Travels through the Wild West: Book IV
- Thread starter Lazybones
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Lazybones
Adventurer
Book IV, Part 13
“Remember that time we took on twenty hobgoblins?” Benzan said, as he checked a orc quiver for any usable arrows. His suspicions about the quality of orc fletchers confirmed, he tossed the quiver casually aside. “I don’t remember it being this easy that time.”
“I didn’t have the power then that I have now,” Delem said, shielding his nose against the foul odor of roasted flesh that rose from the battlefield.
“They were overconfident, and it cost them,” Jerral said from a short distance away. She was looting the bodies in a more methodical fashion, darting quickly from one smoldering corpse to the next. “Next time it won’t be so easy, I think.”
Benzan walked over to where the body of the ogre lay, the creature’s muscular form impressive even in death. “I hope there aren’t many more of you back home,” he said to himself, running his hand involuntarily over his throat. A scar still ran there, despite Dana’s healing of the wound.
He saw something that glimmered slightly around the thing’s neck, and got closer. The dead ogre wore an amulet on a throng around its neck. It was a crude device, forged in iron, shaped like a bull’s head. When he grasped it, he thought he felt a tingle, just for an instant, then he cut it free and examined it more closely.
“I don’t recognize this symbol,” he said, as Jerral came up behind him to take a look.
“Nor do I,” she admitted. “But I don’t like the look of it, all the same.”
“Let’s go see what Cal’s gotten out of the prisoners,” Benzan suggested.
The tiefling, Jerral, and Delem rejoined their companions, who were standing over the tightly bound forms of the two orcs that Cal had trapped in his web. One of the orcs was chattering on his guttural language, which seemed to suggest that Cal’s new charm person spell had taken hold. Dana, as always, was translating its responses using her spell of comprehend languages.
“What have you learned thus far?” Benzan asked as he came up to join them.
Cal looked up at him. “Well, it’s not good. Apparently there’s a sort of alliance between the orcs and the ogres in this region, several tribes of each from what this bloke’s describing. The ogres are the dominant faction, but it goes beyond brute strength. There’s an intelligence behind it all, someone or something calling the shots.”
“And ogres aren’t known for their intelligence,” Benzan noted.
“Right. Apparently Obould Many-Arrows himself has sanctioned the alliance, though he’s not directly involved with what’s going on way up here.”
“Who?” Delem asked.
“‘King’ Obould’s name is well known in the North,” Lok said. “At one time he ruled the fortress of Felbarr, before dwarves and men from Silverymoon took it back. Last I heard, he was still head of several tribes in the mountains to the south, although he must be getting on in years, now.”
“Oh, he’s still tough enough, tough and canny as he ever was,” Jerral added. “It would be just like him to stir up some trouble up here, to distract attention from whatever he’s planning further south.”
“Any idea who’s leading the ogres?” Benzan asked.
“Apparently, they’re all followers of some sort of ‘bull-god,’ at least from what we’ve been able to figure out from this orc’s ramblings. They’ve got a holdfast near here, although the orc says none of them have been allowed inside…”
“No, don’t tell me, let me guess,” Benzan said. “Caer Dulthain.”
Benzan didn’t need Cal’s reply—the way Lok’s jaw tightened at the mention of the name told him the answer.
“So now what do we do?” Delem asked. “I’ll admit, our skills have grown considerably, but we can’t take on a whole tribe of orcs or ogres, let alone several.”
“Why do I get the impression there’s more?” Benzan asked.
Dana answered him. “The ogres have taken over an old iron mine the dwarves had abandoned, in the vicinity of Caer Dulthain. They’ve got some dwarves, along with some Uthgardt tribesmen they’ve been able to capture, and they’re using them as slaves to extract ore they’re using to forge weapons. The orc says that they’re shipping at least some of the weapons south, to Obould’s armies.”
“Oh, why does this sound familiar?” Benzan said, with a groan.
“We should return to Adbar,” Jerral said. “The dwarves should be notified of this… not to mention the leaders of the Marches.”
“Yes, they should,” Benzan said. “Except that if I know my friends here, we’re not going back… in fact, we’re going forward, and we’re going to rescue those prisoners from their captivity and be noble and self-sacrificing and probably get ourselves killed…”
“Perhaps you and Jerral can go back together, notify the dwarves…” Cal began.
