The Doomed Bastards: Reckoning (story complete)

[aus_autarch]

EL/CR appropriate encounter? I think NOT!
Now we know your dark secret, Lazybones! We know why you can update your marvellous story hour so often!
None of the gamers within 100 kilometres of your home would allow you to run a game for them - your reputation is too fearsome. TPK'ing is one thing, but you must carry a portable paper shredder to any game you run - no other way are you going to be able to keep up with the flow of expired character record sheets!

 

[SonofaKyuss]

Funny, that....

"Rappan Athuk" and "appropriate EL/CR encounters" are mutually exclusive concepts.

Always have been.

By the 3.0 version of that encounter, there were TWO marilinths, plus Maphistal in action simultaneously, along with several more lower level clerics in addition to the two named ones, AND the incorporeal undead horde....though the Sphere of Souls was in the 2nd temple, not the 3rd (Maphi snatched it in Lazybones story, though....and rightfully so!)

Doomed they always have been, and now that doom is sealed....good stuff.

 

[Lazybones]

None of the gamers within 100 kilometres of your home would allow you to run a game for them - your reputation is too fearsome.

Ah, but that's why I run Neverwinter Nights campaigns... allows me to spread my reach. Although I don't think my players would otherwise disagree with your assessment.

By the 3.0 version of that encounter, there were TWO marilinths, plus Maphistal in action simultaneously, along with several more lower level clerics in addition to the two named ones, AND the incorporeal undead horde....

They're in the 3.5 version of the module as well. I killed off one of the mariliths and most of the flunkies as part of the ritual in Chapter 110. As for Maphistal... well, keep reading.

Book 3 finale tomorrow!

* * * * *

Chapter 208

A TENUOUS THREAD


Shay stirred.

The paralysis that had gripped her muscles began to fade, as a warm glow seeped down her arm from the crystal ring around her finger. Celleen’s ring of freedom of movement counteracted the aftereffects of Maphistal’s dread word of power, and she felt her muscles tingle as her control over them was restored.

Her body still screamed in protest; the wounds she had suffered from Gernaldra had not been healed, and her life essence had taken a pounding in the last days that even magical healing could not fully erase. But those hurts were nothing in comparison to the sick feeling in her gut as she raised her head, slightly, just enough to see the ruined form sprawled next to her on the cold stone floor. Talen’s hand was extended slightly toward her, as if in sick mockery of a greeting. That hand had held her, touched her...

The feelings crashed over her like a wave, threatening to drag her down into oblivion. Part of her wanted to go, to let them carry her away to a place where she could feel them no longer.

But she heard the demon’s words, imprinted on her mind, and as an echo of them, she thought she could hear Talen’s voice.

Don’t give up, my love... it falls to you to save us all...

The scout sprang to her feet, her hand extended as she dove forward. Her fingers closed on cold metal, and then a flood of warmth rushed down her hand, echoed by a sudden surge of flames.

From where he lay, Varo could clearly see the demon looming over him, and behind it the shifting field of color that surrounded the Sphere of Souls. The haze that clouded his mind was beginning to lift, but he still could not act; it was as if his body and mind were disconnected, and the latter was surrounded by a dense, clinging fog. His brain registered Shay leaping to her feet, but by the time he had consciously discerned the significance of that action, the scout had already taken up Beatus Incendia and was charging into the chaos field that emanated from the Sphere.

Varo’s heart began to pound faster, especially when he glanced up and saw the demon shift, turning its head to look back at Shay. Varo tried to force his body to act, tried to summon his magic, but neither was within his power. There was nothing he could have done in any case; he now realized that he’d been wrong about the threat posed by Maphistal. Even if he had saved his banishment, or dispel evil, or one of the other potent spells granted him by Dagos, there was almost no chance that any of them could have harmed this adversary.

They’d been doomed from the start.

So Varo could only watch as Shay disappeared into the roiling chaos, and became just an indistinct point of blazing white light amidst the surrounding waves of color. Somehow she’d shaken off its blasphemy, but he knew it could stun her, or blast her, or summon some other dark power of the Abyss to strike her down.

The demon did nothing.

