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The Doomed Bastards: Reckoning (story complete)
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<blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 3082114" data-attributes="member: 143"><p>Just got back! Lots of history goodness at the conference; who knows, some of it may even make it into the story. <img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f642.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=":)" title="Smile :)" data-smilie="1"data-shortname=":)" /> </p><p></p><p>* * * * * </p><p></p><p>Chapter 12</p><p></p><p>RATS!</p><p></p><p></p><p>The Doomed Bastards followed the hallway for about a hundred feet, before the worked tunnel gave way to a rougher, uncut corridor tight enough to force them to walk single-file. Dar, rearmed with Tiros’s old longsword and Varo’s heavy shield, took the lead. There were more than a few concerned glances over shoulders, back into the darkness behind them. Each of the four were all too aware that if this corridor reached a dead end, they might find themselves confronting the dung monster again, this time with no hope for escape. </p><p></p><p>But after another sixty feet or so, the corridor opened onto a much larger cavern. This one was several times larger than any of the rooms they had encountered thus far, its far side beyond the range of the feeble light cast by their torches. There was a breeze here, a constant rush of air that made the flames of their brands dance and weave. In addition to the noise of the wind, there was another sound, which Varo identified as made by fast-moving water. </p><p></p><p>“Some sort of underground river, perhaps,” Tiros said, as he warily cast his torch around, trying to get a better view. </p><p></p><p>As he shone the light to the right, it revealed a low wall formed of a mound of stone rubble that blocked the mouth of a passage to the west. A loud squeaking noise came from that direction, and as the globe of light extended out over the barrier, it revealed the shadowy outline of a humanoid figure, which appeared to be swinging a weapon wildly around it. The squeaks intensified, making it pretty clear what the individual was struggling against. </p><p></p><p>“Help me!” came a woman’s voice. “The rats... they’re everywhere!” To punctuate her statement, she let out a sudden cry of pain, and the shadow-figure staggered forward, toward the far edge of the mound. </p><p></p><p>Tiros at once summoned <em>Valor</em>, and rushed forward. Varo and Dar exchanged a look, and followed. Bringing up the rear again was Navev, who looked about nervously, as if expecting an attack at any moment, from any direction. Given their experience in Rappan Athuk thus far, his sentiments did not seem entirely inappropriate. </p><p></p><p>As Tiros came forward—keeping a close eye out for any snares or traps—the light of the torch cast the scene in more detailed relief. The shadowy figure was revealed to be a human woman of savage aspect, her dirty brown hair falling about her face and shoulders in a tangled mess. She was clad in a tattered tunic further marred by rips and dark stains, although the rapier she bore looked functional enough. She was surrounded by a ring of dire rats, over a dozen of them, which pressed in at her, dodging her clumsy swings and nipping at her heels. </p><p></p><p>She looked up and saw Tiros approaching. “Help me!” she urged again, just as a rat leapt onto her leg and latched its teeth onto her garment. The woman let out a shriek and fell back over the far lip of the barrier, falling out of sight. The rats, rather than turn toward the new threat, followed after her. </p><p></p><p>Tiros reached the edge of the mound, and started up, <em>Valor</em> shining brightly with a blue tinge in the reflected light of his torch. Rocks clattered at his steps, but the marshal determinedly made his way forward, his magical sword at the ready. </p><p></p><p>Dar and Varo came up behind him. Dar started after Tiros, but Varo forestalled him with a hand on his shoulder. “It’s a trap,” the cleric said. </p><p></p><p>“You think?” the fighter said, his voice dripping sarcasm.</p><p></p><p>Tiros had reached the top of the rubble heap. He, too, had obviously sensed something wrong, for instead of rushing forward he paused. The squeaking had grown eerily quiet. </p><p></p><p>For a heartbeat, an eerie and utter silence fell over the cavern, save for the quiet rushing of water behind them. </p><p></p><p>Then Tiros cried out and staggered back. An arrow had blossomed from his shoulder, piercing his breastplate. At the same moment, a small object came hurtling down from above, landing atop the rubble heap a few feet from where the marshal stood. As it struck, the thing exploded, releasing a cloud of fine dust that swirled in the air around Tiros, obscuring him momentarily from view. </p><p></p><p>The dust quickly dissipated in the cavern breeze, but its effects were immediately obvious. Tiros, already in distress from the arrow jutting from his shoulder, staggered back, his body wracked by a fit of desperate coughing. The marshal’s movements caused him to lose his footing, and he slipped over the edge of the wall, landing hard on his back to slide down to where Varo and Dar had fallen back, wary of whatever toxin was in the packet of dust. <em>Valor</em> likewise clattered down the stone heap, coming to a rest a few feet away. The marshal’s torch remained near the top of the mound where it had fallen, its flame guttering weakly. </p><p></p><p>The squeaking return, redoubled now in intensity—and growing rapidly closer. </p><p></p><p>“Damn it, I hate it when I’m right,” Dar said. “Get him up!” he said to Varo, tucking his sword into the crook of his shield arm, and reaching down to help the injured marshal to his feet. But Tiros’s coughing had worsened, and he couldn’t even stand under his own power. Varo took his weight on him, lifting the old warrior’s arm across his shoulders and dragging him back toward the cavern entrance. </p><p></p><p>An arrow knifed down from above and beyond the wall, narrowly missing Dar’s face and clipping the inside of his shield as he started to turn back. The archer that had shot Tiros apparently had a perch somewhere high above, which meant that their position was even more tenuous than it had first seemed. Or rather, make that archer<em>s</em>, he amended, as a second shot whistled past him, missing his head by a scant few inches. As he brought his shield back around, the fighter dropped his sword, which clattered loudly on the stone at his feet. </p><p></p><p>“Damn it all...” he said. His mood darkened yet further as he looked up to see a horde of giant rats, <em>lots</em> of giant rats, crest the top of the mound and come surging down toward him.