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The Doomed Bastards: Reckoning (story complete)
- Thread starter Lazybones
- Start date
Lazybones
Adventurer
Chapter 59
REUNION
Varo’s muttered comment had been to himself, but Dar, coming up from behind, had heard it.
“What?” Dar said. “Him?” he squinted up at the prisoner, who hung limply from his tenous perch.
“Cut him down!” Varo urged.
“I hate to break it to you, chief, but he’s long dead. Looks like a side of slow-roasted beef.”
“No,” the cleric said. He started toward the stairs, barely able to put one foot in front of the other, but Dar quickly stopped him. “What are you doing? Are you crazy?”
“Cut him down,” Varo coughed. “Please... at once.”
Dar looked at the cleric, then over at Talen, who had moved Allera away from the scene of the battle, and had covered her with the remains of his cloak. “Talen! Give me a hand over here!”
Moving carefully on the stairs, the two fighters were able to cut the elf free and lower him to the ground. Varo was at their side at once, and he looked incredibly relieved to find a pulse beating faintly in the man’s throat.
“I don’t know how anyone could have survived that,” Talen said with incredulity. “His arms are both out of their sockets... and his skin...” The entire front half of his body was a cherry red, blood oozing from where his skin had cracked and scabbed over, only to be reopened as he was moved.
“He’s crazy,” Dar said, looking down at both the cleric and his patient. But Varo did not look up, his hands moving fast as he did what he could for the elf’s terrible wounds.
“We need to rest, and recover our strength,” Talen said. “We should prepare a litter for Allera, maybe from one of the beds in the other room.”
“She and the elf should not be moved,” Varo said without looking up. “We cannot leave here, not yet.”
“Ah, weren’t you just saying a minute ago that we could expect enemy reinforcements at any minute?” Dar said.
“We cannot stay here,” Talen added. “This place is utterly indefensible.”
“I suggest we find a way,” Varo said. He stopped his workings for a moment and looked up at them.
“Look at it this way,” he said. “The caverns are clearly not safe. In addition to the ubiquitous rats, there are creatures like the wights, the spiders, and the wererats.”
“Max was pretty helpful at covering us,” Dar suggested.
“Allera won’t survive being dragged through those little tunnels, and we’re all likely to die from gangrenous infections if we linger in the otyugh’s chamber in our current condition. I can treat disease with my magic, but I cannot restore limbs that have to be amputated due to putrefaction. To be honest, I’m surprised one of us hasn’t come down with filth fever already.”
Talen looked at Dar, who hadn’t taken his eyes off Varo. The cleric met the other’s gaze calmly with his one intact eye. Finally, the mercenary broke the stare, and looked around the chamber. “We’ll need to get ready.”
Talen helped Varo bring the elf over to the side of the room where Allera lay. Dar lingered behind a moment, looking over the scene of carnage. Looking the other way across the room, he could see a massive statue he’d missed before, an obscene form of a goat-headed humanoid carved in black stone. The ruddy light coming from the lava pit seemed to glint off its eyes, making them seem to follow the fighter as he walked across the room. “It just gets better and better,” he said, his expression as dark as the lusterless black walls of the chamber.
REUNION
Varo’s muttered comment had been to himself, but Dar, coming up from behind, had heard it.
“What?” Dar said. “Him?” he squinted up at the prisoner, who hung limply from his tenous perch.
“Cut him down!” Varo urged.
“I hate to break it to you, chief, but he’s long dead. Looks like a side of slow-roasted beef.”
“No,” the cleric said. He started toward the stairs, barely able to put one foot in front of the other, but Dar quickly stopped him. “What are you doing? Are you crazy?”
“Cut him down,” Varo coughed. “Please... at once.”
Dar looked at the cleric, then over at Talen, who had moved Allera away from the scene of the battle, and had covered her with the remains of his cloak. “Talen! Give me a hand over here!”
Moving carefully on the stairs, the two fighters were able to cut the elf free and lower him to the ground. Varo was at their side at once, and he looked incredibly relieved to find a pulse beating faintly in the man’s throat.
