The Doomed Bastards: Reckoning (story complete)
- Thread starter Lazybones
- Start date
Richard Rawen
First Post
gah! When that thing came down on Shay I was right. I knew it was gonna get her.
I Still Cringed!
It is unfortunate that they did not finish it off... though I am at a loss as to how it would be done...
Great stuff, lots of fun to come!
I Still Cringed!
It is unfortunate that they did not finish it off... though I am at a loss as to how it would be done...
Great stuff, lots of fun to come!
Lazybones
Adventurer
Chapter 237
RETURN TO THE FIRST TEMPLE
Dar drew a rag along the length of Valor, cleaning off bits of gore that hadn’t sloughed off the magical blue steel. “How many, do you think, Selanthas?”
The elf scanned the room. “Thirty seven. By the stench, I would estimate that approximately three-quarters were ghasts.”
“Not a bad day’s work,” Dar said, sheathing the blade. He looked over at Talen, who was returning from the far side of the room. “Any more signs of that wraith-mage?”
“Nelan said it was a spectre,” the knight said.
“Whatever. You think it’ll come back?”
“I won’t assume either way. Help get these bodies clear; we’re going to be here for a while. Nelan says it will take a full day, twenty-four hours, to hallow the temple.”
Dar grimaced; the undead that were scattered across the floor were even more repulsive now than they had been when they’d been alive. Smoke still rose from some of them, where the mage’s spells had seared them.
“Well, it was much easier than the last time we were here, no?”
Talen nodded absently, and looked around. Objectively, there wasn’t much apparent change in the first temple of Orcus since their last visit. The place was dominated now, as before, by the tall platform in the center, suspended above a pit of glowing lava atop four slender and treacherous stone staircases. In the back of the room there was a large statue of Orcus, but it seemed less malevolent now, especially since Dar had stolen the gemstones it had had for eyes last time. The fact that they were all more or less intact this time might have also had something to do with it; on their last trip here several of them had been on the brink of death after they’d only just barely overcome the mixed human and demonic defenders of the temple.
Alderis stood quietly, staring up at the platform. Mehlaraine and Selanthas shared a look as they dragged a roasted ghoul over to the side of the room, but they did not approach him. Perhaps they sensed that he needed a moment’s space, as he confronted a particularly traumatic memory, reduced to a haze through magic and time, but not fully forgotten.
Allera and Shay were talking to Nelan, who was standing near the edge of the lava pit, gesturing with his hands. Probably working out the details of his spell. Dar knew that their ultimate success depended on destroying these temples, in sundering whatever foul magic gave the demon lord his power on this plane. He didn’t understand the details, and he didn’t want to know. But he also realized that the light resistance they’d had thus far would only grow stronger as the demon rallied its forces against this latest intrusion into its lair.
Orcus was not going to go down without a fight.
“We have been fortunate, thus far.”
Dar turned and saw Letellia, putting his thoughts into words. For a moment he wondered if the sorceress had been reading his mind, but then realized that they all had to be thinking the same thing.
“It’ll get harder,” he said. He reached down and grabbed a pair of ghasts by the ankles, dragging them over to the small heap gathering on the side of the chamber. Dar had suggested just tossing the undead into the lava, but Talen had vetoed that idea, concerned that the fumes from the burning creatures might foul the air in the chamber. Already the pit was putting off a considerable plume of ash and fumes, enough so that it made the head swim to stand too near to it for more than a few moments. Fortunately there were cracks and crevices in the rough ceiling above them, allowing most of the toxic gases to depart. Even so, they had set up their camp as far from the pit as they could, without leaving the room.
Letellia was watching him. “You fight... with great conviction.”
Dar cracked a grin. He wondered what she’d been about to say before she’d caught herself. “You did pretty well yourself. The archmage... well, he’s got some pretty impressive magic, but you can make with the fire and lightning on your own.”
“My powers are trivial in comparison to his,” the sorceress demurred. But she seemed to take pleasure in the compliment.
Despite Talen’s pushing them, it had taken them several hours to get here, well beyond the time that Honoratius could remain in possession of Letellia’s body. They had lingered a bit over the river, eager to cleanse away the worst of the blood and filth from their latest encounter with the dung monster. There had been no sign of the wererats that had populated the tunnels in the river cavern on their first visit, and no other creatures had taken up occupancy in the space since then. Given the proximity of the dung monster, that was perhaps understandable.
On their last expedition through that first level of the dungeon, they had traveled along the river to the second temple of Rappan Athuk, on a mission to rescue Allera from the clutches of the cult of Orcus. This time, they took the stairs down to the second level. They had been alert for new guardians, but the level was quiet, closed off from the rest of the dungeon complex by a series of collapses. Some of those disruptions had been precipitated by the Doomed Bastards on earlier visits. But this level remained the best route to the first temple, and so they had devised a plan to reopen one of the exits. It was Honoratius who had actually completed the deed, using her magic to transform herself into an umber hulk. It had been more than a little bizarre to watch the slender form of Letellia shift and reform into the alien visage of the hulk, and even more astounding to watch the creature dig into the packed earth and stone of the collapse, burrowing through it with the same felicity with which a dog might tunnel into loose dirt to recover a bone.
It took the better part of an hour, especially since they had to be wary of causing another collapse when they used the newly excavated tunnel. Honoratius greeted them in her own form at the bottom of the shaft, the spell having expired well before they finally were able to join her. The archmage had not been alone when they had finally reunited... although there hadn’t been much more than ugly black smears left of the three trolls that had been drawn to investigate by the noise.
Honoratius had been forced to depart again shortly thereafter. But Letellia proved her mettle in the encounters that followed. On their last visit, they had made their way to the first temple by means of an elaborate detour, along another underground river, through a cavern populated by trolls and giant spiders, and then through a complex of tunnels claimed by a band of ogres and a relatively good-natured otyugh. However, Varo’s annotated maps indicated that there was a more direct route connecting the third level and the fourth. They did not have the details of that connection, but Nelan had resolved that through the use of a find the path spell, cast from one of the scrolls taken from the vaults of the Great Cathedral of Soleus in Camar.
Their route down to the Temple had been fairly easy from that point, and almost entirely unopposed. They battled a small horde of giant rats, but a lightning bolt from Letellia had incinerated at least a score of the creatures, and the remainder managed barely a few seconds against Talen and Dar before the survivors fled. A wight leapt from the shadows to attack Shay a bit later, but Selanthas had two arrows in it before the creature even lifted its claws, and Shay got her spear in time around to impale it before it could strike.
They had grown more cautious when they entered the outskirts of the temple precinct, familiar chambers that had once held alert clerics of Orcus. Now the rooms were empty of all but old bloodstains and the occasional fragment of bone; even the wrecked furnishings of that former garrison had vanished.
They’d been ready for a fight when they got to the temple proper, and the large pack of ghouls and ghasts that they’d found there had been poised to give it to them. But numbers alone had been little proof against the devastating firepower that Letellia and Alderis could muster. There had been a moment of worry when the incorporeal wizard, hovering in the shadows near the ceiling above the platform, had hit them with a confusion spell. The minds of Dar, Talen, and Mehlaraine had been clouded by the hostile magic, but it ultimately didn’t matter; Letellia drove the spectre off with another lightning bolt, and Nelan had been able to dispel the confusion before their befuddled companions could threaten their own allies. Those few ghasts that had gotten close enough to melee had found that lightly armed and armored women with pale hair were nothing to be trifled with, at least not when said women were capable of unleashing multiple mass cure spells with devastating effect.
Dar tugged off his helmet and wiped his forehead. Behind him, a considerable pile of dead ghouls and ghasts formed a macabre mound against the wall of the chamber. The stench rising from them would make the chamber unpleasant, but the place was big enough so that the companions could deal with it. In any case, they had no choice, not if they wanted to give Nelan the time needed to conduct his ritual.
The cleric had staked out a small space midway between the lava pit and the statue of Orcus. The hallow spell had considerable accompaniments, including herbs, oils, and candles that had been specially prepared and consecrated in the sanctum of the Shining Father in Camar. Some of those items were over two hundred years old. Nelan had also spread out an antique scroll, which contained the actual incantantion that he would use for the ritual. The cleric was now taking his rest, preparing for the long and grueling casting of the spell. He would begin by consecrating the area, weakening the dark power of the temple, and would conclude with another casting of that spell, locking the hallow in place and sundering utterly the dark energies that flowed through this chamber.
