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NOW LIVE! Into the Woods--new character species, eerie monsters, and haunting villains to populate the woodlands of your D&D games.
The Doomed Bastards: Reckoning (story complete)
- Thread starter Lazybones
- Start date
Lazybones
Adventurer
Chapter 94
PILED HIGHER AND DEEPER
“Talen!” Shay yelled, dropping her spear and grabbing Dar’s arm as the fighter started to fall. The captain grabbed a hold of his other arm before the warrior’s weight could drag him down out of the scout’s grasp. “Varo!” he cried, over his shoulder.
The cleric was there quickly, coming around them to face the stricken fighter. Talen and Shay bore wounds of their own, but they were not immediately life-threatening, unlike the terrible gashes that covered the mercenary. In addition to the vicious cut above his eyes, blood drained down Dar’s arms and legs from hits that had found every crease in his armor, or simply smashing through the layered plate and leather where there was none.
Varo placed his hands on the sides of the mercenary’s head. “You certainly do take your share of damage,” he said softly, calling upon Dagos and pouring his most potent healing spell into the injured man. Dar shuddered; at once the cut above his head closed, and lucidity returned to his eyes. He blinked as Varo released him. His face, covered in blood, was a gruesome mask.
“I’m all right,” he said, but as he pulled away from Talen and Shay, he still swayed somewhat.
“It is the blood loss,” Varo said. “Valus! We need additional healing.”
The cleric—who was the only one of them to have engaged in melee with the creatures without taking damage—looked at them with a gaze that did not mask his feelings in the slightest. For a moment, it seemed as though he would refuse, but then he came forward, drawing out a wand from a long leather scabbard attached to the inside of his left bracer. The wand was a lesser device, empowered only with the cure light wounds spell, but he did not stint it, releasing its energy until all of them had recovered from their injuries. All save Varo, who quietly healed his own wounds with a wand of his own.
“We’d better keep moving,” Talen said. “Even if those things don’t come back, they’ll alert other guardians to our presence.”
The companions hastily readied themselves and took up positions near the exit. Shay, still empowered with Malerase’s darkvision, let them through the opening into another cavern beyond. This chamber was smaller than the river cavern, and empty save for another exit that opened onto a narrow passage on the far side.
They carefully checked the cavern, shining their light into every crevice and corner to verify that none of the displacer beasts were lying in ambush. Shay checked the far passage, and reported that it split in three directions after only about fifteen feet. The stench of the beasts was everywhere, but she hadn’t seen any more of them, only scattered tracks leading down all three forks.
As Shay gave her report, they could hear a familiar sound coming from the passage.
“Somebody breaking down a door, sounds like,” Dar said. “Could be our friends had enough of us, and they want out before we catch up for a rematch.”
“Or it could be a trap,” Valus pointed out. The sound of crashing wood lasted only a few seconds, and then faded away.
“Varo, any more hints on where we’re going?” Talen asked.
“I am afraid that I do not have a specific map of this level,” the priest reported. “I only know that the river would lead us to the second temple.”
“Let’s get moving,” Dar said. “If the cultists realize that we’re this close...” He didn’t finish the thought; each of them could fill in a suitably dire conclusion.
Shay led them out again, taking them down the left fork, toward the sounds they had heard. They saw the source of the noise just a few seconds later, as the passage culminated ahead in a ruined door, now just bits of wood and metal dangling from hinges recessed into the stone.
“Come on,” Talen said. But he and Shay had taken only a few steps toward the door before something stepped into view, blocking the exit.
The creature was a muscled hulk that stood over seven feet tall. It was humanoid, its sculpted body covered in coarse brown fur. Narrow, beady eyes stared at them from a face that was a strange mixture of man and bull. It carried an axe with a blade that was almost too large to fit through the doorway.
“Minotaur!” Talen hissed in warning.
But his companions had their own problems. Almost as soon as the minotaur had appeared, those in the rear of the group heard a familiar hissing noise coming from the opposite passage, the right fork. Dark shadows came forward, accompanied by the swirling of more razor-edged tentacles above them.
“Ambush!” Varo warned.
“And we walked right into it,” Valus added, snapping down the visor of his helmet as he lifted his shield to defend himself.
PILED HIGHER AND DEEPER
“Talen!” Shay yelled, dropping her spear and grabbing Dar’s arm as the fighter started to fall. The captain grabbed a hold of his other arm before the warrior’s weight could drag him down out of the scout’s grasp. “Varo!” he cried, over his shoulder.
The cleric was there quickly, coming around them to face the stricken fighter. Talen and Shay bore wounds of their own, but they were not immediately life-threatening, unlike the terrible gashes that covered the mercenary. In addition to the vicious cut above his eyes, blood drained down Dar’s arms and legs from hits that had found every crease in his armor, or simply smashing through the layered plate and leather where there was none.
Varo placed his hands on the sides of the mercenary’s head. “You certainly do take your share of damage,” he said softly, calling upon Dagos and pouring his most potent healing spell into the injured man. Dar shuddered; at once the cut above his head closed, and lucidity returned to his eyes. He blinked as Varo released him. His face, covered in blood, was a gruesome mask.
“I’m all right,” he said, but as he pulled away from Talen and Shay, he still swayed somewhat.
“It is the blood loss,” Varo said. “Valus! We need additional healing.”
The cleric—who was the only one of them to have engaged in melee with the creatures without taking damage—looked at them with a gaze that did not mask his feelings in the slightest. For a moment, it seemed as though he would refuse, but then he came forward, drawing out a wand from a long leather scabbard attached to the inside of his left bracer. The wand was a lesser device, empowered only with the cure light wounds spell, but he did not stint it, releasing its energy until all of them had recovered from their injuries. All save Varo, who quietly healed his own wounds with a wand of his own.
“We’d better keep moving,” Talen said. “Even if those things don’t come back, they’ll alert other guardians to our presence.”
The companions hastily readied themselves and took up positions near the exit. Shay, still empowered with Malerase’s darkvision, let them through the opening into another cavern beyond. This chamber was smaller than the river cavern, and empty save for another exit that opened onto a narrow passage on the far side.
They carefully checked the cavern, shining their light into every crevice and corner to verify that none of the displacer beasts were lying in ambush. Shay checked the far passage, and reported that it split in three directions after only about fifteen feet. The stench of the beasts was everywhere, but she hadn’t seen any more of them, only scattered tracks leading down all three forks.
