Travels through the Wild West: Books V-VIII (Epilogue)

[MasterOfHeaven]

As long as Delem does the following when he becomes a villian, I'll be happy:

1) Kill Benzan.

2) Kill the rest of the companions.

3) Take over one of the more annoying nations/cities in Faerun that always seems to be untouchable no matter what anyone does, like say Silverymoon or Waterdeep.

4) Become the most powerful NPC villian in the Forgotten Realms.

5) Kill Kossuth and ascend to deity status as the new God Of Fire.

I don't really think that's too much to ask...

Now, what I *expect* to happen is the following:

1) Delem becomes the "Bane Of Nations", fights the companions once or twice, and either dies or manages to escape/ is shown mercy.

2) Benzan is consumed in the fire, destroyed forever.

3) Lok ascends to godhood (Anyone familar with the story can see this coming a mile away)

4) Cal retires and dies in peace, surrounded by the generations.


The only possible twist I see in those forthcoming events are Cal and Benzan switching places. Lok and Delems destinies seem set in stone, though. It'll still be interesting to see how these events come about, however.

But... garh, this is why I hate "prophecies" in novels/movies. They ruin a lot of the suspense, since you can figure out certain events before they happen. Just *once* I'd like to see the "mysterious prophecy by an unknown fortuneteller/blind prophet etc, etc." be total bogus. Hint, hint.

Like I said though, you write well enough that I'm going to keep reading regardless of what happens to the characters. Good luck getting published someday, you certainly are better than many authors who I've read.

 

[Lazybones]

MoH:
Kill everyone? Even Dana? Man, that's cold .

Clearly you've read the whole story very thoroughly, although I must point out that the "bane of nations" part of the prophecy was just a little different than you noted.

Personally, I find foreshadowing and devices like the prophecy to be useful when writing genre fiction. Sure, it's a little cliche, but aren't most elements of fantasy fiction? For me it gave me a vague framework around which I could build later plot threads. When I wrote that scene, I had no idea who would fit each role, and while your comments are very close to where I'm currently leaning, they could still change dramatically.

I don't know, maybe I've read too much David Eddings...

Also, keep in mind that I never said that each companion had to fulfill just one element of the prophecy. In all likelihood, really, I'll probably never write the story long enough to get to all its elements. If I don't get bored with the story, the readers will...

Anyway, thanks for reading, and I appreciate your taking the time to give detailed feedback.

Part 1 of the story proper in a bit (it's just about ready, but it's been a busy morning at work for once!). Until then, drop over and read my Neverwinter Nights tale (it's just a little comedy story I threw together last week): http://test.cyberstreet.com/showthread.php?s=&threadid=14989

 

[Lazybones]

Book V, Part 1

“Cal!” Dana screamed in warning, as the massive white form of the tundra yeti lunged forward and swept the hapless gnome into the grip of its powerful arms. Cal struggled to escape, but the creature pulled him into a tight hug, the gnome all but vanishing into its thick white fur.

Dana hefted her spear as she turned, only to see a second creature surging at her from the flank. Apparently they had walked right into an ambush, as more of the creatures erupted from their cover within drifts of snow and leapt with ferocious intensity at the surprised companions.

Dana spun with the spear, bringing the gleaming head of the ponderous weapon to bear. While still not completely familiar with the weapon, she’d practiced extensively under the tutelage of Lok and Benzan over the days since they’d left Caer Dulthain, and she could feel the magical power surging in the weapon as she brought the head in line with the charging yeti’s chest. The creature, however, moved with a speed that belied its bulk, and it dodged under the point of the weapon before Dana could adjust. She tried to shift out of the way of its rush, but it managed to catch her with a sweep of one massive arm, pinning her under its weight even as its claws dug into her back. She screamed in pain as the creature dragged her against its body, its arms wrapping around her in a grim hug much as its comrade had done to Cal. For all its fur, the touch of the creature was like ice, and Dana could feel the heat draining from her body, even through the magical protection afforded by her cloak. It was crushing her, killing her…

“Uhhh!” Dana cried, lurching up into a sitting position from where she’d been sleeping on the hard stone floor of the cave. She looked around for a moment, the terror of her dream lingering for a long moment as she sat there, shivering. The inside of the cave was cold, like a tomb, and she pulled her cloak around her. The enchantment of the travel cloak kept out the chill of the mountains, but it could not banish the icy grip of the fear and grief that resided within her heart.

This was not the first time she’d awoken to nightmares over the past few nights. At least this one had spared her the gruesome image of Delem’s ravaged corpse hanging on the wall of the demon’s lair within the dwarven cistern. That image, she knew, would never fade, and each time it popped unwelcome into her mind she felt as though her heart would burst with the pain of memory.

Her companions weren’t in the part of the cave they used for sleeping, but she did not worry on that account. The loss of Delem had driven them even closer together, cementing the bond of trust that existed between them. It was that bond that had kept them together in the aftermath of Delem’s death, and the uncertainty that had followed.

It was hard to believe that only a week had passed since those deadly events, culminating in their second and final confrontation with the demon that was behind the gathering of orcs and ogres of the northern mountains. After defeating the demon, they’d retreated from the halls of Caer Dulthain to the nearby mountain of Tor Drothgal, where Gaera and her dwarves had taken shelter. With them they brought Delem’s corpse, carefully wrapped in an extra cloak to cover the terrible damage wrought upon his body by the demon. Gaera told them what they already knew, that no mere raise dead would work to bring him back to life with that gaping, empty hole in his torso. So in the shelter of one of the dwarven tunnels they cremated him, bringing his ashes with them in the hope that somehow, a more powerful magic could be found to restore him to life.

