The Doomed Bastards: Reckoning (story complete)

Cerulean_Wings said:
Come to think of it, your first name doesn't suit you; you're anything but "lazy" :p
Well, I can afford to be more lazy in some areas because I am so non-lazy in others. :)

* * * * *

Chapter 21

REVELATIONS


“I don’t know what the hells we’re wasting time here debating,” Corath Dar said, slapping the table with his hand to emphasize his point. “We know who was behind it, we know where they are going, and we know what they want.”

“I respect your passion, general, but thus far there has been no hard evidence that they were anything but very resourceful thieves,” Sukat Koth said.

Dar’s expression was a thunderhead. “They were there for that dagger. You may not know what that means, councilor, but Allera and I were there, and we do.”

The big Emorite leaned forward in his seat. “I defer to your knowledge, general, lady healer, but other things were taken as well. A cache of scrolls, a fortune in emeralds...”

“Among sixty lockboxes left unmolested...”

“For which we are grateful to you, general. Had you not interrupted the thieves in the midst of their heist, they might have cleaned out the vault entirely.”

Dar fumed at the reminder. While it was almost certain that the intruders had been in the vault just minutes before Dar and the others had arrived—Allera had been able to determine that from the condition of the dead guards—there had been no trace of them once they had entered the interior of the vault. They found a small pile of scrolls—old records of the church, of great historical value, but not magical—burning in one corner of the innermost chamber of the vault, but that hadn’t been any real threat to the place, and they stamped out the flames without difficulty. The clerics had scanned for invisible or otherwise hidden traces of the thieves, but they had found nothing, nothing at all.

Allera placed a hand on his, and Dar turned back to the others. “Even if I’m wrong, we cannot take the chance. We need to get to Rappan Athuk, and without freaking delay.”

“I do not disagree with your reasoning, general,” Sukat Koth said. “I want to see these bastards brought to justice as much as you do. But unless you have learned to fly, we can do nothing until the morning.”

Dar turned toward a woman in a gray robe seated to his left across the table. “And you are telling me that there is no one in that freaking Guild of yours who can transport us to Rappan Athuk?”

Jalla Calestin swallowed; for a senior member of the Guild of Sorcery, she seemed rather uncomfortable to be present at this gathering. Barely past thirty, she certainly did not have the presence to stand up to an angry Corath Dar. “That... that is correct, general.”

Dar opened his mouth to speak further, but Koth interrupted him with a raised hand. “We require more information before we act rashly. Jaduran will be here soon, and he can tell us what he has learned.”

Allera moved her hand from Dar’s hand to his shoulder, but instead of sitting down, he turned and walked across the room. The council chamber had no proper windows, only long slits protected with heavy slabs of leaded glass. They didn’t really offer much in the way of a view, but Dar could see the lights of the city faintly through the nearest.

The sun had only set a little over an hour past, and it already looked like it was going to be a long night.

The conversation went on behind him. Kiron Tonneth was saying something about the readiness of the Dragon Knights, but the words buzzed together in Dar’s tired mind. He rubbed his head, but the headache that had been building there refused to yield. Allera would be able to help him later, he knew, but he also knew that his wife was under her own personal strain.

Allera had left Rappan Athuk scarred deeply. She was strong, stronger than anyone he had ever known, stronger than him, certainly, inside where it counted. But while they had been happy in the lives they had built in the aftermath, he could still see the shadow that she carried with her. She had poured her life into rebuilding the corps of healers so needed in the difficult years that had followed their victory over Orcus; it had given her meaning and purpose in life. But while she still commanded an awesome power, he had never seen her draw as deeply upon the healing energies of the world as she had on those final days within the bowels of the Dungeon of Graves.

The fighter turned as the doors opened. Commander Octavius and General Cossus Velius of the First Legion entered first, both men looking very tired. Behind them came the Patriarch, supported on the arm of his young assistant. The cleric was talking quietly to Setarcos, the two aged men walking with heads leaning close together for privacy. The old monk’s younger companion brought up the rear, along with a guard who closed the doors once they were all inside.

