The Doomed Bastards: Reckoning (story complete)
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Lazybones
Adventurer
You're welcome.Drowbane said:
Fun scene to write today. In one paragraph alone I had to do seven profanity edits (can you guess who was speaking?).
* * * * *
Chapter 191
ANOTHER AFTERMATH
They found no sign of Tribitz.
Even after Serah had brought Allera back to consciousness, and the two of them treated the various wounds they’d suffered in the brief but violent confrontation with the goblin high priest and its minions, they had been in pretty bad shape. Talen was the worst off; in addition to being blind, Talen’s right arm was severed at the elbow. He’d basically just remained where Serah had left him, sitting against the threshold of the doorway connecting the two temple chambers, clutching at the stump of his arm, staring into empty space.
“Damn, commander, you look like crap,” Dar had observed, when he’d come over to him.
The fighter was in little better shape. Although his wounds were critical, they’d responded to healing, leaving fresh white scars covering his body. His armor, however, had been beyond repair. They’d had to cut it off him, the bebilith’s claws leaving nothing but a twisted, mangled wreckage where his chest and torso plates had been. Even the chain links underneath had been savaged, leaving him with little that could be salvaged into any kind of protection at all.
“I might be wanting my breastplate back,” Dar had said to Varo, as he dropped the entire mess in a corner. The priest had agreed that the suit was beyond repair.
But the destruction of his armor had not stopped Dar from strapping his swordbelt back on over his waist, and heading for one of the two doors on the far side of the room, where Tribitz had disappeared.
“Where do you think you are going?” Shay had asked him.
“I’m going to finish off that goblin priest.”
“Are you serious? Look around... we’re in no condition to press on.”
“I don’t think he’s gone far. Look,” he said, gesturing to the assorted statues, “I think this is their main temple. I’ll bet the gobbo’s got quarters nearby, and he’s probably gone to ground there. Maybe conjuring up something even nastier than that spider demon to mess with us. Better to put him down first.”
“That’s a lot of assumptions. What if he’s fled the city?”
Dar had shrugged. “Then I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“And if he kills you? As I recall, you are pretty susceptible to a hold person, and then all he’s got to do is stick a knife through your stubborn guts, and your soul gets to join the Let’s Help Bring Orcus to Our World club.”
Dar’s only response had been to sling his club across his bare back. None of his tunics were much more than shredded cloth at this point, so he had elected to go with bare skin. Fortunately, his breeches had been in better shape. “You can stay here, look after the commander. I will be back shortly.”
“You can’t... Talen?”
But it had been Allera who had intervened, coming up to join them. Varo and Kalend had shadowed her, drawn by the exchange.
“You cannot go off on your own. It is foolish to split up now,” Allera had said, folding her arms across her chest. “Gods, man, how many reasons do you want for why this is stupid?”
Dar had grinned at Allera, causing her expression to darken into the resemblance of a thunderhead. “I’ll be back so fast that you won’t have a chance to miss me. Besides, what if there’s a bunch of monsters behind one of those doors? Better we find out sooner, rather than later.”
Allera had looked for support, but Talen had drifted off into unconsciousness, and Varo said nothing, just waiting to see what would develop. In the end, they had agreed that Shay and Kalend would go with the fighter, and at least see what was beyond the doors on the far side of the room. The others would set up camp here, and keep watch for any more threats that might come from the direction of the river.
In this one instance, their caution had proven unfounded. The doors led to small chambers that had obviously served as quarters for the goblin priests. They’d poked around but had not gone too thoroughly into the clerics’ possessions, wary of magical traps. They also found a tunnel that led into a large empty cavern that stank strongly of rot and decay. There was a small pool of fresh water here, and a secret door that Shay located in the far wall.
They had opened the door carefully, alert to a trap or enemy beyond. But the door had only led to another narrow, empty tunnel. Shay led them to its termination, a ledge that overlooked a huge open cavern. Part of the ledge was awash in water, an outlet from the underground stream that cascaded over the edge into the dark below.
“This must be the lake we passed before,” the scout had said. “I imagine we’re on the far side, or near it.”
“What about the cleric?” Kalend had asked. “He wasn’t in any of the other rooms, so he must have come this way.”
“Unless there’s another secret door that we missed,” Shay had pointed out.
Dar had spit noisily over the edge. “Either way, he’s gone,” the fighter had said. “Let’s get back.”
They had moved into one of the defensible rooms used by the goblins as quarters, and after a more thorough search for secret doors they settled down to rest. The spellcasters got first priority on sleep, and within minutes all three were lying under their blankets, dead to the world.
Dar was actually fairly fresh, thanks to Allera’s restoration spell earlier, so he drew first watch with Kalend. After taking food he adjusted Valor in its scabbard and headed across the room to the exit. Talen was sitting there, propped against the wall. His eyes were shut, but his remaining hand was clenched tight around the hilt of Beatus Incendia, which sat in its scabbard across his lap.
“You asleep, general?” Dar asked quietly.
For a moment, Talen did not respond, but as Dar started toward the exit, the knight responded, “Just resting my eyes.”
Dar turned back around. “Gods, commander, was that a joke? You must have taken a few more shots to the head than I thought.”
“Losing my vision has actually made me consider a few things differently,” the knight said.
“Yeah, well, you should get some sleep. Allera said that she can fix your eyes and your arm when she gets her spells back, and it’s not like you can keep watch until then, right?”
“Sleep,” Talen said, as though the word was in a foreign language.
“Yeah, you just lie down, your body will do the rest.”
“What do you think about Herzord?” Talen asked suddenly.