“I don’t know how anyone could have survived that,” Talen said with incredulity. “His arms are both out of their sockets... and his skin...” The entire front half of his body was a cherry red, blood oozing from where his skin had cracked and scabbed over, only to be reopened as he was moved.
“He’s crazy,” Dar said, looking down at both the cleric and his patient. But Varo did not look up, his hands moving fast as he did what he could for the elf’s terrible wounds.
“We need to rest, and recover our strength,” Talen said. “We should prepare a litter for Allera, maybe from one of the beds in the other room.”
“She and the elf should not be moved,” Varo said without looking up. “We cannot leave here, not yet.”
“Ah, weren’t you just saying a minute ago that we could expect enemy reinforcements at any minute?” Dar said.
“We cannot stay here,” Talen added. “This place is utterly indefensible.”
“I suggest we find a way,” Varo said. He stopped his workings for a moment and looked up at them.
“Look at it this way,” he said. “The caverns are clearly not safe. In addition to the ubiquitous rats, there are creatures like the wights, the spiders, and the wererats.”
“Max was pretty helpful at covering us,” Dar suggested.
“Allera won’t survive being dragged through those little tunnels, and we’re all likely to die from gangrenous infections if we linger in the otyugh’s chamber in our current condition. I can treat disease with my magic, but I cannot restore limbs that have to be amputated due to putrefaction. To be honest, I’m surprised one of us hasn’t come down with filth fever already.”
Talen looked at Dar, who hadn’t taken his eyes off Varo. The cleric met the other’s gaze calmly with his one intact eye. Finally, the mercenary broke the stare, and looked around the chamber. “We’ll need to get ready.”
Talen helped Varo bring the elf over to the side of the room where Allera lay. Dar lingered behind a moment, looking over the scene of carnage. Looking the other way across the room, he could see a massive statue he’d missed before, an obscene form of a goat-headed humanoid carved in black stone. The ruddy light coming from the lava pit seemed to glint off its eyes, making them seem to follow the fighter as he walked across the room. “It just gets better and better,” he said, his expression as dark as the lusterless black walls of the chamber.
Lazybones
Adventurer
An addendum to my earlier reply to monboesen:
I found this recorded in my story notes.
, but otherwise it was a straight by-the-numbers combat. I didn't record all the worm's damage but I think the story captures the general idea of how its attacks played out. I played the worm a bit stupid by focusing on the summons more, but I figure a) it has Int 1 and b) something that big would have a tough time picking out tiny humanoids when being swarmed by much larger (even huger) vermin. If anything, this encounter shows that Fiendish Huge Centipedes are overpowered.
As for the trolls, I will just say that if they had been LE instead of CE the story would have been over right then and there.
I found this recorded in my story notes.
Yeah, the last hit was totally over the top
, but otherwise it was a straight by-the-numbers combat. I didn't record all the worm's damage but I think the story captures the general idea of how its attacks played out. I played the worm a bit stupid by focusing on the summons more, but I figure a) it has Int 1 and b) something that big would have a tough time picking out tiny humanoids when being swarmed by much larger (even huger) vermin. If anything, this encounter shows that Fiendish Huge Centipedes are overpowered. As for the trolls, I will just say that if they had been LE instead of CE the story would have been over right then and there.
Richard Rawen
First Post
And I will just say that this story kicks ass and add that in my 20+ years as a DM I have Always fudged rules in favor of story.
One never knows what forces are at work in the background... one case easily springs to mind in which I had to cover my own miscalculation (a random encounter that decimated the PC's) by having them discovered by beneficial npc's.
Npc's that had never existed in my campaign and, more importantly, were never even a thought to me before my own goof made them a necessity.
Those npc's became an ongoing part of my campaign that added much richness and flavor to the campaign because the pc's took an active interest in them.
One never knows what forces are at work in the background... one case easily springs to mind in which I had to cover my own miscalculation (a random encounter that decimated the PC's) by having them discovered by beneficial npc's.
Npc's that had never existed in my campaign and, more importantly, were never even a thought to me before my own goof made them a necessity.
Those npc's became an ongoing part of my campaign that added much richness and flavor to the campaign because the pc's took an active interest in them.