The existing conversation evaporated as all eyes focused upon Decius Jaduran. The Patriarch made even Setarcos seem youthful by comparison, and he nodded in thanks to Maricela as she pulled out his chair at the head of the table, and helped him settle into it. The old cleric sighed as he adjusted his robe.

“Well?” Dar finally said, impatient.

Jaduran shifted his head to look at Dar, then turned back to the rest of those gathered at the table. “Commander Octavius.”

The head of Camar’s city watch addressed them. “Word of the theft has been kept quiet. We’ve spoken to everyone who was present at the vault, and the rest of the temple staff that knows about the alarm. As far as the public knows, the memorial ceremony was cut short due to the Patriarch’s weariness.”

“That will not last,” Sukat Koth interjected. “Too many people were there. At best, you are only delaying the inevitable.”

“What about the thieves?” Kiron asked.

Jaduran made a small gesture to Maricela, and the priestess spoke up, saying, “We... ah, I was able to use a speak with the dead spell to ask Naela... questions, about the men who did this. There were two of them, both men, posing as priests. They knew... they knew enough about the temple and its procedures to fool her.”

“What about the guards?” Dar asked. “I would have thought your men would have been more alert.”

Again Jaduran deferred to his assistant. “These men possessed considerable magic,” the priestess said. “The vault has two layers of defense, one magical, and one physical. Both were bypassed by the invaders.”

“Were either of them undead?” Dar asked suddenly. The question raised a stir around the table, but Maricela replied even before Jaduran could prompt her.

“That is... impossible, general. No undead creature could get within fifty yards of the cathedral without triggering multiple alarms and wards, let alone the vaults. No, that cannot be.”

Jaduran nodded in confirmation. “I have contacted the Father, using both divination and commune spells. Talen Karedes and his followers were not involved with this attack.”

“What about Zafir Navev?”

Jaduran shook his head. “Even if the warlock could have transported himself through the wards into the cathedral, the alarms that Maricela mentioned would have discharged the moment he materialized within its walls.”

“So what have you learned, Patriarch?” Sukat Koth asked.

The priest paused a moment, as if gathering strength to speak. “I have confirmed Setarcos’s story. The leader of the cult that his order defeated in Drusia was... involved in the theft.”

Dar weighed him with a hard look. “You know more, priest.”

Jaduran nodded. “You were right, general. The theft of the dagger-key was not incidental. The objective of the cult is Rappan Athuk, and more specifically, the lost well where the Ravager is imprisoned.”

There was a moment of silence. “The ravager? What is that?” Kiron asked.

“You don’t want to know, kid,” Dar said, his jaw clenched.
 

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Lazybones said:
...I'm also starting a new Neverwinter Nights campaign soon that will run on Saturday mornings. If any of you loyal readers are still playing that game, look me up at Neverwinter Connections; I will likely have some open slots.
darnit Darnit DARNIT! :(
I work Sat Morns :(

As to the story, great stuff, really enjoying how the characters are developing, both old and new. Still has enough mystery to keep me intrigued...
the Aegis ? Hmmmm...
 

Chapter 22

DECISIONS


Outside of the old ducal palace, the city of Camar was relatively quiet as the deepening night settled upon the city. Inside the massive stone walls of that complex, however, a buzz of activity persisted despite the late hour. Small parties of armed men rushed about, dodging the servants who moved with no less haste as they attended to various errands. In the armories weapons and armor were being attended to by teams of smiths, while veteran guardsmen carefully checked and rechecked supply packs. Messengers departed on fast horses, heading for locations within the sleeping city, or toward the permanent camp a mile from the city’s walls where the First Legion was headquartered.

