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The Doomed Bastards: Reckoning (story complete)
- Thread starter Lazybones
- Start date
Lazybones
Adventurer
They do spawn, but Tiros has fought enough undead lately that you can bet he'll make sure that the victims are all burned before he leaves the camp.Sabriel said:Whew!
I hope after all they've been through that a "burial detail" now includes burning the bodies to ashes. Do these things create spawn like other big undead? Imagine fighting a pack of those things!
(though if it's some kind of uber-ghoul, will it instead be any infected survivors that turn into more uber-ghouls?)
An army of famine spirits would basically be the end for Camar. Thought it might make an interesting twist for the story.
Good insights. I've tried to have my characters grow without it being just, "Oh, they were bad guys, now they're good." Besides, bad can be more fun to write.thelettuceman said:
As for the two faiths, I think the difference between them falls more on the Law-Chaos arc than Good-Evil. Some of your questions are developed more later in the story.And thanks, Ximix, for the words of praise.
The rest of the week is pretty much carnage at the old mill.
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Chapter 289
THE SIEGE
A fireball blossomed over the rutted path, a brilliant if short-lived blaze that lit up the weak morning. Ghouls screamed as the flames burned their oily gray hides, but the creatures were infused with the dread potency of their demon god, and they kept on coming despite the terrible burns that covered their bodies.
The ghoul horde surged forward, and withstood more attacks as they closed with the lonely millhouse on the edge of the stream. Another fireball exploded in the midst of the horde, and then a flame strike descended from above, slamming down into a dense knot of the creatures. Nelan’s evocation incinerated a dozen of the creatures, but they kept on coming, heedless of their losses.
Arrows knifed hard into ghouls, the shafts piercing their rubbery hides, the holy missiles wreaking terrible damage with each hit. Even at the long range, Dar could hardly miss; the ghouls were packed together in a mass that extended from the edge of the woods to the bank of the stream. There were hundreds of them, and more were still coming from the direction of the village.
A third fireball exploded in the van of the ghoul charge, and now some of the ghouls were going down, twice or thrice-burned, or with Dar’s arrows jutting from their bodies. But each casualty seemed trivial against the sheer numbers of undead present. They started shrieking eagerly as they closed upon the mill, closing the range rapidly, too fast to stop.
Until Allera raised her hands, and invoked a protective ward over the entire mill.
The overwhelming majority of the ghoul force stopped as if they’d struck a stone wall. Screaming in frustration, they clawed at the invisible barrier that held them at bay, ninety feet from where Allera stood, a look of calm control on her face. Many started pouring to the sides, seeking a way around the repulsion spell.
But about one in every eight ghouls, driven by bloodlust or hatred or the sheer potency of the force that had animated them, were able to crash through Allera’s barrier, and their cries became jeers of triumph as they surged forward. There were only a few, at first, but even in that initial surge at least fifteen made it through, and they rushed as one at the woman whose blessed power kept their peers at bay.
The stone wall barely slowed them. The first three sprang over it easily, but a fourth clipped a leg on the top of the wall and pitched forward, collapsing in a heap on the far side. That did not dissuade the others, and even those that did not clear the wall in their first attempt recovered quickly, clambering over it in mere seconds.
Dar dropped his bow and slid Valor out of its scabbard, stepping back into the middle of the small courtyard to meet the ghoul charge. The first ghoul he cut from shoulder to hip, severing its body in twain. Even as the sundered pieces collapsed into the dirt he spun to block the next two. Claws tore at his breastplate, failing to find purchase. Valor cut once, twice, and then both ghouls were down, one missing its head, the other sliced open like an overripe melon. Dar extended Valor, cutting down another ghoul that tried to rush past him to get to Allera.
And then he was hit by a surge of a dozen ghouls, tearing and biting in a deadly gray wave. Dar gave ground before their assault, but each step was bought with cloven flesh and sundered limbs. Several claws tore his flesh, but he resisted the cloying touch of paralysis that threatened to undo him, summoning every last bit of the fortitude that drove him. He knew that if he faltered, even for an instant, the creatures would tear him apart. And if they got through him, Allera and the others would be slain in an instant.
But even as the thought formed in his mind, Allera unleashed another mass cure spell. Ghouls collapsed in bright flares of blue energy all around him, and those that did not made quick work for Valor. But Dar looked up to see more surging over the wall, another two dozen, at least. Beyond them hundreds more had already gathered at the invisible edge of Allera’s repulsion barrier, temporarily held at bay. A flash of lightning from the window above slashed down into the mass of ghouls, incinerating a dozen, but Letellia’s spell did little to diminish the total number of foes.
“Fall back, inside!” Dar yelled, not turning as he slowly gave ground before the new rush of ghouls. Ghouls rushed the fighter and died, but there were more behind them. One sprang up at his face, its jaws slavering as it sought his throat. Dar thrust it away, and again he had to muster his strength to fight off the paralyzing effects of its touch. There was no time to finish it; four or five others were already coming at him from his flanks, trying to get a hold on him.
Something subtle drew his attention, even over the chaos of the surging melee and the cries of the hundreds of ghouls at the edge of Allera’s barrier. He glanced up, and instantly recognized what had alerted his instincts. It was far back still, but it dominated over the ghouls like an oak tree in the middle of a field of weeds.
The deathbringer had arrived.
For a moment, the eyeless creature met his stare, and Dar felt something cold press at his vitals. And then the repulsion field collapsed, and the ghouls rushed forward as one, screaming in their eagerness to rend warm flesh.
Lazybones
Adventurer
Chapter 290
THE CRESTING WAVE
Dar fell back toward the door of the mill, which gaped open invitingly ahead of him. Ghouls were all over him, tearing at his flesh. Nelan raised his holy symbol, and as the silver torch blazed with light, those closest to him dissolved into gray ash. It gave him only a moment’s respite, but one which he put to good effect. Allera was there by the door, casting another spell; he didn’t wait to see what effect it had, and simply wrapped his arm around her as he passed. Nelan darted through the doorway, and Dar was only a step behind, all but throwing the healer into the mill ahead of him. Dark energies flared around him as he reached the entry, but Allera’s death ward protected him. The ghouls on his heels drank up the potency of the negative energy burst,
The door slammed shut, and the two farmers who’d been assigned to that position hastily thrust the heavy dresser into place to reinforce it. Their haste was necessary; they’d barely secured the door when something slammed into it from outside, and they could hear claws tearing at the wood.
“Letellia!” Dar yelled.
“I’ve put up a wall of ice, but that won’t hold them for long!”
“What about the leader?”
“I don’t... wait, by the gods, it just dispelled the wall... it’s coming!”
The men at the windows cried out and fell back, leaving the shutters open behind them. Dar cursed and headed for the nearest, but before he could reach it several long gray arms appeared, clawing at the inside of the opening. Fortunately, it seemed as though the gap was too narrow for the ghouls to make it inside.
A fireball went off outside, close enough so that flames rushed in through the window, singeing him slightly. At the other window, Nelan unleashed the power of order’s wrath, and ghouls screamed as the energies of pure Law ripped through their bodies.