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Lazybones, post: 3082114, member: 143"] Just got back! Lots of history goodness at the conference; who knows, some of it may even make it into the story. :) * * * * * Chapter 12 RATS! The Doomed Bastards followed the hallway for about a hundred feet, before the worked tunnel gave way to a rougher, uncut corridor tight enough to force them to walk single-file. Dar, rearmed with Tiros’s old longsword and Varo’s heavy shield, took the lead. There were more than a few concerned glances over shoulders, back into the darkness behind them. Each of the four were all too aware that if this corridor reached a dead end, they might find themselves confronting the dung monster again, this time with no hope for escape. But after another sixty feet or so, the corridor opened onto a much larger cavern. This one was several times larger than any of the rooms they had encountered thus far, its far side beyond the range of the feeble light cast by their torches. There was a breeze here, a constant rush of air that made the flames of their brands dance and weave. In addition to the noise of the wind, there was another sound, which Varo identified as made by fast-moving water. “Some sort of underground river, perhaps,” Tiros said, as he warily cast his torch around, trying to get a better view. As he shone the light to the right, it revealed a low wall formed of a mound of stone rubble that blocked the mouth of a passage to the west. A loud squeaking noise came from that direction, and as the globe of light extended out over the barrier, it revealed the shadowy outline of a humanoid figure, which appeared to be swinging a weapon wildly around it. The squeaks intensified, making it pretty clear what the individual was struggling against. “Help me!” came a woman’s voice. “The rats... they’re everywhere!” To punctuate her statement, she let out a sudden cry of pain, and the shadow-figure staggered forward, toward the far edge of the mound. Tiros at once summoned [i]Valor[/i], and rushed forward. Varo and Dar exchanged a look, and followed. Bringing up the rear again was Navev, who looked about nervously, as if expecting an attack at any moment, from any direction. Given their experience in Rappan Athuk thus far, his sentiments did not seem entirely inappropriate. As Tiros came forward—keeping a close eye out for any snares or traps—the light of the torch cast the scene in more detailed relief. The shadowy figure was revealed to be a human woman of savage aspect, her dirty brown hair falling about her face and shoulders in a tangled mess. She was clad in a tattered tunic further marred by rips and dark stains, although the rapier she bore looked functional enough. She was surrounded by a ring of dire rats, over a dozen of them, which pressed in at her, dodging her clumsy swings and nipping at her heels. She looked up and saw Tiros approaching. “Help me!” she urged again, just as a rat leapt onto her leg and latched its teeth onto her garment. The woman let out a shriek and fell back over the far lip of the barrier, falling out of sight. The rats, rather than turn toward the new threat, followed after her. Tiros reached the edge of the mound, and started up, [i]Valor[/i] shining brightly with a blue tinge in the reflected light of his torch. Rocks clattered at his steps, but the marshal determinedly made his way forward, his magical sword at the ready. Dar and Varo came up behind him. Dar started after Tiros, but Varo forestalled him with a hand on his shoulder. “It’s a trap,” the cleric said. “You think?” the fighter said, his voice dripping sarcasm. Tiros had reached the top of the rubble heap. He, too, had obviously sensed something wrong, for instead of rushing forward he paused. The squeaking had grown eerily quiet. For a heartbeat, an eerie and utter silence fell over the cavern, save for the quiet rushing of water behind them. Then Tiros cried out and staggered back. An arrow had blossomed from his shoulder, piercing his breastplate. At the same moment, a small object came hurtling down from above, landing atop the rubble heap a few feet from where the marshal stood. As it struck, the thing exploded, releasing a cloud of fine dust that swirled in the air around Tiros, obscuring him momentarily from view. The dust quickly dissipated in the cavern breeze, but its effects were immediately obvious. Tiros, already in distress from the arrow jutting from his shoulder, staggered back, his body wracked by a fit of desperate coughing. The marshal’s movements caused him to lose his footing, and he slipped over the edge of the wall, landing hard on his back to slide down to where Varo and Dar had fallen back, wary of whatever toxin was in the packet of dust. [i]Valor[/i] likewise clattered down the stone heap, coming to a rest a few feet away. The marshal’s torch remained near the top of the mound where it had fallen, its flame guttering weakly. The squeaking return, redoubled now in intensity—and growing rapidly closer. “Damn it, I hate it when I’m right,” Dar said. “Get him up!” he said to Varo, tucking his sword into the crook of his shield arm, and reaching down to help the injured marshal to his feet. But Tiros’s coughing had worsened, and he couldn’t even stand under his own power. Varo took his weight on him, lifting the old warrior’s arm across his shoulders and dragging him back toward the cavern entrance. An arrow knifed down from above and beyond the wall, narrowly missing Dar’s face and clipping the inside of his shield as he started to turn back. The archer that had shot Tiros apparently had a perch somewhere high above, which meant that their position was even more tenuous than it had first seemed. Or rather, make that archer[i]s[/i], he amended, as a second shot whistled past him, missing his head by a scant few inches. As he brought his shield back around, the fighter dropped his sword, which clattered loudly on the stone at his feet. “Damn it all...” he said. His mood darkened yet further as he looked up to see a horde of giant rats, [i]lots[/i] of giant rats, crest the top of the mound and come surging down toward him. [/QUOTE]
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