act now, before the guardian recovers,” the ogre said. Reaching down, he grasped Ghazaran’s shoulder roughly. Dismissing his antimagic field, the ogre spoke a word of magic, and both of them vanished.

A moment later, Amurru hurled its own magic at the companions. The lich was still prone, a number of its bones crushed under the rough treatment of the ravager spawn’s arrival. But its power had not been inhibited by the damage it had sustained, and with a faint flicker both Falah and Jasek suddenly disappeared. Amurru slowly pulled itself to its feet, scanning the chamber as if looking for something.

Aerim found himself standing nearly alone against the ravager spawn’s wrath, but the Duke did not seek flight. Instead he fell into a crouch as the creature reached him, hurling himself two paces to the right as its head lunged for him, its jaws opening wide to engulf him in a mess of sharp teeth. This time the creature’s rush was tempered, its efforts focused on this singe foe that had wounded it in its first blind charge.

The thing was fast, adjusting its lunge to account for the Duke’s evasion. But Aerim was quick as well, spinning his body around in mid-air, agile despite the heavy weight of his armor and weapons. The spawn’s jaws snapped closed on empty air, but its snout pounded into the Duke’s shoulder with the force of a battering ram, knocking him back and nearly off his feet. But the Duke recovered swiftly, sweeping his sword up before the monster could pull its head back. The strike delivered only a clipping blow, but a jet of black blood spurted from the wound under its jaw, and its roar was anything but mild. At that point it might have been wiser for the Duke to withdraw, to open the gap between himself and the creature, but instead he stepped forward and drove half of the length of his blade into the juncture where the creature’s neck met its body.

If the spawn’s initial roar had shook the chamber, this one made it seem like the place was coming apart. Aerim twisted the sword in the wound, and leaned forward to push it deeper, but he never got the chance.

The ravager spawn’s head snapped down, and seized the Duke in a crushing grip that trapped his left arm and most of that side of his body, from his shoulder to his hip. It lifted him like a dog manhandling a squirrel, and as it rose up, its forelimbs coming off the ground as it settled its weight back, it tore into the trapped fighter’s sides with its razor-sharp claws. For an interminably long second it dug those claws deeper into the body of its prey, then it sudden snapped its head up, jerking to the side as it opened its jaws in a spray of red, releasing its victim. Aerim went flying across the room, landing just shy of the curving wall. His sword clattered loudly some distance away, making more noise than the Duke, who landed with a dull thump despite the weight of his mail. Aerim lay there, somehow clinging to consciousness. Blood lay splattered on the ground all around him, and he could just make out the remains of his left leg, which lay on the floor about ten feet away. His left arm was trapped under his body, but it was obvious that if that limb was still attached to him, it was only by the most tenuous of connections.

Making noises that did not sound human, the Duke quivered and bled.

A bolt of black energy sliced across one side of the creature’s face. Gore trailing from its head, the creature twisted nimbly to face the source of this new attack. It fixed immediately upon Navev. The mummy had moved fully into the chamber, keeping in the shadows along the curving wall. It seemed unconcerned with having been detected, although no living thing could have been so calm when faced with the vicious monstrosity that came charging forward, intent on repeating what it had done with Duke Aerim.

Navev stopped walking and waited to receive that rush. The creature was only a few paces away, its head already darting forward to seize its victim, when the mummy’s figure shimmered slightly. The ravager spawn’s head tore through the illusion left behind by the warlock’s flee the scene invocation. It recovered quickly, but its head and shoulder still glanced off the chamber wall with enough force to leave long scratches in the wall. The magical stone quickly healed, the marks disappearing within a few seconds. The damage done to the creature’s disposition, however, was not as quick to disappear.

The creature’s charge had covered for a new noise in the chamber, as the vault door leading to the laboratory slowly creaked open. The company that entered the vast room was larger than the one that had accompanied Ozmad into the place less than a minute previously, but they were no less wary. All eyes turned to the ravager spawn as it bounced off the wall and clawed its way back toward the center of the room.

“Oh, gods damn it all,” Dar said, echoing the sentiments of everyone there.