Dar glanced at him, and saw two gray forms struggling in the tight gap where the waterwheel shaft entered the building. “Nelan, the wheel!” The cleric turned, and seeing the threat, hastened off in that direction.
Dar heard tearing noises above, and looked up to see cracks appearing in the wooden slats of the roof. Some of the ghouls had clambered up the rough stone walls of the mill, and were trying to get in from above. Some of the cracks were opening above the loft, and several of the farmers screamed as the ghouls worked on widening the cracks.
Dar turned to Allera, to see if she could deal with that threat, but he never got the chance. He only got a slight warning, as the tearing at the door abruptly ceased, and then there was a massive crash, and the entire mill trembled as if hit by an earthquake. Stone cracked, and shafts of light stabbed through the wall as blocks were knocked free. Letellia was flung back from the window, and she nearly fell out of the loft. One of the roof beams groaned and sagged, and for a moment Dar feared that the entire structure would collapse. But the old building held together.
Not for long, Dar thought grimly.
As if in answer, a mighty blow impacted the wall, followed quickly by another. The second caved in a five by five section of wall, and the cause of the damage broke through: an ugly spiked flail, its head as thick as Dar’s torso.
“We need to stop that thing!” Dar yelled.
His companions did their best to comply. Allera hurled a mass cure critical wounds through the gap, focusing the spell upon the deathbringer. The monster resisted the full potency of Allera’s magic, but still took considerable damage from the spell, and the nearest ghouls were simply destroyed outright. Letellia, perched tenuously on the edge of the loft, fired a lightning bolt through the gap a moment later. The electrical discharge struck the hulking undead creature on the arm, but it paid little heed to the blast.
Instead, the deathbringer drew back one long stride, before it lifted both arms and stormed headlong into the side of the mill.
Battered stone finally gave way. The doorway exploded into the mill, along with most of a ten-foot section of wall. Dar was struck by the flying dresser, and nearly went down; one of the farmers was hit in the back of the head with a piece of rock the size of a fist, and he crumpled. Several ghouls were trampled by the deathbringer, but dozens of others swarmed around it as the undead general trod forward into the building.
Dar roared and leapt forward to meet it. A flail crashed across his breastplate, but the enchanted dragonscale absorbed most of the force of the hit. He stepped within its reach and whipped Valor around in a blinding arc. The blade sang with power, and for an instant the terrible undead thing recoiled from the potency of that sound. The fighter’s sword bit through the armored plates covering the deathbringer’s torso, and bit deep into the ruined flesh beneath. But the deathbringer had a fearsome stamina, and a disembowelment meant little to a creature that did not possess life. It swept its flails down, the twin heads of spiked steel intersecting at Dar’s body. The fighter tried to dodge away, but the tight confines and poor footing made escape impossible. Both weapons connected, and Dar cried out in pain as they battered his body through his armor. He remained standing, but as he lifted Valor to strike again, the deathbringer unleashed a final surprise. It twisted one of its weapons, and jabbed the haft, which ended in a vicious spike, down into the neck of its foe. The spike caught on the edge of one of his shoulder plates, and bit hard into his flesh. Bright red blood spurted up into the air from the terrible wound, and the fighter crumpled to one knee.
Ghouls, pouring in around the deathbringer, descended upon him, driven to a frenzy by the sight and smell of fresh blood.
THE CRESTING WAVE
Dar fell back toward the door of the mill, which gaped open invitingly ahead of him. Ghouls were all over him, tearing at his flesh. Nelan raised his holy symbol, and as the silver torch blazed with light, those closest to him dissolved into gray ash. It gave him only a moment’s respite, but one which he put to good effect. Allera was there by the door, casting another spell; he didn’t wait to see what effect it had, and simply wrapped his arm around her as he passed. Nelan darted through the doorway, and Dar was only a step behind, all but throwing the healer into the mill ahead of him. Dark energies flared around him as he reached the entry, but Allera’s death ward protected him. The ghouls on his heels drank up the potency of the negative energy burst,
The door slammed shut, and the two farmers who’d been assigned to that position hastily thrust the heavy dresser into place to reinforce it. Their haste was necessary; they’d barely secured the door when something slammed into it from outside, and they could hear claws tearing at the wood.
“Letellia!” Dar yelled.
“I’ve put up a wall of ice, but that won’t hold them for long!”
“What about the leader?”
“I don’t... wait, by the gods, it just dispelled the wall... it’s coming!”
The men at the windows cried out and fell back, leaving the shutters open behind them. Dar cursed and headed for the nearest, but before he could reach it several long gray arms appeared, clawing at the inside of the opening. Fortunately, it seemed as though the gap was too narrow for the ghouls to make it inside.
A fireball went off outside, close enough so that flames rushed in through the window, singeing him slightly. At the other window, Nelan unleashed the power of order’s wrath, and ghouls screamed as the energies of pure Law ripped through their bodies.
Dar glanced at him, and saw two gray forms struggling in the tight gap where the waterwheel shaft entered the building. “Nelan, the wheel!” The cleric turned, and seeing the threat, hastened off in that direction.
Dar heard tearing noises above, and looked up to see cracks appearing in the wooden slats of the roof. Some of the ghouls had clambered up the rough stone walls of the mill, and were trying to get in from above. Some of the cracks were opening above the loft, and several of the farmers screamed as the ghouls worked on widening the cracks.
Dar turned to Allera, to see if she could deal with that threat, but he never got the chance. He only got a slight warning, as the tearing at the door abruptly ceased, and then there was a massive crash, and the entire mill trembled as if hit by an earthquake. Stone cracked, and shafts of light stabbed through the wall as blocks were knocked free. Letellia was flung back from the window, and she nearly fell out of the loft. One of the roof beams groaned and sagged, and for a moment Dar feared that the entire structure would collapse. But the old building held together.
Not for long, Dar thought grimly.
As if in answer, a mighty blow impacted the wall, followed quickly by another. The second caved in a five by five section of wall, and the cause of the damage broke through: an ugly spiked flail, its head as thick as Dar’s torso.
“We need to stop that thing!” Dar yelled.
His companions did their best to comply. Allera hurled a mass cure critical wounds through the gap, focusing the spell upon the deathbringer. The monster resisted the full potency of Allera’s magic, but still took considerable damage from the spell, and the nearest ghouls were simply destroyed outright. Letellia, perched tenuously on the edge of the loft, fired a lightning bolt through the gap a moment later. The electrical discharge struck the hulking undead creature on the arm, but it paid little heed to the blast.
Instead, the deathbringer drew back one long stride, before it lifted both arms and stormed headlong into the side of the mill.
Battered stone finally gave way. The doorway exploded into the mill, along with most of a ten-foot section of wall. Dar was struck by the flying dresser, and nearly went down; one of the farmers was hit in the back of the head with a piece of rock the size of a fist, and he crumpled. Several ghouls were trampled by the deathbringer, but dozens of others swarmed around it as the undead general trod forward into the building.