But another, more troubling thought had haunted Dana. She remembered the sight of the demon’s warped spirit rising from its sundered body, and the brief flicker she’d seen within that roiling cloud in the instant before it faded back into the cursed depths of the Abyss. A nagging suspicion followed her, so terrible that she could not bring herself to discuss it with the others, although they must have seen it too. So they allowed themselves the belief—the delusion, perhaps—that Delem’s soul had traveled safely to the radiating glow of Kossuth’s divine flame, restored to peace in the afterlife of mortal existence. It was all they could do, given their powerlessness to affect the outcome in either case.

Jerral had left them, returning south with Gaera and the other freed prisoners to Citadel Adbar. It remained to be seen if the defeat of the ghour would result in the collapse of the alliance of tribes that had so threatened the north, but at least they had encountered no more patrols since leaving the vicinity of Caer Dulthain. Gaera had insisted that she would petition the elders of Adbar to send a force of dwarves north to reclaim the dwarven town, and with the determination with which she’d said it, Dana did not doubt that the dwarven cleric would find a way to return.

Dana had wanted nothing more to return with them, any desire for new adventures or quests driven out of her by that grim image of her dead friend’s face, but she was bound to Lok by a promise and a commitment of friendship. The genasi had grown, if possible, more intent upon his still-vague quest, and the urgency with which he pressed them still further north increasingly showed through his normally unreadable expression. They could not know, and he did not share, the images that troubled his own sleep, images of his people suffering at the hands of a still-unidentified enemy. The duergar that had overrun the urdunnir town were involved, that he knew, but he could not shake the persistent impression, a vague feeling at the edges of his visions, of a deeper, more powerful, more dangerous threat lurking in the shadows. The strange voice that had called to him earlier did not revisit him, but he felt no less committed to its mandate for its absence.

Dana crept quietly into the outer chamber of the cave. Cal and Benzan were there, talking quietly near the narrow gap that led outside. They were well above the treeline, so there was no fire, only the slightest flicker of their tiny portable stove as it struggled to heat their small metal teapot. They looked up as she entered, and nodded in greeting.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Cal asked, his own eyes as haunted as hers.

“No, not really,” she said, and their own expressions showed understanding. She met Benzan’s eyes once, briefly, before he turned away.

It was still awkward between them. Dana’s feelings were all a jumble within her, and she was torn between her grief over Delem and her need for the comfort that Benzan might offer. Her attraction to the tiefling now triggered in her a deep and abiding guilt, highlighted by the ambiguity of her relationship with Delem. When they’d been recovering… after… in one of the hidden dwarf safeholds under Tor Drothgal, he’d remained close to her, silently offering his presence, perhaps needing her consolation as well. He hadn’t been aggressive or pushy, and a part of her had wanted to respond, but something in his touch had reminded her of Delem, had torn open the still-fresh wounds she bore inside her. She had turned away from him, preferring solitude to the confusion Benzan’s presence awoke in her. He’d been hurt by her rejection, and hasty words had been since spoken between them, but now they seemed to have settled into an uneasy truce. Yesterday, when they’d walked into the yeti ambush, it had been Benzan who had come first to her aid, turning his back on the creature facing him to attack the one grappling her. He’d taken several serious wounds in the process, but he had not turned to protect himself until the yeti had released her and fallen bloody to the snow.

Now it was just the four of them, and they were far indeed from any place of safety and security, heading still deeper into danger. For the last three days they’d been staying in this cave, using it as a base as they explored the slopes of the massive mountain that Lok had named “the Maker’s Anvil,” located several days’ travel from Caer Dulthain. It was here that the genasi had been found by the dwarves of Caer Dulthain as a child, on a battlefield littered with the remains of ogres and dwarves. They were looking for something only dimly remembered from Lok’s childhood, an entrance to that dark realm that lay underneath the surface of Toril, the place whose name was spoken in hushed whispers by the folk who lived in the sunlit lands above.

The Underdark.

Thus far their search had not born much fruit. They wouldn’t starve, not with Dana’s ability to create magical food, and they wouldn’t freeze, not with the magical protections they all carried. The attack by the yeti was just the latest reminder of how dangerous these mountains were, however. And although she knew only little about the fabled Underdark, what she had heard was enough for her to know that the dangers here were trifles in comparison to what they would find in the deep ways far under the sunlit surface of Toril.

And yet they pushed on, bound to their friend as he pursued his own enigmatic mission.

They were well equipped, at least, hopefully prepared for whatever lay ahead. They’d found Delem’s magical items within a cache that the demon had stored within a crack in the cistern wall, and several other items as well. Lok carried a new shield, a dwarf-forged item of blue-tinged steel that bore a potent enchantment, and Dana wore a pair of mithral bracers, which Cal identified as protective items that would help shield their wearer from attacks. With luck the bracers would help compensate for the absence of Cal’s wand of mage armor, now just a useless stick with its power depleted. They’d also found a considerable treasure in coins, precious gems, and assorted jewelry, but after what had happened even Benzan had not been able to muster much enthusiasm for that horde. They took what they could fit in the bag of holding, gave some of the remainder to the dwarves, and left the rest.

The three sat silently, each lost in their own thoughts, until they heard the clink of metal on metal and Lok entered the cave. The genasi’s plate armor was crusted with snow, indicating that yet another storm was settling over the shoulder of the mountain.

“Another storm coming, it’ll hit tomorrow afternoon at the latest,” the genasi reported, confirming the evidence covering his armor.

“Great,” Benzan said without looking up. “And how are we supposed to find anything when we can’t see ten paces ahead of us?”

“We’ll make do, Benzan,” Cal said softly. “If need be, we’ll wait until the storm passes.”