That was the plan, anyway.
Talen organized their defense around protecting the cleric. They wedged both doors shut with iron spikes, and kept a double watch, with one of the sharp-eyed elves pairing with a human for each shift. The spellcasters were given priority on sleep, so they could recover their spells; that left Talen, Dar, Shay, Mehlaraine, and Selanthas pulling shifts on guard.
The first shift passed without inident, and Talen woke Dar for the second shift. He was partnered with Mehlaraine, who rose without a word at Selanthas’s touch, and began walking the perimeter of the chamber, moving with the smooth grace of a hunting cat.
After about an hour, Dar walked over to her.
“Would you stop that pacing? You’re driving me batty.”
The elven woman looked up at him quizzically. She lowered her voice to match his. “How can you be alert to threats if you do not remain vigilant?”
“Look, if they’re going to come, they’re going to... what?”
She had raised a hand to forestall him, her fingers impossibly slender, belying her not inconsiderable physical strength. Dar already knew that the aelfinn were not as frail as they looked. Well, most of them anyway.
For a moment, she said nothing. He looked around, but there was nothing to be seen, nothing moving save the swirling columns of smoke coming up off the lava pit. “Well?” he asked, his hand stealing to the hilt of Valor.
“Do you not hear that?”
He strained, and after a few fruitless moments his gaze drifted toward the south door, the one that led down to the next deeper level of the dungeon. His memories of that level were not pleasant; that was where they had battled Banth.
He started in that direction, the elven woman close on his heels. He moved quickly, his armor clattering slightly with each step.
There. He stopped, and listened again. It was clearer now, a faint scratching, like a cat begging to be let in. Except that this door was a slab of solid stone, secured with iron spikes, and Dar strongly doubted that a benign housecat waited on the far side.
He drew Valor, letting his own instincts blend with the familiar and reassuring feel of the hilt in his hand. “Wake the others,” he told the elf.
She skipped off in a flash, her soft boots barely seeming to touch the ground as she ran. Nelan was the only other one of them still awake, and the cleric paid her no heed as she darted past him, lost as he was within the depths of his ritual.
Dar focused on the doorway. The scratching noises had disappeared, but the tickling sensation he felt on the back of his neck hadn’t gone with it. He had learned long ago to trust his instincts.
Valor gleamed blue in his hand, shining in the reflected glow coming off the lava pit.
The door was silent, but Dar felt a preternatural sense of urgency, punctuated by the pulses of his heart beating in his chest. Seconds passed. He could hear the noises of his companions, as they stirred. Talen was issuing orders. Too slowly...
He was expecting it, but he still jumped when a loud crash sounded directly ahead of him; something heavy striking the door. His iron wedges held, but the attack on the door continued; a second heavy blow, then a third. The stone slab moved incrementally. The fourth impact was followed by a metallic clatter as one of the spikes was knocked free, and fell hard onto the stone floor.
“Come on, you bastards,” Dar hissed, lifting his sword into a ready position.
And then the door blasted open, and a horde of slavering wights poured into the room.
RETURN TO THE FIRST TEMPLE
Dar drew a rag along the length of Valor, cleaning off bits of gore that hadn’t sloughed off the magical blue steel. “How many, do you think, Selanthas?”
The elf scanned the room. “Thirty seven. By the stench, I would estimate that approximately three-quarters were ghasts.”
“Not a bad day’s work,” Dar said, sheathing the blade. He looked over at Talen, who was returning from the far side of the room. “Any more signs of that wraith-mage?”
“Nelan said it was a spectre,” the knight said.
“Whatever. You think it’ll come back?”
“I won’t assume either way. Help get these bodies clear; we’re going to be here for a while. Nelan says it will take a full day, twenty-four hours, to hallow the temple.”
Dar grimaced; the undead that were scattered across the floor were even more repulsive now than they had been when they’d been alive. Smoke still rose from some of them, where the mage’s spells had seared them.
“Well, it was much easier than the last time we were here, no?”
Talen nodded absently, and looked around. Objectively, there wasn’t much apparent change in the first temple of Orcus since their last visit. The place was dominated now, as before, by the tall platform in the center, suspended above a pit of glowing lava atop four slender and treacherous stone staircases. In the back of the room there was a large statue of Orcus, but it seemed less malevolent now, especially since Dar had stolen the gemstones it had had for eyes last time. The fact that they were all more or less intact this time might have also had something to do with it; on their last trip here several of them had been on the brink of death after they’d only just barely overcome the mixed human and demonic defenders of the temple.
Alderis stood quietly, staring up at the platform. Mehlaraine and Selanthas shared a look as they dragged a roasted ghoul over to the side of the room, but they did not approach him. Perhaps they sensed that he needed a moment’s space, as he confronted a particularly traumatic memory, reduced to a haze through magic and time, but not fully forgotten.
Allera and Shay were talking to Nelan, who was standing near the edge of the lava pit, gesturing with his hands. Probably working out the details of his spell. Dar knew that their ultimate success depended on destroying these temples, in sundering whatever foul magic gave the demon lord his power on this plane. He didn’t understand the details, and he didn’t want to know. But he also realized that the light resistance they’d had thus far would only grow stronger as the demon rallied its forces against this latest intrusion into its lair.
Orcus was not going to go down without a fight.
“We have been fortunate, thus far.”
Dar turned and saw Letellia, putting his thoughts into words. For a moment he wondered if the sorceress had been reading his mind, but then realized that they all had to be thinking the same thing.
“It’ll get harder,” he said. He reached down and grabbed a pair of ghasts by the ankles, dragging them over to the small heap gathering on the side of the chamber. Dar had suggested just tossing the undead into the lava, but Talen had vetoed that idea, concerned that the fumes from the burning creatures might foul the air in the chamber. Already the pit was putting off a considerable plume of ash and fumes, enough so that it made the head swim to stand too near to it for more than a few moments. Fortunately there were cracks and crevices in the rough ceiling above them, allowing most of the toxic gases to depart. Even so, they had set up their camp as far from the pit as they could, without leaving the room.
Letellia was watching him. “You fight... with great conviction.”
Dar cracked a grin. He wondered what she’d been about to say before she’d caught herself. “You did pretty well yourself. The archmage... well, he’s got some pretty impressive magic, but you can make with the fire and lightning on your own.”
“My powers are trivial in comparison to his,” the sorceress demurred. But she seemed to take pleasure in the compliment.
Despite Talen’s pushing them, it had taken them several hours to get here, well beyond the time that Honoratius could remain in possession of Letellia’s body. They had lingered a bit over the river, eager to cleanse away the worst of the blood and filth from their latest encounter with the dung monster. There had been no sign of the wererats that had populated the tunnels in the river cavern on their first visit, and no other creatures had taken up occupancy in the space since then. Given the proximity of the dung monster, that was perhaps understandable.
On their last expedition through that first level of the dungeon, they had traveled along the river to the second temple of Rappan Athuk, on a mission to rescue Allera from the clutches of the cult of Orcus. This time, they took the stairs down to the second level. They had been alert for new guardians, but the level was quiet, closed off from the rest of the dungeon complex by a series of collapses. Some of those disruptions had been precipitated by the Doomed Bastards on earlier visits. But this level remained the best route to the first temple, and so they had devised a plan to reopen one of the exits. It was Honoratius who had actually completed the deed, using her magic to transform herself into an umber hulk. It had been more than a little bizarre to watch the slender form of Letellia shift and reform into the alien visage of the hulk, and even more astounding to watch the creature dig into the packed earth and stone of the collapse, burrowing through it with the same felicity with which a dog might tunnel into loose dirt to recover a bone.
It took the better part of an hour, especially since they had to be wary of causing another collapse when they used the newly excavated tunnel. Honoratius greeted them in her own form at the bottom of the shaft, the spell having expired well before they finally were able to join her. The archmage had not been alone when they had finally reunited... although there hadn’t been much more than ugly black smears left of the three trolls that had been drawn to investigate by the noise.