As Shay gave her report, they could hear a familiar sound coming from the passage.
“Somebody breaking down a door, sounds like,” Dar said. “Could be our friends had enough of us, and they want out before we catch up for a rematch.”
“Or it could be a trap,” Valus pointed out. The sound of crashing wood lasted only a few seconds, and then faded away.
“Varo, any more hints on where we’re going?” Talen asked.
“I am afraid that I do not have a specific map of this level,” the priest reported. “I only know that the river would lead us to the second temple.”
“Let’s get moving,” Dar said. “If the cultists realize that we’re this close...” He didn’t finish the thought; each of them could fill in a suitably dire conclusion.
Shay led them out again, taking them down the left fork, toward the sounds they had heard. They saw the source of the noise just a few seconds later, as the passage culminated ahead in a ruined door, now just bits of wood and metal dangling from hinges recessed into the stone.
“Come on,” Talen said. But he and Shay had taken only a few steps toward the door before something stepped into view, blocking the exit.
The creature was a muscled hulk that stood over seven feet tall. It was humanoid, its sculpted body covered in coarse brown fur. Narrow, beady eyes stared at them from a face that was a strange mixture of man and bull. It carried an axe with a blade that was almost too large to fit through the doorway.
“Minotaur!” Talen hissed in warning.
But his companions had their own problems. Almost as soon as the minotaur had appeared, those in the rear of the group heard a familiar hissing noise coming from the opposite passage, the right fork. Dark shadows came forward, accompanied by the swirling of more razor-edged tentacles above them.
“Ambush!” Varo warned.
“And we walked right into it,” Valus added, snapping down the visor of his helmet as he lifted his shield to defend himself.
Lazybones
Adventurer
Chapter 95
ANOTHER DAY, ANOTHER AMBUSH
Displacer beasts poured out of the narrow passage mouth, crowding together in pairs as they thrust through the tight gap into the slightly larger space where the corridors met. Zosimos, Valus, Varo, and Malerase were crowded into that unfortunate position.
Zosimos quickly opted out, casting a greater invisibility spell that removed him from the list of targets. Valus met the charge with one of his own, hoping to keep the foe bottled up within the tight confines of the passage. He was partially successful, as only one of the beasts squeezed past him, unsuccessfully trying to trip him up with a low bite aimed at his knee. Malerase at once tried to polymorph it using his wand, but the monster resisted the effect. Snarling, the creature turned on him, slashing one of its long tentacles across his torso. Seriously wounded by the critical hit, the elf fell back, bleeding from deep cuts in his chest.
Varo had prepared to summon aid, but on seeing Malerase seriously threatened, he lifted his own mace and rushed forward to engage the beast.
A scant forty feet away, on the far side of the battle, the minotaur lowered its head and rumbled forward toward Talen, snorting violently. The fighter was caught off guard, but the minotaur had failed to spot Shay hiding in the shadows ahead of it, and that oversight cost it dearly. Shay barely got her spear up in time, but she set it into a crevice in the rough stone just as the minotaur hit it. Its momentum impaled itself deep on the slender head of the weapon, driving it through the creature’s side and out through its back. The minotaur let out an inhuman scream and staggered against the adjacent wall, critically injured. Talen surged forward, hoping to take advantage of the creature’s discomfort and distraction, but it recovered quickly, bringing its axe down to sever the shaft of the spear a few feet below where it jutted from its body. Thus released, it was able to slash the weapon up, hitting Talen with the spike that protruded from the back of the weapon. Had the creature been at full strength and speed, the blow might have penetrated the captain’s armor, and hurt him greatly. But as it was, Talen was able to bring up his shield, partially deflecting the blow. He grunted as the point jabbed into the armor protecting his shoulder, but it only slowed him for a moment. Lunging with his magical sword, he thrust it deep into the minotaur’s body, further worsening its precarious situation.
But the minotaur too had friends, and another two of them appeared in the doorway. Unable to get a clear line of charge with their stricken comrade in the way, they nevertheless lifted their axes and came forward to join the melee.
Varo grimaced as the displacer beast’s deadly tentacles raked his body. His own armor protection was marginal at best, and he could feel the rough edges of the creature’s natural weapons biting into his flesh through the thin mail links. He held his own attack, though, as the monster shifted and shimmered in front of him. Finally, it lunged to bite him, and that was when he acted. Ignoring his mace, he laid a palm upon its skull even as its jaws seized upon his left leg. His concentration remained unbroken as pain exploded through the limb, but that was nothing compared to what the beast felt as an inflict critical wounds spell tore through its body. The displacer beast released its grip at once, drawing back with a new respect for this foe.
A few feet away, a continuous series of clangs sounded as the displacer beasts in the passageway assailed Valus. The cleric’s heavy armor and magical shield withstood most of the blows, but he staggered a step back briefly as one caromed hard off his heavy helmet. The displacer beasts tried to exploit the gap, but the cleric quickly recovered, holding them at bay with the sheer force of his presence. His mace harried them, bolstered by a spiritual weapon that he summoned, a five-foot torch of shining energy that he directed into the tunnel. In the tight confines of the passage, there was nowhere that the displacer beasts could go to escape the powerful strikes of the divine weapon, and their own attacks upon it had no effect. Their angry howls expressed their frustration.
They didn’t like it any better when a lightning bolt erupted out of thin air a few feet away, surging down the passage to the sizzle of roasting flesh. The bolt was targeted to shoot past Valus, but the metal-armored cleric nevertheless felt something of its force as it blasted by, grunting as blue surges stabbed into his body.
The ground shook as the two minotaurs came clomping down the passage. One let out a loud roar, swinging its axe down at Shay as soon as it came within reach of the scout. Shay sprang nimbly back, her magical boots augmenting her own natural agility, but the edge of the axe still managed to graze her arm, digging a long red gash down her bicep. Grimacing, she drew her elf-forged sword and prepared to defend herself.
Talen tried to come to her aid, but the critically injured minotaur he was facing refused to go down easy. It couldn’t quite stand, leaning against the passage wall for support, but it reached out with bloody arms and seized Talen, taking another hit from the captain’s sword for its troubles. But once held, Talen found himself dragged down with the creature, its superior size and strength giving it the advantage despite being near death. Unable to bring his sword into play, Talen grabbed at his belt for his dagger, while the creature tried to gore him with its long horns.