The tiefling looked up, and anger flashed in his eyes. “For how long? In case you haven’t noticed, it’s the dead of winter here, and I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling the cold even through our resistances and magical protections. We don’t have fire, all we have to eat is Dana’s magical… pseudo-food, and there’s only the four of us against…” His gaze shifted up to Lok, and he continued, “Against who knows what? Certainly your ‘visions’ haven’t been able to tell us that! Why don’t you tell them about all the fun things one can find in the Underdark, eh Lok? And the four of us are just going to waltz right down there, free your people from an entrenched bastion of deep dwarves, and just walk right out? It’s crazy, that’s what it is. This is all crazy.”

For a long moment silence hung in the cave following Benzan’s rant, and none of them met each other’s gaze. Finally, Lok stirred. “I know that I haven’t been able to tell you very much…” he began.

“No, it’s all right, Lok,” Cal said, forestalling him with an outstretched hand. “I know you’ve told us what you could, and I know these ‘visions’ of yours have been pretty vague. We’ve acted on less substantial information in the past, however. Ultimately, it comes down to trust,” he finished, looking squarely at Benzan.

“And friendship,” Dana said. All of the complex feelings she’d kept bottled up inside came pouring out in anger as she turned on Benzan. “Have you forgotten about that one? Have you forgotten how they came to your aid against that cleric of Mask? Yes, Cal told me about that story, about how you all met. Or what about all the other times they stood beside you, fought with you, defended you… Or all the times you insulted Delem, put him down, teased him, when all he ever wanted was to belong, to be a part of your group…” She was shouting now, but it didn’t matter—felt good, actually, to let the stored feelings out. “You… You’re nothing but a selfish, self-absorbed, mean-spirited, cruel, lying, dirty,…”

“Don’t forget bastard demon-spawn,” Benzan cut in, his voice like ice and his face as hard as stone.

“Oh, don’t give me that,” Dana yelled at him. “I’m not going to fall for that, ‘oh, I’m cursed, oh, I’ve got the tainted blood of an evil fiend, so what can you expect…’ I’ve told you before, you are who you are, Benzan, not who or what your parents were. You can’t blame anyone but yourself for the way you act, the things you say…”

She trailed off, feeling curiously depleted as she searched for more words to hurl at him. The anger was spent, however, and she suddenly realized how ridiculous her outburst had been. They were all looking at her, and Benzan had a strange look in his eyes that she couldn’t quite read. She’d thrown down a gauntlet, but he didn’t respond, just sat there, looking up at her.

She was belatedly aware that she was crying, the tears flowing in hot channels down the cold skin of her cheeks. Suddenly unsure how to feel, she fled, turning and running back into the rear chamber of the cave.

Alone again, she found herself shaking, and fighting back the tears that threatened to undo her thin veneer of self-control. Why did it have to be Delem? she asked of no one in particular. “Why?” she repeated, out loud, fighting to keep that last image from crowding again into her thoughts, an unwelcome intruder that she knew she would never be free of.

She felt his presence behind her a moment before he spoke. “I’m sorry,” he said. “For all of it. I didn’t really mean what I was saying—I apologized to Lok and Cal before coming here. It’s just… all of what happened… I guess I just don’t know how to deal with it.”

“Looks like you dealt with it the same way I did,” she said, wiping away her tears as she turned to face him. “By making a scene and making fools of ourselves in front of dear friends with a lot of patience.”

He stepped forward and took her in his arms, and she melted into his embrace. “I’m sorry about before, too, back in the dwarven caves,” he said. “I shouldn’t have…”

“Shh,” she said. “It’s not… it’s not your fault.”

They just held each other for a long moment in silence. “I miss him too,” he finally said.

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. At the same moment they both stepped back, breaking the embrace, not quite meeting each other’s gaze. Then, almost reluctantly, he returned to the front part of the cave, leaving her alone once more.

Sighing, she turned to gather up the rest of her gear.

 

[Lazybones]

Book V, Part 2

By the time that the overcast sky above had brightened with the murky light of the morning the companions had already departed the cave to begin their day’s search. It was already snowing when they left, and the cold wind and dark skies promised much more before the day was through. Hoping to beat the storm, they hurried their steps along the faint trails that crisscrossed the shoulders of the mountain.

They moved over ground already familiar to them in the explorations of the previous few days, and after an hour turned onto a side track that took them into a deep, snow-choked ravine. Lok was indefatigable as he drove on ahead, blazing a track for them through drifts of snow that sometimes reached higher than his head. Soon they were feeling the cold even through their magical protections, but still they pressed on, following the genasi’s example.

The snowfall intensified as they came up out of the ravine onto a broad plateau. For a moment Lok just stood there, the falling snow forming a crust on his face and beard, but then finally he spoke.

“This is the place, the battlefield where I was found.”

“It doesn’t look like a battlefield,” Benzan said, staring out over the wide field of pure white.

“It’s been three decades,” Cal reminded him, moving forward to join Lok. “Any idea of where we should start looking?”

“It was a cleft deep within a cluster of boulders,” Lok said, already starting toward the sloping edge of the plateau to his right. There, the relatively exposed face of the shelf gave way quickly to a series of gullies and stone-choked culverts, rapidly culminating in a nearly vertical stone face that rose up high above them. Beyond that they could just see the vague outline of the mountain peak itself, its summit lost in the flurries of snow around them.

The companions fanned out behind the genasi as he strode across the ancient battlefield, lost in memories of a time long past. Benzan dropped a hand to the hilt of his sword, crossing to a boulder and digging through the snow to reveal something half-buried beneath the edge of the rock. With some effort, he freed the item—an old waraxe, its blade cracked in two.

“Looks like you were right,” he said to Lok. “I can sense metal objects scattered throughout the area.”

“Dana, maybe you can use your locate object spell to find this shaft Lok described,” Cal suggested.

