DragonLancer
Adventurer
Ooohhh.... fantastic. 
-
The VOIDRUNNER'S CODEX is coming! Explore new worlds, fight oppressive empires, fend off fearsome aliens, and wield deadly psionics with this comprehensive boxed set expansion for 5E and A5E!
The Doomed Bastards: Reckoning (story complete)
- Thread starter Lazybones
- Start date
Neverwinter Knight
First Post
The cliffhanger kings strikes again!
Great twist there - I wonder where it leads!
Great twist there - I wonder where it leads!
Richard Rawen
First Post
damit
I knew what was coming. Yet... it still hit like ice cold water in a sleepy stomach...
poor doomed bastards.
I knew what was coming. Yet... it still hit like ice cold water in a sleepy stomach...
poor doomed bastards.
Lazybones
Adventurer
Chapter 82
A DIABOLICAL PREDICAMENT
“Take cover!” Talen yelled, an instant before the Duke drew back his arm, and hurled a fireball into the midst of the attackers.
The blast scorched the entry to the room, ravaging the heavy doors, and transforming several tapestries into blazing pyres. It also killed three of Talen’s soldiers outright, and inflicted terrible wounds on nearly all of the others. Only a few that had either leapt forward or managed to dart back behind the threshold of the chamber entry were able to escape the full force of the blast.
Baraka Suhn was one of those who had darted ahead, and he came up into a roll as the Duke’s half-fiend lords rushed to engage the intruders. He had drawn out a pair of heavy sickles, one of adamantine, the other of alchemical silver, and as two of the false nobles charged him, swords lifted to strike, he raked both weapons across the torso of the first. The half-fiend snarled, but absorbed cuts that would have disembowled a mortal fighter without further reaction. As Suhn darted back to avoid the immediate counterattack, he saw that his foe wore a suit of fine mail links under his expensive clothes.
“They’re armored!” he yelled in warning to his companions.
The clash of metal on metal sounded loudly through the chamber as the two sides met in a violent melee in its center. Talen’s soldiers fought well, but most of them were young, and already bore serious wounds from the fireball. And it quickly became clear that the half-fiends were more than just good fighters, as they darted into flanking positions, opening up devastating sneak attacks that tore through the humans’ defenses. One soldier went down as a fiend sliced through his hamstring, while a second turned an initial attack only to take a thrust through his back that pierced his heart, killing him almost instantly.
Only Talen kept the line from buckling at once, holding his ground at the center of the melee. He exorted his men and women to hold, deflecting one attack with his shield, and turning to stab a second attacker in the chest before it could follow-up to its advantage. The half-fiend staggered back, but wasn’t seriously hurt; the fiendish durability possessed by the monstrous half-breeds turned serious injuries into minor scrapes. They were also completely immune to the toxins that Alucinor had given them. Without magical weapons, there was little that the soldiers could do to hurt them, short of a lucky critical hit.
Still, they fought on, and bled.
Dar hit the right edge of the line hard and kept going. A half-fiend swung at him with its sword; he took the hit and countered with a power attack that cut under its arms, ripping through its armor and biting deep into its torso. The diabolic warrior staggered back and lifted its sword for a counterattack, but Dar was already surging past it, driving his sword around into a backswing that clipped it hard on the back of its neck. The fiend fell forward, collapsing in a bloody heap.
Dar met the Duke’s gaze for an instant. The mercenary lifted his sword in challenge, but was forced to suddenly defend himself as two of the half-fiend warriors surged forward to intercept him.
On the opposite flank, Suhn had taken a glancing hit to his shoulder that had torn open an old wound. But he’d kept his injured opponent at bay, and even managed a lucky hit that had snagged deep into the foe’s hip, laying his pelvis open to the bone. The other half-fiend whipped around the ranger, coming at him from behind, but an arrow thudded into his chest, piercing his mail and the thick hide beneath. Despite its immunity to the poison covering the arrowhead, it was clear that Pella’s shot had hurt it nevertheless.
Suhn shifted to try and keep both enemies ahead of him, but as he lifted his scythes to strike again, he felt a cold chill fall over him. He turned to see Lord Sobol—the narzugon—looking at him with a cold smile. The veteran ranger tried to fight off the cloying power of Sobol’s spell, but he could not resist as the hold person froze his limbs.