“Now, don’t you start,” Benzan said. “That’s not what I was saying and you know it. Just because I’m saying something logical doesn’t mean that I’m going to do something logical, you know that.”
“Good, I was just checking,” the gnome said.
“So, let me get this straight,” Jerral said. “The five of you… without any backup, intend to head into a region controlled by an alliance comprised of several ogre and orc tribes, attack a well-defended strongpoint that’s just a short run from the main headquarters of the leaders of the whole operation, and then escort the prisoners right out from under their noses?”
“Um, yeah, I guess that’s about it,” Cal said.
“You guys are crazy,” Jerral said. “Count me in, of course.”
“Excellent! The gnomes believe that six is a lucky number, you know.”
“Twenty would be luckier,” Benzan grumbled under his breath.
“Remember that time we took on twenty hobgoblins?” Benzan said, as he checked a orc quiver for any usable arrows. His suspicions about the quality of orc fletchers confirmed, he tossed the quiver casually aside. “I don’t remember it being this easy that time.”
“I didn’t have the power then that I have now,” Delem said, shielding his nose against the foul odor of roasted flesh that rose from the battlefield.
“They were overconfident, and it cost them,” Jerral said from a short distance away. She was looting the bodies in a more methodical fashion, darting quickly from one smoldering corpse to the next. “Next time it won’t be so easy, I think.”
Benzan walked over to where the body of the ogre lay, the creature’s muscular form impressive even in death. “I hope there aren’t many more of you back home,” he said to himself, running his hand involuntarily over his throat. A scar still ran there, despite Dana’s healing of the wound.
He saw something that glimmered slightly around the thing’s neck, and got closer. The dead ogre wore an amulet on a throng around its neck. It was a crude device, forged in iron, shaped like a bull’s head. When he grasped it, he thought he felt a tingle, just for an instant, then he cut it free and examined it more closely.
“I don’t recognize this symbol,” he said, as Jerral came up behind him to take a look.
“Nor do I,” she admitted. “But I don’t like the look of it, all the same.”
“Let’s go see what Cal’s gotten out of the prisoners,” Benzan suggested.
The tiefling, Jerral, and Delem rejoined their companions, who were standing over the tightly bound forms of the two orcs that Cal had trapped in his web. One of the orcs was chattering on his guttural language, which seemed to suggest that Cal’s new charm person spell had taken hold. Dana, as always, was translating its responses using her spell of comprehend languages.
“What have you learned thus far?” Benzan asked as he came up to join them.
Cal looked up at him. “Well, it’s not good. Apparently there’s a sort of alliance between the orcs and the ogres in this region, several tribes of each from what this bloke’s describing. The ogres are the dominant faction, but it goes beyond brute strength. There’s an intelligence behind it all, someone or something calling the shots.”
“And ogres aren’t known for their intelligence,” Benzan noted.
“Right. Apparently Obould Many-Arrows himself has sanctioned the alliance, though he’s not directly involved with what’s going on way up here.”
“Who?” Delem asked.
“‘King’ Obould’s name is well known in the North,” Lok said. “At one time he ruled the fortress of Felbarr, before dwarves and men from Silverymoon took it back. Last I heard, he was still head of several tribes in the mountains to the south, although he must be getting on in years, now.”
“Oh, he’s still tough enough, tough and canny as he ever was,” Jerral added. “It would be just like him to stir up some trouble up here, to distract attention from whatever he’s planning further south.”
“Any idea who’s leading the ogres?” Benzan asked.
“Apparently, they’re all followers of some sort of ‘bull-god,’ at least from what we’ve been able to figure out from this orc’s ramblings. They’ve got a holdfast near here, although the orc says none of them have been allowed inside…”
“No, don’t tell me, let me guess,” Benzan said. “Caer Dulthain.”
Benzan didn’t need Cal’s reply—the way Lok’s jaw tightened at the mention of the name told him the answer.
“So now what do we do?” Delem asked. “I’ll admit, our skills have grown considerably, but we can’t take on a whole tribe of orcs or ogres, let alone several.”
“Why do I get the impression there’s more?” Benzan asked.
Dana answered him. “The ogres have taken over an old iron mine the dwarves had abandoned, in the vicinity of Caer Dulthain. They’ve got some dwarves, along with some Uthgardt tribesmen they’ve been able to capture, and they’re using them as slaves to extract ore they’re using to forge weapons. The orc says that they’re shipping at least some of the weapons south, to Obould’s armies.”