Dar had been caught in the middle of the group during the initial seconds of the ambush, but he now joined the melee in dramatic fashion. With his own roar, echoing off the passage walls to rival the minotaur’s cry, he rushed forward, leaping over the tightly engaged Talen and his foe to meet the second minotaur head-on. It tried to bring him down with a swing of its axe, but it moved too slowly; Dar was within its reach before it could effectively strike. Dar held Valor in his hand, and the blade seemed to thrum with power as he brought it down in a two-handed strike. The axiomatic blade clove into the minotaur’s chest, cutting through its rib cage, opening its torso from shoulder to hip. The creature looked down incredulity at the bloody cavity, its heart still pumping madly away adjacent to a lung that had been sliced neatly open. It managed to look up at the fighter before its axe fell from its hands, and it collapsed in a messy heap upon the floor.
“You’re next,” he said to the last creature. The minotaur, to its credit, did not falter, lifting its axe and bringing it down in an attempt to do the same to the human that had been done to its fellow. Dar spun neatly aside, turning the devastating swing into a glancing blow that hurt him, but didn’t fully penetrate his magical armor.
“You had your shot,” he said, stepping into its reach and bringing up Valor in an upward arc. This time, he started low, but the hit was no less devastating, taking off the minotaur’s leg at the hip. Spinning out of control, the creature fell to the ground, roaring in pain. It was unable to do anything to stop Dar from thrusting his sword deep into its neck, ending it.
Breathing heavily, his sword shining blue as blood sloughed from the blade, Dar turned to see if Talen needed help bringing his foe down. But Shay had already intervened, and was extracting the captain from the death-grip of the slain monster.
The fighters returned to aid their companions, but the battle back at the intersection was already winding down. Varo had managed to keep his opponent busy, distracting it long enough for Malerase and Zosimos to take it down with ranged attacks. Valus, holding the breach alone, had withstood the assault of the few beasts that had will to fight after being hit by the wizard’s lightning bolt. He had now brought his mace into play, and against the scorched survivors it had been used to good effect, finishing one of the creatures, and driving off another. The remaining beasts had disengaged already, retreating back down the passage, leaving three of their kin cluttering up the narrow tunnel with their smoking corpses.
“Nice work,” Talen said, spelling Valus at the gap, keeping watch so that the cleric could heal himself of his injuries. The cleric flipped up his visor, his expression angry.
“You caught me in your blast, wizard,” he said.
Zosimos shrugged. “Regrettable but necessary. I made every effort to avoid you, but your metal armor served as a conductor for the electrical energies of the spell.”
“That is all you have to say?”
“Enough, we don’t have time for this,” Dar said. “We beat the crap out of these guys, but we still haven’t seen any clerics.”
“There are still fiends to consider as well,” Varo said. “Recall the vrock that we confronted last time, and failed to slay.”
At the mention of demons, Valus seemed to focus back on the mission, but his expression indicated that he was not finished with the evoker over the friendly-fire incident.
“Gods, were we ever this tetchy, our original team, I mean?” Dar said as an aside to Varo.
“You have a short memory,” Varo replied, turning to heal Malerase of his injuries. “Perhaps now you have a new appreciation of what Marshal Tiros had to put up with.”
“Bah, I’m no leader,” Dar returned. But Talen turned to him, as they regarded the dark tunnel where the displacer beasts had fled. “They might come back again, once we move on,” the captain said.
“This was a different pack,” the elf said. Several of the others looked up in surprise; normally the elf did not volunteer comments about their mission.
“I believe he is right,” Zosimos said. “These were not marked by my earlier fireballs.”
“Shay?” Talen said. The scout, her latest injury healed by Valus, nodded and headed toward the tunnel. “Be careful,” Talen whispered, as she moved past him.
The clerics continued to treat the remaining injuries from the brief but violent ambush while Talen and Dar kept a close watch out for additional foes. Shay was gone only about twenty seconds, before she rematerialized out of the darkness. “It’s a dead-end room, looks like,” she said. “Rough cavern, like the others.”
“Are they in there?” Talen asked.
“Oh, they’re in there. Hiding, but they’re there, I could hear them.”
“We’d better finish them off,” Valus said. “Lest they recover their courage and come upon us from the rear at an inconvenient time.”
Zosimos came forward. “Show me.” He cast a spell and became invisible again. Shay looked around in confusion for a moment, until she felt the wizard’s hand on her sleeve.
Shay led the evoker into the tunnel for a moment. There was a roaring sound and another series of howls, and then the pair came hurrying back. “They didn’t like that,” Shay said.
A shadowy form exploded out of the tunnel, hurtling toward them. But the companions were ready for it, and as it got close enough to lash out with its tentacles, the fighters were already laying into it with their weapons. The wounded creature did not last long.
“Any more?” Talen asked.
“Only one way to find out,” Dar said. He walked down the passage, stepping around the mangled corpses of the displacer beasts they’d killed. The others followed behind, but by the time they’d caught up to the mercenary, they could already hear the howls of the creatures from ahead. They hurried after him, but Dar was already laying into one of the wounded monsters, smashing it roughly aside with his club. Another creature came at him from behind, but Zosimos blasted it with a quintet of magic missiles, finishing it off. There was another creature lying on the ground on the far side of the room, but it did not stir, black char covering half of its body from multiple magical impacts. Dar went over to it anyway, and made sure.
“All right,” he said, coming back to them, the head of his club dripping gibbets of gore. “Let’s move on.”
ANOTHER DAY, ANOTHER AMBUSH
Displacer beasts poured out of the narrow passage mouth, crowding together in pairs as they thrust through the tight gap into the slightly larger space where the corridors met. Zosimos, Valus, Varo, and Malerase were crowded into that unfortunate position.
Zosimos quickly opted out, casting a greater invisibility spell that removed him from the list of targets. Valus met the charge with one of his own, hoping to keep the foe bottled up within the tight confines of the passage. He was partially successful, as only one of the beasts squeezed past him, unsuccessfully trying to trip him up with a low bite aimed at his knee. Malerase at once tried to polymorph it using his wand, but the monster resisted the effect. Snarling, the creature turned on him, slashing one of its long tentacles across his torso. Seriously wounded by the critical hit, the elf fell back, bleeding from deep cuts in his chest.
Varo had prepared to summon aid, but on seeing Malerase seriously threatened, he lifted his own mace and rushed forward to engage the beast.