“I’ll try,” she replied, closing her eyes as she called upon the power of her goddess. For a moment a look of pure bliss crossed her face as she touched the source of her divine energies, and then her eyes popped open with an excited gleam.

“Yes, I think I sense it!” she exclaimed. “Come on!”

She led them quickly across the snowfield to one of the stony crevices that ran back into the rock face. She plowed through the snow clogging the entry, leaving the others behind as she vanished into a knot of large boulders piled high with drifts of snow.

“Dana?” Benzan shouted, as he followed her in.

“I’m all right!” she replied, her voice echoing slightly from somewhere within the crevice. Then she reappeared, standing up in a narrow slot between two stones the size of horses. “There’s an opening down here, under the edge of the rock,” she said. “It’s not very big, but I think I can squeeze through.”

“Be careful,” Cal warned, but she had already disappeared again into the gap. He followed Benzan and Lok as they worked their way into the crevice, to where the two stones met. Once he’d worked his way around the edge of the nearer stone, he could see the opening Dana had indicated, little more than a crack in the stone with darkness beyond. He wondered how Dana could see anything down there, but then he saw a flickering glimmer of light from somewhere deep within.

“The crack leads back twenty or thirty feet into the mountainside,” her voice drifted up to them. “It’s pretty tight…”

“Lok and I are going to have a tough time fitting in there,” Benzan said.

“We’ll find a way to squeeze through,” Cal said absently, his attention fixed on the dark gap and the flickering of Dana’s light.

“I found it!” her triumphant announcement came back to them. “There’s an opening here… it’s a shaft, leads straight down. Seems to go a long way…”

“Maybe we’d better be careful,” Benzan said. “There might be someone or something down there, that could hear her.”

Cal nodded. “Come on back, Dana,” he called down into the opening. As he listened to the noise of her making her way back through the tunnel, he glanced up at Lok. “What do you think?”

“It seems right,” Lok said. “Although I don’t recall much of my initial journey up here, I doubt that there would be more than one shaft that led up to precisely this battlefield.”

“So, this shaft leads right down to the urdunnir town?” Benzan asked. “How far down is it?”

“I don’t know, exactly,” Lok said. “A long way, I think.”

“Well, the power of my sword can carry me down,” Benzan said. “And Dana’s got that spell of flight. I imagine I could carry you, Cal; you’re not too heavy. But what about Lok?”

“We’ll think of something,” Cal said, still distracted as he watched Dana reappear at the thin crack below.

“It’s a tight fit, but I think everyone can make it,” she reported. “Lok and Benzan might have to take off their armor, though—there’s a few low spaces where it might make a difference.”

Cal looked at each of them in turn. “Well?” he finally asked.

Benzan took a deep breath. “This is what we came here to do,” he said. “Let’s do it.”

They paused just long enough to remove their armor, packing each component carefully in the bag of holding. They added their packs and other gear, keeping only their weapons and other key items close at hand. Once they were ready they started into the narrow crevice, with Dana taking the lead and Cal, who had a much easier time moving through the tight space, bringing up the rear. Dana held a small object, a short stick tipped by the glow of a continual flame that she had conjured during their down time in the cave.

Dana helped Benzan and Lok by identifying the easiest route through the cramped confines of the crawlspace, but even so it took them a goodly amount of time to cover the thirty or so feet back to the top of the shaft. By the time they had gathered around the dark opening, Benzan was sweating, and a haunted look appeared on his face.

“What is it?” Cal asked him, seeing his distress.

“I’m not particularly fond of such closed-in places,” the tiefling said. “Don’t worry, I’ll be all right.”

The shaft descended as far as they could see, and was perhaps ten feet across. A faint breeze drifted up from below, indicating that the shaft opened onto other tunnels somewhere deep underground.

“Shall I go scout it out?” Dana asked.

“All right, but be careful,” Cal said. “Fly back up if you see anything that looks like a tunnel or other exit below.”

With a nod, she cast her spell of flying, and like a dart shot down into the open space of the shaft. The ring of light cast by the continual flame allowed them to track her movements, but also made it clear that she would not surprise anything that might be lurking below.

“I hope she listens to your advice,” Benzan said, fingering the hilt of his sword as if he might need to call upon its power of levitation in an instant.

The light of the flame dwindled to a mere speck, as Dana dropped farther down into the depths of the shaft. At least it seemed more or less vertical, as they could still clearly see the pinpoint of light even as the minutes crept on.

“I think she’s coming back up,” Lok finally said. And indeed the light was growing rapidly brighter, until they could clearly mark Dana’s form flying up toward them. After another minute, she was hovering there right in front of them.

“It’s quite a fall, but there’s a ledge with a tunnel jutting off from the shaft. I couldn’t tell how far from the bottom it was, if there even is a bottom.”

“So have you thought about how you’re going to get us all down there?” Benzan asked, peering into the shaft. “We’re not even close to having enough rope for the descent.”

Cal looked thoughtful. “I’ve got an idea, but it’ll be a lot harder to get back up than it will be down to get down. Dana, how’s the duration on your spell?”

“Plenty of time left,” she told him. “I could make a few trips, easy.”

“Just one trip,” he told her. “Benzan, use your sword to levitate down. Dana can help align you to where the ledge is, since you can’t go back and forth.”

The tiefling looked at Cal penetratingly. “I hope you’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking…”

“It’s the only way,” he insisted. “Lok can’t fit inside the bag of holding, and if I’m not with him, I might miss the timing.”

“Um… what is it that we’re doing, exactly?” Lok asked, glancing down into the shaft and looking, for the first time that Cal could remember, decidedly uncomfortable.