Dar roared and leapt forward to meet it. A flail crashed across his breastplate, but the enchanted dragonscale absorbed most of the force of the hit. He stepped within its reach and whipped Valor around in a blinding arc. The blade sang with power, and for an instant the terrible undead thing recoiled from the potency of that sound. The fighter’s sword bit through the armored plates covering the deathbringer’s torso, and bit deep into the ruined flesh beneath. But the deathbringer had a fearsome stamina, and a disembowelment meant little to a creature that did not possess life. It swept its flails down, the twin heads of spiked steel intersecting at Dar’s body. The fighter tried to dodge away, but the tight confines and poor footing made escape impossible. Both weapons connected, and Dar cried out in pain as they battered his body through his armor. He remained standing, but as he lifted Valor to strike again, the deathbringer unleashed a final surprise. It twisted one of its weapons, and jabbed the haft, which ended in a vicious spike, down into the neck of its foe. The spike caught on the edge of one of his shoulder plates, and bit hard into his flesh. Bright red blood spurted up into the air from the terrible wound, and the fighter crumpled to one knee.
Ghouls, pouring in around the deathbringer, descended upon him, driven to a frenzy by the sight and smell of fresh blood.
Lazybones
Adventurer
I'm traveling this weekend, so here's the Friday post, a bit early.
* * * * *
Chapter 291
THE GRIM REALITY OF ODDS
Dar tried to get up as ghouls tore at his face and arms, but the deathbringer dug its weapon deeper into the fighter’s shoulder, keeping him down. It lifted its other flail to strike him down.
“Get off him!” Allera yelled, rushing forward with her arms outstretched. Her third and final mass cure critical wounds spell blazed out from her, and the ghouls surrounding Dar fell back, ravaged by healing power. The deathbringer merely flinched as blue energy flashed around its arms and torso, but that, along with the boost granted him by Allera’s spell, gave Dar the opening he needed. He reached up with his free hand and tore the nasty spike free of his body, staggering back as he won free. The wound closed as Allera’s spell finished its work upon him, but even so, the fighter could barely stand from the battering he’d taken. More ghouls were pressing in around the edges of the breach in the mill’s wall, cautious now both of the power that had destroyed their kin, and the violent movements of the deathbringer.
The deathbringer brought its flail down, but instead of striking at Dar, its target this time was the healer. Allera screamed and threw herself back, her arms coming up to shield her face. There was an audible crack as one arm was broken by the impact of the deathbringer’s weapon, and one of the spikes cut a bloody gouge across her right temple. She spun around and fell to one knee, blood pouring down her face in a torrent from the vicious wound.
Nelan rushed toward her, but the ghouls were faster. And the deathbringer was not done; it lifted its other flail, still dripping Dar’s blood, to finish the job.
Dar roared and thrust past the three ghouls that were trying unsuccessfully to grapple him. The deathbringer shifted and kicked out at him, but he dodged the armored limb and brought down Valor in a two-handed strike that was precisely targeted at its knee. The axiomatic blade struck the joint and tore through both tainted flesh and the bone beneath. He did not manage to sever its leg entirely, but the knee was ruined utterly, and as the creature shifted for its next attack it gave out under its weight. The deathbringer toppled sideways, crushing a pair of ghouls, and tore away another segment of wall as it smashed into it.
Dar’s expression was almost feral as he followed the monster, hacking apart a ghoul that tried to block his path. But before he could strike again, the deathbringer invoked its dread power, and an explosion of negative energy filled the interior of the mill.
Dar, protected still by Allera’s death ward, felt only a cold chill that traveled down his spine before fading. But his companions cried out as the pulse sucked life from their bodies, and the farmers, those that still lived, screamed and fell, their bodies stiff and lifeless. The undead, ghouls and deathbringer alike, drank up the corrupt energies of the burst, their wounds closing as the negative power filled them.
The deathbringer started to lever itself back up, its flails scraping upon the adjacent stone.
“I don’t think so,” Dar snarled. A ghoul leapt at him as he lifted Valor, seizing his arm, but he elbowed it hard in the face, and it fell away, its jaw shattered. The deathbringer turned its face toward him, but that evil, eyeless stare did not stop Dar. It tried instead the more practical approach of smashing him again with one of its flails. But Valor came up and down in a blur, and the flail went flying, still grasped in the severed fist of the deathbringer.
And Dar wasn’t done. He leapt at it, using a piece of broken wall as a springboard as he drove forward. The monster tried to draw back, but the remnants of the wall held it long enough for Dar to swing Valor around in a glittering arc that intersected with the center of the deathbringer’s skull. The tip of the blade cut through the sewn sockets of its eyes, drawing a line across its face that flickered with blue energy. The deathbringer stiffened and toppled backwards, out into the courtyard where hundreds of ghouls were still trying to push forward, into the building.
Dar fell back inside, into a knot of hacking claws and feral bites. Within a few seconds, he took multiple hits, and while he fought off the paralysis, he knew that the building numbness in his exhausted limbs would eventually claim him. Looking up, he saw that the deathbringer’s destruction had forced the ghouls outside back for just an instant, but now they were pouring forward again, an army of death.
And then he blinked, surprised as a white plane suddenly appeared where the gap in the wall had been. Realization set in, as the icy chill of Letellia’s wal of ice reached him.
But there were still almost two dozen ghouls inside the mill. The press around him was so thick that the creatures got in each other’s way, hindering their effectiveness, but he was surrounded, making a cohesive defense impossible. He could see Nelan and Allera, backed up against the far wall, likewise surrounded by ghouls. The priest was invoking the power of the Father, but for every ghoul he destroyed, another was there almost instantly to take its place. Ghouls were continuing to squeeze in through the narrow opening for the waterwheel shaft, and pieces of wood continued to rain down from above as more of them tore openings in the roof.
The situation was dire, insane, hopeless.
So Dar gave himself over to the battle.
Two ghouls seized his right hand, and tried to claw Valor out of his grasp. He came to them, smashing his forehead into the face of one, then delivering an elbow-strike to the second. Ghouls tore at him from every direction, but he got his sword free enough to sweep it around in a tight arc, like a maid churning butter. Ghoul flesh was ripped open, and clawing arms went flying as the legendary sword severed the limbs that reached for him. The fighter went through the ghouls like an elemental force, a tidal wave crashing onto the ramshackle huts of a coastal village. The ghouls kept on clawing and biting; the fighter’s arms and legs were covered in scratches and gouges that oozed blood. But Dar did not stop. Healing energy poured into him, but he barely noticed it, just kept swinging, kept destroying. The interior of the mill was a red haze, and nothing could stand against him.
Allera’s voice finally drew him back to reality, a cold balm that washed away the fury of battle. “Dar! Dar! It’s me, Allera!”
He blinked and saw that the healer, along with Nelan, had joined him, forming a perimeter in one corner of the mill. Both were wounded, and Allera still held her broken arm close against her body, but the nasty wound on the side of her head had been reduced to a faint scar. He glanced back, and saw behind him a trail of heaped bodies and severed ghoul limbs that stretched back to where he’d started, fifteen feet away. He sucked in a surprised breath; the entire interior of the mill was a slaughteryard, with over thirty ghoul bodies scattered about the place.
Looking around, he realized that their situation was still grim.