Shaylara’s senses were overloaded by the swirling mélange of colors that surrounded the Sphere of Souls. She felt emotions battering at her consciousness, and around her everything started to become indistinct as her awareness shattered under the assault. She focused on the Sphere, a point of light in the center of the chaos, but as the solid foundation around her began to break apart, she knew she would never reach it.

She was flying; there was no sensation of gravity, no floor, only the chaos around her. The only thing that still provided an anchor was the blazing sword in her hand, but even that was starting to fade away, become insubstantial like a distant lantern lost in a fog.

Shay screamed, but the sound was lost in the surging chaos. With the last bit of conscious will she could grasp, she swept her hand across, and hurled Beatus Incendia forward, toward that point of light.

A sound startled her through the enfolding chaos, a crash of glass. It was followed by a noise like the breaking of the world, and then blackness.

Varo saw none of this. He could only watch as the scout vanished, and then stare up at the demon, which seemed as paralyzed as he by the changing circumstances. With it turned away, Varo could not see its face clearly, but he saw a subtle shift in its expression, a twist at the edge of its mouth.

A cold feeling washed over him.

He tried to cry out, but his body was still beyond his reach, and he managed only a weak little bleat. The demon heard it and turned back toward him, and now the cleric could see the full magnitude of the truth in its eyes.

And then it all exploded.

The demon partially blocked him from the Sphere, but that offered no shelter from the wave of power that blasted outward. Varo felt his soul, a tenuous thread of life that swayed and danced under that pulse. He looked up at the demon, which had spread its wings and arms wide, a look of exultation on its face. For a split second it was silhouetted against a blazing surge that was both light and darkness and color and nullity all at once. In that instant, what Varo saw was frozen in his memory, burned into his awareness. For it was not the demon Maphistal that stood there, but a different entity, one that had laughed in the shadowy recesses of Varo’s mind ever since he’d first found that dusty tome in a forgotten corner of the church archives decades ago.

Orcus shifted his gaze down, and Varo knew that if the Demon deigned to perceive him, he would be utterly obliterated.

But Varo’s consciousness had already been blasted beyond the strength of most mortals. The last thing he perceived was the demon’s form wavering and dissolving, accompanied by an echo of malevolent laughter. And then the black came, and dragged him down into its welcoming embrace.

 

[Lazybones]

Chapter 209

AFTER


The sky was a dirty gray blanket, the air thick with chill. But for the five humans that emerged from the narrow hillside cave into the weak light of afternoon, the relief was palpable.

There was no conversation with their guides. The goblins cared little for parlay, and they faded back into the darkness.

“Mark this place,” Shay said. “In case we need to return.”

There was no reply to the scout’s comment, but it was quite clear what her companions thought of the implication of her statement.

“The goblins said that the ruin is less than a league to the west,” Dar said. They started in that direction, but the going was slow due to the choking brush that covered the hillsides, and gathered in tangled thickets in the low dells between. Shay moved into the lead.

There was little conversation. Talen remained silent, his eyes shadowed by deep hollows. Varo had been able to resurrect him, after freeing the knight’s life force from the ring that had protected it following his brutal death at the hands of Maphistal. The spell had exhausted Varo’s hidden cache of diamonds, but even if he had possessed more, there was nothing he could have done for Kalend; the thief’s essence had been consumed by the Sphere of Souls upon his death.

Dar and Allera remained in close proximity. The healer had restored Dar’s arm, but no mere spell could fully erase the memory of what they had experienced. They said almost nothing, but Dar was there to provide a supporting hand whenever they essayed a particularly difficult stretch of terrain, and Allera accepted the help freely, her touch lingering a moment after they’d negotiated each such obstacle.

Varo remained alone. He spoke to no one, and no one tried to speak to him. The cleric had a dark, contemplative look frozen on his features.

He had not shared what he had seen, after Shay had destroyed the Sphere of Souls. Dar had asked him, once, after they’d regained consciousness in the dark and empty temple of Orcus, some time later. What had happened? Had they won? Was it over?

For a long minute, Varo had not replied. Finally, he had said, “I do not know.”