“You’re asking me now? Man, you sure your mind didn’t get taken over by a monster in that melee?”
Talen did not respond, and after a moment Dar leaned against the wall. “I don’t know. I don’t trust him, but in all honesty, in your shoes I’d probably have done the same as you did. He’s got men and magic, and we’re a bit short on both. Whatever’s in those slave pits, I don’t think it’s going to be easy.”
Talen nodded. “It’s never easy.” He looked up at Dar, an almost unnerving expression with his sightless, unfocused stare. “Dar. If something happens to me... will you see that... the mission, Shay...”
Dar shifted uncomfortably. “You don’t need to worry about the chain of command... sir.” He looked down at the sword at his waist, and his hand clenched involuntarily. “If it comes to it... I’ll see that what needs to be done is done.”
He waited for a reply, but Talen was silent. “Talen?” Dar asked silently, but the crippled knight had fallen finally into sleep.
Turning, Dar left the room.
Kalend was outside, in the hallway that connected the priests’ rooms. The thief had set one of their everburning torches in a crevice further up the passage, leaving him in a nook deep with shadows. He nodded as Dar appeared.
“All quiet, sir.”
“Good.”
There was a long pause. “Colonel...” He trailed off, doubt obvious in his voice.
Dar sighed. “Spill it, soldier.”
“Sir... why am I here?”
Dar looked up at him. “I would think it would be obvious by now,” he said after a moment.
“No, I understand why we’re here, I know it’s important, but... well, I was wondering why I am here.”
“You think you’re too good for this mission, soldier?”
“No, no.” The thief fidgeted slightly in the dark of his niche. “It’s the exact opposite, really. I’m not a warrior, not like Bullo, or Travius. I was a pretty decent thief, for what it’s worth, but not enough to keep from getting branded and shipped off into the legions. I’m not really even a soldier; I was always able to escape the worst of the military life by scamming and cutting deals. If anything, the only reason I’m alive is that I’ve known when to cower in a corner, which is most of the time.”
“I’m not a coward... at least, I’ve never considered myself such. But the things we’ve fought since coming here... they’re like nothing I imagined even in my darkest nightmares. Those dragons? The ghost? The spider demon? Each time, I think it’s not possible to be more scared than I was, but each time I’m proven wrong. And it’s not that I don’t want to help out, it’s just... well, I’ve checked the bodies, after each battle. Looking for my arrows. I think I’ve scored maybe one or two decent hits at best, of all the things we’ve fought. Most of them, I don’t think they even saw me as a threat.”
Dar was looking at him. “Are you done?”
“Yes, sir.”
Dar leaned back against the wall, the scabbard of his sword scraping on the rock. “You know what, Kalend? I don’t want to be here either. If someone told me he did, I’d think he was bat-crap insane. Well, except for Varo, but you’ve probably guessed that he’s already nuts.”
“I don’t want to be here, but that means frick-all, because I’m here, and that leaves me with exactly two choices: get stomped, or kill every gods-damned monster this craphole throws at me until they’re all freaking done.”
“Damn it, this is my third trip into this place, which I guess makes me crazy, by my own definition. But damn me if this isn’t going to be the last.”
“As for you, Kalend, you’re here because I picked you. I wish I could say that it was because I saw the potential for you to be a great freaking hero, but we both know that’d be a crock of dung. You’re here because you screwed up, you got the short end of the stick. Same with Bullo, same with Travius. Hells, if you want to go that far, it’s the same with me. I was shoved into this mess because I killed some idiot who had it coming, and the late Duke’s boys thought it would be fun to shove me half-naked into the Dungeon of Graves. If I had it to do over again, you’d bet your ass I’d kiss that cheeks of that prick that hired me and smile as he screwed me over.”
“But you know what, Kalend? That means exactly jack. We’re here, and in case you haven’t picked it up, we are it. We fail, here, and Camar is done. That much, at least, that crazy priest is right about.”
The fighter pushed off from the wall. “I’m going to keep watch at the outer door. If that bastard gobbo comes poking around again, I want to be the first to stick this,” he tapped the hilt of Valor, “into his guts.”
But as he was leaving, he turned back to Kalend. “One thing you’re wrong about, Kalend: you are a soldier. You were a soldier when you put that uniform on and took your oaths, and you were a soldier when you held the right side of the line against that undead horde. You’ll keep firing that bow and wielding that sword, and maybe you’ll die, but you’ll do it as a soldier. You understand me?”
“Yes, colonel.”
Dar nodded, and walked down the tunnel toward the door.
HugeOgre
First Post
You know LB, I've read all your stories now, and every day even when I have to make emergency trips to the far flung corners of Texas to fix someone else's computer screwup I always find a way to read your serials.
I was telling my wife tonight I'm blown away by the very idea that you cant find work as a professional writer. I hope you're next project is your own, and that I can finally pay you for all the work you do. You provide a great story and a great read, and even make me laugh at times. Dar is very believable to me, and the others are too.
Im drawn into the story, and I cant wait for tomorrow.
I was telling my wife tonight I'm blown away by the very idea that you cant find work as a professional writer. I hope you're next project is your own, and that I can finally pay you for all the work you do. You provide a great story and a great read, and even make me laugh at times. Dar is very believable to me, and the others are too.
Im drawn into the story, and I cant wait for tomorrow.
^^ What HugeOgre said.
I've been around since the first Travels in the West Story Hour and your writing just keeps improving. It seems crazy to me -- especially with the prolific rate at which you generate prose -- that you haven't found a writing contract with Wizards or one of the other game-book publishing houses.
