Travels through the Wild West: Book IV

[Ziggy]

Hi Lazybones !

You write excellent fight scenes, IMHO the best among the story hours here. It's awesome how you are able to transform the ebb and flow of the battle into words, it's almost like being part of the battle.

I was seriously worried about the party this time, a party of Ogres with class levels is serious business. But they are growing powerful, starting to get into the realms of true heroes. But now you promise an even bigger fight ?

I'm holding my breath here :shudder

.Ziggy

 

[Lazybones]

Dramatic? Drastic?
What are you going to do ?!?!?!?

Heh. You'll see.

Originally posted by Ziggy

You write excellent fight scenes, IMHO the best among the story hours here. It's awesome how you are able to transform the ebb and flow of the battle into words, it's almost like being part of the battle.

Thanks! I've been writing action scenes for ten years now (I just recently realized that I started my first novel in 1992... feeling old all of a sudden), and I like to think I've come a long way in being able to produce convincing, fast-paced action. I'm glad you enjoy it, and I appreciate the compliment.

But now you promise an even bigger fight ?

Let's just say: 10 to 1 odds, and dwarven gifts needed sooner rather than later. Read on...

* * * * *

Book IV, Part 16

“I can’t leave you alone for one second, can I,” Dana said, her tone light but her concern obvious on her face as she tended to Delem. The sorcerer gritted his teeth as Dana continued to pour healing energy into him from her wand of cure light wounds, but soon his expression eased and the wound in his torso closed completely.

Around the battlefield, the others were making similar preparations, healing wounds and hastily looting the bodies of the ogres for anything useful or valuable. Jerral stood on the stone outcropping, watching impatiently for them to finish.

“We’ve got to get out of here,” she said. “The blast of that horn probably carried for miles…”

As if in answer, the loud note of another horn sounded in the distance, somewhere north of them. And even before the echoes had fully faded off the surrounding mountains, a second blast came from the southwest, its deep note sounding close… too close.

“Let’s go!” Jerral said, leaping off the outcropping and running to the west. Her companions hurried to follow, each imagining what forces might be behind those two baleful horns.

“Where are we going?” Benzan asked.

“Trust Jerral,” Cal managed, soon fighting for breath as his short legs tried to keep up with the pace set by the ranger. It was a hopeless cause, however, and soon he and the heavily armored Lok were lagging, the others adjusting their pace so as to not leave them behind. The ranger moved steadily ahead of them, pausing at the crest of another low rise ahead, her eyes darting over every bend and crease in the land as she scanned the horizon behind them.

“We’ll never outrun them,” Benzan said, as the companions reached the ranger’s vantage.

“I know,” Jerral said. “There’s a place, near here… I’ve only been there once, but it should serve as a good redoubt…”

“Lead on,” Benzan said. “We’ll be right behind you.”

“We need a scout, to check behind and see what’s coming and how close they are. Maybe I should…”

“No, you’re the only one who knows where we’re going,” Cal said, fighting for breath as he urged them on, continuing their conversation while still moving forward. They crested the rise to reveal another identical-seeming landscape of peaks and valleys beyond. The gray ceiling above them was beginning to darken, promising the approach of night, but they had perhaps an hour left until visibility would start to become a problem.

“I’ll go,” Dana said.

“Dana, you’re fast and nimble, but those monsters… their could be hundreds of them, and you just don’t have the ability to remain unseen that Jerral and I have,” Benzan said. “I should go.”

“I had something a little different in mind,” the cleric-monk replied, closing her eyes as she called upon the power of her goddess. They watched as she outstretched her arms and looked up to the heavens, and then started in surprise as she rose off of the ground, hovering effortlessly in front of them.

“I’m just going to make a quick scout, and I’ll be right back,” she said.

“We’ll keep to our current direction,” Jerral said. “Follow a westerly course, and you’ll find us.”

“Be careful, Dana,” Cal said. “Orcs are pretty good marksmen, and dispel magic has a range of one hundred and fifty feet or more.”

“I’ll be careful,” she said. “You worry too much, you know.” And with a final wry smile, she shot up into the air, rapidly becoming just a speck as she rose several hundred feet into the air and flew speedily to the east.

“I didn’t know she could do that,” Jerral said.

“Neither did we,” Benzan admitted.