Letellia’s wall of ice was coming apart. Ghouls were smashing at it with huge stones that had come from the shattered stone wall of the mill. As he watched, several ghouls crawled through gaps in the barrier; they came through rimed in frost, their movements slowed, but still very much intact and dangerous. To his left, the ghouls had ripped the shaft of the waterwheel from its moorings, allowing them to squeeze through the gap in the wall with greater ease. And above, there were huge holes in the roof, through which ghouls were dropping in increasing numbers, heedless of the damage suffered as they fell to the hard floor twelve feet below. Most of them landed on bodies, in any case, cushioning their landing.
“There’s too many of them!” Nelan cried, smashing around him with his mace, his holy powers depleted.
“Letellia!” Dar yelled. He couldn’t see up into the loft, but he heard the familiar sizzling sound of her lightning bolts, followed by ghoul screams.
And then she appeared, charging toward the edge of the loft. A ghoul appeared out of nowhere, leaping at her for a flying tackle, but Allera summoned one of her few remaining mass cure spells, and it fell, screaming. The sorceress looked to be heading for the ladder, but there were already several ghouls on it, climbing up from below. She caught sight of the three of them. “Look out!” the fighter yelled, as a segment of roof directly above her was ripped away, and a half-dozen slavering ghouls appeared. The sorceress and ghouls looked at each other for a second, and then the creatures leapt at her, claws eagerly extended.
Letellia summoned her magic, and abruptly vanished. She appeared an instant later in the corner on the ground floor, behind Dar and Nelan.
“I need six seconds!” she yelled, her expression sharpening with focus as she drew once more upon her innate magical talent.
The ghouls surged forward. There were over fifty inside the mill now, with more pouring in with every passing second. One leapt at Nelan’s face, wrapping its claws around his shoulders. It bit down hard on the priest’s ear, drawing a scream of pain from him. Nelan had taken a dozen hits during the battle, each time fighting off the deadly effects of the ghouls’ touch, but his luck finally ran out, and he stiffened, overcome by its paralysis. Another three ghouls seized onto the priest’s arms and legs, and tried to drag him out into the middle of the room.
Dar and Allera were there in an instant. Allera reached out and touched the ghoul clinging to the priest, unleashing a powerful healing spell into it. The ghoul released its captive and fell back into the ranks of its kin, its flesh blackening as the healer’s power destroyed it. Dar cleared away the others, smashing skulls and severing limbs with precise strikes from Valor. He grabbed onto the cleric and thrust him back into the corner, where Letellia grabbed him.
“Whatever you’re going to do, do it now!” Dar yelled. Allera screamed as four ghouls seized her. Dar turned toward her, but a ghoul grabbed onto his leg, and he nearly went down as another three ghouls sprang on him from ahead.
“Grab Allera!” Letellia yelled. Dar roared and lunged at her, dragging several ghouls with him. He seized the healer’s wrist as the ghouls dragged her away, just as Letellia, still holding Nelan, reached out and touched Dar’s back.
Invoking her last dimension door, she transported the four of them out of the mill. The ghouls shrieked in frustration as their prey escaped, and started destroying everything they could get their claws on.
With a flicker of light, the four companions materialized on a lightly wooded rise. It was immediately clear where they were; the noise of the ghoul army drew their attention east, where the mill stood only about two hundred yards distant, across the stream.
“Ah... couldn’t you have teleported us farther away?” Dar asked. Allera bent over Nelan, who remained gripped by the ghoul paralysis.
“The dimension door only has a limited range,” Letellia explained. “I pushed it to its limit just to take us this far.”
“What about the villagers?” Allera asked. Dar and Nelan shared a look; their fate was obvious.
“The giant’s negative energy burst killed those in the loft,” Letellia said. “The women, children...” She shuddered, closing her eyes for a moment as she mastered herself.
Dar looked around; there was not enough clutter in the landscape nearby to offer shelter. The few trees were scant affairs, with trunks only about a half-foot in thickness, and not enough brush in the rocky soil to offer much in the way of concealment. There were no ghouls in their immediate vicinity, but the army gathered around the mill covered a considerable area, and there was a considerable number on their side of the stream. “It’s not going to take them long to realize we’re here.” As if in reply, there was a cry from below, and a small knot of ghouls to the southeast started charging toward their position. “Damn it, I hate it when I’m right. Allera, can you help the priest?”
“We need to... the wind walk,” Nelan said. As Allera purged the paralysis, he rose, grimacing from the pain of the gashes covering his arms and neck, and the nasty bite wound on the side of his head. Part of his right ear was gone, torn away by the ghoul that had paralyzed him. “The magic should still be in effect... concentrate on it.”
“I’m concentrating... nothing’s happening.”
“Remember, it takes some time,” Letellia reminded him.
“Yeah, well, if it doesn’t start working real quick, we’re going to have a situation here,” Dar said. More ghouls had joined the rush toward them, and the alert seemed to have spread across the stream, where large groups of ghouls had started detaching from the mass, heading in their direction. The first group had started up the rise, and was less than a hundred yards away, closing rapidly.
“Now would be good,” Dar said. But Letellia had already started to dissolve into the mist-form, followed a few seconds later by Allera. The ghouls had gotten within twenty yards when Dar and Nelan both joined them, and all four rose into the air. The ghouls shrieked below them, but the sound grew distant as the four ascended, a magical wind springing up to carry them back toward Camar at great speed.
Behind them, the ghoul army started moving again, following in their wake at a much slower, but untiring and inexorable, pace.
* * * * *
Chapter 291
THE GRIM REALITY OF ODDS
Dar tried to get up as ghouls tore at his face and arms, but the deathbringer dug its weapon deeper into the fighter’s shoulder, keeping him down. It lifted its other flail to strike him down.
“Get off him!” Allera yelled, rushing forward with her arms outstretched. Her third and final mass cure critical wounds spell blazed out from her, and the ghouls surrounding Dar fell back, ravaged by healing power. The deathbringer merely flinched as blue energy flashed around its arms and torso, but that, along with the boost granted him by Allera’s spell, gave Dar the opening he needed. He reached up with his free hand and tore the nasty spike free of his body, staggering back as he won free. The wound closed as Allera’s spell finished its work upon him, but even so, the fighter could barely stand from the battering he’d taken. More ghouls were pressing in around the edges of the breach in the mill’s wall, cautious now both of the power that had destroyed their kin, and the violent movements of the deathbringer.
The deathbringer brought its flail down, but instead of striking at Dar, its target this time was the healer. Allera screamed and threw herself back, her arms coming up to shield her face. There was an audible crack as one arm was broken by the impact of the deathbringer’s weapon, and one of the spikes cut a bloody gouge across her right temple. She spun around and fell to one knee, blood pouring down her face in a torrent from the vicious wound.
Nelan rushed toward her, but the ghouls were faster. And the deathbringer was not done; it lifted its other flail, still dripping Dar’s blood, to finish the job.