That bit about Dar nailing the evil floating cleric in the forehead with the throwing axe made me think instantly of Jack Burton in Big Trouble in Little China. Kill the bad guy, go back to whatever it was he was doing before. His friend making the flippant comment "Nice shot". Laughed pretty hard over that one.
Lazybones
Adventurer
Another note RE story feedback: I was still thinking about monboesen's comments today, and I went back and reread an upcoming sequence based on some of the things he had posted. After running some numbers, I decided to back and completely rewrite the chapter. I think it's a lot stronger, now.
So feel free to continue the constructive criticism. While I'm not going to go back and revise sections I've already posted, I am continuing to make small tweaks in the upcoming story as we go along.
* * * * *
Chapter 60
THE EMISSARY RETURNS
Severus, priest of Orcus, was in a foul mood.
The acolytes that formed a string behind him knew better than to prompt him for any purpose not immediately essential. Any who served with Severus knew better than to test his temper. An odd choice for an emissary, it seemed, but Severus was also smart, and he had immediately discerned the true purpose of Zehn in sending him on this errand.
Somehow, he’d managed to become a threat in the eyes of his superior. Severus was not as powerful with the might of the True God, but nor was he weak enough to be casually crushed. This mission was elegant in its simplicity; send him to an overwhelmingly powerful being with a known hostility for the priests of Orcus; problem solved.
The embassy hadn’t gotten off to a good start. He’d made a cursory search for the missing orc clerics, but hadn’t found anything near the Oracle’s chamber save for some old bloodstains that could have belonged to anything. That had only delayed the meeting with Scramge, whose lair was not far away from the resting place of the Oracle. The creature greeted them in surroundings that might have been considered welcoming; Severus recognized it as a mock-up of Thanatos, the Abyssal home of his patron. The acolytes had been suitably cowed, but Severus, familiar with Scramge’s potent powers of illusion, had merely waited for the rakshasha to respond to his initial offer.
He wasn’t surprised when the creature had demurred at Zehn’s request for an alliance, but he was surprised to be offered a gift, a token for his master. The fist-sized green gem had shone with a faint inner light, and it radiated a powerful magic. There was something else, too, an odd aura that Severus hadn’t quite been able to identify. He didn’t spend much time mucking around with it; if it was a trap of some sort, which was likely given its source, then better for Zehn to trigger it.
Meeting with Scramge had taken longer than he’d expected, and they’d been delayed further when they’d all but collided into a party of goblin scouts as they were departing the rakshasha’s realm. The two groups had never been on pleasant terms, and Severus’s limited diplomatic talents hadn’t been able to keep the situation from devolving into violence. The priests of Orcus, augmented by the power of their patron, were victorious, but they left two of their own lying dead on the ground, along with three of the elusive goblins. Severus had killed two of the dirty little creatures, but their vicious and effective sneak attacks had left almost all of his party injured. He was tempted to leave the mewling brats behind and continue alone, but he was not that much of a fool. So he wasted more time treating their wounds, and recovering enough for the small company to continue.
The guards watching the entry to the fourth level of the dungeon regarded them with raised eyebrows at their battered condition, but they were also smart enough not to badger Severus with questions. Severus noted that the guards were the same that had warded the exit on his way down here, and wondered if they had done something to earn Zehn’s ire. That might be useful, he thought, noting the pair’s names in his mind.
The priest led his depleted force back through the secret ways to the temple, considering the different paths that his debriefing with Zehn might lead upon.
The familiar stench of blood and death alerted him well before they found the bodies.
The guards had been cleanly and efficiently slain. Creeping forward, he hooked the half-open door with his morningstar, and slowly drew it fully open.
The odor was ten times stronger. From his vantage, he could only see a pair of bodies ahead, but he could almost taste the destruction here, and knew that the sleeping quarters was full of them.
The acolytes were watching him, their weapons out and ready. A few had already called upon the power of the True God; foolish, given that they didn’t know where their foes were, or how many there might be.
“Go back and fetch the guards,” he told one. He considered retreating back to the third level to seek out the ghouls they’d passed on the way back up, but the creatures had already been altogether too eager in their manner as they’d watched the small column of priests pass with fresh wounds, smelling of blood, and he doubted his ability to control them. If they came upon this carnage, their lust for warm flesh might overcome the natural authority that his robe and his power granted him in the eyes of the undead.
