Travels through the Wild West: Books V-VIII (Epilogue)
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Broccli_Head
Explorer
AMAZING!
How did you know that Dumathoin was my favorite of the dwarven gods?
Or that deep dragons are the bomb!
What an amazing story! I am glad that I finally finished it. Sorry it took so long.
Whew! Glad Lok lives....too bad about the quaggoths. I was hoping that Taktak would survive.
your tale has inspired me to start an underdark campaign. should be fun! can't wait until the next book.
take care,
Broc
How did you know that Dumathoin was my favorite of the dwarven gods?
Or that deep dragons are the bomb!
What an amazing story! I am glad that I finally finished it. Sorry it took so long.
Whew! Glad Lok lives....too bad about the quaggoths. I was hoping that Taktak would survive.
your tale has inspired me to start an underdark campaign. should be fun! can't wait until the next book.
take care,
Broc
Lazybones
Adventurer
Travels through the Wild West: A Forgotten Realms Story
Book VI
Prologue
Delem stirred, and opened his eyes. For a moment, images of horror and evil and violence flashed through his mind, but as his conscious mind took stock of his surroundings those feelings quickly faded, like a nightmare that gave way before the light of the day.
He looked around. It was morning, by the bright slash of sunlight that came in through the window and illuminated the foot of the bed. Tiny motes of dust hung suspended in that radiance, dancing in the air as if they sought to greet the morning with their own festive expression of joy.
That was a silly thought, Delem thought to himself as he lifted himself up on his elbows and looked around the room. He felt uneasy, perhaps the lingering feelings of the nightmare.
The room wasn’t large, but it was homey and clearly lived in, full of soft touches and little details that clearly indicated a woman’s presence. It was familiar and strange at the same time, and as he looked around at the various items of furniture and the little knickknacks scattered around the young man felt a buzzing in the back of his skull, as if his subconscious were trying to tell him something.
Whatever that message was, it was drowned out as he heard a woman’s voice, elsewhere in the house. As if borne by the sound he also became aware of a hearty smell of cooking food, a tasty medley of odors that somehow did not awaken his appetite. He didn’t feel hungry, although there was a strange emptiness deep inside him that he couldn’t quite identify.
He heard the sound of footfalls, and knew the woman was approaching. And then she was there, standing in the doorway of the bedroom.
“Well, sleepyhead, are you going to stay in bed all day, or are you going to get up and have some breakfast?”
“Dana...”
She was beautiful—just as he remembered her, flawless, exquisite. She wore only a light robe that clung to the lines of her figure, accentuating all the curves that were burned into his memory like runes carved into stone. The buzzing in the back of his mind returned, but he ignored it as he drank in the sight of her.
She looked at him with a sparkle in her eyes. “Of course, there’s nothing wrong with staying in bed all day, either...”
As she spoke, she ran her hands up and down the length of her body in a way that made his blood boil within his veins. That part of his mind that had sought to warn him before was screaming at him now, insisting that this was all... wrong. But this... it was all that he had ever wanted.
Evidently she did not read the confusion that was visible in his expression, for a moment later she came forward and climbed onto the bed, crawling forward until she was on top of him. Delem looked up at her, and his body reacted to her, although for some reason his muscles felt listless, reluctant to obey his commands. She pressed her body against his, and it felt as though an electric shock passed through him at her touch.
“Sweet Delem,” she said. “My sweet boy.”
The listlessness in his body grew more pronounced even as his heart raced and his blood seemed to pound in his temples. She slid forward, opening her robe so that their skin touched directly. The heady smell of sex filled his nostrils, although it wasn’t right, wasn’t all that he’d dreamed of a million times before. She lifted her body and arched her back, but although the sunlight limned her form like that of an angel, he could only feel the sickening wrench in his gut that threatened to overcome him with nausea.
“No...” he said, closing his eyes, trying unsuccessfully to lift his hands to push her away.
He heard laughter. Dark, mocking laughter.
His body wracked by conflicting sensations of pleasure and dread, he opened his eyes.