“We’ll use my spell of feather fall,” Cal explained. “It can affect both of us, if we’re close together; it will only work for a little less than half a minute, though, and that’s not long enough to take us all the way down the shaft. I thought we could have Dana fly down to a few hundred feet above the ledge, and then when we reach her, I could activate the spell—it only takes a single word of command. Then we drift right down—Dana could give us a push if necessary to make sure we don’t miss the ledge.”

Lok looked down into the shaft again. It was a long way down.

“The other alternative would be for the three of us to fly down, check things out,” Benzan said to Lok. “You could stay up here until we scouted out whatever’s below.”

Cal shot a sideways glance at the tiefling, a little surprised that he could be so clever. He knew that Lok took pride in always being the first into danger, and that his casual implication would cut at the heart of Lok’s sense of responsibility.

“No,” the genasi said. “We’ll do it like Cal suggested.”

“Dana, if you please,” Cal said. The mystic wanderer looked at him dubiously, but then she nodded and dove back down into the shaft.

“Give me a few minutes to get down there,” Benzan suggested. “If something goes wrong, my own feather fall might be enough to stop you.”

Cal nodded, and the tiefling placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, and dropped into the shaft. He plummeted like a rock, not activating the sword’s power until he was already out of sight.

Lok had closed his eyes and took a series of deep breaths. It was unnerving for Cal, to finally see something that could shake the indefatigable genasi, and something as simple as a fall from a height. Well, now that he thought about it, it was a pretty daring plan, and if for some reason the spell didn’t work properly…

“We’d better get going,” Cal finally said, before he could think himself out of his own idea.

“All right, what do I do?” Lok asked.

“Grab onto me, and then jump!”

And he did.

 

[Horacio]

Wow!

Book V is being a very intense one, from the beginning... as usual

Thanks for this wonderful series of books, Lazybones!

 

[Maldur]

Nice,
I wonder what they would be yelling : Geronimo seems inappropriate!

Featherfall would generate a whole new BASE jumping crowd

 

[Lazybones]

What better way to start a new workweek () than by setting up another mass combat...

* * * * *

Book V, Part 3

“Seems quiet,” Dana said, as they made their way deeper into the tunnel that ran back from the ledge.

“Yeah, but if anything’s back there, it no doubt knows we’re coming now, what with all that screaming,” Benzan noted wryly.

Cal flushed slightly. “Well, it was an unusual experience,” he said, finally breaking out into a guilty grin as he glanced back in the direction of the shaft. “Not something I’d want to try again right away, though.”

“No,” Lok said, tightening his grip on his axe as they moved on.

Benzan took the lead, moving just beyond the edge of the light cast by Dana’s continual flame. Here, in the dark tunnels, his skills were particularly handy, and cloaked with the power of his ring of shadows he became virtually a part of the darkness. His own vision was perfectly adapted to the dark, and he was also the most likely to detect any traps or other dangers that might lay in wait for them.

But nothing but a deep, somber silence greeted them, the sounds of their footfalls on the stone echoing faintly on the hard stone that surrounded them. The passageway leading in from the shaft traveled straight for nearly a thousand paces before it opened onto an intersection with corridors leading off in several directions. They picked one at random, Cal marking their passage with a small piece of chalk.

They passed a landing where stairs descended sharply down to a yet deeper level, but elected to explore a little further before descending. The stone of the corridor walls, floor, and ceiling were all perfectly smooth, yet clearly not natural by the way that they met in crisp, even angles. The stonework was plain, understated yet of quality work, and Lok ran his hand along the wall as they pressed deeper into the complex.

And then, so gradually that they did not immediately notice it, they found themselves in the midst of the dwarven town. The corridors widened, branching out and in and among each other in a rough approximation of streets and alleyways. In between, the chambers of private dwellings were periodically situated, their stone doors so well crafted that it took some looking to detect where they were located on the wall. Periodically they passed by larger side chambers, the flickering flames of Dana’s light barely illuminating pillared halls, long dry fountains, and other places whose function they could only guess at.

And yet it was all silent, cold, empty.

“It’s like one massive tomb,” Dana said, her voice sounding too loud in the empty corridors. Once she’d spoken, however, she glanced over at Lok, a guilty expression on her face. But the genasi, lost in a past beyond memory, did not appear to have heard her.

Benzan came back from his point position, a wary look on his face. “There’s something not right here,” he said, his eyes drifting into the shadows around them.

“What is it?” Cal asked.

“I’m not sure. But there’s something here…”

But the tiefling could not elaborate more, so it was with a vague but constant sense of alarm that they moved on, continuing their search. They’d barely managed twenty paces, however, when Benzan forestalled them again with a raised hand.

“Did you hear that?” he asked.

“What?” Dana whispered, twisting her head around to catch whatever sound had caught Benzan’s attention.

“A faint scratching sound—it seemed to be coming from somewhere behind us, I think.”

They all listened, but the sound, if Benzan’s senses were accurate, was not repeated. Once again they started out, but this time barely managed two steps before the sound came again, this time in front of them, and this time loud enough so that they all heard it.

“I think we’d better find someplace defensible,” Lok said.

“Any suggestions? You were born here, after all,” Benzan said.

The genasi shook his head—his memories of the urdunnir town were too unfocused for him to be able to pick out specific details from the twisting labyrinth of passages winding around them. Cal, however, led them toward one of the smaller side passages up ahead, and they turned off of the main corridor into another dark stretch of smoothly worked stone.

Another sound became audible, a rasping hiss that trailed off before they could clearly identify it. It seemed to come from right behind them, but when they turned around, there was nothing there.

“Okay, not liking this,” Benzan said, nocking an arrow and putting a slight amount of tension on the string of his bow, ready to shoot at an instant’s notice.

Cal reached down and quietly played a faint melody on his lyre. The gesture was more than an effort at easing the tension, as the notes resounded with magical power and the invisible protection of mage armor settled around the gnome.