The creature’s attention turned on them a moment later, or rather, it was drawn to the sudden appearance of a new adversary. The thing that suddenly appeared behind the ravager spawn looked much like the creature, only slightly smaller, and white where the other was red. The second creature lifted itself up onto its hind limbs, its claws slashing the air as it issued a roar that was obviously a direct challenge. The ravager spawn clearly took it as such, spinning around and darting forward at this new enemy. But the white spawn drew back with surprising speed, bounding back in a way that should have been impossible for a creature of its body structure, remaining just out of reach of the snapping jaws of the red ravager, and its slicing claws. But its charge was taking it straight toward the newcomers standing in the entrance.

“Scatter! Take cover!” Dar yelled, but his commands were all but drowned out in the noise of the creature’s rush, and then it was upon them, and all hell broke loose.

 

[3V1L_N3CR0]

Ouch

To think the Bad guys go through all this get their asses whipped inside out, just so Dar can kick their asses after he kills the spawn (thanks to which he will be even more angry) this is gonna be fun

 

[Lazybones]

Indeed, this one is going to get bloody.

Readers, I may have something extra for you on 4e Release Day. Stay tuned.

* * * * *

Chapter 52

DISTRACTIONS


The ravager spawn dove through the illusion at full speed, knocking aside those of the companions who could not get out of the way quickly enough. Kiron was hit squarely by its left foreleg; even though the impact hadn’t been intentional it was strong enough to slam him hard against the wall just left of the mithral doorframe. The creature seemed to realize what was happening and started to stop, but its momentum carried it forward, and its head and shoulders thrust into the partially open doorway. It snarled as one of its legs cracked hard on the mithral ring that encircled the doorway, but the collision angered it more than causing serious injury.

The companions were quick to recover. The group had become divided, with Qatarn and the soldiers on the far side of the doorway, back in the laboratory, along with Zethas, Selaht, and Maricela. The twang of crossbows sounded over the noise of the creature’s roars, indicating that they were attacking. Aldos jammed his glaive into the joint where one of the creatures hind legs met its body, but the weapon slid harmlessly off of its armored hide. On its far side, Kiron found himself with little room between the creature’s body and the wall. He lifted his sword to attack, but was forced to jump back to avoid a clawed leg that sought traction against the wall where he’d been standing.

Dar stepped into the gap between two of the creature’s legs and sliced down with Justice. The axiomatic sword opened a long gash in its body, and a stream of blood, hissing with the heat of the monster’s body, shot out over the fighter’s chest. The ravager spawn’s roar became an angry shriek, and all six of its legs seized onto the doorframe or the surrounding stone as it sought to pull itself free of the door.

But before it could free itself, Letellia drove a clenched fist into the back of the door, slamming it hard against the creature’s body, crushing it in the jam of the portal. The mithral hinges creaked loudly in protest, but the door held.

“Hit it while it’s caught!” Dar yelled. He put his own words into action, slicing Justice through one of its legs as it flailed violently, seeking a fresh purchase. The sword again bit deep, but it was like hewing a log for all the injury suffered by the monster. Aldos hit it again, and this time his blade bit through its hide, but the gash he opened barely showed blood. Kiron was shouting something across its body, but the words were lost in the noise made by the ravager spawn’s struggles.

They did not get a chance to press the attack further, as the ravager’s claws tore into the door and its frame, and with a sudden lurch of its body it simply ripped the vault door off its hinges. The mithral disk, which had to weigh thousands of pounds, went flying, almost clipping Allera before it spun and clattered to the floor. The creature pushed off and spun as it hurled itself back into the prison chamber. Dar and Aldos were hurled backward by its violent movements; both fell to the ground, although they were able to keep their grip on their weapons. They saw that a half dozen quarrels jutted from its head and neck, but none of the missiles had penetrated deep enough to draw blood. A black streak ran along the side of its head below its right eye; apparently Maricela had been able to hit it with a spell.

The creature seemed a bit disoriented, having just freed itself, surrounded by foes. It reacted by lashing out blindly at the nearest opponents. Kiron, still behind it, slammed his sword down into its thick torso, and the monster reflexively flexed, pinning him between the wall and its body. A claw slammed down into the joint of wall and floor to anchor it, almost crushing the knight’s leg under it. Kiron struggled to free his arms enough to use his huge blade, while trying to avoid being mangled under the thing’s awesome weight.