A soft clatter announced the arrival of the reinforcements. That gave him five in all, under his command. None of them warriors, but all could at least channel the raw power of Death that was the domain of the True God. They were young and foolish, for the most part, but they were committed, ready to die at his command, and that was all he needed, right now.
He gestured for them to follow him with a nod. He went slowly, reluctant to betray their presence with the slightest sound. They could not be utterly quiet, not in their armor, but the soft swishing of their mail coats was barely louder than the skittering of a dire rat as they entered the room.
Severus’s initial senses had proven correct; the chamber contained the hacked and broken bodies of almost a half-score of his brethren. The ground shifted slightly; thousands of gold piece-sized beetles were swarming over the bodies, devouring them. Severus nodded; it was the way of Death. One of the acolytes heaved into a corner; the senior priest frowned and waited for the youth to recover his wits. He made a mental note that the acolyte would have to be disciplined later; one who followed the True God should not be discomfited so in the simple face of Death.
Once the abashed acolyte had recovered, the small party made its way into the entry corridor to the temple. The huge doors were partially opened, and Severus could sense that the entry wards had been triggered.
Severus halted long enough to call upon the protection of the True God. Behind him, he could hear the others doing the same, in muted voices.
The dark cleric unlimbered his unholy morningstar, and stepped forward.
The violence here exceeded even the carnage in the priests’ quarters down the hall. Bodies in black robes were sprawled in a wide zone radiating out from the doors; it looked as though the defenders had met the invading force here. Limbs jutted out from bodies at unnatural angles; many of the dead looked to have had bones viciously broken. The slaughter looked to be complete; Severus counted the dead and came up with both the entirety of Zehn’s garrison, and the reinforcements sent by Gudmund. But there was no sign of the High Priest.
Without speaking, he indicated to his acolytes to spread out and investigate. He didn’t expect to find any of the temple’s defenders still alive, but it was possible that one of them might be clinging to life, and able to give an accounting of what had happened.
He caught the flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye, too late to warn his men of the archer who rose to a crouch up on the high platform, an arrow already drawn to his cheek.
An acolyte cried out as the arrow buried itself to the feathers in his shoulder. The archer was already reloading, but before he could get another shaft away, Severus reached out with his mind, drawing upon the power of the True God to hold the enemy. The warrior froze as the spell took hold. Severus looked around carefully to see if there were any other attackers, but the temple seemed deserted save for them.
“I want him alive,” the priest said, gesturing for three acolytes to move up to take custody of the archer. Another tended to his injured companion, who grimaced as he held onto his bleeding shoulder.
“This will have to be cut away,” the acolyte said.
“Do it,” Severus said, his back to the acolytes as he scanned the room. There was something here, something not right. It tickled at the edge of his senses, indefinable. His gaze was drawn to the massive statue of Orcus on the far side of the room. There was a presence there...
With his attention focused there, he didn’t see one of the robed bodies stir and rise quietly to his feet. The acolyte tending the wounded man heard something and turned around, only to take a two-handed strike from a heavy club to his face. The man fell to the ground, the front of his face now a concave bowl.
The wounded acolyte barely got his mouth open to yell before the attacker’s backswing caught him on the bottom of his chin. The follow-up wasn’t as strong as the initial attack, but it was more than enough as the impact sent shards of bone exploding through the acolyte’s brain.
Severus spun to face the deadly killer, his morningstar raised to strike or defend. The foe was a muscled man with weathered skin and deadly eyes. He looked to be injured, but that had not stopped him from killing two of his men in as many seconds.
“Looks like it’s just you and me, chuckles,” the man said.
“So be it,” Severus replied. The two came at each other. Severus went immediately for a death touch, taking a jarring blow to his side that crushed ribs even through armor. But he got inside the warrior’s reach, and shot out his left hand, seizing the man’s throat.
“The True God demands your death,” Severus hissed, his breath rattling a little from the effects of the hit he’d taken.
The warrior tensed as the dark power of the death touch stabbed deep through him. Severus could feel his very life quivering like a vibrating cord. His mouth twisted into a feral grin, but then it faded as the fighter snarled and tore free.