“Oh, why does this sound familiar?” Benzan said, with a groan.
“We should return to Adbar,” Jerral said. “The dwarves should be notified of this… not to mention the leaders of the Marches.”
“Yes, they should,” Benzan said. “Except that if I know my friends here, we’re not going back… in fact, we’re going forward, and we’re going to rescue those prisoners from their captivity and be noble and self-sacrificing and probably get ourselves killed…”
“Perhaps you and Jerral can go back together, notify the dwarves…” Cal began.
“Now, don’t you start,” Benzan said. “That’s not what I was saying and you know it. Just because I’m saying something logical doesn’t mean that I’m going to do something logical, you know that.”
“Good, I was just checking,” the gnome said.
“So, let me get this straight,” Jerral said. “The five of you… without any backup, intend to head into a region controlled by an alliance comprised of several ogre and orc tribes, attack a well-defended strongpoint that’s just a short run from the main headquarters of the leaders of the whole operation, and then escort the prisoners right out from under their noses?”
“Um, yeah, I guess that’s about it,” Cal said.
“You guys are crazy,” Jerral said. “Count me in, of course.”
“Excellent! The gnomes believe that six is a lucky number, you know.”
“Twenty would be luckier,” Benzan grumbled under his breath.
MasterOfHeaven
First Post
/delurk
This story gets better all the time.
/relurk
This story gets better all the time.
/relurk
Lazybones
Adventurer
Book IV, Part 14
They left the bodies of the slain to the predators of the mountains. There was some debate over what to do with the two prisoners, but ultimately only one course of action presented itself. Cal admitted that his charm would not last very long, and none of them wanted to see the ogres warned about their presence in the area. Neither he nor Lok were comfortable with the idea of killing helpless prisoners, but in the end they had to give in to the hard realities of their situation. Jerral did it, ending it quickly. The woman had an edge to her, that much was certain.
They camped as many miles from the ambush site as they could push themselves before exhaustion and the advancing hour forced them to seek rest for the night. The night was quiet, but for those on watch it went particularly slowly, as each shifting shadow and strange sound that broke the night became a creeping orc or looming ogre in their imaginations.
The next day began miserably for the tired companions. The air that blew down on the morning wind was from the south. That meant it was a tad warmer, but only just warm enough to ensure that the storm that hit during breakfast dropped cold, icy rain rather than snow upon the companions. Soaked and miserable, they pressed on nonetheless, knowing that the elements would not hinder their adversaries and so it must not hinder them either. Even with their magical protections, they were all chilled to the bone by midmorning, only the plodding action of moving one foot after the other keeping their bodies warm enough to continue.
The rain turned the snow on the ground to mush, and soon that became a mire of mud and debris that seemed fixed on trying to drag them down with each step. Spills were common occurrences, even for the sure-footed among them, and soon they all looked like walking mudslides.
But that was the better part of the day, before things got really nasty.
* * * * *
“Damn, I—aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh… UMPH!”
“Delem!” Dana yelled, spinning at the young man’s sudden cry just in time to see the sorcerer shooting down the slope they’d just spent the last half-hour negotiating. “Delem, are you all right?” she shouted again, already moving at an almost reckless pace down the muddy hillside, the others falling behind as they negotiated the difficult slope. The sorcerer’s track was easy to follow, as his slide had left a wide trail in the mud that ran straight down the hillside.
“Ow,” came a voice from below, barely audible over the wind. Dana could just make out Delem’s muddy form, wedged against a protruding wedge of stone about fifty feet below her. Even as she watched he tried to rise, but quickly slumped back, clearly injured by his misadventure.
The agile monk quickly covered the distance, although she herself nearly slipped on the last treacherous strip of mud. He looked up as she reached him, and the pain was evident on his face.
“How is it?” she asked, as she crouched beside him.
“I… I think I broke something. My side… it’s like it’s on fire…”
“It’ll be all right in just a second,” she said, drawing his eyes to hers and locking them in a joined stare. She cleared her mind of all of the distractions around her, drawing upon the power of Selûne as she cast her most powerful healing spell. The familiar blue glow surrounded her hands and passed into his body, and his labored breathing eased as the positive energy worked its restorative magic upon the injured young man.