Helpless, he could do nothing to stop the two half-fiends as they drove their swords deep into his body.
One of his scouts had moved to his aid, but now found herself fighting for her life as Suhn’s killers turned their attentions to her.
“Pella, the Duke!” Talen yelled, dodging a thrust that still managed to draw a red line across his right bicep. Thus far, he’d been able to avoid being flanked, but the soldiers to either side were being hard pressed, and neither had inflicted much damage on the enemies facing them. A scout fell to the ground, clutching his throat as blood exploded from between his fingers. A few seconds later, a young soldier fell to the ground as a sword pierced his left thigh. His opponent lunged forward, snapping its jaws around the man’s neck. Blood splashed out from their evil embrace, and the soldier abruptly fell limp.
The odds, roughly even to begin with, were turning steadily against the attackers.
Pella drew and fired, sending another arrow at the Duke. This time, the shot actually stuck in his arm, but as the overlord of Camar looked down at the wound, he seemed more annoyed than hurt. Plucking the arrow out, he extended his arm toward the archer. A lightning bolt shot from his hand, streaking across the room. It hit one of his own nobles in the back, tore through the soldier facing it, and then continued, blasting into Pella’s chest. The archer was knocked back into the outer room, landing hard on the ground. She didn’t get up. The soldier likewise went down, while the half-fiend, naturally resistant to the electrical energies of the blast, was just moderately singed.
“Aarrgh!” Talen yelled as he took another hit. The soldier behind him was fighting off a half-fiend with courageous desperation, but as the man to his right was taken down by the Duke’s lightning bolt, the captain could no longer protect his flanks. A half-fiend he’d already hit twice surged forward to finish him, but Talen proved he was still dangerous, spinning around, clipping the tip of his sword through the fiend’s skull. The precise strike took out its left eye, and blood exploded into the air from the vicious wound. The infernal creature screamed and fell to the ground, clawing at the bloody socket.
Dar, meanwhile, had been pushed back, forced to defend himself against two skilled foes. They were wary of his sword, having seen what it had done to their comrade, but they also knew that their fiendish hides were resistant to his non-magical weapons. They spread out, keeping their distance as the three exchanged a series of non-damaging blows, giving him no way to escape, save through them. They were moving to flank him, and without an ally or a barrier to block them, there was nothing he could do to stop it.
Dar snarled, drawing his lips back to bare his teeth.
They were... pointed.
The mercenary’s body had already begun to change. He lowered his body into a crouch, as his back bent, his bones shifting to accommodate a new form. His fingers grew longer, and claws emerged from their tips. His face experienced the most jarring transformation, elongating and exploding with coarse hair that quickly covered his entire features.
Within just a few seconds, a wererat faced the two half-fiends.
A DIABOLICAL PREDICAMENT
“Take cover!” Talen yelled, an instant before the Duke drew back his arm, and hurled a fireball into the midst of the attackers.
The blast scorched the entry to the room, ravaging the heavy doors, and transforming several tapestries into blazing pyres. It also killed three of Talen’s soldiers outright, and inflicted terrible wounds on nearly all of the others. Only a few that had either leapt forward or managed to dart back behind the threshold of the chamber entry were able to escape the full force of the blast.
Baraka Suhn was one of those who had darted ahead, and he came up into a roll as the Duke’s half-fiend lords rushed to engage the intruders. He had drawn out a pair of heavy sickles, one of adamantine, the other of alchemical silver, and as two of the false nobles charged him, swords lifted to strike, he raked both weapons across the torso of the first. The half-fiend snarled, but absorbed cuts that would have disembowled a mortal fighter without further reaction. As Suhn darted back to avoid the immediate counterattack, he saw that his foe wore a suit of fine mail links under his expensive clothes.
“They’re armored!” he yelled in warning to his companions.
The clash of metal on metal sounded loudly through the chamber as the two sides met in a violent melee in its center. Talen’s soldiers fought well, but most of them were young, and already bore serious wounds from the fireball. And it quickly became clear that the half-fiends were more than just good fighters, as they darted into flanking positions, opening up devastating sneak attacks that tore through the humans’ defenses. One soldier went down as a fiend sliced through his hamstring, while a second turned an initial attack only to take a thrust through his back that pierced his heart, killing him almost instantly.