Your fight scenes are typically great, but that scene between Dar and Kalend in today's post... That one just knocks it out of the park. Great scene and really powerful. At this point in the dungeon, who WOULDN'T be questioning themselves?
I've been around since the first Travels in the West Story Hour and your writing just keeps improving. It seems crazy to me -- especially with the prolific rate at which you generate prose -- that you haven't found a writing contract with Wizards or one of the other game-book publishing houses.
Your fight scenes are typically great, but that scene between Dar and Kalend in today's post... That one just knocks it out of the park. Great scene and really powerful. At this point in the dungeon, who WOULDN'T be questioning themselves?
Lazybones
Adventurer
Thank you both for the kind words. While I do not know at this time what writing projects I will undertake in the future (though I have a few ideas), the support I've gotten here has helped motivate me to continue to work to improve my writing. I've been writing fantasy since 1992 and I can really see the difference when I look at some of my older stuff.
All three of my stories at ENWorld (Travels through the Wild West, The Shackled City, and The Doomed Bastards) have gotten incredible praise and comment from the community. I appreciate everyone who has taken the time to read and post in those threads.
I'm at the point where I don't need to earn money for my writing (though I wouldn't mind getting paid to do it
), I'm just glad that I have found an audience that enjoys reading what I've created. I greatly enjoy doing it and don't see that changing any time soon.
LB
* * * * *
Chapter 192
CONSULTATIONS
Neither Tribitz nor any other threats appeared to disturb their rest, and once the spellcasters had woke from their deep sleep, the companions gathered for a meal prepared from the contents of Shay’s bag of holding. The foodstuffs that she had left were designed to be compact and long lasting, and included trail biscuits, hard cheese, ground meal that made a bland porridge when heated with water, and coffee. It could hardly be called a feast, but after their grueling experiences of almost constant battle since entering Grezneck, the food was quickly and eagerly consumed.
With the meal finished, the spellcasters turned to the preparations needed to recover their spells, while Shay and Filcher, who had shared the most recent watch, collapsed into an exhausted sleep. None of them were quite willing to fully trust the goblin, but the diminutive creature had at least proven to be competent, nearly equaling the scout in his ability to avoid detection and sense danger.
Once she had fixed her daily allotment of spells in her mind, Allera woke Talen, and purged him of his blindness. Restoring his arm took longer, but he watched with amazement as the regenerate spell slowly worked its course, leaving him at last with an undamaged limb that he flexed tentatively.
“I’d say to take it easy for a few days, but...” Allera began.
Talen nodded. “I understand. Thank you.” The knight stood and crossed the room, still testing the regrown arm.
Varo had left with Dar and Kalend to scout out the priest quarters again. The cleric returned a short while later, holding a short rod of carved onyx in his hand. He looked around and came over to Allera.
“Where is Serah?” he asked.
“She needed a few minutes alone,” the healer explained. “She is in one of the other side-rooms.”
Varo frowned. “It is not a good idea for any of us to be apart from the group. Particularly with a foe that makes liberal use of incorporeal undead.”
“I asked Snaggletooth to keep an eye on her,” Allera said. “And she’s only thirty feet away; if anything happens, we’ll hear it.”
“You presume much upon the incompetence of our enemy.”
The healer sighed. “Is there something you want, Licinius?”
The cleric extended the rod. “You may find this useful.”
“Where did you get that?”
“It was in a chest within the high priest’s quarters. Dar was smart, for once, not to trouble with the goblin’s possessions; there was a potent glyph of warding upon the container.”
The healer drew back. “I want nothing to do with his foul accoutrements.”
“A remarkably narrow view. Do not fear, healer; the device itself bears no alignment. It is merely a locus of magical energy, no different than your wand. I would keep it myself, but in your hands it may be more effective for the group.”
Allera looked intently at him, then she—warily—extended her hand.
As she grasped the device, her eyes widened slightly. “How many charges does it have?”
Varo shrugged. “I cannot tell for certain. At least a dozen, if I had to guess.”
Allera nodded, and accepted it. “A rod of restoration... If I’d been pressed to name one item that we truly needed, this might have been it. I... I apologize for my earlier presumption, Varo.”
The cleric’s mouth twisted into an echo of a smile; it did not look good on him. “You have had reason to doubt my motives, healer. In any case, it will fall upon you and Serah to bear more of the responsibility for providing healing; my wands are depleted and my store of potions and scrolls has been exhausted.”
“Your spells are powerful.”
“True. And some of my reservoir will be committed to cure wounds spells. But remember that I cannot spontaneously cast them, as Serah can.”
Allera tucked the rod under her arm and reached into her pouch. “I have one wand of cure moderate wounds left, about half-full,” she said. She looked wistful as she drew out the device, painstaking carved from wood so dark as to be almost black. “This was crafted by Ikarus, a good friend of mine.”
“The healer who came with us from Highbluff,” Varo said.
Allera nodded. “He... he has a talent for crafting. He always makes his devices just a bit stronger than they have to be, even at the additional personal cost. It’s just the way he is.”
“A noble gesture, if ultimately inefficient,” Varo replied.
Allera smiled sadly. “That just about describes him.” She wiped her hands on her cloak, and stood. “Was there something else?”
Varo stepped closer. “As the primary custodian of our group’s health and well-being, you need to be conscious of the emotional impact of our experiences.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just consider this. The natural healing process exists to give our bodies not only the time needed to recover from physical injuries, but also the accompanying emotional trauma as well. Through magical healing, we subvert this, and ‘cheat’, as it were, removing injuries with a wave of the hand. It was as if they were never there... but the body remembers the pain, and even the most potent healing spell cannot fully restore all that was lost.”