Selaht leapt forward, flames blazing around his hands. He delivered a punch squarely in the center of the creature’s chest, a blow that seemed almost pathetic against the thing’s size and bulk. But the ravager spawn responded immediately, slashing its head down like the chop of an axe. The side of its jaw, ridged with bone, hit the monk squarely on the shoulder, spinning him around as he went flying through the wreckage of the doorway. The creature started to follow, but another storm of quarrels and arrows flew into its face, and Qatarn stepped into the breach, thrusting with his sword like the point of a spear, trying to buy time as Maricela helped the injured monk to his feet. His weak attack did little to hinder it, and as it lurched forward the claws of its foremost right limb clipped his shins, slicing through the greaves protecting the front of his boots as though the metal plates were wraps of parchment. The veteran centurion’s face twisted in pain, but he held his ground, poking at the creature’s leg with his sword, keeping its attention focused on him.

“You all right?” Dar yelled at Aldos. The knight nodded, using the haft of his weapon to help him regain his feet. Healing power flooded through both of them, as Allera expended one of her remaining mass cure wounds spells. Letellia was just a few feet away, but her attention was directed inward, toward the Ravager’s prison, rather than at the spawn.

“We cannot linger here,” the sorceress said. “Our enemies have gone ahead, to collapse the barrier. We must stop them.”

Dar looked torn; he’d fought the ravager spawn before, and he had to know that their current forces had little chance of defeating even one of the creatures. But Allera stepped toward the sorceress decisively. “We’ll go,” she said. “Follow as soon as you can!”

Dar started to shake his head, but another roar from the creature drew his attention back in time to see Qatarn’s upper body vanish into the ravager spawn’s jaws. The sickening crunch of bones being crushed traveled clearly even over the noise it was making, and they could see the man’s body go limp even before the creature lifted its head, its prize dangling beneath its clenched mouth.

“General!” Aldos yelled, clutching his glaive with white-fingered hands.

“Go!” Dar shouted at all of them, the word torn from him. Aldos started forward, but Dar seized his shoulder and roughly spun him around. “You’re with them, knight!” he yelled, pushing him toward Letellia and Allera. Aldos had no chance to protest, as Letellia reached out and touched both him and the healer, invoking a dimension door. All three vanished.

Dar’s roar was part frustration, part fury, and part fear as he lifted his sword and charged at the creature.

 

[Faren]

Ouch. This looks like it's going to get reaaally bad. Looks really tough with the group split up and most of them lower-level.
I was wondering how the DBs were going to catch up with the Reckoners. I think you tied it together nicely.

 

[Richard Rawen]

Yep, I like the way it moved as well, though it looks like the DB's aren't liking it much!

Looking forward to what you have in store for us beyond the veil, and wondering what Amurru is up to...

Also looking forward to your 4E surprise LB, though for now I think we're staying with 3.5 (modified ) there are quite a few aspects of 4.0 that we're interested in as well.

 

[Lazybones]

Chapter 53

SACRIFICES


Reality spun and then resolved with a lurching suddenness. Ghazaran stumbled and would have likely fallen if it had not been for the rail attached to the metal gantry. He looked up, a bit disoriented, into the mass of the gray pyramid, rising up high above him, almost to the apex of the domed ceiling high above. They were only about fifteen feet above the floor, but it felt like a lot more than that.

“What... what happened?”

“The degree of power present here is interfering with my magic,” Ozmad explained. He was offering something to the cleric; after a moment to gather himself Ghazaran realized that it was one of the jeweled daggers. The ruby set into the hilt gleamed brightly, as though drinking in the pale light that radiated from the pyramid. The ogre was holding another of the daggers; the one with the blue gem, Ghazaran realized. Looking around, he saw that they had traveled around the perimeter of the room. From their current position, he could not see the entrance, although he could still hear the sounds of the battle with the ravager spawn.

“The lich will realize where we have gone,” the ogre said, impatient. He all but thrust the hilt of the dagger into the cleric’s chest. Ghazaran took it, holding it gingerly. The disorientation from his passage through Ozmad’s dimension door was beginning to fade. He could see two of the colored beams from their current position, one red, one blue. Matching the daggers, he realized. He looked up at the ogre with a question on his lips.