* * * * *

For the next half-hour they set a rapid pace, scrambling over the broken expanse of rock and mud until they crested yet another rise to see a broad valley stretching out before them. They had not heard the horns of their pursuers again, but each could feel a sense of malevolence dogging them, as if unseen eyes were marking every step of their progress.

None of them ventured to suggest that perhaps their pursuers had given up on chasing them.

Now, within the valley ahead of them they could see the destination that Jerral had marked for them. Approximately within the center of the valley stood a lonely stone tor, its flat summit rising perhaps one hundred feet above the uneven valley floor. From what they could see, the only easy approach to the top was a rocky climb shaped like a funnel, a steep but manageable slope perhaps fifty paces across at its base but narrowing to only ten paces wide near the summit. To either side of that climb stood a sheer cliff.

“What about the back?” Lok asked.

“There’s a narrow trail up the rear face,” Jerral said. “It’s not a difficult climb, switchbacking its way up to the summit, but only wide enough for one at a time.”

“I’m surprised no one else has claimed it first,” Benzan said.

“This whole area is pretty barren, even during the other seasons. No good sources of water, and the soil is hard and rocky—the only other time I was here was in the autumn, and it was just as empty as it seems now.”

“It’ll have to serve,” Cal said. “It’ll be dark soon—we’d better get going.”

They started down into the valley. Delem asked, “What about Dana?”

“She knows how to take care of herself,” Benzan said. But the tiefling’s gaze returned frequently to the eastern sky as they made their way toward the tor.

They’d covered about half the distance to it, the stone monolith now looming above them in the twilight, when Benzan called out an alarm. They all looked back at the crest they’d just left behind, and even those without Benzan’s keen eyes could see the movement along the ridge. At least the armored forms they spotted were only man-sized, not the hulking forms of ogres.

“Orcs,” Jerral said. “About a dozen, it looks like. Probably a scouting wing for the main body.”

“They’re just standing there,” Delem said. “What are they waiting for?”

“Reinforcements,” Benzan replied. “Let’s get moving!”

They hurried their pace toward the tor, and they were nearing the base when another call, this time from Cal, brought their attention around again. Instead of another enemy, however, they saw it was Dana, streaking down out of the sky to land just ahead of them.

“What did you see?” several of them asked at once.

“It’s not good,” she told them. “There are two groups converging on this point. From the south we’ve got about fifty orcs—all warriors by the look of them. And from the north, fifteen or so ogres, plus two really big white wolves.”

“Winter wolves,” Jerral said. “They’re tough, and can breath cones of frost.”

“Oh, this just gets better and better,” Benzan interjected.

“How close?” Cal asked.

“They’re right behind us—just a ridge or two back. They’ll be here in minutes.” She shifted slightly, and they could see that she favored her right side slightly.

“You’re wounded!” Delem said.

“Just a scratch,” she said dismissively. “I’ll heal it when we get to cover. The ogres have several ballistae with them—I guess I got a little too close after all. One bolt grazed me… thanks again for the mage armor, Cal; it could have been a lot worse.”

“Strange… I can’t remember encountering ogres this well organized, or well equipped,” Jerral said. “I’m more curious about this mysterious ‘leader’ behind this alliance.”

“Well, we’ll be able to ponder the significance later,” Cal said. “Right now, we’d better get ready for their… visit.”

Without further discussion they hurried onward, reaching the base of the bluff and picking their way slowly up the front slope. The route was passable, if hazardous, and they took some hope in the fact that it would be a much more difficult climb in the face of determined opposition.

By the time they reached the summit, the light of the day was already beginning to fail. There was still just enough illumination, however, for them to make out the movement along the far ridge and the valley below.

Their pursuers had arrived as well.

* * * * *

Starting Monday... battle royale!

 

[Carnifex]

Finally got round to reading this story hour, and I'm very glad I did!

 

[Horacio]

Dana is now a flying super hero

Waitng for the battle...

 

[Lazybones]

Book IV, Part 17

“Do you think they’ll attack now, or wait for morning?” Delem asked, as the companions prepared their bastion for an assault from the ogres and orcs pouring into the valley.

“Orcs have darkvision, but ogres do not,” Jerral said, as she picked out a sniper position that provided good cover among the boulders and a clear line of sight down the sloping approach up the bluff. “That said, ogres aren’t known for their subtlety, or their patience. I’d be ready for an attack at any time.”