“Tell him to get in freaking line,” the man snarled. Severus lifted his morningstar, but the warrior was faster, swinging his club around in a low arc. It hit the cleric in his hip hard enough for both of them to hear the crack of bone. Severus went down, an agonizing pain expoding through his body.
The acolytes had just started up the steps, moving up two of the staircases, when the enemy had struck in their rear. Without spoken conclave, two turned to help their leader, while the last rushed up to finish off the incapacitated enemy atop the platform.
That last one made it halfway up before it caught sight of a dark figure emerging from behind the statue of Orcus on the far side of the room. It pointed at the acolyte, and spoke a single word of command.
“Fall,” he said.
The acolyte screamed as the word echoed in his consciousness, overcoming his strength of will. He could see his foot slipping, but could do nothing to stop it as he toppled over, and plummeted down into the lava pit below.
The fighter stood over the dying cleric as the two acolytes rushed back toward him. The two shared a look and spread out to flank the warrior, who calmly awaited them. He used the time to drop the head of his club onto the back of the fallen cleric’s neck, snapping his spine and ending his struggles at once. He took up the weapon again as the two priests came at him from both sides with their maces. He dodged the first wild swing, taking a glancing blow across the shoulders from the second. Grunting from the force of the impact, he unleashed his own assault, spinning the club first forward, then back along the same arc. Each time the club crunched into bodies, and when the assault was finished, no enemies were left standing.
Once again, quiet returned to the temple.
So feel free to continue the constructive criticism. While I'm not going to go back and revise sections I've already posted, I am continuing to make small tweaks in the upcoming story as we go along.
I have learned to have contingencies in my Neverwinter Nights campaigns for exactly this reason. It's much harder to fudge on the fly in NWN, since the combats are resolves so quickly, but I've often made the mistake of hitting the PCs too hard, especially at the higher levels where luck plays such a large factor. I have had many excellent sessions that have come out of players getting TPKed by the BBEG that they were supposed to defeat. I just have to make sure I have a prison set up somewhere, and a reason ready to go for why the bad guy might want to capture, rather than kill, the player characters. It doesn't always work (I still have had a few TPKs that resulted in complete rerolls), but sometimes it can take a campaign in a totally new direction.Richard Rawen said:
* * * * *
Chapter 60
THE EMISSARY RETURNS
Severus, priest of Orcus, was in a foul mood.
The acolytes that formed a string behind him knew better than to prompt him for any purpose not immediately essential. Any who served with Severus knew better than to test his temper. An odd choice for an emissary, it seemed, but Severus was also smart, and he had immediately discerned the true purpose of Zehn in sending him on this errand.
Somehow, he’d managed to become a threat in the eyes of his superior. Severus was not as powerful with the might of the True God, but nor was he weak enough to be casually crushed. This mission was elegant in its simplicity; send him to an overwhelmingly powerful being with a known hostility for the priests of Orcus; problem solved.
The embassy hadn’t gotten off to a good start. He’d made a cursory search for the missing orc clerics, but hadn’t found anything near the Oracle’s chamber save for some old bloodstains that could have belonged to anything. That had only delayed the meeting with Scramge, whose lair was not far away from the resting place of the Oracle. The creature greeted them in surroundings that might have been considered welcoming; Severus recognized it as a mock-up of Thanatos, the Abyssal home of his patron. The acolytes had been suitably cowed, but Severus, familiar with Scramge’s potent powers of illusion, had merely waited for the rakshasha to respond to his initial offer.
He wasn’t surprised when the creature had demurred at Zehn’s request for an alliance, but he was surprised to be offered a gift, a token for his master. The fist-sized green gem had shone with a faint inner light, and it radiated a powerful magic. There was something else, too, an odd aura that Severus hadn’t quite been able to identify. He didn’t spend much time mucking around with it; if it was a trap of some sort, which was likely given its source, then better for Zehn to trigger it.