Dar roared and thrust past the three ghouls that were trying unsuccessfully to grapple him. The deathbringer shifted and kicked out at him, but he dodged the armored limb and brought down Valor in a two-handed strike that was precisely targeted at its knee. The axiomatic blade struck the joint and tore through both tainted flesh and the bone beneath. He did not manage to sever its leg entirely, but the knee was ruined utterly, and as the creature shifted for its next attack it gave out under its weight. The deathbringer toppled sideways, crushing a pair of ghouls, and tore away another segment of wall as it smashed into it.
Dar’s expression was almost feral as he followed the monster, hacking apart a ghoul that tried to block his path. But before he could strike again, the deathbringer invoked its dread power, and an explosion of negative energy filled the interior of the mill.
Dar, protected still by Allera’s death ward, felt only a cold chill that traveled down his spine before fading. But his companions cried out as the pulse sucked life from their bodies, and the farmers, those that still lived, screamed and fell, their bodies stiff and lifeless. The undead, ghouls and deathbringer alike, drank up the corrupt energies of the burst, their wounds closing as the negative power filled them.
The deathbringer started to lever itself back up, its flails scraping upon the adjacent stone.
“I don’t think so,” Dar snarled. A ghoul leapt at him as he lifted Valor, seizing his arm, but he elbowed it hard in the face, and it fell away, its jaw shattered. The deathbringer turned its face toward him, but that evil, eyeless stare did not stop Dar. It tried instead the more practical approach of smashing him again with one of its flails. But Valor came up and down in a blur, and the flail went flying, still grasped in the severed fist of the deathbringer.
And Dar wasn’t done. He leapt at it, using a piece of broken wall as a springboard as he drove forward. The monster tried to draw back, but the remnants of the wall held it long enough for Dar to swing Valor around in a glittering arc that intersected with the center of the deathbringer’s skull. The tip of the blade cut through the sewn sockets of its eyes, drawing a line across its face that flickered with blue energy. The deathbringer stiffened and toppled backwards, out into the courtyard where hundreds of ghouls were still trying to push forward, into the building.
Dar fell back inside, into a knot of hacking claws and feral bites. Within a few seconds, he took multiple hits, and while he fought off the paralysis, he knew that the building numbness in his exhausted limbs would eventually claim him. Looking up, he saw that the deathbringer’s destruction had forced the ghouls outside back for just an instant, but now they were pouring forward again, an army of death.
And then he blinked, surprised as a white plane suddenly appeared where the gap in the wall had been. Realization set in, as the icy chill of Letellia’s wal of ice reached him.
But there were still almost two dozen ghouls inside the mill. The press around him was so thick that the creatures got in each other’s way, hindering their effectiveness, but he was surrounded, making a cohesive defense impossible. He could see Nelan and Allera, backed up against the far wall, likewise surrounded by ghouls. The priest was invoking the power of the Father, but for every ghoul he destroyed, another was there almost instantly to take its place. Ghouls were continuing to squeeze in through the narrow opening for the waterwheel shaft, and pieces of wood continued to rain down from above as more of them tore openings in the roof.
The situation was dire, insane, hopeless.
So Dar gave himself over to the battle.
Two ghouls seized his right hand, and tried to claw Valor out of his grasp. He came to them, smashing his forehead into the face of one, then delivering an elbow-strike to the second. Ghouls tore at him from every direction, but he got his sword free enough to sweep it around in a tight arc, like a maid churning butter. Ghoul flesh was ripped open, and clawing arms went flying as the legendary sword severed the limbs that reached for him. The fighter went through the ghouls like an elemental force, a tidal wave crashing onto the ramshackle huts of a coastal village. The ghouls kept on clawing and biting; the fighter’s arms and legs were covered in scratches and gouges that oozed blood. But Dar did not stop. Healing energy poured into him, but he barely noticed it, just kept swinging, kept destroying. The interior of the mill was a red haze, and nothing could stand against him.
Allera’s voice finally drew him back to reality, a cold balm that washed away the fury of battle. “Dar! Dar! It’s me, Allera!”
He blinked and saw that the healer, along with Nelan, had joined him, forming a perimeter in one corner of the mill. Both were wounded, and Allera still held her broken arm close against her body, but the nasty wound on the side of her head had been reduced to a faint scar. He glanced back, and saw behind him a trail of heaped bodies and severed ghoul limbs that stretched back to where he’d started, fifteen feet away. He sucked in a surprised breath; the entire interior of the mill was a slaughteryard, with over thirty ghoul bodies scattered about the place.
Looking around, he realized that their situation was still grim.
Letellia’s wall of ice was coming apart. Ghouls were smashing at it with huge stones that had come from the shattered stone wall of the mill. As he watched, several ghouls crawled through gaps in the barrier; they came through rimed in frost, their movements slowed, but still very much intact and dangerous. To his left, the ghouls had ripped the shaft of the waterwheel from its moorings, allowing them to squeeze through the gap in the wall with greater ease. And above, there were huge holes in the roof, through which ghouls were dropping in increasing numbers, heedless of the damage suffered as they fell to the hard floor twelve feet below. Most of them landed on bodies, in any case, cushioning their landing.
“There’s too many of them!” Nelan cried, smashing around him with his mace, his holy powers depleted.
“Letellia!” Dar yelled. He couldn’t see up into the loft, but he heard the familiar sizzling sound of her lightning bolts, followed by ghoul screams.
And then she appeared, charging toward the edge of the loft. A ghoul appeared out of nowhere, leaping at her for a flying tackle, but Allera summoned one of her few remaining mass cure spells, and it fell, screaming. The sorceress looked to be heading for the ladder, but there were already several ghouls on it, climbing up from below. She caught sight of the three of them. “Look out!” the fighter yelled, as a segment of roof directly above her was ripped away, and a half-dozen slavering ghouls appeared. The sorceress and ghouls looked at each other for a second, and then the creatures leapt at her, claws eagerly extended.
Letellia summoned her magic, and abruptly vanished. She appeared an instant later in the corner on the ground floor, behind Dar and Nelan.
“I need six seconds!” she yelled, her expression sharpening with focus as she drew once more upon her innate magical talent.
The ghouls surged forward. There were over fifty inside the mill now, with more pouring in with every passing second. One leapt at Nelan’s face, wrapping its claws around his shoulders. It bit down hard on the priest’s ear, drawing a scream of pain from him. Nelan had taken a dozen hits during the battle, each time fighting off the deadly effects of the ghouls’ touch, but his luck finally ran out, and he stiffened, overcome by its paralysis. Another three ghouls seized onto the priest’s arms and legs, and tried to drag him out into the middle of the room.
Dar and Allera were there in an instant. Allera reached out and touched the ghoul clinging to the priest, unleashing a powerful healing spell into it. The ghoul released its captive and fell back into the ranks of its kin, its flesh blackening as the healer’s power destroyed it. Dar cleared away the others, smashing skulls and severing limbs with precise strikes from Valor. He grabbed onto the cleric and thrust him back into the corner, where Letellia grabbed him.
“Whatever you’re going to do, do it now!” Dar yelled. Allera screamed as four ghouls seized her. Dar turned toward her, but a ghoul grabbed onto his leg, and he nearly went down as another three ghouls sprang on him from ahead.