In their modest but comfortable suite of rooms in the wing of the palace complex reserved for guests, Corath Dar and Allera Hialar were likewise still awake. Both looked tired, but they had only just returned from the meeting with the leaders of Camar, and there was a lot to be done before they could seek the comfort of sleep.

Dar drew out a heavy leather satchel from their luggage, grunting as he lifted it onto the hutch at the foot of their bed. It clanked with the sound of metal as he laid it down. “I don’t know why I even brought this,” he said. “Instinct, I guess.” He ran his hand over the flap, but paused as his fingers reached the clasp. “I don’t even remember the last time I wore it.”

Allera looked up from where she was going through her own bag of healing supplies. “Six years ago, Harvestide. The hydra.”

Dar nodded. “Yeah, I remember that.” He looked wistful for a moment, but then he snorted and released the satchel, striding back and forth across the room as if he was trying to work off some extra energy. “I guess I’m going to need a new sword. I could go to the armory, I suppose... or maybe Alzoun might have something useful.”

Allera did not respond, but her mouth twisted slightly; she did not like the priest of Dagos, and his new position of relative “respectability” in Camar did little to ameliorate that.

Dar picked up on that without having to look at her. “Yeah, maybe you’re right. But if we’re going after a bunch of freaking cultists, I will need something more than this,” he said, picking up his scabbarded knife from where it rested next to the heavy pack.

“Maricela told me that Jaduran wants to see you in the morning, before you depart. Perhaps he can help with that.”

Dar grunted. “She’s young, very young, that priestess.” At Allera’s raised eyebrow, he grinned and added, “That’s not what I meant. You’re more than enough woman for any man, angel.”

The healer shot him a wry look. “Maricela’s the most powerful priest of the Father currently serving in the capital, save Jaduran himself. As far as I know, she’s the only one other than the Patriarch and myself who are capable of raising the dead, although I wonder about Alzoun.” At Dar’s look of surprise, she continued, “There’s something between her and that knight, Kiron.”

Dar nodded. “Yeah, I picked up on that as well. I’d rather we didn’t have to bring either of them, but Koth and Octavius both agree that the boy’s the best that Darius has. And there isn’t exactly a crop of veterans from the legions or the Watch that are clamoring to go to Rappan Athuk. Most of those who were smart took their pensions after the Demon War and got as far the hell away from Camar as they could.”

Allera put down her bag and came over to him. “We can’t do it alone.”

He took her in his arms. “Yeah, I know. Damn it, angel, when did we get so old?”

She smiled up at him. “It just sort of creeps up on you.” She elbowed him slightly in the gut. “And besides, speak for yourself, old man.”

She started to pull away, but he held her. “Maybe I’ll show you just what this old man can do.”

Her smile deepened, but then she shook her head. “I... I need to spend some time in meditation tonight. I thought I’d go to the grove at Camarellia.”

“In the middle of the night?”

“There is too much dead stone here, too much fear, and anxiety, bred deep into the foundations of this place itself. I need to be in a place where I can feel the energies of the land and the pulse of its lifebeat.”

She pulled away from him again, and this time he let her go. She walked across the room. “I have a feeling that we are going to need every bit of power that I can channel, on this mission,” she said. “I haven’t used... I haven’t drawn as much as I did, since that last time...”

“I know, angel. I understand.”

She took up her cloak. “You should get some sleep...”

He snorted again. “Like hell. You’ll get your privacy, but if you think I’m going to let you out of my sight, then you’ve taken one too many shots to the head over the years.”

She started to protest, but he spoke over her. “Look, these guys are bad news; not only did they have the resources to invade the cathedral and penetrate the vault, but they are planning on breaking into the freaking Well, for gods’ sake. If they think they can take on Amurru...”

Allera shuddered; she had a particularly vivid memory of their last encounter with the ancient lich guardian.

“Anyway, an enemy like that is going to know that you and I are a possible danger to their plans. They have to know that we’ll try to stop them; I wouldn’t put it past them to try to take us out. The very least we can do is not make it too easy for them.”