Meeting with Scramge had taken longer than he’d expected, and they’d been delayed further when they’d all but collided into a party of goblin scouts as they were departing the rakshasha’s realm. The two groups had never been on pleasant terms, and Severus’s limited diplomatic talents hadn’t been able to keep the situation from devolving into violence. The priests of Orcus, augmented by the power of their patron, were victorious, but they left two of their own lying dead on the ground, along with three of the elusive goblins. Severus had killed two of the dirty little creatures, but their vicious and effective sneak attacks had left almost all of his party injured. He was tempted to leave the mewling brats behind and continue alone, but he was not that much of a fool. So he wasted more time treating their wounds, and recovering enough for the small company to continue.
The guards watching the entry to the fourth level of the dungeon regarded them with raised eyebrows at their battered condition, but they were also smart enough not to badger Severus with questions. Severus noted that the guards were the same that had warded the exit on his way down here, and wondered if they had done something to earn Zehn’s ire. That might be useful, he thought, noting the pair’s names in his mind.
The priest led his depleted force back through the secret ways to the temple, considering the different paths that his debriefing with Zehn might lead upon.
The familiar stench of blood and death alerted him well before they found the bodies.
The guards had been cleanly and efficiently slain. Creeping forward, he hooked the half-open door with his morningstar, and slowly drew it fully open.
The odor was ten times stronger. From his vantage, he could only see a pair of bodies ahead, but he could almost taste the destruction here, and knew that the sleeping quarters was full of them.
The acolytes were watching him, their weapons out and ready. A few had already called upon the power of the True God; foolish, given that they didn’t know where their foes were, or how many there might be.
“Go back and fetch the guards,” he told one. He considered retreating back to the third level to seek out the ghouls they’d passed on the way back up, but the creatures had already been altogether too eager in their manner as they’d watched the small column of priests pass with fresh wounds, smelling of blood, and he doubted his ability to control them. If they came upon this carnage, their lust for warm flesh might overcome the natural authority that his robe and his power granted him in the eyes of the undead.
A soft clatter announced the arrival of the reinforcements. That gave him five in all, under his command. None of them warriors, but all could at least channel the raw power of Death that was the domain of the True God. They were young and foolish, for the most part, but they were committed, ready to die at his command, and that was all he needed, right now.
He gestured for them to follow him with a nod. He went slowly, reluctant to betray their presence with the slightest sound. They could not be utterly quiet, not in their armor, but the soft swishing of their mail coats was barely louder than the skittering of a dire rat as they entered the room.
Severus’s initial senses had proven correct; the chamber contained the hacked and broken bodies of almost a half-score of his brethren. The ground shifted slightly; thousands of gold piece-sized beetles were swarming over the bodies, devouring them. Severus nodded; it was the way of Death. One of the acolytes heaved into a corner; the senior priest frowned and waited for the youth to recover his wits. He made a mental note that the acolyte would have to be disciplined later; one who followed the True God should not be discomfited so in the simple face of Death.
Once the abashed acolyte had recovered, the small party made its way into the entry corridor to the temple. The huge doors were partially opened, and Severus could sense that the entry wards had been triggered.
Severus halted long enough to call upon the protection of the True God. Behind him, he could hear the others doing the same, in muted voices.
The dark cleric unlimbered his unholy morningstar, and stepped forward.
The violence here exceeded even the carnage in the priests’ quarters down the hall. Bodies in black robes were sprawled in a wide zone radiating out from the doors; it looked as though the defenders had met the invading force here. Limbs jutted out from bodies at unnatural angles; many of the dead looked to have had bones viciously broken. The slaughter looked to be complete; Severus counted the dead and came up with both the entirety of Zehn’s garrison, and the reinforcements sent by Gudmund. But there was no sign of the High Priest.
Without speaking, he indicated to his acolytes to spread out and investigate. He didn’t expect to find any of the temple’s defenders still alive, but it was possible that one of them might be clinging to life, and able to give an accounting of what had happened.
He caught the flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye, too late to warn his men of the archer who rose to a crouch up on the high platform, an arrow already drawn to his cheek.
An acolyte cried out as the arrow buried itself to the feathers in his shoulder. The archer was already reloading, but before he could get another shaft away, Severus reached out with his mind, drawing upon the power of the True God to hold the enemy. The warrior froze as the spell took hold. Severus looked around carefully to see if there were any other attackers, but the temple seemed deserted save for them.
