The Doomed Bastards: Reckoning (story complete)

[Burningspear]

Bleh, a goody Varo? yuck...

thats not the cool Varo we want/ need/ adore , its a clone

 

[Fimmtiu]

No, I think this has been coming for a pretty long time.

 

[Lazybones]

Chapter 365

RUNNING OUT OF TIME


Letellia’s first realization of awareness came with a zombie clawing at her skull.

The sorceress, still dazed, screamed as the undead monster’s filthy claws dug bloody channels in the flesh of her scalp. Her stoneskin had faded, leaving her defenseless save for the meager benefits provided by the magical augments she wore about her person. She tried to pull away, but the zombie had gotten a grip on her hair, and she felt a harsh pain as it ripped a swath of it out from the roots; enough to hurt, but not enough to leave her free.

Something crashed hard into her back, a few inches to the left of her spine. Another enemy, although she could not currently turn to confirm her suspicion.

Instinct flared, along with something else deep within, and power flowed through her body as she lunged up with both hands and thrust them into the rotted gut of the zombie. Blasts of sonic energy tore through the creature, and it all but came apart around her, collapsing in a spray of decayed flesh. She rolled over onto her back and saw the second zombie reaching for her; another blast caught it in the face, which disintegrated under the force of her spell.

Breathing heavily, Letellia spared only a second or two to collect herself before she was able to drag herself up into a crouch. Looking around, she saw that the situation had devolved quickly from bad to worse. Allera and Dar were down, and while Letellia could not discern any noticeable wounds on the healer, the huge open cleft in the fighter’s chest told the story of his fate in an instant. Varo... yes, somehow it was Varo, enlarged and transformed by some mysterious power, was battling Orcus, the two exchanging violent blows with magical swords of golden light and blackest darkness.

Letellia had lifted her hand to intervene when she realized two things.

The first was that nothing she could throw would have any chance whatsoever of harming Orcus.

The second was that she had unleashed sonically-substituted scorching rays at the zombies.

That ability to alter the energy properties of spells was one that she had never possessed, until now.

Somewhat stunned, Letellia could only watch as the cleric and the Demon Prince met in another series of violent clashes. Both were hurting each other, that much was instantly evident, but she could not tell who was winning. There was so much happening here that she did not understand...

There was one way to find out more, but it carried a significant risk.

Swallowing back her fear, Letellia opened up her mind, and invoked the power of arcane sight.

The flood of sensation almost overwhelmed her in the first instant; even with her eyes closed it followed her into her mind, battering at her awareness like a warhammer. She cried, or screamed, or maybe just sat there insensate; she was no longer conscious of what her body was doing, as she struggled against the fist clenching down upon her mind.

But then a familiar presence whispered into her thoughts, overlapping the chaos surging in from without. It was the same presence that had been with her ever since the death of her parents, steadying her, helping her both to understand and control her gift, and to come to grips with her place in the world. It wasn’t the same as when her uncle had placed his consciousness within her body, using the transposition; the Web was damaged, and Honoratius had made no effort to contact them since the disruption of their connection in the illithid ambush that had claimed the lives of several of their companions. She had thought him dead... and yet that subtle sensation felt so... real, as if he was standing over her shoulder once more, providing direction, support, and... love.

The young sorceress opened her eyes.

She was accustomed to the distorting effects of arcane sight, but nothing could have prepared her for what she saw now.

The entire chamber was alive with auras, all of the forms of magic that she knew interwoven with strange, unidentifiable threads of power that seemed to flow and connect in a dizzying and unpredictable array. She perceived the barriers that had limited their magic earlier, recognized something of the nature of this place, rooted in the Will of its master. Many of her spells would not function at all here, and those that would work could not realistically hinder the Demon.

Her gaze was drawn to Orcus, and as her spell pulled away the veil surrounding the ancient fiend she gained some true understanding of its power. It commanded epic magic, that much was instantly obvious. She saw the wounds caused by Varo’s burning sword as bright gashes in the dark aura around it. With her enhanced perceptions, she could see that it was drinking in a source of power from somewhere outside itself, healing itself, replacing the energy hacked away in the confrontation with its foe.