Honoratius had been forced to depart again shortly thereafter. But Letellia proved her mettle in the encounters that followed. On their last visit, they had made their way to the first temple by means of an elaborate detour, along another underground river, through a cavern populated by trolls and giant spiders, and then through a complex of tunnels claimed by a band of ogres and a relatively good-natured otyugh. However, Varo’s annotated maps indicated that there was a more direct route connecting the third level and the fourth. They did not have the details of that connection, but Nelan had resolved that through the use of a find the path spell, cast from one of the scrolls taken from the vaults of the Great Cathedral of Soleus in Camar.
Their route down to the Temple had been fairly easy from that point, and almost entirely unopposed. They battled a small horde of giant rats, but a lightning bolt from Letellia had incinerated at least a score of the creatures, and the remainder managed barely a few seconds against Talen and Dar before the survivors fled. A wight leapt from the shadows to attack Shay a bit later, but Selanthas had two arrows in it before the creature even lifted its claws, and Shay got her spear in time around to impale it before it could strike.
They had grown more cautious when they entered the outskirts of the temple precinct, familiar chambers that had once held alert clerics of Orcus. Now the rooms were empty of all but old bloodstains and the occasional fragment of bone; even the wrecked furnishings of that former garrison had vanished.
They’d been ready for a fight when they got to the temple proper, and the large pack of ghouls and ghasts that they’d found there had been poised to give it to them. But numbers alone had been little proof against the devastating firepower that Letellia and Alderis could muster. There had been a moment of worry when the incorporeal wizard, hovering in the shadows near the ceiling above the platform, had hit them with a confusion spell. The minds of Dar, Talen, and Mehlaraine had been clouded by the hostile magic, but it ultimately didn’t matter; Letellia drove the spectre off with another lightning bolt, and Nelan had been able to dispel the confusion before their befuddled companions could threaten their own allies. Those few ghasts that had gotten close enough to melee had found that lightly armed and armored women with pale hair were nothing to be trifled with, at least not when said women were capable of unleashing multiple mass cure spells with devastating effect.
Dar tugged off his helmet and wiped his forehead. Behind him, a considerable pile of dead ghouls and ghasts formed a macabre mound against the wall of the chamber. The stench rising from them would make the chamber unpleasant, but the place was big enough so that the companions could deal with it. In any case, they had no choice, not if they wanted to give Nelan the time needed to conduct his ritual.
The cleric had staked out a small space midway between the lava pit and the statue of Orcus. The hallow spell had considerable accompaniments, including herbs, oils, and candles that had been specially prepared and consecrated in the sanctum of the Shining Father in Camar. Some of those items were over two hundred years old. Nelan had also spread out an antique scroll, which contained the actual incantantion that he would use for the ritual. The cleric was now taking his rest, preparing for the long and grueling casting of the spell. He would begin by consecrating the area, weakening the dark power of the temple, and would conclude with another casting of that spell, locking the hallow in place and sundering utterly the dark energies that flowed through this chamber.
That was the plan, anyway.
Talen organized their defense around protecting the cleric. They wedged both doors shut with iron spikes, and kept a double watch, with one of the sharp-eyed elves pairing with a human for each shift. The spellcasters were given priority on sleep, so they could recover their spells; that left Talen, Dar, Shay, Mehlaraine, and Selanthas pulling shifts on guard.
The first shift passed without inident, and Talen woke Dar for the second shift. He was partnered with Mehlaraine, who rose without a word at Selanthas’s touch, and began walking the perimeter of the chamber, moving with the smooth grace of a hunting cat.
After about an hour, Dar walked over to her.
“Would you stop that pacing? You’re driving me batty.”
The elven woman looked up at him quizzically. She lowered her voice to match his. “How can you be alert to threats if you do not remain vigilant?”
“Look, if they’re going to come, they’re going to... what?”
She had raised a hand to forestall him, her fingers impossibly slender, belying her not inconsiderable physical strength. Dar already knew that the aelfinn were not as frail as they looked. Well, most of them anyway.
For a moment, she said nothing. He looked around, but there was nothing to be seen, nothing moving save the swirling columns of smoke coming up off the lava pit. “Well?” he asked, his hand stealing to the hilt of Valor.
“Do you not hear that?”
He strained, and after a few fruitless moments his gaze drifted toward the south door, the one that led down to the next deeper level of the dungeon. His memories of that level were not pleasant; that was where they had battled Banth.
He started in that direction, the elven woman close on his heels. He moved quickly, his armor clattering slightly with each step.
There. He stopped, and listened again. It was clearer now, a faint scratching, like a cat begging to be let in. Except that this door was a slab of solid stone, secured with iron spikes, and Dar strongly doubted that a benign housecat waited on the far side.
He drew Valor, letting his own instincts blend with the familiar and reassuring feel of the hilt in his hand. “Wake the others,” he told the elf.
She skipped off in a flash, her soft boots barely seeming to touch the ground as she ran. Nelan was the only other one of them still awake, and the cleric paid her no heed as she darted past him, lost as he was within the depths of his ritual.
Dar focused on the doorway. The scratching noises had disappeared, but the tickling sensation he felt on the back of his neck hadn’t gone with it. He had learned long ago to trust his instincts.
Valor gleamed blue in his hand, shining in the reflected glow coming off the lava pit.
The door was silent, but Dar felt a preternatural sense of urgency, punctuated by the pulses of his heart beating in his chest. Seconds passed. He could hear the noises of his companions, as they stirred. Talen was issuing orders. Too slowly...
He was expecting it, but he still jumped when a loud crash sounded directly ahead of him; something heavy striking the door. His iron wedges held, but the attack on the door continued; a second heavy blow, then a third. The stone slab moved incrementally. The fourth impact was followed by a metallic clatter as one of the spikes was knocked free, and fell hard onto the stone floor.
“Come on, you bastards,” Dar hissed, lifting his sword into a ready position.
And then the door blasted open, and a horde of slavering wights poured into the room.
Lazybones
Adventurer
Chapter 238
THE WIGHT ANSWER
The wights surged through the opening as the heavy door was flung wide open. The object they had used to batter down the door—a stone tomb-lid, by the look of it—fell to the ground, the undead creatures leaping over the now-unnecessary tool.
An iron spike, knocked free from the door as it was battered open, skittered past Dar’s foot. The fighter held his ground, fifteen paces in front of the door, silhouetted against the glow of the lava pit at his back.
A streak of light flashed past the fighter. The small orb shot over the heads of the first few ranks of surging undead, vanishing into the dark opening of the staircase beyond the gaping doorway. The result was immediate; the brilliant blossoming of a fireball exploded out of the opening, the flames savaging the wights. But it was not enough to stop the rush. More of them, their flesh blackened with char, continued to essay from the dark tunnel. There were already over a dozen in the room.
The leading edge of the wight rush focused on Dar, as the sole obvious threat. The first died messily, cut down by a single powerful two-handed stroke from Valor. The undead flopped to the ground, its chest cavity ripped wide open by the powerful blow. Another four leapt over the carcass, assailing the fighter with slams of their filthy fists. Against the fighter’s magical armor, they may as well have been hammering against a fortress’s shield wall. As the wights swarmed around him Dar went to work with his blade, tearing limbs from undead bodies, cleaving open torsos, in one case even taking a wight’s head from its shoulders, sending the decapitated knob bouncing across the room. The wight’s body was slow to realize the fact of its demise, its claw still scratching against Dar’s armor as it slumped slowly to the ground.
Dar had withstood the first rush, but more wights were still coming, and the charge split around him, forming two prongs that swept forward into the chamber. For a moment, Dar was swallowed up in that onrushing surge.
But then his allies came to his aid. Mehlaraine and Shay met the two wings of the wight rush, both women charging with blinding speed back into the fray. Ten paces from the leading wight on the left, the elven woman sprang into the air and came down in the midst of a small knot of undead. Her slender sword, Avelis, flashed in her hand, biting deep into the body of one of the wights. For a moment, the creatures were caught off guard by the audacity of her attack, but then they were attacking her from every direction, pounding at her with their claws. Mehlaraine was fast, and avoided most of the strikes, but even she could not escape the attacks unleashed upon her from all sides. For a moment, she was obscured within a snarling, furious ring of undeath, and her leaping attack looked like suicide.