A scant forty feet away, on the far side of the battle, the minotaur lowered its head and rumbled forward toward Talen, snorting violently. The fighter was caught off guard, but the minotaur had failed to spot Shay hiding in the shadows ahead of it, and that oversight cost it dearly. Shay barely got her spear up in time, but she set it into a crevice in the rough stone just as the minotaur hit it. Its momentum impaled itself deep on the slender head of the weapon, driving it through the creature’s side and out through its back. The minotaur let out an inhuman scream and staggered against the adjacent wall, critically injured. Talen surged forward, hoping to take advantage of the creature’s discomfort and distraction, but it recovered quickly, bringing its axe down to sever the shaft of the spear a few feet below where it jutted from its body. Thus released, it was able to slash the weapon up, hitting Talen with the spike that protruded from the back of the weapon. Had the creature been at full strength and speed, the blow might have penetrated the captain’s armor, and hurt him greatly. But as it was, Talen was able to bring up his shield, partially deflecting the blow. He grunted as the point jabbed into the armor protecting his shoulder, but it only slowed him for a moment. Lunging with his magical sword, he thrust it deep into the minotaur’s body, further worsening its precarious situation.
But the minotaur too had friends, and another two of them appeared in the doorway. Unable to get a clear line of charge with their stricken comrade in the way, they nevertheless lifted their axes and came forward to join the melee.
Varo grimaced as the displacer beast’s deadly tentacles raked his body. His own armor protection was marginal at best, and he could feel the rough edges of the creature’s natural weapons biting into his flesh through the thin mail links. He held his own attack, though, as the monster shifted and shimmered in front of him. Finally, it lunged to bite him, and that was when he acted. Ignoring his mace, he laid a palm upon its skull even as its jaws seized upon his left leg. His concentration remained unbroken as pain exploded through the limb, but that was nothing compared to what the beast felt as an inflict critical wounds spell tore through its body. The displacer beast released its grip at once, drawing back with a new respect for this foe.
A few feet away, a continuous series of clangs sounded as the displacer beasts in the passageway assailed Valus. The cleric’s heavy armor and magical shield withstood most of the blows, but he staggered a step back briefly as one caromed hard off his heavy helmet. The displacer beasts tried to exploit the gap, but the cleric quickly recovered, holding them at bay with the sheer force of his presence. His mace harried them, bolstered by a spiritual weapon that he summoned, a five-foot torch of shining energy that he directed into the tunnel. In the tight confines of the passage, there was nowhere that the displacer beasts could go to escape the powerful strikes of the divine weapon, and their own attacks upon it had no effect. Their angry howls expressed their frustration.
They didn’t like it any better when a lightning bolt erupted out of thin air a few feet away, surging down the passage to the sizzle of roasting flesh. The bolt was targeted to shoot past Valus, but the metal-armored cleric nevertheless felt something of its force as it blasted by, grunting as blue surges stabbed into his body.
The ground shook as the two minotaurs came clomping down the passage. One let out a loud roar, swinging its axe down at Shay as soon as it came within reach of the scout. Shay sprang nimbly back, her magical boots augmenting her own natural agility, but the edge of the axe still managed to graze her arm, digging a long red gash down her bicep. Grimacing, she drew her elf-forged sword and prepared to defend herself.
Talen tried to come to her aid, but the critically injured minotaur he was facing refused to go down easy. It couldn’t quite stand, leaning against the passage wall for support, but it reached out with bloody arms and seized Talen, taking another hit from the captain’s sword for its troubles. But once held, Talen found himself dragged down with the creature, its superior size and strength giving it the advantage despite being near death. Unable to bring his sword into play, Talen grabbed at his belt for his dagger, while the creature tried to gore him with its long horns.
Dar had been caught in the middle of the group during the initial seconds of the ambush, but he now joined the melee in dramatic fashion. With his own roar, echoing off the passage walls to rival the minotaur’s cry, he rushed forward, leaping over the tightly engaged Talen and his foe to meet the second minotaur head-on. It tried to bring him down with a swing of its axe, but it moved too slowly; Dar was within its reach before it could effectively strike. Dar held Valor in his hand, and the blade seemed to thrum with power as he brought it down in a two-handed strike. The axiomatic blade clove into the minotaur’s chest, cutting through its rib cage, opening its torso from shoulder to hip. The creature looked down incredulity at the bloody cavity, its heart still pumping madly away adjacent to a lung that had been sliced neatly open. It managed to look up at the fighter before its axe fell from its hands, and it collapsed in a messy heap upon the floor.
“You’re next,” he said to the last creature. The minotaur, to its credit, did not falter, lifting its axe and bringing it down in an attempt to do the same to the human that had been done to its fellow. Dar spun neatly aside, turning the devastating swing into a glancing blow that hurt him, but didn’t fully penetrate his magical armor.
“You had your shot,” he said, stepping into its reach and bringing up Valor in an upward arc. This time, he started low, but the hit was no less devastating, taking off the minotaur’s leg at the hip. Spinning out of control, the creature fell to the ground, roaring in pain. It was unable to do anything to stop Dar from thrusting his sword deep into its neck, ending it.
Breathing heavily, his sword shining blue as blood sloughed from the blade, Dar turned to see if Talen needed help bringing his foe down. But Shay had already intervened, and was extracting the captain from the death-grip of the slain monster.
The fighters returned to aid their companions, but the battle back at the intersection was already winding down. Varo had managed to keep his opponent busy, distracting it long enough for Malerase and Zosimos to take it down with ranged attacks. Valus, holding the breach alone, had withstood the assault of the few beasts that had will to fight after being hit by the wizard’s lightning bolt. He had now brought his mace into play, and against the scorched survivors it had been used to good effect, finishing one of the creatures, and driving off another. The remaining beasts had disengaged already, retreating back down the passage, leaving three of their kin cluttering up the narrow tunnel with their smoking corpses.
“Nice work,” Talen said, spelling Valus at the gap, keeping watch so that the cleric could heal himself of his injuries. The cleric flipped up his visor, his expression angry.
“You caught me in your blast, wizard,” he said.
Zosimos shrugged. “Regrettable but necessary. I made every effort to avoid you, but your metal armor served as a conductor for the electrical energies of the spell.”
“That is all you have to say?”
“Enough, we don’t have time for this,” Dar said. “We beat the crap out of these guys, but we still haven’t seen any clerics.”
“There are still fiends to consider as well,” Varo said. “Recall the vrock that we confronted last time, and failed to slay.”
At the mention of demons, Valus seemed to focus back on the mission, but his expression indicated that he was not finished with the evoker over the friendly-fire incident.