“The warlock has the third,” the ogre said before he could speak. “Zafir Navev knows what must be done.”

Ghazaran nodded. Apparently Ozmad had been making arrangements of his own on the side. The ogre mage had long guided his own plans, and was possessed of secrets that had surprised the cleric more than once. But for the nonce, their interests appeared to be in alignment, and Ghazaran felt a sudden singularity focus his thoughts as the realization of his goal drew close at hand.

“The dagger-key will protect you from the beam,” the ogre was explaining. “Do not relinquish it. It will be needed to destroy the power source as well. There may be another guardian as well, within the generation chamber. Do not linger; there are other powers at work here.”

The cleric clutched the dagger tightly. “The hour has come,” he said. Ozmad nodded, and without further discourse turned and strode toward the opening where the blue beam lanced out into the pyramid. That was further away from the entrance, leaving Ghazaran the task of moving closer to the battle that still raged, from the noises that echoed oddly throughout the place. The ogre’s warning about the guardian remained fresh in his mind as well, so he did not loiter, moving as quickly and quietly as he could along the gantry, toward the source of the red beam.

* * * * *

The Seer watched the ravager spawn engage the Camarians, although he felt only limited security within the protective embrace of his invisibility. His illusion had worked with superb efficacy, but he knew he was outmatched by the sorceress that accompanied the other group, even before she summoned that clenched fist. With the bulk of his reserve already expended, he had no desire to engage in a magical duel, even for the items of power that the enemy caster no doubt possessed.

His philosophy was to know when to retreat to fight another day; it had stood him in good stead over the years.

But he’d only taken a single step back when he sensed a sudden chill, a dark presence at his back.

Spinning, words of magic already forming on his lips, he froze as a skeletal claw seized him by the throat. The chill pierced his skin and penetrated to his bones, and the spell he’d been starting to cast fled. Everything faded into indistinction, save for the twin pinpoints of red fire that held his attention fully.

“Where are the keys?” the lich said, its words forming complete in his mind.

* * * * *

Dar felt as though his arm was being torn from its socket. The creature’s sweeping claw had only just clipped his shoulder, but one of the long black talons had pierced his armor, digging deep into the joint. The wound was terrible, but in a strange bit of luck the vicious tug as it yanked the clawed limb around pulled him out of the path of its snapping jaws. The ridged edge of the monster’s head had rang his helmet hard enough to make him see stars, but he’d avoided the fate suffered by Qatarn just a few moments ago.

For a moment all he saw was a red blur, and then the pressure on his shoulder vanished, and the floor rose up to meet him. Pain exploded again as he landed hard, awkwardly, on the damaged shoulder, but he embraced it, fighting through the agony as he had so many times before. Somehow, he’d kept his grip on Justice with his other hand, or maybe the sword had clung to him, somehow. It had felt that way sometimes, when he’d wielded Valor.

He could not see. As he staggered to his feet, he pulled off his helmet; the battered and dented metal now offered more hindrance than protection. Blood trailed down his face; there was a gash above one of his eyes, and he blinked in an attempt to clear his vision.

The monster was there, just a few paces away. Kiron had stepped forward to engage it, explaining why it hadn’t torn him apart while it had had him at its mercy a moment past. The knight’s sword blazed a bright path, but even though the hit was a solid one, Dar could see how slight the wounds it had taken were. It was regenerating, slowly, and he knew how durable these things were. Knew from experience. Without Letellia’s spellpower, and Allera’s healing...

He pushed that thought ruthlessly aside with an angry shake of his head. He’d taken a beating just in the few seconds since Allera had left with the sorceress, but this was not the first time he’d absorbed wounds that would have killed a lesser man. He was older, and maybe not wiser, but he was still Corath Dar, and no overgrown weasel was going to put an end to him.

His yell caught the monster’s attention; it spun to face him as he began his charge. Its black eyes shone; blood trailed in runnels down the sides of its jaw. It answered the man’s cry with a roar of its own, and dove forward to meet him.