But then the wights fell back, caught up in a blur of motion. Mehlaraine spun in a nimble dance that somehow filled the constrained space in the midst of the wights. Avelis flashed out as she turned, and every wight within her reach felt the bite of that blade. The wights, most of them already seriously injured by Alderis’s fireball, could not withstand that assault, and when Mehlaraine finished her spin, five of them collapsed to the ground, gashed and ruined. The duelist stepped out of the circle, back toward the lava pit, and saluted with her sword as she fell into a ready position.
The next rank of wights surged forward to meet her.
On the opposite flank, Shay had joined battle with equal speed and grace. She lined up her charge with precision, driving her new longspear right through the body of the first wight, its head catching the shoulder of a second behind it. Both wights fell in a thrashing heap as she dropped the spear and whipped out her sword. More wights were on her in a flash, but Shay was almost as fast as Mehlaraine, and none of the first cluster to reach her laid a hand on her. She gave ground to avoid being surrounded, drawing them after her, taking one down with a feint that turned into a low cut that took the wight’s left leg off at the knee.
The two women held the line, with Dar anchoring its center between them. But there was a fresh surge of wights already coming forward to replace the fallen, and it was clear that even a trio such as they could not hold them off for long.
But their companions were already moving to help them. Talen had sprung up at Mehlaraine’s first warning, Beatus Incendia bare in his hand, ready to fight. But when he saw no foe immediately at hand he had started to put on his armor, assisted by Allera. That cost him a few seconds when the wights busted down the door; he cursed as he hastily tossed his greaves back down to the floor, and hastily fumbled with the last fastener on his breastplate. Some armor was better than none at all, but a breastplate hanging loosely off his body would be worse than nothing in the chaos of a violent melee.
Like Talen, Alderis had risen with a weapon at hand, and it had been his fireball that had weakened the first charge of wights. Letellia, less accustomed to the rigors of taking sleep in a hostile environment, was a bit more sluggish, pulling her cloak around her as she looked around wide-eyed for the danger. She did not associate the pounding noise with the south door until it was already open, and wights were surging out toward Dar. She drew out a wand of her own as she started across the room toward the battle. Selanthas, having strung his bow, started after her, but Talen forestalled him.
“Watch out for an ambush!” the knight warned. “This may be only part of the attack!”
The elf nodded, and even as he drew his first arrow, he scanned the perimeter of the room. He almost missed the dark figures that had emerged from the far wall of the cavern to the east, beyond the huge stone statue of Orcus, but the hint of movement draw his eye back, and as they entered the radius of the glow from the lava pit, he could clearly identify them.
Spectres, four of them, the last surrounded by both a protective shield and a bevy of shifting mirror images. They were heading straight for Nelan; the cleric, still focused on his ritual, seemed oblvious to their presence.
“Incorporeal undead!” he yelled in warning, lifting his bow, letting its familiar magic empower his arrow with electrical energy as he aimed and let fly.
THE WIGHT ANSWER
The wights surged through the opening as the heavy door was flung wide open. The object they had used to batter down the door—a stone tomb-lid, by the look of it—fell to the ground, the undead creatures leaping over the now-unnecessary tool.
An iron spike, knocked free from the door as it was battered open, skittered past Dar’s foot. The fighter held his ground, fifteen paces in front of the door, silhouetted against the glow of the lava pit at his back.
A streak of light flashed past the fighter. The small orb shot over the heads of the first few ranks of surging undead, vanishing into the dark opening of the staircase beyond the gaping doorway. The result was immediate; the brilliant blossoming of a fireball exploded out of the opening, the flames savaging the wights. But it was not enough to stop the rush. More of them, their flesh blackened with char, continued to essay from the dark tunnel. There were already over a dozen in the room.
The leading edge of the wight rush focused on Dar, as the sole obvious threat. The first died messily, cut down by a single powerful two-handed stroke from Valor. The undead flopped to the ground, its chest cavity ripped wide open by the powerful blow. Another four leapt over the carcass, assailing the fighter with slams of their filthy fists. Against the fighter’s magical armor, they may as well have been hammering against a fortress’s shield wall. As the wights swarmed around him Dar went to work with his blade, tearing limbs from undead bodies, cleaving open torsos, in one case even taking a wight’s head from its shoulders, sending the decapitated knob bouncing across the room. The wight’s body was slow to realize the fact of its demise, its claw still scratching against Dar’s armor as it slumped slowly to the ground.
Dar had withstood the first rush, but more wights were still coming, and the charge split around him, forming two prongs that swept forward into the chamber. For a moment, Dar was swallowed up in that onrushing surge.
But then his allies came to his aid. Mehlaraine and Shay met the two wings of the wight rush, both women charging with blinding speed back into the fray. Ten paces from the leading wight on the left, the elven woman sprang into the air and came down in the midst of a small knot of undead. Her slender sword, Avelis, flashed in her hand, biting deep into the body of one of the wights. For a moment, the creatures were caught off guard by the audacity of her attack, but then they were attacking her from every direction, pounding at her with their claws. Mehlaraine was fast, and avoided most of the strikes, but even she could not escape the attacks unleashed upon her from all sides. For a moment, she was obscured within a snarling, furious ring of undeath, and her leaping attack looked like suicide.
But then the wights fell back, caught up in a blur of motion. Mehlaraine spun in a nimble dance that somehow filled the constrained space in the midst of the wights. Avelis flashed out as she turned, and every wight within her reach felt the bite of that blade. The wights, most of them already seriously injured by Alderis’s fireball, could not withstand that assault, and when Mehlaraine finished her spin, five of them collapsed to the ground, gashed and ruined. The duelist stepped out of the circle, back toward the lava pit, and saluted with her sword as she fell into a ready position.
The next rank of wights surged forward to meet her.
On the opposite flank, Shay had joined battle with equal speed and grace. She lined up her charge with precision, driving her new longspear right through the body of the first wight, its head catching the shoulder of a second behind it. Both wights fell in a thrashing heap as she dropped the spear and whipped out her sword. More wights were on her in a flash, but Shay was almost as fast as Mehlaraine, and none of the first cluster to reach her laid a hand on her. She gave ground to avoid being surrounded, drawing them after her, taking one down with a feint that turned into a low cut that took the wight’s left leg off at the knee.
The two women held the line, with Dar anchoring its center between them. But there was a fresh surge of wights already coming forward to replace the fallen, and it was clear that even a trio such as they could not hold them off for long.
But their companions were already moving to help them. Talen had sprung up at Mehlaraine’s first warning, Beatus Incendia bare in his hand, ready to fight. But when he saw no foe immediately at hand he had started to put on his armor, assisted by Allera. That cost him a few seconds when the wights busted down the door; he cursed as he hastily tossed his greaves back down to the floor, and hastily fumbled with the last fastener on his breastplate. Some armor was better than none at all, but a breastplate hanging loosely off his body would be worse than nothing in the chaos of a violent melee.
Like Talen, Alderis had risen with a weapon at hand, and it had been his fireball that had weakened the first charge of wights. Letellia, less accustomed to the rigors of taking sleep in a hostile environment, was a bit more sluggish, pulling her cloak around her as she looked around wide-eyed for the danger. She did not associate the pounding noise with the south door until it was already open, and wights were surging out toward Dar. She drew out a wand of her own as she started across the room toward the battle. Selanthas, having strung his bow, started after her, but Talen forestalled him.
“Watch out for an ambush!” the knight warned. “This may be only part of the attack!”
The elf nodded, and even as he drew his first arrow, he scanned the perimeter of the room. He almost missed the dark figures that had emerged from the far wall of the cavern to the east, beyond the huge stone statue of Orcus, but the hint of movement draw his eye back, and as they entered the radius of the glow from the lava pit, he could clearly identify them.
Spectres, four of them, the last surrounded by both a protective shield and a bevy of shifting mirror images. They were heading straight for Nelan; the cleric, still focused on his ritual, seemed oblvious to their presence.
“Incorporeal undead!” he yelled in warning, lifting his bow, letting its familiar magic empower his arrow with electrical energy as he aimed and let fly.
