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The Doomed Bastards: Reckoning (story complete)
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<blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 4159721" data-attributes="member: 143"><p>Chapter 18(388)</p><p></p><p>THE DUKE OF BLOOD</p><p></p><p></p><p>Ghazaran could not see; everything was a haze of red. His nostrils and mouth were full of the scent and taste of blood. The noises of the surrounding room were muted by the roaring of his own pulse, pounding furiously, and all sensation was pain as the devouring mist tore more of his blood from his body. </p><p></p><p>And yet, in the midst of that assault upon his senses, the cleric maintained a concentration as sharp as a razor’s edge. </p><p></p><p>Positive energy flared from his hands, driving back the mists. The thing that engulfed him convulsed, and he could feel its pain. And upon his discharge of power came other attacks; black bolts of eldritch potency, and then a titanic bolt of electrical energy that tore through the mist, vaporizing it. The lightning... no, a <em>chain lightning</em>, Ghazaran realized, as the secondary arcs blasted through the other undead, was devastating, and most of the corporeal undead, snared by the <em>chilling tentacles</em>, had no chance of avoiding the worst of the blast. </p><p></p><p>Ghazaran blinked and rubbed his face to clear his eyes of the cloying blood. The second devouring mist, though obviously seriously damaged, was still attacking Falah, and the cleric could see tiny droplets of blood flaring as they emerged from the fighter’s skin and were drawn up into the creature. He was still fighting, but his own attacks were not having much effect upon the thing. </p><p></p><p>Looking up, he saw that the Bloodwraith was still hovering above them, out toward the center of the room. As the cleric watched, the Duke opened its mouth impossibly wide, disgorging a gout of red mist. The thing began to twist and surge forward as it grew, and within moments it had taken on the form of another devouring mist, ready to attack and feed upon their blood. </p><p></p><p>A loud clang of metal on metal drew Ghazaran’s attention back down; several of the sword wights had managed to struggle forward through the <em>chilling tentacles</em>, and Falah had matched swords with them, even as the devouring mist continued to harry him from above. The lighter bone warriors were having a tougher time, and had a longer distance to travel through the area of the invocation, but most of them were continuing to struggle forward, even as Navev’s tendrils continued to lash at their bodies. </p><p></p><p>Another <em>eldritch blast</em> from Navev ripped into the devouring mist above Falah, slicing through its gaseous substance like a harsh gust of wind dispersing fog. The mist, already damaged, came apart, droplets of unabsorbed blood falling to the ground in a patter around it. Navev’s bolt kept going and struck the mist descending from the Bloodwraith, but it dissipated against the creature’s resistances without causing harm. </p><p></p><p>Gharazan drew out a pair of wands, and stabbed one against Falah’s back, restoring some of the strength that the devouring mist’s blood drain had siphoned from him. The effort was timely, as the newest mist dropped upon them like a falling cloak, engulfing both cleric and fighter in its substance. Almost immediately Ghazaran could feel the prickling sensation upon his skin, as it began to tug at the blood flowing through his veins underneath the flesh. Again he found his vision obscured, but he could hear Falah grunt, presumably as he took another hit from the sword wights. </p><p></p><p>“Strike at the Duke!” he shouted, hoping that the others could hear him through the immaterial substance of the devouring mist. He lifted his second wand and triggered it, but the mist absorbed the positive energy without effect. Whether this was because the thing was freshly conjured by the Duke, or merely because the wand’s spellpower was insufficient, he was not certain. But what he did know was that he was starting to feel a bit light-headed from the loss of blood. He had depleted most of his more powerful spells fighting through the Temple of the Final Sacrament and the Bloodways, but like the Seer he had kept some power in reserve. </p><p></p><p>His <em>heal</em> spell shattered the resistances of the devouring mist like a hammer, and it jerked wildly in the air as it drew back, leaving behind a trail of falling red droplets. It did not get a chance to recover, as another <em>eldritch blast</em> tore through it en route to the Bloodwraith, and it dissolved back into the surrounding red fog as though it had never been at all. </p><p></p><p>Falah was on his feet, if barely, but his foes were likewise having great difficulty. The two sword wights that had won forward to engage the fighter had been seriously damaged by the <em>chain lightning</em> and the <em>chilling tentacles</em>, and first one, and then the other, came apart under the mighty swings of the Razhuri warrior’s khopesh. The fighter was far too canny a foe to rush forward to engage the others and risk being caught by the <em>tentacles</em>, so he waited for them to come to him, lopping the head off of the remaining bone warrior that remained rebuked nearby to pass the time. </p><p></p><p>The Bloodwraith remained above them, indistinct in its halo of mist, although a clear malevolence shone in its bright red eyes. Navev hit it with another <em>eldritch blast</em>, but like the first this one merely stabbed through its body without apparent effect. The Seer had drawn out a wand, and peppered it with a barrage of <em>magic missiles</em>, but while the streaking bolts each drew a ripple through the wraith’s form, it did not appear to react to the wounds. </p><p></p><p>Navev raised a hand as the last of the Bloodwraith’s servants collapsed, and the <em>chilling tentacles</em> dissolved back into the cracked stone of the crypt floor. Ghazaran stepped forward to the edge of the dais, and confronted the hovering form of the Bloodwraith, lifting his divine focus above his head. In his other hand he held a vial, thick with red fluid. </p><p></p><p>“By power and blood do I command you, Duke Aerim! Your eternal vigil has come to an end!” </p><p></p><p>A tremor passed through the undead thing as the cleric’s words echoed through the vault. But if Ghazaran expected some form of compliance or obescience, he was to be disappointed, as the wraith’s face twisted into a paroxysm of rage, and it descended upon him, arms spread like wings to enfold him in its grasp.