 

[Lazybones]

Chapter 54

ONE KNIGHT


Aldos Jennar had been eleven on the Night of the Dead, when Camar had been gripped in a cataclysm of violence and death. The memories of that night had been burned into his psyche, and he still woke from vivid dreams of his family’s armsmen and servants holding the front door of their house in the Gold Quarter against a pack of ghouls, the foul monsters’ screams echoing through the house. The last attack had broken through, ghouls crashing through the heavy-paned windows into the study and the dining hall. He remembered his father standing at the head of the stairs, a sword that Aldos had never remembered seeing him holding bare in his hand.

The young Jennar had been in a position to inherit a thousand acres of prime land not far from the city, along with the estate within Camar, and investments worth almost ten thousand gold crowns. But that night, his life had changed. He never got a chance to meet the man who had led the armored soldiers who had come to their aid; his father had exchanged barely ten words with him before he took his forces back out into the night, to rescue others from the wandering knots of undead that were rampaging throughout the city. But he had never forgotten the face of Talen Karedes, and six years after that dread night, on reaching his majority, he had abandoned his inheritance to his younger brother Kayel, and had dedicated his life to the order of the Dragon, the Knights of Camar.

Now, running along a metal gantry, he felt a sense of everything falling apart around him that he hadn’t felt since that deadly night twelve years ago. An empty hole flared in his chest, a sadness that he could not let himself feel now. There would be time for mourning later, if Allera could not bring Petronia back from the dead as she had promised. He glanced back over his shoulder, but the curve of the chamber and the vast gray pyramid had already obscured his view of the entrance. He could hear the battle that continued to rage there, however.

The young knight clung to his duty, his orders. He felt a twinge at having abandoned Kiron, but he knew that his superior would have given him the same orders he’d received. Duty, the Mission, was all important. For all that Kiron was three years younger than he was, he’d developed a respect for the other knight that had nothing to do with their relative ranks. So he drew strength from the other man’s example, and ran toward who knew what. Allera Hialar and the mysterious woman, the sorceress who’d transported them up to this gantry, were each heading for one of the tunnels accessed by the metal scaffold that ran around the entire perimeter of the room. The one ahead, its blue beam becoming visible ahead as he ran, was his objective. He had no idea what he was going to face once he got there; he only knew that he had to stop the enemy from doing whatever they had come here to do.

And then, as he looked up again, he saw a man in his path.

The knight came to an abrupt halt, surprised. The man was a lean figure, Drusian by his coloring and look, clad in non-descript garments that might have been worn by a middling-prosperous farmer or tradesman. But there was something else, a look in his eyes, that sent a cold chill down the knight’s back.

And perhaps most disturbing, he had not been there just a moment earlier, before Aldos’s gaze had momentarily swept away from his destination, and he’d glanced back toward the chamber entry.

“Stand aside,” he said, but he’d already lowered his glaive.

The man’s mouth twisted slightly, and something... dangerous... entered his gaze. “I must aid my Master. I am not strong enough to hinder the sorceress or the healer, but you, you I can defeat, young knight.”

Aldos’s response was to charge forward, but he only made it one step forward before his entire body seemed to lock up. He tottered on his right foot, his weight unbalanced, and almost fell onto his face. He could not even twist his head, and could only watch as the Drusian stepped forward. The man was not even armed, but Aldos could do nothing as the man calmly pressed the head of his polearm aside, and stepped up to him, close enough for the knight to smell him.

The Drusian reached down and drew Aldos’s dagger from its sheath at his hip. The knight struggled to move, but he could only tremble as the man lifted the blade with one hand, and with the other lifted up the metal links of his gorget.

Then pain, as the Drusian dragged Aldos’s own knife across his throat. He could feel the blood gushing, and his awareness seemed to pulse out of his body with it.

“You have failed, knight,” the man said. The words pounded in Aldos head, and suddenly, desperately, he lurched forward. His weakening body seemed to lessen the hold that the Drusian had on his mind, and he collided with the man as he fell. The Drusian tried to break free, but Aldos snagged his arm around the man’s body. He hit the railing hard, and both men toppled over it, plummeting head-first down toward the hard floor fifteen feet below.

Aldos did not feel the impact. He was only dimly aware of the body of the Drusian under his. His vision was already growing dim, but he could just feel the man’s body, convulsing. The knight’s lips twisted into a faint smile; the man’s neck was broken.

And then, everything dissolved into black.