Lazybones
Adventurer
Heh, I don't know what was going through my mind when I did the chapter titles for this week's updates. 
* * * * *
Chapter 239
SAVE THE CLERIC, SAVE THE WORLD
“Protect Nelan!” Talen yelled, breaking away from his charge toward the battle with the wights to engage the spectres. He made barely two steps, however, before a burst of sticky magical webs exploded around him. The dense webbing was anchored between the statue of Orcus and the base of the nearest stair over the lava pit, and it quite neatly engulfed him, Nelan, Letellia, Allera, and Selanthas in their clinging grasp. Only Alderis and the three battling the wights had been outside of the burst radius of the spell.
The spectres, of course, were not hindered by the webs in the least. Three of them drifted forward over them like dark clouds on a starry night, their objective obvious. Nelan was finally coming around, stirring from the depths of his ritual, but with the webs covering his body he could barely stand, let alone fight.
Talen looked at the sword in his hands. The webs had flared away from the burning blade, but he knew that if he used it to cut himself free, then fire would rage through the web, burning his friends.
To the hells with it, the knight thought, sweeping his blade across his path. The webs disintegrated, flaring with white flames, but Talen could see that he would not reach Nelan in time; the spectres were moving too quickly.
But before they could strike, the spectres halted in mid-air, spasming as flashes of blue energy tore through their bodies. Talen felt the effects of Allera’s mass cure as a gentle, soothing warmth, but he was not injured, and felt no other benefit.
She certainly had gotten the attention of the spectres, however, which turned and dove at her, their insubstantial claws extended toward her body.
Dar, Mehlaraine, and Shay continued to struggle against the surging wight horde. Over a dozen of the creatures were now lying shattered on the stone floor of the chamber, but there were still at least that many still up and fighting. Dar cleared a space around him with Valor, a dead zone within which no wight could stand for more than a few seconds. One of them had gotten in a lucky hit that had pierced his defenses, but even with the drain upon his life force he was still virtually unstoppable against such mundane foes. A few wights remained near him, hissing in frustrated fury but wary of entering his reach.
Mehlaraine and Shay were rather worse off. The elven woman, in particular, was beginning to flag, having suffered another pair of draining hits that had left her pale and somewhat unsteady. She continued to fight, however, darting in and around the four wights that were still harrying her, stabbing with Avellis. These wights, however, among the last to emerge from the doorway, were not as burned as the others had been, and they could take considerably more damage before falling. Shay was having the same problem as she led three wights away from the battle, using her superior mobility to keep them from ganging up on her. She had not escaped their life-draining touch either, although she had suffered far less than Mehlaraine on that score.
None of the three observed the final creature that emerged from the dark staircase, hovering there in the deep shadows of the doorway.
The first spectre that lunged at Allera dissolved as Selanthas’s arrow bisected the dark substance between the twin pinpoints of its glowing eyes. The other two surged in in its wake, eager to feed upon the healer’s life energy. The first came apart in the face of a barrage of magic missiles from Alderis, but the second drew its claws through her body, siphoning off her life. The trailing rents torn in its body by Allera’s spell were restored somewhat by that stolen energy, and it seemed revitalized as it swept around and came at her again, eager for more. Unfortunately for it the undead monstrosity never got a chance, as Talen caught up to it and carved a brilliant swath through its body with Beatus Incendia.
The last spectre, the spellcaster, left with one parting shot, a pair of scorching rays that struck Talen and Allera, burning both of them. Letellia hit it with a lightning bolt that ripped through all five of its mirror images, the bright tendrils of electrical energy scorching the dark stone of the Orcus statue as it blasted past. The spell was not enough to destroy the undead wizard, but the destruction of its allies was apparently enough to convince it not to linger. It drifted back into the alcove behind the statue, chased by several of Selanthas’s arrows, which punctured mirror images but did no harm to the creature. Within a few moments it was gone.
The companions turned at once to aid their companions against the lingering remnants of the wight army, but it looked as though that battle would be over before they could join the fray. There were only about a half-dozen wights still standing, and that number was depleted further as Dar stepped forward and clove a reluctant creature in twain before it could back out of his reach.
But then, as so often happened in the chaos of melee, the tide of battle abruptly changed.
The shadowed creature that had remained in the open doorway following the charge of the wight horde now stepped forward, into the light. It was a wight, clad in a suit of plate armor in an archaic style, apparently crafted from bronze rather than steel. Even a glance told that it was in a distinct class from its brethren lying sundered upon the floor; it stood taller even than Dar, and its sunken eyes blazed with an unholy malevolence as they scanned the room.
It let out a keening cry as it came forward into the light. Dar glanced up, and met the creature’s dark stare.
There was a madness in that gaze, and in that brief moment of connection it invaded Dar’s mind, driving him insane.
Mehlaraine, turning at the noise, was affected as well by the grim power of that stare. Her body tensed, and she started screaming, even as the two wights still hazarding her leapt eagerly onto her, tearing her body with their claws.
Shay looked at the creature as well, but as the grim terror of that stare washed over her, some instinct allowed her to tear her eyes free before the full force of its gaze could infect her. She staggered back, disoriented for just a moment, a vulnerability that allowed the two wights chasing her to seize her. One held her, trying to drag her down to the floor, while the second delivered a powerful blow across her back, using its gnarled fists as a hammer. The scout cried out as life energy was ripped from her body, and the wights cackled in glee.
Talen watched with horror at the sudden turn, although he did not fully comprehend what he had seen. He and the others were far enough away that the barrowwight’s sweeping gaze had passed through them with merely a cold chill. Alderis, however, had comprehended at once the significance of what had happened. “Its gaze is madness, do not meet its stare!” he shouted in warning, even as he drew out a wand and leveled it at the sinister creature.
But before the elf could unleash an attack, he was distracted by a rumbling noise that emitted from the lava pit. The companions turned as one just to witness a sudden explosion of boiling magma, as a skeleton rose up out of the lava. The newcomer was a massive creature, standing easily twelve feet tall. Its bones were blackened but apparently otherwise undamaged by the molten rock it had been immersed in, and which trickled down its body in glowing gobs as it stepped forward, and grabbing onto one of the stone staircases pulled itself up out of the pit.
* * * * *
Chapter 239
SAVE THE CLERIC, SAVE THE WORLD
“Protect Nelan!” Talen yelled, breaking away from his charge toward the battle with the wights to engage the spectres. He made barely two steps, however, before a burst of sticky magical webs exploded around him. The dense webbing was anchored between the statue of Orcus and the base of the nearest stair over the lava pit, and it quite neatly engulfed him, Nelan, Letellia, Allera, and Selanthas in their clinging grasp. Only Alderis and the three battling the wights had been outside of the burst radius of the spell.
The spectres, of course, were not hindered by the webs in the least. Three of them drifted forward over them like dark clouds on a starry night, their objective obvious. Nelan was finally coming around, stirring from the depths of his ritual, but with the webs covering his body he could barely stand, let alone fight.
Talen looked at the sword in his hands. The webs had flared away from the burning blade, but he knew that if he used it to cut himself free, then fire would rage through the web, burning his friends.
To the hells with it, the knight thought, sweeping his blade across his path. The webs disintegrated, flaring with white flames, but Talen could see that he would not reach Nelan in time; the spectres were moving too quickly.
But before they could strike, the spectres halted in mid-air, spasming as flashes of blue energy tore through their bodies. Talen felt the effects of Allera’s mass cure as a gentle, soothing warmth, but he was not injured, and felt no other benefit.
She certainly had gotten the attention of the spectres, however, which turned and dove at her, their insubstantial claws extended toward her body.
Dar, Mehlaraine, and Shay continued to struggle against the surging wight horde. Over a dozen of the creatures were now lying shattered on the stone floor of the chamber, but there were still at least that many still up and fighting. Dar cleared a space around him with Valor, a dead zone within which no wight could stand for more than a few seconds. One of them had gotten in a lucky hit that had pierced his defenses, but even with the drain upon his life force he was still virtually unstoppable against such mundane foes. A few wights remained near him, hissing in frustrated fury but wary of entering his reach.