“Benzan and Lok can see in the dark as well,” Cal noted, “and my eyes are pretty good in low light, although I don’t think we’ll get much natural light tonight.” He glanced up at the sky, which remained an unbroken bank of dark clouds.

“Well, then you three aren’t going to get much sleep tonight,” Jerral said. “We’d better put someone on watch on both ends of the bluff, in case they try the narrow back route up.”

The enemy forces approached the base of the tor—the companions could hear them, now, even if the night concealed their approach—but they did not immediately make a move to ascend toward the summit. Their adversaries were making no effort to be quiet—in fact, it seemed quite the obvious, as the sound of war chants and metal clashing on metal rang frequently through the night.

“I guess they’re not planning on a quiet evening,” Benzan observed. He’d taken up a position at the top of the slope running up to the summit of the tor, his darkvision penetrating the night like it was day. Unfortunately, the range of his special sight was limited, and their enemies would be able to ascend well up the slope before he would be able to see them clearly.

Delem walked over to Cal and Dana. “Here,” he said, removing a handful of bolts from his quiver and offering several to each of them.

“The giantbane bolts we got back at Citadel Adbar?” Cal asked, accepting the missiles.

“Yes. I figure we should all have a few of them… I think they’ll come in handy tonight.”

The chaotic sounds from down below became quiet for a moment, drawing the companions’ attention back down to the darkness. Then, slowly at first, a rhythmic sound shattered the night. It was the sounding of a deep drum, pounding its mournful beat through the confines of the valley. The beating became faster, and louder as its pulses were accompanied by the sound of metal clashing on metal. Soon every creature at the base of the tor was participating in the ritual noise, the pounding filling the night with the promise of the violence that now seemed inevitable.

The companions were all experienced, veterans of many battles, but it would have been hard not to get at least a little rattled at the disturbing cacophony. But then, as the pounding below began to reach a fevered pitch, the soft sounds of a lute broke up the menace of that evil tune. Cal’s voice, clear and strong, pierced the night, filling the companions with a renewed sense of purpose. He sang a battle-song familiar to those who had grown up in the tumultuous Western Heartlands, a song of triumph in the face of evil and adversity. Pitch for pitch it matched the awful crescendo from below, countering its message of dread and fear with one of camaraderie and hope. The companions checked their weapons and went over the spells stored in their minds.

Of course they were afraid—only a fool would not be, facing such odds. But there was no panic, no confusion, only grim determination as they readied themselves for the confrontation.

And then the drum suddenly stopped, and with it the night again grew still.

Cal was the first to see it, his night-adapted eyes cutting through the darkness.

“They’re coming.”

* * * * *

The companions waited within the shelter of the surrounding boulders atop the bluff, as the shadowy phalanx of orcs and ogres stormed the slope.

From the rear of the bluff, Dana crouched atop a boulder that overlooked the narrow and twisting back way up to the summit. Although her night vision wasn’t as good as some of the others, even she had to admit that her limited offensive power could be best spared from the main line of defense. All of the others faced the main route up the bluff, a steep, rubble-strewn ramp that ran several hundred feet from the valley floor below up to the entrenched positions where the defenders waited.

The companions had enacted all of the preparations that they had at their disposal. Cal had summoned mage armor around himself and Delem, and renewed the protection around Dana as well. The gnome had also cast cat’s grace on Benzan, making him even more nimble and accurate with his bow. Dana used a spell of her own to augment Lok’s endurance, toughening him even further beyond his normally incredible vitality. Finally, Cal and Delem summoned magical shields into being in front of them, to serve as effective barriers against enemy attacks.

All of them knew, however, that it would ultimately come to hand-to-hand combat.

“I can’t see them coming,” Delem said, holding the power of his flames ready to strike.

Cal stepped over to Benzan. “Can you put an arrow at the base of the slope?”

“No problem,” the tiefling said, nocking the arrow and holding it ready. Cal called upon the power of a minor cantrip, reaching out to touch the arrowhead as he completed the spell. The arrow brightened until it glowed with magical light about as bright as a torch. Realizing that he now made a perfect target, Benzan didn’t hesitate, drawing the arrow and letting it fly. It landed with a clatter among the rocks at the base of the slope, casting a bright globe of illumination around it.

And revealing the dark shadows that were rapidly approaching, resolving quickly into the snarling faces of orcs as they entered the radius of the light.

