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

[Lazybones]

NWN Update: look for game announcements a little later today on the "Software" forum.

Story update: here it is!

* * * * *

Book IV, Part 12

In a vast cavern deep under the surface of Toril, the companions found themselves only a heartbeat from being set upon by a small horde of ferocious “deep bears,” or quaggoths as they were known in the Underdark.

“Wait!” Cal said, his voice echoing through the cavern with that single word. He edged forward, moving past Lok to face the quaggoth leader. The quaggoths tensed at his movement, but it was difficult for the deep bears to take the gnome as a serious threat, especially in contrast to his more heavily armed and armored companions. The leader simply looked down at him, his thoughts masked behind its fierce expression.

Cal opened his mouth, but instead of spoken words a haunting melody erupted from his lips, echoing through the huge open space around them. The quaggoths cocked their heads curiously as they listened to the melody, which faded after just a few moments.

“Noble warriors, we did not seek to trespass upon your domain,” he said, and the sounds of his words still seemed to tremor slightly with the afterimage of the notes of his melody.

The quaggoth leader fixed them all with an encompassing glare. “You understand our speech?” he said.

Cal didn’t bother with an explanation of the complex workings of the tongues spell. Instead, he offered a slight flourish. “Indeed, mighty one. As I said, we did not seek intrusion here, only safe passage to our destination. While we do not seek battle, understand that we can… and will… defend ourselves if need be.” Somehow Cal managed to draw himself up with the last statement, and a message that should have been laughable coming from the diminutive gnome seemed nonetheless significant.

A murmur traveled through the ring of quaggoths, and even the leader seemed to regard him in a new light. The tensile power held barely at check within the warriors, however, was not eased, and the encounter still seemed tightly balanced on the razor’s edge.

“What are they saying?” Benzan whispered, for he was not included in the effects of Cal’s spell.

“Quiet,” Dana returned, all too aware that one misstep could unleash the attack.

“You are not our enemies,” Cal went on. “Indeed, we seek only to…”

He didn’t get a chance to finish, for at that moment a pair of quaggoths burst into the chamber from one of the nearby exits. Their agitation was clear in the way that their chests heaved and their nostrils flared as they neared the others, and it was clear as well how that agitation spread quickly among those already gathered. When they spoke, only Cal could understand what was said, but the others could sense the meaning in the reaction of the deep bears.

“The home caves are under attack! The shadow dwarves are raiding, taking captives!”

The assembled quaggoths let out roars of fury and violence that shook the cavern, and the leader spun back around to face the companions. “Betrayers!” he cried, and the quaggoths spun to focus their attention upon the nearest convenient targets of their rage. “You drew us away, so that we would be vulnerable to your allies!”

“No!” Cal cried, throwing words out in a tumble in a last desperate attempt to stop what now seemed inevitable. “We too seek the destruction of the duergar—look upon this dwarf here, one of the urdunnir! If we fight, then your enemies benefit—let us join together instead, and defend your people!”

Cal’s words bought him only a few instants of hesitation, but it was enough for him to invoke another power, called with the undertone of another melody that he suffused to his words. The music did not quell the anger of the quaggoths this time, but the power of the charm that he wrought did seep into the perceptions of the quaggoth leader, turning him aside from the path of confrontation, giving Cal’s desperate plea an echo of plausibility.

“Come, then, and share in the letting of blood!” he cried. To his companions, he turned and let out a blood-curdling cry that promised destruction, and led his warriors back into the tunnel from which the two scouts had emerged.

The companions, caught up in the rush, could not escape. While a number of the quaggoths pushed on ahead with their leader, their superior speed carrying them away, most remained in a close ring around the companions, their mistrust clear in their eyes even as they herded the companions toward a battle that had suddenly become their own.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Benzan said, as Cal hurriedly briefed them on what had happened. Finally, perhaps annoyed at their slow pace, one of the quaggoths bent down and seized up the gnome, carrying him ungently under his arm. A pair likewise flanked Lok and grabbed him by the arms and shoulders, all but dragging the armored genasi along while his legs pumped to keep up. Benzan and Dana, already moving as quickly as their new comrades/captors, needed no aid, but they were closely watched nonetheless.