“Thanks,” he said, as he reluctantly broke the stare and started to rise. She helped him, careful not to slip on the mud that surrounded them.
“Delem, are you okay?” came a concerned voice as the others reached them.
Delem looked up at the one who’d spoken—Benzan. “Yeah, I’m all right, thanks to Dana.” He looked past them back up the hill, which now loomed its full height over them again. “Sorry for being such a klutz—now we’ll have to climb that again.”
“There’s always another hill,” Cal said. “But keeping everyone alive and intact… well, that’s more important.”
“Hey, looks like you got a little mud on you there, chief,” Benzan said. Delem looked down at his body—which was literally caked with mud, front and back. The sorcerer then looked over at Benzan, who was only slightly less dirty himself. Finally, both of them laughed. It was the only thing they could do, really, in that situation, and the others joined in.
The levity was short-lived, however.
“What a day,” Cal said, wiping some water from his eyes. He opened his mouth to say something else, but was cut off by Jerral’s warning cry.
“Ogres!”
They turned to see several ogres, the first of a group numbering a full ten, appeared over a low rise in the terrain barely sixty feet away from where they stood.
They left the bodies of the slain to the predators of the mountains. There was some debate over what to do with the two prisoners, but ultimately only one course of action presented itself. Cal admitted that his charm would not last very long, and none of them wanted to see the ogres warned about their presence in the area. Neither he nor Lok were comfortable with the idea of killing helpless prisoners, but in the end they had to give in to the hard realities of their situation. Jerral did it, ending it quickly. The woman had an edge to her, that much was certain.
They camped as many miles from the ambush site as they could push themselves before exhaustion and the advancing hour forced them to seek rest for the night. The night was quiet, but for those on watch it went particularly slowly, as each shifting shadow and strange sound that broke the night became a creeping orc or looming ogre in their imaginations.
The next day began miserably for the tired companions. The air that blew down on the morning wind was from the south. That meant it was a tad warmer, but only just warm enough to ensure that the storm that hit during breakfast dropped cold, icy rain rather than snow upon the companions. Soaked and miserable, they pressed on nonetheless, knowing that the elements would not hinder their adversaries and so it must not hinder them either. Even with their magical protections, they were all chilled to the bone by midmorning, only the plodding action of moving one foot after the other keeping their bodies warm enough to continue.
The rain turned the snow on the ground to mush, and soon that became a mire of mud and debris that seemed fixed on trying to drag them down with each step. Spills were common occurrences, even for the sure-footed among them, and soon they all looked like walking mudslides.
But that was the better part of the day, before things got really nasty.
* * * * *
“Damn, I—aaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh… UMPH!”
“Delem!” Dana yelled, spinning at the young man’s sudden cry just in time to see the sorcerer shooting down the slope they’d just spent the last half-hour negotiating. “Delem, are you all right?” she shouted again, already moving at an almost reckless pace down the muddy hillside, the others falling behind as they negotiated the difficult slope. The sorcerer’s track was easy to follow, as his slide had left a wide trail in the mud that ran straight down the hillside.
“Ow,” came a voice from below, barely audible over the wind. Dana could just make out Delem’s muddy form, wedged against a protruding wedge of stone about fifty feet below her. Even as she watched he tried to rise, but quickly slumped back, clearly injured by his misadventure.
The agile monk quickly covered the distance, although she herself nearly slipped on the last treacherous strip of mud. He looked up as she reached him, and the pain was evident on his face.
“How is it?” she asked, as she crouched beside him.
“I… I think I broke something. My side… it’s like it’s on fire…”
“It’ll be all right in just a second,” she said, drawing his eyes to hers and locking them in a joined stare. She cleared her mind of all of the distractions around her, drawing upon the power of Selûne as she cast her most powerful healing spell. The familiar blue glow surrounded her hands and passed into his body, and his labored breathing eased as the positive energy worked its restorative magic upon the injured young man.
“Thanks,” he said, as he reluctantly broke the stare and started to rise. She helped him, careful not to slip on the mud that surrounded them.
“Delem, are you okay?” came a concerned voice as the others reached them.
Delem looked up at the one who’d spoken—Benzan. “Yeah, I’m all right, thanks to Dana.” He looked past them back up the hill, which now loomed its full height over them again. “Sorry for being such a klutz—now we’ll have to climb that again.”
“There’s always another hill,” Cal said. “But keeping everyone alive and intact… well, that’s more important.”