“Gods, were we ever this tetchy, our original team, I mean?” Dar said as an aside to Varo.
“You have a short memory,” Varo replied, turning to heal Malerase of his injuries. “Perhaps now you have a new appreciation of what Marshal Tiros had to put up with.”
“Bah, I’m no leader,” Dar returned. But Talen turned to him, as they regarded the dark tunnel where the displacer beasts had fled. “They might come back again, once we move on,” the captain said.
“This was a different pack,” the elf said. Several of the others looked up in surprise; normally the elf did not volunteer comments about their mission.
“I believe he is right,” Zosimos said. “These were not marked by my earlier fireballs.”
“Shay?” Talen said. The scout, her latest injury healed by Valus, nodded and headed toward the tunnel. “Be careful,” Talen whispered, as she moved past him.
The clerics continued to treat the remaining injuries from the brief but violent ambush while Talen and Dar kept a close watch out for additional foes. Shay was gone only about twenty seconds, before she rematerialized out of the darkness. “It’s a dead-end room, looks like,” she said. “Rough cavern, like the others.”
“Are they in there?” Talen asked.
“Oh, they’re in there. Hiding, but they’re there, I could hear them.”
“We’d better finish them off,” Valus said. “Lest they recover their courage and come upon us from the rear at an inconvenient time.”
Zosimos came forward. “Show me.” He cast a spell and became invisible again. Shay looked around in confusion for a moment, until she felt the wizard’s hand on her sleeve.
Shay led the evoker into the tunnel for a moment. There was a roaring sound and another series of howls, and then the pair came hurrying back. “They didn’t like that,” Shay said.
A shadowy form exploded out of the tunnel, hurtling toward them. But the companions were ready for it, and as it got close enough to lash out with its tentacles, the fighters were already laying into it with their weapons. The wounded creature did not last long.
“Any more?” Talen asked.
“Only one way to find out,” Dar said. He walked down the passage, stepping around the mangled corpses of the displacer beasts they’d killed. The others followed behind, but by the time they’d caught up to the mercenary, they could already hear the howls of the creatures from ahead. They hurried after him, but Dar was already laying into one of the wounded monsters, smashing it roughly aside with his club. Another creature came at him from behind, but Zosimos blasted it with a quintet of magic missiles, finishing it off. There was another creature lying on the ground on the far side of the room, but it did not stir, black char covering half of its body from multiple magical impacts. Dar went over to it anyway, and made sure.
“All right,” he said, coming back to them, the head of his club dripping gibbets of gore. “Let’s move on.”
SonofaKyuss
First Post
Responseless? Impossible!!
Evocative, back to back updates from Lazybones, and not a response in sight??!!
Blasphmey!!
Consider me officially de-lurking with great flourish to chime in with a hearty "Huzzah!...you magnificant bastage"! (well, not GREAT flourish...but flourish nonetheless).
I am currently DMing this meat-grinder (however sporadically, as we've not played that particular campaign in a few months now...feh), and I must say, LB is doing it MORE than justice!
A couple of insanely close scrapes, and PC deaths later, and my players are giving RA the respect that it deserves!
SPOILERS BELOW....
We roll init every round, and the ebb and flow of THAT style of combat brought the party's cleric to the dying dwarven paladin's side ONE tick on the init dice before the pally went to -10 (no thanks to Saracek's wonderful, freshly 3.5e enhanced handiwork)...this was even MORE in the nick of time in that the cleric had spent rounds scurrying back to the action after he had chased down and cast Remove Fear on those of the group who succumbed to ol' boney's swirling sword....I was all at once flabbergasted AND wholeheartidly amused at the way that played out, to be sure!
This was freshly on the heels of the group having wisely decided to prep for something "totally immune to magic" (that they had heard of from the rumors table) by deigning to make a wand of sonically substituted acid arrows for the UMD laden bard...since the spell offered no spell resistance under the brand spanking new 3.5 rules....I will rue the day I allowed Sonic Substitution in the game....but not as much as THEY will due to the false hope it offers... it will only give them the SLIGHTEST glimmer of hope in this wicked, wicked place.
They were fool enought to have the Sorceror too near the front of the group when they investigated the latrine, and Dungie actually snagged him as he de-potty'd (my smile of DMly glee was unsurpassed...until later...which we'll talk about...later)...The blighter rolled a natural 20 on his escape check and managed to squirm away from the Squidgey One!!... After which Dungie learned the lesson that if one gets enough sonic arrows going, even the fast healing HP sinks will eventually succumb...luckily, RA Reloaded came out, and Dungie's rejuvination will bring him back in to plague the characters once more! (phew...I was sure that I'd blown it!)
After those lucky scrapes with the bosses of the first two levels, I was SURE that those players were blessed from beyond!....."The Lucky Bastards" as it were (funny, I actually deemed them as that at the time)....but alas, RA couldn't help but deliver the goods.
The pair of of memorable deaths doled out by this thresher on the next dungeon level sobered them up expeditiously.
"Beware" indeed...the halfling rogue was crushed to death when he went down a Purple Worm's gullet... but not before unleashing his "get out of 'it' free" card in the form of an invasive packet of Dust of Sneezing and Choking on the beast...his vengeful, sneak attacking, power attacking, arcane striking, bard/rogue buddy really likey big, stunned fleshies! (odd build, but brutally effective....WHEN he hits....all PA, all the time is an odd way to play...but the player digs it).
Unfortunately, being stunned doesn't stop reflex actions like breathing and digestion.....so halfling go smishy-bye-bye....raised from the dead with enough XP to STILL be the same level as when he bit it...go figure.
This is NOT TO MENTION ol' backward hands' successful wading into the action with a "can you believe you critted TWO times with Scorching Rays on your OWN cleric??!!" moment that would have made even Orcus weep with joy...
Funny...your lads ducked both Saracek, and Scramge in their first pass....I'm sure you'll bring those two encounters to bear on them soon enough!
END SPOILERS:
These things being said, I've learned MORE than a thing or two about the art of evocative combat descriptions in reading LB's telling of this tale (and have been leveraging that wisdom on my Eberron group, who hasn't heard a "you hit", or "you were hit for x hp" in many, MANY sessions.) I am eagerly looking forward to the rest of this story!
I must admit that I have not been able to identify where EXACTLY the group is at this moment, but I'm headed for my maps to noodle it out! (a privilege of those with the wherewithal to run this monsterous expedition)
Keep up the good work LB!