The tunnel they were following twisted and passed several branches to the sides, but it was not long until they heard the all too familiar sounds of battle coming from somewhere up ahead. The quaggoths carrying Lok and Cal dropped their burdens, and reached for their weapons while their jaws twisted into feral grins of anticipation.

The companions prepared their own weapons as they pressed on toward yet another battle.

 

[Maldur]

close call for our heroes!!

Keep it up LB, we're rooting for you!

Cheerz, Maldur

 

[Lazybones]

Book V, Part 13

Grolac looked around with a grim sense of satisfaction as his warriors finished shackling the last of the quaggoth captives. With a lot of prodding, they managed to get most of them up and mobile enough to gather them in a knot near one of the exits to the long cavern where the brief assault had taken place. Several of them were still comatose, and would either have to be carried by their fellows, or left behind with slit throats if they could not manage to be roused.

“Looks like your blasts were a bit too effective, Kozar, in a few cases,” the duergar said to his companion.

The other duergar shrugged, distracted. Like Grolac, his skin was a dusky gray, the color of long-dead ashes, and his skull was bald. Kozar’s skin, however, was criss-crossed by a web of spidery tattoos, markings that seemed to crawl when their owner’s muscles twitched or moved under the skin.

“Others will be coming,” Kozar commented. “The quaggoth are easily startled, but their responses are quick and violent.”

“Yes. One of their weaknesses is that they are so predictable.” Grolac paused to issue a few commands to the warriors preparing the prisoners for transport. They had collected about a score, now; not a huge haul, but not bad for a quick strike. They’d lost two of their own, both stunned when they were caught within the effect of one of Kozar’s mind blasts. They would have been fine, but unfortunately a trio of quaggoth reinforcements had chosen that moment to arrive from a nearby tunnel entrance. Although they had slain the defenseless duergar warriors, now those three were part of the queue that was rapidly forming, their shackles clanging together slightly as they moved. All were still suffering from the effects of the duergar assault, and had in addition been drugged to make them more docile during transport.

“I am going to check on the status of the second strike team,” Grolac said abruptly. “You will take command of the first squad, and set an ambush to cover the retreat of this lot.”

Kozar’s eyes narrowed. “My powers are depleted,” he started to protest, but he trailed off when he saw the assassin’s expression.

“Let me be clear, Kozar. I expect to see you return with another train of slaves, or not at all. Don’t think I am unfamiliar with your ambitions—consider this your opportunity to demonstrate your ability.”

The hatred burned clearly in Kozar’s eyes, but he managed a nod of acknowledgement as Grolac took up his satchel and crossbow and moved for a final check of the captives. He spoke briefly with the duergar that would be shepherding the captives back to their base, then vanished into one of the narrow side tunnels, a pair of warriors falling in behind him.

Kozar turned and saw the dwarves of the first squad watching him, their expressions carefully schooled to keep whatever thoughts they might be thinking from showing. He could uncover those thoughts, if he wanted to, but he knew that he would have to husband every last shred of power for the inevitable confrontation that would soon follow.

“Notify the scouts, we will set up an ambush here,” Kozar commanded, taking some solace at least in the way that the veteran warriors, each hand-picked by Grolac, leapt to implement his commands. He turned to see that the train of newly recruited slaves was already departing, the huge beasts plodding along dejectedly under the impetus of their captors. The deep dwarves barely came up to the waists of their prisoners, but it was clear from an instant’s glance who was the dominant party in their relationship.

“Very well, Grolac, if it’s a demonstration you wish, I will give it to you,” Kozar said. He reached into an inner pocket of his cloak, and withdrew a small object wrapped in shreds of cloth. Carefully unwrapping it, he revealed a cluster of crystalline shards trapped in a lattice of loops and swirls fashioned of slender strips of silver. Although it shed no light that could be seen in the pure darkness of the cavern, it seemed to pulse slightly in his hand as he lifted it close to his face, cradled almost lovingly in his thick, gnarled hands.

He looked upon it for a moment, then returned it to its sheltered place as he turned to monitor the busy activities of his warriors, preparing to unleash a second round of terror upon the hapless quaggoths when they lashed out blindly—and predictably—at the intruders into their lair.

