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Explorer
Chapter 62
62-It ain't over until the fat baby sings.
Just as the group is catching their breath, Taran feels a second tug at his mind. He experiences a sudden and strong compulsion to cut into Kyreel with his sword. For just a moment, he feels a nearly overwhelming surge of hatred for his beloved companion, but fortunately some reserve of mental fortitude helps him resist the impulse. "Uh, I don't think you got it, Thel," he says. "Somebody's making me want to do bad things."
"The child?" Thelbar wonders, and cautiously approaches the crib.
As all eyes turn toward the rune-worked crèche, a pair of prismatic sprays tear into the group, first one then another directly afterwards! Fortunately, the group's spell resistance allows them to resist the worst effects, although they are burned with acid, electricity and fire. The source of the prismatic sprays shimmers into existence, as a finely-coiffed drow wizard levitates up through the opening in the floor, at the opposite side of the chamber.
"Well, now we know," Taran says, taking the drow's appearance as the solution to the mysterious spell casting.
But as he is charging toward the wizard, a cloud of inky blackness spreads throughout the room, as an unholy blight takes effect. Taran closes the distance, and Kyreel calls upon Ishlok to turn any undead still remaining in the room.
The mage holds his hands up to cease hostilities, and says, "I'm curious."
"About what?" Taran growls.
"Why you would kill my daughter."
At that moment, a figure emerges from the shadowed alcove behind the cradle, and takes a sneak attack at Kyreel. Unfortunately for the hidden drow rogue, the attack misses horribly, and Kyreel whirls on the balls of her feet and smites the rogue, cutting into his flesh and ending his life in an instant.
Another buzzing destruction spell shakes Thelbar's form, and while he is able to resist the effect, he lets out a cry of frustration. "Be quick!" he yells to his brother.
"She had it coming," Taran says to the mage, as he grabs him roughly by his collar. "And so do you, you evil f-ck. So here's your only chance. You run like hell and tell everybody you see that Irae T'ssarion is dead, and the Champions of the Risen Goddess are bad ass. You got that?"
"All I ask in return is that you leave me my family's ring. My daughter wears it on her left hand."
"It is slightly magical," Thelbar states, having looked over Irae's corpse with his arcane sight. As he says this, a magic circle in the center of the chamber activates, and a hideous rider emerges through the very floor. The rider is a feral and barbaric looking drow male, swinging a flaming spiked chain over his head, and he is mounted on a hellish war-horse that exudes a brimstone smoke from its nostrils and prances eagerly on flaming hooves. As this happens, a trio of identical drow clerics to Kiransalee emerge from the hole in the floor, directly next to Taran.
"Evening, ladies," he says gleefully as he releases the mage and cleaves into the three women. He kills one outright, and on the backswing of that blow, turns and strikes the mage, knocking him to the ground.
"You treacherous worm!" the mage screams with a mixture of rage, pain and fear.
"Hey, you didn't tell them what I said to say," Taran laughs, then mutters to himself, "Plus you asked me for a magic item. That's like spitting on an adventurer's mother."
Thelbar invokes a limited wish, hoping to rob the drow wizard of his mind, but the man resists Thelbar's spell, and opens his hands, sending a chain lighting through the group. He follows that with a second chain lightning, and for the third time since the fight began, Taran cries out for healing.
"This place!" Kyreel shouts triumphantly. "This whole place is undead!"
"What the f-ck?" Taran asks no one in particular, as Kyreel charges toward the mage. Taran stays his hand, hoping that Kyreel will finish the drow, and free him up to attack the clerics, but before Kyreel can reach him, the drow unleashes a second pair of chain lightings, nearly killing the thick-necked ranger.
"Goddamnit, Kyreel just kill him!" Taran screams. Then asks rhetorically, "How many of those does he have?" as he abandons the clerics to focus on the mage.
"He is a sorcerer, Taran!" Thelbar yells. "He can do that until he dies."
"Okay, that's an easy fix," Taran says and runs Black Lisa through the wizard's chest. "Done!" he announces.
Thelbar scrambles away from the spiked-chain's deadly arc, as the nightmare attempts to overrun him. He lances a devastating volley of magic missiles into the rider, and Sartre does the same from his position near the ceiling. The rider slumps and is nearly thrown from his enraged mount.
Taran and Kyreel both wade into the clerics of Kiransalee, who defend themselves with their weapons, but after a moment, they are killed, adding to the litter of bodies and growing pool of drow blood on the chamber's floor. Thelbar moves clear of the nightmare, and joins his companions.