Her eyes were watering, and it felt like knives were stabbing into her head, but she continued her viewing, honing her concentration like a blade as she sought out the source of the power bolstering the Demon. She was only dimly aware of the course of the battle, of Orcus turning away, luring his foe in so that it could strike hard with the deadly poisoned barb of its tail. Her attention was on the tendrils of black energy that connected Orcus to the huge thone of bones; she followed that trace from the Demon to the chair, and sucked in a breath as she realized the nature of that unholy construct, and the true source of the creature’s stolen power.

Varo was stabbed by the Demon’s barb, and a moment later suffered the crushing blow to his head that knocked him sprawling to the ground. Orcus, exultant, stepped forward.

And Letellia, summoning every last bit of power she had, disintegrated the throne.

 

[Vurt]

And Letellia, summoning every last bit of power she had, disintegrated the throne.

You know, I have players who would have done this first thing, if only to see Orcus plop down on his ass.

Great story, Lazybones! I can't wait to see how this turns out.

 

[wolff96]

And Letellia, summoning every last bit of power she had, disintegrated the throne.

You know, I have players who would have done this first thing, if only to see Orcus plop down on his ass.

You and me both, Vurt.

And I have to say I'm shocked and amazed, Lazybones... Did an arcanist just do something useful and tactically sound? Without dying? Holy crap! Are you feeling okay??

 

[thelettuceman]

You and me both, Vurt.

And I have to say I'm shocked and amazed, Lazybones... Did an arcanist just do something useful and tactically sound? Without dying? Holy crap! Are you feeling okay??

Heh, there's always tomorrow.

 

[Lazybones]

Heh, there's always tomorrow.

Or today, even.

* * * * *

Chapter 366

BACKLASH


There was a surge of power, accompanied by a dull roar that sounded everywhere at once, then faded without any lingering echo. Bones flared green and vanished as Letellia’s spell carved a huge empty gap through the center of Orcus’s throne. What was left was little more than a shell, fragments of interlaced bones that fell outward and came apart as they hit the floor. There were other things within the throne as well, a collection of items that were briefly visible before they fell into the clatter of broken bones.

The impact of the throne’s destruction was instantly visible, as the black aura surrounding Orcus dissolved, and the Demon staggered to the side, caught off guard by the unexpected attack. It turned and snarled at Letellia, and uttered a word of power. A globe of black energy materialized in the air in front of it, blasting out toward the sorceress before she could effectively react. She lifted her arms and tried to summon her magic, but Orcus’s sphere smashed through her defenses and caught her up, hurling her roughly across the chamber to smash into the far wall a good sixty feet away. Bones embedded in the wall were crushed by the force of the impact, and then she fell hard, limp, onto the floor below.

A flare of golden light drew the Demon’s attention back around, but Varo was already on his feet, retreating out of the long reach of the black sword. He’d yanked off his ruined helmet, revealing a long and ugly gash across his forehead that oozed blood. The golden sword still blazed in his right hand, but his left arm still hung limp at his side. Orcus’s eyes narrowed as they followed the human priest’s withdrawal.

YOUR POWERS ARE WEAKENING, the Demon rumbled.

Varo grimaced, but the expression turned into a slight smile as he looked up at his foe. “So are yours, demon.”

Varo’s retreat had carried him about twenty-five feet away; thus far the Demon had made no effort to pursue. YOU CANNOT ESCAPE THIS PLACE, HUMAN, AND YOU CANNOT HOLD THAT MUCH POWER FOR LONG.

Varo’s smile deepened. “I have no intention of escaping.” He came to a stop, maybe thirty feet from Orcus, and straightened. The golden glow surrounding him had grown stronger, and he cast a spell, fortifying himself further. Within his aura he still looked pale, diminished by the violent beating he’d taken and the virulent poison from Orcus’s sting. But his expression was sere, the calm underlaid by a purity of determination. Licinius Varo felt no doubt, even as his deadly foe came forward once more.