 

[Talindra]

*bump*

I wanted to say I'm still here, LB, and also, I love when you take a moment to post a view from the other side. It really makes everything come alive for me, and I'm still hooked. Keep it up!

 

[Lazybones]

Hey, thanks Talindra! Update tomorrow morning--another big battle scene!

LB

 

[Lazybones]

Book V, Part 14

Taktak, the quaggoth leader, felt a slow rage begin to build again as the tunnel began to widen and a cavern opening became visible ahead. He’d become convinced that the strange quartet of intruders that his patrol had just encountered were not connected to the duergar attack, but that did not ease the frustration that he felt at not being there do defend his people from the surprise raid. His title was not just “warrior,” but “defender,” and his people counted upon him to be at the forefront of the fighting when outsiders threatened. In the Underdark, that was a common occurrence.

Thus he had failed, but he would rectify that by unleashing carnage upon the hated deep dwarves.

A half-dozen of his fellows had kept up with his rush, but he would not have hesitated even had he been alone. He caught the scent on the air currents and knew that his enemies were ahead in the cavern, probably waiting in ambush as was their way. That did not stop him either. He was experienced enough to know that most of the intelligent beings living in the Underdark were smarter, better organized, and more powerful than the quaggoth. The strength of his people was literally that, their physical prowess.

Taktak, in particular, was not lacking in that department.

With a final burst of speed that took him well ahead of his companions, the quaggoth leader burst into the corridor. His senses of smell and hearing told him as much or more than his eyes as he instantly divined that he had been correct, that this cavern housed an ambush. He did not see any adversaries at first, but he was all too aware that the duergar were quite adept at not being seen.

His suspicions were confirmed as he heard the soft whirring sound a moment before he caught sight of the small globes flying toward the tunnel entrance. Taktak was already moving, diving forward in a smooth roll that ended with him several strides ahead and coming to his feet already running. Behind him, the globes shattered on the stone, releasing cloying strands of gas that filled the tunnel opening like a rolling fog. The gas didn’t linger long, already starting to break up within a few heartbeats, but even in that brief time several quaggoths staggered through the cloud and collapsed to the ground, unconscious.

Taktak heard the sound of a crossbow being fired, and dodged aside just in time to avoid the bolt that zipped past him. He marked the angle of the bolt and started toward the still-hidden shooter, but felt a sudden pang of sharp pain as a second bolt caught in his arm. Almost immediately he felt the sting of poison coursing through his veins, but he fought through it and continued on.

The floor of the cavern was uneven, a virtual maze of cracks and boulders that made offered a thousand hiding places for the ambushers. Taktak’s agility allowed him to easily navigate the difficult surface, and as he spotted a duergar sniper creep out of a cleft between two protruding boulders he let out a cry of challenge. The battlecry was not mere foolish bravado; the quaggoth veteran knew that he needed to draw the attention of the duergar ambushers to himself, to give his warriors following behind a chance to make it into the battle without being incapacitated by the duergar weapons.

A pair of duergar materialized out of nothing before him, flanking him as they leapt to the attack. The duergar were enlarged, each coming up nearly to the quaggoth’s shoulder, their enhanced strength telling in the power of their attacks. Taktak dodged the first stroke, but grunted in pain as the second tore into his side with his axe. The quaggoth did not falter, bringing his mace around in a powerful swing of his own that slammed hard into the first dwarf’s shoulder, knocking him roughly back into the rocks.

As the lingering clouds of sleep gas dispersed the companions moved into the cavern entrance, flanked by several quaggoths who immediately started looking for targets. They had taken good advantage of the delay, and both Cal and Dana had invoked protective magic to improve their defenses, while Benzan had strung and loaded his bow. They saw Taktak engaged with his pair of adversaries, and the quaggoths instantly turned in that direction, drawn by the call of battle.

Before they could manage more than a few steps, however, a shadowy form emerged from within cover among the rocks about thirty feet directly ahead of them. He did not appear to be clad in armor like the others, but was distinguished by the crawling network of tattoos that formed a latticework across the taut skin that covered his skull. He carried a small object in his hands that seemed to brighten with a faint inner glow as he carried it forward.