“Now, Delem!” Cal cried.

But Delem was already lost in the magic, and even as Cal shouted his command he released the power of his most potent spell. The fireball streaked down the slope, exploding at its base in the general area of the light, blinding them with its intensity. Screams from orcs caught within the blast filled the night, although it wasn’t immediately clear how many had been taken out by the spell.

The enemy rush continued on. An ogre stepped into the radius of the light, and a moment later the glow winked out of existence as it found and covered Benzan’s arrow.

Crossbow bolts began to land around the companions, although fired blind as they were, they failed to hit anything but rocks. Benzan and Jerral had managed to fire a few shots before Cal’s light was snuffed, but as yet they too had failed to bring down any of their enemies.

Delem cast another spell, and a row of flickering flames appeared, hovering in the air about one hundred and sixty feet down the slope. The archers readied their best arrows now as the shadowy length of the advancing enemy line became visible further down the slope, steadily nearing the lighted area. Thus far the orcs and ogres seemed to be making a simple frontal attack, trusting in numbers to absorb whatever attacks the defenders could unleash upon them.

They entered the radius of Delem’s dancing lights less than a minute later, moving almost recklessly up the steep and rocky slope. The orcs were in the front, holding crossbows, longspears, or heavy axes as they rushed onward with an almost feral intensity. Behind them came the ogres in a disorganized line formation, several carrying huge shields covered in thick hides before them.

“Damn, I don’t see the winter wolves,” Cal said, scanning the enemy ranks even as he fired his crossbow and loaded another bolt. “Dana!” he yelled.

“All clear so far!” the woman yelled back from her position, along the far edge of the bluff fifty feet away. “Do you need me there?”

“Stay on watch!” Cal said, not willing to trust that the leader of the enemy force was unaware of the one glaring weakness in their defensive position.

As the enemy line rushed past his dancing flames Delem unleashed his second fireball. This time, the blast was centered on the enemy ranks, and exploded to devastating effect. Fully twenty orcs fell to the enveloping flames, their bodies charred and blackened, and behind them several ogres felt the force of the fireball as well, though none of them went down.

Still, the enemy rush came on.

Jerral and Benzan were now able to make their shots tell, firing into the enemy ranks with deadly effect. Lok, too, had taken his mighty bow from the bag of holding, and launched arrows that penetrated the armor of the leading orcs through sheer mighty force.

A wall of sharp spearpoints rose up out of the ground in front of the charging orc battle line, causing the lead warriors to draw up in alarm. One cried out as its momentum carried it forward into the points, only to pass harmlessly through Cal’s illusion. It turned to its comrades and smiled dumbly, only to collapse an instant later as one of Benzan’s arrows slammed into its lung.

The illusion only delayed the rush for a few moments, but in that time more orcs died.

Thus far none of the companions had even been wounded, and more than half of the orcs were lying dead or dying on the slope of the tor. The ogre force was largely intact, however, and Dana’s sudden cry only added to the seriousness of their situation a moment later.

“They’re coming up the back trail!”

 

[Horacio]

I love Delem's fireballs!

 

[monboesen]

After a long time lurking i feel prompted to comment on the great story. Well actually not so much on the story but more on the characters.

As both a long time player and DM i must say that i don't think that many real players would multiclass in the way that the characters potrayed in this story does. Especially Cal and Delem are unlikely as multiclassing different spellcasting classes is in general a bad idea. Even though it may seem a fair deal at first it quickly turns sour at higher levels. This is also i think, why Lok and Benzan dominates the battles, they haven't "wasted" levels. If for instance Delem had been a 8 lvl sorcerer he would have slinging fireballs for a long time and would now acces spells as Wall of Fire and Fire Shield.

I also think that any player with Dana as a character would have chosen Weapon Finesse (Unarmed) rather than Weapon Focus (Unarmed) unless it is a prequisite of her prestige class. And on the same note as Cal and Delem, the Monk class is one of the poorest classes to multiclass, and few players would do so beyond the first lvl.