“Hey, looks like you got a little mud on you there, chief,” Benzan said. Delem looked down at his body—which was literally caked with mud, front and back. The sorcerer then looked over at Benzan, who was only slightly less dirty himself. Finally, both of them laughed. It was the only thing they could do, really, in that situation, and the others joined in.
The levity was short-lived, however.
“What a day,” Cal said, wiping some water from his eyes. He opened his mouth to say something else, but was cut off by Jerral’s warning cry.
“Ogres!”
They turned to see several ogres, the first of a group numbering a full ten, appeared over a low rise in the terrain barely sixty feet away from where they stood.
Lazybones
Adventurer
Horacio said:Let's see a good fight!
As always, Horacio, I will endeavor to oblige you.
* * * * *
Book IV, Part 15
The companions found their already bad day suddenly grown much worse, having stumbled across a reinforced patrol consisting of a half-score ogre barbarians. The creatures, already in a bad mood from the weather as well, wasted no time in issuing a roared challenge and charging to the attack.
The adventurers were not ones to hesitate, already experienced with what the ogres of the North could do.
“Give them all you got!” Cal yelled, following his cry with the words of a spell. Before the magic could take effect, though, Benzan was already moving, stringing his bow with a single smooth motion and fixing the first of many arrows to the string. The mighty bow twanged with power and the first arrow was on its way, digging deep into the torso of the lead ogre an instant later. The creature roared out in pain, but it was clear that it would take far more to stop it.
The companions rapidly sought to oblige.
Cal’s spell landed a second later, as magical webs sprang into existence in the center of the ogre ranks. Anchored to the huge boulders that littered the area, several of the mighty barbarians found themselves caught by the sticky strands. Their strength, however, already considerable and now augmented by a visceral, pounding rage, allowed them to start quickly tearing themselves free of the encumbering web, driving toward the companions with raw power.
Seeing the effect of Cal’s spell, Delem altered his own casting slightly. Knowing that his fireball would burn away the webs instantly, freeing the trapped ogres, he shifted his aim to the left, where the second rank of ogres was already moving around the boundaries of Cal’s spell. At his summons a bead of fire spat from between his fingers and crossed the battlefield, erupting in a fiery roar in the midst of the charging ogres.
The effect was dramatic, but the ogres were not mere orcs, to fall so easily from a single stroke. When the flames cleared, five ogres were charred, but still they came on.
Dana was casting her own spell, which had yet to take effect. Jerral had joined in Benzan’s barrage, firing arrows into the ogres that were having the most success fighting free of the webs. The head of each arrow, as she fitted it to her bow, burst into magical flame, each missile forming a fiery streak through the air as it slammed into its target. Jerral’s bow strummed with even more speed and accuracy than Benzan’s, and soon that lead ogre was hurting badly.
So far the battle was going the companions’ way, but as yet none of the ogres had been permanently taken out of the fray and they were rapidly closing the distance. Several paused to hurl their massive spears at the companions. None of their missiles found their targets, although one shattered with great force on the rock that Delem was standing behind, the same rock that had brought a painful stop to his fall earlier. It was a close call for the sorcerer, as there had been no time for Cal to protect him with mage armor, and Delem sank again into the power of his magic.
Lok hefted his axe and stepped forward to meet the charging ogres. It looked almost ludicrous, the stout genasi coming barely up to the waists of the massive brutes, except that Lok had already proven his mettle against such giant foes before. Still, with all ten of their enemies still standing, it seemed that even Lok’s bravery would not be enough to hold the line.
Cal surrounded Dana with mage armor, clutching his wand of color spray in his other hand. He saw that all of the ogres he’d snared were making short work of his webs, so he shouted to Delem, “Fire the webs!”
Delem was just finishing his second spell, so it wasn’t clear at first if he’d heard the gnome. His second fireball exploded on target, though, scorching the ogres in the webbing. One of the beasts, with two arrows already stuck in its chest, went down, clutching feebly at its wounds.
That only left nine remaining.
Lok met the charge of the first ogre, holding his ground until the giant committed to its attack. He dodged nimbly under its powerful but clumsy stroke and ducked under its reach, slamming his axe into its torso with enough impact to stagger the ogre through its rage. The ogre did not fall, although it was clearly hurting. The second ogre rushed in after its friend, its axe sweeping through a deadly arc toward Lok, but its strike too faltered as a pair of arrows slammed into it, one lodging in its side and the other in its throat. The ogre’s momentum carried it forward, but it was already falling, dying.