Allera colored, slightly; she looked uncomfortable to be in such close proximity to the priest of Dagos, but she did not withdraw. “I know all of this, Licinius. It is part of our task to treat the whole being; I do not know how much you know of the Healer’s Code, but...”
“I know it well,” the cleric interrupted. “I meant no impugnment of your skills. But since returning to Rappan Athuk, we have suffered considerable abuse. We have all been driven to the brink of death multiple times, only to be brought back to full health by divine magic. In some cases, members of our party have experienced this cycle several times within a single battle. We have been poisoned, enspelled, and energy drained. We have fought desperate battle after desperate battle; between the three of us, we have burned through half a dozen healing wands, not even considering our personal reservoirs of divine power. And there will be more battles to come. The trauma of having one’s body thus treated... it can be enough to damage the mind, perhaps even to push it to the brink of insanity.”
Varo’s voice had dropped low, but it had taken on a particular intensity as he had spoken. Allera had not shifted from his gaze, but she’d grown increasingly pale with each statement. “What do you want me to do?”
Varo shrugged, and broke the connection, turning to the side. “Just be aware, healer.” His gaze traveled up, and Allera followed it, until it settled on Talen, who was double-checking the contents of his pack.
“Hey, what’s going on here?”
Allera jumped and turned to see Dar standing there. The fighter looked at her, and then Varo, whose expression had faded to its usual neutral inscrutability.
“Nothing. We’re just talking. About our spell selection. Varo found a rod of restoration.”
Dar nodded, but he looked doubtful. “Better get your things together,” he said. “It’s time we got moving.” Serah entered the room, and Dar walked over to her, sharing the same message. Varo turned back to Allera briefly, sharing one last significant glance, and then he walked over to collect his own things from the far side of the room.
All three of my stories at ENWorld (Travels through the Wild West, The Shackled City, and The Doomed Bastards) have gotten incredible praise and comment from the community. I appreciate everyone who has taken the time to read and post in those threads.
I'm at the point where I don't need to earn money for my writing (though I wouldn't mind getting paid to do it
), I'm just glad that I have found an audience that enjoys reading what I've created. I greatly enjoy doing it and don't see that changing any time soon. LB
* * * * *
Chapter 192
CONSULTATIONS
Neither Tribitz nor any other threats appeared to disturb their rest, and once the spellcasters had woke from their deep sleep, the companions gathered for a meal prepared from the contents of Shay’s bag of holding. The foodstuffs that she had left were designed to be compact and long lasting, and included trail biscuits, hard cheese, ground meal that made a bland porridge when heated with water, and coffee. It could hardly be called a feast, but after their grueling experiences of almost constant battle since entering Grezneck, the food was quickly and eagerly consumed.
With the meal finished, the spellcasters turned to the preparations needed to recover their spells, while Shay and Filcher, who had shared the most recent watch, collapsed into an exhausted sleep. None of them were quite willing to fully trust the goblin, but the diminutive creature had at least proven to be competent, nearly equaling the scout in his ability to avoid detection and sense danger.
Once she had fixed her daily allotment of spells in her mind, Allera woke Talen, and purged him of his blindness. Restoring his arm took longer, but he watched with amazement as the regenerate spell slowly worked its course, leaving him at last with an undamaged limb that he flexed tentatively.
“I’d say to take it easy for a few days, but...” Allera began.
Talen nodded. “I understand. Thank you.” The knight stood and crossed the room, still testing the regrown arm.
Varo had left with Dar and Kalend to scout out the priest quarters again. The cleric returned a short while later, holding a short rod of carved onyx in his hand. He looked around and came over to Allera.
“Where is Serah?” he asked.
“She needed a few minutes alone,” the healer explained. “She is in one of the other side-rooms.”
Varo frowned. “It is not a good idea for any of us to be apart from the group. Particularly with a foe that makes liberal use of incorporeal undead.”
“I asked Snaggletooth to keep an eye on her,” Allera said. “And she’s only thirty feet away; if anything happens, we’ll hear it.”
“You presume much upon the incompetence of our enemy.”
The healer sighed. “Is there something you want, Licinius?”
The cleric extended the rod. “You may find this useful.”
“Where did you get that?”
“It was in a chest within the high priest’s quarters. Dar was smart, for once, not to trouble with the goblin’s possessions; there was a potent glyph of warding upon the container.”
The healer drew back. “I want nothing to do with his foul accoutrements.”
“A remarkably narrow view. Do not fear, healer; the device itself bears no alignment. It is merely a locus of magical energy, no different than your wand. I would keep it myself, but in your hands it may be more effective for the group.”
Allera looked intently at him, then she—warily—extended her hand.
As she grasped the device, her eyes widened slightly. “How many charges does it have?”
Varo shrugged. “I cannot tell for certain. At least a dozen, if I had to guess.”
Allera nodded, and accepted it. “A rod of restoration... If I’d been pressed to name one item that we truly needed, this might have been it. I... I apologize for my earlier presumption, Varo.”
The cleric’s mouth twisted into an echo of a smile; it did not look good on him. “You have had reason to doubt my motives, healer. In any case, it will fall upon you and Serah to bear more of the responsibility for providing healing; my wands are depleted and my store of potions and scrolls has been exhausted.”
“Your spells are powerful.”
“True. And some of my reservoir will be committed to cure wounds spells. But remember that I cannot spontaneously cast them, as Serah can.”
Allera tucked the rod under her arm and reached into her pouch. “I have one wand of cure moderate wounds left, about half-full,” she said. She looked wistful as she drew out the device, painstaking carved from wood so dark as to be almost black. “This was crafted by Ikarus, a good friend of mine.”
