The Liberation of Tenh (updated April 24)
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Explorer
This fight was orignally slated to take place in the middle of the battle between the young regent and the Southern rebels rallying around the Baron Butrain. The scene was to be a running spell-duel with the powerful enemies while all around mid-level knights were slaughtering each one another with sword and lance-- the tension would be to see if the PCs could act . . . in . . . time . . . to save the young regent from Piscean's machinations without killing a half-dozen of Butrain's closest allies! Sounds like fun, right?
Of course, they could also (in between dealing with improved invisible undead beholders) determine the course of the battle, and seat the king of their choice on the throne.
Well, they ignored my set up, chose to abandon the young prince to his fate (reasoning no doubt that people that stupid have it comin'), and decided to Turn the Tables (TM) by setting an ambush of their own for a change. All-righty.
So the bad guys I'd plotted to make up two or three waves in one long over-encounter wound up being a single fight. And it didn't take long to get ugly.
Fortunately for the Liberators, I am a dumbass.
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Credit Where Credit Is Due
The core of this particular batch of baddies is the brain-child of Incognito, who sent me a band of assassins many, many months ago to use as part of this sub-plot. Since then, I tweaked them a little (and underplayed them to be sure), but I sure can't take credit for them. P-kitty was also kind enough to share the undead beholder I'm sure you all remember reading about way back in the day. So . . .
Incognito built: The harpy bard, the medusa assassin, and the mummy cleric.
Piratecat built: The undead beholder. (And Zeflen from Calbut, although the story hasn't caught up to him yet).
I built: Ivid III, the mirror master (from Monte Cook's Book of Eldritch Might I) the balor (he was a custom job b/c the 3.0 version was just. too. puny. for my purposes) and the two goons.
The ice-imp was taken from WotC's website.
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Maybe after the end of the fight is posted, I'll post the baddies in the rogue's gallery. In the meantime, if you want stats for them now (coughkidcthulhucough) and you have my email already (coughkidcthulhucough) then just holla.
Of course, they could also (in between dealing with improved invisible undead beholders) determine the course of the battle, and seat the king of their choice on the throne.
Well, they ignored my set up, chose to abandon the young prince to his fate (reasoning no doubt that people that stupid have it comin'), and decided to Turn the Tables (TM) by setting an ambush of their own for a change. All-righty.
So the bad guys I'd plotted to make up two or three waves in one long over-encounter wound up being a single fight. And it didn't take long to get ugly.
Fortunately for the Liberators, I am a dumbass.
-----
Credit Where Credit Is Due
The core of this particular batch of baddies is the brain-child of Incognito, who sent me a band of assassins many, many months ago to use as part of this sub-plot. Since then, I tweaked them a little (and underplayed them to be sure), but I sure can't take credit for them. P-kitty was also kind enough to share the undead beholder I'm sure you all remember reading about way back in the day. So . . .
Incognito built: The harpy bard, the medusa assassin, and the mummy cleric.
Piratecat built: The undead beholder. (And Zeflen from Calbut, although the story hasn't caught up to him yet).
I built: Ivid III, the mirror master (from Monte Cook's Book of Eldritch Might I) the balor (he was a custom job b/c the 3.0 version was just. too. puny. for my purposes) and the two goons.
The ice-imp was taken from WotC's website.
-----
Maybe after the end of the fight is posted, I'll post the baddies in the rogue's gallery. In the meantime, if you want stats for them now (coughkidcthulhucough) and you have my email already (coughkidcthulhucough) then just holla.
(contact)
Explorer
Patchwall 5, CY 593
71—“Watch the worm turn,” said the sparrow to the wren / "Wherever it starts, why there it was / And will be back again."
Jespo is casting through his mind for some means of escape. Gwendolyn and Prisantha have been petrified, Heydricus and Dabus killed, Lucius only a few seconds away from a long-overdue beheading, and Regda is as dead as he’s ever seen anyone.
And that’s pretty dead.
To his back, his most powerful ally is caught within the clutches of a gloating Elder Evil. Between himself and the gate back to Furyondy, Jespo is faced with a pair of spiked-chain wielding plate-armored fighters, an undead beholder, the strange wizardess who snuffed Dabus’ mind, a harpy bard, a medusa assassin, and the piece de evil resistance, Ivid the Third, Jespo’s host in this freezing vanity-plane.
And he just spent his only plane shift escaping a maze.