As he does so, a foul creature emerges from the circle just behind the fiendish horse. A short, and squat drow male, its head is crowned with a mass of writhing snakes, and it flexes eight hairy spider-like limbs that protrude from its torso in all directions.
Thelbar cures Taran with a pair of faith healings and starts to give an order, when suddenly a mass of whirling razor-sharp planes of force fill the room, as the spider-thing waves its multitude of limbs in a grotesque parody of spell casting.
"Into the hole!" Taran yells, as he dives for safety through the opening in the floor. His companions follow him, and using flying magics, prepare a nasty surprise for whatever may follow. The sound of the whirling blades ceases suddenly, and a moment later, the spider-thing emerges, torso first through the hole. The creature does not stand a chance, as all three Champions assault it with spell and sword.
They scramble back into the chamber, and Kyreel dismisses the nightmare, freeing the group up to take stock of their situation, and approach the cradle.
"Please Goddess let the baby be all right," Taran says, wondering to himself if even a divine infant could have survived the rain of spell effects that have blasted, blackened and shredded the crèche. Kyreel is the first to approach the crib, and with a maternal gasp, falls to her knees in front of the tiny drow child. She is soon followed by her companions, and soon, all three of the Champions kneel before the baby.
"I . . ." Taran says, his voice catching in his throat. "I can give no greater gift." And with that, he removes Black Lisa, and places his dearest treasure across the infant's chest.
"Nor I," Kyreel states, as she likewise lays her holy, flaming sword across Black Lisa.
Thelbar removes his robe of the archmagi, and swaddles the child, swords and all, saying, "May these things protect and serve you now and forever. Sharlequannan, sister to my Mother, and newborn Goddess, I praise your birth."
There is a great and lasting moment of stillness, and the trio of adventurers are filled with a profound sense of purpose and well-being.
A voice fills their hearts, as clear to them as if it were whispered into their ears. "No truer gifts could be made. Take these things, made greater for the fact that they were freely given, and serve me."
The group retrieves their weapons and clothing, discovering new traces of divine power coursing through the items. "Arunshee's Kiss," Taran says lovingly, renaming his sword.
"Wear it and serve me well," the voice vibrates through their being. "Destroy this place, for it displeases me. Serve me and prosper, or spend your lives out in my cause. So are you commanded, so must you obey."
62-It ain't over until the fat baby sings.
Just as the group is catching their breath, Taran feels a second tug at his mind. He experiences a sudden and strong compulsion to cut into Kyreel with his sword. For just a moment, he feels a nearly overwhelming surge of hatred for his beloved companion, but fortunately some reserve of mental fortitude helps him resist the impulse. "Uh, I don't think you got it, Thel," he says. "Somebody's making me want to do bad things."
"The child?" Thelbar wonders, and cautiously approaches the crib.
As all eyes turn toward the rune-worked crèche, a pair of prismatic sprays tear into the group, first one then another directly afterwards! Fortunately, the group's spell resistance allows them to resist the worst effects, although they are burned with acid, electricity and fire. The source of the prismatic sprays shimmers into existence, as a finely-coiffed drow wizard levitates up through the opening in the floor, at the opposite side of the chamber.
"Well, now we know," Taran says, taking the drow's appearance as the solution to the mysterious spell casting.
But as he is charging toward the wizard, a cloud of inky blackness spreads throughout the room, as an unholy blight takes effect. Taran closes the distance, and Kyreel calls upon Ishlok to turn any undead still remaining in the room.
- Meta-game note: And she did so with spectacular success, affecting 28 HD of undead creatures! After a pause where the DM flipped through his notes only to shake his head with a wicked smile, I said, "I'm disgusted that you had to look that up."
The mage holds his hands up to cease hostilities, and says, "I'm curious."
"About what?" Taran growls.
"Why you would kill my daughter."
At that moment, a figure emerges from the shadowed alcove behind the cradle, and takes a sneak attack at Kyreel. Unfortunately for the hidden drow rogue, the attack misses horribly, and Kyreel whirls on the balls of her feet and smites the rogue, cutting into his flesh and ending his life in an instant.
Another buzzing destruction spell shakes Thelbar's form, and while he is able to resist the effect, he lets out a cry of frustration. "Be quick!" he yells to his brother.
"She had it coming," Taran says to the mage, as he grabs him roughly by his collar. "And so do you, you evil f-ck. So here's your only chance. You run like hell and tell everybody you see that Irae T'ssarion is dead, and the Champions of the Risen Goddess are bad ass. You got that?"
"All I ask in return is that you leave me my family's ring. My daughter wears it on her left hand."
