Upgrade your account to a Community Supporter account and remove most of the site ads.
Rocket your D&D 5E and Level Up: Advanced 5E games into space! Alpha Star Magazine Is Launching... Right Now!

Reply to thread

Message: <blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 582847" data-attributes="member: 143">Book VII, Part 27Benzan could only watch in horror as the skeletal dragon came out of the fog.  He was dimly aware of his companions, of Lariel’s words, Cal’s shouted warning, but his perceptions were filled with the dracolich, and the glowing red orbs that seemed to hold him captive in their fell light.  That evil stare pierced him, and he could not move, could not act to save himself as the creature reared up, and unleashed its dire breath weapon upon the gathered companions. Benzan felt burning agony explode through his chest as a cloud of white death blasted over him from the dracolich’s gaping maw.  His natural agility was of no help, paralyzed as he was from the effects of the undead dragon’s terrible gaze.  His vision swam out of focus as the corrosive gas blasted across his face, the pain stabbing like needles into his skull, but that was nothing to the pain that filled his lungs as they took the toxic vapors inside him.  Some distant part of him was aware of the shouts of his friends.  He was still conscious, but could not even move enough to wipe his eyes. Then something hard crashed into him, and all he could see was the ground rushing up to meet him. The cloud of chlorine gas blasted into the companions, driving them backward, searing their lungs and scorching their exposed flesh.  Cal, following his own warning, was quick enough to dodge behind the stone slab, and that combined with the protection that Zev had placed on him earlier allowed him to escape most of the effects of the blast.  Dana, her speed augmented by her magical boots, was even quicker, darting to the side and escaping the area of effect entirely.  The other companions, however, could not escape, although Lariel and Zev, with their magical protections, suffered less than the others.  Lok took the force of the blast with his incredible fortitude of his mixed outsider and dwarven bloodlines.  He’d felt the cold power of the dracolich’s gaze, but now that chill was replaced by a burning anger that flowed through his veins, blossoming as he hefted his axe with grim courage.  He glanced over at Gorath, intending to coordinate his attack with the half-orc, but the ranger stood frozen, gripped by the effects of the dracolich’s paralyzing stare, his face blasted by its corrosive breath.  The others had scattered, but out of the corner of his eye he saw Benzan, similarly affected. Lok knew that the best way to help his friends was to bring the fight directly to their enemy.  Raising his axe, he let out a grim cry and charged headlong into battle.  Zev shrugged off the effects of the dracolich’s gaze, and his resistance spell helped him weather the effects of its poisonous cloud, but he saw that his companions had not all fared as well.  The tiefling archer looked ready to collapse, held in place by dark magic, completely vulnerable.  The gnoll felt the raging rush of battle fury begin to pound in his veins, but he could not leave an ally to die.  He halted in his rush to knock the man prone, and called upon his connection to the natural world around him.  He felt a sick taint as the corruption all around him threatened to break his link, but he fought through it and finished the enchantment.  A translucent hemisphere of force appeared over the prone warrior, a barrier shaped in the form of a giant turtle shell.  Zev grunted—he’d done what he could—and rushed toward the evil being that had claimed the soul of his home.  He knew that death awaited him, but he felt no fear.  Things started happening quickly.  Lariel was plying his bow on the run, darting sideways to put distance between himself and the others.  The dragon’s skeletal body had the hardiness of steel plate, but one of his shots struck bone and blasted a small hole in its thick spine.  A small wound, but a beginning.  Cal, sheltered by the reassuring mass of the stone behind him, called upon his haste spell to fortify himself, then launched into the remainder of his magical arsenal.  He knew that the dragon would be immune to any attacks of the mind, being undead, but hoped that he could bolster his allies enough to last against this terrible adversary.  He looked out over the battlefield and immediately saw both Benzan and Gorath, both just standing there in the open.  He watched Zev take steps to protect Benzan, and as the druid rushed to aid Lok against the dracolich he lifted his hand and called upon the power of his ring.  His telekinetic grip took hold of the paralyzed half-orc, and he quickly drew him back to his shelter in the lee of the thick stone.  His attempt to dispel the paralysis holding him had no effect, however, and he bit his tongue in frustration while Gorath trembled with his effort to get his frozen body to obey his commands.  Dana kept running, calling upon the power of Selûne as she did so.  After getting clear of the dragon’s breath she’d turned around, and what she’d seen had nearly frozen her the way that the undead creature’s dark gaze had threatened to.  The others had scattered as the dragon’s breath had scoured them, but Benzan, her Benzan, had just stood there, caught by its paralysis, helpless.  Indecision had gripped her with a paralysis more dangerous than that of the dracolich, until a voice had shouted inside her head. “You have to act!  If that thing isn’t killed, none of us will leave this place alive!”The voice jolted her into action, and she ran.  He course took her on a tangent around the dracolich, and as the power of the goddess flowed into her, she lifted into the air, streaking above the battlefield.  She did not go far, however, and spun back to face the dragon once she had moved sixty feet or so off the ground, facing its flank with her spear held tightly in both hands.  They would need help.  Once again she opened her mind to the goddess, but even as she established the link for her summoning, pain blasted into her as a bolt of jagged electricity slammed into her from behind.  The spell vanished as she was flung forward, and she nearly lost her grip on her spear as she spun about, trying to reestablish control.  The fur-clad sorcerer of the Cult of the Dragon nodded to himself in satisfaction, flying back to the mists as he called upon another invisibility spell to cloak him from sight.  This battle belonged to Utharax, but he was not above striking from the shadows, whenever the opportunity presented itself.  Lok charged the dracolich, and the contest seemed laughable as the diminutive genasi neared the huge outline of the undead dragon.  As he entered its reach the dracolich’s iron jaws lashed down at him, its powerful bite glancing off his shoulder.  Lok staggered as the icy cold of its touch cut him to the bone, but he shrugged its paralysis off with a roar and leapt at the creature’s nearest leg.  His axe came down in a powerful arc, crushing one of its leg bones, causing the massive creature to lurch under the impact.  For a moment its glowing eyes flickered, but when its stare fixed upon the fighter once more, they burned with an unabated hatred.  Lok ducked under its leg as the dracolich shifted in response to his attack and reset its claws on the hard ground.  He raised his axe to strike at the thick bones of its ribs rising up like a cage above him, but before he could connect with his first attack the creature suddenly reared back on its hind legs and unleashed a full assault upon him.  Its jaws clasped with crushing force on his shoulder, lifting him even as claws as sharp and as strong as daggers tore through his magical plate into his sides.  Then he was flying, his axe gone from his hands, the cold that seeped into his body from his wounds stealing his energy like a nimble thief.  Mercifully, he could barely feel anything when he slammed hard into the ground ten paces away, barely clinging to consciousness.  All he could do was stare impotently up at the gray sky as the desperate battle raged on around him, awaiting his turn to die. With only four of the seven who’d come to Nar’dek’alok still able to act, and all of those injured, it seemed that perhaps he would not have too long to wait.</blockquote>

Verification