Less technical but in my view more important is that Delems charisma of 17 is more or less treated only as a gauge of his magical power. Whereas Benzan, demonspawned, with a charisma 10 and a habit of being sarcastic comes across a the stereotypical charming rogue. This is a pet peeve of mine as i have often seen both low and high charisma scores misused by players and Dms alike. Charisma is by far the most difficult ability score reward fairly as a Dm and i feel that you are "guilty" of mistreating it. Delems charisma score should mean that he has "great force of personality, persuasiveness, personal magnetism, ability to lead, and physical attractiveness" (quote from Players Handbook). His charisma is extraordinary in the same way as a popular politician, musician or cult leader and of the same “power” as Loks great strength and fortitude and Benzams and Danas great agility which are often mentioned in the story. Delem should be noticed first among the group, strangers should be interested in befriending him and women should find him alluring. Contrary to this he is potrayed as unsure and unremarkable. Strangers rarely take note of him and most social interaction is handled by Cal (whom is also charismatic and potrayed as such) and Dana is falling for Benzam. Hmm maybe i am just sorry to see another good goy loosing to the bad boy in the game of love.

Lastly i would like to point out that i truly enjoy the story very much and would never have posted this if not you had chosen to use the D&D rules as a framework for the story and strives to make it seem something that could have been played in an actual game. So keep on the good work.

 

[Lazybones]

monboesen: thanks for taking the time to reply, and let me see if I can respond to some of your comments.

First off, your comment about the power levels of multi-classing magic-users (both arcane and divine) is quite true. I've always been of the sort who doesn't mind sacrificing game power for RP effectiveness, and the way the character conceptions for Cal and Delem came together their class splits just seemed to work within the construction of the story. As a bit of background, I can tell you that I was pretty much committed to sticking to wizard levels for Cal all the way up (I had a high-level FRCS prestige class in mind for him) and ignoring the bard side of his character (despite several reader commentaries that they thought his character would be more likely to add bard levels). As the story continued, however, I realized that Cal's progression as a wizard was changing the character in ways that went against my original character concept. That's why I included the scene where in his journal he comments on his decision not to go for 3rd level spells for the moment, even though he knows that this might cost him and his companions later.

As for the charisma issue: you have a point here as well, and here the clash of game mechanics and plot has been a problem. I've been guilty of "stat dumping" in this stat in 2e, and I really like stories (like Rel's) where character charisma scores really affect the game. That said, I'd always seen Delem as a character with great potential that he needs to grow into. I think his character has grown a lot more forceful since the initial chapters, especially when he calls upon the innate power of his magic. Perhaps it would have made more sense to make him a wizard, but the sorcerer class just seemed to fit so well with the background I'd created.

And it's funny that so many readers like Benzan so much, and think he's charming! I think he's really kind of a jerk (especially toward Delem), but maybe he's won me over too and I'm subconsciously sneaking more flattering portrayals of him into my writing.

Re Dana: I just plain forgot you could WFinesse unarmed. And as for her monk levels, in addition to the RP element, it really toughened her up in terms of evasion and saving throws. I think the main reason I gave her two levels is that I don't like powergamers who take just one level of a class for the game advantages . I guess I'm guilty of that in Benzan's case, but he is going to level up in wizard eventually (I see his progression as a largely balanced on in the long run).

Any other readers want to weigh in on these issues?

Thanks again for reading.

LB

 

[Lazybones]

Book IV, Part 18

“They’re coming up the back trail!” Dana cried, alerting the others to a flanking maneuver on their position.

“I’ll go!” Jerral said, firing one more shot that dropped an orc before darting back over the boulders toward the rear face of the bluff. The others had to trust that she and Dana could hold whatever enemies were coming up the rear face, for they would have their hands full holding back the frontal assault that was drawing steadily nearer to their position.

The orcs were now within sixty feet of their position, with the ogres remaining only slightly behind. It was clear now that the orcs were being used for fodder by the ogres, to absorb the most devastating attacks from the defenders while the ogres behind kept their line intact. Cal hastily counted and came up with a count of twelve of the brutish giants.

No, this wasn’t looking good at all.

Several of the orcs paused to launch bolts from their crossbows, but that strategy came to naught as the companions were either protected by several layers of magical shielding or wearing thick armor that turned those few bolts that made it past their rocky cover. Another half-dozen, desperation perhaps overcoming prudence, simply formed a wedge and charged, hurtling themselves up the last stretch that separated them and the defenders.

They were met by Delem’s flaming sphere, which rolled down the slope right into their ranks. The orc at the point of the wedge exploded into flames as the ball bounced right into its body, and the two flanking it fell back, scorched by the fire as well. The others darted out of the path of the flames, the momentum of their rush broken by the spell.