Allera digested his logic, found no fault with it, and nodded. “All right.”

Dar buckled on his belt, adjusted the hilt of his dagger, and grabbed his own cloak. “Let’s stop by the armory on the way. Let’s see how much sway a retired old general still has in this place.”
 

Chapter 23

IN THE DEEP OF THE NIGHT


The night was absolutely still; not even a hint of breeze or the chirping of a lonely cricket shattered the perfect quiet that surrounded the Temple of the Final Sacrament. In their camp outside, set amidst the wreckage of a once-massive dead tree, the living members of Ghazaran’s company slept fitfully, their dreams given dark substance from their proximity to the corrupt place. Parzad kept watch from a perch atop the bole of the fallen tree, a vague shadow in the nearly perfect darkness. Navev was perhaps somewhere nearby as well, but the mummy was one with the night, and not likely to be found by casual observation.

Within the temple, Ghazaran knelt upon the cold hard stone. The cleric had removed his armor and tunic. The skin of his bare torso was taut like old parchment, and covered with ritual scars that marked his body like the sketched borders of an old, faded map. His lips moved soundlessly, and periodically he would stretch. The movements were not those of a man trying to relieve tired muscles; rather, during those episodes it seemed almost as if he was being pulled by some unseen force, and each time he would return to his previous stance, sucking in air in weary gasps.

His meditations continued for hours; midnight came and went, and then the quiet hours that comprised the darkest, deepest stretch of the night. Still there was no interruption, either from within or without, until suddenly his entire body shuddered, and his eyes burst open, staring into the dark.

He remained kneeling there for several minutes more, his body trembling with effort. Finally, he crawled over to where he had left his gear, and drew out his everburning torch. Careful to shield the light, so that it only cast a tiny flicker of flame from its source, the cleric went to work.

First he took out a small pouch, and used its contents to trace a pattern in the floor, using fine silver dust. The pattern, once complete, formed a summoning circle some seven feet across. He drew upon a small amount of his power to invest potency into the circle, closing it.

That task complete, the cleric began to incant. The spell he cast was similar to the one he had used the day before, when he had called the nycaloth Zuur’ka to his service. But this spell was far more potent, and each syllable built a reserve of energy that grew to the point where it could almost be felt in the air.

Above the circle, a flickering distortion became visible in the air.

And then, without fanfare, it was done. The distortion was gone, replaced by a newcomer that stood within the circle.

The new arrival looked human at first glance, but was a bit too lean, his proportions a bit too... off. He resembled one of the aelfinn, the race that humans called “elves”, but his skin was a dusky gray, and his eyes were vertical slits, with cat-like pupils that shone golden in the faint light from the cleric’s torch.

The elf looked down at the silver perimeter of the summoning circle, and his eyes narrowed dangerously. “You seek into insult me, human?”

Ghazaran rose, with some difficulty, and bowed. “No, Lord Zhunxa. I was merely being cautious.” He stepped forward and smudged the perimeter of the circle with his boot. At once, the elf stepped forward, flexing the muscles of his arms and back.

“In this place, you shall call me Ozmad. Just Ozmad, you understand?”

Ghazaran nodded slightly; he made the gesture seem a grand bow. “As you command, great lord.”

The elf rubbed his arms, as if restoring circulation. “I was beginning to doubt whether your brain would ever be able to grasp the higher mysteries,” he said. “Current status.”

The cleric seemed unaffected by the elf’s harsh comment, and immediately reported, “We are in the Temple of the Final Sacrament, a few leagues from the main entrance to Rappan Athuk. We have recovered the third key. Duke Aerim has been restored to life and has been persuaded to join us, although he is reluctant. Our enemies are aware of our activities, in a broad sense, but no counterattack has materialized as of yet.”