Lok spared an instant for a grateful wave to Benzan and Jerral, then he turned to face his next adversary. More ogres were reaching the embattled genasi, but their own bulk got in the way of their attacks. Two joined the attack on Lok, while the others circled round and came at the other companions.
The first raised its axe to strike as it charged toward Delem, but hesitated as a flare of blue light erupted directly before it. When the afterimage of the burst faded there was a new combatant on the battlefield, a celestial badger called by Dana’s magic.
Only this badger was the size of a tall man, and possessed of a divine rage that matched the primal fury of the ogre battleragers.
“All right, the badgers are back!” Benzan shouted in approval, as the creature tore into the ogre.
Lok staggered as he took a hit that penetrated his armor and drew a gash in his shoulder, but he returned that and more with his frost-frozen axe. His first stroke dropped the already wounded ogre he’d first engaged, and he followed through with a mighty stroke that dug deeply into the next ogre’s leg. The ogre drew back in pain, but Lok simply spun and cut into his other remaining adversary, drawing a red line across its torso. The genasi fought with a cool efficiency that found every weakness in the defenses of his raging opponents. That rage gave them a stamina that let them shrug off the devastating hits from Lok’s axe, however, and they came at him with their own axes before he could recover and strike again.
The rest of the companions could not come to his aid, however, as the remaining ogres swarmed on their position. Cal fired a color spray from his wand into a trio charging from his web. The first two, consumed by their lust for blood, shrugged off the effect, however, and the last only hesitated slightly, momentarily stunned by the brilliant display.
Before Cal could be overwhelmed by the remaining pair, Benzan and Jerral leapt together into their path, their deadly bows replaced now with sword and axes for close-quarter work. They worked well together, moving to flank the first ogre even as it swept its huge axe out at Benzan. The tiefling took a glancing blow that dug painfully into his shoulder, but gritted his teeth and stabbed at the ogre with his sword. The enhanced blade scored only a slight gash in the ogre’s hip, but it distracted it enough for Jerral to launch a deadly assault on it from behind with her twin axes. Both of her blades scored the ogre’s vitals, tearing into its torso from both sides, and with a roar of pain it stumbled forward and fell to the ground.
There was little time to celebrate their success, however, as the second ogre slammed its axe into Jerral’s side, inflicting a serious wound and driving her roughly backward.
On the opposite flank, Delem and Dana found themselves facing the last two ogres. One was quite occupied by the summoned dire badger, but the second, its features burned by Delem’s fireballs, hefted its axe and rushed at the sorcerer.
Only to find the spry form of a slender young woman in its path. Almost disdainfully, the ogre sliced with his axe to remove this puny obstruction from its path. It was surprised when Dana twisted out of the path of its weapon almost without effort, and slashed at its arm with a small sickle-shaped blade. The kama failed to penetrate the thick fur bracer it wore, but the attack did draw the ogre’s attention. It took up its axe with both hands, roaring as it prepared for a two-handed strike to chop this troublesome adversary in two.
That challenge was immediately followed by the painful sting of three magic missiles from Delem, stabbing one after the other into the ogre’s already burned torso.
Lok had taken another hit, and he favored his left side slightly where the ogre’s powerful swing had connected. His own attacks were no less deadly, however, and as he finished another series of powerful strokes a second ogre fell to join the first. Lok’s last adversary did not hesitate, however, coming in with another mighty sweep even as its companion fell lifeless into the mud. Lok turned smoothly, however, and took the blow on his shield. The sound of metal striking metal rang out over the windy battlefield, and a look of realization penetrated the rage in the ogre’s eyes as it saw cold death reflected in the blood-streaked blade that rose once more into the air before it.
Benzan rushed forward to aid Jerral, who was finding herself hard-pressed against her attacker. Once again, as if they’d fought many battles together, they moved together to flank their adversary and force it to split its defenses against attacks from two opposite fronts. The ogre responded with all-out attack, nearly taking Benzan’s head off with a powerful two-handed sweep of its axe. The effort cost it, however, as it opened it fully to Jerral’s counter. Her battleaxe dug deeply into the ogre’s hamstring, sending it to one knee. Still it tried to lash out at its enemies, bringing the axe around until Benzan’s blade thrust deep into its throat. Gurgling a final curse, it crumpled to the ground, dying.