Mehlaraine and Shay were rather worse off. The elven woman, in particular, was beginning to flag, having suffered another pair of draining hits that had left her pale and somewhat unsteady. She continued to fight, however, darting in and around the four wights that were still harrying her, stabbing with Avellis. These wights, however, among the last to emerge from the doorway, were not as burned as the others had been, and they could take considerably more damage before falling. Shay was having the same problem as she led three wights away from the battle, using her superior mobility to keep them from ganging up on her. She had not escaped their life-draining touch either, although she had suffered far less than Mehlaraine on that score.
None of the three observed the final creature that emerged from the dark staircase, hovering there in the deep shadows of the doorway.
The first spectre that lunged at Allera dissolved as Selanthas’s arrow bisected the dark substance between the twin pinpoints of its glowing eyes. The other two surged in in its wake, eager to feed upon the healer’s life energy. The first came apart in the face of a barrage of magic missiles from Alderis, but the second drew its claws through her body, siphoning off her life. The trailing rents torn in its body by Allera’s spell were restored somewhat by that stolen energy, and it seemed revitalized as it swept around and came at her again, eager for more. Unfortunately for it the undead monstrosity never got a chance, as Talen caught up to it and carved a brilliant swath through its body with Beatus Incendia.
The last spectre, the spellcaster, left with one parting shot, a pair of scorching rays that struck Talen and Allera, burning both of them. Letellia hit it with a lightning bolt that ripped through all five of its mirror images, the bright tendrils of electrical energy scorching the dark stone of the Orcus statue as it blasted past. The spell was not enough to destroy the undead wizard, but the destruction of its allies was apparently enough to convince it not to linger. It drifted back into the alcove behind the statue, chased by several of Selanthas’s arrows, which punctured mirror images but did no harm to the creature. Within a few moments it was gone.
The companions turned at once to aid their companions against the lingering remnants of the wight army, but it looked as though that battle would be over before they could join the fray. There were only about a half-dozen wights still standing, and that number was depleted further as Dar stepped forward and clove a reluctant creature in twain before it could back out of his reach.
But then, as so often happened in the chaos of melee, the tide of battle abruptly changed.
The shadowed creature that had remained in the open doorway following the charge of the wight horde now stepped forward, into the light. It was a wight, clad in a suit of plate armor in an archaic style, apparently crafted from bronze rather than steel. Even a glance told that it was in a distinct class from its brethren lying sundered upon the floor; it stood taller even than Dar, and its sunken eyes blazed with an unholy malevolence as they scanned the room.
It let out a keening cry as it came forward into the light. Dar glanced up, and met the creature’s dark stare.
There was a madness in that gaze, and in that brief moment of connection it invaded Dar’s mind, driving him insane.
Mehlaraine, turning at the noise, was affected as well by the grim power of that stare. Her body tensed, and she started screaming, even as the two wights still hazarding her leapt eagerly onto her, tearing her body with their claws.
Shay looked at the creature as well, but as the grim terror of that stare washed over her, some instinct allowed her to tear her eyes free before the full force of its gaze could infect her. She staggered back, disoriented for just a moment, a vulnerability that allowed the two wights chasing her to seize her. One held her, trying to drag her down to the floor, while the second delivered a powerful blow across her back, using its gnarled fists as a hammer. The scout cried out as life energy was ripped from her body, and the wights cackled in glee.
Talen watched with horror at the sudden turn, although he did not fully comprehend what he had seen. He and the others were far enough away that the barrowwight’s sweeping gaze had passed through them with merely a cold chill. Alderis, however, had comprehended at once the significance of what had happened. “Its gaze is madness, do not meet its stare!” he shouted in warning, even as he drew out a wand and leveled it at the sinister creature.
But before the elf could unleash an attack, he was distracted by a rumbling noise that emitted from the lava pit. The companions turned as one just to witness a sudden explosion of boiling magma, as a skeleton rose up out of the lava. The newcomer was a massive creature, standing easily twelve feet tall. Its bones were blackened but apparently otherwise undamaged by the molten rock it had been immersed in, and which trickled down its body in glowing gobs as it stepped forward, and grabbing onto one of the stone staircases pulled itself up out of the pit.
Lazybones
Adventurer
I would definitely only want to run it as an over-the-top killer mod, where everyone knew going in that it was no-holds-barred. Maybe ask each player to show up with 10 pregens, and have a half-dozen plans in my back pocket to bring in new PCs in mid-game (released prisoners, flesh-to-stone on a statued hero, etc.). Maybe even keep a shredder by the table for effect.HugeOgre said:
But yeah, I wouldn't want to unleash RA on a group that had developed... shall we say, attachments to their characters.* * * * *
Chapter 240
THE FURY OF THE MAD
The skeleton, whether by accident or design, emerged from the pit closest to Nelan, and it lunged forward toward the cleric. The priest’s arms and legs were scorched where the webs, ignited by Talen’s sword, had burned him. He lifted his divine focus and called upon the power of the Father. The silver torch blazed with light, but in this place of darkness its glow was fitful, the holy energies sapped by the sinister powers of evil that suffused the temple. The skeletal fire giant was not affected, and it strode forward to smite the cleric, the ground trembling slightly with its coming.
Talen met it with a furious battle cry, drawing its attention by the simple means of bringing Beatus Incendia down upon one massive thighbone. The skeleton was not harmed by the blade’s fire, but the holy energies of the weapon seared it deeper, and it turned with a vengeance upon him. Bits of lava, still glowing red-hot, splashed onto Talen’s armor as it smashed him with a bony claw. As it finished its turn it reached down with its other hand and seized his shield, lifting the struggling fighter up into the air.
Dar stood facing the barrowwight, his body trembling with mad fury. But with his mind befuddled by the creature’s piercing stare, he just stood there, his sword hanging limp at his side. Another wight sought to take advantage of his insanity by leaping upon his back, clawing and biting in a violent frenzy. The fighter roared and counterattacked with equal vehemence, reaching up and grabbing the wight by the arm, and ripping it off him. He did not even bother with Valor, dropping the blade as he started pounding the creature with his mailed fists. The wight tried to scramble away, but shrieked as a punch shattered its left leg, followed by another that crumpled its jaw. He kept punching, ignoring the greater threat that closed upon him, until the barrowwight’s long arms seized him, and dragged him off the damaged monster. He struggled to break free, but the barrowwight held him, digging its claws into his neck as it fed upon his life energy.
The other companions had not been idle, and added their own talents to the two raging battles. Letellia, on the edges of the spectre’s web, had been unsuccessful at tearing herself from the clinging strands, even with freedom just a few paces away. She’d forced the spectre to retreat with her lightning bolt, and now paused to dimension door out of the web moments before the swift flames tearing through them reached her. She rematerialized on the far side of the lava pit, not far from Alderis.
The elf mage fired a spray of magic missiles from his wand, the cerulean shafts of energy blasting unerringly around Dar and into the barrowwight. When the second such barrage hit the creature snarled and tossed its captive violently aside, and charged toward the two arcanists. It would have quickly brought them within the range of its gaze attack, but Letellia summoned her innate magic, and conjured a hemisphere of ice around the charging creature. The translucent surface of the globe began to run almost at once with its proximity to the lava pit, but the creature was held within, at least for the moment.
Selanthas, having won free of the webs, was sending arrows one after the other into the wights assaulting Mehlaraine. The diminished elf staggered free as the one holding her collapsed, three arrows buried almost to the feathers in her back. The second one tentatively sought to attack her, but it heard a soft whistle through the air, and turned in time to just see the blurring arrow that caromed hard off its skull, tearing a long gauge in the clammy flesh of its head. The wight was smart enough to know when a battle was untenable, and it skittered away, vanishing into the dark entrance of the staircase to the south.
Mehlaraine looked after it in confusion, dazed. She looked down at the blood covering her arms, trickling down from the slashes torn by the wights’ claws. A violent rage filled her at the sight, and she turned, looking for something to destroy.
Unfortunately, the first foe she spotted was Dar, who was just staggering to his feet from where the barrowwight had hurled him.
Talen grimaced as the skeleton spun him about, his shoulder screaming in pain from the weight of his body and gear. He tried to tear free from the straps holding his arm to the shield, but they had fouled, and he could not get the leverage needed to escape. He still held Beatus Incendia with his other hand, but neither could he get in an effective strike, not with the long reach of the skeleton holding him.