“The healer who came with us from Highbluff,” Varo said.
Allera nodded. “He... he has a talent for crafting. He always makes his devices just a bit stronger than they have to be, even at the additional personal cost. It’s just the way he is.”
“A noble gesture, if ultimately inefficient,” Varo replied.
Allera smiled sadly. “That just about describes him.” She wiped her hands on her cloak, and stood. “Was there something else?”
Varo stepped closer. “As the primary custodian of our group’s health and well-being, you need to be conscious of the emotional impact of our experiences.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just consider this. The natural healing process exists to give our bodies not only the time needed to recover from physical injuries, but also the accompanying emotional trauma as well. Through magical healing, we subvert this, and ‘cheat’, as it were, removing injuries with a wave of the hand. It was as if they were never there... but the body remembers the pain, and even the most potent healing spell cannot fully restore all that was lost.”
Allera colored, slightly; she looked uncomfortable to be in such close proximity to the priest of Dagos, but she did not withdraw. “I know all of this, Licinius. It is part of our task to treat the whole being; I do not know how much you know of the Healer’s Code, but...”
“I know it well,” the cleric interrupted. “I meant no impugnment of your skills. But since returning to Rappan Athuk, we have suffered considerable abuse. We have all been driven to the brink of death multiple times, only to be brought back to full health by divine magic. In some cases, members of our party have experienced this cycle several times within a single battle. We have been poisoned, enspelled, and energy drained. We have fought desperate battle after desperate battle; between the three of us, we have burned through half a dozen healing wands, not even considering our personal reservoirs of divine power. And there will be more battles to come. The trauma of having one’s body thus treated... it can be enough to damage the mind, perhaps even to push it to the brink of insanity.”
Varo’s voice had dropped low, but it had taken on a particular intensity as he had spoken. Allera had not shifted from his gaze, but she’d grown increasingly pale with each statement. “What do you want me to do?”
Varo shrugged, and broke the connection, turning to the side. “Just be aware, healer.” His gaze traveled up, and Allera followed it, until it settled on Talen, who was double-checking the contents of his pack.
“Hey, what’s going on here?”
Allera jumped and turned to see Dar standing there. The fighter looked at her, and then Varo, whose expression had faded to its usual neutral inscrutability.
“Nothing. We’re just talking. About our spell selection. Varo found a rod of restoration.”
Dar nodded, but he looked doubtful. “Better get your things together,” he said. “It’s time we got moving.” Serah entered the room, and Dar walked over to her, sharing the same message. Varo turned back to Allera briefly, sharing one last significant glance, and then he walked over to collect his own things from the far side of the room.
Lazybones
Adventurer
And it begins...
* * * * *
Chapter 193
THE SLAVE PITS
Guturk was not having a good day.
The creature grimaced as the deep wound in its neck closed, and the flow of blood down its chest stopped. A noise like an earthquake rumbled in the troll’s chest, but it stood its ground.
In most circumstances, the troll would have leapt upon its three brethren, hacking with its massive greatsword, unleashing a storm of pain in response to the insult that had been visited upon it. It had already been humiliated in front of its peers earlier, dressed down by a mere goblin. No one would call Guturk bright, but the troll had not been stupid enough to talk back against the Overseer; no one was that stupid.
Buruz knew that; it was likely why it had felt bold enough to hit Guturk, carving the other troll’s throat open with a vicious gash when it hadn’t been looking. Given specific orders to keep watch—and, more importantly, to keep quiet—Guturk had not been able to respond in the troll fighter’s customary fashion.
Guturk’s yellow stare remained fixed on Buruz while its regenerative powers healed the wound. That look promised a reckoning, but Buruz only chortled, and the other two trolls joined in, enjoying their comrade’s suffering. The three of them went back to the game that had precipitated the argument, tossing a goblin’s skull that had already seen a fair share of damage against the wall, wagering on where it would land.
Guturk snarled to itself and walked away, across the room.
The troll was a massive specimen of its race, impressive even before one took into account the chain shirt and huge hide-covered shield it bore, or the greatsword that it wore slung across its back. Buruz threw the skull past him as it crossed the room; the oblong missile missed the troll’s left knee and skittered across the room, trailing bone shards as it bounced off the stone floor and walls.
Guturk ignored the further insult; the troll had heard something from across the room, in the direction of the narrow stair that led up to Grezneck. The troll’s eyes narrowed as it approached, and as it sniffed the air, it frowned. That smell... familiar...
Then, chaos burst into the room.
Goblins... they came out of nowhere, spreading out from the entry to the staircase like water poured onto a flat surface from a jug. Small missiles flooded the air, arrows and javelins, and despite the troll’s considerable armor protection several shots from that initial barrage found vulnerable spots where they bit deep. Even with the advantage of sneak attacks, the wounds were not critical for a being as huge and as powerful as the troll, and almost at once they began to regenerate, forcing the weapons from the wounds as the torn flesh grew back.
A half-dozen goblins wearing chainmail hauberks and bearing shortswords rushed forward to engage the troll in melee. They moved nimbly, and spread out to flank the much larger creature. Guturk, becoming annoyed now, smashed one with a claw; it staggered to the side but quickly recovered, darting back in to slash its sword across the back of the troll’s hand. The injury was barely a scratch, and the troll smiled as it reached across its back with its other hand, and unlimbered the massive blade it carried there.
The troll guard’s companions had been quick to abandon their game in favor of more exciting sport, and the chamber shook as they charged forward in a wedge, drawing their swords as they came. But more combatants continued to emerge from the stair, and these surged forward to meet the troll rush.