Benzan spun, his blade at the ready, knowing that there was one more…
Except that the last ogre on their flank, the one stunned by Cal’s spell, was fully occupied with trying to see through the swarm of illusory giant bats Cal had summoned. It was almost funny, the way the massive brute staggered about, except that the companions knew that the axe it bore could still unleash death if they were not wary.
“Ready?” Benzan said, glancing over at Jerral. The woman nodded, and the two moved to flank their remaining adversary.
Back on the far edge of the battlefield, Dana and Delem were still hotly engaged. The wounded ogre was still coming after Dana, whose defensive maneuvers, augmented by Cal’s magical protection, had thus far kept her from harm. Delem, meanwhile, continued to slam magical bolts into it, each volley drawing the creature closer to the point where even its rage could not sustain it. The sorcerer turned, however, as he heard a vicious cry from his right. His eyes widened as he saw the final ogre step forward over the bloody remains of Dana’s summoned badger. Even as he watched the slain celestial winked out of existence, returning to whence it came. The ogre was ravaged, its lower body streaked with multiple gashes, but that didn’t stop it from raising its axe and charging straight for Delem.
Delem felt frozen with fear, but he also felt the thrum of power fill him, a blazing fire that burned every other feeling away. The flames exploded out of him, enveloping the ogre even as its blade came down and found purchase in Delem’s slender form. The sorcerer cried out in pain, but even as he felt himself falling he felt the familiar rush of Kossuth’s divine touch fill him. He staggered back, grievously wounded but still standing, and looked down to see the flame-ravaged form of the dead ogre looking up at him with empty eyes.
Dana continued to give ground, knowing that her own attacks were of little proof against the ogre, even with the serious wounds it had already suffered. She saw that her companions were quickly finishing the remaining ogres, and so she bought time, trading ground for defense, narrowly avoiding that deadly blade with each stroke.
Finally, realization seemed to break through the battle-rage of the ogre. As Dana darted back yet again it turned and regarded the battlefield, and its fallen comrades. Even as it looked on Benzan and Jerral stepped back from the last standing ogre, and slowly it toppled, its struggles fading even before it hit the mud-slicked stones. Lok and Cal were already converging on Dana’s position, and although Delem was clearly hurt, the flames danced in his eyes as he raised his hands to strike yet again.
The ogre saw its own death, but it did not falter or seek escape. Instead, it reached down and drew up a massive horn that it wore around its neck, a crude iron device that curved in the manner of a ram’s horn. It hefted the device and blew into it, sounding a powerful note that shattered the windy afternoon and echoed repeatedly through the mountains.
Then the ogre hefted its axe, and charged.
* * * * *
A few notes:
1) If you haven't already guessed, the ogres in this part of the story are enhanced with class levels. One level of barbarian can make a considerable difference in the toughness of an ogre as an adversary, especially when raging. The following is straight from my notes:
Ogre barbarians (bbn1)
HD4d8+10+1d12 (hp34)
AC16
MV40
Atk huge greataxe +9 melee (2d8+7), huge longspear +2 ranged (2d6+5)
Fort +8, Ref +0, Will +1
Rage 1/day for 7 rounds (when raging: +2 hit/+3 damage, +10 hit points, +2 Will saves, -2 AC)
Bbn2: hp43, +10 melee, uncanny dodge
Bbn3: hp51, +11/+6 melee
2) Upcoming is a mega-battle scene that ended up pushing a record (for this story thus far) fourteen pages in Word. For the sake of posting I've chopped it up into smaller bits, put in a few transitions, and I'll post it on consecutive days next week (it begins with part 17).
3) I've plotted what's going to happen through the end of book IV (thanks to boring all-day meetings at work), and while I don't want to give anything away (
), I can say that IV is going to have a very dramatic (one might even say drastic) ending...Thanks again to all my readers for their feedback and support. I've noticed that readership on the story hour forum has fallen off of late, especially during the day, and I hope that the 200 user limit will be lifted soon.
LB
Lazybones said:
3) I've plotted what's going to happen through the end of book IV (thanks to boring all-day meetings at work), and while I don't want to give anything away (
Dramatic? Drastic?
What are you going to do ?!?!?!?
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