Allera had stopped the bleeding from Dar’s severed arm before they had confronted Maphistal, so the fighter had not bled to death while lying insensate on the stone floor of the temple. When they had all finally stirred, they’d had no idea how long they had been unconscious, only that nothing had crept up to disturb them. The only thing left of the Sphere was a few shards of broken glass scattered on the floor around the bare steel length of Beatus Incendia.

They had packed up Talen’s body carefully, placing it in Shay’s bag of holding for transport. Dar had brought Kalend’s body himself, despite the lack of his arm.

With the Sphere gone, they could now see the massive stone statue of Orcus on the far side of the temple, a huge construct of black onyx caked with the blood and gore of old sacrifices. Before it stood a basin that was filled with hot, bubbling blood.

They hadn’t messed with the altar. Varo had merely walked over to it, taken a look, and then returned to the entry where the others had been preparing to depart.

They had each expected to meet resistance on their way out, and Shay had carried Beatus Incendia openly, the holy flames dancing up the length of the blade. But they had not encounted so much as a zombie on their way out, as they retraced their steps through the third temple level, back up to the slave pits, and then up the stairs to Grezneck. They had finally run into something living there, but it had only been a party of goblin scouts, and some fast talking by Shay had averted conflict.

The goblins had permitted them hospitality of a sort, although it was clear that the “alliance” had died with Herzord. The goblin leadership had devolved to a triumvirate of sorts, with one of the surviving hobgoblin fighters, a goblin cleric of Dagos, and their erstwhile companion, Filcher, jointly calling the shots. With goblins being what they were, it was likely that a strong leader would ultimately rise to the top, but for the moment the creatures seemed content to rebuild their shattered society.

After sealing themselves into a room provided by the goblins, the companions had rested and recovered their spells. The next “morning” Varo and Allera had restored Talen and Dar, and healed Shay. They cremated Kalend, and Dar had taken the thief’s ashes with him for burial somewhere where the sun shone and the wind blew.

None of them had wanted to linger a moment longer than was necessary. After meeting with Filcher, they had learned that the goblins had another secret way out of Rappan Athuk, a vertical shaft that connected the deep tunnels near Grezneck with the rough hills above. The goblins had been reluctant to share their secret with outsiders, but Dar and Allera made a potent diplomatic combination, with the healer’s conciliation nicely offsetting the fighter’s casual statements about putting every single living thing in Rappan Athuk to the sword.

The two groups were happy to be finally rid of each other.

So now they found themselves crossing the rough hills near Rappan Athuk once more. The weak light of the day began to weaken with the promise of night, and they hastened their pace, hoping to come upon the army’s camp before night descended on the hills.

“I smell smoke,” Dar said, as they made their way up another rugged slope toward yet another crest.

“We must be getting close,” Shay said. “They should have patrols out...” She trailed off as another smell reached them over the evening breeze, one that was all too familiar to each of them.

“No... no...” Allera said, hastening her pace toward the crest of the hill. The others hurried after.

“Wait, Allera!” Dar warned, but the healer did not stop, and unburdened by the fighter’s heavy armor, she quickly left him behind. Shay, augmented by her magical boots, caught up to her just as she reached the summit, and the two women stopped there, frozen by what they saw.

“What...” Dar began as he reached them, then trailed off as he looked down at the ruins spread out below them.

The site had once been a considerable stronghold. It had not been built on the tallest of the surrounding hills, but the ruin was flanked on three sides by steep cliffs at least fifty feet high, leaving only a rough, steep slope to the west as the only feasible means of access. The only thing left of the ancient structures that had topped the bluff was heaps of tumbled stone that formed the rough outlines of walls around the perimeter, but even that offered considerable benefits for a determined defender.

Not that it had helped the men who had gathered here.

The companions were silent as they made their way down the hill to the base of the bluff, then climbed back up the narrow trail that switchbacked up to the ruin. They started encountering bodies even before they reached the trail, and at least two dozen more littered the path up the bluff. Some of them had been worked over by scavengers, but there was enough left to show that they had been killed by powerful, vicious blows. In some cases, what was left was scattered over a small area, and many of the bodies were... incomplete.

“What... what did this?” Shay asked, pale despite all of the death that she had already seen on this mission.