Several of these newcomers were larger prey, hobgoblins and humans clad in heavy armor. Herzord, flanked by his lieutenant, met Buruz, the pair splitting to avoid the first downward swing that smashed hard into the ground between them. They flanked the troll, delivering probing strikes with their magical swords to test its defenses. The troll roared and rounded on Herzord, its sword coming around in an arc designed to cut the hobgoblin captain in twain, but the hobgoblin set his feet and turned into the stroke, his own black blade driving forward to meet the other. Metal clashed, and the troll’s sword came apart, slabs of rough-forged iron exploding across the chamber as the weapon was sundered.
Buruz merely dropped the now-useless hilt of its weapon, and set upon its foes with claw and tooth.
Dar and Talen were battling another troll just a few steps away. The pair echoed the initial tactics of the hobgoblins, letting the troll come to them, spreading out and stepping forward into flanking positions. Dar took a hit hard across the body from its sword, but his old breastplate, recovered from Varo, held against the impact, although it suffered a serious dent from the force of the blow. The fighter’s breath was blasted out of his lungs by the hit, but before the troll could get in a follow-up Talen savaged it with Beatus Incendia, scoring a pair of hits that cut the troll’s left leg to the bone. The creature shouted in pain and fury and rounded on the knight, the huge sword coming up to strike.
It never got a chance, as Dar unleashed an all-out full attack upon its back.
The last troll felt a momentary dizziness as a puff of interesting-smelling gas erupted in front of its face. But while the troll was stupid, it was hardly weak-minded, and it shook off the effects of Snaggletooth’s breath weapon, and focused on its companions, being hacked to pieces a few steps away.
It started toward Talen, intending to counter-flank the enemy, but before it could engage it was confronted by a slender human woman. At first it hardly considered Shaylara a threat, but that changed when the scout sprang up into the air, right toward its face. Her sword flashed out, slicing a long gash open in the troll’s neck, and then she kicked off its chest, flying back.
The troll’s leathery flesh had been too thick for the wound to have been critical, and it would have healed quickly in any case. But it was enough to draw its full attention, and it charged at the scout, who fled back into the corner of the room, toward a spiral staircase that led down. Had the troll been in a more contemplative mood, it might have realized that it was being drawn away from the battle, but as it was it charged after the fleeing woman, hacking at her with its sword. Shay took a pair of hits, but both were just glancing blows, and each time she kept dodging back out of its reach, forcing it to keep following after.
Guturk was surrounded by goblins now, and having a tough time of it. The troll had scored a hit with his sword that had knocked a goblin fighter halfway across the room. Allera was there even before it had rolled to a stop, saving its life with a minor healing spell. She could not help, however, the goblin scout that the troll cut in half with its backswing, as the small creature delivered a painful cut with its axe across the huge monster’s left ankle. The troll was continuing to regenerate, but it was taking hits faster than its body could adapt, and in close quarters the sneak attacks from the flanking scouts were starting to tell.
Another stabbing pain shot through the troll’s thigh, and as it turned to deal with yet another foe, its damaged ankle gave out, and it fell forward. It took some solace in the fact that it fell onto a goblin, crushing it beneath its bulk, but then a blade cut across its eyes, blinding it, and then things got really nasty.
Buruz tore violently at Herzord, but while the hobgoblin leader was taking damage, each time the troll was just too slow to get a solid grasp on him, enough of a hold to tear and rend his flesh. The hobgoblin, despite his heavy armor and full helm, seemed to anticipate the troll’s attacks an instant before they were launched. His lieutenant continued to hack at the troll from behind, but the creature ignored it, focused on the greater foe. It made another attempt to seize him, but Herzord met that attack with a swing that took off the troll’s left arm at the elbow. He stepped under the troll’s other swing, and as it staggered forward, off balance, he drove the length of his blade through the troll’s chin up into its brain.
The hobgoblins fell back as the troll collapsed. Herzord turned to see Dar standing over the body of his opponent.
“What took you so long?” the fighter said, with a grin.
There wasn’t time for a reply, as the battle wasn’t quite over yet. Shay had led the troll on a chase around the spiral stair, and now drew it back, grimacing as she held her injured side. Talen was there to meet it, taking everything the troll could put in its swing, deflecting it just enough with his shield to avoid losing his arm. Ignoring the pain from the broken limb, Talen swept Beatus Incendia across its belly, opening a fearsome wound that sizzled as the holy fire around the blade seared troll flesh.
The troll’s counterattack might have finished off the knight, but it never got the chance, as Dar and the two hobgoblins, joined once more by Shay, charged forward and put an end to it.
* * * * *
Chapter 193
THE SLAVE PITS
Guturk was not having a good day.
The creature grimaced as the deep wound in its neck closed, and the flow of blood down its chest stopped. A noise like an earthquake rumbled in the troll’s chest, but it stood its ground.
In most circumstances, the troll would have leapt upon its three brethren, hacking with its massive greatsword, unleashing a storm of pain in response to the insult that had been visited upon it. It had already been humiliated in front of its peers earlier, dressed down by a mere goblin. No one would call Guturk bright, but the troll had not been stupid enough to talk back against the Overseer; no one was that stupid.
Buruz knew that; it was likely why it had felt bold enough to hit Guturk, carving the other troll’s throat open with a vicious gash when it hadn’t been looking. Given specific orders to keep watch—and, more importantly, to keep quiet—Guturk had not been able to respond in the troll fighter’s customary fashion.