The elf raised one eyebrow at the last statement. “The Camarians are of no concern; their hierarchy is muddled and divided. By the time that they are able to respond, it will be too late.”

Ghazaran nodded but did not offer further comment.

“However, there is need for haste. There are others working against us; an agent of the Eye was approaching my citadel as you initiated your calling.”

“The Eye? Will they be able to follow you here?”

Ozmad looked at the cleric with a desultory expression. “The agents of the Mind’s Eye are far more effective than your feeble human organizations on this Prime. That is why I do not intend to give them the opportunity to intervene. Once we are within the prison, their ability to interrupt our activities becomes almost nil.”

“Very well, lord. It will take a short time to prepare our forces. With your permission...”

The elf waved a hand in dismissal. As the cleric departed, he walked over to the open arch where Aerim had stood pondering the night not so many hours before. However, unlike the resurrected knight, the elf’s expression was one of eager anticipation, his lips twisting into a smile that promised grim things to come.
 



Nightbreeze said:
Uh...what was that...a LeShay?
I'll give you a few hints; Ghazaran's spell was Greater Planar Ally (he just hit 15th level, thus Ozmad's biting comment about his brain capacity), and it wasn't a standard creature, but something from the SRD with a template.

* * * * *

Chapter 24

A NEW SWORD


Dar was slightly out of breath as he approached the top of the stairs. While he was still in pretty good shape, despite the encroaching hand of age upon his frame, he wasn’t used to wearing forty pounds of metal, and it showed.

Still, he nodded in greeting to the clerics in the small nook at the top of the stairs. Maricela was there, looking quite different than she had the other times Dar had seen her. The young priestess was clad in a breastplate of shining mithral sized to her lithe figure, and a flanged mace as big as her arm was slung across her back like a broadsword. Behind her stood two tall, muscled, and probably teenaged young men who flanked a small wooden chair with handles attached to its legs. A torch, probably magical, glowed brightly over the door at the top of the stairs, reflecting bright spots off of Dar’s armor upon the walls.

“His Holiness is expecting you,” Maricela said, pulling open the door and stepping aside to give him room.

Dar entered; the door closed soundlessly behind him.

The private office of the Patriarch of Camar was appointed with functional but good quality furnishings that were a bit subdued; Decius Jaduran lacked the sense of opulence of his predecessor. There was a bit of dust visible on the shelves along the far wall, and there was a slightly stale scent in the air, both testifying to the infrequent use to which the room had been put of late.

Jaduran was standing at one of the windows that offered a spectacular view of Camar, and the curving bay to the east. Down in the city it had still been night, but up here one could see the brightening of the horizon out over the ocean, as dawn crept steadily nearer.

The most powerful cleric of the Shining Father in Camar turned as he entered. “Sorry to make you trudge all the way up here. I wanted to get a look at the dawn. I don’t get up here very often, all those steps, you know.” The cleric made his way over to his desk, and clasped a slender hand to the back of the tall chair there. There was a bundle of the desk, a long wrap of pale leather bound with cords of cloth-of-gold.

“We are nearly ready downstairs,” Dar said.

“Yes. Yes.” The cleric ran his other hand across the surface of his desk. He looked up. “I see you have a new sword.”

Dar shrugged, and the hilt jutting up over his right shoulder jerked a bit. “Octavius had an extra blade in his armory. No fancy spells on it, but sharp enough, I suppose.”

“Perhaps that is all you should ask of a sword. Still, I have spent some time working on... this.” The cleric unbound the cords on the bundle, and unwrapped the leather to reveal a longsword, lying there bare.

Dar could not fully suppress a gasp of surprise.

The pommel, hilt, and crossguard were plain enough, blocky and functional, the hilt wrapped in black leather and elongated to suit a two-handed fighting style. But the blade... the blade was alive, or it seemed to be, glimmering with streams of silver, gold, and blue that traveled up and down its length as the lights of the room played upon its surface. As he looked closer, Dar saw that there were striations within the steel, distinct channels of blue running through bands of lighter and darker steel. It made the weapon look flawed at first glance, but as he stared at it he realized that there was a pattern beneath the surface, a fundamental sense of order that he could somehow feel resounding within his very bones.