“Grab Allera!” Letellia yelled. Dar roared and lunged at her, dragging several ghouls with him. He seized the healer’s wrist as the ghouls dragged her away, just as Letellia, still holding Nelan, reached out and touched Dar’s back.
Invoking her last dimension door, she transported the four of them out of the mill. The ghouls shrieked in frustration as their prey escaped, and started destroying everything they could get their claws on.
With a flicker of light, the four companions materialized on a lightly wooded rise. It was immediately clear where they were; the noise of the ghoul army drew their attention east, where the mill stood only about two hundred yards distant, across the stream.
“Ah... couldn’t you have teleported us farther away?” Dar asked. Allera bent over Nelan, who remained gripped by the ghoul paralysis.
“The dimension door only has a limited range,” Letellia explained. “I pushed it to its limit just to take us this far.”
“What about the villagers?” Allera asked. Dar and Nelan shared a look; their fate was obvious.
“The giant’s negative energy burst killed those in the loft,” Letellia said. “The women, children...” She shuddered, closing her eyes for a moment as she mastered herself.
Dar looked around; there was not enough clutter in the landscape nearby to offer shelter. The few trees were scant affairs, with trunks only about a half-foot in thickness, and not enough brush in the rocky soil to offer much in the way of concealment. There were no ghouls in their immediate vicinity, but the army gathered around the mill covered a considerable area, and there was a considerable number on their side of the stream. “It’s not going to take them long to realize we’re here.” As if in reply, there was a cry from below, and a small knot of ghouls to the southeast started charging toward their position. “Damn it, I hate it when I’m right. Allera, can you help the priest?”
“We need to... the wind walk,” Nelan said. As Allera purged the paralysis, he rose, grimacing from the pain of the gashes covering his arms and neck, and the nasty bite wound on the side of his head. Part of his right ear was gone, torn away by the ghoul that had paralyzed him. “The magic should still be in effect... concentrate on it.”
“I’m concentrating... nothing’s happening.”
“Remember, it takes some time,” Letellia reminded him.
“Yeah, well, if it doesn’t start working real quick, we’re going to have a situation here,” Dar said. More ghouls had joined the rush toward them, and the alert seemed to have spread across the stream, where large groups of ghouls had started detaching from the mass, heading in their direction. The first group had started up the rise, and was less than a hundred yards away, closing rapidly.
“Now would be good,” Dar said. But Letellia had already started to dissolve into the mist-form, followed a few seconds later by Allera. The ghouls had gotten within twenty yards when Dar and Nelan both joined them, and all four rose into the air. The ghouls shrieked below them, but the sound grew distant as the four ascended, a magical wind springing up to carry them back toward Camar at great speed.
Behind them, the ghoul army started moving again, following in their wake at a much slower, but untiring and inexorable, pace.
CrusadeDave
First Post
Mmmmmmmm
Sounds like an all you can eat buffet of Camarians.
Yummy.
Keep up the great work.
Sounds like an all you can eat buffet of Camarians.
Yummy.
Keep up the great work.
3V1L_N3CR0
First Post
lol
The best part is that if they reach the city every ghoul is a potential platoon. gotta love the combination of spawn creating undead and large groups of commoners in a confined space.![:]](http://www.enworld.org/forum/images/smilies/devious.png "Devious :]")
as a lv14 dread necromancer I could probably handle up to 3 of them max. and that is hoping they don't eat me first.
The best part is that if they reach the city every ghoul is a potential platoon. gotta love the combination of spawn creating undead and large groups of commoners in a confined space.
Drowbane said:
as a lv14 dread necromancer I could probably handle up to 3 of them max. and that is hoping they don't eat me first.
Last edited:
Cerulean_Wings
First Post
Mr. Lazybones, I have read 1 entire page of your thread. And you have caused me a great inconvenience: now I must use my time to read your story-telling instead of the other stories I was reading before, because this is AWESOME STORYTELLING!!!
Gritty, dark, and somber, filled with bits of humor where there's a chance, this story is indeed compelling. I love it.
Now that that's out of the way, I need to ask this question: who in damnation created the Dungeon of Graves? The module, I mean. The combat and traps that I've read so far are simply brutal, and I've had my share of deadly DMing. Are characters expected to survive?
PS: Just to make absolutely sure, since I haven't heard from the players of this game... this is a story told by Lazy Bones from his session, not an invented story, correcty?
Gritty, dark, and somber, filled with bits of humor where there's a chance, this story is indeed compelling. I love it.
Now that that's out of the way, I need to ask this question: who in damnation created the Dungeon of Graves? The module, I mean. The combat and traps that I've read so far are simply brutal, and I've had my share of deadly DMing. Are characters expected to survive?
PS: Just to make absolutely sure, since I haven't heard from the players of this game... this is a story told by Lazy Bones from his session, not an invented story, correcty?
Cerulean_Wings said:
Actually, there's a reason this has the "Fiction" tag on it. It's not a re-telling from a group, it is a wholly invented story from LB. His third such story, actually.
And he keeps getting better. (Great work, as always, LB. Loved the brutalization of the ghouls.)
By the way, LB, when you finish with this one, I'd like to put in a vote that you take a hack at the Savage Tide AP. I'm DM'ing that one for a group and I'd love to see what you do with it.
Lazybones
Adventurer
Thanks for the posts, everyone.
The module is intentionally deadly and has a reputation as a "killer dungeon" in the same vein as The Tomb of Horrors. All of the background information about Camar and other details of the setting (the Shining Father and Dagos, the various nations, powerful NPCs not in RA, etc.) are all my own creation.
* * * * *
Chapter 292
AN UNEXPECTED INTERVIEW
The corridors of the Gathering Hall were quiet, this early in the morning, with the sky just brightening to the east in the first glimmers of the predawn. The Hall was situated on a rise overlooking the spreading expanse of Aelvenmarr, but most of the town yet slumbered, its inhabitants resting or meditating prior to the start of another day.
The wings of the Hall rose up out of the base of the structure like the branches of a tree. Suspended on curving struts of shaped wood, the extensions looked like an architectural impossibility. But the aelfinn could build things of wood that lasted longer than the sturdiest castles of hard stone, and the possessed the gift of melding natural beauty with function in a way that could bring the coldest outsider to tears.
The lean figure clad in a simple black robe paid no attention to the attractive features of the Hall this morning. The elf looked as ageless as most of his kin, but there was a furrow in his brow, a subtle reflection of the serious thoughts that engaged him. His fingers were slender, delicate, his hair a silver cascade that was neatly ordered by a pair of golden rings.
The elf made his way to a door carved with intricate designs of fae interacting within a pastoral scene. The rune upon the door responded to his touch, and the portal opened quietly.
The area behind the door was a small private study, lushly decorated. Bookcases carved in intricate designs covered most of the walls, except where several beautiful paintings were hung in frames of golden scrollwork. The room contained a desk that was built into the far wall, swinging out in a wide arc across the room. The desk was apportioned with neat cases that ordered scrolls, small leather-bound folios, quillcases and vials of ink, and other assorted miscellanea. Behind the desk was a small, comfortable-looking chair, which was occupied by another elf, who looked up as the black-robed man entered. The newcomer’s eyes widened in surprise, as he recognized the other seated before him.