Only Talen kept the line from buckling at once, holding his ground at the center of the melee. He exorted his men and women to hold, deflecting one attack with his shield, and turning to stab a second attacker in the chest before it could follow-up to its advantage. The half-fiend staggered back, but wasn’t seriously hurt; the fiendish durability possessed by the monstrous half-breeds turned serious injuries into minor scrapes. They were also completely immune to the toxins that Alucinor had given them. Without magical weapons, there was little that the soldiers could do to hurt them, short of a lucky critical hit.
Still, they fought on, and bled.
Dar hit the right edge of the line hard and kept going. A half-fiend swung at him with its sword; he took the hit and countered with a power attack that cut under its arms, ripping through its armor and biting deep into its torso. The diabolic warrior staggered back and lifted its sword for a counterattack, but Dar was already surging past it, driving his sword around into a backswing that clipped it hard on the back of its neck. The fiend fell forward, collapsing in a bloody heap.
Dar met the Duke’s gaze for an instant. The mercenary lifted his sword in challenge, but was forced to suddenly defend himself as two of the half-fiend warriors surged forward to intercept him.
On the opposite flank, Suhn had taken a glancing hit to his shoulder that had torn open an old wound. But he’d kept his injured opponent at bay, and even managed a lucky hit that had snagged deep into the foe’s hip, laying his pelvis open to the bone. The other half-fiend whipped around the ranger, coming at him from behind, but an arrow thudded into his chest, piercing his mail and the thick hide beneath. Despite its immunity to the poison covering the arrowhead, it was clear that Pella’s shot had hurt it nevertheless.
Suhn shifted to try and keep both enemies ahead of him, but as he lifted his scythes to strike again, he felt a cold chill fall over him. He turned to see Lord Sobol—the narzugon—looking at him with a cold smile. The veteran ranger tried to fight off the cloying power of Sobol’s spell, but he could not resist as the hold person froze his limbs.
Helpless, he could do nothing to stop the two half-fiends as they drove their swords deep into his body.
One of his scouts had moved to his aid, but now found herself fighting for her life as Suhn’s killers turned their attentions to her.
“Pella, the Duke!” Talen yelled, dodging a thrust that still managed to draw a red line across his right bicep. Thus far, he’d been able to avoid being flanked, but the soldiers to either side were being hard pressed, and neither had inflicted much damage on the enemies facing them. A scout fell to the ground, clutching his throat as blood exploded from between his fingers. A few seconds later, a young soldier fell to the ground as a sword pierced his left thigh. His opponent lunged forward, snapping its jaws around the man’s neck. Blood splashed out from their evil embrace, and the soldier abruptly fell limp.
The odds, roughly even to begin with, were turning steadily against the attackers.
Pella drew and fired, sending another arrow at the Duke. This time, the shot actually stuck in his arm, but as the overlord of Camar looked down at the wound, he seemed more annoyed than hurt. Plucking the arrow out, he extended his arm toward the archer. A lightning bolt shot from his hand, streaking across the room. It hit one of his own nobles in the back, tore through the soldier facing it, and then continued, blasting into Pella’s chest. The archer was knocked back into the outer room, landing hard on the ground. She didn’t get up. The soldier likewise went down, while the half-fiend, naturally resistant to the electrical energies of the blast, was just moderately singed.
“Aarrgh!” Talen yelled as he took another hit. The soldier behind him was fighting off a half-fiend with courageous desperation, but as the man to his right was taken down by the Duke’s lightning bolt, the captain could no longer protect his flanks. A half-fiend he’d already hit twice surged forward to finish him, but Talen proved he was still dangerous, spinning around, clipping the tip of his sword through the fiend’s skull. The precise strike took out its left eye, and blood exploded into the air from the vicious wound. The infernal creature screamed and fell to the ground, clawing at the bloody socket.
Dar, meanwhile, had been pushed back, forced to defend himself against two skilled foes. They were wary of his sword, having seen what it had done to their comrade, but they also knew that their fiendish hides were resistant to his non-magical weapons. They spread out, keeping their distance as the three exchanged a series of non-damaging blows, giving him no way to escape, save through them. They were moving to flank him, and without an ally or a barrier to block them, there was nothing he could do to stop it.
Dar snarled, drawing his lips back to bare his teeth.