The corridor wasn’t very long, and soon a larger space became visible up ahead. They emerged from the passageway into a broad, roughly square chamber with rounded corners. Cal was the first to recognize that the place seemed to be some sort of audience chamber or theatre of some sort, from the way it was constructed. To their left a broad stone dais, with three steps leading up to it and perhaps twenty paces across and deep, occupied one half of the chamber. To their right they could see a number of long stone benches, most of which were pushed up against the edges of the room. Two other exits were visible, one on the opposite wall and one on the wall to their right, and a gallery ran around the perimeter of the room, ten feet above the level of the floor. Their light was just bright enough for them to make out the forms of more benches up there, clearly so that more viewers could observe what was going on down on the dais below.

“Maybe if we could get up there,” Benzan said, indicating the gallery. He’d barely taken a few tentative steps into the room, however, when a long, keening hiss sounded from the darkness of the opposite passage on the far side of the room. The tiefling drew back reflexively, drawing his bow and targeting that passage, although nothing emerged from the darkness—yet.

“I heard something behind us!” Dana cried from the rear of the group, pushing the others ahead of her more fully into the chamber.

“Only one option left,” Cal said, but he wasn’t all that surprised when sounds erupted from the final passage as well, the faint but unmistakable noises of multiple creatures moving closer.

“We were herded here,” Benzan said, the same realization setting in to all of them as they retreated back from the three dark passages onto the dais.

“Maybe we can use those benches along the wall to build a rampart,” Lok suggested. But even as he took a step toward them, they sensed movement at the mouths of all three of the chamber’s exits.

Their time had run out.

The shadowy forms moved slowly, almost reluctantly into the light, creeping low along the surface of the stone floor. At first glance they looked like stout, gray-skinned dwarves, but only until the light reached their eyes. Those eyes were bestial, glimmering pinpoints of twisted hunger. Those eyes showed hatred, hatred of the companions and all living things that mocked their warped existence. With them came a harsh, charnel smell, the cloying scent of death and decay that stung the nostrils and burned the lungs of the companions.

For these dwarves, once happy and productive residents of this community, no longer lived. They were undead, cursed to walk among the living once again, to hunger after the warm flesh of those that had intruded upon their demesne.

They poured in until two dozen had filled the main part of the chamber floor, and still more were coming from the dark trio of passageways.

“Ghouls,” Cal whispered, just loud enough so that they could all hear him. “Don’t let them touch you, if you can help it.”

Benzan, not taking his eyes off the knot of undead, opened his mouth to respond.

But before he could speak, the horde of ghouls let out a keening cry as one, and swarmed up the dais toward them.

 

[Lazybones]

Book V, Part 4

As the ghouls—and by the stench that accompanied them, a few ghasts were among them as well—charged up the steps of the dais, the companions keenly felt the absence of their sorcerer. One fireball might have cleared the room, leaving just a few stragglers for the Lok’s axe and Benzan’s bow.

But the four friends did not hesitate or lament what was not, as they launched their own attacks upon the charging ranks of undead. Cal unleashed a ready spell upon the dense knot of undead and those still pouring into the room, conjuring up a maze of magical webbing anchored on the walls, floor, and the overhanging ceiling of the gallery above. The webs covered most of the back half of the room, obscuring the rear entrance and the one on the side wall to their left as well. Within the webs ghouls struggled against the sticky bonds, letting out strangled cries of anger as their hunger for living flesh was temporarily frustrated.

Even though the web caught nearly twenty of the ghouls in its folds, though, more were already ascending the steps of the dais, either dodging the strands or pouring out of the unblocked passage to the right.

Dana stepped forward, holding up the icon of Selûne that she wore, a precious sliver of magical moon mote shaped as the sigil of the goddess. Wisps of pale moonlight erupted from the device, shining with an intensity that the ghouls, by their reaction, found hateful and repulsive. Dana’s power, however, barely affected the overall surge, turning away a handful of ghouls but driving the others to an even more violent rush as they sought to tear the offending cleric to pieces.

First, however, they had to go through Lok.

The genasi met the rush with a sweep of his axe that took a ghoul’s head from its shoulders. The stroke clove into the next ghoul, tearing a deep gash in its chest that knocked it roughly back into its fellows. Undeterred, the ghouls swarmed on the genasi, scraping at his shield and armored body with their claws and teeth. One surged past and tried to leap at Cal, only to stagger as a long arrow from Benzan’s bow slammed into its chest. The ghoul recovered and came on, only to meet the tiefling as he tossed his bow aside and drew his sword, his mouth twisted into a grimace to match the feral grin of the undead dwarf.

Lok wielded his axe in a storm of fury, and with each stroke undead flesh was sundered by the frost-rimmed blade. The creatures came on, however, and as yet more poured into the room through the unblocked entrance it seemed as though they would overcome the companions through sheer force of numbers. The webs helped channel them up one side of the dais, helping the defenders, but those trapped continued to fight their way forward, heedless of the skin that was torn from their bodies by the sheer violence of their struggles.

But Lok’s defense had bought his companions precious moments, time that they used to good advantage. Cal cast a powerful new spell that he had only recently mastered, and as the magic flowed through his body his actions grew significantly faster, even small motions taking on a slight blur through the influence of the magical haste. Without pause he quickly cast another spell, and his small frame began to twist and distort, his true location blurred by the power another potent dweomer, a spell of displacement.

Dana, as well, called upon her own potent magic, channeling the power of her goddess. As she called upon the pure energy of Selûne her body seemed to swell with divine power, and a radiant glow seemed to shine from her as she stepped forward, her longspear ready in her hands. She lunged forward at one of the ghouls trying to move around Lok, transfixing the creature with a thrust from the enhanced steel head of her weapon. The ghoul went down, thrashing as electrical energy tore into it.