The sunlight was gone. The cozy bedchamber was gone. Even the soft bed was gone, replaced with a writhing mass of sickening forms that sucked at his flesh and scored his back with tiny bites. And the woman on top of him...
Not Dana Ilgarten, but a twisted mockery of the female form. The dark ovals of her eyes were filled not with love, but with contempt and mockery. He tried to push her away, tried to call upon his magic, remembering too late that his power was lost to him, that emptiness inside of him that was twin to the pit of despair that filled his heart. The succubus only laughed as she continued the corruption of the act of love. Delem tried to fight her, but his body, ultimately, betrayed him.
He closed his eyes as she drew back from him, but her laughter sounded in his ears as she bent down and laid a single kiss on his forehead. His skin burned where her lips touched his flesh, and he felt just that much more of his life energy drain away at her touch. Later, he knew, it would be restored, but only so that he would be whole when it was time to face the torments once more.
“Farewell then, lover. Thank you for the... gift...”
A sob passed through him as she retreated, but even through closed eyes he could not push out the horrors that surrounded him. It was all there, now, memory restored with each twisted detail of the time... how long had it been, that he’d been trapped here in this place? Trapped in the abyss, his only awareness that of pain, and torments dreamed up by minds that embodied the corruption of evil. He no longer even knew who controlled those torments, what demon pulled the strings of the minions sent to plague him. In moments of lucidity—increasingly rare, now—he thought he sensed an intelligence behind it all, a pattern to what was being done to him. But as each new torment tore deeper into what shreds of humanity he’d managed to keep close around his soul, such glimpses of awareness were becoming more tenuous.
Perhaps, he thought, it would be better if he didn’t fight, if he let himself go into whatever oblivion the demons had planned for his soul.
A thought popped into his head, so insidious that he didn’t know if it had originated from within his mind, or without.
There are no easy escapes waiting for you, sorcerer, the thought whispered.
The moment’s leisure to think freely finally shattered as Delem became aware of movement around him. He didn’t have to open his eyes to recognize the furtive movements through the mire in which he lay. Dretches, at least a half-dozen of them, coming closer.
He retained enough conscious memory to know what would happen, but the knowledge that there was no “death” in this place was no comfort. In fact, it was another form of torment, as he lay there, unable to move to defend himself in any way.
In the Abyss, awareness was a curse.
Long before the demons even touched him, Delem screamed.
Book VI
Prologue
Delem stirred, and opened his eyes. For a moment, images of horror and evil and violence flashed through his mind, but as his conscious mind took stock of his surroundings those feelings quickly faded, like a nightmare that gave way before the light of the day.
He looked around. It was morning, by the bright slash of sunlight that came in through the window and illuminated the foot of the bed. Tiny motes of dust hung suspended in that radiance, dancing in the air as if they sought to greet the morning with their own festive expression of joy.
That was a silly thought, Delem thought to himself as he lifted himself up on his elbows and looked around the room. He felt uneasy, perhaps the lingering feelings of the nightmare.
The room wasn’t large, but it was homey and clearly lived in, full of soft touches and little details that clearly indicated a woman’s presence. It was familiar and strange at the same time, and as he looked around at the various items of furniture and the little knickknacks scattered around the young man felt a buzzing in the back of his skull, as if his subconscious were trying to tell him something.
Whatever that message was, it was drowned out as he heard a woman’s voice, elsewhere in the house. As if borne by the sound he also became aware of a hearty smell of cooking food, a tasty medley of odors that somehow did not awaken his appetite. He didn’t feel hungry, although there was a strange emptiness deep inside him that he couldn’t quite identify.
He heard the sound of footfalls, and knew the woman was approaching. And then she was there, standing in the doorway of the bedroom.
“Well, sleepyhead, are you going to stay in bed all day, or are you going to get up and have some breakfast?”
“Dana...”
She was beautiful—just as he remembered her, flawless, exquisite. She wore only a light robe that clung to the lines of her figure, accentuating all the curves that were burned into his memory like runes carved into stone. The buzzing in the back of his mind returned, but he ignored it as he drank in the sight of her.