Benzan saw the dwarf, and in a flash he had drawn and targeted an arrow. In the instant before he could release, however, the strange newcomer unleashed a potent power upon them.

The very air seemed to ripple with a wave of energy that swept out over them, filling the cavern entrance. Most of the quaggoths collapsed, either clutching their heads in sudden, blazing agony as they fell, or simply crumpling in a heap as if their bones had suddenly dissolved into jelly. Lok went down in mid charge, stunned by the mental force unleashed in the blast, while a few strides behind him Cal twisted and fell even as he reached for the components of another magical spell.

And just like that, only Benzan, Dana, and a pair of quaggoths who had been fortunate enough to escape the full force of the blast were all that was left of the relief force. And Taktak, although his situation was looking increasingly grim as his adversaries launched another coordinated attack that left two more long gashes in his already blood-matted hide.

Benzan felt as through a thousand hammers were pounding inside his brain, but he forced himself to fight through the pain as he fired his arrow. The first shot, perhaps thrown off by the lingering effects of the mind blast, narrowly missed the tattooed dwarf, but he gritted his teeth and quickly drew out another arrow and set it to his bowstring.

A crossbow bolt caught him solidly in the shoulder, although the magically-enhanced links of his mithral armor kept the missile from penetrating. He was dimly aware of movement in the rocks to his left, but he dared not turn his attention from the greater threat posed by the enemy wizard.

“Snipers to the left!” he shouted as a warning to Dana. The quaggoth would not understand, of course, but he hoped they would get the message on their own.

The quaggoths hesitated for a moment, overwhelmed by the sudden carnage wrought around them and the rapid depletion of their force. Between the sleep gas, the poisoned bolts, and the mind blast, there were nearly a score of quaggoths laid out around them, some of them still convulsing as they struggled to fight off the effects of the incapacitating attacks of the duergar. But the hesitation was brief, and as the warrior instincts of the quaggoths took over they charged to the aid of their war leader.

The first managed to cover half the distance to the battle when a duergar suddenly materialized behind him and slammed his axe into the back of his leg. The quaggoth let out a roar of pain and went down, his leg nearly severed at the knee, while the dwarf spun adroitly to face the crippled quaggoth’s companion. The deep bear swung his maul at the dwarf, but the duergar easily ducked under the blow. The two began an exchange of attacks, the quaggoth’s superior strength offset by the agility and armor of the dwarf.

Dana, however, had not been idle during those few moments. First she summoned forth the powerful aid of the divine power of Selûne, and then turned to the working of another potent spell. She heard Benzan’s warning, but, lacking his darkvision, she could only see vague shadows at the edges of the light cast by her continual flame. When a poisoned bolt shot out of the darkness toward her, however, her finely tuned reflexes took over and she smoothly knocked the deadly missile aside with a quick snap of her wrist. Hoping that other crossbowmen weren’t targeting her at that moment, she fell once again back into the trance of divine contact, letting the power of the moon goddess into even this black place far under the ground.

At her call, a shaft of brilliant light erupted within the confines of the cavern, brightening until the place shone with the full radiance of daylight. The response from the deep dwarves was immediate, as they cried out in pain at the simulated glow of the hated orb whose light never penetrated this far under the earth. The snipers that had been hiding among the rocks were now suddenly silhouetted clearly against the light, and she also saw the duergar psion, holding his arms up in a reflexive move to shield his eyes from the light.

Benzan’s darkness-adjusted eyes were stung by the light, but he also found the illumination convenient, as he fired arrow after arrow at the tattooed dwarf. Several apparent hits glanced off at the last instant, suggesting that the dwarf had some sort of magical defense, but a pair stabbed deep into the dwarf’s torso, drawing blood. The injured dwarf fell back, dropping out of sight.

“He’s getting away!” Benzan cursed. He took a step forward, as if considering pursuit, but then hesitated with a glance down at the still-helpless forms of Lok and Cal. With a grimace he shifted his aim, firing an arrow into one of the crossbowmen still trying vainly to find targets against the painful brilliance of the light.