>takes 20 on a re-lurk<
Evocative, back to back updates from Lazybones, and not a response in sight??!!
Blasphmey!!
Consider me officially de-lurking with great flourish to chime in with a hearty "Huzzah!...you magnificant bastage"! (well, not GREAT flourish...but flourish nonetheless).
I am currently DMing this meat-grinder (however sporadically, as we've not played that particular campaign in a few months now...feh), and I must say, LB is doing it MORE than justice!
A couple of insanely close scrapes, and PC deaths later, and my players are giving RA the respect that it deserves!
SPOILERS BELOW....
We roll init every round, and the ebb and flow of THAT style of combat brought the party's cleric to the dying dwarven paladin's side ONE tick on the init dice before the pally went to -10 (no thanks to Saracek's wonderful, freshly 3.5e enhanced handiwork)...this was even MORE in the nick of time in that the cleric had spent rounds scurrying back to the action after he had chased down and cast Remove Fear on those of the group who succumbed to ol' boney's swirling sword....I was all at once flabbergasted AND wholeheartidly amused at the way that played out, to be sure!
This was freshly on the heels of the group having wisely decided to prep for something "totally immune to magic" (that they had heard of from the rumors table) by deigning to make a wand of sonically substituted acid arrows for the UMD laden bard...since the spell offered no spell resistance under the brand spanking new 3.5 rules....I will rue the day I allowed Sonic Substitution in the game....but not as much as THEY will due to the false hope it offers... it will only give them the SLIGHTEST glimmer of hope in this wicked, wicked place.
They were fool enought to have the Sorceror too near the front of the group when they investigated the latrine, and Dungie actually snagged him as he de-potty'd (my smile of DMly glee was unsurpassed...until later...which we'll talk about...later)...The blighter rolled a natural 20 on his escape check and managed to squirm away from the Squidgey One!!... After which Dungie learned the lesson that if one gets enough sonic arrows going, even the fast healing HP sinks will eventually succumb...luckily, RA Reloaded came out, and Dungie's rejuvination will bring him back in to plague the characters once more! (phew...I was sure that I'd blown it!)
After those lucky scrapes with the bosses of the first two levels, I was SURE that those players were blessed from beyond!....."The Lucky Bastards" as it were (funny, I actually deemed them as that at the time)....but alas, RA couldn't help but deliver the goods.
The pair of of memorable deaths doled out by this thresher on the next dungeon level sobered them up expeditiously.
"Beware" indeed...the halfling rogue was crushed to death when he went down a Purple Worm's gullet... but not before unleashing his "get out of 'it' free" card in the form of an invasive packet of Dust of Sneezing and Choking on the beast...his vengeful, sneak attacking, power attacking, arcane striking, bard/rogue buddy really likey big, stunned fleshies! (odd build, but brutally effective....WHEN he hits....all PA, all the time is an odd way to play...but the player digs it).
Unfortunately, being stunned doesn't stop reflex actions like breathing and digestion.....so halfling go smishy-bye-bye....raised from the dead with enough XP to STILL be the same level as when he bit it...go figure.
This is NOT TO MENTION ol' backward hands' successful wading into the action with a "can you believe you critted TWO times with Scorching Rays on your OWN cleric??!!" moment that would have made even Orcus weep with joy...
Funny...your lads ducked both Saracek, and Scramge in their first pass....I'm sure you'll bring those two encounters to bear on them soon enough!
END SPOILERS:
These things being said, I've learned MORE than a thing or two about the art of evocative combat descriptions in reading LB's telling of this tale (and have been leveraging that wisdom on my Eberron group, who hasn't heard a "you hit", or "you were hit for x hp" in many, MANY sessions.) I am eagerly looking forward to the rest of this story!
I must admit that I have not been able to identify where EXACTLY the group is at this moment, but I'm headed for my maps to noodle it out! (a privilege of those with the wherewithal to run this monsterous expedition)
Keep up the good work LB!
>takes 20 on a re-lurk<
Last edited:
Baron Opal
First Post
My players have just entered this place. They've just passed the body with the cards and are about to tangle with the rat-men. They are a bit higher level than starting (7th), but they will soon discover their confidence is hollow.
Lazybones
Adventurer
Thanks for the posts!
It's Friday, so you know what that means...
* * * * *
Chapter 96
THE RITUAL
As the sack was torn roughly from her head, Allera could see that she was in a huge chamber, surrounded by the servants of Orcus.
The place was shaped like a giant cross, and stretched for hundreds of feet in each direction. She knelt upon a symbol carved into the stone beneath her, part of a very large and very intricate pentagram that stretched across the center of the room. Directly in front of her stood a broad stone altar, upon which hovered a slowly spinning crystalline orb that flashed with a dizzying mélange of colors. It made her eyes hurt to look upon it, but it took some effort to tear her gaze away.
To the sides of the pentagram she could see large stone pools to the left and right. Ugly red splatters around the perimeter of those basins hinted at what was inside; that and the foul stench of this place—an odor of decay—caused her gorge to rise in her throat.
She could not move; the cruel barbed cords were wrapped tightly around her body and legs, binding her limbs to her, and holding her in a position that was a mockery of prayer. She was not the only prisoner; there were two others held in similar poses in adjacent positions along the perimeter of the pentagram, goblins. One knelt with its head down against its chest, either dead or unconscious. The second met her gaze with intelligence shining in its yellow eyes, but also a grim resignation.
They were not alone. She tried to swivel her head around, but moving her body caused the barbs to bite painfully into her flesh, and so she could only manage to turn enough to sense vague forms at the edges of her peripheral vision. There was a power here, a slowly building feeling that caused a prickling sensation against her skin. She felt her stomach twist with terror, and it was only by summoning her will and her faith that she kept from collapsing in a paroxysm of frantic sobs.
“It will soon be over, priestess,” came the familiar voice of Gudmund from behind her.
She could feel the priest’s presence as he came closer, could feel the hot warmth of his breath against her skin. His voice became a silken whisper, words for her ears alone. “You and your friends helped me bring down Zehn... the least I can do is grant you the gift of oblivion. You will not witness the destruction of your world... but you can go to your doom knowing that you have helped to bring it about.”
“You will fail,” Allera said. “The powers of Good will not suffer you nor your abomination of a master to live.”