“Lord Draelai. I apologize for this intrusion, but...”
“Alderis! How dare... how did you get in here? What do you want?”
Alderis placed his hands upon the desk. “Reasonable questions. The answer to the first lies in the Conclave’s overreliance on magic, in my view. As for the second...”
Draelai had recovered some of his equilibrium. “I do not care about your motives, Alderis. If you think you can... steal in here, and challenge me in my own office...”
Alderis raised a hand. “It is not my wish to challenge you. If I had thought I could get a fair hearing by approaching you in public, I would have. Unfortunately, as you know all too well, my presence in Aelvenmarr is not a welcome one.”
“With good reason. You were mad, a danger to yourself and others. I don’t know how you escaped from custody...”
“To be honest, I am somewhat murky on that point myself. I do not blame you or the Conclave for taking the actions that you did. In your place, I may have done the same.”
“Why then, have you returned?”
“Has the Conclave taken note of the otherplanar phenomena that have been manifesting throughout Camar over recent months?”
Draelai did not betray any reaction; the elven mage was renown for his self-control, and he had recovered fully from the initial surprise he had evidenced at Alderis’s sudden appearance in his office. “The problems of the humans do not concern us.”
“I am afraid that your assessment is wrong, Draelai. A great disaster is befallen us, a day of dark reckoning that will affect all of the peoples of this world.”
“Are you certain that you have fully recovered, Alderis? I recall you ranting of similar things, in the early stages of your madness. When you were still partially... lucid.”
Something flashed in Alderis’s eyes, but he otherwise remained cool. “I have been to Rappan Athuk.”
“The Dungeon of Graves? Only a madman would enter that place.”
Alderis leaned back, and chuckled softly. “That was so lacking in subtlety to be beneath you, Draelai. When we sparred in the gatherings of the Conclave, your barbs were more nuanced.”
“What do you want, Alderis?”
The elf leaned forward and folded his hands atop the desk. “Whether or not you and the others wish to acknowledge it, there is a great evil stirring in the world. I will assume that you are aware of the assaults upon Camar; you and your cabal may be petty and insular, but you were never fools. I have already joined in the battle against this darkness, and will return to that fight.”
“The humans will not thank you for your sacrifice, Alderis. Their very civilization is a blight upon the land, their values rooted in intolerance and fear of that which is different. Their lives are but the flicker of a flame, but they pass down their hatreds from generation to generation, and they have not forgotten the wars between our peoples.” There was a subtle flash in the elf’s eyes, and a terse undertone in his words that indicated that he, too, had not forgotten.
Alderis heard what was not said, and understood. “I am not asking them to forget,” he said, his voice quiet. “Nor to forgive.” He lifted his eyes and met the other elf’s gaze squarely. “You were not the only one to lose a loved one in the last war, Draelai. But neither would I have the past blind me to the danger that faces both peoples.”
“Go then, and do what you will. Aelvenmarr is no longer your home, and so long as you do not remain, you can cast yourself into the pits of Sarcarr for all I care.”
Alderis nodded, and did not respond for several seconds. “I will do so. But first, I require that my property be returned to me.”
“Ah, so that is what this is about. The matter is beyond my control; your books were turned over to the Lyceum shortly after your escape and flight.”
Alderis nodded. “I know. And we both know that they are not the materials of which I was speaking.”
The two elves regarded each other in cold silence. Finally, Draelai spoke. “Leave this place, Alderis. There is nothing more for you here.”
“Not without my property. This is not a personal matter, Draelai, and if only my interests were at stake, I would leave you to enjoy your plunder. But I urge you, do not test me on this.”
“It is you who should be cautious, Alderis. Your talents were never a match for mine.”
“I am not the same man you knew, Draelai.”
“Be that as it may...”
The elf never finished; he abruptly spoke words of power, and manifested a spell. A glowing line of force materialized in the air in front of Draelai, a mage’s sword. “Slay him,” Draelai said calmly, lifting his arm to point toward Alderis. He never finished the gesture; the elf suddenly stiffened, transformed into a statue by Alderis’s flesh to stone spell.
But the magical sword had apparently gotten enough instruction, for it surged toward Alderis. The elf was heavily warded, but his protections were of little use as the sword crashed into his side. His stoneskin protected him from what would have been a critical injury, but even with that defense the impact knocked him flying over the desk. The sword followed him as he rolled to his feet, giving ground as he summoned a dispel magic spell to remove the deadly weapon.
Unfortunately, the spell failed to disrupt Draelai’s magic. The sword darted in again, and pain exploded in Alderis’s side as the sword bit deep into his flesh. He fell back against the wall; the sword lunged in to finish him.
Barely in time, Alderis invoked an antimagic field, and the sword abruptly vanished.
The elf grimaced, and walked over to where Draelai stood, a silent, stone sentinel. He waited until he was certain that the time duration on the mage’s sword had expired, and then he dismissed the antimagic field.
He checked the door; the brief fracas had not drawn attention. Draelai’s custom of arriving this early in the morning had been the main reason he had elected to confront the other elf at this time, but Alderis knew that he did not have a great deal of time.
He laid an arcane lock upon the door, and walked over to where Draelai stood frozen in mid-gesture. He looked at the desk, and picked up a heavy paperweight of polished obsidian from a pile of parchment sheets.
“I am sorry,” he said, then he used the paperweight to snap off two fingers from each of Draelai’s hands.
He placed the paperweight down, and cast another spell. A green radiance darted from his fingertips and spread around the statue, limning it with a soft glow. He then took a length of fabric out of his pocket, and wrapped it around the statue’s head, securing it tightly across its slightly-open mouth.
Those tasks complete, Alderis started another incantation, uttering the complex syllables of a break enchantment spell.
The module was originally published in three parts by Necromancer Games. The authors are Bill Webb, Clark Peterson, Greg Ragland and WDB Kenower. The entire mod was repackaged and sold in an expanded boxed set entitled Rappan Athuk Reloaded. They made 1,000 copies and sold out; the collection is still available as a PDF download.Cerulean_Wings said:
The module is intentionally deadly and has a reputation as a "killer dungeon" in the same vein as The Tomb of Horrors. All of the background information about Camar and other details of the setting (the Shining Father and Dagos, the various nations, powerful NPCs not in RA, etc.) are all my own creation.
Unfortunately, I have neither the Savage Tide nor the Age of Worms APs; I let my Dungeon sub lapse shortly after Shackled City wrapped. I was hoping that Paizo would do a hardcover release as they did with SCAP but it does not look like that is going to happen. I do have some ideas for my next story and may include some manner of reader input in its selection.wolff96 said:
* * * * *
Chapter 292
AN UNEXPECTED INTERVIEW
The corridors of the Gathering Hall were quiet, this early in the morning, with the sky just brightening to the east in the first glimmers of the predawn. The Hall was situated on a rise overlooking the spreading expanse of Aelvenmarr, but most of the town yet slumbered, its inhabitants resting or meditating prior to the start of another day.