“I’ll get him,” Dana said. She cast another spell, and a portal opened before her. Without hesitation, she stepped through, transporting herself to the far side of the cavern.

As she emerged from the dimension door she caught sight of the duergar leader at the same moment that he spotted her. Drawing himself up in his headlong flight, he summoned forth the dread mental power at his command, and unleashed it at the warrior cleric.

Dana could feel the probe, a mental wedge that sought to sever the link between her mind and her body. But her own will was a wall against which the attack broke and faltered. The psion cursed as he realized the potency of this target’s mind, and his hand dove into his cloak and drew out a slender potion vial.

Before he could uncork and drink the magical draught, however, Dana lunged forward and thrust at him with her magical spear. Her strength enhanced by the divine power she’d summoned earlier, she tore through his defenses and stabbed the blade deep into the dwarf’s body. Electrical surges from the shockspear blasted around the wound and burned the dwarf’s body from inside, and the psion screamed out in pain as his life energy was seared by that fell power. The potion vial fell from his fingers as he staggered back, trying somehow to manage one last defense against the human woman’s assault. Dana was too experienced to hesitate now, however, and she did not relent, following him step for step and thrusting the head of the spear deeper in one last attack that ended it.

While their leader was being killed, the other duergar were finding the battle turning against them. Taktak still stood, although only the fury of his rage was keeping him standing against his one remaining opponent. The other dwarf lay against a boulder, his skull oozing from the shattered spot where Taktak’s mace had struck a solid blow. Both of the remaining combatants were barely standing, now, but the dwarf refused to relent, his axe seeking out one more blow that would drop this determined adversary.

Unfortunately, he would never find it, as an arrow from Benzan’s bow buried itself to the feathers in his throat.

The other quaggoth had finally defeated his adversary, with a lucky backswing that caught the dwarf off guard with a solid connection to the head. But he too was grievously wounded, with two deep gashes in his torso. Those stunned by the psion’s mind blast were finally beginning to come around, clutching their heads with their hands as they shook off the lingering shreds of pain that thumped inside their skulls. Benzan had dropped one of the duergar snipers and injured another, but the rest had managed to disengage and disappeared through one of the darkened tunnel exits.

No one felt particularly inclined to pursue them.

Dana approached Taktak as the quaggoth began to slip out of his rage, and with it his tenuous grip on life began to ebb as well. The quaggoth fixed her with a suspicious glare, but could not do anything to hinder her as she reached in and touched his bloody fur, releasing the power of Selûne into him. His wounds healed at her touch and he was visibly bolstered, drawing back from death’s door. He was still seriously hurt, but his life was no longer in danger. The massive quaggoth regarded her in surprise, and then nodded in respect as she turned to assist those others that needed it.

“Is everyone all right?” Cal asked, wincing as he rose gingerly.

“Yeah,” Benzan said. “That wizard was a lot of trouble, though.”

“Not a wizard, I suspect, but a user of psionics,” Cal corrected him. “Powers of the mind… very rare, but dangerous.”

“Whatever,” Benzan said. “Either way, the ‘shoot them first’ rule applies.” He started across the room toward where Dana was tending to another of the injured quaggoths, while Lok and Cal assisted those who were recovering from the effects of the sleep gas and mind blast.

“Did you get him?” Benzan asked Dana.

The cleric looked up at him. “He’s over there, if you want to loot the corpse,” she said, indicating a space behind an obscuring screen of rocks.

The tiefling bit back a retort and moved the check the body of the dwarf psion. He found the strange object of metal and crystal that he’d seen earlier, as well as a pair of bracers that he assumed were similar to the defensive items that Dana wore. Cal might find those useful, he thought, placing them in his pouch along with a few small gemstones and oddly shaped platinum strips that he found in one of the dwarf’s inner pockets.

When he rejoined the others, he saw that most of the quaggoths had recovered, although a few were still clearly unsteady on their feet. He saw that the quaggoths were even more efficient in their looting of the dead, taking weapons, gear, even the clothes from the bloody corpses of the slain dwarves. Taktak looked no less impressive for being slathered in his own blood, and as Benzan rejoined the group, the quaggoth leader caught them all up in an encompassing glance. He spoke to them, although the clipped, guttural words meant nothing to Benzan’s ears.