No one had an answer. Allera continued up the bluff, forcing Shay to hurry to keep up. Dar, bringing up the rear with Talen and Varo due to the weight and bulk of his armor, cursed and followed as quickly as he could.

At the top of the bluff there was a gate of sorts into the camp; the walls had been patched up recently, and what was left of a wooden gate lay scattered about. There were more bodies, another dozen or so. Those whose garments could still be recognized were split roughly equally between the orange and brown of the city The flies and the stench hinted at more among the maze of stone blocks further back.

“Ikarus!” Allera yelled, although there was no indication that anything lived in this place. The stench and other clues suggested that what had happened here had taken place days ago, at least.

“Ikarus!” Allera repeated, clambering over the ruined gate to head deeper into the camp.

The wreckage of bodies grew thicker as the healer delved further past the gate. The clinical part of her mind registered the incredible carnage. She recognized the places where soldiers had sought shelter under the stone blocks of fallen walls, only to have been dug out and torn apart.

“What... what could have done this?” Talen said, looking around.

“Whatever it was, it was big,” Dar said, bending to examine a print in the lee of a nearby wall. The claw-shaped print was almost double the length of Dar’s booted foot.

Shay indicated a fragmentary wall that bore deep gouge marks along its top. “Whatever it was, its claws could score solid granite,” the scout said.

Dar pressed forward, “Allera! Damn it, hold up!”

He found her just ahead, in the doorway of a structure that been at least partially rebuilt. The low walls had been hastily mortared with new stone in places, and there were sockets for support beams in anticipation of a new roof. It looks like the work had only just gotten started when the attack had come. There were shattered planks scattered about, reduced to kindling; clearly they hadn’t been enough to stop the attacker.

Dar looked over Allera’s shoulder and froze.

The last stand had taken place here, it seemed. There were over fifty mangled bodies crowded into the wide open interior of the place. Dar recognized the camp chairs and overturned briefing table scattered around the edges of the room; this had been the headquarters of the base. Blood gathered in thick puddles across the floor, and the air was thick with flies. Dar did not recognize any of the men here, but at least half of them wore the familiar if haphazard non-uniform of the Border Legion. His men.

Allera started forward, but Dar held her arms. “Allera, no.”

“Let go of me,” she said, quietly.

He released her, and she walked into the room, her boots leaving sucking prints in the sodden, bloody ground. She walked over to the far side of the chamber, and crouched beside a ruin of a body. There wasn’t much left to identify, but as she reached down and carefully lifted a bloody fold of cloak, she saw a human hand, severed at the wrist. It was still clutching a wand, and she did not need to pick it up to know its manufacture.

She started to shake. Dar was there, and the fighter took her in his arms, and brought her back to the doorway. The others were there, their eyes wide as they took it in.

“The entire outpost, destroyed,” Shay said. “Six hundred men, just... gone.”

“Surely some of them must have fled,” Talen said.

Allera was turned away from them, staring at nothing. “It hunted them down,” she said, her voice as cold as ice. “It did not stop until they were all gone.”

“I didn’t see Doran Pravos in there, but he would have gone down fighting,” Dar said.

“The question you need to be asking is, where is it now?” Varo said, adding his first words since they’d left Rappan Athuk.

As one, their gazes turned north, toward the line of hills that extended off as far as they could see.

Toward Camar.


THE END OF BOOK 3

 

[Nightbreeze]

Aw, man. You made one of THOSE beasts come out from the well?

 

[Richard Rawen]

Aw, man. You made one of THOSE beasts come out from the well?

Yeah, um, about anything that isn't Orcus is going to be a relief to me.

 

[Drowbane]

Come on.... Book Four!

Great stuff, LB!

 

[Lazybones]

Aw, man. You made one of THOSE beasts come out from the well?

Those who don't have the RAR boxed set (i.e. owners of the original 3 mods) aren't going to know what he's talking about. Those who do have RAR... well, you know that things just got a whole lot more complicated for our dear DBs (as if Mr. O wasn't problem enough!). And the rest of you will learn soon enough.

So let's get Book 4 started...