Jespo has had it bad before, but never (a small and sure voice from within assures him) has he had it this bad. Fräs is mewling something, but Jespo does not notice. He hears the balor mockingly encourage the celestial to “do it,” but pays this no mind. At the moment, Jespo is contemplating surrender. Or rather, he is contemplating what specifically to say after he surrenders, as he has already long since contemplated the act of surrender itself and found it surprisingly palatable.
Sonahmiin regards the leering balor, and wrestles for a moment with a twinge of doubt, then banishes the unseemly thought, ascribing his failing to the presence of a powerful demonic force. Ignoring the balor’s contention that this act will prove the deciding factor in their finely-balanced immortal struggle—and lead to his existence being snuffed out of the multiverse—the angel detaches himself from the fiend and calls upon Tritherion to ressurect his Liberator.
Dabus is held beyond a return to life by the Oath of Tritherion, but Heydricus is not a cleric, and therefore not covered by that ancient pact. In an instant, Tritherion’s Holy Liberator rises from the ground, his wounds closed, his steely gaze fixed firmly on the surprised beholder. If the thing’s tongue had not long-since rotted away, it would certainly be lolling from its slack and decaying jaw.
Satisfied, Sonahmiin winces as the balor’s blazing whip tightens about his chest, and booms, “now fight Evil, Crim!” even as the Balor cuts cruelly into his timeless body.
Jespo seems not to hear the angel, but a sharp hiss from Fräs (accompanied by a sharp bite to his hindquarters) jogs Jespo from his cowardly reverie, and the pasty conjurer stumbles into action. He uses a quickened spell to call a field of whipping black tentacles directly to the side of Heydricus’ position, and dominates the fighter to Heydricus’ left flank, instructing the poor fool to grab his companion and then go give the tentacles a big hug.
At that moment, Prisantha uses a silent, still dispel magic to free herself from her stony prison, and before the medusa can slit Lucius’ throat, holds the creature fast, freezing it in mid coup.
The beholder passes a dusty snarl through its mouth, and turns its central eye on the medusa, breaking Prisantha’s enchantment. As the enchantress curses, the strange sorceress presents her distorting mirror to Prisantha’s gaze. But Pris’ mettle is stronger than it might seem, and she regards her worst possible self with a calm and level acceptance. She locks eyes with the wizardess, and winks at her.
Piscean curses to himself, and sends a chain lightning playing across his foes (all save Heydricus of course), making sure to strike Regda’s body twice. “There will be no more returning from the dead this day,” he assures himself. If he is briefly reminded of the tragic Battle of Ten Camps, or its disastrous predecessor at the Redearth Mounds, he does not admit it. After all, it was gross ineptitude on the part of his field-commanders that cost him the Shieldlands! Historians disagree just to be disagreeable, don’t they?
As the two chain-swingers at Heydricus’ back begin to fight with one another, and struggle toward the tentacles, the Liberator seizes the opportunity to leap at the beholder. Nearly ruined by Dabus’ earlier mass heal, the rotting thing cannot hold together against Heydricus’ flurry and it is quickly sliced into moldy and worm-ridden pieces.
Prisantha laughs to herself, and after returning Gwendolyn to flesh with a quickened dispel magic, she holds the mirrored sorceress fast, taking a moment to check her hair in one of the woman’s many mirrors. Perfect.
The Viscountess Trill would be pleased.
Gwendolyn has had time within her stony prison to prepare her revenge, and as soon as she is freed, she lashes a horrid wilting that kills the mirror master and ice-imp outright, and staggers Piscean.
Jespo is frantically summoning monsters to try and disrupt the soothing song of the harpy, and after a series of failures shouts, “oh just kick the damn rogue!” His conjured hound archon does so, and Lucius comes awake mere feet from a rare sight:
Sonahmiin of Tritherion has set free his dancing vorpal sword, and even as the sword attacks, he is calling holy smites one after another onto the demon. Deafened by the holy sound (and growing used to the sensation, sadly), Lucius realizes that this beast is a servant of Iuz. Oh, hated Iuz. Lucius grins coldly and slips behind a snow mound, moving stealthily toward the demon’s back.
The harpy is backed into a corner by a trio of celestial lions, and one very angry hound archon. Her song changes to a disturbing screech that drives the lions into a mad frenzy and they pounce upon the thing, tearing feathers from skin, and befouling their heavenly mouths with harpy flesh.