“He says that we fought bravely,” Cal translated. “He wants us to go with them to their lair—it’s not far from here.”

“Well, better to be friends than enemies,” Benzan noted. “But I still have a bad feeling about this.”

In the company of their new allies, the companions set out through one of the tunnels on the edge of the cavern, leaving another fresh battlefield for the carrion of the Underdark behind them.

 

[Maldur]

bump, back to the top!

thx, Nice update.

I hope Horacio will be back soon, Its my vacation next week and I wont be able to keep the story on the first page.

Cheerz, Bazz

 

[Lazybones]

Book V, Part 15

The drow walked easily down the wide stone corridor, his boots sounding surprisingly heavy on the worn flagstones. His cloak billowed out behind him at the quick pace of his movements—he was quite nearly late, and in fact should have already been at his destination.

Well, there was nothing to be done for it now. His errand had been an important one, for all that the destination ahead marked one culmination in the long road on which he’d been set for years now.

Not that years were all that much, really, for one such as he.

As he drew nearer he finally could hear the drums, the steady cadence that seemed to thrum in the very substance of the stone around him. The drow could feel the power in that beat, could taste the magical harmonics that reverberated in those deep pulses.

Excellent. Everything was going well, then.

The drow reached the end of the corridor and turned through an opening to the side into an oval antechamber. The guardians that flanked the arched exit at the far end drew themselves up as he approached, bowing to him with reflexive piety that did not fool him in the slightest for all its apparent sincerity. The drow barely registered them, so fixed was he upon his goal, now so close.

He passed through the archway and its protective wards, and into the cavernous chamber beyond.

The place was huge, a natural bubble in the rock, its uneven ceiling rising up at least several hundred feet above. Dozens of magical flames burned in cool eternity at various places around the perimeter of the chamber, although even their combined brightness was not enough to fully banish the shadows that lurked in the various cracks and crevices along the walls. There was only one other exit besides the one that the drow had used, warded by a similarly grand stone archway.

The chamber was dominated by its central feature, a massive pillar that stood in the center of the place. The pillar’s surface glimmered as it drank in the light from the surrounding flames, for it appeared to be fashioned entirely from solid mithral, enough to buy kingdoms in the sunlit lands on the surface of Faerûn above. Dozens, if not hundreds, of varied gemstones were set in an apparently random array along the length of the pillar, their facets scattering colored rays of light all around, with more catching the eye with each step that one took into the room. The surface of the pillar was all angles and edges, a chaotic jumble that was both jarring and somehow disconcerting. And yet it seemed somehow… unfinished, although one would be hard-pressed to put into words exactly how.

The drow took in the magnificence of the device in a single long, lazy sweep of his eyes. Then he turned his attention to what was happening directly in front of him.

A wide, shallow stone bowl tiled with heavy slabs of black granite stood before him, ringed by a quartet of heavy drums that were the source of the deep pounding that he’d sensed earlier. The drums were being pounded by a quartet of duergar males, each stripped to the waist, their upper bodies painted in cascading rows of blood-red runes. At the far end of the bowl, directly across from the drow, stood Shemma. The duergar priestess barely paid any heed to the arrival of the newcomer, although she did shoot him an annoyed glance during one of the pauses in the litany of phrases that she was speaking to the tune of the mournful beat of the drums. The words she spoke seemed like gibberish, but to the drow, who could sense the currents of power that were filling the place, they seemed like an edifice, layers built upon layers to construct a working of great potency.

Above the priestess stood the mithral pillar, rising over a hundred feet into the vastness of the cavern, its top wreathed in shadows. At its base, directly behind her, an opening was sculpted into the pillar, a stylized gateway that led only to a solid slab of silvery metal unmarked by designs or embedded gemstones.

And finally, in the center of the depression, the focus of the ritual, nine prisoners huddled together, chained to the stone by thick manacles. Nearly all were dwarves, similar to the duergar in appearance but subtly different in their features, but a muscled quaggoth and a goggly kuo-toa were also part of the group. All wore looks of hopelessness that had been pounded into their very being by long imprisonment at the hands of the duergar.