Orcus approached the augmented cleric, but it was clear that the Demon, having lost the additional power channeled through its throne, was being cautious. Orcus summoned another protective ward about itself, but this one was a familiar unholy aura, and not the raging black death-cloak of epic power that had surrounded it before. Its wounds had closed, leaving ugly scars crossing its torso, but its right hand remained useless, and its approach was deliberate now, the floor trembling with each step it took.

Varo waited for him, and as the Demon loomed over him again he raised the glowing sword with both hands. The blazing energy of the weapon flared as Orcus slammed its black blade down into it. The blow should have simply crushed the cleric despite the successful parry, but Varo held his ground, and it was Orcus who ultimately gave way, drawing back and shifting into a follow-up backswing that came in low under Varo’s guard. But the cleric met that stroke as well, countering with a swing that glanced off the Demon’s blade just below the crossguard.

The two resumed their deadly dance, attack and block and counter, and new wounds resulted as the two powerful foes exchanged blows. Varo’s armor, already battered and dented under the protective auric glow that surrounded him, started to come apart under the punishment it was withstanding, and the black sword began to trail droplets of bright red blood as it came away from its impacts. There was no way that an ordinary man could have withstood even one of those hits, and despite the power that filled the cleric, it was quickly becoming obvious that even as a paragon there was only so much abuse that he could take.

But Orcus was showing signs of suffering as well. Bright golden slashes blazed under the unholy aura, and those wounds were no longer healing of their own accord, leaving the demon’s body criss-crossed with ugly, oozing wounds. But none of the attacks had penetrated deep enough to cripple the arch-fiend, and while it had slowed noticeably since its initial assault, its stamina seemed otherwise inexhaustible. If anything, the Demon seemed to draw deeper from some reserve of strength as it roared and unleashed another full attack, a whirlwind of cuts and slashes that drove Varo back violently. It aimed now for the cleric’s unprotected head, and nearly caught him with a sudden backswing that came in under his guard before he could shift his parry. Varo thrust up his left arm and barely turned the blow, his wrist-guard crumpling and coming away along with a long strip of shorn flesh that extended almost down to his elbow. Blood spurted from the nasty wound, but the golden aura brightened around the injured limb, staunching the flow and slowly restoring him.

But Orcus gave him no respite. Now all but fleeing before the demon’s rush, Varo took another hit hard across his body that spun him half around, and then another that smashed down hard into his shoulder, ripping away the already battered plate protecting the joint. It was as if the Demon was content to shear away his protections one step at a time, each blow driving him closer to the inevitable killing strike.

Varo, however, did not remain still to receive that strike, instead giving ground, forcing the Demon to pursue. Orcus tried to herd him toward one of the corners of the room, but Varo refused to be corralled, taking a hit that crushed into his left hip before he slid past the Demon and retreated back toward the center of the room. He caught sight of something moving in the wreckage of the throne of bones, but carefully avoiding betraying his interest, instead spinning to face the Demon as he continued to give ground. The black sword whistled through the air, but it missed him by a clear margin as Orcus turned and followed him. The Demon seemed to have lost interest in parley, and offered no more threats or comments. It left black splatters in its wake, as trails of ichor continued to drain from the wounds in its body. But it looked neither winded nor weakened.

Varo’s course took him back toward the center of the room. Orcus kept pace with him easily, overtaking him without much effort. It almost casually swung the Sword of Kas at his head, forcing him to duck and weave as he gave ground. The two swords met with another loud flare of energies, and once more Varo broke away and fell back, shifting his angle toward the chamber’s exit. Orcus adjusted its course to maintain the pursuit.

Varo’s strategy, to avoid all-out attacks while he regenerated the worst effects of his wounds, was a sound one, especially since Orcus could no longer do the same. But the power he had borrowed was finite, and he could feel it already beginning to ebb, the golden glow around him slowly fading. Orcus had sensed the same thing, he knew, explaining the Demon’s suddenly casual pursuit. He now saw that underneath the violence and passion of his foe lurked a cunning mind, filled with the experience of millennia of war and plotting. The Demon would keep the pressure on until his power was fully expended, not giving him the chance to cast spells or otherwise utilize his abilities for advantage or escape. He’d hurt Orcus earlier, but not enough, and he could not close to strike without giving up his ability to escape, and thus exposing himself to another devastating full attack from his powerful foe.