The wings of the Hall rose up out of the base of the structure like the branches of a tree. Suspended on curving struts of shaped wood, the extensions looked like an architectural impossibility. But the aelfinn could build things of wood that lasted longer than the sturdiest castles of hard stone, and the possessed the gift of melding natural beauty with function in a way that could bring the coldest outsider to tears.
The lean figure clad in a simple black robe paid no attention to the attractive features of the Hall this morning. The elf looked as ageless as most of his kin, but there was a furrow in his brow, a subtle reflection of the serious thoughts that engaged him. His fingers were slender, delicate, his hair a silver cascade that was neatly ordered by a pair of golden rings.
The elf made his way to a door carved with intricate designs of fae interacting within a pastoral scene. The rune upon the door responded to his touch, and the portal opened quietly.
The area behind the door was a small private study, lushly decorated. Bookcases carved in intricate designs covered most of the walls, except where several beautiful paintings were hung in frames of golden scrollwork. The room contained a desk that was built into the far wall, swinging out in a wide arc across the room. The desk was apportioned with neat cases that ordered scrolls, small leather-bound folios, quillcases and vials of ink, and other assorted miscellanea. Behind the desk was a small, comfortable-looking chair, which was occupied by another elf, who looked up as the black-robed man entered. The newcomer’s eyes widened in surprise, as he recognized the other seated before him.
“Lord Draelai. I apologize for this intrusion, but...”
“Alderis! How dare... how did you get in here? What do you want?”
Alderis placed his hands upon the desk. “Reasonable questions. The answer to the first lies in the Conclave’s overreliance on magic, in my view. As for the second...”
Draelai had recovered some of his equilibrium. “I do not care about your motives, Alderis. If you think you can... steal in here, and challenge me in my own office...”
Alderis raised a hand. “It is not my wish to challenge you. If I had thought I could get a fair hearing by approaching you in public, I would have. Unfortunately, as you know all too well, my presence in Aelvenmarr is not a welcome one.”
“With good reason. You were mad, a danger to yourself and others. I don’t know how you escaped from custody...”
“To be honest, I am somewhat murky on that point myself. I do not blame you or the Conclave for taking the actions that you did. In your place, I may have done the same.”
“Why then, have you returned?”
“Has the Conclave taken note of the otherplanar phenomena that have been manifesting throughout Camar over recent months?”
Draelai did not betray any reaction; the elven mage was renown for his self-control, and he had recovered fully from the initial surprise he had evidenced at Alderis’s sudden appearance in his office. “The problems of the humans do not concern us.”
“I am afraid that your assessment is wrong, Draelai. A great disaster is befallen us, a day of dark reckoning that will affect all of the peoples of this world.”
“Are you certain that you have fully recovered, Alderis? I recall you ranting of similar things, in the early stages of your madness. When you were still partially... lucid.”
Something flashed in Alderis’s eyes, but he otherwise remained cool. “I have been to Rappan Athuk.”
“The Dungeon of Graves? Only a madman would enter that place.”
Alderis leaned back, and chuckled softly. “That was so lacking in subtlety to be beneath you, Draelai. When we sparred in the gatherings of the Conclave, your barbs were more nuanced.”
“What do you want, Alderis?”
The elf leaned forward and folded his hands atop the desk. “Whether or not you and the others wish to acknowledge it, there is a great evil stirring in the world. I will assume that you are aware of the assaults upon Camar; you and your cabal may be petty and insular, but you were never fools. I have already joined in the battle against this darkness, and will return to that fight.”
“The humans will not thank you for your sacrifice, Alderis. Their very civilization is a blight upon the land, their values rooted in intolerance and fear of that which is different. Their lives are but the flicker of a flame, but they pass down their hatreds from generation to generation, and they have not forgotten the wars between our peoples.” There was a subtle flash in the elf’s eyes, and a terse undertone in his words that indicated that he, too, had not forgotten.
Alderis heard what was not said, and understood. “I am not asking them to forget,” he said, his voice quiet. “Nor to forgive.” He lifted his eyes and met the other elf’s gaze squarely. “You were not the only one to lose a loved one in the last war, Draelai. But neither would I have the past blind me to the danger that faces both peoples.”
“Go then, and do what you will. Aelvenmarr is no longer your home, and so long as you do not remain, you can cast yourself into the pits of Sarcarr for all I care.”
Alderis nodded, and did not respond for several seconds. “I will do so. But first, I require that my property be returned to me.”
“Ah, so that is what this is about. The matter is beyond my control; your books were turned over to the Lyceum shortly after your escape and flight.”
Alderis nodded. “I know. And we both know that they are not the materials of which I was speaking.”
The two elves regarded each other in cold silence. Finally, Draelai spoke. “Leave this place, Alderis. There is nothing more for you here.”
“Not without my property. This is not a personal matter, Draelai, and if only my interests were at stake, I would leave you to enjoy your plunder. But I urge you, do not test me on this.”
“It is you who should be cautious, Alderis. Your talents were never a match for mine.”
“I am not the same man you knew, Draelai.”
“Be that as it may...”
The elf never finished; he abruptly spoke words of power, and manifested a spell. A glowing line of force materialized in the air in front of Draelai, a mage’s sword. “Slay him,” Draelai said calmly, lifting his arm to point toward Alderis. He never finished the gesture; the elf suddenly stiffened, transformed into a statue by Alderis’s flesh to stone spell.
But the magical sword had apparently gotten enough instruction, for it surged toward Alderis. The elf was heavily warded, but his protections were of little use as the sword crashed into his side. His stoneskin protected him from what would have been a critical injury, but even with that defense the impact knocked him flying over the desk. The sword followed him as he rolled to his feet, giving ground as he summoned a dispel magic spell to remove the deadly weapon.
Unfortunately, the spell failed to disrupt Draelai’s magic. The sword darted in again, and pain exploded in Alderis’s side as the sword bit deep into his flesh. He fell back against the wall; the sword lunged in to finish him.
Barely in time, Alderis invoked an antimagic field, and the sword abruptly vanished.
The elf grimaced, and walked over to where Draelai stood, a silent, stone sentinel. He waited until he was certain that the time duration on the mage’s sword had expired, and then he dismissed the antimagic field.
He checked the door; the brief fracas had not drawn attention. Draelai’s custom of arriving this early in the morning had been the main reason he had elected to confront the other elf at this time, but Alderis knew that he did not have a great deal of time.
He laid an arcane lock upon the door, and walked over to where Draelai stood frozen in mid-gesture. He looked at the desk, and picked up a heavy paperweight of polished obsidian from a pile of parchment sheets.
“I am sorry,” he said, then he used the paperweight to snap off two fingers from each of Draelai’s hands.
He placed the paperweight down, and cast another spell. A green radiance darted from his fingertips and spread around the statue, limning it with a soft glow. He then took a length of fabric out of his pocket, and wrapped it around the statue’s head, securing it tightly across its slightly-open mouth.
Those tasks complete, Alderis started another incantation, uttering the complex syllables of a break enchantment spell.
GrolloStoutfoam
First Post
Lazybones said:
Absolutely wonderful! Almost Varo-esque.
Of course Varo wouldn't apologize. Alderis is rapidly becoming my second favorite. Thanks again for this SH Lazybones.