The drow took up a position where he could watch the proceedings unobtrusively. This had all been going on for some time, he knew, and at this point there was nothing for him to do but watch.

The chanting and the drumming seemed to build slowly to a crescendo, until the very stone of the walls seemed to tremble with stored energy. Then, abruptly, both noises ceased and a sudden silence filled the room.

The drow couldn’t help but smirk slightly, despite the gravity of the situation. The religious types always went so overboard in their pageantry and ritual. But while he knew that all of the trappings weren’t necessary, he was willing to grant Shemma and her hangers-on her little games. The fact was that he needed them, and that he would not have been able to accomplish what they were about to achieve without the alliance between them. The power of her sour dwarvish god—the dregs of the dwarven pantheon, to be sure—was the lever that would bring his audacious plan to fruition.

Shemma had lowered her head to her chest so that he could not see her face, her arms outstretched in a wide, encompassing gesture. Now she began to chant again, unaccompanied by the drums—the rune-marked dwarves had retreated, and as the drow watched they vanished through one of the two arched exits.

The drow was slightly curious; he had wondered how Shemma was going to handle this part.

The incantation did not take long, and concluded with the cleric uttering one final magical command and pointing toward the helpless captives bound within the bowl. There was a slight delay, and then, so quickly that it seemed almost instantaneous, a black slash appeared in the ground before the cleric and a trio of beings crept out.

The creatures were horrible, bloated monstrosities, roughly humanoid in shape but with thin, wiry legs and arms and bulbous faces marked with huge, slavering jaws. They weren’t very big, perhaps four feet in height, but looked no less frightening for that fact. They looked around, as if gathering their bearings, and then lumbered awkwardly toward the prisoners.

It didn’t take very long, as the summoned demons were very efficient in their destruction and the manacles slaves could not put up much resistance in any case. By the time that the summoning spell expired and the demons were sent back to the pits of the Abyss from whence they had come, all that was left were scattered heaps of torn flesh and muscle and bone.

Shemma looked up, gestured for the drow to come forward.

Another game? the dark elf thought, but he concealed his smirk as he walked down the gentle slope into the bowl. His boots crunched on shards of bone and splashed in scattered pools of blood as he approached the center of the destruction, where nine living creatures had just met their end. His face betrayed no hint of feeling as he looked around, then finally saw what Shemma had meant him to find. In the center of the group was a small depression, and in that a small bowl of mithral was recessed into the stone. Runnels of fresh blood had run into the hollow and filled the bowl.

“Hurry!” Shemma said, as he reached down and took up the bowl, careful not to spill the blood. It was wedged tightly in place, but finally came loose at his pull. Rising, he took the blood to the duergar priestess.

Shemma smiled as she took the bowl, and the drow felt something electric pass between them as their hands touched around the blood-stained metal. The priestess was at her peak of power right now, the drow realized, and to his senses she seemed almost like a blazing torch, radiating stored energy.

She turned toward the pillar, and raised her voice in a final invocation that filled the room. The dark elf thought he could hear voices echoing in the empty darkness above, and despite himself felt a sudden surge of anticipation that even his considerable self-control could not fully contain. That anticipation was penetrated by a brief flash of annoyance as he heard a more substantial, if faint, cry from far above—the abashai was here, watching, despite his express orders—but if the duergar heard it, she paid it no heed.

Instead she stepped forward, and with a final chant sprayed the blood in the bowl across the blank face within the mithral arch at the base of the pillar. Then, as abruptly as before, she stopped speaking and retreated back several steps. The strange surges of power, the etheric voices, all ended, leaving them again in a stillness so deep that it seemed eternal.

Expecting something more, the dark elf nearly asked if something had failed, if it had all been for naught, but he sensed Shemma’s continued focus on the stone and forestalled himself. He turned back to the pillar, watched as the blood ran down the silvery metal in thick gobs…

And then…

 

[Talon]

And then WHAT?

Damn it man, you can't leaves us like this all weekend!!!!

Seriously though, great story! I've been a follower[but not much of a speaker] since the first book. Keep up the GREAT work.

Chris

 

[Maldur]

I vote to bestow Lazybones the title of "Cliffhanger King".

Any in favor say Aye!