Another attack swept lazily in, and as he lifted the sword to parry, Orcus shifted and lunged under his guard, crunching the blade hard into the armor under his right arm. The golden aura faltered, and he felt a blaze of white pain as the distended plate crunched, along with the ribs it protected.

He desperately staggered back and tried to recover to avoid the inevitable follow-up, but no attack came. He paused, and looked up to see the Demon looming over him.

In those fiery red eyes, he saw his fate written as clearly as words scribed upon a parchment. Orcus waited, letting him steep in the message.

Varo could feel the power filling him start to drain away, like water in a punctured skin. He tried to hold onto it, but in the end, Orcus had been right; he was but a mortal man. His gaze fell, and the blazing sword flickered in his right hand.

He felt rather than sensed the Demon’s attack. The cleric sprang forward, a wild, chaotic yell brewing up from inside him. Orcus’s swing overextended but came down hard onto his back, narrowly missing his skull. Varo ignored the hit and thrust upward with all his strength, driving the full length of his sword into the Demon’s fat gut. The sword flared and sang with power as it penetrated, and black foulness spurted out over his hands and upper arms, sizzling as it burned at his clothes, gauntlets, and flesh.

Orcus reached down with its ruined hand. It seized the cleric by the throat, yanking him around, tearing his hands from the hilt of the glowing sword, now all but obscured by the fountain of black ichor. Varo struggled but it was clear that his power was fading. The golden aura flickered, dying, and the cleric’s stature was already diminishing as the flood of blessed might he had absorbed through the gate drained away. The magical sword likewise disappeared, leaving the vicious wound to pour out more black gunk upon the floor. Already a pool of it had collected around the Demon’s feet, burning away the stone with angry hisses of smoke as it dissolved the bone matter embedded in the substance.

Orcus brought his other hand down, still clutching the sword, and it crushed it against the other side of Varo’s neck. It lifted the man up into the air, until his face was only a few feet from that of the Demon Prince. Now wholly a man once more, Varo could do nothing, could only dangle there as the fell stare, backed by the full power and horrible majesty of the fiend, bored into him. Black power flared around the Demon’s clawed hands, entering his body, violating him.

But even in that last instant, Varo refused to give in. He withstood that assault upon his consciousness, clinging to the core of what he was.

His gaze drifted to the side, and he smiled.

Orcus turned and glanced down to see a slight human woman standing fifteen feet away, behind it. Letellia looked even more beaten than Varo, her legs sagging under her weight, blood smeared across her face and dripping from the wounds in her torso. One arm hung at an awkward angle, obviously broken. She supported herself with an iron-shod staff of deep red wood, covered in glowing runes of silver and gold that crawled up and down its length.

Realization flared in Orcus’s eyes as it recognized the treasure taken from the wreckage of its throne. Its arm blurred as it dropped Varo and stabbed down with the Sword of Kas to eliminate the threat.

Letellia, however, was ready, and just the smallest fraction faster, as she invoked the power of the staff of the magi, and drove it into the floor, sundering it in a retributive strike.

 

[Cerulean_Wings]

Letellia, however, was ready, and just the smallest fraction faster, as she invoked the power of the staff of the magi, and drove it into the floor, sundering it in a retributive strike.

Ten seconds. That's for how long I had my jaw down after reading those lines.

Sweet Pelor, Lazybones, you just keep turning this already epic fight up a notch. Will the sundering of an artifact be enough to defeat the Demon Lord? Stay tuned for the next update! (sorry, I kinda stole your line there )

By the way, is the throne the source of Orcus' power in the actual module?

 

[shilsen]

No, I don't really have anything else to say.

Just that.

 

[jensun]

The sundering of a Staff of the Magi! This isnt the firday cliffhanger???

What can we expect tonight?