"It is slightly magical," Thelbar states, having looked over Irae's corpse with his arcane sight. As he says this, a magic circle in the center of the chamber activates, and a hideous rider emerges through the very floor. The rider is a feral and barbaric looking drow male, swinging a flaming spiked chain over his head, and he is mounted on a hellish war-horse that exudes a brimstone smoke from its nostrils and prances eagerly on flaming hooves. As this happens, a trio of identical drow clerics to Kiransalee emerge from the hole in the floor, directly next to Taran.
"Evening, ladies," he says gleefully as he releases the mage and cleaves into the three women. He kills one outright, and on the backswing of that blow, turns and strikes the mage, knocking him to the ground.
"You treacherous worm!" the mage screams with a mixture of rage, pain and fear.
"Hey, you didn't tell them what I said to say," Taran laughs, then mutters to himself, "Plus you asked me for a magic item. That's like spitting on an adventurer's mother."
Thelbar invokes a limited wish, hoping to rob the drow wizard of his mind, but the man resists Thelbar's spell, and opens his hands, sending a chain lighting through the group. He follows that with a second chain lightning, and for the third time since the fight began, Taran cries out for healing.
"This place!" Kyreel shouts triumphantly. "This whole place is undead!"
"What the f-ck?" Taran asks no one in particular, as Kyreel charges toward the mage. Taran stays his hand, hoping that Kyreel will finish the drow, and free him up to attack the clerics, but before Kyreel can reach him, the drow unleashes a second pair of chain lightings, nearly killing the thick-necked ranger.
"Goddamnit, Kyreel just kill him!" Taran screams. Then asks rhetorically, "How many of those does he have?" as he abandons the clerics to focus on the mage.
"He is a sorcerer, Taran!" Thelbar yells. "He can do that until he dies."
"Okay, that's an easy fix," Taran says and runs Black Lisa through the wizard's chest. "Done!" he announces.
Thelbar scrambles away from the spiked-chain's deadly arc, as the nightmare attempts to overrun him. He lances a devastating volley of magic missiles into the rider, and Sartre does the same from his position near the ceiling. The rider slumps and is nearly thrown from his enraged mount.
Taran and Kyreel both wade into the clerics of Kiransalee, who defend themselves with their weapons, but after a moment, they are killed, adding to the litter of bodies and growing pool of drow blood on the chamber's floor. Thelbar moves clear of the nightmare, and joins his companions.
As he does so, a foul creature emerges from the circle just behind the fiendish horse. A short, and squat drow male, its head is crowned with a mass of writhing snakes, and it flexes eight hairy spider-like limbs that protrude from its torso in all directions.
Thelbar cures Taran with a pair of faith healings and starts to give an order, when suddenly a mass of whirling razor-sharp planes of force fill the room, as the spider-thing waves its multitude of limbs in a grotesque parody of spell casting.
"Into the hole!" Taran yells, as he dives for safety through the opening in the floor. His companions follow him, and using flying magics, prepare a nasty surprise for whatever may follow. The sound of the whirling blades ceases suddenly, and a moment later, the spider-thing emerges, torso first through the hole. The creature does not stand a chance, as all three Champions assault it with spell and sword.
They scramble back into the chamber, and Kyreel dismisses the nightmare, freeing the group up to take stock of their situation, and approach the cradle.
"Please Goddess let the baby be all right," Taran says, wondering to himself if even a divine infant could have survived the rain of spell effects that have blasted, blackened and shredded the crèche. Kyreel is the first to approach the crib, and with a maternal gasp, falls to her knees in front of the tiny drow child. She is soon followed by her companions, and soon, all three of the Champions kneel before the baby.
"I . . ." Taran says, his voice catching in his throat. "I can give no greater gift." And with that, he removes Black Lisa, and places his dearest treasure across the infant's chest.
"Nor I," Kyreel states, as she likewise lays her holy, flaming sword across Black Lisa.
Thelbar removes his robe of the archmagi, and swaddles the child, swords and all, saying, "May these things protect and serve you now and forever. Sharlequannan, sister to my Mother, and newborn Goddess, I praise your birth."
There is a great and lasting moment of stillness, and the trio of adventurers are filled with a profound sense of purpose and well-being.
A voice fills their hearts, as clear to them as if it were whispered into their ears. "No truer gifts could be made. Take these things, made greater for the fact that they were freely given, and serve me."
The group retrieves their weapons and clothing, discovering new traces of divine power coursing through the items. "Arunshee's Kiss," Taran says lovingly, renaming his sword.
"Wear it and serve me well," the voice vibrates through their being. "Destroy this place, for it displeases me. Serve me and prosper, or spend your lives out in my cause. So are you commanded, so must you obey."