The evil high priest stepped past her, moving into view. He was clad in full plate armor that clanked as he moved, the whole covered by unholy vestments dominated by a bloody red sigil of the horned god he served. He wore no helm, but his face was covered by a mask in the shape of a skull, its white surface edged by what looked like splatters of fresh blood. He dominated her, a dread prince of darkness himself, full of his power and the power of his patron.
And he was not alone. Terrors out of nightmare accompanied him, one passing to her left, another to her right. The vrock screeched at her, gobs of spittle trailing from its beak, while the glabrezu merely looked at her coldly, like a piece of meat beyond its notice.
The conscious goblin struggled, although its bonds were as tight and as painful as those holding Allera. “This will mean an end to our alliance, priest, and war between my people and yours,” the creature croaked.
Gudmund turned to him, and laughed. “That arrangement was merely one of convenience, wretch. Your people shall be chaff before the reaper’s scythe, their souls provender for the True God.”
The glabrezu’s gaze shifted to fall upon the goblin, and its bravery collapsed before that otherworldly stare. The creature let out a keening sigh and subsided, shivering. But Allera had drawn some strength from the creature’s defiance. “You may kill me, but others will come to destroy you,” she said.
“Of course they will,” Gudmund said. “I am counting on it.”
He lifted his arms, letting his robe fall back to reveal scarified flesh upon his hand and forearms; he wore neither gauntlets or bracers. He drew out a knife from under his mantle, and used it to add another cut to his own flesh. Bright red blood dropped in fat orbs upon the floor. The shimmering aura from the crystal globe obscured his body, blurring his features, making him almost impossible to see clearly. But his voice rang out through the chamber, ever syllable crashing against the healer’s ears.
“Blood of the True God!” he shouted. “You came here to serve, to bring about the Final Coming!”
A dozen voices, maybe more, echoed from behind her in response. “His coming shall wipe away all before him!” The voices were male and female, young and old, and she knew them. The voices of her captors, her tormentors. The acolytes and priests of Orcus, Prince of Demons. The energies coming from the crystal sphere seemed to pulse in cadence with their words. Gudmund’s face had become hazy, blurred, but she could still see his eyes, fixed upon her.
“We bring these offerings, so that their lives may speed his coming!”
She sensed movement to her sides, and saw hooded and robed priests come up behind the goblins. Daggers flashed in their hands, and blood spurted as one yanked back the head of each goblin, while another drew his blade across their throats. The goblins, already near death, deflated, their bodies sagging back as their blood exploded from the deep cuts.
And then, as Allera watched in horror, a miasma of gray tendrils swirled out of the bodies of the dying creatures. Tiny motes of light flickered within those insubstantial clouds, which were drawn out of the bodies and forward, toward the center of the pentagram. The sparkling wraiths grew longer and thinner as they passed the high priest’s outstretched arms, finally dissolving into the crystal sphere, which pulsed brightly as they were absorbed.
Allera instinctively knew what had happened, knew enough about the tenuous flicker of life to recognize that the sphere had devoured the souls of the hapless prisoners. She looked up at Gudmund in horror. The evil priest’s eyes shone deep within the hollows of his skull mask.
“Yes,” he said. “Yes, you understand. And your soul, burning so much brighter than those wretches, will help sunder the bindings upon the door.”
She struggled, ignoring the sharp pains that pierced her body from the barbed cords. Fresh blood soaked into her already sodden shift. A scream bubbled up within her as rough hands grabbed her head, but she felt a sudden calm come over her, and she did not give them the satisfaction of crying out. She trembled as her head was yanked back, and steel flashed before her eyes.
“So strong,” she heard Gudmund’s voice. “Yes, yes.”
She never felt the actual stroke, but felt the hot warmth pouring down her chest. Her strength seemed to ebb away with that flow, and her senses began to drift. The flashing energy of the sphere muted everything else as her vision clouded, and she could feel it tugging at her. She tried to fight it, but her will faded with her lifesblood, and she could not. But then she felt another presence there with her, taking her into its shelter, and that evil pull faded as the blackness deepened around her.
Gudmund watched the healer bleeding out her life, her blood seeping through her ruined clothes, and spreading out upon the floor, seeping into the carved runes of the unholy circle. The ritual had reached its climax, and he waited for his reward, as the woman’s bright soul was drawn into the Sphere.
But as her life faded, nothing happened. The woman was dead, that much was obvious. Her slashed throat had stopped its gory fountain, and she’d slumped down, kept upright only by the tightness of her bonds. Frowning under his skull mask, Gudmund lowered his arms and stepped forward. The two priests standing behind her exchanged a look, realizing that something had gone wrong.
As the priest came forward, he saw something. Under the blood-soaked remnants of her garment, there was a faint flickering flash, just between her breasts, close against her heart.
His moment of glory had been denied him; he had been cheated of his prize. The high priest’s face twisted with fury, and he’d started forward to grab the dead woman’s body when suddenly the outer doors to the temple burst open, and a dire wolverine charged forward into the unholy chamber.
It's Friday, so you know what that means...
* * * * *
Chapter 96
THE RITUAL
As the sack was torn roughly from her head, Allera could see that she was in a huge chamber, surrounded by the servants of Orcus.
The place was shaped like a giant cross, and stretched for hundreds of feet in each direction. She knelt upon a symbol carved into the stone beneath her, part of a very large and very intricate pentagram that stretched across the center of the room. Directly in front of her stood a broad stone altar, upon which hovered a slowly spinning crystalline orb that flashed with a dizzying mélange of colors. It made her eyes hurt to look upon it, but it took some effort to tear her gaze away.
To the sides of the pentagram she could see large stone pools to the left and right. Ugly red splatters around the perimeter of those basins hinted at what was inside; that and the foul stench of this place—an odor of decay—caused her gorge to rise in her throat.
She could not move; the cruel barbed cords were wrapped tightly around her body and legs, binding her limbs to her, and holding her in a position that was a mockery of prayer. She was not the only prisoner; there were two others held in similar poses in adjacent positions along the perimeter of the pentagram, goblins. One knelt with its head down against its chest, either dead or unconscious. The second met her gaze with intelligence shining in its yellow eyes, but also a grim resignation.
They were not alone. She tried to swivel her head around, but moving her body caused the barbs to bite painfully into her flesh, and so she could only manage to turn enough to sense vague forms at the edges of her peripheral vision. There was a power here, a slowly building feeling that caused a prickling sensation against her skin. She felt her stomach twist with terror, and it was only by summoning her will and her faith that she kept from collapsing in a paroxysm of frantic sobs.