Cal fired another bolt, and while he was rewarded by an orc falling, his eyes traveled back to the line of ogres that were drawing inexorably nearer. He knew that those were the real danger, and that he had to buy his companions some time to take down their numbers some.

Taking inspiration from Delem, he called upon the power of an illusion. A wall of flames erupted into being between the remnants of the orc line and the ogres behind, blocking the final route up the bluff. At first, Cal feared that these ogres, who’d already demonstrated that they were more remarkable than the average member of their species, would realize that the flames produced neither sound nor heat, and simply charge through. He was rewarded, though, as the ogres hesitated, falling back from the illusory barrier.

As he watched, however, he saw a looming figure, tall even for an ogre, step forward and start shouting at its peers. This ogre wore a thick mantle of black fur taken apparently from a single massive beast, and it wore as a helmet the skull of some large creature, perhaps the former owner of the fur. Totems dangled on a throng around its neck, and Cal felt a shudder as his eyes briefly met the ogre’s as it scanned the battlefield.

Apparently Cal wasn’t the only one to notice the ogre leader, for one of Benzan’s arrows caught it in the shoulder as it tried to rally its reluctant troops. Ignoring the wound, the ogre finally just walked through the illusion, drawing its allies after it through the sheer force of its personality.

The illusion had not stopped the ogre advance, but it had bought them a few more precious moments.

Delem had sent his flaming sphere to chase down one of the last surviving orcs, and now summoned another one that rolled down the slope into the onrushing ogres. The first brute managed to dodge out of the route of the sphere, but it rolled on into a second, causing the ogre to slip as it retreated from the scorching flames. The ogre cried out as it lost its footing and fell down the slope, sliding for a few yards before coming to a battered stop.

Lok stepped out into the open at the top of the slope, focusing the attention of the ogres fully upon himself. He drew another long arrow and let fly, the missile slamming with the full force of the genasi’s strength into the fat muscle of an ogre thigh. The ogre, already wounded, staggered and faltered but kept its footing.

Benzan plied his bow with unceasing fury, firing arrow after arrow into the increasing ranks of the ogres. He ignored the few milling orcs now, focusing entirely upon the massive forms of the ogres. He targeted those that were already wounded, blasting one with a pair of hits in rapid succession that arrested its charge and nearly toppled it. He finished the first bundle of arrows he’d taken from Lok’s bag of holding earlier and started in on the second, his aim becoming even more deadly as the ogres drew nearer.

While the battle up the face of the bluff raged, Dana watched the darkness where she could sense the shadowy forms moving up the narrow trail that switchbacked up the rear face of the bluff. She wished she had Benzan’s night vision as she tried to distinguish the night’s natural shadows from those of the attackers. Then, however, she saw a long white shape moving up the trail in the faint light, and knew what that portended.

The winter wolves were coming her way.

Dana crept silently over to the edge of the bluff where it overlooked a portion of the trail below. She had not been idle during her earlier vigil, having identified several large rocks that would serve her purpose. She went to one now, and putting her full strength behind the effort she bent into it and drove it toward the edge. It resisted at first, and then gave way with a sudden lurch, so suddenly that Dana nearly followed it over the edge.

Careful, Dana, she thought to herself, listening to the startled cries from below as the rock pounded its way down onto the narrow trail. Unable to see if her attack was having an effect, she immediately turned to the next stone.

On the far side of the bluff, the few orcs left alive seemed content to leave the rest of the assault to their larger companions. Of the forty-four that had started the climb, only five were still conscious and all but one of those sported wounds. That final unwounded orc, content not to test its luck further, nestled down into a crack between two boulders and spent the rest of the battle keeping its head down.

The ogres had taken some punishment as well, but ten still remained to form up under the leadership of the brute with the skull-helm. The leader had been hit by several arrows but seemed unfazed by the wounds, rallying its troops with a violent war cry before it and its followers charged up the final distance toward where Lok waited at the summit, flanked by his companions nestled in between the boulders.

On ogre went down, stumbling on a loose patch of rocks and falling hard. Another fell with an arrow from Benzan’s bow stuck in its throat. A third took a bolt from Cal’s crossbow in the side—a minor wound, it seemed, except that the bolt thrummed with power as it hit and the ogre staggered as if it had been struck by a ram.

The giantbane bolts worked as promised, it seemed.