A blinding streak of white energy struck the skeleton in the skull, blasting away a swatch of blackened bone. Nelan’s searing light gave Talen the opening he’d needed, and he drew himself up on his damaged arm enough to hack at the monster’s wrist. Beatus Incendia struck true, and the joint collapsed under the force of the blow. The drop was only a few feet, and Talen surged forward, coming in under the inevitable swing from its other claw and then delivering a perfect strike to the monster’s torso. The holy sword smashed its spine, and the skeleton stumbled ponderously aside, almost recovering before it finally just snapped in two, collapsing in a pile of charred bones.
“Are you all right?” Nelan asked him, as Talen slumped to his knees, breathing heavily. His arm felt like a hot needle stabbed into his body, and he could smell the stench of his own burned flesh from where the lava had gotten into his armor.
“Fine,” he said, dragging himself to his feet. “Help the others!”
“Dar!”
The fighter turned as Allera ran at him. He raised a hand in warning, and with the other tore off his helmet. “Don’t come closer!” he yelled, his face twisted with the effort of keeping his thoughts together. “I can’t... I can’t control...”
The healer stopped five paces away, but she saw what was coming up behind him, and she shouted a warning. “Look out!”
But Dar could not react in time, as Mehlaraine leapt into him, slashing with Avelis. The rapier cut a deep gash in the side of his head. The fighter cried out and staggered back, but even as he did Allera could sense the rage that swelled inside him, driving any vestige of control from him. He drew his punching dagger and leapt to meet the elf woman, who seemed just as eager to destroy him.
Allera hit them both with a calm emotions spell. The effect was instantly obvious, as Dar stumbled to a halt, lowering his weapon.
Unfortunately, the healer’s magic failed to pierce the veil of rage clouding the duelist’s mind, and she unleashed a full attack, tearing viciously into Dar’s armored frame. The fighter got an arm up in time to protect his face, but even catching the sharp steel point fo the rapier on his bracer he still suffered a deep gash in the flesh above his left eye, only narrowly avoiding losing the organ. Mehlaraine adjusted smoothly, stabbing the weapon into his side, penetrating the armor there at a gap between the plates. There was a thunderous retort, and Dar was driven a step back, blood cascading out from the wound.
The attack also broke the calm emotions spell, but before the fighter could rally Allera was at his back, pressing her slender fingers into the muscled flesh at the base of his skull. Her power flowed almost effortlessly at her command, pouring into the fighter’s body. This was the strongest of the innate magic at her command, the true font of power available only to the strongest of healers. It burned away the insanity that clouded Dar’s mind, and restored to him the energy stolen by the wraiths. He shook as Allera’s power surged through him, but he was still hurt, and badly.
And Mehlaraine rushed in again, her rapier already slick with his blood.
A crack appeared in the white globe of ice. Talen and Nelan had started toward Dar and the others, but Alderis’s shout of warning drew them toward the prison of the still-dangerous barrowwight. “It will be free in moments!” the elf warned. “If it is able to freely unleash its gaze, we may all end up destroying each other!”
“Get back!” the knight shouted. “Don’t look at it directly, but when it breaches the wall, hit it hard with everything you have!”
Letellia and Alderis nodded, and each readied their magic, taking up flanking positions facing the widening crack. Talen moved behind it, where he could strike at the wight if and when it broke free, without putting him in the line of attack from the mages. He caught sight of Shay, who was still on her feet, if a bit unsteady after taking down the last of the wights threatening her. The scout nodded and moved around the far side of the ice globe, her spear at the ready. Talen tried to spot Selanthas, but the other elf had hurried over to assist his consort.
Mehlaraine’s blade snapped out in a blur. Dar pivoted barely in time to avoid having a foot of narrow steel thrust through his throat, but could not avoid a fearsome gash along the side of his neck that spurted a new flow of gaudy red. But as the duelist started to draw back, he seized her wrist in an iron grip, pinning her weapon and dragging her up against him. The insane elf struggled madly, twisting in his grasp, but unable to break free. She slammed a knee into his groin, drawing an obvious response even through his armor. But Dar did not loosen his grip.
“Allera... fix her... quickly, please!” She snapped her other hand around, clawing at his eyes, and he let out a snarl of pain as her nails drew bright red lines down his cheek. “Damn it, hold still, bitch!” Dar cursed. Selanthas ran up, but for a moment he was taken aback by the intensity of Mehlaraine’s struggles.
No so Allera. The healer lunged in, seizing the mad woman’s head in her hands. Mehlaraine tried to kick her, but Allera was faster, purging her with a heal spell that hit her like a hammer made of ice. The duelist shivered and fell limp, and would have collapsed to the floor had not Dar kept his grip on her wrist.
“Here, take her,” he said, all but throwing her at Selanthas. Dar looked around for his sword, and hurried to recover it. Allera, preparing another spell to heal his wounds, was forced to hurry to keep up.
But even as Dar’s fingers closed around the hilt of his weapon, a loud screech pierced the chamber. There was a massive explosion, followed by a hiss of steam that exploded away from the wall of ice. Alderis and Letellia had both hit the wight as it had fought its way through the prisoning sphere, the elf with a fireball, the sorceress with a lightning bolt. Somehow, the wight had survived those blasts, and staggered forward through the cloud of swirling steam, seeking to inflict some damage on these foes that had so troubled it. A shadow began to take form ahead, but before the creature could strike, a clatter of metal warned it of another foe coming up from behind it.
It turned to face its enemy, its eyes blazing deep within the recesses of their sockets. But Talen had been expecting the corrupting assault of its gaze, and he kept his eyes low. That allowed the wight to get in the first strike, but the creature’s blow glanced off his armor, inflicting neither physical damage nor the life-draining effects of its touch.
Talen’s counterattack was not quite so feeble.
Bronze plates crunched, and the monster staggered back. The wound would have killed a mortal man, but somehow the barrowwight clung still to its undead existence, despite the blackened skin where Alderis and Letellia’s spells had scorched it. It tried to recover as Talen stepped forward, but again its desperate swipe was feeble, and Talen did not need to look up as he swept Beatus Incendia around in a glittering arc that did not stop until the wight’s head was sundered from its shoulders. The unholy creature clattered to the floor, and silence returned again to the chamber.
Talen sheathed his sword, and reached down and grabbed the creature’s head in his fist. He rose and walked a few steps, the others coming up behind him as the clouds of steam began to thin. When he reached the edge of the lava pit, he stopped.
“Tell your boss that we’re not leaving until this place is ruins,” the knight said, and he dropped the head into the molten lava.
Wow. Talen actually got a good line. 
And I'm with the HugeOgre -- not that it's ever healthy to disagree with an Ogre of any size -- that this is a BRUTAL module. I definitely wouldn't want to run it unless I was going for a brutal character shredder. I haven't read the actual module, but it's coming across as every bit as nasty as the old ToEE or Tomb of Horrors.
And I'm with the HugeOgre -- not that it's ever healthy to disagree with an Ogre of any size -- that this is a BRUTAL module. I definitely wouldn't want to run it unless I was going for a brutal character shredder. I haven't read the actual module, but it's coming across as every bit as nasty as the old ToEE or Tomb of Horrors.
Lazybones
Adventurer
Well, one thing to keep in mind in this section of the story is that this is their second visit to these temples, so I am moving things around and augmenting them. For example, in the battle above the wights (and the barrowwight) were from level 5, the spectres were from the adjacent room (that they missed last time around), and the spectre wizard was the only survivor from their last visit (and we've encountered Nadroj a few times already). The fire giant skeleton and the ghouls/ghasts were elements that I added in keeping with the idea that something would replace the former occupants of the temple.wolff96 said:
Where I'm currently at in the story, I'm adding a lot of improvised elements, including some nasty new undead (from published sources, and a few hybrid creations of my own).
* * * * *
Chapter 241
ONE DOWN
A subtle change, a twist of power that each of them felt deep in their gut. That was all that there was, no flashy burst of spell effects or a raging cry torn from the very stones of the chamber. The light from their magical torches did not brighten, and the shadows that clung to the walls seemed just as malevolent as before. But there was something, an incremental weakening of the oppressiveness of the place, that each of them could feel.