Piscean takes a deep breath, calming his mind and suppressing a wave of panic. After all, wasn’t the first Twin Forks fight considered lost when . . . no, wait, he did loose that fight. Nonetheless, he will win this one! Heydricus is probably only biding his time before turning on that . . . that wretched and not at all attractive woman. Heydricus is probably only playing to the greater drama, and intends to switch sides at the last moment! Satisfied that his carefully constructed mental house of cards still has all the aces, Piscean determines to eliminate his problem in the most direct way—by killing it, of course.
He points his finger at Prisantha and smirkingly speaks his most lethal curse: a power word, kill.
But Prisantha has taken a page from Piscean’s own book—protect yourself with abjurations while in a time stop, for then your enemies cannot spell-craft them. Thus, Piscean becomes aware of her spell turning only a fraction of a moment before his own curse rebounds upon him and snuffs his life from his frame.
It is the last in an unnaturally long line of military defeats for Ivid the III, the Worst and Longest Lived Ruler of All Time.
71—“Watch the worm turn,” said the sparrow to the wren / "Wherever it starts, why there it was / And will be back again."
Jespo is casting through his mind for some means of escape. Gwendolyn and Prisantha have been petrified, Heydricus and Dabus killed, Lucius only a few seconds away from a long-overdue beheading, and Regda is as dead as he’s ever seen anyone.
And that’s pretty dead.
To his back, his most powerful ally is caught within the clutches of a gloating Elder Evil. Between himself and the gate back to Furyondy, Jespo is faced with a pair of spiked-chain wielding plate-armored fighters, an undead beholder, the strange wizardess who snuffed Dabus’ mind, a harpy bard, a medusa assassin, and the piece de evil resistance, Ivid the Third, Jespo’s host in this freezing vanity-plane.
And he just spent his only plane shift escaping a maze.
Jespo has had it bad before, but never (a small and sure voice from within assures him) has he had it this bad. Fräs is mewling something, but Jespo does not notice. He hears the balor mockingly encourage the celestial to “do it,” but pays this no mind. At the moment, Jespo is contemplating surrender. Or rather, he is contemplating what specifically to say after he surrenders, as he has already long since contemplated the act of surrender itself and found it surprisingly palatable.
Sonahmiin regards the leering balor, and wrestles for a moment with a twinge of doubt, then banishes the unseemly thought, ascribing his failing to the presence of a powerful demonic force. Ignoring the balor’s contention that this act will prove the deciding factor in their finely-balanced immortal struggle—and lead to his existence being snuffed out of the multiverse—the angel detaches himself from the fiend and calls upon Tritherion to ressurect his Liberator.
Dabus is held beyond a return to life by the Oath of Tritherion, but Heydricus is not a cleric, and therefore not covered by that ancient pact. In an instant, Tritherion’s Holy Liberator rises from the ground, his wounds closed, his steely gaze fixed firmly on the surprised beholder. If the thing’s tongue had not long-since rotted away, it would certainly be lolling from its slack and decaying jaw.
Satisfied, Sonahmiin winces as the balor’s blazing whip tightens about his chest, and booms, “now fight Evil, Crim!” even as the Balor cuts cruelly into his timeless body.
Jespo seems not to hear the angel, but a sharp hiss from Fräs (accompanied by a sharp bite to his hindquarters) jogs Jespo from his cowardly reverie, and the pasty conjurer stumbles into action. He uses a quickened spell to call a field of whipping black tentacles directly to the side of Heydricus’ position, and dominates the fighter to Heydricus’ left flank, instructing the poor fool to grab his companion and then go give the tentacles a big hug.
At that moment, Prisantha uses a silent, still dispel magic to free herself from her stony prison, and before the medusa can slit Lucius’ throat, holds the creature fast, freezing it in mid coup.
The beholder passes a dusty snarl through its mouth, and turns its central eye on the medusa, breaking Prisantha’s enchantment. As the enchantress curses, the strange sorceress presents her distorting mirror to Prisantha’s gaze. But Pris’ mettle is stronger than it might seem, and she regards her worst possible self with a calm and level acceptance. She locks eyes with the wizardess, and winks at her.
Piscean curses to himself, and sends a chain lightning playing across his foes (all save Heydricus of course), making sure to strike Regda’s body twice. “There will be no more returning from the dead this day,” he assures himself. If he is briefly reminded of the tragic Battle of Ten Camps, or its disastrous predecessor at the Redearth Mounds, he does not admit it. After all, it was gross ineptitude on the part of his field-commanders that cost him the Shieldlands! Historians disagree just to be disagreeable, don’t they?