“It will soon be over, priestess,” came the familiar voice of Gudmund from behind her.
She could feel the priest’s presence as he came closer, could feel the hot warmth of his breath against her skin. His voice became a silken whisper, words for her ears alone. “You and your friends helped me bring down Zehn... the least I can do is grant you the gift of oblivion. You will not witness the destruction of your world... but you can go to your doom knowing that you have helped to bring it about.”
“You will fail,” Allera said. “The powers of Good will not suffer you nor your abomination of a master to live.”
The evil high priest stepped past her, moving into view. He was clad in full plate armor that clanked as he moved, the whole covered by unholy vestments dominated by a bloody red sigil of the horned god he served. He wore no helm, but his face was covered by a mask in the shape of a skull, its white surface edged by what looked like splatters of fresh blood. He dominated her, a dread prince of darkness himself, full of his power and the power of his patron.
And he was not alone. Terrors out of nightmare accompanied him, one passing to her left, another to her right. The vrock screeched at her, gobs of spittle trailing from its beak, while the glabrezu merely looked at her coldly, like a piece of meat beyond its notice.
The conscious goblin struggled, although its bonds were as tight and as painful as those holding Allera. “This will mean an end to our alliance, priest, and war between my people and yours,” the creature croaked.
Gudmund turned to him, and laughed. “That arrangement was merely one of convenience, wretch. Your people shall be chaff before the reaper’s scythe, their souls provender for the True God.”
The glabrezu’s gaze shifted to fall upon the goblin, and its bravery collapsed before that otherworldly stare. The creature let out a keening sigh and subsided, shivering. But Allera had drawn some strength from the creature’s defiance. “You may kill me, but others will come to destroy you,” she said.
“Of course they will,” Gudmund said. “I am counting on it.”
He lifted his arms, letting his robe fall back to reveal scarified flesh upon his hand and forearms; he wore neither gauntlets or bracers. He drew out a knife from under his mantle, and used it to add another cut to his own flesh. Bright red blood dropped in fat orbs upon the floor. The shimmering aura from the crystal globe obscured his body, blurring his features, making him almost impossible to see clearly. But his voice rang out through the chamber, ever syllable crashing against the healer’s ears.
“Blood of the True God!” he shouted. “You came here to serve, to bring about the Final Coming!”
A dozen voices, maybe more, echoed from behind her in response. “His coming shall wipe away all before him!” The voices were male and female, young and old, and she knew them. The voices of her captors, her tormentors. The acolytes and priests of Orcus, Prince of Demons. The energies coming from the crystal sphere seemed to pulse in cadence with their words. Gudmund’s face had become hazy, blurred, but she could still see his eyes, fixed upon her.
“We bring these offerings, so that their lives may speed his coming!”
She sensed movement to her sides, and saw hooded and robed priests come up behind the goblins. Daggers flashed in their hands, and blood spurted as one yanked back the head of each goblin, while another drew his blade across their throats. The goblins, already near death, deflated, their bodies sagging back as their blood exploded from the deep cuts.
And then, as Allera watched in horror, a miasma of gray tendrils swirled out of the bodies of the dying creatures. Tiny motes of light flickered within those insubstantial clouds, which were drawn out of the bodies and forward, toward the center of the pentagram. The sparkling wraiths grew longer and thinner as they passed the high priest’s outstretched arms, finally dissolving into the crystal sphere, which pulsed brightly as they were absorbed.
Allera instinctively knew what had happened, knew enough about the tenuous flicker of life to recognize that the sphere had devoured the souls of the hapless prisoners. She looked up at Gudmund in horror. The evil priest’s eyes shone deep within the hollows of his skull mask.
“Yes,” he said. “Yes, you understand. And your soul, burning so much brighter than those wretches, will help sunder the bindings upon the door.”
She struggled, ignoring the sharp pains that pierced her body from the barbed cords. Fresh blood soaked into her already sodden shift. A scream bubbled up within her as rough hands grabbed her head, but she felt a sudden calm come over her, and she did not give them the satisfaction of crying out. She trembled as her head was yanked back, and steel flashed before her eyes.
“So strong,” she heard Gudmund’s voice. “Yes, yes.”
She never felt the actual stroke, but felt the hot warmth pouring down her chest. Her strength seemed to ebb away with that flow, and her senses began to drift. The flashing energy of the sphere muted everything else as her vision clouded, and she could feel it tugging at her. She tried to fight it, but her will faded with her lifesblood, and she could not. But then she felt another presence there with her, taking her into its shelter, and that evil pull faded as the blackness deepened around her.
Gudmund watched the healer bleeding out her life, her blood seeping through her ruined clothes, and spreading out upon the floor, seeping into the carved runes of the unholy circle. The ritual had reached its climax, and he waited for his reward, as the woman’s bright soul was drawn into the Sphere.
But as her life faded, nothing happened. The woman was dead, that much was obvious. Her slashed throat had stopped its gory fountain, and she’d slumped down, kept upright only by the tightness of her bonds. Frowning under his skull mask, Gudmund lowered his arms and stepped forward. The two priests standing behind her exchanged a look, realizing that something had gone wrong.
As the priest came forward, he saw something. Under the blood-soaked remnants of her garment, there was a faint flickering flash, just between her breasts, close against her heart.
His moment of glory had been denied him; he had been cheated of his prize. The high priest’s face twisted with fury, and he’d started forward to grab the dead woman’s body when suddenly the outer doors to the temple burst open, and a dire wolverine charged forward into the unholy chamber.
Rabelais
First Post
Oof... I think Dar's definately not going to like that.
You know what sets you apart from the pack LB? It's your gleeful disregard for the well-being of your characters. The urge to have the party make it in time... Cavalry coming over the hill in the nick of time has to be kind of hard to resist...
Your story hour is my first stop on the boards when I get home from work.
You know what sets you apart from the pack LB? It's your gleeful disregard for the well-being of your characters. The urge to have the party make it in time... Cavalry coming over the hill in the nick of time has to be kind of hard to resist...
Your story hour is my first stop on the boards when I get home from work.
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DragonLancer
Hero
wolff96 said:Wow.
Oh, man... I seriously do feel actual SORROW for those poor buggers. Dar's going to eat them alive. They're going to APPRECIATE IT when their souls are finally free to escape into death.
I'm not betting on a free escape. Orcus will have some nasty use for their souls, I'm sure. And when Dar finds him, the big bad is going down!
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