“It is done,” Nelan said, unnecessarily. The cleric sagged back on his haunches, and sucked in a tired breath.
“Good work, Nelan,” Talen said.
The cleric nodded, and started to get up, but Allera forestalled him. “The ritual drained you, you need to rest.” The healer looked up at Talen, who—after a moment’s hesitation—nodded.
“No, I will be all right,” Nelan said. The cleric looked at Talen, saw the truth there in his eyes. “We cannot linger here. Now that we have been at least partially successful, our enemy will not lie complacent.” He patted Allera’s arm. “Do not worry about me, child. I am not that old. And I have prepared a restoration spell to ease my physical weariness.” Both knew that the spell would do little to ease the spiritual strain wrought by their time in Rappan Athuk, but for that Nelan’s own internal strength would have to suffice.
Talen rubbed his chin, where the stubble of a new beard had risen. They had already spent nearly two full days in the temple. After the wight attack, Nelan had been forced to begin his hallow spell again from the beginning, after a short rest. He only had one more scroll with the spell, but he was powerful enough to pray for it himself, and they had brought additional quantities of the rare and valuable ancillaries required for the casting, against just such a circumstance. “How much longer with the effects of your last heroes’ feast last, Allera?”
“It is difficult to be certain of time, down here,” the healer replied. “A few hours, at least... I think. If we rested, I could prepare a fresh one...”
“No, Nelan has the right of it.” His gaze strayed to where Letellia was folding her blankets for return to one of her magical pouches. “The archmage has not rejoined us since we came here, and it’s been more than long enough for him to rest and return.”
“Do you think something’s happened to him?” Allera asked.
“Perhaps. Or perhaps it’s this place,” Talen said, looking around.
“It is logical that they would shield their temples from prying eyes,” Nelan said.
Talen nodded. “Are you ready to guide us forward?”
“Yes. I prepared the find the path spell after our last rest.” With the information provided by your erstwhile companion, and the key he gave us, the spell should guide us true to the route down. I just need a small amount of time, about ten minutes, to spend in communion with the Father, before we leave.”
“All right,” Talen said. “Take the time you need to collect yourself, then we’ll move out.”
Talen left Nelan to Allera, who supervised the casting of his restoration spell, as though their roles were reversed, and she was the old veteran and he the youthful neophyte. Although no one who knew the healer well would use the latter term, for in fact her power had now grown to the point where she was one of the strongest divine casters in the world.
The knight waved to Dar, who was working with Shay to inventory their remaining supplies. Between the scout’s bag of holding and their ability to create magical food, what they had would be good for weeks yet. Their cache of healing supplies was still considerable, and they had more than enough spare weapons.
That last issue drew the knight’s attention, as he looked down at the weapons spread out on a spare cloak on the floor.
“Have you decided which one you want yet, commander?” Dar asked.
Talen looked at the weapons. The most remarkable was an elaborate greatsword, its quillons fashioned into the shape of small, perfect cubes. It lay adjacent to a longsword with a blade so black it was nearly lost in the fabric of the dark cloak. Adamantine, and almost unbelievably sharp after what had to be centuries of lying hidden. There had been a third sword, another longsword that burned with magical fire, but Shay had claimed that one already, slinging her old blade across her back.
They had found the weapons, along with several other items, in a crypt hidden behind a secret door behind the statue of Orcus. Unsurprisingly it had been one of the elves that had found the door, but they would not have thought to look had it not been for the surprise appearance of the spectres from that direction. Talen had been wary of splitting the group while Nelan worked his ritual, but he had also been reluctant to leave a possible threat unexplored. It turned out that his concern was unnecessary; there had been only one small chamber beyond the secret portal, a long-abandoned crypt. The skeletons buried within the four tombs had not animated to assail them, and the party had returned bearing the magical weapons and other potent treasures hidden within. Selanthas now wore an amulet that offered protection against death attacks, while Allera carried the most powerful and surprising boon; a rod of resurrection.
Talen knelt to examine the blades again. He looked up at Dar. “Well, do you want the greatsword? Alderis said that it is an axiomatic weapon, like your sword. The way that you hack about with both hands, it may be useful.”
Dar frowned, and his hand dropped to the hilt of Valor. “I already have a sword,” he said, turning and walking away.
Talen and Shay shared a look; the scout shrugged. “Well, it looks like I’m carrying this slab of iron,” Talen said, taking the greatsword. The sword was heavy, and would feel even heavier after a few hours with it on his back, but he knew that they had a long haul ahead of them, and was extremely reluctant to leave a powerful weapon behind them. “See if Mehlaraine is willing to take the adamantine sword,” he told Shay.
The elves had kept to themselves for most of their stay here, joining the group only to partake in Allera’s daily heroes’ feast. But as Dar walked across the room, Mehlaraine came up to him. The elf had avoided him since Allera had healed her, perhaps for obvious reasons.
“We are departing again?”
“Looks like it.”
She paused, but something in her stance and eyes held him, and he stopped. “Look,” he said. “You don’t have to...”
“I wish to apologize for my actions,” she said.
“There is no need. I got my head fried by that bastard too, remember? You were not in control of your actions, that’s the end of it as far as I am concerned.”
“I concur. It is not that, specifically, that troubles me. If anything, I feel that the experience has given me insight into how my father has suffered.” Her gaze drifted to the side, and settled briefly on the older elf, shrugging his back and bow across his back with the patience assistance of Selanthas. To Dar’s eyes, there was little now connecting Elegion Alderis to the Mad Elf he had first met on their first, involuntary, expedition into Rappan Athuk.
“What, then?”
She turned back to him. “In my madness, I was consumed by rage. But it was not just the insanity of the barrowwight’s gaze that drove me.” She took a breath. “I will be frank with you, human. I do not like your kind. Humans... they are loud, boorish, aggressive. Their grasp of the subtleties of culture and art are... crude, at best. They venerate order, but mainly as a means of subjugating all around them to their own conceptualization of a structured ideal. They are exceptional when it comes to violence, but they use it to destroy far more often than they do to defend.”
“This has got to be the weirdest apology I have ever heard,” he said.
She managed a faint smile. “I blamed you, in no small part, for what happened to my father. It was your people who damned him to this place.”
“Hey, it wasn’t my people,” Dar corrected. “Don’t forget, they shoved me into this craphole too. And I have to say, your dad was pretty freaking nuts at the time.”
“That is true. I saw the madness claim him, although it drove him away before it could fully manifest. Before it could fully tear down the magnificent edifice of his mind. Do you know what that did to him, fighter?”
She leaned in closer, and lowered her voice. “My father was once among the foremost minds of a people known for their depth of insight. I have watched him closely since his return, and while he is better, he is still not close to what he was. He is almost like a...”
“Human?”
Her smile froze, and something sharp appeared in her eyes. “You do not make it simple, but I wish to make you understand. I know that my father does what must be done, and that is why Selanthas and I have chosen to stand with him. I was suspicious of you and your companions at first. I questioned your motives, and I argued with my father against joining your company.”
“And now?”
“Now I have gained... insight, into what fruit the seed of anger spawns. I have seen things I would have preferred to have never witnessed, since I came to this place. From what you and the others have said, I expect fully to see worse before our journey here is complete. And so, I apologize to you, Corath Dar. I would not call you friend, but from this point forward, I will call you ally. Thank you, I will take the sword.”
He blinked, and only belatedly realized that the last statement was directed at Shay, who was standing behind them. Mehlaraine took the adamantine sword, which looked overly large in her hands. She slung it across her back, and turned to rejoin her father and consort. Shay looked slightly bemused.
“You have a way with people.”
“Yeah, I’m beating them off with a stick,” he growled. “Excuse me, I need to get my pack.”
There was a bustling minute or two as everyone checked and double-checked their gear. Weapons clicked into scabbards, and bowstrings twanged in readiness. Finally Talen came before them, his helm cradled in the crook of his swordarm.
“All right, people. One down, two to go. Nelan?”
The priest nodded, and lifted his divine focus. The silver torch flared slightly as he faced south, and he started them toward the door to the staircase down, Shay moving forward to take the lead.
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