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Lazybones, post: 4159721, member: 143"] Chapter 18(388) THE DUKE OF BLOOD Ghazaran could not see; everything was a haze of red. His nostrils and mouth were full of the scent and taste of blood. The noises of the surrounding room were muted by the roaring of his own pulse, pounding furiously, and all sensation was pain as the devouring mist tore more of his blood from his body. And yet, in the midst of that assault upon his senses, the cleric maintained a concentration as sharp as a razor’s edge. Positive energy flared from his hands, driving back the mists. The thing that engulfed him convulsed, and he could feel its pain. And upon his discharge of power came other attacks; black bolts of eldritch potency, and then a titanic bolt of electrical energy that tore through the mist, vaporizing it. The lightning... no, a [i]chain lightning[/i], Ghazaran realized, as the secondary arcs blasted through the other undead, was devastating, and most of the corporeal undead, snared by the [i]chilling tentacles[/i], had no chance of avoiding the worst of the blast. Ghazaran blinked and rubbed his face to clear his eyes of the cloying blood. The second devouring mist, though obviously seriously damaged, was still attacking Falah, and the cleric could see tiny droplets of blood flaring as they emerged from the fighter’s skin and were drawn up into the creature. He was still fighting, but his own attacks were not having much effect upon the thing. Looking up, he saw that the Bloodwraith was still hovering above them, out toward the center of the room. As the cleric watched, the Duke opened its mouth impossibly wide, disgorging a gout of red mist. The thing began to twist and surge forward as it grew, and within moments it had taken on the form of another devouring mist, ready to attack and feed upon their blood. A loud clang of metal on metal drew Ghazaran’s attention back down; several of the sword wights had managed to struggle forward through the [i]chilling tentacles[/i], and Falah had matched swords with them, even as the devouring mist continued to harry him from above. The lighter bone warriors were having a tougher time, and had a longer distance to travel through the area of the invocation, but most of them were continuing to struggle forward, even as Navev’s tendrils continued to lash at their bodies. Another [i]eldritch blast[/i] from Navev ripped into the devouring mist above Falah, slicing through its gaseous substance like a harsh gust of wind dispersing fog. The mist, already damaged, came apart, droplets of unabsorbed blood falling to the ground in a patter around it. Navev’s bolt kept going and struck the mist descending from the Bloodwraith, but it dissipated against the creature’s resistances without causing harm. Gharazan drew out a pair of wands, and stabbed one against Falah’s back, restoring some of the strength that the devouring mist’s blood drain had siphoned from him. The effort was timely, as the newest mist dropped upon them like a falling cloak, engulfing both cleric and fighter in its substance. Almost immediately Ghazaran could feel the prickling sensation upon his skin, as it began to tug at the blood flowing through his veins underneath the flesh. Again he found his vision obscured, but he could hear Falah grunt, presumably as he took another hit from the sword wights. “Strike at the Duke!” he shouted, hoping that the others could hear him through the immaterial substance of the devouring mist. He lifted his second wand and triggered it, but the mist absorbed the positive energy without effect. Whether this was because the thing was freshly conjured by the Duke, or merely because the wand’s spellpower was insufficient, he was not certain. But what he did know was that he was starting to feel a bit light-headed from the loss of blood. He had depleted most of his more powerful spells fighting through the Temple of the Final Sacrament and the Bloodways, but like the Seer he had kept some power in reserve. His [i]heal[/i] spell shattered the resistances of the devouring mist like a hammer, and it jerked wildly in the air as it drew back, leaving behind a trail of falling red droplets. It did not get a chance to recover, as another [i]eldritch blast[/i] tore through it en route to the Bloodwraith, and it dissolved back into the surrounding red fog as though it had never been at all. Falah was on his feet, if barely, but his foes were likewise having great difficulty. The two sword wights that had won forward to engage the fighter had been seriously damaged by the [i]chain lightning[/i] and the [i]chilling tentacles[/i], and first one, and then the other, came apart under the mighty swings of the Razhuri warrior’s khopesh. The fighter was far too canny a foe to rush forward to engage the others and risk being caught by the [i]tentacles[/i], so he waited for them to come to him, lopping the head off of the remaining bone warrior that remained rebuked nearby to pass the time. The Bloodwraith remained above them, indistinct in its halo of mist, although a clear malevolence shone in its bright red eyes. Navev hit it with another [i]eldritch blast[/i], but like the first this one merely stabbed through its body without apparent effect. The Seer had drawn out a wand, and peppered it with a barrage of [i]magic missiles[/i], but while the streaking bolts each drew a ripple through the wraith’s form, it did not appear to react to the wounds. Navev raised a hand as the last of the Bloodwraith’s servants collapsed, and the [i]chilling tentacles[/i] dissolved back into the cracked stone of the crypt floor. Ghazaran stepped forward to the edge of the dais, and confronted the hovering form of the Bloodwraith, lifting his divine focus above his head. In his other hand he held a vial, thick with red fluid. “By power and blood do I command you, Duke Aerim! Your eternal vigil has come to an end!” A tremor passed through the undead thing as the cleric’s words echoed through the vault. But if Ghazaran expected some form of compliance or obescience, he was to be disappointed, as the wraith’s face twisted into a paroxysm of rage, and it descended upon him, arms spread like wings to enfold him in its grasp. [/QUOTE]
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