Benzan finished the ghoul confronting him with a single thrust of his sword, and stepped forward to guard Lok’s flank. He immediately faced a pair of ghasts, their stench twisting the tiefling’s stomach as they swarmed upon him. Struggling through nausea, he stabbed the first one, but it shrugged off the blow and tore at him with its claws. Fortunately his mithral armor repelled the attack, and Benzan held his ground. The second ghast came low and tried to latch onto his leg, and as Benzan drew back he felt a chill sweep up the limb and into his body. For a moment he felt a cold tendril of fear as his muscles stiffened, but he fought through the feeling and after a few tense moments the sensation faded.

The flow of ghouls and ghasts through the dark passageway had ended, and a good half-dozen of the creatures had already fallen in the opening moments of the battle, but a full dozen more were still coming on in addition to the nearly twenty slowly fighting their way out of the web. A pair of ghouls swept around Lok and came up the far side of the dais toward Dana, belatedly joined by a third that managed to extricate itself from the near edge of the web. At the same time, Lok was surrounded by a cluster of five ghouls led by a ghast, the six of them swarming over him from all directions. For a moment, Lok seemed to falter, but then he erupted in a flurry of deadly strokes. His axe formed a deadly arc that clove three ghouls in a single sweep, then he countered the ghast’s assault with a backswing that smashed powerfully into its leering face. The ghast reared back but surged again, only to take another overhand chop that crushed down into its chest, driving it down to the floor in a flopping heap.

If the two surviving ghouls were troubled by the devastation of their comrades, they gave no sign, continuing their efforts to find a gap in the genasi’s defenses. The three ghouls he’d cleaved had barely fallen when three more rushed forward to take their place, while to his right another pair moved to aid the two ghasts threatening Benzan.

Cal, still affected by his magical haste, continued to cast spells at a rapid pace. Seeing that Lok had things well in hand, and that Benzan was in difficulty, he directed his second haste spell at the embattled tiefling. The result was immediate, as the tiefling’s attacks speeded up, and he quickly finished the first ghast with a pair of potent thrusts from his magical sword. Meanwhile, Cal enhanced his own defenses with a quick shield spell.

Dana, threatened by three of the charging undead, stabbed the first with her spear. The spearhead bit deep, but the creature tore itself off the point and lurched forward, claws outstretched. It was revealed to be a ghast, not a ghoul, a moment later as the potent stench swept over her. As it came inside the reach of her spear she dodged its first lunge and stepped back, summoning the power of her goddess once again. At her call a gleaming blade of pure white moonlight erupted from her hand, a weapon of divine power.

She found herself hard-pressed a moment later, however, as the other two ghouls swept at her, tearing at her with her claws and driving her yet farther back, away from her companions. The wounded ghast, licking its lips in a feral grin, followed a step behind.

Lok felt an icy chill suffuse him as a ghoul locked its jaws on his leg, managing to bite through the leather protecting the joint at his knee. Lok’s incredible fortitude allowed him to shrug off the paralysis of the creature’s touch, and he slammed his axe down into the ghoul’s skull, dislodging it and sending it to the floor in a heap. Several of its fellows immediately followed as the genasi struck about him with deadly precision and almost mechanical efficiency. The stone blocks of the dais around him were now piled high with ghoul bodies, and still more came on, heedless of their destruction, perhaps almost eager to embrace oblivion.

Benzan stood his ground a few feet away, although he too was finding himself hard pressed. The magical haste laid upon him by Cal enhanced his defenses, and between that and his mithral armor and magical shield his opponents were having a tough time laying a claw or bite upon him. He finished the second ghast with a series of rapid blows, smoothly dodging the frustrated claw sweeps of the two ghouls left facing him.

Intent upon their battles, neither he nor Lok detected the movement in the galleries directly above them. Cal saw the telltale flash of movement as a pair of ghasts leapt over the rail and dove at the two warriors, but his cry of warning came too late as the creatures slammed hard into Lok and Benzan from behind.

Lok staggered as the weight of the creature landed hard across his back, but Benzan, already half-turning at Cal’s cry, spun as one of the ghast’s claws caught him hard across the face. He lurched back a step, off balance…

And then suddenly stiffened, and collapsed to the ground.

The ghast and the two ghouls were on him in an instant.

 

[Horacio]

Ghouls! I hate them!
Nasty little bugs!



Great update, as usual!

 

[Lazybones]

Book V, Part 5

With Benzan down, Dana threatened, and Lok struggling with the weight of a slashing and tearing ghast on his back, a battle that had been going all in favor of the companions had suddenly turned. Only Cal was, for the moment, unthreatened, relatively safe behind several layers of magical protections.

“Lok!” Cal cried, drawing the genasi’s attention to Benzan’s plight. Even as he yelled the warning, however, the gnome was already acting to help his helpless friend. He raised his hand, the one bearing Delem’s ring, and for the first time called upon its power. He could feel the energy of the ring responding to his summons, granting him the power to move objects at a mere thought. He focused the power onto the ghast, even as it bullied aside its ghoul comrades to leap upon the helpless form of the tiefling. Benzan’s eyes were wide with terror as the ghast opened its massive jaws and leaned toward his face. Cal could feel the resistance from the creature’s will as he tried to grasp it with the power of the ring, but his own will was not inconsiderable, and after a brief moment he felt the grip of the ring’s telekinetic grasp lock onto the ghast’s form.

The ghast flew roughly back, its course sending it right into the ghouls directly behind it. All three undead went down, rolling back down the steps of the dais to land in a rough tumble a short distance away. They were up again quickly, snarling with hatred at being denied their kill.