* * * * *

The “Doomed Bastards” in the Dungeon of Graves
Book 4


Chapter 210

THE RUINS OF HIGHBLUFF


A light rain fell over the town of Highbluff. The citadel of Bastion loomed over the town like a tired old sentinel, a dark shadow in the rain.

Smoke rose up off the town, even with the rain. About half of the structures of the town were burned-out wrecks, and despite the warning signs and the bad weather cloaked townsfolk could occasionally be seen poking through the wreckage, searching for the remains of their lives. They’d gotten most of the bodies out, and a pair of long mass graves had been appended to the cemetery that adjoined the eastern edge of the bluff, a reminder of the devastation that had been wrought here.

Armed men in the livery of the First Legion stood at attention around the perimeter of a smashed building on the northern edge of the town, near the main gate. The place had been a tavern, but now all that was left was a shell, with wooden beams that jutted into the air like broken fingers. Most of the building had collapsed into the cellar, and some of the wreckage had been carted away. Large tarps had been rigged from the remains of the walls, protecting a part of the interior from the constant rain.

Passersby were quickly sent on their way by the soldiers, who kept everyone a good distance from the building. Some of those were the curious, others driven by anger, grief, or fear. Those who failed to stop at a spoken command were confronted by the point of a broadspear. One look at the eyes of the soldiers was enough to turn even the most persistent back, although there were several groups of people that lingered in the doorways and windows of adjacent buildings, talking in low voices.

Tribune Velan Tiros, Knight Commander Talen Karedes, and General Jared Darius of the First Legion stood in what had been the main entry to the tavern, looking down into the pit. They did not speak, but each clearly was grappling with serious thoughts as they stared at the thing that lay dead in the cellar.

Someone came through the ring of guards, irritably flashing the insignia under his cloak when the legionaries tried to block him. He came forward to join the others, looked down at the pit, and then spit a fat gob down into the cellar.

“Ugly bastard,” Dar said.

“Colonel,” Tiros said in greeting. “What is the status of the infirmiry?”

“Allera’s got things in hand,” Dar said. “But there’s more wounded than she can handle, right now. The clerics of the Father are helping, and I think that most of those who survived... this... will pull through, given time.”

“Shaylara is helping with the search for survivors,” Talen said, almost to himself. He hadn’t turned away from the dead thing before them.

“So what the hells is it, exactly?” Dar finally said.

“Archmage Honoratius said that he had never seen a creature of its type before,” Tiros replied.

“Well, at least it bled,” Dar said. “Not undead, then.”

Tiros nodded. “Nor was it a demon, or some other outsider. It just... is.”

“Was,” Dar corrected.

“I thought that it flew in here,” Talen said. “It does not have wings... some sort of magic?”

“It... changes...” Darius said. The general’s voice was tense, and scratched with an edge of tightly wound control.

“The creature is capable of changing its form,” Tiros said in confirmation. “It takes time, but in addition to the form you see here, it has a leaner shape equipped with wings, and another, of a longer, thinner “crawler” form, sort of like a big hairless ferret. In that form it can burrow through solid stone.”

“That’s how it got inside the fortress?”

Tiros nodded. “Fortunately that’s when Honoratius and I arrived; we were able to draw the creature back out of the citadel, and defeat it.”

“Yeah, quite a victory,” Dar said, casting a meaningful glance up and down the ruined street.

“We were fortunate that we were able to defeat it at all,” Tiros said. “It is almost immune to even magical weapons, and it heals rapidly. If the mage hadn’t been here, I don’t think we would have been able to stop it at all.”

“The First lost sixty-seven men,” Darius said. “Causalties among the townsfolk ran into the hundreds.”

“I am sorry that we were not in time to help you fight it,” Talen said quietly.

“From your report, it sounds like you had your own hands full,” Tiros said. “Your sending was enough warning for us to get here in time.”

“Yeah, it was like pulling teeth to get Varo to do even that,” Dar said.

“Where is the cleric?” Tiros asked. “He didn’t return with you?”

“He took his leave of us shortly after we departed Rappan Athuk,” Talen said. “He did not say where he was going, but I got the impression that something was bothering him.”

“Yeah, when is that not true?” Dar muttered. “Bastard’s hiding something, as always.”