They were... pointed.
The mercenary’s body had already begun to change. He lowered his body into a crouch, as his back bent, his bones shifting to accommodate a new form. His fingers grew longer, and claws emerged from their tips. His face experienced the most jarring transformation, elongating and exploding with coarse hair that quickly covered his entire features.
Within just a few seconds, a wererat faced the two half-fiends.
Nightbreeze
First Post
Argh! I thought about that at the moment, but then I forgot it
I don't remember Dar getting a remove disease from Varo - only from Allera, and that was really more a poison removal. And, they weren't over 12th level casters, and I think it was more than 3 days afterwards.Verbatim said:I had thought Varo cast the cure disease on him in time!
Ahh..what a twisted web you weave..
Aramis Simara
Explorer
LB,
Does this make Dar a "Doomed Rat Bastard"?
Does this make Dar a "Doomed Rat Bastard"?
Lazybones
Adventurer
Heh, I thought that a few of you had figured out this twist, especially with all the references to diseases and wisdom boosts earlier. It also explains a certain change in terms of a certain sword.
![:]](http://www.enworld.org/forum/images/smilies/devious.png "Devious :]")
* * * * *
Chapter 83
THE FURY OF THE DUKE
Dar had shifted form into that of a rat-human hybrid, the culmination of the change wrought upon him by the wererat that had bitten him in Rappan Athuk.
The infernal warriors were not fazed by the change, and continued to press their attack. Now it was their foe that resisted their attacks, their sword of infernal iron of little use against the unnatural resistance granted by the lycanthropic curse.
Dar had lost none of his own fighting skills in the transformation, and had gained a blazing increase in speed and agility. His enemies had flanked him, but he did not give them time to exploit that advantage, overwhelming the foe in front of him with a violent surge of attacks before the one behind him could drive its weapon home. It cost him; he took two hits from the one at his back, which hurt him some even through his newly augmented hide. When he finally drove the first infernal warrior to its knees with a blow that crushed its breastbone, the other one leapt at his back with its sword raised to fnish him. There was no time for Dar to spin to face it, but in a blur of motion he reversed his stroke, driving his sword up through the body of his second adversary. The half-fiend clutched at the wound, then its sword fell from its hand to clatter on the ground, followed a moment later by its body as Dar yanked his weapon free.
Snarling, Dar leapt over a fallen chair, and rushed around the conference table toward the Duke. The Duke had taken down a weapon off the wall behind him, an ancient greatsword with a slightly curved blade. The infernal lord turned toward the onrushing half-man fighter and watched him come, his burning eyes shining in the deep caverns of his face.
Besides Dar, there were only four of the invading force left standing, and their situation had become truly grim. Talen and the last two soldiers from his line had been driven inexorably back, forced into a defensive triangle as the half-fiend warriors formed a ring around them. One could barely stand, his left leg covered in blood where his hamstring had been sliced open. The other soldier was barely past his teens, and while the skin of his face and neck was blackened with burns, he had otherwise been able to thus far escape additional injury.
But they still faced five of the hellish warriors, none of which had been seriously hurt. And as Talen lifted his sword into a defensive stance, he saw another foe move forward to join the battle.
“Ah, the loyal captain,” Sobol said. “Taking up the cause after the death of your beloved marshal. A shame that Velan Tiros did not live long enough to see the final end of his little cabal.”
“Face me, and we’ll see...” Talen began, but as he spoke he met the narzugon’s gaze, and everything else seemed to fade away, and the devil swelled, until it dominated his view. He could hear the creature’s laughter, and felt his own heartbeat pounding in his ears as blackness crept upon him.
The last scout had been driven back into a corner by the two warriors that had killed Suhn. She favored her side where one of them had gotten to her through her light armor. She’d tried to remain mobile, to keep her foes at bay with rapid strikes and retreats, but while one of the pair was at least as hurt as she was, the other had suffered only a minor scratch just above its left eye that barely bled.
“No place left to run,” it said to her, as the pair closed in, careful to leave her no avenue of escape.
Dar crouched and leapt at the Duke, who brought his sword around in a smooth blocking strike. The wererat shifted and immediately came in again. The two exchanged a violent fury of blows, and when they broke again it was the Duke who bore a fresh wound, a cut on his right arm that oozed bright red blood. But as the two combatants shifted position for another exchange, the flow of blood ceased, and the wound knit shut.