“I want him alive,” the priest said, gesturing for three acolytes to move up to take custody of the archer. Another tended to his injured companion, who grimaced as he held onto his bleeding shoulder.
“This will have to be cut away,” the acolyte said.
“Do it,” Severus said, his back to the acolytes as he scanned the room. There was something here, something not right. It tickled at the edge of his senses, indefinable. His gaze was drawn to the massive statue of Orcus on the far side of the room. There was a presence there...
With his attention focused there, he didn’t see one of the robed bodies stir and rise quietly to his feet. The acolyte tending the wounded man heard something and turned around, only to take a two-handed strike from a heavy club to his face. The man fell to the ground, the front of his face now a concave bowl.
The wounded acolyte barely got his mouth open to yell before the attacker’s backswing caught him on the bottom of his chin. The follow-up wasn’t as strong as the initial attack, but it was more than enough as the impact sent shards of bone exploding through the acolyte’s brain.
Severus spun to face the deadly killer, his morningstar raised to strike or defend. The foe was a muscled man with weathered skin and deadly eyes. He looked to be injured, but that had not stopped him from killing two of his men in as many seconds.
“Looks like it’s just you and me, chuckles,” the man said.
“So be it,” Severus replied. The two came at each other. Severus went immediately for a death touch, taking a jarring blow to his side that crushed ribs even through armor. But he got inside the warrior’s reach, and shot out his left hand, seizing the man’s throat.
“The True God demands your death,” Severus hissed, his breath rattling a little from the effects of the hit he’d taken.
The warrior tensed as the dark power of the death touch stabbed deep through him. Severus could feel his very life quivering like a vibrating cord. His mouth twisted into a feral grin, but then it faded as the fighter snarled and tore free.
“Tell him to get in freaking line,” the man snarled. Severus lifted his morningstar, but the warrior was faster, swinging his club around in a low arc. It hit the cleric in his hip hard enough for both of them to hear the crack of bone. Severus went down, an agonizing pain expoding through his body.
The acolytes had just started up the steps, moving up two of the staircases, when the enemy had struck in their rear. Without spoken conclave, two turned to help their leader, while the last rushed up to finish off the incapacitated enemy atop the platform.
That last one made it halfway up before it caught sight of a dark figure emerging from behind the statue of Orcus on the far side of the room. It pointed at the acolyte, and spoke a single word of command.
“Fall,” he said.
The acolyte screamed as the word echoed in his consciousness, overcoming his strength of will. He could see his foot slipping, but could do nothing to stop it as he toppled over, and plummeted down into the lava pit below.
The fighter stood over the dying cleric as the two acolytes rushed back toward him. The two shared a look and spread out to flank the warrior, who calmly awaited them. He used the time to drop the head of his club onto the back of the fallen cleric’s neck, snapping his spine and ending his struggles at once. He took up the weapon again as the two priests came at him from both sides with their maces. He dodged the first wild swing, taking a glancing blow across the shoulders from the second. Grunting from the force of the impact, he unleashed his own assault, spinning the club first forward, then back along the same arc. Each time the club crunched into bodies, and when the assault was finished, no enemies were left standing.
Once again, quiet returned to the temple.
Nightbreeze
First Post
Wow
Started yesterday, finished now.
Amazing
Started yesterday, finished now.
Amazing
rathlighthands
First Post
I am loving it
Still here, and I still think it is going great. Keep it coming man.
Still here, and I still think it is going great. Keep it coming man.
Neverwinter Knight
First Post
Cool stuff, Lazybones. It's good to see that the group has adapted well enough to the terrors of the dungeon. I especially love the "Tell him to get in line!" comment from Dar!
In our opinion it would have cheapened our big victories (i.e. close calls), although you have to accept the deaths of chacters of TPKs (even if you have grown attached to them).
Wether this is wise thing to do always depends on the DM and the PCs and the extent of the rule fudging. In my groups we had the understanding to never adjust the rules or die rolls for the story's sake, except when we decided the rule itself needed adjusting (but then it generally changed and for everyone).Richard Rawen said:
In our opinion it would have cheapened our big victories (i.e. close calls), although you have to accept the deaths of chacters of TPKs (even if you have grown attached to them).