“You had said before that you overcame the demon and destroyed the Sphere of Souls,” Tiros said. “You smashed the surviving leaders of the cult of Orcus, and left their last temple in a shambles. I know you paid a heavy cost...”

“It’s not that,” Talen said. “I mean, yes, we lost a lot of good people, but there’s something else.”

“You’re letting Varo get to you,” Dar said. “We got our asses kicked a few times, but we did what we went there to do. That freaking orb is smashed, the big bad got kicked back into whatever gods-damned hole he crawled out of, and you guys even managed to put down this freaking monstrosity down without my help. If you ask me, it’s time for a drink.”

Dar turned and departed, and after a moment, General Darius followed him. Talen and Tiros lingered a moment longer. “Do you think it’s over, old friend?” Tiros finally asked.

Talen looked up at him. He did not respond, but his troubled look said all that needed to be said. He continued to stare down at the massive hulk lying in the wreckage of the cellar, its muscled, crimson flesh shining dully in the weak light of the day.

 

[Nightbreeze]

Ops, sorry. I didn't realize it was somewhat like a spoiler...even if if said very little.

Great work, Lazybones. I'm curious to see if our heroes will get to explore that dungeon...you know, you left several enemies in the higher levels...you jumped them directly on the low-level badasses

Anyway, really great work.

 

[Lazybones]

Chapter 211

MORNING IN CAMAR


The latest storm had passed. Sunlight slanted in through the single window set high in the wall, but it wasn’t powerful enough to remove all of the frost that covered the outside of the pane.

The room was small and comfortable. The fire in the tiny hearth had died during the night, but the fearsome cold of the morning air outside did not make it into the chamber. The furnishings were a bit sparse, with an old armoire next to a small table that supported a few miscellaneous items, including a slightly cracked vase full of winter roses. The room was dominated by the large bed in the center, piled high with blankets.

The mound of coverings shifted, and Dar came into view as he rose, groaning as he stretched out the night’s stiffness from his muscles. He looked around for a moment before he saw Valor hanging in its scabbard from the bedpost, where he’d left it the night before. His fingers brushed the scabbard; the blade shifted slightly.

“Allera?” he called. He started to get up, but paused at the sudden kiss of cold as he’d drawn back the blankets.

She appeared in the doorway. The healer wore a white robe of soft fleece, the fabric gathering at the crook of her elbows. She carried a mug from which wisps of steam rose. Her hair hadn’t grown back fully, but it was long enough now so that it looked merely short, covering the gray scars left from the wounds from her captivity at the hands of the cult of Orcus.

Dar grinned. “That for me?”

She came over to him, and offered him the mug. He took it eagerly, but as he looked into it frowned. “What is this?”

“Herbal tea.”

Dar’s frown deepened, and with a soft laugh the healer took her other hand out from behind her back; it held another mug, this one full of strong coffee.

“Ah, that’s more like it.” The fighter drained half of the scalding liquid in the mug in a few swallows, and let out a pleasant sigh as he faded back into the bed. “You are an angel, woman.”

She smiled, and sipped her own tea as she sat down on the bed next to him. But after a moment, she turned away, looking out at nothing, toward the window.

“Are you all right?”

She nodded, and turned back to him. “I’m sorry. I just...”

He out his coffee down on the small shelf beside the bed, and touched her arm. “I hope you do not regret last night.”

She looked up at him, and smiled. “No. No, not that.”

“Good. Because it was pretty gods-damned overdue, if you ask me.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Because of my debt?”

“You are never going to let me live that down, are you?”

She took his hand in hers.

“I guess I’ve changed a lot,” he finally said.

“We all have.”

“No, this is different, I think.” He glanced at the sword, hanging easily within reach.

“It is just a weapon,” she said. “You are still what you are, Corath Dar. Maybe a little less selfish. A little less coarse. A little less crude, a little less...”

“Ah, enough compliments, I think,” he said, leaning back in the bed. He grimaced slightly and flexed his arm, the new one that Allera had regenerated back for him.

“Still a little stiff?” she asked.

He raised an eyebrow. “Well, now that you mention it, yes.”

She giggled as he reached for her.

She spilled her tea, but by that point, neither of them really cared.