He looked down and realized that he’d reached out and touched the blade without conscious thought. He looked up at Jaduran with an astonished expression.

“Yes. There is a part of Valor in it, and some of Beatus Incendia as well. I had the remnants you brought back reforged, along with some... older... materials that we had in the Vault. I thank the Father that I had gotten into the habit of keeping it up here, instead of down in the Vault. I haven’t worked on it for years, but it’s been waiting here. Waiting for you, General Dar.”

“What is its name?”

“It is Sanctus Justicia, the old cleric said. “Or more simply, Justice.”

Dar took up the sword. It felt right, and he could feel the thrum of magical power pass through him.

“Exceptional,” he said.

“Thank you. It had been a good twenty years since I’d enchanted a blade, but I’d like to think that the Father worked through me, on this one.”

“What are its properties?”

“It is axiomatic, as was Valor. But you will also find that Justice does not suffer easily the existence of undead.”

Dar nodded.

The cleric uncinched the belt of white leather that encircled his waist. Dar raised an eyebrow, but the cleric said, “This is a belt of health, which provides a potent boost to one’s constitution. I know that you already have a magical belt, but Allera could...” He trailed off as he removed the belt, and sagged forward against the desk. Dar hurried over to catch him before he fell, but the cleric shooed him away, clutching at the back of his chair for support.

“I... I am all right. I did not realize how much I had come to rely upon it...”

“Maybe you’d better keep it, Patriarch.”

“No. Allera will have greater need of it. It will be her strength that will carry you forward on this mission. Hers... and yours.”

“All right.” Dar accepted the belt, slinging it over his shoulder.

“If you would please get Maricela, let her know that I am ready. We should not keep the others waiting.”
 

Nightbreeze said:
Uh...what was that...a LeShay?

Nah, Leshays are epic, and you can't just summon one, barring a Miracle empowered by a Tear of the Gods. And that one looked evil, and his eyes didn't look like typical Leshay eyes.

So it's something else :s
 

6 month lurker here, delurking to post:
What a great story Lazybones! I really enjoy the places you've taken it and your writing style, which keeps appeals to me as both a gamer and reader. I'm really interested to see what the new characters, Kiron (paladin? or paladin/dragon knight?) and Maricela (standard cleric, but with a cool name?) can do as well as what's in store for them, and I really like the description of Dar's new weapon (lawful undead bane longsword?).
(too many questions in parenthesis? :) if so, sorry). It would be neat to the new guys/sword in the rogue's gallery, though I certainly understand any desire to postpone/decline that idea.
At any rate, great story, and thanks for being a consistant poster! :)
 

Faren said:
6 month lurker here, delurking to post:
What a great story Lazybones! I really enjoy the places you've taken it and your writing style, which keeps appeals to me as both a gamer and reader. I'm really interested to see what the new characters, Kiron (paladin? or paladin/dragon knight?) and Maricela (standard cleric, but with a cool name?) can do as well as what's in store for them, and I really like the description of Dar's new weapon (lawful undead bane longsword?).
(too many questions in parenthesis? :) if so, sorry). It would be neat to the new guys/sword in the rogue's gallery, though I certainly understand any desire to postpone/decline that idea.
At any rate, great story, and thanks for being a consistant poster! :)
Thanks, Faren! I only have partial stat blocks for most of the new heroes/villains, but I'll post at least their outlines in the Rogues' Gallery later this week. Justice is a fairly potent blade: a +4 axiomatic undead bane longsword. If I recall correctly (don't have my notes right in front of me) Kiron is a paladin/fighter/dragon knight; Maricela is a cleric/radiant servant. Both are 10th level.
 

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