The other ogres had worked themselves into a rage, however, and nothing short of death would stop them now.

Lok launched a last arrow and then recovered his shield and axe in time to meet the charge of the first ogre. Stoically he took the first hit on his shield, holding his ground even though the force of the impact threatened to drive him into the ground. A second ogre was there almost immediately to his side, but Lok did not flinch even when it slammed a huge two-handed maul into his armored shoulder. Either blow would have crushed an ordinary warrior.

Lok was not an ordinary warrior.

The genasi stepped within the reach of the first ogre, and ripped his axe into its belly. Even through its rage the ogre felt the hurt of that blow, as the axe cut through layers of flesh to score the vitals underneath. The ogre barely had time to draw back before Lok struck again, this time drawing the edge of the axe along the unprotected inside of the ogre’s left leg. The ogre was hurt, but consumed in its rage, it refused to retreat.

With Lok holding his ground, the other ogres had to clamber around the boulders to either side to get at the other companions. One loomed up over Delem, precariously balanced on the stones as it eagerly hefted its axe, but the sorcerer raised one hand—the hand bearing a certain bronze ring—and the ogre toppled over the edge of the bluff, its cry fading as it vanished into the night.

It was a long way to the ground below.

Another pair tried to get to Benzan’s perch on the far side of the battlefield, and the tiefling let them come to him, continuing his relentless barrage of arrows. One hurled a spear, but the tiefling’s agility, augmented by Cal’s spell, allowed him to easily dodge the powerful missile. In return, the ogre got another arrow in the side, bringing its tally to three thus far.

Still, the enemy rush came on.

Cal had escaped notice thus far, having faded into magical invisibility once the ogres reached the summit. Now he positioned himself to come to Lok’s aid. He paused a moment to add a protection from evil ward from his wand to augment his defenses, then he crept into the rocks where another pair of ogres was circling around to come at Lok from behind. Cal cast a minor cantrip, creating a sound a short distance away among a cluster of large boulders.

“Hey, over here, you stupid brutes!” came Cal’s voice from that direction.

Few creatures like being called stupid, so predictably the ogres turned and hurried in that direction, weapons ready to smash whoever was taunting them. Cal let the first ogre go by and waited until the second ogre had passed his position, then he reached out and touched it lightly on the ankle.

Electric energy from Cal’s shocking grasp tore into the ogre, which cried out in sudden pain. Looking down, it saw the source of its hurt as Cal’s invisibility faded, and smiled as it raised a heavy club to smash him. And just a few yards ahead, Cal could sense the ogre’s friend turning to help it. Not that it appeared to need any help against the diminutive gnome.

Suddenly Cal’s plan didn’t seem quite so brilliant.

 

[MasterOfHeaven]

Great stuff. I'm really enjoying the battle scene so far. As for the other issues..

Well, I agree about Delem. I always thought it was strange that a character with 17 Charisma was so shy and unsure of himself. He generally keeps a background role, and lets others handle the social situations, only occasionally interjecting a comment. It would be nice to see him become more confident and take a more active role in the party, really.

I think multiclassing spellcasters is generally not a good idea as far as sheer power goes, but I think that the added versatility brings it into at least some form of balance. Sure, Delem can't throw off Walls Of Fire or Fire Shields, but he can heal party members when they're wounded, when he gets to 0 hitpoints or below he has a very nice Domain power to help him out, and so on.

With that said, I had noticed in my own campaign the fact that multiclassing to or from a spellcasting class was generally not a good idea unless you severely optimized your abilities, so I changed the rules to make character level equal to caster level. So, a level 10/10 Cleric/Sorcerer would cast a Fireball as a level 20 Sorcerer, and vice versa for Flamestrike. (Speaking of which, Delem ought to get that soon! He should take more Cleric levels. )

After all, BAB and other such things stack between classes, so why not caster level? So far, it's worked out fine, and hasn't imbalanced anything, and I am actually seeing people multiclass to and from spellcasting classes. The pure spellcasters do not really lose out, as they gain access to the higher level spells, just as a pure Fighter does not lose out to a multiclassed Fighter/Rogue, since the pure Fighter gains more feats and a higher BAB.

Anyway, sorry to meander off into a discussion of my campaign rules, but the subject seemed to relate to them, so I couldn't help it. Regardless, I'm really enjoying this story hour, and look forward to it's continuation.