She looked at him with a sparkle in her eyes. “Of course, there’s nothing wrong with staying in bed all day, either...”
As she spoke, she ran her hands up and down the length of her body in a way that made his blood boil within his veins. That part of his mind that had sought to warn him before was screaming at him now, insisting that this was all... wrong. But this... it was all that he had ever wanted.
Evidently she did not read the confusion that was visible in his expression, for a moment later she came forward and climbed onto the bed, crawling forward until she was on top of him. Delem looked up at her, and his body reacted to her, although for some reason his muscles felt listless, reluctant to obey his commands. She pressed her body against his, and it felt as though an electric shock passed through him at her touch.
“Sweet Delem,” she said. “My sweet boy.”
The listlessness in his body grew more pronounced even as his heart raced and his blood seemed to pound in his temples. She slid forward, opening her robe so that their skin touched directly. The heady smell of sex filled his nostrils, although it wasn’t right, wasn’t all that he’d dreamed of a million times before. She lifted her body and arched her back, but although the sunlight limned her form like that of an angel, he could only feel the sickening wrench in his gut that threatened to overcome him with nausea.
“No...” he said, closing his eyes, trying unsuccessfully to lift his hands to push her away.
He heard laughter. Dark, mocking laughter.
His body wracked by conflicting sensations of pleasure and dread, he opened his eyes.
The sunlight was gone. The cozy bedchamber was gone. Even the soft bed was gone, replaced with a writhing mass of sickening forms that sucked at his flesh and scored his back with tiny bites. And the woman on top of him...
Not Dana Ilgarten, but a twisted mockery of the female form. The dark ovals of her eyes were filled not with love, but with contempt and mockery. He tried to push her away, tried to call upon his magic, remembering too late that his power was lost to him, that emptiness inside of him that was twin to the pit of despair that filled his heart. The succubus only laughed as she continued the corruption of the act of love. Delem tried to fight her, but his body, ultimately, betrayed him.
He closed his eyes as she drew back from him, but her laughter sounded in his ears as she bent down and laid a single kiss on his forehead. His skin burned where her lips touched his flesh, and he felt just that much more of his life energy drain away at her touch. Later, he knew, it would be restored, but only so that he would be whole when it was time to face the torments once more.
“Farewell then, lover. Thank you for the... gift...”
A sob passed through him as she retreated, but even through closed eyes he could not push out the horrors that surrounded him. It was all there, now, memory restored with each twisted detail of the time... how long had it been, that he’d been trapped here in this place? Trapped in the abyss, his only awareness that of pain, and torments dreamed up by minds that embodied the corruption of evil. He no longer even knew who controlled those torments, what demon pulled the strings of the minions sent to plague him. In moments of lucidity—increasingly rare, now—he thought he sensed an intelligence behind it all, a pattern to what was being done to him. But as each new torment tore deeper into what shreds of humanity he’d managed to keep close around his soul, such glimpses of awareness were becoming more tenuous.
Perhaps, he thought, it would be better if he didn’t fight, if he let himself go into whatever oblivion the demons had planned for his soul.
A thought popped into his head, so insidious that he didn’t know if it had originated from within his mind, or without.
There are no easy escapes waiting for you, sorcerer, the thought whispered.
The moment’s leisure to think freely finally shattered as Delem became aware of movement around him. He didn’t have to open his eyes to recognize the furtive movements through the mire in which he lay. Dretches, at least a half-dozen of them, coming closer.
He retained enough conscious memory to know what would happen, but the knowledge that there was no “death” in this place was no comfort. In fact, it was another form of torment, as he lay there, unable to move to defend himself in any way.
In the Abyss, awareness was a curse.
Long before the demons even touched him, Delem screamed.
Broccli_Head
Explorer
Poor Delem....
Did I ever tell you that I hate succubi?
...but I love to use them against PCs. Inevitably they forget their player knowledge, have a brain fart, and let the demoness drain away a level...
Did I ever tell you that I hate succubi?
...but I love to use them against PCs. Inevitably they forget their player knowledge, have a brain fart, and let the demoness drain away a level...
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