Guturk’s yellow stare remained fixed on Buruz while its regenerative powers healed the wound. That look promised a reckoning, but Buruz only chortled, and the other two trolls joined in, enjoying their comrade’s suffering. The three of them went back to the game that had precipitated the argument, tossing a goblin’s skull that had already seen a fair share of damage against the wall, wagering on where it would land.
Guturk snarled to itself and walked away, across the room.
The troll was a massive specimen of its race, impressive even before one took into account the chain shirt and huge hide-covered shield it bore, or the greatsword that it wore slung across its back. Buruz threw the skull past him as it crossed the room; the oblong missile missed the troll’s left knee and skittered across the room, trailing bone shards as it bounced off the stone floor and walls.
Guturk ignored the further insult; the troll had heard something from across the room, in the direction of the narrow stair that led up to Grezneck. The troll’s eyes narrowed as it approached, and as it sniffed the air, it frowned. That smell... familiar...
Then, chaos burst into the room.
Goblins... they came out of nowhere, spreading out from the entry to the staircase like water poured onto a flat surface from a jug. Small missiles flooded the air, arrows and javelins, and despite the troll’s considerable armor protection several shots from that initial barrage found vulnerable spots where they bit deep. Even with the advantage of sneak attacks, the wounds were not critical for a being as huge and as powerful as the troll, and almost at once they began to regenerate, forcing the weapons from the wounds as the torn flesh grew back.
A half-dozen goblins wearing chainmail hauberks and bearing shortswords rushed forward to engage the troll in melee. They moved nimbly, and spread out to flank the much larger creature. Guturk, becoming annoyed now, smashed one with a claw; it staggered to the side but quickly recovered, darting back in to slash its sword across the back of the troll’s hand. The injury was barely a scratch, and the troll smiled as it reached across its back with its other hand, and unlimbered the massive blade it carried there.
The troll guard’s companions had been quick to abandon their game in favor of more exciting sport, and the chamber shook as they charged forward in a wedge, drawing their swords as they came. But more combatants continued to emerge from the stair, and these surged forward to meet the troll rush.
Several of these newcomers were larger prey, hobgoblins and humans clad in heavy armor. Herzord, flanked by his lieutenant, met Buruz, the pair splitting to avoid the first downward swing that smashed hard into the ground between them. They flanked the troll, delivering probing strikes with their magical swords to test its defenses. The troll roared and rounded on Herzord, its sword coming around in an arc designed to cut the hobgoblin captain in twain, but the hobgoblin set his feet and turned into the stroke, his own black blade driving forward to meet the other. Metal clashed, and the troll’s sword came apart, slabs of rough-forged iron exploding across the chamber as the weapon was sundered.
Buruz merely dropped the now-useless hilt of its weapon, and set upon its foes with claw and tooth.
Dar and Talen were battling another troll just a few steps away. The pair echoed the initial tactics of the hobgoblins, letting the troll come to them, spreading out and stepping forward into flanking positions. Dar took a hit hard across the body from its sword, but his old breastplate, recovered from Varo, held against the impact, although it suffered a serious dent from the force of the blow. The fighter’s breath was blasted out of his lungs by the hit, but before the troll could get in a follow-up Talen savaged it with Beatus Incendia, scoring a pair of hits that cut the troll’s left leg to the bone. The creature shouted in pain and fury and rounded on the knight, the huge sword coming up to strike.
It never got a chance, as Dar unleashed an all-out full attack upon its back.
The last troll felt a momentary dizziness as a puff of interesting-smelling gas erupted in front of its face. But while the troll was stupid, it was hardly weak-minded, and it shook off the effects of Snaggletooth’s breath weapon, and focused on its companions, being hacked to pieces a few steps away.
It started toward Talen, intending to counter-flank the enemy, but before it could engage it was confronted by a slender human woman. At first it hardly considered Shaylara a threat, but that changed when the scout sprang up into the air, right toward its face. Her sword flashed out, slicing a long gash open in the troll’s neck, and then she kicked off its chest, flying back.
The troll’s leathery flesh had been too thick for the wound to have been critical, and it would have healed quickly in any case. But it was enough to draw its full attention, and it charged at the scout, who fled back into the corner of the room, toward a spiral staircase that led down. Had the troll been in a more contemplative mood, it might have realized that it was being drawn away from the battle, but as it was it charged after the fleeing woman, hacking at her with its sword. Shay took a pair of hits, but both were just glancing blows, and each time she kept dodging back out of its reach, forcing it to keep following after.
Guturk was surrounded by goblins now, and having a tough time of it. The troll had scored a hit with his sword that had knocked a goblin fighter halfway across the room. Allera was there even before it had rolled to a stop, saving its life with a minor healing spell. She could not help, however, the goblin scout that the troll cut in half with its backswing, as the small creature delivered a painful cut with its axe across the huge monster’s left ankle. The troll was continuing to regenerate, but it was taking hits faster than its body could adapt, and in close quarters the sneak attacks from the flanking scouts were starting to tell.
Another stabbing pain shot through the troll’s thigh, and as it turned to deal with yet another foe, its damaged ankle gave out, and it fell forward. It took some solace in the fact that it fell onto a goblin, crushing it beneath its bulk, but then a blade cut across its eyes, blinding it, and then things got really nasty.
Buruz tore violently at Herzord, but while the hobgoblin leader was taking damage, each time the troll was just too slow to get a solid grasp on him, enough of a hold to tear and rend his flesh. The hobgoblin, despite his heavy armor and full helm, seemed to anticipate the troll’s attacks an instant before they were launched. His lieutenant continued to hack at the troll from behind, but the creature ignored it, focused on the greater foe. It made another attempt to seize him, but Herzord met that attack with a swing that took off the troll’s left arm at the elbow. He stepped under the troll’s other swing, and as it staggered forward, off balance, he drove the length of his blade through the troll’s chin up into its brain.
