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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 273485" data-attributes="member: 143">Book V, Part 21“It’s done.  Go,” Cal said, drawing back from Lok.      Dana nodded, and opened her mind for a fourth time to the power of her goddess.  Behind her, the quaggoths watched with a mixture of unease and suspicion, wary of all magic due to their species’ misfortunes at the hands of the potent magic-using races of the Underdark.  Benzan, of course, was already on his way. As Dana completed her spell, Cal’s plan moved into action.  * * * * *The six duergar serving guard duty atop the battlements that warded the entrance to their stronghold held mixed feelings about their current task.  On the one hand, such duty was boring, tedious, and repetitive, and despite being rotated more or less evenly among the garrison’s warriors, it was generally considered a punishment for some real or imagined offense.  But at the same time, all of the dwarf warriors had heard rumors of the strange happenings of late in the inner caverns that were Shemma’s private demesne, and by and large most of them were quite happy to be as far away from that place as was reasonably possible.  So the six stood their posts, occasionally walking along the smooth teeth of the battlements, neither engaging in petty chatter nor idle amusements, infused with a perpetual wariness that no surfaceworlder could ever truly understand.  One of the dwarves shifted slightly, feeling an uncomfortable twinge in his lower back at the unexpected movement.  He turned, his senses warning him of a danger that he could not consciously see…One of the dwarves opposite him also stiffened suddenly, but the cause for his distress was immediately apparent as a long, bloody gash suddenly appeared along the line of his throat, tearing through the chain links of his gorget.  The dwarf staggered and fell hard against the nearest battlement, trying with futility to stop the flow of its lifeblood between its fingers.  A tall human clad in a full coat of shining mithral armor appeared out of thin air, still hovering slightly with the effects of a spell of flying.  He bore a bronze blade wet with the blood of the dwarf he had just slain, and even as the duergar spun and reached for their weapons he lunged at the next nearest defender, thrusting through his defenses and stabbing the tip of his blade through the dwarf’s layered steel armor.  The wound was serious if not life-threatening, but the dwarf refused to back off, drawing out a heavy axe with one hand and a long dirk from his belt with the other.  The intruder had gotten surprise, but now five fully armed and armored dwarf warriors bore down on him, moving with the agility and efficiency of men trained to attack in groups.  However, before they could manage more than a few desultory, testing probes with their weapons, a shimmering plane of force appeared in the air a few paces away, broadening in size until it formed a portal that hovered a few inches above the stone floor of the battlement.  “Teleportation!” one of the dwarves warned, as several shifted toward this new threat.  Even as they did, however, another pair of intruders stepped through the magic gateway—a young human woman clutching a spear, and a broad-shouldered dwarf in full plate armor with a heavy battleaxe.  The duergar, used to the terrible dangers of the Underdark, did not falter in the face of these adversaries or the loss of one of their number, and launched an immediate attack.  They coordinated their attacks with subtle gestures, moving to flank their opponents while one broke for the dark opening in the cliff wall at the back of the shelf, retreating to alert the lair and bring aid to repel these bold intruders.  Two came at the man in the mithral armor, spreading out to flank him as their blades sought holes in his defenses.  He moved with incredible quickness, although the dwarves could not know of the cat’s grace that Cal had laid upon him, and the strokes that did get through his dodges glanced off of the mithral links of his chainmail.  He might have taken advantage of this to put down his already wounded adversary, but he saw that his companions were not in a position to stop the dwarf running toward the rear exit.  Instantly he shot up into the air, taking an attack of opportunity from one of the dwarves that tore a jagged line of pain along his right hip as he disengaged from his foes and shot toward the exit.  His magical flight greatly outpaced the speed of the armored dwarf, and as he landed in front of the dark opening, blocking the exit, the dwarf came up short, raising his axe to defend himself.  The other pair of warriors took on the two newcomers.  The woman seemed a bit disoriented at having come through the portal, but as the dwarf’s axe slashed at her the blade was turned by an invisible field of magical deflection.  The dwarf snarled as he recognized the nature of the silver bracers the woman wore, but he pressed his attack before she could recover and strike back.  Unfortunately for him she recovered quite quickly, darting back with a sudden hop and bringing her spear to bear.  With the strength of Selûne’s divine power behind the thrust, she slammed the magical head of the shockspear into the dwarf’s torso, drawing a grunt of pain from him as the blade released its energy into his body.  Lok, meanwhile, faced off against the last warrior.  For about six seconds.  Enhanced by the final spell that Cal had cast before launching the plan into action, Lok spun from his fallen foe and, driven by magical haste, charged into the pair that Benzan had left unfinished.  The wounded dwarf spun to meet the charge, only to crumple under the powerful stroke of Lok’s axe.  The duergar did not speak in challenge, or cry out for mercy.  They did not call out to their companions below; the loud clang of metal on metal was warning cry enough.  They did die, however, fighting against superior adversaries with the same grim fortitude that marked the lives of their more virtuous cousins that dwelled closer to the surface.  After only a few more exchanges, the last of the dwarves were down, and the floor of the battlements were slick with spilled blood.  Other than the gash Benzan had taken to his hip, the companions had not taken any injuries in the brief melee.  Dana glanced out over the edge between a gap in the battlements, and saw the quaggoths already coming across the bridge.  Cal had remained with them, to ensure that they held back until the attack was underway, and they could move into position to open the iron doors from within.  All had suspected, however, that whatever the restraint that the quaggoths could muster would shatter once they heard the sounds of battle.  And so it was.  At least they were bringing Cal along, one of them—it looked like Rakkath—carrying the gnome aloft on its shoulders.  In the light of the blue flame before the doors, the charging creatures looked like grim shadows of death, come to deliver justice to those who committed great wrongs.  Getting a little melodramatic, Dana? she berated herself silently, as she turned to her companions.  “They’re coming—” she began.Only to see that Benzan and Lok had already entered the dark entrance at the rear of the overhang.  Even as she took her first step she could hear the crash of a loud gong echoing from somewhere beyond the doors below, followed almost immediately by the sounds of battle.  Sighing to herself, she hurried after them.</blockquote>

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