The ghouls swarming Lok seemed to draw energy from the ghast pushing him down, and their attacks intensified as they grappled him and threatened to bring him down. For a moment the genasi crumpled, bent almost full over until his shield was pressed up against the ground at his feet. His magical axe seemed to slip from his fingers, falling with a slight clatter on the stones of the floor, and at that sound the ghouls let out a feral cry of anticipation.

But then Lok reached up and grabbed the throat of the ghast with a gauntleted hand. The ghast scratched at his arm and tried to tear free, but it may as well been scratching at stone. With a mighty heave Lok hurled the ghast into the faces of the ghouls right in front of him, knocking several of them to the ground. He felt slight slivers of pain as the ghouls behind him tore through the chinks in his armor with their foul claws, but he shrugged off the hurts and the unnatural chill of paralysis that came with them. Reaching down, he took up the axe again and charged, knocking down a ghoul that didn’t get out of the way quickly enough. His charge didn’t take him far, only a few steps, but when it ended Lok was standing astride the motionless form of Benzan.

“All right, come on then, you filthy bastards!” he shouted to the ghouls, brandishing his axe.

And they came, while the ones Cal had repulsed rushed at him from the other side, flanking the hard-pressed warrior.

Dana found herself hard-pressed as well, confronted a pair of ghouls with the ghast she’d injured just a step behind. Her defenses were considerable, but between their tearing claws and slashing teeth there were just too many attacks for her to repel. The ghouls sacrificed any semblance of defense in an all-out attack, and even as she spun out of the grasp of one she felt pain as the second bit down on her exposed bicep. She tore free before it could lock its jaws on her, and resisted the icy paralysis of its touch. She countered with a smooth swing of her conjured moon blade, sweeping it across the ghoul’s chest. The blade seemed insubstantial, light as air as she slashed with it, but as it contacted the ghoul its flesh burned away in a wide, deadly swath. The ghoul screamed and crumpled into a noisome heap of bubbling flesh, dead now for good.

She raised the weapon again as the ghast launched itself directly at her.

Lok continued to hold the charging ghouls off of Benzan’s helpless form, slashing great arcs with his axe that seemed to slay a ghoul with each stroke. More continued to come at him, however, as the ghouls trapped in the web gradually tore themselves free and joined in the melee. Flanked, Lok took several hits that tore through his heavy defenses, only his incredible constitution keeping him from succumbing to the effects of their paralyzing touch. Still, he was only one unlucky moment away from disaster, and the ghouls pressed their attack, seeking that one moment of weakness.

Then a stirring, martial song filled chamber, the booming voice of the small gnome giving the companions an extra measure of confidence and courage. With his illusions and enchantments of no use against these foes, Cal drew his shortsword and charged into battle, coming to the aid of Lok. He ran through a ghoul tearing at the genasi’s back, the creature staggering as it turned to face the gnome, pure fury in its eyes. But that fury died as the hasted gnome struck again, plunging the blade enhanced in the forges of Citadel Adbar into the ghoul’s chest. Still shrieking, the ghoul collapsed, the undead life force that animated it fading as it fell. A pair of ghouls drew off of their attack upon Lok to assail the gnome, leaping upon him with tearing claws and teeth. The first bit at his face but found only air, foiled by the gnome’s displacement, while the second howled in frustration as its attacks beat uselessly against the magical protection of Cal’s shield.

The distraction gave Lok an opening that he quickly exploited, tearing into the few remaining ghouls with abandon. The ghast fell with a pair of deep gouges in its torso, and without hesitation Lok tore into the row of ghouls before him, dropping a pair with a single swipe and cutting deeply into a third. Two more, with strands of webbing still trailing from their bodies, rushed up and attacked him, but he smoothly deflected their charge with his new shield.

And when the shield came away, more ghouls died.

Dana took another gash from the tearing claws of the ghast, and once again she felt the icy chill that promised death, if she faltered. She fought through the paralysis once more, and with a cry of defiance plunged the moon blade into the ghast’s face. The face of the undead monstrosity seemed to melt away at the touch of the divine fire, and it crumpled. Her last opponent, a ghoul, tried to take advantage of her distraction to bite her leg, but she turned smoothly out of its grasp and plunged the glowing sword into its chest. The ghoul fell, dying.

Bleeding from a number of injuries, Dana took a deep breath, raised the moon blade, and rushed back into the battle raging around Lok and Cal. She took down one of the ghouls attacking the gnome from behind, while the gnome’s sword made quick work of the other.

None of the undead retreated, but by the time the last ghoul tore itself free of the web, it found three ready opponents there to chop it to pieces. When it was over, and they counted the bodies, they found that they had destroyed twenty-eight ghouls and five ghasts, transforming the theatre chamber into a gruesome slaughterhouse.

Dana crouched over Benzan, checking his injuries. He was conscious, his jaw tight with the effort of fighting the paralysis that gripped him.

“He’ll be all right in a few minutes,” she told the others.

Cal nodded, while Lok checked to make certain that all of the undead dwarves were truly destroyed. “Let’s get him out of here,” the gnome suggested, and after they’d confirmed that they were safe, Lok took up the prone form of the tiefling and they moved cautiously back to the unblocked exit of the chamber. Dana took up her stick bearing the continual flame, and she moved to the front rank, probing the darkness ahead.

“We’re hurt, and we used up a lot of our spells in that little fracas,” Cal said. “We’d better find someplace defensible to hole up and rest.”

Although they were wary, probing each and every shadow with their light, no further creatures appeared to threaten them. Soon Benzan could move well enough to walk, although it was a bit longer until he was able to keep up with them unassisted.

With Lok’s guidance they found one of the semi-hidden doors that led into a private dwelling, an empty suite of rooms that still showed signs of being hurriedly ransacked. They retreated to a back room that had only one exit, spiked the door shut, and settled down to an uneasy rest, each appreciating how close they had come to utter disaster.