As the two chain-swingers at Heydricus’ back begin to fight with one another, and struggle toward the tentacles, the Liberator seizes the opportunity to leap at the beholder. Nearly ruined by Dabus’ earlier mass heal, the rotting thing cannot hold together against Heydricus’ flurry and it is quickly sliced into moldy and worm-ridden pieces.
Prisantha laughs to herself, and after returning Gwendolyn to flesh with a quickened dispel magic, she holds the mirrored sorceress fast, taking a moment to check her hair in one of the woman’s many mirrors. Perfect.
The Viscountess Trill would be pleased.
Gwendolyn has had time within her stony prison to prepare her revenge, and as soon as she is freed, she lashes a horrid wilting that kills the mirror master and ice-imp outright, and staggers Piscean.
Jespo is frantically summoning monsters to try and disrupt the soothing song of the harpy, and after a series of failures shouts, “oh just kick the damn rogue!” His conjured hound archon does so, and Lucius comes awake mere feet from a rare sight:
Sonahmiin of Tritherion has set free his dancing vorpal sword, and even as the sword attacks, he is calling holy smites one after another onto the demon. Deafened by the holy sound (and growing used to the sensation, sadly), Lucius realizes that this beast is a servant of Iuz. Oh, hated Iuz. Lucius grins coldly and slips behind a snow mound, moving stealthily toward the demon’s back.
The harpy is backed into a corner by a trio of celestial lions, and one very angry hound archon. Her song changes to a disturbing screech that drives the lions into a mad frenzy and they pounce upon the thing, tearing feathers from skin, and befouling their heavenly mouths with harpy flesh.
Piscean takes a deep breath, calming his mind and suppressing a wave of panic. After all, wasn’t the first Twin Forks fight considered lost when . . . no, wait, he did loose that fight. Nonetheless, he will win this one! Heydricus is probably only biding his time before turning on that . . . that wretched and not at all attractive woman. Heydricus is probably only playing to the greater drama, and intends to switch sides at the last moment! Satisfied that his carefully constructed mental house of cards still has all the aces, Piscean determines to eliminate his problem in the most direct way—by killing it, of course.
He points his finger at Prisantha and smirkingly speaks his most lethal curse: a power word, kill.
But Prisantha has taken a page from Piscean’s own book—protect yourself with abjurations while in a time stop, for then your enemies cannot spell-craft them. Thus, Piscean becomes aware of her spell turning only a fraction of a moment before his own curse rebounds upon him and snuffs his life from his frame.
It is the last in an unnaturally long line of military defeats for Ivid the III, the Worst and Longest Lived Ruler of All Time.
the_mighty_agrippa
First Post
ROCK THE *#@! ON!
Pris' actions this combat alone are making me re-think all my arcane casters.
Kudos to everyone, (contact).
Pris' actions this combat alone are making me re-think all my arcane casters.
Kudos to everyone, (contact).
Joshua Randall
Legend
Rock on.
Question: how many times has Lucius successfully assassinated someone? It seems like he always either fails, or the fight ends before he gets to do so.
Question: how many times has Lucius successfully assassinated someone? It seems like he always either fails, or the fight ends before he gets to do so.
Barastrondo
First Post
the_mighty_agrippa said:
Indeed.
the_mighty_agrippa said:
Well, although dispel magic really is one bad-ass spell, and I would heartily chastise any wizard, cleric, druid or bard who turned up their nose at it (and one of my players actually did just that in-character), it isn't quite as bad-ass most of the time as (contact) has allowed it to be. Going strictly by-the-book, gotta have that flesh to stone or the equivalent as far as reversing petrification goes.
Plus, you can't roll like my players do if you want it to work. (It's gotten so bad we're actually considering a feat that would allow characters to add +4 to their dispel rolls, probably titled "Can Actually Dispel".)
But... yeah. This last battle has been particularly cool with all its homages to the final battle of TOEE2. History repeating itself, only with a cold elemental savant with mad crushes on Our Hero in the lead role. Do I smell a Best Supporting Actor nomination for Piscean?
Boy that was a quick turn around. So (contact), did the celestial dominate Jespo? Or perhaps Redga is rubbing off on him?
Though it's implied, you don't actually state that the Celestial killed that Balor. Was that just an oversight, or was it part of a cunning plan so clever that you could stick a tail on it and make it the Dean of Cunning at Oxford?
Though it's implied, you don't actually state that the Celestial killed that Balor. Was that just an oversight, or was it part of a cunning plan so clever that you could stick a tail on it and make it the Dean of Cunning at Oxford?
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