“You cannot defeat me,” the Duke said.
“If you can bleed, you can die,” Dar hissed at him, and leapt to attack once more.
This time, neither combatant held back. Dar took a hit that bit into his flesh, the Duke’s sword tearing a gash six inches long in his side. But the warrior in turn unleashed a devastating combination of power attacks, one of which connected hard, piercing the Duke’s chest, his sword driving deep into the man’s body. The Duke staggered back and almost fell, blood pouring down his body from the vicious wound.
Dar leapt onto the edge of the table, and lifted his sword to finish his adversary.
A huge crash sounded, and the chamber almost seemed to shake. Before Dar could strike, the Duke reared back up. He clutched a necklace at his neck, shattering one of three black iron globes dangling from the golden links with a crushing squeeze of his fist. At once the Duke began to grow in size, his arms lengthening and thickening, his torso broadening, his tanned skin replaced by a dense gray hide. His skull shifted as well, sprouting a pair of massive horns. A long tail and wings sprouted from his back. The new form of the Duke was over nine feet tall, and he loomed over the wererat fighter crouched upon the table.
Dar screamed and threw himself upon the creature, but before he could strike, the cornugon seized him in its claws.
“Wretched mortal,” it said, its voice causing the room to shake—or maybe it was just the creature’s grasp. Dar squirmed and tried to break free, but the monster’s claws held him like iron bands. “Now you see the folly of your pathetic efforts.”
Dar struggled, and the devil squeezed its hands together, digging its claws into his body. It leaned forward, until its jaws were inches from his face.
“Where is the marshal’s sword? I know that you have taken custody of the blade. Yield Valor to me, mortal, and I shall let you keep your wretched life.”
“Go screw yourself,” Dar said. With a sudden motion he yanked his right arm free of the devil’s grasp, and brought his sword up to strike. The attack came down on the Duke’s head, but as it hit it glanced off one of the curved horns. The sword shattered, the blade snapping off halfway down its length.
“So mote it be,” the devil hissed. It slammed Dar down on the table with enough force to crack the ancient stone. Dazed, the wererat fighter could do nothing to alter fate as the cornugon lunged forward, its spiked tail darting over its shoulder, down into its prey, driving through his chest and through his heart, finally erupting out of his back, digging deep into the mass of the table.
The corugon snapped its tail up, launching Dar across the room. He landed hard on the ground, blood splattering over the marble tiles. His body shimmered, and he returned to his human form. A hole penetrated his chest where the devil had impaled him.
His lips moved for a moment, but no sound came out. And then he died.
It also explains a certain change in terms of a certain sword. Read this update, and you tell me.Aramis Simara said:Does this make Dar a "Doomed Rat Bastard"?
* * * * *
Chapter 83
THE FURY OF THE DUKE
Dar had shifted form into that of a rat-human hybrid, the culmination of the change wrought upon him by the wererat that had bitten him in Rappan Athuk.
The infernal warriors were not fazed by the change, and continued to press their attack. Now it was their foe that resisted their attacks, their sword of infernal iron of little use against the unnatural resistance granted by the lycanthropic curse.
Dar had lost none of his own fighting skills in the transformation, and had gained a blazing increase in speed and agility. His enemies had flanked him, but he did not give them time to exploit that advantage, overwhelming the foe in front of him with a violent surge of attacks before the one behind him could drive its weapon home. It cost him; he took two hits from the one at his back, which hurt him some even through his newly augmented hide. When he finally drove the first infernal warrior to its knees with a blow that crushed its breastbone, the other one leapt at his back with its sword raised to fnish him. There was no time for Dar to spin to face it, but in a blur of motion he reversed his stroke, driving his sword up through the body of his second adversary. The half-fiend clutched at the wound, then its sword fell from its hand to clatter on the ground, followed a moment later by its body as Dar yanked his weapon free.
Snarling, Dar leapt over a fallen chair, and rushed around the conference table toward the Duke. The Duke had taken down a weapon off the wall behind him, an ancient greatsword with a slightly curved blade. The infernal lord turned toward the onrushing half-man fighter and watched him come, his burning eyes shining in the deep caverns of his face.