The hobgoblins fell back as the troll collapsed. Herzord turned to see Dar standing over the body of his opponent.
“What took you so long?” the fighter said, with a grin.
There wasn’t time for a reply, as the battle wasn’t quite over yet. Shay had led the troll on a chase around the spiral stair, and now drew it back, grimacing as she held her injured side. Talen was there to meet it, taking everything the troll could put in its swing, deflecting it just enough with his shield to avoid losing his arm. Ignoring the pain from the broken limb, Talen swept Beatus Incendia across its belly, opening a fearsome wound that sizzled as the holy fire around the blade seared troll flesh.
The troll’s counterattack might have finished off the knight, but it never got the chance, as Dar and the two hobgoblins, joined once more by Shay, charged forward and put an end to it.
Lazybones
Adventurer
Well, knowing them, it won't last for long...Fimmtiu said:
* * * * *
Chapter 194
HERZORD’S COMMAND
The aftermath of the battle was handled with grim efficiency. Herzord knew how to command, but even more obvious was the skill and experience of his warriors.
First, they made sure of each of the four trolls, cutting their throats and stabbing their narrow swords through their eyes into their wretched brains. Even before the last troll stopped twitching, the goblin warriors were taking out oil flasks, the contents of which were doused liberally over the corpses. Those were ignited at once, then monitored to make sure that the flames consumed fully each troll, or at least those parts of it that could possibly grow back.
It all took about a minute. With a few gestures Herzord assigned scouts to watch the chamber’s exits, a corridor that exited to the west and the spiral stair that descended presumably to another level. Filcher and a pair of goblin escorts vanished down the stairs.
“What’s down there?” Talen asked.
“The slave pits,” Herzord replied. “The torture cells and the temple are that way,” he added, indicating the west passage. “But it would be foolish to leave a garrison behind us, and if possible, we should free any captives held down there.”
“It’s not likely that anyone failed to hear us coming,” Dar said. “These bastards made a lot of noise dying.”
Varo came up behind Talen. “What is it, Varo?” the knight asked.
“This place, it is a locus of great power,” the cleric replied. “Evil is bleeding off from the very walls. The aura will hinder our abilities, and bolster the foe. I thought you should know.”
“Always the bringer of bright tidings,” Dar grumbled.
“All right. As soon as the wounded are treated, we’ll move out,” Talen said.
Allera and Serah, along with a goblin priest of Dagos that Herzord had brought with them, were already working on the injured. While several of their group had been critically hurt in the brief but violent battle, only one goblin, the one that the first troll had cut in half, was beyond help. Even the goblin that the troll had fallen onto had been pulled out, albeit with broken bones and internal bleeding. But Allera’s healing wand had taken care of that, and the goblin was soon able to take its place in the line.
“Your power is impressive,” Herzord commented. The hobgoblin eschewed the offered healing, instead downing a curative potion from the pouch at his belt. Serah used her wand to heal the injuries that Dar and Shay had suffered in the battle, while Allera set and restored Talen’s broken arm.
By the time they were ready to go, Filcher had already returned, and came over to deliver a report to Herzord.
“The pits are deserted,” the goblin said, in its own language. “No guards, and no prisoners. It looks like the place was cleared out fairly recently.”
“What’d he say?” Dar asked.
“The pits are empty,” Shay said. She looked at Talen, who nodded; he could make a few guesses about what had happened to the prisoners.
“The priests, then,” the knight said.
“Agreed,” Herzord said. He turned to his troops, but before he could issue any commands, two goblins returned from the west passage.
“Enemies coming!” one of the scouts hissed. The goblin flashed something with its fingers, which presumably indicated something about the numbers and nature of the foe. None of the companions could understand the significance, but they could easily read the alarm on the creature’s face.
“Ready ambush!” the hobgoblin leader ordered. But even as his troops moved into flanking positions around the tunnel entry, there was a sudden gust of chilled air through the chamber, their only warning before an ice storm came crashing down upon them.
Hailstones the size of a fist rained down on the company from Camar and their goblinoid allies, accompanied by a bitter surge of cold that cut through clothes and armor to steal the warmth from the flesh beneath. Several of the goblin scouts went down, blue and shivering, and none of them escaped damage from the penetrating barrage.
“Fall back!” Herzord yelled in Common, shouting to be heard over the sound of the ongoing ice storm. But Talen saw that the goblins were holding position, flanking the entry, and he understood; Herzord was trying to set up an ambush, to draw the enemy in to be encircled.
Unfortunately, not everyone grasped the plan. “Screw that, we need to take out the wizard!” Dar shouted. Instead of retreating, he charged across the room, ignoring the hailstones that continued to plink off of his armor, before vanishing into the dark corridor.
“You idiot,” Talen muttered, his words lost within the roar of the magical storm. But faced with the choice of abandoning Dar to his fate or following his lead, the knight was left without much of a decision. Then he saw that Shay was following him, and Kalend, and then he had no choice left at all.
“At them!” the knight cried, lifting Beatus Incendia above his head, the holy steel flaring as the ice storm died.
He only managed a few steps, however, before a blast of cold flared out from the corridor, blinding him in the swirling energies of a cone of cold. Even on the edges of the blast, Talen could feel the heat being sucked out of his body, and he staggered back, raising his arms to protect his face from the swirling gusts of ice lingering in the air.
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