Besides Dar, there were only four of the invading force left standing, and their situation had become truly grim. Talen and the last two soldiers from his line had been driven inexorably back, forced into a defensive triangle as the half-fiend warriors formed a ring around them. One could barely stand, his left leg covered in blood where his hamstring had been sliced open. The other soldier was barely past his teens, and while the skin of his face and neck was blackened with burns, he had otherwise been able to thus far escape additional injury.
But they still faced five of the hellish warriors, none of which had been seriously hurt. And as Talen lifted his sword into a defensive stance, he saw another foe move forward to join the battle.
“Ah, the loyal captain,” Sobol said. “Taking up the cause after the death of your beloved marshal. A shame that Velan Tiros did not live long enough to see the final end of his little cabal.”
“Face me, and we’ll see...” Talen began, but as he spoke he met the narzugon’s gaze, and everything else seemed to fade away, and the devil swelled, until it dominated his view. He could hear the creature’s laughter, and felt his own heartbeat pounding in his ears as blackness crept upon him.
The last scout had been driven back into a corner by the two warriors that had killed Suhn. She favored her side where one of them had gotten to her through her light armor. She’d tried to remain mobile, to keep her foes at bay with rapid strikes and retreats, but while one of the pair was at least as hurt as she was, the other had suffered only a minor scratch just above its left eye that barely bled.
“No place left to run,” it said to her, as the pair closed in, careful to leave her no avenue of escape.
Dar crouched and leapt at the Duke, who brought his sword around in a smooth blocking strike. The wererat shifted and immediately came in again. The two exchanged a violent fury of blows, and when they broke again it was the Duke who bore a fresh wound, a cut on his right arm that oozed bright red blood. But as the two combatants shifted position for another exchange, the flow of blood ceased, and the wound knit shut.
“You cannot defeat me,” the Duke said.
“If you can bleed, you can die,” Dar hissed at him, and leapt to attack once more.
This time, neither combatant held back. Dar took a hit that bit into his flesh, the Duke’s sword tearing a gash six inches long in his side. But the warrior in turn unleashed a devastating combination of power attacks, one of which connected hard, piercing the Duke’s chest, his sword driving deep into the man’s body. The Duke staggered back and almost fell, blood pouring down his body from the vicious wound.
Dar leapt onto the edge of the table, and lifted his sword to finish his adversary.
A huge crash sounded, and the chamber almost seemed to shake. Before Dar could strike, the Duke reared back up. He clutched a necklace at his neck, shattering one of three black iron globes dangling from the golden links with a crushing squeeze of his fist. At once the Duke began to grow in size, his arms lengthening and thickening, his torso broadening, his tanned skin replaced by a dense gray hide. His skull shifted as well, sprouting a pair of massive horns. A long tail and wings sprouted from his back. The new form of the Duke was over nine feet tall, and he loomed over the wererat fighter crouched upon the table.
Dar screamed and threw himself upon the creature, but before he could strike, the cornugon seized him in its claws.
“Wretched mortal,” it said, its voice causing the room to shake—or maybe it was just the creature’s grasp. Dar squirmed and tried to break free, but the monster’s claws held him like iron bands. “Now you see the folly of your pathetic efforts.”
Dar struggled, and the devil squeezed its hands together, digging its claws into his body. It leaned forward, until its jaws were inches from his face.
“Where is the marshal’s sword? I know that you have taken custody of the blade. Yield Valor to me, mortal, and I shall let you keep your wretched life.”
“Go screw yourself,” Dar said. With a sudden motion he yanked his right arm free of the devil’s grasp, and brought his sword up to strike. The attack came down on the Duke’s head, but as it hit it glanced off one of the curved horns. The sword shattered, the blade snapping off halfway down its length.
“So mote it be,” the devil hissed. It slammed Dar down on the table with enough force to crack the ancient stone. Dazed, the wererat fighter could do nothing to alter fate as the cornugon lunged forward, its spiked tail darting over its shoulder, down into its prey, driving through his chest and through his heart, finally erupting out of his back, digging deep into the mass of the table.
The corugon snapped its tail up, launching Dar across the room. He landed hard on the ground, blood splattering over the marble tiles. His body shimmered, and he returned to his human form. A hole penetrated his chest where the devil had impaled him.
His lips moved for a moment, but no sound came out. And then he died.
Last edited:
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